• Home Is Where The Heart Is || Emerson and Mason

mason-fisher:

As Emerson jumped, Mason quickly hid a smile. He blinked as he saw the pieces of the plate, however, biting his lip. Ah, well, he couldn’t have expected everything to make the trip in one piece. Especially when he added Emerson into the equation.  “I’m sorry you’re having such a hardship here.” Mason couldn’t help but smile when he said it. “I’ll come relieve you, don’t worry.” He couldn’t keep himself away from Emerson, if he was being completely honest. Who knew that he’d fall for someone so opposite him? They were almost nothing alike, but still…Mason couldn’t get Emerson out of his head. Or his heart, for that matter. But that was another story. They did have a job to do right now, and Mason wanted to make sure it was done right. Or…as right as they could make it. He couldn’t possibly have accounted for everything Emerson was capable of.

Mason winced when he saw Emerson’s finger, but couldn’t help a smile once Emerson’s arms were around him. He wrapped his arms around Emerson’s waist and nuzzled into his neck. It was over far too soon, in his opinion, but Mason moved quickly. He wrapped his fingers around Emerson’s wrist, tugging him over to the sink. “That looks terrible! Come here.” Mason turned on the water, testing it with his own hand before sticking Emerson’s finger under the stream. “I left you alone for five minutes,” he said with an exasperated tone. Mason felt nothing but love for Emerson, however. Even if Emerson might not entirely feel the same way, Mason knew he’d love him until the day he died. “You’re always getting into trouble. You’re lucky you have me.”

Emerson grinned when Mason came closer to him. He loved his boyfriend so much. There was literally nothing in the world that could make Emerson not love him. Every little thing attracted Emerson to Mason. He couldn’t do anything wrong, in his eyes. Mason was smart, funny, a tad awkward, and absolutely the sweetest man alive. Emerson was lucky he picked him. How he managed to get Mason to fall for him was beyond Emerson.

“I need relieved, Mase…this is a tougher job than I thought!” he snickered, stealing a kiss from Mason quickly. “Why can’t we do these things together?” he asked against his soft, pink, lips. Sure it might take longer, but Emerson would have more fun. Maybe even concentrate a bit more cause Mason could see him. He wanted to make Mason proud of him. Happy. 

Shrugging, Emerson let Mason lead him to the sink. “It’s not that bad! I mean…it kinda stings, actually, and I didn’t think cardboard could cut that deep but I think I’ll survive. Or am I gonna die from blood loss?” Faking a panic, Emerson dramatically shrilled. “Don’t ever leave me alone again!” he cried, “I’m gonna dieeeee!” He composed himself quickly as he watched Mason tend to his finger. 

He blushed when Mason spoke and leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek. “I’m very lucky,” he murmured, lips turning up gently, “I need you.” How could he love someone this much? How was that possible? His heart throbbed Mason’s name. He’d wake up in the middle of the night just because he knew Mason had shifted and wasn’t in his arms anymore. “Mason?” he crooned, “I love you more than my next breath.” Damn. Since when did he become such a softy? It was those big brown eyes. Had to be. 

• Home Is Where The Heart Is || Emerson and Mason

mason-fisher:

“Yes, you are,” Mason said with a straight face, trying to hold his expression despite the feel of Emerson’s lips on his neck. “You. Unpack. You know me too well.” Mason could no longer hide his smile. It was impossible to keep from smiling around Emerson. Still, he had to ask… “What did you think moving entailed? You have to unpack things, Emerson.” Mason eyed him, a slight smile on his face. He knew Emerson hated sitting around, hated all the boring things. Maybe there was some way to make it fun? “If you do a good job, you’ll get a present. Your choice. Okay?” Nevermind the fact that he didn’t know what he would do. Emerson would pick something. Hopefully not too terrible. “But only if you unpack nicely.” At least that would keep him in line. Maybe. Mason wasn’t really sure how much he could control his boyfriend. Emerson was unruly at the best of times, and Mason still hadn’t found a real way of making him sit still for more than a few minutes. Always moving, always looking for something new. That was Emerson, whereas Mason could sit still for hours, just focused on one thing. Maybe that was why they worked so well together. He turned away to head to the bedroom (but not before seeing Emerson nearly trip, which got a chuckle out of him). “Dishes, Emerson. You like food, don’t you?” He shook his head and walked down the hallway to their future bedroom.

Mason set the box down on the floor, surveying the room. It wasn’t big, much like the rest of their apartment, but it felt like home already. Or maybe that was just him being optimistic. Mason couldn’t really tell, but he knew he was in a good mood. That was the most important thing. He was happy, and he was finally settling down with Emerson, and they’d be together. Hopefully forever. Mason didn’t want to get too optimistic (he knew first hand how flighty Emerson could be) but he couldn’t help himself. He was in love, he spent ages thinking about the rest of his life with Emerson. Maybe one day they’d get married. But that was a long way in the future. They’d been dating for a while, and they were just moving in together. Why plan so far ahead? Mason shook his head to banish the thought and opened the box, running his fingers over the spines. His favourite things, possibly with the exception of Emerson. Mason didn’t really have a shelf to put the books on yet (it still had to be unpacked…) but he wanted a moment to himself. This was their home now. Mason knew he couldn’t force things, of course (he had learned that from experience) but he hoped that Emerson felt the same way he did. Mason wanted to spend forever with him. Dammit, he got attached so easily. A commotion from the kitchen interrupted his train of thought, and Mason poked his head out into the hallway. He smiled fondly. Emerson was a good guy. Sweet, and funny, and smart in his own way. And Mason loved him so much. With a sigh, he walked out into the hallway and peeked into the kitchen. “Everything okay? You’re making a lot of noise…”

