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cherienymphe · 5 months

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A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas imagine #tbosas fanfiction #tbosbas imagine #tbosbas fanfiction #dark fic

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leviismybby · 6 months

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A little gift

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, pure fluff bc we all need it now...

The sky was clear blue with a couple of clouds forming, you breathed in the fresh air as you walked, carrying a little box in your hand. You were nervous to tell Levi the news but it filled you with endless joy too.

Since the rumbling ended three years ago, you and Levi have been working on healing, well, you worked mostly on healing him. The first year was the hardest but you stuck with Levi through good and bad. It got better with time, after all, time heals everything.

You smile as the kids run past you, chasing birds, and they return the smile. So innocent and young. Then your eyes land on him, he is in his wheelchair looking through the crate of candy in his lap. As he looks up at you, you smile at him.

He no longer had dark circles under his eyes and for some reason, he looked even younger now. The scar that ran across his face no longer bothered him and he looked calm and despite not showing it much, you knew that he was happy.

"What are you doing here?" Levi asks, with a slight smile on his face as you approach him. You lean down to give him a quick kiss which he gladly returns, his soft lips pressing against your briefly.

"I came here to give a gift." You try your best not to smile, despite the obvious joy on your face. "A gift?" He asked, it wasn't his birthday, nor any special date that he knew. To be honest, you coming to see him was the best gift they could've asked for. He sees you every day, kisses you every night and somehow he still can't get enough of you.

Nodding your head, you hand him the small box. Levi takes it in his hands, a slight eyebrow arches as he looks at it. "It's light." He comments before opening the box, his eyes look at what's inside the box for a little while.

After some seconds, he takes the little baby shoes out of the box, the realization hitting him like a train. His eyes go wide as he looks up at your smiling face, a slight flush on your cheeks. Levi just stares at you for a couple of minutes, unsure of what to say.

Then, his eyes fill up with tears slightly. "You're...pregnant." You nod at his words, a happy smile still on your face. Stunning, you looked so stunning in his eyes, he couldn't believe it. He will be a father, there's a little baby growing inside of you. It's all too much to process.

Levi lets out a deep breath and then he smiles at you. "I am going to be a dad..." He reaches out to take your hand, the truth was he was almost jumping out of his wheelchair from happiness, he squeezes your hand.

"Name...thank you." He says rubbing his fingers on your skin gently. He needed this, he needed a child. All those times he looked at one of the children and wondered what it would feel like to have his own. And now he finally will.

"For what?" You smile and step closer to him, Levi wraps his arms around you, leaning his head on your stomach. "Everything. For giving me a child." He kisses your stomach, you run your fingers through his smooth hair gently. Levi closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

"Always." You say and look up to see Yelena and Pon both smile at you from the distance, happy for you and Levi. Nodding you turn your attention back to Levi. "I couldn't think of a better way to tell you. I remember when you saw those in a shop a week ago and I noticed the way you stopped to get a look. It was hard not to tell you then." You chuckle as Levi pulls away, a clam expression on his face.

"I'll have a little brat soon huh?" That makes you laugh, you step back slightly and take the box out of candy out of his lap and the baby shoes too. "You'll have two, you already have me." You sit on his lap and Levi kisses your jaw.

"That I do. And I'll have another one now, that I will love more than anything." He kisses you softly, his hands wrapped around you. His heart if filled with joy, he can't wait to hold his baby in his arms.

After all the hardships, he couldn't believe that he was here with you and that now you're expecting his child. Levi is sure that the baby will heal him more than anyone.

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Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @mrsackermannx @sixpennydame @svftackerman @hhighkey @cometlevi @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @randomlevithoughts @ackermendick @saenora @loveackermannn @levismylover @laurenzitaa @missyasma @sad-darksoul @thebobaprincess @la-undercover-latina @levilxvr @bpdtistic

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot levi #captain levi #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader fluff #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman aot #levi x female reader #levi x fem!reader #levi x reader fluff #aot fluff #Attack on titan fluff

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

Text

poisoned mercury | everybody talks

a/n: don't love this chapter. definitely a filler, but the next chapter is much more fun!

iii. everybody talks by neon trees

series masterlist | previous | next

tagged chrisr0driguez, travisstoll, and connorstoll.

lukecastell4n: little break but we'll be back so soon poisonedmercury

poisonedmercuryfan: new music????????

castell4nsgf: omg im excited

stollsluvr: ME TOO

chrisr0driguez: we miss you guys already!

lukecastell4n: fr, we miss seeing your beautiful faces on tour :(

travisstoll: working hard

lukecastell4n: hardly working 🥱

connorstoll: give me my guitar back

lukecastell4n: no

“mornin’ five star,” luke tossed you one of your probiotic drinks from the fridge as you entered the kitchen.

you caught it seamlessly, mumbling a quick thank you. it wasn’t even seven am, but the two of you were already awake. it became a routine since it seemed like you both had the same idea. your coach told you that you needed to workout, even though you were on probation, in the off-chance that you’ll be allowed to play again when the season starts. you figured that the campers would be enjoying their vacations and sleeping in so you’d have the community gym to yourself. unfortunately for you, luke castellan was an early bird.

your gym schedules synced up and you often found yourself having to make small talk with him in the kitchen while you filled up your water bottle before you ditched him to head to the gym. he would trail a respectable distance behind you, giving you your space, as he walked to the gym. the two of you did your separate workouts, sneaking glances at one another because it was a little awkward that you lived together, went to the gym at the same time, but didn’t talk to each other.

it wasn’t for a lack of trying on luke’s part. he’d tried to talk to you a few times, but it seemed to not be a good idea to start a conversation before you had your morning coffee. it was funny for the first few days, but he was afraid that it would quickly cross the boundary of being quirky and cute to being straight-up annoying. he lived with you and he showed mercy to the rest of your cabinmates by not pushing your buttons. too much.

he still occasionally indulged in bickering with you, which seemed to be all of your conversations. you always found something new to argue with him about. your dad was right about you being hard-headed and stubborn, but for some reason, luke didn’t mind. his days at camp were fun, at least, as fun as a summer camp could be, and your interactions kept him on his toes. the usual schedule of meals, rehearsals, and attempts to write new songs, became repetitive after a few days, but with you in his face, ready to argue at any moment, it felt like there was something to look forward to.

you took the foil off your drink, downing it in one go. you tossed it in the recycling bin before turning to him, “do you go to the gym at this hour to spite me?”

luke chuckled, cracking open a red bull, “the word doesn’t revolve around you, you know?”

“i know that,” you rolled your eyes, “but you can go to the gym any time in the day and you choose to go at the ass crack of dawn. why?”

“it’s peaceful,” he shrugged, “the machines are empty and i don’t have to wait. it’s nice.”

“that’s why i go this early.”

“see,” he smiled, tilting his head. “great minds think alike.”

you grimaced at his comparison, scrunching your face up. the sun was beginning to rise causing an orange glow to cast on your face. despite waking up so early and sleeping so late– he’d heard you come in with clarisse at 3 am this morning after a late-night smoke session, luke couldn’t see a trace of tiredness on your features. luke envied you. he definitely did not look that good after 3 hours of sleep.

you fixed the zipper of your sweater, adjusting the bottom of it to better fit your hips. you were wearing a tight-fitting workout outfit, black nike pros, and the usual vans you wore when you worked out. your hair was in a high ponytail keeping it out of your face, which was a good thing. he’d seen how intense your workouts were and you definitely didn’t need to have your hair in your face while you leg pressed 275.

“i just feel like i see you everywhere,” you commented, “and everyone just wants to talk about you.”

luke’s eyes twinkled, “what do they say?”

“luke castellan is so talented, luke castellan is so hot, blah, blah, blah,” you imitated the words you’d heard from other campers, sighing in discontent. “like shut up already. i thought that it would die down after the first day of you guys being here, but it’s been a week and it’s the same thing.”

luke followed you out the cabin door, walking beside you for the first time since you both started going to the gym at the same time, “well, do you agree with them?”

you stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. your eyes raked over his face and his body, contemplating. you weren’t blind. you understood why people said what they said about him. luke castellan was attractive with his curls and toned arms and his stupid full lips, which seemed to always be in a smirk, but the hype was too much. and poisoned mercury’s music was good– great even, but you needed to hear something other than how muscular luke castellan was or how his scar made him look rugged or how his voice sounded like angels singing. you were at your breaking point.

luke stood there, rocking back and forth on his toes and the balls of his feet, patiently waiting until you made up your mind. your lips formed a tight line, “i don’t see it.”

“fuck, five star,” luke scoffed, unable to stop the smile on his face. he shook his head, curls bouncing around, “you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“don’t need to fuel your ego any more than everyone else does,” you replied, continuing your walk to the gym.

you didn’t seem to mind that luke continued to walk beside you, which was progress, in luke’s mind. his bandmates have been on his ass about trying to be friends with you since the rest of them developed friendships with you and clarisse over the week they’d been here.

he’d seen you on the couch with chris watching tiktok videos on how to properly take care of his curls a few times. (luke was not stealing some of the curl cream that chris bought per your recommendation. his curls just suddenly became a lot more defined recently.) he watched you play darts with travis at the activities center and argued with him about why he didn’t need to buy a dart set for the cabin. (he agreed with you there. there was an incident in atlanta where connor was sent to the er because travis managed to lodge a dart in connor’s calf after losing a game.) he once saw you, clarisse, and connor return from a swim in the lake in the middle of the night when he stayed up trying to write a song. (the song remains unfinished on his notepad, tucked safely away on his bedside table. he had no inspiration to write any music at the moment.)

again, it wasn’t for his lack of trying. you just didn’t seem interested in forming a relationship with him outside of being roommates. it was getting to him. just a little bit. he found himself thinking of you a lot. the boys started to comment on how he hadn’t gotten with anyone at camp yet, despite getting numerous offers from older campers and head counselors alike, but luke shrugged it off and said that he didn’t want to start drama so early on in the summer. it wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the whole truth. for some reason, he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

“i can’t control what people say,” luke said after a moment. “i’m sure it must be so annoying to hear about how great i am.”

“you are so full of yourself,” you groaned, shooting daggers in his direction. this made him laugh. “you know what you can control, though?”

“what?”

“the mess you make in the cabin,” you replied, “seriously, you guys have been here a week and the cabin already looks like a fucking frat house.”

luke thought about the state of the common area. you were right. the cabin was a mess, empty cans everywhere, crumbs on every surface, and wires from the playstation scattered across the living room floor. the boys weren’t the neatest, they were teenagers after all, and luke had to clean up after them more times than he could count. having his mom on tour meant that he often got stuck with clean-up duty.

“hey, don’t blame me,” he raised his hands up in defense. “i recycle.”

“aren’t you a model citizen?” you remarked sarcastically, opening the door to the gym. you pursed your lips, staring at luke. “yeah, i still don’t get it.”

luke snorted, smiling at you, “have a good workout, five star. looking forward to walking home in silence with you.”

when you didn’t say anything else, but threw up the middle finger as you walked away, luke couldn’t help but stare at your figure before you disappeared from his view. what a way to start his day.

–

“hi, luke,” two girls called as they passed by the boys, waving flirtily at the lead singer.

luke sent them a smile back, tossing a wink to them that made them giggle as they walked away. it was a miracle that there were no news leaks about where they were. luke’s mom was happy that this arrangement was working out.

travis swung an arm around luke, “c’mon castellan, save some girls for the rest of us.”

luke pushed his arm off, laughing, “trav, didn’t you literally go home with a girl on our first night here?”

“ah, yes, stacy,” travis sighed, dreamily, smirking to himself as he recalled his first night at camp. he shook his head, facing luke again, “but seriously, castellan, ten girls have said hi to you since we left dinner and you’re flirting with them but not doing anything about it.”

