#But luckily for me one fox picture can match up to more than one picture

[fennecfoxdavid]

I have a genuine question: how do you find so many david tennant looking like a fox pictures. Like where do you even get this many fox pictures. Do you just scroll through some sort of fox database? I keep seeing this account pop up and I’m just amazed at just how many posts there are.

A little goblin owes me a debt annd they repay me by hunting down the pictures for me, even if they have to take the pictures themself….

- Envil

[kitty0boy]

I’m baaaack. I saw the is idea for this on Tiktok where basically Marinette saves Chat Noir she’s on top like when Chat saves Ladybug and he can’t function, so she smirks and flicks his bell. It’s a little spicier than the stuff I usually write so be warned! As always they are aged up so Marinette is 17, Adrien is 18. And much like some of my other fics, Chat can use multiple Cataclysms while Ladybug has to run off and recharge. Again, the content is kinda spicy so I’m going to say 14+ for this one. So enjoy!

———————————

You’ll never guess who was akumatized again. That’s right, Lila, why? Because she was caught lying this time.

Marinette was exhausted, being the new guardian and all. She slept through half of first period, dozed off in Ms. Mendeleev’s class twice, and nearly face-planted on the staircase outside the school. Needless to say, everyone was worried about her, especially Adrien. He felt he was partly responsible after all. His late night visits with her seemed to have taken their toll. Maybe he should stick to UMS tournaments on the weekend and Fridays.

Not everyone was worried though (somehow), one of those people being Lila. Over the years she’d become more and more set on gaining the attention of everyone in a 2 mile radius. While she usually only bragged about her “charity work”, the opportunity to slander Marinette wouldn’t go unused.

“I’m so worried about our poor Marinette.” She cooed, “Ever since she downloaded that app, oh it’s only gotten worse.” The class stared at her puzzled. In mock surprise, she covered her mouth, “Whoops! Oh I’m such a blabber mouth.” Adrien couldn’t see her lips, but he was sure they were curled into a nasty smirk. “Wait what? What app?” Alya piped up. “Oh she didn’t tell you? She’s a sugar baby. She’s been on Tinder getting money from older men. How do you think she pays for her supplies.”

He’d had enough, “Seriously Lila, if you’re going to spread rumours about people at least make sure they’re true. You don’t even hang out with Marinette, how would you know that before me or Alya?” She pulled out her best sad smile. “Oh Adrien, she confided in me because she was too scared of what you would think.” Alya cut her off, “No Adrien’s right, Marinette doesn’t like you Lila. I’m sorry but it’s true. There’s no way she’d tell you something like that.” Adrien put his hands in his pockets in triumph, but not before Lila got her phone out and held it up, showing Marinette’s supposed profile on Tinder. There was a picture of her face right on the profile. “I managed to hack into her account last night. Just look at all these creepy old men she’s matched with.” She scrolled through the list of men, most of them looked to be in their late 40s. Anger bubbled inside him.

“Seriously Lila! She’s still underage, don’t make a fake profile of her on Tinder. Now all of these old men know what she looks like. What would happen if they tracked her down. I swear to god if she’s ever hurt because right this I’ll-” He was ready to strike when a hand touched his back and a head fell against his shoulder. “What’s going on?” Marinette asked, she rubbed her eyes. “Girl let me see your phone.” Alya demanded. Marinette slumped over to her before placing her phone in the bestie’s hand. She walked behind Alya and wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind.

Adrien, or rather, Chat Noir was no stranger to Marinette’s sleepy cuddling tendencies. He remembered many nights that involved her wrapping around him while blinking back sleep. Whether it was watching movies, playing video games, or even sketching. She somehow always found a way to cuddle up to him. Not that he was complaining, it was the best way to get her to sleep after all. She’d lean on him and he’d wrap around her, start purring, and play with her hair while she drifted off. He of course was adapted to running on less than 5 hours of sleep anyways, besides, hearing the sleepy sounds she’d make were always worth it. So seeing her cuddle up to Alya did make him a little jealous yes, was he going to say anything, probably not. He’d probably suggest a movie marathon that night to get his fair share in.

He watched while Alya scrolled though Marinette’s phone. Marinette subconsciously nuzzling into the crook of her friend’s neck. “Take a look everyone. Do you see the app for Tinder anywhere on my girl’s phone?” The class stared at it. “I don’t see it.” Rose squeaked. “Well obviously not, Marinette picks up shifts at the bakery sometimes to pay for all that stuff.” Alix shouted while walking towards them. She wasn’t there when Lila was talking about it. Adrien looked at her confused. “How did you know what she-?” She cut him off, “Nathaniel told me.” He looked at him and Nathaniel’s face turned as red as his hair. “He wanted to say something but he’s still really shy.” Alix whispered to Adrien. Adrien turned back to see his friends crowding around the bench where Lila sat, all of them were scowling at her. One by one they started voicing their disapproval. “Don’t spread rumours about our friend.” “Seriously Lila, not cool.” Lila got up from the bench and calmly walked towards the exit with her belongings in hand. It was the end of the day anyways.

He saw Marinette stumbling towards the locker room to pick up her backpack, Alya guiding her with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Maybe your purrincess could use a lift home.” Plagg suggested from his pocket. “Hey you’re right, maybe then Lila wouldn’t be able to start more rumours about her. Everyone would know why she’s been up late.” He considered the idea. “But what about Hawkmoth? I don’t want him to target her.” Plagg tried to fly up to his eye level but Adrien quickly slapped the kwami back into his jacket. “Ow hey what was that for?” Plagg yelled, “I’m in the middle of the school foyer, I’m already getting weird looks for slapping myself so don’t make it any worse.” That earned a little pinch from his friend “A little pay back, now if you don’t transform and pick up your sleeping beauty I’ll carry her back home myself. I don’t trust that girl to walk across the street by herself.” Adrien smiled, “Aww does the cheese monster have a soft spot for my purrincess, I thought there was only room for camembert in your heart.” Plagg rolled his eyes, “Yeah well if I can make room for you, then I can make room for pigtails. Now go and transform before you miss your chance.” He flew back into Adrien’s pocket. Touched by his kwami’s speech, Adrien walked towards the exit and sprinted around the corner. Luckily he had fencing practice today so his bodyguard wouldn’t be waiting for him.