Emerson shook his head at Mason’s remarks and began focusing on his task. Well, he tried to focus. That was as good as it was going to get. The boxes were being very frustrating, too; not cooperating. He really loved Mason to be able to actually listen to him and do things like this. Hell, his own mother couldn’t get Emerson to do anything for her. At least on her time. But Mason was different. Emerson was someone else when he was around him. Sure, he was still spunky and rather hyperactive but Mason brought out a new aspect withint him that Emerson didn’t know existed. A much more…dedicated side. He was determined to make Mason proud of him with this job, despite the damn box slicing his finger. The plates though! He thought they’d done so well through the travel! Shaking his head, Emerson frowned down at the broken pieces of a plate. “So sad…” he sighed. Mason must have heard him and when he heard his voice Emerson jumped up into the air, flinging some of the pieces he’d picked up onto the ground. Whoops.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, whipping around to see Mason in the doorway. Ugh, was he really his? He was so adorable standing there in his mason-esque attire. Blushing not only from his clothes but for being caught in the act, Emerson chuckled. “I…yeah! Everything is…good.” He clasped his hands behind his back and pretended his finger wasn’t slightly bleeding. It wasn’t like he was cut by a knife. “I was trying to have fun unpacking. The box was trying to murder me and we lost a plate…it’s a very sad day…” Hanging his head, Emerson faked a sob. “What are we going to do!? Now we have an odd number of plates and a box that turned against us and and and…” Emerson took a deep breath, holding up his finger to show the tiny evidence of blood. “And I’m bleeding!” He ran to Mason as if he was really desperate and flung his arms around him. Emerson loved finding excuses to have himself touching Mason. “What is going on!?” Emerson laughed against Mason’s neck and kissed the soft skin before pulling away and grinning. “We did lose a plate and my finger does kind of sting. But I think we’ll survive.” He’d survive anything as long as he had Mason with him. He loved him so much already. He’d stay in this apartment forever with Mason if the other man would have him. Please don’t ever leave me, he silently begged. 

• Bleeding Out || Emerson & Mason

mason-fisher:

When Emerson whimpered, Mason could feel his heart break all over again. Hearing sounds like that meant something was wrong. He was doing something wrong, not taking care of Emerson. That’s not how it was supposed to work. And Mason hated that he didn’t know exactly what was wrong. He couldn’t do anything to stop the hurt that Emerson was feeling. Mason didn’t even know why Emerson was so scared. That had to be it at least, fear. From the way Emerson was shaking, there couldn’t be anything else. He hadn’t been specific about his nightmare either. Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate was anybody’s guess. Mason just wasn’t sure how to react anymore. He was scared for Emerson. His heart literally hurt for him. But there wasn’t much he could do.

Mason pressed a kiss to Emerson’s cheek, holding him tight. Normally it was the other way around. They fit well together like this, though. Even though they were around the same height, Mason was still bigger. He liked knowing that, knowing he could protect Emerson if he had to. Even if he was just protecting Emerson from his thoughts. He’d do anything he could to keep him safe. Emerson had done so many things for him before. Why not repay the favour? It was the least he could do. “All yours. I’m here.” Mason knew Emerson would never hurt him. They were in love, had been for a long time. Why would you hurt somebody you loved? Okay, so he didn’t know what Emerson had been dreaming about. Obviously it was nothing good. But right now, he knew that didn’t matter. All he knew was that Emerson was hurting, and it was his job to make him better. No matter what it took. Mason smiled softly, brushing Emerson’s hair away from his face. “I could never doubt you. I love you too much. And I know you love me too. Okay?” Emerson was perfect in every way. Sure, he could be overwhelming at times, but Mason wouldn’t change a single hair on his head. Not for anything. “I love you, Emerson. Don’t forget that.” Nothing Emerson did could change that. As Mason lay there, he had an idea. It was just a small one, but he thought it might work. Maybe it would help. “How about we try to make you feel better. I can make some hot chocolate if you want. And cookies?” He smiled at Emerson, poking his side. Baking was always fun, even if it was late-or early. And Emerson liked his cooking, right? So really, it was a win-win scenario. if not, they could just go back to sleep. Mason would make sure to stay extra close this time, to protect Emerson from any more bad dreams.

Emerson just wanted to push his nightmare away. He didn’t want to be bothered with the images anymore. Especially with Mason wrapped around him, warm and comforting. He could’ve died himself in those arms. Mason didn’t know what Emerson saw, he didn’t feel it. And Emerson wished he hadn’t as well. But all he needed to do was forget about it. Somehow. Just to forget about it. Mason was…God, his boyfriend was wonderful. Everything Emerson could ever need. He knew him well, too. Hot chocolate and cookies? The offer made a small smile turn up on his lips and he tried to dodge the poke at his side. Sniffling like a mess, Emerson nuzzled his face into Mason’s chest to hopefully get most of the tears away. He ran a hand through Mason’s hair and kissed his cheek. “T-that’d be…that’d be n-nice,” he whispered against his skin. It was just a nightmare. It’s over! He wasn’t a murderer. Maybe…he shouldn’t have eaten cheese before he went to bed. His mind always thought up horrible things when he did that. Emerson at least hoped it was something simple like that. He wasn’t going mad. And how could he? Looking into Mason’s big, brown eyes was all he needed to keep himself grounded. To be sane.

Running a hand down Mason’s arm, Emerson tangled their fingers together and kissed the back of his boyfriend’s hand. “Maybe…we can go to the bookstore today, yeah? M-maybe?” Books-especially new ones-always made Mason happy. They made him smile. After that nightmare feeling like an eternity, and seeing the pain on Mason’s face, Emerson wanted to see a true smile. He wanted to see Mason get excited. He…needed to see him happy. Had to. Reluctantly slipping out of bed, tugging Mason with him (no way was he letting him out of his sight-he could fall back into thinking the nightmare was real), Emerson slipped on his moccasins and wrapped his arms around Mason’s waist. He prayed that a good day today would ward anymore nightmares off tonight. One thing’s for sure: Emerson was going to be along every inch of Mason in the bed tonight. A glance over to Mason, perfectly okay, and Emerson gave a deep sigh of relief. He wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t insane. They were in love and happy. Staying that way. 

(Source: emerson-shmitt)

• Home Is Where The Heart Is || Emerson and Mason

mason-fisher:

“It’s the only way to actually make you come when you’re called. You can explore later, chère ” Although there were a few other tricks he had learned. They really only worked when Emerson was in the room though. Mason smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Emerson’s cheek. “No punishing. Only good things, I promise. You need to help unpack now.” He unwrapped himself from Emerson’s grip, and picked up a box. He shook it gently, hearing something clatter around inside. Oh, he hoped nothing was broken. “Sounds like dishes.” Sure enough, it was one of the KITCHEN boxes. Emerson probably didn’t want to unpack though. All the boring parts of living were never enough to keep him hooked. And Mason certainly didn’t want to do things all on his own. They had more than enough to unpack, even if the two of them worked around the clock. But in all the time he had spent learning about Emerson, Mason had discovered a few things. He worked harder when there was a reward involved, for one. Especially when it was something he really wanted. “You go unpack this one. Dishes go in the top left cabinet, utensils in the drawer underneath. Can you do that?” Without waiting for an answer, Mason pushed the box towards Emerson and found a new one. BOOKS. Excellent. That was going right to the bedroom.

