#oh no do I tag her as interior designer?

[sds-mod]

A few OCs I made for ships with friends that are dormant currently but I still like them so I'm posting them!

First is Amir, former model but he retired to take an office job which he finds less stressful. Very chill and friendly guy who still takes occasional model-gigs because he enjoys it but he mostly does it for friends and people he knows.

Second is Hannah, she's a Dame Blanche (from dutch folklore) who in the modern days migrated and is now baffled to not be serviced by random people anymore. Since she doesn't really have market-relevant skills or education to speak of, and pretty privilege doesn't carry her too far, she's stuck working a retail job and is very unhappy with it, believing herself to be deserving of luxuries. She learns k-pop-dances in her free time as a hobby.

Third is a yet-to-be-named interior designer (from the same universe as Hannah) who is a regular person with the ability to see supernaturals. Since that can be quite traumatic (like seeing a vampire suck somebody's blood while everybody else has a kind of haze and just sees a couple make out for example) she finds the outside a little stressful and as such has a big focus on making her home a cozy safe space, which she turned into a career. She's now working with mostly upper-class clients.

[tokkiwrites]

RUN, RABBIT, RUN.

in which kraven loves to watch his neighbor from a far, until watching becomes useless, his hunger growing until he can't hold back anymore.

tags: smut, mean dom kraven, sub reader, dumbification of reader, kraven calling reader bunny, themes of stalking, some violence, unprotected sex (p in v), breeding and more filthy stuff.

he woke up every day, feeling her sweet smell even from across the apartments. it was the same mundane routine every morning: she wakes up, takes a shower, brushes her teeth, makes herself a coffee then gets dressed in the most perfect, stunning clothes and runs to her college classes. yes, the same everyday, but to kraven, it showed that she was disciplined - obedient.

he snarled, feeling himself get hard when he finally saw her through the window. she was putting on her shoes before heading out. kravens bedroom window was looking straight into y/n's living room, and for him, seeing her just when she passed by that window was becoming less fulfilling as each day rolled by.

he wanted her - no, needed her. he needed to bury himself deep inside of her, feel her soft skin, and hear her voice as she pleaded for his mercy. he knew y/n would be the perfect play bunny he wanted all along.

time started to pass by slower, and kraven was only anticipating more and more the moment y/n walks through that door. he wanted to talk to her, make her smile that pretty smile he loves, then make her kneel down at his feet and submit.

and he couldn't wait any longer.

he strolls to the other apartment complex just across his, taking the elevator to y/n's floor. O7:OO PM, she should be here any moment. and so right he was, because kraven could feel her sweet vanilla perfume from 10 miles away. It was driving him insane.

he wanted to eat her, indulge in her sweet flesh , kiss her, and show her that he was the only one she needed. it was clear she was made for him - for him to take and do as he pleases...kraven knew.

kraven was snapped out of his trance when a soft voice peaked his ears up. "Can I help you, sir?" y/n tilted her head to the side, settling the bags she was carrying down in front of her apartment door.

"Oh, hey. i live just across the street, and -- i know this might sound strange, but i think I've found something that's yours." liar. whilst he had something that was hers, he didn't find it, he stole it. a pair of pink cotton gloves that he stole two weeks ago when she went grocery shopping without them.

"Oh my god! I've been looking for them for so long!" she throws her arms up as she takes the gloves and stares at them intently. "they mean so much to me. I got them from my grandparents a few years ago..."

"Yeah, i, uh.. i saw them falling out of your pockets some time ago and picked them up, but I didn't know if i should return them to you directly or to the administrator. I'm kraven, by the way."

she giggled, her cheeks still rosy from the cold outside. "Thank you, kraven, really. I'm y/n, do you, maybe... want to come inside and have some tea?" Oh, y/n, you poor thing.

"I'd like that, sure." kraven shrugs, a smile crawling onto his lips as he followed slowly behind y/n into her apartment. "It's a pretty place you've got here."

"Oh, thank you! I'm an interior design major, you know?" she smiles, taking off her coat and offering kraven a seat.

"Aren't you scared I'm a serial killer or something?" he chuckles, his voice low. "Nope! it's kind of embarrassing, but sometimes i watch you through my living room window. I always thought you were cute... but was too shy to say anything. guess the universe already had plans, no?" she smiles, waving her hands in the air as she makes her way to the small kitchenette area to turn the kettle on.

kraven pushed his tongue into his cheek, trying to remain composed as the girl jumped towards the kitchen. a dress in the winter? fuck, but he loved it so much. it was white, knitted, and adorned with soft lace edges. She had on long white tights and fluffy leg warmers - she does look like a bunny. a bunny he'll eat up any moment now.

"What tea do you want?"

"Oh, any tea is fine."

"Is lavender ok?"

"Yeah, all though--" he licks his lips before inching closer to y/n that had her back turned to him. "I'd rather have you first, then the tea." he finally turns her around full force, trapping the girl between him and the counter.

"What are you--" she looks up at him, her heart almost ripping through her chest. "shh, bunny. do you know how much I've been yearning for this?"

"K-Kraven, I-" she shivers at the sight of the man towering above her. "You want it too. I can feel it." he inches closer and sniffs her neck longingly."Don't you, bunny?"

he grabs her by her hips and pushes his crotch closer to hers.

"I-"

"I don't like stuttering, sweetheart, you know? tell me, loud and clear." she practically purrs as his hand grabs the small of her neck and pulls her in.

"I d-do- please.."

"Please, what?" he sinks his fingers deeper into the soft flesh of her thighs before licking a long strip from her clavicle to her ear. "Want me to use you, huh?"

"p-please- fuck!" she winches as kraven pinches her nipples that indented up through the dress "tsk, i don't like when you say those words, bunny. do bunnies talk like that, huh?" he coos almost sarcastically, before tugging at her hair. "answer me, slut."

"n-no, they don't, I'm sorry, please just touch me, please.."

"I'll think about that." he tugs at her hair once more before pushing her down on the cold tile floor.

"crawl."

without hesitation she makes her way desperately on all fours at his feet, looking up at him through her already teary eyes. "Open your mouth."

y/n couldn't believe what was happening, the way she was willing to obey every command the tall male gave her, it made her feel so helpless and small - she couldn't lie though, she thoroughly enjoyed it.

obliging, she parts her lips and shots her head up to stare at kraven, excitement bubbling up in her stomach. he leaned lower just a little before swiftly placing his thumb inside y/n's warm cavity. "suck. bunny"

nodding, she takes the digit in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tounge around it. she didn't know exactly what to do and how, only she knew how much she wanted to make kraven proud.

"good pet. now..." he paused before reaching to unbuckle his pants "want you to suck this." kraven pulls down his pants, letting his cock spring free, hitting his stomach.

y/n's eyes widened at the sight. she'd never seen something so big -- it was scaring her, but the churn in her stomach pushed her to slowly wrap her rosy lips around the tip of kraven's large member.

"yeah- just like that, bunny. i wanna see you choke on my cock, c'mon." he says before thrusting deep in y/n's throat, causing her to let out a choked out moan. "be good and take it all."

grabbing her by the hair he begins to snap his hips, hitting the back of her esophagus, drool and precum running at the sides of her mouth and dripping from kraven's dick. "fuck, bunny- your pretty mouth takes my cock so so well..."

the praises he was throwing and the low growls gave her a little more confidence -- not only that, but the pool in her panties grew larger, staining through them. kraven could feel it, smell it, the desire and lust, his groans and her whines mixing in the air as he chased his high.

"I'm gonna cum straight down your throat, bunny, fuck- better swallow all of it." he furrows his brows as his moves become more erratic, finally shooting his seed into y/n's mouth. "swallow." he sternly says, staring down at the girl, who was all a mess.

"So pretty on your knees for me, such a good pet." he coos, abruptly picking her up and settling her on the counter. "I'm gonna fuck you so good, fill you up and make you have my babies."

y/n could only moan, pressing her thighs together in anticipation. "that whar you want? huh? want me to fuck you senseless and fill that belly up?"

"please.." his eyes darken, licking his lips he starts stroking himself before ripping y/n's clothes clean off, leaving the girl shivering on the cold surface of the counter.

"I'm gonna make you take this cock every day, it'll be the only thing you think about." he chuckles somberly before plunging straight into her wetness.

"fuck, bunny, you're so wet. you hear?" he laughs as he moves slowly, allowing y/n to hear the wet sounds as he worked himself in.

y/n throws her head back, her head spinning from the fullness in her lower region. "you like that? huh?"

he mocks before pushing in further. "fucking slut."

drool and tears dribbled from her face onto the counter, wet sounds of slapping echoing throughout her whole apartment.

she couldn't believe this was happening, the way his cock felt inside of her, the sounds she didn't even know she could make. all came to a halt when she felt a strike on her thigh, making her yelp. "Down."

she looks up almost disappointed from the sudden lack of friction. "i said down." he growls before he takes her off the counter, bending her over it instead. "look at that ass." he almost wailed as he delivered a hars slap, making y/n arch her back, redness spreading on her skin. the pleasure was pooling at the pit of her stomach -- she didn't know she liked it this rough, she didn't know her hot neighbor wanted to fuck her either, yet here they were.

without any warning, kraven pushes inside of her again, roughly pounding into her core, one arm snaking around her waist whilst the other grabbed her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. "you take me so well, bunny. you were made for me, yeah? all mine to use and-- fuck!" he growls, sinking his teeth into y/n's shoulder, making her cry out. "my pretty pet."

y/n could feel herself getting closer, kraven's dick was hitting her in just the right places - and the way she could see it forming a bump in her lower belly wasn't helping.

"you wanna cum, bunny?" kraven tightens his grip around her neck, plastering another harsh slap on her thigh. "y-yes, please!" y/n sobs, tears mixing on her face with salty sweat.

"go ahead, bunny. cum around my cock." that's it, as soon as those words hit her ears, she released, clenching tightly around his shaft. her legs felt like rubber, if it wasn't for his strong hold on her waist she would've most likely fallen.

"gonna fill you up so so good, bunny-- shit-" he moans as he becomes sloppy in his strokes, hitting deeper and deeper into y/n, after a few more minutes cumming far inside her.

their quickened breaths replaced the loud and sinful sounds that probably alerted all of the neighbors. y/n was sprawled out on the counter, and kraven was still deep inside of her. when he finally pulls out, it causes y/n to whine at the sudden emptiness, semen dripping down her bruised thighs and onto the tiled floor.

"I wish you could see yourself right now, bunny." he chuckles, running his palm through his locks, then down y/n's spine. "You'll be so good to me. I just know it."

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾��  토끼's NOTE : sorry for any grammatical errors  !!! this has 2k words. also, thank you so much for the amazing response to my first post !! I'll get to your requests next week. I've already started writing a little !!!

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸��͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 13

He'll show you it was worth it.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, minor angst, he's in love ew [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1.1k words

Callob with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You arrive about half an hour later, and you can't help but sit up straighter as Jungkook pulls up into the driveway of the Airbnb he's rented.

Up until now you've not seen any pictures of it at all- Jungkook being adamant on making sure that you don't ruin the surprise along the way, distracting you whenever you'd bring up the topic at all. So to say that the surprise definitely landed would be an understatement, as you look at the small but very fancy looking house he's currently parking the car at.

A lady walks out, flowery print on her dress while she smiles happily, visibly excited as you and Jungkook exit the car. "Oh you must be the young couple-" She beams, walking towards you with a bit of a limp- probably from old age catching up to her. He gives Jungkook and you a hug before she leans back, looking you up and down. "Well, you weren't lying when you said your girl is pretty!" She compliments, and you have the urge to hide behind your boyfriend for a good moment- only saved by said man taking over quickly, telling Maria to go inside as you both take your stuff with you.

Of course he argues as you want to take your bag- taking it himself instead, absolutely not admitting to any form of struggle at all.

"So! I stocked up the fridge, there's wine too- and I baked something small, just because I had the time left over." She giggles, as Jungkook sets the bags down near the front door for now, walking up to the elderly woman that's standing in the middle of the large interior. "Oh, and I asked my husband about the carpet, and he told me to tell you not to worry about it-" She says a bit more serious. "-Apparently you can just wash these kinds of stains out, no worries there." She winks towards Jungkook, who nods, hoping you don't hear the hidden implications of that statement-

though the glare you send him makes it clear that you do.

"So! I reckon you have the general layout still in mind- treat it like your own home as long as you here." She offers with a gentle hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "Go wild, you're only young once! Ah, and before I forget-" She perks up, before she pulls Jungkook away to whisper something into his ear- something apparently very important, because he looks oddly serious as he nods towards her, the woman patting his back in encouragement of something you're not sure of.

You're busy exploring the holiday home for a good moment, when Jungkook brings the last of your luggage into the bedroom, balcony door opened as you stand on it to look outside. "So? Do you like it?" He asks, standing behind you now, warm body pressed against your back while his chin leans on your shoulder.

"It's.. Jungkook this must've been so fucking expensive, what the hell?" You worry. "And also there's so many towels in the bathroom-" You begin, making him laugh.

"Oh yeah, I told maria you're kinda messy- and since I'm planning on catching up to my highscore while we're here you'll definitely need them-" He begins, making you turn around and smack his pecks- hard. "Ow!" He whines playfully, pouting at you.

"What do you mean, you told Maria about our sex life?!" You complain, and he shrugs.

"Hey I'm pretty proud of our-" He begins, but your glare shuts him up. "Listen, I didn't know if there was like.. a cleaning fine if we mess up stuff too much. And I wanna love you a lot while we're here, so I wanted to make sure I thought of everything!" He explains himself, and you just run a hand over your face. Well, what did you expect anyways?

This is Jungkook, after all. This man coded a full on sex-diary app just for the two of you.

"You know I've been wondering.." You say, leaning your arms over his shoulders, back pressed against the edge of the balcony as he leans in closer, gaze hooded now. "...what spot are you in right now?" You ask, and his face immediately morphs, eyes sharp as his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek.

"..maybe third." He mumbles, before he pulls you back inside by your waist sitting on the edge of the soft bed with you on his lap, eyes hungry while his hands travel beneath your shirt. "But I'll sure be first again once this trip has finished." He tells you like a decision made, no arguments allowed.

"You sure about that?" You wonder, pushing him against his chest until he's left laying on the mattress below, your hands pressed into the softness.

"Absolutely." He says, before pulling your face towards him, licking up all remnants of your strawberry lipbalm and sweet icecream treat you had earlier before arriving. Your hips grind on him without any shame, sounds that escape him singing of his own growing arousal as he lets his fingers dip between the fabric of your pants and your skin. They know exactly where they want to go, moving around until he's got a full hold of your ass, only removing his palms from beneath your jeans to slap back down with open palms.

You move to throw your shirt over your head- his fingers eager to unhook your bra for you, when he sees them.

His movements stutter a bit, face showing utter devastation as his round eyes find yours with worry. "You changed them." He says out of breath, quietly, and you look down at your chest, noticing that yes- you did change the jewelry.

"Oh.. yeah." You admit, making his hands gently hold your tits just to run his thumb over the two little wings on each side of your nipples. They're cute- very fitting, and he wonders where you bought them. But they're also not the little silver hearts you both always wear ever since your second big date.

"...I'll make you love me again." He promises, pulling you down again to kiss you, before he rolls you both over, pressing eager kisses to your neck.

"I still love you-" You argue with a giggle, removing his shirt to be met with the familiar metal jewelry you used to wear as well before you changed them out of pettiness.

"Then I'll make you love me the same as you did before I was a jerk." He urges, pushing you up on the bed a little to properly climb on it, knees dipping down into the soft bedding below you.

"I do that too!" You laugh, and he playfully bites at your collarbone, before looking at you with a gaze made of thousands of lifetimes worth of affection.

"Then I'll make you love me even more." He offers, while you hold his cheeks in your palms, equally as struck by cupid's arrow.

"Impossible.." You say, pulling him closer. "But you're welcome to try."

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

restricting myself to only do 5 snippets lol i love them all so much

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (OH!!!!!! @ that last snippet more pls)

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰(this one has me on the edge of my seat!)(i say as if the others dont lol)

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖(its new so im requesting more :))

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷(this one i need a totally normal amount! diaz boys Talking ;-;)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(i just love them so much)

You can do as many as you want! Tanis submits 800 million every week.

