#someone help that old man out of a coffin

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

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"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan "Cheater" Husband blurb

Suggestive Themes. "Infidelity", Masochism, Crossdressing

-

Your husband is a boring man.

Simple, courteous, predicable.

Wakes up bright and early everyday for works, returning to the haven that is your love nest by dusk- If he has enough time in the morning, he'll prepare breakfast for the two of you. Variety is key to fulfilled existence, but he didn't see things that way. If you didn't remind him to broaden his horizons, he'd eat the same handful of fruit and sip his black tea each morning until the day he died.

After work hours, he spends every waking hour by your side, silently relishing in the domestic bliss. As he lays down to rest, your love is his blanket. When your out on the town, hourly updates are mandatory. When he's gone, you're left with schedules of where he should be at any given time.

The bubble of independencacy from one another had bursted years before you were wed. Hardly a day you goes by without you seeing each other -Which strengthens the question of how he came into contact with his new.. friend.

She's beautiful.

You'll give her that.

You like to think that she is. You know it. The photos she sends too blurry to make out - almost like she knows she's doing something she shouldn't. For his part, your husband has never responded to the obvious hints sprinkled through their conversation. You doubt he'd get the memo if she flat out begged him to bend her over his desk - but there were still signs.

Lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt. His briefcase hidding in plain sight. That saccharine, floral scent so strong you can almost taste it- He would've gotten away with it longer if he hadn't used something you yourself purchased for him last spring.

Their final text was the nail in the coffin for her... rather his identity.

"You don't deserve someone like them."

Even while playing the part of a flirty workmate seeking attention of a man who'd never give her the time of day, your husband still had to push forth the narrative that you are, and always will be out of his league. Come to think of it, most of their conversation wound up back to mentions of you. It was always about you.

"You didn't think I'd recognize my own phone number, Hector?'

It hasn't been yours in years, but you used it long enough to forget it so easily. Why should an upgrade put an old device to waste. Especially one holding so many memories. So generous of you to unknowingly gift him that old phone to use as his work number.

"Forgive me, Y/n. I don't know what was going through my head when.."

"When you were flirting with yourself? Dolling yourself up and never letting me see that side of you in the flesh? What did you expect was going to come from this, Hector? What were you hoping for?"

Jealousy-

Your hands around his throat as you reminded him, that woman - everyone, who he belonged to. Blood from his broken skin used as the paint to decorate his lips as you break him apart and mold him at your whim. He needed your rage, but he did not want to be the direct cause of it. If you hated him for real his heart could not take the rejection, but if he can have a taste of your resentment in the form of every bite you adorn his skin with-

Your faithful, loyal husband. Your toy to play with and take apart.

Is it there a world where he can be both?"

"Work has been pretty slow these past weeks. I hate to bother you, so having someone else to talk to about you helped. I suppose it got out of hand."

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Little thing I wrote while procrastinating writing part 5 of Hide Your Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington who knows his kid brother is obsessed with some niche, up and coming metal band. Steve Harrington who groans and grumbles and carries on about having to drive him around to shows and listen to him nerding out but does it anyway. Steve Harrington who doesn’t really pay attention because the lights on the stage are too bright and drown out whoever’s playing. Steve Harrington who is currently wading through a crowd making their way to the door, going against the current and stumbling as he searches for the mop of hair he promised to get home.

“Henderson!” He cups his hands around his mouth, “Where is that kid?” 

He finds himself pushed to the outskirts of the mass of bodies, plastered to a wall but he still pitches forward when a particularly rowdy young woman rams into him. He thinks he’s going to go all the way to the floor when a hand snags his elbow, holding him up. He turns to rush out an apology, a few thanks for the save, but stops before he can get the words out because holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

And Steve—well Steve has been doing some thinking about himself. About how most guys don’t have to mentally prepare themselves to go into the locker room after pe class. About how most guys don’t let their friends paint their nails pretty colors. Robin told him that there was this thing called being bisexual and he thought some things were clicking into place. So he’s gotten used to going out and noticing more than just girls, it’s not uncommon, but this guy is hot, like really hot. 

He’s dressed in leather pants and a cut off tank top that hangs around his sides. Tattoos, more doodles than actual designs, on full display for the world to see, running up his arms and peeking out from his ribs. His hair is in curly tangles, sweat sticking it to his forehead but he’s grinning. He has a jacket, leather, in his other hand. 

He’s also still holding on to Steve’s arm. Warm rings press into the inside of his elbow as he rights himself.

“First time?” The man asks.

“Y-yeah.” Steve gets out, “I’m supposed to be here with my brother, he’s a huge fan of some band playing here. Molded Coffin or something.”

The guy’s face breaks out into a full on smile, humor sparking in his eyes but Steve doesn’t know if what he said was that funny.

“Yeah? Where’s he at?” The guy still hasn’t let go, leading Steve away from the crowd and further into the room where there were less people.

“I’m actually looking for him now. Left him alone for five minutes to get a drink and he disappears.”

“You need help? These things can get a little crazy.” The man offers.

“You do this a lot?” Steve asks, immediately mentally face palming. He practically asked the guy if he came here often, he was going to think he was flirting. Was he?

The man just smiled, “You could say that. Eddie.” He finally released Steve’s arm in favor of holding out his hand. They shook hands and Steve told the man—Eddie—his name.

They talked for a while, Eddie got them drinks and Steve told himself that Dustin was old enough to behave himself for 15 minutes. Eddie kept an arm around his shoulders the whole time, shielding him from the chaos of the dwindling crowd was his excuse. Steve would have told him he didn’t need an excuse if that didn’t seem too forward.

 Eddie was just asking for his number when someone behind them called, “Ed! Quite flirting and get your ass over here! You’re helping us tear down this time!”

Eddie sighed, “Duty calls.” He scribbled something on to a napkin, patting it against Steve’s chest and backing away, “I’ll be waiting for yours, sweetheart.”

And Steve was either drunk or insane because he actually laughed at that. Laughed again when he looked at the napkin and saw numbers almost unreadable, a winking face below them.

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you—What’s that?” Dustin’s tone went from annoyed to prying as soon as he saw the napkin.

“None of your business.” He stuffed the napkin in his pocket, “Are you ready to go or what, kid, I’ve been waiting forever.” He poked Dustin’s shoulder until he got moving and then he poked it again when Dustin scowled at him.

In the car he was once again subjected to Dustin’s after show rant about how cool it was. The guitarist apparently broke two strings and flipped the crowd off with his bloody fingers—which they went wild for, which Dustin screeched along with them for. They played a new song, but it all sounded the same to Steve. That was as much as he heard, though, his mind kept wandering back to the man after the show. To the number in his pocket. He debated putting it to use, was the next day too soon? How long was too long until Eddie forgot about him? A guy like that probably had a mountain of napkins with numbers thrown at him every day. He decided to get over himself and call late the next day. 

“Hi, this is Steve.” He suddenly felt very silly for calling but it was too late now.

“Steve, pretty boy from the show last night Steve?” And just like that he forgot why he hesitated to call.

“That would be me.” He cringed, “No, wait, that sounds so self centered.”

“Not self centered if it’s a compliment.” Eddie argued.

“If you say so.”

They talked, got 10 whole minutes of random conversations Steve never wanted to end before Eddie cursed.

“I’m sorry, I promised my uncle I’d help at the shop.” He muttered, “I’m gonna be late.”

“That’s fine, you should go help him.”

“I’ll call you later?” Eddie asked, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d say it sounded hopeful.

“I’ll be here later.” He responded. 

They called all the time after that, whenever they were both free. They even met up in person, it was just to the park because Eddie found out Steve had never fed ducks before, but it ended with another day scheduled to spend together and then another and then a month had passed and he could say they were officially dating. It was the best time Steve had had in a long time and he really didn’t want it to end. The realization came to him one night, after another day with Eddie, and it wasn’t as shocking as he thought it would be. It was a Friday night, Eddie was busy most Saturdays—something about going to shows with the guys—so a lot of their slow nights were Fridays. They were watching TV on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, which was quickly becoming Steve’s favorite place, when he found himself watching the way Eddie laughed and even jumped at whatever horror movie was on more than he was watching the movie itself. 

“I love you.” He whispered. 

Eddie’s head whipped around, eyes wide, movie forgotten, “I love you too!” And then Steve couldn’t be blamed for not watching the movie anymore when he was practically tackled to the couch, laughing the whole way down.

It was a month after that night that he was steeling himself outside of his front door.

“It’ll be fine.” He said to himself, “They’re going to love you.” He said to Eddie who was gripping his hand.

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie agreed and he almost sounded convinced.

Today was the one day that everyone could gather at Steve’s. The whole party had shown up, everyone he had folded into his makeshift family was in his living room waiting for him to get back with the new partner he told them he was introducing. Today was the day they decided to tell people about them.

Steve pushed the door open, taking a deep breath before leading Eddie to the living room. All of his friends sat scattered around the room. On the couch and floor and coffee table. He could do this.

“Uh. Hey.” He cleared his throat, “I’m back.” All eyes snapped to him, eager to know who this mystery person was.

Eddie tried for an awkward wave but their hands were still connected so they just shook between them.

The silence was getting unbearable until finally Robin shot up from the floor and tackled him in a hug, subsequently dragging Eddie along into it.

“I’m so happy for you, dingus.” She laughed as she pulled away, “Robin.” She stuck her hand out to Eddie who visibly relaxed, “Best friend, platonic soulmate, hurt him and I swear to god you’ll wake up with no kneecaps.”

“Eddie.” Eddie squeaked, shaking her hand hastily.

“Bobbin.” Steve only called her that when she was being particularly over the top because it annoyed her to no end and she knew this, “Tone it down, would you?”

The rest of the group chorused their hellos and introductions and a weight lifted off of Steve’s shoulders at the sight of all of his friends accepting the news without comment. Until he realized there was only one person who hadn’t spoken a word, standing in the middle of the room with a strange look on his face.

“Dustin?” Steve prompted, voice strained.

“Oh my God.” Dustin mumbles in disbelief.

“Dustin…” Steve shot him a warning glance, “If you’ve got a problem with it—”

But Dustin ignores him, he’s staring at Eddie in shock, “Oh my God!” He practically shouts, coming to life to jump and screech, “That’s—! You’re—! You’re Eddie Munson!” 

Eddie grins, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre reaction to meeting your brother’s boyfriend, “I take it you’re a fan?”

“A fan of what?” Steve asks, pulling his hand out of Eddie’s to turn to him face to face.

At the same time, Dustin starts babbling hysterically, “A fan? Only the biggest CC fan in all of Hawkins! I have every song on vinyl, like three posters and—oh my god this is so embarrassing. Eddie Munson is in my house and I’m telling him I have his face on my wall.” 

He keeps talking but it’s more to himself than anyone else in the room so Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “What’s he talking about? Why are you on posters and why does he have them?”

Eddie, for the first time since Steve has known him, looks almost sheepish, “Oh…I guess I’m kind of, maybe the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” He might be blushing.

“You’re that nerd Dustin’s always going on about?!” Steve exclaims.

[buckevantommy]

8x11 Bucktommy fixit coda of sorts: Tommy and Eddie talk. hopeful ending?

It's been almost a week since he walked out of Evan's life, again, when Tommy gets a call from an unfamiliar number. With an El Paso area code.

"Diaz. How's Texas?"

"Texas? Texas is great, Tommy, thanks for asking."

Thanks for telling me, Tommy thinks but doesn't say, because he doesn't want to be snarky and irritated this early into his shift. He takes a breath to try and calm himself and let the negative thoughts release on the slow exhale as Eddie lists off the positive impact his move has made on both Christopher's life and his own.

Everything aside, Tommy's happy for him. For both of them.

"But from what I heard, things in L.A. are kinda fucked."

Then again: Eddie can be a bigger bitch than Tommy when he wants to be so he might as well meet him on the field, knives drawn. "Did Buck tell you that?" It comes out sharp and he lets it hang, wants it to slice.

"Oh, yeah. I had a very interesting and totally insane converstaion with Buck where he said the reason you dumped him was because you thought he'd dump you for me if you didn't."

It's not the whole truth, but it cuts all the same. Good thing Tommy has armor forged in the slow burning coals of a lifetime of being a disappointment. He can take a jab from an old friend he didn't even know that long. In the six months he dated Evan. his time with Eddie dwindled to nothing. They were fast friends who fizzled out, not unlike his relationship with.. Buck. "I wouldn't say it's insane."

He was never going to mention it, is the thing. It wasn't really until they broke up that Tommy began to wonder if the reason Ev- Buck hadn't reached out was because he'd moved on. Eddie certainly didn't look back, ceasing all communication in the fallout. And it hurt, to lose not just Evan - and he was Evan to him then - but someone he thought was becoming a good friend. As much of a friend as Tommy would let into his life, anyway.

"Oh, it's batshit insane, Kinard. Almost as batshit insane as stealing a chopper and flying it headfirst into a hurricane."

That's a blow that lands with a dull ache, a bruise that'll linger. It was the night they met - him and Eddie, him and Evan - and whatever else came after, Tommy holds fast to that memory as one of the highlights of his treacherous and lonely life, despite - or maybe inclusive of - the life-threatening feats of.. insanity.

He's quiet for too long. Doesn't answer because any words that come to mind are scathing in a way he doesn't want to marr that fond memory with.

Eddie sighs heavy through the speaker, the fight seeming to drain out of his voice. "It's not like that, man, you gotta know."

Tommy straightens his posture where he's walked out of the hangar, staring at the chainlink fence separating the tarmac to the weeds and the grass and the distant treeline.

"Me and Buck are close- we're family- but it's not like that. Not like it is between you two."

Was, Tommy doesn't say. He doesn't dare hope but he can't bring himself to say it out loud, nail in the coffin.

"And I resent the fact you think I don't know myself like that, Tommy. I may be figuring some stuff out but I figured that shit out back in high school and every day since. Just 'cause you kissed Buck and it turned his world view on its head doesn't mean every straight guy you meet is just one good smooch away from wanting to put their mouth on your dick."

"Jesus, Eddie." No nonsense. It's one of the things he always liked about the guy. That, and the way he could deliver off-color comments with a straight face, only breaking if and when Tommy couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Look. I'm sorry about not reaching out after everything. I had Buck's back, y'know? Bros before manhoes."

"You calling me a hoe, Diaz?" His face morphs into a smile as they fall back into this old - barely new before it was over - back and forth.

"No. Just an idiot for managing to mess things up twice now."

"Eddie-"

"Don't worry, I know it was Buck's fault, too, okay? I already chewed him out and kicked his ass into gear- he call you yet? He mentioned talking to Maddie, said he wanted to call you."

No call, just a text that read: can we talk? please?? that Tommy hasn't replied to. Doesn't want to invite himself to a third round of heartbreak. "I'm on shift, so. If that's all? I gotta get back."

"No, that is not all- get your head out of your ass, Tommy. Talk to him. And let him spiral a bit until he finds the right words - he'll get there, eventually. It just takes him some time. 'Cause he's not over you and I don't think he ever will be."

He doesn't know me, Tommy thinks. And that's the real crux of the issue, isn't it? It's not about Eddie. And it's not about Evan not knowing what he wants because of his relatively newly discovered queerness.

It's about Tommy knowing he's not good enough to keep Evan in the long run.

Evan might think he won't get over Tommy, but he will. There'll be someone else, someone better, there always is. Maybe not Eddie, but some man or woman will get to keep him for a while longer, maybe a lifetime if they're lucky.

And Tommy.. he'll do what he's always done: find ways to survive, alone.

But.. if this is his last chance to talk to Eddie, and by extension Evan.. "Look, thankyou for clearing the air, but. I can't, okay? He is- was, the one I wanted forever with. I told him this. But I'm not that for him. I can't be." Not because he doesn't want to be - god, does he want to be - but because he's not enough. He's never been enough for anyone to want to keep.

Eddie sighs in his ear. "Y'know, if I wasn't 800 miles away right now I don't know if I'd hug you or try to knock some sense into you."

A hint of a smile tracks across Tommy's lips, fading fast. He misses their sparring sessions but doesn't want to let himself be sad over losing another would-be friend - he's got enough to be sad about and no time or want to wallow in any of it.

"Well." Thing is: even if this thing with Evan is dead and buried, if Eddie is open to it.. "If you're ever in town, my garage is always open. And," he steels himself, takes another breath and shakes it out, "I'm sorry. Sorry for thinking.. you know." The idea doesn't dig into his heart anymore, no marks left behind, just the shadow of a phantom chased away out the corner of his eye.

"Don't sweat it man. Seriously. but, hey- the not feeling good enough, thing? You're not alone in that, man. And the thing about Buck? He loves people for who they are, faults and demons and all."

