#but I hadn't managed to put them on after quite some attempts

[ssaethicdr]

and so I did :D

Would love to show the full thing (especially since it looks more smooth from some distance) but internet privacy and stuff

Random fact: during my search for props I've found black gloves that look really similar to Gate of Cassel Chime's ones, which would fit nicely into the 3rd photo, but they costed as much as my whole budget for this thing. So one of us is a loaded mafia big leader and another is some poor student guess who's who

ok that's it I'm doing Kazama Ruri-inspired makeup for this Halloween.

(I kinda did this thing two years ago, but it was rushed and extremely basic stuff from manhua design. I feel there's muuuch more possible to get from the idea than whatever I did last time)

[cheezeybread]

GOUDA!

DROP A PART TWO OF YUU OVERBLOTTING AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!

I'm not gonna lie, I was already drafting up a part two just for sillies hehe

I love writing characters to their breaking point, isn't it just the best? <3

As usual, Trigger warnings include crass language, possible violence idk, etc etc!

This ain't proofread lol

���꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

As the days passed by, the change around campus was...very noticeable. No one could function as well as they should have. Students were making reckless mistakes in class. Not passing tests, not even writing their own names on assignments, forgetting exam dates, putting ingredient A in a potion mixture instead of ingredient B.

The strangest part was the lack of magic in the student body.

For the Housewardens, especially, it was concerning. At first, the other students theorized that they weren't using magic out of some sort of protest for YN's conditions. But then, said students realized that they couldn't use their magic, either.

Professor Trein explained it best at the staff meeting a week after your episode.

"Magic is tied in directly with emotions," he had said, staring down at the table with an unusual air of solemnity "It isn't uncommon to see cases of powerful mages losing control of their magic after their partner passes away, or some other event. It's the main reason why scientists theorize that overblots are caused not only by an overuse of powers, but rather, mainly due to an excess of pent-up pressure inside a mage's heart."

"I don't know if you know this, Professor Trein," said one of the Mathematics teachers with an air of superiority "But this YN is not a mage, nor a magic user, at all!"

"He's not talking about YN in this case, you insolent dog!" Crewel shouted out, banging a fist on the table. Once the math teacher went silent, Professor Crewel cleared his throat and raised a hand to his mouth, attempting to regain his composure. His mood had been rather soured as of late...a result of his stress about the whole situation "I don't know if you know, but this meeting is not only about YN, but about the significant lack of magic in the student body! No one can use it at the moment. I'm not quite sure how you missed that."

"So...the students can't use their magic because of...emotional distress?" Coach Vargas suggested.

"Precisely," Trein nodded "YN has had quite an impact on all of the students at this school, whether we'd like to admit it or not, mainly due to the pressure Crowley put on them to step into other's problems," he cast a scornful look towards the Headmage, who looked suitable flustered "They've made friendships and bonds with the entirety of the student body, and even those who aren't friends with them are friends with those who are, so they're effected, as well."

The students were worried for different reasons.

While the staff was meeting, the Housewardens called their own meeting. Even the elusive Malleus managed to join them, and Idia came in-person, for once. Since the staff was holed up in their regular space, the Housewardens decided to gather in the Mostro Lounge. Surprisingly, Azul offered drinks free of charge, just this once. But no one felt too thirsty.

"I'm worried," Riddle started by saying, tapping his fingers against the side of his water that he hadn't taken a sip of.

"That's quite an understatement," Azul sighed, pushing his glasses up as he leaned back in his chair "No one else has been able to use their magic yet, have they? Not your students or anyone else?"

"No," Leona shook his head, looking greatly annoyed at this whole meeting. Although everyone could tell that there was an underlying emotion of concern on his face.

"Well, has anyone managed to talk to YN?" Kalim looked tired and worn-out, his normally sunny disposition replaced by an anxious look "Me and Vil tried to go to their dorm this morning with some of their favorite foods, but they didn't answer the door..."

"No, only Grim opened the door," Vil drummed his nails on the table, his brows furrowed slightly, unconcerned about the risk of wrinkles on his skin.

"Grim?" Interjected Idia "What did he say?"

"He only said that they weren't hungry..." Kalim shook his head "He- he said that they haven't slept hardly at all since it happened, waking up screaming after a few minutes whenever they have slept."

"And they haven't had anything to eat unless Grim could manage to force it down their throats, practically," Vil cleared his throat "He said that YN isn't talking to him, either, though. They're barely acknowledging his presence."

"But YN loves Grim!" Exclaimed Idia, looking bewildered.

"...Most likely, they merely need some time to themselves," Malleus said softly, speaking for the first time that meeting "They've been through so much, due to our mistakes as well as Crowley's. While we weren't the main cause of their stress, we undoubtedly had a great effect on it."

The Housewardens were silent, all thinking of the stress they piled up on you, all of their overblots, some of which they hurt you during. They had all made their mistakes. They had never once given you a proper apology, had they? Simple sorry's were said, but actions spoke louder than words, and their actions were minimal, at best.

"I say we try our best to apologize," Spoke Leona, as if he could hear all of their thoughts. He had the same one, after all. "And then we'll string up the Headmage by his shitty mask and fingertips and leave him for the ravens to eat."

They all agreed heartily.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were terrible, a Grade-A mess.

Ever since your breakdown, you had been certifiably done with this school. Holing yourself up in yours and Grim's shared room, sitting on the bed staring at the wall.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak to Grim, feeling embarassed for the way you acted, but mostly feeling bitter traces of resentment towards him for his part in this mess. Although you knew the grudge was something you would have to get over sooner or later. Poor Grim had done his best to apologize in the only way he knew how, after all.

Saying "sorry" wasn't his style. The most he could do was not be a total pain. Seeing you not eat anything, he had brought you some of his hidden tuna cans, trying to balance a fork in both of his paws- without opposable thumbs, he made quite a mess after dropping it several times- and feed you. You tried your best to please him (although pleasing people is what got you to this point in the first place), opening your mouth and accepting whatever he could manage to get up to that level without dropping.

After you finished off a can, Grim looked at you with a sad look, and scurried off without a word.

When he saw you not sleeping, he tried to make you comfortable, bringing you whatever blankets and pillows he could find. The ghosts tried to lower their voices when speaking, and didn't try to scare you like they normally did. But you couldn't sleep. When you first fell asleep, you woke up to a sharp pain in your hand, discovering that you had been screaming and smashing your fists into the mirror over the mantle-place, the same mirror that had shown you visions of the Great Seven's tales. Grim had raised the Nurse's office and brought back band aids and disinfectants, while one of the ghosts did his best to patch up your hand.

After that, you tried not to sleep at all.

A week later, you found yourself drifting down the stairs to the lounge area, your head feeling a little lighter than it had before. Were you starting to heal? No, healing would take the effort of you unpacking everything instead of having a breakdown and shutting yourself off to the world. But maybe this was a sign that you could take the first steps to recovery.

Grim was overjoyed by your movement out of the room, taking it as a sign that you would be okay, finally. He tried to feed you one of your favorite foods out of a tupperware container- mentioning that it was brought over by Vil and Kalim- but you took the fork yourself with a smile, and ate a bite before your lack of appetite got the best of you and you had to put the food back up.

The doorbell rang, a deep, long sound. Did you feel like dealing with people? Maybe so. You'd have to start somewhere, somehow.

As Grim eagerly- yet cautiously- followed you to the door, you unlocked it and opened it, peering around the corner.

There stood all seven Housewardens, their eyes collectively wide at seeing a pale, (and frankly) sick-looking YN.

It was Vil who gained his composure first, bowing his head gracefully.

"Dearest YN, we have a letter for you. We thought it best to allow you to read it yourself, so you can have some time to think over it without any etiquette-worrying." The blond held out a folded piece of paper, and you slowly took it from his unsteady hand.

"Thank...you," you spoke quietly, your throat still recovering from all the screaming you did seven days ago.

"We'll take our leave now," Vil cleared his own throat, casting you a small look before he made a sweeping motion with his hands, turned around, and walked off of the property with the other 6 housewardens.

Watching them until they faded out of sight, you leaned up against the doorway, not bothering to close the door as you unfolded the letter and began to read

--

"Dearest YN, this letter is a collection of our thoughts for you. We as housewardens realize the amount of pressure that you have been through, and we regret that we were unable to see the signs sooner.

Throughout this school year, we began as seeing you as something less than. You were merely a magicless human, after all, who wasn't even able to be sorted into a proper dormitory. Instead, you were forced into babysitting a dire beast in an abandoned, trashy excuse for a building (pardon the insults, it really is a lovely dorm thanks to all the hard work you've put into it). Despite having no magic, you were expected to take classes, which added coursework into all you had to worry about. Crowley continued to make you work for him to pay off the imaginary debt he believed you to owe the school for bringing you here against your will. And then we, separately, went through intense overblots, hurting you physically and mentally, as well as forcing you to solve our own problems and unhealed traumas/resentments.

We leaned on you wholly for support. But we never stopped to think of your own wellbeing. A magicless human amongst mages and students, you were obviously in danger at every turn, yet we didn't offer to assist you with learning proper defense techniques. We expected you to solve all of our problems and disputes, because, after all, that was what we believed you to be there for. It was what you were good at, so we allowed ourselves the selfish pleasure of using you for your talents at healing us. You were overworked, everyone dumping their schoolwork on you knowing full and well that you wouldn't say no to someone in need of assistance.

We are all very sorry, and know that our words cannot heal what you've been through. We know that you miss your home, and we haven't been providing you with any comfort in making this place your home-away-from-home in the meantime.

So please accept our offers to help you now, if it's not too late.

Any coursework you have trouble with, I'll help you with. You've helped me to see that I'm only human, and I shouldn't be expected to achieve perfection. The loudest person isn't always the right one, YN, sometimes it's the most quiet one that has the most important opinions. Just like you.

-Riddle

Anybody that gives you any trouble, I'll make sure they're on the menu for our next barbecue at Savanaclaw dorm. Because of you, I can see that despite being a second-born, I can be something great, so long as I don't hold myself back.

-Leona

If you need a suitable job for pocket money, Mostro Lounge always has an available spot open for you. If that's not to your liking, I'd be more than happy to find you a job that's low-stress yet still provides enough of a paycheck for you to be satisfied with. Contract-pending, of course. Due to your interference, I know that I'm good enough, even without stealing powers and such.

-Azul

Anytime you need to destress and relax, give me a call! I'll happily help you anyway that I can, whether it's helping you with your workload or anything! Just name it! I'm at your service- just think of me as your humble servant! :D Thank you so much for your help with Jamil, I'm so sorry he trapped you in Scarabia for most of Winter break! You've given me a chance to really be his friend now, and for that, you deserve anything I can give you!

-Kalim

I can now see that being number one in the world isn't everything...I shouldn't be so stressed over everything that the public thinks in comparison to me alongside LeBlanche. I should simply be myself, as beautiful and perfect as I can be. The same applies to you, YN. You are beautiful and perfect in your own right, and should never look down upon yourself. Anytime you need a spa break or assistance with Alchemy, consider me your go-to.

-Vil

You've helped me be a little bit more social, better in public. You never made me feel like a freak for my interests. I'm sorry I can't say more, I'm totally blanking on the spot right now- but rest assured that I'll totally be making a bunch of technology for you to use, that way you'll be way more powerful than anybody else, even without magic!

-Idia

The Headmage is locked in the basement of Diasomnia

-Malleus Draconia

And as an additional note, we would like to officially claim that we believe Crowley's claim of it being impossible to return you home holds little to no merit...we shall be investigating this matter rigorously on our own time, until we discover a way home for you. If, The Great Seven forbid, we cannot find a solution, each of us are willing to accept you with open arms and make sure your time in this world, even after school ends, will be nothing short of amazing.

With all the love you deserve,

Vil (and co.)"

----

The letter made you smile so wide that your cheeks started to hurt. As you got further down, then began to reread it again, your eyes began to water, tears dripping down and landing on the paper.

Soon enough, you were a sobbing mess on the floor, the letter still gripped in one hand. But you were still smiling, despite the tears.

"YN! YN, Are you okay??" Grim asked worriedly, shaking your arm with a concerned look. He hadn't even called you his hench-human since the incident due to his concern for you.

You opened up your arms and wrapped up the cat-creature in a hug, burying your face into his fuzzy back. He made a small yowl of surprise, but didn't try to pull away.

"Not- not yet, Grim," You choked out, sniffling "But I will be."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Mirage x Reader

(Hurt/Comfort)

It's a billion degrees here so thinking is hard and I've been imagining cold... This fic of Mirage keeper reader warm after a snowy rescue was born. As the last fic proves, I just love writing Mirage cuddles, and can you blame me?

Look at him. Absolute cuddlebug. Has to be.

---

Everything was cold and aching when you came to, but considering you'd expected not to wake up at all, you could tentatively call that a win. Too exhausted and pained to shiver, you cracked your eyes open as sounds finally drifted into focus. A blue figure moved through the darkness with curses of frantic frustration, their inhumanly large frame bent over a pile of damp wood they were having no luck lighting. Recognizing their familiar shade of blue in the brief flashes of light from their attempted fire, you perked up despite your exhaustion.

"Mirage?"

The mech snapped his helm around, optics wider than you'd ever seen them as he looked at you in total disbelief.

"Hey, you're not dead!" he gushed as he crawled across the cave, looking so overjoyed he must not have believed you'd ever speak again. Too worn out and stiff to chuckle, you managed to crack a smile as the mech leaned over you, seemingly drinking in your presence as if he hadn't seen you in ages. Not having the slightest clue how you'd gotten here, you found your head free of worry despite your injuries, and you couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke.

"Should I be?"

"No, definitely not! Don't you go getting any ideas!" Mirage replied, his tone a solid mix of playful admonishment and serious warning. Adjusting a small emergency blanket that you'd been loosely swaddled in, he fretted long enough for you to pick up on his worry despite the continued jokes. "I've busted my aft keeping you alive this long, you don't get to put all my hard work to waste."

"What happened?" you asked as you tried to hug the blanket closer, numb fingers making it nearly impossible. Confused but able to recall a blurry series of events, the lack of other Autobots stuck out to you, especially when you remembered the whole group had been together in battle the last time you'd seen them. Not seeing a single other being in the cave activated your worry. "Where's-?"

"Shhh, questions take stamina you can't spare. I'll do the talking for both of us." Mirage interrupted gently, still teasing but sounding much softer as he encouraged you to lie back. The warmth of his servo and the comfort of his much larger frame beside yours allowed you to relax and listen, but as you did so It became apparent you were still quite exhausted, and you had to fight the urge to sleep. A fascinating narrative made consciousness stick around despite your heavy eyelids. "It took some expert tracking, but Bee was able to find two sets of tracks; a big ugly bot and the human he was tearing after. Unfortunately enough for him, we found him first."

Now you could remember how you'd gotten into this mess; running from a Decepticon and trying to lose them in the dense, frozen forest... The last thing you'd seen of Mirage had been the main battle, and you couldn't even begin to recall how long you'd been out in the cold, but it was good to know everything had more or less worked out. If only you weren't so terribly cold...

"I don't know how you outran him, but you were sorta... asleep and awake when we found you, so cold you weren't even shivering. We called Noah, and he's arranging to meet Optimus somewhere "clandestine" and escort a medic this way. They're gonna look you over and then pretend they didn't see us." Mirage continued. Nodding in incomplete understanding, you tried to keep your eyes open, and would have yawned if you'd had the strength. You knew what was being said meant a lot to you, and that a doctor was very much in order, but it all felt so far away. Aching body going increasingly numb, you barely found the strength to reply.

"Thank you..." you croaked, so terribly tired you couldn't convince yourself that staying awake was worth it. Mirage reacted swiftly, cupping his hand behind your head and looking into your eyes. The fear in his optics made you yearn for the energy to comfort him, but as it was you couldn't even understand why he was so upset.

"Don't thank me, just stay awake, yeah?" he encouraged, positive facade crumbling as he scooped you up in a panic. Feeling his chest, which radiated a reduced but still appreciable amount of warmth, you sighed and leaned into his embrace. The speedster held you tightly against him, digits patting your cheek as he tried to get you to focus on him. "Talk to me, Y/N, tell me what I can do."

"Cold..." was all you could say, exhaustion all but dragging you down into unconsciousness. Only your desire not to upset him kept you awake, but you knew there was precious little fight left in you. Mirage frantically reached back to the damp wood he'd been attempting to dry and ignite with his blaster.

"Okay, okay... I can... Scrap, I can't get this to light!" he cried in briefly hopeless frustration, his servo transforming back into a limb so he could hold you close to share what little warmth he had to spare. The pain in his expression compelled you to comfort him, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but lay your hand on the glowing center of his chest. You only wanted him to know it was alright, but the mech took much more from the gesture, his optics widening before his brows furrowed in determination. "Plan B then; come here."