Mason didn’t know exactly what it was. He couldn’t sleep if his room didn’t have at least a bookshelf in it. It made staying at hotels interesting. No matter how much Emerson wrapped around him, Mason couldn’t get comfortable. So obviously he’d like to have things set up beforehand. If Leo ever got around to bringing the bed. “If Leo comes by, smack him. Okay?” He was always late, without fail. Normally Mason could deal with it, but now it was just getting to be slightly annoying. Mason picked up his books and headed down the hallway to the bedroom. Their bedroom. The thought made him smile. Mason loved Emerson more than anything. He could hardly bear it. And now they were actually going to live together. It was a big step. And if he was being honest, Mason had had his doubts. Emerson had always been…flighty. He had a short attention span. And it was reasonable to think Mason might have exhausted his welcome. He wasn’t entirely sure how people could find him interesting. But if Emerson wanted to be with him, Mason really had no complaints. He loved Emerson with his whole heart and soul. Nothing could change that. And now things really were…permanent. They had an apartment. They’d make it their home.

“What am I? You’re pet?” Emerson joked, pinching Mason’s side and giving his neck some gentle love bites. “Fine, fine. I’ll explore later and do all the boring things now. It’ll be torture, but if I don’t you’re gonna start pulling the ‘make Emerson guilty’ card. And I hate the card.” Because Mason’s puppy dog eyes were unreal. He was good at them and he knew just how to make Emerson fall down to his knees (in more ways than one…) for him. Emerson sighed as he watched Mason find a box for him. He threw his head back as the box was placed gently in his arms and he groaned. “This is like getting a lump of coal for Christmas. It’s a box, I unwrap things like a present and surprise! …it’s a dish.” Turning on his heel in an almost clumsy fashion, Emerson tried to regain his footing (“OH Shit!” he cried) so he didn’t throw the dishes everywhere, and kept walking. Turning over his shoulder, he caught a slight smile on Mason’s face and he quickly read (as best he could) what the box was. “That’s not fairrr,” he sang, “you get to unpack something you like!” Most of his complaining was fake, honestly. He usually did complain, however, in this situation it was different. This was…their place. They were supposed to do these things together. Emerson couldn’t be a kid forever. Or pretend he was one, anyway. Unpacking dishes was like going through a midlife crisis or….something. He didn’t know. But somehow he’d look back on this and say “Yep, I unpacked those dishes. I did a good job, too.” Maybe? Eh, whatever. 

Setting the box on the ground in front of the counter, Emerson unhooked the flaps from each other. His finger slid past the edge and a burning sensation erupted on the side. “GODDAM-” he yelped, cutting off his curse with the bite of his lip. “You’re a brown box how the hell did you win the battle!?” If it wasn’t full of fragile objects Emerson would’ve kicked it. Gripping his finger at the base, Emerson watched as a thin line of blood oozed out. Pointing the finger down at the box, he glared. “This isn’t over yet. Once your insides are disemboweled, I will make sure you can never serve your purpose ever again.” Emerson brought the finger to his lip and sucked whatever blood he had pushed out then crouched back down. “Round two,” he mumbled, more careful this time. Mason clearly took the time to make sure things were carefully placed in the box, separated by newspapers and all sorts of jazz. He was a tedious guy, someone Emerson needed around to keep him straight. Hell, Emerson would’ve just thrown them all in the box and hoped for the best. Of course Mason wasn’t like that and dish after dish, Emerson was proud of him more and more. Everything was in tip top shape. Grabbing the utensils and trying to fit them all in the drawer in an orderly fashion was difficult but that was fine. If Mason really wanted it another way he could re do it. Not having enough arms to get all the dishes, Emerson had to go back for a few. The clatter from earlier was discovered and Emerson let out a dramatic whimper. “Oh no!” he cried, “A casualty!” Hanging his head, Emerson put a hand over his heart. “You held many meals for a good, long time. You will be missed.” He was finding his own fun with this, and if his boyfriend thought he was weird, well, he couldn’t back out now, could he? 

• Home Is Where The Heart Is || Emerson and Mason

mason-fisher:

Dishes? Check. Towels? Check. Books? Definite check.

Mason looked over the boxes piled in the front hallway. It was hard to believe that they could pack up their whole lives into just a few boxes. Well more than a few. But his point still stood. This was everything they owned, crammed into a tiny hallway. Mason couldn’t help but feel a little lost as he studied the stacks. It was such a big decision, making the move. But they’d had so much fun picking out the apartment together. He remembered visiting so many, and this one…just seemed to fit. It wasn’t incredibly big, of course. That would be a little too far out of their price range. But it wasn’t so cramped either. And the decision had definitely been spurred on by Emerson detailing all of the dirty things he’d do to Mason in this room, or that one. The thought still made him blush, even though he had been dating Emerson for a year. Shouldn’t he have been used to it by now? Somehow, Mason didn’t think he’d ever understand why Emerson did the things he did. Of course, he enjoyed every second. And now they had an apartment all to themselves. It was just the right size for them, and all of their belongings. Speaking of which, what would they start unpacking first? Mason figured they’d need somewhere to sit. And sleep. They couldn’t just sleep on the floor. But no, they’d agreed to go furniture shopping tomorrow. At least for a table and some chairs. Mason knew Leo was bringing the mattress by later. So should they start with the bed frame? Why was it so hard to make a decision!?