I'm gonna put Gentle On My Mind at the bottom bc the snippet is sort of smutty, so I'll hide it under the cut.

That being said, 30 for ➰:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

His fault. Sure. The naproxen? He shouldn’t have taken it from Rachel. That’s on him, too. Rachel’s kid cracking his skull open? Dumb bad luck. Not on him. But, fair enough… Three out of four. 

“That makes sense,” he tells Eddie weakly. 

“Why?” Eddie asks. 

“Just curious,” Buck mumbles. 

“Well, don’t worry,” Eddie replies. “Not like you’ve had to watch them, right?”

Yeah… He supposes that’s true…

“It doesn’t matter,” Buck says quickly. “Sorry.”

Something sad flashes across Eddie’s expression. He cups Buck’s face and pulls him in for a kiss. Buck allows it to happen, although he’s not sure he’s in the mood for their usual morning activities. 

“We should get going,” Buck says, breaking the kiss. “Don’t want to be late for kayaking today.”

Eddie nods. “Right. No. No, we don’t.”

---

45 for 📖:

---

“Hi,” the woman greets him with a nervous little wave. 

She’s beautiful, Buck thinks. Bright smile. Gorgeous eyes. Eddie is holding her hand.

Buck feels strange. He thought she was out of the picture. Are they back together?

“Shannon,” she adds. “My name is Shannon.” 

“Nice to meet you, Shannon.” Buck says, smiling. He feels a little muted and he doesn’t know why. 

“Nice to meet you, too, best librarian in the world.” 

They chat some more. She’s really nice. Buck can see Christopher in her. Whatever happened there, Buck resolves himself to be happy for the three of them. 

Not that it’s any of his business, anyway. 

vii. 

Life gets busy for a bit. He dates and subsequently breaks up with an interior designer named Ali. In Maddie’s life, there’s a stalking incident. A near kidnapping. Chimney gets hurt. Maddie’s ex ends up in jail. Buck lives in a state of shaky adrenaline for weeks. He takes some time off work to help his sister move apartments again and fight with her new landlord about breaking her lease. Even when he’s back, he doesn’t have as much energy for the job as usual. He feels bad about it, but he just can’t give his all. 

All this to say, he doesn’t get to know Shannon Diaz very well. Even though she’s the one picking Christopher up more and more these days. Even though she’s kind and talkative. Even though Chris lights up when he sees her and it’s clear having her back in his life has been good for him. 

It’s nothing against her, really. He’s just busy. He’s got a lot going on personally. He doesn’t have the same energy for the parents as he did six months ago. No other reason. 

But then… 

Well, then she dies. 

He only finds out about it through Carla. Christopher stops showing up to after school programming. One day. Two. By the third, Buck starts to worry. 

---

60 for 🦷 (YEAH TALKING!):

---

Eddie doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what he’s said wrong. 

“What about when you got back from Afghanistan and you were hurt?” Chris asks. He seems insistent. 

“Uh,” Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t think I had any ice cream then, Chris. I can’t remember.”

“No, comfort. Who comforted you?” 

Eddie’s chest feels tight. 

“I mean… I think your mom tried,” Eddie replies weakly. “She had, uh… She had a little kid to think about, though. You. And her mom was sick…”

“So no one?” Chris fills in.

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t try,” Eddie defends Shannon. 

“What about…” Christiopher’s eyes dart around. He’s upset. He’s upset and Eddie can’t tell why. “What about when you were shot?”

Eddie nods. Okay, yes. Yes, he can give a satisfactory answer. 

“Yeah, buddy. Buck was there for me. Comforted me all the time.”

“Just Buck?” Chris asks.

“I mean, other people were there. You were there. You being there helped.”

“What about Ana?” Chris asks. 

“Right, yes. Ana.”

Chris narrows his eyes. 

“What is this about?” Eddie asks. “Why all the interest in my own surgeries, Chris? Yours won’t be that bad, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Christopher sighs. 

“Then what?” Eddie tries to temper the edge in his voice. He doesn’t know why he is getting frustrated, too. Maybe it’s just the confusion of it all. 

Christopher looks down at his tub of ice cream, then back up at Eddie. He looks like he’s going to cry. It makes Eddie want to cry. 

“I… I thought going to Texas would make me feel better,” Chris says. His voice is wavering. Like it’s about to crack. 

Eddie freezes. The ice cream is probably warmer than the blood in his veins right now. 

“I thought… I thought I’d feel better because you’d feel worse. I thought I’d feel better because I wouldn’t be in your way.”

---

45 for 🚨:

---

“So, uh… So, where is Christopher today?”

Eddie feels a little thrum of apprehension. 

“He’s at the zoo,” Eddie answers. “With his stepfather.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever phrased it quite like this before. To anyone who doesn’t know Buck’s role in his life, Eddie might phrase it like… My partner. My boyfriend. Something like that. There’s a different sort of implication behind my son’s stepfather. A permanence. A finality. One Eddie knows is valid and true. But one that catches Ramon off guard, clearly, from the way he raises his eyebrows. 

“Stepfather?” Ramon asks. 

“Yes,” Eddie replies tightly. Maybe he’s testing him a little. “You saw him. At the funeral. Buck.”

Ramon nods. “My memory of the day is a little fuzzy.”

“Right,” Eddie replies. 

“You’ve been together a long time?” Ramon asks. 

“A year,” Eddie replies. “Friends for longer, before then. He’s a firefighter, too.”

“That’s good. It’s good to… Well, to really know a person.”

Something in his tone says he’s speaking from experience. Like maybe he hadn’t, so well. Or maybe he feels like he doesn’t anymore? 

Eddie nods. “We’re happy.”

He doesn’t know why he feels the need to say this. Perhaps because the implication, when he came out to them all those years ago, was that he could never really be. That he was taking his life in the wrong direction. Well… Here’s the truth. He did right by himself.

---

30 for 🔼:

⚠️NSFW CONTENT AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION⚠️

---

Eddie kisses Shannon as he undresses her. Her mouth. Her cheeks. Down her neck. Her collarbone. Kissing along a line of freckles he has memorized. He knows every inch of her. 

He removes her bra and moves his mouth to her breasts, brain short-circuiting at the fullness of them right now. 

“God, Shannon,” he mutters uselessly. He thinks she says something back but it’s muffled and a little incoherent. 

She’s so beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful. He’ll never stop being amazed by it. 

Her chest has always been sensitive. She’s always liked him kissing her here. Applying a bit of pressure. Today, she’s more sensitive than ever. He obviously understands why. But her reaction takes him by surprise. The volume of her gasping. The sharp digging on her fingernails into his back. It drives Eddie forward with confident resolve. 

He keeps moving. Kissing further and further down her body. Her sternum. He kisses the firm swell of her stomach. Peppers it with the affection he hasn’t been able to give. He kisses her thighs. Another freckle on her hip. He kisses her everywhere he can, and then he gives her exactly what she needs. 

[sangre]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.  REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG, with the information of your muse,  including headcanons, etc.

name: lureva de león/lureva ingellvar. it's So complicated. she would rather use her maiden name, de león but is more recognized in nevarra as ingellvar. nicknames: her twin brother called her lulu as children. 'miss de león' by emmerich eventually, 'lure' from neve, which harding picks up as well. davrin & taash will occasionally use 'lu.' obviously rook is everyone's first call, but lucanis takes to calling her 'reva' once things get rolling between them. age: thirty-four. race: elf. gender: agender, largely she/her pronouns but won't scoff at any others, likes masc titles. orientation: bisexual. zodiac: capricorn. moral alignment: chaotic good. class/subclass: mage - death caller. lureva is a necromancer, through and through. interests/hobbies: Necromancy:) - She can see spirits and has a good sense of people who are being influenced by them (So she can definitely see like, Echoes of Spite lol - or at least hear him) - She takes up medicine/healing to follow in her birth mother's footsteps and likes studying anatomy/medical practices... kind of a nerd about this? She has 2 wolf-dogs (Saber and Scio) that used to live under her guardian (from house ingellvar)'s care, but are her dogs now. One of them (Saber) is undead. she likes hiking and exploring with her puppys, likes music! cannot play any instruments to save her life though and she envies people who can! she likes interior design a lot. growing up nevarran she has some extravagant tastes for the ways to make a room feel spacy and pretty and useful and she REALLY likes doing it. please ask her to help you move in somewhere. unfortunately she will have input. spoken languages: common, some elven and some antivan. profession: oh ya know, she's rook! height: ~5'3" colors: tealy deep blue, candlelit orange, milky bone ivory and the shades briar and toffee. fruits: grapefruit, guava, mango, clementines, passionfruit. drinks: hot teas and cold coffees! honey and lime. Not to be disgusting but I could see her as being the type to drink a glass of milk late at night. Once every full moon. This is so sick... alcoholic beverages: equivalents of.... a moscow mule lol, salted caramel rum hot chocolate, a daiquiri would please her as well as like. beer with lime. smokes: no. drugs: recreationally maaaaaybe! she struggles with the idea of feeling out of control physically and i think emotionally she probably tried something in early 20's and it was an unlucky bad trip that left her with a bad impression. she would try it again with someone she trusts. drivers license: in theory!? she could drive a horse. I guess. !? ever been arrested: i think she has definitely gotten into trouble with guards a million times but i don't think she's been arrested

TAGGED BY: myself i love coming back to this as you can see TAGGING: all my dragon age / DA prospecting mutchuals. Feel free to do it for rook or an inquisitor or any OC of course! @the-lovely-lady-luck @tactician @interstices

@fluffy-snow-fox @killdragons @roberthouse69 @shapeknight @bringbackthebriarwoods2k24

@pawnguild @lesbianbreastmilk @soloavengers @edgier-than-a-diamond

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 4

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: if ya like to be taglisted plz leave a comment to be notified on the next release. got the writers block and too many wips so here is an early chapter. hope y'all like it. plz check my pin post for prev. chapters.

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Four

Seeing Stars

You had him agree to you working three days as his personal chef, and he couldn’t have you Sundays no matter how much he asked.

Within the week you had gotten a letter from your bank telling you that the pending investigation on your account had been closed and now you could access it, it had even accrue significant interest after being untouched for seven years it was better than an early christmas miracle as you sobbed in your bedroom with the letter in hand, you cried in the kitchen after calling a realtor to see an apartment, by the time you seen a couple of apartments you had come home to find an enveloped taped to your door. Inside paperwork and some keys– seeing red for a moment, but as Helena tugged at your shirt, your anger tucked itself away, you held her crying into her shoulder as you finished reading the letter.

Before the month ended, you had moved into a large, renovated and well located 2 bedroom, 1 office, 2 bathrooms apartment in the ground floor of a duplex, it had to be at least eighteen to twenty thousand dollars in rent but he had simply purchase it– writing in his letter that he wouldn’t allow you to continue raising his daughter in the projects or some refurbished new york closet, he had even collected information on local schools in your new neighborhood for you consider, informing you that he would take care of tuition cost.

As you settled in a space so big you had nothing to fill it with, as you watched your daughter actually behave like a seven year old for once, you laid on the floor by the open concept kitchen, feeling the rich wood underneath your skin, staring at the black granite benches and hardwood cabinetry– the floor was even heated! You heard a landing in one of the two thin yards, you knew your daughter was exploring the bathroom, so it felt safe to do this now.

“I’ll have my interior designer come by this week to help you select furniture and stuff.” He said upon entering, distubed by how barren it was, all your belonings in a a dozen boxes total, tucked in a corner of the living room.

“You are a bastard making me indebted to you.” You grumbled.

“I can’t have her live in a broom closet infested with rats. Kids need yards and space.” He looked at the cherry wood panels lining the outdoors, the vines and trees growing in a decent sized yard, extra big by New York standards– you could get her a puppy, a kitten or…?”

“She likes fish.”

“I could have a pond installed.” he said with a smirk crainign his back as he tried to look less imposing as you refused to lift your head from the heated hardwoods– you should be okay with utility bills, I left them on credit for your convenience. Have you had a chance to look at schools?”

“What are you actually planning, John.” You sat back up, switching names had taken him off-guard wondering what angle you were going at him from– haven’t even started work with you and now you are showering me with presents? This is beyond just wanting to see your kid is not like you actually seen her.”

“You said to take things slow.” He didn’t try hiding that devious grin– Ryan… needs a story.”

“Jesus Christ you are sick.” you now had to stand up for real– you want me to play mom to your kid? I don’t even look like him.”

“Genetics are weird. Helena looks like you and Ryan looks like me, like those dogs from ‘Beauty and the Tramp’."He touched your cheek with a bare hand– Can’t wait to see you next Thursday, mom.”

“Oh god…” You chuckle, losing your mind as his hand hurts without a scratch– How are you going to tell this to Helena?”

“Is in early development but the team will take care of it. I need Ryan to attend the same school as Helena so please hurry up.”

He left not before telling you to take Helena to MOMA this saturday at 2 pm, it wasn’t a suggestion or invitation, it was an order

You did as you were told that evening, one of the best schools in the city was under a half hour walk from this cell, knowing Helena had to be enrolled soon didn’t help, and your commute to Lucci had increased but now you could pay for gas and not cry. Sending him a texts about schools to the number he had given you in his many many notes seemed anticlimactic but that was it.

Helana had grown suspicious, but she played dumb and you knew it too, so you both played stupid when you headed to MOMA that weekend.

You just casually came the same day and the same time as Homelander and Ryan were about to have the whole museum closed off as they received a private tour,  but he asked you to join them not giving any real explanation for why but nobody questioned, neither kid spoke to each other much if any, Helena simply enjoying the silence, she looked at you as she asked about the pieces but it was Homelander who had the most to say about the works, leaving you left out but happy, you knew that face of his so well, to see it on your daughter’s face made your day.

He had taken the opportunity to discuss your employment not your relationship, giving you list of things Ryan should eat, would not eat, wanted to try and things he wanted to try himself, then your hours and some odd request about handling Ryan’s school lunches being instagram worthy, handing you socials to research for such task.

You started work that following week, the Vought kitchens were top of the line, your job was to meet all of his requirements, some of the chefs that recognized you looked at you with relief and curiosity, wanting to know what had happened to you but you were unwilling to share. That first breakfast was returned with clean plates, even the waiter was shocked when he saw empty plates come out of his penthouse.

It had been so long since you could play with such new equipment, this was it, this was the place you belong in, him or not involved this was your happy place now.

Two weeks had passed.

 As you headed for the staff elevator you met Homelander, who had honestly just been waiting for you.

“I got the paperwork sorted… you just have to sign and fill stuff. Nice school! Great stem program not that Helena will find it hard.” he said politely, his posture extra stiff.

“Did you do a background check on her?” you looked around for witnesses.

“Hard not to. Our kid is the captain of the math club… her school team has won most of the math competitions in the last four years. Not to mention the piano recitals, and science competitions”  He looked so proud– her grades are perfect. She might be the smartest little girl in the city.”

“She’s the smartest little girl in the world.”

“And her new school would let the whole world know just that.” He said matching your smug.

You watched him carefully waiting for him to spit out what he wanted to say, either about her schooling or something else.

Helena was allowed to continue attending her old school until you were ready for transfer, he had only briefly talked to you for school discussions, and with great disinterest on what made each school good or not, if anything you found yourself doing this for his son as well, thinking of what this school would do for his well being, and if it was the best choice for a homeschooled kid, and how would this new school commute affect Helena’s after school routine. 

On the days you didn’t work in Vought’s towers she was still babysat or stayed at Lucci’s, she was too young to be left at home, even if you knew she was perfectly safe, but no matter what she was still little. 

During the days you worked in the tower she was kept in the company daycare in the 20th floor, most of the kids there were normal but there was at least one other super-abled child her age, it made you happy to see her interact with a similar kid even if said kid abilities involved phasing thru objects all willy-nilly and make objects phase thru other objects, making you worry of what would happen if he lost focus and Helena got caught inside a wall.

“By the way our kid escaped the daycare.” He held the elevator open for you as he entered, before you could panic he shot you a charming smile– is okay she’s at the gym…”

Your eyes had welled up regardless, you jumped into the metal box pressing the bottom frantically.