Snapping open his chest panels and revealing the beautiful yet surprisingly soft glow of his spark, he pulled you close, allowing you to practically snuggle against the heat generating essence of his being.

"Sorry if this is weird... but it's warm, right?" he said quickly, aware of the awkward intimacy even if the situation was desperate. Being held so close allowed you to finally thaw after hours of exposure, and the feeling of life returning to your limbs was soothing enough to compel you to sigh. Cradling you tightly against his spark, Mirage sat back against the cave wall and relaxed at your increasingly less pallid complexion, returning to a more playful tone filled with affection. "My spark always runs hot, part of being an Outlier. I'll keep you close until the doc gets here. Least I can do for my little space heater."

Smiling back at the joke, you sighed once more and touched your hand to his spark, able to feel the soft hum soothing your aching body. As much as you still yearned for sleep, being so close gave you the strength to stay awake a little longer, the growing ease in his frame compelling you to keep going for both your sakes. A tender cupping of your face helped make you all the more certain that everything was going to be alright.

Mirage continued to encourage you, the devotion in his spark more than warm enough to keep the dark, frigid cold of the cave at bay. "You just keep getting nice and toasty. I've got you..."

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: On the final night of an AMMO investigation their bust is blown up by an unexpected party.

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: Hey y'all! This is my first time writing in a while, so it hope it doesn't suck lmao. Let me know if you guys are interested in this series cause I got lots more to come!

AMMO's newest addition to the team was Armando Aretas. That's right, the same Armando Aretas that had been a convicted drug dealer, cop killer, and fugitive.

It took some serious string pulling but Rita and Judy managed to get Armando amnesty due to his help with bringing down Lockwood and McGrath. It took a while, but they managed to get it done. In exchange, he needed to work with Miami PD.

Armando was a dangerous man, that was true enough, but he was also an asset. Better to have him on your team than to be against him. Plus, it helped everyone keep an eye on him. He hadn't quite earned the trust of those in his new life.

There was a part of him that didn't care. He'd lived this long without the approval or validation of others, so what was different? Then there was a part of him that wanted to put that behind him. His previous life was a tiresome one.

AMMO had been steaking out a night club for about a week. They'd finally gathered enough proof for them to carry out their raid. Tonight was the night, they just needed to get the green light from their UC.

"Yo, Mike. You think we could stop at that hot dog shack on the corner after this?" Marcus attempted to whisper but the small space in the truck provided no privacy. "Hell no, Marcus. Teresa just said your cholesterol was sky high and you gained about three pounds this month."

"Uh.., now, see. Did you have to put my business out there like that, Mike?" Armando shook his head. His father and surrogate uncle were admittedly the best part of his new life, even if they were annoying. "Will you two shut up?" He muttered.

Kelly and Dorn's smirks of amusement always seemed to be present whenever they were with the three men. "Hey hey hey. What's happening?"

Armando's eyes locked on the commotion breaking out on the scene. The place was getting swarmed. Their UC hadn't sent the signal so it sure as shit wasn't them. A woman appeared on screen gun drawn and shouting for everybody to get down. "Who the fuck is that?"

After the raid ended, AMMO exited their van. Armando charging over to the woman who was speaking to who he could only assume she was debriefing to. This woman was clearly police, but she wasn't with them, so as far as he was concerned-- She was out of line. The area was lit up with flashing red and blue lights, cops littered throughout the parking lot, but he was zeroed in on her.

"What the fuck was that and who the fuck are you?" His accent thick in anger at this woman who'd just blew up his mission. His first big chance at showing the team he was really with them.

"Excuse me? You better back the fuck up that's who the fuck I am. Who the fuck are you?" She was feisty that's for sure, responding to him in the same way he'd come at her. In all honesty, it'd taken her a moment to register he was speaking to her because, what?? His hostility towards her was at an all time high for someone who she'd never laid eyes on before.

"Your little raid fucked up our cocaine bust." His nostrils flared in anger as he stepped to the woman a few inches shorter than him. "Or maybe your cocaine bust got in the middle of my prostitution bust." She shot back. "Again, who the hell are you?" The low rasp of his voice was venomous. "I don't answer to you, I don't even know who you are. Let's start with that before charging over here like you hot shit or something."

Armando opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Marcus. "Hey! Ok, everyone. Let's just calm down." Marcus laughed nervously, stepping between the two of them. "Miss, I'm so sorry for Armando. You know, it's that Latin fire in 'em. Hard to turn off. Um, I'm Marcus and We're AMMO. You are?"

"Raven." Her tone softened but her eyes still blazed with anger in the direction of the young male, who was admittedly cute but clearly had her fucked up. "Vice."

[bxwitched]

To Be With You

Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.

Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.

A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.

You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.

That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.

Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.

Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.

"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.

"Ok. What's the damage today?"

It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door and breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.

The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.

"Afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon-"

"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.

"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.

"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."

You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.

"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.

"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."

He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.

"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.

"Please, call me Hangman."

"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.

"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.

It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.

You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.

"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.

"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.

"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.

"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.

"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."

His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.

You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.

"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."

Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.

You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.

"Come in."

You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.

It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.

You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.

"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.

"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.

"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.

"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.

"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.

Can you believe that he's interested in her?

I don't get it either!

Who?

You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.

You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.

Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.

Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.

You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.

At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.

You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.

You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.

Why me?

Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?

That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.

You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.

"No Sir."

"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.

Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.

"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.

"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover

"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."

"A friend?"

He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.

"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.

Are you ok?

"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.

"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.

It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.

You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.

It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.

Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.

You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.

You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.

You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.

You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.

By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.

You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.

As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.

Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.

He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.

You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.

"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.

"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.

"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.

"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.

"You're not serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.

"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."

He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.

"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.

She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.

His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.

"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.

"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.

"Listen, Hangman-"

"Jake." He insists.

"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.

"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.

"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"

His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.

"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.

"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."

You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.

"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."

He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.

"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."

You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.

"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."

"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."

"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."

You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.

"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."

You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.

"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.

"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.

Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.

"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.

"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.

"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"

That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?

You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.

You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.

"Alright. We can start with dinner."

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eleven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey, eleven is here!! I can't actually believe it, thank you for all the love on this series! Means a whole lot. Glad to know some of you are enjoying it, love seeing the reactions too:) This update is another long one but we're getting closer to things finally falling into place!

Just a note for this part though, I haven't been to Detroit, nor the place mentioned in this particular chapter so pls don't come for me if anythings wrong! I tried not to go into too much detail and focus on a couple of pictures I found, but lemme know if anything really jumps out.

Also, we finally a Marshall POV, so hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Masterlist

Marshall’s POV

It was maddening. 

The way this woman had gone and switched up his entire life whilst somehow managing to keep everything looking the exact same. As though nothing but her presence had been added, and like nothing had really changed. 

At least not to the unaided eye. 

His mind had been in a tailspin from the second he’d first seen her though, that much he knew. The video of her had knocked him sideways, thrown him so completely out of whack that he couldn’t quite tell if he’d been righted ever since. But it had taken a while for that realisation to set in. 

It had dawned, obviously. He was nothing if not fucking perceptive. His brain wired so oddly that it had him realising shit before most people. But more importantly, it had his constant stream of self-awareness shooting through the roof. 

That in itself was an itch he never could quite scratch, had pissed him off a whole lot growing up too– especially the way he had. It’d gone and really messed with his head in actuality and so the older he’d gotten the more he had started to use all sorts of crap to just find a simple way to tune it out. To dull the constant tick-tick-ticking of his brain. To cope with the never ending thoughts. 

But then he’d gotten sober, hadn't he? And he’d been forced to fucking feel again. To psychoanalyse the years he’d lost, the pain he’d caused. 

It hadn’t been pretty, and yet, he was still standing. Still moving as he attempted to continue putting that same amount of effort into everything else that had been thrown at him ever since.

Her though–

Marshall’s tongue rolled out between his lips thoughtlessly, eyes caught on the studio wall ahead. She was something he hadn’t never prepared for. 

He kept finding himself telling her these– things. Inane shit, like how he preferred running to the gym and candy over fucking chocolate. But then it shifted and he found himself letting slip about the kind of crap that he hardly even let himself linger too long on. Like, Ayla. 

That girl was his world. Stood there right there alongside Z, but he knew he’d messed her up almost as bad as both her parents had. When he hadn’t been able to get his fucking shit together, when she’d be forced to see him at his worst, his lowest. Unable to do nothing but watch. ‘Cause she’d just been a kid then. And he knew that sentiment all too well, had lived through it too. He hadn’t never wanted his own kids to have to go through that, to see the struggle, to experience it and feel that same pain. 

It was the sort of pain that was truly unlike any other and he’d lived too long to not know that by now.

But he’d changed since then and he’d done it all for her. He hadn’t looked back neither, no matter how hard it had gotten, how much he had wanted to quit. ‘Cause he hadn’t wanted his girls to see him that way no longer. To have them stand by and have them do nothing but watch. To have to prepare them for the worst. To have them lose him too. All because he hadn’t been able to just pick them over the one thing he’d abused most. 

Elia. She hadn’t asked. Hadn’t even attempted to worm her way into his head and prod him for all these secrets he held like he was just some piñata and they were the candy inside waiting to spew out. No, he’d given them all to her. Freely. Almost without question. And that there was what scared him most. What fucked him up and messed with his head.

‘Cause that was where he’d gone wrong before, the first dozen times around. Trusting these women with their pretty smiles that hid their deceitful tongues and sugar coated their lies.

It was then that his mind flashed back to late nights years ago that he thought he’d long lost, to blonde hair and smudged lipstick. To some other girl’s bed, her dark eyes and keys to motel rooms. To Vegas and then Nevada, California and New York.

It was with those thoughts that he felt himself frown and raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, wondering why he let himself get so caught up in the past, why he was now allowing himself to think about her the same way he had them. 

They were friends. 

She was here to work.

But that grating voice was in the back of his head again, questioning his fucking questions. His motives. Prodding at his every decision. It knew that he was full of shit. And he knew it too. Didn’t mean he had to like it though. Or admit it.

He scraped his tongue between his front teeth and revelled for a moment in the slight sting which followed, the tiny bumps that arose soon after. Then he huffed. 

She was a question in her own right. That was exactly what she was. He couldn't quite tell what that meant for him though as he found himself picking up his pen for the umpteenth time that night. All he knew was that this shit he’d written was as close to a fucking love song as he would ever fucking get, and he couldn’t stop picturing her the further and further the page got to being completely covered.

What he did know for certain, something he was evidently sure of, was that he was completely and utterly fucked. And it was all down to her.

––––––––––––––––

A knock startled me from the mindless state I’d fallen into whilst sat at the mirror, desk scattered with brushes and makeup alike, and so I only had a split second before the door to my room flew open, allowing a certain blonde to come sailing through, hair in disarray and socks mismatched. 

“Dad’s late!”

I blinked at the whirlwind that was Rosie before a laugh seemed to escape me, and I turned around in the chair just in time to watch the girl faceplant my freshly made sheets. “What do you mean?” I asked her, pushing myself to my feet and wincing at the noise my knees made– I would say that getting old sucked but my knees had been my biggest hater since before my early twenties hit. 

Rosie heaved a dramatic sigh as she manoeuvred around so that she could prop herself up on her elbows and meet my eye, none the wiser to my inner thoughts. “I went downstairs and he wasn’t there, right? But he’s always up and in the kitchen by now, guy drinks too much coffee if you ask me.” She explained, shaking her head at that last part whilst I rounded the bed to peer down at her with a bemused expression, hip pressing against the bedpost, “Anyway, I waited, figuring that he was just, I don’t know, peeing or something. But then I realised I was slowly starving and so I went to look for him.” 

My brows rose at the theatrics as well as the look she’d taken on, but did little to hide my mirthful smirk, “So I’m guessing you found him then?”

“Yup.” She replied with a pop, smiling sweetly, “He’s late.”

“Right.” I snorted, settling my hands on my hips, “That mean he’s up at least?”

The question earned me a somewhat evil grin, one that was far too prideful and full of amusement that it couldn’t have meant anything else. I shook my head at her antics but was unable to help the light chuckle that bubbled up my throat, the sound only seemed to fuel the chaotic energy she’d bounded in with. 

“Can we do something cool with my hair today?” Rosie wondered as she pushed upwards and bounced ever so slightly into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. I was reminded then quite hastily of the conversation Marshall and I had shared the night before when she peered up at me with such an unfiltered expression of excitement. 

I didn’t dare let her down.

So I’d allowed the mini madam to drag me back over to the dressing table I’d just been using and procure me with an array of hair bands, clips, bows, and brushes that she’d brought in with her but left by the door. She ended up talking throughout the whole process, happy to let me work whilst she let slip about the candy bar she’d found to stave herself over with before she’d gone in search of her Dad– something which made complete sense now, given her mood. Afterwards, she then decided that it was an ample time to ask me a thousand and one questions, most of which I tried to answer as best as I could. 

Marshall eventually found the pair of us, still bleary eyed from where he’d been woken only a short while earlier but hair damp enough to note that he’d hurried through his usual morning routine, that and the fact that he’d come in smelling exceptionally pleasant. 

He paused in the door that had since been left open, his stare caught on my languid movements whilst I finished winding the remaining plait I’d started into one of the two space buns which sat atop of his daughter’s head. 

Rosie had yet to notice him, still rambling away so I shot the man an amused smile.

“Heard you had a lie in.” I found myself commenting once I’d snapped the last hair band into place, just in time too, because it was not a second later that Rosie’s head went jolting in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re up!” She exclaimed, exuding her elation in the grin she gave him. 

Full of fondness, Em still let out a scoff as his arms rose to cross over the expanse of his chest, a mindless action that brought me to note the form fitting tee he’d decided on that morning, a total contrast to the large hoodies I was so used to seeing him in. I couldn’t lie to myself about the way my attention caught on his forearms upon seeing it, the tattoos there, the few freckles, the vein that ran down the outer side and across his hand–

My head snapped left when a squeal sounded, dragging my traitorous eyes away from the man and instead to his daughter, who was now beaming in the mirror. My smile wasn’t forced upon witnessing her reaction, even with the freight train full of thoughts that was now rumbling its way around inside my head, and so I wasn’t all too ungrateful for the distraction of the brilliant grin she gifted me with before she was in my arms and hugging me in thanks.

“I love it,” She forced out in one giant breath, before tacking on, “Ana’s going to be so jealous!”

My gaze trailed its way back over to Em, who was looking pensive by the door, he smiled when his eyes flickered up to meet my own. “Looks real good, baby.” He murmured to her, the acknowledgement garnering an even brighter reaction from Rosie, who’s head turned to him at the sound of his voice.

“You like it?” She asked in that way that only daughters could, her eyes full of hope and all puppy-like.

Marshall’s mouth ticked upwards at the sight and he blinked slowly before answering the girl, “You look beautiful.”

Rosie was more than grateful for that answer, not just because it was a nice thing to hear, especially when trying something new, but because it was her Dad who had been the one to say it. She bolted across the room to fall into his side, only ducking away again when one of his hands threatened to come up and settle on the back of her head.

“Watch the hair!”

I laughed brightly at the squeak whilst she ducked under his arm to escape, levelling him with a narrow-eyed glare from the hallway, shaking her head at him. Marshall expelled a long sigh and raised his hands in a show of apology, but Rosie appeared exasperated by him all the same. She still smiled though before she shot off back down the stairs, calling out the reminder of breakfast to him.

Marshall pivoted in his stance, his tired eyes sweeping away from the hall to find me putting away all the few hair bobbles that I hadn’t needed. “I’m raisin’ a prima donna.”

Snorting at the analysis he’d since come to, I shot him a sly smile, “Hear it runs in families.”

I was met by a roll of his eyes, but the smirk he wore was evident. “I own it.” He acknowledged with not an ounce of embarrassment. 

So I dragged out a low hum whilst closing the dresser’s only drawer before I turned to him once again and made my way over. The pair of us exited the room together, Marshall shutting the door behind me before he ran a hand over the top of his head and gestured for us to start down the stairs.

It was as we reached the bottom that he chose to speak up, clearing his throat before he did, “Thanks by the way, for you know. Doin’ her hair and stuff for her. I know you said you would but, she ain’t the only one who appreciates it. You know?”

Glancing his way, my smile couldn’t be helped, not with how unsure and awkward he then looked. A total contrast to the ego he’d radiated not a minute earlier. It wasn’t something I was too used to seeing on Marshall and so it humoured me to no end. 

“I know.” I answered, choosing not to comment on his antsy-ness or the way tense shoulders then slumped a tad, “One less thing to fret about, right? Seein’ as you were snoozing whilst the rest of us were up and prepping for the day.”