Tommy knows. He knows how big Buck's.. Evan's, heart is, which is why he knows he deserves better.

"And if you ever wanna talk, consider this line of communication open."

Tommy's smile comes back stronger, lingers. There's a wet sheen threatening to blur his vision. His throat catches as he swallows. His voice comes out a little raspy when he says, "Thanks, man. Same to you."

Eddie makes a sound of agreement, then: "Call Buck."

Someone calls Tommy from the hangar. "I gotta go. Take care, Eddie." He hangs up before Eddie can add anything else to torture him with.

Making his way over to the main hangar, he thumbs over to his text chain with Evan. He types out four little letters, then backspaces and types a different four: okay when? then exits out of the screen and locks and pockets his phone.

It's a bad idea, no matter what Eddie says or what Tommy's realised in the last few minutes. It's still a bad idea. Tommy has to protect his heart.

..Doesn't he? Doesn't he deserve at least that?

The klaxon sounding cuts off further tormentive thoughts as he shifts into work mode and focuses his concentration and efforts on doing his job. Even if he can't salvage his love life he can save a life or two elsewhere.

[shizuturnspages]

I feel a little silly for this one, but could you do Wriothesley and Diluc + whoever you want to add with a Hu Tao-like reader? Like they have the same occupation and responsibilities, just in a different nation. Maybe they’re even actually know and are close friends with Hu Tao herself both from having a similar line of work and vibing with each other’s humour and whatnot.

Where the Living Meet the Dead

Synopsis: You’ve always joked that you’re married to death. Some people find that creepy. Others find it fascinating. But you? You just find it funny. Death is part of the cycle, and you—like your dear friend Hu Tao—are just the bridge between. You’ve always been good at guiding souls, easing grieving families, and organising the most beautiful, reverent funeral rites this side of Teyvat. But let’s be honest: you’re also way too hot and charismatic for your line of work. Your playful teasing, your love for macabre jokes, your ability to go from grinning about coffins to whispering ancient incantations—it leaves people off-kilter. And sometimes… dangerously curious. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Wriothesley, Diluc, Zhongli x Hu Tao-like Reader

Wriothesley — Fontaine’s Cold-Blooded Protector

You weren’t even supposed to be in Fontaine for long—just helping transfer a drowned spirit from a sunken ruin up to the surface so it could find peace. A quiet, respectful job.

But of course, someone just had to throw a wrench in that.

Wriothesley catches sight of you in the Fortress of Meropide—chatting casually with Sigewinne about embalming practices while swinging your legs on a medical bed. He’s halfway through dismissing you as another oddball when you grin at him, tilt your head, and say:

"You smell like metal and loneliness. Bet the souls here love following you around."

He blinks. "Excuse me?"

You only laugh. "I can feel them, you know. All the ghosts that cling to this place? One’s staring at you right now. Right behind your left shoulder." You give a cheeky wave. "Hi, old man."

Wriothesley doesn’t sleep that night.

You become something of a fascination. You’re unnervingly accurate, playful with the guards, and you make the inmates nervous. But the worst part?

You're beautiful when you're focused. Quiet when you're guiding a lost soul. You make death seem sacred, something only you can touch.

And he wants in. Not just your company—he wants to understand you. Consume you. Break past that teasing mask and keep you underneath where no one else can look at you.

He starts appearing at your side. Escorting you through the fortress. Asking “innocent” questions.

"Tell me… if I died, would you handle my body too?"

You raise a brow. "Only if you ask nicely."

He’s obsessed before he knows it.

Diluc — Mondstadt’s Brooding Flame

You’d met him years ago, briefly, when you helped bury an old knight from the Dawn Winery’s private guard. You remember him because he scowled the whole time and refused to laugh at your joke about being six feet under.

So when you return to Mondstadt on business and waltz into Angel’s Share like a gust of wind in funeral robes, Diluc does a double take.

"Still morbid, I see," he mutters.

"Still emotionally constipated, I see," you chirp back.

But something’s changed. You’ve grown more alluring. More enigmatic. You wear black lace and gold rings shaped like skulls. You tilt your head when people lie. And worst of all?

You never stay.

Diluc doesn’t get you. You make the worst jokes about death, but then cry when no one sees. You flirt without meaning it—or maybe you do, and it drives him insane trying to figure you out.

He watches you light incense for the dead, how you kneel with reverence and pray even for strangers. It unsettles him, how easily you flip from silly to sacred. Like you're more spirit than flesh.

And when you leave Mondstadt again? He burns every letter you ever sent him—but memorises the words.

"If you ever die, Diluc," you once teased, "I’ll make sure your grave’s haunted. Just for fun."

Now? He dreams of it. Of your fingers closing his eyes, of being buried under your care.

Better yet… why not make you stay? Why not keep you in the Winery—where the dead rest and no one would ever disturb you?

Alive or otherwise.

Zhongli — Liyue’s Ancient God of Contracts

Unlike the others, Zhongli understands you immediately. Maybe too well.

When you first met, it was over tea with Hu Tao. She introduced you as "my adorable death twin from overseas!"

Zhongli had simply bowed and said, "The scent of spirits clings to you. Yours is a quiet strength. A familiar one."

You liked him instantly. You traded poems about death, discussed old funerary rites long since forgotten, and sometimes, you walked together through Liyue Harbour at dusk—silent, contemplative.

He sees the mask you wear. He sees the age in your eyes, the sadness behind your wit. You remind him of ghosts not yet gone—especially when you smile like you’re trying not to cry.

You think you’re mysterious. Untouchable.

But Zhongli is a god. He’s buried empires.

And you?

You are the first mortal he’s ever feared losing.

He begins suggesting contracts. Ritual bindings. Small “favours” to tie your work to Liyue. You laugh it off.

But he’s serious.

He would preserve you in amber if he could. Immortalise your spirit. Make sure the only death you ever see again is the one you guide others through.

You, at the Centre of it All

You return home after another long journey and find gifts.

A sealed tea box from Zhongli—death-scented, with a note: “A reminder that some things should linger.”

A red wine bottle from Diluc with no tag—but you can feel the heat in your palms as you touch it.

A cold metal bracelet, Wriothesley’s insignia engraved inside. How it got to your bedside, you don’t know.

You laugh to yourself.

The dead may follow you, but the living…

They’re much more terrifying.

[ghouldump]

hiii, i just wanted to say i LOVE your iwtv fic, the characterization is just perfect *🤌*

If your requests are open I would like to request a loustat x fem!reader + claudia

reader is a vampire slightly older vampire than louis, turned in the 1860s by a 700 year old vampire, she was his first and only fledgling, they did not know eachother before he turned her (his wasing bleeding to death after being robbed in an alley), they had a close friendly/platonic relationship like siblings, and she met loustat in 1925, and joined their relationship, she like the odd one out as she's the calm/sensible one and a mediator between them. She acts like Claudia's fun aunt.

Sorry if it's long 😅, the rest is totally up you, just something where they get jealous/possessive over her please!!

Forever Young | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ you meet someone who reminds you of your maker, and naturally gravitate to them, but your family isn’t as welcoming to the idea of the man.

it’s definitely not too long, it’s perfect, i love it 🩷

“Aleron, brother, please, open this door,” you beat on the door, no matter how much force you put in your hands, the door wouldn’t budge.

You could see the sun rising, from under the door, his painful screams, following. The blood poured from your eyes, as you pleaded with him. You could still save him, you could nurse him back to life.

Finally, you could open the door, crying out as the sun graced your face. As you began to burn, you noticed the pile of ashes. You were too late, he was gone. Grabbing his coat, you backed into the house, shutting the door, before dropping to your knees, weeping loudly.

“Aleron-

“Y/n, are you alright?” your eyes opened, staring into Claudia’s worried eyes. Sitting up, the familiar faces surrounded your coffin, Louis wiped your face with a soft handkerchief.

“It was only a dream,” you smiled at them.

“Are you sure, you had us worried,” Claudia said, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m fine, really, we should get dressed,” you told her, watching as she nodded, getting up, and going to her room.

Lestat hadn't said a word, watching you, trying to see what it was that you weren't sharing. Turning to face him, you shook your head, climbing out of the coffin.

“I’m okay”

“What was your dream?” he asked you.

“It was a silly-

“That left you crying,” he said, sternly.

“Don't push her to tell you”

“It's okay, Louis, I know he just wants to help,” you smiled.

“If I have another, you'll be the first one to know, come on, get dressed,” you reassured him.

“Do we all have to go?” Claudia whined as you all got into the car.

“It will only be for a little while,” Louis said, as Lestat started to drive.

Louis couldn't seem to fully let go of his family, randomly showing up with gifts. They already had their assumptions about him, yet he wouldn't stop trying. Lestat found it pointless, but you understood that he loved them still. Even when they blamed him for the passing of his brother, he still loved them all greatly.

“You can sit in the car with me if you want,” you told her, smiling as she nodded in agreement.

While Lestat tried to be cordial with the family, you never made an effort. They'd stare at you, as you sat in the car, but you never looked their way. Yes, you thought Louis’ love for them was admirable, it didn't change what they thought of you all. They found your relationship weird and concerning, they questioned why none of you were ever seen during the day if you were seeing both Lestat and Louis. Their questioning was nevertheless exacerbating, so you kept a distance from them.

Your mind began to drift off, thinking back to your dream, to him. Aleron, your maker, your teacher, your companion, your brother, your father, your friend. It had been nearly 40 years since his departure, and yet when you thought of him, the wounds felt fresh.

He was your everything, the reason you were the way you were today. He exuded remarkable beauty, turned at only 14 years of age, by a follower of Akasha. With the queen of vampires' blood running through his veins, he quickly discovered the power and strength he possessed, compared to others. For centuries, he lived, killing hundreds upon hundreds of humans in his lifetime, and then he met you.

He had been hunting, when he came across the men, who, after robbing you, conceived the plan, their minds filled with corruption, sought to kill you as well. Taking turns they beat you, before stabbing you, taking all of your possessions, and that was very few things.

He could see into your thoughts, an orphan, who had recently come of age, trying to make it in a world that wasn't built for women to strive without the help of a man. You were alone, like him, and having compassion, he killed them, brutally for your name's sake. Turning you in that very dark alley.

Taking you in, he taught you companionship, the history of vampires, and advice on how to live, after being on earth for over 700 years. He loved you and you loved him, and there wasn't a love as strong, that either of you had ever witnessed.

Then it happened, somewhere within his teachings he regained his humanity. He didn't want to kill anymore, didn't want to be a child of the night, to be trapped in this forever youthful body. And so, 30 years into your life of vampirism, he used his power to keep the doors shut. He longed to die, accepting his fate while he stepped into the sun, becoming nothing more than dust.

“We’ll be right back,” Louis said, as the car stopped.

“Ok,” you nodded.

After over three lonely decades of wandering, your heart ached at the thought of Aleron’s centuries on earth. He was but a child, when he was turned, making it impossible to build any nonplatonic relationships. Perhaps that is what made you love Claudia, Lestat, and Louis so much. In a way, you could see fragments of you and your maker in them.

“Why do you think Daddy Lou keeps coming here, even though he’s not welcome”

“Because they were once his family, it's hard to just stop loving someone who was once important to you, but it looks like they are coming back,” you pointed, seeing Louis and Lestat walking out of the house, visibly aggravated.

“You and that white devil stay away from this house,” his sister’s husband yelled.

“I own this house,” Louis reminded him. As they approached the car, he looked back at them once more.

“And he ain't white, he's French,” he corrected them.

Looking over at Claudia, you both covered your mouths, holding back the laughter.

“It's alright, they can't say you didn't try to be there for them,” you told him, leaning up, kissing his cheek.

Sighing, he nodded in agreement, before he and Lestat began to talk about business ventures. You were relieved when the car finally parked, stretching, you smiled, seeing Claudia clap in excitement. She enjoyed hunting, surprisingly with Lestat, he wasn't as restrictive as Louis.

“We’ll meet back here, in twenty minutes?” Lestat announced, everyone nodded, before going their separate ways.

You didn't have much of an appetite tonight, after your dream. How real it felt, how vivid the memory was, it ruined any hunger that could've been there. Walking down the French Quarter, you stopped seeing the large nutria rat. You hadn't been introduced to drinking from rodents, until Louis and Lestat. No, it wasn't nearly as good as a person, but it managed to get the job done.

Quickly killing and draining the rat, you wiped your mouth, as you tossed it into the garbage. Walking along the sidewalk, you looked at the different stores, a few new ones, some closing down, others busy as always. As you passed by a shop, your eyes widened, before you backed up to stare at the cashier.

You couldn't believe your eyes, going into the fragrance store, he spoke, before looking at you. It couldn't be him, but here he was, looking the very same, only older.

“Welcome to Aromaessence, let me know if you need any…thing,” he paused a little, as he stared at you. Nodding, you walked around the store, looking around, picking up random sprays, occasionally glancing at him.

Grabbing a floral bottle, you walked to the counter, slowly sitting it in front of him.

“Is that all for you, Miss?” he asked.

“Yes,” you smiled, softly.

“Ah, Lavender, this one smells so good,” he said, you could feel your eyes tingling.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching Aleron pick the flowers from his neighbor's garden. She would lose her mind if she caught you both here, but he couldn't help himself.

“Getting some lavender, put some in your bathwater, or just rub it on your skin, it smells wonderful,” he beamed, while you quietly laughed.

“It does,” you agreed, your eyes traveling to his name tag. Aaron.

“Are you the new shop owner? I haven’t seen the other man in a while,” you asked.

“No, it's my cousin's store, his wife just had their first child and he asked me to come down and help out a bit, I'm from Chicago,” he explained.

“Well that was very kind of you,” you told him.

“Uh, 30 cents is the total,” he said, chewing his bottom lip.

Handing him the coins, your eyes widened as his fingers brushed against your hand, as he accepted the money. You felt a spark.

“Would you like this in a bag, miss?”

“Yes please,” you nodded, watching as he placed it into a small bag for you.

Walking behind you, you noticed as he closed both of the windows.

“Closing?” you asked him.

“Ah, yes ma'am, you were the last customer of the night,” he nodded.

“I see, well, goodnight,” you told him, turning to leave.

“Wait, I-um, have we met before? You look so familiar,” he said.

“I don't think so, goodnight Aaron,” you said.

“May I have your name?”

“Y/n”

“Goodnight, Y/n, I hope to see you again,” he told you, before shutting the door.

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips, as you walked away. However, your eyebrows quickly furrowed, seeing the troubled expressions on Lestat and Louis’ face.

“What's wrong-

“You know the boy at the fragrance store?” Louis started.

“And what could he have possibly said for you to keep smiling and laughing, I'm sure he wasn't that funny,” Lestat said with an attitude.

“You were gone for more than twenty minutes, so we went to look for you,” Claudia told you. You couldn't believe they were acting jealous, riding in silence until he parked in front of the house.

“I don't know him, I was only being nice, he's practically a tourist,” you finally spoke up.

“Seemed like you thought he was cute,” Louis said.

“He is cute, like when you look at kittens and puppies, you wouldn't get jealous if I was giving my attention to an animal,” you told them.

“Actually-

“I’m yours and yours and yours, I don't have any room in my heart for any others,” you said, pulling Claudia into a hug, swirling her around, before placing her on the ground.

As she ran into the house, Louis and Lestat still stood outside, both of them pouted like a wounded animal.

“I just bought some perfume, no need to be jealous,” you spoke to Louis, as you pecked his lips.

“Either of you,” you said, as Lestat circled you, before accepting your kiss.

“You two have to try to keep quiet tonight,” you moaned, as Louis kissed along your neck.

“No promises, ma chérie,” Lestat groaned. Holding each of their hands, pulling into the house.

“Claudia, where’s Y/n,” Louis asked, as he came down the stairs.

“No idea, she left a note,” she said, pointing at the small note on the counter.

“I'll be back before sunrise, love you - Y/n”

“And she expects us to believe nothing happened,” Lestat said, as he came down the stairs.

“Why would she lie about that?”

“I can feel when I am being lied to, she's keeping something to herself,” Lestat said, as he went to sit on the sofa.

“Maybe she knows him, but didn't want to say anything,” Louis said.

“She said she doesn't know him, and he wasn't a vampire, I would've known”

“He probably doesn't know that she's a vampire, he could be a distant relative or an old friend-

“Or an old boyfriend, she said he was cute,” Claudia laughed but quickly stopped when the two stared at her with glances of horror.

“I’m going find her,” Lestat stood up.

“I was only messing around-

“You do realize this affects you too, your aunt, mommy, sister Y/n, riding off into the sun with some mortal, or how about this, she turns him, he becomes her companion, and we wake to all of her belongings gone, so tell me, does any of this seem like a laughing matter?” he asked her, clarity washed over her face as she shook her head, realizing how serious the situation actually was.

