#all i can do is keep speaking up & being an annoying gnat in the their ears until they finally give in & do something

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

15.8k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series | A/N at the end

You’ve done bad things in your life. Tiny, inconsequential sorts of things in the grand scheme of the universe. Small white lies told to spare feelings or cut corners like letting your mom believe you liked her haircut or using spark notes in high school instead of reading the assigned chapters. Granted there have been several spiteful moments like allowing your boss to go into a meeting with lipstick on her teeth. 

It’s all relatively normal though, never more than a tick on the good versus bad meter. You’ve always known that deep down you’re a good person. 

You’re not so sure anymore. 

The orange flicker of the quickly melting candles illuminates your flushed skin. Chipping polished fingers clamp your ruined underwear against the countertop you lean on. Chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control. Steve’s next to you, thigh almost touching yours. His white top has a new button undone, his gold chain and the start of his sweat matted chest hair on full display now - catching the light, glistening with every flicker of the flame. You hate that the sight is almost enough to distract you from your predicament, that it makes you wish you hadn’t been interrupted. 

Eddie leans against the wall across from the two of you. His arms folded over his chest, black tshirt stretched across muscles almost as tight as his clenched jaw. His large brown eyes dance between yours and Steve’s. Eyes that give his true feelings away - as his mouth ticks up into a judging smirk, those eyes are pools of hurt. The confidence you had witnessed all day quickly draining from them as he peers at you. 

Tongue jutting out to lick his lips as he throws his hands up, “Jesus fucking Christ, will one of you say something?”

Your mouth opens as Steve’s fingers rub at his temples before sliding into his hair with a long huff of breath through his nose. Steve speaks before you’re able to force any words out of your parted lips. “Well, now you know. We can talk about it later. Let’s get out of here,” the last part directed to you. Not a question, but it doesn’t feel like a command either. It’s a request. 

Something in his tone, the way Steve’s hazel eyes plead with yours makes your heartbeat turn rapid again - throbbing in your ears. Your entire body kicks into overdrive, alcohol mixing with adrenaline and thoughts of what all of this means for you and Steve. 

Steve’s eyebrows raise at you expectantly, and Eddie’s voice is soft as he speaks to you, “So you were just using me to get him, right? Make him jealous? None of that was…”

Eddie straightens as he trails off. Eyebrows pinched together, cheek pulled between teeth in thought. Stepping towards him, you shake your head vigorously. Feeling like you’re being ripped in half. “No, Eddie, I promise you, I-” faltering on how to explain it all, to ease some of the hurt you caused, you push out, “We were already sleeping together and-”

Eddie’s gaze shoots over to Steve, eyes settling into a harsh glare as his finger shoves into Steve’s chest. Steve’s eyes roll as his shoulders do the same at Eddie’s hiss, “Dude. I straight up asked you if you were into her or had anything going on and you said no and that Robin-”

“Well we are and we do, so.” Steve shrugs, too casual about it all. He swats Eddie’s finger away like it’s an annoying gnat and not attached to the friend he lied to. The two boys sit in a staring contest, jaw’s clenched and eyes darkening and your blood boils from the words exchanged and Steve’s attitude. Your adrenaline tipping from flight to fight as you watch Steve push out his chest and Eddie take a step closer, shaking his head slightly. 

Your eyes turn on Steve, “Hold on. We’re not together.” Eddie’s gaze flicks to you as you keep speaking, anger rising rapidly in you. “We’re friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Eddie, I absolutely was flirting with you and if I want to sleep with you, that’s none of Steve’s god damn business and-”

A knock on the door stops you from continuing. Steve’s jaw twitches, tongue licking his top lip as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Y/N?” Nancy’s voice echoes through the door, softening to a whisper, “Guys, come on. I know all three of you are in there and Robin is wondering where-”

She stops as you open the door, meeting her thin lipped smile and too insightful for their own good eyes. 

“Sorry,” whispering as you brush past her. For sleeping with Steve? For pulling her into this mess somehow? For lying to your best friend and her girlfriend? You don’t even know anymore. 

Music grows louder as you wander down the hallway, clenching your fist tighter around your underwear. Risking a glance over your shoulder to see Nancy and Steve arguing, Eddie’s eyes dancing between them before catching yours. 

Any urge to fight, any anger, it disappears, lost in the smoke that fills the room and you’re desperate to get out of there. Technicolor lights swirl as the bass thumps through speakers and you maneuver your way through the small crowd. Front door almost within your reach as an arm slinks between yours and your side, hooking and yanking you to a stop. A voice attached to the arm you’re dreading to face, especially after they ask, “Hey, do you have something to tell me?”

Her words fill you with ice, toes numb and a chill down your spine. Looking up, you’re not met with anger but a smile that thaws you. Robin isn’t mad, she’s beaming and you’re wondering why when she glances over her shoulder. 

Eddie leans against the wall, smiling and nodding towards the two of you as he lifts a red solo cup. He must have told her something else with the way Robin is looking at you. Your stomach twists as Robin smiles wider, her dimple popping out. Her hands find your shoulders, blue eyes sparkling as her voice sings, “Girl talk. Wine. Cookies. Now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand, babe.”

“Robin, I-”

She shakes her head, pressing a finger over your lips as she shushes you, “Let me say goodbye to Nance and it’ll just be me and you the rest of the night, kay?”

Robin’s smile is so genuine and over her shoulder you see Steve looking around the room, clearly searching for you. Eyes connecting with yours finally, you feel nauseous as he quickly shoves in and out of groups making his way towards you. Forcing a smile, you look at Robin and nod. “Okay, I’ll be outside. I need some fresh air.”

Robin claps, happy with her victory. She weaves her way towards the kitchen, stopping Steve and gesturing to you before bouncing over to Nancy. Steve continues to make his way towards you and as hard as you try to exit and slam the door in his face, his hand catches your shoulder as you slip outside. 

Shrugging him off harshly, you focus all of your attention on your phone screen, pulling up Uber. 

“Can we talk?”

Steve’s voice is soft, straining to be heard over the bass from inside and it makes you peer up from your screen. His hands are in his back pockets of his dark jeans, hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitting together and a frown on his lips - you can’t stand how sad and confused he looks. Does he not understand why you’re mad? Why this is all so wrong?

Why is this all so wrong?

Your brain is screaming at your body to run, yet everything in you wants to fight with Steve until you’re breathless. If you talk, if you fight right now, you’re both going to say things you can’t take back. On the other hand, if you run, if you push him away further, perhaps you’ll never say some things you probably should. 

“Not now, Steve.”

“But, I-”

Your glare is harsh, voice ice as you repeat yourself, “Not now, Steve.”

He narrows his eyes again, hazel that’s normally soft and sticky turning amber and hard. Jaw clenching as he rocks back onto his heels. Clearly Steve wants to fight as he shakes his head, mumbling under his breath, “You’re really unbelievable.”

Phone dropping to your side, you turn to face him fully, disbelief filling your features, “I’m unbelievable? Me? Were you just in the same bathroom? Were we at the same beach today? Or how about last night, Steve? Was that a different guy who-”

“You liked all of it, so don’t even-”

That stupid gravitational pull you seem to have with each other back at work again, your bodies moving closer to one another without meaning to, chests almost touching. Hands tightening into fists at your sides, you tilt your chin up at him, “Oh, and you know what I like?”

Steve laughs cooly, fingers tugging in his hair with a groan. His voice rises, dripping in exasperation, “That’s a ridiculous question and you know that! And what, you’re trying to tell me that you wanted Eddie to-”

“Who cares what I wanted Eddie to do Steve!” Your resolve to not fight fully breaking as your voice does the same, “That’s the point! It’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not, or have you forgotten that little part of the deal?”

Steve groans, grabbing at your forearms and scoffing, “I care! And it’s stupid of you to expect me not to!”

Your faces are close enough that if anyone were watching, they’d think a kiss was about to happen. Steve’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and both of your breaths quicken. Mint and rum on your lips mingling with citrus and beer on his breath. His eyes watch your mouth as you lick your top lip, swallowing harshly before hitting him with a final blow. 

“I’m not yours.”

Something in Steve’s eyes shifts once more, amber shattering and turning to cold and hard granite. A fake smile tugs on his lips, it’s all far too emotionless and nothing like the Steve you know as he tilts his head, whispering, “Not what you just said in the bathroom, babe.”

Your fingers itch to slap him at the same time your body betrays you, pussy clenching around nothing.

Steve smirks, knowing all of your tells. His mouth hovers over yours as his fingers squeeze your arms, “You can’t have it both ways.” 

A part of you wants to keep fighting, but what are you even fighting about anymore? How can you be mad at him, when you’re just as much to blame. He’s not wrong, you can’t make him jealous and then be upset with him when he acts on the feeling. It’s just a day full of too much sun, delusions and decisions fueled by rum. 

Before you can do or say anything more that you’re sure to regret later, the front door opens and saves the two of you. Steve’s hands drop from your arms as Robin’s head turns inside, laughing at someone’s departing words for her. She turns and skips down the stairs as you and Steve step further apart. Eyes on the sidewalk as the tension that has been surrounding you both pops like a bubble. 

Robin slows, her eyes lingering on Steve as she asks, “Everything okay?”

Steve looks up at her, nodding once before smiling and backing away. “Yup. Never better. Have a good girl’s night.”

He turns on his heel quickly, walking in the opposite direction he needs to go. Robin watches him with a frown, her lip pulling between her teeth as her arms cross. His fading figure’s shoulders sink, head turned down as she tilts hers. Holding your breath as her eyebrows furrow.

“He’s been so weird all week. And he was fighting with Nancy like, three times today. You don’t think…” she trails off, tugging on her fingers and shaking her head. “Maybe something’s going on with them? Maybe he’s not as cool with it all as he said he was? I should go…”

Your fingers are pruny from the guilt you’re swimming in as you quickly shake your head, shutting down the train she’s gotten herself on. “No, no, no, Robs, “ at a loss for words, you just repeat yourself firmer, “No. That’s not it at all. He…I don’t know. We were fighting about something stupid. You should just hang out with him, maybe he misses having you all to himself, okay? First me, then Nancy, now Eddie’s back. He probably just misses his best friend, you know?”

Unable to stop yourself, the lies build and build as you drown in the waves of guilt that knock you down repeatedly. Your chest tightens, suffocating and choking as it all pulls you under while she nods and hums, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Robin doesn’t look too convinced, but turns to you and smiles, a little forced but she takes a deep breath. “God, he’s not the boy we need to talk about right now anyways.” Her eyebrows raise before she continues and steps towards the Uber pulling up, “Eddie asked me for your number inside and I’m betting my next paycheck it has something to do with the undergarment in your hand there?”

Your hand quickly moves behind your back, but it’s too late and she cackles, “Oh my god, tell me everything!”

Phone buzzing in your hand as you both slide into the car. Robin squeals and makes grabby hands for it, “Oh, oh, oh, he’s already messaging you?!” 

The unknown number’s message fills the screen and you’re not quick enough to lock it before she sees:

Robin frowns, looking up at you, “Your side of what?”

“Oh, uh, Steve and I…he…” you’re fumbling, about to just blurt it all out when Robin groans. 

“I was hoping he wouldn’t find out.”

“What?” You blink at her, sweating palms wiped on the hem of your dress. 

Robin sighs, leaning her temple against the backseat as she turns her body towards yours. Waving her hand around as she speaks, “You know, that Steve and you slept together,” she shakes her head a little, smiling, “So weird still. Anyways. As confident as Eddie may appear, it’s always a competition with those two and Eddie…” she trails off, voice softening to a whisper, “Well, let’s just say Eddie wasn’t as popular in school as Steve was.”

Your head falls back against the headrest hard. Any remorse you were feeling for being mad at Steve vanishes. Steve knew what he was doing, how Eddie would feel. He knew how risky the bathroom stunt was and he didn’t seem to be ashamed in the slightest of being caught. Bitterness sits on your tongue as you remember how you felt in the bathroom as the boys sat in their staring contest. Steve doesn’t seem to care about the rules anymore, and you hate that you let yourself sort of forget them too. Steve was right. You can’t have it both ways. 

This is exactly what was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be fun. No one was supposed to be hurt. You never thought you’d be the one to ignore your own rules, to feel the pit in your stomach at the thought of losing Steve. Your stringless fling seems to have quickly tied itself into a tangled knot in less than a day. 

Robin pats your thigh, smiling softly, mistaking your quiet for worry about Eddie. “Hey, you’ll tell him it’s all good. You and Steve are just friends. It’ll all work itself out, right?”

Humming in a sort of agreement as the Uber pulls up to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk as you get out. Something gnawing at you. “Hey, Robs?”

She turns, smiling as she holds the door open, “What’s up?”

“Why…” you falter, unsure if you should ask. Her eyebrows raise in wait for your question. 

Opening the door to the stairs, you frown and ask, “Why are you excited something happened with Eddie and I? Why do you want something to happen with us, but not…”

You’re worried asking might lead to her reading too much into it but she shrugs, unbothered. “Steve? I don’t know. I think Eddie’s more your type,” she ticks off on her fingers, “He’s a lot more go with the flow, he hasn’t stayed in one place for more than a year since high school. He’s not looking to be tied down, and Steve is. Steve always is,” she rolls her eyes as she starts on the stairs, continuing, “I think you both have a lot in common, like reading today on the beach, same sense of humor. I don’t know, Eddie and you just make more sense to me, I guess? Steve and you are so different. Different worlds. Want different things. It was never gonna work, and I love you both and didn’t want to see that happen.”

What she’s saying makes sense, but why does it hurt a little?

She stops on one landing, hands on her hips, “I mean, the Dingus is great, but dude would be a total mess if you broke his heart, whereas you’d probably be fine? Eddie just handles heartbreak better in the end, and he also isn’t one to fall easily. You’d be able to still be friends if it doesn’t work out is what I’m saying. Casual and easy going are Eddie and yours shared middle names, ya know?”

“Right,” you agree quietly.

She turns to continue on the last flight, voice echoing up the stairwell, “So, I think it’s an ‘I Think You Should Leave Night.’ I need some Tim Robinson. Did I tell you that Nancy had never seen it? I…”

She trails off, explaining how she introduced Nancy to the show and you stare at your phone, sending a message to Eddie with the address to a coffee shop around the corner. Maybe you should have trusted Robin’s insight into these relationships from the start.

She knew right away Steve and you would end in failure and hurt and it was silly of you to think the two of you could avoid the kind of people you are. Fundamentally different, and not meant to be together for a reason, you’re sure. 

Your phone buzzes again as you enter the apartment, Robin already pulling out cookie trays. You turn your phone off without responding. 

Ice clinks together as Eddie’s fingers swirl his straw in the coffee in front of him. His eyes remain on the drink, tracking the faintest swirl of milk, lips downturned in a frown as you gnaw on the ripped skin of your thumb. 

He’s been silent for a full minute, since you finished explaining everything. He agreed to meet you at the coffee shop before brunch with the group. You’re hopeful to just move on, to forget about Steve. Maybe it would have worked out with Eddie and you if you hadn’t created this mess. Maybe it still could. You almost forgot about Steve fully when Eddie showed up in dark wash jeans, chain hanging loosely at his hip. A burnt orange shirt snug across his shoulders and chest where his waves hung down. Framing his dazzling smile that went straight to your lungs and pulled your breath out and away. 

Eddie finally blows out a long exhale, palms dragging down his cheeks as he groans. “Shit, this is a fucking mess.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping your own coffee. 

He folds his arms on the table and leans forward, frowning, “I don’t…I don’t understand why Robin talked my ear off for like four fucking hours about you though. That’s what I meant when I said I’d tell her last night, Steve knew she was trying to set us up.” He rolls his eyes and continues, “If she didn’t want you two together, why does she want us?”

Your fingers fold and unfold the straw wrapper in front of you, shoulders falling as you slump down in your chair further. “Right? I asked her that last night. Let’s just say I’m not a huge fan of relationships and she thought you’d be the perfect fit for…” you twist your lips and narrow your eyes as you search for the right words, “The lifestyle? I tend to lead.”

Eddie smirks but it quickly turns to a grimace around his straw. He leans back in his chair and picks at the chipping paint on the table. “You too, huh? Who broke your heart?”

Surprised at his question, the paper wrapper rips in your fingers and your brow furrows, “I…no one. It’s a long story.” Waving your hand at him, you try to brush off the question and he raises his eyebrows and you huff out an annoyed breath. Something tells you he’s not one to give up easily, perhaps just as stubborn as you are. “I just know happy endings are few and far between, why put yourself through all of that pain for maybe a chance of it working out. Plus I’m very happy being single.”

He watches you curiously. “Happy or just complacent?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Squinting at him as you sip your coffee. “I’m happy. I think assuming I’m not because I’m not in a relationship or searching for love is some 1950s bullshit. I love the life that I’ve made for myself, without anyone’s help.”

Eddie’s lips twist into a smirk as he narrows his eyes playfully. “I see why he likes you.”

Frowning, you fiddle with your straw. “Steve doesn’t like me like that. He likes having sex with me.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I can tell you right now, that’s not Stevie. He likes you. A lot. Wouldn’t have pulled that crap yesterday if he didn’t.”

Your stomach twists. That’s the problem, isn't it? 

Shaking your head back at him you snap, not mean, but not warm either. “Well, that’s too bad. Deal’s off. I’m sleeping with other people.”

Eddie leans forward again, arms resting on the table and his eyebrows disappear under his bangs, “Other people, huh?”

You mirror his posture, arms close to his as you smile, “Yeah, have anyone you can set me up with?”

He laughs, throwing his head back. He shakes his head, curls falling across his shoulders as he watches you closely before speaking, “Steve will never forgive me princess, sorry.”

Falling back in the chair dramatically, you sigh. Ignoring his comment about Steve. “Damn. I thought you were supposed to be the bad boy of my dreams?”

Eddie laughs again, and you decide you really like the sound of it. It’s warm and comes from his chest, you can tell smiling and laughing comes easy to him when he’s around the right people. 

He sips at his coffee and then drums his fingers on the table, tongue licking his top lip, “Well, normally I’d say fuck it. Cause you’re real cute,” he winks at you and you laugh, he shakes his head no again, “But I’m afraid that you’re different. You may actually be the one to cause a fistfight, sweetheart, and I can’t afford to marr the merchandise - it’s all I got going for me.”

He pats at his cheek and you laugh at his theatrics. “Well that’s just not true. I’ve known you for only a day and I can already confidently say you have a lot more going for you than looks Eddie.”

Eddie bats his eyelashes at you, false embarrassment, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks turn slightly pink. 

Acting on instinct, you reach forward and grab his hand, “But really, the offer will stand if you ever decide to risk it. I mean, Robin thought it’d work, right?”

He smiles, squeezing your fingers, “True. But Steve-”

Groaning, you fall backwards again, letting his hand slip from yours, “Is a big boy and will get over it.”

Eddie snorts, fingers tapping at the table again. Eyes avoiding yours as he speaks, “That’s cute. Will you?”

“Will I what?”

Eddie looks up again, big brown eyes peering directly into your soul it seems as he asks, “Will you get over Steve?”

His question makes your limbs feel heavy, heart pounding, as you choke out, “Eddie, I don’t-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah you do,” he stands, nodding his head towards the door, “Come on, you can tell me all about why you refuse to let him love you on the walk to brunch.”

Chest tightening as you watch him start to walk away, somehow Eddie can read you quickly, knocking some of the stones you surround yourself with loose. Maybe the universe does know what it’s doing, it certainly did when it gave you Robin. Perhaps you were meant to meet all of these friends at this time in your life. Was it okay to let yourself be open? To let some light in through the cracks in your wall?

Eddie waits and beckons you with his hand, dragging out his words, “Come on, you can do it.” He grins, holding one of his hands up like he’s swearing in an oath, “I’ll even tell you my tale of doomed love first. Cheerleader dating the freak. Real star crossed lovers kind of shit. It’s pretty damn heartbreaking if I do say so myself.”

He bows as you stand, extending his arm for you to walk out first and you do. Feeling a little less alone, a little less pessimistic about the world and love as you listen to him tell you all about a girl named Chrissy on the walk to Benny’s. 

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you whisper as he finishes his story.

He shrugs, straw squeaking as he sucks the last of his coffee dry, kicking a loose stone as you wait at the crosswalk. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Done lot’s of healing up here,” he taps on his temple and then his heart, “And here. Now,” he spins, eyes big and lips forming a pout as he pokes your cheek, “I think I’m owed your story.”

As you take a deep breath, maybe you will tell him actually, Robin’s voice sings from behind you, “Well, well, well! Looks like some people have had quite a morning already!”

Eddie and you turn, rolling your eyes almost in sync and Robin beams. You all know she slept over last night, and was there still this morning when you left for coffee. It’s not Robin you look at right away though, but Steve, who stands just behind her and Nancy. His eyes are on yours and Eddie’s coffee cups before they meet yours. 

The light changes and Steve’s eyes fall to the ground again, passing by you silently. Eddie leans in close and whispers in your ear, “Yeah, what was that thing about him getting over it?”

Brunch is uncomfortable after that to say the least. Eddie and you end up squished together all thanks to Robin’s insistence that you can all squeeze into the booth. But, you can’t, leaving Steve in a chair pulled up on the end, dodging elbows of the staff carrying trays to the busy diner patrons. Finding it hard not to stare at the way his muscles flex under his plain white t-shirt or the way his neck extends, exposing his freckles and moles with every turn. 

His eyes catch you staring at one point and your gaze quickly drops to your plate, hands becoming busy with your coffee mug. Your stomach finds the giant waffle in front of you unappetizing. Eddie nudges your knee while offering a reassuring smile as Nancy watches all three of you over the rim of her coffee. 

Robin is oblivious to it all, chattering about her and Nancy’s trip next weekend, the football game coming up, and Eddie’s band potentially booking a gig for the Halloween party following it. 

“Wait, we’ve barely hit September, Halloween?” Eddie shoves pancakes into his cheek as he speaks. 

“In Chicago, Halloween is the entire month. So, in two weeks, October 1st equals Halloween season officially, baby!” Robin rubs her hands together like an evil genius before continuing, “Costume contests and bar crawls, horror movie trivia and marathons, oh my god all the Rocky Horror showings. It’s the best freaking time of the year.”

Nancy grimaces and Steve smiles for the first time all morning. “Have fun. Extremely happy to let you inherit the responsibility that is Robin for the month of October.” He removes an invisible hat from his head and pops it onto Nancy’s.

She smiles widely at him.  “Wow, King Steve removing his crown?”

“Only for those worthy.” He winks and they laugh about something you don’t understand, remembering you’re the outsider of this little group. Your chest burns from the thought of them together, the history they have. A bitter taste fills your mouth and it’s not from the coffee. Swallowing harshly as you push down whatever is brewing inside of you - definitely not jealousy. 

Robin rolls her eyes, responding dryly, “Ha-ha,” she takes the invisible crown and places it on her own head, sticking her tongue out at Steve. 

Eddie leans across the booth stealing it, “Oh no, I’ve wanted this bad boy since High School!” Robin and Eddie pretend to play tug of war with the invisible inside joke. Feeling yourself fading into the vinyl seats of the booth as they all reminisce about a particular Halloween from high school. Something about a party at Steve’s, pure fuel, and Eddie and Robin being higher than kites while they TP’d Steve’s backyard. 

Nancy covers her mouth in shock, “That was you guys?!” 

The two fall over in a fit of giggles and Nancy shakes her head, throwing a wadded up napkin at their faces. A smile sits on your lips as you poke at your waffle. A bump to your knee has you looking up to find Steve watching you, his eyebrows furrowed. Standing as you offer a shrug of your shoulders. 

Robin stops Nancy and Eddie from their loud boos about something, waving her hands, “Wait, where are you going?”

Your thumb hooks over your shoulder, “I’m gonna head home, I’m not feeling so hot, probably just too much sun yesterday.”

“I can walk you,” Eddie starts to get up and you motion for him to sit.

“It’s like a block away, I’m fine, promise. Catch up! You haven’t had the chance yet.”

Robin smiles at you, but it doesn’t meet her eyes as she tilts her head. Eddie nods once, sitting back down. Grabbing your receipt and quickly leaving the table with a wave. As you wait for the hostess to return to the register, the receipt is plucked from your fingers and Steve is next to you. 

A roll of your eyes as you huff a breath out of your nose, “Steve, give me my receipt.”

“Oh my god, so you can talk to me. Was worried I left my secret invisibility cloak on.”

He leans against the counter, chin resting in his palm as he raises his eyebrows. Shrugging your shoulders, you avoid his gaze. “Nothing to talk about,” you reach for the receipt again and he holds it away from you. Gritting through clenched teeth, “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, but it’s okay to let people do something for you sometimes.”

“It’s not sometimes with you Steve, you do it all the time. I don’t want your money - “ 

“You could just say thank you,” he rolls his eyes, “It doesn’t mean anything. Does it really bother you that much?”

“Yeah, it does, I’m able to pay for myself and I don’t need someone to provide for me.”

Steve stands up taller, crossing his arms as his voice lowers, “Probably didn’t have a problem letting Eddie provide you with your coffee this morning.”

Rolling your eyes again, you snort, snatching the receipt and leaning in closer. “Actually, not that it’s any of your business, but I bought his coffee to apologize to my friend for yesterday.”

Steve smirks, ripping the receipt from your fingers again, “Right, and I’m your friend offering to buy your breakfast.”

“If you were my friend, then you wouldn’t be acting like this,” your fingers graze his as you reach for the ticket again, and he closes his fist around it tighter. Your voice grows weak as you continue, “What are we doing Steve.”

His shoulders relax slightly and he sighs, blowing his breath out through his nose as he turns towards the counter. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he answers anyways, “I don’t know. You tell me. You seem to want to call all the shots right? When we talk, when we don’t, when we fuck and who we tell.”

Your gaze jumps over to the booth, everyone caught up in conversation thankfully and you exhale. Turning on your heel, choosing that some battles are not worth fighting. Your armor has received far too many dents and you can’t afford to rebuild it again. 

“Not anymore,” you mumble to him as you try not to focus on the way his shoulders fall further or the wetness that pools on your lash line. 

The city transitions from Summer to Autumn in less than a week. Trees lining your neighborhood turn from green to yellows and reds. The air becomes cooler, easier to take deep breaths and be open to the change the season promises. Your fingers trail along the brick of an old building as you walk towards your favorite pizza place. Rounding the corner, you nearly smack into someone.

“Oh, sorry, I-”

“I’m so sorry-”

Steve stands in front of you and both trail off as you realize it’s each other. You almost didn’t recognize him with a black baseball hat on, tight black shirt and light wash jeans. It’s probably the most casual you’ve seen him and  you swallow harshly. Neither of you have messaged and you hate how much you wish he would have. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets, twisting his lips up while squinting. “Hey, I was just coming to see if you were done avoiding me.”

A flip switched, your annoyance with him returns easily. Rolling your eyes as you push past him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

He spins to follow you, dragging out his word, “Riiight.” He kicks a pebble as he falls into step with you, “So, if you’re not avoiding me, let’s go back to your place and hang out. Maybe get Red Hot-”

Stopping abruptly, Steve nearly trips on his own feet as he comes to a halt next to you. Your arms cross as you look up at him, “Steve, I thought it was clear that the arrangement was over.”

He nods once, licking his lips before smiling, “I meant actual Red Hot Ranch, get your mind out of the gutter.” He’s trying to joke, but his tone is forced - like he’s speaking while holding his breath and it makes your chest hurt. 

Steve runs his hand through his hair before his arm falls to his side, “Seriously, I just…I’m sorry. About everything. And I miss my…friend?”

He lets the last word hang as a question. Debating if you can actually move on, you look up at the sky. You’re sure if you and Steve can get through this awkward sort of scramble to fix the mess you’ve made, you can be friends and end up happy. 

You want to move on from Steve, right?

Raising your arm, you gesture in the direction you had been heading in, speaking softly, “I was just on my way to Argyle’s, if you can handle sharing a pizza with a friend who likes olives?”

Steve’s lips twitch into a lopsided smile, remembering how the two of you met. He sighs dramatically before walking towards the bar, “Only if you agree to let me absolutely crush you at ski-ball at Replay after.”

A demolished pizza, a train ride, and several beers later, Steve is cupping his ear with his hand, a gloating grin on his lips as he asks, “How many games is that?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff into the bottle and spin, scanning the barcade. It’s 80s theme this month, so while the front of the place is normal - pinball and arcade games - the people mingling about and heading to the back themed portion of the bar are decked out in neon, legwarmers, and dizzying patterns. An 80s playlist booms overhead mixing with dings of the pinball machines and chatter of bar goers. 

Your fingers tap on the side of your bottle and nod towards the machines, “You know, all of these are free and yet, I’ve never seen you play. Someone too chicken to lose at something he might not be the best at?”

Steve smirks around the lip of his bottle, “I’ll play you on any machine in here. Still gonna win.”

You’ve missed this with him, the banter and fun. No pressure and no feelings. Although, is it really without feelings when his cocky attitude is a turn on, because now you know how it translates into the bedroom? Will you ever be able to separate the two versions of Steve?

Spinning once more, you land on a Goonies themed free machine, you tap your fingers on the glass and face him, “Care to make it interesting?”

He leans against it, smiling. “What’d you have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to pay for the next round,” you point your finger thinking, “And the next dinner we have together!”

He shrugs, sipping his bear, “Fine. If I win, I pay for the next round, dinner next time we’re out, and I get to come over for a movie tonight. My choice.”

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes.

“Great,” he smiles wider. 

Suspicious with how easy he agreed to let you pay for something if you won, you gesture towards the game. “You go first.”

Steve hands you his beer, cracking his knuckles as he speaks, “Prepare to lose.”

Steve releases the ball, standing tall in front of the pinball machine, confident with his legs spread slightly, shoulders rolled back. You hate that your eyes travel to his butt and up his back, swallowing a drink of your beer as you reach his neck, his concentration present on his face under the baseball hat that you’re quickly wishing he’d wear more often. Watching as his long fingers press the buttons on the side of the game with quick and precise moves, his eyes roam over the glass, unmoving from the game as he smirks. “You didn’t read the names on the screen did you?” 

Flashing lights distract you from his face and fingers, turning towards the screen, Steve’s score trailing across it in bright red, then the list of top five scores appear where you see ‘Dingus’ and ‘Other Dingus’ as the top two names. 

Groaning, you close your eyes, “What?!”

He laughs, “Robs and I came here like every night when we first moved to the city and worked at that burger place just down the road.”

Steve pats your shoulder and when you open your eyes he’s smiling with fake sympathy, “I think I’m gonna make you watch a rom com tonight.”

Your groan grows in volume and you face the machine, shoving the two beers into his hands, “Bite me, Steven.”