Marshall didn’t appear to mind the slight ribbing, or at least I thought so until hip-checked me in the hallway whilst we were wandering after Rosie, the hit just hard enough to have me bumping into the nearby wall. My jaw dropped at the unexpected reaction but was still somehow delighted to hear his laugh trail back to me, watching the way his face lit up as he looked back at me from over his shoulder. 

“You were sayin’?” He mocked around a smug smile.

My glare was counterproductive, seeing as I was huffing out a faint laugh whilst simultaneously trying to right myself before I hurried to catch up to him, only managing to do so a second after he’d swept into the kitchen.

“Hey, seeing as it’s Friday tomorrow, can we take El out again?” Came Rosie’s voice, the sound of it drawing my attention over to where she was now pouring a bowl of cereal. Her eyes were stuck on the task at hand but they flickered up to where Em was standing by the fridge whilst she waited for an answer.

Marshall’s own gaze wandered over to me for a split second, roaming over my face before his attention jumped to the milk he had grasped. “Up to her, Z.”

And that, my friends, was an exuberant yes in the jam-packed book that cited Marshall’s lexicon.

“What d’you have in mind?” I wondered as I made my way past the girl to fill up the kettle that had since settled into its very own spot on the kitchen side.

“Some food, a movie maybe?” Z delicately suggested, eyes jumping over to Marshall again, the man slid the milk carton he held into her hand, before they moved to meet mine. 

Shrugging softly, I smiled at the idea, reminded of days I’d spent in the cinema near the old flat we’d lived in, the same one I’d snuck into countless times as a kid and then had taken Danny and Lottie to whenever home had gotten too much to handle. “Sounds good to me, your Dad has the last say though.” I quickly reminded her after seeing the way her face had lit up.

“Can we, Dad?” Rosie asked excitedly, her voice full of elated anticipation, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for the final yes.

Em exhaled, his blue eyes trailing between Z and I, allowing me to notice how the morning sun caused them to appear almost transparent in the light of the kitchen. But it was all for show, because it was too obvious what his answer was going to be. 

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

Hiding my triumphant grin, I turned back to the whistling kettle and filled two mugs, not even second guessing the action.

…

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Heya bug, msg me when you get out of school, wanna hear about your day! xX

…

Even with Marshall waking up late and Rosie’s evident sugar rush, the school run hadn’t been as chaotic as I’d expected it to be. We managed to make it there in time, in fact we had just a minute to spare which Rosie used to lean over the centre console wedged between the two front seats so that she could give Marshall and I a goodbye.

“See you guys after school.” She grinned whilst letting her Dad wrap an arm awkwardly around her shoulders so that he could press a kiss to her temple. She withdrew a tad from him afterwards, his hand shucking her chin in a gesture that was all too familiar, and then turned to mimic the previous action on me, a quick peck to my left cheek before she was falling back into the rear seat and opening the passenger side door. 

The action startled me enough that I could only watch her grin grow from where she then settled on the pavement outside, waving the two of us goodbye through the window before she bolted up the school steps.

I watched on, dazed but filled with a heavy warmth as she disappeared from view.

It was when I’d finally managed to drag my eyes away from the stone stairs that Marshall broke the quiet that had filled the car with an exaggerated “Ooohh.” 

There was a shit-eating grin plastered over the lower half of his face, the biggest he’d ever given me and it only added to the mix of emotions I was experiencing. “How’s that feel? You done levelled up!” He prompted, clapping his hands as a laugh expelled from him, thoroughly amused by my stunned reaction.

I blinked, but then found myself chuckling along with him, smiling widely as I attempted a little bow, only made awkward by the strap of my seatbelt. Em enjoyed it all the same though, especially when I replied to his dramatics with some of my own, “No, no! You’ve gotta take a picture real quick, this feels like a monumental moment.” Half joking, half serious.

He was quick with his phone anyway, pulling it out and flicking to the camera app so fast that it surprised me, what with being so used to his common annoyance with all things technology. He was still grinning away as he raised the phone a little higher and it took me a second to realise he was filming me instead of taking the picture I’d asked for.

“How you feel?” Marshall asked, his voice still buoyant, the smile he wore evident in it. It just melted me further, in truth. To know how happy his daughter's action had made not just me, but him too. 

“Loved.” I smiled back at him, eyes squinting with the strength of it as I peered into the lens.

“Someone alert the media!” Em crowed, the sound thoughtless and open, before he was leaning in over the console, wanting to get a close up of the cheek in question. I was blinded by the smile he still wore, catching glimpses of it behind his phone and arm, “You ever gone wash that shit again?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me in return before I closed my eyes and flicked my hair over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare! This has to top my night at the Grammys.” I overemphasised for the sake of the camera, glancing back at Marshall a second later so that we could both share another grin, him lowering the camera ever so slightly so that he could spin it back ‘round on him.

“Well, you heard it here first, folks. Tune in later to see if Z will up the ante!” He cheesed, putting on a voice that had me giggling harder before he was pausing the video and peering back at me with a sincere grin. 

“You one lucky girl, I swear.” He mentioned to me in a murmur, shaking his head whilst I dragged my own phone out of my coat pocket, raising it to capture my own version of the moment. “What you doin’?” He questioned me once he spotted it, but I had already pulled up Snapchat to zoom in and capture a quick photo. 

Em watched on as my thumbs typed away, writing a quick ‘Never washing this cheek again #Priorities’ over the top of the picture before saving it to my camera roll. It was just as I went to click off the app completely that he stopped me.

“You not gone post that?”

I turned to him with a look of bewilderment, eyes wide and eyebrows practically touching my hairline. “Are you crazy? That’ll spark all sorts of rumours.”

He just snorted, then levelled me with a simple shrug, cheek lolling against the headrest. “Fuck ‘em.”

It took me a moment to realise that he was being deadly serious. 

In reply to the silence he’d been met with, Marshall merely quirked a brow at me, almost as if he was challenging it. Daring me to follow through.

I stared at him for a long second before I let my thumb hover over the ‘Send to’ button, giving him the time needed to take it back. But he didn’t.

Thinking it over, I figured the most people could come up with ammo like this was that I’d likely been kissed or was just messing around with a friend about something, which wasn’t all that unusual for me, in truth. I had taken to posting all of the weird shit I saw when I was out every once in a while, as well as the odd picture with Lottie or a friend. So I didn’t think people would put too much thought into it.

Besides, I’d never been the type to back down from a challenge, so I added it to my story as quick as I could and then clicked the phone off entirely.

I tried to bite back the strength of my grin when I looked back over at him, but it truly was hard going, what with the way Em had given up on hiding his own. Still, I watched on as he put the car into gear and relaxed further into my seat as we pulled away from the curb, trying not to pay mind to the excitement which fluttered in my stomach.

“So where we headed?” I wondered after a minute or so, the radio playing low, Marshall nodding his head along to it.

He turned to spare me a glance, smirking now. “Tour of Detroit, baby.”

My brow furrowed on its own accord, thoroughly confused, and Marshall must have been able to read my mind because he let go of a breathy chuckle before he explained further.

“Gotta show you the whole city whilst you're here, right? I mean, you seen where I grew up, but there’s a whole lot more. Figure you’d appreciate it.”

Eyes wide, I felt my mouth drop open a tad and a flash of panic shoot through me. “You’re serious? We’ll get spotted quicker than a priest in a playground!”

My words were met by a short snort before Marshall shook his head, deigning not to touch upon that particular phrasing. “Came prepared.”

“Oh really?” I challenged. 

His mouth quirked to one side, deepening the dimple which sat adjacent to it. My eyes latched onto the small detail and before I knew it we were pulling off into a lot a couple of blocks away from Rosie’s school. 

Once the car had come to a stop, Em was quick to hop out so that he could make his way to the boot. He pulled something or other out, before he closed it once more and jogged back around to the driver's side door. He slipped inside with ease, carrying an array of items in his arms. I noted that he really had come prepared.

In his lap sat three hats and a hoodie. I guessed that he wanted to give me my pick of the lot and I wasn’t let down in the assumption, he handed me the hoodie first, one that felt as luxurious as it looked, and I peered down at it cautiously, but didn’t fight putting it on. 

“Don’t tell me how much this hoodie costs because if I ruin it, then that’s on you.” I told him bluntly as I peeled my coat off and pulled my head through the hoods opening. He snorted in retort and it was only when I’d rolled my hands through the sleeves that he reached out to drag the strings of the jumper into place, smiling at me in a way that made my mouth go dry. 

“Live a little.” Were the words he settled on before his attention shifted back down to the three hats he held, my eyes scanned over them.

“As much as I think the beanie suits you, you’ve gotta go with a cap to cover up all this.” I told him honestly, waving my hand over the expanse of his money-maker before I reached out to take the red and blue beanie. 

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” Em asked and I realised a second too late how teasing his tone had been.

“You know, the cap will help–”

“No, no, no, you know I was talkin’ ‘bout the beanie.” He reaffirmed, smile sly as he turned to use it on me.

I blinked, thinking back on what I’d said before it hit me. I felt myself flush a tad, but did my best to brush the comment off like it was nothing, “You look good in a beanie, is all. Most people do.”

Marshall blew out another laugh, it almost seemed to fill the car, even more so as he leaned an arm against the centre console to lessen the space between us. “This your way of sayin’ you’re hot on me then?”

I scowled, reaching out to press my palm against the side of his cheek so that I could push his smirking face away. “You wish.”

He snorted, eyeing the way I pulled down the car’s interior mirror so that I could fit the beanie to my head. When I turned back towards him, I was surprised to catch him already staring. He didn’t look perturbed by it though, no, he simply smirked, “Beanie suits you, too.”

Thankfully, he left it at that, picking up one of the remaining caps and placing it on his own head before he tossed the last of the three into the back. It was as he resettled in his seat that I found myself moving to fix the cap’s brim, tugging it a millimetre or so lower and centring it so that the Lion’s logo faced frontwards. 

My breath caught when I finally registered what I’d done so mindlessly, but Marshall didn’t appear to have minded it, watching me as I withdrew, his eyes caught on mine for a long second before he finally broke the moment, “Thanks.”

I cleared my throat and forced my gaze into looking out the front window, only nodding in answer. He started up the car again and it was as we set off that I struggled to find a new topic to break the quiet with. 

It wasn’t awkward, this quiet. Just prolonged, filled with an energy I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I didn’t know if Marshall even felt it but as soon as I spoke, I was grateful to feel it ebb. “You know, I love American cars.”

A line formed in the skin between Em’s brows when he chanced a quick look at me, “How come?” He wondered and it was with his words that I felt the rest of my body relax once more into the comfort of his leather seats.

Still, I shrugged lightly, gaze wandering over the car’s interior before it shifted out over the long stretch of road we’d since pulled onto, eyes jumping between the other vehicles that surrounded us. “Just bigger, used to dream about driving one of those old Fords when I were a kid.” I explained, thinking back to the ones I’d seen on the tele. “You know, they used to drive them in those older films, back in the 80’s and stuff.”

“What, like a Bronco?”

“No– well actually, those would be sick as well.” I mentioned, thinking about it before I gently shook my head, “But you know, one of those old four by fours? The big ones you see a lot of country boys driving.”

Em’s smile twitched in good humour when he shot me a knowing look, “Ah, so she’s inta dem country boys.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated by the accent he’d slathered on but laughing still. “No, you idiot. I just like the trucks!” But then I had to pause and actually think about it, “Now you mention it though, those country boys weren’t all that bad to look at either.”

Marshall snorted, then hummed, “You know, I’m originally from cow country. Midwest way.”

Pensive, I let my gaze roam back towards him. “I figured you’d always lived here.”

He just shook his head, looking in his mirror before he switched lanes, “Moved when I was a kid, but was born in Missouri if you can believe that shit.”

I was unable to help my smile, oddly surprised to know that small fact about him. I shifted slightly in my seat to look him over better, almost as though now that I knew of the detail I’d actually be able to see it in him. 

“I don’t know much about it.” I admitted once nothing about him really changed or jumped out at me, “Is it like farmy?”

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes again, though I could tell that it was in fond amusement rather than anything else. “It’s like any state, idiot. There’s cities, but yeah some fields too.”

Humming, I tried to picture him in some place like that. As much as Em fit into the life and soul that clung to Detroit and its streets, I could easily see him settling into a quaint house out by a bayou, miles away from any prying eyes and noise. 

“What’s the hum for?” He wondered, eyes trying to analyse the sound by the tells my face gave away.

I shot him a smile, “Nothing.”

He didn’t believe me, not for a second, but let it go seeing as we had pulled into a parking lot. I sat up further to look around, trying to spot a clue as to where we were at, my eyes widened when I found it. 

Belle Isle Aquarium.

I honestly attempted to not look too excited by the sudden prospect, but I’m not sure I managed it all that well. There was a time, when I’d still been little enough to not know any better, that I thought I could grow up to be a deep-sea diver, so fascinated by the ocean and its entirety. At break time, I would read all the books the school’s library had to offer on the sea and its many creatures, overwhelmed by the fact that it was so large and deep that we had only ever really touched the surface, that there was still so much there left to discover. 

I didn’t ever really mention it nowadays, but there were still nights where I fell asleep watching the odd documentary on the ocean, about the sharks that lived there or the reefs that hid beneath the water. I wondered briefly if Marshall knew, if I’d ever mentioned it in passing, but then brushed the thought away, figuring it to just be a coincidence.

The car rattled with the slight slam of the doors and it took me a second to figure out that I’d already stepped out to join Em by the curb. He was watching my reaction, it seemed, or waiting for it, I wasn’t quite sure, but all the same, I turned to him with a bright smile. “We’re going in?”

His smile was small but genuine, eyes hidden by the rim of his cap as he looked back over at the aquarium's entrance. Seeing the few people that were headed in and out, I figured he was probably scanning to see how we could slip inside unseen.

I sidled up beside him, watching too. “Do we have to get tickets?”

He shook his head, arm brushing against mine as he waved his phone in a gesture that told me he’d already planned ahead. I had to wrinkle my lips to keep from grinning too hard at the realisation. 

We stuck close together as we made our way inside, thankful for the lack of queue that allowed Em to flash a quick email to an older woman stood waiting at the entrance before we stepped inside. 

The first row of tanks we saw were illuminated all around us and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting we’d walked into they soon set intently on the glowing water held within them. There was a flurry of movement throughout and I was quick to step on closer, tracking the many fish that swam by, some brightly coloured, others almost mimicking the colour of the tanks floor.

I didn’t recognize all of the specific kinds I could see but I didn’t dare deny that they were all beautiful. It was almost mesmerising the way they all swam together and then apart, their actions thoughtless, simple. 

A little way down I spotted a group of kids, no older than about six or seven, and found myself relating to the way they pressed their little faces up against the glass, like they were waiting to sink through it and live amongst the marine life, to revel in that same simplicity. 

I felt Marshall slide into the space beside me and looked up to capture the way his eyes traced the zooming fish, before they soon settled on me. “Good idea?”

I blew out a breath, smiling. “The best.”

I gave up on trying to hide my excitement with that, reaching out to press my fingers to the glass, revelling in the few fish that came up to inspect the intrusion, mouths twitching ever so before they were darting off again. I laughed quietly to myself and then let my feet lead me further through the room.

I jumped from tank to tank, dragging Marshall along with me, not thinking as I grabbed his hand and pointed out all of the things that captured my attention. When we finally stopped by a wall full of guppies, I rattled off a fact without even noticing, eyes so caught on the tails that passed us by.

“So if they don’t have vocal chords, how do they make noises?” Em questioned me, his face screwed up in a confused grimace.

“They use low-pitched sounds to convey messages to each other, like rattling their bones or gnashing their teeth. They also use their bodies, vibrate their muscles against their swim bladder to mate or be territorial.” I answered him, eyes caught on the rapid array of colours. 

“The fuck’s a swim bladder?” 

His muttered question caught me by surprise and all I could do was laugh as I pulled him away from the crowd that had looked over at the unexpected sound. We ended up over by the blobfishes after that, something Em actually seemed engrossed by and the surrounding groups tried to avoid. 

“What about these fuckers?” He queried, leaning over to get a better look at the plaque that housed a picture of what most people believed a blobfish to look like. 

“They’re strange, it’s the pressure of the deep sea that provides them with their structural support.” I told him, bending down to join him in his stance before I peered into the tank. “They have little amounts of muscle and their bones are quite soft so that they’re able to live in high pressure conditions. When they’re brought to the surface though, they decompress. That’s why they look so different.”

“I relate, man.” Marshall mentioned to the nearest fish which clung to the tank’s floor. It made me giggle, though I couldn’t deny his words, Em seemed to thrive in high pressure scenarios much like the blobfish.