He ducked into an alleyway and transformed after making sure he wasn’t followed, Chat Noir emerging from where Adrien was seconds ago. He ran back towards François DuPont to meet his little mouse at the front. As she emerged covering a yawn, Alya spotted him. Immediately she whipped out her phone and ran towards him, leaving Marinette behind. “Chat Noir! What are you doing here? Out for an afternoon patrol?” She held up her camera to record him. “Actually I’m here to pick up a certain little lady. I’ve been keeping her up at night and word has it she’s dead tired.” Alya blinked before turning towards her friend and looking back at him with wide eyes. He nodded and looked back up only to see Marinette trip over her feet. He rushed over and caught her around the waist in a hug before she could smash her face into the pavement. “Well hello there Mari, fancy seeing you here.” She looked up at him and smiled before stretching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck. “Hey kitty.” She murmured before resting her face on his chest. He sighed and bent down a little to sweep her up, he gently repositioned her into a hip carry with his other hand wrapping under one of her thighs. She immediately snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Alya stood there, her mouth agape. “Hey uh, would you mind grabbing her bag for me miss Ladyblogger?” He asked, nodding at it. She snapped out of it and picked it up off the steps where it had fallen. She passed it to Chat who slung it over his free shoulder and started heading towards Tom and Sabine’s bakery, with a certain fox tailing him.

The three, well the two of them walked while Marinette was peacefully carried by Chat Noir. Alya chuckled “Are you, purring?” He blushed a little before giggling back, “Yeah I am, I usually do it when she’s really tired, it puts her to sleep really quickly.” She smirked at him, “So this is a regular occurrence?” He stammered “I well uh yes for a while, not every night but umm.” He blushed and looked down at her. “If only I knew Marinette was sleeping with one of Paris’ superheroes.” She said slyly, she was definitely fit for the fox miraculous. He turned away from the journalist, he didn’t want to see him blush. His cheek bumped into Marinette’s forehead before resting against it. “It’s not in the way you’re thinking, we usually play video games or watch movies, most of the time she gets really tired and ends up falling asleep on me so I put her to bed.” He looked back at her and she was not convinced. “You mean she gets tired so you cuddle her and purr while she falls asleep then you sneak out the window.” He pouted, “You make me sound like a creepy, and it’s actually the trapdoor to the balcony, I can’t climb through the window without diving through it.” She grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. “Not much better is.. hey what’s that?” He turned to see a figure glaring at them from on top of the school, he didn’t get to look at them for very long before something fast and sharp came barreling towards them.

He didn’t even have time to grab Alya, he only had time to shove her out of the way with his foot before jumping backwards with Marinette pulled tight to him. He stumbled a little, crashing to the ground with a very much awake Marinette landing safely on top of him. She propped herself onto her hands just enough to separate her face from his. “Chat? What’s going on?” A loud cackle was heard behind them and she leapt to her feet, he followed suit and pulled Marinette behind him, making sure she was as separated from the akuma as possible. “My name is Seamstress, with my needle and thread I’ll make sure none of you can ever speak against me.” Seamstress turned to Alya, she pinched her fingers together and make a jabbing motion towards her. Alya’s mouth shut and she covered it with her hand. It looked like she was in pain, then Seamstress pulled her hand back and Alya cried out, but her scream was muffled. She pulled back her hand to reveal that her lips were sewn shut. Marinette tried to run towards her friend but Chat wrapped his arms around her before she could go anywhere. “Alya No!” She screamed, her face full of tears. “I’m really sorry Marinette.” He said before grabbing his baton and vaulting them away from the akuma and Alya.

Marinette held tight to Chat’s neck, despite the sobs that shook her violently. He needed to get her away but he wanted her to breathe. He looked behind him, Seamstress was nowhere in sight, so he jumped into an alleyway and sat down, Marinette sitting in his lap. He sat crisscross so that she could sit more comfortably, she still wasn’t breathing right.

“Marinette I need you to breathe for me ok? I know it’s going to be hard but I have to get you somewhere safe, and I can’t do that if you can’t breathe. Here.” He reached behind him and pulled one of her hands off him and placed it on his chest. “Ok can you feel me breathing?” She nodded against his shoulder. “Ok good, now try to match my breathing ok?” He felt her panting against him as she tried to fix her breathing. It took a few minutes but soon enough her sobs turned into little whimpers of sadness. “Feel better?” He asked and she nodded. She was always quiet like this when she was upset, seeing her friends hurt wouldn’t be something she got over easily. She pulled back to look at him before another tear slipped down her cheek. He quickly reached up and brushed it away, “Ok now we’ve got to-“ An explosion rang out in the street near them, he gently pushed her off of him. “Stay here ok, I’ll come and get you after.”

He ran out from the alley only to come face to face with Seamstress. “Hello kitty, where have you hidden miss goody two-shoes hmm?” She asked, she looked like she’d gone insane, her face twisted into something between and grin and fury. Her face darted from left to right, looking for his princess. Luckily, the dumpster they landed beside blocked Marinette from view. “Like hell I’d tell you.” He turned his baton and extended it towards her, putting as much distance between him and the akuma as he could. “Well if I can’t get you to talk, maybe I should just shut you up!” Her hand thrusted towards him and he saw a needle, he dodged it and her hand snapped open, a drop of blood running down her finger. So if she misses a stitch she’ll prick herself. Good to know.

He dodged needle after needle until he got distracted and stumbled. He fell to the ground and braced for the pain to come to his lips, but it never did. Instead something small crashed into him and they rolled across the road, hitting the curb. He looked up to see Marinette on her hands and knees above him. Her lips were still swollen from crying but in that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was. ‘Geez Adrien great timing.’ He could almost hear Plagg cackling in his head. He just stared at her, mouth agape, then she did something he would never recover from. She smirked, and oh god did he want to kiss her. “What cat got your tongue?” She said before flicking his bell. She stood and pulled him up. He quickly snapped out of it and scooped her up before dashing down the street, the akuma not far behind, he drifted around a corner and silently sprinted down an alley before extending his baton and racing across the rooftops in the opposite direction, successfully leading the akuma in the wrong direction. He brought her to the first place he could think of, the Louvre. He leapt off one of the buildings to the side, summoned a cataclysm to break a glass panel, and landed on the floor inside with Marinette clutched safely in his arms.