Steve takes a sip of his beer, only to choke on it as you pull the lever and the ball immediately falls down the center. Brushing it off, you start on the second one, only for Steve to wince when you press the lever at just the wrong moment, sending the ball careening around the board with no way to control it or anticipate when it’ll drop again. 

He sets the beers down, holding up his hands, “Okay, hold on, hold on. I wanna win, but in a fair fight. This is pathetic.”

Steve comes up behind you, you hold your breath as his hands hover over yours, arms on either side of you and he whispers, “Can I help show you something?”

Worried your voice is going to betray you, you just nod and Steve steps closer. His head to the side of yours, cheeks almost touching as his fingers land above your own. He watches as your first ball goes ping ponging around the board again, laughing a little as you stick your tongue out and jab at the buttons. He whispers close to your ear, “You’re hitting it at the right time, just too quick and choppy. You gotta take a deep breath before hitting the button, relax your body.”

The heat of Steve’s face next to yours, his chest just touching your back, it’s melting you, words he’s saying fried on impact in your brain like an egg on a sidewalk. You couldn’t take his advice if you tried, the instructions gone from your thoughts as your body betrays you, underwear growing slick between your thighs.  

“Show me?” you squeak out and out of the corner of your eyes you see his lips tip up on one side in a smile. Will Steve be able to ignore your tells, will he ever be able to separate the two versions of you either? 

The second ball releases, Steve’s fingers lace with yours over the buttons, he whispers, “Okay, deep breath,” you feel his chest expand against you, feel his breath hit your neck as he turns to face you instead of the game, “Now.”

His fingers press yours into the button gently, his nose brushing up your neck slowly and the ball hitting the exact spot you wanted and you spin to face him, ignoring the game. “I-”

A girl comes out of the bright pink bathroom, mascara on her cheeks and blowing her nose loudly and interrupting any moment you two were just having. Her friend wraps her arm around her. “He’s an idiot.”

“Why doesn’t he love me!” She wails, swiping at her nose with toilet paper another girl hands her. The two friends on either side of the crying girl communicate silently with their eyes. One touches her finger to her nose before the other can, holding her hands up in surrender. 

Steve’s eyes meet yours, shimmering with held back laughter and you cover your smile with your fingers. He leans in closer, lips brushing your ear and you hate that you shiver as he speaks, “You are so not laughing.”

“No! He’s gonna be my husband!” The clearly drunk girl hiccups and the friend who didn’t tap her nose quick enough whispers, “Babe, you met him last week on tinder.”

An unstoppable snort leaves you and your shoulders shake, forehead pressing to his chest. 

“Hey! What’s so funny assholes?” The one girl directs towards the two of you. 

The sad girl hits her friend's shoulder, “Don’t be mean, they’re clearly in…lo...love!” She starts crying harder and Steve’s shoulders start to shake too, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you back into the themed part of the bar. 

He drags his palm down his cheek, laughing still, “Not funny. It’s not funny.”

Straightening, you form a serious face, mashing your lips together. “Right. Not funny.”

Your eyes meet and your laughter bursts out of you again, wiping your eyes as you lean against each other. 

Steve shakes his head, removing his hat for a second to run his hand through his hair, before adjusting the cap. His shirt rises a little, exposing the line of dark hair that runs under the waistband of his jeans. Your laughter dies off, eyes trying to look anywhere but there.   

He motions to the bar, grinning as he asks “I believe I get to get the next round?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoo him away, leaning against a small unoccupied table. As you wait for him to return, you’re lost in people watching and admiring the decorations. Replay does not hold back when it comes to a theme, specific and hidden nods to the decade surround you as you watch the groups and couples enjoying themselves. Some clearly on first dates, or new to seeing each other. Lots of sipping of drinks, nodding, restless hands and standing not too close to each other. Then there’s those that your chest twinges a little as you watch them. The couple at one of the tables with arms around each other, laughing and kissing temples. The two that come out of the photobooth catch your attention the most. They’re giggling, stealing kisses and holding hands, waiting as their pictures print. Their heads lean together as one of them squeals, “Aww, babe!”

The bump of your drink against the wood tabletop pulls you away, Steve watching you curiously, he raises his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t know people actually did photo booths anymore. Or like, got excited about them. Never done it before.” Shrugging as you take a sip. 

Steve’s mouth falls open, “You’ve never…Come on.”

He’s pulling you over despite your protests, sitting down and waiting for you. He rolls his eyes and pats his thigh, “Not like you haven’t sat on my thigh before.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Hissing at him as you sit, swiping the curtain closed behind you. 

The space is even smaller than it looks, and it takes Steve and you a second to find a comfortable position. Your elbow bumps the wall as you try to sneak it around his shoulders and give up, resting them in front of you in your lap. His chin knocks against your shoulder as he moves his arm around your waist. 

Steve leans forward to press the button and you stop him, “Wait!” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, looking up and you realize his face is right in front of your chest and you squeeze your eyes closed, “What…uh…what do we do? Smile or - “

Steve's fingers tap your hip, “We’ll figure it out. Relax.”

The number flashes on the screen, your faces filling it and Steve suggests a silly one first, his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossing. You’re mid laugh in that one. He hooks both arms around you, pulling you further onto his lap and his chin falling over your shoulder for the next one. Smiling for the camera normally, until right before the flash he blows a raspberry in your neck, squeezing your waist. You’re caught up in scolding him, trying to jab at his sides in the next one. By the fourth photo you’re laughing, looking at each other as your breathing slows down with smiles. After the flash, Steve’s hand cups your cheek, leaning in closer as your smiles fall and your breath picks up for an entirely different reason. 

“Steve…” your voice is a breath. 

He swallows, his own voice not any louder, “Yeah?”

Your noses are touching, lips hovering over each other’s as you speak, “We should-”

The flash goes off and you both freeze, the booth’s voice echoing and telling you your photos are printing. Clearing your throat, you pull the curtain and stand, Steve following you out and he exhales, sipping his drink. Well, more like chugging it, his finger looped into his collar as he tugs it away from his neck. 

The strip falls into the little cubby and you pull it out with a smile. Your thumb brushes over the photoset, happy to have a physical memory of you and Steve. You get it, why people like them. They’re black and white - timeless. Little moments caught where you weren’t overthinking what Steve and you are, or what you’ll be or how you’ll never work. 

It’s just the two of you at that moment, and you’re glad you have the photos because you already miss it. 

He’s behind you, voice quiet as his eyes take them in, “Do you like them?”

You nod your head, smiling wider, “Yeah, I really do. Thanks.”

He hums, nodding towards the door, “Wanna…?”

A very open ended question, but you nod, slipping the photos into your back pocket and walking out ahead of him. 

Your walk to the blue line stop is silent. Your hands barely touch as you walk, the back of Steve’s fingers hitting yours. Does he want to hold hands? Do you want that too? Lost in a day dream of what it would be like to let yourself walk around holding hands with someone like Steve Harrington.

The sunset draws your attention as you lean on the wall waiting for the train, your chin resting on your folded arms. Oranges and pinks are vibrant streaks across the sky as the sun sinks lower and lower behind the buildings. 

You turn and catch Steve watching you. His eyes melt as they meet yours, orange golden light hitting his jaw, eyes turning into the stickiest honey you’ve yet to see. Your breath catches in your chest and you raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He smiles, soft and barely twitching his lips up before his eyes fall to the ground. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “Nothing. I like watching you watch the sunset is all.”

Your heart beats harder and you turn your gaze back on the sky as you exhale, “I never said sorry either you know. And I am,” you look at him again, his eyebrows furrow, and you continue, “Sorry, I mean. It’s kind of all my fault.”

The train pulls up then, both of you caught up in getting on and failing to find a seat. You stand with your back to the doors, chairs to one of your sides and Steve steadies himself with a palm over your shoulder. You’re close, caged in, and on a jolt of the car, you lean forward and catch yourself on his chest. He looks down at you, eyes bouncing between yours. The loud rumble of the car rattles inside your ribcage and as the train goes through a tunnel, the quick bursts of lights outside flash across his face. 

“Sorry it happened or sorry it’s over?”

“What?” You ask quietly, confused by his question. 

He steps closer and your back arches, forgetting there’s other people on the train with you as  he speaks quietly, barely able to hear over the noise of the train, “Earlier. You said you were sorry. That it was your fault. So you’re sorry it happened at all or sorry it’s over?”

“Steve…” you tilt your head, lip almost catching his.

His breath fans across your cheek, “I’m not sorry.” His nose nudges into your cheek and he whispers, “I’m not sorry about any of it. Sorry I hurt you, but not sorry about it happening. And I’m definitely sorry it’s over.”

Your words are caught in your throat. Is this what you want? Do you want Steve completely? Even if it means hurting him? Even if it means getting hurt yourself?

The train announces your stop and his arm falls, following you out the doors. His admission hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the thick heat that’s started to fall over the city. Is it too late to tell him you feel the same way? Can you even tell him that when you can barely admit it to yourself? 

As you step down the stairs to the sidewalk, you see Stan’s and you gesture to it, “Grilled cheese or a donut for the walk back?”

He nods and you don’t argue with him when he pulls out his wallet, only whispering a quiet thank you. You walk in silence, your mind races just as fast as your heart. It’s crazy to think you could let yourself be open to Steve. Robin is right, you’re different, and it’s never going to work. It already hurts now, what happens if it really doesn’t work out?

Taking turns with the sandwich, Steve takes a bite and sighs, stuffing the piece into his cheek. “I only ever make these when I’m sick. Kind of forget they exist outside of that.”

“So that’s your favorite food when you’re sick?” You question as he hands the sandwich back to and you round the corner, your apartment only a block away now. 

He nods, licking his finger and squinting at the sky. “Yeah, grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Respectable choice,” you speak around your own bite and you smile. 

You’re stopped at a crosswalk, and Steve watches you, blowing his breath out through parted lips, “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

You know he’s referring to what he just said on the train. Your eyes drop to the sidewalk, stomach turning as you speak, “Steve, we’re…this isn’t going to work. We’re too different. And you don’t even know me. Not really.”

He steps closer, fingers on your chin as he tilts your face up to look at him. He licks his lips, shaking his head and his voice is desperate, “I do. I do know you. I know you like sunsets, and your favorite foods, and what kind of body wash you use…”

His words make tears spring to your eyes, chest tightening as you shake your head. He continues, “You can tell me things. I-” he rubs his thumb across your cheek, “If you give it a chance and open up to someone-”

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, because before he can keep going, before you can respond, the sky opens up, dumping rain on you from seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Fuck!” He screams, swiping at his eyes as the torrential downpour swallows you both.

Grabbing his hand as the light changes, you take off towards your apartment, both of you blindly running as the rain streams down your face. People honking or running by with umbrellas as you cut across the busy street screaming at Steve to hurry. 

“I’m trying! I can’t see anything more than like two steps in front of me!”

You come to a stop outside your apartment, rain pounding against you both and Steve tries to cover you with his arms, doing absolutely nothing as you fiddle with your keys in your pocket. Finally getting the front door open, the door closes and the sound of your clothes dripping onto the tile is soft compared to what sounds like a hurricane coming down outside the doors. 

Steve removes his hat, shaking his hair and running a hand through it before wringing out the cap, water dripping sadly from it and landing in the quickly forming puddles beneath your feet. Your eyes meet after watching it and you can’t help it, you both burst out laughing. It’s all so ridiculous, or maybe it’s the beers you’ve had. Taking a step, your shoes squish loudly and you groan and Steve's laughter fades and he covers his mouth, shaking his head as he looks up at the ceiling. 

The entire trip up the stairs, the squishing of your socks in your shoes landing on each step only seems to get louder. It’s comical, straight out of a cartoon and every time you look down at your shoes annoyed, Steve’s lips twitch in a fight against a smile. 

A particularly wet squelch happens on the top step and Steve snorts and whispers, “That’s what good pus-”

“Stop!” You cover your face with your palm, hiding your laughter as you interrupt his crude joke. 

Steve can’t stop laughing, both of you breathlessly wheezing as you make it to your front door finally. It’s that kind of laughter that can’t be stopped, spurred on by the other’s picking back up. You don’t even know what’s so funny anymore, all you know is your cheeks and stomach hurt and you don’t want it to be over. 

Stopped at your door, you swipe at your eyes and your laughter trails off naturally. The soft glow of the dimming hallway lights casting Steve in pale yellow, his eyes bounce between yours. Chests rising and falling almost in tandem, your breathing slightly ragged from running and laughing. The air around you feels different and Steve swallows harshly, your eyes follow the movement of his adam’s apple. You’re scared to speak, because maybe if you do, the night isn’t going to end the way you’re too afraid to admit you want it to. 

It’s silly, really, drenched from a surprise rain storm, the night you’ve had with each other and the things he’s said. It’s almost like a date, a pivotal scene from the movies you claim to hate. 

It’s almost like you want Steve to kiss you. 

Your body knows before your brain can catch up, or maybe it’s your heart this time. Drawing closer to each other, Steve pulls you in time and time again. Your own moon, controlling your tides. Keeping you tethered to him, grounded in his gravity and weightless in the same breath. How can someone who makes you feel like this not be meant to be in your life? How could it not work out?

Steve closes the distance, the tips of his sneakers tapping yours as he looks down at where his hand falls to rest on your waist. Your head tilts with an easy familiarity, eyes on his mouth as his nose brushes against yours. He sighs, eyes flitting up to yours as he speaks, barely louder than a breath, “I really missed you.”

His fingers are warm on your side, cold fabric of your shirt bunched up slightly as his thumb brushes across your skin. His other hand rises, almost in slow motion, and cradles your cheek. Steve’s voice is raspy, a little broken as he promises, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You really want him to kiss you. 

Your top lip skims his as you lean into him more, speaking even softer than he is, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Steve’s fingers squeeze your hip as his other hand glides to the back of your head. Tangling in your hair as he tilts your head further, lips meeting softly as your eyes flutter closed. A simple press, his breath hits your top lip as he pulls away slightly. Your eyes open, the warmth of his meeting yours, your own personal sunshine back and surrounding you. His hands move, cupping both of your cheeks. Steve's eyes close as he pulls you in again, mouth parting over yours and he sighs into you, filling your lungs with air like you hadn't been able to take a deep breath without him. 

Your stomach flips as he kisses you slower than he ever has - it's easy, familiar, yet new at the same time. Kisses that are sweeter and savoring, nose squished into yours, desperate to be closer. Thumbs brushing over your cheeks, foreheads pressed together. Steve's head tilts, nose bumping higher on your cheek, thumb dragging down your jaw gently as his tongue glides over the seam of your lips, sighing into you again as you open for him. 

Hands roaming to his chest, your palms flatten there as your back bumps into the door. Steve slots his knee between your legs, letting the weight of his body fall against you as your hands climb up his chest. One rests on his shoulder, thumb tugging and brushing against the collar of his shirt as the other trails higher on his neck until it holds his jaw. The slight scratch of scruff against your face contrasting with soft lips that continue to kiss you like he thinks he won't get to ever again. 

It turns desperate quickly, breathily sighing his name into his mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip. It makes Steve kiss even slower, a different kind of teasing than you're used to with each other. His lips move over yours languidly, but precise. Each press to yours a conscious decision, every nudge of his nose against yours purposeful until he's got his hands on either side of your head, palms holding him up against the door. Until yours are twisting his shirt in your fists. Kissing you so slow, you've forgotten to come up for air, panting breaths and back arching as he lets his teeth drag on your bottom lip. Tugging it and sucking before releasing it with a quiet pop. Steve laughs a little into your jaw as you shiver. He's breathing hard, lips ghosting over your skin as you breathlessly laugh too.

"Are we-"

"Do you want to-"

Smiling as you speak at the same time, both sounding a little wrecked. 

"Fuck, please," Steve pleads into your lips and you can't move fast enough. 

Reaching behind you to your door handle, you spin to unlock it as Steve presses up behind you. Large hands landing on your hips after he brushes your hair to one side. Nose dragging against the back of your ear, breath hot against your skin as he mouths at you, "Baby, hurry."

Baby.

Heart stuttering at the name you didn't realize how much you missed until you heard it again. 

You laugh, realizing this is crazy, only for it to break off into a moan as he presses his growing erection into your back and sucks at the skin just behind your ear. "Fu-fuck, Steve," you stumble as his fingers squeeze your hips and his bruising mark heats up under his mouth, "St-stop distracting me."

Steve's smile against your skin makes you shiver again. Soft lips grazing just barely against your cheek, down to your jaw. His hands bunch your shirt into his fists, knuckles brushing your sides as he sighs. "Dunno what you're talking about honey."

The lock clicks open finally, Steve reaches for the knob, engulfing your hand with his and pushing you both inside. He laces his fingers into yours as his other hand locks the door once more. Fingers intertwined, he spins you, back against the door again. 

"Smooth," you smirk as he catches your lips with his.

"You liked it," he breathes into your mouth. He tugs at your hips until you're straddling his thigh. One hand wraps around your back, palm pressing you closer to him as his lips move over yours slowly once more. 

You're not sure how long it's been since you've been kissed like this - if you've ever been kissed like this. 

Parted lips, tongues meeting soft and lazy, your fingers get lost in his hair as his slowly roam under your thighs, lifting you and guiding you to wrap around his waist. Steve starts laughing as you kick your shoes off and he nearly trips on them as he makes his way to your bedroom, kicking his own off somewhere along the way. 

Rain hits against your bedroom window rhymically, curtains filtering in the pale blue dusk as Steve sits down on your bed. Your legs falling on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

Steve deepens the kiss, breath warm on your cheek as he angles his head, smiling as you moan when he nips at your bottom lip again. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his eyes move over your face, tracking and tracing over the freckles and curves of you. You missed seeing him in this space and it makes your heart beat harder. Realizing in just a week the scent of his cologne has faded from your sheets, second coffee cups unused, a tangible thing missing from your home in too many ways to count. 

Steve's watching you curiously as your hands moved without realizing, tracing over the features of his face physically. Fingers over his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, his flushed cheeks before following the curve of his top lip. Backtracking and touching his cupid's bow. His own thumb roams to your lips too, dragging over your bottom lip as he sighs, "I don't have a condom. I didn't really expect..."

Your fingers fall, shrugging as you quietly admit, "I don’t either. But I haven't slept with anyone but you Steve. Not since before..."

"Yeah?" he swallows, thumb on your chin and pulling you in for a soft kiss. The rain picks up somehow, mirroring your hammering heart. 

Reluctantly removing your lips from his, your fingers scratch down his shirt. They fiddle with the hem of it as you avoid his gaze, "Have...have you?" 

He shakes his head, nose bumping yours as he whispers, "Just you."

"Okay," you exhale a shaky breath. 

He smiles, hands wrapping around your back. "Okay."

A crack of thunder rumbles outside so loud it feels like it's inside your apartment and you jump, clinging to Steve. His hands soothe up your spine, nose pressing into your cheek as his fingers cradle your jaw again. Your lips catch his top one in a soft press before your hands lift his shirt. 

You've removed each other's clothes before, but something about tonight feels different. Slowly tugging the shirt over his head, hair ruffled as it's drying. Your hands roam over his biceps, leaning in to kiss him again, smiling as his muscles flex under your fingertips as his run across the exposed skin on your lower back. Fingernails scratch down his chest, curls of his chest hair sticking to his tanned skin from the rain that soaked through the fabric. His arms are filled with new freckles from all the sun lately and you can’t help but lean forward and let your lips drag over them. As your fingers stop on his stomach, Steve slowly lifts your shirt from you. A flash of lightning illuminates your room, Steve's eyes drinking you in as his hands roam over you just as yours had on him. Buzzing touches into your skin, sending vibrations throughout your body as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

His nose ghosts over the shell of your ear, lips kissing under it. The pads of his fingers press into your spine and he sighs as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. Resting in a spot only he's found that makes you whimper without control, lip tugging between your teeth and back arching as he bites down gently. He sucks over the spot before his tongue soothes it as his hands cradle you closer. He sighs into your neck as you whine again. His breath is fast and hot against your skin, kissing up the column of your throat as you extend it for him, head thrown back as he holds you tighter. His mouth moves lower as his hands do the same, pulling you down and guiding you to rock against him and your stomach flutters alive with butterflies. 

Steve can’t seem to keep his hands still, squeezing your hips, roaming to your back again, soon he’s cradling your jaw, pulling you in for a deeper kiss as he falls onto the bed further. He groans as you grind against the bulge under his jeans, rolling your hips harder as his hands slip into your back pockets. Your kiss becomes frantic, letting your weight fall against him completely and he breathes into you, hands moving to your back again. “Hey,” he shakes his head against your lips, smile ghosting over them as you whine. He tugs on your chin, thumb holding it as he gasps into your mouth, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

A whimper into his lips, his words make your chest ache. His fingers toy with the strap of your dark maroon bra, they trace the lace above the cups, thumb brushing over the hardened bead of your nipple through the fabric. He breathes into your lips, smiling, “This is new isn’t it?”

Nodding against his kiss, you whine again as his fingers move at a tantalizing pace over your skin, rolling you onto your back. He holds your waist as your back arches and his lips kiss over your chest. He huffs a quiet laugh into your navel as he moves lower, “You were so going to Argyle’s to try to get laid tonight.”

You’re quiet at his words, pretending like you didn’t hear him and he gasps dramatically against your skin. Lips and nose tracing the band of your jeans as his fingers squeeze at your hips. “Wow. And here I thought I was special.”

His fingers fiddle with the zipper of the denim as you breathily ask, “Excuse me?”

He pops open the button, rolling your jeans down, nose dragging over the maroon colored lace exposed. Steve scoffs, “Aha! Matching new set! I was right!”

Your hips lift as he tugs the pants off of you completely and you roll your eyes, ignoring him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He makes eye contact with you as he unbuttons his own jeans, disbelief in every feature of his face and you bite your lip as his pants drop and he steps out of them. His fingers trail up your legs, hooking around your knees as he crawls forward. Squirming under him as his thumb brushes the ticklish spot and he smirks. His hands climb up your thighs, squeezing at the soft and doughy flesh. 

Steve’s lips trail across your hips, skimming across the band of lace as you breathe out, “Okay, how did you…oh,” thoughts broken off into a moan as he sucks on your hip, fingers dragging over your clothed slit. 

He kisses up your body, nose pressed to your jaw as the pads of two his fingers dip under the band of lace, teasing, not moving any further, brushing back and forth. His legs straddle one of yours, hard length pressed to your hip, your other leg rising as your back arches. Steve smiles against your jaw, fingers slowly moving lower as your breath quickens. He speaks into your neck, “Honey, were you really about to ask me how I knew?”

He presses a soft kiss to your damp skin, goosebumps rising as he whispers, “Told you, I know you.”

The pad of his finger catches your clit just barely, slipping past it and you whine, fingers twisting in your comforter as your toes curl. Steve makes a soft tutting noise, “She’s needy, huh? Missed me?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but your thighs spread, head nodding as you tug your lip between your teeth. 

When Steve said slow down, he meant it. His kissing, his words, the slow pace of his movements has you aroused embarrassingly quick, slick coating between your thighs. His fingers drag through your folds, teasing at your entrance and quite literally slipping up to your clit, pressing lazy and messy circles into it. A sigh, a whine of his name falls past your lips as your hands find his shoulders. Your body stretches away from him, overwhelmed already as he props himself up on his forearm and hip. 

He gives in to your whimpers, granting you a kiss. Lips latched onto your top one as he breathes heavily, his fingers sliding easily through you as he rolls his hips against your side. Your fingers scratch down his chest, hooking around his neck and tugging him on top of your body. His hand slips from your underwear, cradling your face as he grinds himself against you. 

Arching as your hands roam over the muscles of his back, you push at his boxers. His hands move to your hips, both of you sliding undergarments from each other while refusing to break your kiss. His tip catches at your clit and you moan into his lips. He unclasps your bra, flinging it somewhere and you nod against him, nose pressed to his cheek as he slides through your folds, nudging at your entrance. 

Steve pushes into you torturously slowly, your lungs feel like the air was sucked from them. Tears pricking at your lash line because you missed him. Missed this, of course, but you’re realizing you just missed Steve. 

His mouth falls open against yours, eyes pinching closed as his hand grips at your waist. Cursing softly at the roll of your hips, begging him to go deeper. His hand squeezes your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he bottoms out, your strangled moans mixing together. 

Steve focuses on your lips again, kissing you softly as your ankles lock behind his back. He lets his weight fall on you, hand against your lower back as he angles your body for him, beginning to thrust slowly. 

Sex with Steve has always been good. He takes care of you, makes sure you’re comfortable, you orgasm at least once (but always more), and praising you to no end. His dirty talk is what always pushes you over the edge, hurtling through space. 

This is different. 

The rain beats loudly against your window, your sighs and gasps lost in it. He’s breathing your name into your lips, fingers pressed into your spine. Every drag of his cock along your walls makes him moan, makes you clench around him tighter. Your foreheads press together, his nose nudges into your cheek, you want him closer and it’s impossible, there’s nothing between you and you feel the stones of the wall you surround yourself with crumbling. 

Rolling your hips to meet each of his thrusts, he whispers into your mouth, “So good f’me,” kissing you sweetly, “Baby.” His hands roam up your body, fingertips grazing across your skin. He pushes himself deeper and you gasp out his name. The cool metal of Steve’s chain hanging from his neck, taps at your chin with each lazy thrust and your thumbs drag on it around his neck, tugging. Part of you wants to rip it off, wrap it around your own neck and be his. 

Steve practically begs, your name a plea on his lips against yours as his fingers roam higher, lacing with yours and pushing them into the pillows. Held hands above your head now and you moan loudly, nodding into his kiss as the new position gives him leverage to roll his hips. Each thrust hitting deeper now, pausing before he pulls out halfway and does it all over again. Frantic as your body fills with heat, telling him to keep going, that it’s the perfect spot. Bodies sliding together like they’re made for each other, sweat slicked as they drag against one another. Steve pants your name again, fingers flexing in yours as you grip him tighter, sinking into the mattress with every slow and powerful thrust. 

He squeezes your hands harder and your stomach somersaults. Lips moving against yours needy, desperate, you can feel the ache in his chest mixing with yours as his thrusts pick up their pace. Your foreheads still touching, his kiss turns soft, contrasting with the way his hips meet yours - the sound of your slick coating him mixing with the rain. His mouth hovers over yours and your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him. Steve’s face is flushed, eyes looking at you like no one ever has before, like a bulldozer was taken to the wall around your heart, metal armor shattering and clanging to the floor.

He squeezes your hands again, pushing them higher and your mouth parts in a gasp as something in you melts with each snap of his hips. Your ears buzz with static, lips tingling against his as white heat bursts through you, thighs shaking around his waist. This has to be what it feels like to sit in a rocket before take off. Adrenaline and excitement mixed with something that makes your pulse throb in your ears. 

Steve whispers into your lips, “That’s it, honey, come on.” Your stomach flips around his words, your orgasm rolling through you. Squeezing his hands as your back arches. Your eyes flutter open, making eye contact with him again. Steve kisses you harder, moaning into your lips as his thrusts stutter, his release filling you up as you come down from your high.

His movements slow, both of you breathing heavily, skin flushed and damp. Steve releases your fingers, dragging his hands down your body, wrapping around your lower back. Yours fall around his shoulders, holding the back of his head, scratching at his scalp and smiling when he shivers. His nose brushes down yours, eyes meeting before his look at your lips. Fluttering closed as you kiss again. 

A different kiss. 

The kind you’ve only watched in the movies. The kiss after, not fucking, but the kind of sex where you can feel the emotions coming off the screen. 

You’re exhausted, limbs heavy and eyelids even more so. Your fingers card through his hair as his lips slip over yours lazily. Rolling to his side and pulling you with him, Steve pulls out of you with a quiet wince, his touch buzzing circles into your spine. 

“That was…” you whisper, breaking off into a yawn. 

“Yeah?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s smiling. 

“Yeah.” Kissing his jaw and sighing as sleep tries to pull you under. 

Steve’s strong and warm arms, the rain, and the way your heart feels lighter, gooier, it’s all a perfect concoction for sleep, and despite knowing that you need to talk about this, you don’t. You let the heavy blanket of exhaustion wash over you, curling into Steve’s chest as your breathing grows more steady. 

Unsure of how long you’re asleep for, you wake to the soft silk of his lips on your temple, then your cheek. Steve’s whisper of having to leave and you hum, not really hearing him. Fully rising when the sun is too warm on your face coming in through the curtains. Your eyes blink open heavily, the mattress next to you empty. 

Rolling to your side, you hide your smile with the blanket. A glass of water with a note leaning against it from Steve, reminding you he left and he’ll text you. 

The corner of white sticking out from your jeans on the floor draws your attention. Pulling the sheet around you as you pad over to it, your photos from last night are a blur. Water damaged, and smeared on the edges, but if you squint you can still make out yours and Steve’s smiles. Your thumb brushes over the last one, heartbeat kicking up as your palms sweat and you close your eyes. 

Fuck. 

Are you falling in love with Steve Harrington? 

The buzz of your phone wakes you from your half asleep state, forehead and neck clammy with sweat and you pull your blanket over your shoulders again. Burrowing your face in your pillow as tears prick behind your eyes. You miss Steve, and you haven’t had a chance to talk other than a few texts since last weekend. You have no idea what he’s thinking and you’ve been ripping yourself up from the inside out with your own conflicted feelings. Silly to cry over it, you know that, but your hormones have other plans. 

Swiping at your lash line, you respond quickly and lock your phone, eyes focusing back on the movie playing. 

An hour later when your front door rings for the take out you ordered, you buzz them in and unlock the door. Returning from your bedroom as you pull a sweatshirt on, your body freezes at the sight of Steve standing in your doorway. 

He’s dressed slightly more formal than you’ve ever seen him. Hair gelled perfectly, matching navy suit with the coat and vest that’s usually missing from his work attire. The tips of his brown shoes and sheen of his matching leather belt make you glance down at your own outfit. You’re in your comfiest sweats, one leg tucked into fuzzy socks with ducks, your sweatshirt you just pulled on ripping at the sleeves, giant gaping holes in it and stains down the front. Your hair is sweaty, yanked back in a frizzled and matted ponytail. 

Your arms curl in on yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve closes the door behind him, holding up two brown paper bags from two different places. He goes to your kitchen with a frown on his face. “You said you were sick. Do you always buzz people in without asking their name and leave your door unlocked for them? Cause that’s really not safe?”

He spins, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his vest as he looks in your cupboard for a plate. He asks over his shoulder, “Do you want the chinese food I intercepted at the door or the pancakes I brought?”

His words make tears fall past your lash line and you quickly swipe at them, clearing your throat before he notices and you whisper, “Pancakes, please.”

He starts opening the bag, looking up at you. His cheeks turn pink, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods towards the couch with a smile, “Go lay down, you look like crap.”