The further we walked, trailing through the large glass greenhouses the aquarium had to offer, taking in their shrubbery and vast amounts of evergreen, the more and more I wished that I lived in Detroit, knowing that if I did, I’d be here almost every weekend. It was beyond beautiful, made even more so by the blue sky above and the water which surrounded us.

Out of all the creatures the place had to offer, Em quite liked looking at the seahorses and made a show of rattling off the facts the aquarium offered in a mocking manner that made me realise how obnoxious I must’ve been.

“Sorry.” I offered sheepishly, chuckling in an attempt to hide the self-consciousness which had crept in, “I get carried away sometimes, but just tell me to shut up and you know I will.”

He practically froze at that, caught mid motion, but his stare was still stuck on me. My eyes flickered back and forth between his own and so when he finally exhaled I was witness to the way he quickly shook his head in retort, startling me slightly when he decided to drape an arm over my shoulders and tug me into his side. 

I did my best to turn my attention to the tank full of seahorses, even as he pressed chin to the side of my head and murmured into my hair, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I nodded to let him know I’d heard, but didn’t trust myself to answer, anxious about how it might sound. Cursing myself for not realising that he’d only been teasing, not mocking.

“Mean it.” He emphasised, and I could feel the gravel of his voice just by my ear, the grate of it erupting goosebumps down the side of my neck. “I like how much you like fish.”

Scoffing around a light chuckle, I swatted his lower stomach in retaliation, glad to be back on common ground. “I find them interesting, you dick.”

He hummed thoughtfully and I held my breath as the sound vibrated down my spine, “Tell me more.” 

I did narrow my eyes at the demand, peering up at him to see if he was teasing again, but no. Marshall appeared as sincere in his ask as he had been with everything else this week. I licked at my lower lip, then turned back towards the tank, my voice soft as I regaled another fact off the top of my head. 

“They’re really bad swimmers, slowest kinds of fish, too. They have to use their tails to hold onto things so that the current doesn’t sweep them away, but they’re also the only fish that can swim upright.” I rambled, the weight of his arm on my shoulders allowing me to slump a little further into his side, the earlier anxiety melting away. “Seahorses don’t chew either, or have stomachs. They just disintegrate their food by sucking it in really forcefully.”

“Sounds like an ex I had.” Em quipped with a vague huff, before he turned more curious, “How’d they eat then? Gotta eat to shit, no?”

Shaking my head in exasperated amusement, I told him about their inefficient digestive systems and how much they have to eat a day to stay healthy. “They’re also monogamous.” I mentioned, tilting my head to the side to watch as a couple of seahorses floated closer.

“I see. These players ain’t fuckin’ round, know they only gotta worry about one psycho baby momma.” Marshall said and I felt him dip his head in a show of appreciation.

I had to snort at his stupidity, “You never heard that it’s the males that get pregnant?”

Marshall actually pulled away at that, hand coming to rest on the small of my back whilst his eyes blinked back at me, now wide enough that I could properly see them beneath the brim of his cap. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

With a teasing smile, I reached out to pat at his stomach, “Bet you’d look so good, Marsh. Imagine the pregnancy shoot we could have for you! Paint your belly the colours of the Detroit Lions and everything!”

He slapped my hand away with a tut and slight shake of his head, but he was grinning even as I struggled to stop my laughter. 

It was as we walked away from the seahorses that Marshall ended up looping his arm over my shoulders once more, leading us through another brick archway in my favourite shade of green. We didn’t have to travel far before my feet rooted themselves to the ground, forcing Em into a halt too.

It was only when he glanced over to see the roundness my eyes had taken on that he caught on and chuckled.

Honestly though, it felt as though my lungs had forgotten how to function at the sight I'd been met with. “Those are sharks.”

“Astute assumption there, Darwin.”

“Sharks, Marshall.” I felt the need to reiterate, somehow managing to drag my eyes away from the extraordinary view to spare him a dazed glance. 

Only, I was taken back by the smile he adorned, it was one I’d yet to see. All goofy and childlike, as though he was truly enjoying himself and not thinking about anything else. But he wasn’t watching the sharks, nor the tank. No, his full focus seemed to be honed in on me.

He laughed, only strengthening that smile he wore, and the sight did something to my heart.

“What kind are they?” He asked me, continuing to chuckle quietly as he led us over to a corner of the glass that was free, most of the other observers crowding around the middle in hopes to lure one of the animals closer.

“Maybe a tigershark?” I offered, the two of us subconsciously stepping closer to watch as one of the smaller sharks swam close enough to flash us his underbelly. “Yeah, that definitely was.” I breathed out, blinking when I spotted Marshall’s face in the reflection, the way he was watching the water with a certain amount of reverence. 

“Damn.” He muttered when it swam past us again, tilting his head up to see past the brim of his hat. I watched him for a long moment then, the way the tank lit up his eyes, deepened them too, whilst lengthening his already long lashes. “I know a couple things about sharks, you know.” He offered and didn’t seem all that surprised when he looked over to see me already watching him, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed. 

“Yeah?” I whispered, prompting him on.

“They don’t have bones, right?” He started and at my nod, he smiled and continued, eyes flickering back and forth between the tank and me, “They’re made up of cartilage. Helps them to stay afloat ‘cause it's lighter than bone.”

I hummed in acknowledgement, grinning as one of the sharks swam over the rocky ground by my hand. Em reached out and put his fingers to the glass, breathing in sharply when the shark knocked its side against it.

“What else?” I asked softly, already so invested in hearing what he had to say.

“Their teeth,” He began, stare caught on the same shark that seemed to be circling its way back around, “They come in rows, so when one gets loosened or breaks they jus’ get rid of it and the one from the row behind moves forward.” He told me, pulling me in closer so that we could both press our palms to the glass, “Know that our teeth are actually a lot stronger than theirs too, ‘cause theirs don’t have no roots, they’re jus’ constantly sheddin’ them.”

“I didn’t know that.” I admitted gently, before I was chuckling at the same shark that nudged against the glass, right over the tops of our hands, “Wow.” 

“Yeah, wow.” I heard Marshall breathe in response, the pair of us utterly taken by the creatures.

…

In truth, we were both still in an odd sort of trance even as we wandered back out of the aquarium, only having decided to leave after a few people had started to glance over at us, murmurs starting.

I didn’t mind it all that much, having been grateful for the time we’d managed to lose track of inside, but Em had been quiet as we’d exited, having kept his head down the whole way out. 

By the time we got outside, the sun had just passed its midway mark in the sky and my stomach grumbled lightly. It was that which seemed to knock Marshall out of his solemn trance and he smirked as we approached the car again. 

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him off over the hood as I climbed in, earning myself a chuckle before he followed after me.

“Where you wanna eat?” Marshall quizzed as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car up, “Figured we might be able to get somethin’ here, but then people started takin’ notice.” His face fell into an odd sort of grimace at the reminder, but I waved it off, looking over at the aquarium one last time as we pulled out of the parking space. 

“It’s fine, I’m just really glad we got to go. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a while.” I told him honestly, letting go of another breath just thinking about it. 

It had been unlike anything else I’d seen. In truth, I didn’t think anyone had taken me anywhere so incredible. Sure, I had travelled the globe and seen the sea for myself, but it was completely different getting to just wander around beneath it all, to be able to look and just linger. 

Ultimately, the visit had meant a lot to me, I just wasn’t sure if Em had come to that same conclusion yet. 

“Yeah, me neither.” He said after a moment and I was taken back by the quick smile he gifted me with it. Before I had a chance to question it though, as well as everything else the trip had thrown at me, Em was handing me his phone.

My brow pinched when I glanced down at it, but still, I took it from his hand, figuring he’d ask me to grab his charger for him or something. “Look through the pictures, see which ones you like.” He said instead, catching me off guard.

“Uh, okay.” I replied, not having expected that but I guessed he must have managed to snap a couple photos of the sea life whilst I hadn’t been looking.

I turned the phone on and before I could even ask, Marshall was already rattling his passcode off to me, something I didn’t trust most with. I nodded anyway and quickly typed it in, smiling at the wallpaper which greeted me, a picture of him with Ayla and Z, before I then moved to click into his camera roll. 

There were enough photos of the aquarium, it seemed, for them to have covered the first few visible rows of his library and so I pressed on the last one and decided to scroll through.

Only, my earlier surprise grew larger and larger the further I swiped through them all. I’d been right in assuming that Marshall had captured quite a few shots of the fishes as well as a couple other creatures, but a majority of them were of me. Me standing by the jellyfish tanks. Me under one of the greenhouse domes, just the right amount of sunlight beaming in from above to make me appear almost angelic. Me grinning at a school of clownfish, nose practically touching the glass. Me stood over one of the open enclosures, marvelling at the stingray swimming beneath the surface.

There were dozens. Including one of me stood amongst the sharks with a slack jaw. That one made me chuckle, even as embarrassed as I felt, but then I swiped onto the next photo and my breath caught in the back of my throat.

It was of Rosie and I, the two of us sprawled out on the sofa, my hand in her hair, hers wrapped loosely around my ankle. It had so obviously been taken the night before when we’d all been watching that film and I was eager to take in every detail I could. 

I swiped again, intrigued now, and smiled at the following picture I was met with. 

Marshall caught my eye first, he was holding up the camera with one hand and was wearing that Kangol hat of his, chin titled ever so slightly towards the lens. His eyes were shadowed by the cap but the sun was still just high enough in the sky to have casted a warm glow over the rest of his skin. 

My gaze flickered over to it setting in the background, colouring the typical blue a blazing orange, but it was there that I also spotted Rosie and I stood by the roundabout. Her smile was big enough that it stood out even from a distance, but the camera only really picked up my side profile as I spun her around.

I guessed that he must have taken it that first day I arrived, when Rosie had talked us all into going to the park. I wondered if he’d let me have a copy.

Daring to swipe once more I didn’t expect to find what came next.

It was from outside the diner. The same one we’d visited days ago now, where Marcie worked and where Em and I had fought over the bill. The very same diner he’d admitted to being somewhat of a tradition for him and Rosie, a tradition he’d let me in on from the get-go.

He was obviously stood outside in the lot, the shop’s sign flickering in the top corner, but if you peered through the closed door you could once again see Rosie and I, and without thought a smile sprung to my lips, remembering the exact moment Marshall had snapped this picture because it was taken just as Rosie and I finished our pinky promise. You could see it so clearly, the smiles we both bared, the tangle of our hands, how I’d leaned in to level with her.

It actually stunned me to be quite honest. The fact that he’d managed to capture that very moment. How he’d also hidden his little selfie of the three of us at the park. And again last night, prompting me to wonder where he’d found the moment to sneak a photo without Rosie or me realising it. That, as well as the dozens of pictures he’d taken at the aquarium. 

I’d had my picture taken too many times to count. I couldn’t lie about that. It was one of the many consequences of fame. But never had I ever had a person do what Marshall had done, he’d made me feel like a main focus instead of just a topic, whilst somehow also managing to make me feel included, cared for, lov–

I paused that singular thought and reeled back.

Danny had gone through a phase of taking photos as a kid, but he’d been more invested in nature, the surroundings that he didn’t have to answer back to. Whenever he’d taken pictures of us, it had always been as a family and so it wasn’t too hard to spot all the wrongs there. The booze in the background, the joint in Mum’s mouth, our thin frames. I’d never been too fond of them.

Lottie on the other hand, now she was a part of this generation that lived and thrived off of selfies, so whatever photos there were of the two of us, it was usually always of her looking perfect by the lens and me a seeming little dazed in the background, having just been told to pose and given no time to understand what was going on.

These photos though. They made me feel seen.

They made me feel– just a whole lot.

“Any good ones?” Marshall’s voice cut into my thoughts. My head snapped over to him just in time to catch his gaze before it trailed back over to the road. My eyes lingered on him for a second too long and as a return for all those pictures he’d gotten of me, I raised the phone and snapped a secret photo of him. The afternoon sun was rolling in from the distance and it perfectly illuminated the side of his face. 

I blew out a long breath and smiled over at him. “Yeah,” I said somewhat breathlessly, “They’re perfect.”

[iamwhoami]

Babysitting 101

Chicago Med

You and Connor babysit Owen so that Will and Natalie can still have their date night after the babysitter calls in sick.

Warnings: None

Requested = Yes

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

"Nice job back there Dr. Y/L/N," Connor smiled at you.

The two of you had just finished a relatively easy surgery and had returned to the ED to help with the backlog of patients. Between the icy roads and flu season, they could use all the help they could get in there.

"You weren't too shabby either Dr. Rhodes," You shot back and Connor smirked.

"Quit flirting over there lovebirds," Maggie called out, "Y/N you're needed in Treatment 2. Connor, we have an incoming five minutes out, you're going to Baghdad."

"I'll see you after shift then?" Connor quirked an eyebrow and you nodded.

"You bet."

~~~

The rest of your day flew by without any sight of your boyfriend. You were so busy, constantly rushing from one room to next in an attempt to catch up with the schedule.

By the end of your shift, you were absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and put on your favourite movie while snuggling Connor on the couch.

It was that thought that managed to keep you on your feet.

"I am ready to call it a night," You breathed out while you gathered your items, "I don't know if my feet could stand a moment longer."

"Well, they're going to need to find some juice if you want to get to your car," Maggie joked.

You laughed, "Not if I can convince Connor to carry me there."

"I don't think you'd have any trouble," Maggie said and shook her head, "That man is whipped for you..."

You both chuckled at that but you both also knew it was true. Connor would fly to the moon for you.

"Well, have a good night Y/N," Maggie said and left, leaving you to wait for Connor alone.

You quietly waited on the couch for Connor to finish up his last surgery of the day. Nurses and doctors bustled in and out of the lounge and you wished each and every one of them a good night. You were mostly just on your phone, not actively engaging in any other conversation when you overheard your friend Natalie speaking.

"Sorry Will," She was saying, "The nanny just texted. She can't stay later tonight, something with her sister came up."

"Don't worry about it," Will responded, "I'll cancel the reservation then."

You spoke before you could really think things through, "I can watch Owen!"

When your sudden outburst was met with confused silence, you flushed and fumbled with your words.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I just overheard," You mumbled quickly, "But seriously if you guys need someone to watch Owen, Connor and I can totally do it."

"Connor won't mind?" Natalie asked and you shook your head.

You and Connor hadn't really talked about kids but this wasn't anything like that. All you had to do was look after a toddler for a few hours. How hard could that be?

"We don't have anything better to do tonight anyway," You told them, "In fact, I think it'll be really fun!"

Natalie chuckled at your enthusiasm, "Well I can assure you that it won't be dull."

"Exactly," You pointed your finger at her, "You and Will go on your date. Do. Not. Cancel. Connor and I will watch Owen."

Will and Natalie took a moment to look at each other as if they were contemplating your offer. Finally, Natalie turned back to face you and nodded.

"Thank you Y/N," Natalie said genuinely, "I owe you one."

You shook your head though, "Nah...you don't owe me anything. I'm just glad I can help."

It was decided that Natalie and Will would go and get ready for their date and that they would drop off Owen when you and Connor were back at your apartment. You figured that you should give Connor a heads up but he was still in surgery and you weren't going to disturb him because he was suddenly on babysitting duty afterwards.

He'd get over it.

About ten minutes later, a tired-looking Connor walked into the doctor's lounge and the deepest part of your gut felt bad that you had dragged him into babysitting Owen after a long shift. That guilt caused you to just stare at your boyfriend for a solid minute before he pointed it out.

"What did you do," Connor demanded teasingly as he turned to face you.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, "Nothing!"

"Uh-huh..." Connor raised an eyebrow, "I know that look Y/N."

You feigned offence, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Connor only continued to stare at you and after a while, you finally caved.

"Okay fine," You sighed. "You have to promise that you won't get mad."

Connor nodded, "Okay..."

"I..." You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again. "I kind of volunteered us to babysit Owen while Nat and Will go on a date."

Silence.

“So…” You stared at Connor, “Thoughts?”

Connor raised an eyebrow, “You voluntarily agreed to look after a toddler…after working a 12 hour shift…”

“Correct.”

The two of you stood there, staring at each other, unmoving. After a hot second, Connor let out a slightly exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alrighty then, I suppose we should get going then,” Connor gave you a small smile, “wouldn’t want to keep Nat and Will waiting now would we?”

~~~ Perhaps you had underestimated how exhausting looking after a toddler could be.

No, you definitely had.

Dinner had been tiring enough. Somehow more food had gotten on you and Connor than into Owen's stomach.

"You've got a little something there," Connor teased and wiped mashed potato off your eyebrows.

You laughed, "What? Are you sure it's not my new makeup?"

Game after game. Activity after activity. It just didn't end, and yet somehow, it was you and Connor that were tired out, not Owen.

