#the gray man press tour

[writers-blockkk]

The counter

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Content: SEX (p in v)

Ok y'all! 1/3 of the requests done! I'm still working on the other 2 bc I literally wrote this in like one night 💀

Also made this one a full fic bc I haven't done much for my man Stanley yet. Hope this is what anon wanted, I feel like I kept to the plot a little better this time

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Its been almost a year since you decided to work at the Mystery Shack to make some extra spending money. You'd retired early and moved to Gravity Falls for a quiet life, which wasn't constant because of the magic creatures.

Your hair had some gray streaks around your face and by your ears. You always dressed nice for your job, maybe a little outdated but you knew Stan loved to see you in more 70s atire. Makeup was usually on the lighter side, and LOTS of jewelry adorned your neck, wrists, and fingers.

One evening the gnomes broke into the shack trying to steal Mabel away again, and unsurprisingly they caused all sorts of damage. You offered to stay late and help clean up, which Stan gladly agreed to also hoping he'd be able to have some alone time with you.

It was late, cleaning up took much longer than anticipated so Stan sent the kids to bed, and you told Soos you'd finish up since he looked tired. Secretly you were hoping something would happen tonight as well, especially since his flirting had gotten more persistent the last few weeks. You suspected it had something to do with Mabel pushing him to get closer to you, but you're not complaining.

♧

Since you started working at the Mystery Shack, you always caught Stan staring at you or just loitering around you when you restocked. When you were behind the counter he'd stand behind you, almost guarding you and not so secretly staring at your ass. Rather quickly his silent looks turned into loud comments and flirty remarks, like whenever he ended a tour he'd lead customers into the gift shop.

"And welcome to the gift shop! Buy something and you'll get to talk to the most beautiful woman in the world!"

Stan gestures to you while leaning on the side if the counter wiggling his eyebrows at you. Rolling your eyes while helping the first customer helping them check out, your cheeks slowly burning a light pink.

♧

You were just about done with cleaning the gift shop part of the house when Stan walks into the room leaning on the door frame smirking. At first you don't notice him as your humming to the song playing on the radio and shaking your ass slightly while putting away the last few things under the counter.

"Lookin' toots"

Stans voice makes you jump bumping your head on the bottom of the counter. When you stand up a hand rubbing your head you look over at Stan (un)intentionally looking lower noticing a growing bulge in his suit pants.

"Someone's happy to see me"

Eyebrows raised and a smirk on your face you lean against the counter more obviously checking him out as he walks towards you.

"I'm always happy to see you toots"

He returns your teasing, which causes pink to creep from your ears to your cheeks. You're nat able to speak because you know you'll stutter so you just stare into his eyes.

"Whats wrong cat got y'a tongue?"

Stan is mentally freaking out as he slids his large hand around your waist pulling you closer lips almost touching.

"Can I kiss y'a? Been craving it for so long

..."

You can feel his whispers against your face, without answering you wrap your hands around his neck and connecting your lips. Stan makes a sound that's a mix between surprise and a whine when your lips connect, his other hand leaves the counter and grabs the back of your head deepening the kiss.

Stan licks your bottom lip asking for entrance, you part your lips in agreement and he slids his tongue against yours the kiss getting more heated by the second. You guys are all over each other in a matter of seconds, your back being pressed against the counter and your hands desperately grasping at his hair and clothes.

There was a pause when your both needed air, you both looked like you were gonna jump on each other again when Stan spoke.

"I need to be inside you"

You were almost sitting on the counter, hands behind you now as you're looking down at the much larger bulge in his pants.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

The second the words left your mouth it's like he snapped, you were sudden on your stomach on the counter ass up. Stans rock hard bulge pressing against your ass, his hands snake across your hips to the hem of your pants slowly undoing them. Once they're fully unzipped he pulls them off your legs and leaving small kisses on your lower back and tugging at your lace underwear.

"Wearin' the fancy stuff for me now?"

Stans voice is low and teasing as he pulls the underwear over the plump of your ass and let's them fall around your ankles. He slides his right hand down to your dripping folds gently rubbing your clit, his left hand is on your ass massaging and kneeding the flesh.

"So wet and I've barely touched you y'a dirty girl"

Stans voice is low and gravelly against your back while he leaves kisses up your spine till the edge of your shirt that's been pushed up. His fingers work your clit harder now, rubbing tight circles that have you gasping and clawing the counter.

"Please Stan! Don't stop"

You're whining only serves to turn him on more as he slowly dips one finger into you, and is practically sucked in by your greedy cunt. Stan groans at the feeling before adding another finger and pumping slightly to see your reaction.

"Aah fuck, harder!"

You arch backwards moaning rather loudly at the sensation, which caused Stan to use his free hand to clamp over your mouth.

"Shhh, don't want the kids hearin' us"

He whispers in your ear and you nod half moaning against his hand, your breath is heavy and vision glossy when he releases you. He continues to pump his fingers in your tight cunt scissoring them slightly to stretch you out while he leaves hickeys on your neck.

You're trying so hard to keep quiet but Stan's fingerings you so good you can't help the yelps and whines that slip from your throat.

"I said keep quiet"

Stan whispers against your neck before a loud slap is heard and you feel a sharp stinging pain on your left ass cheek. A loud yelp emits from your throat and your head drops between your arms, ass wiggling slightly to try and ease the pain.

"Think you're ready to take me toots?"

You frantically nod looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes are glossed over and needy the look making his cock twitch in anticipation. He removes his fingers that are soaked with your juices and licks them clean moaning at the taste.

He started undoing his pants and let them drop to his ankles, the same with his boxers. His cock is blushed red and rock hard, dripping with precum as he pumps it a few times groaning before rubbing the tip through your folds lubing up a bit.

"Shit toots can't wait to fuck you stupid"

His words make a shiver run through your body, your pussy clenching around nothing. Stan slowly pushes in breathing heavy and holding back moaning too loud, on the other hand you were whimpering and gasping. After giving you a second to adjust he snapped, and bottomed out starting a brutal pace.

You clap a hand over your mouth when he bottoms out to muffle your scream as your body is rocked by his thrusts. Hands gripping the counter as you loudly moan his name, which makes Stan grab a fistful of hair and yank you back into an arch.

"Told y'a to be fuckin' quiet"

His voice is stern and low as he's still pounding you so deep there's a bulge forming in your belly. He wraps a hand around your throat squeezing slightly to restrict your noise, your eyes roll back at the feeling pussy tightening around his cock.

You can feel it, you can feel everything he's doing to you, the way his fingers dig into your throat to every vein on his cock. You're so close to cumming but can't say anything, you're so fucked out all you can do is moan.

"So close babe, just hol' on"

Stan groans against the crook of your neck sucking a large hickey onto it, his thrusts getting sloppy. He slides his free hand down to your clit rubbing tight circles again, which causes you to whine loudly even through his throat hold. You cum all over his cock, pussy clamping down on him which causes him to spray his hot seed inside and collapse over your back.

You both are panting hard laying on the counter, Stan pulls out of you after a second admiring his work. Mixed cum dripping out and down your thighs, he slides his hands down your back grabbing both ass cheeks and squeezing.

"You're so hot like this toots"

A smirk etching onto his face as he grabs a few tissues and wipes you up, you mumble while your face is laying on the counter. He then lazily pulls your pants back up and carried you up to his room changing you into one of his old t-shirts and shorts. He lays you in his bed and climbs in with you pulling you close and drifting to sleep.

"Love y'a toots

[passionwillow]

These pictures made me feral, and my thoughts kind of went with a request I had, so here you go. ☺️

- Being undercover with Deacon and having to pretend to be in a relationship, keeping close and touching one another. The man you’re scouting was on edge and didn’t trust either of you, so leaning into the couple angle was the best bet.

- “I think my girl and I would be very interested in helping you move the money.” Deacon played his role flawlessly, and when he leaned down to kiss you, to seal the man’s image of you both, you eagerly obliged.

- But that one kiss was heated and heavy, tongues clashing as his hand gripping your hair, his other hand on tour lower back so he can keep you right against his toned body.

- There had never been much going on between you and Deacon. You were coworkers, maybe friends. There was an age gap between you both so you never bothered to see if there was anything in common. But the kiss unveiled something within you both.

- The next few hours were absolutely torturous, having to act like a couple while pretending to be interested in this idiots money laundering business. He was giving you every bit of information you needed though.

- Deacons hand stayed on your back, his fingers tracing along your spine as he played his roll perfectly, asking all the right questions and feigning interest while it took everything in you not to snap and jump his bones.

- Once a deal was struck, Deacon wasted no time dragging you back to the hotel. He broke every speed limit on the way there and had you pushed up against the wall in the elevator, mouth on yours kissing feverishly, hands roaming over your ass and hips as his teeth and tongue explored your mouth.

- You could feel how hard he was, his cock pressing into your hip as he mumbled. “Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

- His words made you groan, and your hand slid down between your bodies, cupping his bulge and palming it as he mouth moved to your neck, teeth scraping against your jugular as he groaned deeply.

-When the doors opened he pulled you out and down the hall to his room, hands trembling slightly as he unlocked the door and pushed you inside.

- Your lips met again in a searing kiss as he kicked the door shut behind him, your hands on his belt and tugging at the leather.

- Your eagerness to touch him and taste him was driving him insane, and he squeezed your hips roughly before pushing you back on his bed.

- He laid you out and undid his belt the rest of the way, revealing a gun that had been tucked into his waist and covered by his gray shirt.

- The sight gave you a tremor and he quickly stripped his clothes before working on yours, admiring every inch of skin that was revealed.

- He covered your body in eager kisses, mouth soft and more gentle that it had been earlier, mouth briefly teasing your nipples before dipping his head between your legs, his tongue not hesitating before tasting you.

- You had a death grip on his silver hair as he feasted on you, lips locked around your clit and fingers playing in your juices before slipping two inside, curling and roughly massaging your g-spot.

- Your cries and whines of pleasure spurred him on, and he finally pulled back once he had you cumming in his mouth, licking his lips and purring. “Wanna fuck you.”

- You were breathless and whining as he got between your legs and eased inside you, his cock stretching you and hitting the deepest parts.

-His gave you time to adjust before he started thrusting, nails digging into your skin as he pleasured you.

- His cock dragged against ever part of you, and your noises filled the room as he worked into you, nails digging into your skin.

-It was only a matter of time before you were cumming hard, walls soaking and clenching around him as you cried out.

- He filled you up shortly after, his deep groans echoing in the room before he pulled back and laid down, catching his breath and staring at the ceiling. He quietly took your hand and laced your fingers, squeezing and looking at you with a smile.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Vows - Part 1

cw: consentual blood drinking, cockwarming, accidental voyeurism, polyamory, more tags will be added as the story continues

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: 6k

Vows Masterlist

You kept your back straight, trying to maintain what little dignity you had left standing before the man on the throne in front of you. 

You lost all of that when he looked you up and down and gave you a simple command.

“Kneel.”

You bit your tongue, doing your very best to keep a pleasant look on your face as you got on your knees. He couldn’t know how much you hated him. You wouldn’t blow this. 

Your valiant attempt to hide your disdain didn’t seem to have the effect you’d hoped. He looked down at you, sneering, and said, “I was told you’ve been quite eager to get in here. You don’t look eager.”

“I am not in the practice of fawning over men I’ve just met.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes roaming over you, trying to get a read on you. 

His hair was dark, touched with hints of gray. His face was pale and smooth but not uncreased, particularly worn crow's feet in the corner of his eyes telling tales of a smile that you saw no signs of right now.

He looked down at you with eyes that looked faded, like a half-decayed corpse, and spoke through his fangs. “Why did you want to come here?”

You couldn’t pretend it was out of desire, he’d clearly seen right through that. So you tried another tactic. 

“I had nowhere else to go,” you admitted, looking up at him with sad eyes. 

His brows furrowed. “If you wanted shelter you could have asked for shelter, we would have given it. You took our vows. Why?”

He was right, you had. You’d signed your soul away. Your body too. For what, the chance to live in the home of a leech? You had no idea how anyone could agree to this, how he could have fooled any of the poor people who lived here, who he saw as dinner and as walking sex toys. It was dehumanizing. 

But it was also the easiest way to get close to him. To learn his secrets. 

His eyes softened as your gaze fell, your combative eye contact turning to something shyer, more nervous. 

“We don’t need to talk about that now. But you don’t need to be embarrassed, not here. And you certainly don’t need to be afraid. Whatever your reason, you’re here now, that won’t change unless you want it to.”

He rose from his throne and moved towards you, holding out his hand. You took it as you rose to your feet, not wanting to insult him any more than you apparently already had. 

“What can I call you?” you asked, still not having so much as a name for the man.

“Sir is fine.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at him. 

“Now,” he said, his hand still wrapped around yours, his grip firm but not strong enough that you couldn’t pull away if you really tried. “I should show you around.”

It wasn’t much of a tour. 

He took you through the halls, up a spiral staircase, and past what felt like dozens of doors without uttering so much as a word to you. 

The monotony of the tour was disrupted when a young man came barreling down the hall. He was dressed in all white, his hair a curly blond. It was a bit too long and he pushed it out of his eyes as he skidded to a halt only for it to fall dutifully back into place. 

“Hey Rook I…” He did a double-take as he saw you. “Oh, hello. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new.” Your tone was dry. You could tell from the two marks on his neck that he was one of the vampire’s disciples. You knew it wasn’t his fault he’d been fooled into staying here and fought the urge to resent him, to view anything associated with this monster as bad.

A massive smile took over his face. “Great, it’s always nice to have someone new around! I’m Oliver, by the way.”

“Hello.”

“Listen, I know it can be intimidating here at first but I promise he’s a sweetheart under all the dramatics,” he said, gesturing to the visibly frustrated man standing right next to him.

He didn’t take that well.

“You should run along,” Rook insisted, pressing a quick kiss into Oliver’s forehead and cutting off your conversation. “I think I’m going to have to give some special attention to this one.”

Oliver looked at the vampire with furrowed brows. “Okay. You’re being weird but okay.” He turned to you on his way out. “He’s not usually this weird, I promise. I mean, that’s not actually true, he’s always weird but like… different weird.”

“Oliver!” he hissed, his face twitching into what almost looked like embarrassment. 

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Just try not to scare them off.”

As you both watched them trail down the hallway, you turned to Rook and asked, “What happened to everyone calling you sir?”

“I didn’t say everyone had to call me that, I said you did,” he replied, an unmissable snideness in his tone.

Great, you’d been undercover for less than a day and he already didn’t like you.

You hadn’t had much further to go before your little interruption. Your room seemed to be only a few doors down. 

Rook held the door open for you, beckoning you inside. 

He stood in the doorway looking in at you, not entering the room. “The closet has clothes for you. That’s why we gathered your measurements after you took your vows, everything here should be perfectly fitted to you.”

“Thank you, Rook,” you said with a little curtsy.

“Sir,” he hissed at you, his fangs particularly evident as he spoke. 

“Rook,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

He conceded faster than you would have expected, a soft chuckle escaping him at your persistence. “Fine. Rook. Now get some rest. You can pick more of those fights you’re so desperate to pick with me in the morning.”

You immediately turned defensive, terrified of what he was implying. “No, I’m not… I just…”

“I’m not blind, and you have a worse poker face than you seem to think. I’m not worried, I’ve proved less understanding people than you wrong.”

“I really am sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” That much was true at least. You had a feeling your nerves wouldn’t subside until you left this god-forsaken place behind.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “We’ll work on that.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. What was intended to be reassuring felt threatening instead. Something about the way he spoke to you, all straight faces and hushed words, left everything he said feeling sinister. You decided that even if you didn’t know what he was, they would make you feel uneasy. 

It only left you more convinced he had the people here under some sort of spell. Surely he couldn’t have won them over, there must be something else at play. 

You’d half expected to be forced to stay with him your first night so you let out a sigh of relief as he turned without another word and left you in what appeared to be your own room. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think he had the space, this place could house hundreds, you just weren’t sure of his morals. Or how impatient he would be to test your loyalty to his vows. 

You patted at your side, ensuring you could still feel the notebook you’d sewn into your skirts before you came. 

It was fairly thin. It needed to be able to let it sit, undetected, in the fabric just below your hip.

You hiked up your skirts, pooling the fabric in one arm as the other reached down and grabbed the silver dagger that lay flush against the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t known where it would be able to lie safe and undetected or how thoroughly you would be checked. 

You opened the wardrobe to try and asses where you could go about hiding your contraband from now on, your prior hiding spacing being spoiled by your new host's insistence upon extravagance. 

You considered hiding it somewhere in your room but quickly dismissed the thought. At least with them on your person you’d know if you were discovered. With them in your room, you could be compromised and in danger and be none the wiser. 

There were more clothes in the wardrobe than you’d owned over the rest of your life combined. There were suits and pants and skirts and dresses of every length, even ones that didn’t quite feel appropriate. 

Your gaze was drawn from those scandalous dresses as you realized that some in this closet, shoved into the corner, were sheer. Those you discarded immediately, you wouldn’t give him the pleasure. 

Despite all the variety in clothing types, it all seemed a bit one note. You were stricken with endless patterns of black and white. There were a few in plain black or plain white that you gravitated towards but the rest were covered in patterns. Diamonds and stripes and checked skirts, it was enough to give you a headache. 

The colors and patterns felt aggressive and gaudy when confronted with a whole closet of them, but you couldn’t help but admit that they were beautifully made. The fabric was the softest you’d ever felt. 

You pulled out a black dress, the one that felt closest to what you were used to, and started to put it on. You’d been searching for places where you could sew in secret folds when your hand went right through the skirt and into a pocket. 

You pulled the skirt upwards to evaluate and noticed that the stitching was far rougher there than any of the other seams, looking not unlike your secret pockets you’d become adept at making lately. 

Their presence couldn’t help but worry you. Who had these belonged to before? Who had felt so unsafe here they’d been set on creating hiding spots close to them. 

Whoever they were, they had more sense than the rest of Rook’s victims. 

Your fingers ran over the handle of the knife as you shoved it into your new pockets instead of reattaching it to your thigh. It was safer there, better hidden, but you wanted it at hand. You’d been reassured you wouldn’t have to use it, not on your first mission, but it was always good to have. 

Just in case. 

Your knife was still stowed away but the notebook remained out. You still had work to do. 