Rolling your eyes, you sniffle but listen to him. Sitting up now and curled under your blanket, you reach for the cord of your heating pad, bumping up the temp as he enters the room with a plate. Watching him take in the stack of movies, the book on your coffee table, the heating pad, bottle of painkillers and finally your face. 

His lips twitch up on one side as he sits, lifting your legs and draping them over his lap as he hands you the plate. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

Steve watches as you roll a pancake, picking it up with your fingers and nibble on it, closing your eyes as it hits your tongue with a quiet sigh. 

He rubs at your ankle, thumb soothing under the elastic of the bottom of your sweats. Squirming at the thought of your prickly hair, you start to pull away from him, voice tense, “Steve…”

He massages your calf and your eyes flutter closed, moaning into your bite of pancake. When you open them, you see him smiling at the screen and your other foot kicks at his thigh, “Stop gloating.”

His fingernails scratch down your leg and you shiver, rolling your shoulders back as he speaks softly, “I’m not gloating. Just nice that you’re letting me take care of you is all.”

Normally you’d push back, shut him down, tell him you don’t need his help, but it’s been a particularly bad period and after your last night with him, your emotions are getting the best of you. 

Sinking down into the couch, you mumble into your pancakes, “Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of…”

Steve hums, eyes trained on The Princess Bride playing on your small TV as he asks, “When’s the last time you let someone do that?”

Shrugging your shoulders, your eyes trained on your pancakes that become blurry, as you squeak out, “I don’t know. A while.”

He drops the subject, both of you sinking into the couch as he massages up and down both of your calves. His fingers and thumbs resting on your ankle as the movie plays. Eventually your eyes start to drift closed as the credits roll and Steve squeezes your leg gently, whispering, “Hey, why don’t you go lay down in bed.”

“ ‘m fine. Not tired,” you mumble, eyes blinking open. 

He scoffs, slipping out from under you and before you can protest, he’s pulling your blanket off, unplugging your heating pad. He picks you up under your arms, hoisting you to your feet as you groan. Your hands wrap around his neck, face pressed to his chest as you yawn. Steve’s arms wrap around you hesitantly, his cheek to the top of your head. 

You stand there for a while, holding each other, your breath falling more even as you inhale his cologne. All woodsy and the faintest hint of a cigar on his tie. 

His palms rub up and down your spine and he whispers, “Come on, I’ll put a movie on your laptop and you’ll feel a lot better laying down in there, right?”

Nodding your head, you let him go, heading to the bathroom before finding him in your room. He’s fluffing your pillow and smiling at you as you stand in the doorway. He pats the bed and you make no movement to enter the room, hands twisting together in front of you as your stomach ties itself in a knot, your words stuck in your throat. 

Steve stops his movement, eyebrows raising, “What’s up?”

Exhaling a breath through your nose, your eyes look into his before finding the floor much more interesting as you ask, “Will you…will you stay?”

“Yeah, of course.” He looks down at his clothes and then up at you, gesturing to them, “Is it okay if I take these off?”

Smiling, you tug your lip between your teeth as you climb into your bed, “What, you don’t wanna relax in a three piece suit, Steve?”

He rolls his eyes but starts unbuttoning his slacks, you try to focus on pulling up a movie instead of the way he carefully folds his pants and vest over your desk chair. He’s got just his button down on now, black boxer’s and thick dress socks. You drag your palm down your cheek and scold yourself for letting your hormones derail your thoughts into something dirty. He’s just a friend here to watch a movie.  

He looks at the laptop screen as he hangs the button down in the same place, crawling in next to you in just his white undershirt and boxers. Warm socked feet tangling with yours as he raises his eyebrows and asks, “Holes? You wanna watch the movie Holes?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll onto your side to face the screen, quietly admitting, “Yeah, it’s a good movie. You don’t like it?”

Steve props himself up on his arm, head resting in his palm as his other hand rubs at your shoulder. “No, it’s good. I’m just surprised by your movie choices tonight is all.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his hand rests on your waist, thumb brushing under your sweatshirt at the bare skin he finds there. Humming as you relax back against his warmth. “What do you mean?”

Steve’s breath is warm on your neck and cheek as his thumb continues to rub circles, “I don’t know, The Princess Bride? Holes? I saw The Notebook out there and your book on the table was Pride and Prejudice. Seems like someone who hates love, secretly doesn’t.”

You huff, burrowing back against him and tangling your legs between his. If you had your eyes open you’d see him smiling down at your pout, but you do feel his squeeze on your hip as you reply, “Holes doesn't have anything to do with love and The Notebook is out there because Robin left it here after she made me watch it, so.”

Steve laughs quietly, “Holes is totally a love story. Sam’s ‘I can fix that’ is a nod to ‘As you wish’ and Kate’s revenge is because the love of her life was killed, and,” Steve squeezes your hip again, nose dragging across the back of your neck as he whispers, “That’s bullshit about Robin, cause I know for a fact she hates The Notebook.”

Your heart beats faster in your chest, palms sweating where they hold your blanket up to your chin as your eyes open. You want to deny it. To tell him he’s got it wrong, but there is something about these movies that always pulls you back in, and maybe it’s okay to tell him that. 

“I like that they all still love each other, even when they’re ripped apart from each other. They didn’t let life take their love away.”

Steve’s breath changes on your neck, his fingers pause just slightly on your hip and you feel tears in your eyes as you clear your throat. Deciding that if you want Steve in your life, you’re going to have to be open and tell him things you normally keep close and guarded. 

Not noticing you’re doing it, you pull his hand from your hip, playing with his fingers in front of you as you tell him all about your parents, their once in a lifetime kind of love. Dancing in the kitchen and your dad hitting your mom’s butt when she wore a particular pair of jeans. Your tears fall down your cheeks and you wipe at them as the movie continues to play while you retell their love story and how they met. Their date nights once a month no matter what, their coffee on Sunday mornings and feeding each other food while driving on long road trips. Knowing each other’s orders and getting the other ice cream even when they say they didn’t want anything.  

Rolling to face him, Steve’s eyes roam over your face, his thumb brushing at your cheeks before you grab it again, holding it against your chest as you tell him how your mom got sick. How your boyfriend in college who you’d thought was the one left when it got hard. How you watched your mom wither away, alone. Your dad stayed with her every day, and you knew it, that when she died, you’d never get him back, not the full dad you knew. He died a week after your mom, and you’re certain it was from a broken heart. Certain no one could have anything comparable to their love for one another. Convincing yourself that a person only gets to witness a love story like that once, and they were it for you. 

Steve’s eyes are wet with unshed tears as you shrug and swipe at your nose. Your voice scratchy and rough as you clear it and whisper, “I’ve never told anyone about that before. We moved around so much when I was little, and after they died…well,” you laugh a little, backhanding your cheek roughly, “I just kept moving too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve’s palm rests against your cheek, forehead pressing to yours.

“Yeah,” you sigh out in a breath. 

Steve swallows loudly, nose nudging against yours as his hands warm up and down your spine, soothing you. Your legs tangle together as Kate dies on the screen of your laptop, imagining her true love has returned for her. 

It’s hours later, your bedroom lilac and blue as dawn rises outside your curtains. Warmer than normal when you wake up to buzzing. Steve’s arms are wrapped around you, his body pressed flush against your back, puffs of his breath hitting just behind your ear on a shared pillow. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you search for the sound, nudging him awake, “Steve, phone.”

“What, honey?” He doesn’t open his eyes, nosing into your neck and arm tightening around your waist. 

Heart stuttering and a smile pulling on your lips as you nudge him again, “Steve, your phone is going off.”

He sits up abruptly, voice hoarse, “Oh fuck!”

“What, what’s wrong?” Rolling as he slips out of bed, pulling his clothes on quickly. 

He grimaces at his phone, locking it and shoving it in his pocket. He holds his shirts in his hands and leans over you in bed, hands grabbing your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, forehead touching yours, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding onto his wrists. 

Steve’s eyes open, glancing down at your lips before he pulls you in closer. He presses a soft kiss to them, sighing into you as he whispers it again, “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I,” his phone starts buzzing again and he groans. 

He kisses your lips quickly again and then he’s gone. 

You let yourself get ready for the day with a smile on your face after that. Telling Steve about your past was the right decision, you know it was. You feel lighter, you feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. Your thumb brushes over your photos from last week again, letting them rest on your desk as you finish your coffee. 

You’re lost in daydreams of getting ready for tailgating and outings with the group in the future, only Steve is next to you in a different way. It’s insane, it makes your heart stutter, makes your stomach flip, but you have a smile you can’t hold back at the thought of it all. Robin would surely be okay with everything that’s happened, if it meant you and Steve are happy. 

When Robin, Nancy, and Eddie pick you up, you’re caught up in Eddie insisting that that top stays off of the jeep all day despite Nancy pulling up the weather app and telling him the chance of rain. 

The tailgating spot is all set up and Eddie and you are crushing Robin and Nancy at bags, beers in hand and matching sunglasses on your faces. You pretend to chest bump as you score three more points while they’re stuck at zero. 

Robin grimaces at the two of you, finger waggling, “I’m really regretting this. I don’t like you two together. You’re too similar.”

Nancy looks frazzled, hating that they’re losing. She tries showing Robin a better way to throw and Robin throws her hands up in the air, turning to the two of you again. “Can’t you go easy on us? You both know I’m athletically challenged.”

Eddie shakes his head laughing, “No can do, toots!”

Robin pretends to gag, “Gross, don’t call me toots.”

Nancy puts her hands on Robin’s shoulders, her voice strained, “Robin. Focus.”

While they gameplan and Eddie heads to the cooler for another beer, you look around wondering where Steve is. Checking your pockets, figuring you left your phone in the jeep and you open the door to search for it. 

When you do, you see three missed calls from Steve and three texts:

Your brows furrow at the messages, heart rate picking up as you wonder what could possibly be wrong. Green phone button ready to be pressed under your thumb when relief washes over you as Robin shouts, “Dingus! It’s about time! You’re going in for me as Nace’s partner, I give up.”

Turning to face him as your shoulders relax, your smile on your face quickly falls. 

Steve has another girl’s hand in his and he’s staring at you as he says, “Hey guys, sorry we’re late.”

A/N: I cannot say thank you enough for the patience in waiting for this series to update. I'm forever grateful for those of you who are sticking by this series despite long wait times in updates & I'm happy to see some new readers still finding this little world! We have one final part after this (plus a small epilogue), and I promise, it's coming soon. Endless endless thanks to my beta @sweetsweetjellybean and my ladies for talking me off cliffs and helping me make this series the best it can be. 💛

WCIL Taglist: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life

[theprettynosferatu]

January 6:

    Freezing day at the office today. I wanted to turn the heat up, but I know they’d tsk tsk me and say some bullshit about energy consumption and being a green, environmentally friendly company. Of course, that they’re cheap as hell doesn’t hurt the bottom line. Fine, business, I get it. 

    I logged in as soon as I got home. It still feels weird. I know it’s just kink and harmless fun, but damn if the contrast between my day life and my night life isn’t starting to weigh on me. I try to put up a wall between the two sides, but I can’t help feeling… I don’t know. It’s ridiculous, but a part of me imagines what the people at the office would say if they saw the shit I get off to, the stuff I type when I’m chatting on the discord. “Oh, look at Jenny, not so strong now, calling random people online Daddy and Sir! What a bad feminist!”

    I know it’s silly, I do. Life is life and kink is kink and fuck it, I fight like hell to get my due all day. I can play the submissive slut in the privacy of my own damn home. Still, it’s so weird how that idea others have of who you are and how you should behave gets to you, even when you’re alone. It’s like the fuckers are hiding in there, waiting to make me feel guilty as soon as I cum and my mind clears. 

    Maybe I shouldn’t log in so often.

    January 8:

    Steve tried to fuck me again. Wait, bad phrasing. Steve tried to sabotage me again. I can’t even hate him… in fact, if anything, I feel insulted. I mean, at least he could try to do a good job at being a climbing, backstabbing asshole, but apparently that’s above his capacity. That he thought I wouldn’t keep copies of every chat log is downright ridiculous. That man dreams himself a shark, when he’s only a gnat. But he did manage to annoy me, I’ll give him that much. My job is hard enough without his clumsy attempts at corporate politics. 

    Fuck it. I’ve earned some kink time.

    January 9:

    I have to admit last night was… I don’t know. Weird. I’m… a bit fuzzy on the details. I remember meeting this guy on the discord server and going on private chat and… Fuck, why can’t I remember? I can recall the feeling perfectly… the warmth and joy and my pussy so fucking soaked… I went to see the log today but it’s gone. I must have deleted it. Why did I do that? It makes no sense. Should I be scared? I don’t know. I don’t think so. It felt so good… I’m sure nothing bad happened; I don’t know how I know it, but he’s… safe. Caring. I trust him.

    Anyway, they’re going to make us work from home for now. Yay pandemic. 

    Since I won't be going to the office, maybe I can have some fun. Like, changing my hair? It’s not like they’ll see me every day and I can always turn the video off on zoom calls if it looks bad. Speaking of, I should be hopping on a call soon… I really, really don’t want to. I’m so tired of the office bullshit. I just want to hop back on Discord. Is that bad?

    January 12:

    Oh God I can’t believe it. Blonde looks so fucking good on me! I look at myself in the mirror and I want to do is take pics and pics of how cute and slutty I look! I don’t like taking selfies, usually… but damn I look pretty!

    I think I’m edging too much. I… I can’t remember huge chunks of yesterday. I know I got notifications on my phone, and I went to look and it was him sending a dm and… I didn’t cum. I know I didn’t cum. I can feel it in my pussy, how needy and desperate it feels. I kinda want to get myself off, but… no, I can’t. Good girls don’t cum. Where did that come from? Fuck, I feel so dizzy and spacey… I think I have a zoom meeting soon… I can’t be sure. I need to check the schedule again, but that’s so boring! I want to take more pics! I hope he’ll like them. 

    I’m not showing my face, though. I’m not dumb. 

    January 13:

    I barely managed to mute myself! I was on a work call, and then my phone sent the notification and my hand instantly went between my legs and I muted myself just in time. Good thing the camera was off! I felt like such a fucking slut, edging my cunt like a little bitch as people were talking… Not that I was following the conversation before… I feel so ditzy these days. It’s not my fault! I’m, like, super edged! Something about going back to the office in a few weeks. I don’t care. I edged and edged and they didn’t even know I was being a little whore and it felt so wicked and good… I felt so… right, so… me. I can’t explain it, it’s like there’s public me and now a real me, a blonde me, a slutty toy me, and I like her better than I like the fake me.

I’m not making any sense.

I should take more cute pics. Maybe start an Instagram? I don’t know. I hate social media. A complete waste of time. But I do look so good… and girls are supposed to show off, right? It’s so complicated. Also, how is He going to see my hair if I don’t show him my face? Of course I should show it. I’m not dumb.

January 16: 

The new outfits arrived which is weird because I don’t remember ordering them, but damn it they are so cute and sexy! I tried on a lot of combinations, and took soooo many sexy pics! I’m getting better at posing, thanks to the girls on Instagram. They know how to show off! I especially like a tube top and tight jeans combo that makes my ass look so amazing and shows off my flat belly! I wish I had bigger boobs to make the top pop. 

I went to get groceries in my new clothes and I didn’t wear a bra. I don’t know why, I just… no, I didn’t forget, I just needed to… not wear it. A lot of men looked at me and it felt weird but not bad weird, it was like they all wanted to fuck me and I liked it, I liked having all those eyes on me but also my titties are small and I bet if they were bigger even more people would look at me that way and I ended up having to edge in the store’s bathroom and I was late for my zoom meeting but I’m not sure I care.

I talk to him every night now, I think. Sometimes it’s fuzzy. I haven’t cum since… I lost count. Makes it so hard to focus. But He will tell me when it’s time to cum, I know he will. He knows best.

January 18:

My plug is here! He sent it to me and it’s pink and sparkly and so cute! I wore it all day today, and it felt so amazing being on the call and knowing I was plugged like a good girl, and everyone was talking and no one realized I was being a little slutty pet all the while! It was so fun, and I edged soooo much afterwards! Oh! I’m getting more and more followers on Insta! I know they follow me because I’m getting like, real good at posing like a little whore and they’re all getting off to me and I imagine them all and I feel like making people horny is the best. I wish I could do it all the time.

I looked into getting bigger boobs. I have some savings… can’t remember what I was saving for, but it can’t be more important than cute boobies. 

    January 20:

    I had a meeting with the doctor today. Obviously, I went looking my best, wearing my high heels, fishnet stockings and my cute pink plug! He spoke with big words and honestly it was hard to follow but then we talked size and I got all excited and wet and chose a big size that will make everyone want to fuck them! 

    The doctor was super nice, and I remember He told me that if a man is nice I should be polite and ask to suck their cock like a good girl, so I did and he was so taken aback and surprised it was soooo funny! But then he locked the door and I knew I had to get on my knees and use all my skill to make him cum, and he came so quick and so much! I feel so proud! My cunt was soaked but He hadn’t given me permission to cum and if I rubbed then I knew I would have exploded. I can’t remember when I came last. It doesn’t matter, He remembers for me. I guess I sucked the doctor off really well, because he told me he’d schedule me as soon as possible and give me lots of follow up meetings.

    January 23:

    Another box arrived. I don’t know if I ordered it or if He ordered for me but it’s really the same thing because He can make me order stuff. He can make me edge and He says He can make me cum but He hasn’t yet because He wants me edged and it’s like, so frustrating but also soooo good. I’m horny all the time now, and can’t focus on work Zoom at all. Good thing they’re not asking me so many questions now. I think they know I’m not thinking right. A part of me is kinda scared that they won’t think I’m smart anymore, and another part gets so wet thinking about how they all think I’m just a silly girl!

    The box is full of toys and I want to try them all but He tells me which ones go where and when to use them. A large dildo is to be permanently affixed to my computer chair. It’s gonna be so hard not to bounce on it during Zoom calls! I’m going to take a week off for the surgery, though. Maybe He’ll let me cum after I get my new boobs, calm my cunt down a bit.

    January 30:

   

    My boobies hurt still but they look so amazing! I stand in front of the mirror and I see such a fuckable, big tittied slut! Fuck, it makes me insane. I’ve edged so much today! Oh! Oh! He told me that with new boobs comes a new name. I’m Candy now! I love it so much!! Candy feels like the perfect whore name for me! 

    He told me to dance, so I recorded myself dancing like a bitch in heat for Him. I felt so… at peace, if that makes sense. Does it? I don’t know. It’s like my body knows I should be dancing and exposing myself to make cocks hard aaaaaall the time. I wish I could!

    February 2:

    The Zoom call today was so hard! I turned the cam on and everyone saw my new boobs and they all tried to ignore them and I could tell they were getting hot and the chair dildo was so deep inside me and I had to try so hard not to bounce on it like a complete mindless slut! 

    After the call I had dinner in my kitty bowl. He says Candy is His pet so she eats from the bowl, and He’s so right. I like being his pet. So much better than being a stupid respectable person!

    February 4:

    I came today!! He told me to play until I came and I tried so hard to cum quick but my cunt is so used to edging that I shoved toy after toy inside it and played with my plug and I couldn’t cum and then the Zoom started and I went on the call and didn’t realize my juicy titties were out and the chair dildo is so big and I couldn’t resist riding it and drooling and moaning and panting and everyone was watching me and fuck I loved it and I looked at them looking at Candy and I came so fucking hard! But it wasn’t enough, I needed to keep going and keep calling myself a dumb pet and a mindless slut and they kicked me off the call but I don’t care, He says he has a better job for me.

    February 6:

   

    I love this place, and the lights, and the music and all the men shouting at the cunts on stage! I feel like this is home, this is where I always belonged. I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise. Good thing He found me when He did! 

    I’m about to go on. In a moment the DJ will announce me and I’ll make everyone so hard with my slutty body! I can’t wait to hear it, to hear the DJ say… Here’s Candy!

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[dirtykpopsnaps]

The Resident Bad Boy — Mark Lee smut

Warnings: This fic contains 18+ material. Anyone under 18 seen interacting with this fic will be blocked!!

Contains: bad boy!Mark. Banter between Mark and Y/N. Hate fucking. Unprotected sex. That’s basically it.

Requested:

Words: 3, 478 (wow...I’m getting these requests out faster than I thought. But, I’ve had this request on my mind since it came in...oops😬😬)

———————————————————————

I sigh softly, nibbling lightly on the toast in front of me. Out the window of the kitchen, I’m just able to people slowly waking up in their homes and starting their days. Calmly, my eyes flit over to the digital clock set into the stove. The clock displays back the time 7:00 AM and I climb off the seat. I grab my plate and place it in the sink, grabbing the toast off the top. I shove the toast into my mouth and grab my bookbag off the floor, throwing it over my shoulder. “I’m heading out, mom! Have a nice day!” I call out before walking to the door and heading out into the street.

Calmly, I walk down the street towards the bus stop. Each house on the street looks similar, but different at the same time. At the end of the street, a large stop sign signals the place for the bus stop. A few students are already gathered around the bus stop, some just waiting for the bus and others already studying. I join the group of students and wait patiently. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long before the bus shows up. Quickly, students step onto the bus and take their seats. I find a seat at the very front of the bus, setting my backpack next to me.

As the time passes, the bus makes a few other stops. Students climb onto the bus and find their seats, talking excitedly to their friends. Up until the last stop, everything is fine. No one bothers me and I sit alone, looking out the window at everything passing. At the last stop, as I do every day, I duck my head and try to avoid all attention. Sometimes this works, other times it doesn’t. Today is one of the days where it doesn’t work. A few people climb onto the bus, finding their seats and talking happily. Then, a person appears at in the isle next to me. “Is this seat taken?” They ask, their voice filled with mock curiosity. I swallow thickly and shake my head, picking up the backpack and pulling it onto my lap. Chuckling to himself, the person takes the seat next to me.

As soon as he sits down, I look out the window and refuse to look at him. The bus slowly starts moving again and makes its way towards our high school. After a few minutes, the boy next to me speaks up again. “Aww, does someone not want to look at me? Did I upset you?” He asks, using a mocking baby voice and trying to get his face into my line of sight. I huff in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Leave me alone, Lee. I don’t need your shit this early in the morning,” I growl. Finally, I turn my head to look at him and scowl at him. Just next to me, a thin but muscular young man is smirking at me. His eyes are large and dark, chocolaty brown. His hair is fluffy and dark brown, as well. Just looking at this boy, some might say he looks angelic. But, this boy’s angelic looks have never fooled me. Since the day I met him, I’ve known just the kind of person he truly is.

This man right next to me is Mark Lee. He’s a year above me, a senior at my high school. This young man, as angelic as he may look, has made my life a living hell since the day I met him. My family moved here just a couple years ago due to a promotion my father got. It moved him to another department in Korea and my mother and I moved with him. The day that I started at Seoul Performing Arts High School, I met Mark. He strutted right up to me and started flirting. Most girls would have melted into a puddle. He was the most popular boy in school. He was a bad boy and add to that that he was debuting as a kpop idol, and every girl wanted to be with him. Every girl, that is, except me. I didn’t know who the hell Mark Lee was, but he was too confident and conceited for me to ever fall for him. I wanted nothing to do with him and, ever since that day, he’s made it his goal in life to bother me and bully me.

At my statement, Mark raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you don’t need my shit, huh? Well, you’ll just have to deal, little miss perfect,” he laughs cruelly. I roll my eyes, huffing and looking out the window again. Mark laughs again. “Oh, don’t act like that. You know you like me,” he laughs, wrapping his arm around the seat of the bus and onto my shoulder. I glare at him, shoving his arm off my shoulder.

“You. Wish,” I glare, turning away from him again. Mark rolls his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine. Just meet me at our hall during break,” he says plainly. Instantly, my throat feels dry and I look at him, taking deep breaths.

“Who says I want to meet with you?” I ask, lowering my voice. He shrugs his shoulders lightly.

“Well, you’ve never missed one of our meetings before,” he reminds me. I huff again, slumping down in the seat. Mark laughs at my actions, patting my head like one would a petulant child.

Finally, the bus makes its way up to the high school. Kids begin climbing off the bus and I separate myself from Mark Lee as soon as I can. He doesn’t try to stop me and I can see him meeting up with his friends, talking calmly. However, what they’re talking about doesn’t seem to catch his attention. He keeps throwing glances at me and, when he catches me staring back, he blows me a condescending kiss. I roll my eyes, making my way into the school and heading towards my classroom. When I get into the classroom, I find my seat and immediately take a book out of my bookbag. I open the book on the desk and start flipping through it, looking over random bits of information.

For the most part, my morning is fairly normal. My day starts with my vocal practice lessons. The teacher is critical, but only because they want us to do as well as we can. I stay to myself, working with the techniques that he teaches us. About halfway through the class, I start to feel things being tossed at the back of my head. I frown lightly, refusing to turn around and acknowledge it. I know exactly who’s throwing the trash at me and I’m not encouraging him. However, after about another 10 minutes of having trash tossed at me, I whip around. Mark is sitting at the back of the class, laughing with his best friend and looks away when I whip around. “Stop it!” I hiss at him, turning back around and ignoring him for the rest of the class.

At the end of class, the school bell rings loudly. Everyone begins packing up their bags and heading out of the class, walking towards no specific place. We have a 50 minute break now and the students get to spend it however they see fit. Quickly, I gather my bag and throw it over my shoulder, walking out of the room. Looking around to make sure that no one is watching me, I walk in the opposite direction of most students and head further into the school. I walk along the long hallways, making my way towards an empty wing of the school. The classrooms here aren’t used until later on in the day, so this has become our normal meeting spot. As calmly as possible, I head down the hall and wait for him to appear.

Not long after, I hear heavy footsteps as someone makes their way down the empty hall. The person walks along and then turns down the same hall as me. When he sees me standing there, he chuckles lightly. “See? I knew you would show up,” he smiles knowingly. I glare at him, crossing my arms again.

“I hate you,” I sigh, shaking my head at him.

“Well, obviously, you don’t. I mean, it was your choice to show up. You didn’t *have* to come here,” he points out. I take a deep breath, pressing my lips together tightly.

“Whatever,” I mumble, walking down the hall to one of the empty classrooms. Mark follows after me, making no effort to be any quieter. He walks into the room after me, closing the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he enters the room, I press him against the door and smash my lips against his. Mark grunts in surprise, but falls into the kiss soon afterward. When we pull apart, he shoots an infuriating smile down at me. “What a nice greeting. Finally you’re being nice to me,” he chuckles. I narrow my eyes at him, tugging hard at his hair in response. Mark grunts again, screwing his face up in pain. He swats at my hands, pulling them out of his hair. I flash him a tight-lipped smile and he rolls his eyes. “You know you can drop your act here. No one is around to see that you actually *care* about Mark Lee,” he says.

“I *don’t* care about you. You’re just infuriatingly persistent and persuasive. Not to mention, you’re good with your dick,” I tell him. He laughs lightly and I slap my hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

See, when Mark had first suggested we fuck, almost a year ago now, I had laughed in his face. I hated him. He was like an annoying gnat that just wouldn’t leave you alone. He would pull at my hair. He would lob balls of paper at the back of my head. He would outright flirt with me in front of everyone and anyone. And I can’t tell you how many girls hate me because of that. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had suggested. So, against my better judgment, I showed up. He broke into this huge, shit-eating grin as soon as he saw me. Then, he pulled me into an empty classroom in this very hall and fucked me better than anyone ever could. I’d never been with anyone before that, but I just...knew. He was a major asshole, but he was *so* good with his dick. And, when I told him I was a virgin, he actually showed me kindness and caring for the first time since I had met him. Ever since then, at least once a week, we would meet up and fuck.

When Mark’s laughter has died down, I take my hand away from his mouth. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other, then I lean up and pull him into another deep kiss. This time, he’s not caught off guard and slips his hands down to my hips, holding them tightly. “Someone’s eager,”he chuckles, working on the buttons of his blazer, “What’s the hurry? Don’t you wanna savor the moment?” I glare up at him.

“No, I don’t, Mark. You know we don’t have that much time,” I remind him.

“Jeez! If you wanted my dick that much, all you had to say was ‘please’,” he laughs.

“Mark Lee, if you don’t shut your pretty mouth right now and I fuck me, I *will* leave you right here,” I warn, pulling off my blazer and throwing it over a chair. Mark does the same, working on his tie and shirt.

For a few moments, neither Mark nor I talk to each other. We busy ourselves with throwing off the pieces of our elaborate uniforms and place them around the room. I start working on the buttons of my skirt to drop it, but Mark stops me. “Hey, you know I like that cute little skirt. Keep it on,” he winks. I roll my eyes and stop trying to take it off. Now just in his boxers, Mark drops to his knees and looks up at me. Slowly he trails his hands up my legs until he reaches my panties. He snaps the band against skin, smirking to himself. “These, however...these need to come off,” he chuckles darkly. Immediately after, he slips them down my legs. When they reach my feet, I kick them off and he sets them on top of my blouse and the little bow. Calmly, I slip off my shoes and socks, leaving me in only my bra and uniform skirt.

Standing to his full height again, Mark steps back and hums happily. “Always so gorgeous,” he chuckles. Without hesitation, he drops his last article of clothing and, suddenly, he’s completely naked in front of me. The morning sun lights up his tanned skin beautifully, but my eyes immediately fall to his cock. It’s already standing at attention and ready for us to play. Just staring at it, my mouth waters slightly. It’s just a little longer than average, but it’s very thick and veiny. It always feels so amazing inside of me. After a few seconds of staring, my eyes flit up to his again and he still has that infuriating smirk.

As soon as my eyes meet his, he strides up to me and holds me close. His hand is pressed against the small of my back, keeping us chest to chest. He captures my lips in a heated kiss, swiping his tongue at the seam of my lips. I open them immediately and his tongue makes it’s way into my mouth, fighting for dominance with mine. Although I fight back, I know that he’ll be the one in charge. He’s always the one in charge. Finally, I give in and allow him to take dominance. I feel him smirk against my lips and I have half a mind to slap him, but I decide against it. If I actually were to slap him, he would probably leave me high and dry. Mark moves his lips away from my mouth and starts pressing light kisses against my jaw and neck. “No...no marks, Mark. I can’t cover them right now,” I moan, leaning my head back to give him more access.

“You’re no fun,” he frowns, nipping at my neck.

“Mark,” I say, gritting my teeth. He sighs lightly and continues descending down to my chest.

Smoothly, he begins pressing kisses to the tops of my breasts. He moves the cup of my bra aside and takes my nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. I gasp loudly, threading my fingers into his hair and tugging. He hums against my breast, nipping lightly at the pebble in his mouth. “You’re always so responsive,” he says, moving to the other breast. I hum lightly, tugging at his hair again.

“Mark, don’t waste time,” I moan, trying to steady my voice.

“You’re still no fun,” he groans, leaning back and adjusting the cups over my breasts again. He steps away and takes in my figure, deciding where he wants me. “I wanna see you bent over that desk,” he stares, gesturing his head towards one of the desks nearby.