With a sigh, he forced his way through the maze of boxes and started moving things out of the way. They at least needed a way to get in and out of the apartment. Where was Emerson anyway? He had run off as soon as they’d gotten out of the car. Exploring, he called it. Disappearing, more like. Abandoning Mason to do all the work. At least they’d splurged and hired some people to help them move the boxes up to the apartment. But with the movers gone, it was eerily quiet. Mason sighed and sat down on a box labelled KITCHEN. Organizing was exhausting. Emerson was no help either. But at the same time…underneath all the stress, Mason was excited. He was actually moving in with someone. Not just anyone, but Emerson. Mason still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to make Emerson fall for him. But he didn’t care, because he was in love. Even the thought was enough to make him smile. “Bienvenue,” he murmured. Welcome home. They’d make it their home. And eventually-maybe?-they’d have a family too. Mason sighed happily, standing up and looking down the hallway. “Emerson? Où êtes-vous?”

Emerson walked into the “master” bedroom where he and Mason would be staying. It was a good size; something he could see their bed in with enough room for whatever Mason planned. He was the planner with all of this. Emerson just tagged along. Being a guy of impulse, Emerson just did things. He wasn’t into thinking them through. Honestly, Emerson was even surprised he began looking for apartments with Mason. He wasn’t a bad person, but he also didn’t stick around long. He’d get bored fairly quickly with whoever he was with and jump to the next one. This, in retrospect, was the longest relationship he’d had with someone. And…he had no regrets. Everything about Mason was intriguing. He fascinated Emerson in a way no one else could. Mason had a sense of humor that could bring Emerson to tears from laughing so hard. It was the way his expressions worked with his words. It was the way he remembered the little things about Emerson. It was…the way Mason was. Everything made Emerson happy. Not many people could captivate him like Mason could. He was smart, spectacular, and pretty. Despite how dense that may sound. Emerson liked a man he could gaze at. Possibly longingly like those cheesy romance flicks. Emerson was in love. And he fell in love more each day. 

Taking a few steps forward to the window, Emerson chewed his lip as he looked at the scenery. They were nice apartments. Perfect for what they had wanted. And hey, their bedroom was outside walls, no one around, therefore he could get Mason as loud as he wanted him. Now that didn’t really apply to the living room or kitchen because-ugh-neighbors. But he could fix that with that. Games were fun when he and Mason got it on. Don’t make a sound or I won’t let you come. Oh, that had been a good one. Grinning mischievously, Emerson giggled. Where was Leo with the damn bed already? Guess they didn’t need one. Knowing Mason he’d keep them on the strict plan for a little bit longer today before they could have some real fun making this apartment really theirs. However, if the damn guy kept speaking another language he wasn’t going to get very far with his little list of things to do. Because Emerson would change it right away. Spinning around, shaking off the flush that Mason’s voice in French seemed to give him, Emerson bounded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the mountains of boxes and his lovely boyfriend. A giant smile spread across his face and his arms snaked around Mason’s waist. Letting his lips sprinkle their way down Mason’s neck, Emerson chuckled. “Must you? I was exploring and you go and do that? Better not have been calling me any bad names.” His fingers wrapped around Mason’s wrist as his eyes glinted, glancing up to lock onto the other pair. “Or I’ll have to punish you,” he sang. 

• Bleeding Out || Emerson & Mason

mason-fisher:

Mason literally had no idea what to do. He kept up on his current path, one hand tangled in Emerson’s hair, holding him close. There wasn’t much else he could do but keep murmuring the same words over and over. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts. You just had a bad dream, that’s all. It was just a nightmare, and it’s over now. I love you. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.” He’d do anything to protect Emerson, Mason realized. No matter what it took. He wanted to keep his boyfriend safe and happy. And right now, Emerson was neither of those things. Well, they were relatively safe in their apartment. But Emerson didn’t feel safe, that was the thing. And he definitely wasn’t happy, judging from the sobbing. It was all too much. Mason’s heart ached to see Emerson like this. He didn’t even know what Emerson had seen, what had caused the terror. But he didn’t want to know. Making Emerson relive it would just be cruel, and Mason was anything but. He nuzzled into Emerson’s hair, letting his boyfriend cry. It was all he could do.

Emerson probably knew what he needed. Mason just had to go along with it. So he let Emerson touch him, wrapped his own arms around Emerson’s small frame. He wanted to hold him tighter, wanted him to feel as safe as he could. Mason kissed Emerson back, running his fingers through his curls. “Sometimes you just need to cry.” Mason knew that much. He cried a lot. Well, a lot compared to the average guy. But emotions weren’t a bad thing. Mason liked how he could feel things. But right now, all the feelings were almost too much. Emerson was breaking his heart, and Mason wanted nothing more than to fix him. ”I love you too, Emerson,” Mason repeated. “I love you too. So much, okay? It was just a bad dream.” He allowed Emerson to pull him around, snuggling up as close as he could. It was moments like these where he wished he could do more, get inside Emerson, make them into one person. Bodies were horrible things. They separated you from the people you loved. No matter how much you were touching, you could never really be together. “I know you wouldn’t. Because I love you, and you love me, and we love each other for a reason. Okay? I know you love me, because I love you just as much. Maybe more.” He smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Emerson’s forehead. Mason dragged one hand down Emerson’s arm, grabbing his hip and pulling him close until they were tangled together. Emerson was his lover, his best friend. Mason hated when he was hurting.

Emerson whimpered a bit more, his boyfriend’s arms slowly calming him down, slowly bringing him comfort. His words were sweet-unbelievably so-but he didn’t see what Emerson saw. Mason couldn’t possible know the nightmare Emerson had experience. He was scared of himself. Emerson vowed he’d never tell Mason any details. He loved Mason with his whole heart and scaring him off was definitely not something Emerson planned to do. But God all Emerson could think about was how his hands had seemed to feel around Mason’s neck. So…powerful. He never thought of hands as something that could kill someone. But he’d killed his boyfriend. A strangled sob escaped him before Emerson nuzzled into Mason’s chest some more. “Safe…safe…” he whispered through tears. “You’re safe,” he murmured so softly Mason probably couldn’t hear. Emerson wouldn’t hurt him outside his nightmares. He could never. Emerson could only hope that nightmare didn’t occur again. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it happened again tonight. Once was bad enough.