“i promised my mom i’d be good this summer,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his front pockets as he led the boys into the cabin. “and i told you guys, it’s too early to start shit. we got the whole summer. spread out your escapades, stoll.”

luke thought that being back at camp half blood would bring back some terrible memories, especially his last summer there. it was the summer right after his dad left and luke was miserable. he was a moody 8-year-old who yelled at everybody who tried to be his friend, which resulted in him being alone all summer. he sat in the back of the room during music lessons, refused to participate in the end-of-summer performance, and on many nights, cried himself to sleep because he missed his dad. he felt pathetic.

but so far, surprisingly, camp was actually nice. at his core, luke was a music fanatic, so it was energizing for him to get to talk about his music and his journey to stardom. his favorite interaction so far was with two, younger boys, who enthusiastically approached him and said that they were learning how to play guitar and sing because they looked up to the band. it was a little concerning at first, given that the band’s reputation wasn’t necessarily kid-appropriate, but he appreciated the sentiment. grover and percy walked away grinning from ear to ear when luke made them promise that they’d stop by again soon to show him their progress.

luke sat on the bar chair, watching as connor and chris turned on the playstation, mumbling about a rematch on 2k to prove that one was better than the other. many things changed in all of their lives, but some things stayed the same. they were still just four best friends; the difference was, now, they got to travel the world together doing what they loved.

chris and luke met in their freshman english class. chris let it slip that he was learning how to play bass because his mom warned him that if he broke another bone trying to skateboard, he’d have to walk to the hospital himself. she was joking, of course, but chris figured that after two years of failed attempts at learning how to skate, he should hang it up.

he decided to try his hand at music and the bass became his new hyperfixation. they started writing music in luke’s old bedroom in connecticut shortly after. for years, the songs were just for them. they recorded it on shitty equipment and used garageband to fill in the instrumentals until they met the stolls. the stolls, luke’s neighbors who moved into town when luke was 16, heard them trying to figure out a hook for a song they were writing and offered some help. travis, with connor behind him, introduced themselves and the rest is history.

poisoned mercury was born. travis convinced the other three that their music was good, that they should go out and play at local cafes and bars. at 16, luke became the front man of poisoned mercury. the song the four of them wrote together on their first day as a band, became the lead single of their debut album. kilby girl spent thirteen weeks on billboard top 50 and in less than a year and a half, the boys had a record deal with olympus records and they were heading off to start the north american leg of their world tour.

you walked into the cabin with clarisse, laughing as she explained the incident that caused her to have glitter all over her face and her hair. one of her campers was having trouble opening the glitter jar and when she came over to help, the top popped off and glitter sprayed all over her.

“i feel glitter everywhere,” she shuddered, “i need a shower before we help out with concert prep.”

you looked around the cabin, grimacing, “it smells like boy in here.”

“it’s our bachelor pad,” travis called out from the kitchen. he walked out into the living room with a fresh hot pocket in his hand, eyes widening at the sight of clarisse, “woah, what happened to you?”

“arts and crafts day,” clarisse cringed, falling into the couch cushions. “i’m gonna be covered in glitter for days.”

“hey, watch out,” connor paused the game he was playing with chris, shoving clarisse slightly. “you’re gonna get glitter everywhere.”

“ah, yes, because having glitter is going to ruin the aesthetic of empty cans and half-eaten chip bags?” clarisse cocked an eyebrow, pointing at the mess the boys made. you and her were engaged in a passionate rant about how much it sucked living with teenage boys before your arrival to the cabin.

“we’ll clean up,” chris rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly glancing at clarisse. you had a feeling that cleaning was the last thing on their agenda.

you sat on the bar stool across from luke, “i didn’t expect to live in the mojo dojo casa house this summer.”

“the what?”

“from barbie,” you replied, “when the kens take over barbieland?”

luke shook his head, “haven’t seen it.”

of course, he hasn’t seen it. clarisse and the boys fell into a conversation about how she accidentally got glitter bombed. luke watched you as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, occasionally letting a chuckle leave your lips when you found something funny. he felt a little creepy staring at you like this, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

the sun was shining behind you, a soft glow framing your face and it made your brown eyes look like pools of honey. your nose piercing was iridescent under the light, which made luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise. he thought it was just plain silver, but when you tilted your head in certain directions, he could see sparkles of purple and pink. your long hair was thrown messily over your shoulders, a few tangles here and there, and the god-awful, orange camp half blood shirt you wore actually suited you. luke was a firm believer that nobody looked good in orange until he saw you in it.

“you’re staring,” you mumbled, looking up at him. “don’t tell me i have glitter on my face now too.”

luke cleared his throat, playing with the chain around his neck, “yeah, like a tiny speck on your cheek.”

you groaned, rubbing the right side of your face, “is it gone?”

you didn’t actually have any glitter on your face, but luke figured it would be less awkward to say that you did instead of telling you that he was staring just to stare. he nodded, “you got it.”

“thanks, i cannot deal with glitter,” you got up, walking over to the group. “hey, we can use some help with prep for next week’s concert if you guys are free.”

“we’re not doing anything, right?” connor looked around. travis and chris shook their heads. “what about you, castellan?”

“nah, i can’t,” luke said, “promised mom i’d try to write at least one song this summer and i’ve been in a rut so i think i’ll try to do that. you guys have fun though.”

“perfect,” you smiled, “we can leave after clar gets out the shower.”

they sent you a thumbs-up before you walked into your room. clarisse disappeared into the bathroom shortly after. luke took clarisse’s spot once you both left. he propped his feet up on the small table in front of him, leaning back on his seat. he waited patiently for the sound of the showers to turn on before he spoke, “she’s hot.”

“yeah, she is,” chris said, hitting play on their game.

“don’t even think about it, castellan. when i said start a relationship with her, this is not what i meant,” connor remarked, shaking his head, “we are not gonna fuck up our relationship with mr. d because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“oh, you’re talking about y/n?” the three boys stared at chris, who sunk into his seat, blushing furiously. luke narrowed his eyes at chris, a playful smile on his lips. he’ll have to ask him about that later.

travis blinked, bringing his attention to his brother, “s’not like castellan has a chance anyway.”

luke’s head snapped to travis, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean she’s out of your league, big guy,” travis shrugged.

“well, yeah,” luke rubbed his jaw. he wasn’t that dumb to believe that you were in his league. you were lightyears ahead of him. he’d been rejected before, of course he had, but not since poisoned mercury got big– again, really bad for his ego – but he’d never been counted out before he even threw his hat in the ring.

“i’m with trav on this one, luke. don’t fuck it up.”

luke stared at his friends in disbelief, “can’t y’all have a little faith in me?”

“no,” they said in unison.

“fuck you guys,” luke flipped them off, ignoring their snickers. “i’m going for a smoke.”

he really needed to get you out of his head.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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radiance1 · 3 months

Text

Vlad opened his eyes expecting to look up at his cieling.

The pair of eyes staring straight into his own was not what he wanted to see.

"I need you to make a clone of me." Danny, ever the grain of salt in a pile of sugar, said with all the tact of something who didn't just break into a man's room.

Vlad squinted up at him and scowled. "Hello to you as well, Daniel. Not even a good morning?" He groaned, reaching a hand up to massage his temple to try and offset the headache he could feel settling in. "Do you have the slight clue what time it is?"

"It's 3 AM."

Vlad blinked, and his scowled deepened. "That somehow makes it even worse." He sat up as Danny leaned back, and reached for his side table, taking up a glass with little difficulty and downing the water in few gulps. He then sighed and looked back at Danny. "What is this about making a clone of you?"

Danny crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Exactly what it sounds like, fruitloop. I need you," Danny pointed a finger at Vlad. "To make me," He then pointed that finger at himself. "A clone."

Vlad's eyebrow twitched at how Danny spoke. As if he were explaining someone complex to a child. He sighed, killing whatever retort was on his tongue to instead rest his head in his head.

"There should most likely be one left that I haven't melted down yet, do with that what you will." He shifted back some until he could rest against his headboard and waited for the nuisance to leave-

"Why are you shirtless?" Inquired the child that was still there.

Vlad opened his eyes to shoot his a glare and he scoffed. "Are you not going to run along towards whatever need you have for a clone, child. Or do you insist on ruining whatever peace I have left?"

"Is the clone an actual clone or..?" Danny tilted his eyes, eyes roaming off Vlad to the lump beside him.

"No, it won't suddenly come to life, it is just a body." Vlad explained as he manifested a wing to hide said lump from Danny's gaze. "So you need not worry about that part, though why you would need one is beyond me."

Danny stayed quiet for a moment, before shrugging. "You still have a clone of me though? That's kinda weird dud-" His smirk was slapped right off his smug face by a wing as he flew back a bit through the air.

He matched Vlad's glare with one of his own as he rubbed his face, before huffing. "Fine. I'm leaving now." He phased through the wall, leaving with the whisper of fruitloop and leaving Vlad in that blessed, of so sacred silence.

Sadly, it was not to last.

His bedroom door was slammed open, with enough strength to shake the entire room and cause the poor thing to slam into the wall with enough force to crack the blood thing. "Dad! Those weird birds are-" The voice momentarily interrupted by two shouts of alarm.

"SWEET BUTTER BISTCUITS!"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

"-...Why are you naked...?" Danielle said, a look of disturbed confusion on her face before she ducked low to avoid a blast of magic. "Okay, now that was uncalled for- ewwwwwwwww!" She then screwed her eyes shut and put her hands over her eyes and looked as if she might puke.

Vlad, deciding to spare his daughter from a sight only he should've seen this morning and acquainted himself with quite thoroughly last night, he moved a wing to hide his partner's... private bits, from sight. Who then decided it would be the best idea to sit down.

On Vlad's wing.

If Vlad were any lesser man, he might have complained. But he was not. So he did not.

He did shift his wing around, however.

"You have a kid?" John Constantine, conman extraordinaire, rather shamelessly took the glass offered as Vlad covered the both of them with a sheet and drank the water. "Would a been nice to know before I shot at her, actually."

Vlad massaged the bridge of his nose, a headache coming on that in no way was because of a hangover and sighed through his nose. "She was not even supposed to be here for a week more, so there was no reason to tell you anything."

To which Constantine shrugged.

"Why are you here, Danielle. You were supposed," He stressed the word. "To be somewhere in Metropolis."

A single eye peeked out from between the girl's fingers, before she let out a relieved sigh and dropping her hands. "Those weird birds tracked me down to tell you they want to meet you." Dani wrinkled her nose. "Though I think you should put on clothes though.

"Weird birds-" Vlad paused, sneaking a glance over at his alarm clock to see that it was, in fact, 3:15 AM and groaned. he dropped his face into his hands. "Those blasted phoenixes, it's three in the morning!"

Dani just shrugged and stepped out of the room. "They're in your living room by the way, the fourth one down the hall that takes the two right turns, and they're getting pretty impatient." She then paused, staring straight at Constantine, who stared back with a raised eyebrow.

Water dripped down his face and down onto the bed as a ball of water slapped smack dab in the face as he reopened his eyes with an unamused expression.

Dani stuck her tongue out and then disappeared down the hall.

"Well, I'm awake now at least." Constantine said, reaching over Vlad's lap to place his now empty glass onto the side table.

A loud screech cut through the noise of the mansion, and for the second time. Vlad groaned.

It was only three in the morning...

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not-my-final-account · 3 months

Text

Danny is Gotham

“Are we safe now ghost boy?” Paulina asked

“Yes we’re fine,” I would usually be nicer but I had a whole evening planned before some ghost threw Paulina into the ghost zone for No Apparent Reason! Besides, something had been tugging at my core all day, I just couldn’t place it and it was getting annoying!

“We have to-” I cringed over in pain and it felt as though my core hada been shoved under tones of pressure.

I gasped for breath

“-ost boy! Ghost boy!” Paulina asked, getting incresingly worried. I grunted “Ghost boy are you okay?!” she asked

“Fright knight, gaurd Paulina.” I grunted, and then I flew off.

I flew towards my city, my haunt. My knight. My bird. I didn’t really understand what was going on but something was wrong, horribly wrong, with my bird, he was asking for help and I was going to answer.

I summoned a portal and flew through into some place, but where I was didn’t matter. I was looking at some pennywise rip off hurting MY BIRD!!! and I saw green.

I carried my bird out and held him in my arms, using my ectoplasm to heal him. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to bring you to your dad, you’re going to be alright.” I reassured

“Dad?” my bird asked weakly

“Your dad.” I reassured

“W-who are?” my bird tried to asked

“I’m Gotham.” I said “I owe you a great debt little bird.” I said “Healing my city, I’m so proud of you.” I cooed

“I- I didn’t fail you?” he asked hopefully

“You could never fail me, or your dad.” I told my bird.

I was stressing, I pulled my cowl on and off, Batman couldn’t help, Batman never helped and now Jason was gone! Jason was gone. Jason Was Gone. JASON WAS GONE. JASON WA- the door opened.