As soon as the order escapes his lips, I walk over the desk and press my chest against the top, gripping the far edge. I look over my shoulder and bite my lip. “You coming, Lee?” I ask, catching him staring at my ass as the skirt slowly moves up.

“Be patient,” he chides jokingly, striding over and gripping my ass cheek in his hand. He kneads it for a few seconds before pressing his hard cock against my crack. “Are you ready for this?” He asks.

“Just waiting for you stop being a tease, Lee,” I sigh, tapping my fingers against the desk impatiently. I can almost hear him roll his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, woman. Do you ever just take in the moment?” He groans in annoyance.

“Not when we only have 50 minutes to get ourselves off,” I snap.

“You should come to my dorm sometime. I’d take my time with you there,” he hums.

“In your dreams, Lee,” I growl.

“Oh, you bet. Every single night, darling,” he chuckles. I glare at him over my shoulder.

“Mark Lee, fuck me now or I *will* leave,” I growl. He rolls his eyes again, fisting his cock.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up,” he mumbles in frustration.

Just as I’m about to respond, Mark steps up behind me and rubs his cock through my folds. I moan loudly, tightening my grip on the edge of the table. Mark laughs at my response. “Isn’t it you who’s always chiding me about being too loud?” He laughs.

“Mark,” I growl in annoyance, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself. However, before I can say anything else, Mark moves his cock to my hole and presses in. My breath catches in my throat at the feeling and I gasp, clutching the edge of the desk. Mark groans, slowly working himself into me.

“Jesus. No matter how much I fuck you, you’re always so *tight*,” he groans, slowly pulling his cock in and out. Each time he presses back in, he goes in a little further. After several minutes, he’s finally worked himself all the way in.

For a few seconds, he just sits there and allow me to adjust to his size. I can hear him taking deep breaths through gritted teeth, trying not to move before I say he can. When I’m fully adjusted, I nod my head quickly. “Fuck me, Mark,” I moan, pressing my ass back. He groans again, moving his hands to my hips and pulling out. He slams his cock back into me, finding that spot that only he can. I moan loudly, throwing my head back at the pleasure.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” he moans, quicken his pace.

“Only...Only for you, Mark,” I whine, panting slightly.

“Who’s cock makes you feel this good?”

“Your’s, Mark! Your cock makes me feel so good!” He growls, slamming into me yet again. He presses his front against my back, stopping for a moment.

“That’s right, babygirl, only me,” he growls, nipping at the skin of my neck. I groan at the feeling but, before I can chide him for leaving marks, he’s thrusting again.

Quickly, his thrusts reach a point where the desk is scrapping against the floor. That familiar feeling in my stomach is rising and I whine softly. “Mark...Mark, I’m gonna come,” I moan, leaning back against him.

“Come for me, baby. I’m almost there,” he groans. At his words, I allow myself to fall over the edge. I lift up one of my hands, biting it as I fall over the edge. My cunt flutters around Mark, clenching and unclenching involuntarily. He groans loudly, spilling inside of me. I whine, feeling his cum already dripping down my legs.

“Shit...I didn’t mean to do that,” he pants worriedly.

“It’s okay, Mark. I’m on the pill,” I pant back, resting my face against the desk. He laughs lightly, taking in deep breaths.

“Fuck, that’s great,” he says.

For a few seconds, we both just allow ourselves to come down from our highs. When we’ve calmed down enough, we start pulling our uniforms back on. We pull on all of the different parts, checking each other and making sure that we look presentable. I tug my blazer back on when I suddenly notice the unexpected coolness against my cunt. I gasp loudly, searching around the room frantically. “What, what?!” Mark asks in confusion.

“My panties! Where are they?! They were just on top of my blouse!” I whisper-shout, turning around in circles. Mark laughs lightly and I turn to him, my jaw hanging open.

“Why are you laughing at me?!” I ask in shock. Smirking, he tugs something out of his pocket and I’m just able to recognize the color and lace of my panties. “Hey, give those back!” I say, snatching for them.

Quickly, Mark shoves then back in his pocket and smirks. “You’ll get them back when you come to my dorm,” he says plainly, then he turns on his heel and walks off. I stare after him, my jaw hanging open. He did *not* just do that. Finally getting a hold of myself again, I hurry down the hall after him. I hit his arm, begging him to give them back, but he just keeps laughing at me. When he get back into the occupied part of the school, I’m forced to drop it. However, I keep pleading with him for the rest of the day. Let’s just say...I don’t get my panties back...that day, anyway.

[odos-bucket]

My sister made me watch the Witcher so you can thank her for this

I’ve been thinking about Geralt not really having a concept of how he should be treated in almost any kind of situation, and that coming up in his relationship with Jaskier. which it probably does in a bunch of different contexts, but I’ve been thinking about their first time having sex (which for the purposes of the scenario I’m going to say is a little while after they’ve had the conversation that’s in every fic where they talk about their feelings, rather than immediately following that.)

Jaskier has had a lot of partners he probably has the pre-sex ‘let’s talk about what each of us does or doesn’t want’ conversation down to an artform. Geralt hasn’t really had any type of conversation with most of the people who he’s slept with, he’s just kind of let them do whatever they wanted. So when they’re at an inn, making out, starting to undress, and Jaskier says “we should talk” Geralt is

Confused.

But he just sort of nods and leans back. And Jaskier starts talking about where he is and isn’t comfortable being touched, and things he doesn’t like to be called, and he keeps talking. And Geralt has never had a lover do this before but he’s listening intently because he so wants this to be good for the bard. But then he stops talking, and is looking at him expectantly

So Geralt moves towards him again, assuming that they’re just going to continue, but then Jaskier says “what about you?”

This time he doesn’t lean back, but he does kind of shift the way he’s kneeling over his friends legs.

“What about me?”

“I want to make sure I don’t hurt you without meaning to.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at that.

“I’m being serious,” Jaskier presses.

“I thought the reason people bedded witchers was to have a partner they don’t have to worry about being gentle with.”

And that is absolutely the wrong thing to say, because everything about Jaskier changes. His expression goes kind of blank, his posture tightens. The smell of arousal dissipates into something that’s sad and angry. He starts to reach for Geralt, but pauses.

“Can I...”

Geralt nods, because why shouldn’t Jaskier touch him? And the bard lurches forward, wraps his arms so tightly around his shoulders, and he’s shaking, and Geralt has no fucking clue what to do, but then Jaskier’s voice is right by his ear, and the breaths between his words are shaking too.

“Has no one been gentle with you, darling?”

Geralt doesn’t know how to respond to that, but the hug is nice, and still kind of new. He returns it the way he often returns embraces, with a mix of greed and awe. He’s still a little confused, but the still novel experience of being touched by someone who isn’t trying to hurt him, who doesn’t reek of fear, overpowers that.

When they separate, Jaskier’s hands trail down Geralt’s arms, and eventually take hold of his own. They’re still close enough that they’re bare knees press together.

“Is that a stupid question? I don’t-” He looks distracted, he smells almost scared. It’s a scent that would usually have Geralt backing off, but Jaskier is still holding onto him so tightly, and then talking very quickly. 

“I don’t mean to knock anyone who likes it a little rough, everyone’s entitled to their preferences, live and let live, and it’s not that I don’t understand the appeal at all. It’s just...” He takes his first breath since he’s started talking, shakes his head, and slows down. “I don’t like the way that sounded, Geralt. And, if we’re going to be involved like this-” then suddenly he’s freezing again, his eyes widening in alarm, and his hands retreating from Geralt’s. And there’s no mistaking his fear for anything else now, so Geralt moves to get off the bed, to leave the room if he has to, to give Jaskier any space he needs. But then the sound of the bard’s voice holds him in place.

“Do you want this?” He asks. “Be honest, gods, please be honest.”

“Yes.” He didn’t mean for it to come out so fast, so certain, but there it was. And Jaskier is relaxing again, if only minutely, so maybe allowing the embarrassing excess of emotion into his voice had been worth it. Geralt hesitantly rejoins their hands. “’If we’re going to be involved like this...?’“ he prompts.

“I need to know that you won’t let me do anything that you don’t want. I need you to tell me what isn’t okay.” Geralt’s never heard him sound more urgent. “Because- because I’ve seen you let people hurt you because you thought that if you defended yourself you would hurt them. And I can’t become one of those people. I won’t.”

And it makes Geralt feel kind of raw when he finally understands what Jaskier is saying to him, and suddenly there’s a ridiculous flutter of anxiety in his chest and stomach.

“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t something you should have to thank me for.”

“Consider it a thanks for everything then.”

That brings the first smile to Jaskier’s face since the start of this whole discussion. And that smile makes Geralt feel safe, it has for a long time, makes him feel like he can say or do things that he thought he never would.

But even so there’s this pesky gnat of fear. He doesn’t want to say something that could ruin this. Then again, he had felt the same way before kissing the bard for the first time, before admitting that he cared. He had been so scared of disrupting their existing friendship. And that had turned out all right.

“I don’t like to be restrained,” he admits, and dammit, now his voice is shaking too. “And don’t call me ‘mutant’, or ‘witcher.’”

He watches for a few seconds as relief and anger war through Jaskier. After several seconds, his expression settles into the former, while his scent maintains hints of the latter. He brings their foreheads together and closes his eyes.

“You’re upset,” Geralt observes after a few more seconds. It isn’t in his posture, or written on his face, but it’s still there in his smell.

Jaskier nods.

“You know it’s not at you, right?”

Geralt nods.

“I hate whoever or whatever it was that made you feel like you couldn’t tell me these things.”

“I just didn’t want-” Geralt begins. Jaskier opens his eyes as he speaks, and is looking at him with an adoration that Geralt never could have imagined having directed at him. “I know it can be a dealbreaker for people.”

Jaskier makes a face that somehow manages to be amused and unhappy at the same time.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The bindings,” he elaborates. “People want to be sure that I can’t hurt them. It makes sense, I just-”

“No!” Jaskier cuts in, a wave of anger washing out his previous cocktail of mixed emotions. The hands that had been tracing lightly over his skin come to clutch at his arms. “It does not make sense! Fuck! Geralt, people who are so scared of you they won’t touch you unless you’re tied up don’t deserve to touch you at all! I don’t think they deserve to look at you!”

Indignation on his behalf isn’t something Geralt thinks he’ll ever get used to. It overwhelms him every time. But in that moment he also feels a little annoyed. He’s not sure why; he’s barely mastered the art of identifying the emotions themselves, figuring out where they come from is going to be a whole other matter.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of options.” It might come out harsher than he intends. Jaskier’s expression is suddenly apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“No, I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be a condemnation on your choices. I just- it’s hard for me to think about people hurting you. The thought that I could have done it scared me. Will you promise-” He shakes his head. “No. Will you try to make your needs known? Every time. No matter who you’re with.”

In just that moment, Geralt really isn’t sure if he can promise that or not. But in just that moment, it hardly seems like it matters; he’s not planning to be with anyone else any time soon.

~end~

that was supposed to be a short headcannon idk what happened. I haven’t written fanfiction in a million years and I guess I just did it accidentally? It was fun though, might try doing it again sometime.

[thelatelockdownlist]

A Series on Series 04: Deborah Harkness’ All Souls Trilogy: A Discovery of Witches/Season 1

Hi! I’m Alex, a YouTube Newbie and this is The Late Lockdown List where I talk about the list of things I’ve got on my mind since the lockdown started. 

Today, on the fourth episode of A Series on Series, I’ll be talking about Deborah Harkness’ All Souls Trilogy, starting with the first book,  A Discovery of Witches

and the basis of the season 1 of the TV series. 

Let’s dive a little bit into it. 

Why is it called the ‘All Souls Trilogy’?

I could do research, but having read the entire series, I think it’s because the male lead, Matthew Clairmont or Matthew de Clermont, in the book belongs to the All Souls College at Oxford University.  

A bit of trivia: All Souls College does not have undergraduate members, and it’s unique in the sense that all members automatically become fellows -- full members of the college’s governing body. The examination for the fellowship has once been described as ‘the hardest exam in the world.” 

If you’re not familiar with the book or the TV series, just know that there are going to be a lot of spoilers. With that out of the way, first a primer:

The two main characters here are Diana Bishop 

-- a Yale historian, visiting scholar at Oxford (where she also got her PhD) and reluctant witch. 

She’s the daughter of two very powerful witches, 

but due to the tragic death of her parents she’s shied away from witchcraft and very seldom uses her power, if at all. After her parents’ death, she was raised by her maternal aunt Sarah and her partner Emily who are both witches. 

They tried to teach her, but Diana’s grief at her parents’ death caused her to all but reject magic. 

Then we have Matthew Clairmont (aka Matthew de Clermont of the powerful vampire de Clermont family, aka Matthew Roydon), a geneticist, All Souls College fellow and 1,500-year-old vampire.

There are creatures in this series: daemons, vampires and witches. They’re not HUMAN. That’s why they call themselves ‘creatures’ -- to differentiate themselves from us. Daemons 

are blessed with creativity and cursed with madness. 

Vampires

are -- well, the usual kind that we’re familiar with. Here, though, they mate for life, like wolves. 

Witches

have magic -- different kinds like time walking, precognition, flight, transmogrification, telekinesis, witchwind, witchfire, witchwater, and manipulation of the elements.

Basically, if you’re familiar with Harry Potter and Twilight, then you know what witches and vampires are. Speaking of the whole Harry Potter and Twilight thing, The New York Times calls this the ‘Harry Potter for grownups’ 

and NPR calls it ‘Twilight for the intellectually restless.’ 

Make of that what you will.

For me, I don’t compare this with the other two. I think it stands very separately from those. Since this is written by an historian, the approach is markedly different. It’s well-researched -- as are most historical romance novels -- because it does deal with a certain time period.  

What I love about this -- and you’ll be hearing this from me a lot -- is the world building. I judge a book by the world it creates for me. I have to be able to LIVE in that world. And in most cases, I have to WANT to live in that world.

This is a world inhabited by creatures I’ve been fascinated with my entire life -- except for daemons. I did my first thesis on vampires -- let’s not talk about why it didn’t get accepted. It’s still a sore point for me even after so many years later. And as for witches, well… family tradition has it that my maternal great grandmother was a witch. In fact, growing up, I’d heard

whispers of her supplementing her income by being a ‘healer.’ I’m not sure how much of that is true but I like to believe that it is.

So vampires and witches, I’m sold. I can tolerate the daemons.

Another thing I love about this are the well-written characters. While I can’t actually relate to Diana Bishop, I don’t have to for me to like her. She just needs to be alive for me in the book. And she is very much so. I envy her graduate degrees -- I wish I had the discipline to obtain a PhD. And spending time at the Bodleian. *sigh*

Anyway, I can understand her rejection of magic. After all, in a way it’s what took her parents away from her. But I like how she was able to adjust when she realizes that she’s got this power -- which is far stronger than anyone thought it would be. 

As for Matthew -- *sigh* -- I’m a sucker for vampires. Yes, I went there. I love him. He’s a scientist and he’s good with his hands. By that, I mean he used to be a stone mason so he can build things. What? I like a guy who’s handy.

I also like the love story. Matthew and Diana are equals -- in the sense that they are partners in the relationship. Of course, with Matthew having been alive for more than a millennia -- plus vampire, plus a guy, he has a tendency to be domineering, convinced that he’s doing all things to protect Diana. However, Diana is a POWERFUL witch. She’s a scholar, too. She can take care of herself. Matthew may be physically stronger, but Diana is a POWER. And as she grows into that, Matthew struggles to keep up as well curb his tendency to be overprotective. For the most part, they do keep this balance. 

On to the differences of the book from the show:

Overall, the TV series was faithful to the book. Most of the scenes in TV series are in the book. The show is gorgeous. I love the architecture and just the overall mood. I think Teresa Palmer makes a good Diana, but I love Matthew Goode. Period. But he is very, very good as Matthew Clairmont. 

I know Teresa Palmer is Australian and Diana Bishop is American so I’m not sure if it’s just me, but I do hear Teresa’s native accent here and there. It’s not distracting, but since I know that the one she uses for her character is not her original accent, I can’t help but hear the Australian one. Matthew Goode, on the other hand, is British, and Matthew Clairmont is as well. Well, for the last couple of centuries he is, but he’s originally French. But overall, I have no problem believing they’re really Diana and Matthew. 

As for Gillian Chamberlain,

the other witch at Oxford who in the TV series is sort of Diana’s friend… in the book, they’re merely acquaintances. She’s played by Louise Brealey aka Molly Hooper in Sherlock. 

I love the actress and I love that I found Gillian both slightly annoying and a bit pathetic. Because in the book, she is. So I love that that’s how she’s also played in the series.

Then we have Aunt Sarah. When I saw Alex Kingston, my first thought was, “River!” If you don’t know, Alex Kingston played ‘River Song’ in Doctor Who. 

And I loved her in that. So I knew I’d love her here, too. I do have the same ‘thing’ with her as with Teresa. Alex Kingston is British and here she plays an American. I can hear the accent. It’s not distracting, but it’s there.

And then there’s Peter Knox. 

In the book, I found him arrogant, condescending and just a generally irritating person. In the series, he is more so. And the actor who plays him played Ser Alliser Thorne in ‘Game of Thrones.’ 

He was one of the Night’s Watch who tormented and had a hand, literally, in killing Jon Snow. But he got his comeuppance when he was hanged with the rest of the traitors. He was very convincing as a conniving SOB in GOT. And he is here, as well. In fact, he’s equal parts menacing and irritating. Which is a terrifying combination because if he’s just irritating, you can swat him away like a gnat. But because he’s menacing, you know you have to watch your back.

Satu Jarvinen 

in the show is exactly how I thought she would look like when I read her in the book. In fact, the actress Malin Buska, infuses her with a somewhat edgy, emo attitude that really works. You can see why Satu and Peter work well because they seem to have something missing inside them that they think the other one has. It’s not a romantic connection -- more that of villains who don’t think they’re bad people.

And Ysabeau de Clermont. 

Lindsay Duncan plays her, who also played Lady Smallwood in Sherlock. 

She does have the whole ‘lady of the manor’ aura -- both regal and frightening. I really liked how she snobbishly said how modern day witches are so uneducated -- all because Diana even with her post graduate degrees didn’t speak Occitan.

FAVORITE SCENES:

The rowing scenes: 

This is very self-serving because I like rowing. I haven’t had a lot of chances to row in the water. I bought a rowing machine at the start of the pandemic and actually did a few months of rowing for 20 minutes three times a week. Then I stopped. I can’t remember why. But I love the scenes of Diana rowing -- which she does to rid herself of excess energy caused by her power -- because I imagine rowing along the Thames myself. 

Any time they’re in the Bodleian: I love libraries. I’ve loved them since I was a child. I loved them when I was in college. I was actually really excited that my university decided to extend the library hours on Fridays just so I could stay there and read to my heart’s content. Also, whenever I go to a foreign country, I always go to the national library.

This isn’t in the show, but in the book, but I love how everyone at the Bodleian scrambled to cater to Matthew when he went to the library. I liked how irritated Diana was that this guy took her spot… that they gave it to him solely on the basis of his being an All Souls fellow. In the TV series, they don’t really emphasize how much of a big shot Matthew is at Oxford. 

I like how Matthew, when he was talking to his daemon friend, Hamish Osborne, was self-aware enough not to immediately think that Diana had the same feelings for him as he did for her. Since he’s a 1,500-year-old vampire who knew Charles Darwin, of course he’s a great resource for a history of science researcher. 

I love that part when Diana was trying to guess how old Matthew was and she asked, “Survived the fall of Carthage?” and he says, “Which fall of Carthage?” It was a playful exchange, and you can see that he was showing off a bit.

Sept-Tours: 

literally ‘Seven Towers’ and is the current family home of the de Clermonts. It must be hell to heat, but as most of the residents are vampires, it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s beautiful and like Matthew, I would probably claim my own tower as well. 

While it’s not my favorite scene, I think they did the part of Satu torturing Diana 

-- in the pretext of trying to ‘open her up’ to see what her power is -- was done well. When I read that scene, I was wondering how much of it they were going to put in the book. So it was heartening to see that ‘horrifying’ scene there.

I’m not sure how I feel about the ‘instalove.’ You know that thing that sometimes happens where the leads just fall in love at first sight? In the series, it feels like it’s instalove. Diana and Matthew first meet at the Bodleian -- the day after Diana experiences the magic in Ashmole 782. It’s a book all creatures have been trying to find. Matthew, in particular, has been searching for it for more than a century. It’s thought to explain the origins of all creatures. Matthew is initially drawn to Diana because she is able to “call” the book. 

Anyway, going back to the idea of ‘instalove,’ I mean, sure there was chemistry… but...  In the books, their connection was fostered both by the time they spent with each other and their curiosity about Ashmole 782. I was more convinced in the book about that part than in the TV series. Or maybe it’s my deep-seated and sometimes difficult to conceal bias FOR the book versus its live action adaptation.

~

The Congregation: Secret island! 

It’s actually on an island in Venice, concealed from humans. It has nine members, 3 from each supernatural race. And since the de Clermont patriarch established it, one of the rules is to always have a de Clermont on the Congregation. It was created during the Crusades as a self-regulating body for the creatures. Because most of the creatures abused their powers and abilities to influence outcomes during the Crusades, they attracted unwanted attention from humans. Ostensibly to keep the creatures safe from humans, the congregation agreed to several covenants: the main ones being that they must not interfere in human politics and religion and for creatures not to mix together, especially in terms of romantic relationships. 

This is the covenant Diana and Matthew break. In fairness to Diana, she had no idea. She didn’t even know about the existence of The Congregation, much less the covenant. And so Matthew does this whole ‘noble idiot’ thing where he denies his feelings for her… but of course, in the end, they end up together.

Moving on, the first book ends with Diana and Matthew going back to New York to Aunt Sarah’s and Aunt Em’s house. The original plan was for Diana to learn more about her magic from her witch aunts. The problem is that Diana’s magic isn’t the same as theirs. And they need someone to teach her so she can call the book again -- this time intentionally.

They’re joined by married daemons, Sophie and Nathaniel; two vampires: Marcus, Matthew’s vampire son, and Miriam, an ally of the de Clermonts and Matthew’s  colleague at the lab, and Hamish. As there are now 3 witches (Sarah, Em and Diana), 3 vampires (including Matthew) and 3 demons, this is in effect a ‘coventicle’ -- this will be important later in the books.

They’re all gathered there for different reasons: Sophie, because she’s meant to give Diana something that has been passed down in her family for generations (and one that’s needed for the timewalk, the vampires to update Matthew regarding their research (and I guess for moral support as well), and Hamish both because he’s Matthew’s best friend and lawyer (real world legalities must be observed before one undertakes a timewalk). 

They leave for Sept Tour, which Matthew volunteered as their HQ of sorts, on Halloween. That night, Matthew and Diana are going to timewalk. And seconds before they could do so, Gerbert de Aurillac, Peter Knox and Satu Jarvinen arrive to stop them. 

Of course, they don’t and we see our couple land somewhat shakily in 1590 London…

And the season ends there, setting us up for the next one and The Book of Shadows.

FINAL NOTE:

I LOVE IT!

Like I said earlier, it’s faithful to the book in the sense that I didn’t find anything that was off.

If you loved the books, I’m sure you’ll love the TV adaptation as well.

I was a little nervous that I wouldn’t love it as much. I’d been burned before, you see. (I’m looking at you, American Gods. Even Ian McShane and Orlando Jones’ Mr. Nancy couldn’t keep me hooked.)

However, I wasn’t disappointed in this one. There’s a lot to love here and I’m glad that there’s a second season -- and now they’re even done filming the third.

So that’s it for the first book and Season 1. Catch you in the next episode for The Book of Shadows and Season 2. Bye!

[coreastories]

Pieces of Paper

By the time “not today” became “today,” the two of them already had it settled between them. They just needed to do the paperwork.

And then it was just a matter of asking the question again, and giving the unassailable answer again.

Part 10 of Days and Nights of Forever (AO3 for kudos/download) 

Follows The Clock

Connects to That Situation

Harks back to The Thirteenth Rule

Made Me Forget Dinner

“Thank you so much for your help.” Tae-Eul placed the box of files on Kang Shin-jae’s coffee table and stood up. That was this case done. She was glad it was over for so many reasons. 

“No, I’m the one who should thank you.” Kang Shin-jae stood up and shook hands with all four of them, leaving her hand last. “I appreciate all your effort on this. You were excellent.” 

“Thank you.” Tae-Eul smiled slightly. This Kang Shin-jae certainly improved on better acquaintance. 

“Maybe we can have dinner?” 

“She’s taken.”

“Jangmi!”

“Well, you are, sunbae. You go to him every weekend.”

Tae-Eul rolled her eyes. Before she could say anything else, Kang Shin-jae said, “Ahh, I was asking all of you, not Lieutenant Jeong. My treat.” 

Tae-Eul thumped Jangmi on the back when she saw him raise his eyebrows and smirk and open his mouth as if to challenge Kang Shin-jae. She said, “That’s awesome. Weren’t you saying you’re hungry, Jangmi?” 

She turned to Kang Shin-jae and gave a courteous dip of her chin. “Thanks again. I’ll have to pass on the dinner. I have to eat with my dad.” 

She sighed in relief once she stepped out of the building and onto the street again. She was done with the case. The murderer was behind bars and she and her team had every loose end tied up so tight he wouldn’t slither out of this even with a very good slimy lawyer at the trial. She was free to do what she’d been meaning to do.  

On the way to the station, she weighed everything again in her head. She waited for some noise, some static, some confusion, but nothing came. Everything remained clear. And… quiet. Like when she knew that a case was resolved. There were no more details clamoring for attention, waving at her from the sides and corners like annoying little gnats. 

When she knew a case was finally done, everything just fell into their proper places. This felt like that. She felt it in her gut and she heard it in the peace in her head. 

Her heart was a different story. 

Her heart was beating like mad but that was normal, wasn’t it, when you were contemplating marrying the one you loved? 

Her heart drumming was almost like a constant these days. If she didn’t know better she would have gone to the doctor. 

Even during her catnaps, she always woke up with her heart drumming. She dreamed of a crescent moon. A moon like a sickle in the sky. Nothing that should have sent her heart racing, but it did. 

When she wasn’t dreaming of that crescent moon, she dreamed of rain. Heavy, but peaceful rain. It came straight down, with no wind to scatter the raindrops. It was the kind of rain you loved to listen to when you were snug under a blanket in your bedroom. 

And always, just when that rain was lulling her to deeper peace, her dream would shift to show a spider building a web over a precipice between two rocks. Right under that rain. 

But the rain seemed to do nothing to the web the spider was painstakingly building, except for decorating it with raindrops, sparkling like diamonds in the weak light.

Then she’d wake up with her heart going a mile a minute. 

She’d asked Na-ri about it and Na-ri had said she’d look it up. Apparently, dreams were messages from your subconscious, from your present circumstances, and they were even more accurate than palm reading and its nebulous predictions. 

Tae-Eul had no idea how a crescent moon, rain, and a spider building a web connected to her current decisions, but she hoped they meant good things, especially with Chief Park making that long-suffering face at her. 

“But why? You know I just automatically mark you eligible for rehire no matter how much headache you give me! And what about your pension? You’ll lose that. Ah-- I’ll have to fight to get you your unpaid OT and sick leave and vacation leave. Your benefits-- you lose that, too. Are you serious? Why are you doing this? What happened? I thought your case was done-- I thought you were happy?”

Tae-Eul winced sympathetically. “I’m sorry for how sudden this is. I’m aware that I’ll lose my pension. Don’t worry about that, Chief Park. You don’t have to push for my unpaid stuff either.” She nodded with conviction. “And yes, I’m done with the case, Chief. No dereliction of duty. No failure to intervene. It’s all good timing, see? I'm not leaving you with any headache at all."

Chief Park’s mouth was gaping now. He closed it. Then opened it again. Then closed it again. He ran a hand over his face. “You’re really serious about this?”

“I am.”

“Wha-- where are you going? Are you transferring? You don’t have to resign to transfer. I can arrange things for you-- It will be a pain in the neck but--”

“No, Chief Park, I’m not transferring. I just need to resign.” 

“What about your dad? He’s your beneficiary, isn’t he-- Are you sick? Is that why you’re resigning? Because you know we can--”

“He’s fine. I’ll take care of him. And I’m not sick. Thank you for worrying about me. Come on, Chief. This is my last request to you. Please accept my resignation.”

Chief Park groaned. He sat back on his chair and grimaced at her for a minute before he finally nodded and flapped his hand at Tae-Eul and his desk. He stamped her resignation letter and placed it on his out-tray. Then he looked at Tae-Eul expectantly. 

Tae-Eul placed her ID card on the desk. Her side-arm followed. That was it. 

That was all it took. She was no longer a detective. No longer a lieutenant. 

Chief Park was peering up at her. “How do you feel? Getting any second thoughts? We can just forget this piece of paper, you know.” 

Tae-Eul smiled. She shook her head. “No. I feel fine.” 

She cried in her car. 

The sobs were soft, too soft to even shake her shoulders, but they were still a complete contrast to the peace she’d felt before she’d turned in her ID. She’d wanted to be a cop all throughout her childhood. And she had been a cop for most of her adult life. She was either training for it, or doing it. It was a job but it was also simply her. Part of her. 

And now what? 

Just like that, she was calm again. 

She knew exactly what next. She smiled through her last tears and drove away. 

----------------------------------------------------------

“He’s in Jeongno now. He transferred there.”

“Well, that makes things convenient. Let’s just use Jeongno then.” 

“Use Jeongno for what, Pyeha?” Yeong asked. 

Gon smiled. “I’m fixing that situation we talked about.”

Gon saw Yeong take a deep breath, then his friend made that slight nod that meant he approved. Gon grinned. To Yeong, anything was probably better than Gon disappearing and reappearing with a woman he and the Royal Guard had to hide. 

“Can you come with me? I’m going to Jeongno. Keep it quiet, but not too quiet.”

“What else do you need done, Pyeha?”

Gon clapped him on the back. “Nothing. I need to do this myself.”

Two hours later, Gon wondered if he should have taken up Yeong on his offer. He had to fight his discomfiture and remind himself Kang Hyeon-min didn’t know him. Didn’t know Tae-Eul. Didn’t know that Gon owed him eternal thanks for his part in Gon’s past and present. 

It was just-- Kang Hyeon-min was too much like the ‘Kang Shin-jae’ Gon had known. It was uncanny. He still looked sullen. He still looked like he didn’t think Gon deserved anything. Even as king. 

Kang Hyeon-min stood there and glowered a little and looked for all the world as if this small office in Jongno Police Station was his palace and Gon was an annoying subject. 

“Let me get this straight, Your Majesty,” Kang Hyeon-min said. “This woman is an undercover agent and you want us-- at Jongno-- to recognize her as one of us?”