Standing outside of the shop, you nervously played with your fingers. Unsure what you were even doing, or why you were doing this. He wasn't Aleron, yet he looked like him, could it be reincarnation, perhaps Aaron happened to be a part of the same bloodline somehow. You didn't know, but being around him, seeing him, in your heart you felt like he was still alive.

“Miss Y/n, did you want to buy another perfume, I could open back up?” Aaron said, as he stepped outside.

“Oh no, I'm sorry, I was passing by and I changed my mind,” you said.

“Then perhaps, you'd like to go for a drive? I can't seem to get you out of my head, we could chat a bit, and become familiar with each other,” he offered, hesitantly.

“Sure,” you agreed, following him to his car, getting in as he opened the door for you. Controlling his mind, with the spell gift, you sat quietly, while he spoke, during the ride, driving to the outskirts of Chalmette.

“Y/n, where are you?” you could hear Claudia, but didn't say anything.

“You need to come home, or at least tell us where you're at,” Louis followed.

“If you're with him, I'll tear off his fucking he-

You blocked them out completely, even in his thoughts, Lestat managed to scream. They wouldn't understand, they had their maker, and Lestat seemed fine without Magnus. You never talked about Aleron, not sure where to even start, without a proper goodbye, part of you was left uncertain about so many things.

As he parked amid trees and darkness, you pulled the locket from your pocket.

“Sorry, I figured we could use some privacy,” he said, leaning towards you when you pushed his face.

“I don't want to kiss you, Aaron, I have something for you,” you laughed.

“I-oh my god, this is so embarrassing”

“Don't go yet, we don't know what they're doing, and we don't want to lose her trust,” Louis said, trying to be rational, despite struggling. It was usually you, who was being rational, the mediator, giving them the benefit of the doubt, and he was trying to do the same for you.

“Trust went out of the window when she got into the car with another man,” Lestat was seething, his eyes already red. He was sure that he would be in tears in a few minutes.

“Maybe she's feeding on him,” Claudia said hopeful, a worried expression on her face. Lestat’s words left her sad and anxious. You were a part of the family, a part of all of their lives individually, she wasn't sure how things would be if you decided to leave.

“I hope so”

“Does this look familiar to you?” you asked, holding up the locket.

“I don't know, I feel like I've seen it somewhere,” he furrowed his eyebrows. As he looked into your eyes, you began to glamour him.

“It's yours, you dropped it, but you promised you would pass it down to any future children you had,” you said, handing it over to him.

“I did?”

“Yes, try not to lose it,” you told him.

“I will, thank you for returning it,” he smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” you said, reaching to touch his face, a bloody tear slipping from your eye.

“I wish you didn't leave me, I was so lonely,” you cried, as you held his face, keeping eye contact.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you,” he spoke.

“It’s okay, you have to go, after closing the shop, you went to get some food, and now you're going home, you didn't talk to or see anyone”

“I didn't talk to anyone”

“And tell your cousin you can't stay anymore you had to get back to Chicago”

“You're right,” he nodded.

“I love you”

“I love you, Y/n,” he repeated.

Moving in an instant, he snapped out of the hypothesis, furrowing his eyebrows, as he looked around the car. Shoving the locket into his pocket, he started the car and drove off. High in the sky, you looked down at him, the tears pouring down, a smile on your face.

Flying towards the city, you shook your head, lowering to the ground, stopping in front of the car.

“Y/n,” Claudia gasped, getting out of the car, wrapping her arms around you.

“Why did you all follow me?” you questioned, surprised to see they were so close.

“Why did you lie to us? You said you didn't know him, he wasn't this, he wasn't that, he's like a puppy, we don't have to worry,” Lestat began to swear up a storm in French. Smashing your lips into his, you grinned at him.

“You're too cute when you're jealous, I told you, I only have room for three vamps in my life, and I don't intend to make room for more”

“You had us worried, we tried contacting you-” you interrupted Louis kissing his lips.

“I could hear you, trying to be reasonable, I'm so proud of you,” you told him.

“So what was it? Why did you bring him out here, just to not kill him?” Claudia asked.

“He looks like my maker, we were companions, he was a brother, and when he died, I felt lost. I know it seems dumb, but I glamoured him, so I could say a proper goodbye, I didn't mean to make you all worry and be jealous,” you said, kicking the dirt.

“That's all? how could I stay mad at that?” Louis asked, picking you up, and spinning you around. As he placed you down, Lestat slowly approached, pulling you closer.

“No more secrets,” he said, you could see past his calm demeanor, how stressed he was at the idea of you leaving.

“No more secrets,” you nodded, before grabbing Claudia’s hand, and climbing into the backseat.

During the drive back, you looked up at the sky, as Claudia’s lustrous nails lightly dragged against your hand.

“Why are you giving this to me,” you asked, as Aleron stood behind you, placing the necklace on your neck.

“This was a family heirloom, my father gave it to me, to pass down our bloodline, you are the closest thing I have to a child,” he explained.

“But aren't heirlooms passed down, once the person dies”

“One day, I will die,” he told you, but you shook your head.

“Stop talking like that, you said you have to want to die for you to be able to, do you want to die?” you asked him, worried.

“No, my child, but if I did, you could find love, a companion, or even a coven”

“But then who would be there, with you”

“I've been alone a long time, Y/n, I think I could manage,” he laughed.

“As long as you're alive, I won't leave your side,” you smiled.

“Sounds like I am holding you back”

“I didn't say that”

“If I did, maybe I'd be reincarnated-

“Do you really believe in that, or have you been reading a lot lately”

“A little bit of both, could you imagine that I came back, and we met again”

“I guess it sounds cool in theory, but I wouldn't know how to feel if I saw you all old and wrinkled,” you laughed.

“Then I'll make sure every time we meet I am still young, maybe older than this body, but forever young, in your eyes,” he said.

“You wouldn't want to be a vampire again?”

“I don't think so, eternal life but no family, no children, no physical aging, no sun. When I was a child, I'd play in the sun for hours,” he thought back fondly.

“You have me, I am your family,” you told him.

“That, you are, and I am grateful to say that in my final moments, I have been loved, and I will always find my way back to you, my precious fledgling, until we meet again,” he said, his hand brushing against your cheek before he stood up.

“What?” you frowned, standing up.

“Sit, you must prepare for rest,” he commanded, using his powers to make you sit down.

You tried fighting, tried standing, but couldn't move, only able to watch him walk towards the door. Blood was already trickling down your face, realizing his plan. It wasn't until he was outside, that you were able to stand, rushing to the door, that wouldn't open.

"Aleron, brother, please, open this door," you beat on the door, no matter how much force you put in your hands, the door wouldn't budge.

You could see the sun rising, from under the door, his painful screams, following. The blood poured from your eyes, as you pleaded with him. You could still save him, you could nurse him back to life.

Finally, you could open the door, crying out as the sun graced your face. As you began to burn, you noticed the pile of ashes. You were too late, he was gone.

Grabbing his coat, you backed into the house, shutting the door, before dropping to your knees, weeping loudly.

"Aleron, oh god,” you screamed, clutching the coat.

Driving past a small gas station, you could Aaron, leaning against his car, as the worker pumped the gas.

“Goodbye, Aleron,” you spoke to his mind, smiling as he looked around, his hand going to the locket that he had put around his neck already.

“Until we meet again, my beloved, maker”

“So I know we're all made up, but could you three wait until I'm out hunting for the makeup sex, I don't think I can take another night of Uncle Les being all loud and whatnot,” Claudia said, making you and Louis both laugh, while Lestat groaned loudly at her already back getting on his nerves.

Maybe he was right, losing him, who, at the time was your everything, made a way for you to have what he never got to experience, your own little family.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hi, it's me again! Could I request Jason Todd who has a moment of body dysmorphia while really spiraling inwardly mentally with him being so big, so changed after the Lazarus pit, having all these scars and the autopsy scar. His female girlfriend comes to help him and grounds him, reassures him. He's perfect the way he is and really lovable!

-------------------------🦇----------------------------

“Jason! Can you hurry up? I’d like to get in there before we go to bed.”

“Yeah. I’m working on it.” Jason called back to his girlfriend as he finished up his routine for the night.

Patrol had been light. So no need for first aid or stitches this time. Like he needed another scar. Sometimes when Jason looked into the mirror like now, he barely recognized the man looking back at him. Time was not always kind to mortal men who pretended to be superheroes. The physical strain. The bruising. The marks. He glanced over his body in the mirror. Old scars mixed with new. Some that were faded that he couldn’t remember how he got. Simply too old or memories that were lost to him in the Pit.

Jason flinched and clutched his head when he tried to think about the Pit. Visions of knives cutting into his flesh and stitching him back up. The scar down his front from chest to naval oozing with black putrid goo. Banging on his coffin liked the pounding in his head. Flashes of skin sluffed off a bleached white skeleton staring back in the mirror.

'Dead man walking. Dead man walking. Dead man walking!'

His hands lance out for the mirror before he could stop them. Ripping it off the wall with his bare hands before throwing it into the tub with a shatter.

“That’s ok. I didn’t need to shower anyway….”

Jason looked up, panting in his panic & rage, to find [Y/N] standing in the door. Her expression even but clearly freaked out about what he had done. The uncertainty of what he was going to do next. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Jason hissed through his teeth. No, it wasn’t ok. Why did people say that when things weren’t ok. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He said as he rubbed his face with his hand. How could he explain what was going on? “I just get these flashes sometimes. Headaches. Probably something to do with the Pit.”

“Well, coming back from the dead can probably be very traumatic for the brain.” She agreed. “Not to mention all the other trauma.” [Y/N] aware of his past, before & after coming back from the dead. She knew of his superhero exploits, and even his new role as a vigilante. “Why don’t you take a break for a while? Get your head straight?” She suggested. Carefully coming into the bathroom to avoid any glass or startling him as she came in to place her hand on his shoulder. “It might do you good.”

“I can’t.” He told her. “If I do then what was all this for.” Jason gestured to himself. All the pain. All these scars. His body mangled and twisted, along with his mind. What was the point of it if he couldn’t do some good, in his own way, with it.

“Maybe it’s just about you being here, and not some bigger picture Jason.”

[Y/N] wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. “I know saving the world is important to you, but it’s not the only thing in the world. You need to focus on yourself sometimes. Talk to me. Or talk to someone. I think it would do you good.”

Jason listened to what his girlfriend was saying, then lifted his hand to grip her arm around his waist. “So, you don’t think I look gross?”

“What? Of course not! Is that what this is about?”

Jason shrugged. It was what had started all this but now it felt like it had spiraled into something more serious than he intended.

[Y/N] just rolled his eyes and let him go. “I’m not going to just stroke your vanity, Jason. You already know how hot I think you are.” She kissed his shoulder and gave him a withering look in the direction the mirror should be. “Come to bed you idiot. I’ll show you just how ‘not gross’ you are. You’re gonna be real disappointed in a minute though that you didn’t let me shower first before you blew up the tub. You’re cleaning that up tomorrow by the way.”

Jason chuckled. The shift from caring concern to just plain annoyed at how ridiculous he was being somehow grounding to him. “Yes ma’am.” He simply replied as he followed her into their bedroom to make good on her promise.

[spurbleu]

where the aster grows

neighbor!price x fem florist!reader

ch.1 bookmarks s. you take up the bouquet

The sky wears blue to your grandmother’s funeral

Memories of yesterday’s rain remain as dew on the grass shards of the cemetery, but the sky gives nothing away. Robin egg belly, sun peaks from behind thinning clouds, and the crisp air denies downpour.

There’s plenty of irony, here. Every fiction iteration of death leads you to believe that nature cries with you, feeding the oceans and the dirt she returns to. And by all accounts of your Ma, who at the ripe age of 87 still jumped in puddles, rain had restorative properties. What about your grief had convinced nature not to join?

Perhaps you had enough for the both of you.

Your father graciously accepts the condolences as people file out into the parking lot. Even from where you stand, you can see the mulberry beneath his eyes, paling ears. At a certain age you forgot his fragility. Found it again as you drove him home after the last visit, offering the tissues in the front compartment. It was the first time you’d seen him cry. You’re nearly 35.

He joins you by the fresh grave once everyone had left. Her coffin is closed, and you think that’s for the best. The morbid curiosity died a long time ago. He doesn’t look at you, and you struggle with your words. You eventually settled with,

“Wanna get dinner? On me.”

His response starts with a sigh. When he faces you, you wish you were five again, when you didn’t recognize misery when it meets your eyes.

“Yeah.”

The hostess gave you a look. It falls somewhere between questioning the formal (albeit bleak) clothes you woreto their hole in the wall diner, or figuring out the relationship between you and man across from you.

The reality is it was a seven-minute walk from the cemetery, and was the cheapest place in the area.

As for your father, he looks young  for having a middle-aged daughter. You were a college baby. Your mom didn’t want the responsibility, but your father lacked the iron fist to change his mind on raising you alone. You’ve seen how guilt stamps itself to the print of his loafers for the trivial mistakes. Your absence would eat him alive.

You chew your noodles in a practiced silence. It comes as a surprise to you when your father is the one to break it.

“Your grandma was still working when she died.”

You pause mid-bite. “The…she still kept the old thing?”

Your Ma, after her retirement and just before your grandfather’s too-early departure to the grave, bought a floral shop. You’d visit them for weeks, sharing their flat in Liverpool and helping around the shop while your father worked. Once Pops passed, Ma offered you a paid position as an assistant. You took the job without the salary.

However, when you went to college, you had to quit. She understood- but said she couldn’t hire someone outside of the family. “Wouldn’t feel right”. You had assumed the shop dwindled with her age, and that it had been lost to time and some expensive construction project. But…

Your father laughs. “You’d be surprised. That ‘old thing’ kept a handful of cliental. Still running now.”

You stutter. The image of your grandmother, arthritis bows and yellowing teeth, giving flowers to a sweaty teen in February makes your eyes water. You take another bite to swallow the feeling.

“She never lost her charm, did she.”

He shook his head. He took out a folded piece of apple slice paper, and under the dim lights of the restaurant you see her cursive in browning ink.  

You look at him over your water glass. He confirms your hunch when he purposely avoids your eyes.

“Dad I can’t-“

He slides the letter to you. “I know. It’s up to you. but you wouldn’t inherit any debt. She owned the property. It comes with her old house, above it. And…”

He doesn’t say you’re jobless, but you hear it anyway. With your recent ‘let go’, you needed something to pay the bills if you wanted a roof over your head. The English major has really only brought you to libraries and we appreciate your application but emails. Your sigh makes your chest cave.

“I’ll think about it.”

The misery in his eyes is replaced by hope. You wish you hadn’t put it there.

“Great.”

The letter wilts on your desk for three days. You procrastinate opening it- not because you haven’t come to an answer, but because it’s the last remaining piece of Ma you have. It would be like unwrapping a limited-edition action figure or leaving an antique on the edge of the table.

You risk losing what made it so special to begin with. The choice to give an object mortality or permanence.

Your hands shake when you peel the stamp.

Missy,

When you read this, I will have finally kicked the bucket. Pops had always been the patient one, between the two of us, but I think he’s waited long enough.

I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. But the shop and house are yours when I’m gone, if you choose to have it. It’d kill your father, if I gave it to him. Don’t think he knows how to feed the flowers, and I can’t have them all dying on me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Think it’d just make him miss me, too. I gave birth to such a sap.

Keep him steady for me, will you? You’ll be just fine, I know it. I swear you were born with two green thumbs- if anyone knows how to keep my petunias, it’s you. And if you don’t take the shop, I want you to sell it. Your father has a notoriously bad sense of character.

Love you heaps and heaps and a pebble more,

You better miss me,

Ma.

You’re weeping when you text your dad for the key and address.

Although it is cliché, walking into the store feels like you never left.

citrus oil. tepid rain. chipping paint.

The store architecture is a family secret.

The room was vacant of the crowded charm that drips from green grape wallpaper before it met your grandfather. leather glove labor remains in the medullary rays of the oak that dresses the shop in various shelves, tables and chairs. The centerpiece, an island with base cabinets, is engraved with small familial symbols- some that you recognize- others older than you are.

But it’s not just your grandfather that breathes in the construction of the store.

Your grandmother was a talented ceramist. Being a florist, pots were her specialty. You find many of them in corners and nests on the floor, warm as they were out the kiln, analeptic in gauzes painted off-white and copper. They hold her other children, fiddle leaf figs and dracaenas, next to smaller pots of her florals, dwarfed by their greener counterparts.

But none of these things are known by someone who isn’t you, which is perhaps why it was so important you inherit it. The secret dies the minute its sold.  

The only anomaly is the cat.