Quickly, afraid someone may walk in on you at any moment, you scribbled out a summary of your first day here. It wasn’t much but you’d been told to take note of everything. Besides, you’d never hunted a vampire before, you didn’t know what details were important yet. 

As you completed and folded up your note, you rushed to the window, unlatching it and looking around quickly for anyone surveilling you.

You noted a distinct lack of onlookers at the same time a pigeon landed on the window frame. 

Your face lit up as you saw him, your dutiful little messenger a welcome familiar face in this horrible place. You cooed at him for a moment, giving him a soft pet down his back.

“You’re so good. Told them you could find your way to me.”

But you didn’t have time to fawn over him, you needed to get this note out of here as quickly as you could. 

You attached the note securely to his leg and sent him on his way, staying at the window and watching him until you could see him no longer. 

With your mission for the night completed and your little friend finally out of sight, you gave yourself permission to rest. 

Taking up most of the room was a massive bed, with black blankets pulled over white sheets and sheer black curtains hanging around it. 

The bed was so nice and perfect you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb it, instead curling up on top of the perfectly made bed in the house you didn’t belong in. 

You woke up with a jolt, already filled with adrenaline. The sun was shining through the window and you felt a pang in your chest at the implications of the fact that you had a window at all. He had to avoid the sun, it caused vampires pain and sapped them of most of their strength. Most avoided houses with windows entirely, wanting a space to hide away from it. 

But no, you’d been given a window. This really was your space, a space that half the time he was likely to avoid. 

You realized you’d slept in much later than you’d intended. So much for getting up early and poking around. 

For most vampires you’d be right where you needed to be, most of them were nocturnal but there were a lot of patterns Rook didn’t follow that most vampires did. 

He seemed to prefer following the sleep patterns of his disciples who lived with him, or at least you thought he did based on the little intel you had. 

It was his house so he didn’t need to be invited in anywhere. Instead, it had wardings that meant only those invited could step inside, hence why you were on your very first mission, all alone. You were the only one who’d never been in the limelight, who vampires wouldn’t know to watch out for so here you stood, invited inside with the rest of his little humans. 

If you couldn’t snoop, you should at the very least try and gather information from him. 

You stormed out of your room, set on gathering intel. 

You needed to have more to report this time. What you were doing wasn’t cutting it. You were supposed to be proving yourself and instead you were what, wandering around a mansion and picking petty fights?

You didn’t really know where he was so you took your best bet and headed down to the throne room. 

He wasn’t a ruler of anything, not really. It felt like it was more for his ego than anything. 

The massive wooden doors that led to it were shut with Oliver sitting on the ground beside them, like the world's least threatening guard. 

Upon closer inspection you realized he was knitting something, the pile of yarn next to him the same black and white as most of the things in this god-forsaken place. It didn’t help him appear more intimidating, that was for sure. 

As you reached for the door handle he made a noise of protest from his seat on the floor.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” he called out. “Rook said not to let anyone in.”

“I don’t care what Rook said,” you insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“I really wouldn’t if I were you…”

You left his calls of protest behind as you stormed into the room.

Rook was sitting on his throne, but he wasn’t alone. 

There was a girl in his lap. You couldn’t see her face, her back facing you as she straddled him. Her long, red hair hid most of her from your sight but it failed to cover her lower half and your face heated at the sight of her plush, unclothes thighs hugging his midsection, her dress hiked up around her waist. 

He pulled her head to rest on his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of both her face and neck, a trail of blood gently trickling down her side, staining her white dress bright red. From what you saw she looked completely out of it. You weren’t even sure she noticed you coming in. 

“Would you like something,” he prompted, his arm wrapped protectively around the girl on his lap. Something in you churned at the sight and you forced it back down. 

You didn’t say a word, turning on your heels and storming right back out of the room. 

Oliver looked up at you, fighting back a smile as the heavy door fell shut behind you.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, amusement radiating off of him and you wondered if maybe everyone in this god-forsaken place was an asshole. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon seething. You weren’t even entirely sure about what, to be honest, just spending most of your time pacing and feeling generally upset. 

When Rook finally decided to show his face, you let it all out on him. 

The second he entered the room you were chewing him out. “What the fuck was that? Do you have to be getting your dick wet and feeding constantly? I mean, christ, it’s my first day here!”

He countered your aggression with a roll of his eyes. “You’re mad at me? Maybe if you listened to Oliver it wouldn’t have happened.” 

You avoided his gaze sheepishly. He was right, this was your fault. Your anxiety about this whole situation was manifesting as anger and you needed to get it under control. For the sake of the mission. 

“If you want to be rude to me, fine,” he continued, “but do not be rude to these people. They’ve done nothing but welcome you here.”

“It’s alright if I’m rude to you?”

“For now. I foresee that changing in the future but I don’t mind a challenge.”

Is that what he thought you were doing? Playing hard to get? It bought you time so you went along with it, wondering how long it would be before his patience snapped and you no longer had a choice

Your thoughts drifted back to the redheaded girl. His body language had read as protective but she’d been bleeding and she didn’t even seem to react to you coming in. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the worst-case scenario. 

“How many people live here?” You asked, trying to get him to reveal if she was one of his pet humans or someone disposable, someone you should start quietly mourning.

“Right now? You’re met both of them. Well, met is a strong word, more like rudely stormed in on.”

If she lived here, she was probably alright. You’d do your best to find a way to check in on her, just to be safe.

At the revelation that only two humans lived here, you thought back to the only face you’d expected to see within these walls. “The man who measured me, the one who permitted me inside and made me take my vows. Where is he? Petyr, I think his name was.”

He was an older man, you’d guess late 50’s. He’d been a calming force when you’d met him, making your mission seem less daunting with the power of pleasant conversation, even if you couldn’t admit any of your real intentions to him. 

You would’ve appreciated his presence. Your only hope was that Rook hadn’t already gotten to him.

“He’s traveling,” Rook explained, a faraway look entering his already glassy eyes. “He always wanted to see the world. He’s spent far too many decades trapped in here with me so I sent him off to see it.”

You scoffed. “So that’s it? He got too old and you sent him off? You just discard your little lovers when they’re not young enough for you anymore?”

He looked genuinely hurt by the accusation. “You don’t know anything. I’d give the world for him to be here, for them all to be here. But they have lives to live, certainly more than I do. They’ve more than earned their dreams, I just try to help with the ones I can.”

At the clicking sound of approaching heels, you glanced down the hallway to see a woman with familiar long locks of ginger hair striding towards you. 

“I’m done taking insults from you. Play nice with her,” he hissed.

“Or else?”

He didn’t answer before storming off, leaving you to get acquainted with the redhead you’d already seen far too much of.

You turned back to her and saw her looking longingly after him as if she didn’t want to be left alone with you. Part of you couldn’t help but take offense to that. He was the monster, not you. If anything, you were going to be her savior. 

She let out a nervous giggle as she shifted her gaze from the hallway where your host had disappeared back down to her dress, a new one without blood dripping down it. “I’m sorry about earlier. Not the most dignified meeting we could have had.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have been in there.” The mark on her neck had already begun to fade, healing much faster than a regular wound. However, you knew it would never fully heal, his mark would be on her skin for the rest of her life, claiming her. 

“Regardless, I'm sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like that until much later, our third meeting at least.”

She smiled at her own joke and you could help but mirror it. 

“I’m Vivian, by the way. It really is lovely to meet you.” Her smile was so genuine it was hard to not have an immediate fondness for her. 

“It’s good to meet you too. Can I ask, are you alright?” You asked as you stared at the wound on her neck, the blood that had been spilling down her before completely absent except for that small reminder of its presence.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little embarrassed. Rook says I shouldn’t be but you’re the first new person who’s come since I arrived, I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“No, not that. You just seemed out of it in there, he didn’t hurt you did he?”

“What, Rook? No, of course not. He was taking good care of me, I promise. Has he talked to you about when you want him to drink from you yet? It really isn’t scary, I promise. He’s very gentle.”

“People keep saying that to me and yet I haven’t seen any proof. He’s been nothing but an ass to me.”

That threw her off balance. “He has?”

“I think he thinks I’m a bit obstinate,” you said, hoping that was all it was. The alternative was that he’d become suspicious of you and that was something you couldn’t abide by.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she insisted. “He doesn’t mind a bit of pushback. God knows Oliver can be a handful and I’ve never even seen him get upset.”

“Well, he’s been plenty upset at me.”

“I’m sure you two just got off on the wrong foot,” she insisted. “He’s a little rough around the edges sometimes but hey, who here isn’t, right?”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment. 

She picked up on your reaction immediately. “No, I didn’t mean… It’s just, we’re all running from something, right?”

You nodded. You needed to stop being so aggressive, you were standing out far too much. “Yeah, of course, you’re right.”

“It’s alright,” she said, resting a reassuring hand on your arm. “It took me ages to get used to this place too. Try not to worry too much, it’ll feel like home before you know it.”

You doubted that.

Vivian wandered off, saying something about taking a nap and you retreated to your room. 

You were a mess. It felt like every time you tried to do anything here it ended up being a disaster that got you one step closer to being caught. You collapsed backwards on your bed, set on hiding in your room until morning. 

The universe seemed to have other plans.

A knock sounded at your door and you called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Oliver, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, not even waiting for you to call him in and he stared down at you, collapsed on top of your blankets. 

“Good your still dressed,” he said, extending a hand to help yank you to your feet. “You’re having dinner with Rook at sunset.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with him and of what ‘dinner’ could entail for a vampire. 

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped back.

“Too bad. He said, and this is a direct quote, ‘they wanted to speak to me so fucking badly earlier, let’s give them an opportunity.’”

Oliver’s persistence in inviting you made sense, it didn’t sound like an offer one was allowed to refuse.

“Go hang out with Viv in the meantime or something, it’s awfully lonely in here,” he said, not waiting for a response before setting out on the move again. It was almost like he was allergic to standing still. 

You followed his advice, figuring you wouldn’t be able to relax knowing what was coming anyways. 

Vivian wasn’t hard to find, although you wouldn’t exactly say you found her. One second you were wandering down empty hallways and the next second she was behind you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Hello,” she said, her persistent warmth immediately setting you at ease, even if her sudden appearance had frightened you. 

Vivian was an easy person to get along with. You spent the next few hours milling about with her, not talking about much of importance but passing the time much easier. 

She seemed determined to make you feel welcome. It was nice, feeling like you have a friend here, even if she could never be an ally. 

Oliver and Rook were entirely absent as you and Vivian wandered about. You made sure not to open any firmly shut doors this time. 

After a few hours, the moment you dreaded arrived. Vivian poked her head out the velvet curtains that were covering the nearest window and grinned at you. 

“Alright, Oliver said to send you down right about now. It’s right down that hallway.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down the dark hallway. Vivian didn’t seem to quite understand the magnitude of your anxiety, excitedly shooing you down towards the door. 

You entered a room that looked almost exactly like what you’d expect from a dining room in a house this big. The table was massive, spanning the humungous room. 

Something you hadn’t expected to see was the number of chairs. 

The table was completely devoid of them except for one Rook was sitting at right at the head of the table and another right next to him. 

You sat beside him, having no other choice in the matter. 

“This massive house and you can’t afford more chairs?”

“They were removed. It’s hard to talk all the way across the room.”

You resented the fact that he refused to even give you the option. 

The chairs that remained looked heavy and you couldn’t help but imagine Oliver and Rook desperately trying to push them out of the room in order to trap you next to him. Despite the less than optimal outcome, you had to fight back a smile at the mental image. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, cutting through your daydreams of him. 

“Fine,” you responded bluntly. 

“Are you sure? Your bed was still made.”

You were suddenly very glad your knife and notebook were stashed in your pocket. “Why were you in my room? How did you even get in, I left the window wide open.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked embarrassed and you got the sense that he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it instead of being pale and cold. “Well, we don’t exactly have staff here, they’re too scared of me to come. Everyone mostly takes care of their own tidying but I look after the rooms of newcomers. And I just covered up until I could get the drapes closed, it’s not the easiest way to move but I only have to travel the length of a room.”

Your accusation suddenly felt cruel. There was something so earnest about his words, something sheepish at the fact that he was picking up after you. “Oh. Okay. Well, the bed was just so lovely and made so well, it felt rude to mess it up.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate my bed-making skills but I promise I don’t mind if you sleep under the covers. That is what they’re made for.”

The conversation put you more at ease, feeling less like you’d been brought here to be interrogated and more like this was a ploy from Rook to make you like him. It almost felt worse this way, the way he seemed to be trying to hide his eagerness to make you feel welcomed. 

You looked down at the plate of food in front of you, finally convinced it was probably safe to eat, and noticed that it was the only one on the table. The spot in front of Rook was entirely empty. 

“You’re not going to eat?” you asked as you took a bite of the food. It made you a little angry how good it was and for some undiscernible reason, you hoped Oliver had made it. Like that would make it alright that you’d enjoyed it. 

He shook his head. “Can’t. Solid food are beyond me I’m afraid.”

“Why would you invite me to dinner then,” you asked, baffled by the decision.

“It seemed like a good time to talk. Besides, it’s a good way to make sure you eat. Viv is very concerned about you, says you’re not handling all this very well.”

She might’ve been right to be. With everything going on, eating had been the last thing on your mind. “I’m just nervous,” you justified weakly. 

“So you keep saying.”

He watched you eat, studying you as you made your way through the dish. Finally, you grew tired of his observation and set down the fork. 

“I can’t help but wonder, am I playing right?”

“Playing? This isn’t a game.”

“Yes, it is.” you insisted. “All of this has been, despite the fact that you declined to inform me of it. I think you like when it's a game. So am I playing correctly or have I already lost?”

“You barely know me and yet you pretend to know so much.”

“Am I wrong?”

“About this? No. Might be a first since you entered this place but you are not wrong.”

You scoffed. “What do you want from me?”

“You came here. You act as if I forced you into my home.”

“And you let me in. But you’re not making me give you anything so what do you want, why am I here? Why should I want to win?”

“I want you to trust me. That’s where this has to start.”

“And where does it end?”

“That depends on you. If you keep behaving like this it might end with you never trusting me.”

You worried when that end might be. “So I am losing. Good to know, And of course I don’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Alright then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking up before he could manage to suppress his smile. “Go on.”

“With what?”

“Getting to know me.”

This was your opportunity, he’d just all but given you permission to ask all the questions you wanted. Not wanting to let the chance pass you by, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So you drink blood.”

He smiled, baring his fangs at you as he did. “See, you know some things about me.”

“Are you going to drink from me?” you pressed on, refusing to let him steer you off track. 

“If you want me to.”

“And if I don’t? Isn’t that what you brought us here for?”

He scoffed. “I’m building a community here, not a buffet.” 

You just continued on with your questions. “Do you kill people?” 

“Not unless it’s self-defense, same as most people I’d assume.” He chuckled as he answered but you didn’t find it funny. 

“Let me rephrase then. Have you killed people?”

“Noone who didn’t try and kill me first.” That answer he didn’t chuckle through. 

He looked you right in the eyes as he stated it. It felt like a promise. You just weren’t certain if it was a promise not to hurt you or a promise of what would happen if you tried to hurt him.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you said. You didn’t have to do much acting to appear nervous around him but you hoped it might help. Maybe if he knew you were afraid of him he’d give you space.

“You should. Vampires can’t lie.”

You perked up at that. “Is that true?” you asked incredulously.

He just raised his eyebrows and gave you a shit-eating grin.

You had half a mind to throw something at him. 

He didn’t apologize for his stupid little joke, which was well enough because you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Instead, his eyes darted down to your half-finished dinner. 

“You going to finish that?”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t be like that, we were having fun! You were playing the game. Well, if you’re really done, come on,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’ll show you the gardens. You’ll like them. Everyone does.”

There were few decisions you could’ve made that felt as deeply ill-advised as going on a walk with him, alone, as the sun had already set. 

You told yourself it was because there wasn’t an easy way out but honestly, you weren’t so sure, and you took his hand. 

He led you outside, the grip on your hand less firm than it had been last time. 

“Where are the flowers,” you asked when confronted with walls of bushes as the two of you stepped outside. 

“There aren’t flowers. It’s a hedge maze.” 

You snorted out a laugh. “Why do you have a hedge maze?”

“Every self-respecting mansion has a hedge maze.”

“That’s absurd,” you insisted.

“Well, maybe I’m absurd. Either way, absurd or not, everyone loves the hedge maze. Want to give it a try.”

The idea of being lost and alone, or worse, lost and with Rook, wasn’t exactly appealing to you. “Not really.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I have more questions for you,” you said, figuring you should at least take advantage of this alone time that you’d foolishly agreed to. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I hope they’re more fun than your last ones.”

“Can you actually turn into a bat?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Can I see?”

“No. Maybe someday but that’s something I only do with people I trust and as someone very cross with me once said, I can’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay. Another question then. What’s with all the black and white?”

“Don’t you like it? It feels fitting to me. The light and the dark, the wars that are waged, reflected on everything here.”

Your nose scrunched up as he talked, waxing poetic about two colors that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care about. 

As he went on, you began to put some of the pieces together as he spoke. “Your name is Rook too. That wasn’t your given name I assume.”

“My favorite chess piece. Honest, direct, noble.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting him off before he could start rambling again. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t impose your weird chess thing on us. Some of us like colors.”

“My weird chess thing?” His voice cracked as he questioned you, snorting out a laugh at your comment. “You are so rude, where were you raised?”

You clutched your chest in mock pain. “Sorry, not all of us were raised in a mansion Rook.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize most people went around insulting one another so freely.”

“I think you’d be surprised. If you went out in the world wearing some of those outfits you gave me I think you’d hear some choice words thrown your way.”

The thought inspired yet another question from you. “When you talked about needing a special outfit to close the window, is it like, a big sun hat? A black and white one of course.” 

“More like a sheet ghost.”

You giggled and he laughed along with you, looking down at you fondly and with some undeniable smugness present on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, quickly snuffing out your laughter. 

 “You’re not afraid. It’s the first time since you got here that you weren’t terrified of me.”

You hadn’t even noticed that the bubbling fear that lived in your chest had faded out as the two of you had spoken, “How could you possibly tell?” 

“I can smell it. All those chemicals in your blood.” 

“Stop smelling my blood,” you practically shouted, smacking at him.

He let out an almost boyish laugh as he dodged your attack. “I can’t help it, that’s like asking you to stop smelling the flowers.”

“There are no flowers,” you pointed out.

“Well, in theory. I can’t just turn it off. Trust me, if I could I would.”