I spun around to see the silhouette of Gotham hovering in the air

“Gotham, Joker he-” I froze as Gotham stepped into the light. He was carrying Jason and dripping in blood- not either of their blood either.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s a clown I have unfinished buisness with.” Gotham said, so calmly.

Gotham seemed calm, and yet the city raged. The earth shook in barely supressed rage, the sky thundered in booming claps like a clock ticking, the ocean roared in fury and unyielding anger, the wind shrieked and howled in grief. Gotham was angry.

“D-dad?” Jason sat up and I nearly sobbed in relief “Dad, Gotham saved me.” Jason said, he looked at the blood on the floor “Dad what happened to Gotham?!” Jason asked worriedly

“Gotham is fine. I’m more worried about what he’s going to do.” I said

“He’s going to kill Joker.” Jason stated, then he tilted his head “You’re not going to try stop him.”

“I don’t think anyone can stop Gotham.” I said honestly.

#danny is gotham au #notmyfinalaccount writes #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary: Conflict arises with Harris's new teacher, filling Halloween with more tricks than treats. But it's nothing a visit with Ms. Sweetheart can't fix.

Warnings: allusion to Reader and Eddie's one-night stand, panic attack, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 5.6k

Chapter 6/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Guns N’ Roses t-shirt: check. Goodwill jeans with makeshift holes in the knees: check. Bandana tied snugly around his forehead: check. Arms littered with an assortment of temporary tattoos: check.

Eddie grins as he assesses his son’s costume, reaching into the thrift store bag as he pulls out the pièce de résistance: a denim jacket, only two sizes bigger than Harris would usually wear. It was a bit over what he’d been hoping to spend, but he’d reasoned with himself that it could also be worn after Halloween. It was an investment, he’d decided, not a splurge.

His smile falters when Harris indignantly stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. While Eddie had hoped his son would go with more badass tattoo options, perhaps a skull and crossbones or even a snake, he had insisted on a Sesame Street theme. Cookie Monster munches on his signature treat as Harris pouts.

“No, Daddy!” he whines, twisting away when Eddie holds the jacket closer to him. “I can’t wear that!”

“C’mon, Har,” he tries, scouring his brain to come up with a convincing enough lie. “Axl Rose wore jackets all the time!”

Harris doesn’t just shake his head; he swivels his entire body back and forth in protest. “I don’t care! No one’s gonna be able to see my tattoos!” He holds out both arms in front of him; nearly every square inch (besides the section blocked by his cast) is covered. Eddie had spent most of last night diligently applying them precisely where Harris had asked, lest there be a tantrum. There was, unfortunately, a headless Elmo from when Harris had asked–no, demanded–that he try by himself. Still, Eddie figured that only one casualty was a win.

“Those are some sweet ol’ tatties,” Eddie muses, biting back a laugh at the two-dimensional Big Bird on his son’s forearm. “But wouldn’t it be cool if you wore the jacket into school and then–BAM!--took it off and surprised everyone with them?

Harris appears to consider this, mouth tucked into his cheeks. “Can I show Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Sure, bud. We’ll stop by her classroom when I pick you up.” Whatever gets us out of the house in weather-appropriate attire. “But first, show me your most metal pose.”

The boy opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue as far as it extends, scrunching his face dramatically until the corners of his eyes crinkle. His middle and ring fingers press into his palm, thumb crossing over them, with his forefinger and pinky raised in the quintessential rock ‘n roll symbol.

Eddie swoops down and smacks a wet kiss to Harris’s cheek. “That’s my boy!”

Standing among the crowd of parents at pick-up, Eddie opts out of making banal small talk and instead chooses to look at the bulletin board. The previous art project that had been hanging against the faded blue paper–”self-portraits” that the students had made on the first day of school–have been replaced by finger paintings of orange blobs that vaguely resemble pumpkins. There wasn’t one for Harris because he was in Ms. Sweetheart’s classroom then, so it’s his first art project in his new class. He eagerly scans the board for Harris’s, frowning when he can’t find his name.

Maybe it’s still drying, he tries to convince himself, imagining his son over-saturating the paper with globs of paint. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character.

Ms. Marion’s classroom is a sea of costumed children. A boy dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stands by his mom. A Cinderella, a black cat, and a Thomas the Tank Engine surround Ms. Paula. As soon as Eddie spots Harris, he smiles and waves him over, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the sign-out sheet.

He expects Harris to zoom past the other kids, fueled by the standard Halloween diet of sugar and chocolate, but he just kind of…mopes to the doorway. His shoulders slump dejectedly, and though he keeps his gaze low, Eddie can still see the film of mist staining his innocent eyes.

“Har, what’s wrong?” He waits for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one–an oddity for his perpetually chatty son–he tries a new tactic. “Wanna show me where your artwork is? I must be gettin’ old, because I couldn’t find it on the board out there.”

“‘S not there,” Harris mumbles, scratching off a flaking piece of the Rosita tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Eddie watches as the tears start to slip down his cheeks, and he brings him into the hallway before Ms. Marion or Ms. Paula sees what’s going on. He can’t be certain, but his paternal instincts tell him that they’ve contributed to Harris’s sad state. “Why not?”

“I-I t-tried, but M-Ms. Mar-Marion and Ms. P-Paula got m-mad at me.” The words come out between choked sobs. “‘C-Cuz I c-couldn’t sit d-down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I k-keeped st-standing up, ‘cuz m-my legs wanted to st-stand.” The explanation tumbles out of him so quickly, as though he’s trying to beat the clock. “And they s-said if I did-didn’t sit down, I c-couldn’t do art. But I k-keeped f-f-forgetting, and th-they t-taked away my pay-pay-paper and said, ‘sit in the c-corner!’”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “Did…did that happen in Ms. Sweetheart’s class? The legs thing?”

“Mhm,” Harris manages, “b-but she let me stand and d-do ju-jumps to get the wig-wiggles out. She just t-t-telled me not to do ju-jumps with s-s-scissors, ‘cuz of s-safety.” His breathing increases to a rapid pace, face flushing red as his chest heaves. “B-But Ms. M-Marion ye-ye-yelled at me!”

Eddie’s brows pinch together, and he gently presses his calloused palms against Harris’s narrow shoulders, desperate to prevent him from hyperventilating. “Harris, you gotta calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re crying like this!” Despite his efforts, his frustration bleeds into his tone, and he winces when the latter sentence ends with an unwanted snap. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just an art project.”

“Harris?”

The sound of your voice draws the attention of both Munsons. You let out a small oof as Harris flings himself against your legs, and though he practically flew the five foot distance between his father and you, now is not the time to remind him about using his walking feet.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You crouch down, taking his hand in yours, and notice his quick, shallow breaths. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Eyes on me.” You demonstrate inhaling for three seconds, holding for three seconds, and exhaling for three seconds. “Now let’s do it together.”

He hesitates but ultimately follows your lead, and you guide him until his breathing slows enough for him to sputter, “I t-tried to sit, b-but I c-couldn’t.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but Eddie fills you in. You feel the heat of anger creeping through your body, not just for the way your co-worker treated the sweet boy, but for her insolent approach to teaching as a whole.

“We can go to my classroom,” you offer, silently sighing in relief when the boy nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I have the supplies to make the same project as Ms. Marion, but if you have a few minutes, you can draw something now. I bet Mr. Will would love to help you; he’s a super-duper artist.”

Just as you’d predicted, Will jumps at the opportunity to help Harris with his impromptu art project, encouraging him to draw something that makes him happy. While he does that, you comb through the mess left behind from the Halloween party you’d thrown. You’d sooner toss one hundred cupcake wrappers in the trash before attempting a conversation with Eddie Munson. He’s simply too unpredictable; kind and thoughtful one day, harsh and guarded the next.

One of the wrappers in your hand drops to the floor and you reach forward to pick it up, pinching the pleated material between your pointer and middle fingers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your form, the way the backs of your thighs are slightly exposed when you bend over, and you stand up quickly.

“Are you the Magic School Bus lady?” He takes in your lavender dress with planets and stars stamped all over it. Oh. He wasn’t checking you out; he was just trying to figure out who you’d dressed up as. Good. Anything else would be inappropriate.

So why does a twinge of disappointment radiate through you?

You glance at your costume; with all of the commotion, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing one “I mean, would I even be a teacher if I didn’t jump at the chance to be Ms. Frizzle?” You motion over to Will, decked out in green from head to toe with two yellow horns glued to a headband atop his mop of brown hair. “Have you met my trusty sidekick, Liz the Lizard?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Byers actually used to play in my D&D club back in high school. Made some pretty sick art pieces to liven up that dingy excuse for a room.”

You look between the two of them, trying to do the mental math. “Will, didn’t you say you’re twenty-four?” And if Eddie is thirty, that means…

“I, uh, had a little trouble graduating,” Eddie sheepishly admits, ruffling the back of his hair and offering a tight grimace. “But I got there eventually. Class of ‘86, baby!”

“Worked out for me,” Will shrugs with a grin, looking up from Harris’s drawing. “You were the best DM Hellfire ever had. Although, rumor has it that Erica Sinclair gave you a run for your money.”

Harris picks up a yellow marker, furiously scribbling a circle in the left-hand corner of his paper. You try peering over to see the whole drawing, but he presses his whole body against the table, successfully thwarting your plans. “No peeking!” he warns, not putting his feet back on the ground until you’ve averted your gaze. “‘S a surprise.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be surprised.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, who shares a similar response in return.

“Dunno when he got so bossy,” he snorts before calling out to his son, “Har-Bear? Five more minutes. We gotta get home to trick-or-treat with Grampa Wayne.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you echo as Harris grabs a purple marker from the box. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hmm.” Harris uses his free hand–the one with the cast–to tap his chin, continuing to color with the other one. “M&Ms. But only the plain ones. Daddy doesn’t let me have the peanut ones ‘cause he says I could choke.”

You shoot a sly, knowing look at Eddie. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. Such a selfless father.” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head innocently. “And what do you do with all of these confiscated peanut M&Ms, Mr. Munson? Donate them?”

Eddie tucks his lips into his mouth to mask his grin. “Listen, the jig is gonna be up at some point,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough so you can hear but soft enough that Harris can’t. “Let me enjoy my free candy while it lasts.”

“No judgment here,” you say with a small laugh, “they’re one of my favorites, too.”

“TA-DA!” Harris shouts, startling you, Eddie, and Will. He holds up the construction paper and smiles widely. To anyone without kids–or who didn’t teach preschool for a living–it would look like a bunch of colorful scribbles. But you can tell that he’s drawn a group of people standing by a tree (or a really, really tall flower) underneath the sun.

“Wow, Harris! That’s amazing!” you clap your hands together to punctuate your enthusiasm. “Who are all those people?”

Harris’s pointer finger travels left to right across the paper as he names each person: “That’s me, Grampa Wayne, Daddy, you, and Mr. Will!” The stick figure that represents you has a purple scribble on it, which you realize must be the costume you’re wearing. “An’ we’re all smiling because we’re happy!” Sure enough, each person has a curved red line at the bottom of their face. But there’s something else that catches your eye.

All of the people have a small space between them, except for you and Eddie. The circle that Harris drew to represent your left hand overlaps with the circle that is Eddie’s right.

You glance at the real Eddie, and if he notices, he doesn’t give any indication. “I love it, buddy.” He takes the drawing and inspects it closely. “Yup, this one’s definitely going on the fridge when we get home.” He flicks the paper for good measure. “Go clean up the markers so we can head out, Axl Rose.”

Among the noise of markers clattering back in the bins, you lean in to Eddie, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cigarettes and cologne. For a brief moment, you’re transported back to the night fate had led you to cross paths; the thought of his lips on your neck in the stairwell has you clenching your thighs and swallowing thickly as you murmur, “I can ask him to make a new one with just you, him, and his grandpa.”

Eddie shakes his head. “N-No. I like this one.” He lets one hand drop to his side and it grazes yours. His rings brush your knuckles, and you instinctively draw back at the sensation of the cool metal and the zing of heat that pulses at his light touch. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“S’okay.”

He blinks a few times and redirects his attention to his son. “What do you say to Mr. Will and Ms. Sweetheart for letting you do your art project?”