“She’s perfectly safe… A-Train is there and so it's that… Noir… her and the only little Supe kid decided to do some mischief, but I kept my ears on her all day.”

Forcing yourself to take deep breaths as the elevator smoothly traveled to the lower floors.

“Is it not her that I am worried for.” you said firmly.

You followed him as he guided you through an unfamiliar floor, inside the large colosseum gym that had been fitted to test somebody’s athletic skills you found your daughter floating in her wavy bubble, but all you saw was your kid swaying in the air.

“Helena get down here immediately!!!” You ran after her reaching for the kid as her bored expression was replaced with embarrassment as she descended into your arms– you cannot run away from daycare!”

“I don’t want to be surrounded by babies.”

“Helena you are a baby!” you squeezed her against yourself, just glad she was still in one piece, you noticed the other small kid in the room– jesus…”

Carrying your kid you reached for the other one, taking his hand.

“Hey sweetie… let me take you back to daycare before your mommy or daddy gets worried.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked meekly.

“No, but Helena is so grounded.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t mom me! You have any idea how dangerous that was!”

“Oh don’t get mad at the kid, she was just acting like a kid. Don’t be such a buzzkill” he mocked you.

“I don’t want or need your opinion– now you got two seconds to explain yourself!”

You began to gently drag yourself and your kid’s victim out of the gym, A-Train absolutely shocked to see anybody talk to Homelander like that.

“Look I had A-Train and Noir come check them out, they were safe!” He chased after you.

“Oh that was your doing.” Helena said–  "I really wanted to meet A-Train” she waved innocently at the Supe, who returned the gesture as a true professional– and... Mom… I wanted to see the building, that’s all… sorry I used Elmo to escape… but his powers were just too useful”

“You cannot use people like that.” you said in shock.

“People like being used.” Her words were just cold as she wriggled herself out of your arms, falling without touching the ground, she took Elmo’s hand taking the small kid towards the exit– some people are born serfs.” She mumbled to herself.

Homelander's heart beat violently– oh his daughter was a brat and had a questionable attitude, he hadn’t even interacted much with her, but he was proud. His whole body went light and his smile couldn’t be contained as he saw the small girl with true love in his eyes, this was the moment he saw her as truly his own.

Ryan was still reluctant to accept his father’s philosophy, but this little one understood that she was born better from the start on her own.

She turned around to face you again, little Elmo sucked on his thumb as her eyes glowed pale blue.

“Is it alright if I come to the training gym if I ask permission first?” 

“I…”

“Of course all Supe’s should know to keep their powers top notch. You are more than welcome to use the facilities.” Homelander had cut you off, petting the little girl’s head as he approached the duo– Just ask your mother so she doesn’t have a heart attack. Then again this is one of the safest places in all of New York and little Helena over here is perfectly safe, after all I am here.” He said while staring at you.

His voice was sweet, you were defeated as Helena tried to contain that cheshire grin of hers while staring at you– he was your boss , and the Homelander so could you really go against him so publicly?

“You had a terrorist attack in this building… but I guess…” She ignored him again then looked straight at you– I learned something new today.” 

A-Train and Noir exchanged concerned looks taking a few step backs, Homelander seemed intrigued to watch your reaction, you gave way, unable to speak, just frustrated as your ex looked just as smug as his kid.

Little Elmo scoot behind her– in the round gymnasium a cement boulder hanged in chains, her eyes glowed the brightest you’ve ever seen, lifting her hand with one quick swipe the boulder broke in half, the dust showing the invisible blade bending light, it gain a blue color as it was touched before fading, she looked so proud of herself, you stared at Homelander and now you understood why nobody had informed you that your daughter was missing. It didn’t sit well with you.

“you’re still grounded for a whole week.”

“But Mom!!”

You had walked into a trap, one you did so willingly, jailed in a nice house, any hope of Homelander being driven away or losing interest in her was gone as he looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes.

You got used to it… this prison was lovely, it was nice to come back to a spacious cell. Homelander had indeed brought his decorator to your house but you didn’t want designer furniture and high end stuff, you kept it simple and cheap, most of your stuff second hand and from Ikea, only relenting to agree with the poor designer over the kitchen, his budget was absurd for the task, only taking advantage to purchase all the appliances of your dreams, you indeed needed a air fryer that matched your splashback.

Helena was happy to have a room that felt like a bedroom, large bookcases that could be filled with her own books, a small courtyard facing her doors, where she now could sit down and read with the breeze in her hair. She seemed happy, euphoric when she began her new school, making you forget what was happening in the background at times.

Homelander would come from time to time to speak to you about mundane stuff and work, his patience saintly as he allowed you to get used to his company once more, just so you could be okay with him entering her life, but then again he was your jailer.

He himself had begun forcing himself into her life when you weren’t around, it was all a matter of timing and perception.

Homelander watched the daycare center, from afar, a much needed service, it occupied a whole floor, the tower employed thousands of people in its 99th floor so there had to be help for those mothers and fathers who needed to work but had children with no babysitters, it was one of the many appealing things about being employed by Vought, and the center offered a variety of activities for all age groups.

Helena saw it as a jungle, all these children just a bunch of savages, keeping Elmo around not because she liked his company but because he was the only other Supe child in her age group, he was a sweet kid, afraid of bugs and that liked to talk about cartoons, frankly it was a challenge to figure out what to do with him. Homelander watched as she taught the kid to play chess, taking hours to explain the basics as the seven year old had very little clue what was happening, but in its own way it was nice to talk to another kid like himself.

Homelander even bothered to do a background check on the child– both of his dad’s both worked at Vought one in hero management and the other in marketing, both very busy bees it seems… he had done the same with all of Ryan’s new classmates, he knew their entire families before his kid even stepped foot and said hello to any of them, all done before he started school the same week as Helena– there was the big issue of her being on the 10th grade while her older brother just began the 6th grade, so he couldn’t enjoy seeing the both of them interacting, it was hard to witness for he wanted both kids to become closer so desperately.

Hence why he was standing on the foyer of the daycare center, a young lady that looked too cheerful for her own good, welcomed Homelander.

“Hi! How can I help you today, Homelander? Are you looking to enroll little Ryan?” She swayed side to side trying to see if the kid was behind him by any chance.

“Actually… am here to speak to one of the kids… hmm… Helena L/N.” He said with a firm tone– I believe her mother left a message.”

Homelander texted you an hour before cominf down, not even asking you that he was going to take her for training, you were stuck in the kitchen helping with some work function taking place tonite, a thousand canapes had to be made and you were stuck with the pistachio and lemon layer cakes.

You had no time to argue, taking your precious break time to make phone calls and try not to use your knife on the nearest asshole who pissed you off afterwards.

She hopped on the desk seeking for any notes, and he was indeed correct.

Now he had her all for himself, you prayed he wasn’t going to drop the news on her, but you couldn’t leave and abandoned your team, she was safe, you had to believe she was safe, she was smart, she was so smart and she could escape him, you just had to trust her.

“Can I bring Elmo?” Helena looked up at Homelander, a slight ache building on her neck as she looked up at the man– he might get lonely.”

“He’s not a dog.” He didn’t even try putting on a soft babied voice with her– and I wanted to talk to you.”

“But he’s always ‘The Dog’ when we play house.” She faked the most innocent voice she could muster, turning around to look at the glass doors  dividing the friends– … He will probably sneak out to the gym if he gets lonely, they got his favorite snacks today… he told me liked five times and I think they’re playing Bluey on the tv.”

“Oh! and you play mommy?” He grimaces so hard his eyebrows touch.

“No, the robber.”

He led the way and she was more than happy to explore the building as they headed downstairs.

“What do you think of them?”

“Elaborate.”

“Those without powers.” she wished she could see his expression– and be honest. None of this ‘Wednesday Addams’ crap.”

He looked around at the sea of smart casual fits and stress on the floors above, the world moving so fast paced, nothing but monkeys hurling shiny rocks while playing dress-up.

“They can be useful, if they are not… then they don’t matter to me.”

He smiled, his heart fluttering and his stomach filled with butterflies as he heard her speak– why did Ryan struggle so much to understand this? He thought.

“When you are born with such gifts–

“I might be a kid but I am very familiar with your Compound V, I already had this talk with my mother. Fascinating stuff… I am still trying to understand the whole dosage thing… How does your company decide which kid to give more versus others? Did they just look at who could provide the best backstory before deciding between 10 mils versus the whole vial.” 

She stared at the glass walls where the kids were housed, the tone of her voice still flat.

“Why you say that?”

“I’m a poor kid from the projects, with a single mom, formerly homeless and now with enough powers to make Athena envious. Not to mention how 92% of supes are white but the percentage below middle class to poor is almost the same as with the 6% blacks, while the percentage of upper class white supes is closer to the same percentage of 2% asians and latino supes… if anything a good chunk of latino and asian supes are upper class… something-something model minority yadah-yadah.” she pressed the elevator door– I’d make a good story. Shame that I can’t be a Supe.”

Homelander stared at her, placing his hand on the back of her head.

“You can be anything you want, Helena. You have been blessed beyond belief with powers… if you want to be Supe then you are ready for major leagues.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Only the 1% of superheroes ever make it to the major leagues, most supes never achieve anything beside D-list status and everybody is fighting for the crumbs left behind by your posse of clowns– is not a fiscally responsible decision. A career that can only exist on extreme gambling is not one that can make money. Not to mention am not cute or tall." She took the first step into the elevator– I never want my mother to worry about money. I want to buy her a mansion on top of a cliff staring at the ocean, have a dozen maids care for the house and she can just spend the rest of her life in luxury”

She turns to see him crossing her arms with a serious look on her tiny face.

“My goal is to take your job.”

“The Seven?” He grinned.

“Vought.”

“I can wait to see you try.” he grinned.

“It won’t be that hard… At least when I am in charge security will be tighter.”

Bottles of V dropped from above Homelander’s head, he caught most of them but a few were lost, those were hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drops staining his pants and shoes, Helena caught one bottle, sliding it between nimble fingers back and forth.

“Don’t look so surprised, it seems this is a common occurence… Here's an unwanted tip: use biometrics and only allow lab techs to enter the 67th floor, not just rely on good will, clown.” sections of her body and clothes flicked back and forth between visible and invisible, taunting him about how easy it had been to steal them using her superpowers.

As his eyes took an extra tinge of red, he saw a brief flash of pale blue encasing her, he followed her to the entrance of the Gym, where she expected to be left alone with Homelander not to find another kid.

“The prodigal son.” she mumbles.

Ryan sat on top of some raised stepping stones in the recently established obstacle course, Helena imagined she needed to know parkour in lieu of flying abilities, which seemed redundant for the kid who could fly.

“Thought you two could practice together.” He shouted while placing the V on the nearest bench.

“Guess there are ways to successfully murder a child and get away with it.” She raised an eyebrow– and here I thought you wouldn’t be irked by the words of a little girl… like I said you’re a maladjusted person.”

“I don’t hurt children. I have no idea…” he said calmly while a little bit angry, as he returned to her side.

“I dunno– it would look really bad if the press found out that you’re a deadbeat.”

His expression dropped as the little girl's eyes glowed.

“Smartest little girl in the world… or...?” She said dryly, as she headed towards Ryan to save him the walk– my bubble refracts light, easy to spot if you notice images are wavering without the heat.”

The little boy ran cheerfully after his father, who for the first time ignored him, his eyes transfixed on the little girl, who had been playing stupid all along.

taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity , @demodemo909 and @immyowndefender

here's the house:

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @elsie-writes!

Find the Word Tag

My words: cup, desk, sparkle, calm, hundred

Your words: ground, convert, circle, link

Pulled from MG book 2 ;)

.

"A cursed weapon, huh...," the woman breathed.

"Oh, the Garell boy's curse is actin' up again!" Elwe piped up. "I was supposed to tell you when ya got in."

Astra sighed long-sufferingly. "I told you, momma, that ain't a curse. He's got asthma. Tell 'em to keep makin' 'im breathe the vapor from a cup a' branic tea twice a day. It ain't ever gonna go away, but that'll help some."

.

Her hand made no sound against the sturdy, iron door. The noise of her hydraulic pump and dragging foot, however, betrayed her. The rhythmic pings that had echoed from inside ceased at once.

Vermir stepped into the darkened interior. Azidor's was a small shop, specializing in only certain materials and catering to a specific crowd. Strewn about the tables and benches, she could see metallic hands prepared with hidden tools, silver faces etched with beautiful, floral designs. A sign at the front desk read in both Janazi and Kevete: High-quality adjustments for robotic parts and prosthetics alike. Ask about our sensory rune upgrades!

.

"We ain't never gettin' into that central lab, are we?" Astra muttered. Her gaze flicked up to meet his. None of the typical mirth or bravado sparkled in her blood-ringed eyes.

"It's...." The man swore under his breath. "What other choice do we have?"

.

"I'll be right behind you," Mashal said. By his tone, it was obvious he was trying to calm her anxiety while being rather afraid of the crossing himself. "If you slip, I'll catch you."

"If'n I slip, you keep your hands to yourself so I don't drag us both down," she answered a little more snappishly than she intended.

When Mashal's expression went sad, Astra took a deep breath, berating herself internally. She had to get a handle on her fear. Her ma had always said that when the night was dark, there was no need to start painting with pitch, even if the colors matched.

"We're gonna be fine," Astra said, offering a smile over her shoulder. "I ain't gonna fall and neither are you. In fifteen minutes- Nah, twelve. I'm gonna beat my record, I can feel it. In twelve minutes, we're gonna be home free."

.

"You're taking your sweet time for some squiggles." Thibault's eyes darted nervously to the hall they'd come from. Mashal and Avymere stood ready and tensed, prepared to fight at a moment’s notice.

"My momma always said, if ya don't know shit about a thing, you'd best keep your mouth shut 'fore that shit starts leakin' out from 'tween your lips," the witch muttered. "I need you to remember this number though - one thousand six hundred and seventy point fifteen. If I ask for the Tamm unit conversion, talk it back to me."

Thibault's ears flicked anxiously. "That's a hell of a number...."

"Well, all ya gotta do is remember it, thank the gods," Astra shot back.

.

I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @aestheic-writer18 @winglesswriter @autism-purgatory and anyone else who's interested :)

[knownangels]

walking at night (october prompt)

wc: 3732

Benji knows he doesn’t belong in this place. Clearly, he isn’t the only one.

When the double doors swing open (shiny, recently cleaned glass and gold accents he has to assume are real),  several heads turn his direction. 

The hotel bar is fancy. Except that’s not the best word for it. Doesn’t do the establishment justice; Benji just lacks the proper descriptive skill to take a crack. 

He’s keen (and used to) to DIY places without a license.  Where ‘dimly lit’ meant electric hadn’t been paid, not ‘mood lighting’. Dive bars. The nasty yet entirely self-legitimate sort of establishments that have a mysteriously consistent crust over every surface, no matter what bar, what country, what continent. The kind that make you balance on rotting subfloor to take a piss at a toilet without a tank lid. With stalls that sport not just sharpie cock and phone numbers area codes the world over, but good and proper tagging. 

Good graffiti is hard to come by these days.

Certainly isn’t any here, Benji thinks, lingering next to a potted plant at the entrance that’s got several centimeters on him. 

And there’s no crust to anything. In fact, the mood-lit bar has been recently cleaned; he can tell from the scent in the air. No harsh cleaners, but something like what Saha uses: all natural, essential oils, what the fuck ever. 

The smell mingles (shockingly well) with the variety of scents worn by the bar patrons. At every glittering marble-topped table are a few rich blokes in nice suits. A prim businesswoman, here or there. At a hightop, two heiress types in expensive athleisure sneak pulls from a vape. Their designer bags sit out in the open, not tucked around a shoulder or tight between knees to prevent opportunity. 

Benji shouldn’t be here. Not just that he feels so out of place, so alone in a total alien environment, but because both his moral compass and political foundation feel…itchy. It’s bad enough they’ve copped rooms at such a posh hotel. The bar’s gotta be like this? 