“Wasn’t there an easier way to get in here?” She said, a teasing tone to her voice. He wish he wanted to laugh but he didn’t. He was mad, furious even. He told her to stay hidden, out of sight. He told her to wait in the alley for him but she didn’t. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” He asked angrily. Hundreds of emotions swam through him, part of him wanted to lecture her for hours, part of him wanted to hug her and make sure she was ok, part of him wanted to kiss her stupid because mon dieu she was beautiful with her hair down like that. He settled for a simple “Stay here this time, I’ll come get you.” Before turning and vaulting towards the akuma.

Ladybug was a little late to the fight but they got it over with fairly quickly. He destroyed the bracelet the akuma was in and Ladybug captured it and fixed everything. “Would you mind taking her back this time? I’ve gotta run.” Ladybug asked and he nodded. Some of his anger had faded but he wasn’t exactly in a good mood right now. She waved goodbye before hurrying off. “So,” he started turning to Lila, “I hope you won’t be spreading anymore false rumours about people now, especially Marinette.” He growled a little and miss liar shrank under his gaze. She nodded before standing and walking away.

He needed to calm down, Marinette was probably scared and hurt and confused, he didn’t exactly leave her on the best note. By the time he arrived at the Louvre it was closed for cleaning. He slipped inside to grab her but noticed that she was standing by the door. “They umm, kicked me out when it closed.” She said shyly. His brows furrowed.

She looked at him confused before he opened his mouth to speak. “I told you to stay hidden and you didn’t listen. Why?” She frowned, “Don’t you mean ‘thank you Marinette’?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Uh no I mean why did you run out from your hiding place, I’m the superhero remember, you can’t go running into the middle of an akuma battle. You don’t have superpowers or a magic suit to protect you.” She walked up to him and pushed her finger into his chest, “You were more important when it came to defeating Seamstress, who cares if my mouth is sewn shut because yours will still work. You needed to be safe more than I did so I saved you.” He clenched his fists, “My job is to protect you“ she cut him off “No your job is to help Ladybug save the akumatized person.” He started speaking, “No, my job is to make sure no one gets hurt, I have to keep everyone safe.” She crossed her arms again, “Once Ladybug’s cure fixed everything I would have been fine.” He stood straight, “Well I wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t be able to function knowing you got hurt because I couldn’t protect you.” She grabbed his shoulders, “And how do you think I feel huh? Seeing you die over and over again! So fuck me if I wanted to save you one time! I can’t keep watching you sacrifice yourself over and over again.” Her voice broke, “And what? You think I would be able to keep fighting if I knew you weren’t safe, I don’t think I could live with myself if Anything happened to you.” He wasn’t yelling anymore but he was still angry with her. She was close to crying again she was so angry.

“For heaven sakes you stupid cat!” She blurted before grabbing his bell and pulling him down to her. He saw her eyes close before their lips met. He closed his eyes and kissed her back, it wasn’t a slow gentle kiss either, it was a desperate, passion filled kiss that made him feel like he was struck by lightning. Her hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist. He couldn’t tell if this was heaven or hell, he felt like he was dancing on cloud nine while her lips burned against his neck. She pulled down his bell zipper slightly and he groaned as she left marks on his collar bone. He grabbed her face and pulled her back up to him, gently biting her bottom lip when she smirked.

He heard a whistling noise somewhere behind Marinette but it barely registered and he lifted her up to get her closer to him. She pulled back and he started leaving marks on her identical to the ones she left on him. “Um Chat.” She whimpered and he wanted to hear her say his name again. “Chat.” She said a little louder, “Hey!” She squeaked and he stopped, looking up at her. Her face was bright red and her eyes were wide. “What?” He asked, lowering her to the ground. He quirked an eyebrow at her before looking above her head. It was Alya and Alix, standing there, watching him make out with their best friend. “Uh, hi.” He said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Well hi there.” Alix chuckled. Oh no, he was about to die right? “We’ll leave you two to your, umm, whatever that was but make sure you have her home by 9 young man, you understand me?” Geez she sounded like Mr. Dupain. “Yes ma’am.” He chuckled, wishing he could curl up into a ball and hide. The pair walked off, laughing and whispering together.

He felt something heavy crash into his chest, “Oh, mon dieu I’m a goner.” Marinette groaned. He laughed nervously before hugging her and ruffling her hair. She looked up at him, “You’re still an idiot you know.” He laughed for real this time, “And you’re still beautiful.” Her face turned pink and she put her head against his chest again. He sighed and started purring. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just so worried. Like I said, I don’t think I could function if I found out something happened to you.” She wrapped her arms around him and raised herself up to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry too, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.” He smiled, “You’d better, or I’ll go full Weredad and lock you away.” She giggled, “I think you mean Werecat.” He joined her and they laughed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. “So, how about a movie night tonight?” He asked. “Why don’t we just cuddle until I fall asleep, that’s basically what we do anyways.” He wagged his tail excitedly, “Do you still have the pillow fort set up from last time?” She giggled again, “Yes I do, now let’s go home kitty, it’s cold out here.” Oh right, she didn’t have a jacket on. He quickly scooped her up and they headed off.

That night he got more than his fair share of cuddles, he even stayed for a sleepover. Thank goodness it was Friday.

————————————

Thank you for reading. It’s a bit spicier than the stuff I usually write but I think I did ok.

[alpasboxcontactus]

The Best 10 Animated Explainer Video Companies 2021- Alpasbox

Animated explainer videos are a great way to communicate ideas online. They're an excellent option for businesses that want to reach their target demographic, but don't have the budget for traditional video production. If you need help finding the best company out there, then this blog post is just what you need! In it, we'll discuss the top 10 animated explainer video companies and provide all of the information you'll need to help find your perfect match. Read on for more details!

Marketing agencies and businesses are constantly looking for new ways to introduce their brands with creativity. Explainer video companies come in handy when a company is at that point, providing gold standards of advertising or classics which can be relied on upon through time periods. However, if the marketing tactic becomes too old-fashioned it will become ineffective- as people grow tired of them over time.