Harris’s little chest swells as he inhales deeply, storing up as much oxygen as he can fit in his lungs before bellowing, “THANK YOUUUUUUU!”

Eddie brings his palm to his ear canal, rotating his forefinger as though trying to repair a punctured eardrum. “Love the enthusiasm,” he says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, though. Thank you both so much.”

“Of course,” Will says warmly, picking up the marker bin and placing it in its space on the shelf.

“Anything for Harris.” You smile, motioning towards the little boy already by his father’s side. “Have fun trick-or-treating tonight, bud! I can’t wait to hear about all the yummy candy you got.”

Harris scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Are you going trick-or-treating, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Nah,” you laugh, “I’m gonna stay home and give candy to all the kids who come by.” And pray that Grandma doesn’t curse them out, you silently add.

“Oh.” Harris pauses, grabbing his dad’s hand. “Okay, bye!”

Eddie chuckles as his son pulls him towards the door. “That’s my cue. Um, Happy Halloween,” he adds awkwardly, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

There’s so much more that he wants to say: you’re the best; you saved the day; you should be my son’s teacher instead of that old, bitchy bat. But he didn’t have time. Maybe another day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Wayne arrives just a few minutes after Eddie and Harris get home. As soon as his gruff voice comes over the intercom, Harris excitedly buzzes him in. “Grampa Wayne’s here!” he yells, even though Eddie’s standing right next to him. He grabs the pillowcase from the couch; it was originally white, but after Eddie accidentally threw in a red sock with the white laundry, it’s tinted light pink.

No sooner does the older man cross the threshold into the apartment, Harris is trying to drag him out again. “Let’s go, before all the good candy is gone!” he whines. His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his grandfather’s hand. “Oh, wait, I gotta show you something.” He scampers off into the kitchen, and Wayne winces when he hears the rattle of magnets falling to the floor.

“I’m okay!” Harris calls out, running back with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look what I drawed at school today!” He gives Wayne the rundown of who’s who.

Wayne analyzes each person in the picture, stopping at the overlapping circles between you and Eddie. “This is great, Har-Bear,” he muses. “Are, um, are Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart holding hands?”

“Mhm,” Harris casually confirms, taking the drawing back. “‘Cause they’re married.”

Eddie chokes on air as Wayne does a double-take. “Congrats, Ed,” he jokes, clapping a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Gotta say, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Harris, why do you think that Ms. Sweetheart and I are married?” He wracks his brain for answers, but he can’t come to a logical conclusion. Did I talk about her in my sleep? Oh, shit, what if it was when I had that dream—

“Because you gived her a present,” Harris says, eyes innocent and wide. “And when grown-ups love each other, they give each other presents.”

“Oh, he gave Ms. Sweetheart a present, huh?” On the surface, Wayne’s words are as innocuous as Harris’s, but Eddie hears the teasing buried just beneath.

Harris nods. “Mhm. He gived her a tape!”

“It was the Toni Braxton one that she came into the shop for…that day that, uh…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at his uncle, who nods in acknowledgment. He brings his focus back to his son. “It doesn’t mean that we’re married. People have to go on dates and fall in love before they get married.”

The young boy absorbs this information. “So you should go on dates and fall in love with Ms. Sweetheart!” His face lights up at the idea of it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to let him down.

So, he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you hang that back up so we can get outta here and get you some candy, huh?” He forces a smile and watches his son scamper into the kitchen before turning back to Wayne and shaking his head.

Harris peels a magnet off of the fridge, the one Eddie bought him on their Daddy-Son day. It has a sea lion balancing a beach ball on its snout, with HAWKINS ZOO printed in bolded letters along the bottom.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he speaks directly to his drawing. “When Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love and get married, I’ll finally have a mommy.” He presses his hand flat against the paper as though he’s sealing in the wish. He stays like that for a moment until his dad calls his name, and he clutches his pillow case as they head out the door.

Eddie assumes that the love and marriage talk is done for the evening, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last long. The trio of Munson men is halfway down the stairwell when Wayne starts instigating. “Hey, Har, is Ms. Sweetheart pretty?”

“WAYNE!” Eddie grits his teeth and shoots a sharp look at his uncle. The last thing he needs is for Harris to get his hopes up about a blossoming romance between his dad and his former teacher.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris gleefully agrees, oblivious to the mounting tension. He grips the railing and jumps from the second to last step onto the tiled landing below. “Super pretty! Like a princess.”

The eldest Munson turns to Eddie. “Didja hear that? Pretty like a princess.”

“I heard him,” Eddie replies tersely.

“Daddy?”

No. Don’t ask me. Harris Wayne Munson, do not ask me what I think you’re going to—

“Do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty?”

Although he anticipated the question, Eddie still freezes. If he disagrees, Harris will inevitably want to know why not. And if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t name a single ugly thing about you.

He does think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And even though he’s literally seen you naked, fully on display for him–a memory he revisits more often than he’s willing to admit–it’s the thought of what you did today that solidifies your beauty. The way you’d effortlessly calmed Harris down without Eddie even having to ask. The frown on his face almost instantly became a smile, the flow of his tears ceasing and turning into the giggles that brought sunlight into Eddie’s life. You did that.

Any woman can be sexy, but you? In that moment, you were perfect.

Fuck.

“Daddy? Hello?”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Eddie realizes that he physically hasn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. His hand is gripping the banister so tightly that it leaves an imprint in his palm. “Yeah, buddy,” he manages through his Sahara Desert throat. “I think Ms. Sweetheart’s pretty.”

“Like a princess?” Wayne’s eyes twinkle mischievously. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to tease his nephew about a crush, and he’s not passing up this limited opportunity.

“Yeah. Like a princess.”

Education outsiders might think that Halloween is one of the worst days to be a teacher. The lethal combination of sugar and excitement barely contained in tiny costumed bodies seems like a recipe for disaster. But any teacher worth their salt will tell you that there is a day far, far worse than Halloween: November 1st.

On Halloween, there is the expectation for fun. There’s a costume parade, classroom trick-or-treating, and even a little party. The kids are out of control, but who cares? It’s Halloween.

But on November 1st, there is work to be done. And you’re expected to teach the months of the year to 10 four-year-olds who are suffering from candy hangovers and won’t stop asking why they can’t go trick-or-treating again today.

You and Will are preparing for battle as students trickle in, excited to show off the candy stashes they acquired the night before. Abby Carver cries because she ate her Reese’s cup and now she’s sad that it’s gone. Joshua Harrington is continuing to “sling webs” at the other kids despite your incessant reminders that he is no longer Spider-Man. A fight over a KitKat bar breaks out not even five minutes into the day, and you confiscate it before someone causes serious bodily harm.

Two fingers lightly tap on your shoulder—too high up to be a kid—and you whirl around with an irritated, “what?”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, concern etched into his otherwise soft features. He takes a small step back, nearly tripping over a rogue Lego that somehow made its way out of the toy area. He stumbles but catches his balance easily. “Everything okay?”

“‘S a warzone out here,” you try and joke, but you feel it fall flat. You’re too tired for humor. Grandma may not have yelled at the trick-or-treaters like you’d feared, but she did get increasingly angrier with each knock on the door. After the fifth time of her snarling at you to “shut the hell up” (like you could simultaneously be on both sides of the door), you’d relented and just put the candy bowl on the welcome mat, scribbling “TAKE ONE” on a yellow sticky note, adhering it to the plastic container.

Two decades earlier, Halloween at Grandma’s house had a completely different connotation. She’d have a little pizza party all set up for you, and she’d buy a big bag of your favorite candy, in case you didn’t get enough during your door-to-door quests. And she’d always let you watch whatever spooky movie your heart desired, regardless of your parents’ rules.

“That’s what grandmas are for,” she’d said with a wink, and the two of you curled up to watch Little Shop of Horrors. Her demeanor matched the hokey magnet on her fridge that read, If I knew how fun my grandkids would be, I would’ve had them first. You’d stay like that until you both fell asleep, only being roused by your parents arriving to pick you up. The good old days, before Grandma waking up involved watching the confusion in her eyes as she tried and failed to place you.

“C-Can I help you with something?” Your guard goes up immediately when you notice that Harris isn’t with him. The time you’d spent together after school yesterday had been nice, fun, even, but you couldn’t trust that today would be the same. Not after what happened a few short weeks ago.

“I, um…I just swung by to give you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his denim jacket; it’s the same one that he lent to Harris when he’d forgotten his at home. A flash of yellow paper catches your eye, and he unfurls his palm to reveal a small bag of peanut M&Ms. “You said they were one of your favorites, right?”

You look at the treat, not willing to reach out and grab it. What if it’s a joke? An elaborate ploy to reel you in, just to shout “gotcha” when you finally let your walls come down?

“Are they poisoned or something?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you spike them with Ex-Lax?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise before he collects himself. “Guess I deserve that,” he mumbles. “But, no. They’re not. I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” He drags his fingernail over his heart in an X-formation.

You take the bag, inspecting it for any sign of tampering, but you come up short. The edges are sealed, and there are no pinpricks as far as your eyes can see. “Dipped into Harris’s stash for me?”

“Hey, these bad boys are technically mine for the taking until he figures out that he can eat them without dying.” Eddie chuckles lightly, peering at you through impossibly long lashes. “But, yeah, I was hoping you’d accept these as part of my apology. Or apologies, I guess. For, uh, for not calling when I said I would, and all of the awful shi—awful things I said to you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he steps closer and says, “I am so fucking sorry.”

You make a small tear in the bag, tapping it against your palm until an M&M falls out. Popping the blue candy in your mouth, you allow the shell to start dissolving on your tongue before crunching on the peanut, hoping you can process what he’s said by the time you’re finished chewing.

This is what you’ve been waiting for—an actual heartfelt apology. His brown eyes reflect nothing but shame and remorse, and you can tell by the way that he’s fidgeting with his rings that he’s anxiously awaiting your reply.

His vulnerability softens you slightly, and considering you haven’t keeled over after ingesting the candy, you throw him a bone.

“This fun size bag covers the ‘not calling’ part, but I’m gonna need a lot more candy if you want me to forgive you for what you said at the music store.” You keep your tone light; teasing, even, but there’s a layer of truth to it. He can’t merely waltz into your classroom with a gift and expect you to forget his hurtful words.

Eddie nods, his frizzy curls brushing the tops of his denim-clas shoulders. “I know. I’ve said some pretty terrible things in my life, but that might’ve been the worst. And, um,” he fumbles his words, desperately searching for the right ones. Semantics has never been his forte. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not true; your grandma didn’t want to forget you. And…neither do I.” When you raise your eyebrows, he starts to backtrack. “Because you’re so great with Harris; like, you understand him and stuff. He’s always talking about you.”

Daddy, do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty? The question replays like a song he can’t shake from his head, its melody familiar but the notes still keeping him on edge. Pretty like a princess, only instead of saving her, I’m the one who needs to be rescued. So much for Prince Charming, huh?

The M&M melts in your mouth while you formulate a response to his candid admission. Sweetness seeps into your taste buds as you try to straddle the line between careful consideration and overthinking. Speak too quickly and you might say something you’ll regret. Take too long and you’ll make this even more awkward.

“W-Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Short, simple, to the point. Your words are slightly slurred by the candy obstruction, but what else is there to say? You could add that you forgive him, but you’re truthfully not sure that you do. His words scarred, had taken your already mangled self-worth and snapped it into pieces, and so did his reasoning for hurting you. Despite the love and kindness you’d shown his son, Eddie had fully believed that you were responsible for spreading personal information that would wound him. It was exactly as Jeff had said: Eddie struck below the belt at the first sign of conflict, so determined to protect himself that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the people on his side.

The sound of books clattering to the floor snatches your attention from him, and you whip your head to your little classroom library to see two kids standing over a pile of fallen books, guilty looks stamped on their faces. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, dashing off to assess the damage. You’ve never been so grateful for your students causing mischief.

The hour hand crawls to the number two; at one point, you swore the clock was moving backwards. The chaos of the morning was only a preview of the rest of the day’s fiascos, but you and Will had navigated as best as you could.

“Jesus,” he murmurs once the kids have all been dismissed, gingerly rubbing his temples, “that was brutal. I can handle the day after Halloween; I can handle Fridays, but when they coincide? Nope, never again.” He slumps into a chair dramatically, letting his arms drape over the sides.