He’s about to turn on his heel and leave when he catches one of the barteners’ attention. A handsome woman with short cropped hair; he supposes he hesitates because her smart white button-up and sleek black suspenders remind him of Bunny. 

Bunny would do well in a place like this. He can imagine her sitting here for hours until a proper insomniac, toying with all this prey. Less networking. More making up lies for fun, picking apart their tiny insecurities, and boasting with just the right amount of ‘oh, it isn’t that impressive’ and ‘you should honestly just kill yourself right now in front of me’.

Thinking of her has his lips twitching, and the bartender must take that as a sign of her fish on the hook. She lifts a hand and waves in a way that seems…shockingly welcoming. Almost normal. Almost. 

Benji meanders towards the bar, tucking closer to himself than he needs to. All of the tables and chairs are spaced well far apart, and somehow the place still seems intimate. 

He’s a fucking cynic, of course, so all he can think is that it has to be a part of the gimmick. Some trust-fund psychologist turned interior designer had figured out how to design the place like a comforting venus flytrap for rich idiots. 

Benji supposes he’s one of those: he sits at the bar. It’s unlike any he’s ever sat at before. The counter is solid rock of some sort, polished enough but not overly so; it’s grittiness seems purposeful. The counter encircles the bartenders and their stations, as well as a massive glass shelf unit in the center. It’s taller than he is, maybe three times so, and well fucking stocked. 

He can’t recognize a single label past the lowest shelf. 

“Are you a patron of the hotel?”

Benji must make a face.

The bartender is polishing a glass, but she pauses to hold up a few placating fingers. 

“I know how that sounds.” She casts a glance down to the far end of the counter, where another bartender is focused on two patrons. “My manager gets so bent out of shape if we don’t ask.”

“I get it,” Benji says, because he does. He had the experience of a few shit retail jobs between meager residual checks, back when he and Lark had first started out. 

“Give me just a second.” The bartender says. Her focus drifts to a newcomer. Maybe a well-tipping regular, judging from the eager little glint to her eye. 

“No worries,” Benji says. He wonders if she’s really that good at her job: comfortable enough now, he lets his jacket slip off around the chair. 

Are you manipulating me? He thinks at her back as she goes. Don’t feel like I fit here, but maybe you think I do. That’s fuckin’ horrifying.

She doesn’t take long. Benji decides he respects the honesty of chasing a tip, and the fact that she returns to chat shit seems a good sign as well. 

“Mel,” she introduces. “What caught your attention?”

A glass bottle on the fourth shelf. Benji points at it, and she turns. 

“That a cock on the label? Who fuckin’ picked that.” 

Mel laughs, taps her nose. “Someone with great taste. Want a try?”

He balks a bit. “Uh.” 

“On the house,” Mel concedes, already going for a rocks glass and a pair of ice tongs. The places Benji would usually go, ice just gets fuckin’ dirty palmed. 

She pours him a generous two fingers worth. Benji doesn’t recognize the liquid or the label, so he isn’t sure at all how he’s meant to take the drink. 

So he takes it like a shot. 

It does not go down like one. 

Mel slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I should have — here.” She rushes to get him a pint, just something off tap. Benji glares at her without heat from the rim of the glass, eyes admittedly a bit teary.

“That was a test, a little bit.”

“For?” 

She shrugs. “You already don’t seem like the type to come in here and pay fifteen for a shot of regular ass vodka. It’s…nice.”

Benji leans on the counter and assesses the room again. The newcomer is the only one who seems to be paying them attention. He can’t fully tell in the darkness of the bar, but he might be a redhead. 

“Are you a musician?” 

Benji smiles nervously. He hopes she doesn’t know who he is, hopes she isn’t playing at ignorance. 

“Yeah, s’pose. Some might say.”

“Some wouldn’t?”

“Bunch more than some, I think.” He takes another sip. 

“Controversial?” 

Benji feels something cool settle in his stomach. Almost panic, but not quite. “We’ve had a bit of it, maybe.”

“Oooh.” Mel says. She closes one eye. “Band, then? We?”

“Right.” 

She shakes her head. “Well. I hope you enjoy for now. You’re good company, so I might come bother you between scamming.”

Benji laughs. “Alright.”

“It was nice to meet you…” she trails off, and Benji realizes with an embarrassed blink he hasn’t introduced himself back. 

“Benji.” 

The newcomer at the end of the bar coughs. Mel casts a glance his way, and then smiles apologetically before meandering down. 

*

After a few pints, Benji makes the mistake of checking his phone. He groans and pinches between his eyes.

“Ready for it?” 

His shoulders tighten at the sudden intrusion on his quiet; Mel was a quick and decent reader of people, so had given him space. Now she’s back with that same apologetic smile.

“Tired of me?”

She shrugs. He likes how she does it. A bit of attitude there. Feels familiar. “Not trying to kick you out, promise. You just don’t seem like the until-closing barfly type.”

He’s tipsy enough to be loose, so Benji presses a hand over his heart. “Fuckin’ hell, thank you. I’ll take that compliment any day of the week.”

Mel is quiet a moment. Then her eyes narrow in a friendly sort of glint. “You know where else you might get those?” 

“Hm?”

“Compliments.”

Benji blinks at her, shakes his head. 

As sneakily as she seems able to manage, Mel points down the bar towards the other patron. He’s one of the last few people to linger, along with Benji and the heiresses. There are two rocks glasses beside him, and the remnants of —he tries to remember the drink that gets an orange peel and a cherry. Maran can down those little fuckers like no tomorrow. 

“I don’t usually do this, but that guy would not stop asking what you were drinking.” 

Benji blinks to clear the bit of fuzz to his vision. When he turns his head, he finds the other man is watching them with a hand propping his chin. 

The second their eyes meet, his widen. Benji can’t tell if he blushes in the bar mood lighting, but he figures it’s a good probability: he ducks his head and tucks around himself. 

Always been chum in the water for Benji — shyness. 

*

He’s sweet, Benji supposes. Bit too awkward, maybe. His hands shake where they rest on Benji’s forearms as he gets both their belts undone, and he finds out his hunch was right. Redhead.

He can’t help but to think that it could be better, though. It could be a dingy, shitty bathroom in the sub basement of some warehouse turned DIY club. It could be a wood-paneled family owned place off in the country.

Rather, the hotel bar’s bathroom is all sleek lines and polished granite. There aren’t any knobs on the faucet of the sink Benji presses the man against.  

Fancy.

*

The next morning, he wakes late to a text from Bunny. 

Damage control working on it. Don’t freak out, it cost me too much money last time.

Benji palms his face, feeling groggy and sore. He squints at the message. 

Then the anxiety smacks into him. 

He finds the source of her cryptic (and more than a bit insensitive) message. It’s a post on some music subreddit making the rounds, talking about an encounter they had with ‘Ratspit’s own’. 

His heart drops into his stomach at the title. Betrayal is a swift and brutal plunge of a blade, but the real twist of the knife is the post’s first sentence: 

I don’t want to doxx myself, but I work at a bar and one of our guests last night was— 

It goes on from there. What Benji had to drink as proof of the encounter, with several others commenting to chime in the alcohol choice ‘seemed like him’ and thus added credibility. The post even mentions him leaving with the stranger, coy assertions that he seemed very happy when he finally left. There’s a comment asking what he was wearing. A comment asking what hotel, specifically, for no worrying reason. There’s a comment where someone asks if anyone else in the thread remembers the drama in Montreal, the man he’d been pictured with in Houston, and on. 

He texts Bunny back. They rarely do, so he fucking hope she doesn’t read too much into it. 

I’ll handle it. Call off the dogs, creep.

Fuck you, comes the immediate response, but Benji doesn’t get a call from their PR lad, so he figures she at least listened.

*

That night, after rehearsals and a day on the town with Nomi that he thinks he manages to be normal through, Benji returns to the bar. 

It hadn’t seemed particularly mysterious or magical the first time he’d been, but at least some of the intrigue has been lifted. It really is just an overpriced, pretentious bar for investment losers cheating on their wives. 

He can’t believe he sat in this place so long. Had drinks here. Amongst a bunch of top-tier A-level pricks who were probably fiscally conservative, socially progressive liberals who would still suck Reagan raw given the opportunity. 

Fuckin’ hell. He’d gone for two pints in the same room with investment bankers. 

But he’s got a mission, as much as he’d like to leave and never return. 

Mel is working again. She seems surprised to see him, but tentatively happy. 

Benji doesn’t smile at her as he sits, or get friendly whatsoever. He orders a pint and waits for her to bring it. All the while, he stares up at that funny bottle. The label of that nasty whatever she’d recommended a taste. Benji stares at that medieval manuscript style drawing cock with wings.

Then he clears his throat. It’s a test.

Mel fails. She looks up too eagerly. Too much friendly, intimate comfort written all over her face.

Touched with a hint of guilt.

Benji imagines letting her have it. Getting rowdy. Loud, like half the people that hate him like to imagine punks get. Do get, really. It’s not a far-off stereotype, not without its edge of truth; there were times where they were the rotten, chaotic free-spirited young musicians who didn’t bat an eye upon receiving a bill of a solid grand for their trashed hotel room.  

Go outside once in awhile, he wants to say to her. Do you think a normal person goes and posts every conversation they have with any average prick online? Do you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’m above it all like that? Or did you think I wouldn’t care. Or worse. Were you thinking at all about me? 

Instead Benji stares at her. His breathing is even, deep. Relaxed, the way he doesn’t feel whatsoever. 

Benji’s arms are crossed on the counter. He slowly nudges them forward until the pint glass tips off the inner edge of the bar and shatters at Mel’s feet. 

“Oops.” Benji says. Then he drops a five dollar note on the counter, stands, and leaves. 

*

Bunny had rented them the entire floor of rooms. They were there for a whole weekend, a music festival about thirty minutes out. Matilda advocated for no expense spared at some peace and quiet. Some safety.

Their floor is quite high up, but Benji avoids the elevator. Something about being enclosed in that glass box, alone except for the blinking dot of the security camera in the corner, feels a bit too on the nose for him right now. 

When it dings for him to get off, he turns down the hall towards his door. 

And then he pauses. He blinks. 

At the far end of the hall, Xavier lifts a hand chest-high, as if he means to wave. It drops, as does the eager smile beginning to spread his lips.

 Benji’s heart does something similar; plummets straight into his stomach with a cold chill of embarrassment. He turns towards his door, fumbling with the little plastic circle meant to get him in. He swipes and swipes and swipes it, as he hears long strides incoming. 

It seems pitiful to chance a look over his shoulder. It feels pitiful, desperate, lonely. But he’s glad he does. 

“Benji!” Xavier yells, and then slaps a hand over his own mouth. Wide green eyes dart side to side, pink peeking at his cheeks under the edge of his big hand. It lowers, and Benji is summarily stunned by the adorably sheepish grin hiding beneath. 

“Shush.” He admonishes. The bloody door still won’t open. 

Xavier falters for a moment, but only that. HIs gait slows, dripping rejection, until he realizes he isn’t being dismissed; Benji stands still, hands tucked in his hoodie and —

Waiting. He’s waiting. So Xavier comes towards him quicker, eager, excited. 

Fuckin’ hell, Benji thinks, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. Fuckin’ hell, mate, have some self-preservation, you’ve got no idea — you’ve no idea what I’ve been thinking, are you serious? 

Xavier stops several feet away. The hotel hall is dimly lit with fancy sconces lining the walls, orange glow turned soft for the night. He looks. Well. Benji, who is occasionally paid by the word if the lyrics are good enough, cannot manage a single syllable.

“Alright?” 

“Yes.” Xavier breathes. That grin widens. “I mean, hey.”

They stare at one another a beat. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked?”

Their synchronization makes Benji toss his head back and laugh. 

“Fuck off,” he says, unable to keep any bit of fondness concealed.

“I heard there’s a crazy expensive bar downstairs.” Xavier smiles, pats his back pocket. “And I just got paid.”

Benji winces. “Ah. Not really my style. Or yours, if m’honest.”

Xavier looks absolutely heartbroken for a moment. It’s tortuous.

So, even though he’s exhausted and buzzed with the adrenaline of a confrontation, Benji tilts his head back towards the elevators. “I was gonna turn in but. Fancy a walk, instead?” 

“Sure. Yeah.” Xavier sounds winded, still.

The elevator ride back down is mostly silent. At the door, the hotel doorman gives Benji a nod and then says something into his earpiece; maybe making note of the time of his departure, or letting Tino know that he’s been spotted, has a chaperone. 

Benji glances up at said guard. Only to find him staring down. He blushes when he’s caught, and Benji can only think of fucking chum.  

“Been busy? If you’ve already done your laps tonight, no worries.” He gestures at Xavier’s heaving chest. 

Xavier looks, as if unaware. He takes a big breath and lets it out slow; Benji catches his fingers shivering as he winds them together and pulls at knuckles until they pop. 

Shaking? Nervous, Xavier? I make you fuckin’ nervous?

*

They escape the hotel, dancing awkwardly out its rotating doors and into the cool night air. Benji can’t help but admonish himself a bit; he hadn’t even checked for a crowd or the absurdly committed fan or two usually lingering wherever they went. He wonders, distantly, if Xavier’s presence had scared them off. At the last few shows, Xavier had developed a bit of a reputation. 

Take no shit, is what Benji had overheard him say to Benny, voice clogged by a broken nose. You gotta establish dominance. Like, y’know. The hierarchy of nature. Like meerkats. 

Meerkats? Benny had asked incredulously, prodding at the blood on Xavier’s upper lip.

Yeah, dude, you ever seen Meerkat Manor? Those little fucks are metal. 

The hotel isn’t situated in a particularly busy part of the city, but its a big enough town to have cars out on the street this late.

Benji smiles at the memory, tucks close to Xavier against the chill. He’s so fucking warm, all the time. 

“So I take it that’s a no?” 

“No!” Xavier says quickly. Then his brows pinch. “Uh, I mean? No, it’s not a no. What you’re asking about. Um. What were you asking about?”

Benji snorts. “Asked if you’d gotten your exercise, if comin’ for a walk was a bother.”

“No,” Xavier repeats even faster. “No, this is — I kinda needed this.” 

Benji feels his snide, half-sided grin turn genuine and is somewhat terrified of that. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Shit day?” Xavier asks it sincerely, but he’s also glued to his phone enough that Benji has no doubt he’s at least a bit aware of the latest gossip. 

“Yeah, you could say.” He leans in conspiratorially, completely in the other man’s space now. “I like this, though. Feels better.” 

Xavier trips over a rock or a crack in the sidewalk, yelping just as he’s about to respond. “Ah! Fuck. This?”

Benji pauses and waits for him to stop, too. They stop outside and open-late deli, whose flickering neon sign side casts Xavier in pretty reds and blues. 

Mood lighting, Benji thinks with something far too soft lodged in his throat. 

“Spending time with you.” Benji says. He doesn’t feel bold for the honesty; it’s just the truth. Why not tell him? What’s he got to fucking lose, the rest of his dignity? He can handle a rejection, after all that. 

It doesn’t help that Xavier looks so sweetly startled by the admission. His cheeks are pink, little rosy thumb-sized dots of color high on his cheeks. They start to join in a flush over his nose. 

“Oh.” Xavier says. He blinks rapidly before breaking out into a smile so bright Benji feels like he’s staring into the spotlight. 

“I like spending time with you too, Benji. I’m —” he pauses here, hands coming up to lace in front of his stomach. They coil and knot and fret. His usual tell. Whatever he wanted to say gets pushed visibly down, and Benji mourns it for a moment. 

Just a moment. Because Xavier goes on:

“You’re cool. I’m glad somebody cool wants to be around me.” 

Benji shakes his head. He knocks his boot against Xavier’s calf. “Mate, wouldn’t pay the compliment if I didn’t mean it? Wouldn’t be out here walkin’ with anybody.”

Xavier’s smile grows. It’s sort of addicting to accomplish. So Benji goes on, too: 

“Naw, Xavier, honest. Not just flattering you. Think I get along with people like this? Fuck no.” A laugh that he hopes doesn’t sound too bitter. “Sounds mad and probably egotistical to say, but it’s hard…y’know, making friends like this. Especially ones as fast with it as you.” 