A video is a great way to make your business stand out among the crowd and offer something fresh to customers. Short commercials, marketing videos, product demos, app introductions, or trade show videos – all of these may impress prospective customers even more if you amplify them with eye-catching animation.

If you want to outshine your competitors and create the best video advertising of all time, then why not consider hiring a company that’s specifically an animated explainer video production company? No one is better at challenging conventions in creative ways than these animation geniuses. Here are some examples from this year! Did we mention they have experience working for companies across industries with years of knowledge under their belts?

What are the criteria for choosing an explainer video company?

We know you're eager to see our list of the best explainer video companies, but first, we need to talk about what makes for a great animated video.

· Quality matters. It is important to pay attention to the quality of videos in a portfolio because it's not always easy for you or me as designers, but that simple factor- whether we like them or not - will be our best guide!

· Stand out from the competition with custom designs. If you need a unique and stand-out video that doesn't rely on templates, contact one of our animation companies today for your design needs!

· The best way to choose an explainer video company is by looking for one that has a detailed process, communicates well with its clients, and follows through on all the details. These companies will be willing to go out of their way in order to make sure you get exactly what you want from your video while still delivering quality work.

· Feedback from customers is key to ensuring the success of any company. Reviews can help you make a more informed decision about your business partner, and it's important that they are both genuine and recent!

· It is true that you get what you pay for. So, if a company has the cheapest prices on offer - don't expect to find your perfect piece of art with them! They are probably not skilled enough and must be using their low pricing as bait to draw in more customers who want something they can afford.

The best explainer video production companies will make your complicated ideas easy to understand. Check out this list of the top five and see who can help you with your needs!

Alpasbox :

Alpasbox is a creative agency that has been creating the best explainer videos for over Four years! They have won awards and are now considered one of the top innovators in animation. If you're looking to create an animated video, they will not disappoint with their work which includes captivating graphics and animations. Many people all around the world enjoy Alpasbox's high-quality product so if you want your company or idea brought alive through motion pictures then this is where it starts off at

Alpasbox explainer video production company's services:

Explainer Video, Corporate Video, Animated Explainer Video, Live-Action Explainer Video, Whiteboard Explainer Video, Product Explainer Video, App Explainer Video

What people say about them: "First of all, I wanted to thank you for the great job you've done! You really delivered what I was looking for. The video is awesome, even better than I expected!"

Explain Ninja :

Explain Ninja is an explainer video company and animation studio based at the heart of Poland, Warsaw. The team excels in producing different animations for startups like Google to iconic brands such as Atlassian and Codio with hundreds of award-winning videos since its foundation in 2013.

Demo Duck :

Demo Duck is a US-based company that helps brands grow their conversions and revenue by providing them with animated videos. Demo Dunk's animation captivates viewers, making it easy for businesses to convey complicated ideas in an understandable way.

Video is one of the most powerful tools to use in marketing and Demo Duck knows that better than anybody. Their portfolio includes work for big brands like Netflix, Dropbox, Crazy Egg, and others- just check their videos!

Wyzowl :

https://vimeo.com/359087395

Wyzowl is an animated video production company headquartered in the UK. In 2020, they have shown exceptional results in global competition and received many awards. What has amazed us indeed is their number of videos- 2500!

The team at Abstract Pixel has been producing animated videos since 2009, always striving for creativity and high quality. They have worked with 40 countries worldwide - the majority of their clients are located on either coast in the US but they're available to work internationally as well!

Studio Pigeon :

https://vimeo.com/396890878

Studio Pigeon is the leading provider of high-quality animated content with headquarters in Warsaw, Krakow (Poland), and Riyadh (Saudi Arabia). They specialize in explainer videos, cartoon series, commercials motion design, and animation.

Studio Pigeon provides a wide range of services including Animation for Explainer Videos; Cartoon Series; Commercials Motion Design & Animations 2D + 3D animations Visual Content Marketing Advertising Infographics Post-production

Epipheo :

https://vimeo.com/439265790

Epipheo is a video production company that has been creating videos for businesses and organizations across the nation since 2009. The studio's work includes animated courses, commercials, branding projects, educational films of all sorts, as well as various other types of communication content such as e-learning modules or trade show presentations.

Ephipeo produces visually stunning videos for their clients. They are noted in the industry because of how they highlight client peculiarities and research them to make sure that each video is tailored specifically to your needs.

Switch video :

Switch Studio is a Canadian animation production studio that specializes in 2D animations, whiteboard explainer videos for IT companies. They have managed to make more than 1,200 videos for numerous clients in 15 countries and 15 languages and among their customers is IBM.

Switch Studio's main goal is to unlock the full potential of their customer's businesses through high-quality animated video productions with specialized expertise such as storyboarding or voice-over recording at affordable prices!

Common Craft :

If you are looking for a way to introduce your product or service in an interesting and engaging manner, there is no better option than animated explainer videos. Common Craft has made it easy by providing templates with downloadable visuals that make creating the video simple! It's not just about introducing; Elite also offers ready-made animations to help businesses get their message across as quickly and succinctly as possible.

Common Craft is a company that provides easy-to-understand videos for difficult topics like physics and history. They also offer templates, lesson plans, and other educational tools to make it easier on both students and professors alike.

Yum YumVideos :

Yum Yum Videos is a top global animation studio that specializes in high-quality work, including award-winning animated videos. They have more than 20 years of experience and their clients include international brands such as Wal-Mart, Docusign, Fox Entertainment Group Red Bull Media House McKesson among others.

The animation style of Yum Yum Videos is adorable and minimalistic, which makes it easy for viewers to identify the works. They offer many revisions that are customized as well in order to best suit your needs.

Thinkmojo :

https://vimeo.com/393751190

Thinkmojo is the best explainer video company on the market. It has gained trust from some of today's biggest companies like Google, Twitter, Slack, and Zendesk to name a few. ThinkMojo believes that videos are your body language in this digital age so they use them as one way for brands to express their ideas better than ever before

What is the best price for an explain video?

When it comes to creating an explainer video, you need a production company that can bring your brand's message and identity into the digital age. Luckily for you, we have listed 10 of the best companies on our list so far! These firms are all unique in their approach but do offer varying price ranges - some as low as $350 or high up to $35,000.