Emerson’s hands on Mason helped a lot, too. He could feel how solid and alive he was. No bones showing. Healthy. Very much alive and well. Yes. If he’d woken up to Mason not there only the Lord knew what panic Emerson would have gone into. But his hands were running down Mason’s sides, cupping his face, touching everywhere. And it was the best knowledge he could’ve been given. Emerson usually was the one to have his arms around Mason in a protective manner, despite the size difference, but Mason having the role was more helpful than anything right now. His strong arms around him, Emerson couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief. His nose buried into Mason’s neck and Emerson took in the familiar smell. “A-a-a bad dream. Y-yeah,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “You’re mine, all mine…I’d never hurt you.” His tears were dwindling and his breathing returning to a somewhat normal rhythm. Every now and then Emerson’s breath would quicken in a threat to panic but Mason’s warmth, his smell, his body, everything, was his protection against anything bad. The kiss on his forehead brought a small smile to his lips, and as their legs tangled together, Emerson ran his fingers down Mason’s spine. Looking up at Mason through puffy, teary eyes, Emerson sniffled and gulped. “Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me. Ever. Or how much I love you. I promise I’ll never hurt you. I couldn’t survive it.” And that was the greatest truth he’d ever know. He’d protect Mason from anything. Even if it meant himself. 

(Source: emerson-shmitt)

• Bleeding Out || Emerson & Mason

mason-fisher:

Why did Emerson have to be such a heavy sleeper? Actually, this was a little uncharacteristic. Normally it took him ages to even get to sleep, and now he wasn’t waking up. That scared Mason a little, enough that his shaking grew a little more pronounced. “Come on, Emerson! Up!” SO maybe he got worried a little quickly. That was only normal, right? They were in love, they were together…and that meant that this worry was totally normal. In fact, he should probably dial back the worrying a little because the possibility of anything bad happening was ridiculous. Completely and utterly…merde. Mason sighed and got off of Emerson, kneeling next to him on the bed. Okay, so he was worried. He was scared that Emerson was sick, or…broken somehow, or some other horrible thing. It was scary. He got scared when things didn’t go as expected. Routine was good to have. Mason liked having routines. He liked structure. And when things didn’t go according to plan, he got anxious. Like now, when Emerson wasn’t waking up. When he was…was…

Okay that couldn’t be normal. Emerson was making these horrible wheezing noises and Mason’s heart froze. He felt completely lost, not knowing what to do. Did Emerson have asthma? Allergies? Was it something he did? What if he caused it?! Mason sat there helplessly, staring, unable to figure out how to react. “Emerson? Emerson!” But then the panic faded for a moment because Emerson was awake and grabbing at him like he was his only lifeline and Mason could breathe a quiet sigh of relief. It didn’t last long, however. What the hell was going on? Mason wrapped his arms around Emerson, like he was determined to protect him from the world. From whatever bad things were out there. Whatever had caused that nightmare. Mason knew he’d fight it if he could. He hated seeing Emerson like this. The weird mixture of fear and happiness was unnerving. “Hey, I’m here. I’m okay. And you’re okay too…okay? Nothing bad happening. I promise.” He kissed Emerson back, looking worried. Maybe it was just a bad dream? That seemed reasonable. Probably just a nightmare. More like a night terror, with the way Emerson was acting. Mason leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Emerson’s. “I love you too. It’s okay. No crying.” He hated seeing Emerson cry. Emerson was the strongest person he knew, and when something broke him…well, that was more than a little scary. Mason didn’t know what to think about this whole situation, honestly. But he wanted to make sure everything was fine. “Are you okay, Emerson? You…you scared me.”

Emerson almost panicked even more when Mason didn’t say anything at first. The moment he heard his voice, though, Emerson broke down even more. He was okay. Mason was safe. Of course Emerson felt a bit…off now that his dream was very vivid in his mind but he could work through that so long as Mason was here, not dead, and not an emotionless, tortured lover. Emerson couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing in his nightmare. They’d never been like that before. Usually he’d just have dreams about a date night going wrong because the waiter dumped water on Mason or something. Never…never like this. And it hurt. Emerson literally felt a pain in his chest. His arms squeezed around Mason tighter and he tried to calm down his crying as he buried his nose into Mason’s neck, soaked in his familiar scent.

His breathing was uneven and sniffled didn’t really help. His face was tear stained and Emerson rubbed at his eyes to make them stop coming but it wasn’t working. Giving up, he decided to just let himself cry as his hands trailed up and down Mason’s body, taking note in how it wasn’t malnourished nor frail. He was Mason. Healthy Mason; full of life, broad shoulders, sparkling brown eyes. His Mason. Emerson kissed Mason again and shook his head, not fully believing that whole episode had been a dream. “I can’t stop crying,” he admitted as he glanced down at a spot on Mason’s shirt darkened by Emerson’s tears. Thinking about Mason’s question, Emerson wondered if he should even tell Mason about his nightmare. Would he look at him or think of him the same? Emerson couldn’t risk that. He had to just…be vague. Wiping a hand across his cheeks once more, Emerson took a shuddering deep breath. He finally calmed down only to crumble again at the thought of Mason’s blank eyes and pink neck from his hands. “I…It was a nightmare. A…horribly vivid nightmare, Mason and and and you need to…you need to know how much I love you.” Leaning forward, Emerson reiterated his statement by kissing his boyfriend. “I love you so much. I’d never hurt you. Ever. I….God, never. I love you.” Nuzzling his cheek, Emerson enveloped Mason into his arms once more and dragged him to lay beside him. His hand rested on his hip and Emerson took in the sight of Mason. Alive Mason.

(Source: emerson-shmitt)

• Bleeding Out || Emerson & Mason

mason-fisher:

Mason didn’t have to keep himself from tensing anymore when Emerson touched him. It was common enough that he barely noticed the feeling. It wasn’t like Emerson would take notice of his feelings anyway. Mason had learned that whatever he felt wasn’t important. Obviously Emerson wanted to see some responses over others. He liked fear, liked sadness. All the bad emotions, those were the ones he wanted to see. Mason had given him that for a long time. But now, he didn’t-couldn’t-react. Reacting to Emerson would require effort, and Mason didn’t care enough to put the effort in. Let Emerson hit him, fuck him, kill him. Mason didn’t care at all. If he had the strength or the means, he would have killed himself months ago. But Mason couldn’t quite bring himself to take the final step. So instead of sobbing, or begging, he simply shut down. Mason couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he had broken, but he figured it wasn’t important now. Nothing was important when it came to him. It all came down to what Emerson wanted.