Xavier’s blush depends, and he ducks his head. Shyly. “Come on.” 

“No, honest. Banter with the best of ‘em, swear you do.” 

Xavier scuffs his shoe. Benji can’t help what happens. He leans in, chin tilted, eyes cast up Xavier’s chest to find his face. 

“Not bad to look at either, if I’m honest.” 

The smarmy little compliment is received exactly as he anticipated. Xavier, clearly too flustered to function, mumbles something that might be a polite, awkward Catholic fucking ‘thanks!’ before immediately trying to pull Benji’s attention away.

He oohs and aahs at the late night joint in front of which they’ve paused their walk, pulling Benji’s sleeve. Trying to convince him to go in, as much as he is trying to get a reprieve from the compliments. 

And yet, when Xavier’s eyes get too big for his stomach (a fucking feat, if the stories Lark tells are anything to go by), it’s Benji, idiot, who carries the boxes full of wings and two different pizzas and a cookie cake and subs and massive potato fries back to the hotel. 

Xavier’s blinding smile is worth it. Lights everything up nice and lovely. 

[alice-angel12x]

The secret world of Tevayt (Ch.2)

Part 1 (here)

As Lumine and Aether enter the renovated Inn, Xiangling happily greeted her long-time friends. She ran and happily pulled the twins in a tight bear hug.

“I’m so Happy You guys are here! How are you doing Aether?” Xiangling asked him as she let go of the twins.

“I could be doing better,” He said with a weak smile.

“Oh Is your heart not getting better?” Xiangling asked with a sad expression.

“There's going to be an operation to help his heart in a couple of days,” Lumine said.

“Well, I can’t wait to make an epic banquet when the operation is successful,” Xiangling smiled softly.

“Thank you, Xiangling,” Aether smiled weakly.

“Oh let me show you to your rooms,” Xiangling said as she helped with the luggage.

As the twins and Xiangling made their way down the halls, two little girls laughing and screaming came running down the hall. 

“Hurry Nahida, the tiny people are moving,” A girl dressed in red said excitedly.

“We have to get the food ready for them,” The girl in green added as she chased the red girl.

“Who were those two?” Lumine asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, those are Alice’s kids. The girl in red is Klee and The green one is Nahida. They kind of live here, when their mom is away,” Xiangling explained. “But at least their aunty Gold is always around.”

“Gold?” Aether asked.

“Yeah, she lives in the attic turned laboratory,” Xiangling smiled. “She says she’s an alchemist of sorts. Oh, there she is over there.”

Xiangling pointed to the stairs, and there was a smart-looking woman heading up to the attic. She had a strange beaker in hand.

As The three continued on, a room to the left was fulling of singing and music. Xiangling explained that the room belong to three girls who wanted to start a group. Barbara, xinyan, yunjin. They met many new people in the Inn. Like Ms.Jean the manager, college students Layla and Faurzan, the housekeepers Noelle and Thoma, and the regular visitors of Ningguang and Beidou.

Eventually, Lumine, Aether, and Xiangling made it to Ather’s room for the week. It was a simple room when Aether noticed a beautiful doll house in the corner of the room. Looking inside the furniture and decor were immaculate, this house must have been very expensive. 

Unbeknownst to the humans in the room, through a tiny crack in the wall, a pair of tiny eyes were surveying them.

_______________________

“Two new humans,” a red-haired borrower said. 

“How many?” a blond borrower asked.

“Two new humans, Mika,” the red-haired borrower said

“Right I will write this down Diluc,” Mika nodded.

“We should head back to come back with a plan. One of them looks sickly, so he probably won't be much trouble,” Diluc said as he made his descent down the nail stairway in the inner sides of the wall. Mika quickly follows since Diluc is the one with the lamp.

Back in the Colony, Everyone was gathering in the living area. Sitting, resting, talking, eating, and all sorts of things.

“I can’t believe Zhongli just agreed to just let you tag along with the Borrower team,” Kaveh sighed as he placed the silk flower down in the living room. “ It’s incredibly dangerous, and you still haven’t officially chosen your role yet.”

“And you chose a role you hate,” Y/n pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s because the Ei didn’t see interior design as a useful role in the colony, so I chose Post guard,” Kaveh sighed as he sat down at a nearby counter. “Just be careful okay? Humans are dangerous for a reason.” 

Y/n nodded when Keqing came to the living area. 

“Hey, this is the last call to write down what you need to be borrowed. If you don’t fill this out soon you’ll have to wait 2 weeks for the time,” Keqing said sternly, holding up a paper. 

“Wait I need tissue paper!” Kaveh said as he quickly rushed over to Keqing.

Soon more people started to gather around Keqing and began to write on the list. Soon Diluc and Mika returned and Zhongli greeted them as they began to discuss.

“We found 2 new humans in the house. However one of them looks a bit sickly,” Mika explained.

“He most likely won't be much trouble, and go to bed early,” Diluc added.

“Great job you two, oh, and Y/n will be joining your crew tonight,” Zhonghli said to them.

“Y/n? Have they finally chosen their role?” Diluc asked.

“No, but they would like to try this out before finally settling on one,” Zhongli explained.

“We’ll keep a close eye on them,” Diluc promised with a nod.

Zhongli calls Y/n over and introduces her to the caption Diluc.

“Hello, Diluc. I’m very excited to see what your work is like. I will do my best to stay out of your way,” Y/n promised.

“Just keep on your toes and stay out of sight,” Diluc said simply. “Get ready, we’ll be leaving in 20 minutes.”

“Right!” Mika and Y/n said.

—--------------------------------------

Y/n stood before Zhongli’s borrower team. It consisted of Caption Diluc, scout Mika, Scharamouche, Gorou, Kuki, Heizou, and Hu toa. As The group made their way to the main exit, the colony saw them off and wished them the best of luck and a safe return.

“Y/n! Be safe!” Childe called out from a window.

Y/n waved back as a gross creature started to sneak up behind them. Childe gasped and quickly drew his bow and shot at the cockroach. Y/n quickly turned to see the large creature, they quickly drew their bat and started to slug the roach. With a screech, it quickly scurried away into the dark.

“Nice work Newbie,” Heizou said as he clapped his hands in congrats.

“It’s just a roach Heizou, nothing to get excited about,” Scaramouche scoffed.

“No need to be such a downer, it’s nice to know we have a capable potential member joining us,’’ Heizou arguedwith a smile as he rests his arm on Y/n’s shoulder.

Scaramouche just rolls his eyes and walks off to catch up with the group. Heizou sighs and gives Y/n a friendly pat on the back as they caught up with the rest of the group. As Diluc stayed back to make sure everyone crossed the nail bridge safely, he turns to Y/n with a nod. Y/n looked down at the edge, it was a far drop. The nails were wedged into a wood beam, each nail spaced out just far enough for a large step between each nail. With calm strides, they made their way across the nail bridge as Diluc followed behind to keep an eye out for them.

At the end of the bridge, Kuki held out her hand to help Y/n off.

“How much farther to the first stop?” Y/n asked.

[ashmp3]

you are so cool and knowledgeable teo i don’t know who would find you annoying lol. can you share some of the movies you mentioned? 💕

first of all 😭 you think i’m cool and knowledgeable 😭 that’s so sweet and to answer your question well my sister LMFAO. Anyway yeah i’ll share a few i think could be useful from the architecture/set design aspect!

first i wanna start with my baby blade runner (1982) which i already said i analyzed like a lunatic but from urban planning aspect it is very masterful. Also for one project i had to pick a film and find similarities with other art/movies/etc and i did blade runner + in the mood for love (color use, elements of film noir), calvin klein ss 2018 (reinterpretation of traditional pieces in futuristic light, nice use of function of association and set design you can google it). Also, next is also another recommendation and thats metropolis (class difference through metropolis acting as an industrial center).

Next i would recommend the truman show and bc i feel like everyone has already seen it, rewatch it. Again urban planning aspect inspired me for another project where i had to make a comic book (did a horror one with suburbia as the main character).

dogville!!! It’s a bit disturbing i guess but it is lars von trier we are talking about. I recommend! Not spoiling it but they use theater as set design and the way you get the function of the space is through map of the city and interior of houses. SLAY!

playtime :-) very famous but for a good reason. This one you just gotta watch and then you will get it why i said that. I facken love tati… oh and mon oncle!!!!

i’ll just do a fast quick recommendations now because i need to 🤐 because i will spend all day on tumblr dot com okay!

solaris, stalker (tarkovsky), snowpiercer, paprika, red desert, inception, blade runner (2046), the 400 blows, edward scissorhands, american beauty, vivarium, la haine, trafic (1971), cléo from 5 to 7, breathless, the cabinet of dr. calgari, do the right thing, taxi driver, manhattan, her, lost in translation

Oh actually film noir is something i REALLY recommend to dabble in lmfao sorry quick intermission but yeah like sweet smell of success, strangers on train, the big sleep, the big heat, dark passage, double indemnity…

okay i think this is… more than enough. @nosferatism i am tagging you as promised 💋♥️

[cornflowershade]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!

Thank you for tagging me @lamonnaie!

note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc. please include this note with the meme unless you have a different definition!

name and whatever you want to share about yourself Sonia (she/her). 24. I love getting to know people & chatting about shows so lets goooo

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom? I watched Bad Buddy in one week, in late October 2022. I owe it to @airenyah honestly. I think I found their blog through an SPN post and clicked over for that reason. In my scrolling, I happened upon a lovely gifset (wish I could recall who made it) of InkPa. It was the scene where they're outside and Pa says anyone taller than her is fine and hops down off the sidewalk. :) Love that scene. Anyway I reblogged it and in the tags was like WHAT IS THIS I MUST WATCH IT. To which airenyah gave me a whole blessed reply telling me the show name, giving a small synopsis/what to expect from my first thai drama & telling me where I could watch it. I immediately watched the series and adored it. I've seen it twice thus far.

favorite ship(s) PatPran & InkPa :)

favorite character(s): Okay I adore all the main 4 but I'm gonna go with Pran. I love him. There's just something so soft about him and how on earth do his eyes communicate so much?? I think I relate to his messy little overthinking and silently in love brain—very "me the first time i had a queer crush and simply wallowed the whole time bc it was impossible" lol. Also, he's always making the funniest facial expressions which gets me every time. I could go on about everything I like about his character (for instance how clever yet sometimes oblivious he is & how he gets all annoyed lol). Though I do question his sense of interior design and that smiley face obsession.

favorite episode(s) Honestly I'm not certain if I have one?? It's all so good! I do really like their "whoever falls first loses" era though. Wait actually?? My favorite ep might be the early one where Pat thinks he's hitting on the "girl" across the hall and they end up running into each other on the roof. Also both of the beach episodes.

favorite scene(s) *pastes in the entire show* Okay okay I'll try to pick a few:

~ The scene where Pat is staying over and he and Pran are lying in the dark, counting down to say in unison whether they have a crush on Ink. Idk I remember that scene having an emotional impact on me. Pran's face??? Then when Pat asks "would you like me?" and Pran says "I hate you" and then he yanks the blanket away but you saw him crying?? ahhhghrhghgh

~ The scene in the darkroom with Ink and Pa. I remember getting so emotional. Pretty sure Pa's dialogue and acting made me cry. "I do [like you being nice to me]. I like it so much that I thought I was special to you." ARE YOU KIDDING ME ASDFGZ. And then Ink says she is special to her!! And it's so sweet!!

~ OH and how could I forget. This should be at the top of the list. I realllly like the scene where Pran stands up to his mom and they have that emotional fight in their front hall. That whole thing is just. AHHHHHH. AHHH. AHIOFJEIOsdJIO. SIJDGRIOGJRIGJORE

~ And the scene at the stairs where Pat yells how much he loves Pran in front of Pran's whole faculty. :)

(Also any scene where Pat & Pran are being silly. Like their dumb little chopstick fight :p omg or the designing the bus stop at night scene)

one thing you would change about the show if you could Ohhhh I don't know! Maybe I'd throw in a few more InkPa scenes :)

what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people? Ahh fun fun fun. Get ready for some fanvid recs! (What else do you expect from me, a fanvidder.)

• Just My Type (Pat x Pran) by samyvids • Physical (Pat x Pran) by coldties • Enchanted (Ink x Pa) by rheaprodz • I really like you (Pat x Pran) by dkyth73 • Rebels (Pat x Pran) by coldties • Dandelions (Pat x Pran) by hylian fanvids

(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made? I've made two fanvids for Bad Buddy, as well as one song cover haha. I'll stick to the fanvids here. :)

• All I Need (Ink x Pa) • That dimple is illegal (Pat x Pran)

a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol) Physical by Dua Lipa. The fanvid using that song is my all-time favorite BBS edit, so hearing the song reminds me of it.

idk anything else you want us to know? Uhhhhhhhh. I mean I could ramble about BBS and why it means so much to me for a long time haha. Should I do that? I guess I'll do that.

Okay so BBS was the first Thai drama I watched. I was still feeling a lot from the SPN-finale/confession scene era (yes that happened 2 years prior but it's SPN okay iykyk) which had me especially sad about and aware of media censorship etc. etc.

On top of that I was still working up the courage to leave this group chat of childhood friends, some of whom liked to complain about media "making everything gay" etc. (Amazing how you can not know people are homophobic for the entirety of your childhood bc the topic just never comes up lol.) Which was of course upsetting to me for multiple reasons. However the universe decided to do something nice and Heartstopper was released. That series felt really huge to me, but after it was over, I was left with this feeling of like... what else is there to watch? Where else will I ever find a queer ship this canon where they're also the main characters?

That's when I came across BBS and it gave me this realization that OH WAIT we aren't limited to western media and OH LOOK there's so many great shows that I didn't even know about!! And they keep making them! Also it was a queer story where the main obstacle wasn't being gay (Plus, Asian leads!!). And BBS itself is just such a standout show. First of all, I love a good comedy and the series made me laugh so much. It's heartfelt but full of ANTICS [like yes lets have fun! Lets not take everything too seriously!], and Pat & Pran & Ink & Pa are just such wonderful and lovable and real feeling characters—who have this lovely friendship too—and the show is just! Such a fun ride. <3 I recall watching the series and feeling like my world just got a little bit bigger. Anyway Bad Buddy goes all in for everything it does and it's such a joy.

.

Tagging @airenyah and @distant-screaming and @feralmuskyscentedhoepran if you haven't done this yet and would like to!

[use-your-telescope]

WIP Snippet #4

Hi friends! I’m sharing a fun, fluffy snippet from When Everything's Made to be Broken with y’all to enjoy - in part because I needed something to smile about today and the chapter this is from always warms my heart. Other part is because I enjoy sharing snippets with you.

Reason for needing a smile is my grandpa was admitted to the hospital with diverticulitis, an hour and a half away from me... he’s expected to be fine but it still freaks me out because he has had colon cancer and anything digestive is a concern… he’s also 96 so like anything could kill him. Update: got to see him today and he’s doing much better than before!! He may be almost 97 but he’s laughing and joking and giving us shit like nothing is wrong… So thats a mega relief and a nice change from the last time he was hospitalized 😅😅

Anyways, please enjoy friends. If you are so inclined, re-blogs are much appreciated! Send me a message or reply if you want to be added to the tag list…

Warnings: None.

Takes place after snippet 2 and 3.

Song: Kicks - Lights

Tag list: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @thedistractedagglomeration @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @mochie85 @coldnique @lokixryss @gigglingtigger @cheekyscamp @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @crzyplantladyvibes @buttercupcookies-blog

I Just Wanna Lose Myself With You

“Nothing like a vacation to kick back and relax!” Tony announced, “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves, including a private beach and fully-stocked bar.”

With summer in full swing and a relative lull in the appearances of malicious actors and potential global threats, Tony decided it was a great time to take the team on a vacation - in this case, it was a private estate in the Hamptons. The multi-acre colonial estate was chock-full of beautiful scenery and peaceful, idyllic alcoves for Theo to enjoy; as much as she appreciated the tower, she was grateful for any opportunities to be closer to nature. Looking around, it was impossible to see any other signs of civilization… In the Hamptons, that was truly a feat.