With so many different styles of videos to choose from, how do you know which is right for your business? The price also varies depending on the length and content. Keep in mind what information it should contain as well as its total running time before deciding!

When you are looking for a top-notch animated explainer video, don’t expect the best to come cheap. We advise having a budget of $3,000 – $10,000 in mind when hiring one of our professional companies from this online directory.

Conclusion

In this article, we have collected some of the best explainer video companies. We include their size and specialization just in case you need that information to make a decision on which one is right for your business or project. It's important not only to consider quality but also style because each company does things differently than others so it may be necessary to view portfolios first before making an order as well as checking reviews from past clients who used them before deciding if they are the perfect fit! You can contact any company with questions about what they offer too; most of them will gladly answer all inquiries and even give suggestions based on previous projects like yours.

Don't let your brainstorming go to waste. Alpasbox has answers for you!

We're here at Alpasbox, and we're ready to help you with any of the questions that might be going through your mind about how to find a good animation studio. With our selection on this page as well as some information from us, hopefully, it will lead you in the right direction while having all those ideas flying around in there somewhere too!

[arse-crack-thistle]

rwrb winterfest - day 10 - snowflakes

@rwrb-fests

in which firstprince goes to a middle school dance bc i love little alex and henry so much!!

Alex knows tonight is going to be awesome! Normally, he wouldn’t be excited for a lame middle school formal, but he’s going to ask Nora Holleran to slow dance. She’s way too smart for him, but he can make her laugh like no one else can. It sounds like a bird, and being twelve, Alex can’t resist. If she says yes, this Winter Formal nonsense will all be worth it.

Outside, the D.C. air is chilly but bearable. Alex, his lacrosse friends, and their parents stand in front of his house, about to take pictures. His mother adjusts his red striped tie as he fusses with his black curly hair. June waits inside; she’s a high school volunteer tonight—much to Alex’s protests.

He shoos his mother away, slings an arm around his friend Liam, and smiles. His parents ready the camera, and Alex thanks Jesus they never fight in public.

Just behind closed doors when they think he and June aren’t listening.

The white Christmas lights shine behind the boys. His father tells them to focus and takes the picture. It catches Alex laughing at some joke Liam told, his eyes scrunched closed.

•••

Henry wouldn’t go to this thing if his mother weren’t forcing him. She reminds him it’s good practice for his future as he heads out the door to Bea’s car.

He hates these kinds of functions and having to socialize with people he doesn’t know and couldn’t be bothered to know. Because his mother is the British Ambassador, he’s gone to a few, but he doesn’t want a career in public office like the rest of his family. The Mountchristen name means something back home—they’ve had a few MPs, secretaries, and prime ministers—but that’s not Henry. He wants a quiet life away from the fuss.

A life in which he can finally be himself. And tell the truth. The Fox side of him.

Henry misses his father more than ever as Bea drives. Thank god, she’s here and playing Sufjan Stevens to match their moods. If his mother had been appointed any later, Bea would’ve been an ocean away like Philip—not that Henry misses his posh, Oxford brother all that much.

The buttons of Henry’s Burberry suit reflect the soft yellow glow of the streetlights outside. He knows he’s overdressed and that this will be the most expensive suit in the room, but it’s what his mother picked out. Yet another thing his classmates will pick on.

Especially Alex Claremont-Diaz.

Bea wishes him luck, and Henry groans as he gets out of the car. He really doesn’t want to be here.

•••

Alex dances in the center of the gym floor with his buddies to an Imagine Dragons song. Blue and white lights shine down on them. The whole place is covered in fake snow and light blue fabric. Shimmery snowflakes dangle from the ceiling. It’s cheesy, but Alex doesn’t care because he’s having a blast.

He just hasn’t been able to talk to Nora yet.

She’s been huddled with her friends from Tech Club all night. They’re watching something on a dude’s phone, and Alex knows that’s his in. He just has to make himself move in that direction.

An eighth grader, Pez, starts a dance circle and busts a few moves in his fluorescent clothes. Alex watches and cheers him on because everyone loves Pez. But they don’t love his best friend.

Ugh, Alex can’t stand that British guy, Henry. They may not be in the same grade, but they do Model UN together, and everything he says in that dumb accent riles Alex up. Partly because the girls—and some guys—swoon over him, taking some of the spotlight from Alex, and partly because Henry’s existence just irks him.

His perfect blonde hair. His judgmental blue eyes. His rich-boy wardrobe. The fact that he gets the right answer to every question asked of him. And the fact that he rides horses—like, riding outfit and everything.

Alex hates it all.

When a slow song comes on, he goes for Nora. She looks beautiful in a pale pink dress and with her hair done up in a bun. Alex feels stupid in his black church pants and white button-up.

Why didn’t he get June to help him pick out his clothes?

He asks Nora what they’re watching, and she tells him it’s an anime and laughs at something on the screen. After an awkward pause, he stutters out an invitation to dance. Thank Jesus, she says yes.

On the dance floor, he puts his hands on her waist, and she puts hers on his shoulders, and they sway to the music. A disco ball from the center of the gym casts sparkles all over them. This is their moment.

Which is why Alex asks her to go out with him.

Nora won’t meet his eyes, and Alex knows he screwed up. They’re just friends, she tells him.

His stomach hurts.

Alex misread the situation. He could puke right now. Nothing has felt this embarrassing. Not even last year when he dove for a volleyball in P.E., smacked his face on the floor, and chipped a tooth or in second grade when he called his teacher “mom” and the entire class laughed.

Nora comments on June’s dress to move the conversation forward, but Alex just nods. They finish the dance in silence, avoiding eye contact.

Alex’s face is hot and red. He doesn’t want his friends saying anything, so as soon as the song’s over, he thanks Nora and runs out of gym to the bathroom.

•••

For the most part, Henry is ignored by his classmates, which is good. He’s left to sit by himself at one of the tables. Someone sprinkled glitter all over the tablecloth, and flecks cling to his jacket sleeves. The speakers blast him with music, and the whole event is rather annoying, especially when chaperones bother him to ask if he wants anything or to encourage him to dance. Luckily, the high school girl serving punch just gives him a cup and tells him there’s only a few more hours left until they’re free.