Clearly he was feeling charitable today. Mason followed Emerson blindly, not answering his questions. Mason didn’t care what he ate. He’d take whatever Emerson gave to him, and he’d fucking appreciate it. Emerson had drilled that into him the last time Mason tried pulling any stunts. He’d refused to eat, even gone so far as to throw his plate at Emerson. That had earned him a long time locked up in that little room. Emerson had tied him up, left him in the corner. Mason had started counting minutes, but gave up after a couple hours. After a few more, Mason had tried apologizing. There was still no answer, and he was forced to lie in the darkness, alone. By the time Emerson actually came back for him, Mason was too weak to resist. He was just so glad to actually see another human being. He hadn’t said no to Emerson after that. Mason had learned his lesson. Emerson was completely in control. Anything and everything he did was because Emerson let him. It was as simple as that. When the reached the kitchen, Mason stopped as Emerson let go of him. He glanced up every now and then as Emerson moved around the kitchen, eventually figuring he had permission to sit down. Mason chose the seat closest to him, folding his hands in his lap and looking down at the table.

Mason kept his shoulders hunched as he listened to Emerson make breakfast. His eyes flicked down to his lap, taking note of the scars around his wrists. Somehow, he’d never quite been able to stop struggling. And now it showed, permanently. Mason figured they might fade over time, but Emerson never seemed to get tired of tying him up. Mason didn’t resist, either way. It was pointless to resist anything. It was pointless to even care, so he gave that up too. He just held his position, staying still. Emerson would tell him what to do, Mason knew that much. He just had to listen for the right kind of cue. At least it was simple, what he was required to do. Mason knew things that required effort would be twice as hard for him. Physically and mentally. He could feel it. Emerson barely fed him, didn’t let him outside. Mason knew he was wasting away. He wasn’t vain by nature, but he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw if he looked in a mirror. Now, he was just a shadow of the person he had been. That was all he was worth, anyway. If he was even worth anything. Emerson had told him that too. Worthless, stupid, meaningless. And he was right, of course.

As Emerson set the food in front of him, Mason sat up slightly. Just enough to properly seat himself at the table. He didn’t look at Emerson, didn’t know if that was allowed. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Was he hungry? Hunger didn’t really have meaning anymore. Mason ate what he was given when it was given to him, and didn’t complain. Complaining would only get his food taken away, or worse. It was hard to force himself to eat. Mason picked up the piece of toast and took a bite, chewing mechanically. It didn’t taste like anything, but then again he had gotten used to what he was given. Once he had chewed the tasteless toast-and-egg into an even more tasteless mush, Mason swallowed and washed the whole thing down with some juice. It would be easier to just give up. Make Emerson force feed him, or whatever. He’d die from lack of food. That was okay with him, though. Mason didn’t mind the thought of dying. It would be better than whatever this was. Mason was tired of this life. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, but even disappearing forever would be preferable to whatever his existence had become. Even if Emerson did, by some miracle, let him go, Mason wouldn’t be of use to anybody. All he was doing was taking up space. He should have died weeks ago.

When Emerson asked him a question, Mason had to think for a moment before responding. It was getting harder to think, harder to form the words. Mason didn’t know if that was good or bad. “We can do whatever you want to,” he said, looking at the table. Mason knew his own wants were irrelevant. Why bother telling Emerson? If he was being honest, Mason didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He had spent so long hearing that what he wanted didn’t matter. Emerson wouldn’t listen to him either way. Emerson just did what he wanted, took what he wanted. It was pointless to offer up any resistance. Mason had learned that much, at least. He wasn’t important. Nobody had come to find him. Nobody had rescued him from Emerson. Emerson was the only reason he was still alive now. Mason knew he should be grateful for that, but right now he didn’t feel much of anything. His feelings had dulled to the point where it was nearly impossible to get a reaction out of him. Nothing made him angry, or sad, or even happy. He was a completely blank slate. Wasn’t that what Emerson wanted? Well, he had succeeded, whether or not he wanted it. Mason had broken, most likely permanently. He knew he’d never be the same, regardless.

Emerson finished off his food rather quickly, contradicting Mason’s slow as snails shovel. The more they sat there, Emerson talking to basically silence, he couldn’t help but feel this overwhelming heaviness in his chest. What the hell was that? He wasn’t used to the feeling at all. All he knew was that Mason wasn’t the Mason he had followed home from the library that night and he could only hope a little sunshine would improve his diminishing personality. He hardly said anything, now. What happened to the charismatic boy who sobbed when he found out his brother had been killed (even though it had been a lie)? Mason was no longer the same. Emerson was going to make sure that something livened him up. It was starting to get annoying; talking out loud and not getting any feedback. It was driving Emerson crazy. Crazier than he already was, anyway. So when Mason was finished with his food, Emerson took the dirty dishes off the table and cleaned them quickly, whipping around and making eye contact with Mason.

He sighed before slightly praying Mason would say something more than “We can do whatever you want”. Emerson licked his lips then nodded his head. “Yes. I want to go outside. But I want you to want to, too. I’m going to act as if we’re going outside and if you don’t want to…tell me. Or make some gesture or something. But I think it’d be good if we went outside.” He didn’t think Mason would budge, though, so Emerson tried making outside sound appealing. I mean, that’s what any normal person would do to persuade someone, right? “There’s a lake? It’s very beautiful. And sun hasn’t even come up yet. So we can see the sunrise. It’s not even that chilly out. It feels wonderful. You’ll really like, Mason.” The kid, actually, was always seen by Emerson outside reading a book. Maybe instead of driving to the store they could walk. That’d be more fun. Fun for Mason. Emerson patted his pocket to see if his wallet was in there before straightening up pushing off the counter. “I’ll bring a jacket in case you need one.” Mason was, after all, skinnier than he had been when Emerson brought him home. Sadly those delicious broad shoulders had weakened, and any sort of muscle tone had melted off. Hmm…maybe he would get chilly then.