“Gonna have a glass of wine when you get home?” you joke, wiping Play-Doh residue from a tabletop.

Will nods. “Or a whole bottle.” His focus shifts to your desk, and he nods his chin in that direction. “I see you have something to look forward to tonight, too.”

You follow his gaze, widening your eyes when you see the object he’s referring to. A bag of peanut M&Ms–much bigger than the one you’d inhaled this morning–sits on top of your desk calendar; resting next to it is a cassette. You walk over, curiosity getting the better of you. The cassette is Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction; you recognize the iconic cover as soon as it comes into view. It’s not your usual music choice, but you’ll listen to almost anything.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the giant yellow M&M bag, folded in equal triads. Messily scrawled across the front in black ink is Ms. Sweetheart. You gently pull the adhesive loose and open the letter, nervously running your forefinger across the irregular edge where it was obviously torn from a composition notebook.

Fun size mistake=fun size bag of candy

Family size mistake=family size bag of candy

I’m really good at fucking things up, but really bad at fixing them. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know that I did.

You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.

-Eddie

P.S. Not sure if hard rock is your thing, but I saw this at work and it reminded me of the kindness you showed our favorite little Axl Rose yesterday.

“Who’s it from?” Will asks, breaking into your thoughts. “A secret admirer?” He brings his clasped hands to his cheek in mock dreaminess.

You manage a laugh as you fold the note back up and tuck it under the calendar. “If it is, he’s really bad at it, because he signed his name.” When did he even sneak in here to do this? Kind of scary that someone could walk in and you didn’t even notice.

“Aha! So it is a guy!” Will pumps his fist triumphantly, though you’re not quite sure what he thinks he’s won.

“Just Eddie Munson, thanking us for letting Harris draw here yesterday.”

It’s not a total lie, but Will sees right through it. “Uh-huh. Thanking us? So that note is also for me? Can I read it?” He starts towards your desk, outstretched hand reaching towards where you’d tried to hide it, but you playfully swat them away.

You glance at the clock and frown. “If you leave a little early, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will flips you off; over the last two months, you two had developed a sibling-esque relationship that came out more once the kids had left for the day. He grabs his backpack from the supply closet and slings it over his shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, or I’d stick around and keep bothering you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, knowing full well that he’s itching to leave regardless. “Gotta save up your energy for when Marshall visits.”

Will blushes at the mention of his long-distance boyfriend’s name. He still wasn’t out to many people, but when you’d casually mentioned the date Jess had with a girl named Robin, he’d felt comfortable opening up to you. “I can’t wait!” His grin is so wide you swear it’ll stretch right off of his face. “Thanks again; you’re the best.”

That leaves you alone with your gigantic bag of candy, a Guns N’ Roses cassette, and an apology that you have no idea what to do with.

Once again, Eddie Munson has given you more questions than answers.

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multifariousqueer · 11 months

Note

im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles!prowler #miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles!spiderman #earth42!miles #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider verse #marvel #foryou

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 11 months

Text

The safety on his gun was turned back on with an inaudible click as Jason let the tension leak out of his body.

It wasn't often that someone broke into one of his safe houses, especially one that he hadn't used in a while, so seeing as some of his silent alarms went off he raced over ready to put a bullet in some wannabe robber or maybe a goon sent by another crime lord trying to start something.

Instead he found a prime bat adoption bait sitting in the living room floor, bare stomach pressed to the side of a ginormous egg. It didn't look like any egg hed ever seen either with midnight blue fuzz covering the whole thing. "Hey kid."

The kids head whipped around, startled by a strangers voice. "Who are you?" He asked incredulously, hugging the monster egg closer to himself, "How did you get in here? This place has some serious security."

Jason gave a short laugh, "Yeah, I know. I'm the one who put it there." He watched with mild amusement as the color drained from the kids face.

"You're the apartment owner? I thought he was supposed to be some big scary crime lord!"

"I'm not scary to you?" It wasn't uncommon for people to be intimidated by him. He was, as Steph put it, 'built like a fridge'.

The adoption bait stared into his eyes for a few torturously long seconds before simply saying, "No."

Huh.

"So, whats up with the egg?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"Thats my line, Todd." A voice said from across the room. Both him and the little intruder snapped there attention to the window where Robin was perched. Jason fought back the urge to chastise the little bat for using his real name seeing as he was out of costume at the moment. After all he was here as Jason Todd, normalish civilian man who came to see why his house was broken into, not Red Hood. Jason almost wished with was some goon working for a big bad even if it would have meant his secret identity was busted, he would have been at least dealing with that instead of Damians inevitable animal custody battle with the kid. Speaking of which.

"Hey kid, whats your name?"

"Danny Fenton." The kid-Danny, tilted his head. "I think."

Robin raised an eyebrow, causing his mask to sift with it, "You think?"

Danny nodded, "Yeah. Got blasted with something a few weeks ago and I don't remember much before that." His grip on the egg had loosened a bit and Robin chose this as he time to strike. Bird boy tried to lift the egg up out of the intruders impromptu blanket nest, but seemed to have misjudged the weight of the egg that was as big as both children's torsos and Danny was swift to take back his egg.

"What do you think you're doing?! Thats mine!" Egg dad hissed.

"Tt. I will be better able to care for the creature. You should just hand it over now. Do you even know whats in there?"

"No! Neither do you!"

Jason knew Robin couldn't refute that so he chose now to step in, "Where did that thing even come from?

He watched as Dannys scowl turned into a beaming smile as he told them about how he was hiding behind a dumpster for warmth when this egg just fell out of the sky and with quick thinking, managed to catch it with a bed of ruined pillows from a recent villian attack. "So you can't take my dragon egg away. I'm the only reason it didn't become a failed street omelet." Danny held his hands on his hips while giving Robin a smug look.

Before the demon brat could say anything or, more likely, try to wipe that smirk off the other kids face, a new person swooped in through the window. "You think its a dragon egg?"

The kid seemed unbothered by the Batman questioning him and just replied with, "Yeah! Look how big it is! Its gotta be a dragon!"

Bruce looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, "You found a large egg of an unknown, potentially supernatural creature and decided to incubate it?"

"Yeah!"

Jason decided he liked this kid.

#dp x dc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #batman #jason todd #red hood #danny phantom #danny got de aged #he remembers nothing of his previous life #might rediscover his powers #lmao #damian: I want that egg #Danny: Lol no. Finders keepers #it doesnt have to be a dragon it can be anything #gun #tw: gun

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corroded-hellfire · 7 months

Note

I’m dying for an AYW fic regarding the proposal and or wedding!!

A proposal you say?

@munson-blurbs and I are very proud to present to you the proposal of these two love birds. And how else would Eddie do it but with music? We hope you enjoy 💜

Words: 2.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had hoped that this would be the most perfect day you’d ever had in your life. Well, it was off to a shit start. Both you and Eddie were supposed to be attending a Billy Joel concert that night; something that you’ve been over the moon excited about for months now. Eddie was also excited, but it was for different reasons than seeing We Didn’t Start the Fire being performed live. He had come up with an elaborate plan to take you to dinner, the concert, and then just as it seemed as if the excitement of the evening had come to an end, he was going to propose.

Unfortunately, Lucas had put the kibosh on that when he phoned and told Eddie that the outdoor venue where the concert was being held said the show was a no-go due to inclement weather. Lucas works AV at the venue so was able to get the word out to you before the general ticket holders were notified. Eddie hated seeing the disappointed look on your face. He tried to comfort you, giving you sweet kisses and wrapping you up in his arms, all the while trying to figure out how he could salvage this proposal. The makeup date for the concert would likely be many months out and Eddie was damned if he was going to wait that long to ask you to marry him.

It had been a plan for you to go out with Nancy early afternoon to get your nails done together. “So they look good at the concert!” Nancy had said to you. “So when we take pictures of her ringed finger and when people keep wanting to look at her hand, she won’t be irked that her nails don’t look nice,” is the real reasoning Eddie gave to your friend. When you debate on whether or not you should even go out with Nancy still, Eddie urges you to.

“It’ll still be nice to have a girls’ day with Nancy,” he told you. “Go out, have fun. Get pampered.” So I can figure out what the hell I’m gonna do.

As soon as Eddie watches your car pull away from his spot at the apartment window, he’s pacing the living room and running his hands over his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Oooh,” Luke says as he comes down the hall. “Another quarter in the swear jar!”

Eddie turns to his youngest son and realizes he can use the boys to his advantage here. What would be needed to make a romantic evening here at home? Candles? There were plenty in the hall closet. Rose petals? Yes, they had been purchased for your anniversary last year. Eddie had his guitar; he could stage a mini concert for you. Yes, he could pull this off. He would need help from his mini-me’s for that, though.

“Alright, boys,” Eddie says, loud enough that Ryan peeks out of his room to see what his dad wants. “I’m gonna need your help with something big.”

“A monster truck?” Luke asks. Ryan rolls his eyes at his little brother as he comes to join them in the living room.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. “Guys…I’m proposing.”

“Like, you’re finally gonna ask her to marry you?” Ryan asks, a sparkle gleaming in his eye at the question.

“Yep,” Eddie confirms. “Or, I was, but now the concert is canceled—wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?”

Ryan shrugs. “You asked us a million years ago if we’d be okay with you and her getting married.”

“Hold on,” Luke pipes up, putting his palms out to pause the discussion. “They’re not married?”

“Christ on a cracker.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and gives it a tiny massage. He’s so frazzled he can’t even tell if Luke is just trying to mess with him right now or not. “No, we’re not married. But I’d like to marry her, and I was hoping you two could help me decorate so this can still be special.”

With that, Eddie and the boys get to work to transform the apartment into a romantic oasis before you get home from your nail appointment. Thank God for Nancy Harrington.

Eddie strategically places candles throughout the bedroom, giving Luke strict orders not to light them. At this rate, the kid shouldn’t be allowed near an open flame until he’s forty. Instead, Eddie puts his sons in charge of sprinkling a trail of rose petals from the front door to the room. Ryan’s mastered the art of “sprinkling,” but Luke’s contribution looks more like small piles.

Oh, well. It’s the thought that counts.

It’s Ryan’s idea to make paper hearts and Scotch tape them around the apartment; ever his shadow, Luke joins him.

Eddie has his acoustic guitar laying on the bed, tuned and ready to go. He puts the ring box in his pants pocket and rechecks it approximately every thirty seconds to make sure it’s still there, as though it could slip through the fabric and into an alternate dimension.

He rushes to the door when he hears the buzzer ring, tucking his shirt into his pants, not sure if that’s how he wants it or not. When Wayne’s voice comes over the intercom, he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Boys! Grandpa Wayne is here!” he calls out, grinning when he hears their thunderous footsteps.

“Daddy,” Luke says, holding out a fun size piece of candy, “give this to her. Girls like chocolate. It’s romantic.”

Eddie tries not to chuckle as he inspects the melted Twix bar. “I’m sure she’ll love it. And I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you.” Like it could be from anyone else, he thinks amusedly. He tucks it safely into his pocket as he heads over to open the front door.

As soon as Wayne steps foot into the apartment, he’s bombarded by two excited children.

“Grandpa, Grandpa!” Ryan chants as Luke clings to the older man’s side.

“What is it, pal?” Wayne asks.

“Daddy’s gonna propose!”

Wayne was already aware of this fact, and that he was taking the boys for the night for this very reason, but he acts surprised for his grandkids’ sake.

“Wow! That’s real excitin’, isn’t it?” Wayne asks.

“Yes!” Luke replies.

Eddie’s uncle chuckles and ruffles both boys’ hair before taking a step closer to the soon-to-be-engaged man. “I’m real happy for ya, kid. She’s a good one.”

“Thanks, Wayne.” He claps a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The front doorknob jiggles and all four Munson men turn towards it in complete synchronicity. Eddie quickly presses a kiss to each of his sons’ heads and whispers for them to behave tonight before he ducks into the master bedroom.

Just in time, as you step through the door not a second later. Your eyes land on the trio in front of you and you give them a smile.

“Hey, Wayne! How’re you?”

“I get to spend time with my favorite guys,” Wayne says, resting a hand on each boys’ shoulder, “so no complaints here.”

“We’re staying at Grandpa’s so Daddy can—” Luke starts, but is quickly hushed by Wayne leading him quickly towards the front door.