Chief Park groaned. “Why did you have to repeat His Majesty? Of course we’ll do as you order, Pyeha. You didn’t even need to see us. I’m sorry you took the trouble.” 

Gon didn’t smile. He felt like Kang Hyeon-min would lose what little respect he had if Gon gave ground with something as innocuous as a smile. So with all the gravity he possessed, Gon said, “This is not an order, but a request. I know that it may sound like I didn't need to ambush your time today at all, but I did. The lady is very special to me personally, and she has done this country an immense service. You won’t have to lie to anyone. The Royal Public Affairs Office will take care of information and it will be understood that you can’t talk about it much. 

“However, I do request that you speak of her kindly, as if you really knew her. It will be assumed she belongs to a top-secret organization, but being with Jongno adds dimension to her cover. My presence here today also adds another element of truth to her connection with me, and to you.” 

Chief Park opened his mouth, probably for more obsequious assurance, but Kang Hyeon-min beat him to it. “What’s her name, Your Majesty?” 

“Jeong Tae-Eul.” And with his eyes locked on Kang Hyeon-min’s, he overturned and slid Tae-Eul’s official ID photo across the desk to show both men, along with the certificate that attested Jeong Tae-Eul had been employed by the Corean National Police Agency under the Ministry of Interior and Safety, from 2011 to 2020. 

As Gon expected, Kang Hyeon-min flinched. 

Gon said quietly, “You recognize her face, don’t you?” 

Chief Park said, “What? You know her?”

Kang Hyeon-min said without inflection, “She was with me in Haeundae. She’s in New Zealand Interpol now. Her name’s Koo Seo-gyeong.”

Gon nodded. He tapped a finger on Tae-Eul’s photo. “This is Jeong Tae-Eul. It’s either a doppelganger case of two people looking so alike-- a 1 in trillion chance-- or Koo Seo-gyeong and Jeong Tae-Eul are related. We’ll settle this as soon as possible. But for now, I want to impress on you that Jeong Tae-eul’s safety depends on your agreement to my request. I may still have enemies. They will target her. I will protect her. And one of those protections is your agreement that she worked in Jongno-gu.” 

To Gon’s surprise, Kang Hyeon-min nodded immediately. 

Or perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Kang Hyeon-min looked a little more sullen now, but the earlier belligerence was gone. He was looking at the photo, and Gon had this inescapable recognition that Kang Hyeon-min wanted Tae-Eul safe, if only because she bore the same face as Koo Seo-gyeong. 

“Don’t worry,” Kang Hyeon-min said, now looking Gon in the eye. “We’ll take care of things. But I have a condition.”

“Name it.”

“Come to New Zealand when I ask for you.”

Gon blinked. That was unexpected. He’d thought Kang Hyeon-min was going to demand to be privy to more information, or perhaps to be sent to New Zealand. “Of course.” 

Gon stood up, and he felt much lighter than when he came here. He looked at Kang Hyeon-min and realized he felt the same as when ‘Kang Shin-Jae’ had decided to help him and Yeong. 

He felt like he would win. 

It was all too simple, really. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tae-Eul sat with Na-ri in the yard, both of them soaking as much of the summer sun as they could before today’s rain rolled in. Afternoons had been consistently rainy so far. Tae-Eul wondered if that had anything to do with her dream. 

“Did you look up my dreams yet?” she asked Na-ri. 

“Oh I keep forgetting, sorry. I’ll do it right now.” 

She laid a hand on Na-ri’s to stop her from digging into her apron pocket for her phone. “Don’t bother. I don’t really want to know. It could be weird.” 

Na-ri took that opportunity to grab Tae-Eul’s hand and hold it tight. “Let me look at your palm then. It could be good!”

Tae-Eul gave up on pulling back her hand. To her surprise and confusion, Na-ri was looking at the side of her palm, not all the lines in the center. 

“What is it?”

“I’m looking at your marriage lines.”

“Marriage lines?”

“These lines here.” Na-ri pointed to the spot of skin under Tae-Eul’s little finger. “And it’s… it’s awesome. Look at this fork. This means true love. And it’s running parallel to the heart line. That means happiness and success. These lines are also really deep. You have an intense relationship.” Na-ri grinned. “Is that TMI about you and Gon?” 

Tae-Eul scrunched her nose and pulled her hand away. She tried not to smile, so she wrapped her lips around the large straw of her chocolate cereal milk tea. 

Na-ri and Eun-sup had met Gon, of course. They lived right there in the same building as her dad. As far as all three of them knew, Gon worked for the government in a confidential capacity, and the less who knew him, the better. It explained Gon’s mysteriousness, and why he and Tae-Eul could only meet on weekends. 

WIth Eun-sup on a fast-track to the NIS, it wasn’t difficult for them to accept Gon and his story. Na-ri liked Gon, and was as impressed with him this time around as she had been before. 

“So what did you tell them?” Na-ri asked. 

“I just said I wanted to resign. I didn’t tell them anything else. Can you imagine? They would have ruined our goodbye lunch and told me I’m being stupid and I can marry without resigning. Then they would have bugged me about meeting Gon again.”

“You’re not being stupid. As long as you’re sure.” 

Tae-Eul smiled. Na-ri had a knack of picking up on the heart of the matter. “That’s what my dad said. He just asked if I was sure. It was almost anticlimactic the way he didn’t react. I wonder if Gon talked to him before. And I really am sure. You’ve just seen my marriage lines, haven’t you?” 

Na-ri just looked steadily at her despite her joke. “You’re giving up a lot for him.”

Tae-Eul had always loved the way she and Na-ri meshed in their straightforwardness, but she loved Na-ri most at that moment. Heart of the matter. She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t really feel like that. It’s more like I’m meeting him halfway.” 

“This is halfway? What is he giving up?”

Tae-Eul looked at Na-ri and hoped Na-ri saw the certainty in her eyes. “He can’t just give it up. That’s why he can’t ask me to give up anything either. And I’ve told him not to ask me. So he won’t. So I’m meeting him halfway now. That’s what I meant.”

Na-ri seemed to soften at that. “You’ve chosen well anyway. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t be so sure he can’t give up things for you. I think that man would cross the universe for you. And I have this certainty you two have gone through much more than you’ve told me. That’s why I’m so calm about all this.” 

Tae-Eul blinked her eyes to stop the tears that rose there and just smiled fondly at her friend. “When are you ever not calm?” 

Na-ri sat back on her chair and fished out her phone. They sat companionably in silence. They weren’t gabby friends. They said what mattered and then they quieted until someone had something to say again. 

And what Na-ri said next would stay with Tae-Eul for a long time. 

“I don’t think I’m getting reliable results on the crescent moon. The moon makes everyone in the occult batty. But rain means sadness. Purification. Cleansing. I suppose that’s understandable.” 

They looked at each other and Tae-Eul nodded. Of course. That made sense. 

“A spider building a web means constructing your destiny. You’re making a new reality through your decisions. Again, perfectly understandable.” 

Tae-Eul swiped the tear that escaped her left eye and said, “Wow.” 

Na-ri nodded this time. “I told you dreams are accurate. Don’t cry. You’re going to be happy. I trust your choices. You trust it, too.”

Tae-Eul pressed her fingertips against her lips and fought back a hysterical half-sob, half-laugh. Na-ri thought the only reality changing was that Tae-Eul was no longer a cop. 

God. Her subconscious knew better and was already looking ahead. 

She did trust her choices.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gon looked between Lady Noh and Secretary Mo, the two women he trusted most, next to Tae-Eul. “This is truly all I need?”

They were in his office at Gwangyeongjon, and the two women stood on either side of his desk, each having set down a document on the surface: one was a traditional silk scroll, the other a modern A4 cardstock. 

“Yes, Pyeha,” Secretary Mo said. “No one has any say at all. It’s only between you and… the future queen.”

“Your parents married in church,” Lady Noh said. “You know that. But even then, it was very private. You can get married there, or here, or another church. Anywhere you want.” 

Gon smiled at them both. He loved Lady Noh when she spoke with that nodding emphasis. 

“It’s not up to me. It’s up to--It’s up to the future queen.” His chest clenched when he said that. He sighed and bit his lip to control the grin. It probably looked undignified, especially with the documents in front of him. 

He laid a hand on the silk scroll, carefully inked the calligraphy brush, and wrote his name and Tae-Eul’s onto the scroll in Hangul and in Hanja. 

When he was done, he smiled at Lady Noh. “Please arrange for my Entreaty ceremony. I will bow down to my ancestors and request their blessing.” 

Lady Noh nodded and picked up the scroll. Gon knew she would burn it with sage and cedarwood. He wondered if he should take a photo of the scroll to show Tae-Eul, but dismissed the thought immediately. Tae-Eul might just get… intimidated by this ritual. Creeped out. Creeped out was the right term. He smiled at the thought. 

He turned to Secretary Mo and handed back the simple A4 cardstock, ignoring the mix of Hanja and Hangul across it for now, because the words were too beautiful, and a little too far away just now when he didn’t even know when he and Tae-Eul would sign it. “Please keep this for now. I know you probably already have it in triplicate.”

“Of course, Pyeha. And may I congratulate you?” 

He echoed the words that he could still hear like a song stuck in his head. “Not today. But soon.” 

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So it was that when they arrived back in Corea that weekend-- the manpasikjeok had really stopped sending them elsewhere and elsewhen-- everything was in readiness. 

They both knew it somehow, even though they didn’t speak of it. It was there in their smiles as they kissed and made love. And then they just lay in bed basking happily in being together, skin to skin, their hearts beating in sync, nothing between them, and yet everything within their arms as they held each other. 

He smiled at her with half-lidded eyes and asked the question he always asked. 

“Will you be my queen?”

Tae-Eul smiled back. Smiled with all the affection and conviction she had for this man, and gave the answer she hadn’t realized she’d always wanted to give. 

“Yes.”

Gon drew breath and held it. Then he exhaled and grinned as if nothing monumental had happened, but his hand shook a little as he lifted it to cup her cheek. 

“Will it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“What about your job?”

She placed her hand over his, her fingers sinking into the spaces between his. “My job is still my job. If I ever decide to get back to it. I want you. I want a family. The fourteenth rule is not asking me about my job. My last one or the one I’m about to have. I can handle it.”

He kissed her. It was what they did when there was too much to say, or nothing to say, really. She already knew he loved her. And with this new sacred gift she’d given him, he was trembling with how much she loved him. So he kissed her until his hand stopped shaking. 

“What about your dad?”

“Still my dad. We’ll visit.” 

They kissed again. There were tears that escaped her eyelids and he brushed them away tenderly. 

She tucked her face against his neck and whispered, “What about Koo Seo-gyeong?”

“Still Koo Seo-gyeong. She’s in New Zealand. And apparently, we’ll visit.” 

“We will?”

“We will.” 

“So everything’s done?” 

“Well, no. Unless you want to get married by proxy?”

“No!”

They laughed.

“Can you say yes again for me, to erase that ‘No’ you just shouted? That could be bad luck.”

“I didn’t shout. What will I say yes to?”

“Staying with me. Living with me. Tirelessly. Because it might get exhausting. I’m asking you again not to get exhausted.”

She smiled as if nothing monumental was happening, but her hand shook a little as she moved their joined hands from her cheek to her neck, where the necklace he gave her lay nestled. His eyes moved from hers to the necklace and back, and she smiled at the understanding in his gaze. 

Then she placed her other hand against his neck, to stroke his skin with her fingers, to brush her thumb against that dimple on his smiling cheek. Her smile turned into an outright grin. She was going to see that dimple every day of her life. 

“Yes.”

[cryysiswritesthings]

Beneath the Darkness in My Bones || Chapter Five

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: Mature/NC-17 Warnings: Horror, Psychological Torture, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rape, Parent/Child Incest, Obsession, Drugged Sex, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Non-Consensual Somnophilia Status: In Progress Pairing(s): KogKag (main), BanKag, Oni(gumo)Kag Summary: Horror is all she knows. Darkness is in his blood. She is the other half of his soul, and his calls for her echo long into the night.

Find it On: Tumblr | AO3

***NOMINATED FOR THE BEST DARK FICTION CATEGORY FOR FEUDAL CONNECTION’S 2021 1ST QUARTERLY ANNUAL AWARD!!***

Thank you so much to my amazing readers! You guys rock!

Series: Flowers Grown in Darkness Desecrate You

Chapters on Tumblr: Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 ||

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #bankag #onikag #inuyasha #beneath the darkness #btd chapter #flowers desecrate series

As each day came, Kagome spent more and more time in the hidden dungeon with her new companion. Inuyasha told her stories of the land in the West, the forest and meadows he called home. He told her of his elder half brother, a cold man who ruled his father’s lands. Of his Uncle, who had always treated him kindly, and was the undisputed leader of the Western armies. 

He told her of his mother, the human woman his father had fallen in love with. Of their passing nearly two decades prior, and the battle that had claimed their lives. And he told her of Kikyo, as he’d known her before Onigumo’s presence in her life.

Those stories were the hardest to believe, though she did her best to not let him know that. Or, she supposed it was not that they were hard to believe. More so that she could not reconcile the woman he spoke of with the negligent one who’d raised her.

When it was her turn, she told him only small things of her life. How she was meant to be married soon, though she did not know to whom. That her father’s guard was disturbingly obsessed with her. And when she displeased her lord father, he raised his hand against his only daughter.

That fact had been met with Inuyasha’s own anger, and he’d restlessly paced his cell for nearly an hour after. It hurt him that the man who’d killed his friend now abused her child. But trapped as he was, there was nothing he could do about it.

It comforted her that he was so upset on her behalf. That someone aside from Bankotsu might care for her well being was a balm to a long forgotten wound. But when he asked her why she didn’t, couldn’t, do more to stop the beatings, she worried he wouldn’t understand. 

Kagome was surprised to learn she’d been wrong. If anything, Inuyasha had understood her meaning perfectly. The duality of fear and heart ache, the terror of worse punishments and the desperate need to be loved by someone incapable of such an emotion.

They’d sat in silence the rest of the day, hands clinging to each other through the bars.

It was the middle of the day now, flecks of light shining through holes in the stone walls. The remains of their breakfast sat in the basket she’d found on the first day, gnats flitting wildly over the forgotten food.

Actually, now that she thought on it, there had been a distinct increase of the annoying pests over the last few days. And not just over their food either; she could hear true flies buzzing from inside Inuyasha’s cell. 

Her silver haired friend was currently lying on his back in front of her, allowing her the special privilege of playing with his hair. She’d wanted to wash it for him, even bring a bucket and rag he could use to wipe himself off and feel clean. But he’d refused her offer, worried about what Jakotsu’s reaction would be if there had been any signs of someone taking care of him while he was gone.

All things considered, it was a valid concern. But if that was the case, she would need to bring a bucket of water by anyway. That way he could clear his cell of what would be known as an ‘unusual’ amount of excrement for a man who shouldn’t be eating. If the smell was getting to her after just a few hours, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like living with it everyday.

That was when the idea came to her.

“Inuyasha? Could you do something for me?”

Twin ears flicked back in her direction, an amber orb opening. “Not really sure what I could do from in here.”

Kagome shifted to her knees, scooting closer to the bars. “I need you to use your claws to cut something for me.”

“You want me to cut something?” Thoroughly confused, he moved anyway, setting himself closer to her. He looked wary. “And what am I cutting, exactly?”

Kagome held up a lock of her hair, smiling brightly. “This right here.”

He blinked once. Twice. “Why?”

“Just trust me!” Biting her lip, her grip on her hair loosened a bit. “Please? I promise its for a good reason.”

He scowled. “If you say so…” The chains rattled as he reached through the bars. He adjusted her grip, and with a quick slice, the strands were cut. “There, happy?”

“Yes!” Looking down at her dress, she dug through the fabric until she found her slip. This fabric she could tear on her own, and no one would notice the minor alteration.

Inuyasha watched, curious about her actions. Kagome tore off a small part of her undergarment and knotted it tightly around one end of the hair he’d cut for her. She then tugged his fingers close to the bars and made him hold the knot for her.

Slim fingers split the hair into three even parts, and Inuyasha starred in some surprise as she worked the strands into a braid. When she was near the end, she tore more of her dress to tie off the other end.

“Woman, what are you doing?”

Her smile was full of mischief, and she held out the braided lock for him. “It’s a present. It can’t smell good in here, so I thought this would give your nose a break when I’m not here.”

Inuyasha paled.

“Kagome, you can’t give me this. You can’t give me this.”

“Why not?” Glancing behind him, she nodded to the cell walls. “I’m sure you could pull one of those bricks out and hide it behind there. Jakotsu won’t see it that way.”

“That’s not the problem.” Swallowing hard, he tried to give it back to her even as his fingers tightened around the gift possessively. “I can’t accept this.”

“Yes you can. And you will. I won’t take no for an answer. And tomorrow I’ll bring something for you to wrap it in so it won’t get dirty.” Her friend still seemed to be struggling, so reached out to cover his hand with both of hers. “Please Inuyasha? I know it isn’t much, but it’s something I can give you. That way…” she looked away from him then, her eyes going to the floor. “Just in case.”

The other studied her, searching his mind for her motives. It occurred to him then--if her marriage ended up anything like her mother’s, he’d lose Kagome too.

Biting his tongue, he pulled his hand from her grip, cradling her gift to his chest. There was no way for her to know what such a thing meant to someone like him. What it would mean to her Other, if she ever escaped from this place.

If this princess ever managed to find them, and her Other found out about the gift, he’d be hunted down and killed. There was no questioning that.

But it was a comfort nonetheless. So he would return her gift of friendship with one of his own.

Inuyasha carefully set the braid to the side. One quick tug, and he pulled three hairs of his own.

Kagome watched him, a nervous excitement flickering to life in her chest. “Inuyasha, what are you…”

“Hush. I need to concentrate.” She didn’t speak again, so he went back to his task. His hair was made of stronger stuff, and so he had no need of other tools to tie it off. He tied off a small knot at the end and twirled the strands around his finger. As he let them slide free, the three hairs shifted, blending into one.

Kagome’s eyes were wide with awe. When he finished, he held it up for her to take.

“Here. It’s long enough that you can use it as a necklace, or as a tie around something you want to keep safe. And it’ll never break or tear on you.“

Biting her lip, she took his gift in return, inspecting the silver strand carefully. Tugging it between her hands gave credence to its strength, but even so it felt like a ribbon of silk.

Blinking back tears, she gave him a small, tremulous smile. “Thank you, Inuyasha. I’ll treasure it always.”

Hours had passed since then. The princess had gone to collect more food and water for them to share, each time taking longer to return. Her fears of being stopped had worsened the more time she spent away from the castle’s watchful eyes; as they were, there was nothing Inuyasha could do to help calm her.

This time, her delay had come from another stop. In her rooms had been a small deck of playing cards, which she and her companion now used for entertainment. She’d taught him simpler card games at first, but then they’d turned to balancing the cards in order to make shapes.

The sun had started to set, the last of its rays disappearing as the moon rose. A sudden, unexpected gust of wind made her shudder, but it was the call that made her heart stop.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

Swallowing hard, she tried to block out the sound, focusing harder on the half-made pyramid in front of her. But it was not to be ignored.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

She looked from the male behind the bars to the only sliver of light in the stone. It had been days since she’d heard that sound. She’d thought she was doing better.

Inuyasha followed her gaze for a moment before he turned back to her. Her eyes were half lidded, head tilted to the side. Like she was listening to something far away, something only she could hear.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

“What is it?”

She hummed lightly. “Nothing. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tell me anyway.”

It was a moment before she answered. “Howling. Always howling.”

“The wind?”

“The wind, the trees, the mountains… it’s inhuman.”

“Where is it coming from?”

“East. From the woods.” She blinked, coming back to herself. She was suspicious. “Why are you asking?”

He turned thoughtful, a white ear flicking atop his head. “I wondered what you were hearing, since I couldn’t.”

She seemed curious. “Is your hearing so acute?”

“All of my senses are. Hearing, sight, smell…” He bit his tongue, looking nervous. “You said it was inhuman. Does that bother you?”

She shook her head, shifting against the bars. “No. It…” she flushed lightly. “It sounds silly, but I feel better when I hear it. It’s… it’s as if whatever is howling is looking for me. It wants me to come to it, to find it…” her next words were soft. “So it can protect me.”

He seemed to relax, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

Something sparked in her chest, a question and answer all at once. “You… you know what it is, don’t you?”

“I know what it is.” He sighed, eyes drawn to the claws tipping his fingers. “Is… you said it was coming from the east. Are you sure? Not west?”

“It’s in the east. That’s where it wants me to go.” One of her hands circled the bars, teeth sinking into her lip. “Please, if you know anything…”

“If it’s from the east, it can only be a wolf.”

The statement drew her up short. “A…wolf?”

“Mm. You’ve probably seen him a few times, but you might not remember.”

She looked skeptical. “I think I would remember having seen a wolf, Inuyasha.”

“Not in person, doofus.” He grinned when she huffed at the playful insult. “In dreams. You’d have seen him then, like Kikyo did my Uncle.”

A beast of magnificent size, her hand tangled in coarse, dark fur.

She’d never touched him before.

Strength lined every tense muscle; she knew his urge to sweep her from the earth.

“Kagome?”

A muzzle as large as she was small, a chuff of warm breath and the squeal of a child’s delight. Her lady mother’s horrified screams, and a growl so loud she could feel it vibrating in her chest.

“Kagome?”

She shook her head, blinking her way back to reality. “You…”

Inuyasha’s smile was small, understanding. But there was a bitterness behind his eyes she couldn’t explain. “You’ve seen him.”

“He’s… he’s huge. Enormous. Wolves never get that big.”

“Lemme guess. When he walks next to you, his head comes up to what, your shoulder? Maybe sits a bit higher?”

“Bigger.”

He blinked in surprise, chains scraping the floor as he sat forward. “How much?”

“What?”

“How much bigger?”

“He…” She closed her eyes, trying to think. Trying to remember. “He towers over me. Twice the size of my father’s best horses.”

He stared at her in shock, which very quickly turned to worry. “You’re not afraid of him?”

“No, he’s… No.” She couldn’t understand where her surety came from, only that she knew without doubt that what she said was true. “He would never hurt me.”

Her friend relaxed. “Good. That’s good.” Curious, he questioned her further. “What does he look like? Do you know?”

Kagome shook her head. “No. I… I’ve only ever seen him in fragments.”

Inuyasha frowned. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

The half-dog hummed, elbows coming to rest on his knees. He stared at their tower, marginally aware of the princess’s eyes on him. “Can I ask you something?”

She blinked in surprise. “Of course.”

Inuyasha picked up a card, twirling it in his fingers. “Why did you think I wouldn’t believe you? I mean…” meeting her eyes, he pointed at his ears with the card. “It’d be a bit hard of me to say otherwise, considering.”

Flushing red, the princess reached through the bars and flicked a card out of place. Her friend’s indignant cry bought her a few minutes to try and find a way to answer him.

While Inuyasha grumbled, Kagome finally spoke. “You might think it’s silly.” Amber eyes flicked up to meet hers before looking back at their fallen tower. His way of telling her he was listening. “It’s just… I’ve never told anyone before. And even when I think about it sometimes, I wonder if maybe I’m really going crazy. Or if I’m turning into my lady mother, closed off and afraid.”

He winced, concerned. “Kagome…”

“I know she was different when you knew her,” she said quickly, cutting off his interruption. “But you have to understand, the person you and everyone else have been describing isn’t the woman I knew. She was… she was cold. Uncaring. She...” The confession was quite, almost impossible to hear. “She barely touched me unless she had too. Never gave me a kind word. She wandered the halls like a ghost, always searching for something. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

“It won’t happen to you. I promise.” The chains screeched across metal when he reached through the bars to cover her hands. “There’s so much you don’t know… so much I can’t tell you.” He sighed when she looked at him with confusion. “It’s part of our history. The more I tell you, the more danger you could be in. Kikyo… I think I told her more than I should have. And that’s why things went the way they did.”

Kagome shook her head insistently. “Inuyasha, my lord father is responsible for what happened. Not you.”

“But see, that’s just it.” Frustrated, he leaned against the bars, ears drooping. “I want to explain, but I’m afraid of what could happen if I do.”

Hesitant, but wanting to comfort him, Kagome reached through the bars and cupped the top of his head. “I think… I think I understand. At least a little.”

He sighed. “I don’t mean to keep secrets. I hate it when it’s done to me, so I don’t like doing it to other people.”

“It’s alright.” Her fingers scratched behind a delicate ear, unthinking. The appendage twitched, but aside from an exasperated huff, he did nothing to stop her. “Can I ask for something? If it’s not too much?” He hummed in answer, shoulders sinking as the tension in his muscles slowly ebbed. “When the time is right, will you promise to tell me as much as you can?”

“I promise.”

The alpha’s lips pulled back, baring fangs at one who couldn’t see them.

So. One born of the West was in the castle.

It wouldn’t matter. The Other would know not to encroach on his territory. Humans couldn’t see it, but all of the mates were marked with symbols of belonging. It was how they knew to keep safe those who were destined for them.

But just because the humans couldn’t see them didn’t mean they were unaware of the symbols all together. Those marks would draw others to them, humans of great strength, of cunning, of passion. They could not see, but they would sense the difference in the chosen nonetheless, even if they couldn’t understand what it was.

In the days of old, when human and Other would join for all to know, they had built communities and kingdoms of unparalleled renown. But such strength was not without weakness. And in those weaknesses, devastation would follow.

Soon, the lord and his guard would return. The pack had tracked their crossing. And after that…

The call of her soul was getting stronger. As was his. She would leave the castle and come to him. He knew it, even if instinct demanded he answer her summons.

All he had to do was wait.

[psalloacappella]

Teach Like Me

It’s time for rare!pair love

Title: Teach Like Me Pairing: NaruIno Other deets: one-sided NaruSaku, canon-verse, Shippuden-ish, mentions of other canon romances, cuteness, slice of life, bicycles

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“Naruto,” she says through gritted teeth, “get your dumb ass on this bike.”

Grimacing, he lobs a response that might just get him killed. “Ew, like with you?”

In which Ino spends an afternoon teaching Naruto new tricks.

Read ao3 | here, or ↓

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Ino likes to think that Naruto, as other young boys her age, pops into her family’s flower shop when she’s off duty to pay her some mind, grace her with a little attention. Not least because they’re friends, but because she’s still a girl, and a cute one at that. He may have soft and stupid eyes for her best friend, but damn it, she’s still going to preen; being run ragged by missions can sometimes make her feel exhausted and charmless, and it’s not always in line with the portrait she’s interested in painting of her lovely self.

When she asks herself why it matters at all, she concludes it’s simply torrid boredom and according to Sakura (and Shikamaru, who agrees without agreeing in that languid and noncommittal way he does) a dash of narcissism.

But every time the village’s hyperactive, thickheaded, Sasuke-chasing, obnoxious ninja shows up to bother her, the result is always that she realizes and has to process as new, as though she’s never had to consider it before, that he’s a complete dunce.

The flowers in the shop whisper to one quietly; amid the bursts of vivid color, whites and reds and periwinkles, colorful themed bouquets reminiscent of abstractions of sunsets and midnight trysts and tentative apologies and condolences, Ino lets her chin fall into her palm. Leans on her elbow and groans at the long day stretched out before her with no sign of interesting respite. Someone in this village needs to bring the drama, drop some dribbles of gossip that they can gnaw on over her counter, for she’s bored and bone-tired and all of her friends are busy or deployed.

Stands in front of her blinking as a confused fish, waiting for her to surface from the reverie.

Realizing he’s there, and close! she jerks back and makes a noise of disgust that only serves to prompt a sassy scrunched face in riposte. With his chin in both hands and elbows on the slippery counter, rear wiggling in the air, he sticks out his tongue. “And I thought you were bored? Your face is no better.”

Ino blinks, a double-take. “Bold words for a guy who cowers from a girl with pink hair.”

“Honestly, you scare me too,” he admits. “But I want her to like me, so that’s the difference.”

“Why are you here? What do you need?”

Naruto blinks, nonplussed. “What would I need?”

Straightening, Ino indicates the botanical menagerie as she opens her arms loftily, an embrace of her surroundings. The eye roll seems to spark an understanding. Shakes his head vigorously.

“Oh, right! Nah, I came to see you. I don’t need flowers, I—”

“Hey!”

A patron pokes his head around the doorframe, grinning. “Sweet bike. Whose is it?”

“Bike?” Ino’s eyebrows knit together while Naruto, having whirled around at the mention of it, grimaces and makes a quiet noise under his breath. Wilting like a dehydrated flower himself. Noticing his behavior, Ino glances at him askance and then clarifies. “As in a bicycle?”

“Yeah.” The stranger hangs on to the door frame as he leans back, sets his eyes on what must be the bicycle, as if to confirm it hasn’t disappeared in the last few seconds, and resumes his previous position. “Looks brand new.”

Naruto sweats profusely, and Ino has the urge to dress him down for being weird in front of a potential customer, but rolls her eyes and remembers some words from Shikamaru about fiery tempers and laying off Naruto a little — his usual dulcet whining. She shrugs, folding her arms. “Doesn’t belong to me, sorry.”

Frowns; but then the villager’s eyes sparkle at the possibilities. “Huh. Maybe someone left it here by mistake. Might go turn it in — but, not without taking it for a spin.” A lopsided grin graces his young face, and he tilts his head toward her, leaning over the threshold. “What do you say, it’s not busy here, pretty miss? Come and take a ride with m—”

Naruto makes an angry sound, some amalgamation of a grunt, snort, and unintelligible syllables that sounds more like the short-circuiting of machinery than anything human. Jarring enough that the other two jump in response, staring. Eyes closed tightly and arms folded, he has the look of someone out in the bright sun, blinded — or perhaps one who needs a solid dose of fiber.

“Why don’t you try that again,” Ino says, rolling her eyes. “Human speech this time.”

Kicking at the floor with the toe of his boot, Naruto says through gritted teeth, “It’s. Mine.” Bright red heat blazes high in his face.

Laughing, Ino leans over the counter and gives him a solid punch in the arm. “Dork. Why didn’t you just say that earlier?” Waving her hand as if fanning away small gnats or wafting dust, she blows at a strand of long blonde hair, lilting like feathers in her vision, and grins. “Sorry about him — he forgets how to interact properly.”

Eyes pinging between the two of them, the patron shrugs in response and lifts a hand in a wordless goodbye and means of departure.

Ino keeps up the princess wave for a few more seconds after he departs, then visibly shifts into an annoyed stance. “What is with you? It’s nice of you to care about strangers hitting on me, but,” and she tosses her hair again in that lovingly preening, vain way she manages to make endearing, “you’re busy after a girl who’s into men that are, decidedly, not your type.” Clicking her tongue, she comes out from behind the counter and without pretense, shoves her face in his face. “So where’d you get the bicycle?”