After a moment of thought he added, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Not a clue.”

“It means I won. This battle, at least.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

A tempest of competing emotions fought in your chest. You were a fool, you were giving in to him. The hunters didn’t want you here for this exact reason, he must be hypnotizing you or something. 

That felt more believable than you having a pleasant conversation with him. 

With his victims? Maybe. They were people with souls, albeit misguided people. But not with him.

You felt like you were losing control. Of all the things you’d imagined when you got here, this was the furthest thing from your mind and yet you couldn’t deny it, especially after he’d as much as said it.

You’d stopped being afraid of him, for however brief a moment. 

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - how they propose

a/n: I got inspo to write this when dates dropped for the tour! i am not officialy in posession of a pre-sale code and im hoping to get some good tickets!! i will come back with an update (LA moa's lets talk :) anyways, please enjoy! this piece was meant to be really sweet and even silly at times so please let me know what you think of it! as always, inbox is open.

yeonjun

at a fancy dinner

yeonjun is really excited when it comes to fancy, romantic outings but this one was going to be the best one of all. Of course, that’s because of his proposal plans. He is definitely the kind of guy that sort of spoils it or gives hints because he tells you to go out and get your nails, hair, etc… done. especially emphasizes getting your nails done. He covers it up by saying he loves seeing you all pretty and pampered but deep down, you sort of know what he’s hinting at. Anyways, moving on to dinner. He takes you to a fancy new restaurant that just opened in the city. It was on the top floor of some fancy building. There was a view of the city from where you both were seated at a small booth. He was sitting right next to you and talking your ear off about the day he’d had at work. He didn;t even drink, opting to let you order a drink so he can drive home. He buys you whatever you want to eat and watches you enjoy your food with those adorable, lovesick eyes. You whine at him to stop watching you but he says he can’t help but watch the love of his life. Eventually, he takes you out onto the patio of this restaurant and it was pretty empty since there were only a few more couples around. He takes in the view with you and asks you to take a cute video with him. He sets up his phone at a good angle and presses the record. He goes back to you and kisses your cheek. He takes your distraction as an opportunity to pull the ring out of his pants pocket and when he pulls away, he gets down on one knee and proposes. “Will you do me the biggest favor ever and be my Mrs. Choi?” 

soobin 

at home

Soobin was never one for big romantic gestures and he was happy that you were okay with it. His ideal date was at home, snuggled up on the couch or in a pillow fort, watching movies or playing video games together. sure, he did take you on little outings once in a while but he preferred staying home. When it came to his proposal plans, his logic was to stay home, plan and cook a little dinner and use all the extra money to buy you the prettiest ring he could find. He loved the whole ring shopping process “i know this probably isn't from some of the members. anyways, he tells you of his date plans for the night and you were into it. He tells you to dress normally with one of his hoodies and your favorite sweatpants or leggings (soobin loves your legs in leggings btw. he said so). you come in and he is dressed relaxed as well in those gray sweats you liked and a t-shirt you gave him as part of his birthday gift. He serves your dinners and then he takes you to his bed, getting comfortable together. after one episode of that new anime the both of you had started, he turns over to get something from his nightstand. he shuffles to sit on his knees and reveals the box to you, opening it shortly after. "i know this probably isn't the best proposal but we’ve had such a nice night. I love spending time at home with you. can we be homebodies together, forever?'' You nod and hug him super tight and he returns the hog. He gives you a sweet kiss after putting the ring on your finger and you two go back to watching your show and cuddling.

beomgyu

theme / amusement park

This man is so cute when it comes to a proposal. Let’s just say for the sake of this story that he takes you on an LA trip and you both have a knotts berry farm day! You two decided to skip out on disney because you two have already been together on a previous trip. You both also really wanted to see all of the snoopy memorabilia. You both have an amazing day getting on rides, drinking boysenberry juice and talking to each other the whole time. He loves seeing you so happy so he never says no to you not once that whole day. He lets you drag him to all of the performances happening at the park and even lets you take a picture of him with Snoopy, making finger guns at one another. As the day starts to wind down, you both decided to go souvenir shopping. Huening specifically requested a snoopy t-shirt so you both went to find him one. Beomgyu asks you to pick the t-shirt and he stays behind to find a snoopy plush to include in his proposal. He finds one and pays for it, as well as the requested souvenir you picked. He takes you back out to the park and you both take a seat to rest for a while before leaving the park. You take out your phone and dont notice when he turns around. He takes the plush out of the store bag and the ring out of his bag. He puts it in the plushies hand and turns back around. He taps your shoulder and you are met with a snoopy with an engagement ring in his hand. “Will you marry me, pretty lady?” he says in a high pitched voice and you gasp so loud that people turn around to look. You are absolutely red but you nod and beomgyu makes the plush put the ring on your finger. You call him a dork but he doesn't mind. He's your dork, forever. 

taehyun

at the beach

you and taehyun went to the beach often. it was always so quiet, especially when you two visited at night. These outings were frequent, especially when you both went to travel somewhere different. In this case though, you were both home in Korean. Taehyun was on a small break during the summer time before their next tour and he decided that now was as good as ever to propose. He drove the both of you to your favorite beach at around 8pm. On the way there, you both made stops to get dinner and then to pick up some snacks to enjoy while hanging out at the beach. Once you both get there, Taehyun sets up your beach blanket and you both sit down, starting to snack on some grapes. Taehyun took about 30 minutes before he decided to ask you. He scoots close to you and pulls the little box out of his bag. you give him a confused look and he opens it, looking at your shocked reaction. He wanted to give a whole speech but his words got stuck in his throat when he saw your reaction. you say yes to him and he hugs you, slipping the ring on after.

huening kai

in your hometown / family dinner

I think kai is really big when it comes to family so having your family present for such a big event was important for him. Not only that, it was also really important for him to get along with your family and have their approval. So, during this trip to your hometown over a winter break, he sends you off to go shopping with your close cousin/sibling. He takes this opportunity to gather the rest of your family and ask for their approval to propose to you and of course they say yes! They even help him plan a whole thing. They were excited to see that he loved you a lot and cared enough to ask for their opinions and approval. This especially swayed your parents, who came up to him after and had a little chat with him about what they’d do if he ever hurt you. Moving on….you come back home from shopping and you show kai all your finds! Later on that night, your family is all gathered together in the backyard around a bonfire, having drinks and chatting. After a little while, your family gives kai strange looks and you’re sitting there absolutely confused. Kai looked over at you and smiled, “hey baby. I wanna ask you something. Will you do me a big honor and marry me?” he pulls out the ring and as soon as you say yes, he slips it on your finger and everyone cheers!

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 1: Firsts

Word Count: 883/Rating: G/Pairing: None/CW: brief mention of financial hardships/Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, first concert

Divider credit to @silkholland

The first time Eddie Munson went to a concert–a real concert, not Hawkins Middle School’s annual talent show–was a night he would never forget.

Granted, it wasn’t the traditional concert experience. He didn’t see Black Sabbath’s members as they took to the stage, the lights illuminating Ozzy as he captivated the audience with only raw vocals and a microphone, the thousands of Bic-powered flames scattered throughout the cheering crowd when the band played “Iron Man.” But nothing about Eddie’s life was traditional thus far, and it was only right that this concert followed suit.

He’d first seen the advertisement in the record store one Saturday afternoon, three months’ worth of allowance in one hand and Van Halen’s self-titled album clutched in the other. The flier showed two pilots in their jumpsuits, standing in front of a fighter jet, with the following text in big, bolded letters:

BLACK SABBATH’S NEVER SAY DIE! TOUR TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12 @ 8 PM INDIANA CONVENTION CENTER TICKETS ON SALE NOW!

Eddie shoved the crumpled dollar bills at the cashier, waiting only to collect his change before bolting towards his uncle’s rusted Chevy.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie climbed into the passenger seat with a toothy grin. “Black Sabbath’s comin’ to Indianapolis! Can we go?”

Wayne glanced at his twelve-year-old nephew’s eager face, his heart lurching with the news he knew he had to deliver. “I’m sorry, kid. Money’s tight, and the plant still hasn’t given me back the hours they cut during the recession…” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

Never one to be deterred, Eddie pressed on. “What if I save my allowance every week? I won’t even buy lunch; I can just get chips from the vending–”

“You ain’t skipping lunch,” Wayne interjected sharply. “I bust my ass to keep you from going hungry, and I sure ain’t gonna let it happen over a concert. Is that clear?” He didn’t look away until Eddie nodded. “Besides, one ticket’ll cost more than you can save, let alone two.”

The boy slumped in his seat, record snug against his chest, but the argument faded from his lips. He knew Wayne was right; even tickets in the nosebleeds would be well out of his price range.

Eddie had mostly forgotten about the concert by September 12, his mind occupied with learning new songs on the acoustic guitar he’d thrifted. Despite constantly falling out of tune, it wasn’t a bad find.

Wayne was waiting for him in the trailer doorway when he got home from band practice, an unusual occurrence. He was normally sleeping when Eddie came home from school, trying to rest before a night shift.

“Is everything okay?” He didn’t remember having a doctor’s appointment, and the only other reason his uncle would be awake at this hour was… “Did someone die?”

Wayne shook his head and chuckled. “No one died. We’re just taking a little road trip.”

“To where?”

“You’ll see.”

After a long ride involving two separate McDonalds drive-thrus (Eddie was a growing boy, after all) and four separate bathroom breaks (in hindsight, the extra-large Pepsi wasn’t a great choice), they pulled into the convention center parking lot.

Wayne turned to his nephew. “Now, I don’t want you gettin’ too excited,” he started, but he was unable to mask the twinkle in his own eyes, “‘cause this ain’t exactly what you asked for. But you’re gonna follow my lead, and don’t say a word.”

“Are we seeing Black Sab–”

“What’d I say?” Wayne raised his bushy, graying brows. “Not a word.”

Eddie nodded silently, trailing behind his uncle as they walked into the venue. His eyes widened at the throngs of people waiting in the lobby. Everything was just so…big. 

“Now we wait,” Wayne whispered. Eddie didn’t bother asking what, exactly, they were waiting for. It only took a few minutes for the perfect moment to arise–the sound of fist striking jaw, security guards rushing to separate the two drunk men and leaving the entrance understaffed.

The older Munson gestured for Eddie to follow him, weaving through the sea of people until they reached the doors to the arena.

“Show’s sold out,” Wayne explained softly, “so we’re gonna stay out here, walk around, and try not to get caught.” He laughed when Eddie stared in disbelief that his straight-laced uncle was sneaking into a concert. “I used to have fun, y’know. I wasn’t always a hardass.”

Eddie smiled, the happiness thrumming in his belly growing to a stampede when he heard the crowd roar and the beginning notes of “Symptom of the Universe.” The music filled his bones and coursed through his veins, blanketing him in a warmth he’d never before experienced. He closed his eyes and pressed his ear to the wall, absorbing the vibrations from the deafening noise inside.

“I’m gonna be in there one day,” he murmured, “but not in the crowd. I’m gonna be on the stage.”

“Do I get backstage passes?” Wayne asked.

Eddie opened his eyes, not realizing that he’d spoken those thoughts aloud. Crimson colored his cheeks as he launched himself into his uncle’s arms. It had been awhile since they’d hugged like this, not since Eddie had developed the false sense of machismo that comes with entering junior high. His answer was soft but definite.

“At every show.”

--

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Ao3 | 3.6k Words | Freelancer's POV

Gabriel Shaw raised his son in this fire house, in this office as Captain. And Asher’s dad was his lieutenant. And Milo’s dad was the beat cop who would divert his route to clear a scene when he heard the 10-19 was on a call. The house was fill of lineage, full of families of firefighters and their sons.

It was a lineage that you weren’t a part of.

_

Firefighter/EMT au. Darlin is still the black sheep. Quinn is still a problem. Sam is still a healer, of sorts. He still heals them, in a way.

TW: blood and injury, medical talk, burn out, passing out from exhaustion, generally dissatisfaction when receiving medical care, refusal of medical care

It was the winter after you flunked out of medical school and you were buttoning up the starched, navy EMT uniform shirt that you’d received a few hours before. Gavin thought that this was a good idea when you’d pitched it, but not for the reasons you’d brought up. You originally wanted to be an EMT as an appeal to your mother, who had, upon your withdrawal from school, languished that her youngest was as much of a disappointment as their older siblings. 

Your sister was a school teacher. Your brother was an artist. By ‘disappointment ,’ Mom meant ‘ not a doctor or lawyer .’

But you couldn’t stay in med school. You tried, you did. You took yourself as far as you could go. You pushed, pushed, tried so fucking hard. You didn’t sleep, skipped meals and social hour and ignored your phone when your friends called. And you were perfect. Straight A’s right up until the end. 

And then Damien found you on the floor of your kitchen at the end of finals week. You’d burned as long and as bright as you could, but by the end, all you were was burnt out. 

Your boys dragged you kicking and screaming to unenrollment. 

Two months later, Gavin insisted that you do something. Not for the money, that wasn’t an issue. What he’d already earned off of his OnlyFans could carry you two for the rest of your lives, let alone what he was yet to make. When you two got serious, Gavin made it clear that you didn’t have to work, that you could leave school and chase a passion, chase a dream. But all you had was medical textbooks and the hazy vision of being a surgeon of some type some day. You wanted to put that prefix in front of your name, hang up your diploma in the living room so everybody could see it. 

You didn’t know if you loved medicine. You thought that you probably just loved a job well done. 

Your hair was a mess. You smoothed it down in the little mirror affixed to the door of your locker. You caught sight of your surname embroidered in gold on the breast of your uniform shirt. Sam had gotten it done the day after your interview. Vincent said that he’d never seen Sam be so sure of something so fast. 

It was no use staring at your reflection. You’d always find something to tweak if you squinted hard enough. You shut your locker and made your way out of the bunk room. 

Station 10-19 was nice, very nice. A huge locker room, individual shower stalls, full sized beds with pressed white sheets. The kitchen had two ovens, a huge fridge, and the biggest pantry you’d ever seen. The firehouses you’d visited while getting certified were much smaller, much less impressive. All of this must have cost a fortune. 

“Shaw’s a master of budget balancing,” Vincent had told you that afternoon during your tour. “I swear, the dude spends hours sitting in his office crunching numbers. It’s honestly a little worrying.” 

You’d met David Shaw in your interview, but Sam Collins was your direct report. Shaw was a big dude, but after meeting a few of the other firefighters, you just started considering yourself scrawny. The whole firehouse was full of mutant giants.

Everybody was nice, but Vincent acted like he’d just gained a new best friend when he’d introduced himself that afternoon. He was a tall, slender man with bright gray eyes and a sharp smile. You recognized his last name, Solaire. His dad was the chief of surgery at Daliah General, the only level one trauma center in the area. It was your top pick for your residency. 

Solaire wasn’t a common name, but if Vincent was the son of a two time Harper-Avery winner, he didn’t show it. He moved with a cool confidence, and seemed to have that same confidence in you. He spoke to you like you knew what you were doing. Which, to be fair, you did. You just weren’t used to people treating you like it. 

“Don’t let Sam’s grumpy attitude fool you,” Vincent grinned as he led you towards the ambulance. “He’s a softy. A bit rough around the edges, but soft for sure.” 

You couldn’t imagine Sam Collins being soft, but you smiled and nodded anyway. Vincent showed you where everything was on the bus, and then reiterated the few things that you would likely actually use. The compression machine, the heart monitor, the AMBU bag. 

When the first code blared in your ears just as Vincent finished shoving everything back into their assigned cubbies. He grinned and patted you on the back, jumping up to the front and hopping on the radio as he revved the bus’s engine. 

Sam made his appearance a few seconds later, hopping into the bus and pointing you towards one of the two passenger seats in the back, strapping himself in. He nodded for you to do the same. 

It was quiet for a long time. Vincent called a few things into the radio before shouting back to Sam. 

“Single vic, third story apartment. Not sure the extent of the injuries. Landlord just found a blood trail.” 

“Let’s prep for a GSW and a laceration.” Sam replied. He grabbed for a few things within reach and threw them into his jump bag. “BleedStop’s over your head, Probie, grab me a few.” He held out his hand. It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. You jerked and reached up blindly, coming back with a few red and white packages. 

“Are these standard issue?” You asked softly, flipping one over in your hand. You heard Vincent laughing from up front. Sam grinned. 

“You were in medical school?” Sam asked after a few minutes. You nodded. “Internal medicine, peds…”

“Surgical.” You answered his unasked question. You ducked your head, looked away. Sam was quiet for a long moment. “I was four years into my residency when I called it quits.” He said. When you looked up, he was focused on the computer output, a pinch in his brow. You didn’t dare ask a question, break his concentration, but something in your chest eased. 

After roughly three minutes of sirens wailing and lights flashing, Vincent pulled up outside of a dilapidated, five story apartment building. This was the sort of street that you would refuse to let Gavin walk down alone, the sort of area you wanted Huxley next to you in. You shivered and kept close to Vincent as he loaded a jump bag on each of your shoulders. 

“It’ll be bloody.” Sam cracked his neck in anticipation. “Just keep your cool. You don’t gotta do much this time around, Probie. Watch the two of us closely and try to keep up.” You nodded sharply and followed him into the building. 

The landlord was waiting for you in the lobby (if this could be called a lobby). He was a short, round man with more bald spot than hair. He was tapping something out on his phone, the font blown up to such a big size you could read his message from this distance. You politely avoided looking at it, instead planting your gaze between his bushy eyebrows and trying to carry an air of confidence about you. 

“Finally,” he huffed, attaching his phone to the little plastic holster on his belt, “took you guys long enough. It’s upstairs, third floor.” He slammed a set of keys into Sam’s hand and turned on his heel, retreating through an office door. You heard the lock slide in place before any of you could say anything. 

“We’ve got the fastest response times in Dahlia.” Sam shouted after him, his face twisted up with annoyance. “Come on,” he turned towards the elevator and took a deep, calming breath. His rugged features somehow looked more handsome when pinched with frustration. The line between his eyebrows was present even as his face relaxed. 

The elevator doors opened to a pool of drying, congealing blood. Vincent whistled, shaking his head. 

“Dude,” he had the nerve to laugh, “these people really don’t like being alive. Whoever this is should have gone straight to the hospital.” The three of you piled in, stepping carefully around the blood. It resulted in you being awkwardly pressed against three separate walls. Vincent stretched to press the button for the third floor. 