“Okay, time to go! C’mon you little knuckleheads. See ya later, hun.”

“Bye Wayne. Bye boys! Love you!”

There are muffled calls of “bye” and “love you too” but it sounds like Wayne is speed walking them out of there. You chuckle to yourself and drop your bag down on the counter. No sign of your boyfriend in the living room or kitchen. Brow pinching together in confusion, you sigh and rest your hands on your hips.

“Eds? The boys left; you can stop hiding now,” you tease, frowning when you still don’t see him. “Eddie?”

“‘M in here, babe,” he calls from the bedroom. There’s a waver in his voice and it has you moving even faster towards him.

He’s sitting on the end of your shared bed in black jeans and a maroon button-down shirt, untucked. His acoustic guitar rests on his lap as he strums idly. You barely have time to take in candles and hurricane of rose petals before he says, “Figured I’d bring the concert to us.”

The opening chords of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” reach your ears and it instantly has you getting choked up. Hot tears press at the back of your eyes as you remember dancing in the kitchen to this with Eddie before Ryan’s birthday party all those years ago.

Under your breath, you begin to sing along. It is a concert after all, but you want to keep your voice low enough that all you can hear is still Eddie’s. You lean back against your dresser behind you, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes as he serenades you. There don’t have to be words spoken, you know he understands what you’re saying with just your eyes. I promise I will always love you just as you are.

The next song in your personal concert is “You May Be Right.” Eddie gets into it, head rocking as he sings out the lyrics, even inflecting his voice on the word “lunatic.” It’s silly and sweet and everything you love about Eddie personified in this moment between the two of you.

“She’s Always a Woman” is the next song on the set list. This one has the tears that were behind your eyes now making their way forward. The moisture gathers at your lash line as you watch your boyfriend with absolute adoration. Once the song is finished, Eddie gives you a wink.

“Last song and then I’m gonna kiss you, I promise.”

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

I bet she never had a backstreet guy

I better her mama never told her why

You had no doubt that Eddie would finish with this song. Your song. How it started from teasing and joking to now being the song that makes the two of you look at each other as if there’s nobody else in the world for those few minutes.

Once he finishes the song, Eddie gently sets the guitar down and you rush into his arms. Your tears drip onto the maroon polyester of his shirt as you bury your face in his shoulder. Eddie rubs his hand softly up and down your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head. With a small sniffle, you look up at Eddie with wide, watery eyes.

“This is the sweetest thing ever, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me. I’ve been so bummed all day that the concert’s been postponed and I—”

The rest of the sentence gets silenced as Eddie presses his lips against yours. It’s partly because he wants to stop your rambling—and he wants to kiss you all the time in general—but also because the nerves are getting the better of him as every second ticks by. He has to ask you or he’s going to combust on the spot.

With one large hand cupping your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist, Eddie slowly and subtly moves further away from the bed, so he’ll be able to get down on one knee when the time comes

“I’d do anything for you, my love. You know that,” he whispers against your lips.

Eddie tries to recall the speech he had prepared in his mind, only to have nervous sweat begin to break out along his hairline. It only takes a few moments before you notice, because you always notice what’s going on with Eddie. The concerned look that mars your features suddenly has all of the tension releasing from Eddie’s body. The nerves are gone without a trace, replaced by warmth and love for the beautiful, amazing woman standing in front of him. How could he have been nervous about this to begin with? It’s you. You are the love of his life and, though he still can’t comprehend why or how, he’s the love of your life, too.

“Uptown Girl has kind of followed us on our journey, hasn’t it? From you playing your Billy Joel tapes when you were babysitting the boys and I’d come home and pretend to be all annoyed by it. But then one time I remember really listening to the lyrics and having this epiphany. You’re uptown girl, I’m the downtown man. Uptown Girl, you know I can’t afford to buy her pearls. But maybe someday when my ship comes in she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been and then I’ll win. I’ve always wanted to give you the world. I always wanted you to see me, silently dying for your attention on the inside. Because when you walked through the front door that first day…baby, you’ve never for a moment left my mind since then. I went from thinking you were this unattainable fantasy that I would have to be content with to admire at a distance to…this. The life we’ve built, the love we’ve shared. Princess, I wanted to give you everything but instead you gave that to me. I have everything I could ever want or need when you’re here in my arms. I still can’t believe how unbelievably lucky I am to call you mine. Every day I wake up and thank God when I see you laying next to me, all huddled up in the blankets. It feels right. More so than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. I’ve always told you that you’re my forever, baby. And I meant it.”

Slowly, Eddie lowers himself to one knee and the realization of what’s happening hits you with a sharp gasp. Is this really happening? you think. Or am I dreaming again? The beads of water that had been quelled for the most part start flowing again, leaving tracks down your cheeks. Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box. He takes one more deep breath before lifting the lid and revealing a shining silver ring with a princess cut diamond sitting atop it. Because he calls me princess, you realize.

“My love. My princess, my angel, my sweet, sweet girl. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Stunned isn’t a look Eddie has ever seen on you before. It feels like an eternity that you just stare at him, saying nothing. In reality, it’s probably less than ten seconds, but Eddie’s mind is currently working in slow motion. Finally, you nod your head and time is back to normal in Eddie’s world. The teary laugh you give him as you keep nodding has a smile forming on his face that he’s sure will be there for a while.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie.”

At hearing the words come from your mouth, his smile grows into a grin that’s enough to light up an electric grid. He plucks the ring from its satin cushion in the box and slowly slides it up your finger. As he stands, he’s expecting you to admire the ring, inspect it and be giddy about the jewelry. But the moment he’s steady on his feet, you’re grabbing Eddie’s face between your hands and planting a fierce kiss on his lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you mumble against his mouth before pressing another kiss after kiss there.

“Can't believe you want to be my wife,” Eddie says in amazement as you finally part.

“I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on you. I never knew my schoolgirl crush would become my husband.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re gonna be my wife.” He pulls your body close against his and buries his face in your hair.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“Is there something in your pocket?”

“Huh?” He digs into the denim to pull out a half-melted Twix bar. “Oh, right. A gift from your future stepsons.”

At the word “stepsons,” an entirely different wave of emotions crashes over you. A different kind of love envelops your body and it might just be the warmest and fuzziest feeling you’ve ever felt.

“Holy shit. I’m going to be their stepmother.”

Eddie isn’t sure if you're happy or scared about it by your tone, but then you well up with tears again and a grin rivaling his own lights up your face.

“I’m gonna be their stepmom!”

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“They are so lucky to have you. We all are. Now, uh,” the tips of his ears turn pink, and he clears his throat, “you mentioned a schoolgirl crush?” One hand snakes around your waist and lowers to grab your ass. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

“Whatever you say, fiancé.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #AYW #AYWS #request

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lovelybrooke · 2 months

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I know you said mentioned that reader doesn’t really need to worry during exterminations but I would like to counteract this. Reader needs to worry, but not for the reason one might think. Obvious no one wants to kill reader, but they do have to worry about being snatched during the extermination. I mean the angels are literally coming down for extermination, you don’t think Adam’s going to be killing two birds with one stone by also bringing reader to heaven while he’s down there

and for the other overlords, the hours after extermination are when territory is up for grabs, since a lot of demons die. Maybe Vox takes this opportunity to try and get a grab on reader while Alastor and the hotel is weaker. plus the overall clinginess and overprotective level that will happen during the extermination. The hotel is going batshit trying to protect reader, Lucifer might even show up for extra protection.

In general I think there’s more that can be done with the whole “reader in hell during extermination” thought

Honestly I agree.

I could see reader not really worrying about it because of the brave face Charlie and Alastor put on before the battle. But internally they are struggling.

Charlie knows that the Angels are going to try and take you to Heaven, and she can let that happen. Alastor knows that the Vee's, at least Vox, is watching you and he knows he might plan on doing something during extermination. Even Angel is scared because Val's been talking about you too much for his liking and he's running out of excuses to not talk about you.

If Vox managed to somehow get ahold of reader during the extermination Alastor would be livid. I could see Vox as almost an awkward step dad, he wants you to like him and see him as cool so badly but you're just like "who are you??"

If the angles somehow got ahold of you, then at least it wouldn't be as bad as Vox. Sera and Emily are really nice, and Adam is just annoying, but it's not a scary as hell.

Either way, somehow leaving the hotel means that you're going to have a very angry Lucifer. Like imagine Charlie having to go and tell her dad that she's lost you.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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vintagecandy · 1 year

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My personal reimagining of Jervis Tetch, AKA: The Mad Hatter.

So I noticed that it is really common for Gotham rogues-- but almost especially Jervis Tetch-- to get redrawn and redesigned! Which I just thought was such a fun exercise, so because I'm me and predictable my brain immediately leaped at the chance to imagine my own Jervis.... set in the 1920s. Now, the drastically different time period causes a lot of interesting dynamics. For one, I'm fairly certain Jervis Tetch's character originates from a time period of comics where people wore a lot more hats, so setting him in the past is very fitting for him. It makes a lot more sense for him to literally be an artisan hat manufacturer, as in a real hatter. BUT what's interesting is that hand made "hatter" style hats were actually beginning to fade out of favor, and one of the reasons is actually partially because there was a growing moralizing around the hatting industry's overhunting of birds for their decorative feathers, and so Jervis ( as you can see ) having this big, real peacock bird feather on his hat is sort of a defiance, a subtle expression of his bad intent. And I imagine his introduction to crime will be marked with the sudden unprompted rise of vintage style hats "regaining popularity". He's very much still a hypnotist, a master illusionist, and a scientific genius, and I was thinking- to shake things up- the hat is actually what drove him insane. Originally the hat band was created to counteract nerve damage he developed from mercury poisoning some years ago, but ended up also giving him heightened focus and an incurable bout of severe insanity. Then he later repurposed it for mind control. What insanity? Ok, look at the face I drew for him. This was on accident, but I've been looking at his face...... and I cannot shake the feeling he's a dad. Like, he has peak "wacky inventor father" energy in his face, but more sickly and evil. So I was thinking.... what if for this Jervis instead of his usual romantic Alice fixation... Alice was instead his daughter. And he loved having pretend tea parties with her, acting as the hatter. Some point after he put on the hat, his behavior was a little off but not worrying yet, but he lets his daughter wander off too far in this dangerous city and he just... never sees her again. He calls the police, they're kinda apathetic- probably corrupt tbh, he puts up posters-- nothing, she's just gone. Probably dead the more time passes. A senseless tragedy in a nonsense world. This breaks his brain! And so he decides he's going to take over all of Gotham and turn it into a game of Wonderland, part out of spite, and mostly out of total denial that his daughter is gone no matter how many years pass, in hopes that the little lost girl will find her way back to him or even that more puppets means more help finding her. But with time his insanity becomes so severe he doesn't even remember Alice was his daughter and not literally the book Alice, but he is slightly more lucid when without the hat. However, he feels sick and anxious when without it.

But as it goes in Gotham, by the time they consider you Arkham levels of insane, incurably so-- a 1920s insane asylum mind you! Which practically makes him more ill-- you sort of have no choice but to stay in the crime life forever. Which is where the tommy guns come in.

#( so i have now drawn... 3 variants of an evil mad hatter character? pfft )#Jervis Tetch #vintagecandy's jervis tetch #1920s #1920s jervis tetch #mobsters #vintage #fanart #Batman #DC comics #Gotham rogues #Mad Hatter #Alice in Wonderland #The Mad Hatter #1920s gotham

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 6 months

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Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

PLEASASSWEEPLEASE TOU DONT HUNRERFSTABDS

GLENN GLENN GLENN ITS GLENN VOTE GLENN VOTE FOR THE BOY

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

GLENN GLENNNNNN

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I haven't dedicated the last 2 months of my life drawing Glenn close for him to lose

Vote for Glenn Close or I will make you read the parody I did of the vaporeon copypasta

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

VOTE GLENN

Glenn fuckers fought tooth and nail to get us here from like 38% dawg we DESERVE THIS. GLENN IS THE SEXIEST MAN!!! HE WAS THE FIRST FICTIONAL CHARACTER I FOUND HOT AND HE’S GONNA CONTINUE TO SWEEP!!! Your hot goat woman sounds sexy don’t get me wrong but I’m forever fighting for the man that changed my brain chemistry. Proud of our fandom tbh. I don’t think y’all understand the sheer amount of effort I have put in to get my boy where he is today but this placement feels well earned. TO GLENN SWEEP!!