Pez checks up on him every once in a while, but he craves a good party wherever he goes and only stays for a few seconds. Henry doesn’t mind. He scrolls on his phone, catching up on social media and eventually settling on a new Wolfstar fanfic. He peaks up from time to time to watch Pez try to impress the punch girl, but his eyes always end up on Alex.

He moves so easily. Whether it’s shaking his hips or fist-pumping to the beat or letting his head fall back in laughter, he just seems to handle everything so carelessly, so happily.

Henry envies him—can’t stand him because of it. There’s a ping in him every time he sees Alex.

Those curls. And soft brown eyes. The undeniable charm.

He walked into a Model UN meeting in glasses once, and Henry had a coughing fit and had to leave the room.

Don’t even get him started on the Spanish.

God, Henry cannot deal with these feelings right now. And he can’t find Alex in the crowd.

He stands up. Maybe he will dance. Maybe if he tries, he can think about something else. His father would want him to try. He’d give him a pep-talk and a hug that smells like his cologne and send Henry on his way. It’s how he convinced him to try polo and ask a girl to dance at his first gala.

Maybe this is good practice. To try to do things on his own.

But as Henry approaches a girl in his English class, someone scoots out their chair and trips him.

And Henry falls face first into a pile of fake snow.

The music still plays, but the students and chaperones are silent as Henry comes up covered in white clumps. It’s worse than the glitter on his suit, and it sticks to the gel in his hair. He feels the very last thing he wants: everyone’s eyes on him.

Henry excuses himself and leaves as fast as he can, stumbling into Pez and shirking him off on the way out.

•••

Alex finally feels cool again. He splashed some water on his face, unbuttoned his top button, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He looks impossibly chill considering he was just dumped.

Okay, not dumped. But he definitely feels better. Like Rafael Luna, his dad’s best friend. Luna carries himself with a swagger that Alex can’t resist.

After he tousles his hair one last time, Alex walks out of the bathroom, only to find Henry covered in faux snowflakes, looking like the abominable snowman from Monsters Inc. But he’s not cheerful like the yeti. He furiously swipes at his pant legs with one hand and curses at his phone in the other.

“Oh, man! Rough night, huh?” Alex says.

Henry freezes. He sizes up Alex and scowls. “Could you not?” He goes back to his phone, “Bea, just come pick me up when you get this, all right? Please,” and then hangs up.

“You’ve never looked better, honestly. I dig the winter chic vibe,” Alex teases. This is best thing that could’ve happened; his friends aren’t even going to mention the Nora thing when he gets back in the gym. For once, he’s not upset Henry has upstaged him.

Henry mumbles something and shrugs off his suit coat to wipe it down. Snow flurries from his clothing onto the cream linoleum flooring.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Unbelievable!’ As in, ‘Of course, the universe hates me enough to put you here right now!’” Henry’s face reddens.

Alex can’t believe this guy. He’s practically a prince! What could be wrong with his life? Well, his father’s death, but that was a few years ago. 

Alex googled Henry once or maybe twice—it’s irrelevant—and read about his famous father, who is Alex’s favorite Bond, for sure.

“So you messed up your suit? Big whup. I’m sure you have hundreds just like it. If not, the Fox-Mountchristen estate could probably cover it,” Alex says, crossing his arms. He’s surprised no adults have come to check on Henry. He’s not really sure what happened, but it was probably hilarious and well-deserved.

“You insufferable prick!” Henry shouts and throws the jacket at Alex. Before he can duck, it thwacks his face. He tastes the bitter snow in his mouth.

Alex scrunches it and throws it back. “You dickish, little drama king! You can’t handle the slightest bit of imperfection, can you? Heaven forbid, you’re knocked from your pedestal, and the rest of us mortals crack up!”

He knows this is stupid; he wouldn’t want people laughing at him either, unless it was intentional. In fact, he fled before his charismatic reputation was tarnished. Henry just brings something out of him—not the worst of Alex exactly, but the fight in him. Many a Model UN debates can attest to that.

Henry turns around and slams his fist against the black lockers. He flings the coat to the floor and leans on his forearm. “You haven’t got a clue, Alex,” he says. He sounds tired.

The muffled music from the dance echoes down the hallway. Posters on the walls and lockers advertise the dance, midterm tutoring, and the school-sponsored Spring Break trip to Peru. Alex watches Henry’s back go up and down with his breaths. A toilet flushes, and the sink is run before a girl walks out of the bathroom, past the boys, without a second glance.

Henry is right: Alex doesn’t have a clue. He knows people can hide their home lives. He hasn’t even told Liam about his parents fighting. How he’s heard the word “divorce” from both of them more than once.

And he’s pretty sure losing your father is worse than that; he wouldn’t know what to do without his own, no matter how much time had passed. And then to be moved across the sea to a new school, let alone a new country.

Damn. Alex sucks. And now he has to do something that would’ve made him throw up yesterday.

“Henry,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

•••

Henry can’t believe this—any of it.

Firstly, Alex Claremont-Diaz comes out of the bathroom as if he knew his nemesis was out there and wanted to catch him off-guard with his beautifully disheveled look. Henry blushes at the thought.

Secondly, after a row of which no teacher heard apparently, the aforementioned Alex Claremont-Diaz apologizes for the things he said. “Even though some of it was true,” he clarifies. Henry knows he’s right.

Thirdly, he and the godforsaken Alex Claremont-Diaz have been sitting next to each other on the floor for the past five minutes, just talking. Occasionally, Alex’s arm brushes against his and sends a tingle up his back.

If Henry didn’t know he was gay after consuming hours of Drarry and Wolfstar content, he knows now. As in, he finally realizes why he always looks for Alex in every room and why that boy gets under his skin so easily. 

He definitely cannot go to a lacrosse game, ever. He might die.

The bright bulbs from the bathroom and the blue hue from the gym doors’ windows light the otherwise dim hallway. Henry can make out the Coldplay song coming from the dance and plays the piano chords on his knees. The smell of old sweat and cleaner lingers in the air.

Henry likes that Bea insisted on a normal American education for the two of them and that his mother actually agreed; he just doesn’t enjoy the smells that accompany the experience. Or the horrid cafeteria food, for that matter. He tells Alex as much.