"Y/N!" Owen's little voice gleefully called out. "Come play!"

You huffed but smiled big for the little boy before pushing yourself onto your feet.

Connor couldn't help but chuckle, "Are you having some regrets right about now?"

"Pfttt, never," You shook your head as you sat yourself down on the ground next to Owen. "Right buddy? We're having a blast?"

Connor smiled at you affectionately. He couldn't deny that he was tired but he also had zero regrets. You were so good with Owen. The way you spoke to him. The way you naturally were so attuned to his needs. The way you understood his toddler language.

It took about another hour before Owen's energy began to wane. After a ten minute chase around the apartment, you had managed to wrangle Owen into his pajamas and Connor convinced him to brush his teeth.

Another twenty minutes later and Owen was passed out in bed and you and Connor collapsed on the couch.

"I'm not sure which was more exhausting," Connor joked. "Our twelve hour shift or this."

You teased, "Did a toddler outdo you?"

"Absolutely," Connor shook his head. "I was absolutely outdone by a toddler."

Laughing, you leaned against Connor who wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to his chest.

"You're really good with him you know," Connor softly said.

You hummed, "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Maybe we should babysit more often," Connor added and you scoffed.

"I think we need a few weeks to recover before making any big decisions."

[zigrethsnotebook]

I'm pretty sure you could charm the socks off anyone, but I'd like to keep mine on for now.

Stan x Reader

words: 1,188

tags: sfw, fluff, breaking out of a cell together

This was supposed to be a fresh new start and look at yourself now: Your first week living in Gravity Falls and you're already spending the night in a jail cell. Just perfect.

You had been so sure that those two policemen that always stuck together were unobservant and fully incompetent at their job. And to be fair, you might still be right on that. But not even those two were stupid enough to let you go with the way they caught you red-handed.

You had spent the whole day staking out that auto yard. The one that was owned by the father of that telepathy kid. And you knew that his kid had a show that night, so you were sure he wouldn't be at that junkyard of his.

He wasn't, but he had called in to the police and arranged with them that they would patrol the place every couple hours. He must have had some more recent attempts on his property.

And it was so silly, too. You just needed a new handbrake because yours had quite literally snapped in half somehow. But the guy wouldn't sell it to you for less than 200 bucks. Who has that kind of money? So naturally, you decided to just take it when he wasn't looking.

As luck would have it, you crawled out and over the fence just as those policemen were making the rounds. They took you back to the precinct and locked you in a holding cell before you even had a chance to touch one of the cars.

So now, the only thing they could really charge you for was breaking and entering, or... just entering, you didn’t break anything. But you were determined to get out of this somehow. There really was no need for this to be the first thing the people in this town knew about you.

As the night had dragged on they found another guy that they threw in the same cell. They actually only had one so there would have been nowhere else to put him. You barely acknowledged each other. He just went to sleep, deciding to sort it all out the next day. Eventually, you did the same.

You woke up to the sound of keys jingling and immediately sat upright. When the shorter of the policemen, the sheriff, walked past you to his desk you spoke up. "You know, I didn’t stand a chance against you last night. With a guy as fit and athletic as you... I wouldn't have been able to escape you if I tried."

The sheriff blushed. "Ohoho... you really think so?" A deep and gruff chuckle emanated from the man behind you. You hadn't realized he was awake. "Of course, just look at you! You're really taking care of yourself and it shows!"

The policeman walked up to your cell with a big smile on his face. "Tell me mor-" He was interrupted when his loud deputy barged into the room with a bell, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Ooo!! Susan's holdin' a Pie eatin' contest!!"

Not two seconds later the two were out the door. You sighed in disappointment and sat back down. Guess you won't be getting out of here anytime soon. Or so you thought.

About a minute after the policemen were gone two children, a boy and a girl, sneaked into the police station and to your cell. The old man you had been stuck with got up and walked to the cell door. "There you are, kids! Good job getting Lazy Susan involved."

The girl quickly took a hairpin out of her hair and went to work on the lock. The boy looked proudly at the old guy as he spoke. "The pie eating contest may have been slightly exaggerated." The old man laughed heartily. "That's my boy!"

The girl had by now managed to pick the lock and gave the guy a million watt grin as she opened the door for him. He ruffled her hair affectionately as he left the cell. Then the old guy looked at you with a smirk. "You comin' or what?"

You wanted to protest but more than that you wanted to get out of here. So, instead of saying anything, you just followed them out of the police station.

Before you could thank them and leave the old man spoke up again. "You can crash with us for a bit. At least until those two idiots forget about us. Which should be about... two hours." He laughed again and you were beginning to enjoy the sound of it.

You agreed and took your place in the golf cart that apparently belonged to them. The old man drove and the boy sat next to him. You and the girl sat in the back. The whole drive she looked at you with wide eyes and a mischievous aura about her.

After a few minutes the four of you arrived at a wooden house somewhere in the forest. It was a tourist trap that you'd read about somewhere. Was the old guy the owner? No wonder he got in trouble with the police.

As the four of you walked up to the door the old man halted and slapped himself in the face. "Where are my manners?" He turned to you, one hand outstretched. "The name's Stan Pines, owner of the Mystery Shack!" He gave you a big grin and you shook his hand, introducing yourself as well.

On your way to the living room the children had introduced themselves as well. Mabel and Dipper. They also called Stan their 'Grunkle', which could mean... great uncle?

"By the way, I really liked what you were going for with the sheriff back there. I bet it would have worked if we didn’t have our own thing going on." Stan smirked at you as he sat down on the only couchchair in the living room.

You looked around and grabbed one of the chairs from a table in the corner and brought it over to the tv. "Thanks. What can I say, I am incredibly charming." You playfully batted your eyes at him with a smirk on your lips. It earned you another deep chuckle from the old man.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw the kids standing in the doorway to the living room. The girl was jumping up and down and shaking her brother by the shoulders as she tried and failed to suppress a squeal.

"Oh yeah. I bet. I'm pretty sure you could charm the socks off anyone," he glanced over at the kids and then leaned closer to you, putting one hand to his mouth as if that would keep them from hearing his words, "but I'd like to keep mine on for now." He smirked at you as he leaned back in his chair.

You tried to fight off the blush that was making its way to your cheeks and turned to look at the tv. Stan watched you do that and chuckled again. Oh man, what have you gotten yourself into?

[skepsiss]

Post season 4 steddie fic with Steve helping Eddie recover? Like after hospital and he's technically "healed" but he's having trouble. Learning to walk again, shaky hands, sharp pains, things like that

I love them sm

I love them too, anon. This premise is like so many of my story premises for them, so I will try my best to keep it short cause I can see this getting way out of hand, oops. Lol. **Note, you can send me steddie prompts too! Anyone can** (tumblr keeps messing with this post and putting the read more WAY farther down. Forgive me) The idea behind this is they're not together, and neither of them quite knows that they have feelings for the other. Sort of... the blooming of a crush. Early, early stages of Steddie. -- "I can do it," Eddie said harshly as he attempted to pull himself out of the chair he had been lounging in. Steve stood there, arms hovering around the perimeter of the armchair, as Eddie struggled to stand. Maybe Steve had been a bit too attentive as of late, but Eddie had only been home from the hospital for a little over a week. After the accident, recovery hadn't been easy for Eddie--or Max for that matter, but while Max was still in hospital recovering, Eddie had been discharged back to the care of his uncle. Of course, Wayne was ecstatic to have Eddie back home, but with hospital bills and having to replace half of their trailer, Wayne didn't have a lot of time to spend at home. The Party had been volunteering around the clock to check in and help Eddie, but Steve had noticed that Eddie allowed very few of them to actually help him. Steve was one of those people, and even then, it was a fight. Eddie did not in fact 'do it,' as he tried to support his weight on his arms and stand. Instead, he managed to get up and then promptly collapse to the side, clinging to the armrest to stop himself from hitting the floor.

"Hey, woah--" Steve breathed, hunching to catch Eddie by one of his elbows.

Eddie snatched his arm away, looking frustrated and embarrassed as he kneeled on the ground. "Eddie, just let me help," Steve encouraged, sounding a bit exasperated as he tried to look Eddie in the face. "Don't mother-hen me," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to contain his emotions. He sounded on the verge of yelling, or like he was about to start weeping, but Steve tried to ignore that. He didn't need to embarrass Eddie any further. "Can I at least grab your cane for you?" Steve asked, sighing as he stood back up. Eddie took a moment, and then nodded, breathing out a gruff 'yeah,' without looking up. Steve moved to the door and grabbed the cane that Dustin had brought over a few days ago--one The Party had decorated and glued a dragon's head to the top of to make it 'cool.' Eddie had liked it, but he still didn't seem keen to use it.

Steve handed Eddie his walking stick and he grumbled before attempting to get his feet under himself again. "Just let me help," Steve said quietly, not stepping forward like he had before, but still standing there expectantly. "I need to be able to do it myself--" Eddie grouched, barely managing to get up onto wobbly knees and stand. "No you don't," Steve scolded, "not this early on---Eddie, you were in a hospital bed for over a month, you don't have the strength to do it by yourself." "Elaborate way to call me an uncoordinated nerd," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to inject some levity into the conversation.

"That's not what I'm saying," Steve sighed, keeping close attention to Eddie as he slowly started to pivot. "Just let me---" Eddie started as he tried to take a step forward and wobbled terribly. Steve was at his side instantly, catching Eddie around the waist and arm, stopping him from hitting the ground again. Eddie stilled in Steve's arms before Steve heard a small whine escaping him, that eventually turned into an angry snarl. "Don't---just--" Eddie complained, trying to pull away again, but not having the footing or the strength to break Steve's grip as he jerked back. "Just let me do it--" The threat of tears was evident again as Steve saw the frustration well up in Eddie's eyes. He didn't want to force Eddie, but this was getting ridiculous. "Why is it so important that you do it? I can help, Eddie. That's why I'm here, just let---" "Because you're not always going to be here!" Eddie snapped angrily, cutting Steve off. He looked away again but stopped struggling against Steve's grip, instead standing there with his face turned toward the ground like a dejected child. "What're you..." Steve trailed off, trying to grasp at Eddie's meaning. He didn't like how emotional this was making Eddie, and he didn't like that he wasn't able to help him. Whether that was with walking or feeling better. "You're not always going to be here..." Eddie repeated, his tone much softer as he continued to hold onto Steve, still unable to stand on his own.

"We'll... I'll be here for as long as you need," Steve tried, still not understanding what Eddie meant. "No--you... how long is it going to take for me to be normal again? A month? Five? What if it's never? What if I don't get better? You're not always---I'm not going to make any of you put your lives on hold so I can stand up and go take a fucking piss," Eddie gritted out, his voice getting tight at the end, his emotions obviously raw. Steve quieted as he stood there, understanding what Eddie meant, but not agreeing. He had to imagine that being immobilized by an injury would drive him insane too, and he understood to a degree how deregulating it was not to be able to do everything he demanded of his own body. Recovery was slow, and hard, and Eddie wasn't going to have an easy go of it, but pushing himself wasn't going to help.

"That's stupid," Steve said bluntly, watching as Eddie looked up at him, completely surprised by his words. "You almost died, Eddie. No one other than some action hero from a bad B-movie is going to recover that fast. You're just going to make it worse. You have to rebuild the muscles, man. Learn to walk properly; there isn't a point in doing it if you're going to teach yourself to do it wrong, and then have to correct yourself over and over. You'll probably hurt yourself. It'll be painful, man." Eddie seemed shocked silent by Steve's words, still hanging there as he stared. "Isn't it the same with music? You practice and practice the same string over and over again until you get it right? And then you have to practice the right way or you're never going to do it?" Steve asked, watching Eddie inhale unevenly. "Eddie... none of us are going to abandon you, that's not what we do. I'm not going to make you do this by yourself." Eddie looked away again, a choked-sounding laugh escaping him as he let his hair tumble in front of his face to hide his emotions. Steve didn't stare, instead trying to look across the room to give Eddie a bit of privacy. He knew this wasn't easy, and the emasculation of being unable to do anything by yourself had to suck, so Steve tried to preserve as much of Eddie's dignity as he could manage. "Yeah... like learning a new chord," Eddie swallowed, his voice sounding rough.

He took another beat before trying to stand up on his own again, leaning heavily on his cane, but not letting go of Steve's arm either. "Going to ruin your summer--I don't want to be a burden," Eddie breathed, obviously trying to sound a little jokey, despite his words. "You're not a burden," Steve replied easily, shifting to stand beside Eddie to help him walk toward the hall of the trailer. "What else am I doing with my summer? Swim? Actually, might be good to get you to swim. Low impact, but great muscle strengthening. Probably be good for you to swim." "I can't swim," Eddie laughed, his tone bittersweet and laced with a much deeper emotion. "I'll teach you," Steve offered, not putting too much stock in his own words. "I used to teach kids to swim all the time during the summer back in '83 and '84. It's easy." Eddie went quiet again as he took careful step after careful step down the hall toward the washroom. "Yeah... okay," Eddie mumbled quietly as he leaned on the door handle and breathed hard from the effort of walking just that short distance.

"Okay?" Steve repeated, "Hallelujah, he compromises." Steve said sarcastically as he helped Eddie slide the door aside. "Man, shut up," Eddie grouched, but he sounded charmed by the gentle tease. "What're you going to get mad about now? Not holding my dick while I piss?" "Grow up," Steve retorted, trying to sound friendly. Eddie laughed and Steve helped him as far as the sink before letting go. "Don't fall over, and don't try and stand. Just sit down, you're still recovering, man." "Don't tell me how to use the toilet, Harrington. You're not my nurse-maid," Eddie grouched, able to wobble from the sink edge to brace on the back of the toilet. "You're lucky I'm not, probably would have sedated you by now if that was the case," Steve teased again, getting another small laugh from Eddie before he turned to leave the room. "Holler if you need something." "Harrington..." Eddie mumbled, and Steve paused at the door as he held it open. "Don't... thanks... thank you." "Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, "any time man... really. Any time, I don't mind hanging out with you at all." Eddie glanced over at him, and Steve flashed him another smile before sliding the door shut and walking back down the hall. He leaned there, waiting for Eddie to call him back over when he needed him. None of this was easy, and he didn't blame Eddie for having a hard time with it. He wanted Eddie to get his freedom back as soon as possible, but he truly didn't mind hanging around with Eddie whenever he wanted him there. He liked it, actually. He liked feeling needed and helpful, and Steve liked the idea of teaching Eddie to swim. He owed a lot to Eddie, and he had meant it when he said he wasn't going to abandon him. A month, five, forever... Steve didn't plan on abandoning Eddie for anything.

[daisyblog]

Cherry

Our Story Masterlist Summary: How Cherry was made.

Harry knew he had to get back to some sort of normality. He'd spent the last few months on tour, trying to work on his emotions and still trying to put a good show for his fans. It was hard.

It was hard for him without YN by his side. It was hard for him when they weren't talking right now. They hadn't spoken for a few weeks now, their last conversation was strained and it seemed that they silently agreed that maybe they needed to stop texting right now.

From the One Direction days, right up until his first solo album, Harry always felt inspired to write. It was his passion, the way he enjoyed expressing himself and music was his thing. But since their break up, Harry felt a lot, but trying to put into words was just something that he couldn't do right now.

He had a studio session with his team, he thought it was a waste of time because he had already explained to his manager, Jeff, that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to write, but Jeff and the team persuaded to join them, even if it was just to mess around with some of the instruments and sound board to see what they could do.

Harry sensed a tense and awkward atmosphere as he walked through the studio door, where everyone else had arrived before him. He noticed the look Mitch and Jeff gave each other and how Sammy and Tyler focused their eyes on the recording deck in front of them.

"What?" Harry continued to eye each of them, waiting to hear why they were all acting guilty, almost like they knew something he didn't.

Jeff broke the silence of the room. "Have you been online today?".

Harry shook his head no, confusion still evident on his face. "No..why?".

Jeff eyed Mitch quickly before he broke the news to his friend. "There's a photo of YN...and a man in a gallery in Paris".

Harry's heart felt like it was going to escape his body. It was thumping hard against his chest. He'd always been the jealous type, he'd get annoyed if another man checked YN out in front of him or attempted to chat her up, but this wasn't just jealousy, this was like he'd been hit by a bus. Was she really moving on?

Swallowing his emotions, Harry broke the tense silence. "Um..do we know who he is?". He asked his manager, knowing he would have made a few phone calls this morning.

"His name is Jack..his parents own the gallery they were at..it was their opening night". Harry felt his stomach twist again, all he could think about was YN and Jack and the fact that she had already met his parents.

Harry nodded his head in response, not quite knowing what to say. He just wanted to know, how they met, where they met, did she love him, did they have the same conversations they used to have, did she laugh at his jokes?