With that conclusion, Emerson quickly grabbed a jacket off the door hand and ran a hand through Mason’s hair. “Come on, Mason, do you want to go outside or not?” Emerson held up the coat for Mason to slip his arms into if he so chose and waited for his decision while he stood at the door. He looked so..drained. A pang tormented Emerson’s heart as his eyes glanced up at down Mason’s body sitting in the chair, and he immediately bit his lip. “I…I’d like it if you came. We’re going to go to the grocery store, too, and I want to see what you’d like to eat for the rest of the week.” He couldn’t stand, now, knowing he was starving Mason. Had he really been that cruel? And what was bringing on these changes? It was like Emerson woke up and just…changed mindsets. Whatever it was he was thankful. Because…Mason could’ve died under his eye. Emerson could’ve woken up to Mason dead, hunger or violence being his last demise. A shudder ran through Emerson before he straightened up and he gave an awful attempt at smiling. One side was higher than the other and not all of his teeth showed and…his eyes sparkled with slight confusion. This was a smile? Why’d it feel so weird? Figuring it would scare Mason more than anything, Emerson let it fall and stuck with his relaxed expression. If they didn’t get out there soon they’d miss the sunrise. Emerson thought Mason needed something nice in his life for a change.

(Source: emerson-shmitt)

• Closing In || Molly and Emerson

missmollyparker:

Coming down was always something with Emerson. It felt almost disappointing after the sex they had shared. But he was so good to her. Molly tilted her head slightly, giggling as Emerson kissed her neck. She let out a slight whimper when Emerson pulled out, immediately moving closer to his warmth. “Thank you, Emerson.” Molly smiled and snuggled deeper under the comforter, grateful for the warmth. ”I missed you too. And it’s nice to come home to somebody.” She liked knowing that Emerson was waiting for her. The sex was an obvious bonus, of course, but there was also something…more. She wanted Emerson to be there, always had a little fear that he would be gone when she got home. And there was another question buzzing at the back of her mind. It wasn’t the idea time to ask, of course, considering that they had just finished, but Molly had always been direct. ”So…does that mean you actually…meant what you said?” She knew Emerson would understand what she was talking about. They hadn’t said the l-word yet, so even in the heat of the moment it felt like a big deal. Now that they had calmed down, Molly wanted answers.

Emerson grinned over at Molly and nodded his head. “You’re always welcome,” he murmured, nodding his head to her. It was true. She’d always get some type of welcome from her when she got him. Because he missed her so, he had to. “I’ll always be here, then.” Emerson couldn’t imagine notbeing home for her when she walked through the door. Sure there thing was usually just sex, there was something comforting about someone in bed with you, to curl up with, to just…have. Upon her question, though, Emerson paused. His breathing even stopped. What was she-oh. Oh. It dawned on him quickly. I love you so much, hadn’t that been what he said? Chewing his lip, Emerson tried to resume his usual manner but knew it was impossible. She’d caught him. He’d…caught himself, really, with his feelings. He hadn’t even been sure of them up until apparently the moment when that word slipped through. Sure, he’d said he liked her before. Never love. “Ummm..” he thought, trying to cover it up. Why, though? There was no reason. She knew. Emerson was worried she wouldn’t feel the same. “I-yes. Yes, I did.” Why would pretty Molly feel the same with him? She probably used him as her replacement dildo. Staring at the ceiling, blushing, Emerson tapped his fingers on top of his other hand. “I love you, Molly.” He couldn’t look at her and see the opposite feelings. Disgust. Nope. 

(Source: emerson-p-shmitt)

• Bleeding Out || Emerson & Mason

mason-fisher:

He was dreaming again. That much was obvious from the scene that lay before him. Happy things were scarce now. Mason had learned to treasure what he could. Especially the scene that lay before him. Because this scene looked like home. It was the same library, with the high, arched ceiling and the stained-glass window. The skylight that let in the summer sun. The patches of sunlight by the windows. The faded, worn, comfortable armchairs. And the books. That was what he loved the most. Mason closed his eyes and took a deep breath, revelling in the smell. It even smelled like home, and that was the most comforting thought of all. He felt happy to be here, even though he knew it wouldn’t last forever. No, this would be over all too soon. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. Mason didn’t want to leave the library again, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. So he figured he might as well enjoy it while he could.

As he walked through the stacks, Mason took his time in deciding. He wanted a good book, something that could completely take him on a whole new adventure. Something that wouldn’t remind him of what would happen when he woke up. So he walked, brushing his fingers over the book spines. Every now and then he’d stop and take one out, open the pages. And then he’d bury his nose in the book and inhale. They all smelt so good, smelt exactly like home. Mason loved it more than he could say. But he still didn’t know what book to read. He took his time deciding, figuring he had all the time in the world. It was just nice to be back in the library. He felt safer here. Happier. Eventually Mason settled on The Hobbit. It would keep him occupied for a while, and he loved the story. With the beloved book tucked under his arm, Mason headed back to his favourite spot near the window.

He curled up in a chair and opened the book to the first page. After staring at it for a few moments, Mason flipped the page. And then the next page. They were all… “Blank?” Was this some kind of joke? Mason flipped through the whole book. It was nothing but a bunch of blank pages bound together with a cover. “No,” he murmured. Mason set the book aside and dashed back to the shelf. He checked another book. Pride and Prejudice. Pages blank. “No, no, no.” Mason checked another, and another. He started pulling books out at random, throwing them away when they didn’t give him what he wanted. “No! Please…” Mason started to get frantic. They couldn’tallbe blank, could they? Not the library, not his sanctuary. Without the books, what was this place? How was he supposed to feel at peace here? Mason let out a yell of frustration, throwing the book he was holding. He hated this.Hatedit.

It was almost a relief to wake up. Mason jolted awake when Emerson poked him, trying to sit up. His progress was somewhat prevented by the ropes, but Emerson made short work of those. Funny, how easy it was to forget how much he depended on Emerson. He needed Emerson for everything. Food, water, shelter, clothes. His whole life revolved around him now. Which…was probably what Emerson had wanted. Mason didn’t care anymore. His life was reduced to the most basic of terms. Do everything Emerson told him to, or else risk punishment. Answer his questions honestly. Smile when he asked for it. Shut up and get your ass in the air. Beg for it. He was honestly used to it by now. That’s all his life had become. He was just a toy for Emerson, and Mason had accepted that a long time ago. He took it, just like he took Emerson’s taunting, the beatings, the sex. Couldn’t even be considered rape anymore. Mason never said no. And all idea of escaping, of ever getting out, was gone. Mason had resigned himself to his fate, as it were. He figured he’d be serving Emerson until he died. Which wouldn’t be too much longer, if he really thought about it. Mason could feel himself getting weaker. People died from lack of love. For Mason, it was just a matter of time. He had accepted that a while ago. He’d wanted it for a long time, before he taught himself to stop wanting things. But the feeling was still there. And it was getting stronger.