“Totally,” Alex says. “It must’ve been hard moving here. Even if I think you and your uppity family are ridiculous, leaving your home behind would suck for anyone.”

“Yes, it does. But Mum got this great job, which she wasn’t going to take until my grandmother and my brother Philip encouraged her to. ‘You need a fresh start,’ they said. She agreed, though I think her attitude is more about survival rather than actual happiness,” Henry says. “I, for one, would prefer to be home where Dad taught me to play cricket on the back lawn.”

He sighs. Alex doesn’t need to hear this, and giving him more information to use against him or to poke fun of is a disastrous idea. But it does feel good to talk about his father with someone who doesn’t know him and barely knows Henry.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Alex says. “I looked him up once, and he seems pretty cool.”

“He was, yes.” If Henry lets himself get too close to the cliff of grief, he’ll jump off and never be able to recompose himself, so he looks at Alex. “You looked me up?”

Alex sits up straight. “No, no! Your father!”

“You looked me up.” Henry smirks. His stomach flutters, and he doesn’t know what that means.

“I wanted to know what your deal was!” Alex says. “It’s not weird like that! I wasn’t stalking you or whatever.”

Henry laughs hard for the first time in a while. “I can’t believe I have enchanted you this much, Alex. What must I have done to peak your interest? Was it the defeat in during the foreign aid debate?”

“Okay, one, don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” Alex says, holding up a finger to silence Henry’s laughter, which it doesn’t. “And two, you were arguing on the behalf of an imperialist, asshole country. How was I, the humble yet fiery Mexican delegate, supposed to get you off your high horse after you started barking about your country’s economy?”

“Accept that I am the better diplomat.”

“I accept that you’re the bigger—what’s that British word? Wanker.”

Alex shoves him, but Henry shoves him right back. The two laugh together, and as it fades, Henry thinks that maybe they can finally get along—be friends, even. Though, he doesn’t know if that’ll make his heart race more or less when Alex is around.

“Want to go back in there?” Alex asks. “I know you’re still covered in fluff, but it’ll add to the ambiance.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Just then, Henry’s phone rings, and Bea’s name flashes on the screen. When he answers, she tells him she’s outside. Henry looks at Alex. While he has relaxed since the incident because of him, he’s not quite ready to face the rest of the school.

But the hesitation is duly noted and will be thoroughly examined tonight as he tries and fails to fall asleep.

He tells Bea he’ll be out in a minute and hangs up. “My sister’s here,” he says.

Dare Henry say Alex looks a little disappointed? The space between his dark eyebrows crinkles, and he shoves his hands in his pockets after they both stand up.

“Well,” Alex says, “maybe you and I could prepare for the meeting on refugees together when we get back from winter break.”

Henry blinks. “All right. We could do it at mine if you like.”

“Sure. I’m dying to see the palace,” he says. “Let me just get your number.”

After they exchange phone numbers, Henry watches Alex walk back into the gym. Thank god, he isn’t wearing better trousers, or Henry might’ve blushed. Actually, it doesn’t matter; Henry feels his checks get hot.

Outside, real snow dusts the school’s steps. Henry spots Bea’s headlights and walks to the car, enjoying the cool night air. He slips inside as his sister asks what the hell happened.

He knows it’s not the question she meant, but in his head he answers, “Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

[harringroveficlibrary]

Harringrove ABO Masterlist

someone asked for an abo masterlist, so here it is! 

this list isn’t sorted in any particular order, other than by date posted, which is the default on ao3. (newest -> oldest) i also didnt include every single fic in the abo tag because this list was already going to be a large post. if there are any fics i missed that someone thinks should be included, feel free to send an ask or to just reply to this post! :^) ♥  -cade 

updated: April 16th, 2020

Carnal by mrhiddles (1/1 | 4,001 | Explicit)

Steve goes into heat when Billy pulls up to school. Billy's the only one who can help him, or so Steve says.

The Case Where Billy Hargrove Turned Out To Be Not Your Average Alpha by Anonymous (1/1 | 3,249 | Teen+)

“I don’t spend heats with alphas.” Steve said, his gaze avoiding Billy’s.

Billy faltered at that, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I thought you’d spent your heats with people before?” Billy asked.

“Well yeah, but not with alphas.” Steve huffed.

“So— You’re a faggot?” Billy asked, his eyes widening.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Perfectly Unnatural by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 3,255 | Explicit)

‘You’re not an alpha in this house, boy. You’re not strong. You’re not even responsible with your sister. You don’t respect Susan. I thought I taught you enough in California.’

Neil’s words clang around Billy’s skull and burn the inside of his bones as he sits on the hood of his Camaro. The metal below his ass is warm from the engine just having been turned off, but the lights still spill out across the cliff. This place, nestled at the top and shrouded by trees, catches the wind just right. The wind bites through his jean jacket, settling close to his skin. The cherry red glow of his cigarette gives a false sense of warmth and puts Billy’s teeth on edge.

‘You’re unnatural.’

warnings: references to childhood abuse

Puppy Pile by Strawberry_Sweetheart (1/1 | 2,432 | Not Rated)

Steve forgets about his heat and thinks he has enough time to make a grocery run before it really hits.

He seems to have miscalculated.

Luckily, Billy is there’s to get him home safe.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

One Last Time by Strawberry_Sweetheart (1/1 | 3,157 | Not Rated)

It came with a phone call late at night, just past the witching hour. It was deathly quiet and dark, a new moon withholding any moonlight to chase the shadows away, and in that silence the piercing ring of the telephone downstairs cut through their dreams. A sleepy noise and wiggle came from the lump under Billy, shifting until it escaped Billy’s arms and legs that held it hostage.

Or

this is a requested fic for Alpha El + Billy and Steve being good parental figure types and helping her figure things out

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

So messed up, I want you here by Boudoir_Writer (1/1 | 3,942 | Explicit)

“I turned you bitch, Harrington.” His voice is gravel and petrol, his limbs and heart lead. “We’re never going to be done.”

warnings: dubcon

Smoke by Carerra_os (1/1 | 468 | General)

Billy is ditching class for a smoke break when Steve comes along. -

Originally this was written for You're Extra Special, Something Else. However that story went in a different direction.