“Look at where we are.” You waved your hand around the concerningly rickety elevator. “If they can only afford to live here, I’d bet they don’t have health insurance either.” 

Vincent’s face slackened in confusion, as though that thought had never occurred to him. 

“Dahlia Gen has a free clinic for that very reason.” Sam said. The elevator groaned and he caught the handrail nervously.

The blood trail continued when the doors opened, leading you straight to the vic’s apartment. The door was painted a sloppy brown color, the latest in a long line of landlord-specials. It was peeling around the corners, revealing white, beige, yellow, green…

Sam inspected the door for a few seconds before leaning into his radio. 

“Engine Two to Dispatch, confirm no PD?” He kept his voice low. His radio crackled as a voice called back. 

“Confirmed, Engine Two.” Dispatch replied. “Paramedics were the only ones called to the scene.” Sam sighed softly and scratched his head. 

“Cap?” Vincent asked. 

“Proceed with caution.” Sam replied. “You two stay behind me. We don’t make any moves until we see what we’re dealing with.” 

Sam stepped up to the door and knocked hard, three times, with the side of his fist. “DFD,” he shouted, “Paramedics, open up!”

There was no reply. 

“Hello!” Sam called again. “Paramedics!” 

Something shifted behind the door. You heard a curse, a stumble. Sam backed up and herded you and Vincent away from the door. 

It swung open wide. The apartment inside was dark and barren, like somebody had just moved in. A slumped figure was leaning against the doorway. You could see where the bloodtrail was coming from. Their hand was pressed firmly against their side. The steady drip of their blood against the floor made your stomach turn.

Were you really ready for this? Maybe medical school wasn’t so bad. 

“What?” They growled. Their shoulders were tensed and drawn up to their ears. 

“Jesus.” Sam breathed. He was stunned into silence for a moment, but only a moment. He jerked and then moved slow, indicating his movements boldly, so as not to surprise them. 

Even hunched over and bleeding, they cut an intimidating figure. Clad in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a muscle tee, you could see every inch of lean muscle and scar tissue that made them up. They were as tall as most of the firefighters in the 10-19. You thought they’d fit right in against Lieutenant Talbot’s frame, that they could hold their own in a fist fight against Captain Shaw. 

“You can leave.” They spat, their teeth lined with blood. They had something wild in their eyes, and you were concerned for a moment that they would lash out at Sam to get him away. He held strong, though, didn’t back down or look away. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re bleeding.” He pointed to their hand and cocked his head to the side. 

“This is private property.” They gritted out, close to a growl. 

“Private property owned by your landlord.” Sam nodded. “Who called us. You gonna bleed out on your feet or are you gonna let us in?” He put a hand out to steady them as they listed to the side. They jerked away from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” They snapped, curling in on themself. 

“Well, excuse me for trying to help you!” He held his hands up in surrender, telegraphing his movements even as he griped. “Keep barkin’ at me like that and I’ll let you bleed out.” 

“Yeah well, my bite’s much worse.” They managed. They had gone a bit green and, when Sam reached for them again, they didn’t protest. 

“Well, ain’t you just darlin’.” Sam drawled. His face had gone serious, his focus pulled to the blood dripping down their side and the leg of their pants. “Come on, let’s get you sat down before you fall out.” 

Sam started steering them towards the patch-covered couch that sat in the center of the room. The apartment was a studio, although even that felt like a generous description. It was, really, a dingy, gray box. A sink sat dry in one corner next to a mini fridge and a poor excuse for a counter space. There was no bed, just the dirty, brown couch that looked as though it had been pulled from off the curb. A large section of the lumpy middle cushion was darkened with blood. There was one window that you didn’t think even you could fit out of, let alone your hulking patient. A shadeless lamp sat on the floor in the corner opposite the sink, casting the room in stark, dramatic shadow. 

Sam deposited your patient on the couch, where they collapsed in a heap of muscle and blood. He snapped on a pair of white gloves and held a hand out to Vincent, who snagged a jump bag from your shoulder and supplied him with the gauze he was apparently reaching for. It would be difficult, you thought, to keep up with them at first. These two seemed to be so familiar, so connected that they didn’t have to talk to know what the other needed. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Sam asked, raising his voice to try and cut through the buzz that blood loss left in the ear. “And where you are?” 

“I’m fine,” your patient groaned, shoving at Sam as they tried to sit up again. 

“Hold still .” Sam used his forearms to press them back into their couch without contaminating his gloves. “You’re gonna tear your stomach right open if you don’t ease back.”

“You need to work on your bedside manner, Doctor.” The patient grinned. Their face had gone sheet white. 

“Well, good thing I’m not a doctor, Darlin’.” He replied. Actually, you thought, he was. If he had been in his residency, he would’ve had to have a medical degree. He was a doctor, license or not. 

You reached for the BleedStop you’d stashed in the bus just as Sam’s hand swung back again. When you clapped the pack down in his palm, he turned, surprised. Vincent bumped your shoulder with his, smiling broadly.

“This is gonna sting.” Sam informed them before dumping the BleedStop over the wound and packing it with gauze. They shouted, short and hard, as they clamped a hand down on Sam’s shoulder. Vincent jerked as though to pull them off, but Sam shook his head sharply. Vincent backed off. “Saline,” He said, holding his hand back to you. You dug through your bag quickly before finding a pint of it. Vincent supplied a large syringe. 

Watching Sam work on a patient was like watching an artist paint. He had an intense air of focus about him, and his whole face lit up when he bent over the wound. He watched with rapt attention as the bleeding slowed and clotted. After a few minutes, he pulled a syringe full of saline from the bag and rinsed out the BleedStop. 

It was a stab wound, surrounded by ugly, red and purple bruising. It looked as though someone had punched the blade into them. 

“Can I lift this up?” Sam asked, indicating their shredded and blood-blackened shirt. They nodded sharply once. You watched as their steely face crumbled a bit as Sam touched them. Their bottom lip trembled. “Hey,” Sam said softly, freezing until they met his eye, “it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He said it like it was true, like there was no doubt about it. 

In the end, despite the stab wound and the slash on their thigh and the obviously broken ribs and their split lip and their bloodied knuckles, they refused to go to the hospital. Sam spent fifteen odd minutes arguing with them. Honest-to-God arguing, shouting, cursing, lecturing. You thought that was probably against protocol, but he was right, so you weren’t going to snitch to Captain Shaw about it. The stab wound was concerning enough. The broken ribs were dangerous. One bone fragment, one twist of the skin to make it a compound fracture, one stutter of their lungs in just the wrong way. It could all prove deadly. They let Sam use suture glue on the stab wound and the cut, let him dab anesthetic against their knuckles, let him press a cold compact into their ribs. They didn’t let anybody else touch them. 

“There is a free clinic at Dahlia Gen.” Sam reiterated one last time as they hurried you out of the door. “If you start bleeding or have trouble breathing,” he patted around his uniform until he supplied a scrap of paper and pen from his breast pocket. He scrawled out a phone number and handed it over. Their fingers spread red across the crumpled, white paper. “Please call me.” 

The door shut hard in your faces. 

You made your way back through the blood stained halls. Sam turned the keys in to the landlord. You walked out into the crisp, winter air. 

“Are they all like that?” You asked as you took several deep breaths, free from the iron tang of blood that had permeated their apartment. 

“No.” Sam shook his head sharply. 

“It’s mostly drunk people.” Vincent assured you. 

“And kitchen knife incidents.” Sam chimed in. 

“And cardiac events.” Vincent nodded, hopping into the driver’s seat. You settled into the back of the ambulance with Sam and studied your hands. There was blood on the cuff of your uniform. Sam huffed and reached under his seat, pulling out a fresh uniform shirt. 

“Here, Probie.” He said. 

“Does it get easier?” You asked all of a sudden as you took the shirt from him. Sam smiled. 

“The blood?” He asked. “Yeah. Yeah, the blood gets easier. But not much else.” 

The two of them were right. Somewhere along your drive back to the 10-19, you got a call for a possible cardiac event that turned out to be an anxiety attack. You held the hyperventilating kid’s hand, walked them through breathing exercises you’d learned for Lasko while Sam assured their mom it was nothing to worry about. Straight from there, you got a call for an older woman, Mrs. Henrick, who claimed she fell and broke her hip. She was apparently a widow and a frequent caller. She just wanted Sam to put her kettle on and to ogle at Vincent for a while. He was impressively obliging, and matched her flirting one for one. It was a few more hours of just that; bouncing from call to call, emergency to emergency, but nothing quite like that first one. 

It was nearing dawn by the time Engine Two was finally cleared to return to the 10-19. You were just this side of exhausted, the adrenaline that kept you pushing through the night long worn off. Vincent walked you through the breakdown of the bus. Checking off the medical supplies one by one on your little inventory sheet was almost meditative. It lulled you towards the rest you knew was coming. You were on call for the next twelve hours, and then you’d be off for another twelve. You longed for that plush bunk room and the reprieve a few hours of rest would give you. 

Captain Shaw was in the kitchen when you and Vincent clambered in. He had looked so severe when you met him in your interview, clad in the navy button down of his daily uniform. He must have been getting on duty, because now he was wearing a tight, heather gray t-shirt with the Dahlia Fire Department logo emblazoned across his back. The shirt was stretched across his chest and arms, giving you a full view of his musculature. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting his dark features in warm, welcoming light. He was handsome. You couldn’t wait until you had an excuse to introduce him to Gavin. He’d have a field day with a man like David Shaw. 

“There can’t be that much blood in the human body,” he rumbled into his coffee cup. Sam laughed from his spot across the large, family style dining table that filled up most of the floor space in the room. There were pans out near the six burner stove; sausage, bacon, some weird looking strips of what must have been a vegetarian substitute. There was a plate stacked with pancakes, another stacked with waffles, and a bowl filled with sliced fruit. Two cartons of eggs were waiting, untouched, next to the stove. 

“You would be surprised how much a person can bleed and keep going if they have the will power.” Sam shrugged. He was flipping through a pile of paperwork, probably the releases from their calls tonight.

“Captain Shaw cooks every morning.” Vincent indicated towards the feast on the kitchen counter. “You should eat. Once morning shift gets in, it’ll be gone.” 

“And they refused transport to the hospital?” Shaw scoffed. 

“Yup.” Sam popped the ‘p’ in his mouth, shaking his head. He handed over a file from the top of his pile to Shaw, who flipped through their release form with only a bit of interest. 

His dark eyes flicked over the page once, and then widened. He sat up straighter, bending to get a better look at it. His eyes landed on the bottom of it, where your patient had printed their name next to their sloppy signature. 

Shaw’s coffee cup shattered in his hand, sending shards of ceramics and hot coffee all over him, the table, and the offending report.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 25

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July 25th, 2022

Chris let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into his mother’s house from the back door, the cool air of the home giving him and Scott a reprieve from the heatwave outside. They found their Ma in her kitchen, putting away some groceries with a smile on her face as she saw her sons. 

“I certainly didn’t expect to see you here today,” Lisa greeted, coming over to hug them both. She hugged Scott before hugging Chris, holding her oldest son's arms as she pulled away and told him, “I figured it would take at least another day for you to recover from the press tour.” 

Chris laughed, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet home. “Oh I’ll be going to bed early tonight, that’s for sure,” he assured her with a nod. 

Scott smirked at the words, moving to grab a cup from a cabinet and fill it with water. “I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t just fly straight to San Francisco to see Nat,” he drawled, his voice booming. 

“Yeah, it’s been what? A month since you’ve seen her?” Lisa asked, raising a brow as she dropped her hands from Chris’ arms and headed back into the kitchen, pulling groceries from the bags resting on the island counter. 

“I was with her over the fourth so almost a month,” he corrected, leaning down to pet his Ma’s dogs as they danced at his feet. But then he thought back to his visit earlier in the month, at the fleeting moments they’d had together, but otherwise… he’d been alone. Nat’s schedule was busier than ever, if it was even possible, and she spent so much time glued to her laptop that he missed her even when he was there. “I miss Nat so fuckin’ much but I’m almost thinking about staying here.” 

Lisa raised a brow suspiciously as she closed the fridge, tucking the reusable grocery bags into each other. “Oh really?” She asked him while she looked at him curiously. 

“I’m just so exhausted. Going from filming earlier this year to the Lightyear press and right into The Gray Man press, I’m just so tired,” he murmured with a shake of his head as he leaned his hip against the island. “And now that I’ll be going to Atlanta soon for Pain Hustlers, I feel like I just need a break away from everything.” 

“Maybe Nat could come out here instead?” 

“Yeah I think I might ask her if she could,” Chris nodded his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, in fact, the opposite was true but after being dragged from one interview to another then put on a plane to make another appearance and do the whole routine again, he was craving his safe space more than ever. He just wanted to be home and sleep in his own bed, have home cooked meals, and decompress in the place he felt the most himself. Chris ran a hand through his hair while he mused, “I want to see her so bad, but when I’m there during the week, she’s at work anyway so it’s not like we get to spend much time together.” 

He watched as Lisa pursed her lips while she listened to his words. “Well maybe once you rest up a little more, you could go out for a weekend,” she suggested, her eyebrows raising hopefully as she looked at her oldest son. He shrugged his shoulders at that as he heard Scott’s small noise of agreement and sighed. 

“I don’t have many more weekends before I start filming again,” he began as he stared down at the marble countertop. He’d gotten the official schedules for both shoots a few weeks ago, and there was virtually no spare time once he started the first project, but what little time he had left before was quickly getting filled up in Massachusetts. He hadn’t been home for a long stretch of time since the previous year, and even then he spent most of 2021 in Los Angeles, growing his relationship with Nat. He’d missed home, missed seeing his family, the kids, getting to just live without constantly looking over his shoulder. And the growing list of responsibilities from ASP that he’d been ignoring while working were piling up, and his schedule was full of tasks between now and the middle of August. By then, he’d jump right into the shoots around Florida and Georgia with the cast of Pain Hustlers to then be in Atlanta working for months on end for Red One, having no real opportunities to visit Nat in California. “I just hate to disappoint Nattie.” 

“Honey, you know Nat will understand,” Lisa placated her son, looking at him seriously as she listened to his words. “She won’t want you to kill yourself just to come see her.” 

Chris shook his head, explaining, “Oh I know she’ll understand, Nat always does.” 

“I know a certain dog who will be happy that you’ll be around here for a while,” she pointed out with a small chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“You should have seen how I woke up this morning. Dodger was laying right on top of me,” Chris laughed, thankful for the shift in conversation away from him changing his and Nat’s plans. 

Scott’s dry laugh cut through the room as he told their mother, “He’s been right on Chris’ heels all day.” 

Lisa smiled at the comment, before her eyes turned curious and she looked at Chris as he finally sat down in a barstool next to Chris. “What were you guys up to today?” She asked them both, looking between them. 

“Well…” Chris started as Scott bit his lip, turning to look at him as well. With both his Ma’s and Scott’s eyes on him, a smile crossed his lips.  “That’s actually part of the reason we came over…” 

“Why’s that?” 

A warm smile crossed his lips as his brain was able to switch from the exhaustion his whole body was clouded in, to instead thinking about the purchase he made hours earlier and the meaning that came with it as he told his mother, “I bought something for Nat today that I wanted to show you…” 

He could feel Lisa’s eyes on him as he pulled the velvet box out of the plain white bag and handed it over to her. He watched as she flipped it open and saw the shining diamond ring inside as she gasped, “Chris, you got her a ring? You’re going to ask her to marry you?” 

“Yeah Ma, I am,” a warmth spread throughout him as he said those words out loud. 

Chris could see the tears glossing her eyes as she gasped, “Oh honey, I couldn’t be happier.” 

“Me neither,” he shook his head almost in disbelief that this was really happening. His own tears started gathering in his blue eyes, making him blink furiously before he swallowed the emotional lump in his throat, “I think I’ve known for a while now that Nat was the one for me but when I was with her in San Francisco for our anniversary earlier this year I just… knew. I just don’t want anyone but her.” 

“I knew from that first time I met her that you two would be together,” Lisa stated firmly before going over to hug her eldest son tightly. 

“I think we all knew that one,” Scott chimed in with a chuckle from where he had sat down at the counter, knowing that Chris and Nat being together was something they all saw coming a mile away. 

Chris had to wipe a hand along his cheeks, swiping away the tears as he admitted, “I just love her so much. I never even knew it could feel like this,” 

“I’m so happy for you Chris. I can honestly say this is the best decision you’ve ever made,” his mother encouraged him with a hand rubbing up and down his back but then wanted to know, “When are you going to ask her?” 

The question was one he’d been thinking about a lot but still hadn’t figured out an answer to, letting her in, “I’m not sure yet. I don’t really have a specific time so I’m just going to ask her when the moment feels right.” 

Lisa couldn’t help but give him another hug, squeezing him tightly as she once again told him just how happy she was before the conversation shifted toward dinner and the brothers decided to stay and help get things ready. As Chris was pulling out the plates, his gaze drifted down to the ring box that was sitting open on the counter and felt the conversation happening around him seem to drift away. He picked up the box and looked at that sparkling ring, imagining what it would look like on Nat’s hand and almost finding it unbelievable that at the beginning of the previous year he hadn’t even met her, but now here he was ready to place this on her hand with the promise of forever. 

He loved her so much it almost hurt and even as insecure and indecisive as he could be, this was one decision that didn’t leave any doubts in his mind other than the timing. With his schedule being full with two more movies and Nat being in San Francisco for her job, he didn’t know the next time that they’d get any extended amount of time together and although it left him at a loss on how to fully support her while he wasn’t there, he had come to see through their breakup that none of it mattered. Sure, it was a hurdle they’d need to figure out how to cross, but all that mattered is that he had Nat in his life and he wanted her forever. Chris knew that this was the best thing that could ever happen to him, but what he didn’t know is that while he stood here full of joy and peace, the woman he loved was across the country feeling desperately trapped in the new job and life she had chosen and felt more stuck that she ever had in her life. 

Nat shut the creaking door behind her and locked the deadbolt, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the door as she felt her muscles tense. She looked around her dark apartment, feeling… indifferent to everything. Coming home had always been something sacred to her, her escape, her happy place, where she hosted friends, family, game nights, and movie nights. But here… she’d hole up for days over a weekend without having anyone here who would reach out to say, “Hey! Haven’t seen you this weekend, want to grab brunch tomorrow?”, only to hear a ping alerting her to new emails. It was no longer a place of refuge to her, instead, it felt like a place where she couldn’t take a deep breath, where she could never relax, where no one would come looking, or even stop by. She was completely alone here in this silent apartment, but the one bright spot that had gotten her through so many days was knowing that in one day, her apartment would be occupied by the heart-of-gold man that she loved so dearly. His laughter would fill the tiny space, his hands would rub her aching back, and his presence would fill the void in her heart that had been hurting so badly. 