For Theo, the change of pace was certainly welcome. For all the traveling the team did, it was never for leisure purposes. The prospect of traveling somewhere and not having to take out any criminals felt like a breath of fresh air. Perhaps even more alluring was the idea of disconnecting from everything for a little bit and stepping away from the public eye. 

Pepper rolled her eyes at Tony, but a smile graced her lips. “Have fun, be safe. We have lots of extra sunscreen if anyone needs it.”

The entire team was practically buzzing with excitement - yes, they worked hard, but the excited chatter that percolated through their entire trip to the estate was enough for Theo to know that they were about to play hard too.

As Pepper handed out keys to everyone, Theo found herself soaking up the warm, sunny interior of the mansion - unlike the tower’s modern, minimalist architecture, the estate’s interior leaned heavily on its colonial revival architecture to inform its design, with touches of rustic and modern elements to give it an elevated feel. 

Before everyone could disappear to their rooms, Sam piped up.

“Suit up - we’re playing volleyball on the beach in twenty minutes!”

“You’re going down, bird boy!” Bucky teased, heading down the hall to drop his stuff off. 

“Oh, this I want to see.” Natasha wasted no time taking off to find her room, clearly in a hurry to change and get out to the beach.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later everyone was migrating from the mansion to the beach. Theo found herself near the back of the pack, enjoying the team’s excitement while intentionally avoiding the action near the front of the group. A tote bag with a towel, sunscreen, and her phone was slung over one arm; she also carried a beach umbrella, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone would want some shade. 

Realistically… that someone was her.

“Are you coming?” 

Theo turned to the side to find Wanda smiling brightly at her; Theo realized she must have stopped walking when she’d gotten lost in thought.

“Yeah, sorry,” Theo blushed, sliding her sandals off before stepping into the sand. Already, the sand had soaked up some heat from the sun; the warmth was soothing between her toes.

It didn’t take long to stake out a spot and set up her towel and the umbrella; after all, they had plenty of space to themselves. Nearby, the others were setting up a volleyball net and preparing to play.

Wanda spread out her towel next to Theo’s before laying back and closing her eyes. A content sigh escaped her lips. “This is the life.”

Theo smiled, stretching out on her own towel. “Certainly can’t complain.” 

The radiant warmth from the sand was enough to lull Theo into something like a doze; not really awake, but not quite asleep. Content, listening to the laughter of her teammates in the distance and the calming sound of waves rolling in… Relaxing in the shade so she wouldn’t fry like an egg… Really, it was a great break from the absolute hell of the previous month.

Well, it was a great break until someone scooped her up and took off running.

Theo screamed, eyes flying open and arms flailing as the momentum from being picked up threw her off balance. She hadn’t even had a chance to process what was happening before she was hurled into the water - if being scooped up suddenly wasn’t enough to wake her up, the cold of the ocean certainly was. 

As she came up for air, she could hear the others cackling; in the background, Peter and Shuri shouted something about getting it on video. One particularly rich, deep laugh happened to be far closer… She knew exactly who threw her into the ocean.

Shaking the water from her face, Theo opened her eyes to find her suspicions were correct - Loki was in front of her, a sparkle in his eye and a grin curling up as he bit his lower lip.

“I always wanted to sweep you off your feet.” Loki teased, his face alight with mischief.

“Oh, it’s on!” Theo leapt towards him, tackling him and knocking him back into the water; the shriek that escaped him as he went under was possibly the most undignified, hilarious sound Theo ever heard coming out of him. 

Thor came barreling into the water moments later. Behind Theo, Rhodes managed to shove Tony into the ocean. Chaos erupted as the majority of the team dove in, though a few folks stayed behind - Pepper stole Theo’s spot beneath the umbrella, while Shuri spread out her own towel nearby; along with Wanda, they watched with amusement at the scene that unfolded. 

“Who wants to play chicken?” Bucky shouted, running and diving into the water.

“Chicken?” Thor clearly had never heard of the game before.

“Yeah, you have two teams of two people - one goes on top of the other’s shoulders, and then they wrestle to see who gets knocked off the shoulders of their teammate and into the water first.” Peter explained, shaking the excess water out of his hair.

“Oh, this sounds like marvelous fun!” Thor cheered.

“Super soldiers versus Norse Gods?” Natasha suggested, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“It would be helpful for us to see how the activity works before challenging us to battle,” Loki strategically pointed out.

“Yelena and Buck versus you and Steve,” Sam pointed to Natasha. “Should be an even match.”

A glint of competitiveness flashed in Natasha’s eyes. “Let’s go.”

Moments later, Steve was pulling Natasha onto his shoulders while Yelena was getting settled atop Bucky. 

“Leaning into some sibling rivalries, I see.” Bruce popped up in the water by Sam, bemused by the smack talk going on as they prepared to wrestle.

“If he really leaned into it, it would have been Thor and Loki, not the super soldiers.” Rhodes pointed out. 

Loki’s shoulders briefly tensed, but he forced them back down before anyone else noticed; a reminder that the mention of his and Thor’s sibling dynamic was still a sore spot for him. Theo casually drifted closer to him. Without giving it much thought, she reached to the side and grabbed his hand, holding it beneath the waves, pushing down the warmth that rose when they touched. The water was deep enough that she could barely touch the bottom without her head going under the water, so she found herself treading water. 

There was probably some kind of metaphor there, but for now Theo was going to ignore it.

Loki’s eyes flickered over to her, though he didn’t turn his head to look. Just a hint of a smile tugged at his lips - maybe he was trying not to acknowledge that she’d taken his hand, though he did adjust so his fingers laced within hers before giving her hand a quick squeeze. 

It wasn’t long before Yelena managed to throw her sister off balance, scoring a win for the underdogs.

“Alright, now you know how it works - “ Natasha emerged from the water, grinning despite her loss. “Super soldiers versus Norse gods.”

At the suggestion, Loki inhaled sharply and stood taller, rolling his shoulders back. Theo gave his hand one last squeeze before he let go, hoping it’d help him feel more confident if he was actually nervous… But maybe he was just psyching himself up before they wrestled. If that was the case, hopefully he took her gesture as a wish for good luck. 

As Steve hopped up onto Bucky’s shoulders, the way Loki subtly flinched atop Thor was enough for Theo to conclude that yes, Loki was definitely nervous about the impending wrestling match. 

The teams began to tussle. Theo found herself cheering for the gods - part of it certainly came from her desire to see Loki do well, but she also got the sense that both gods were competitive enough that losing might put them both in a sour mood.

Not surprisingly, the super soldiers weren’t a match for the brothers. Between having Thor as a solid foundation and Loki’s agility, it only took a minute for the super soldiers to go down. 

Steve fell back into the water, causing a small tidal wave to ripple out from where he landed and splash everyone around them. Loki cringed. It wasn’t until Steve resurfaced, laughing about the dramatic manner in which he went down that Loki let out a hesitant chuckle of his own, relaxed his shoulders, and allowed a shy smile. 

If anyone else noticed Loki acting strangely, they certainly didn’t say anything.

Dismounting from Thor’s shoulders, Loki glanced over at Theo, who gave him a bright smile and a thumb’s up. His smile widened, finally reaching his eyes.

A flutter arose in Theo’s chest; she bit down on the inside of her cheek. 

What the hell was wrong with her?

In the background, Shuri was taunting Bucky - she’d gotten the match on video and was cracking up as she watched it back. Bucky let out a growl, making his way out of the water and approaching her. Shuri’s eyes widened as Bucky drew near; even though Theo couldn’t see him, she imagined he had some sort of devilish grin on his face. 

Shuri stuttered out apologies, laughing nervously and holding her arms out to keep him at a distance. Bucky swooped down and scooped her up, effortlessly hoisting her over his shoulder before running back into the water and tossing her in. Shuri’s squeal was enough for Theo to burst out laughing; when she came up for air, she playfully glowered at Bucky, who responded with a devious grin.

Beneath the water, a hand reached out and took Theo’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Butterflies arose in her stomach.

“You were a much better sport about being thrown into the ocean than the princess.” A coy smile played across Loki’s lips as he stood next to her, still deep enough in the water that no one could tell they were holding hands. 

“You didn’t technically sweep me off my feet, you know.” Theo playfully challenged his earlier comment while trying not to grin like a fool.

“Is that so?” Loki’s eyes flickered with something, but Theo couldn’t quite tell what.

“I was laying down.” Theo winked. “I’d have to be standing on my feet for you to sweep me off of them.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

“You can do what you wish with that information.” Theo found herself looking out across the beach - for being in such a crowded area, she was surprised how much land was simply for them. In the distance, some large rocks along the horizon caught her eye.

“What is it?” Loki turned, his eyes moving to look in the same direction.

“Those rocks look like they’d be fun to explore.” Theo mused. “Later, though - we have a few days.”

For now, it was a beautiful, sunny day on the beach - Theo was going to soak up every minute of it.

[cosmicalily]

!!! omg wait let me reintroduce myself !!!

so for some reason i've been getting a few more follows lately and some more likes on my older posts which is actually so cute thamks and so i thought i'd

pop

on

and

say

hello

so hihi!! i used to write fics on here but then i was like actually no bc if there's one thing i'm consistent in it is inconsistency <33

i love food. just any food. especially korean/japanese, since that's what i've grown up on (love ya mum). my favs are tteokbokki, sashimi, bibimbap, udon, japanese hotpot and duMPLINGs those bitches are my life.

i'm a kpop stan (if that wasn't already obvious). my ults are stray kids, twice, newjeans and lately i'm loving (g)idle, itzy, txt, enhypen. in terms of music and concepts, i like girl groups more, but in terms of members, i prefer boy groups.

i love doing artsy things! mainly drawing, graphic design, a bit of interiors. i do web design too, hoping to turn that into a bit of a side income. i'm studying graphic design atm.

i have adhd.

but we all saw that one coming.

um what else

oh yes. i've been adopted by @thevampywolf, she is my british mother, and i am her aussie daughter. a slightly chaotic but very loving dream team.

yay!

thats all for now i think.

love

you

cutie

patooties

xox

starstarstarstarstar

my tags:

music - #starsongs

thoughts and random shit - #starblabs

me and vampy - #vampys star, #vampys baby, #star and vampy

[jeongyunhoed]

The third and final story in the 100-Day trilogy, taking place four years after the events of The 100-Day Relationship and two years since the events of I Do. When the patriarch of the Choi family suffers a heart attack, the entire clan decides to visit the estate in the hopes of getting in his good graces and parts of his fortune before he passes. Seonghwa and Juhyun now find themselves clashing with nosy relatives who threaten to split them up and have her removed from any possible inheritance.

Inheritance Member: Seonghwa Pairing: Seonghwa/OC Genre: I’m going to say angst-fluff, drama, intrigue. Things to note: Art Curator!Hwa, a lot of crazy rich stuff again (for real, this will have A LOT), and perhaps some adult-y things. Watch out!: The usual pressure of kids, illness, familial drama ahead A/N: So, I’m so sorry the first chapter took so long. But what’s important is that I’ve finally posted after what seems like months of not writing much, so I hope this is a good enough first chapter. Tag list is open as usual. Oh, and I’ve also posted the Hwandred-Day trilogy on my Ao3 (yeojasamho).  Tag list: @kflixnet , @treasure-hwa ,     Masterlist

Chapter 1 

“Hello Architectural Digest, I’m Park Seonghwa, and this is my wife, Juhyun, and welcome to our home,” Seonghwa smiled as he and Juhyun stood aside to let a small crew of people inside, scanning their apartment. “We’ve only been living in this place for two years since we got married, and we got our friend, Shin Dongwoo, to take care of the interiors of this place as you can see,” Seonghwa showed them around. 

“When we sat down with him about decorating the place, we said we wanted a place that looks very cozy and relaxing. He referred us to Gwyneth Paltrow’s designer Brigette Romanek and she flew in for us and worked her magic, scouring the entire country to look for the furniture that really suited what we had in mind,” Juhyun explained, showing them the kitchen. “Seonghwa and I cook together sometimes. It’s one of the ways we spend time together, especially after work.” 

“We have a kind of dynamic when it comes to being at home. I’m the one who cleans, Juhyun is the one who cooks,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

“But there are times when we do both, mostly on weekends,” Juhyun added. “Seonghwa makes amazing kimchi jjigae and curry.” 

“Juhyun makes really good pasta,” Seonghwa smiled. “And roasted chicken. She cooks very well,” and Juhyun laughed. 

Seonghwa showed the crew the framed pictures that were hung on one part of the living space. It included their wedding photos and other framed photos of them and their friends. The big family photos took up the most space on the part of the wall where the other pictures were. 

“I picked out the kinds of frames that suited the pictures, but I also made sure the frames fit the mood of the house,” Seonghwa showed the pictures. “Hopefully more pictures will be up here.” 

He watched Juhyun take the camera crew into the different parts of their home. Seonghwa smiled to himself as he followed his wife along. His wife. The thought that he called her his wife made him smile even wider, and they had only been married for two years. 

Seonghwa couldn’t believe it at times, the fact that he was married to Juhyun, and the fact that since getting married, he found himself among the upper echelons of society, and not the echelon full of celebrities and influencers. This tier was a different kind of upper crust, yet being with Juhyun didn’t make it feel that way. 

Seonghwa wasn’t used to it, and he knew he might never be used to it, despite his grandmother already getting used to the prestige that now came with him marrying into the extremely wealthy Choi family. 

When the camera crew panned to the area of their home that had paintings, Seonghwa appeared in view. “I was recommended several local artists who did paintings of landscapes, mostly at night, and I got a print of my favorite painting, Nighthawks, because it reminded me of when we were dating, and how we’d stop by a cafe after every formal event before we went home,” He admitted, glancing at Juhyun, who smiled. 

By the time the room tour ended, and the crew thanked them before leaving, Juhyun closed the door, sighing in relief against it. “Now that’s done,” She said, before walking up to him. Juhyun noticed the clock. “We have to be at the airport now if we want to make it ahead of Hyunae and Jiho’s party,” She leaned on him. 

Seonghwa wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. He sighed. “Is there a way for us to…not go? It’s a 14-hour flight to the US,” He said. 

“I know, but we promised them we’d go, remember? They want all of their friends to be there,” Juhyun sighed as well, holding onto him tightly. “On the bright side, we can sleep all we want at the house before the party. It’s just in the Hamptons, we’ve got a house there, and I’m sure the caretakers are looking for more things to do.” 

“Does your family have a house everywhere?” Seonghwa raised a brow. 

“My grandfather does, not me,” Juhyun pointed out. 

“That’s something someone who has a lot of houses would say,” He teased, backing them into the bedroom to get ready. “Jiho’s proposing to Hyunae, and Jinri and Dongwoo are having a gender reveal party for their second child, right?” He asked as they put their bags together. 

“Yeah, and they want everyone to be there. Even Hongjoong’s coming,” Juhyun pointed out. “We’re on the same flight as him too,” She added. 

Seonghwa nodded as he slipped on his jacket, helping Juhyun with hers as she tied her hair. “Are we getting the seats near the restroom? Or did we get the seats facing the big screen in the middle?” He asked. 

“Side seats, near the restrooms, don’t worry,” Juhyun assured him as she kissed his cheek. “One problem though. It’s first class.” 

Seonghwa laughed as he followed her out of the room, with their luggage in tow. “Really? Our seats are first class?” 

“Hey, they found out who I was and upgraded our seats for free. At least our economy seats would be for people who want to get on but couldn’t book a seat or could afford first class, I’m just saying,” Juhyun shook her head, amused by the encounter. “We’ll have some leg room so we can rest properly on the way to New York, hmm?” 

“Yes, yes, on the way to New York,” Seonghwa chuckled. “But then when we get to New York, we’re having some bedroom time before going to the parties!” 

~ 

It wasn’t as if Seonghwa was able to stay in all the properties that Juhyun’s family owned whenever they went overseas. He had only heard of how big or how grand the houses looked from Juhyun’s friends and their spouses and boyfriends, but he never really got to see anything else aside from her parents’ house. 

The house they stayed in also belonged to Juhyun’s parents, with another house belonging to her grandfather not far away in this part of the place. It was built in the same manner as every other estate Seonghwa saw on the way from the airport, but with a well-manicured garden and a three-car garage.