Calico sleeps where you’d draw as a child. Nuzzles the lace curtains that haven’t been opened since Ma passed. Looks at you with eyes that convince you animals can miss someone.

You kneel with an outstretched hand, after setting your stuff down. She sits and watches you from afar.

“She’s not here.” You scold yourself for talking to a cat, but when she dips her head to the side you feel strangely understood.

“I miss her too.”

She rolls over, exposing her belly in what you can only assume to be an offering of vulnerability. You run your hand through the burs of her stomach, and when she starts purring the fondness your grandmother must’ve had for her balms your palm and the pit of your stomach.

Everything aches as you sit with applesauce legs on the cool tiles of the main room. It feels weird to call it yours- so you decide to share it with the cat.

“Do you want to run the shop with me?” She rolls over and nuzzles your knee. The corners of your mouth twitch.

Everything lulls. Ataraxia unravels from the spines of the walls. The sun sets over the sills, and the world seems to fold into you, the cat, and the space you’re still learning how to breathe in.

And then the door begins to rattle.

You think it’s a figment- until it rattles again, this time more aggressively.

You’re on your feet in two seconds flat, and the cat scampers to a corner. You see the flickering outline of a wide, tall figure from behind the lace shudders of the door. Your heart leaps to your throat.

In the ten seconds you have before the shadow enters the shop, your franticness focuses on a blue watering can on the shelf. The toolbox with the more intimidating and likely effective weapons sits across the room on a desk, which you do not have time to reach. At least this might keep the perpetrator distracted until you grab them.

The door rattles again, this time it whines at the hinges.

You brace your arm for the throw of your life.

The next few seconds register as a blur. You launch the watering can the minute the door opens, you hear a startled grunt, and you scamper to the toolbox across the room. You pull out a small shovel, aim at the door, until you notice that his eyes seem to be just as startled as yours.

He raises his hands forward in surrender, and your arm falters.

“Who the hell are you.”

next

[londonfog-chan]

I Will Not Keep My Mouth Shut About this High School Romance Between Eddie Munson x Reader (Headcanons)

Why lord? Why are we not talking about this?

I’ve dated metalhead guys in the past, and believe in me when I say these fuckers move fast.

Eddie is no exception to this rule. He loves hard and quickly, especially if you’re into the same things he’s into as well.

I’m talking balls to the wall insanity like: the day won’t even be over and he’ll have already asked you out, kissed you, offered you weed, and secretly be planning the names of the four kids he wants with you.

Mans is delulu as fuck for you.

As much as he has his passions there’s just something about the fact that you actually gave the town freak unconditional love that makes him desperate. Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club, he’d pick you over them any day if it meant he got to keep you.

Guarantee, you’ll already have gone all the way before the weekend is up of that first week of the relationship.

Cherry boy cherry boy cherry boy.

But he knows what he’s doing. It will have been awkward but the best part is now “Rainbow in the Dark” makes you feel all hot under the collar and “Shame on the Night” makes you laugh and reminds you of the awkward panic cleaning up after.

The epitome of live fast die young. He will throw his life away if you ask him to, so make sure you use your powers wisely.

At some point Eddie will ask you to run away with him. He doesn’t give a shit where, so long as it’s with you.

Shared interests are probably how the two of you met in the first place, especially if you’re like me and unable to beat the weird kid allegations. You drifted towards his club because you for whatever reason were an outcast too.

Eddie would probably crush on those who are conventionally pretty, popular, the epitome of the 80’s beauty standards. That’s just human nature. But with you… it’s so much more different.

You’re like his nerdy fantasies come to life, like the princesses he writes about in his campaigns that are a mix of dark, dangerous, able to hold their own and fight for him and with him. Think of if you will a sexy bombshell rotoscoped into those old metal music videos. Facing the world wearing only red lipstick and a cocksure expression.

He would get along so well with someone who wasn’t afraid to let their wild side show, or to express it. But at the same time if you’re more shy and reserved, he is determined to help you come out of that shell and be the best possible version of yourself.

It’s impossible not to match his excitable energy, it’s just so goddamn contagious. It might scare you how far you’re willing to go for Eddie and how quickly you might find yourself changing. Because believe me, you will change, and it will be for the better.

Eddie will always be your number one hype man.

He will literally be so excited about everything you do because it’s you! The person he loves more than anyone in this whole entire world.

Eddie will literally put up with so much for you. Even if you guys fight he will struggle to maintain his composure because he does not want to fuck this beautiful thing up.

Drives himself up the wall with anxiety about it too. But that’s the thing about Eddie’s dynamic with you: is that he will do what it takes to keep his fucking cool around you.

Your fights are infrequent but can get explosive if there are unsaid insecurities. So to avoid this: keep honest with him. About everything. Don’t lie to him, because as fast as he fell for you, lying is the quickest way to break his trust and send him packing.

One of his flaws in the relationship is that his insecurity that this will all go away will make him all that more prepared to leave if you have a massive blow up fight.

Like he’s already preplanned his exit strategy and everything.

But the longer you’re together, the more comfortable he gets and eventually he settles down from jumping the gun into taking things one day at a time.

He’s a fucking keeper. And all I’m gonna say is you better start training with swinging a blunt weapon because once you have him, you’re going to be right there in the Upside Down fucking up some monsters keeping them away from your man.

[screewithahat]

watching tgm again enjoy my notes . I love this movie

skipping the first 15 minutes bc I only care ab the daggers /silly

mav please PLEASE get a profile picture for your husband thats not just “ice”

rooster I see you looking at hangman’s lips. I see you.

GRR THE WAY HANGMAN CLOSES THE BAR DOORS I LOVE MEN!!!

”damn straight!” hangman just so we’re clear *you* are not straight

“let’s try not to get fired on the first day” sorry I CRINGE SO HARD every time that line is said WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE THAT.

I NEED BRADLEY BRADSHAW CARNALLY

AND JAKE SERSIN GOD THE PUSH-UPS THEIR SO HOT.

hangman watches his boyfriend and this random old man he dosent know beef out in a nose dive and goes whattt the fuckkkkk

”he pulled my papers” bradly rooster bradshaw you said that in the most sad wet pathetic cat voice ever

chilling about and then the flyboys picture come on screen and I get HIT with twink mav. I love him

thinking about how amelia is the only gen z so she could clock all their tea with saying the silliest things and none of them would know what she means

MAVERICK PLEASE FOLLOW THE ROAD LAWS YOU JUSY BLEW COMPLETELY PAST A STOP SIGN. PLEASE. GOD I KNOW YOUR STUPID BUT AT LEAST FOLLOW THE ROAD LAWS !!!!!!!

wait so who exactly is the enemy here. in tg its the soviets bc that’s what the whole movie was made for, get people in the navy to fight in the cold war. WHO DID WE HAVE BEEF WITH IN 2022

rooster I see your gay ass looks at hangman. I know what you are.

hangster is icemav but hangman is mav and rooster is ice im not elaborating that is correct

hangman’s so gay it loops back to misogyny

gay ass push of your boyfriend rooster I see you going for the tit

already crying over my old man icemav and all ice did was text mav

ice has a “wife” (we all know he’s married to mav) but still has a picture of him and his boyfriend framed

mav just wants to talk to his husband bc that’s his husband but his husband said no we have to talk about our job rn I know your struggling you don’t get to bottle it up

”it’s time to let go” so hey, im sobbing. “I don’t know how” I WILL SOB HARDER.

“the only reason im here is you” men will say anything but I love you

MY BABIES (old men) I LOVE THEM SO MUCH WAHHHFHEJWHW WHH I love old men yaoi

OH ID KNOW THAT WISTLE ANYWHERE !!! “football scene came on the screen” I DID TOO

bradley helping his uncle up is actually so sweet like they hate eachother but he’ll help his uncle out :(

BOB MY BELOVED!! I LOVE YOU BOB!!!!

AGAIN MAV. THERE IS A STOP SIGN THERE THAT SOMEONE (YOU) KEEP BLOWING OFF.

skipping another 5 min bc I do not care for mav being in love with a woman in my heart he only has eyes for ice

I ALWAYS CACKLE AT MAV AND AMEILA JUST STARING AT EACHOTHER

I ALWAYS FORGET BOB AND PHEIONIX GO DOWN I KNOW THEIR OKAY BUT MY BABIES

oh shit it’s the pulled my papers scene time to start sobbing BRADLEY MY BABY WAHHHH

”no kids. nobody to mourn you when you burn in.” so hear me out. I jump. MAVERICK IS NOT RECOVERING FROM THAT EVER AURGERRRR BRADLEY YOU BASICALLY ARE HIS KID !!! YOUR HIS GODSON!! HIS NEWPHEW!!! YOU CANT BE SAYING THIS!!!!! (actually he can his hate is justified)

“my dad believed in you. im not gonna make the same mistake.” STOP STIP STOP STIP STIP STOP STIP SOTP

ices funeral :( im gonna stand and salute the whole time idc how cringe I am it makes me so sad. especially now after val passed.

the. the way mav pushes his wings into ices coffin. im. sobbing. curled up in a corner sobbing and holding my knees. crying sobbing pissing shitting

”mav u are grounded >:((“ “nuh uh…”

my cat is watching as eagerly as I am w mav completing this mission to prove it can be done

I like how the screen gets bigger during the more intense scenes . idk random but !! I love film

mav I see you with wings didnt you push those into ices coffin? yeah that’s what I thought you stole ices wings. you gay ass.

boat

“talk to me goose” I shouted so loud my cat looked at me with concern .

bradley you are sooo pretty

“give em hell.” again, men will say anything but I love you.

PLANE!!!!

my mama just called me. she asked what I was doing and when I said watching top gun maverick she let out the loudest sigh and just went “oh jeez…” SORRY MOM I LOVE THIS MOVIE!!!

”talk to me dad” so. you just stabbed me. deep. in the heart. my baby.

I like the little fun fact that rooster hitting his head in the pop up wasn’t planned at all it just happened and the directors thought it worked well and left it in

boom explosion explosion

“rooster status!” “HUGB” giggling I know he’s at like 9-10 Gs rn but it’s so funny

“we have to circle back!” THATS HIS UNCLE IM SOBBING.

”do not engage!” you think he’s gonna listen he learned shit from his uncle hes not going to listen

i know mav is getting shot at but he’s gotta be freezing cold with the snow covering him

THE ABSOLUTE LOOK OF DEVASTATION FROM HANGMAN WHEN ROOSTER DOSENT RESPOND THATS HIS BOYFRIEND.

mav pushing rooster to the ground will forever be my favorite thing

“you told me not to think!” “oh fuck I guess I did say that” “yeah. you did.”

“your not serious” bradley be so fr thats your uncle mav he’s ALWAYS serious ab stupid shit

“let’s start running.” “yeah run- run!” MY SHAYLAS!!!! guys I love uncle mav so much it’s my favorite thing besides goose

“why are the wings coming out mav.” my stupid baby I love him so much

“you’d go after them if I wasn’t here.” “but you are here.” MY SHAYLAS

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!” me when math class showed up with letters and numbers below zero

“cmon mav do some of that pilot shit!” I will never get over the parallels of goose and rooster they are my shaylas I love them both so much im gonna explode them

”im sorry goose” JUMPING!

“hey hangman you look good.” “I am good rooster, im very good” MEN WILL SAY ANYTHING. BUT I LOVE YOU.

“please don’t tell me we lost an engine..” “alright! I won’t tell you that”

“captain michell!” “sir!” just call him uncle mav we know you wanna

“thank you for saving my life.” “it’s what my dad would’ve done” IM GOING TO EXPLODE ON THE SPOT

ROOSTER AND MAV WORKING ON THE PLANE TOGETHER MY SHAYLAS MY FAVORITE UNCLE / NEPHEW DUO BUDGEHWHWHAGHRGRRRRJWWAHHHH

roo going to see mav’s little collection of photos and knocking next to his dad i’ll cry

okay banger movie. my sibling came out of their room at the very end and went “didnt you JUST watch that movie” and I did. I did less then a week ago

[scary-noodlesblog]

Soulbound

Castiel x Fem! Reader

Lazarus Rising Part 1

Soulbound Masterlist

3rd Person POV:

Dean Winchester wakes up in a dark place after being in Hell for four months, or forty years in Hell time. His voice is hoarse as he slams his hands against the top of his coffin, dirt raining down on his face.

"Help! Help! Help!" He screams, the wood starting to give way, allowing him to start digging to the surface. His hand reaches the fresh air above him as he breaks through, crawling his way up to the top of the dirt.

Dean gasps and pants as he lays there for a few minutes, the sun too bright for someone who's been in darkness for four months. The hunter walks his way down the empty road in search of civilization before he finds an abandoned gas station.

"Hello?" He calls out to nobody as he pounds on the door. Dean takes off his outer shirt and rolls it around his hand, breaking the glass. After he gets inside, he gets a water bottle and starts chugging it, gasping. Dean finds a newspaper, reading September 18th.

"September..." he says in disbelief. In the gas station bathroom, Dean washes his face in the dirty sink. He lifts his black t-shirt, exposing his chest, now free of scarring or any damage he received in his career as a hunger, as well as the claw marks from the hellhounds.

Dean frowns and turns his left shoulder to the dingy mirror. He lifts the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a raw, branded handprint on his shoulder.

He leaves the bathroom, grabbing snacks and drinks, shoving them in a grocery bag. A smirk creeps on his face as he walks up to the magazine stand, thumbing through a 'Busty Asian Beauties' magazine. Dean then goes to the cash register, getting it open and looting the cash. As he is doing so, the tv turns on, showing only static.

He furrows his eyebrows and shuts it off, only to have the radio turn on to white noise. Dean quickly goes down an aisle, getting salt and pouring it methodically on the windowsills and in front of the door.

A loud, high-pitched sound reverberates through the gas station, making Dean clutch his left ear as he continues to pour salt. The sound persists, Dean dropping the salt and crouching on the floor, groaning in pain. The window above him shatters, raining glass on the floor.

~~~~~~~

After the sound stops, Dean dials his brother's phone number at a phone booth, only to get an alert tone and an automated voice that says the number has been disconnected. He hangs up, putting in another coin and dialing Bobby Singer's number.

It only rings once before Bobby picks up, "yeah?"

"Bobby?" Dean asks, hope in his tone.

"Yeah?" The older man says again.

"Its me."

"Who's 'me'?"

"Dean..." As soon as Bobby hears that he hangs up, only making Dean redial his number. "Who is this?" Bobby asks, getting more irritated by the second.

"Bobby, listen to me..." Dean begins, only for Bobby to cut him off.

"This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya." Bobby grumbles.

Dean sighs and hangs the phone back on the receiver, turning around and seeing an old, beat up white car. His eyes light up as he hotwires it, driving in the direction of Bobby's house.

~~~~~~~

Your POV:

"Who was that, Bobby?" I turn the corner from the kitchen, I had been staying there since Sam went off on his own.

"No one, just a solicitor..." Bobby gave me a small, reassuring smile. I return the grin, returning to the kitchen to finish lunch for us. It was the only way to make him eat since Dean died, he felt bad if he didn't eat what I made for him.

A few hours later, Bobby was back to researching and drinking while I tidied up his books a little, just putting away unused ones. A pounding sounds on the front door, setting off alarm bells in my head. I glance at Bobby for a moment before grabbing his shotgun while he picks up his silver knife.

I point the gun at the door, hidden from the doorway as Bobby opens it. I can't see who's at the door, but a familiar voice speaks up, "surprise."

I lower the shotgun and stand behind Bobby, "D-Dean?" My voice comes out breathless, my tone full of disbelief.

Bobby stutters and looks at Dean, surprised, "I-I dont..."

Dean walks in the door, turning towards both of us, "yeah me neither, but here I am."

Bobby grunts and lunges at Dean with the knife, making me go to try and break them up, the shotgun clattering to the floor. "Bobby stop!" I yelled as Dean twists Bobby's arm, trying to make him drop the knife. An elbow is swung, not sure whose, but it hits my chest, knocking the wind out of me as my back hits the wall.

Bobby backhands Dean across the face, making Dean yell out that it's really him. "My ass!" Bobby shouts back, advancing on Dean once more. I stand back up straight again, a hand on my chest as Dean pulls a chair out, putting it between him and Bobby.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Dean pants softly, "your name is Robert Steven Singer! You became a hunter after your wife got possessed and...you're about the closest thing I have to a father. And that's (Y/n) (M/n) Singer! Your surrogate kid, you found her on a demon hunt! Bobby. It's me."

Bobby and I both step towards Dean, my eyes slightly watery. Bobby puts his hand on Dean's shoulder before lunging at him again. I gasp and grab Bobby's arm, struggling to get the knife from him. "Bobby stop! He's not a shapeshifter!"

"Then he's a Revenant!" Bobby yells back before I disarm him, holding the knife out of his reach.