When her phone started ringing, she pulled it out and saw his name on her screen, bringing out the first genuine smile in a long time as she held it up to her ear and greeted him with a hello that sounded a lot less enthusiastic than she intended but just couldn’t seem to muster anything more. 

“Hi honey, is this a good time?” He asked her, his voice filling her ear. 

She nodded, suppressing the sigh that caught in her throat. “Yeah I’m just walking through my door,” she told him, hanging her bag on the hook by the door as she kicked her shoes off. 

Nat heard him huff out a breath, his voice quiet as he pointed out, “Nattie, it’s almost eight there.” 

She shook her head, frowning at his concern. She knew it was well placed, it always was. They cared about each other to be making those jabs at the other, but it didn’t mean her shoulders relaxed a little at every concerned comment he made. If anything, it made her feel a little worse. “I know, it just was a busy day,” she explained, her voice quiet as she turned on the lights and stepped further into the apartment. 

“Will you promise me that you’ll have some dinner?” 

“I promise I will,” she told him, glancing towards the shoebox of a kitchen before she headed into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. “I actually am a little surprised to hear from you. I figured you’d be asleep with you flying out here tomorrow.” 

“That’s actually what I wanted to call you about,” he began, pausing as he sighed. Nat froze, listening as he finally asked, “Nattie, would it disappoint you if I didn’t come out to San Francisco?” 

Her brows furrowed and her hand reached, plucking a few threads from the worn blanket on the couch as she fidgeted anxiously. “Is everything okay?” She asked worriedly, unsure if something had happened 

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine, I’m just so exhausted,” he admitted and Nat could have been able to know that without his admission. The weariness in his voice was evident even if she hadn’t known how packed his schedule had been but kept listening as he sighed, “I feel like I’ve just been going non-stop for the past couple months and then with heading into doing two more movies this year, I just feel really overwhelmed. I just want some time to decompress.” 

“Of course I’m sad not to see you but that’s fine Chris, I want you to take care of yourself,” Nat told him truthfully. In reality, hearing those words felt like a punch in the gut or as if all the air from her lungs had just been taken away. Having him come out to see her had been the one saving grace through all of this. She knew that if she could just make it to when she’d get to have his arms around her again, then maybe she could do this. Maybe that would help center her again, but in an instant that had been stolen away. 

But she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t burden him with the knowledge of how much she was struggling while he was so burnt out and had to recharge before being thrown into filming again. Besides, he had warned her. He was the one who told her that this job wasn't for her and that it didn’t seem like the right move for her and he had been right. Nat just couldn’t let anyone, especially herself, know how much this job was taking a toll on her. It was just a job and the fact that she couldn’t seem to handle it only made her feel like even more of a failure than ever. 

“I hope you know how much I want to see you and it has nothing to do with that,” Chris went on to assure her, but it brought little healing to her heart because all she could feel was that she was alone yet again. “I also figured that when I’m there during the week I don’t get to see you much anyway and thought that maybe you could come out for a weekend if you have time or I could come out there before Atlanta.” 

“I’m not sure yet what my schedule is but we’ll figure something out. I want you to just decompress,” she rushed to tell him, trying hard to cover up the tears and heavy emotion in her voice. 

“Are you sure, Nat?” 

Nat just took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice before responding with, “I am, I want you to rest. I know how important it is to you to be able to be away from everything in Boston.” 

“Thanks for understanding, baby. I love you so much and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” 

Nat pushed out a quick “I love you too” before hearing the line hang up. She couldn’t even pull the phone away from her ear before silent tears started spilling out of her eyes. With a shaky finger she clicked the red button before trudging over to the couch where she laid down and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to her chest as the tears just wouldn’t stop pouring down her face. 

Nat was so proud of Chris. She was so proud of all he’d done this year, pushing himself with the films he was doing and going through the press tours he hated so much while traveling the world in a whirlwind. She was so happy that he could recognize when he needed a break, and just decompress. She was so glad that he had a place to do that, where he had a home to just be himself and relax but right now she just hated it so much that the home wasn’t with her. 

Using the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she furiously wiped at her eyes and sat up. Nat tried so hard to just pull it together, but the moment her eyes glanced out the window of her apartment and she saw the almost tauntingly beautiful view of San Francisco, heavy sobs started pouring out of hers as those tears that she had just wiped away were quickly replaced. Just one look at that view reminded her that she was here in the city by the bay, completely and utterly alone. 

She had always loved her job, working as an animator was truly a dream come true. Nat was just a normal girl who had been given an incredible gift by having a father who believed in her, sending her to art school to follow her dreams but it felt like somehow her real dream, the real longing of her heart had slipped through her fingers. Nat had been so happy working at Disney, settling into a life in California over the past decade and having an incredible group of friends, including Mark and Jamie who had become more like family to her. 

But COVID had changed everything for her. In that time frame, her engagement to Shane had ended, Nat had become so much more self assured and knew who she was, but after being able to spend months at home with her family, she had moved back to California with a loneliness in her heart and a longing for something more. For the first time in her life she had seen how much she wanted more than her job. She wanted her own family and to be able to love someone and have them love her in return. 

And then Chris came into her life. 

So much had changed since he’d made his unexpected entrance in her life and Nat had found out so many more things about herself and what she wanted. He helped her to rest in who she was and embrace what it was that made her… well, her. He was her best friend and gave her peace in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. But there was still a part of her that let those little voices into the back of her head, remembering the looks she’d gotten from people when she was younger and said her dream was to be an artist. She remembered the jokes so many made when they asked what she was going to do for a ‘real job’ and the sting of that in her formative years still was underneath the surface. 

Nat’s fingers were clutching tight on that pillow as she thought back to her dad dropping her off at art school as he hugged her tightly and told her how proud of her he was and that he knew she’d do great things. Ever since then all she had wanted to do was prove him right, to show everyone she wasn’t just the overemotional chaotic artist little sister behind two intelligent successful older sisters who seemed to be able to do all the things she viewed herself incapable of. 

So here she was. Accepting this job that she thought would somehow prove something. That somehow would be the icing on the cake of ‘See? I can be a successful artist’ but all it had done was show her just how right Chris had been about all of this. This wasn’t what she wanted. She hated every bit of this job. She wanted so much more than this now. She wanted Chris. She wanted a family. She wanted to create for herself. But there was no turning back now. There was no way that she could go to her boss only a couple months after starting and basically say she wanted to be demoted, especially when her position back in Burbank had already been filled. Not to mention that she had taken a stand with this job and Chris, resulting in them temporarily breaking up. That felt like such a huge failure in her mind and that was something Nat simply just couldn’t take at the moment. 

So here she had been, putting her nose to the grindstone and putting in her hours, trying to get through the days with the light at the end of the tunnel being August. The month when she’d get her best friend back. When she’d finally get to feel his arms around her. When she’d finally not dread the weekends and spend them crying in bed but instead fill them with laughter and happiness with Chris. When she’d finally get to relax for the first time in weeks. Knowing that he was coming to her was like a lifeline, knowing that she just had to make it until then and then hopefully things would be better. But now it felt like that lifeline that was dangling just out of her reach was snatched away and she was left drowning. 

But there was no way she could ask him to come. It was just too selfish. She couldn’t possibly know just how packed his schedule had been and hear his weary voice saying how much he just needed to go home and then ask him to come be with her instead. So here she was. Sitting alone on this couch, tears streaming down her face as she felt completely alone and completely stuck. 

[ms-nesbit]

Title: cosmic (a jason todd x reader fic)

Chapter III of ???

Rating: 18+ (eventual smut, language, violence i guess, and mention of past abuse)

Tw: abuse, violence, and smut.

Summary: 

y/n meets dick and barbara, who try to set y/n up with dick’s big little brother.

ao3

“Perfect! Before you go, y/n, I have someone I’d like for you to meet.” Barbara smiled from ear to ear, somewhat different from her cheeky tone. “Y/n, this is Jason, Dick’s brother.” Y/n turned around to greet the man, only to find herself in the same predicament she was in a few minutes prior: her eyes at his chest. “And Jason, this is y/n. She just left New York with a degree in criminology and a distaste for the Gotham Police.” Barbara finished her sentence in a husher tone, attempting to avoid unwanted attention from the enforcement officers surrounding them.

“Ah!” Jason’s face beamed. “Pleasure to meet you, y/n. Have we met before?” His hazel eyes slowly scanned y/n’s outfit, causing her skin to flush. He took y/n’s hand and pressed it against his pink lips, his gaze never leaving y/n’s.

“Don’t be intimidated by the stature. Underneath the meathead look, he’s a decent guy.” Dick detailed, half-teasingly.

“Meathead? Don’t blame me because Wayne blessed me with his height.” Jason retorted, crossing his arms around his chest.

“We’re not even blood related!” Dick erupted in disbelief, drawing attention from a few folks around them. He ran his fingers through his gelled hair as he cooled off.

“If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be talking with the chief about some infrastructure planning for the coming parade next month.” Barbara stated, pulling the upset Dick by the arm as they fled the scene.

“So…” Jason began, stepping closer to y/n. “Have you gotten a tour of the zoo? Or just this area in particular?”

Y/n cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, because I’ve lived here for a few years with Bruce, so I can give you a pretty well-informed tour of the place, if you’re interested, of course.”

“Oh!” y/n realized what Jason was doing, and nodded. “You only lived here for a few years? How much of an expert could you really be?”

Jason flashed her a toothy smile. “Did I mention that those few years were my teenage years, when I was at my most delinquent and distant from abiding by Bruce's rules?”

“Okay, fine.” Y/n rolled her eyes, caving in to Jason’s adorable attempt at enchantment. 

Offering his elbow for y/n to take, the pair left the gala, heading toward a set of stairs toward the second floor. On their way, y/n took a chance to look up at the artwork on the ceiling, gawking at the intricate artistry. Jason, on the other hand, kept his eyes on y/n, unaware of the grin forming on his face.

“So what brings you here?” Jason finally breaks the silence as they make their way to the top of the staircase, helping y/n onto the second floor. Y/n placed her hand back on his arm, this time holding his large bicep. She felt the contour of the muscle through the blazer.

“Barbara and Dick invited me to the gala to meet-”

“No, not the gala, y/n,” Jason replied. “To Gotham. Why leave New York for Gotham ?”

Y/n hadn’t been honest with anyone about her departure from New York, and she wasn’t sure if this was the right time to start. She bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. Before the anxiety engulfed her, Jason placed his hand over hers, gently rubbing the skin. “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it. We all have our skeletons.” He looked at her warmly, this time more emerald than stormy gray, and y/n felt the sun through the clouds in his irises.

“This building was constructed in the 1800s, if you were wondering.” He started, still caressing y/n’s hand that was placed on his bicep. “At least that’s what Alfred told me when I first came here.”

“He took care of you?” Y/n asked, turning to look up at Jason, who nodded.

“Yeah, he is more family than Bruce, honestly. But that’s neither here nor there. Shall we?” Jason extended his free arm toward a single door that was marked ‘Do Not Enter!’ in bright red letters, its modern lettering standing out from the old decor of the door and trim. Letting go of y/n’s hand, Jason stepped toward the door, lifting the door slightly before turning the handle and opening the door with a click. “Right this way.” He nudged, grinning mischievously as he held the door open for y/n.

“Are we allowed in here?” y/n asked nervously as she stepped into the room, looking around at the posters hanging on the walls.

“Whose room do you think this is?” Jason scoffed. “Besides, what are Bruce and Dick gonna do if we’re in this room, kick us out?” He took a seat on the computer chair, lifting his feet onto the desk beside it, and interlocking his fingers behind his head. Y/n stood awkwardly, deciding on taking a seat on Jason’s old bed, which gave a rather rude creak when she sat on it. “See? Isn’t this a little bit better?”

Y/n wanted to disagree, given how little she’s known about this man, and how he is alone with her in a place where nobody else knows her - if she goes missing, there wouldn’t be any leads. In any other circumstance, y/n would have made an excuse to flee, pulled the red string to sound the alarm, anything;

Yet this wasn’t any other circumstance. For some reason, she trusts Jason, and is willing to yank the walls down to allow for his entry. After years of contempt for the opposite sex, y/n felt as comfortable as she was prior to…

“I feel okay.” y/n replied curtly. “But if this was your room, what are all these posters doing up?”

“What do you mean?” Jason rested his hands on his lap now, sitting up.

“ Movements? Tigers Jaw? The Misfits? Someone had a very angsty teenhood, if you ask me.” Y/n propped herself up on her arms, which were placed behind her. She crossed her legs, the fabric of the pencil skirt hiking up a bit. Jason withheld the temptation of glancing at her legs, heat rising to his cheeks as she spoke.

Instead, he tempted her, shimmying off the blazer to present his frame through his red button-up top. “You a fan?”

“Being from Ohio, I’m a fan of Midwestern Emo,” y/n started, “and The Misfits are just classic, but what I am a bigger fan of is the fact that you have some Stevie Nicks albums hiding under your PC cabinet there.” She pointed her chin at the lowest shelf of the desk, where two albums were discreetly hidden away from plain sight. While Jason reached over to retrieve the items, y/n caught a glimpse of his shoulders, muscles teasing her through the thin fabric. If she wasn’t so scared of vulnerability, she would have torn it off so see what was underneath the cotton blend.

“Hm.” He smirked at y/n, his gray streaks falling past his forehead and onto his eyes. “Pretty woman has brains and good eyes. What’s your deal?”

Y/n couldn’t help but blush at the remark, but played it off with a shrug. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours first.”

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ; ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ghosts aren't the only ones capable of haunting , sometimes it's the people you love most in the world .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.8k

sometimes we fly

sometimes we fall

sometimes i feel like we're nothing at all

dream in the light

dance in the dark

you fill the spaces inside of my heart

married for 3 years, dated for 2, you'd think by then you would know a person so well, better than you'd know yourself. but for you? for you it feels like you never knew marc at all. he still looks like your husband, talks and acts like him but at the same time he's not. distant, quiet(er) and cold, so very much unlike the man you had fallen in love with in the beginning. sure he was like that when you first met but you got to know him better, saw the deepest, darkest parts of him and kissed them all.

marc has a certain warmth once you get past his shell, a type of fire that burns bright that not even the rain of his tears nor the floods of his past can put out. he was always tough or rather, time made him tougher. the abuse he faced after randall's death, running away from home because he can no longer handle his mother's beatings eating away at the very core of him. he had hoped joining the marines might help him forget, it didn't. not all the way at least.

the rain of bullets sometimes reminded him of his time at the cave, the torrential downpour that afternoon flooding the cramped hole they were in, roro's desperate pleas for help. every pull on the trigger brings him back to the sounds of a leather belt clutched in his mom's fist as she slams it down on his childish body again and again, spews of profanities and accusations, wanting her youngest child back and it would go on for what felt like an eternity until his father would hold his mother back, physically dragging her away from his curled up form on the floor with welts blooming on his skin, hands pressed to his ears as he sobs repeating the words 'it's not my fault' until he passes out.

life hasn't been kind for marc spector since then… until you.

marc never knew how sunshine felt on his skin until your touch, only the way it burned during his tours or from his mother's hands. didn't recognize warmth until your hugs only the heat of his gun after a mission. he's long since forgotten how spring felt before your laughter reached his ears, he was a desert before he met you.

you were vibrant and brimming with life, a stark contrast to his bleak world of gray's and red's. marc often called you his star, as he is moon knight, he had told you that the moon can never be alone in the night sky if there is even a star that shone next to it. you kissed him breathless after that.

marc loves you, really he does. he still has difficulties expressing himself and often chooses to retreat within his shell whenever he's overwhelmed with emotion, especially the bad ones. but you had learned how to coax him out again, somehow you always knew when to save him from drowning, he thinks you're telepathic. and he had married you because he felt like you were his saving grace, his paradise after all the sins and pain he's caused to those around him.

he doesn't regret it at all, seeing you in white as you walked towards him. you shone like a star, fallen from heaven just to grace his lonesome self with your presence. that night during your wedding, he swore his heart was full and his love for you was endless. it'll never change, nothing will.

but recently, marc keeps on repressing himself. after every mission he comes back to, he becomes like a statue, devoid of any emotion. you've tried to help him as much as you can but he would only shrug you off, grabbing a can of beer before disappearing into the bedroom, not even glancing at the dinner you had prepare for him hours before while waiting for his arrival.

you tell yourself it's fine, he'll come around soon, that he was simply exhausted with the burden he carried as the vigilante moon knight, tired with an invisible god constantly speaking over his shoulder and head.

you tell yourself it's okay. but until how long will this cycle continue? how long has it been since the first time you've convinced yourself that it won't happen again? you don't know, you've lost count after a month of cold shoulders from him.

am i really mine?

are you really yours?

if all your emotions cut straight to my core

times when you cry, i feel it all

whenever you leave me i wait for your call

you are everything i'm living for

the first time marc missed a big occasion, you tried not to think too much about it.

it was your birthday, celebrated in the middle of spring ("fitting", marc has said before when he celebrated it with you for the first time, "because you are an ever blooming garden with so much love to give and yet ask nothing in return even if your flowers are plucked, only pray they'd treat it with kindness.") and he was nowhere to be seen. you weren't even supposed to go out that day, having decided that you would both spend the day in bed, eating cake and watching a game of baseball even if you didn't understand a single thing about the sport.

marc loved it and in turn you did too. but your husband was mia, not in bed or in the kitchen, he wasn't home. only when you checked your phone did you know that he wasn't even in the country.

'in kenya, be back soon. x'

not even a single greeting in his message. the apartment you shared felt cold that day despite the warm sun shining outside the large windows of your bedroom, bathing the space in natural lighting. a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

when he finally came home, two weeks later, he saw you sleeping on the couch. curled up in one of his hoodies and a blanket draped over your form as the tv played quietly in the otherwise silent apartment. kneeling beside you, his fingers brush away the strands getting in the way of your features, the brief gesture rousing you from your slumber as you blink your eyes awake, vision clearing to find your husband in front of you, a little worse for wear but still in one piece.