The house, as Seonghwa realized, also had the view of the ocean with the beach just past the yard. The interiors also seemed to match the place, a mix of neutral colors and sculpted marble floors. There was even a fireplace and above the mantel was an anniversary family picture of Choi Jongmin, his wife Dajeong, Juhyun, Jihyun, and Sangmin. Seonghwa smiled to himself, thinking that maybe one day, the two of them could have that kind of picture somewhere. 

“Thank you for coming here to give me the key, I nearly forgot to ask my father about it before we left,” Juhyun was telling a middle-aged couple whom her father tasked to be the caretakers. “Oh, and this is my husband, Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, this is Serge and Jane West,” She introduced them. 

“Congratulations to both of you! It’s a good thing both of you managed to come here and stay, there’s only so much we could do to keep things spotless,” Jane chuckled, shaking Seonghwa’s hand. 

“Well, while we’re here, we’ll be sure to call you. How are things at my grandfather’s house by the way?” Juhyun asked. 

“It’s good as usual. Your aunt was staying there not too long ago,” Serge replied in a low voice. Juhyun immediately figured out which aunt it was from the way their expressions fell slightly. “Her and her husband.” 

“Oh…” Juhyun nodded. “It’s not too late to leave, you know,” She teased. 

They shook their heads, laughing. “No, no, your grandfather has been very good to us, as is your father, as is everyone else in your family really. It’s only just those few,” Serge said. 

Seonghwa glanced at his wife. “Who are they talking about?” He asked. 

“My aunt Seonak,” Juhyun sighed, frowning as she said it. 

“He’s your father’s sister, right?” Seonghwa asked, and she nodded. 

“It’s not just her, it’s my cousin and his wife too. It’s really only the three of them. If my grandmother was still alive, it would make four of them,” Juhyun said quietly. “Well, at least it’s just Aunt Seonak, and Daeyoung, and Hyemin…” 

“Wah…” They heard Hongjoong say as they saw him come in, his luggage in tow. He looked stunned. “You didn’t tell me how nice your house is!” 

“Yeah, you can stay in the guest room if you want,” Juhyun nodded, amused by his reaction. 

Hongjoong sighed. “I wish I could, but I already booked a room at a hotel.”

“Where are you booked, anyway?” Seonghwa raised a brow. 

“The Ritz. I got a suite,” Hongjoong replied. “But your house really is nice, Juhyun.” 

She shook her head. “It’s my parents’ house. But you can come stay here whenever you want whenever you fly to New York.” 

Hongjoong turned to his friend, who looked just as amused. “Maybe you should get a beach house back in Korea, I’m just saying,” He suggested, making Seonghwa laugh. “Saves us 14 hours and a whole other timezone.” 

“Well, we’d agree with you on that, but we’re all here because of other people. But it’s nice in this part of New York too,” Juhyun said, leaning against her husband. “We’re in front of a beach, a different beach. A beach that takes 14 hours to get to, but it’s worth it,” She laughed. 

Seonghwa kissed her forehead then turned to his best friend. “We’ll bring you to your hotel, we’ll just put our bags in our room.” 

Hongjoong nodded. Seonghwa turned to Juhyun, both of them carrying their bags up the stairs and into their room. They returned a moment later, taking the car keys from the corner, gesturing for him to lead the way out of the house and to the garage. “Allow me to drive you around,” Serge suggested, and Juhyun handed him the keys. “How long will you be staying?” He asked as they unlocked the doors of a gunmetal gray Rolls Royce Phantom. 

“Just a week, Hongjoong might be leaving earlier, though,” Seonghwa replied. 

“Yeah, I’m only here for a few days,” Hongjoong nodded as they got in the car, Jane following them and getting in the passenger seat to sit next to her husband. 

“Just a day less than how long we’ll be here, we’re not staying long either,” Seonghwa said as they fastened their seatbelts. 

Serge began to drive, and soon enough, they were in the city itself. Seonghwa looked at the view of all the buildings in awe. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been to New York before, but just going on a ride into the city always made him look at everything in amazement. Even more so that it was different now, as his museum was doing even better than before, and that he was married to someone who was likely going to fly all over the world ever so often. 

Juhyun smiled to herself after observing how Seonghwa looked out the window. “You think we should get a place here?” She asked quietly. 

Seonghwa nearly whipped to look at her at the question. “...What?” He asked. 

“Should we get a place here? Or do we just keep staying at the Hamptons?” Juhyun chuckled. 

He stared at his wife. “...Stop kidding, Juhyun,” He said, nudging her. 

Juhyun and Hongjoong laughed. “I’m just asking, Hwa. I wanted to know what you think,” She said. 

He shook his head. “There’s no place like home. Both our jobs are back in Korea,” He said. “You and I hardly go overseas anyway.” 

She nodded in understanding. “That’s true.” 

“I wouldn’t mind, though,” Hongjoong chimed in, and Seonghwa smacked the back of his head, the car pulling up in front of the hotel. “I’ll see you guys at the party later?” He said, getting out, thanking Serge for the ride while Jane helped him with his bags out of the trunk. 

Hongjoong waved at them as he pulled his luggage into the hotel, and Serge started to drive away. “Both of you seem to be so busy,” Jane looked over at them with a smile. “It doesn’t hurt to take some time off, no one would think less of you if you did, especially since you two work so hard.” 

“One of the secrets to a happy marriage,” Serge chimed in, grinning. 

~ 

Juhyun and Seonghwa were on their way to the restaurant where Jinri and Dongwoo were going to have the gender reveal party for their second child. The restaurant, as Seonghwa had guessed, was put up by a friend of Dongwoo’s, Gong Chansik, who flew between Korea and New York every now and then. The place wasn’t as kid friendly as it seemed, and the two of them figured that Jinri and Dongwoo left their daughter Kairi at their home, likely being babysat by the caretakers of their home. Jinri found out she was pregnant a month after Seonghwa and Juhyun got married. 

In the midst of the merriment as everyone exchanged stories and jokes, seeing another one of their friends; Ahn Jea, of the Ahn law firm, who was married to Michelin-star chef Jung Wooyoung, also revealing that she was a few weeks pregnant with their first child, it made Seonghwa and Juhyun think about their own marriage. Not only one, but two of their friends already had children or were expecting. Would they want the same thing? 

It was something they had yet to talk about, again at least. The first time Seonghwa and Juhyun talked about kids was after sex one night, when they nearly forgot to use protection. They both agreed that they weren’t in a hurry, but would it still be the same this time? While they liked being around kids, they weren’t so sure if they would be able to raise a family of their own. 

Ultimately, Seonghwa felt that it was Juhyun’s decision to make, as she would be the one carrying the child, not him. Seonghwa respected whatever decision she may make, even if it meant that they might disagree. He was already an uncle anyway and sort of a godfather to the kids of Juhyun’s friends. 

“Alright, alright!” Jinri stood up, a little bump already visible on her stomach. She was holding a glass of sparkling cider as the rest of them raised their glasses. Dongwoo held up an amber bottle that had a squeeze tip. “The syrup Dongwoo pours into my drink is the gender, hmm?” 

“Let’s see it then!” Jo, who came from the prominent Han family that was a major name in food processing, cheered. 

“Alright!” Dongwoo declared, tilting the bottle, and a vivid pink syrup filled the clear drink, making them clap. 

“It’s a girl! You have two daughters now, you’re going to be a girldad!” Jea laughed. 

“Fine by me, I hope that happens,” Dongwoo looked proud, and kissed his wife on the cheek. 

“I hope I get to be a girldad too,” Wooyoung nuzzled Jea’s cheek. “I’ll show my daughter how guys are supposed to love her.” 

“That’s awfully sweet of you,” Juhyun commented, and Wooyoung beamed. 

“Isn’t that something we’d all aspire to?” Choi Jongho, Jo’s longtime boyfriend and celebrity pet groomer, mused. 

“Of course,” Jo nudged him. 

“I think you’d all make good fathers, even you Seonghwa,” Jinri teased. 

Seonghwa just smiled, glancing at Juhyun, who suddenly sat up, and he suddenly sensed that she felt uncomfortable. He gently squeezed her arm, and she glanced at him. “Hmm?” She said. 

“You okay?” He whispered in her ear. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Juhyun nodded. She suddenly heard her phone beep. It was her sister Jihyun, calling her. She stood up. “I’ll just take this for a minute,” She rushed to one side of the room. 

Seonghwa watched her, wondering what the call was. It was the first time throughout this trip that someone called. Juhyun went out of the room and he got up as well, quietly stepping out. He had a bad feeling about it.

But before Seonghwa could go out, Juhyun came back in, her expression serious. “Who was that?” He asked. 

“Jihyun,” Juhyun said, a hint of sadness in her tone. “Grandfather had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital.” 

Seonghwa stared at her. “He’s in the hospital?” 

Juhyun nodded. “Yeah. I told her we’re in New York, she’s at the hospital now, with Bin. She put her wedding planning on hold for this.” 

“What about your parents?”

“They’re there too. My uncle Hyunwoo flew in from Japan to come to the hospital.” 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what else to say, and he wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. He kissed the side of her head. “Do you want to fly back?” He managed to ask. 

Juhyun shook her head. “I don’t know. We won’t be there for hours,” Juhyun replied. “Even with a private jet.” 

“He’s your grandfather, Juhyun. I think they’ll appreciate the effort.” 

“I asked Jihyun about it, she said he might already be out before we get there. It’s okay,” Juhyun maintained, looking up at him. “It’s okay.” 

“So, what do you want to do now?” Seonghwa whispered. 

Juhyun pulled away. “Let’s just try and enjoy the time we have here. When we get back, we’ll visit,” She said.

Somehow, Seonghwa felt a sinking feeling inside him. Something didn’t feel right about the news Juhyun gave. Juhyun was still trying to process the news as well, and she wanted to get her mind off of the sudden turn of events. The most she could do was take a deep breath, and hope that things would be alright. 

Juhyun led Seonghwa back to the table, where everyone else was absorbed in their stories and cheers. They didn’t feel like souring the mood with what they found out. 

~ 

Juhyun and Seonghwa found themselves in the guest bedroom of Hyunae’s home later that night. They were lying down, eyes closed as everyone else was outside mixing and mingling with each other. Juhyun had gotten overwhelmed with the crowd and wanted to be in a quieter space. Seonghwa went with her, and the two of them were starting to doze off from how soft the bed was. 

“Seonghwa?” She whispered, and he replied with a hum. “Do you want to go out there? I don’t think Jiho’s proposed yet.” 

“No, I want to stay with you. I think I got a little overwhelmed too,” He said. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” He reached over to hold her hand. “If you want some space, you can tell me, you know that, right?” 

“I do.” 

Juhyun opened her eyes. “Don’t worry,” She said. “You’re worrying more than me.” 

Seonghwa chuckled. “You really know, huh?” 

“Yeah, I think I know you well enough to know when something’s bothering you. Even when we try to talk about it, I think I know,” She said. 

“Has this happened to him before?” 

“No,” Juhyun shook her head. “But I guess he’s been under a lot of stress lately.”

“That’s true,” Seonghwa nodded slightly and inched closer to her. “If my grandmother found out, she’d have bolted out of her home and went straight to the hospital. Both of them have gotten very close since we got married.” 

Juhyun smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. She tells my parents about how they were catching up, like best friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.” 

“That’s great. She’s his best friend now, huh?” Juhyun laughed. 

Seonghwa nodded. “Yeah,” He kissed her softly, then sat up. “If you’re feeling better, we could join the others now. Before Jiho gets down on one knee,” He grinned. 

Juhyun laughed and sat up as well. “Yeah, yeah, we probably should before someone starts thinking we did it,” She got out of the bed and smoothed over her blouse and pants. Seonghwa checked his hair in the mirror, nodding when he felt his comma hair was still intact. 

The two of them quietly stepped out of the room, making their way into the pristine white living room where Jinri and Dongwoo were nearly dozing off as well, Jinri’s hand clasped on her phone, possibly in the hopes of being able to answer if the caretaker had any trouble. 

Jea and Wooyoung were coming from the kitchen upon seeing them. “A little bit crowded out there, huh?” Wooyoung grinned, tilting his head to the party taking place at the patio that was close to the beach. 

“Yeah, we nearly dozed off,” Juhyun nodded. 

They suddenly saw Jiho come inside, followed by Hyunae. “Was the party getting to be too much?” Seonghwa teased. 

“A little bit, but we wanted to come inside,” Hyunae smiled, taking out her compact to check her makeup, touching up her forehead with powder. 

Hongjoong quietly came in as well and Seonghwa sensed that he had something up his sleeve. 

Jiho scanned the room then turned to Hyunae. “I guess now’s as good a time as any,” He said, and he suddenly got down on one knee. 

Hyunae gaped, while the rest of them froze, as if immediately in anticipation. “Jiho-” She said. 

“Lee Hyunae, I loved you before, I still love you now, and I’m certain I’ll always love you,” Jiho looked into her eyes as he took out a black velvet box from his pocket and opened it in front of her, revealing a diamond ring. “Lee Hyunae, will you marry me?” 

Hyunae was welling up, and she nodded profusely. Jiho took out the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. The rest of them broke into applause and cheers, with Wooyoung waving a waiter over to get them glasses of champagne and cider. Hyunae and Jiho were hugging each other tightly. 

“This wasn’t just a party, we all came here for this, just so you know,” Wooyoung told her. “To Hyunae and Jiho!” He raised his glass. 

“To Hyunae and Jiho! Cheers!” They laughed, clapping and hugging the couple. 

[ladydorian05]

A Home for Broken Hearts ~ Chapter 3

Header by and co-written with @made-ofmemories

Hello, Darlings!!!

Here's the third chapter and the oficial beginning of the gallery!!

You'll see more Chrissy and Steve (we both believe that they could have been good friends) with some Steve and Eddie, oh yeah, should say it right now, this fic is kind of a slow burn :D

Just in case, about the notes they are leaving with the donations: The write the name of their ex The reason why they're no longer together The amount of time they were together, and the city they used to live in when they were together.

Enjoy! :3

Word count: 3,917

Masterpost

AO3

Chapter 3: First Donations

Steve is greeted by a very smiley Chrissy when he turns up to Hellfire early Monday morning. She’s holding up what looks to be a green letterman jacket.

“I wanted to be the first to donate something,” She tells him excitedly. 

They find a place for the jacket together. Chrissy knows this place better than him, so she does most of the work identifying spots where they could hang it where it’s not at risk of being damaged or moved by a construction worker. Steve just fusses over the placement of it, making sure it’s hanging right, that it’s visible. 

Her joy fades into melancholy once they’re done.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, it’s just strange.” Her brow knits together, “I’ve been holding onto that thing since high school. Feels good to finally let it go.”

“Who was he?” Steve asks. The name inscribed onto the front of the jacket is Jason, given the fact it’s a letterman he’s assuming he was an athlete but that’s as far as Steve’s detective skills take him. 

“Jason?” Steve nods, “He was my highschool boyfriend. He was captain of the basketball team, I was head of the cheer squad. I think the only reason we ever got together was because everyone expected us to. We dated on and off for a year and a half. Long story short, he turned out to be an asshole. I don’t even know why I kept his jacket for this long.”

“Assholes are the worst,” Steve says, he should know, he used to be one. That stereotypical asshole jock, not dissimilar to what Chrissy just described. He’s glad he changed, glad he was finally able to see sense. 

“It wasn’t all bad though, if it wasn’t for Jason I never would have met Eddie.”

“Eddie seems like a good guy.”

“He is, he helped me break up with Jason, looked out for me when all my cheer friends turned on me. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

“Are you two…” Steve trails off, regretting starting the sentence in the first place, but allowing his curiosity to get the better of him.

“We’re just friends. I’m not exactly his type.” She has a knowing smirk on her face and Steve pointedly looks away, not daring to make eye contact, “He had to work last night so he’s probably still sleeping right now. He’ll be back later though, which means we should probably get some work done before he shows up.”

“Would you mind if I…?” he trails off, taking his phone from his pocket. She looks at him in confusion until he mimics a camera.