"Alright, if I were either, could I do this- with a silver knife?" Dean takes the knife gently from my hand and rolls up his sleeve, wincing as he cuts his arm, showing no burning.

Realization and disbelief crosses Bobby's face, "Dean?"

I smile softly at them, as Dean comes up and hugs us both. "That's what I've been trying to tell you." Dean mumbles into my shoulder.

As Dean pulls away from us, Bobby looks at him, "it's...it's good to see you, boy."

"Yeah, you both too." Dean gives us a weak smile, which I return.

"But...how did you bust out?" I ask, tilting my head at him and crossing my arms over my chest.

"I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box..." Dean looks down at his feet.

"That was Sam's-" I get cut off as Dean looks up, Bobby splashing holy water in Dean's face. Dean sighs and spits the water out onto the floor. "I'm not a demon either, ya know?"

Bobby shrugs, a small apologetic look on his face, "sorry. Can't be too careful."

We move further into the house. I hand Dean a towel and he dries his face. "But...that don't make a lick of sense..." Bobby's eyebrows furrow in thought.

"Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir," Dean sighs. I cross my arms again and shift my weight to my right leg. "Dean your chest was in ribbons. Your insides were slop. And you've been buried for four months. Even if you could slip out of Hell and back into your meat suit-" Bobby begins, Dean cutting him off.

"I know, I should look like a 'Thriller' video reject."

"What do you remember?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

"Not much," Dean looks down at the floor again' "I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy, and then...lights out." Bobby sits down out of the corner of my eye as Dean continues. "Sam's number isn't working. He's, uh, he's not..." He trails off, not wanting to even think that Sam is dead.

I shake my head quickly, "he's alive as far as we know."

Dean lifts his head and looks at me, "good. Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"We haven't heard from Sam in months," Bobby sighs.

"You're kidding. You just let him go off by himself?" Dean looks between Bobby and I, his gaze filled with disbelief and anger.

"He was dead set on it Dean. After your funeral, I helped him with a couple standard demon hunts, then he dropped me off here, saying he would be back. That was almost four months ago." I sigh, giving Dean an apologetic look.

Dean turns his head to look at Bobby, "Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"Its not his fault," I interject, furrowing my eyebrows.

"I tried. These last few months haven't been easy, ya know? For him, (Y/n) or me. We had to bury you." Bobby huffs.

"Why did you bury me anyway?" Dean glances between us again.

"We wanted you salted and burned. Ya know, the usual drill," I lean off the wall, putting my hands on the table in front of me. "But, Sam wasn't havin' it. I tried to tell you that before somebody so rudely splashed you with holy water." I raise an eyebrow and look at Bobby who shrugs.

"Well Im glad he won that," Dean huffs a a laugh, making me nod and smile softly.

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said." Bobby said.

Dean's features twist slightly, showing his suspicion, "what do you mean?"

Bobby shrugs again, "he was quiet, real quiet. And then after he dropped off (Y/n) he just took off. Wouldn't return our calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

"Oh dammit Sammy," Dean grumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"What is it?" I tilt my head again.

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo." Dean explains, worried that his brother made a deal.

"What makes you so sure?" I ask him.

"You should've seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this...this force. This presence. I don't know but it, it blew past me at a fill up joint. And then this..." Dean stands up, taking off his over shirt and pulls his sleeve up, revealing a brand on his shoulder in the shape of a hand.

Bobby stands up as I mutter, "what the fuck?"

Dean looks up at us, "it was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out."

"But why?" I ask.

"To hold up their end of the bargain," Dean grumbles, pulling his sleeve back down.

"You think Sam made a deal?" Bobby questions.

"It's what I would've done," Dean sighs.

~~~~~~~

Dean calls Sam's cell phone provider, trying to locate him as I look up any cases nearby he could be on. "Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you."

Dean hangs up the phone and walks up behind me, looking at the laptop screen over my shoulder.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" I ask, looking up at him.

"You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?" Dean chuckles, "can you type in Arc Mobile?"

I nod and search the phone company as Dean looks around the room. Dean picks up one of Bobby's empty bottles that I hadn't tossed out yet. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"

"Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy." Bobby sighs, "(Y/n)'s been trying to clean them up, but I replace them faster than she can tidy."

Dean holds his gaze on Bobby for a moment, "Right." The laptop beeps and shows a blue arrow, pointing at a star on a city map.

Phone Location:

263 Adams Road

Pontiac, Illinois.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois." Dean leans back, standing to his full height.

"Right near where you were planted." I point out.

"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" Dean asks, his voice full of suspicion.

~~~~~~~

I follow Dean and Bobby down the hall of the Astoria Motel, supposedly where Sam is staying. We stop at a door that says 207 inside a red heart, knocking on the door. A pretty woman opens the door and looks at the three of us expectantly.

"So where is it?" She asks, confusedly glancing between us

Dean looks at Bobby and I with an eyebrow raised, "Where's what?"

"The pizza... that takes three people to deliver?" She questions, the tone in her voice says 'you should know that'.

"I think we got the wrong room." I give her a nervous smile and try to apologize when Sam steps into the light. He looks down at her then up at us. "Hey, is..." he trails off and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Dean. He swallows, shocked, his eyes flicking between Dean, Bobby and I.

Dean tears up a little, his voice full of emotion, "Heya, Sammy."

I could see Sam looking in disbelief as Dean walks into his brother's room, followed by Bobby and me. We ignore the woman as she steps aside to let us in. As Dean walks up to his brother, Sam pulls a knife and lunges at Dean, giving me deja vu from Bobby's house. The woman screams as Bobby holds Sam back, I stand between the brothers, my hands out in front of me towards Sam, my back to Dean.

Sam struggles against Bobby, screaming, "who are you!?"

"Like you didn't do this!?" Dean yells back, making me yell at him to shut up for a second.

The younger Winchester looks confused for a second, "do what?!"

"It's him. It's him. (Y/n) and I already went through this, its really him," Bobby reassures Sam, who slowly stops struggling. I move to the side, out of the way of the brothers. "What..." Sam starts.

Dean cautiously approaches his brother, "I know, I look fantastic, huh?"

Bobby let's go of Sam, who has tears in his hazel eyes as he walks up to Dean, hugging him desperately. I smile softly as I watch the exchange, happy for them both, my own tears spilling over. Bobby also watches tearfully, but his don't fall.

The woman raises an eyebrow at the Winchesters, "so are you two like...together?"

I fight off a gag and turn to look at her in slight disgust, "ew what the fuck!? They're brothers!"

Sam looks at the woman like he just remembered she was there as she gathers her things, "uh...got it. I-I guess. Look, I should probably go."

"Yeah. Yeah that's probably a good idea. Sorry." Sam gives her a slightly apologetic look.

Her and Sam change their clothes, Sam now in a white button up, and her in a blue plaid shirt. Sam opens the door for her to let her out. "So, call me." The woman says with a sly smile.

"Yeah, sure thing Kathy," Sam gives her a gentle smile.

A look of offense and hurt crosses her face, "Kristy." She corrects him.

Sam continues his polite smile, "Right." The woman leaves and Sam shuts the door.

Sam goes and sits down, Dean and Bobby crossing their arms and standing over him, suspicion all over their face. I lean back against the wall, glancing between the men, literally feeling the overwhelming testosterone.

Dean speaks first, "So tell me, what'd it cost?"

Sam smiles at his brother, "The girl? I don't pay, Dean."

The older Winchester scoffs, "That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam looks at Dean like he just grew a second head.

"That's exactly what we think." I interject, crossing my arms over my chest as well.

"Well, I didn't." Sam retorts with his signature sass.

"Don't lie to me." Dean grumbles.

"I'm not lying." Sam says truthfully.

Dean advances towards his brother, "So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this."

Sam stands up furiously, "Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?"

"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!" Dean yells, grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt.

"Dean!" I scold, walking up to the brothers before things escalate. God, I feel like their mother.

Sam's voice breaks, full of emotion as he tears up again, "I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean let's go of Sam's shirt, so I back up a step or two, "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, we believe you." I say softly.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question." Bobby says matter-of-factly.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean sighs. Well it looks like we have some research to do.

~~~~~~~

Dean and Bobby sit on the couch while I sit on the edge of the bed. Sam hands us each a bottle of beer and sits next to me. I open my beer and take a sip as Dean speaks, "so what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?"

Sam sighs, "well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback."

Bobby's eyebrows crinkle together, his tone accusing, "all by yourself? Who do you think you are, your old man?"

"Seriously Sam? I could've helped you?" I give him an angry look, feeling dejected.

Dean frowns as he sees something, crossing the room to see what it is. "Uh yeah, I'm sorry Bobby. I should've called, I was pretty messed up. And (Y/n), I couldn't have you getting hurt either. After Dean, I couldn't do it. Plus your dad would have my head on a pike." Sam defends himself, chuckling a little at the end.

I roll my eyes but crack a small smile, he only spoke the truth, "well I'm gonna have your head on a pike if you pull that shit again." Dean picks up a pink, flower patterned bra and holds it up, making me raise my eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, I really feel your pain," Dean teases.

"Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here." Sam shrugs, tapping his finger on his beer bottle.

"When?" I ask.

"Yesterday morning." Sam takes a sip of his beer.

"When I busted out." Dean mumbles.

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby glances at Dean, his eyebrow raised.

"But why?" Sam asks.

"Well, I don't know - some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow." Dean shrugs.

"How you feelin', anyway?" I ask Dean, sipping my beer.

"I'm a little hungry." He chuckles.

"No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?" I narrow my eyes slightly at the older Winchester.

Dean scoffs, "Or demonic? (Y/n), how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned." Bobby says.

"Well, I feel fine." Dean states and sips his beer.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam huffs.

"I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby shrugs and takes a long swig of his beer.

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot. You talkin' about Pamela?" I perk up, Pamela is always nice to me, she's a good lady.

Bobby nods and pulls out his cell phone, "I'll be right back."

Bobby leaves the room and Dean stands up, intending to leave as well. I also stand up, followed by Sam. "Hey, wait. You probably want this back." Sam reaches into his collar and pulls out a cord, Dean's amulet. He places it in Dean's hand. Dean smiles at his brother and puts it back on. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it. Hey Dean, what was it like?" Sam asks with a small head tilt.

"What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing." Dean raises an eyebrow, I could tell he was lying through his teeth, but he was sparing his brother of the details.

Sam nods, mostly believing Dean, "Well, thank God for that."

Dean gives him a weak smile, "yeah."

~~~~~~~

Bobby leads us outside and down the stairs. We walk up to the Impala and Bobby's car. "She's about four hours down the interstate. Try to keep up." Bobby gets in his car.

"I'm assuming you'll want to drive," Sam says, digging the keys to the Impala out of his pocket and tossing them to Dean, who catches them.

Dean chuckles and runs his hand over the car lovingly, "hey sweetheart, did you miss me?"

I roll my eyes and giggle, "damn Dean, are you gonna drive it or get it pregnant?" Sam laughs next to me. Dean gives me a bitch face and gets in the car, Sam getting in the passenger seat and I get in the backseat. "Goodbye passenger seat, I'll miss you." I mumble, settling in behind the brothers.

Dean looks at the iPod Sam plugged into the stereo, glaring at Sam and the device. "What the hell is that?"

"That's an iPod jack." Sam says with a grin.

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up," Dean sneers.

"Dean, I thought it was my car," Sam rolls his eyes.

Dean huffs and starts the car, 'Vision' by Jason Manns playing over the speakers, making Dean glare at Sam harder. "Really?" Sam just gives him an innocent shrug. Dean rips the iPod out and tosses it next to me in the seat, making me chuckle.

~~~~~~~

"There's still one thing that's bothering me." Dean says, breaking the silence as we drive to Pamela's house.

"Yeah?" Sam asks as I hum in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit."

Dean chuckles at his own joke. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you both."

"Well, she tried. She couldn't." Sam explains.

"What do you mean, she couldn't?" Dean presses for answers.

"She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something." Sam says, genuinely unsure of why.

"Immune?" Dean asks.

"Same here. I mean, I'm not the psychic one, I have no idea why I was spared." I shrug, leaning my head on the door to my right.

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or us. She left pretty fast after that." Sam continues.

"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" Dean questions warily.

"Dead. For now." I answer him, crossing my arms over my chest.

Dean hesitates before asking Sam, "So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

"No." Sam answers quickly, a little too quickly.

Dean looks skeptical, "sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish." Sam says, "and (Y/n) was immune, and she's not like me."

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way." Dean grumbles.

~~~~~~~

We knock on the door to Pamela's house, the brunette opening the door with a smile, "Bobby! (Y/n)!" She hugs Bobby tightly before turning to me and hugging me with the same strength.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," I smile at her as she pulls away from me. Pamela backs up a little and eyes Sam and Dean, and I could see Dean is eyeing her as well.

"So these the boys?" She asks Bobby and he nods.

"Sam, Dean, this is Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the state."

Dean greets her flirtatiously while Sam says hi awkwardly. I nudge Sam's arm, "she's not gonna bite, you'll be fine."

"Not unless he wants me to," Pamela winks and smirks at Sam, before turning to Dean, humming. "Dean Winchester, out of the fire and back into the frying pan huh? Makes you a rare individual."

"If you say so," Dean grins at her and Pamela lets us inside.

~~~~~~~

"So you hear anything?" Bobby asks Pamela as I glance around, the house not changing much since the last time I was here.

Pamela shakes her head, "well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why."

"So what's next?" I ask while tilting my head a little.

"A séance I think. See if we can see who did the deed," Pamela explains and I nod.

Bobby furrows his eyebrows, "you're not gonna summon the damn thing here?"

Pamela shakes her head with a small smile, "No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

We all agree and Pamela starts setting up her stuff to get this séance started. She spreads a black tablecloth out and crouches down to grab a couple things from a cabinet. I look at Dean as he reads her tattoo, seeing 'Jesse Forever'. "Who's Jesse?" Dean asks her, making me roll my eyes.

"Well it wasn't forever," Pamela laughs.

Dean shrugs and smirks, "his loss."

Pamela stands up, holding several candles in her hands as she stops in front of Dean with a grin, "might be your gain."

She walks over to the table as Dean turns towards Sam and I, "dude I am so in."

Sam scoffs, his hands in his jacket pockets, "yeah, she's gonna eat you alive."

Dean holds out his arms slightly, "well, I just got out of jail, bring it." I groan and rub my face as Pamela walks by again, addressing Sam with a wink, "you're invited too grumpy."

"You are NOT invited," Dean points at Sam and grins.

~~~~~~~

Later, we sit around the table, the candles lit. I sit between Bobby and Sam as Pamela instructs us to hold hands. Once our hands are joined, Pamela teases Dean again, "now I need something our mystery monster touched." She reaches down and squeezes Dean's thigh, making him jump.

Dean lets out a nervous chuckle, "whoa. Well he didnt touch me there."

I chuckle as Pamela says, "my mistake." We close our eyes as Pamela begins to chant, "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

I hear the television turn on, making me jump slightly, Sam squeezing my hand reassuringly. I take a breath and I hear a name. "Castiel..." I hear almost like a whisper, my eyebrows crinkling.

Pamela continues her chanting, "I invoke, conjure, and command...Castiel? No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy." My confusion grows, wondering if Sam, Dean and Bobby can hear the whispering too.

"Castiel?" I hear Dean question.

"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." Pamela explains as the white noise and static continues, the table shaking. "I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face."

I hear more whispers, the same voice warning her to stop, that its dangerous, my anxiety building up more and more. The white noise picks up more, getting louder. "Maybe we should stop." Bobby says, his voice nervous.

"I almost got it.I command you, show me your face! Show me your face now!" Suddenly the candles flare up several feet in the air and Pamela begins to scream. Her eyes fly open and are filled with a white-hot flame. She collapses; the rattling, white noise, and flames die out.

Bobby and I catch Pamela, lowering her to the floor as she screams. Bobby yells out, "Call 9-1-1."

Sam rushes into the next room to a phone as Dean kneels next to Pamela with Bobby and I. She's conscious, but bleeding and burned. Her eyelids open, revealing empty, burned eyesockets. She sobs, "I can't see! I can't see! Oh God!" I can hear Sam on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator in the next room.

[porkcutletbowl44]

Gothic muse

John Price x F!reader

(I'm turning the goth gf into a series not sorry) just fluff for Halloween!!!

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･𓃠🪦

Price thinks he's starting to get too old to understand the younger generations, not particularly liking the new music going on mainstream, new styles and sayings that go straight over his head. As long as he can keep up with the technology, everything is fine and there's no issues (no matter how badly it pisses him off when Apple comes out with a new phone every month for no reason).