A large part of him wanted to die. Death would be better than this. He was barely even human now. Not worth saving. He couldn’t be saved, not from this. Mason could barely even pay attention when Emerson was talking to him. Like now. Had he said something about a surprise? Surprises meant something new. Probably. Mason didn’t care to think about it. He merely nodded. Talking took too much effort. He only responded verbally when Emerson asked for it. Mason watched dully as Emerson walked away. It was clear enough that he wanted to be followed. So Mason slipped off the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor, and got up. It was almost a battle, trying to put one foot in front of the other. Emerson had talked about the sun. Did that mean outside? Or would he just get to sit in front of the window for a while? Mason couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted fresh air. Then again, he didn’t remember much these days. His brain, like the rest of him, had become almost completely useless. He was just taking up space now. Maybe Emerson was finally going to put him out of his misery. Was that the surprise? And end to everything? It would be a nice surprise if it was. Mason stepped out into the hallway, eyes cast downward. He stopped in front of Emerson, not looking directly at him, waiting for some kind of instruction.

Emerson waited outside the hallway for Mason to come through. No doubt the kid had a hard time getting his balance, due to how close he had been tied to that bed, and Emerson also figured his wrist hurt from the rope. Emerson could’ve gone back in and told him to hurry up-part of him was itching to-but he didn’t. For some reason Emerson was keeping himself calm for the most part. He…well…he wanted to fix Mason and doing this was not going to happen. More so, he wanted to fix Mason to a point where he was more human. This sitting and being a puppet only went so far and now that Mason was rock bottom Emerson knew it wouldn’t be hard to build him up into the form he needed to be again. Emerson figured Mason wouldn’t be the same, however part of him almost wished he would be. The Mason he had followed around way back when was…rather adorable, in a way. He had been sweet to everyone. However, Emerson was the kind of person who didn’t believe anyone could ever be sweet to him. Or love him. Or anything else. His own parents didn’t love him, how could anyone outside of blood? Because Emerson was a hideous person inside and out.

“M’hopeless,” he whispered to himself, believing the words. Mason came out, then, and Emerson lifted his head, tried to smile at the lifeless boy. The smile looked out of place, even Emerson could figure that. He had never genuinely smiled at Mason therefore how could he really believe that it was real? It was probably creepy. Without a second though, Emerson dropped the smile and nodded. “Well, okay. Come on, Mason.” Trying to be somewhat comforting (how does one comforting?), Emerson slipped an arm around Mason’s shoulders and gentle squeezed. “What do you like for breakfast? Or did you have a preference? Personally, all I really have for us is eggs and toast. Some orange juice. I think that will work. We’ve got a big day ahead of us and I want to make sure you’re nice and full.” Nodding his head as if to confirm his words, Emerson guided Mason to the kitchen, let him pick which seat he wanted as Emerson pulled out the bread and began toasting it in his shitty, old toaster. the eggs were something he’d just make in the microwave. cracking two eggs, Emerson whisked it all together, biting his lip and not glancing at Mason.

When the eggs were good enough, Emerson stuck them in the microwave on high. He crossed his arms finally, leaned against the counter and glanced over at Mason. Emerson was surprised by how sick he felt just looking at Mason. Not by Mason, of course, but…but because when he looked at Mason Emerson saw all the things he did to him. Why now, of all times, to realize what he had done? He toyed with the guy’s head. Made him think he killed his brother. What kind of person did that? Obviously: a messed up one. Emerson was bad. He shouldn’t have been born. He knew that now. Far too late. Which was why his plan was now to bring Mason back to where he could…somehow recover and then when the time was right…Emerson could leave. Not bother the world anymore. His gaze drifted off, eyes glazing over, as he pictured Mason crying a few months earlier. Tears rolling down his pale, pink cheeks. Bottom lip quivering. It was a terrible sight now. Back then all Emerson could remember was enjoying the brokenness from Mason. He was a horrible person.

Emerson tried thinking back to what made him be like this. As far as…why he changed thought processes. Maybe it was the other day when he saw Mason hardly react to the gun that had been pointed at him. Emerson had it at his temple. “How’s it feel? I’m one second away from ending you’re stupid, worthless life,” he remembered spatting. Mason had looked at him like he was saying thank you. He had wanted to die. At least that’s what it had looked like. He wasn’t scared anymore. He was done. Emerson realized that he wasn’t going to get anything out of Mason anymore. Some part of him was thankful for that. If Mason had kept giving him signs of fear, Emerson would have kept going. Something snapped, though, and Emerson was sick with himself. He could see a bruise of his hand around Mason’s neck when his eyes glanced up to give him a once over. Mason had blacked out when Emerson did that. What other bruises had Emerson given him? He knew there were probably dozens over his body from when Emerson fucked the night before in his last attempt to get something out of Mason. But he obliged. Did everything he was asked. Or ordered. Tapping his leg in a distraction to keep from deepening his thoughts, Emerson spun around when the microwave dinged. He took a few calming breaths because his eyes began to sting-wait, crying?-and quickly brushed it off.

Preparing their plates was rather easy; Emerson sat the egg on top of Mason’s toast in front of him, ran a hand through the boy’s hair (hmm…he needed a bath..) and gave a tight smile. “Bon..appétit? I think that’s it. I need to buy some more things so that we aren’t living on one last egg,” Emerson tried to play lightly. Sitting across from Mason, Emerson poured some juice into a small glass for both of them then took a bite. Not too bad. Not ideal. But now too bad. Eyes shifting across his plate as his head hung, Emerson tried to think of what to say; he wasn’t good at this talking thing. Not at all. “Umm…” he thought, then lifted his head to look Mason in the eyes, his gaze softer than usual, “it’s suppose to be a very nice day today. I kind of want to see if the whether men are right. Would you like to? Once we finish up here, anyway.” He wanted to hear Mason speak. Something that showed he wasn’t dead. And Emerson didn’t want to order a response out of him. He could only hope he’d get something. Anything.

(Source: emerson-shmitt)