"Do you think he may just be a friend or something?" Mitch, who didn't get too involved in anything that wasn't his business, questioned Harry. He had known YN for a few years, and to him he just thought this was out of character for her. He witnessed how in love the couple are, the way YN would look at him with heart in eyes, the way they would say 'I love you' whenever they were leaving the room or how supportive YN had been when the guitarist first met them.

Harry let out a sarcastic chuckle. "I've met all her friends...and I've never heard of him". It was true, Harry had met YN's small group of friends. YN always said how small her circle was because she only trusted a small amount of people. "I'm gonna go and get a coffee, I'll be back in a bit".

Harry took a small walk around the area, needing to get some air. He felt like so many things were going through his mind. He didn't want YN to be with anyone else, he wanted to be the one to hold her hand, tell her how beautiful she is, tell her that he loves her.

Once Harry had arrived back at the studio, the four men was surprised to see that he had actually come back after the news they had shared this morning. They were even more surprised when Harry instructed Mitch to play a slow melody on the guitar. But they all did what Harry asked and once Harry began to sing some lyrics, they had realised that Harry was expressing his feelings and emotions through song.

Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me

Harry thought about how he and YN had always had little pet names for each other, mostly being 'baby' or 'bubs". He couldn't help but think about YN calling Jack these names. He was also aware that they weren't talking right now so it made things feel even more intense for him.

I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment

YN was smiling wildly in the photo at the gallery, Harry could tell it was her real smile and one that he had been lucky to see many time over the years. Of course he wanted to see her happy, but not without him and with another man. As he was getting ready this morning, he couldn't help but reach for the pink beanie that sat in the drawer, one that YN had left behind and the one that was currently hiding his curls.

Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me

Harry re-sung the first verse, wanting to repeat the message loud and clear.

I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them? Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?

He missed her loudness, he missed her laugh, he missed everything about her, even her thick accent. But the more he thought about YN, the more he visualised the photo of her and Jack so the last line came out without thought as he sung.

---

It was later that evening that Harry was back home by himself. He'd thought about his day and how everything changed so quickly for him.

He knew he was being cruel to himself, sat staring at the photo of YN at the gallery. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes crinkled as she was mid laugh or how she was wearing her favourite black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. 

To distract himself he decided to go for a night time run, something he used to do when he couldn’t sleep or had something on his mind. As he run around the area near his home in LA, knowing the time difference between LA and England he wondered if YN was awake not able to sleep or if she had started her day early. 

Arriving back at his house, Harry showered and changed into some comfy clothes, he got into bed and out of habit glanced at the space next to him. An empty space where YN and Teddy were usually cuddled up. 

What surprised him was the sound of his pinging on the bedside table. He reached over and seeing the name across the screen made his heartbeat faster.

YN: Hey! Can we talk? x

Harry wasn’t sure if he was happy, relived or scared. Of course he wanted to talk to her, he’d do anything to have her back in his arms. But was this the talk where she told him it was officially over between them both.

Not wasting another moment, he pressed the phone button next to YN’s name and waited to hear her voice. 

“Hello”. YN’s voice was quiet, almost like she was trying to not to wake anyone. 

“Uh hey”. Harry was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect. 

“Sorry…I hope I didn’t wake you”. YN apologised.

Harry’s fingers began to play with the loose cotton on the duvet as he spoke. “N-no…of course not”.

There was a slight pause in conversation, almost like they weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“I…I wanted to explain the photo you may have seen-“. Harry recognised the nerves in YN’s voice. 

Harry interrupted. “YN…it’s okay..you don’t need to explain yourself to-“.

“Harry-“.

“-me…you can date whoever you want to date”. Harry continued to ramble, almost trying to sound unbothered about the whole thing.

“Harry…it’s not what it looks like-“.

Once again Harry didn’t let YN finished explaining. “You don’t need to tell me”.

“Harry…for fook sake let me finish”. Harry remained silent. “I’m trying to explain that Jack, who’s in the photo is Mia’s boyfriend…Mia invited me along because she was nervous and the media have twisted it”.

Harry has never felt relief like it. He wanted to jump up and down in excitement, but instead the smile was back on his face. 

When Harry didn’t respond, too happy about the news YN just shared, YN grew nervous. “Harry?”.

“Oh..oh sorry…I-I…I’m not going to lie…I’m so fucking happy to hear that”. Harry left put a chuckle, YN giggled on the other end of the phone at his honestly.

“So you really thought I would be dating someone”. YN decided this was the time to question Harry.

“Uh…uh…No…well maybe”.

“Harry….you know I still care about you…I was actually going to ask if you wanted to maybe go for a coffee or something next week…I’m flying out to LA to stay with Louis for a bit”.

Harry’s excitement started to grow. YN wanted to see him, she was flying out to LA next week, she made the first step. He couldn’t help but get hopeful that this was his chance to win her back.

“Yeah..yeah…I’d really love that”. Harry tried to stay calm and not give too much away.

“Cool…I’ll leave you to get some sleep ‘cause I know it’s late there…I’ll send you some details once I arrive”.

“That’ll be good…have a safe flight”.

“Goodnight bu-“. YN almost let out the little pet name she was used to saying. “Harry”.

As they both hung up, Harry whispered “Goodnight baby”.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @indierockgirrl @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @jerseygirlinca @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @buckybarnessimpp

[hearted-anon]

Cosy evenings with Hyung

Words:1,035 Note: part 2 to 'clingy bread, happy ferret'. Requested by : @hearts444innie Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one @minnielvrr T/w: rough tickling Lee: Jeongin Ler: Channie

"Ah- Jeongin you're crushing me here! I know you miss me but…" Chan sighed, feeling the fox wrap his arms around the elder's arm so tightly he could feel the blood circulation being cut off. Despite managing to quite literally pry the vocalist off him, he instead decided to cling onto his leg like a dog, rubbing his cheek against the bare skin of his thigh. Squealing at the feeling, the leader pulled at his leg desperately, an interested Hyunibini duo watching on with growing smiles on their faces, quickly being replaced when Hyunjin began to chase the elder around the apartment with a threat for punishment.

"C'mon, let's… go- ugh!" Every time Chan found a way to deter the younger from attaching to him like an octopus, he always found another way to ruin that plan, and this time it was sticking to his chest like a cat that found its favourite cat tree. Succumbing to the fact he had to go back to dorms like this, he at least tried to make himself comfortable with a groan, a hand under Jeongin's legs and another opening the door to their cosy apartment, surprisingly spotless from the fact he left the youngest home for quite some time. But then again, he had snuck himself all the way to snuggle with Hyunjin, which the Aussie internally found so incredibly cute.

"Alright, now you stay there, I'll make dinner. If I even see you take one step towards me, you're getting it," Chan warns sternly, with no malice behind it however, instead having a wide dimpled smile. He knew Jeongin would've tried something either way, having slept for so long gave him enough energy to bounce around their dorm at least ten times. Just as he expected, it hadn't even reached two minutes with the Aussie reaching in for some spaghetti before his eyes locked onto the fox, who was hidden not so discreetly behind a kitchen counter, brown strands of hair peeking up to stare at him.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he didn't even bother with punishing the vocalist, hearing the loud screams and high-pitched cackles for mercy next door was already enough to put him in a bad mood to wreck Jeongin, but he knew better than to scare him off like that. After all, who didn't enjoy having a clingy Jeongin by your side? Having sniffed out the smell of bacon and Carbonara sauce, the younger sped over as if a pet to their favourite treat, mouthwatering and staring at the leader with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

Many, many grunts and carrying the maknae back to the couch later, Chan felt victorious! He had managed to make a good-looking dinner without burning down the kitchen with Jeongin's constant bothering by his side and even adding on a side of dumplings. To say they devoured it at the speed of light was an understatement, now both of them staring down the last piece of the savoury treat. Although Chan had originally intended to hand the last piece to the younger out of instinct, he decided to take a different route, untouching of the treat.

"How about you have it Hyung?" Damn it, now he felt guilty just staring at the fox as he pushed the plate towards him, denying it and pushing it right back at him.

"No, you have it, I'm full." Chan declared, pouting when Jeongin denied it yet again, not wanting to even lift his chopsticks towards the treat. Puffing his cheeks up, he pounced onto the vocalist, fingers wiggling against his sides without mercy.

"Nohoho! I-I dohon't wahant it!" The younger squealed, pawing at the elder's hands to no avail on the carpeted floor, only able to thrash in a futile attempt to escape. No matter how many times he protested, the leader could tell the maknae was indeed still hungry but couldn't even enjoy his meal without humility in his way. Oh, was Chan going to ensure he was the most spoilt baby ever to exist.

"You do, and you know what liars get? They get punished." Chan sternly nags, shoving his fingers into the younger's armpits, drilling right into the center. Poor Jeongin screamed at the top of his lungs, cackling as the sensations felt as if they were frying his body, clamping his arms in an attempt to protect himself; it came to no one's surprise that it obviously didn't do anything to help him.

"HYUNG- AHA- PLEHEHEASE!" The maknae somehow manages through wheezes of air, Chan smiling endearingly down at him. He really was too ticklish for his own good, seeing how they barely had made it to two minutes before his fists were pounding on the carpet, his entire neck flushed red and his legs quivering after making a failed attempt to dig a hole in the floor with his heels.

"Are you going to eat finish the dumpling there? Hm? No pushing it to me, no saying you're full because I know you aren't, no whining?" Chan coos, clicking his tongue in contemplation if he was being too harsh, not letting Jeongin whine was like a death sentence in their dorm apartment. Despite this, the vocalist nodded rapidly, tears of mirth welling up in his eyes the moment the five-minute mark in. With a sound of adoration, the leader let up, kneading his cheeks while praising him for letting his humility be put aside for once. Although Jeongin already looked like a real-life tomato, he somehow managed to become even redder at the praise, a faux frown pasted on his face as he pushed the leader away.

Safe to say, Jeongin did in fact finish his dinner with his cheeks full of dumplings, Chan having 'accidentally' made ten extra hearing the younger's stomach so much as to vibrate. But as he cleaned up the dining table, he felt as if hawk eyes were watching, staring at the hyperactive maknae that was glaring in his soul. With a giggle of endearment, he gently folded the cloth away, chasing down the fox all over again while squeaks and giggles echoed down the halls.

It always was fun spending your evenings with Hyung, right?

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 2

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

"You went inside?" Beatriz asked as she flipped the sign in the bakery window from OPEN to CLOSED, before continuing sweeping the floor. In the back, Papi and Frank were setting out the dough for the next morning's loaves to rise. Alba surveyed the glass cases, making a mental note of what sold well and what didn't, and put the leftovers aside to be sold at cut rate the next day. Beatriz had been bursting with questions about the Grunauer place, but Alba had had no time to answer them—it was the lunch rush by the time she got back; she hadn't wanted to talk in front of Papi, and the afternoon had been quite busy as well. It was only now, at closing time, that she finally told Beatriz of what—and who—she'd found at the mansion deep in the swamp.

"Of course I went inside," she said. "I couldn't just leave the bread there!"

"Papi and Frank do."

"They have no respect for their own products."

"What's it like?" Beatriz said, eagerly. "Is it scary? Did you see any snakes or gators?"

"No, there's no snakes or gators. Just a big, friendly dog, and lots of empty rooms and a big staircase. I didn't see the second floor though." Alba couldn't find the words to describe to Beatriz how she'd really felt, walking down the corridor of the Grunauer place. The rooms she'd seen were filled with furniture, but they all had an air of disuse and neglect like the outside of the house. It had made her feel incredibly sad. The house was not a queen, as she'd first thought upon seeing it. It was a woman past her prime, alone and forgotten.

When she came into the kitchen, she'd felt even sadder. The stove looked like it never got lit, the pantry was empty, and so was the fridge—it contained only a pot of mustard and, inexplicably, a book.

She wondered how young Mr. Grunauer had managed to feed himself, and whether the bread and pastries they sent were his only sustenance.

"And what about Gruesome Grunauer?" continued Beatriz. "Is he really disfigured as people say?"

"Don't call him that. No, he's not. He does have a scar on his face, but it's not that bad." The moment they came face-to-face, all she could see were those bewilderingly familiar eyes. She had barely paid attention to the scar stretching across his left cheek like a spider web, and if she had, it was only to notice how it contrasted sadly with his boyish face, giving him a tragic look, like a cursed prince in a fairy tale. He had a scraggly beard too, though it was a pitiful attempt to cover up the scar or simply due to the neglect to shave, she didn't know. For some reason, the memory made her feel a little shy, so she didn't mention it to Beatriz.

Later that night, after Beatriz had gone to bed in their tiny bedroom in their tiny apartment above the bakery, Alba found her father sitting in his tattered armchair in the front space that doubled as the living room and dining room, smoking his pipe. She knew sometimes he would remain there all night, never making it to bed, just puffing on his pipe in silence and watching the smoke curl around the photos of her mother and Raf. Then, as the clock chimed four, he would get up with a little groan and go downstairs to start the ovens.

Seeing her linger at the door, he looked up. "Why aren't you in bed?" he asked.

Alba sat down on the armrest. "Papi, how much do we owe the Grunauers?" she asked.

Her father stopped puffing on the pipe. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Yes, I do. I'm twenty-four years old, Papi. I'm not a child anymore."

"I'm taking care of it."

Alba wrapped her arms around him, and put her head on his shoulder, as she'd often done when she was a little girl. "I want to help," she said. "How am I supposed to take over the bakery if you won't let me help?"

Papi sighed. "All right, we owe three thousand, if you must know. I borrowed seven thousand from Dr. Grunauer. Five years to pay it off, no interest. He was very kind for that. It was to buy the land, build the bakery, stock it. When the shop fell through, I only got four thousand back for everything." He ran a hand through his sparse, graying hair. "I was a fool. I should've held on to that land. If I sold it now to one of those returning GIs, we could've easily paid it off. But after Rafael—and your mother—I wasn't thinking straight."

"I know, Papi, I know." Alba pressed her lips to his temple, trying to kiss away the memory of that terrible time. They hadn't even been able to celebrate the end of the war. That had been the cruelest thing. When the whole world had been rejoicing, all they could think about was that the war had taken not only Raf but Ana as well. She'd collapsed upon seeing the two officers in their front room and never regained consciousness after that. She'd died just a week before VE-Day.

Three thousand dollars. The bakery earned about that much in a year, which meant they would have to forgo all expenses and not have any salary for a year, if they were to pay off the debt. Alba didn't mind—she'd never taken any pay for working at the bakery anyway—but it wouldn't be fair to Frank and Beatriz.

"We need a concrete plan to pay it off, Papi," she said. "The bakery can't turn a profit until we do, and we can't keep plying Mr. Grunauer with bread and pastries twice a week and hope the debt will magically go away. How many loaves of bread, how many boxes of pastries and croquettes is it going to take?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I've been to their house today. It's a big place, and Mr. Grunauer's there all alone. He needs someone to take care of it, a housekeeper." The idea had formed in her mind while she stood looking around that forlorn, empty kitchen, where the only thing that qualified as foodstuff was a bag of dog biscuits. "I think I can—"

Papi sat up straight and took the pipe out of his mouth. "No daughter of mine is going to be a servant," he said sternly.

"I won't be a servant," said Alba. "I'm going to be a housekeeper. It's no different than working in a hotel. He can pay me, or I can just work off the debt."

"But what about the bakery?" Papi asked, as she knew he would. She had an answer ready.

"Frank and Beatriz can do without me," she said. "Really, Papi, Beatriz is much better at it than you give her credit for. The customers are always happier and buy more when she's at the till."

Papi still looked skeptical, but Alba knew she was starting to win him over. "May I have your permission to at least talk to Mr. Grunauer about it?" she asked.

"What if the boy refuses?"

"Then we'll think of something else," she said stoutly.

Papi tapped the pipe into the ashtray, looking thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose you can talk to Dr. Grunauer's son about it. The worst he can do is to turn us down."

Alba jumped up. "Thank you, Papi!"

"But I hate for you to bear this burden alone, daughter."

"It's not a burden, Papi," she said and gave him another kiss on the temple. "This is our bakery. I'm only doing my bit."

"Yes. Now get to bed, we have an early start tomorrow," he said, as if they didn't have an early start every single day, and patted her cheek affectionately.

***

The next morning, Alba got ready before Grant Gastin had a chance to show up. She packed some more pasteles, filled with guava and coconut, two loaves of fresh bread, some sliced ham and cheese, and a jar of pickles. Remembering the empty fridge with its lonely pot of mustard, she went back to the fridge and cut a big pat of butter as well. She was wrapping it in a square of wax paper when Frank came up to her.