Price felt that the music got worse and worse as the newer generations appeared. It was just... Noise. There was no rhythm, no actual beat. It was just someone wailing into a microphone with a bunch of random noise in the background. Not to mention the fashion trends... Dear lord. He thought back to his youth when people dressed like real people and not like this. He never made a fuss over it; that person has their own life and choices, could do whatever they wanted. It didn't mean he had to understand why the fuck this random kid was walking around in basketball shorts in freezing weather. 

But who is he kidding? He's just starting to sound like a grumpy old man. Though, it doesn't help that he is growing into a grumpy old man.

Price groaned, feeling his knees and his back crack and ache as he came down a set of stairs. The last mission really did a number on him. He passed by some younger people, dressed in all black and white makeup, bright death hawks and all the works. 

"Bloody kids these days."

He stopped for a moment, realizing he was starting to sound more and more like a old old man, which he was far from. He was still in shape, still in the army, he wasn't that old...

But that didn't stop him from whining about the 'youths'.

"What happened to real music."

But when he sees little ol' you, standing behind a gothic-style taste test stand under a big spooky awning, he stops. You are dressed like the others, makeup, skulls and bat jewelry, flashing customers a happy smile.

Price's eyes scanned the area, pausing on the little stand with the bright gothic decorations. It was different from his normal type in women, but he wasn't complaining.

You looked cute, charming.

The thought put a smile on his face. Price watched for a moment, before deciding to approach the stand, pretending that he wanted to try whatever you were selling.

Price made his way up to the stand, leaning on the counter as he examined you.

You looked far off from 18, which was a but surprising. Most goths were teenagers, or in their early 20s. It was rare to see one who is in her more mature adulthood stage in life. 

"So what's all this then?" He almost cringed at the roughness of his voice, sounding a little too hostile.

"I'm promoting my new drink for my good friends' restaurant opening soon, I'm a learning bartender and I want to get feedback." You smiled nervously, being polite and understanding.

Price's rough demeanor almost immediately softens at the sweet smile and sweet voice. You were just too damn adorable, he couldn't help it.

"Really? So what's the drink called then?" He asks, looking down at the dark purple drink in front of him, examining it closely. "An' the restaurant? Or is it some kind o' pub?"

Your face lights up, you happily gush about your new mix. "I'm calling it Vampire Blood, it's a blackberry-flavored scotch. And the restaurant across the street— It's the Leaky Coffin. It's got a bar, yes, but I hear the food is delicious!"

It was so adorable how excited and happy you were, it almost made his heart melt.

"Vampire Blood," he repeated with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Clever name." He pauses, looking at the drink again before looking up at you.

"You make this yourself?" He questions, gesturing to the drink again.

"Yeah! You're welcome to try it, I'd appreciate the feedback!" You happily nodded.

Price gave in, reaching his hand out to take the drink. Bringing it up to his lips, he took a sip. The second the taste hit his tongue, he froze. It was... Actually really good. He took a bigger drink, finishing the rest of the cup.

"Bloody hell this is good." He said, a small smile on his face as he turns the glass on the table, "It's amazing."

"Really? I'm glad you like it," you beamed kindly.

Price gave you a friendly close lipped smile as he watched you practically melt in happiness at his reaction. His heart felt all warm and fuzzy seeing you so happy, it made him forget about the aching in his body.

"'S delicious." He said again. "You 'ave a real talent for this."

"Thank you! I start a week after the restaurant opens, I'll be mixing up more drinks soon," you play with your bat necklace, smiling up at him.

He's never really paid much attention to women who dressed like you or anything like that- normally he was more into the girl next door type, or a more casual, homey style- but you were so adorable and unique. 

Price nods, his eyes locking onto the way you were fidgeting with your necklace.

"Yeah?" He questions, the smile on his face growing a little wider as he continues to watch you, admiring every little thing you did. "When does it open?" He asks, giving you a smile behind his mustache.

"Just a few days! I have some pictures of the interior-" you pull out your phone, tapping on the screen and showing him some pictures. "It's all real gothic architecture, real antiques, a real wine cellar in the basement too-"

The gothic architecture, the antiques, the basement winery- it all looked spectacular. It was unlike any bar or restaurant he'd ever been to.

"That's bloody phenomenal." Price said, looking at the pictures closely. "You're friends have great taste."

He looks up at you again, meeting your eyes with a soft and affectionate smile.

"Thanks! This is a dream come true for us, I'm so excited." You grinned.

Price felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon this sweet, kind woman. The fact that you weren't his type at first, but now that he's spoken to you he was already falling for your charm.

"I can tell." He chuckled, still smiling. "What's your name?" He asks suddenly. He should have asked earlier, hell- he should have asked since the moment he walked up to the stand.

You outstretch your hand, politely giving your name. Price smiles as you extend your hand out to him, and he takes it in his own, shaking it gently.

Your name was so pretty.

He wanted to hear it again, but this time in his own voice.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." His hand swallows yours in warmth, "I'm John," he gives you a small smile. "John Price."

"Nice to meet you too, John." You giggle softly. 

Price had never been one to seek out goths or women like you- he had usually stuck with more "normal" people. But something about you was different. The kindness, the politeness, the gentle nature. And the fact that you dressed in black, decorated with skulls and bats didn't make you any less attractive to him. In fact, it made you even more attractive.

He didn't think he'd ever been this attracted to someone before. And god, he could stare into your eyes for hours.

He wanted to ask for your number, or invite you out on a date right then and there, but he held himself back. He didn't want to be too forward and scare you away. But he couldn't stop the thoughts of taking you out on a date, getting to know you. Price cleared his throat, trying to snap himself out of his own thoughts. He had just met you. You weren't his yet. He shouldn't be thinking like this.

He gave you a soft smile, his eyes still gazing into yours.

"Uh— sorry," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "what... do you do when your not at your little stand 'ere?"

"Mostly help out with getting the restaurant ready. We have a lot of decorations and painting that has to be done. But on the weekends we attend Sirens Cave." You answered, flashing him a kind smile. 

Price was fascinated by your answers, and the way you spoke. There was something about you that just made him want to pick your brain, and learn everything he could about you.

"Sirens Cave." He repeated, a little familiar with the name. "That's a bar, right?"

"It has a bar, yes, but it's mostly a Goth Club." You giggle.

That made a lot more sense, and it explained the bat and skull attire. Price smiles slightly, amused by the cuteness of your giggle.

"A 'Goth Club'." He repeated softly. "An' you frequent there a lot?"

"Not all the time, I can enjoy the peace and quiet at home. A book, TV show, baking..." You trail off.

Price was practically melting on the inside. You were such a sweetheart.

"You bake?" He questions, his tone almost turning into a cooing.

So you were kind, polite, and you like to read and bake, too?

He was definitely in trouble.

"Yeah, when I was in college I had a little baking business to help with loans." You nodded enthusiastically.

Price’s heart was almost bursting inside his chest. You just kept getting cuter and cuter. Not just that, but you were ambitious and smart.

Bloody hell.

He had never fallen so hard before.

Price couldn't help the little flutter in his chest at the thought of you baking. The fact that you were making money with baking was really impressive. He wanted to know every little thing about you; past, present, future. He would be lying if he said he wasn't already a little obsessed.

"College, huh?" He asks, leaning against the counter. "What'd you study?"

"I did mixology for a little bit, and then I switched over to architecture to help get the building structure what we wanted." You used hand gestures out of excitement, happy to talk about you and your friend's dreams.

He smiled, admiring your excitement. "Architecture." He repeated, nodding. "That's impressive."

Architecture wasn't easy, especially not trying to make a building how you wanted. He could tell how passionate you were about this.

"Did you graduate?" He asks.

"I did! A few years ago,"

You were literally perfect.

"So this little gothic restaurant you're gonna work at- you designed it too, yeah?" He questions, wanting to know everything.

"Most of the design was by me, yes," you answered proudly. 

You had studied architecture, then gone on to design a full restaurant, one that you and your friend were opening soon. He was seriously falling for you. Hard.

"That's incredible." He said, admiring you, maybe even buttering you up in the chances of you saying yes to a date, "Must feel good, seein' your design come alive, yeah?"

"I'm so happy, it's a dream come true!" You couldn't suppress your bright grin, all teeth and eyes crinkling. 

Price was in love. It wasn't even funny. Seeing that bright grin made his heart leap in his chest. If he wasn't falling before, he most definitely was now. He was practically swooning. No one had made him fall for someone this fast. 

"I can tell." He smiles back, that soft, fond smile.

"One of my friends will be the head chef, she does a lot of culinary and her food is delicious! Definitely something I'd recommend to try out- she's trying new dishes for the opening too!" You mentioned. 

Price listened to you enthusiastically rant about your work, your friends, everything. It was the cutest thing imaginable hearing how excited you got talking about everything. He loved the way you'd light up when talking about your new restaurant.

He listens intently as you gushed about your passion, talking about anything and everything about it. It sounded like it would be a good place to eat; good food, good drinks, good atmosphere. He could see you being a very talented bartender, if your little potion is anything to go by.

"You'll be the bartender then?" He questions, raising a brow.

"A week after it opens." You reminded sweetly. 

"Right, a week after it opens." He repeated, a small smile on his face.

He wanted to know if you were single or not. But there's no way someone as perfect as you could be single, you were probably taken...

"Got any... special someone you wanna celebrate it with?" He asks softly.

"No, me and the group might have a celebration together at some point." You shook your head.

He had the chance.

He gave you a small smile, the thought of you being single had him practically dizzy.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, he was calm, but his mind was going crazy with excitement. "When you you think you'll have that celebration?"

"Maybe during the weekend, it's best to not come to run a restaurant hung over," you giggled, tucking hair behind your ear.

The way you smiled and giggled and talked, it sent butterflies through his stomach. This was new; he was normally the one doing the flirting. But you had him swooning. He wanted to just take you in his arms and never let you go.

"Guess that's a good idea." He said, smiling playfully at you. "The weekend then hm?"

"Likely, I'm free the rest of the week." You mentioned casually. 

Price's insides practically melted as you said that. You were free the rest of the week? That meant he had a chance to take you out on a date. A smile spread across his lips, his heart beating a little faster in his chest.

"Are you now?" He teased lightly, raising a brow. "Would you fancy trying your new restaurant on opening day?" He insinuates.

"Oh would I?" You almost squeal in excitement, over joyed at the offer.

It was so cute. You were so cute.

"Yeah," He says, still smiling that big, soft, and fond smile. "Would you? With me?" he adds with a coo in the undertone.

"I'd love too!" You nodded enthusiastically.

You said yes. You said yes to the date. The butterflies in his stomach felt more like fireworks as he looked at your excited face. 

"Great." He affirms, pleased, "I'll pick ya up then yeah?"

"Yeah! Here's my number-" you pull a card over, scribbling on it and handing it to him, the light glints on your nail polish spider web design

He flipped the card over, looking at the number. He was committing it to memory. He looked back up at you, smiling.

"I'll make sure to use it." He said, slipping the card into his pocket.

"See you then, John." You smile all giddy and excited. 

No one had made him smile this much in a while, he was normally the one doing the swooning. Your smile and the way you giggled made his heart flutter like crazy.

"I'll see you then, love."

You were so...different. You knew what you wanted. You knew your passion and executed it.

It was impressive, really. Most people just work with what they have, take what's dealt to them. But you? You went beyond. You decided to make a dream a reality, and by the look of things, it would be a success. You were determined and hardworking and ambitious, and you went after your dream no matter what.

Everything about you was different from women Price was used to. You were a go getter, a dream chaser. You had ambition, creativity, a spark.

But you were also kind, and sweet, and soft.

You liked history, that much was given. You had a interest in gothic architecture and strived to keep it alive.

And that mysterious aura—

Price would admit it; when he first walked up to your booth he had some prejudices. But you proved him wrong. He was completely fascinated by you. He wanted to learn everything about you.

He could tell you had secrets, things hidden beneath that sweet appearance. He was very interested to see how many secrets you had, and what they were.

He liked that about you; the air of mystery.

And the fact that you were just generally so attractive.

When opening day arrives, you are waiting outside the restaurant. You've went a little easy on the gathering make up, allowing John to see more of your natural features for the date.

Price pulled up to the restaurant, parking his car to the side. When he stepped out, he felt his jaw drop. You looked absolutely beautiful. The dress was simple but elegant, and your jewelry completed the look.

You were gorgeous.

Price just stared at you for a moment, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be able to see you like this. He walked over to you, his smile bright.

"You look stunning, love."

You twirled your dress a little, preening and blushing, "Thank you,"

He gave you a wide, fond smile, admiring the way the dress looked on you.

"Of course." He tilts his head. "Absolutely beautiful."

He offered you his arm. "Should we go in then, love?"

You wrapped your hand around his thick bicep, walking in to the restaurant. The sight is beautiful, people at tables, the smell of wood and rich timbre fills the air, warm lights everywhere to make the atmosphere moody and relaxing.

He was blown away; it was like he had stepped into a whole other world. It was relaxed yet elegant, like the people at the tables. The low lights gave it a moody, romantic feel, and Price couldn't help but think how beautiful it was. And you were responsible for it all.

He was definitely taking you home at the end of the night.

"Hi, table for two," you held up two fingers, smiling at the host.

The host smiled back and nodded, grabbing two menus. She lead you too your booth, setting the menus down for you. The table was near a large window that revealed the beautiful view outside, and the low mood lighting was just bright enough to read the menu. Price sat down in the seat across from you, picking up one of the menus. He scanned the menu, eyes practically going wide upon realizing how good everything sounded. He had a hard time trying to pick what to get.

You picked up your own coffin shaped menu, smiling in recognition.

The food names were odd, and a bit blunt to say the least, it was a complete vampire type of vibe in the building.

Price read through the different meals, eyes widening further as he realized it was all vampire themed. A "Bloody Mary" was a type of pizza, a "Count Garlic" was the appetizers. He was even more impressed with what he was seeing. He looked at the drink menu, and saw "Holy Communion", which was their cocktail list. He was thoroughly enjoying this. It was cool that you had turned the menu names into a theme. He set the menu down, smiling at you.

"This is interesting."

"That was the fun part about this, coming up with funny names." You giggled.

Price's heart skipped a beat as you giggled. It was so cute how  excited you were. You were practically glowing with happiness and pride. He was so gone for you.  He leaned forward on the table, propping his chin up with his hand, smiling at you.

"I love the names." He remarked. "Creative."

"I feel like you would really like the 'Dead Cow'." You inquired playfully

Price grinned, raising his eyebrows in interest. Dead Cow? That was an interesting name for a meal. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

"The 'Dead Cow', eh?" He hums, "That sounds promising."

He scans the menu, eyes landing on the dish.

'A 311 gram steak; typically cooked rare to sink your fangs into! Paired with roasted potatoes, deadly asparagus, and a fresh dead cow on top! Medium rare is fine... If you ask well-done we will ask you to leave.'

Price almost choked on his spit when he saw the description. It was so blunt, and darkly humorous. He couldn't help but bark out a laugh when he read the last part.

"Oh my god," He said in between his laughter. "This is fantastic."

You laughed with him, turning on the back of the menu.

"There's dessert too, if you'd be interested."

God, everything about this place was amazing.  He glanced back down at the menu, turning to the dessert page. He read through it, his mouth almost watering. They all sounded great. He looked back up at you, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, I'm interested." He chuckled.

"Is it the lava cakes?" You grinned. 

He smiled back at you, impressed. "Yes, it is the lava cakes." He admitted, leaning back in his seat. "'ow'd you know?"

"Lucky guess?" You shrugged, closing your menu when the waitress comes

Price chuckled, shutting his menu as well as the waitress came over. He watched you closely, admiring you as you told her your order. He ordered the Rare Cow, because how could he not? When the waitress left to go put in the order, he looked back to you, resting his chin on his folded hands.

"You did really good with this place."

"I'm so happy it turned out like this," you sighed dreamily. 

You looked so happy, so content. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands as he continued to admire you.

"You should be proud o' yourself," he said sincerely. "You did that." He gestured around to the restaurant. "You really did that."

"With help," you added.

It was true that you had gotten help. But most of this was your idea. Your passion. Your creativity. Your hard work and determination. It was all you. 

"Still." He said, his tone gentle and earnest. "It's all you, love."

"Ah! You're here!" A woman squeals, walking over with her arm outstretched for a hug to you.

You gladly accepted, hugging her tight. "The day has finally come!" You said into her neck. 

Obviously a friend of yours.

"I know," the women smiled, pulling back from the hug. "We did it!"

"Oh, sorry—this is John, my...date for tonight." You introduced sheepishly, "And this is Charlotte, the owner of the restaurant."

He smiled, he was getting bits and pieces of your life and friendships. He held his hand out to shake hers.

"Pleasure to meet you, Charlotte." He said, his tone polite.