“It’s new, like that guy said! Heh, heh.” But the way Naruto rubs the back of his neck and can’t quite look her in the eyes means he’s almost certainly in the middle of one of his pranks.

Narrowing her eyes in response, her lips draw a thin line. “Naruto—”

“Okay, so I borrowed it!”

Eyes wide, she punches him again. Hard. Not taking his breath away like a certain teammate of his, but close enough; he’s always all types of sore between training, reckless endeavors related to training, and also perhaps putting himself in harm’s way for the sake of securing even a sliver of that same teammate’s time. The familiarity of it, regardless, paints a blush in his cheeks and feels oddly comforting. At least he knows where he stands.'

“You can’t just borrow things like that; they’ll know it’s missing!”

“Just — let me explain the whole story, Ino. One of the old ladies that I used to do genin missions for, saving her dumb cats all the time — they always ran away from her, and honestly, I would too if I lived with her — she squeezed them half to death, even that bastard would say so—”

Bringing an arm across her eyes, she groans. His perplexing digressions are either a sign of brain damage or tender excitement or both, but always classically Naruto, including the inability to stop thinking about a guy who’s been gone for at least two years and last tried to murder him in a valley. Not that she can judge — he’s still their friend, but it’s hard to process the depression over the gaping hole in their team. “Stay on topic!”

“Anyway,” he emphasizes, raising his palms up in a shrug, “her leg’s broken from tripping over the cats and her nephew or someone got her a bike, and something something she can’t use it, I planned to borrow it—”

“You did borrow it, it’s outside—”

“And realized I can’t . . .”

Naruto’s voice fades into unintelligible syllables for the second time. With hands on her hips and chin lowered as she gives him a pointed look, she shakes her head as if she can capture and funnel the rest of it into her ears. “Well? Can’t what? Speak up!”

Folding his arms tightly in the way of a straightjacket, still red, he says through gritted teeth: “I don’t know how.”

Exasperated and baffled, her laughter cascades without warning as she shakes her head again. Hilarity abounds, though an undercurrent of guilt ripples through her stomach as she again reflects on her own teammates’ suggestions to work on the nice-to-Naruto thing; it strikes her that he grew up without anyone to teach him how to ride.

Well. Now I feel like a jerk.

Naruto’s flush hasn’t abated, and she feels the sudden urge to remedy his sad look; it’s too difficult to exist in the same space with, and goodness knows he’s already been handling a lot of less than stellar incidents in his life. Avoiding his eyes and looking askance, she reaches behind her back and begins to untie her apron.  “Hang this up for me.”

She tosses it at him — it wafts in the air for a second, then drapes itself over his frizzy blonde hair. Yanking it off, his bright ocean eyes are wide and confused. “What?”

“You can’t not know how to ride a bicycle. How will you ever go on a date with a girl that way? Nope, that’s unacceptable.” Clicks her tongue again, tsk tsk. “Luckily for you, I happen to know how and am fantastic at that, so.”

With confidence she walks out the front door of the shop, and he follows. As she locks the door behind her and flips the sign to closed, Naruto smiles to himself, a small and shy thing that disappears almost as quickly; a warm and soft knot nestles somewhere into his chest. Then he frowns in genuine concern.

“Wait, Ino. How are you going to teach me in that?”

Pocketing her keys, she tilts her head. “What does that mean?”

Pointing at her purple skirt, he continues. “You can’t ride in that outfit.”

Sputtering, she straight-arm smacks him in the sternum with an open palm. Over his pouting ow, Ino! she raises her chin with a regal air and says, “Just you watch. And don’t talk to your instructor that way.”

.

.

.

Little she know it would never be as easy as anticipated, because Naruto wasn’t exactly known for his analysis or even picking a skill up on the first try. Or the second. Or even the hundredth.

“I’m doing it, I’m really doing it!” His exclamation is endearingly excited for someone shaking uncontrollably in the vein of a startled rabbit, desperate for balance. Ino keeps one finger on the handlebar and sighs.

“You’re trying almost too hard,” she says. “This isn’t something you need chakra for or even, really, brains.”

“Hey.”

“I’m only saying,” she presses, “it’s muscle memory and balance. Nothing to do with being a great ninja or hero or whatever you’re trying to do with your life.”

“Shikamaru’s right — you’re pretty sarcastic.”

“I am both pretty and sarcastic, and I also don’t listen to him.” Removing her finger from the handlebar, Naruto’s vibrating becomes more pronounced. Tipping, he yelps and plants his feet in the dust to keep himself upright.

Ino’s brows furrows deeply, a divot appearing in the middle of her forehead. She muses about face wrinkles and the stress from trying to teach the unteachable. After a few moments, exhales with a relenting sigh and elbows him off the bicycle, seating herself on it instead. As if by magic, she starts pedaling in wide circles and dust pings away from the front tire, reminiscent of fish leaping out of the way of an oncoming boat. Naruto watches, frowning.

“You make it look so easy. And there’s no chakra?”

“Not a bit,” she says with a smile. Continues steering the bike in lazy circles, even letting a hand off the handlebar to give him a little regal wave. Braking, she comes to a stop and lowers herself into a straddle, folding her arms across the front. “I’m going to hate myself for this, but come on, you need to get on the bicycle. Let’s go.”

Neither of them move, Naruto watching her expectantly in anticipation of more instructions. After an awkward beat, she motions impatiently for him to come closer.

“Naruto,” she says through gritted teeth, “get your dumb ass on this bike.”

Grimacing, he lobs a response that might just get him killed. “Ew, like with you?”

Ino wishes she was on a mission in which she could release her rage on invading some enemy minds; it may spare her from her inevitable sentence in the local prison when she leaves Naruto’s entrails smeared on the Hokage mountain and in front of the hospital. Sakura wouldn’t even get a piece of him to throttle by that point.

Her face steaming, chest heaving, and ocean eyes wide, Naruto’s even less inclined to join Ino on the bicycle, but makes his first intelligent choice of the day. “Fine! But I want to be in front; I can’t be seen holding onto a girl.”

Ah, well, almost.

“You really sound like Shikamaru. Unreal. That tough guy ship sailed a long time ago.” Still, she scoots back on the seat and obliges, Naruto grumbling as he clambers back onto the bike, wobbling like a newborn fawn with brand new legs. For a moment, she’s unsure of where to put her hands; capitulates to her inner revulsion and places them stiffly on his shoulders.

Though it’s not as bad as she expects; the world doesn’t end and she doesn’t fall in love with the so-called hero and he’s absolutely not my type and he manages to get the bicycle moving, albeit wavering and managing to clip the nearest tree trunk with a yelp and a curse.

Time for bossing and instructing, her favorite. “Gather some speed, it will make this easier. And don’t be so stiff — be one with the bike, or something.”

Fairly sure some of those grumbling, childish curses are directed at her, but she prefers to keep her eyes on the road as they head toward a larger street that pipes through the heart of the village, where there are market stalls and children running through adult’s legs without a care and many more obstacles that could easily impede his progress.

Eyes alighting on someone familiar, she squints. Neji Hyuuga. Of course she’s about to pass the incredibly handsome tortured genius, though of course, he's been distinctly more lucid after he’s had some sense beaten into him by Naruto those few years ago. Of course she’s about to pass him clinging to the resident village dork as she teaches him to do something that almost everyone else knows how to do. Her fucking luck.

Of course Naruto manages to hit an uneven spot in the dirt and jerk the bicycle around as the handlebar slips a bit out of his control, and she lunges forward against his back to straighten it to preserve the beauty and sanctity of her marriageable face —  after all she only has one of them.

As far as her dignity, however, that feels long gone with her other arm wrapped around Naruto’s torso and the Hyuuga tilting his head and staring at them in bemusement.

The wave she attempts as she passes him feels like some last-ditch effort at controlling a narrative that will surely be on the tongues of everyone before sun sets; not because of him, but due to his annoyingly and increasingly familiar bond with Tenten, who will definitely tell everyone, especially all of the other girls. Which means Sakura will know. Ino makes a mental note to get to her first or it will be the single most embarrassing thing in her life thus far.

As they fly past, Naruto shouting out a greeting to Neji that’s lost in the sound of the prissy chime of the bicycle’s bell, Ino’s face is the color of a daring evening-only-shade of lipstick, and the heat, she hopes, melts the stupid ugly orange outfit to tatters.

“Hey, I’m doing better! It’s easier when you go faster, you were totally right, Ino.”

Hiding her face in the comfortable span of his shoulders, I mean, at least he gained some muscle while he was away 3 years, her flat “Yay” comes out muffled.

.

.

.

Ino reflects that she’ll never do favors for Naruto again, even if he is improving as the day goes on, because she’s managed to pass every attractive man she’s ever wanted to look her way, and even those she doesn’t know but could, conceivably, and here she is clinging to back of a stolen bicycle with the most obnoxious person in the village. These are going to be the gossipy stories of legend.

Still, he’s not as slow of a learner as she expects, partly because he persists at things with the tenacity and thickheadedness of a bull. And obviously, because she’s a fantastic instructor.

“Try not to hit bumps in the road — remember, we have to return this.”

“I got it!”

“Also please don’t hit another cat—”

“Look, I didn’t even see the cat coming, it was a total accident and I said sorry—”

“Yes, I’m sure it heard you while it was screeching.”

He grumbles in response.

“Eyes on the road! Remember — one with the bike. And if we fall and you smash up this face, yours will look worse when I’m through with you.”

“How come,” Naruto pants, exerting effort up the hill, “every one of my teachers is so demanding? Kaka-sensei, Pervy Sage, you—”

“It’s the role of a teacher,” she says at his shoulder. Chin resting on it, she’s inches away from his face. With her arm tightly gripping his stomach (depressing and empty - they skipped lunch for the cause) and parts of her pressing against his back do not go there do not go there, he feels vindicated in his bicycle pilfering and also ready to whisk some young lady away on the handlebars. Once he has the other one off it, although it’s not nearly as gross and uncomfortable as he previously assumed.

And once he’s conquered the tallest hill in the village, obviously.

Fuzzy from the heat and the edges of her vision shimmering, Ino lets her eyes fall closed. This isn’t the worst.

Too bad he’s absolutely sopping and sweating from the effort of pedaling. Something perks her up, piques her brain.

“Naruto,” she asks, “where are we going?”

Her question is answered as he triumphantly crests the hill and they both stare down at the long and winding road that leads through quite dense and lively parts of their village. A serpentine road stretching straight from the peak and disappearing amidst colorful rooftops and tented awnings and possibly the lanterns and streamers of a small festival.

Naruto cheers and lifts his hands from the bars and feet from the ground. Immediately they start tipping to the side until he plants his feet again, regaining control.

“No. No, no no.” Ino smacks him again with an open palm in the sternum, hissing, “What did I say about my face?”

“Then you can get off, but this is the biggest hill in the village and the last thing I have to conquer.”

“Conquer? This isn’t a mission, you’re being such a — such a boy right now!”

“Unless you’re scared?”

When did Naruto get the guts to tease back? Heat unfurls in the high points of her cheeks, eyes narrowing angrily. Puffing up like an angry animal, she has the urge to scream in his ear. The nerve! She’s been trying to get him a date, she’s doing this for him, not making a competition.

“I taught you. If you do this badly, I’ll lose face. And if we die, I’ll have Sakura bring you back to life like a river fish and kill you again.”

Tightening her arms around his torso, eliciting an uncomfortable shifting from him, she whispers, “So you’d better pass the test.”

If he was older, a little wiser, a tad more fluent in the language of women, he might have indulged a moment to feel how close she is to him, the murmur in his ear that sends chills tapdancing along his spine and a strange fluttering in his gut. Heat dashes across the back of his neck, bright red, and she interprets his reactions as fear; most certainly they are in part, though the strange sensations in him, low, so low, and the giddiness at the prospect of reckless bravado — all of it seems like an easy choice.

“Hang on!”

Suspended at the top for a moment, they both feel the flipping of their inner organs as they balance at the hill’s precipice. When Naruto kicks off and Ino clings on tightly, they scream much earlier into the descent than either had personally planned.

Those screams warn others as they gather speed.

.

.

.

Chouji and Asuma step out of a cafe, blinking in the sinking evening sunlight.

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen them all day,” he says, speaking over his shoulder to his sensei. “Shikamaru’s acting as ambassador, remember, so he’s been with that Temari of the sand girl a lot lately.”

Chuckling, Asuma grins around the cigarette he’s popped into his mouth. “How sweet.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chouji responds. Grins with a snarky expression, laden with implications.

A loud sound approaches, high in pitch and growing in intensity.

Continuing, oblivious of the sound, Chouji continues. “You and Kurenai-sensei, and I mean.”

“All right, all right,” Asuma says, intent on shutting the line of discussion down.

The sound hits an ear-shattering apex and then just as quickly disappears. The only notion that something had passed was the ruffling of their clothes and hair.

“What was that?”

They shrug at one another, though the jounin has an instinct, a guess.

.

.

.

In a bustling street, stall and streamer-laden, Shikamaru and Temari wander among them and maintain a professional, appropriate distance between them. Inquiries of the nature of their time together has been a hot topic lately, a spark in the bored, droning discussions of village operations. Even men and women of responsibility seek gossip.

Temari’s ears perk at the sound of an approaching wail — or a scream, an intermingling of them, searing through the calm evening and also managing to produce an effect similar to instruments. Alternating beats, cacophonous.

“I hope that’s not an attack,” Shikamaru drawls. “I’m off-duty.”

Temari gives him a stern look.

“I’m entirely serious.”

“I always err on the side of lazy with you.”

As it intensifies and comes closer, Temari steps in front of Shikamaru and places her body between him and the street. He sighs. Other heads start to turn, people standing on tiptoe to gaze up at the hill that winds down into the low streets of the village.

“I can’t let you do that. So embarrassing.”

A flash of blue and blonde, orange and purple, and the sound of a crate of fruit upending. Syncopated dull sounds as watermelons hit the ground and the tear of shorn streamers —

Shikamaru looks after the commotion, the hurricane that just ran through —

at a long and wild parachute of shiny blonde hair.

In its wake, no one seems to know exactly what it was. Shikamaru lets out another dismal sigh, longer this time.

Temari blinks. “Wasn’t that your teammate? And—”

“Yes.”

“. . . Well? Aren’t you wondering?”

Nudging a watermelon out of the way with his foot, he clears her path so they can continue down the street.

“I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.”

.

.

.

They lie flat on their backs on the ground of an open training area, in the dust. Breathing hard as if they’ve been running for miles, unable to speak. Every time they try, there’s nothing left except fierce outbursts of giggles and the insurmountable actions of trying and failing to stand.

Finally Naruto succeeds:  “I did it!”

Wiggling in the dirt like an insect, he punches a fist in the air above him with a cheer. Ino attempts to run fingers through her hair and winces at the knots, tangled like the makeshift nests of birds. It’s not coming out without help.

“Congratulations. Now help me up.”

Naruto bounds to his feet on a second energetic wind and holds out a hand to bring her to her feet. He eyes her hair warily, keeping distance between them.

“Yeesh.”

“Be quiet.”

“Well, um,” he starts, clearing his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his eyes from hers, he settles on the ground, at his shoes. “Thanks a lot. For all your help. You spent the whole day with me.”

Still with her fingers in her hair, she raises and lowers her shoulders. “It was nothing.”

“It was, though. It was fun! And you can teach, kind of.”

Despite herself, she smiles with white, bright teeth and reflects that he’s not quite such an idiot after all.

“Now you know what you need to do, right?”

“Right!” Naruto runs to the bicycle, previously left on the ground on its side, and prepares to mount it. Slaps the seat. “See if a girl will want to take a ride.”

Ino lowers her chin, an impatient tuh! falling from her lips. “You have to take it back to the owner. You want Sakura to find out?”

Shivering, Naruto reconsiders his quest for love and wilts. “You’re right. Kaka-sensei probably wouldn’t like it either. And if Sakura-chan finds out, she’ll turn me into a bike.”

“Exactly.”

“So . . . I feel like I should return the favor. You know, for teaching me.”

“That’s nice of you. Maybe you’re not that hopeless with girls.”

“Ramen?”

“I take that back.”

Shrugging, he says, “I don’t know what to say most of the time.”

Grinning, she pats him with a gentle hand on the cheek. “I have just the thing for you, Naruto.”

.

.

.

Ino vaguely recognizes the man from a couple days ago, when he proposed to take her on a bicycle ride. It’s possible he does in kind, smirking as he crosses the threshold.

“Hello again, pretty miss.”

“Hello again, and welcome.”

Glancing to the back of the shop, he observes the blonde in the back watering flowers, but doesn’t say a word. Said person is extraordinarily quiet in comparison to last time, concentrating on his tasks.

“So,” she says briskly, “what are you hoping to find today?”

“Well, there’s this girl. I had to take my brother to the hospital and his nurse was, oof, let me tell ya.” Conspiratorially, he leans on the counter as if expecting Ino to be impressed, or ignorant. Refraining from rolling her eyes, she smiles to herself at the joy this is likely about to bring. She has an inkling.

“Biggest, beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. Of course,” he adds, winking, “not as striking as yours.”

“Sure,” Ino responds. She has a way with the tones of scathing disinterest. The sound of plants being watered stops.

“And pink hair, super exotic looking, you know. I was chatting her up while she was working on my brother—”

Ino snorts at the prospect of Sakura chatting up this man while on duty, especially one so decidedly not her type. She’s not sure if she’s irritated at him trying to compare the two, or defensive.

“— and I’m about to go right back to that hospital and ask her out.”

Oh, Ino thinks, he’s so dumb.

The patron looks to the right and startles; Naruto is standing there, fists clenched and face red in his elegant shop apron, fingers still around the watering can.

“Can I help you?” the man asks.

Without any preamble, Naruto just says, “You’re an idiot.”

“This isn’t your business, I’m speaking to this lovely girl here—”

“Sakura-chan won’t date you, because she already loves someone. A better guy than you. And if you’re trying to make Ino like you, you’re even dumber than you look. What girl wants to hear you compare her to another girl?”

Ino stifles a snort, manages to pass it off as clearing her throat. A bit of pink shows up in the man’s cheeks, and he pulls himself up to full height in an attempt to intimidate.

“Look, I don’t know who you’re even talking about, all these names. I didn’t ask.”

“And I’m Naruto Uzumaki. So now you know.”

“Listen,” he says, beseeching Ino with his admittedly attractive face. Struggling not to laugh, Ino’s lips stretch thin. “I’m just—”

“Honestly,” she says, shaking her head a little, “you’re welcome to make whatever purchase you want, though you may be surprised at the outcome.”

Naruto folds his arms, seething and hovering in the way of a protective dog, as the man finishes his courting purchase and leaves. As the bell tings upon his departure, they both look at each other and find it difficult to hold in their laughter.

“What an idiot,” Naruto repeats.

“He’s poor on charm, that’s for sure.”

Naruto avoids her eyes, kicks at the floor with his toe again; it makes him look like a child caught by his mother doing something wrong. Swallowing hard, he says, “And what he said to you too was stupid. No girl wants to hear that.”

Flashing a grin, incandescent, Ino hopes the smile covers up her slight embarrassment. “Aww, are you concerned he hurt my feelings? That’s mature of you.”

“W-whatever.” Whirling around, she sees the back of his neck, bright red. “You know how nice you look.”

“O-ho , I look nice, yes, pretty too. Naruto, you will be a womanizer yet.”

He doesn’t answer, just pouts as he straightens his apron with dignity and goes back to his tasks.

.

.

.

When a few days later, Sakura, Ino, Naruto, and Shikamaru all sit around a table in an alley-hidden izakaya and the medic laments about a pushy brother of a patient trying to take her on a date, Naruto and Ino start cracking up over the dregs of their drinks and the remains of snacks long-eaten.

When Shikamaru asks if Naruto returned the bicycle to its rightful owner and gives Ino a significant look, following up with an inquiry if he really knows how to ride it now, their earlier laughs give way to sputtering and blushing. It might be the drinks or the heat, but Shikamaru seems to be saying more than he’s saying, and it might be Ino’s imagination, but she visualizes smacking the small grin right off his face.

Sakura and Shikamaru exchange a grin, brainy and self-satisfied.

Ino reflects that perhaps, she could find another skill Naruto fails to excel in and teach him that too, if only to continue to blackmail him into doing the tedious watering and tasks in her shop. He enjoys it, after all.

And frankly, he’s not bad company. Not one bit.

[inkstaineddove]

Fleeting Serenity

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary; mentioned Germany, Austria, France, and Britain

Summary: Gilbert has doubts and Erzsébet has answers.

Potsdam, 1845.

It was a cool night with the wind gently blowing through the trees. Owls hooted their songs off in the distance, met with the crickets’ rival symphonies. The clouds completed nature’s scene by permitting the moon’s splendor to be on full display.

The peace would’ve been kept if not for the shuffling of feet over wood. Gilbert was pacing the length of his balcony, unable to stop had he wanted to. He was gripped with the kind of frenzy born of illogical anxiety. The icy tendrils of ceaseless worry constricted his heart, squeezing it to the point where he felt it shake within its casing. Instead of his normal rigid posture, he was collapsed inward with his arms wrapped around his bare chest.

The more he searched for what was wrong with him, the more lost he felt. He had never had such leisure and freedom. His responsibilities to his state were executed with ease, with what little resistance he faced feeling no more annoying than persistent gnats. His relationships with all he cared about were stable and, while Bavaria and Saxony didn’t appreciate the method he and Austria used to create Ludwig, they certainly weren’t outraged. Life had never so closely matched fantasy.

And, yet, here he was, working himself up over nothing like a lunatic. He forced himself to stop his marching and latched onto the guardrail to prevent himself from further pacing. A war could rage within his mind, but he wouldn’t let any unfortunate passersby observe it. He needed to maintain some baselevel of composure.

“God help me,” he muttered, his voice husky with exhaustion.

He ran his hands through his hair, sighing. How late was it now? He had gone to bed hours ago with all intention of sleep, but he knew that wouldn’t come tonight. A particularly hard gust of wind burst through, causing him to shiver. In his hurry to get outside, he’d completely forgotten to grab something to keep him warm. He looked at the bed in the window. Erzsébet was sound asleep, twisted up in all their blankets. He didn’t want to risk having his stirring disturb her and debated against going in.

Another harsh wind came through and decided for him. Gilbert shuffled in, moving the door painfully slow to prevent any squeak or slam. While he crept to get a shirt, he heard her mumble something like ‘Gilbert’ in her sleep. He remained frozen in place, hoping that he had misheard her.

“Gil?” She rolled over, blinking her eyes open. “Why you…there?”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be quieter.” He smiled, trying to look reassuring so she wouldn’t grow suspicious.

“Is something the matter?” Erzsébet pushed herself up on her elbows. Not quite awake, she wobbled as she moved. She patted the empty bed besides her. “Sit down.”

He accepted his fate and complied. He pushed himself back to lean against the bedrest. At the confusion coming to knit together her brows, he smiled. There was something cute in how she worried. “I’m just a bit on edge. It’s fine, I don’t want to keep you up.”

Gilbert should’ve known saying that would invite her complete interest. She was now fully conscious of the world and staring at him expectantly. “On edge how? What’s bothering you?”

How the hell could he phrase it? ‘Nothing’s bothering me and that’s why I’m so bothered’ or ‘I can’t sleep because my heart feels like it’s about to explode, but how are you?’ Gilbert stared in her eyes, searching for divine intervention on how to explain himself. Instead, inspiration struck. So what if he couldn’t state how he was feeling in emotional terms? A little creativity was all it would take.

“You know when you’re out in the forest and you swear you hear a bear or a wolf, but it never shows up? So you say, ‘fuck it’ and keep moving? And then the bear starts causing shit again, but it’s still nowhere to be found and you start thinking you’re losing it and-”

She yawned, nuzzling into the pillow beneath her. “Could you be more straightforward? I’m not awake enough for one of your long stories.”

“Well this one had a point,” he grumbled. “I don’t know why, but it feels like something’s chasing me. I know there’s nothing there – well, at least I think it’s nothing – but it’s like something’s going to appear out of thin air and ruin everything.”

That was strange for him. She couldn’t recall ever knowing of a time when he had felt like this before. She tried remembering all their recent conversations, searching for a clue as to what was causing this. She couldn’t find a single one. “Do you have any idea why?”

“No! That’s what’s killing me! There’s no reason for me to be feeling this way. Everything’s been perfect! I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life, which is what makes this so bizarre.” He paused, studying her. He was seeing her, seeing her so clearly, and it was like a revelation. “You! It’s you, that’s what’s wrong with me!”

Erzsébet crossed her arms, scowling at him. “You better rephrase that.”

He laughed, relieved to have finally achieved some personal enlightenment. “Not like that. Let me explain myself.” He knelt down and kissed the top of her head. “It’s been so long since I haven’t had to march myself off to war or prepare for the next one. This is the most time I’ve had to spend with you in so long without having some bullshit gnawing at the back of my mind.” He twirled a few strands of her hair around his fingers.

When he reached the area by her chin, she kissed his hand. “Hasn’t it been wonderful? Even if we can’t share all our days, giving you my weekends has been amazing.” She smirked against his skin. “I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, so spit it out.”

Gilbert snorted, unbothered at being so predictable. “But I know this kind of quiet doesn’t last long. Something will come and will shatter it all and that’ll be that. Isn’t all joy in life fleeting?” His voice became hushed the more serious he became. “And then what? I’ll be off again, trying not to get shot by France on battlefields that all look the same.”

There was something she’d never heard him talk about in such a negative light. “But that’s how your life has always been.” She smiled, wanting nothing more than to cut through some of his tension. “What happened? Did my fearsome knight lose his purpose?”

“Less lost one and more found another.” He let the strand of her hair drop from around his finger and, instead, slipped his hand in hers. “Erzsi, you deserve all the best in the world. And I can give it to you now, but for how much longer?”

She hid her mouth with her free hand. Laughing at him, after such a vulnerable confession, would do her no good. “You really think I’ll forget you over the course of one little war? Gil, how many have we gone through? And look where I wound up!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about you leaving me. Are you kidding? I haven’t had that worry in years.” He shifted so he was facing her completely, desperately needing her full attention. “My life is hell, it always has been. And I know yours has been too, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have better. How things are now, that’s the kind of life you deserve and that God! I’ve dreamt about giving you for years, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to speak where his mind was going in case it manifested into reality.

“All calm means a storm is bound to blow in soon?” He could hear Erzsébet’s smirk in her voice.

“Yes! And then-” he was silenced by the feel of her index finger against his lips.

“Along the way, did you ever stop to maybe ask yourself what I might want? Or have you just been listening to your paranoia this entire time?” Now was a good time to laugh at him, at his dumb expression as he tried to figure out what she meant. “Really, you must be in love with another woman. If you were in love with me, you wouldn’t be worrying about that nonsense.”

“You’re telling me my greatest fears are wrong?”

He really was a strange man. Anyone else and they would’ve been relieved to hear such a thing. But Gilbert always had to be different she supposed.

“Well, yes. They’re entirely wrong.” She moved so she was laying down with their chests against each other. Erzsébet held his gaze steady, making sure he understood every word of what she said. “If I wanted boring, I wouldn’t leave Vienna or, honestly, would’ve tried my chances with Arthur.” She cradled his cheek with one hand, smiling at him with familiar tenderness. “I don’t want boring; I want you.”

He didn’t quite smile, but it gave her hope that what she was saying was getting through to him. “Boring has stability. I know the life I’m partial to and, while it comes with such great highs, the lows are steep.” She watched the shift of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I don’t want the consequences of my recklessness to come back at you.”

How could she forget? He was a fool. “You spend too much energy worrying about me. Gilbert, seriously. When haven’t I been fine? Why would I choose to be with you, for all this time, if I thought anything you did would hurt me? If I trust you, why can’t you trust yourself?”

He sighed. He didn’t have any sound argument against that. Gilbert looked down at her hand, doubt filling him with shame. “How ridiculous would it be if I said I sometimes think I’m not good enough for you?”

“Not ridiculous at all. You probably won’t believe it, but I do the same thing.”

Gilbert scoffed. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Erzsébet gently smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “I would never do that! Sometimes, especially when I see you with Ludwig, I’m surprised at how good of a person you are. Or on days where you’ve been so sweet and attentive, I start thinking that maybe I’m not the worthy one. And you know what gets me out of that?” She paused for dramatic effect, wanting to hook him in. “I’ll catch you staring at me with such a lovestruck look on your face or, if I’m really lucky, I’ll overhear you say something about me to Ivan or Antonio and all the doubts go away. Because if you’re worthy of me than I’m worthy of you.”

“Am I an idiot?” He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. His smile came natural and easy now. He felt himself able to breathe again and was thankful for it.

“My God, the biggest! Denser than a mountain! But that’s okay,” she kissed him, a comforting little peck. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He kissed her again, this one much longer and slower. As soon as his arms were wrapped around her waist, she began wiggling free. He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You could just say no like a normal person without all the dramatics.”

She was rolling onto her side, searching for the most comfortable position. At last, she found it and, with it, the certainty that sleep would be hers again. “I’m still tired. I don’t want to do anything that will keep me up.” She smiled at the wall, giggling. “Try your luck another night when you don’t wake me up insanely early.”

The wave of exhaustion he had been fighting off finally hit him. Erzsébet had made the right call. He laid down, snuggling up against the crook of her neck. With his anxieties quelled, at least for the moment, treasured rest became a natural fit.

[celticheartedfangirl]

My OUAT Rewatch -- S6E10 -- Wish You Were Here

Link to Rewatch Review and Ranking archive

This episode was glorious.  GLORIOUS.  I mean yeah, there are nits to pick at and I’ll certainly do that, but this was basically a Swan Queen fanfic come to life with Princess Emma and her “Prince” -- er -- Queen -- and the CS fans went totally apeshit and it was BEAUTIFUL.

BEAUTIFUL.

No game show today -- Emma’s supposed to look like that, and she even slams herself for it.  Like I said . . . . . GLORIOUS.  And Emma wants Regina to have the “key to her kingdom.” ACTUAL LINE on the show.  Bless.  

It took them TEN episodes this season to get to an episode that didn’t make me bored or stabby or just say “well this isn’t THAT bad” -- I mean the ratings are below 1.0 at this point due to 9 episodes of utter bullshit, but at least we see the light at the end of the tunnel?  Sort of?

Also this guy.  Come on in, the only thing being dragged in here are the writers, the CS fans, and the utter stupidity of the logic of the Wish Realm . . . . . which we will have MORE fun with in S7!

Okay, first of all -- let’s link this BEAUTIFUL post paralleling Sleeping Beauty and her prince to Emma and Regina . . . . 