THE FUCK YOU MEAN GLENN CLOSE ISNT WINNING IM BOUT TO THROW HANDS FR

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

Yalll better vote glenn i swear to god

Vote Glenn or else the bird gets it🐦🛸

HOW IS MY DUDE NOT WINNING????

GLEN GELN NELG GLENNANN HE DESERVS ITTTT

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Taako (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

A celebrity chef from another plane

#Round 3 #Glenn Close #Taako #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Balance

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audisive · 5 days

Text

♪ MILLION DOLLAR MAN. (💌)

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: you need a bodyguard, and simon's the only one you can trust. for now.

tags: fluff, angst (ish), hurt/comfort, romance, soft!simon, bodyguard!ghost, model!reader, trust issues, hints to a panic attack, you have a bad dad (and family)

There's an ugly yellow folder on your vanity, sticking out like a sore thumb.

That's the first thing you see.

There's a hitch in your breath before you speak. "Vel," you walk over to your desk and call out to the lovely girl with your coat over her arm, your favorite maid. "What's this?" With manicured nails, you pick up the folder cautiously with the feeling of familiarity and déjà vu.

Veliana tilts her head to the side, the clueless little bird she is. "A folder, miss." You huff a smile out at her simple response, the pretty little thing never knowing better. "Please give Noah a call." You tell her and she nods her head automatically, still smiling at you.

When she carefully places your coat on the rack, she scurries off to who knows where. You're left in the comforts of your too-large room, a delicate piece of work that you'd paid thousands of dollars for after your face had snatched the interests of magazines, reporters, and such. You find that there are even uglier men inside when you open the flimsy thing in your hand.

Veliana is breathless when she comes back to you like the obedient girl she is, handing over the phone with your manager's name on it.

"What's wrong, darling girl?" Noah asks, annoyance seeping into his tone despite the usual pet name. "What's with the profiles?" you question right back, flipping through the folders, carefully scanning each gruesome man with horrifying detail. You already know the answer, but you dread it.

"About time you actually considered my suggestion," he voices out. "You need a new bodyguard."

You find that your new bodyguard is just as noticeable as the folder you threw away without much thought. There's people staring at him when they would be gawking at you.

Simon Riley is a trusted man; at least that's what you try to tell your manager. A remarkable 6'4 military man who should be off in a bar with beer – he drinks whiskey, imbecile – or resting in a broke-down apartment, not babysitting his model of a friend. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded it if he acted just a little annoyed at you, but he doesn't even spare you so much as a glare. You're not sure if you should be glad or not.

You have to admit that you do feel a little smug when your manager avoids yelling at you with Simon glaring daggers at him. Then again, there's this anxious feeling pooling at your stomach when he gets a little too close. He's certainly scarier than the last one.

His large hand calms you down when it lands on your lower back and sneaks his warmth through your thin clothing. You let out a breath, as if he'd just commanded you to do so without a word.

Simon should be in his awfully empty apartment, sleeping the day off or making a small trip to the groceries for necessities fresh out of deployment. But when he opened the door to you, who's clearly so troubled and almost begging to help you out with.. whatever it was you asked, how could he say no?

"It's just temporary, I swear. I just need some time to do a proper background check on the other bodyguards."

Given that your shitty father's in jail with unfinished as well as illegal business, it wouldn't be proper of him to let a civilian walk around with danger right at her back. That's what he says to himself, anyway.

He's just not so sure he signed up for the right job as a bodyguard. Truth be told, he would've preferred to be your boyfriend.. but as long as he has rights to protect you, then he won't complain.

He's well aware of the men coming for your neck for a variety of reasons. Some out of jealousy – Simon thinks that the fashion industry might as well be a warzone. Maybe that's why he accepted this in the first place – and some because of your problematic family.

He's also heard about your past cowardly bodyguards, if you can even call them that after they'd left you in the face of death. It's a wonder how you're still alive, but he wouldn't dare question it.

It doesn't help, not really, when there's an ear-deafeaning explosion and a panicked angel in his arms, clutching onto him for dear life. "Simon," you all but whimper, labored breaths and uncontrollable tears slipping out of you.

He hushes you, coos at you as sweet as he possibly can. He soothes you and cradles you against his chest as he shoots back at death and carries you to safety when the storm of chaos calms. And he never leaves. Not once.

Not even when you're well and sitting on the cold bed of an even colder hospital room. You'd begged him to stay and lay with you, and when he does, you insist that you owe him your life, and he tells you he's just doing his job.

Still, you can't help that you push yourself closer to him. "Thank you," you whisper, "for staying."

"'M yours to keep." Simon gruffs out, "my loyalty and life belongs to you. All of it." And so does his heart.

(bodyguard!ghost is just modern knight!ghost to me :3c)

divider by @cafekitsune !

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bettyfrommars · 2 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 4: Never Say Never

18+ONLY, MDNI, eventual smut, mention of blood and violence, a knife wound, mention of wounds, Jason being a typical prick, mention of assault, Steve gets hurt, misogynistic language, some angst, hurt and comfort. Reader goes by the nickname Bird. Eddie is in his late 20's and Reader is 21.

word count: 4.3k

masterlist playlist

Summary: You learn everything you need to know about both Jason and Troy while getting a taste of what Chrissy has had to deal with. Eddie tries to push you away but fails miserably. Robin and Steve are in a dire situation, and you turn to one of the only people you trust. A new opportunity presents itself and you decide to take the leap.

A/N: It's been so fun to put all of these characters into the setting of this beloved film. For those of you who are familiar with Dirty Dancing, I hope you enjoy a few of the scenes in this that were taken directly from it.

The next day, the three of you made your way to another spot on the lake in a rented boat for a picnic. Under the shade of a tree while your dad napped and Kim read a romance novel, you tried to draw Eddie. The curve of his mouth, the way his bangs skirted his eyebrows, the blunt nature of his nose. When you got home, you practiced in the attic for an hour, thought about throwing your cello off the balcony just to watch it splinter to pieces, and then you found yourself staring out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Eddie.

After dinner, you were the last one to leave the table, and the waiter Jason nudged your shoulder.

“Your dad seems really cool,” he gave a toothy, golden boy smile. “He signed a copy of one of his books for my mom.”

“He’s alright, I think I’ll keep him,” you said without returning the smile. Kim stopped in the archway to the foyer to turn and check if you were following, but you waved her off. Getting to know Jason was not high on your priority list, but you remembered Eddie flicking his cigarette at him that first day you arrived, and your curiosity was piqued.

Jason bent at the waist to stack some plates together, giving you a wink over his shoulder. “Listen, I know you’re kinda seeing Troy and all, but if you ever want to hang out we can—”

“I’m not seeing Troy,” you hissed, making sure the last few tables full of people couldn’t hear you. You were about to say he was “just a friend” but he wasn’t even that. “I barely know him.”

“Well, that’s not what he says,” Jason cocked his head, placing the used silverware on the tray as he moved around the table. “But anyway, if you ever want to have some fun, get away from this place or whatever, I could show you some stuff,” he lifted his eyebrows a few times suggestively. “Wait, you’re over 18, right?”

You followed him, ignoring his offer. “What did Troy tell you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he chuckled, as if it were funny. “Hey, I saw you talking to Chrissy the other day and, friendly advice? I’d keep your distance from that whole group if I were you.”

You held up the flower vase so he could pull the tablecloth off. “How do you know Chrissy?”

Jason cleared his throat, glancing at the people eating across the way. “I guess you could say Chrissy and I had some fun last summer.”

“She was your girlfriend?”

“She wishes,” he scoffed. “God created girls like Chrissy for one reason and one reason only.”

“Oh? And what reason is that?” You stopped helping him and stepped back.

“C’mon Bird, I know you’re from the suburbs, but you’re not that naive,” he moved the bin of dirty dishes to an empty chair.

He stepped closer and leaned in, whispering. “Girls like Chrissy, with serious daddy issues, they’re a great fuck, but no one wants to marry them. Same reason your boyfriend Troy had a turn with her.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You said through gritted teeth, an internal rage building as you watched his mouth, picking up a piece of silverware as you went.

“She hides it well at work, but Chrissy’s one of those satanic metalhead freaks you’d never want to be seen in public with. Not if you had any self respect anyway.”

He continued, and you followed him over to the alcove by the kitchen, out of view from the other customers. “Some people matter and some people don’t, that’s all I’m saying. If she thought Troy would ever get serious with a girl like her, that’s her fault, not his.”

“Is that why I saw them arguing the other day? She wanted to be with him but he ended it?”

You were pushing the boundaries of gossip, but could tell Jason enjoyed the attention.

“I doubt it, those two were never serious,” he moved back for another waiter to pass by. “Chrissy keeps threatening to tell Joyce that Troy forced himself on her the last time they were together, but we all know that’s a lie. She was practically begging for it. Plus, it’s her word against his, and everyone knows she’s a whore.”

“I see.”

Jason leaned in so close his lips were almost grazing your ear. “If you want to come by later, my cabin number is—”

The fork you had in your hand jabbed between his legs, points finding their soft target with ease. Jason let out a high-pitched curse that made a few heads turn, but he was helpless not to back up as you moved forward, forcing him further down the hallway, out of sight.

“Whattt the fuck, shit, fuck you, bitch, what the shit—”

When you pushed the utensil in further, he whimpered a gasping plea to stop, but your aim made him too vulnerable to move.

You leaned in so that your body was close to his in the darkness of the corner, close enough to smell the cheap cologne he wore. “Do you have any idea how powerful the lawyers are that work for my dad? Try anything with me or Chrissy, and you’ll be sorry you ever met me.”

You stepped back and he coughed, bending over to cover his crotch with both hands, trying to catch his breath.

“You’re a fucking cunt,” he spat.

You charged forward again, forcing him to stumble back, putting his hands up as a form of surrender.

You winked, and threw the fork at him on your way out, letting it clatter to the ground.

—-------

The adrenaline was still pumping when you were halfway back to your cabin on foot and spotted Eddie. He was cutting across the grass from the sidewalk, heading away from you.

“Eddie!”

But he didn’t falter, as if he couldn’t hear you, but that was impossible. Unless he had headphones on? Nope, you didn’t see any.

He picked up his pace.

Instinct told you maybe he didn’t want to be bothered, or he was in a hurry somewhere, but your buzzing brain overrode all of the logic.

“Hey, do you have a second?” You finally caught up to him on the lawn under the trees where the outside movie was usually playing.

He stopped abruptly and dropped his shoulders, taking a breath before he turned, albeit reluctantly, to look at you. His expression was weary, if not wholly nonplussed.

“What’s up?” His tone was cold as he wet his lips and braced his hands at his hips. His toolbelt and his staff shirt were still on, as if he were on the clock so late in the evening. “I’ve got a…thing to get to. But if you need something, you just gotta ask up at the front desk. Or dial 0 on the phone in your—-””

“A thing at the Hideout?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened at that. You looked fucking adorable standing there with your hands balled into fists as if you were bout to punch him.

He breathed out, looking everywhere but your face. “Don’t you have some other vacation thing you should be doing right now? Like charades in the west lobby or salsa dancing on the veranda?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I suppose anything would be better than this lame conversation.”

The retort made his brows jut up. “Well, keep on walking, your highness,” he extended his arms in a flowing gesture. “Don’t let a lowlife like me stop you.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

So, he turned and continued on his way, wood hammer handle slapping his thigh from its side holster. But it only took a few steps for him to halt, cursing through gritted teeth when he realized he couldn’t walk away from you, it just wasn’t that easy.

When he spun around, you were standing in the same spot but with your back to him. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

You pivoted on your heel, prepared to be cunty right back, but you couldn’t help but soften once your eyes met. You could’ve made something up in that moment, or you could’ve feigned forgetfulness, but instead, you told him the truth.

“I just wanted to see you.” You swallowed hard and so did he.

Eddie stiffened; a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t smile though, he couldn’t. Such a gesture would betray everything he did not want to feel at that moment. A pregnant silence lingered thick in the space between you while he worked his jaw, once again trying to avoid looking directly at your face. He wasn’t ready to have those types of feelings, especially for someone he could never have.

“There is something I have to do first, but I’ll be at the Hideout later if you want…I mean, if you want to walk down there and have a beer…that’s where I’ll be.”