"Mr. Reyes asked me to drive you over to the Grunauer place," he said. Despite having known them for seven years and repeated requests from Papi to call him by his first name, Frank still couldn't manage it. They treated him as family though. He'd started working at the bakery at fifteen, trained by Ana herself. He'd enlisted at the same time as Rafael, and they had prayed for his safe return as fervently as they'd prayed for Raf. At least with Frank, their prayer had been heard. After the war, he'd come back to the bakery, for which they were grateful. Being half-Seminole, Frank didn't exactly benefit from the GI Bill.

"Thank you, Frank, but I can manage," Alba said. "Why don't you help Beatriz at the front?"

A flush crept over Frank's open, honest face. Alba knew he'd been carrying a torch for her sister for years now, though Beatriz had never given him much thought. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Go on, spend some time with her, or she'll waste it all on the likes of Grant Gastin." She gave him a friendly shove and went around the back for her bike.

The day was warm, and despite the coolness of the swamp, Alba was drenched in sweat and her hair was frizzing like crazy by the time she arrived at the Grunauer place. She knocked on the front door. When there was no answer as usual, she tried the handle. It was locked.

Her heart sank. Could it be that young Mr. Grunauer was annoyed by her last visit and wanted to prevent another? Surely, she hadn't been that pushy, had she? Or—her stomach dropped with a horrible possibility—could something have happened to him? She banged on the door again.  

"Mr. Grunauer? Hello? It's Alba, from the bakery. I brought you some things—hello?"

A dark shape reared up behind the glass, making her jump back in shock. Then she saw that it was the dog, his mouth wide open, tongue lolling in a cheerful smile. "Hola," Alba said, waving at him. "Can you get your master for me? Or can you open the door?"

The dog disappeared from the front door. Pressing her nose against the glass pane, Alba saw that he was pacing into the depths of the house and kept looking back, as if beckoning for her to follow. She picked up the basket and went around the back of the house. The porch here was covered with mosquito netting, forming a sunroom that looked out on an overgrown garden and the dark swamp beyond. A fan hung from the ceiling, its blade rotating lazily in the warm air.

The dog came out from inside the house. He stood on his hind legs and pushed at the latch of the door, lifting it. Alba laughed, delighted at his maneuver. The moment the door was open, the dog bounced through and started licking her hand, his tail rotating in greeting.

"What a clever sausage you are," she said, rubbing his ears while lingering at the door. Wouldn't Mr. Grunauer see this as trespassing?

Seeing her hesitate, the dog tugged at her wrist and pulled her deeper into the house. She hurried after him, barely having time to drop her basket in the kitchen. The dog led her down the corridor, into a library or study of sorts. It was gloomy and cluttered as the rest of the house, but this clutter was the result of living, rather than neglect—books were piled on tables and on the floor alongside dirty dishes, clothes were strewn haphazardly on the backs and arms of chairs, blankets and pillows heaped on the couch. It appeared Mr. Grunauer had been camping in this room and abandoned the rest of the house.

As Alba stepped further into the room, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness and landed on a figure lying prone on the rug by the window.

"¡Dios mío!" She rushed over to turn him on his back. "Mr. Grunauer! Are you all right?"

To her surprise, he wriggled out of her grasp and propped himself up on his elbow. "I am, as soon as you stop manhandling me!" he said, blinking up at her with what she was coming to recognize as his default expression—a scowl. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Alba became acutely aware of her sweaty face and disheveled hair. Self-consciously, she yanked her headscarf off and wiped it across her forehead.

"Your dog let me in," she said.

"My dog?" he repeated, incredulous. He glared at the dog, who was looking quite pleased with himself. "Some guard dog you are," he muttered. The dog, either used to his master's dark moods or simply not noticing it, wagged his tail happily and began nosing about the dirty dishes on the floor, searching for crumbs. There was not much there, save for a few remnants of days-old crackers, eggshells, and orange peels. Not an actual meal, just an assortment of food.

"Please don't yell at him," she said, fighting the urge to clean up those plates. "It's my fault, really. I asked him to get the door for me."

Grunauer shook his head, looking amused. "Yell at Otto? I spoke too loudly to him once and he sulked for two days. I don't think you have to worry about me yelling at him, Miss—"

"Reyes. Alba Reyes."

"Ah, yes. From the bakery." So he did remember. He got to his feet, with some difficulty, and vaguely tried to tidy up some papers but quickly put them down again. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's more about what I can do for you, Mr. Grunauer." Alba launched into her prepared speech. "Perhaps you already knew, my father owes your father quite a bit of money. Three thousand dollars, to be exact. He's supposed to pay it off by the end of next year." Grunauer's slight frown suggested that this was news to him, and Alba wondered if she'd made a blunder in mentioning the debt. But he would learn of it sooner or later, and she didn't want to deceive him. "Now, we can't pay it all at once, but perhaps we can work out some sort of payment plan..."

He nodded slowly, still looking a bit confused. Alba plunged on. "This is a big place. You need help. I can come here and work for you as a housekeeper, and, in exchange, you can deduct the payment from my salary."

Understanding dawned on his face, quickly followed by something else—embarrassment? Discomfort? Anger? Perhaps he thought they were trying to scam him.

"You will decide my salary, of course," she said quickly. "Perhaps I can try, for a week or so, and you can figure out how much to pay me? We can have a lawyer draw up a promissory note, everything will be perfectly aboveboard—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted. "I don't need help."

She deflated. But a Reyes never gave up that easily, so she put on a display that combined her most competent face with an approximation of Beatriz's charm. "Sure you do," she said, trying to smile. "I can cook, clean, do the shopping for you, take care of Otto..." At the sound of his name, the dog looked up and gave his tail a wag.

Grunauer shook his head, cutting her off. "I can't pay you."

"You don't have to pay me, that's the point," Alba said patiently. "Let's say we agree that my work is worth thirty dollars a week"—big hotels in Miami Beach were paying housekeepers forty and fifty dollars a week, so she figured thirty would be a reasonable start—"so every week, you'll deduct thirty dollars from our debt." At that rate, it would take two years for her to pay off three thousand dollars, but the bakery and its earnings would be safe. And it would make her feel like she was doing something, which Alba vastly preferred to just sitting and waiting for the debt collector to show up.

When Grunauer made no reply, she tried another tactic. "This is a fine house, Mr. Grunauer. Don't you want it cleaned and put to order, so you can use all the rooms instead of holing up in here?"

"I'm perfectly fine as I am, thank you very much," he said stiffly.

Alba let out an exasperated sigh. "Mr. Grunauer, no offense, but I've met you twice, and both times I found you on the floor."

It was the wrong thing to say. Grunauer's face twisted, the gouges of the scar deepening on his cheek. "I'm not a cripple!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant—" began Alba, but it was too late. He grabbed her arm, not hard, but not gently either, and hauled her out of the room.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Reyes, but I cannot afford a housekeeper at the moment," he said.

"But—Mr. Grunauer—" Alba started to protest, without knowing what she was going to say.

Something on her face must have made him take pity on her, for he added, in a softer voice, "As for your debt, I'll see if we can come up with a reasonable payment plan. I'll let you know." He all but shoved her into the corridor and shut the door in her face.

Alba spluttered in frustration. She had no choice but to leave. Coming back through the kitchen, she saw her basket still on the table and heaved a long sigh. Well, she might as well unpack the food. If she left it there, who knew what Grunauer would do? Eat it straight out of the basket, she supposed.

She put the perishables into the fridge. The book was still there, a book of poetry by someone named e.e. cummings—Alba briefly wondered what Mr. Cummings had against capitalization— but the guava pastries were gone. And then, as her eyes landed on the pot of mustard, an idea occurred to her. If she couldn't convince him with words, perhaps there was another way...

She took a loaf of bread out of the box, sliced it, slathered both halves with butter and mustard, and layered it with the ham, cheese, and pickles. There was no sandwich press, but she found a frying pan and a heavy cast-iron pot that would do the trick. The stove looked so rusty that she was afraid it wouldn't turn on at all, but turn on it did, and soon the enticing smells of melted butter and cheese were filling the kitchen. She cut the warm sandwich in half, put it on a plate, and marched down the corridor again.

"What are you still doing here?!" Grunauer snarled as he wrenched open the door in response to her knock. "Leave, or I'll have you arrested for—" He stopped short at the sight of the plate in her hand.

"Tell me, Mr. Grunauer, would you rather be eating something like this or subsist on crackers and day-old coffee? Because this is what you'd get with me, and more. Think about it. You know where to find me. Good day." She shoved the plate into his hand, turned on her heel, and left.

***

Long after Miss Reyes's dark curls had disappeared down the corridor, bobbing indignantly with each of her steps, Derwin still stood where he was, with the plate of sandwich in his hand. He wasn't quite sure what had just transpired. And then, because the smell was so tempting, and because Otto was eyeing the plate rather impatiently, Derwin ate the sandwich. It was very good. She'd toasted it on both sides, turning the bread crisp and melting the cheese. It reminded him of the grilled cheese sandwiches his father used to make when Derwin was little, only better. Poor old Dad. After Mom passed away, Dad had tried his best, but he could never quite manage the stove, and when Derwin was home from boarding school, they'd survived mostly on sandwiches and canned stuff. Grilled cheese and tomato soup was one of Dad's better attempts at cooking.

Once the plate was polished off—Otto got the last bite, of course—Derwin went to the bureau where his father's papers were kept and started digging through the drawers. Soon he found a promissory note for seven thousand dollars, made to a Mr. Mauricio Reyes, on March 1943, with a maturity date of five years and no interest. A very generous loan. But then again, his father had always been generous to a fault. Another note attached to this document stated that a payment of four thousand dollars had been made in November 1945. His father had passed away a month after that, while Derwin himself was still in Bay Pines.

Three thousand dollars. Enough for him to start over somewhere else, away from this place. He could go back to school, finish that degree he'd put on hold when he enlisted, get a job. Actually rejoin the living.

But deep down inside, Derwin knew there was nowhere for him to go. There was no place where he could stop seeing the screaming faces of his fellow soldiers whenever he closed his eyes, stop feeling the heat of that exploding C-47, stop smelling the stench of burning fuel and gunpowder and blood in that French village just off the coast of Normandy. During the day, he could forget those memories by losing himself in books, but at night, they always came back in full force. There was no place where he could escape them. No place where he could escape himself.

At least here, nobody would bother him. Nobody, except for a bewildering, maddening young woman.

So if he insisted on staying here, would it be so bad to have someone come here and take care of the house for him? He had to admit, he'd let things go. His leg didn't allow him to move around much, and after a while, he no longer cared. He'd been going upstairs only to sleep, and after his latest fall the day before, he'd set up camp in the study and decided it was good enough. But now, stung by Miss Reyes's words, Derwin looked around the room and noticed, for the first time, the clutter and squalor of the place. How did he let it come to this? He was sure he could see a cockroach shuffling amongst the plates on the floor.

But the idea of another person in the house, in his space, gave him pause. His parents had been a retiring sort, and when he was a boy, it had been just the three of them. He'd missed that precious solitude when his mother died and his father sent him to boarding school. In the army, and later, in the hospitals, there had always been other people around. He'd only gotten his solitary life back since he came home; he wasn't sure if he was ready to share that with anyone, no matter how good her sandwich was... or how pretty her eyes were.

Perhaps he could deal with the mess himself. He bent down awkwardly on one knee, picked up a few plates, and stacked them together. Then, balancing the stack in one hand and holding his cane in the other, he hobbled into the kitchen.

He almost made it. At the kitchen door, he picked up his cane to push the door open, and the plates slid out of his hand and fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Furious, he threw his cane away. It clattered over the shards of broken china. He flung himself down next to it and put his head against the wall in despair. He couldn't even manage to clean up a few plates. Pathetic. Useless.

Otto came over and plopped down by his side. Derwin thought he could see some sympathy in the dog's eyes. "I guess I shouldn't have been so rude to Miss Reyes, right?" he said to the dog.

Otto answered with a soft woof, telling Derwin all he needed to know.

With a sigh, Derwin dragged himself up and went into the kitchen for a broom and dustpan. Miss Reyes had cleaned up—the stove had been scrubbed, and the pot and pan she used to toast the sandwich were drying on the rack. When he opened the fridge, however, he found e.e. cummings' Collected Poems still where he'd left it. Somehow, the sight of that book in the fridge solidified Derwin's decision. Miss Reyes would not upset his life. She would straighten things up wherever necessary and leave the rest untouched, and that was exactly what he needed.

But nobody turned up the next day or the day after that. Derwin thought about calling the bakery, and then he realized he didn't know their phone number. He could call the property manager and find out, but that was one phone call too many for him to handle.

It wasn't until Sunday that Derwin heard a knock on the front door.

"I'm coming!" he called out, limping to the door as fast as his leg and his cane allowed. "Wait!"

He pulled the door open. A young man, perhaps a couple of years younger than Derwin himself, with the deep-set eyes and straight black hair of a Seminole, was dropping a basket of bread onto the swing on the front porch.

"Who are you?" Derwin asked. "Where's Miss Reyes?"

"I'm Frank Howard," said the young man, looking startled. Clearly he hadn't expected anyone to answer the door. "I work at the bakery. Miss Reyes—Alba—asked me to bring you these. They're at church today."

"Oh." Derwin felt a strange sense of disappointment. Next to him, Otto looked crestfallen as well. "In that case, could you please let her know that I accept her offer, and that she can start on Monday?"

Frank looked confused but promised to deliver the message.

As he watched the bakery's truck rumble down the drive, Derwin let out a sigh. He'd been hoping to tell Miss Reyes herself. It was absurd, of course. It made no difference, giving the message to Frank. But that slight disappointment told Derwin that he'd made the right decision in accepting Miss Reyes's proposal. He'd never looked forward to anything as he did to seeing her again. Perhaps he could let her into his life after all.

Chapter 3

Taglist: @kitkat80 (as always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 10

Wow! Double digits!

Tw: Pica, blood, self harm, (let me know if I missed anything)

Part 9:

To say Sun Wukong was stressed would be an understatement, but it hadn't gotten this bad in public before.

He didn't even entirely understand the reasoning behind his stress, although it could be because Nezha was taking a little bit too much time in his most recent meeting. And as usual, he was sitting on the couch in the Demon Bull Family's home.

Whenever Wukong was stressed, he had the most terrible cravings. It was the mixture of a trauma and a sorry attempt at coping with it. At least he thought it was sorry.

He was an emotional eater for as long as he could remember. Peaches usually did the trick. But there were no peaches for him to eat after Macaque left him starving under the mountain.

So he settled for eating himself.

Apparently, there was a word for his compulsive cravings: Pica, as one of his relatives has described it. Wukong ate his own hair often, it was satisfactory enough...

...usually.

But he was too stressed now. Hair wasn't enough. Not enough to satisfy his tastes at the moment.

So he started biting his hand, hard.

Wukong heard his bones snap and the felt the pain that followed soon after, but he didn't stop there. It took a few bites before he ripped off a whole chunk of his hand: the thumb and index fingers, and a good chunk of the palm, too.

Blood sprayed from the open wound. He swallowed as much of it as he could. With the whole chunk now thoroughly chewed up, he swallowed that too.

Luckily he had locked himself in one of many bathrooms in DBK's place, so no one would be able to find him like this.

Almost no one.

~~~

The Demon Bull King could smell his little brother a mile away, and it would serve him well now. He had the slightest bit of worry at finding the room he left Wukong to rest in empty. DBK didn't show it, of course. It was only when he picked up the unmistakable scent of blood mixed with his brother's natural odor did he really begin to panic.

He ripped the bathroom door clean off its hinges to find his peach-loving compatriot eating anything but that.

Demon Bull King scooped up Wukong while he was still shocked by the sudden arrival. Noticing his scared, teary, and regretful eyes and remembering the illness Nezha had informed him of, Demon Bull King decided not to lecture him now.

It was clear this was the result of a mentally unwell and quite sickly individual.

Oh, his poor brother.

~~~

The Demon Bull Family carefully inspected all of Sun Wukong's wounds: patches of raw flesh (the result of hair ripped to the scalp) , half a hand and a whole foot bitten (almost) clean off, and bleeding teeth and gums from eating through the aforementioned body parts.

None of them had the heart to lecture him. A strange occurrence, really, to have them of all people self-silenced on the matter. Wukong honestly preferred the yelling.

The family bandaged him up, put him in fresh clothes, and wrapped him up in a blanket. Demon Bull King held Wukong in his arms like a swaddled infant. Neither of them minded. It had been a long enough day as is.

~Some hours later~

SWK: I'm sorry.

DBK: It's alright, little brother.

SWK: I was stressed and scared.

DBK: I know, brother. Nezha should be returning soon. He has never taken this long before, has he?

SWK: No... what if something happened to him?

DBK: I doubt anything did.