Charlotte smiled, shaking his hand. "The pleasure is all mine." She said cheerfully, then she gave you a wide grin, wiggling her eyebrows. "You kept this one a secret."

You sputter, trying to keep her voice down, "I did not!"

"You so did!" She teased. She turned her attention to Price. "This girl has never brought a date around us before."

You slap at her shoulder, mumbling something under your breath. Price grinned, watching you get a bit flustered as Charlotte teased you. So, you talked about him. That made him feel warm. Charlotte laughed, letting go of his hand.

"You never told me he was HOT!" She said cheerfully.

"Charlotte!" You whined.

Charlotte shrugged innocently. "What? He is!" She exclaims. 

"Go do your business stuff," you shooed, completely mortified and flustered.

He had his mouth covered with his hand, his shoulders shaking from how hard he was holding it in. Charlotte just laughed, clapping  you on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you two be." She said with fake disappointment. "I'll have a bottle of wine taken to you guys, on the house." She winks.

"Thanks, now- get, go, shoo," you grumbled, completely embarrassed. 

Charlotte just smiled widely, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Fine, I'll leave you two, lovebirds alone." She teased.

You tucked your hair back, clearing your throat. "Sorry...she gets very loud when she's happy,"

Price finally let out the laugh he had been holding in. He leaned back in his seat, his face absolutely shining with amusement. Charlotte seemed nice. He smiled at you, his heart melting at the way you were.

"It's fine, love."

"I think she's great, actually." He chuckled.

Charlotte was just a little nosy, but it was all in good fun. Besides, he wanted to get to know more about you and your life.

"'ow do y'know 'er?" He asked curiously.

"College. We had a couple classes together, met our other friends and boom, we had a little goth friend group." You smiled wide at the memory.

It was sweet how all of your goth friends stuck together from college. He couldn't really connect with that; he never really made friends in the military. He had colleagues he tolerated, and that was about it besides his team. But you, you had friends you loved and who loved you. It was sweet.

"So...is Goth just the style?"

You shook your head politely, folding your hands on the table. "It's a subculture, the music genre is the classification."

A waitress comes up, dropping off a bottle of wine, "From the owner."

He loved the way you knew so much about this. He knew very little about the subculture, but he wanted to know as much as he could. He could listen to you talk about this all night.

"What genre is it exactly?" He asked, his tone curious and eager to learn more.

You proceed to kindly explain as you poured yourself some wine. The genre of goth has branching styles; there were many. Dark wave, cyber, steam punk, regular old punk goth, metal goth, the goth traditions and having a open mind. He learned about the music, about the traditions, the aesthetics, and everything he could about it. He loved hearing you talk about it. You were so knowledgeable and excited as you spoke. The waitress drops off your orders as you explain, giving her a kind nod of appreciation.

"Damn." He said when you finally finished explaining. "You're a scholar."

"It's just the basics for those who first get into it," you brush off politely. 

Price smiled, finding it cute how modest you were. The basics, yeah right. He bet you could tell people a lot more than just the basics.

"Hm, maybe I should start listening to goth music." He muses, half joking and half serious.

"Maybe you might find something you like," you comment, taking a sip of your wine.

He definitely found something he liked- you. The food on the table looks fantastic, it smells amazing, everything is going perfectly.

"I'm sure I will."

Price finished his first glass, setting it down on the table. The alcohol instantly warmed his body, relaxing him. He looked at all the different food on the table, not sure where to start.

"Everythin' looks great."

"Taste good too," you agree, cutting off another piece of chicken parmesan. 

Price took a bite of his steak. Perfectly cooked. Bloody, but not too bloody, the flavor burst into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Holy..." He muttered between bites. "It's delicious."

"So John, what do you do for work?" You grabbed your wine glass, looking over at him with a curious expression.

He took time considering the question. He couldn't tell you everything, of course. But he didn't want to lie to you either.

"I work in private military." He settled on saying.

"Ohhh, that's cool!" You nodded along, interested in the new direction the conversation was going. 

Price smiled. Thank god you didn't ask more. Most people would. They'd ask what kind of private military, what missions he's been on, what his job was specifically. But you didn't ask, you just accepted that and moved on. He was very grateful for that. It was the downside of his job. He was pretty much forced to lie to people, even his loved ones.

"Yeah." He continued, "it's an interesting job."

"So I take it you're off for the time being?" You asked. 

Price smiled again. You really didn't ask probing questions, did you? It was a much better change of pace then what he was used too. Most people wanted all the info, wanted to know everything. It was refreshing that you just accepted what he said without being pushy.

"I am." He replied.

Price couldn't believe it. He wasn't one to believe in luck, but damn, he was feeling lucky. This date really was perfect. The restaurant was amazing, the food was so good, and the company was absolutely out of this world. Talking to you was so easy, he found himself constantly smiling, laughing, and just having a great time.

He never wanted this night to end.

Price insist for you to wear his jacket before you went out into the chilly London night air, that dress wouldn't do much to keep you warm.

You tried to refuse, saying you were fine and that you didn't need it. But he was persistent, and honestly, the way you looked in his jacket was something he couldn't resist.

"Please." He insisted, slipping his jacket around your shoulders, "you'll freeze."

You smiled sheepishly, tugging it around your shoulders as his lingering warmth soothed your skin.

"You smell good," you remarked softly as you looped your arm with his.

He made a mental note to wear that cologne more often. He kept your arm tucked close to his, walking close so you could absorb more of his warmth.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking down at you. "What's it like?"

"I can't really place it, but it's nice." You replied all bashful and giddy. 

His jacket was much too big for you, but you looked great in it.

You were holding his arm with both of your hands, like couples do. He smiled down at you, his eyes absolutely lighting up with joy. No one's ever held onto his arm like that before. None of his ex's, none of his flings.

It was something special that only you did.

Everything was just perfect right now. The weather, the night air, the city lights. And most of all, you.

He loved that, he loved the feeling of being wanted. Being needed. To be touched and held close by someone he wanted so bad. He moved his other hand to cover your hands, his fingers running over yours.

Price slowed to a stop as you reached the parking lot, his heart starting to race a bit. You had an entire parking lot to yourselves. No one to bother you, no one to interrupt. He looked down at you, staring into your eyes. He didn't know if it was appropriate to kiss you right now.

He didn't know where things stood between you two now that he thinks about it.  Did you want him to walk you to your front door? Did you want him to drive you home? This was the moment where decisions had to be made.

"I...had a lot of fun, thank you for tonight," You smiled nervously, teeth shining past your lipstick.

Price couldn't take his eyes off of you. The way the street lights hit you, the way the air blew your hair, everything about you in this moment was just perfect.

"Me too." He replied, his fingers moving to rest against your chin, tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes.

He loved how those big, shiny eyes of yours looked when you smiled.

"Do you want me to walk you 'ome?"

Where was your head at? Is it okay to pursue?

"I don't live too far, and you drove all the way out here..." You declined politely. 

He could see the want in your eyes as you denied him. It was driving him insane. He knew he should let you go, walk you to the door, like a proper date should.

He needed more time with you.

"Could I see you again?" You both asked in unison, the action makes you snort and truly laugh. 

Price was a little startled, not expecting you to ask the same exact question. But the awkwardness was quickly brushed off as the two of you started laughing. His heart was racing from that. You wanted to see him again. His smile grew wider, his hand falling from your chin to your hip, pulling you in.

"Yeah." He agreed, breathlessly. "Yeah, 'course."

"I would like to see you again, I mean." You clarified with the last shred of shy tension gone, growing bold. 

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He questioned in a low, soft voice, looking down at you intently.

You nodded wordlessly, smile dropping into something less cheery into... Sly.

"Your jacket...?" You tugged on the collar.

Price's smile shifted into something more darker, more hungry. You wanted a bit more then just a goodbye. He let out a hum, his eyes raking over your body, pausing at how you looked in his jacket.

He absolutely did not want his jacket back.

"I think it looks better on you." He replied.

He slouches, his body pressing against you as his head hovered a few inches above yours.

His heart was racing, all the blood in his body pumping south. You smiled wide, making your eyes crinkle. Your hands cupped his bearded jaw, leaning up and— planting a kiss on his cheek. Price's brain short-circuited when he felt your lips touch his skin, and then immediately rerouted all of his brain function to his core. The feel of your soft, plump lips on his skin drove him nuts.

Pulling back, your blush is across your nose, a giggle bubbling in your throat.

"I was hoping you'd let me keep it... Gives a reason for us to see each other."

His eyes were glued to your lips as he let out a low rumble, practically growling in the back of his throat with a knowing smirk at your actions. You were being cheeky, and your little smile tells him you know it too.

"Call me?" You asked, backing away a few steps.

"I absolutely will." He replied, rougher than usual, almost in a trance. 

"I'll be waiting." You nodded, turning and walking down the street.

Price watched you walk away for a minute, his eyes glued to your frame walking down the street. His mind replayed the feel of your lips on his skin, the heat of your body pressed up against his, the sound of your soft, breathy giggles.

He could see the sway of your hips, the way you looked completely wrapped up in his jacket- your sweet, beautiful, innocent face, turned back to him with the promise of a second date- all drove him insane. He swallowed heavily and pulled his car keys out.

But he made a promise to himself, he was going to take this slow, and not scare you away. But god was that going to be a test of his self-restraint.

....It's a wonder how he didn't notice your fangs, though. 

[mjso-soupp]

Subaru Headcanons

shitty headcanons for my fav vampire bcs i haven’t updated my fic 😍

Around you: Now I don't think he would necessarily be shy, but more afraid to embarrass himself around you. He’d check himself more than usual, making sure his face wasn’t bright red whenever you held onto him tightly around his brothers, or make sure he didn’t stutter when your eyes looked more doe than usual.

Belly: He probably eats a lot, like a real teenage boy. He doesn’t have a favorite food so he just eats whatever he finds in the kitchen, and that includes lots of snacking since he doesn’t feel the need to make a meal that would actually fill him. He’d rather just wait til some food pops up to eat it.

Clothes: His wardrobe consists mainly of black, white or some other dark color. I like to think he wears one of those compression shirts to bed or under his jackets. He definitely keeps old clothes too because he thinks it ‘matches his vibe’. Due to his strength, if he was late for school one day, he probably tore a hole in his shirt from pulling it violently over his head in a hurry.

Dating: I dont think it’s him that has much trouble snagging a girl— definitely not. It’s what he does AFTER snagging a girl that confuses him, because, what now? He’s awkward because of his self destructive self image so all he can really think about is, “Will she really stay with me?” Or “When will this be over?” But I don’t think he’s much of a dater, more like hoping to just pop up on the ‘one’ some day (Which seems inevitable because he never leaves his coffin).

Excess: It’s a good thing he’s an albino because this man probably grows so much hair, like peach fuzz all along his body. His character design obviously shows he’s an albino but his eyebrows probably have a thin shape made up of long hairs he doesn’t care to pluck because they don’t really show. He also has a long full head of hair that in the art shows red undertones.

Eye contact (Bonus): Since he’s an albino, his eyes twitch and that leaves more reason for him not being able to hold eye contact. He subconsciously looks away and focuses on inanimate objects rather than the person directly in front him.

Fangs: This man was blessed with a strong pair of fangs. They show the most out of the other brothers when he speaks or eats. He wouldn’t so much as take pride in this but focuses on why having such sharp canines is much more of a nuisance to him, like accidentally biting his cheek while chewing.

Grooming: He doesn’t smell bad, everyone has their own scent and his is strong with musk and soap. Probably uses a bar of soap for his body and face, then follows up with whatever shampoo appeared in his shower that day. Whenever he brushes his hair with no care whatsoever, he just brushes til he can’t feel a tug on his hair from the brissels. Doesn’t matter if he brushed it out of place, it’ll fall back later.

Health: I guess in the long run this doesn’t matter since he’s a vampire, but he probably has some unhealthy habits. He definitely smokes or has smoked cigarettes. His relationship with drugs is inconclusive. But I like to think that his relationship with Kou has something to do with Kou’s potential past addiction(?) They probably bonded over that.

Intelligence: Being alive for years means something has stuck to him. He’s more street smart than book smart though, he doesn’t really pay attention in school (RIP Subaru you would’ve loved chat gpt). He forgets how to find the circumference of a circle but knows how to kill someone in one swift motion(?)

Jaded: Subaru’s probably tired of the whole madonna or mistress dynamic. Why can’t he have both? He wouldn’t necessarily want someone to dominate him but more so have someone who can keep up with him, less work for him you know? He already has a bad relationship with the idea of a woman on his side. Why does he have to choose between a woman to accompany him in his dreams (Madonna) or a woman who helps him fulfill his desires(Mistress)?

Kinks: Definitely into some sort of knife play, choking or really anything that exerts his dominance over you.

Laugh: He doesn’t really laugh but when he does it’s mostly a scoff or a chuckle. Maybe if something really is funny to him he might laugh for more than a second but that’s really it. His laugh isn’t loud but it’s more like really low and deep so it comes out louder than he wants it too so he’ll get embarrassed.

Mature: Subaru’s definitely one of the more mature brothers. Dealing with his mother’s mental illness and instability at a young age really rocked him, he grew up way too fast. This is genuinely the reason as to why he doesn’t like children or doesn’t like to associate himself with them. He truly believes he’ll ‘ruin’ them and ruin their childhood like he had his ruined.

Nature: He loves it. He doesn’t admit it though because he tries to be hard. (These are misogynistic vampires after all..) In anger he likes to rip and tear petals off flowers but feels bad after, just another thing to add onto his list of things he’s corrupted. He takes care of the rose garden in his free time.

Open-minded: Considering his personality (Edgy, angsty, rule breaker) I think he’s in the middle. He’s definitely more open then Reiji, Carla and other more superior brothers, but he’s not as open as Laito. Maybe to societal norms he’s more open but to sexual topics he’s closed and private about.

Personality: He’s rude, like, really rude. How he acts with you depends on your relationship though: If you’re more well acquainted (in terms of Subaru acquainted) he’s probably rude and likes to insult you through jokes, but if you’re more romantically involved it’s less subtle (He’s still throwing insults, just at a less) He’s probably really funny without meaning to be. More so if he says something and his brothers turn it into a whole different embarrassing topic making him turn red and everyone laughing at him. He’s of course, the definition of ultraviolence, and probably wants to get into being a gym rat but isn’t that motivated.

Quirks: Has so many. He likes to cover his left eye with his hair, but brushes it out of his face over and over again. His pale hands that are bruised and beaten make him stand out also, he likes to pick at his nails too. When he’s in a bad mood, his legs bounce annoyingly, making his boots click repeatedly. When a shirt is a little too tight, he stretches it out but rips it in the process (He’ll still wear it.)

Romantic: Well he’s not materialistic.. he doesn’t lay rose petals everywhere, open a bottle of champagne while sharing a five-star hotel with you. He’s more likely to stay in and just spend time with you one to one. He definitely tries to be more affectionate at times but it just seems awkward to him.

Smells: Probably doesn’t enjoy super sugary smells like vanilla or caramel. He likes to smell lightweight floral or mature scents on a woman, sweet smells don’t taste good on your skin. For a man, he likes to smell very strong cologne, it’s just satisfying to him for some reason.

Touch: Is a hugger. He loves hugging you from the back and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Also is a kisser(?) He’s always kissing you DEEPLY. It’s a shocker lol, but he definitely enjoys some sort of connection with you.

Unique: His appearance, overall that’s pretty much what everyone notices at first. Considering his mom was a ‘white rose’, his way of standing out from the other brothers is his soft color palette clashing with dark fabrics that are ripped. I really do believe his eyes are the next thing that are unique because of how much they tremble.

Vocal: Maybe, in the chance you get him to open up to you, he would talk for hours. He would talk about what he thinks about his life, his brothers and why he feels the way about himself. He would speak about his mother in a soft delicate manner but go bitter right after and go quiet.

Water: He didn’t have exactly the best time in the pacific ocean after destroying that statue, so it’s a no. He’s obviously very clean but prefers quick showers and doesn’t like waiting for the bath to fill up with water.

Xanax: He def needs a xanny.

Yucks: He doesn’t like seafood, (although he would eat ayato’s takoyakis in the blink of an eye) Doesn’t like school, at all. Doesn’t like hyper pop music, or just like pop in general. Likes shoes that are easy to slip on, his boots are molded to his feet. So church shoes that require you to wear nice socks and tie them are a no for him.

Zzz: He loves to sleep, he genuinely enjoys sleeping in his tight coffin every night. He goes to sleep late on school days so he can easily sleep through lectures and such, but loves going to sleep early on weekends so he can rest for a couple more hours.

[rogueddie]

On and On / Figure You Out

Corroded Coffin are at the peak of their popularity. They're not mainstream, or in any way big, but they're known enough that they're kept busy. Touring as an opening act, special appearences in little underground places...