“I’d like that,” was all you should’ve said, but then you added. “I like beer.”

—-----

Your heart was in your throat as you made your way back from the cabin in a fresh change of clothes. You practiced the things you would say when you saw Eddie again, in case your brain to mouth connection betrayed you again.

The path you were on led down beyond the tennis courts and the golf course, and then along a strip of parking near the employee cabins. The Hideout was not too far off, you noticed, but then there were bright headlights beaming at you, and you kept your head down, pumping your arms to the beat of your own thoughts.

But then you heard a scream.

It was someone in distress, and it sounded like…Robin?

Stuttering to a halt, you squinted looking into the headlights that were a good many yards away, not yet able to make out a person or even what type of car was there.

“Hello?” You stepped from the sidewalk, inching closer, but your words were only met with the sound of a door slamming. “Are you okay? Who is there?”

Robin came toward you then; there was what looked like blood smeared on the front of her shirt.

“Bird!” She seemed so relieved to see you, hurrying forward with tear-soaked cheeks. She was speaking in a tense whisper, checking around to see if there were others who might hear her. “Have you seen Eddie?”

You forgot how to speak as you took in the situation, mouth agape. “Are you…hurt? What’s going on?”

“I’m–I’m fine, it’s Steve,” a sob caught in her throat. “I need to find Eddie. Can you help me?”

“Yeah of course,” you gushed, following her to the van to maybe see what the damage was.

She opened the passenger door to the van and Steve would’ve fallen out if she hadn’t caught him. He was slumped there like dead weight, his face a sheet of white.

You hurried to help hold him up and your hand at his hip slipped along something warm and viscous over his jeans in the dark. His head lolled forward and he mumbled something incoherent, but it was good to know he was conscious.

From what you could see, one side of his face was swollen, his lip split open and bleeding. The hand closest to you looked raw and angry like he’s been punching a brick wall, and there were cuts on his arm from where he’d tried to block the strikes.

“One of them had a switchblade,” Robin gushed. “Motherfuckers, they stabbed him and I—-there were too many of them. We didn’t know. My ex, she had all of her friends there. She lied and told them Steve hurt her. He’d never even met her before and then—-”

“Robin, we need to get him to a hospital,” you propped Steve back up in the seat, ready to get behind the wheel if necessary. “He looks like he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“No hospitals!” They both said in unison, but Steve’s voice was more of a groan. “I can take care of him. Help me get him back to my cabin?”

“But, Robin—” you were genuinely concerned for his welfare, but also could not force them to go.

“This isn’t the first time Steve’s been hurt, okay? They find out he’s been involved in any type of fight and he’ll be on his ass. Help me, please.”

With Steve’s arms hooked around each of your shoulders, you went step by step. Steve barked in pain a few times as your free hand hugged the clothing to his wound. You could tell his leg was hurt too, as he was having a hard time walking.

Halfway to Robin's cabin, which was maybe a 100 yards up the sidewalk but felt like 10 miles, Jamie, Eddie’s new assistant came rushing down off of his nearby porch.

“What the fuck happened?” He moved to help you, to shift Steve’s weight onto him.

“Go get Eddie please? Tell him to hurry!”

Jamie looked from you to her, calculating where he thought Eddie would be, and then took off at a jog.

By the time you made it to the cabin, a handful of other employees were rushing in to help as well, following Robin’s instructions as she told them to put a clean sheet on her bed and boil some water. Once he was safe on the bed, more people rushed in, and you sunk back in the crowd.

They said no hospitals, but you knew someone who could help.

—------

You couldn’t remember running back to your cabin, it all happened so fast, your brain could barely keep up with your feet. Not to mention that you hated running. You paused at the door, hoping your dad wasn’t awake. You couldn’t let him see the blood on your clothes, he’d overreact in the worst way, and then the cops would be involved. Not to mention the fact that you’d lied earlier and said you were going to hang out with Troy.

Just in case, you took off your stained sweater and tucked it under your arm, revealing a clean tank top underneath. Thankfully, the house was dark and quiet, and you tip-toed in a rush to your aunt’s room.

“Kim?”

She was on her side with a pillow over her head.

You rushed up and sat on the bed, jostling her a bit until she pulled the pillow away and blinked at you.

“What the—what’s going on?” She sat up. “Is your dad okay?”

“No, he’s fine,” you whispered, tugging at her arm. “But I need you to come with me.”

“You need me to come with you now?” she balked, swiping hair out of her face, scrambling for her eyeglasses to look at the numbers on the bedside clock. “Bird, it’s almost midnight.”

She kicked her legs off the bed with a groan, watching you dig through her closet. You pulled out her leather, Swiss Army medical bag with all of her emergency travel supplies in it and slung it over your shoulder.

“I need your help,” you paused to make sure you were being quiet enough. “Someone’s hurt. I can’t explain right now, there’s no time. Please just trust me.”

She could see the fear and the emotion in your eyes, and didn’t ask any more questions as she went over to pull some clothes out of her drawers, removing her nightgown to get dressed as fast as she could.

—------

You filled her in on what you knew as you both hurried along at a fast pace. “Bird, a stab wound is serious. We need to call the—”

“We can’t!” You barked it much more harshly than you’d intended. “Please,” you softened. “It would take another hour for an ambulance to get out here anyway. Plus, I don’t think he has insurance.”

There was a crowd of people mingling on the porch around Robin’s cabin, and Kim pushed through them. The doorway itself was blocked by bodies, and once inside, the bed with Steve on it was at the center of the room. The employee cabins were all small and quaint, with a kitchenette against the far wall, and a beaded curtain that led to a bathroom with a standing shower. Kim raised her voice to be heard over the ones still blocking her way.

“Everyone stand back, please? I'm a nurse.”

Eddie was almost as pale as Steve when you saw him at his friend’s side. He was shirtless under his leather jacket, atop his black, belted jeans, like he’d left his cabin in a hurry. They’d removed Steve’s shirt, revealing an expanse of chest hair, cleaned him, and put a fresh towel over the wound. The blood wasn’t gushing, but he was gritting his teeth in pain, and the puffiness on his face made him almost unrecognizable from one side.

Kim looked from Robin to Eddie, rolling her sleeves up. “I need a sink to wash my hands in. Tell everyone else to leave, please?”

While Eddie forced all of the gawkers out, he made lingering eye contact with you, and you nodded to let him know everything would be alright.

Kim scooted a metal camp chair up by the bed and opened her medical bag, snapping her latex gloves on. “Hi there Steven, do you remember me? I’m going to take a look at you, okay?”

He swallowed. “How could I forget you?” His voice was scratchy, and when he tried to smile, he blanched in pain again. “You should see the other guy.”

“I know that must hurt,” Kim pulled a vial of liquid from one of the many pockets in her bag. “I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

She was doing her best to soothe him, keeping him apprised of every move she made, keeping him comfortable.

Eddie shut the door, locking everyone else out, including Chrissy, and came to stand behind you, cupping his hands on your arms, his warm body pressing into your back. The sensation made you dizzy. Maybe he needed the comfort, or he thought you did, but either way—you were grateful.

Kim looked up. “Robin? Is that your name?”

Robin nodded, inching closer, her eyes puffy from crying.

“You did a really good job of cleaning his wound. Do you think you could stay and assist? He’s going to need stitches.”

Robin was quick to nod emphatically. “You think he’s going to be okay?” A sob hitched in her throat. “He was protecting me. If I’d never gone there…if I…then he wouldn’t…” You went over to put your arm around her as fresh tears fell and dripped down her chin.

Kim caught Steve staring at her, dragging long blinks as the morphine took effect, his dry lips parted and pink with blood from his broken nose. She didn’t like answering those types of questions when she knew so little about the internal damage, but she found herself brushing hair off his forehead in a way that was not normally in her bedside manner.

“I have a good feeling he’ll live to make plenty more mistakes,” but then she quickly dropped her hand and went back to work.

“What can I do?” Eddie asked, stepping out from behind you, to the foot of the bed.

Kim frowned as she inspected the two broken fingers on one of Steve’s hands. “I’d like some coffee. Black, two sugars,” she said without looking up. “But the rest of you might as well go get some sleep. This is going to take a while.”

—-------

Kim begged you to go home so as to not worry your father when he woke up to an empty house, being that the sun would probably be up before she was done. You knew she was right, but you watched Eddie and Jamie go up the hill to the main house for a coffee run with longing reluctance. He ended up grabbing an entire coffee maker from the kitchen and a pitcher of water to make sure Kim had everything she needed for the night.

The next day, after pretending like nothing happened over brunch, and your dad went back to writing, you returned to Robin’s cabin with Kim to check on Steve.

Before rounding the corner to the porch, you heard Eddie’s voice before you saw him.

“...Chris, there is no way we’ll be able to find a bass player this late in the game,” he huffed.

And then Chrissy spoke up. “We can’t just bail on this gig, Ed. This could be huge for us. There has to be some—”

“Who?” His tone was annoyed. Not so much at her, but at the situation. “Emily will be out of town and Sean has a gig with his own band. We are out of options.”

“We have two weeks to find someone,” she chimed, full of hope.

“Yeah. Barely two weeks.” He leaned back against the railing of the porch so he could see him from where you and Kim stood frozen. “That’s not enough time.”

But then Kim stepped forward. “Hello everyone. It’s me again. Nurse Ratched.”

They both turned to greet her with enthusiasm, and Eddie extended his hand to help her up the stairs, even though she didn’t need it.

A smile quivered on his mouth when he locked eyes with you.

Kim knocked first, and then you heard her ask how her patient was doing once Robin let her in.

Chrissy and Eddie got quiet, possibly wondering how much you had heard. He wore a black, ribbed tank top under his unbuttoned work shirt, and Chrissy was in her waitress uniform as if she’d stopped by on her way to the main house.

“Everything good?” You broke the silence, feeling awkward.

They both spoke at once, but then Chrissy gestured for Eddie to continue. “Everything is good, it’s great. Your aunt, what she did for Steve last night, it was incredible,” he turned to snatch his smokes off of the table as he said it. “I didn’t know there were still people in the world willing to help strangers like that.”

“She’s pretty terrific,” you swallowed, noting the looks that the two kept exchanging. “What about the two of you? I guess this means you are out a bass player for a while?”

Besides the obvious trauma to his face and stomach, fingers on Steve's hand were broken from how hard he’d fought back. Even though Kim had been able to set them in splints, and they would eventually heal, it’d be a while before he could pick up a guitar again. She couldn’t speculate on the nerve damage, but there was a chance the dexterity would never be the same.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the railing with her hands folded in her lap. “Our band was invited to play at a show called Pedal to the Metal. It’s a once in a lifetime chance to get our name out there,” she glanced up at Eddie but he was staring at the ground, working his jaw.

“There’s always next year,” he deadpanned in a way that made you think he didn’t believe it.

“We won’t get invited again and you know it, Ed,” she tucked some hair behind her ear and avoided eye contact with you. “The Dead Alive and Heaven’s Harlots will be there. I’ve been dying to meet them.”

“Who are The Dead A—-” you were about to ask but then Eddie interrupted.

“Fuck those bands and fuck that stupid festival,” he grumbled. “We don’t need them. When Steve recovers, we’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces.”

The wheels in your brain were spinning so fast, you wouldn’t be surprised if smoke came out of your ears.

You cleared your throat. “Do you think maybe you could teach someone to play bass?”

Eddie barked a laugh out of his nose. “In two weeks? Hilarious.”

“I mean,” you scrambled for the right words, hoping they wouldn’t laugh you off the porch. “W-what if they already know strings really well? Like maybe, the cello? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to learn?”

Chrissy shrugged, not sure where you were going with the story, but Eddie cocked his head at you, eyes narrowing.

“It’s possible,” Chrissy frowned down at her lap and then swept her gaze up to you. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Before you could answer, Eddie waved his hand in the air and leaned his shoulder against the cabin. “Nope. No way,” he popped the “p” and shook his head, hair falling in his face. “It wouldn’t work, we don’t have enough time.”

Chrissy got to her feet. “C’mon Ed, someone like that could learn 5 songs in 2 weeks if they wanted to! But do we even know anyone like that?”

You swallowed hard, waited for both of them to stare at you, and then offered a nervous smile.

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Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying this little world. You know I always love hearing what you think ❤️🚬

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