PIF: Celestial meetings can take an unreasonable amount of time. I know from experience.

DBK: Even if something were to happen, he is a fierce opponent! All in this room know as much.

SWK: Yeah, I just get anxious without him around. He's been looking out for me for a while now, it's crazy to think that I ever managed alone.

RS: But you didn't manage alone, isn't that the whole point of the four of us acting as a support system?

PIF: Indeed, not to mention you have been getting sicker.

DBK: What even is the cause of your illness? And how far will this continue to progress before you show signs of recovery?

SWK: Honestly? I don't know. It might be purely mental. But it's affecting my body to such an extent that I'm not sure if it really is just my mental health going in a downward spiral.

RS: So we just do nothing?!

SWK: Nezha said he'd get to the bottom of this, his says he doesn't want me worrying any more than I have to in case it really is about my mental health alone.

DBK: So it is being dealt with?

SWK: Yeah, I think.

DBK: Better than waiting for something worse to happen to you.

PIF: Nezha is a very capable man, he'll get to the bottom of this.

RS: And speak of the devil! Look who's here!

Nezha: I apologize for my tardiness. I was setting up an appointment for Wu- *gets full body tackled by Wukong*

SWK: Hi!

Nezha: *pinned to the ground by Wukong's body weight* Hello Wukong.

SWK: I MISSED YOU!!!!!

Nezha: I missed you too. Setting up that appointment for you took longer than expected and that meeting took ages!

SWK: Setting up the what-

Nezha: We'll discuss it at home. For now... CAN YOU PLEASE GET OFF OF ME!!!!!

SWK: Sorry *gets off of him*

Nezha: You definitely lost weight since falling ill, but you still weight enough to feel like you'd crush my ribs in.

SWK: Can we go home now?

Nezha: Yes, yes we ca- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU HANDS???!!!!

SWK: I had another pica incident.

The Demon Bull Family: ANOTHER????!!!!

Part 11:

Masterpost

[atimeofyourlife]

Breakfast in bed

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: free space/ domestic fluff | rated: g | wc: 615 | tags: established relationship, fluff Eddie attempts to make breakfast in bed for Steve after a long week.

Eddie didn't know what had possessed him to try and make Steve breakfast in bed. Well, he did. Steve had been working so hard over the previous week, having to pull multiple doubles because Keith had screwed up the scheduling and allowed too many people to take vacation at the same time, and then Robin had called out sick for the entire week because she'd come down with pneumonia. It was Steve's first day off in over a week, and he deserved to sleep in, and then do as little as possible. So Eddie was making breakfast.

The problem was that he wasn't a great cook. He wasn't a disaster in the kitchen, he was generally safe with everything and wasn't so bad that he could burn water. But the extent of his culinary expertise was mostly stuff that was boxed or canned. Anything that took minimal preparation and came with clear instructions on the packet. Which had meant that they'd been surviving off tv dinners, and box mac and cheese, and other easy packet meals, for the week, because Eddie wasn't going to let Steve cook after the long days he was having at work. It just wouldn't have been fair.

But he wanted to give Steve something better on his day off. Making breakfast was an adventure. The eggs were fairly easy, he'd decided on making scrambled eggs as he could never get fried eggs the way Steve liked them. He somehow always managed to overcook them to the point he was almost certain they would bounce if he dropped one, either that or they were practically raw. He just found scrambled eggs easier. He even made sure to add the handful of shredded cheese and the dash of hot sauce to get them right. The bacon didn't go quite right, coming out slightly burnt, but luckily Steve liked his bacon so crispy it was almost cremated, so it wasn't unsalvageable. He wasn't even going to attempt to make anything like waffles or pancakes or french toast, but there were frozen pancakes that he could toast. He also found some hash browns when he was looking in the freezer, so he threw some into a pan to add them to Steve's breakfast as well. While he was making coffee, those did overcook, leaving about half too burnt to serve. But once everything was plated, he felt it was a half decent breakfast.

When Eddie got upstairs with the breakfast, he realized there was one thing he hadn't quite thought through. How to open the bedroom door with his hands full. He was looking for somewhere to put the tray down, when Steve opened the door and started to walk out.

"Eds? What's going on?" Steve asked, looking Eddie over.

"I. I made you breakfast? I was bringing it up to you so you could have breakfast in bed." Eddie replied, shuffling a little on the spot, unsure what to do now as he couldn't surprise Steve in bed with it.

"I thought I could smell something burning." Steve replied with a grin.

"Hey!" Eddie couldn't be offended, because he knew Steve was right. "Now, mister, you are going to get back in bed and enjoy this breakfast that I painstakingly made for you. And for the rest of the day, all you have to worry about is relaxing."

"Thank you." Steve went and climbed back into bed, Eddie following him and handed him the tray once he was settled. "This looks good, Eddie. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. You deserve the best." Eddie sat on his side of the bed, leaning over to kiss Steve before he could start eating.

[spectrolitha]

I did it! I've storytelled Technocratic one-shot set in Digital Web :]

Here are NPCs and some lore too. Click on pic for quality, as usual.

❗cw: mention of death, violence, brainwashing in text below❗

Clawrence Crane

Local greysuit, supervisor of player amalgam. He has found out that Elba, supervisor of the whole sector of Digital Web, is conspiring with Reality Deviants in an attempt to find cure for her brother's vampirism. So Clawrence has tasked players with delivering this information to higher-ups. Of course, he hasn't told players what exactly they are delivering, only that it's classified info. Which led to players doubting him at one moment, but in the end, almost all of them sided with Clawrence.

Elba Fields

Local greysuit, supervisor of the whole sector both players and technocratic NPCs belonged to. Unfortunately, during her previous work for Technocracy she pissed off quite a few vampires, which had led to them Embracing her younger brother as a retribution. Bitter about the fact that the Union for which she'd done a lot of work couldn't even protect her family, she turned to Reality Deviants for help. Which Clawrence has found out about and used as a blackmail, forcing Elba to seek help from Rezul (we'll get to him). In the end, players gave info on her betrayal to higher-ups. She's either being socially processed now or is already dead. Yay.

Nick-2

A Hollow One who has broken into player's sector in order to steal info on themselves, Mandrake and Rezul from Technocratic database. Also to prevent players from giving info about Elba's betrayal to higher-ups, because Nick-2 works for Rezul, and Rezul and Elba made a deal to help eachother. They failed miserably. Nick-2 has managed to destroy info about themselves, Mandrake and Rezul, but got caught. Trip to Room 101 probably awaits them now...

Mandrake

A Verbena working for Rezul alongside Nick-2. She had a very bad day which started by her getting shot and ended by her caught by the Technocratic Union. Is now in Room 101 with Nick-2, I suppose. Poor guys...

Ripple

Ripple is a reason Nick-2 and Mandrake ended up in Room 101. Most of the Digital Web knows Ripple as a lucky bastard from Virtual Adepts, who lives really close to Technocracy and somehow has been escaping from its grasp for quite a few years by now. The truth is much less epic: Ripple is a greysuit who pretends to be RD. Yeah, he has saved some of them from his own colleagues, but not before gathering information and putting GPS tracker on them. He intended to do the same thing with Nick-2 and Mandrake who had come to Ripple for help with escaping Technocracy after stealing data about themselves, but the players intervened, Ripple had to out himself, and, since it meant Nick-2 and Mandrake has learnt about his true affiliation, they were sent to Room 101. Also Ripple was sure that Clawrence had faked the fact that Elba works with RDs until he was forced to accept the truth. It broke his heart, he was a close friend of Elba, but this bastard will recover.

Joy Bright

Just a blacksuit who had been working for Elba before the truth came out. She'll probably work in another sector after all this. She doesn't like Clawrence one bit after he sold out Elba, even if it was earned (and to be honest, she hadn't liked him one bit before that either).

Brennan Chu

Another blacksuit under Elba's command. He was supposed to appear in game with Joy, but we were short on time and I've cut him out. So he was vibing elsewhere, I suppose. After everything has been revealed, he moved to work in another sector with Joy.

The Basilisk

The Basilisk adores Technocratic Union and it's agents. They unknownly help The Basilisk to finally be created, afterall! Unfortunately for my players, Technocracy does it too slow for The Basilisk's liking, so when Rezul, who was really close to becoming a Herald of Basilisk once (a type of Technephandi) came forwards with a deal, The Basilisk accepted. Rezul had promised to write some code for The Basilisk, and it had promised to help Rezul with destroying information about him, Nick-2, Mandrake and Elba's betrayal. Which led to The Basilisk threatening to eat player characters and even actually eating one of them after he tried to shoot Rezul... That eaten character was just a chatbot of an anime guy (yeah, character ai is a thing in Technocracy now, I regret nothing), but I'm still sad about his demise :(

In the end, one of players made a deal with Rezul and he ordered The Basilisk to let the players pass. The Basilisk was glad to oblige, it's rooting for the Technocracy and it hasn't forgiven Rezul for his refusal of being a Herald of Basilisk anymore. And it never will. If The Basilisk will ever be created properly, it'll take out it's anger for waiting so long on Rezul among other people, that's for sure.

Rezul

It's him. Born into Technocracy, NWO agent who had almost turned Nephandus once. Was saved from this fate by Ecstatic and became one of those himself. Unfortunately, Technocracy was looking for him, so he reached out to Elba, who was also having problems with Technocracy, and promised to help her if she'd help him. To ensure that he would be able to stop whoever gets in the way of destroying unwanted information, Rezul returned to The Basilisk once more, making a desperate deal. He'll bring The Basilisk a bit closer to existing in reality, thus making eternal suffering for those who had opposed The Basilisk's creation (including himself) a bit more real perspective, and The Basilisk will help him this one time.

In the end, Rezul has sold a piece of his soul for nothing once again. Another player has helped him delete information about himself, Nick-2 and Mandrake (not that it would help them now, but still), but the same player then delivered Rezul's digital traces to high-ranking technocrat, so if Rezul shows up in Digital Web again it won't go pretty. Not to mention that he has to run and hide again, since digital can be traced back to reality pretty easily in our times.

So Rezul now has to live with the fact that The Basilisk still owes him an eternity of suffering for his unwillingness to help it manifest, two people were taken by Technocracy because he involved them in this whole mess, and he hasn't helped Elba and even made everything worse. Wow. This game was not kind to my NPCs...

[imtrashraccoon]

I'm trying lovelies, I really am! Here's Day 2, even though I'm five days behind now...

@starlikeswomen

First & Next Chapter

Chapter 2: I Guess We're Roommates??

Word Count: 1,384

You felt a little bad that Scar had to sleep on your couch, especially since he was so tall, but he didn't complain about soreness the following morning, so you put your worries aside for the time being. There were more pressing issues anyways, such as how he would get home or your lack of Monster food.

Actually, you didn't have much food at all since you hadn't had time to go shopping since moving in. You apologized to Scar but he assured you that he would be fine for now. Apparently, he was capable of eating Human food, it just required him to use mana to absorb the nutrients rather than them being absorbed on their own. Still, you figured it would be better to pick up some groceries sooner rather than later so that he wouldn't risk completely running out of mana.

After whipping up a quick breakfast, you figured it would be a good idea to finish unpacking your apartment. It would make things a bit more homey for your guest and finding the stuff you needed a lot easier too.

From his place on the couch, Scar watched as you moved back and forth while trying to figure out where to put things. He'd shed his trenchcoat and shoes the night before and you had to admit the gray plaid flannel shirt he was wearing underneath looked good on him. You weren't sure how he did it, but despite being a skeleton, he filled out his clothes quite well. You would rather die than ask about it though.

"Do You Mind If I Help?" he asked after a little bit.

Partway through attempting to hang a picture frame, you turned around and gave him a confused look. "What? You're my guest, you don't need to do anything."

He only raised a bonebrow as you returned to hanging the picture, although you couldn't quite reach the nail even while standing on your tiptoes. After a moment of this, he sighed and stood up. Before you could ask what he was doing, he gently took the picture from you and effortlessly hung it up.

"Are You Sure That You Do Not Want My Help?" he asked, giving you a slightly smug grin.

Feeling a little embarrassed, you glanced away and began worrying at the hem of your shirt. "Well alright... But, only if you want to!"

"I Would Rather Help Than Sit Around And Watch You Continue To Struggle."

For the next few hours, you worked together to organize the apartment. Scar proved to be very good at putting together furniture, which was helpful since you'd lost most of the instructions ages ago. When you complimented his skills, he described the process like solving a puzzle and that he enjoyed putting things in their proper place. All in all, the arduous task of unpacking turned out to be almost fun with his help.

You had a feeling that he'd never seen an Xbox before if the curious looks he gave you while setting it up were any indication. You explained what it could do but the moment you said "video game" he seemed to lose interest. His brother was apparently more into that sort of thing but he did mention that he enjoyed watching documentaries. That led you to showing him how Netflix worked and while he didn't say much, you noticed his scarlet eyelights brighten at the sheer quantity of content, all at the simple press of a button.

When you took a break for lunch, you gave him a crash course on how the appliances worked, just in case. He got a little annoyed at the insinuation that you were worried he'd start a fire but in the same breath quietly thanked you for taking the time to show him.

"Human, Can I Ask You A Question?"

Mid-way through your sandwich, you could only hum in response.

"I Would Like To Know More About You," Scar continued. "Do You Have Any Family?"

You nodded and managed to swallow before answering him properly. "Yeah, I got two older brothers and as far as I know my parents are still kicking around somewhere."

He tilted his skull curiously. "You Do Not Speak With Them Very Often Then?"

You frowned and glanced away before answering. "No, I don't, and I'm happy keeping it that way."

"Understandable."

You nearly had to pick up your chin from the table.

"Why Are You Looking At Me Like That?" Scar huffed. "Your Relationship With Your Family Is None Of My Business, So What Right Do I Have To Pry?"

"O-oh." You felt your cheeks heat up. "You're right. It's just that whenever I've told people about it, they usually suggest that I'm wrong for not wanting to talk to them."

"Humans..." He muttered and rolled his eyelights.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "You mentioned earlier that you have a brother? Can I ask what he's like?"

Scar paused for a moment and narrowed his eye sockets at you ever so slightly, as if trying to gauge your intentions. "He Is The Antithesis Of Lazy And The Most Obstinate Monster There Is..." He paused before adding in a quieter tone, "But He Is My Family And I Do Not Know What I Would Do Without Him."

You smiled a little at that. "He sounds interesting, I wouldn't mind meeting him sometime."

"Trust Me, You Do Not Want To. He Is A Complete Sleezeball That Flirts With Everyone Even Mildly Attractive."

"Well, if you say so," you chuckled. "He almost sounds like the opposite of you..."

"Indeed," he remarked gravely. "We Very Rarely See Eye To Eye, But At The Very Least, I Can Count On Him To Watch My Back.

"Is he as tall as you?"

Scar got an amused look and chuckled softly. "No, We Competed A Lot Growing Up, But Height Is One Of The Things I Was Able To Beat Him At."

You chuckled as well. While he seemed to only have harsh things to say, you got the feeling that Scar really cared about his brother. Even if they didn't always get along, it must be nice to know that they would look out for each other if things got bad. That was what family was for, right?

A shrill whistle startled you back to the present.

To his credit, Scar only looked mildly alarmed at the disruption and glanced towards your bedroom door where the sound had come from.

"That's just Pickle," you reassured him. "The spoiled brat is probably annoyed that he only has normal food to eat today."

"Ah. You Have A Pet?"

You nodded and stood up to put the dirty dishes in the sink. "I'll have to introduce you. He's a little green bird called a budgie and I've had him for...maybe three years now?"

"What Does He Like To Eat?"

"Mostly normal bird food like seeds and nuts, although I occasionally give him treats like fruits and vegetables. His favourite is actually bananas but I think he mostly just likes to shred the peel."

Scar nodded slightly and stood up, pushing his chair in as he did so. "I Have Not Seen A Budgie Before But He Sounds Entertaining," he commented.

"Oh, he is. I think you'd really like him."

Glancing around at the apartment, you smiled at how much progress you'd both managed to make. "Thanks for helping by the way, you really didn't have to."

Scar rolled his eyelights and huffed. "Well, I Wanted To, But You Are Welcome, Human."

"If you want to take a break, we could go get some groceries? After all that work, I'm craving something sweet anyways."

"It Is Your Decision But I Do Not Mind Either Way."

You grabbed your wallet and keys. "Good, because I think Pickle will hold it against me if I don't get him his fruit fix soon."

Scar chuckled quietly and followed you outside. After you'd locked the door, he asked, "I Take It You Like Sweets?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say I have a bit of a sweet tooth. What about you, big guy?"

He shrugged. "I Do Not Indulge Very Often But I Do Enjoy Sweet Things On Occasion."

"Then there's no reason not to go all out, huh?" you suggested teasingly.