Eddie hasn't been home for months. He'd known that he'd most likely be kept away when their manager started talking to them excitedly about all the opportunities.

He hadn't expected it to take such a toll on his and Steves relationship.

It had taken him a while to notice the problems too. He's always so tired after gigs... it takes him two weeks to notice how tired Steve sounds.

"Are you ok?" He blurts, as soon as he notices.

"I'm fine," Steve says.

Eddie can hear the lie.

"Are you tired?" He pushes. "Long day?"

"No. You don't need to worry about me. What were you saying about Jeff? Something about a solo, right?"

No, Eddie wants to scream. I was talking about us!

He doesn't say that though. He rattles off the things that happened in their last show- the things that are interesting, anyway. He doesn't mention how hard it had hit him, after the show, how lonely he is.

It's the same sort of conversation they always have. There isn't really anything different.

It feels different.

After saying their goodbyes, hanging up, Eddie hovers by the phone for a few minutes. Long enough for the others, who had been waiting nearby, to worry.

"Eddie?" Jeff is the one to walk over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You ok, man?"

"Yeah," Eddie replies, automatically. But, frowning, he starts shaking his head. "No. I don't know. It's..."

"Hey, stay calm, it's ok. Did something happen? Is Steve ok?"

"Yeah, it... no. No. Nothing happened, but... I just have this feeling, man, like something really bad is happened and I'm seeing it too late and now-"

"Hey, hey, Eddie, breathe. Whatever it is, we'll help you out, ok? We can fix this, right?"

"Right," Eddie says. He looks to Gareth and Grant, then back to Jeff. "I need to go home. I need..."

"It's that big? Are you sure you're not overreacitng?"

"I don't know. I don't want to risk it. Like, it feels like something is about to break. I can't fix it from here- if I wait, it'll be too late, and-"

"Ok," Jeff cuts in, turning to gesture the other two over. "You go home, we'll find someone to cover for a few dates."

"I know someone who could cover for Chicago," Gareth offers.

"Thank you," Eddie manages to choke out. He knows it's not enough but, by their expressions, they at least understand some of what he can't bring himself to say.

"Go get your man," Grant encourages. "We'll be fine."

"Thank you," Eddie repeats. "So much, it-"

"Jesus, man!" Gareth cuts in, nudging him. "We know. We love you too. Now, go!"

"Go," Jeff says, nodding, when Eddie looks to him. "He won't wait forever, right?"

It takes too long to get a flight back to Indiana, and even longer to find a taxi willing to take him all the way to Hawkins. It ends up taking him 36 hours to get home, to get to Steve, after the phone call.

Steve is sleeping on the couch when he gets in, curled up in one of Eddies old sweaters.

"Sweetheart," Eddie whispers, brushing his hair back, gentle and soft.

Steve mumbles, nose scrunching in annoyance as he wakes up. He blinks at Eddie a few times, confused. "Eds? What- how are you here?"

"I missed you." Eddie isn't sure why he's whispering. The moment feels so fragile. "I needed to see you."

"But your tour-"

"Can wait. You're more important."

"What about that, uh... upward swing?" Steve pulls his hand off his hair, holding in both his own. "Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?"

"I don't care about that. On the phone, you... I had to come home, Stevie. You sounded so... I don't know. Tired?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, before admitting; "I missed you. Doesn't feel like home when you're gone."

"Good job I'm back then, huh?"

"For how long? One night and then you're gone again?"

"Forever, if you want. Or I can drag you out with us. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need."

"Just... don't leave me for so long."

"I won't. I promise."

"Ok," Steve finally smiles. It's a small, frail thing, but it's a smile. "Thank you, Eds. For coming here."

"Anytime." Eddie kisses the back of his hand. "Seriously, anytime. Call me and I'll come running. Whenever and whatever. I love you, so much. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I love you, too."

[trashmouth-richie]

hi, ziggy! ahhh i missed hih ❤️ could you pretty please do something for jealous!eddie where maybe somebody flirts with tooty because she got that milf glow after she had the babies lmao ily ❤️

anon💕💕 thank you for the req! this took a little spin and has an open ending, but!!! the twins are in this and some other familiar faces ❤️ might get a part 2? who knows!

a night out without the kids. almost an unheard of event. but tonight corroded coffin were performing their annual concert the night before halloween.

sissy & oz toted their overnight bags up the paved sidewalk to grandma and grandpa’s house— the same house you had once called home when the wheeler’s took you in as a teen.

reaching the front door eddie squats to eye level with the twin three year olds. “okay you two,” he says in his fatherly tone, “last time you stayed the night grandpa said you terrorized the cat.”

“i no do it daddy,” sissy speaks her little voice high pitched and tattling, “ows chaseded hims.”

a frown spreads on her brothers face his brown eyes pleading, “i did not! sissy made tinky swim in the potty!”

eddie bites his lip to hide a laugh and you take a deep breath, “that’s another thing, the cat’s name is bruce, not stinky.”

“but mama,” sissy complains, head held high in a defiant pose— one eddie recognizes as a mini version of his wife, “boose 's hard to say.”

eddie ruffles her hair and stands up, talking out of the side of his mouth, “always arguing like someone else i know,”

his large hand slides down the curve of your ass pinching the leather fabric snug on your skin, giving it a tight little squeeze.

“eddie!” you scold, swatting his hand away, “not in front of the babies.”

he grabs your waist and pulls you back into him before you can rap your knuckles on the front door. his mouth is hot in your ear, “sorry mama,” he purrs, dancing his tongue on the shell of your ear, “you just look so fucking hot tonight.”

sissy and oz are both slapping the door with both palms as it swings inward. “who’s makin’ all that racket?!”

“gwampa! it’s us!”

“issy and ows!”

wayne smiles as big as he always did when his grandbabies visited, “are you sure y’all ain’t no robbers are ya?”

“gwampa’s silly, daddy!” oz squeaks, squeezing wayne tight around his leg.

eddie grins and chuckles, “aww nah buddy that word is ‘senile’”

you smack eddie in the chest and usher the kids inside to play with their cousin, alex. “thanks for watching them tonight, we really appreciate it,” you say to wayne reaching through the threshold and giving him a hug.

“ah, ain’t no problem,” wayne says flipping eddie the bird behind your back, “karen and i love these little turds.”

“u too oh two be good for grandpa and grandma okay? eddie hollers, “be nice to the cat, sissy… i’m talkin’ to you.”

her little nose wrinkles into a pout and her brows furrow together.

“swear to christ himself, that kid is the spittin’ image of you, tooty.”

“god help me.” eddie pouts, “i’m gonna go gray before i’m forty.”

—

you kiss the kids goodbye and wave from the windows of your jeep before heading to the hideout. eddie looked particularly good tonight, leather pants, a cut off shirt, he even let you smear some eyeliner on his eyelids before tonight’s gig.

“nervous?” you ask, carrying some cords from eddie’s old van that now belonged to big d.

gareth walks past you with an amp, “not really, the hideouts like home away from home, makes me feel 18 again.”

you smile and ruffle his still thick curls, “will coming tonight?”

a sad look replaces his smile, “haven’t talked to him in a week… last i heard from jonathan he was staying with joyce and hopper.”

“he’ll come around man,” eddie says coming through the back door, “he loves you.”

“yeah, i hope.”

—

the boys— men now— rocked a killer show, fans still screaming for the band even though half of them were married and the lead singer had two kids.

you were front in center, in your designated spot that you always stood after the first show where eddie sang ‘lady evil’ just for you.

now you were sporting a new homemade shirt, ‘sitter’ crossed out with ‘mama’ his old leather jacket on your shoulders.

a hand sits on your lower back you giggle, “jeez nance, how drunk are you?”

only it wasn’t nancy, but a random guy. burly and tall, a thick beard on his face matching the short hair on his head, balancing a cowboy. you didn’t recognize him from anywhere and you pull back with a shocked face,

he smiles and you can smell liquor on his breath as he leans in real close, “been watchin’ you all night little darlin’ looks like you need a drink.”

you scowl and turn away from him, looking for jonathan and nancy but they’re nowhere to be found.

“hey,” he blunders stumbling towards you, “you like cowboys?”

you don’t want to give him the time of day or even the satisfaction of a tasteful retort so you do your best to ignore him, looking at eddie as he turns to thrash the guitar riff with jeff.

eddie turns back around to continue the song and shoots you a wink, the same time a big sloppy pair of lips press on your cheek, hard and unwelcoming.

you didn’t see eddie’s eyes turn to black or the way he dropped the neck of his guitar hands balled into fist, you were seeing your own scarlet red, turning and slapping the face of the drunk asphalt “cowboy”.

eddie cuts the band and grabs the mic, “hey fucker!” he pushes his lips in a smooch and whistles like a dog, “here boy, up here.. yeah you— the guy who just got slapped.”

cowboy slap face looked up to the band, “what?”

“you must be new to town, huh? a drifter maybe?”

he lifts his head and spits on the ground, “what’s it to you?”

eddie laughs a little crazy-like, “… that,” he says pointing to you, “is my wife… and i’m sure you don’t know this or maybe your marbles are a little rattled up there with the cobwebs, but..” he jumps from the stage in a dramatic flare, wet hair bouncing behind him, skin slicked in sweat.

he tossing the mic behind him, standing tall and flicking the brim of the guys hat, toe to toe. “i’m not afraid to kill a man.”

“you’re bluffin’,”

“wouldn’t be my first, and for her,” he says moving you behind him, “won’t be my last,”

….

[vickyvicarious]

Ooh any thoughts on the pairs chosen and their tasks, for the final hunt?

I actually think I have a half-written post about exactly this lurking in my drafts from last year, though I will warn you that it contains spoilers for the journeys. Let me see if I can find it and finish it/clean it up a smidge... Ah. Yes. Here it is:

So, let's take a look at our travel arrangements. The team almost (but not quite) split up into the exact three options Mina listed for Dracula to follow. The only difference being that instead of "by road" we have "along the river." But still it's pretty close.

Each group has a sort of designated scribe who has historically been one of the main writers of the novel (more a meta necessity this, but given the heroes making such use of records it is still helpful to them if they wish to compile an account afterwards as well) as well as someone who will probably take the lead on vampire hunting, though where they can everyone will surely assist. They also have at least one person per group who can presumably make themselves understood by locals. I also added a 'caretaker' category because they're all running low on steam and it is an important consideration character-wise.

Basically this is just me taking a look at how each team is divvied up and why/what meta we could get out of it.

By Rail: Van Helsing and Mina

Scribe: Mina

Fighter: Van Helsing

Languages: Van Helsing

Caretaker: alternating

The two leaders. The brains if you will. They are heading straight to the castle. Van Helsing wants to kill the vampire women, and if he can get the jump on them/ambush them in their coffins it makes sense for him to do so rather than the younger men, whose strength is better saved for a possible direct confrontation with Dracula. And if anyone dies doing this, Van Helsing basically says better the old man who has already lived a long life. Keeping Mina further away from Dracula for as long as possible makes sense too in order to minimize what influence he can have upon her. Having her along to help find the castle as well will be useful, though it does mean she'll be brought in closer contact with his seat of operations and other vampires. But they've planned not to bring her into the castle itself.

The mode of transport is fitting for both of them. Mina of course IS the train fiend and so it's perfect for her to ride a train there. But Van Helsing too has spent a lot of time riding trains back and forth in the book to acquire information that can save a woman from becoming a vampire. Now his last train journey is in an effort to put that information into practice as he tries to save Mina from becoming a vampire/stop the spread by killing the other vampires. Not to mention of course Mina isn't really well and he is older so letting them take the relatively less taxing forms of transportation (train then carriage) makes sense. They both express concern for one another and work together to make sure the other is doing as well as they can throughout the journey as well.

Mina specifically traveling this way makes for a really cool transition from her utilizing the ultra-modern method to then traveling into the past almost as she echoes Jonathan's journey from the beginning of the book and also becomes more and more connected to vampirism/the vampire ladies (and by extent the ancient opposite of the modern civilization that the train represents). This rush to get there first also could reflect the two of them, but especially Mina, outthinking Dracula as they are ready to ambush him upon arrival.

Finally, Van Helsing was the most concerned over Mina's fate and was the one she put most in charge of deciding when she be killed... but he was meant to ensure Jonathan did the deed. So it makes for a really interesting pairing to put him there to make that final judgement but his own promise inclines him to put off action even if he thinks she's passed the point of no return. That said he still is trying really hard to have faith in her despite his doubts and fears, not just because of the promise.

By Land: Quincey and Jack

Scribe: Jack

Fighter: Quincey

Languages: Jack

Caretaker: none

Quincey volunteers early for this job. And Jack speaks up to join him because they work well together and have done things like this before. This actually makes them the only team to both do that, as Van Helsing argued for where Jonathan and Mina should both go. They are also the only pair who already know one another well pre-vampire hunting together.

While this is perhaps the least likely route to meet vampires (second-likeliest route to encounter Dracula, but the other group will almost certainly meet the vampire ladies) it is probably the most physically taxing. They're riding all day. Jack could theoretically be the caretaker here, as he is the doctor, but in reality they both are pressing on really hard and neither one is shown to be making sure the other gets enough rest or whatever. It kind of seems like they're setting a pace where they're both tired enough to just drop off when they get a chance.

Quincey is the leader among the two of them. He's the first to volunteer, and he seems very comfortable with horses and leading a hunt. However, in the larger context of his role in the group as a whole, he is very much the support, and while Jack has had a much larger role, when in the group he's generally support as well (though his trust with Van Helsing means he is usually more involved in discussions than Quincey). So it is fitting that these two are taking the "just in case" route - especially Quincey, who often does this sort of filling in where needed. Also fitting that they are bringing along horses for the others should they be needed. They're being the support team.

One more kind of interesting detail... this is the only group to actually travel with other people for a while, but also the group who talks to locals least. No meta point to this, just noticed it.

By Water: Arthur and Jonathan

Scribe: Jonathan

Fighter: Jonathan

Languages: Jonathan

Caretaker: Arthur

This list of roles makes it sound like Arthur isn't doing much. But that's far from true. It's quite possible he can communicate with locals as well (I just put Jonathan down as we know for a fact he can, though stiltedly) and he's proven himself in defeating a vampire in the past. Jonathan however is the main fighter, shown multiple times not to hesitate to attack Dracula. In fact though, Arthur's most important role here is as the caretaker and transport. He ensures that Jonathan gets the rest he needs, and he's the one not only to acquire the boat but the one who knows how to operate it. Not flawlessly, as we are told when there's a crash, but he's still essential in getting them up the river.

These two men following what seems to be the specific route Dracula took makes for some really interesting continuation of Jonathan's book-long acquisition/mimicry of Dracula's traits. The boat in the first place and then their impersonation of Romanian officials also is another instance of the repeated contrast of Arthur as the good (vis)count using his money and status to help, as opposed to Count Dracula or his alias De Ville using his status and money for evil.

It also is really fitting to pair Jonathan and Arthur together as the two husbands of the women Dracula has attacked. Arthur's reality could become Jonathan's future if they don't succeed here. There's some psychopomp imagery that got talked about a few years ago which can add another fun layer. The linked post there is focused mostly on Greek mythology, and talks more about this, but these two being the ones to travel up a river into a symbolic land of the dead (Dracula's land) is fitting in a couple ways too.

When convincing him to go with Arthur, Van Helsing invokes Jonathan's right to revenge as well. Mina aside, both of these two are the ones who have the most 'right' in that sense, as they've been most personally harmed by the Count. Arthur has gotten some measure of closure when staking Lucy at least, but Jonathan hasn't had anything of the sort. They're both "young and strong" and highly motivated.

.

Not to be reductive, but there's kind of a fun thing going on with head/hand/heart here if you want. Mina and Van Helsing are the new/old brains and each leaders in their own right. Quincey and Jack are both more supportive characters at least by this point in the book and one is shown to be a protector physically while the other is literally a doctor. Jonathan and Arthur are the lovers of the women attacked by Dracula, and also represent two different approaches to the idea of said love becoming a vampire (though again it's never fully realized in Jonathan's case, so presumably he could have gone either way should he be forced to actually make the choice).

Another fun detail when comparing all three... In each case, one person or another takes the lead at least some of the time. Mina and Van Helsing are the ones who alternate that role most. They both take turns looking after one another, driving the horses, and we even get written accounts from both of them. Jonathan and Arthur both take turns on watch but Arthur is the one who knows what he's doing on the ship and looking after Jonathan who is totally focused on leading the hunt. We don't hear much from the other two on their journey, but presumably Quincey is mostly in the lead - I say this because he historically has been in such circumstances (which Jack specifically mentioned when agreeing to go with him).