"Take a picture? Not at all! It's for the social media you guys set up, right?"

"Yeah, Robin came up with the logo and all."

"That's great, please tag me when you post it, you can find me as Cunning_Chrissy on most social media."

"Will do, are you ready?"

"Yup." She moves to stand beside the jacket, he's about to take the photo when she asks him to wait, "I forgot to write something."

'Jason, left him for

Being a narrow-minded

asshole.

2 years, Indianapolis.'

 They get to work once the photo is uploaded. Steve is tasked with the heavy lifting. Chrissy is a lot stronger than she looks and turns her hand to just about anything, but her official role is interior designer and occasional painter decorator and Steve is more than happy to leave her to it and stay out of her way.

He knows he’ll need to get another job at some point, his savings will only take him so far, but for now it’s enough to have something to focus on that doesn’t involve moping around the apartment wearing sweatpants and feeling sorry for himself all day. The company is nice too, Robin works 8 hour shifts and the apartment always feels so empty without her.

True to Chrissy’s word Eddie does show up a few hours later. Steve almost wipes him out with the wooden plank he’s moving, intended for the foundations of the stage, he has it hoisted up onto his shoulder and admittedly isn’t paying enough attention to his surroundings when he turns on his heel. 

“Woah.” Eddie swerves out of the way, only just managing to save the tray of take-out coffee he’s carrying from spilling onto the floor, “Careful where you’re waving that thing.” 

“Shit, sorry,” Steve apologizes, setting down the plank before he can do some real damage. Eddie doesn’t actually sound pissed, there’s an easy smile on his face as he plucks one of the coffees from its little cardboard holder.

“Wasn’t sure what you drank, you struck me as a latte kinda guy, but I’ve got an americano here if you prefer?” 

“Latte is good,” Steve says, happy to accept the little paper cup that is handed to him. He’s never been fussy about coffee. Though he does draw the line at some of the sickly sweet concoctions Robin tries to get him to try that are more syrup than coffee. 

Eddie takes a seat on the floor opposite him and Steve copies the action. He lowers himself to the ground and tucks his knees up to his chest, his toes pointing towards Eddie’s.The coffee is good, he takes another long sip and lets out a contented sigh.

“Has Chrissy been showing you the ropes?” Eddie asks, an attempt at idle conversation. Steve doesn’t mind, Eddie is easy to talk to.

“Yeah, it’s been a busy morning.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be here,” Eddie apologizes between sips of his own coffee, “I had to work last night. They gave me the closing shift, again.”

Steve nods, he gets it and Chrissy had already explained to him not that he was owed an explanation at all, he and Chrissy had been managing just fine without him but Steve’s still glad to have him around.

“I was wondering,” Steve blurts out after a beat of silence, “How did you end up with this place?” 

“You mean how did a broke bartender afford all of this?” Eddie asks, one eyebrow cocked, with an accusatory glare aimed at Steve.

“No-I- I- not- I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve splutters and Eddie laughs.

“I’m just messing with you.” Eddie kicks out one of his feet which are tucked beneath him to nudge the side of Steve’s foot, “Wayne raised me, he's my uncle, best man I know. We never had much, but Wayne put aside whatever he could since I was a baby, before I even went to live with him. It was meant to be a college fund, when we realized college wasn’t going to happen he gave me the money anyway and told me to spend it on something important. Took me a while to figure out what to do with it, ended up buying this place a few years later.”

”So that’s how a broke bartender afforded this place,” Steve says as if he’s just made some great discovery. Eddie smiles into his coffee.

“Yeah, I also rent it out as gallery space to weirdos I pick up at work on occasion,” He jokes, “Doesn’t seem like a great earner so far though.”

“It will be, trust me. Just give it time,” Steve assures him, “Got our first donation today,” He nods towards the jacket he and Chrissy had hung earlier.

“Never thought I’d see that thing again, I can’t believe she kept it.” Eddie says, “She tell you about him?”

“Just that he was an asshole and that you helped her break up with him.” 

“Asshole is an understatement,” Eddie scoffs, “The guy had it out for me even before I started hanging out with Chrissy.” 

“Why you?”

Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee, “It may come as a surprise to you, but I wasn’t exactly popular in highschool,” He says sarcastically, “It was rough at first but by senior year most people just tried to ignore me. Bullies get tired real quick once you learn how to stand up for yourself. Jason never liked me though, I could tell. He was just waiting for an excuse to cause problems and I usually gave him one.”

That’s how it goes, you dare to wear the wrong clothes, get the wrong haircut, listen to the wrong music or have the wrong hobbies and suddenly you’re the outcast. He’s not proud to admit it, but had they met in highschool he probably would have been just another one of those judgemental assholes Eddie had to deal with. His ‘king Steve’ phase hadn’t been one of his finest moments. He’s glad that’s not him anymore, he can’t wrap his head around the concept of anyone disliking Eddie.

“Well, some good news, that asshole is the reason we just reached 200 followers,” Steve says, pulling his phone from his pocket and turning it so Eddie can see the screen. 

There’s only two posts so far, the one Robin had posted on Saturday announcing the creation of the gallery and featuring the logo she had eventually decided on and then the photo Steve had uploaded a few hours ago of Jason’s jacket with Heidi’s scrunchy visible in the background. 

“Damn! At Least he’s good for something.” It’s Chrissy, leaning over the stack of building materials Eddie is propped up against, he startles at the sound of her voice, twisting his neck to look at her.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Eddie asks, hand clenched over his chest. Chrissy rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair with the hand that isn’t holding her coffee cup.

“Stop being such a baby,” She chastises lightheartedly. 

Steve pushes himself to his feet, thrusting his coffee into Eddie’s hand with a mumbled “Hold this.” As much as he would love to stay and watch their admittedly very amusing bickering, someone has just wandered through the front door looking lost and holding a tophat.

“Hey,” Steve greets, the woman turns to him with a definite hint of confusion on her face but now accompanied by a friendly smile, “Are you here for the gallery?”

“Yeah.” She nods. 

“Well, you’re in the right place. I’m Steve.” He offers his hand for a quick handshake.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Emma.” She hesitates for a second before shaking his hand.

She’s probably mid 30’s if Steve had to guess, a little awkward, but he can’t blame her for that it’s not exactly a situation one finds themselves in everyday. He leads her over to the slowly growing collection of memorabilia and lets her decide where the tophat should go. He hands her a marker once they’ve found a spot for it.

She writes beside it:

‘Noah, said I was

a hindrance for his

broadway dreams.

3 years, Chicago’

“Thank you, I’m glad to be free of it. I really don’t know why I’ve been holding onto it for so long.” She says, looking lighter than she had just five minutes ago, “Maybe seeing the post on Instagram was the little push I needed to finally let go.”

“Glad to help.”

One picture of a smiling Emma standing beside her gallery donation for their social medias and a 5 dollar bill later and Steve is making his way back to Chrissy, Eddie and his now surely cold coffee. 

“Boom!” He says dropping down so he’s cross legged opposite Eddie and slamming the 5 dollar bill down between them with maybe a little more enthusiasm than it warrants, “First official donation!” 

Chrissy makes her way over and they share a highfive whilst Eddie shakes his head at them, a ghost of a smile threatening to break out across his features as he slips the money into his pocket.

"We might need a tip jar,” Chrissy comments.

“I think we have some empty paint buckets laying around.” Eddie offers.

“A paint bucket?” Steve makes a face, “I don’t know, sounds too crass.”

“Then, what would his majesty suggest?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname, it’s a little too reminiscent of ‘king Steve’ for his liking. Though maybe he had deserved it just a little, it had come across blunter than he intended, maybe a little snobbish.

“I might have something back at the apartment. Robin and I got this big jar from the artisan’s market last year.”

“ Is it blown glass?” Chrissy asks.

“I don’t think so, it’s a normal jar, just big. It was filled with jam.” He remembers it well, apricot and lavender, they had spent months eating jam and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. Robin insisted it was better than jelly, Steve couldn’t really tell the difference, but it had been quite pricey and he was determined to not waste a single drop of it, “I’m pretty sure she kept the jar. I’ll ask her and bring it around once it’s found.”

“In the meantime, come on,” Chrissy says, kicking Eddie’s thigh lightly with the side of her foot, “Coffee break’s over, let’s get back to work.”

Steve offers him a hand to help him stand up. He takes it, with a groan and two little hops Eddie’s up and standing much closer than Steve anticipated, their hands still clasped together when Eddie says, “Come on, big boy. Let’s work on that stage.”

‘Big boy’

The nickname echoes inside his head as he picks up the forgotten plank and mindlessly follows Eddie. He really needs to pull himself together, he just got dumped less than a week ago, he can’t do this so soon. This is just him making something small a big deal once again.

Just let it go Harrington, it’s just a nickname. He’d bulked up a little since he started going to the gym a few months ago, nothing crazy but even he had noticed he was looking quite… broad. Maybe it was about that, just a general observation. But then, wouldn’t that mean that Eddie has paid enough attention to his body to notice?

“Hey, Steve? I kinda need you to focus on the task at hand,” He comes back from his thoughts to Eddie waving a hand in front of his face, just like he had that first night at the bar, “I don’t think either of us want an accident involving a hammer and nails to happen.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I was just thinking about the last time I saw the jar.” Robin has told him time and time again how much he sucks at lying, but Eddie doesn’t really know him to realize that, so he hopes the little lie is believable enough.

“Don’t fret about it too much, we can figure something out if you guys can’t find it.” He’s holding a hammer and aligning the first nail, “Ha, we could get a blank piggy bank and paint it to the gallery’s theme.”

“A piggy bank covered with broken hearts? Pass, wouldn’t do that to a poor ceramic pig.”

“To the bar’s theme then! All red and black with paper mache little horns and all that.” He holds one hand up to his head making a little devil horn with his index finger for emphasis and sticking his tongue out.

“Jesus, that’s even worse!” Steve laughs, a full belly laugh.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Eddie agrees with a chuckle and a smile so wide it makes Steve’s cheeks hurt just looking at it.

Steve finds himself pleasantly tired as he’s driving home. They had spent most of the day working on the stage, laying down the wooden foundations and taking the opportunity to get to know each other better. They only call it a day when Eddie has to leave for his shift at the bar.

Chrissy is kind with a surprisingly wicked sense of humor that practically mirrors Eddie’s. And Eddie… Eddie is just something else. He’s all unbound energy, funny, clever… passionate. He missed this, making friends his own age. Sure he will always have Robin, but it’s nice meeting new people. The city can be a lonely place sometimes, nothing like the close-knit small town he grew up in.  

“No, that’ll be all. Okay, thank you,” Robin is speaking on the phone when he walks into the apartment. She hangs up before turning to greet him, “Hey, dingus.” 

“Hey, you ordered takeout?” He asks, gesturing to the phone in her hand.

“Yeah, Thai. Got you your usual.”

“Thanks.” He drops his keys onto the table by the door and kicks off his shoes before he makes his way further into the apartment and drops down onto the couch next to Robin. The tv is on, playing ads that neither of them are paying attention to.

“How was spending all day with Eddie?”

“I was with Chrissy most of the day. She donated something to the gallery, said she wanted to be the first.”

“Oh, I saw it! The letterman jacket, right?” 

“Yup, we got a public donation too. Eddie got there a few minutes before that with coffee. Did you know he bought the place with his college fund?” She shakes her head. He lets his head slump back against the couch cushion, thinking back over the conversation, “Maybe I should have invested in a business too,” He muses, talking as much to himself as he is Robin.

“Steve, with what money? You worked your ass off to cover community college and your teaching certificate and you won’t even touch the ‘this is the last you’ll see from us’ money even when we struggle to make rent.”

“And I never will.”

“See. Maybe you should save up and open your own bakery when you get tired of being surrounded by little munchkins all day. Your muffins and cakes are good.”

“We both know I’ll never get tired of teaching.”

“Yeah, I know, your mama bear instincts wouldn’t let you,” she teases.

“Ha.ha,” he says dryly, looking over to her with an unamused expression, "Maybe you’re onto something though, It’s not like I can find a school that’ll keep me around.”

“Hey, it’s okay, dingus. You’ll get there, you’ll see. You will land a school with your very own classroom and a hoard of munchkins and little assholes in the making to be guided by your caring teaching methods.”

“You make it sound so weird, Robs.” He screws up his face, she doesn’t seem phased.

“Well, whatever, you know what I mean.” She waves a hand between them then twists in her seat to face him, pulling her legs up onto the couch and wrapping her arms around her legs, knees tucked against her chest, “Now tell me more about your lovely day with Eddie.”

“What do you want me to say? I already told you everything.” 

“I don’t know, what’s he like?”

“He’s nice I guess, bit of a dork.” He’s smiling fondly, remembering the way Eddie had called him ‘his majesty’ earlier, the over the top bow when he had been climbing into the van the first night they met. 

“Uh-huh, how nice?” She’s got a meddling smirk on her face and Steve sighs. He knows that look.

“Robin, no.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She says, batting her eyelashes at him, all fake innocence and naivety. 

“I know that tone and no, no funny business.” He says sternly, “We’ve talked about this, it’s a bad idea.”

“No, I mentioned it and you shut me down.”

“I barely know the guy.”

“Oh please, you’ve exchanged more words with him than with some of your other ‘nice’ guys.”

“Low blow, Buckley.”

“Look, I’m not suggesting you go jump into another relationship or start proposing marriage,” She explains, “I’m just saying, maybe it’ll be good for you to get back out there after the whole Heidi thing.”

“It’s only been 3 days.” He frowns, he didn’t think he had been acting that pathetic over it all, but if anyone was going to see past the bravado and see how torn up about it he actually was, it was going to be Robin, “I just need some time and I don’t want to make things awkward with Eddie either.”

“Can I ask you something?” She’s going to ask anyway no matter what his response.

“Shoot.”

“Did you think it would last? Between you and Heidi I mean.”

“I- I don’t know.” He thinks he knows the answer deep down, but it’s difficult to admit it to himself and even harder to say out loud, “I guess not.”

“I always thought she was kind of a bitch, you know.”

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Robs.” He laughs, the serious mood broken as Robin snorts out a laugh of her own and lets herself flop forward against Steve, her head coming to settle on his shoulder as she calms herself down, “Can we please talk about something other than my love life now?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.” Steve cranes his neck and gives her a look, “For now. Seriously though you must have done more than just drink coffee and talk all day, how’s the gallery look?”

He shakes his head at her in disbelief, but there’s a smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. Always so nosey. She really isn’t going to let this drop until he’s given her every last detail. 

“Well, considering the fact that the gallery consists of 4 items so far and that the bar is still a work in progress, it still looks like a construction site with some random stuff perched on a wall.”

“That's great. Maybe you can donate some more of your stuff, that whole feng shui thing of letting go of old stuff to get rid of negative energy or whatever.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Leaving behind that first trinket had felt good, but the thought of getting rid of more stuff makes him uneasy, “And since when are you into Feng shui?”

“Since I read an article about it last week.”

“Right.” It explains a lot, just the other day he’d poked his head into her room at the sound of furniture scraping against the floor and found her rearranging everything as much as she could in the tiny bedroom, ”Oh, do you remember that jam we got last year?”

“The apricot lavender one?” She asks, lifting her head from his shoulder briefly to look at him with a confused expression.

“That one, did we keep the jar?”

“Umm, I think so, we did try that whole ecological minimum waste lifestyle for a while. Why?”

“I just thought it could be used to keep the tips from the people that donate to the gallery.”

“That’s a good idea, I volunteer my art skills to make the jar look nice… when I find it.”

He hums a vague sound of agreement and settles into a more comfortable position, letting himself sink into the slightly lumpy couch cushions. Robin has the same idea, settling with her back against the arm  rest and her feet in Steve’s lap.

“What’re we watching anyway?” he asks, turning his attention to the tv for the first time since he walked in and saw the ads playing.

“The golden girls.”

“Again?!” 

“Shut up, you love Betty White,” Robin mumbles, her attention already lost to the episode he’s sure they’ve both seen at least 5 times. He doesn’t argue, but he does let out a heavy sigh, he can’t have her thinking she’s right all the time.

<Chapter 2 ~ Masterpost ~ Chapter 4>