"hi baby." he greets you softly as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, "why are you sleeping on the couch? it can't be comfortable." you only sigh as you turn your head to look at him, the skin under your eyes visibly darker, clearly you haven't been sleeping well since he left you while you were asleep two weeks ago.

"you forgot." you told him blankly, running a hand through your hair, combing down the bedhead.

"forgot what baby? i don't— i don't understand." you smiled weakly as you raise your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head there. "my birthday." you whispered, "two weeks ago.

shit, marc thinks to himself. he had gotten so wrapped up with his duty as moon knight, khonshu giving him more and more missions recently that he'd forgotten. never in the five years you've known marc had he missed it since the first time he celebrated your birthday with you, never. until now. "i'm sorry baby, i— i forgot and i got so busy—" you had shushed him, cupping his cheek with your palm. it's okay, was what you had said, there's always next year.

marc knew you'd forgiven him but he doesn't quite think the same way. he carried you back to bed that night, the bags he brought with him forgotten by the door. making it a priority to cuddle you, talk to you until you fall back asleep.

when you woke up the next day, he prepared you breakfast in bed, having woken up early despite his jetlag to run by your favorite café to get you your favorites. he spent the day with you the way he was supposed to, promising to make it up to you.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

the house is silent most of the time, marc's presence haunting every corner of it despite his growing absence. you look around the place again, his favorite mug sitting on the kitchen counter with half of his black coffee still inside. a bunch of postcards thumbtacked and decorating a part of your living room walls, showcasing all the places he's been to ever since he became khonshu's moon knight. his favorite cap was still hooked on your bedroom door's knob, you keep forgetting to hang it in your shared wardrobe whenever you cleaned the place up.

there were so many traces of him living with you and yet he was like a ghost. you rarely see him these days, even more so at night when the god would demand of his time.

never had you been so jealous of a bird before.

sometimes we're right

sometimes we're wrong

sometimes the lines just never been drawn

nights when we fight

we strike a chord

and then we forget what we've been fighting for

the pattern continued for months and the days began to turn colder with autumn right around the corner. marc was beginning to miss bigger events and moments in your shared life. some of those would lead to larger arguments whenever you'd confront him about it, never screaming at each other but you had both definitely said a lot of things you regret but don't take back. well, marc doesn't. not like he hasn't even been communicating much with you anyways.

marc never apologizes after each fight, you do though. you'd press yourself to his back when you're both settled in bed, holding on to the back of his shirt as you whisper apologies, murmuring how you don't want to fight with him, you never do.

"i just miss you. you've been gone more and for much longer periods of time it feels like you're never here at all." you admitted weakly, sniffling as your emotions come bubbling at the surface again but you're exhausted, previous arguments draining your energy. "it's hard when you're not around."

he's missed so much in your lives it hurt, especially when you had lost your father during the fall, your only family, and he wasn't there to comfort you. during the whole wake, you sobbed in the arms of your godmother, your heart cracked and torn at the edges at the loss of the man who had raised you, the man who had walked you down the aisle to meet your currently missing husband and it broke you.

you lost one man and yet in that week and more, it felt like you mourned for two.

marc didn't show up at the three day service, not even for the funeral. all your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts left on read. whether he just doesn't bother to reply or was blatantly ignoring you, you'll never know but he was met with an empty apartment when he came back after another mission by the ancient god, you had chosen to sleep at your childhood home, yearning for your deceased father as you wept in his old bedroom.

the following weeks after that, you'd given marc the cold shoulder, much like he does to you until you broke, unable to stand the distance it sets between you. moments of love few and far in between fights and continual disappearances but it always ends the same way, with you in tears as marc holds you in his arms, whispers of empty promises gluing back pieces of you he doesn't even know he broke. a temporary fix.

lay on the floor

sleep in your arms

pausing the world to stay right where we are

close all the blinds

lock all the doors

things fall apart and i'm wanting you more

you are everything i'm living for

the final straw was when he missed your third wedding anniversary one winter evening.

you had both sat down and talked about this weeks ago, marc finally agreeing to make up for the times he's been gone and fighting when he's around. you were able to snag a reservation at a really popular restaurant downtown, buying yourselves a fitting outfit for the day as you had wanted to make it special. you secretly bought a small gift for marc too, nervous as you hid it away until said date rolled around.

when your anniversary came, marc, as per routine by now, wasn't in bed. he's already left for the day doing what he needed to do and promised you the night before that he'll be there in time to pick you up for dinner.

well... the hours ticked by fast, nighttime falling just around the corner amd snow beginning to settle on the concrete streets and you were dressed to the nines and warm, although it was already approaching quarter to eight and your reservation was at 8:20, the journey from your apartment to the restaurant taking at least 20 minutes if traffic wasn't too bad.

you arrived at the packed restaurant with three more minutes until your reservation was to be passed to someone else, the host guiding you to your seat, a table for two, though it was only you present. your server followed not too far, handing you a menu to which you had ordered a bottle of some red wine, hoping to ease your nerves with it.

it wasn't until it was almost 10 in the evening when marc arrived, his curls no longer staying slicked back and his tux looking like it was put on in a rush with his tie knotted loosely and crooked around his neck, his shoulders wet with melted snow and a wrinkled bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. but when he approached the host, stating his reservation, she looked at him with pity before shaking her head.

"i'm sorry mr. spector but your reservation ended thirty minutes ago, your wife arrived and paid for the bill on the bottle of wine she had ordered but that was about it."

he had thanked her before nearly dashing out of the restaurant, flowers still clutched in hand as he hailed a cab home. he ran a hand through his curls, muttering curses to himself throughout the ride back and ignoring the egyptian god in his head.

when he turned his keys in the lock, the whole place was dark, the heels you've worn for the night thrown haphazardly along with your coat and bag, all these items trailing to your shared bedroom.

he creeps in quietly, toeing off his shoes as he sits down next to your curled up form under the blankets. you didn't even take your dress off, only washing your face off the makeup you'd carefully applied but there was still some mascara trailing down your cheeks, it was obvious that you'd been crying.

his heart squeezes tight in his chest, guilt eating at his core. he knows he hasn't been the best husband as of late, dealing with a lot of things all at once with khonshu and all the goddamn missions he's been sending him off to in god knows where most of the time. but it didn't excuse the fact that this was something you mutually planned, talked about in the previous weeks.

god he knew how excited you were about it, your face lighting up for the first time in a very long while that he's seen and now it feels like he's been punched in the stomach— no it felt much worse than that seeing that not only did he stand you up for a date, your third wedding anniversary at that, he had gone and let you starve and made you cry yourself to sleep.

he's not sure that making up for this the next day could fix the damage he's already caused but he was going to try. he swore to himself he would...

had it not been for khonshu meaning him take on another mission, hunting down ammit's worshippers that very same night.

and you were left all alone yet again.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

you couldn't stand it anymore.

you love marc, god knew just how much you loved that man but good the past half year, it felt like you were married to a ghost and you don't want to spend another waking moment with him gone.

you don't know where marc was this time, long since updated you where he's been going, only saying when he'll be home. and he was supposed to be home tonight so you waited.

you sat on your living room couch, glancing around the room for the faint traces your husband was still with you, a ghost that haunts your memories, taking up space in your home even though he wasn't even around much anymore. you don't know what hurt more, the fact that you're married yet you two act like two strangers living under the same roof or that he's treating you like you were the ghost, lingering around your shared home and watching his every movement during the little time he spends there.

you're hurt, so fucking hurt it makes you numb. and that hurts even more because in all honesty, you want to cry and scream and punch, claw at his chest and make him see things your way but fuck if you weren't exhausted, tired from keeping a failing marriage alive. you don't regret being with marc, but you hate how much he's changed since then.

you sat there and waited as the hours passed by you, the moon rising and you begin to hear the familiar jingle of his keys turning the locks of the front door.

you didn't mean to turn it into a fight but you're drained and your patience was running thin and marc, god. he was infuriating with that cold shoulder. ignoring your pleas to talk and heading to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. it took all of you not to smash that metal can away from his hands.

"if you would just listen to me marc! i'm begging you! you're out more than you're home and you don't come back until it's deep into the night and i'm already asleep, jesus i don't even see you when i wake up!"

"i have duties—"

"yes i know, you do but baby, i'm not asking you for much okay?" your voice cracks as the dam cracks and fractures, all the things you've bottled up and ignored pushing against the walls in giant waves, testing the limits of your emotions.

"i'm not asking you to stop what you do... just look my way every now and then. is that— am i asking for too much to want my husband to come home to me?"

he sets the can down on the kitchen counter, the dim lights above the counter shines over him, casting a dark shadow over his face and he nearly looks unrecognizable with that unreadable expression on his face.

and for a moment it scared you that you were no longer speaking to your marc at all.

"all i ask, marc, is to set a time for me too. god knows i've been patient and i try to understand you as best as i can because i know you carry a heavy burden, okay? i know, but marc, does it hurt for once to be here? to be with me? because why the fuck are we even married if you're just going to act like i don't goddamn exist at all?!"

he stays quiet, eyes still trained on you as the tears start to fall, the dam beginning to fissure and break, the waves of hurt pushing and pushing and pushing until it shatters the intricately built wall you created.

"i miss you." you whisper, "i've missed you." you stress as you run a hand through your locks, turning on your heel to sit at the living room couch, burying your face in your hands as you take deep breaths, too fucking tired of being the understanding wife to a husband who was never around anymore, not in your time of need and not even when you hit rock bottom.

was this even the marc who had laughed so warmly at you as you both danced under the night sky, the one who would show up at every date with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers, was this even the same marc that said i do as he lifted the veil from your face just to kiss you like he's never before? because he sure as hell doesn't act like it anymore.

for once it's you who disappears, when the clock strikes 2 in the morning and marc had fallen deep asleep, your own bags packed the weeks before that lead up to this.

for once it was him who woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier apartment. most of your clothes gone from their hangers in the closet, your toothbrush gone from the bathroom sink along with your tray of skincare products, and with your disappearance did marc feel empty, a part of him missing as you left.

for once, marc begins to live here in your shared apartment again, looking around at the final traces of you lingering within these walls. now he lives with the ghost of you, haunting him through dreams and memories, his every waking and sleeping moment a nightmare the longer you stay gone.

for once, it's marc who deals with the loss of a loved one. and you're not there to comfort him and keep him from sinking, he drowns in the waters you've left from your broken dam of hurt, flooding his life and his heart with a burden much heavier than anything he's felt before.

you haunt him, like he used to haunt you. you went down and left, taking all the love you had with you. leaving behind the shell of the man that marc spector used to be. and now he was sinking too, drowning in your absence, drinking your ghost away.

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

[ghuleh-recs]

Happy B @p1nkcanoe !! I threw together a list of my favorite p1nk fics in honor of the official ghoul den housewife’s birthday! Below you'll find a mix of polyghouls, papas, and plenty of Swiss—a little something for everyone. Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she also consistently shares amazing gifs, clips, and some truly iconic shitghosting. We are beyond lucky to have her here ♡

Wouldn’t it be a looovely present if you read a few of these and left some sweet comments?

recs under the cut.

swiss shaves copia's face for him - copia x swiss (gen)

copiasjuicebox asked: thoughts you say? Sometimes Swiss likes to sit on Copia’s lap and shave his face for him as delicately as possible

it's not uncommon for the multi-ghoul to sneak into the papal wing just as the sun has begun to descend over the lake, enter his papa's bedroom, and find him in the bathroom scrubbing at the blur of black and white and gray paint on his weathered features. copia used to wave him away. he used to shrug off swiss' kind hands, refusing to accept the little bit of help in fear of being seen as the old man he feels like on the outside. now, when swiss slips into the bathroom and closes the door softly behind him, copia moves wordlessly to the upholstered chair in the corner of the massive room and sits, waits for the ghoul to take over.

the fiction of speed - aurora x mountain

every year mountain raises a different species of butterfly to liven up his greenhouse. this year, he decides to raise ulysses swallowtails, vibrant blue and black butterflies, and becomes perplexed when one of his pupae fails to emerge with the rest of the flutter. as it turns out, it wasn't just any ordinary butterfly, but a friend.

Aurora becomes a friend. He looks for it in the tangle of leaves, stems, and vines every morning and offers out his hand for her to perch upon. It’ll fan out its wings for him, show off its colors, and he appreciates its beauty, its fragility, and its trust in him.  A beast and a butterfly; an unlikely pair. 

good JFK - phantom x swiss

jimothybarnes on tumblr asked: Swiss gives someone of your choice good jfk (maybe on the tour bus? in front of everyone? after a show?)

Swiss will not keep his hands to himself. He’s got something on his mind for sure. He’d stared at Phantom throughout the entirely of the night’s ritual from his platform, had glued his hands to Phantom’s waist and the small of his back during bows, and had practically dragged the ghoul to the dressing room afterwards to smother him with his lips and grope at sweaty skin until the door opened and the rest of their pack had filed in. And now, sitting on the bus, he still won’t stop staring at him like he wants to eat him alive. 

once twice melody - dewdrop x rain

A kiss is placed right under his ear and Rain presses his cheek into Dew's hair. Dew smiles at the slight vibrations against his back; Rain is purring. The odd feeling twisting in his gut returns and he allows himself to bask in it before craning his neck to catch the other's lips in a chaste kiss. "Rain, have you ever floated?" Dark brows knit together. His lips ghost over the fire ghoul's nose and lips as he speaks. "You mean like floating at the surface of the water?" "No, I mean like floating. It's an old manipulation trick. Makes you feel like you're flying, sort of." Rain shakes his head in small, minuscule movements as to not break the contact between them. "Then no. I've never floated. Can you show me?" Dew nods.

dreamy bruises - secondo x mountain

secondo calls upon his most massive ghoul for a favor: give him everything he's got and more.

Secondo’s room is warm both in atmosphere and in temperature, lit by the grand stone hearth that crackles and burns bright, and Mountain is already covered in a thin layer of sweat. He’s nervous, has been since the tiny sibling knocked on the door to the den and requested that Mountain meet his Papa in his bedroom. “ ASAP ,” she’d said before turning on her heels and escaping back into the abbey. He’d thought he’d been in trouble, perhaps finally getting punishment for the marble bust he’d accidentally walked into months ago. What he didn’t expect was to find his Papa strewn out on his bed clad only in an evergreen colored robe and a glass of red wine in his hand, beckoning him inside and asking him to lock the door behind him. “I have a special request…” he’d said in that gorgeous, husky voice. Everything after that had been a blur.

hold your camera high and click (series) - swiss x everyone

swiss has a polaroid camera and he loves to photograph his packmates.

There’s a wooden box in Swiss’ nightstand where he keeps his filthy photograph collection. Next to it is an empty space where he keeps the Polaroid camera, but an hour ago it was moved to his desk where it sits now, hooked up to an outlet so it can charge. The light on the side blinks orange–raised from the dead. It’s been a while since he’s broken the thing out. A thin film of dust had gathered over the top since he photographed Sunny only a year ago and the multi-ghoul had been more than excited to brush it off. 

the moon doesn't mind - copia x cumulus (x phantom)

phantom can't sleep. a glance out his window exposes a night of intimate fun between his papa and cumulus that can't be ignored.

He stands there for a while, watching and taking in the beauty of the dead of night, and he’s about to retreat back to the warmth of his bed when a shuffle of movement catches his eye from the papal wing. It’s difficult to tell exactly what it is he’s seeing through his Papa’s bedroom window. He glances back at his clock, 2:31 am, a peculiar hour for his papa to be awake. A quick glance further down the wing confirms that his office is dark. Strange. What in the world is Copia up to so late?

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

[puckleberryfinnie]

covey!reader in the quarter quell (the interviews - part one)

wanted to give you guys a little bit of the next section! if I’m being honest, I don’t think the long written type of stuff is for me </3 how would you guys feel about more of a head cannon type of feel? I can definitely continue w this format though, we’ll see<33

summary: you receive a special message from someone and prepare for your interview!

You walked into your luxurious dressing room, expecting a rack of dresses for you to choose from. That’s how it had been throughout your entire tour- dressed up to unimaginable lengths, makeup caked on. Not that you minded, really. You’d always put in an effort of sorts when you had nights out performing with the Covey, though the Capitals luxurious full-coverage makeup was a bit varying from your mom’s old eyeshadow compact.

But this time was different. Walking into your dressing room, there was a singular dress hanging from the closet door. The dress was beautiful; though a bit simple for an event of this magnitude. There were tulle ruffles of varying colors tiered on top of each other for a skirt, and a corset-like bodice to match.

And there was a note laying on a table in front of it, a white rose laid on its side, adjacent to it. You cautiously picked up the note. It read:

Dear Miss Y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I enjoy the performance you’ve been putting on recently. I hope you don’t mind the last minute change of plans, but I would like you to choose a song of yours to sing to those in attendance tonight. I'm sure you’ll comply to these wishes, given you’ve been so insistent to do so on prior occasions.

You’ve become somewhat of a beacon of hope to the other tributes- make sure you’re spreading the message that will not leave those in charge in a distasteful situation. I can promise you that it will not end well for you.

I hope you find the dress I picked out to your liking- it was something of a style with your people when I was younger.

Wishing you well in the games this year- as well as you can, in any case

C.S.

You knew President Snow’s name from the stories told in the Covey. The songs still written on yellowed, crinkled music sheets by Miss Lucy Gray told you everything you needed to know about that man. You resented him for what he did to you and the rest of your family. So you picked a song you knew this man would remember. You’d memorized it at this point, as it was your favorite song of Lucy Gray’s. You remember To My Coriolanus had been written in between the lines of music notes- This piece would do just perfectly.

The threat was evident, of course, and you knew his powers well enough to comply to his guidelines. But the Covey could also put a little bit of a twist on anything- even in the face of a challenge.

You pressed your hands against the soft tulle, spinning around as the fabric twirled around you. It was a pretty dress that’s for sure. A little simple, compared to the many extravagant outfits surrounding you, but unique in every sense.

“Y/N, that’s such an certainly a colorful look you’ve got there. I like it,” said a glamoured Peeta leaning against a wall behind you. He gave you a silly smirk, tilting his head, watching you as you stopped your dancing,

“Oh, I mean, wasn’t really my choice, but thank you, Mellark.”

“Guess it’s a comfort to know I’m not the only one who had a something thrown on them without their opinion,” commented Katniss, stepping out from the shadows behind her partner. She, unlike you, had one of the most expensive, beautiful pieces you’d ever seen on- a wedding dress!