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/180498595422/frankie-blue-sq-sleeping-beauty-prince-phillip

So before the nitpicking starts, lets discuss the things I enjoyed:

1.  Swan Queen OBVIOUSLY

2.  Rumbelle FINAL-FUCKING-LY having a conversation and not being a pile of OOC bullshit.  I still have nits to pick at that -- but they’re tiny nits and being starved for content after being fucked over by the writers for THREE YEARS now I’ll take what I can get.  Which is sad but it is what it is.  So the content wins over the nits to pick.  For now.

3.  Okay, I enjoyed much of the Wish Realm.  I mean -- I have nits there too and those I WILL pick at, but most of that will be in S7.  But at THIS POINT -- it was about 85% fun, 15% bullshit.  See below for bullshit.  

So that I enjoyed.  It was truly the first episode of this season that I consider to be, overall, actually GOOD.  Good writers should not have their first quality episode in their SIXTH SEASON to be halfway into said season, but these are not good writers so is anyone really surprised?  Also, I pointed out after EPISODE FOUR that the writers had already switched gears by killing off one of their touted S6 villains so I’m presuming, aside from Aladdin and Jasmine, that the rest of the Land of Untold Stories will REAMAIN untold because the writers have the attention span of a gnat and suck at follow through.  Am I correct?

(Oh lord I’m SO GLAD A&E never got their hack hands on THAT.  Can you even imagine?)

So aside from Agrabah stuff, say bye to the Untold Stories.  Perhaps you will be found on A&E’s AMAZING STORIES that is currently hiding on Apple+TV with zero accolades or attention.  Which is really what they deserve.  

One more nit to pick at the writers -- can you please -- PLEASE stop with the rape stuff?  Look . . . . we all know that you have some sort of fetish for female rapists, you already have two of them in canon and you’ll be adding a third in S7.  STOP.  Its gross.  Its never addressed the way it should be.  So the Evil Queen making rape suggestions to Aladdin, and the only response from him is “ew” and its played at FUNNY?

I mean if this were the first time the show had ever done anything like this, MAYBE it could have come off as a comedic moment.  MAYBE.  But in S6, after a long history of rapey shit?  Nope.  

Okay . . . . . onto the CS fan stuff . . . . now this IS funny, and it may take a while . . . . . 

I think by now, anyone reading these reviews, present or future, if you’ve gotten this far, you GET that I’m not a Hook fan or a CS fan.  But I’m not really sure if you understand just HOW BAD it was while this show was originally airing.  And since we’ve now hit THE episode where the CS fandom lost their collective shit in the most ridiculous way possible, I think this is a good point to explain -- especially for those who weren’t there during the original run -- what was up with this.

See, the CS fans, once S4 started, got collectively more annoying with every episode.  And it wasn’t just the general fans -- although they WERE bad -- they had a handful of ringleaders that were just flat out AWFUL people that would hijack the posts of fans of Rumbelle or Swan Queen or Swanfire and just tear into them for no reason.  And if they couldn’t hijack because they were blocked, they’d screen cap and proceed to harass on their own blogs.  This was a DAILY occurrence. DAILY.  For THREE YEARS.  Also, many of us are very certain that the IMDB boards got shut down -- ALL OF THEM -- because of an especially rabid CS fan that went there for no purpose other than trolling, and there was no option to block on IMDB like on Tumblr.   

Also, the CS fans had the support of the media.  Every media outlet was up CS’s ass by S4, deserved or not.  It was VERY difficult to find any outlet that said positive things about Rumbelle or Swan Queen, and when we did it was cause for a tear-filled celebration of joy and relief.  And this RARELY happened.

Also, there was one particular reporter for Entertainment Tonight, Leanne Aguilera, who was so far up CS and A&E’s ass that she probably qualified as a legitimate hemorrhoid.  She liberally blocked Rumbelle and Swan Queen fans on Twitter and wanted NOTHING to do with us.  So when she’d “ask for questions” on Twitter for interviews, of fucking COURSE they were all going to be CS questions, because EVERYONE ELSE was blocked by her!  

Lastly, ABC’s official social media everything was CS this and CS that.  They promoted the shit out of them, non-stop, and did so without apology.  And Adam, one of the head show runners, mostly ignored fans of Rumbelle and Swan Queen on Twitter, but he’d HAPPILY engage with the CS fans.  DAILY.  

Also, we non-CS fans were told -- repeatedly -- to shut up or stop watching if we didn’t like what we were seeing.  They heaped praise upon praise to Adam and the writers and thought that we were the most horrible people on the planet for even DARING to challenge their brilliant skills.  

So knowing all of THAT . . . . after this episode . . . . which was basically a Swan Queen love letter . . . . . the CS fans LOST THEIR SHIT.  Here are some of the glorious results of that . . . . . . . 

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154091883637/omg-that-episode-swan-queen-af-tribute-to

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154061253177/c-fans-being-obtuse-as-fuck-on-twitter-this

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154088222312/and-the-hits-just-keep-on-coming

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154075793467/honest-question-are-the-disgruntled-c-fans

Please make it a point to check out the replies in that last one because some of them are BEAUTIFUL, and also there is a flat out HIJACK of that post that pefectly illustrates all of the bullshit that I just laid out for you here.  Eh, I’ll make it easy for you -- here’s the hijack -- with comments:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154118960442/honest-question-are-the-disgruntled-c-fans

Okay . . . . the wish realm . . . . here are the 15% of things that I call bullshit on:

So Neal/Baelfire is dead in EVERY REALM.  Whee.  We get it.  But also . . . . if he was IN this realm, then why would Rumple need to be searching for him via dark curse?  Makes no sense.

Speaking of Rumple -- in S2 he said he was NOT trapped and could have escaped any time he wanted to, he just didn’t want to.  So WTF?

Why is Henry still named HENRY?  

Why is the Wish Robin Hood YOUNG -- he should be the same age as Snow and Charming. 

Now I know that A&E had some bullshit explanation, which some people bought, but going into S7 -- it’s just stupid.  STUPID.  

Finally, I made a post after this episode -- which TANKED in the ratings, BTW -- that I’d like to share:

https://celticheartedfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154082059462/so-the-ratings-tanked-last-night-for-ouat

I stand by that post.  And frankly, I think I was RIGHT about the rest of S6.  And everything else.  

Points tally:

40 points to start

5 points for Swan Queen

3 points for the implied Swanfire

1 point for in character Belle -- I personally don’t feel she’s THERE yet, but A for effort

5 points for in character Rumple

5 points deducted for Hook

Despite the nits to pick, I can’t deduct anything more and I’ll give this one the 25 bonus because it’s really pulled the show out of its slump.

Total points:  74

Follow #celtichearted OUAT ranking tag for more to come!

[terror-that-flaps-in-the-evening]

Brownies and Bake Sales

“That’s a hard no from us. I mean, who buys magazines anymore, Stacy,” Drake grabbed onto Launchpad’s elbow when he saw his husband scooting away. He couldn’t have him running out of the meeting like he had the previous week.

“Well, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, I personally find them very enjoyable.” Stacy, the mother of that obnoxious boy in Gosalyn’s class… What was his name again? Jay? Joey? Jake? “And for your information, last time we hosted this fundraiser, Zach sold more than everyone else in the class combined.” Ah, yes, Zach. Drake made sure to erase any memory of the little terror’s name from his brain. Not worth the space.

“Well, if we sold something that was less, well, I’m just going to be blunt with you, if we sold something that wasn’t so dumb, maybe the kids wouldn’t still be sitting in broken desks,Stacy” Drake looked up at his husband, who seemed to have found a very interesting stain on his shirt, which was taking up all of his attention. Drake needed to make sure to take it to the dry cleaner’s before next meeting - the other moms were like hawks! They’d notice in a heartbeat! A swift elbow to Launchpad’s side brought him back to the conversation, “Isn’t that right, Sweetie?”

“Uhhh yeah! I vote we do something like whatever Drake said,” Launchpad threw his hand in the air, much to Drake’s mortification. He fought the urge to snap at Launchpad that this was not at all how they’d practiced, and ohhh boy had they practiced. These meetings were like a war - they were more dangerous than any night out on patrol. He’d had to train Launchpad on what to say, how to say it, when to say it, and most importantly of all - what was okay to eat.

“This isn’t a place for harsh words, Drake,” one of the other moms, Karen, spoke up, instantly dragging an eye roll from Drake. What? He couldn’t help it - they deserved to hear a harsh dose of reality every once in a while. Every once in a while being once a week.

“Well, I’m just saying that we need to be selling something that people are buying. Door to door magazine salesman is a job for a forty-year-old creep. Cookies, popcorn, candy bars, come on people, we have to get our heads in the game!” Drake glanced around the room at the various people in front of him. He and Launchpad were the only dads in the room. The spartanly decorated room, furnished only by one long table and a bunch of miscellaneous slightly broken chairs that were no longer suited for classroom usage, was filled with a variety of mothers - none of whom were fans of Drake Mallard-McQuack.

For whatever reason, they loved Launchpad. They were always asking him if Gosalyn wanted to come over for a playdate if he wanted to organize a carpool with them, if he had anything to add to their newsletter. Blasphemy! Launchpad didn’t even want to be a part of the PTA!

Drake looked around the room, which was full of faces just staring back at him after his outburst. There was Stacy, the idiot chicken who thought that magazine sales were a good way to get his daughter a good education. The talentless parrot who always tried to claim her very obviously store-bought cookies were homemade was Linda. One of the more annoying members of the group was Lisa, who never missed a chance to boast about how her kids were the best. She also had the nerve to say that she made the best casseroles. Joke was on her, because both her kids and her casserole were garbage! Lastly, there was Binkie Muddlefoot… Drake was acutely aware of just how annoyingly nice that Binkie Muddlefoot could be, though she did make some divine pastries.

“Now now, Drake, that wasn’t very nice!” Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive, or, rather, think of Binkie Muddlefoot, and she’ll start babbling. Drake laid back in his seat, propping his feet up on the flimsy table that lay in front of them.

“Being nice isn’t going to get us a bigger budget,” Drake kept his voice smooth, yanking Launchpad’s seat back to its original position when he realized that his husband had been scooting away again. Why was that how every meeting ended up going?

“We should do a bake sale then,” Linda had the nerve to suggest. How dare she suggest an event she’d obviously not be able to contribute to…

“Yeah, right, Linda, like people would pay for the cookies you already paid for,” Drake yanked Launchpad’s chair back to him again. What did that man not understand about the absolute, severe necessity of Drake’s attitude? If he didn’t stand up to the moms, the whole school would be bankrupt!

“As if you can do better,” Lisa finally spoke up, “Now just the other day Gosalyn was telling a story about you burning her birthday cake. I on the other hand, could supply some perfect eateries to this hypothetical bake sale.”

“Launchpad bakes better,” Drake practically shouted, pointing vigorously at his husband, who had scooted ever so slightly away again.

“I’m---” Drake wasted not a second in clapping a hand over his husband’s mouth. When Launchpad started getting nervous, he started introducing himself to people who already knew him.

“So we’re having a bake sale? Oh goody!” Binkie Muddlefoot’s voice created a sensation in Drake that just made him want to break something. He gritted his teeth, resisted the urge to snap at the lady that he had to see every single gosh darned day…

“We are not having a bake sale!” Drake snapped at his neighbor. “A bake sale requires people showing up. We are the ONLY people who show up to this school!” Drake had to lean to the side as far as he could to yank Launchpad’s chair back this time - he very nearly made it to the door, where he’d no doubt make his escape.

“Well then what do you suggest,” Stacy chimed back in, not even looking up from the polish she was chipping off her nails, “Because I still say we should do magazines. Zach is a master salesman, after all.”

“Well, he only won because he cheated,” Lisa mumbled under her breath, “Otherwise, Lindsay would have beat him by a landslide.”

“We didn’t cheat, we just strategically hit your neighborhood first,” Stacy snipped back, flicking a fragment of nail polish deliberately in Lisa’s direction.

“You’re a cheater and a fraud, and you know it,” Lisa was very nearly at her breaking point - a point Drake did not need to see again.

“ENOUGH!” He yelled, drawing all eyes back to where they should be - on him. “Why don’t we just do the chocolate bar boxes? Launchpad buys at least an entire box every time they come to our door. No matter how many times I tell him we have enough.”

“Aww, and Tank always buys so so many of Honker’s chocolates from him when we do that one! I vote chocolates! Very sweet for our sweet little--” Binkie stopped, eyes wide open as Drake began speaking directly over her.

“Yea, yea, you agree, thanks Binkie, moving on, chocolates it is?” He stage whispered, “This is the part where you raise your hand, LP,” but when he looked to his left, he realized that he’d severely slacked in his duty of wrangling his husband - he was gone. Drake sighed and said, “Vote. Now.”

Stacy crossed her arms and harrumphed at Drake, muttering something about magazines being better for the mind than chocolate bars. Everyone else, surprisingly, raised their hands, albeit slightly reluctantly.

“Wonderful. As treasurer,” Drake always made sure to put some emphasis on his illustrious title, “I’ll get to ordering those tonight. Remember to send out the newsletter this time, Linda. We can’t have another mishap like last time.” Drake also never missed a chance to point out that, honestly, Linda was a terrible secretary.

The worst of them all though, was yet again, Stacy, who immediately piped up, “Well, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, as residing president of this Parent-Teachers Association, I do believe I should be giving the orders. I have half a mind to order you to get magazine brochures instead!”

“Yeah, well you only have half a mind to begin with,” Drake retorted, deliberately writing on his notepad Remember to order chocolate boxes as large as he could manage.

“Kind words breed kind thoughts,” Binkie said, all of the sudden sitting in Launchpad’s vacated seat, pulling up directly to where Drake had been trying to keep his husband. “And I think we all need to speak a few more kind words. Don’t you ladies? And Drake. I don’t mean to discriminate, dear.”

“It won’t be my fault when I snap,” Drake nearly went through his whole typical reaction of clasping a hand over his mouth and trying to shove the words back in, inevitably failing, but the hell to it. They deserved to hear how much he despised every single second he spent in their presence.

“On to the last order of business then,” Stacy said, staring directly at Drake as she added on, “Which I am in charge of as president.”

“Oh, whatever shall I do, I’m being looked at meanly,” Drake’s voice was laden with sarcasm. He waved his hands in front of his face as if he were trying to fend off a swarm of gnats. Drake might be a parent, but he never claimed to be a real adult.

“I’m living in a world of idiots,” Drake heard muttered from across the room, snapping his attention in the direction of Lisa, who, he had to be honest, had no right to be saying anything about anyone else’s intelligence.

“Move on already,” Drake groaned. He had to be a part of this organization, because he had to be a part of Gosalyn’s school. How else would he ensure his pumpkin got the best education she could? He didn’t want to waste a single second longer with these casserole addicts when he could be spending it with his husband and daughter!

“Stop bitching, already,” Linda snapped right back at him. “Go on darling,” she patted Stacy’s arm gently and shot her that sickly sweet smile she was so good at.

“Last order of business,” Stacy over-pronounced her words as per usual, speaking with the volume that one would use for a full auditorium, “We need to decide whether Launchpad’s brownie recipe gets added to the newsletter or whether Linda’s blondie recipe gets added.” Stacy gave her henchman Linda a little smile before opening her arms to the group and saying, “No discussion! A simple vote is all.” She jabbed her finger in Drake’s direction as if he were some problematic force in this room.

“Launchpad at least makes---”

“NO Discussion, Mr. Mallard-McQuack!” Stacy shouted over him, deafening the room with her annoyingly high pitched voice. “All for Linda’s recipe?” She raised her hand in the air, holding it in solidarity with Linda, the only other one to vote for her own recipe. Stacy still made a huge show of adding two tally marks by Linda’s name. “And those for Launchpad,” her words were spoken with a roll of her eyes that made Drake just want to jump across the table and--- He took a deep breath. Be civil, Drake, he told himself and took another deep breath.

Of course the second Launchpad’s name was out of her mouth, his hand shot up in the air, along with the hands of Binkie and Lisa. Lisa made it very clear to Drake that this was not a favor to him. “Launchpad is a friend. You’re the enemy,” she whispered in Drake’s direction, sending a slight shiver down his spine. A war room - just like he’d told Launchpad during their practice sessions.

“Very well. We’ll add Launchpad’s recipe. You all are dismissed, I’ll see you again next week, darlings,” Stacy said, jotting a few more things down as the rest of the group filed out the door. Drake walked as fast as he could, trying to outwalk Binkie. She just had such a height advantage on him though…

“And then I watered the flowers again, because I figured the poor dears must be parched with this heat wave! And then…” Drake was practically running to avoid the onslaught of superfluous information that was constantly pouring out of Binkie’s mouth. When they finally made it to Drake and Launchpad’s car, Drake dove in without a word to his neighbor.

“Ugh, they always get so unnecessarily heated at those things, am I right?” Drake said to Launchpad, with a smile on his face.

Launchpad just stared back at him, which Drake took as an affirmation that yes, everyone but himself was an absolute whacko at those meetings. Drake Mallard-McQuack, however, was a star at being a PTA mom, and he wasn’t ashamed of it one little bit.

[graciebirdie]

It’s Christmas (almost) @thisdiscontentedwinter a gift for the amazing you! I hope you like Peter cooking! (also on ao3)

Peter didn’t consider it to be a character flaw that he was a man in his 30s who didn’t know how to cook. He had a few pretty good reasons why he’d never learned how before he’d reached his 30s after all.

Not the least of which being when he’d been a part of a pack he’d been regulated to hunter rather than chef. While usually hunter just meant he was the one who did most of the grocery shopping he did, occasionally, get to hunt down deer or rabbits for when they had special dinners. That was of course his favorite part of providing for the pack. One of the few times his propensity for violence was not only accepted but also praised.

Now he had been living by himself, surviving on take out and deli made meals.

This wouldn’t be a problem except he found he missed homemade meals with a ache he could physically feel behind his breast bone.

Now he only had two options on how to sooth this newest hurt: he could either ask one of his three pack members if they could cook a meal for him or he could learn to cook himself.

The answer was obvious without even calculating in the fact neither Cora nor Derek lived somewhere with a functioning oven.

So Peter bought a cookbook and figured since he wasn’t completely helpless he would be able to figure out one of the basics of adulthood.

It turned out Peter was terrible at cooking. He could make sandwiches or any kind of egg but anything more complicated than those he always managed to royally screw it up.

He didn’t even know what he was doing wrong that make his pot roast taste like char or his stir fry to be oily when he hadn’t even used oil.

After almost a month of failures he would have given up if it hadn’t started to turn into a point of pride. Stiles had brought roast beef sandwiches to one of the pack meets and he had proudly told everyone that he’d made the roast himself.

If Stiles, who oscillated between having the attention span of a gnat or hyper-focusing to the point of forgetting to breath, could make a truly delicious roast then so could Peter.

So he turned to his last resort: cooking blogs.

One google search for ‘how to actually cook and make it taste good’ later he’d gone through five different blog posts and only learned that for some reason bloggers really liked to talk about their kids and perfect lives. It would have been depressing if Peter actually cared.

After two hours of travelling through homebodies trying to convince him to make everything vegan he found a post titled “Recipes made easy for those who are lazy, have ADHD, no time or alternately too much time, know how to cook but want to learn new things, or people who think they can’t cook but are willing to give it a try.”

What a mouthful of a title that covered all the basics of people looking at cooking blogs.

The whole blog was written in run on sentences that somehow managed to be both amusing and informative, a very narrow line to walk.

Peter might have also fallen a little bit in love with the author who gave such informative tidbits as “Why spring for a colander when you could just slap the lid on a pot and up end it over the sink while praying you won’t drop it and/or burn yourself as you tilt the lid to strain out the water but not the noodles.” and “Seriously just toss all the shit into a crockpot and forget about it for 8 hours, except you probably won’t be able to because you’ll have to keep trying to remember if you actually turned the pot on or not. (I suggest setting up a live stream camera to be on the safe side.)”

Other than an obvious good sense of humor the writer didn’t give any personal information. No name or nickname. Even the profile picture was generic. Peter thought that little touch of mystery just added the the writer's personality.

The third time Peter made macaroni and cheese from scratch – “Just cook some plain old noodles and then toss in a bunch of different kinds of grated cheese and a couple of scoops of sour cream and a bit of crumbled bacon with a little pinch of salt and bake it in the oven for a bit and bam homemade mac and cheese that people will be amazed over.” – he was so proud of his creation he brought it to that night’s pack meeting.

He set the large casserole dish down on Derek’s ridiculous table that only Stiles ever actually used and pointedly ignored the stares everyone was giving him. He settled down in his chair – the one just off to the side of the stairs that faced the door and the whole of the open living room – and pulled out his phone to feigning nonchalance while he waited for the rest of the pack to ask what he thought he was doing.

Of course Stiles was the first one to speak up. “Oh!” he said, sounding excited. “Did you make a casserole?”

He leaned forward over the table to open the dish that had been, very conveniently, placed right in front of him.

Peter watched with a surprisingly strong sense of anticipation as he watched Stiles’ eyes widen and mouth drop open in surprise.

“Is this homemade macaroni and cheese?” he asked, excitement clear on his face.

Peter gave a vague hum of agreement. “I’m trying something new.”

Stiles sprung up away from the table and practically dashed into the kitchen. He came back out only a few seconds later with a paper plate in one hand a plastic fork in the other.

Peter supposed he should be grateful Stiles took out a portion instead of eating right out of his casserole dish.

Stiles scooped up a bite and managed to bring it all the way to his mouth before Scott stopped him with a strangled cry.

“Stiles! What are you doing?!” Scott yelled as he threw himself over the back of the couch he had been sitting on. He raced to Stiles and slapped the fork out of his before Stiles could get the bite into his mouth.

“What the fuck!” Stiles gasped, cradling his hand against his chest and staring at Scott in shock.

Peter found, much to his surprise, that he had both stood up and let his claws out without a thought. He took one long deep breath and slipped his claws away before sauntering over to the table.

He oh so casually leaned his against it, back to Stiles, crossed his arms over his chest and stared Scott down.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the front door slide open to let in Boyd and Erica. The both of them slipped past Scott and behind Peter to, no doubt, stand next to Stiles.

Stiles spluttered and yelled again. “Scott! Peter's not going to bring in poisoned food when most of you guys don't trust him!”

Scott glared darkly at Peter. “Yeah we don’t trust him because poisoning is exactly something he would do.”

“Well yeah.” Stiles said. Peter could practically see him shrug. “Of course Peter would poison someone. But he’s not going to use food to poison the pack.”

Erica snorted loudly and said “Yeah Peter’s devious but he’s not stupid.” there was a pause before she added with her mouth obviously full “And if you paid attention to anything you’d known this mac and cheese is not only totally poison free but also delicious.”

“Hey...” Stiles said sulkily. “That’s my fork.”

Scott’s self righteous expression was replaced with sour resignation. Peter gave him his best fake smile before turning his back on him to look at Erica, who was eating right out of the dish.

Boyd had found another fork somewhere and had stolen Stiles’ plate.

Stiles was glaring at the both of them and Peter felt oddly annoyed.

“You going to share?” he asked Erica who seemed to almost hunch over the dish.

She just smirked at him and pulled the dish even closer to her, effectively blocking anyone else from taking some.

He stared her down intently while Stiles made indignity noises.

Boyd, smart and dependable Boyd, held out his half full plate and a second fork for Stiles who gasped and smiled brightly before scooping up his own bite.

The loud almost pornographic moan took Peter off guard and the sudden quick shot of arousal he felt was even more surprising.

He heard Erica choking on a laugh and sent her his best blank look that the pack had long learned meant he was fighting back the urge to murder one of them.

Boyd, wise and quiet Boyd, had completely given up his plate to Stiles and had instead decided to try and distract Erica with an impromptu fork fight.

Stiles seemed to be having a small spiritual moment. “Do you know what tastes weirdly good in mac and cheese?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Peter asked gamely.

“Tuna and Peas.”

Peter stared at him while Boyd and Erica made simultaneous noises of disgust.

Stiles shrugged apologetically. “It’s strangely hearty.”

Peter hummed in thought. He was certainly petty enough to make something that only Stiles would want to eat. It’s what everyone else deserved for being rude about Peter’s cooking.

~*~

“Chicken alfredo is so easy. Just cook those wormy noodles for a few minutes and toss in some canned alfredo sauce with baked chicken and bam! Food! Or if you want to get fancy pan fry the chicken before adding milk and actual heavy cream. But who really has time for that? (I do. I apparently.) Here’s how to do it the fancy way if you’re into that kind of thing.”

It continued to amuse Peter how the writer could give easy alternatives and complicated instructions for the same recipe.

His first two batches turned out tasting fine. Not amazing but certainly edible. It was vast improvement from where he started.

He felt an oddly strong urge to both thank the writer of the blog and get to know them better. A combination of emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

This might not have been a problem for him if he didn’t have an strong suspicion he knew who the writer was.

Tiny hints here and there had given it away. He just had to get confirmation.

~*~

After a month of bringing in different dishes to pack meetings Peter had gotten a pretty good handle on Stiles’ likes and dislikes. Considering one of Stiles’ constant likes was Peter’s cooking in general he was confident in his welcome at Stiles’ apartment so long as he came bearing food.

Peter showed up right in time for dinner and Stiles blinked at him before letting him with only a “I’m not going to turn down your cooking, even if it is surprise cooking.”

Peter smirked at him as he made himself at home in Stiles’ tiny kitchen. The size of it certainly explained the latest post “How the hell are you supposed to get anything done in a 3 by 3 space: a photo tutorial by me, not a professional photographer.”

Peter had recognized the kitchen in the pictures from when he had helped Stiles move his (un)surprisingly large collection of kitchen gadgets.

“So what’s the occasion?” Stiles asked as he poked at the wax wrapped loaf of cheesy bread.

Now that Peter had gotten a better grip on cooking in general he had decided to try his hand at baking. He wasn’t very good at it yet but Stiles appreciated bread of all kinds and wouldn’t mind that it was a bit darker in some spots.

“Oh nothing too special.” he said casually. “I just noticed that your newest post got a million hits. Sounds like something that should be acknowledged.”

Stiles jumped and stared at Peter in shock for a moment before he relaxed again. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave Peter a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Why am I not actually surprised you know about that.” he said with a little laugh.

He turned back to the bread, pulling off a piece and inspecting it before spinning back to stare at Peter with huge eyes.

“Oh my god, did you get all those recipes from me?” he asked loudly, excitement obvious on his face.

“Well your instructions are very comprehensive.” Peter said with a casual shrug.

Stiles grinned at him, obviously pleased about Peter complimenting him.

“That’s a really fucking nice thing to say.” Stiles said, grin turning into a softer smile.

Peter shrugged again and turned to start pulling dishes down from the cupboard. “It’s just a fact.” he said casually.

Stiles laughed. “Whatever you say. So what you make me?”

~*~

Stuffed full of the potato soup and cheesy bread Peter was slouched down on the couch and making grocery lists on his phone. Stiles was curled up next to him, half leaning against Peter’s shoulder while half watching Leverage, half reading one of the books Peter had given him.

“Holy shit!” Stiles suddenly yelled.

Peter turned to look at him in interest.

“Are you courting me, Peter Hale?” Stiles asked eyes and mouth wide open in shock.

Peter blinked at him in genuine surprise for a moment before past behavior clicked together in his brain. He couldn’t stop himself from face palming.

Stiles laughed uproariously and leaned harder against.

“This is the best thing ever.” Stiles said breathlessly.

“Which part?” Peter asked through narrowed eyes.

Stiles grinned even harder at him and didn’t answer, just leaned forward to give Peter a soft kiss on the check.

“I’m going to milk the shit out of this.” Stiles said in amusement. "I can't believe I didn't realize sooner! You get so pissy when Erica steals food from me that it should have been obvious."

Peter supposed he kind of deserved that respond if he’d gone around trying to give gestures of romance through food and not even realizing it.

Peter raised his arm and Stiles instantly cuddled himself deeper into Peter’s side, tucking his face against the side of Peter’s neck.

“It’ll be nice not to be the one cooking all the time.” Stiles said quietly.

Peter felt a rush of protectiveness and fought a sneer at the thought of Stiles always having to be the one to talk care of himself.

He turned his head slightly and gave Stiles a light kiss on the temple. “Not just the cooking.” he promised softly and Stiles shivered against him.

Stiles took a long shuddering breath before fully melting against Peter.  “Yeah, sounds good.” he whispered and curled his hand into Peter’s.

Peter wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get him and Stiles to this point but there was no way in hell he was going to complain when Stiles was being so shockingly soft with him.

Peter decided that it was immensely satisfying to be the one Stiles felt was providing for him and let himself feel as protective and possessive as he wanted, secure in the knowledge that he had to be doing something right to have earned Stiles’ trust.

[darkwingdragon]

Skully The Sentient Walking Cane

This is a fan character for the animated series “The Hazbin Hotel” made by VivziePop​.

Name: Skully 

Canon Voice Actor: Alan Tudyk ( Has a voice similar to King Candy Talks with a lisp)

Age: unknown

Gender: male

Type of Demon: He isn’t one He’s a Walking Cane

Friends: Rumeminus,Bucky,Katia,Gnat The Imp,Serina, Charlie,The King and Queen of Hell,Vaggie,Angel,Husk,Alastor, Nifty and everyone else at the hotel.

Enemies: Anyone that endangers the princess’s life and her friends is considered an enemy much like his master,The Exterminators and the Wraith Demons.

Nicknames: Doesn’t have one

Abilities: Able to talk and understand every language even the imps,When his master is using him he is able to open portals,create protective barriers,shoot chaotic energy blasts, and transform anything or anyone into whatever his master Rumeminus thinks of. Skully acts as a stabiliser for Rumeminus’s chaotic aura,he also saps his masters chaotic energy to help prevent his masters chaos powers from warping the environment and objects whenever they are around unless Rumeminus does it on purpose.  

Note due to him harnessing  Rumeminus’s chaotic energy Skully is able to be used by other demons,that is if anyone is able to get him.Because of this unless they are close friends of him and his master Skully will try his best to prevent anyone from using him.

However although he doesn’t have organs Skully suffers from motion sickness this often cause him to spill out some of Rumeminus’s chaos energy which can accidently open portals to random places even to other realms such as Heaven or the Human world.  

Personality: Skully is a cheerful, friendly, humble, helpful and  good natured towards anyone, whenever his master pulls a prank on someone Skully is often very apologetic towards whomever they are pranking.Skully is very loyal to hi master Rumeminus even if his master can go a bit overboard at times he still supports him,he acts always like Rumeminus’s moral compass to whenever his master is confused if whether they should cause someone trouble today or not.If his master or anyone that they know is upset Skully will console to them and will give advice if they need any.

Whenever Rumeminus is deciding if he should prank an unfortunate demon or not Skully will most likely try to convince him to leave them alone but it usually never works. Although Skully cannot get around unless someone takes him somewhere he’s always tries to help those in need by giving them moral advice even if they seem that they don’t want it. 