“Oh, Katniss, it’s truly-“

Welcome to the 75th’s Hunger Games’ tribute interviews! Be prepared for a night of glamor and drama, people!

You stood up, brushing the skirt once more and giving it a final look before getting into line. It’d be a moment, of course. But you, like everyone else, wanted to be prepared. Wanted to do everything you could with your likely final words to the public. That’s one way all the press training they’d put you through had backfired. You all knew how to work a crowd in any way possible. It made you powerful.

When your name was called, your level of popularity in the Capital was evident. Sure, they had handsome Finnick and love birds to fawn over, but you had something extra to you. You gave them something to grasp onto. Looks could fade, and, love could too, if you were honest. But music and art stayed forever. That showed with your performances.

The looks part couldn’t hurt anything, though, so you smiled as you walked across the stage to Caesar. You gave a wave to the audience, sitting down after giving a little twirl in your dress.

“Wow! Just… wow, darling! You certainly have something quite interesting on, don’t you? It’s lovely to see you, by the way.”

“Oh, same to you, Caesar!” You gave one of those fake giggled of yours, saved for only the situations in which they were necessary. “It certainly is something, I must agree.”

“Well, well, I did hear from a little birdie… that you have a little treat for us tonight… would you please tell us what that might be?”

“Of course! I’ll be singing for you all. Just something I whipped together for everyone tonight!”

The audience erupted with noise. The excitement filled the air quickly. It been a moment since you had sung for them last, and the Capitol was beyond excited. A live performance from you was something many had dreamed of. You stood up, getting closer to the microphone that’d been set up for you.

ok ok there you guys go!! you were just about to start singing but you’ll have to wait a little longer for that😚

to anyone who’s shown support in anyway, I love you soso much. It means so much to me <33

ps: this was briefly released for my birthday last week but I didn’t like it enough yet so if you saw it then- no you didn’t ;)

taglist (❤️🎀):

@randomgurl2326

@marvelescvpe

@h-kitty-world

love ya!!

[thisisasafezone0]

°˖✿˚⋆ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 ⋆˚✿˖°

CHAPTER FOUR — SweetLies —

third person pov

⚠︎°｡(DISCLAIMER : CONTAINS A MENTION OF SUICIDE AND MURDER) ｡°⚠︎

The rest of psychology was not that bad in Y/N's opinion. She had asked Oko about his occult book that he started reading halfway through the icebreakers, leading to him rambling for about twenty minutes. The last minutes of class were spent with Oko apologizing for 'wasting her time' and Y/N assuring him it was fine. Long story short, the two exchanged numbers and Oko was very flustered when he left the classroom.

'Amao didn't tell me where to meet him, so I should probably check the cooking club first.'

Y/N gathered up her things quickly, almost stepping out of the room before Mr. Kina called her to his desk.

"Sorry, dear, but I heard you are also new to the school, correct?" The h/c-ette nodded as confirmation. "I was told by the guidance counselor to remind you to get to school early tomorrow for your meeting. Do you know where her office is? If not, I have a map of the school I can give you," the pink haired male smiled at her.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have my own map, thank you." Her teacher hummed in understanding and Y/N took that as her cue to leave. "Have a good day, Mr Kina." She waved and exited the room, knowing Nemesis was following her.

The cooking club was on the first floor and her classroom was on the second. How convenient that it was right next to the staircase she went down. She saw Osano standing right outside one of the doors, him angrily looking at his phone. Right before she opened her mouth to talk to him, his ringtone, a catchy J-pop song, started to play and he rushed off through the hall.

Nemesis walked beside Y/N and glanced at her. "That was certainly strange, wasn't it?" Y/N glared at him in return. The h/c-ette knocked on the closed gray doors, Saki answering the door.

"Oh hey, Y/N! Are you here to join the cooking club?" Her bright smile nearly blinded the aforementioned girl. As Y/N was about to respond, she heard her best friend exclaim her name.

Taeko Yamada swiftly walked up to her, intertwining their hands. "Saki, she's not here to join, Amao said he would give her a tour. I would come with, but I have to walk Hanako home today," the ravenette pouted, sighing dramatically. "I need to make sure that he doesn't get lost. You both know how he is."

"I didn't know you were in the cooking club, Tae." Y/N tilted her head at the thought of Taeko not telling her something as important as that.

"No, I'm not, but Osano is. Sometimes I stay here during club activities so we can walk home together. Speaking of," the ravenette's head poked out of the club doors and turned, her eyes looking for someone. "Where is Osano? I swear he was just out here."

"He left to take a phone call, it seems." Nemesis responded from behind Y/N, Saki jumping at how he suddenly appeared. "If this is the cooking club, why do I only see pastries on the counter?" The girl with teal hair sighed, her cheeks beginning to grow pink at Nemesis speaking to her.

'Hmm. How interesting. I'll have to ask about that later.'

Suddenly, a shout was heard from down the hallway. Nemesis wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist, pulling her into his chest as he stepped back. Hanako Yamada, the disturber of peace, flopped on the floor after trying to tackle-hug a certain h/c-ette. He groaned loudly as his face pressed against the tiles.

"Hanako! Oh my god, are you hurt?" His sister stepped forward and helped the boy up. "Alright, you aren't. But you could've gotten yourself or other people seriously hurt. Luckily Nemesis got Y/N out of the way, or she would've been on the floor with you." Taeko slightly glared at the fact that Nemesis was still holding Y/N, his arm having loosened its hold. Hanako muttered an apology, his face also falling at Y/N and the man behind her.

"Yeah, thanks, Nemesis. My hero." Y/N awkwardly chuckled and stepped away from him, right as the concerned cooking club leader popped out of the room.

Amao Odayaka did not look very pleased at the sight of the four students in the hall. He sighed and beckoned them into the clubroom with a weary smile.

"Can't say I didn't expect Taeko's sibling to already be causing trouble," the brunet chuckled. The first year in question hung his head and trudged into the cooking club.

Y/N followed immediately after, but not before another club room caught her eye. One of the doors wasn't shut properly, showing what looked to be a large pentagram in the middle of the floor, surrounded by unlit candles. 'Must be Oko's club.' She smiled at the thought. The occult club and cooking club being near each other was definitely strange, given the opposing aesthetics.

The cooking club room was entirely pink, it made sense that Osano had joined. Even the utensils and stand mixers were pink. It was almost blinding. All of the members with their either bright or pastel colors fit in perfectly. And then there was Nemesis, who was scowling and squinting at the whole room, not trying to hide his disdain for the interior decorating.

The members were all sitting at a table (pink, of course, are you seeing a theme here?) and sharing what looked to be a tray of calamari. There were only two girls, including Saki, which Y/N found to be odd. 'Isn't Amao Odayaka one of Akademi's golden boys? Don't a lot of girls like him?' She was brought out of her thoughts when a black haired girl waved at her and smiled.

"So, Y/N, these are all the members besides Osano and Raibaru Fumetsu. Kokona was in the club last year, but she preferred drama club, sadly." Saki wrapped her arm around Y/N's shoulders, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "I know you could choose something else, but I think it would be nice if you joined. Right Ajia?" Saki's eyes fell onto the same ravenette that waved.

"Oh, me? Yes, it would be cool to have another girl around. I am only a first year, though, so I don't know if I have any say." The girl sheepishly smiled and looked back at her plate, fingers fiddling with her utensils. "Would you like any octodogs? We just made them." Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking at Saki to explain.

"Right, you don't know what those are." Ajia murmured an apology, Y/N waving it off. "They're just hotdogs we cut into the shape of octopi." The h/c-ette glanced at Nemesis, who subtly shook his head. She politely declined and moved out from her place under Saki's arm.

Amao cleared his throat from where he was leaning against the counter. "We better get going if we want to see the whole school before club time ends." He bit his lip, the corners of his lips turning upwards. 'That's ho-', Y/N's thought was interrupted by a ginger barging into the room.

"Y/N, you're still here! Now I can show you around." He was panting, probably having run around the school looking for her. The other club members glanced between the two, smirking. Amao quietly protested that he, in fact, already said he was going to.

"It could be a group thing," Taeko smiled. "Hanako still doesn't know his way either so we can all go." She looked around at her friends in question, Y/N agreeing. Osano glared lightly at the male with brown hair but sighed and reluctantly nodded. Hanako grabbed Y/N's hand and began to drag her out of the room.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

"This is the nurse's office."

"Yeah, I'm sure they could tell due to the sign right next to the door." Osano rolled his eyes at Amao, who, in turn, huffed and faced away from the ginger. Taeko and Hanako warily glanced over while Nemesis and Y/N didn't try to hide their stares.

The group hadn't gotten far - they were still on the first floor - since Osano kept bickering with both Amao and Nemesis (even though the latter hadn't said a word). Luckily, the brunet tried his best to keep the party going and they had made it fully down one of the hallways. Taeko steered the group into the courtyard.

"Oh, and here's where Taeko reads, like a dork." The ginger scoffed and put his hands on his hips, glaring at the aforementioned girl. Y/N nervously laughed and placed her hand on Taeko's shoulder.

"I think it's nice that she's an academic. It makes her more pleasant to talk to, unlike some people."

'Oh my god, did the sweet baker boy just throw shade? What is happening right now?'

Taeko smiled and appreciatively nodded at Amao. "I quite like reading. Osano, you only read what's required, which is why you don't like it." Osano made a few noncommittal noises but ended up slouching and walking away, the others following behind him. "He gave up because it's true," the ravenette whispered to Y/N, the two giggling.

"I heard that!"

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

The tour, in Y/N's opinion, started to get boring once they got halfway through the second floor, after passing by the martial arts club. But the tour went on. Nothing had particularly interested Y/N. She could join the science club like her mother had, but what if the members didn't like her? She already cooked at home, so there was no need to do it as an extracurricular. Sewing, art, music, drama, occult, and photography. Wait... photography?

Finally on the third floor, Y/N stared at the closed doors in front of her while the others walked past the club, not bothering to explain. There were people in it, she could hear them. Her curiosity got the best of her and she knocked.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" Hanako skipped over to her and beamed. His black eyes fell upon the sign as he mouthed the words. "Oh! I didn't know you were interested in photography!"

She wasn't interested in photography. Prior to moving, she had exchanged emails with Megamo Saikou and he had told her to be wary of this club in particular. While, of course, they were only normal students, they were far too adamant about finding out the supposed murderer's identity. There had only been one corpse found on campus. Toga Tabara, found near the dumpsters, head split open, shoes left by the railing on the roof. People outside Akademi assumed he committed suicide. The students knew better. Toga, a boy so concerned about his future that he joined every club, wouldn't give it all up. The photography club, being their perceptive selves, decided to ditch being lazy and get on top of that supposed case. Due to them investigating, Megamo didn't want Y/N to slip up and have the club find out that they were to be married. Coincidentally, Info had told her the same thing about them.

'How strange that a lone hacker and the heir to a tech company could have the exact same opinion on a group of students. Disregarding the fact that Info used to be a student here, it's too close.'

A blond male answered the door, knocking Y/N out of her thoughts. Hanako had completely changed his stance and the others were now closer, meaning it took a moment for this guy to answer the door.

"Sorry, we aren't accepting new members. I hope you understand." The boy's pale blue eyes stared into Y/N's. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

"Oh, is it because it's the beginning of the year? Other clubs are taking in new people." She knew why they didn't want new members, but she wanted to hear his excuse.

"No, we are just choosing to stay as a group of five. We work the best that way." Before Y/N could get another word, he closed the door. She sighed and looked at her fellow students. Amao shrugged, as did Osano. Taeko just scratched her neck and laughed nervously.

"It's probably nothing personal. Maybe they're just in a bad mood. It is only the first day, after all." Hanako nodded along with his sister's statements.

"They're losers, anyway. You're too good for them, n/n." Osano's cheeks grew a few shades of pink upon realizing what he said. "Platonically, of course, not that I needed to say that, since it's obvious that I would-" The ginger was cut off by Amao placing his hand over the other boy's mouth and shaking his head while chuckling.

"Stop rambling and let's continue the tour, shall we?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sorry it took almost a month, I've been busy with school and haven't had tons of ideas but that should be clearing up soon <3

[trip-the-cal-fantastic]

Sick Day

Sam Kiszka x F!OC (Olivia Reynolds)

MDNI!!

Genre: Fluff and sickfic

Word Count ~ 3.6k

Warnings: Swearing, use of pet-names (Baby, sweetie, sweetheart, sugar, and honey), they refer to each other as mom and dad to Rosebud, use of medication (Tylenol), Sammy is sick :(

Olivia had been out on the town with Sam’s beloved dog, Rosebud, exploring farmer’s markets, vintage antique shops, and thrift stores since 9 a.m. She was up way before Sam that morning and didn’t dare try to wake him. That man could sleep through a freight train passing a foot away from his head. Olivia made the better decision to let him sleep as long as he wanted, this being the first full day of him being home from tour. So, she and Rosie left the house to give him as much quiet as he needed this Saturday. Sam was exhausted when he came in from the airport the night before, the leftover eyeliner from the last show still smudged around his beautiful, tired eyes. Before she took off, Olivia left him a note on the counter that read: 

Took Rose out for a girls day

Get some rest, sweetheart

Love you!

Olivia ended up running into a friend from high school and having lunch at an outdoor café with her. They visited for a long time, and when Olivia and Rose had returned home, the sun had set and Sam had dragged himself from the bedroom. Olivia walked through the front door, hung her keys on their designated hook, and gently kicked her shoes off, placing them against the wall where they belonged. She unclipped Rose’s leash from her collar and set her service dog vest on the small table by the door.

Sam’s shoes were still haphazardly discarded in the middle of the entryway from the night before. Olivia pushed the big, oak door closed and flipped the deadbolt, nearly tripping over Sam’s abandoned sandals. “Samuel Francis. How many times do I have to ask you not to leave your shoes in the walkway?” Her voice carried through the walls, gaining nothing in response. The only light in the house was the little bit of moonlight shining through the window curtains and the sporadic flashes of color coming from the television, the sound of Robin Hood: Men in Tights droning on in the background. 

“Sammy?” Olivia made her way into the kitchen, setting the various bags from her adventures on the island counter. Rose followed close behind, heading straight for her water bowl. Olivia turned the kitchen lights on and put everything that needed refrigerated away, repeating the same routine with things that needed put into the cabinets. She left the clothing items she had purchased on the counter to deal with them later, finally noticing Sam’s feet hanging over the end of the sofa. “Rosie. Go get dad.” Rose immediately ran into the living room and sat next to the couch, nudging Sam’s hand with her nose and licking his fingers. He lightly stirred at the feeling, but didn’t wake. 

Olivia stood in the doorway of the family room, leaning against the wall and admiring Sam’s lanky form sprawled on the couch. He was on his back, his right arm hanging off the edge, and his left arm thrown over his eyes. He had a pair of gray and white striped sweatpants on, but his torso was bare. His lips were slightly parted, and his eyelids scrunched every so often. Olivia moved to sit next to Sam’s hip, lightly tracing the shape of his birthmark under his left arm. She lightly pushed his arm off of his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, noting how warm he felt to the touch. 

Sam let out a small huff of air before his eyes fluttered open, a small smile forming on his lips when he realized Olivia was there. “Livvie. Hey. You’re home.” His voice was rough and gravelly. He sat up with a small wince, his brows pinched together as he cleared his throat. 

Olivia leaned forward, gently cupping Sam’s cheek in her palm and pressing her lips to his. He felt a little too warm for Olivia’s comfort. Now that there was extra light pooling in from the kitchen, she could see how flushed his skin was. “Hi, baby.”

Rose jumped onto the couch with her tail wagging and licked the side of his face. Sam gave a crackley chuckle and scratched her head. “Hi, Rosie. I missed you, too. Did you have fun with mom today?” Rose shook herself out, eliciting laughs from both Sam and Olivia. He reached out and gently slipped his hand under Olivia’s self-cropped shirt, brushing his fingertips over her ribcage. “How was your girl's day, sugar?” 

“Great! We found so many little cute markets and antique shops. Rosie got plenty of treats today. Everyone loved her.” Olivia giggled and tapped Rose’s nose. “I ran into an old friend from high school, too. We grabbed lunch at this café on the corner of 5th and Madison. It was adorable and the food was fantastic. We’ve gotta go sometime. I got a few new sweaters from a thrift store and got you a jacket I think you’re gonna like.” As she spoke, Sam slowly leaned back, resting his head against the arm of the couch again. His eyes fluttered shut as his hand on Olivia’s side gradually slid down to her hip. He cleared his throat again, but the sound was rougher this time.

She breathed a laugh through her nose and leaned down, resting her chin on Sam’s chest. She reached up and poked his cheek, making his lips turn up in a small, tired smirk. “Am I boring you, Sammy?”

“Hm? Oh. No, Livvie.” His eyes blinked open as he looked down at her. Rose, wanting to take part in the family cuddle party, laid her head next to Olivia, who laid her arm over Rose and tilted her head to rest against the dog’s. Sam rubbed his hand over Olivia’s shoulder. “I’m listening, sweetie. I promise. I just don’t feel very good.”

This made Olivia sit up, not expecting him to admit that he felt sick, but she was grateful that he did. Normally, she would have to pry at Sam if she even thought he was ill. Olivia rested her palm flat on his forehead, trying to gauge his temperature. “Poor thing. I thought you felt warm, but I didn’t want to say anything, sweetheart.”

Sam nuzzled his face against her hand. “Your hands are so cold. Feels good, honey.” Olivia brought her left hand up, cupping both sides of his face and brushing her thumbs over his flushed cheeks. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, earning another smirk from Sam. He brought his hands up to her wrists, tracing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “Will you lay with me, sugar? I feel like I haven’t seen you since the seventies.”

Olivia snorted a laugh through her nose. “Seventies seems a bit dramatic, baby.”

“Okay, fine. The eighties.” This pulled another laugh from Olivia. Sam tried to laugh along, but it quickly turned into a harsh cough that ripped through his throat followed by a groan. He rubbed a hand over his chest as he swallowed and let his head fall back against the arm of the couch. “Ow.”

Olivia rested her hand over Sam’s on his chest. “Oh, honey. Let me get you to the bedroom and I’ll take your temperature.” She stood from the couch and took both of Sam’s hands in hers, carefully hauling him up to his feet. Rose jumped off of the couch and followed them down the hall, her little nails clacking on the wood. It was like she knew Sam was sick.