Background: When Rumeminus was younger he had a hard time keeping his chaotic powers under control because of this where ever he went his aura would warp the environment and objects such as causing poor demons to float away random furniture would come to life and try to attack and even the colour in the sky would change.One day when Rumeminus walking down town he noticed an antique shop excited headed inside due for his love of collecting old and unusual things.

After having a good look around the shop he was about to leave when something caught his eye. A barrel filled with different walking canes Rumeminus has a look at the canes until he picks up one particular one, a black ebony wooden cane with a skull attached on the end.The Trickster King fell in love with its quirky design and decided to buy it.After he bought the cane Rumeminus was about to head home when suddenly the cane began to vibrate. Rumeminus takes a look at his cane carefully and was surprised to see that the skull on the end of his cane eyes were blinking and looking around.

When the Skull began to speak it suddenly dawned on the demon of chaos,due to his chaotic aura his walking cane was brought to life and became sentient but that was not all. As Rumeminus held his now newly alive walking cane he noticed a strange sensation while holding onto his cane.It was sapping his chaotic energy keeping his powers stable ad preventing everything around him from getting warped by his aura.

After realising this the arch demon decides to give his new friend a name, “Skully” whom was not only an object to help him control his chaotic powers but he would also find soon enough is that Skully would become his most loyal companion and beloved friend for all of eternity and in Hell you need to have at least one.              

Appearance: Is basically a skull infused to an ebony black wooden cane, Has green eyes.

Relations: Rumeminus was the first person he saw when he came alive and ever since that day he’s tried his best to serve his master anyway he can.What his master doesn’t know is that Skully can sense his master’s mood due to his powers being connected to his emotions so whenever his master is upset or angry Skully would try to console him to make him feel better. Skully knows that his master can be unpredictable but that’s what being the Demon of Madness and Chaos is all about because of this Skully might be the only person i Hell that truly understands him.

Although Skully has a very good relationship with his master there’s one thing that annoys the poor skull and that is his master’s prideful nature. Very often the arch demon likes to brag about random things to any poor demon that he has in his sights or even to his beloved cane much to Skully’s displeasure. Because of this whenever Rumeminus is bragging a little to much Skully would respond by remarking sarcastically at his master’s brag. This annoys Rumeminus a lot which often causes him him to have an argument with Skully. But it always seems to ends with either Rumeminus or Skully giving up and forgetting what they said.

Bucky a taxidermy jackalope was another object Rumeminus brought to life both he and Skully get along pretty well despite Bucky hating his master. Even though Bucky hates Rumeminus’s guts  Skully still appreciates it when Bucky agrees to help them if they need any 

Skully’s first opinion on the little imp known as Gnat was mixed at first.At the beginning he seemed like a little pest that scurried around the interior of the hotel however after a while Skully soon came to like the little Imp and appreciates his help from time to time.

Skully has good relations with the royal family to the point where he’s happily to serve their wishes.Although his master hates the queen Lilith due to some rivalry between them Skully sees the queen as a strong and respectable woman,as well as the King.

As for princess Charlie just like his master Skully liked her from the very start and would protect her with his life.To Skully she seems to be like an angel innocent and kindhearted and an angel like herself needs to be protected. 

As for her friends at the Hotel, although he has mixed feelings towards a lot of them Skully happily accepts  them as part of the family and is willing to help them with any trouble they have.However there are two of Charlies friends that he does not like and they are Razzle and Dazzle.Whenever the two goat imps get a chance they will steal Skully and will play with him like he was a type of cool toy much to Skully’s dismay.  

There you have it the character bio of Skully Rumeminus’s sentient walking cane hope you enjoy.

May update bio later in the future.           

NOTE!!          

There my fan character for the Hazbin Hotel is done will do some updates on his bio once i’ve seen more of the show.Also the characters that were mentioned on his bio named Serina,Gnat the imp ,Bucky and Katia are my other Fan characters that i need to work on. Also the Mire is a part of hell  that isn’t canon to the show i don’t know but its something I've been working on.

Hazbin Hotel Characters belong to VivziePop                        

[formerlyrunephoenix6769]

Reflections.

Summary.

After a successful mission on King’s Row, Widowmaker lays low at Castle Gulliard whilst contemplating her next move. 

Prequel to Shattered

--x-- 

Between Numbani and Kings Row, she was too hot to move freely.

The sign of a job well done.

She grinned inwardly at the irony of the words as she lounged in the heat that as a child had seared her veal like skin, causing her to retreat to the cool shade of the alcoves offered in the grandiose and sweeping architecture. Such childish impulses no longer afflicted her, now she basked in the tendrils of flame that licked her skin and warmed her muscles.

She had intended to take a moment of respite, in this place that held gossamer whispers of a past life, but for Sombra, a well-stocked wine cellar had been too good of an opportunity to miss. The French woman was not naive enough to believe that her ‘friend’ had just casually dropped by, like an annoyingly over eager neighbour, with fresh pastries and cheeses, from the cobble stoned village that skirted the edge of the Gulliard lands.

Such was the illusion of her sanctuary.

It was an intrusion Widow was willing to tolerate, for now.

Keeping a mask of indifference, she was loath to watch, as in passing the Mexican hacker had flicked the wedding photo of a spectre and Gerard, stating “Nina, no esta mal.” followed by a playful knowing smirk and blink heralding that the image had been stored to memory, before routing through the bottles of the extensive collection within the cool cavernous arches in the bowels of the castle until she found something to her liking.

For now, Amelie Lacroix was intent on enjoying a glass of wine even with the annoying interruption.

The lake was still, save for the ripples of the bobbing fish and the concentric circles caused by her acquaintance trailing her toes in the cool waters that surrounded the Gulliard ancestral home. Silence occasionally broken by the hooting of some bird far off in the distance that Widow knew, if the urge took her, she could skewer out of the sky.

To the untrained eye and ear there was no wind shear to speak of. Perfect conditions for a kill shot.

She coolly observed a mallard alighting from the mirror like surface, counting in her head the wing-beats, the distance, and the trajectory. It was hardly a challenge, not worth wasting a high calibre bullet that would no doubt reduce the creature to little more than soft tufts often found within the pillowcases of the wealthy.

One,

Pump,

Two,

Pump.

Amelie closed her eyes, embryonic pinks mixed in with flashes of purple and blues, trailing her fingertips across the baked granite beneath her as she imagined caressing the trigger of Widow’s Kiss. A deep intake of breath through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, that could be akin to a sigh, as in her mind’s eye the bird faltered in mid-air before pin wheeling to the earth below. Widow felt a sense of peace.

A tentative slap on her ankle brought her out of her reverie,

“Mi amiga, no me oiste?”

“Je ne t’ecoute j’amais!”

They both shared a look before laughing.

An acquaintance out of necessity, not a friend, the annoying wisp of Amelie reminded. Widow leaned forward offering the wine bottle, remnants of dust upon the label written in a language that was almost obsolete in the later part of 21st century stave for those few that knew it. Like taffeta clinging to a Madame, a sign of prestige and fashion long passed but no less regarded. Sombra waved off the advance.

“No , no, I have what I need here.” As she pulled a small net from the waters, “You can keep your pigs swill.”

Sombra continued to reel in her delights. The bottles of clear liquid, that in the 20th and early 21st century had been available over the whole of Europe which was now difficult to come by and it had once been claimed was capable of running cars, staving off cold, the elixir for fighting bears with AK47’S and eventually Omenics, clinked off each other.

Widow watched as her acquaintance retrieved her preferred beverage from the cool depths, the bending of her back showing off the cybernetic hardware grafted to her skin. Curiosity got the better of the sniper,

“Does the water not short out your circuits?”

Sombra looked nonplussed, “Are you living in the 21st century, me amiga?” Dipping her legs further, she submerged her thighs as if to prove a point, “What good would it do if every time I took a shower I had to worry about such things?” Using her hands, she dramatically made a splash as she triumphantly claimed the bottle she was looking for.

She grinned whilst pouring herself a lavish dram, necking it back in a way that Amelie would cringe at but Widow understood. “Only the best for Sombra!”

“There is no accounting for taste.”

“The Russian’s knew what they were doing. “

“Unlike now?”

“Mi amiga, in this fucked up world nobody knows what any of us are doing anymore!”

Widow tipped her head in agreement before lapsing into a comfortable silence. Toying with the stem of her wine glass, she ran through her head how each glass receptacle was either a concave or convex shape. Each glass shattered or broke in its own unique way. Each different type of tempered glass and liquid within bringing its own variables.

Sombra spread her hands showing a light screen video, the glare of the water making it almost unintelligible, she cursed under her breath. Between her delicate fingers and technological nails, the Talon operative tapped until she was satisfied with the contrast of the footage showing the exact moment of Widow’s triumph; the decommissioned Overwatch agent recognisable by the bright colours of her signature uniform, blinking in and out of existence, as the bullet slid like a needle through her chronal accelerator continuing into the forehead of the target.

One shot, one kill.

“Did you know she was going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Her Marty McFly thing.”

The footage of Tracer patting her chronal accelerator with panicked fervency continued to play.

“Oui, I was counting on it.” Swilling the glass in the palm of her hands, she noted how the liquid briefly coated the sides, reminding her of venous spray. “Nobody wants to die, not even Heroes.”

For a brief moment in free-fall as the red brick buildings gave way, the sniper hadn’t been so sure, as she aimed through Lena’s sternum. In a split second where her and her rival were suspended in the air that had seemed to last for eons, she squeezed the trigger. Widow had found herself wishing for the British agent to blink as the recoil propelled her backwards. The tight feeling in her chest only abating as the exquisite moment of defiance gave way to broken resolve, before Tracer blinked out of time, only to come back with the pained realisation that she had somehow failed.

The youthful innocence that no one in their line of work had any right to possess, shattering into a thousand pieces. The lithe body of the ex-RAF pilot slamming her into the rooftop, as she demanded to know “Why?” The glossed coral shell coloured lips pulled back over gleaming white teeth, the flurry of expressions causing the smattering of freckles to chase each other across the bridge of her upturned nose and her huge doe eyes brimming with a myriad of emotions Amelie recognised but Widow was not meant to feel.

The memory brought goosebumps to her skin and a luxurious shudder down her spine.

Olivia Colomdar slyly watched her through long dark lashes.

“What if she hadn’t?”

The thought reached into the recesses of her sternum, catching her heart in a vice like grip. Knowing every part of her behaviour was being catalogued and at some point could potentially be used to betray her. Widow remained aloof as she took a languid sip of her wine.

“Then ce la vie. I clinched an Overwatch agent.”

Like a gnat intent on committing suicide, the hacker pressed further,

“Why didn’t you finish her off?”

“I flung her off a roof.”

The hacker played grainy footage taken from a nearby surveillance drone, showing Widow making her way up the ramp into the VTOL as Tracer stood below.

“You had plenty of opportunity to finish the job.”

“She wasn’t the objective!”

“All former Overwatch agents are the objective.”

Those snatched, precious moments of life Tracer elicited in her, Amelie was not willing to trade and she often wondered just how much Sombra suspected about her strange fascination with the Overwatch poster girl.

Would it come to a point where she would have to be eliminated? She could do it now and have done with it. Sombra broke into a toothy grin, raising another shot of clear liquid, “One shot , one kill.” She guffawed. “Should be more like, what do the English say? Two birds with one stone?”

One shot, one kill indeed.

Widow remained silent as Amelie asked, “Have you ever flipped a stone?”

The smaller woman rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “I had better things to do than throwing rocks into what little uncontaminated water we had. “

Widow uncoiled, feeling her bones crack and her muscles stretch in an altogether familiar way. Gracefully alighting from her perch, picking up a pebble, she weighed it in her hand. Her other hovering over the soft, exposed neck of the unsuspecting woman.

It would be so easy to push the smaller woman under the water, gripping her by the back of the neck, holding her down as she thrashed uselessly until bubbles ceased to break the surface. The French assassin could dig out the cybernetics in case they contained any tracking devices and discard them at her earliest convenience. She could wrap the body in a tarp and net, secreting her former acquaintance in the dark waters underneath the house.

But much like her first kill, it would be messy and lacking finesse.

The coding extraordinaire had her uses, that maybe one day the sniper would have a need for. Maybe for now Widow would sit back, safe in the knowledge that she was aware of the Los Muertos former member’s double dealing. In the Mexican hacker’s own words, “Information is power, mi amiga, and no one can hide.”

A small reprieve.

Olivia would live to see another day.

Taking a stance, Amelie flicked the stone out, watching it as it curved before lightly kissing the surface, skimming the mirror of her childhood before disappearing into the inky depths.

One shot. One Kill.

(All Overwatch fanfiction will be tagged under formerlyrunephoenix6769 ow fanfiction, )

[scaryscarecrows]

Bad Influence

They share 1.5 brain cells between them. Jonathan has primary custody of the half brain cell-Kitty has it on weekends.

He borrows the lantern from the cellar. Can’t be too careful. Babbit bridge is not inhabited by potentially deadly locals, after all.

Kitty meets him in the road, flashlight in one hand.

“You came prepared.”

“I don’t want to get shot.”

“He’s probably sleeping. Besides, I’m staying in the road. If you want to go over there…”

“I’m not the one insisting on this fool’s errand.”

“That’s what you called the last one, and look what happened.”

Logic will get him nowhere, and he looks up at the sky with a silent plea for no questionable events. The last thing he needs is for her to decide that yes, actually, jumping the fence is called for.

The lantern and the flashlight cast weird shadows in the weeds and he hopes the dog is sleeping inside. Who knows what it might do now, at night.

The crickets are noisy as all hell and every so often a cloud of gnats will puff up from the grass. For a while the only other sound is their footsteps in the dust, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl.

It occurs to him that he hasn’t wondered if this is some sort of set-up, not once, and after mulling it over he deems it unlikely. It’s…nice, not having to worry about that. Soothing.

A sickly-sweet smell hits him and he stops. What is that? He takes a couple of hesitant steps forward and feels a squish under his shoes.

Wicker’s mailbox looms up like a warning finger and beneath it, he catches sight of the lump of dog. It looks…it doesn’t look right and he’s having flashbacks to the Smiths’ hound dog, the one that went rabid.

“Stay here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Either he sounds suitably unsettled or tonight’s his lucky night, because she actually does what he says. He looks down, trying to see what he stepped in, and sees…pink. Or red. He can’t really tell, the lantern light’s throwing the color off.

The dog doesn’t react when he inches closer and when he lifts the lantern up he sees why-half it’s head’s been blown off.

He's not going to be sick. He refuses. He is not going to be sick, he is going to turn right back around and drag Kitty home and take a very long shower.

“What’s wrong?”

“Stay there.” It hits him what the squish was and he is not going to be sick, he’s not going to be sick… “We have to go.”

"Jonathan?"

"Don't." Speaking raises the risk of puking and he swallows, closes his eyes and takes a step back. "Stay there."

It hits him what the squishy something is and he tries to scuff it off his shoe. All that does is make it brown.

He swallows down creeping bile and gives himself a mental shake. Time to go. It's time to go and try to forget all this-

"What's wrong-oh my god."

What's she doing up here?

"Kitty-"

"Oh my god." she whispers again, her hand balled up against her mouth. She takes a step forward, then another, until she's standing next to him and can see the whole mess. "Oh my god, what the fuck-"

He moves his arm, intending to turn her around and get moving, when she swings the flashlight across the field. Is she insane, they'll be seen!

"What are you doing?"

"What if he's dead?"

"What if he did this?" he counters. "The dog could've been sick. Or Wicker's a damn lunatic, or who knows! Leave it alone."

"The light’s on. Something's wrong."

"That's not my problem! Stay out of it before you get yourself killed or worse!" She's not listening. Fine. He'll call her bluff. "I'm not going with you."

“What if he’s dead?” she asks again. “Or really hurt?”

“Don’t care.” he says at once. “Better him than us, come on.”

“We have to tell someone.”

“No, we don’t, let’s go.”

“I’m gonna go see.”

“What?” he hisses. Is she insane? “No. No. He’s probably fine, the dog was prob’ly sick or something, leave it alone.”

“I’m just going to check. If he’s dead, someone needs to know, what if it’s murder?”

“Then they’ll have no problem shooting you for being nosey, now come on.”

“What if it attacked him and he needs help?”

“He should be friendlier, then.”

For a minute he thinks he’s gotten through to her, but then she clicks off the flashlight and shoves it into his hand.

“Keep a lookout. Flash twice if you see anyone, I’ll be right back.”

“Kitty, Kitty, wait-”

But she clambers over the rickety fence and disappears into the weedy field. Dammit! She’s going to get herself killed, he knows she is, and she’s little, there won’t be much left of her…that’s assuming she doesn’t get herself kidnapped, a child could pick her up and walk away, Jesus Christ…

“Kitty!” he hisses. “Get back here before you get yourself killed!”

She turns and makes a SHHHHH motion before continuing towards the house. Fine. Fine! She can get herself shot and he won’t miss her. He’ll skip her funeral, just to spite her.

She’s up to the house now. This is it, the door’s gonna fly open and she’ll either be yanked inside or blasted to little pieces and it’s not like anyone’ll believe him if he tells them what happened-

Why is she on the porch. She has no reason to be on that porch, he’ll bet his life it creaks! Or worse, it’ll splinter and drop her twenty feet to her death (and yes, that’s unrealistic, but still).

It’s not splintering and the door’s not opening. Okay. She’s made it this far, maybe she’ll be all right-no, no, don’t look in the damn window! The old bastard’s probably fine and if he’s not, well, Jonathan doesn’t care what happened to him. Serves him right.

If-when, he means when-she gets back here, he’s going to give her such an earful…

She’s off the porch now. Good. Good, now she can just come right back over here and maybe she’ll have learned somethin’ what’s she doing?

Don’t go around the back of the house, what the fuck are you doing?

His glasses have decided to fog up and he rubs at them with his sleeve. Now they’re streaky and pressed against his nose but too bad. They shouldn’t be so inconvenient, then.

Where is she?

He turns the lantern off and sets it down. No need to draw more attention than necessary.

Kitty?

The door flies open and before he can do anything, someone’s clattered out of the house and into the weeds. They stand still and Jonathan’s just got his thumb on the flashlight switch when they dash around the side of the house.

No no no no-

KER-ACK!

He drops the light and vaults over the fence, knowing full well she’s dead or going to be very soon, Jesus Christ why didn’t he stop her-

He nearly runs her over and it takes him a second to register that she’s not bleeding out or scattered on the ground.

“Kitty.” Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Her mother is not going to kill him and he did not learn a hard lesson about happiness today.

She’s okay.

Though she did about give him a heart attack.

“What are you doing?”

What. What is he doing? Did she not…

“Th-there was a gunshot.”

She points towards the woods.

“Over there.”

He’s very, very tempted to either hug her or pick her up and lug her back home. For her own safety, is all. And his own.

He keeps his hands at his sides and hopes he doesn’t sound as shaky as he thinks he does when he says, “Let’s just go.”

“There’s someone in the house.”

“I know, that’s who fired, now let’s go.”

Swish-crunch, swish-crunch, comes the sound of footsteps through leaves and sticks and if they’re seen they’re going to end up buried out here.

For the sole reason that she makes up for short legs with a long streak of stubbornness, he grabs her hand

Feels like a bird

and yanks her around the side of the house. They press up against the wood

Splinters and dust and that feels like spider legs oh boy

in silence. His hand’s still warm and it takes him a second to notice he hasn’t dropped hers.

“Jonathan-”

“Sh.” He lets go of her hand and inches towards the edge of the house. “Stay here.”

The heavy air seems to magnify his breathing and when he pokes his head around the corner, he expects a bullet between the eyes. It doesn’t come. Nothing comes, actually, not even a, ‘what you doin’ out here?’

There’s no one there. But he heard someone, he did. He knows that sound almost as well as his own breathing, because it’s the sound that means his release from that damn chapel.

Doesn’t matter what he heard, they’re gone now…

Creak-creak.

Faint, but undeniable footsteps reach his ears. Someone’s in the house. They need to get out of here, now.

He ducks back, finger to his lips, and motions for her to follow. They don’t say a word until they’re back on the road, and then his mouth decides to get a mind of its own.

“You scared the bajesus outta me! What are you tryin’ to do, gimme a heart attack?” He gestures between her and that damn house, semi-aware that his speech has decided to take a backslide into ‘Granny Would Not Approve’ territory. Too bad. “I told you once, I told you a hundred times, leave it alone! What’f that gun had been a misfire and you’d gotten hit anyway? Or someone caught you? Hm? Did’ya think’a that?”

Why is she looking at him at like that. He is annoyed-beyond annoyed, borderline prepared to wring her neck-and she’s looking at him like she’s about to laugh. Come on! Just for once, would she take him seriously-

“You thought I got shot?”

That’s what she takes from this?

He gesticulates, words happily leaving him to sputter and hiss like poor Louisa May.

“I…dammit…Kitty!”

“Shh.”

No! He will not be shh’d! She is going to get his point if it kills him!

“Tresspassin’ is a serious thing out here! Or, since you’re easy to pick up, you coulda been kidnapped, you think people would believe me if I said-”

“Jonathan.”

“Don’t ‘Jonathan’ me!”

“Then shut up.” she hisses. “Look.”

No! He does not want to look, he wants to lecture! The least she could do is pretend…to…

Someone’s standing on the porch. He can’t tell who it is at this distance, but it’s not Old Man Wicker-as they discover a minute later when they come sprinting for the road.

“Run!”

For once (for once), there’s no argument. They don’t stop running until they reach the main road.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Small World: Abra-Disaster” (Part 1)

Written by: Haley Mancini, Jake Goldman

Written & Storyboarded by: John West, Angela Zhang

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Like this reboot was a world of laughter before...

This special begins with Penguin Pete's, complete with their theme song: "Penguin Pete's, Penguin Pete's, yum yum yum yum yum." It's certainly no Cookie Cat jingle. This special will really focus on each of their personalities, at least early on, and this starts right from the beginning in this scene.

Buttercup has a brownie chocolate fudge that is so extreme, it's banned in six countries. Blossom, on the other hand, has gelato made of wheatgrass and soy. Because only nerds would want to be healthy. Bubbles has all 42 flavors, because, fitting to her character in more than the ways that they intended, she couldn't decide on which one to get.

However, this all gets interrupted by a bunch of minor villains starting crime. The Gnat is also swatting some poor sap with a giant fly swatter. And all of this is happening at the same time.

When the original Puffs had to do something like this, it ended with them getting exhausted to the point where they had to consider creating another sister. The Reboot Puffs can barely take on one crime at a time, so I highly doubt they're just going to beat up all of these villains and then eat their ice cream.

Except, that’s exactly what they do in this episode! In fact, they don’t even let go of their ice cream while they’re easily trouncing these villains. They even beat up some villains that didn't make it into that intro, like Pot-Head, Fuzzy Lumpkins, and even the Amoeba Boys.

Discount Jojo shows up with his Baggy Jeans Bot. Apparently, he's very conscious about being with the latest trends in fashion when he's committing his crimes. He even confirms to some random hipster passing by that it is acid-washed. With real acid, as he almost douses that hipster with it from a hose. At least it's because Jojo missed, and we can't use this as proof that the regular Townsville population have better reaction time than the Reboot Puffs.

With this powerful jeans robot that seems to fit the Fashionistas more than him, nobody can stop Jojo now...

...until Blossom pops him right in the kisser. Another big surprise: we actually see Blossom punch Jojo in the face without a hit flash! They just bash him left and right. Bubbles even takes over the jeans robot, and kicks his butt with its giant butt.

Unfortunately, before the Powerpuff Girls can punch him repeatedly and take him to jail just like the old days, with Buttercup even threatening to actually "lock him up for good", he suddenly disappears in a puff of smoke. The Powerpuff Girls say "huh" at this, but don't seem to pay it any mind. After all, maybe they were just so strong that Jojo ran out of HP!

However, that turns out to not be the case, as we see where Discount Jojo ended up. He has a decent theory just after waking up in this overly fancy place.

Discount Jojo: Oh no! Those Powerpuffs punched Mojo so hard, he landed in another dimension!

Didn't think this reboot would steal from the old Dragon Ball Z dub. Discount Jojo does seem like an infinite loser to me. No, not really, as the owner of this "another dimension" turns out to be a villain of legend! The Archduke of Anarchy! The King of Coiffures!

Lester Van Luster!

Don't worry if you never heard of him before, because it turns out this is his first appearance. However, we're supposed to see this guy as this legendary villain who managed to shrink the Eiffel Tower. I think this guy is supposed to be like some sort of Siegfried and Roy parody, but he looks more like some overly sugary cupcake to me. A Cupcake Shrinky Boy, if you will. I wish I came up with that.

But none of that matters to Discount Jojo, who is this guy's biggest fan. He kept a scrapbook of him, and even asks him to sign his brain when he shows off the shrunken Eiffel Tower. Yeah, in a way far too similar to Gru from Dispicable Me, this guy's gimmick is that he likes to shrink things.

Would the real Mojo Jojo look up to anyone, never mind someone like Cupcake Shrinky Boy here? Even this Jojo was angry over someone being better than him in previous episodes, but now we're supposed to believe he's a total fangirl of someone who we never seen before. That's one of the many reasons why we call him Discount.

Speaking of Not So Secret Service, the Powerpuff Girls are celebrating their victory by playing another violent fighting game. The Professor's strategy from keeping them from those has been replacing One Must Fall 2041 with Brutal: Paws of Fury. Nobody would want to play a fighting game ever again after playing that, but sadly for him, it didn't work.

As they're beating each other up in the game, they talk about how everything is just so easy for them. I understand that it was a general problem that the Reboot Puffs get beaten up, but this is really overcompensating that. In other episodes, they could get beaten by glitter, the Dewey Decimal System, and air, but not this time. Here, they can beat anyone, anywhere...

Bubbles: ...with any hair!

Ah, a running gag that even the other characters are annoyed by, as Buttercup tells her to stop doing that the very first time she does it. This running gag is supposed to be bad, guys! Laugh!

This episode goes in the complete opposite direction of most reboot episodes, which usually sees the Powerpuff Girls getting defeated rather easily so someone else can save them. It does not even try to ease us into it. Do not give us 90+ episodes of Monster Punch, Girls Down, and then tell us “these girls are invincible! Anytime, anywhere, any hair!”

Suddenly, their video game gets interrupted with a message from Discount Jojo. How did he get on the moon? How can he breathe in space without any kind of space suit? How did he hijack a video game like it was a late night Doctor Who rerun? He'll give us the answer in just a minute!

Blossom is, of course, worried. Via a bunch of stock images with some decent amount of work to make them a little more animated. Bubbles adds that if the moon blows up, the cow wouldn't have anything to jump over!

Cow: (scare chord) Mooooo!

Yes, that's a cow. The reboot needed to let us know what a cow is, just in case we didn't know. They were even helpful enough to make it moo. Who said this show wasn't educational for your toddler?

Much like the last beatings they dished out, they’re not even going to focus 100% of their energy on beating him. They bring their video game with them, which manages to still work even though there’s no electricity around. Maybe this is one of their other rare superpowers: the ability to give out electricity to video game consoles.

While speculating on how many seconds it would take to take Jojo down for what is supposed to be the umpteenth time, they’re suddenly whacked in the face with a magician's top hat. Discount Jojo the Not-So-Magnificent shows his face to these Puny-Puffs, and Blossom can't help but point out something I already pointed out.

Blossom: Hey, how can you even breathe in space?

Discount Jojo: MAGIC!

Oh, hush, Discount. Even Buttercup calls this a lame excuse. They rush in, and I'm sure they're going to beat this monkey up again and finish their video game just like they said they would do.

Magic Punch, Girls Down, womp womp. In several different "magic" ways, too. He's really taking his new gimmicks very seriously. He uses playing cards to stick Bubbles to a rock. He bashes down Blossom and Buttercup with a hammer after doing a disappearing trick. Bubbles then gets distracted by the classic "pulling a rabbit out of a hat" trick. Despite what Rocky says, that trick may work after all! The last one's a bit slow, but the others are okay.

It seems like it's another "Powerpuff Girls get beaten up until some magic being shows up to save them in the end" scene. Thankfully, that doesn't happen, as they do manage to get up and do a few parlor tricks of their own. Just like a certain episode of the original, really.

Specifically, Abra-Cadaver. It is one of the episodes they definitely have seen, since they referenced it in Memory Lane of Pain. In that episode, Abra-Cadaver, not Memory Lane of Pain, a magician is thwarted by the Powerpuff Girls learning a few magic tricks of their own. That's essentially what they do here, even combining it with their own aura powers for good measure. Fighting fire with fire, and there's some good gags here, too.

It all ends with Blossom doing a grand finale: putting him in a coffin. Thankfully for Jojo, Blossom decided not to use an iron maiden this time. Jojo gets put in iron chains instead. Probably not as strong as ordinary rope, but that probably terrifies them.

But, uh oh, they spent all of this time beating up Jojo the Not-So-Magnificent, they forgot all about the bomb! The Powerpuff Girls decide to stay in one place and do a big no, knowing that even if they tried, they would just fail anyway.

How do they manage to get rid of this bomb without making that poor cow angry? Turns out, they didn't need to, in a twist that even I couldn't expect. If you read this far, I'm sorry to say I do not do the ellipsis any more because I now assume you read these after you watch the episode. Right?

The bomb "explodes", with confetti and a big sign that says "BOOM". The bomb turned out to be a fake, and it was all just a distraction; an "opening act" for the real act. Besides, with his brains, Discount Jojo knows the dangers of blowing up the moon. I mean, what would the cow jump over?

Cow: (scare chord) Mooooo!

Just in case you missed it, kids. This is a cow. She goes "moo". He then uses his magic hat to show a projection of said "real act": Sparkly Sprinkles is about to do his biggest magic trick yet from his sky-high Secret Lair. Pretty sure you can't really be that secret if you're up in the sky, but that's beyond the point.

Blossom gets a call from the Mayor on her smartphone, which apparently gets really good reception on the moon. She hears the Mayor is adoring this big shiny light in the sky that is getting ever so closer. They fly all the way down to the place they called home for so long, only to find that...

Blossom: It's...it's gone.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Wow. I mean, that's actually a very powerful end for this first part. No unneeded random quips, no farting, no fancy dream catchers, just "oops, Townsville's now a giant crater, and it's all our fault!" It made me anxious to see the next part, and that is something I didn't expect.

Does this part’s title fit?

Yeah, this is the one that really plays up the magic angle.

How does this part stack up?

The “we’re invincible” gag got really old, especially considering this reboot tends to go against that far too often for me to take that seriously. That’s really the only problem with this particular part. The whole special has its own issues, which I’ll detail when I’m done with this.

Some decent magic trick jokes, some good cameos in the beginning, and an ending that actually hooks you in for the rest of the special. All in all, a pretty good opener.

With a relatively good opener, it could only go downhill from here, right? See you tomorrow for Part 2.

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