Sam sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and then laid back across the mattress horizontally. He coughed into his elbow and splayed his arms out to either side. Rose jumped onto the bed next to him, trying to lick his face. “Quit that, Rosebud.” Sam let out a raspy laugh, followed by a sharp cough. “I feel like shit, sweetie.” 

Olivia disappeared into the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. Does anything hurt?” She stepped back into the bedroom, holding the thermometer and a bottle of Tylenol in her hands.

Sam took a moment to assess his body. “Nothing hurts, necessarily. My head, a little. I just feel achy. And hot and cold at the same time.” He rested his hand on Olivia’s hip as she sat next to him. He closed his eyes when the thermometer was pressed against his forehead. The device beeped twice, the number flashing on the small, LED screen. “What’s the verdict, sugar?”

“101.2. That’s a fever, sweetheart.” Olivia leaned down and pressed her lips to the tip of Sam’s nose. She helped him sit up and laid him back against the pillows, pulling the comforter out from under his legs and laying it over him. “I’m gonna go get your water bottle. Do you need anything else?”

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes as Olivia left the room. She found Sam’s metal water bottle in the living room and brought it to the kitchen, filling it from the spout in the fridge. Olivia grabbed her phone from where it sat on the island counter and opened her contacts, pressing Sam’s mom’s name and holding the phone to her ear while it rang.

“Hello?” Karen’s voice cut through on the other line.

“Hey, Mama Kay. How are you?” Olivia screwed the lid back onto the bottle and turned to the one of the cabinets with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. 

“I’m good, babydoll. How are you and Sammy?”

“I am doing great. Sam’s a little under the weather, which is actually why I called.”

Karen frowned slightly. “Oh no. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s alright. Cough and a fever. I think it’s a mix of jet lag and constantly being in different cities.” 

“My poor boy. Make sure he’s resting and drinking water or tea.”

Olivia nodded even though Karen couldn’t see her. “He is. I just filled his bottle and I’m gonna have him take Tylenol to bring the fever down. I wanted to make him some soup tomorrow and he mentioned one time that your chicken noodle recipe was his favorite. Is there any way you could send it to me?”

“Oh, absolutely! I’ll take a picture of the recipe card and send it to you. And, by the way, when he’s sick, he likes to watch that stupid Robin Hood movie with Cary Elwes and Richard Lewis. Says the laughter makes him feel better.”

 “That explains it. He fell asleep on the couch watching that when I got home.” Olivia softly giggled. “I love that dork.”

Karen let out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll get that recipe to you, dear. Give Sammy a hug for me, okay?”

Olivia smiled. “Of course, Mama Kay. Thank you so much.” 

“You’re welcome, sweet girl. See you later, Olivia.”

“Bye, Karen.” Olivia set her phone back down on the counter after she hung up. She took Sam’s water bottle back to the bedroom, pushing the door open quietly to find Sam slumped against the pillows with his eyes half opened. “Hey, baby.”

Sam groaned in response. Rose was sprawled out next to him with her head resting on his lap. She shifted slightly and let out a sigh.

Olivia sat next to Sam’s hip, giving him a sympathetic pout, reaching out and scratching Rose’s head. She handed the water bottle to Sam and grabbed the Tylenol, shaking out two pills into his hand. “Take these and drink your water. Do you want to finish your movie?”

Sam nodded and downed the pills, chasing them with his water. Olivia found the remote to the bedroom tv and opened one of the streaming services she and Sam had. She found Robin Hood: Men in Tights and pressed play, fast forwarding to where Sam had left off earlier in the living room. Sam smiled softly and took Olivia’s hand in his. “I watch this movie every time I don’t feel good. The laughter makes me feel better.” Olivia traced her thumb over Sam’s knuckles, stifling a laugh. Sam shot her a confused glance. “What’s so funny over there?”

Olivia let out a soft giggle. “Nothing. That’s exactly what your mom said, but she called the movie stupid.” She watched Sam’s face as a look of slight hurt crossed his features. “Oh, honey.” Olivia cupped his face in her hands, making him look at her. “It’s not stupid. She didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart.” She leaned down and pulled Sam into a warm hug. “That’s from her. She wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, Sammy. Especially not when you’re sick.”

Sam returned the hug, burying his flushed and sweaty face into Olivia’s neck, his light chuckle muffled by her skin. “The hug makes it a little better.” He slowly pulled away, laying back against his pillow with a soft groan. He coughed harshly into his elbow and turned his attention back to the movie. 

Olivia pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and stood from the bed. “I’ve got some papers to grade in the office for Monday.” She nodded towards Sam’s phone on the nightstand. “Text me if you need something. Get some rest, okay, sweetheart? I love you.”

Sam nodded and coughed again. “Okay. I love you, sugar.”

Olivia gave him a small smile and made her way out of the room, flicking the light switch off and leaving the door slightly ajar so she could hear, just in case. She stepped into the home office that was directly across the hall from the bedroom, leaving the door open all the way. She turned the vintage floor lamp that stood in the corner on and sat at the desk, starting to grade the stack of papers. Olivia was a second grade teacher and her class had just started learning to add two digit numbers. She went through each paper, marking them with a different colored pen for each student.  

After an excruciating two hours of grading, Olivia stood from the desk chair, stretching her back and rolling her neck from side to side. She gathered the pile of papers and gently shoved them into a filing folder, which was then stuffed into her work backpack. “Those little heathens.” Olivia smiled to herself as she zipped the bag closed and set it on the desk for Monday morning. She glanced at the clock on the wall, just now noticing how late it had become while she was working. “Jesus. 11:52? Really?” She muttered to herself as she checked the time on her phone, just to check if that was right. Unfortunately, it was in fact 11:52 p.m. Olivia ran her hand over her face and yawned, taking the time to realize just how tired she was. 

She switched the floor lamp off and crossed the hall into the bedroom, quietly pushing the door open so she didn’t wake Sam. He was still on his back, his head lolled to the left and his right arm holding the comforter up to his nose. His right leg was the only part of him uncovered, the limb thrown on top of the blanket. Sam’s lips were slightly parted, the quietest of snores and tired mumbles escaping them. Rose was upside down next to him, fast asleep with her paws in the air. Olivia had to stifle her laughter as pulled out her phone to take a picture of Sam and Rosie. She quickly and quietly changed out of her day clothes and into a pair of short-shorts and one of Sam’s old t-shirts. She found the remote to the TV and pressed the power button, bathing the room in complete darkness.

Olivia made her way to the door, stopping and whispering, despite Sam being practically dead to the world. “Goodnight, Samuel. Feel better, sweetheart.” She walked out to the living room, tossing a throw pillow into the corner of the couch and grabbing a quilt from the basket next to the recliner. She made herself as comfortable as possible, curling up on the cushions and letting her exhaustion from the day wash over her as her eyes closed on their own.

~

Olivia woke up feeling rejuvenated somehow. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head with a yawn. She grabbed her phone from the end table, seeing a notification that Karen had sent the recipe for her chicken noodle soup. Olivia threw the quilt back, the morning air chilling her body. She made her way to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker and grabbing her mug that hung on the small rack next to the machine. She checked the time on the stove. 10:18 a.m., and no sign of Sam. As the coffee brewed, Olivia dug around the cabinets, breathing out a sigh of relief when she found that she had everything she needed for the soup. 

She padded down the hall, gently pushing the bedroom door open. Sam was lying diagonally on the bed on his stomach in arguably the most comfortable position to sleep in. His left leg was straight, but his right was bent, his legs forming the shape of a 4. His right hand was tangled in his hair and his left arm was extended out to his side. At the sound of the door opening, Rosebud perked her head up. “Come on, Rosie girl. Let’s go outside.” Rose leaped off of the bed and followed Olivia back down the hallway to the back door. After she finished her business, Olivia let her back inside, the coffee machine beeping as they reached the kitchen.

Olivia poured the coffee into her mug, adding in milk and creamer before stirring it and taking a sip. She closed her eyes as the warmth spread through her. She set her mug down, grabbing a large pot from the cabinet under the island and beginning to follow the directions on Karen’s recipe. Rose sat at Olivia’s feet, looking up at her and wagging her tail expectantly. Olivia scratched her head and laughed. “You’re probably hungry, huh?” Rose barked and Olivia giggled again. “Shh, Rosebud. Dad’s sleeping.” She grabbed the dog’s food bowl and gave her a generous scoop of the kibble. “Here you go, sweet girl.” Olivia went back to making the soup, the butter, vegetables, and chicken in the pot now ready for the broth to be added. She followed Karen’s recipe to a tee, adding in all of the ingredients as written.

An hour later, the soup was almost ready and Sam groggily shuffled into the kitchen. “G’morning, sugar. Whatever that is smells fantastic.” His hoarse voice filled the air as he slipped his arms around Olivia’s waist, placing tiny kisses on her neck. She hummed and leaned back into him as he spoke quietly. “Is it even still morning?”

Olivia giggled, checking the clock. “You’ve got 6 minutes. Good morning, honey.” She turned her head, lightly pecking his cheek, and then turning back to the pot that she was stirring. Sam swayed her back and forth slightly, resting his chin on her shoulder, his arms holding her against him. Olivia felt the weight of his head on her shoulder slowly grow heavier. “Here. Try this, Sammy.” She held the spoon up to his mouth, turning to face him when he didn’t move. His eyes were closed, light and even breaths leaving his slightly parted lips. 

Olivia smiled and giggled to herself, careful not to move too much. “Sam…” She whispered into his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. She lightly tapped the tip of his nose, causing his eyes to flutter open. Sam blinked a couple of times and sighed. “You can go back to bed if you want, baby.”

Sam shook his head, slowly pulling away from Olivia as he coughed into his elbow. He moved to sit in one of the barstools at the island, resting his head against his fist. He watched as Olivia dished up a bowl of the soup and placed it in front of him. “Thank you, sweetie. This looks delicious.” Sam dipped his spoon into the soup and blew on it before taking a bite. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the soup wash over him with a small hum. “Oh, my god. Livvie.” He looked up to her with a watery-eyed smile. “This is… amazing. It tastes just like mom’s. She used to make this for me, Josh, Jake, and Ronnie when we would get sick.”

Olivia smiled and tucked her hands under her chin. “Really? I tried my best. It’s her recipe. I called her last night because you said it was your favorite one time and I wanted to make it for you.” Sam stood from the barstool, softly cupping her face with both hands and smashing his lips to hers. Olivia smiled into the kiss before gently pulling away, lacing her arms around his waist. “Does it really taste okay, Sammy? I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s perfect. It’s… just perfect.” Sam stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you so much, sugar.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” Olivia made herself a bowl of the soup as Sam sat back down at the island. She took the spot to the left of him, letting her leg rest against his. He placed his hand on top of her knee, his thumb idly rubbing circles into her skin. Olivia laid her hand over his. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Olivia.”

~

Taglist:

@tripthedharmadivine

[majaloveschris]

Well, it looks like it’s nearing the end for the old girl, now her own country is turning against her. There are 6 articles out today from Portugal & Europe calling the trash bucket Abba out as being disrespectful, rude and arrogant. I just wonder what sparked this all to hit today?

The funny thing is, I remember her saying that doing press or promotion wasn’t a thing in Portugal. I guess the Portugal press didn’t get that memo lol. Didn’t she also do a get ready with me video? She clearly wanted some exposure and for people to talk about her but she probably didn’t think it would be like this lol.

Yeah, I guess press tours like Chris did for different projects (Marvel, The Gray Man) are not really a thing in Portugal. However, I see Joana posting about her projects a lot, so I doubt that what she said was true.

She did shoot a get-ready-with me video for Vogue because of the MiuMiu event. I think this whole thing doesn't really go the way she wants it to go, so she tries to avoid a lot of situations like this. It's not like she was the biggest "let's promote my work" type of girl ever. It's really weird to me that she acts like this. Since it doesn't seem like Hollywood wants her, she could at least try to be nicer to people in the Portuguese part of the industry, so whatever happens, she could still get roles in PT. She could've answered a few questions; that's it. They could've asked the interviewer not to ask her about Chris or the wedding. She just didn't want to talk to them because she wasn't in the mood. Is she ever though?

[attapullman]

Tell me more about this Hollywood!Bob you speak of…..

ask me about my wips!

Honestly this blog may become a shrine to hollywood!Bob and everyone is going to have to deal with it. That man gives me life.

A follow up to Silver Screen, Make Me Scream, we get a look at what happens when film legend Robert Floyd returns from his press tour and gets the welcome home he deserves (deep throat style).

A little snippet for you!

"You truly were made just for me," he muses against your temple, molding your frame to his as he refuses to let go. It's been twelve long weeks without your scent, your smile, your giggle against his chest. He may have new grays streaking his hairline, but you are just as perfect as ever.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @elsie-writes!

Writing Share Tag

Rules: Share some writing!

Here's one of my favorite scenes in MG book 2 :)

As far as childhood homes went, Mashal didn’t have much to go on. He’d lost his memory when he’d lost his flesh, leaving him with only the barest impressions of the life he’d lived before.

There were things he could infer, yes. He had the accent and habits of an educated man. At fancy restaurants, he knew—in theory—which knife to use for vegetables and which knife to use for fish. He’d been a knight in the Sulu’Okan military: Sir Mashal Darezsho.

From all of this, Mashal could infer he came from money. Probably lower or merchant nobility at the least. Yet, nothing confirmed his suspicions so much as the utter shock at seeing where Astra had grown up.

“Welcome to the DuClaire estate!” the witch crowed.

Her vardo gave a hiss as she completed its breaking sequence just in time for it to not smash through one of the sod walls. The contraption’s taloned legs stamped the ground once, then twice—as if it was getting comfortable—then it settled with a final shriek of steam. Mashal wondered what the people of Nakaow thought of the fantastical, walking wagon and the extraordinary runic-pneumatic engine strapped to its back.

Astra slipped down from the driver's bench before Mashal could do the same and offer her a hand. The man followed trepidatiously. When his feet hit the ground, he immediately sank almost up to his ankles in mud, utterly coating his new boots.

The center of the DuClaire home was only slightly bigger than the vardo—a round blob of sod bricks with a chimney sticking out of the top at a haphazard angle. However, Mashal could spy what looked to be recent additions to the structure sprouting off the back. The roof was also made from somewhat newer-looking steel sheets. The windows were small and lopsided, but all sported glass—a luxury unavailable to most Nakaow citizens, if Mashal’s short tour had been any indication.

Eagerly, Astra flounced up to the door, her gaudy coat trailing ribbons after her like a fairy in a bad play. She knocked on the sturdy door once, then stepped back. The woman bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as she waited. Mashal joined her and attempted to straighten out his oft-patched clothes into something presentable. That was one of the many problems with being made out of metal—your joints caught and tore through fabric like nothing else.

Soon, there came the sound of footsteps and the clunk of a lock being turned. Mashal tried to still his fidgeting. Breathe deep, he told himself. Or pretend to, at least.

The door swung open to reveal an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties. Her graying hair was done up in elaborate Bouerco knots and her clothes were plain, but colorful. Mashal smiled at the clumsy, yet still familiar, embroidery on her apron. Her eyes immediately shot to the cast Astra wore, courtesy of their battle with Vermir.

“Well, I’ll be!” The woman’s face broke into a well-worn smile. “Come’ere, Speck! What happened to your arm?”

Astra rushed forth into her mother’s embrace, her smile an exact mirror of the woman before her. For a brief moment, mother and daughter held each other, pressed together like perfect puzzle pieces. They eventually came apart, but both looked visibly brighter for the exchange.

“I missed ya, momma,” the witch greeted. “And it was just a work accident, don’t worry. I know I said I would visit more, but I got into some trouble ’long the way.”

“Hm, so that’s what the kid’r callin’ it these days?”

Astra’s mother peered towards Mashal with a curious expression, though not an unwelcoming one. He noticed that the gap in her teeth matched her daughter’s almost perfectly. The man smiled back as best he was able with his limited ability.

Astra straightened with a cough, then gestured towards him. “Momma, this is Mashal, the fellow I wrote to you about. He’s my assistant and my friend. Saved my life more’n a couple a’ times out on the wild, wild road.”

Turning towards Mashal, she gestured towards her mother. “Mashal, this is my momma, Elwe DuClaire. And if ya get flustered on account a’ my humor, then get ready tonight to be the first metal man to ever blush, ’cause I get it all from her.”

Elwe flicked her daughter on the shoulder. “Now don’t go slanderin’ my good name, girl. I can be polite when I wanna be. I just like gettin’ your ma all in a huff more’n I like mindin’ my manners.”

The woman walked over and held a hand out to Mashal. He hesitated for a moment, struck by her utter lack of fear. Normally, humans—other humans, not humans like him—were at least a little cautious around a seven-foot-tall steel and bronze construct. Even if they meant well, caution was simply the normal reaction to being around someone who could crush any part of you like peanut brittle.

Yet, the only thing in Elwe’s eyes was a sparkling curiosity. She gave a slight cough and Mashal remembered, oh yeah, she had her hand out! Quickly, the man returned the handshake as lightly as he could. Even so, the woman’s eyebrows shot up and, once her hand was released, she shook it out with a low whistle.

“Ya got a helluva grip there, son.”

Mashal felt imaginary sweat trickle down one temple. “My apologies, Mrs. DuClaire. And it’s a, uh, a pleasure to meet— to meet you. I’m Mashal.”

She already knows your name, his brain chided. At least try to make a good impression.

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for,” Elwe chuckled. “Good grip is the mark of a good man. And from what my daughter’s wrote, you seem to be a very good man indeed.”

Mashal swallowed hard, or tried to. “She told you about me?”

At his side, Astra gave an awkward cough. Mashal was surprised. He knew the witch wrote home often, yet somehow, he’d never expected to be included in those letters.

“’Course I did,” Astra muttered. “Nothin’ too personal though. I just let ’em know I was travelin’ with someone.”

“Just traveli—” Elwe cut off with a snort. “A’right, a’right, just travelin’. Here I was, thinkin’ you’d finally brought home a—”

Astra elbowed her mother while loudly clearing her throat.

“He’s my friend, momma,” she said. “And since he’s my friend, let’s be polite and let ’im stand somewhere other than the front yard.”

I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @drchenquill @a-whisper-in-the-forest @magic-is-something-we-create @tildeathiwillwrite and anyone else who wants to share :)