Black silk and wild flowers by Catharrington (1/1 | 3,015 | Explicit)

Steve’s birthday was really just another day. The only thing that made it special was his fathers insistence on going to a party thrown for just him, a party filled with starving alphas with fat wallets all rutting against themselves to buy their own little omega. Steve hates what his father makes him do. Steve hates his birthday. Until Billy Hargrove crawls through his window to remind him it’s not all bad, silver lining in the clouds and shit, and brings him a present.

Drop (The Game) by MissGillette (3/3 | 42,080 | Explicit)

Billy has wanted a piece of Steve since spotting him on the school parking lot his first day. So when Steve flees the bathroom at Tina's Halloween party, distressed and about to drop, Billy does the only logical thing: follow the scent.

The Lucky One by wingedbears (1/1 | 6,881 | Mature)

In a world where on one arm is your soulmate's name, and the other's is your enemy's, omega Billy has to learn to let shit go.

Princess of the apocalypse by Boozombie (2/2 | 15,034 | Explicit)

Steve just wanted to keep his kids safe, and Billy knows how to use that.

warnings: rape/non-con

Princess that runs his world by Boozombie (3/3 | 11,747 | Not Rated)

Billy takes Steve to wash up and plans to get him alone for a date. Steve wants to bring his pack along.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, rape/non-con elements

lately i feel like i've been losing (my mind) by ToAStranger (1/1 | 3,162 | Explicit)

Billy hasn't felt right since the summer straight out of a horror movie. His instincts are all off. And Steve Harrington keeps looking at him.

Pothos by moonflowers (1/1 | 6,714 | Explicit)

He felt like the rabbit and the fox all at once, the thrill of chasing and being chased, a circle, whole. He might’ve felt stupid about it, if it hadn’t been so intense. Robin always told him he fell for people too easy – and fine, she was right – but this was something else. Or maybe not yet, but oh man he was starting to think he wanted it to be. And it was probably idiotic of him to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help but think maybe Billy did too; watching Steve from behind a tired and quietly angry veneer, a little twist of hope just visible through the mask.

Dubious Hijinks by Corvin (1/1 | 3,998 | Teen+)

Steve needs a buffer between him and the alpha his dad picked for him. The best option he can think of is an uncooperative Billy Hargrove.

with them indiana boys (on them indiana nights) by ToAStranger (1/1 | 4,842 | Teen+)

The thing is, when Billy first saw Steve Harrington, he knew.  

He grew up knowing.  It was hard not to, with all of those hormones and instincts running through his fucking veins.  He knew, one day, he’d run across someone that smelled so right, so fucking perfect that he’d want nothing more than to bury his face against their scent gland and breathe in until the smell becomes a taste becomes a sensation becomes--

Well.  The thing is, he’s always known.

None Brighter Than Your Eyes by Doodsxd (1/1 | 9,991 | Explicit)

Sex Ed course came once again, and, for the first time, Billy listened.

He listened, because it started to match and make sense with what Max’s little troup told him over and over again.

Apparently, it was biology which dictated that omega jewelry wasn’t just a futility or decoration, or even a signal that the omega was taken. It wasn’t a trade, sex for jewelry, like Neil had taught him all his life. No: scientists had found back in the sixties that omega jewelry has a soothing effect, especially during heat, as a reminder of love and affection; something tangible and available at all times, even when no one is.

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

"is that what you want, princess?" by greeneyedsourwolf (1/1 | 4,008 | Explicit)

Steve asks Billy if he wants to spend their first heat together.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Pool Time Stress by AMemoryDelayed (1/1 | 2,610 | Explicit)

Steve's been visiting the pool pretty frequently. He can't help it when he'd been carted along that one time. He can't stand to watch Billy eye other women. It makes him regret it too, and yet. He's excited when Billy barely even moves his gaze over to him. He gives Steve the slightest of grins from where he's sat at. He doesn't make any other sign to warn him of what's to come beyond that. Steve knows though.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Thanks Phyllis by Corvin (1/1 | 11,764 | Explicit)

Steve wants to start a family and asks Billy for help. What was supposed to be a purely professional exchange turns a lot more intimate than he expected.

Everything falls back by Crowweb (1/1 | 1,302 | Teen+)

Billy isn't home like he's supposed to and Steve gets a bad feeling through their bond. The alpha turns up beaten up after a couple of hours.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, blood

push him down (spread him out) by tol_sirion (1/1 | 3,529 | Explicit)

“It’s embarrassing.” Steve whines and covers his face instead.

Billy tuts. “None of that, now,” he says, and Steve slowly looks up, hands falling to each side of his head instead. “Just one more picture. One more, and I’ll give you what you want.”

And maybe it’s cruel, holding it over Steve like that. Like only if Steve is good and does what Billy says, he’ll finally get dicked down the exact way he wants, and not a minute before.

Woke Up Thirsty by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 3,256 | Explicit)

Billy shows up at the Byers house looking for Maxine. Instead, he finds Steve Harrington and a kind of surprising proposition.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Grace Me With Nothing But Patience by itscrybabyharrington (icanspelliero) (1/1 | 6,587 | Explicit) 

It started off as an itch beneath the surface of his skin, no matter how hard Steve pressed his nails could never dig through, could never scratch the discontent that simmered just beneath.

Tommy says it’s nothing, signs of an early rut approaching, meds wearing off after taking them for so long. Only Steve knows Tommy is full of shit and this doesn’t feel like a rut.

warnings: underage, offensive language used, homophobia

Buzzcut Season by Senowolf (1/1 | 6,332 | Teen+)

Steve always waits for Billy to come back to him.

I Wanna Be Loved by harringrovecryptid (13/13 | 51,993 | Explicit)

"Brenner Relations" was one of the most lucrative businesses in the modern age. But only its clients and staff actually knew how it made its money. Billy Hargrove found himself being one of those people. But the deeper he got involved with the shady industry, the more secrets he began to uncover regarding the omegas that are considered company property.

warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con elements

Assigned Alpha by Kiram (2/2 | 3,415 | Explicit)

Steve used to just be an unknown secondary gender till Billy Hargrove rolled into town. Steve’s stuck in a rock and a hard place and is inevitable forced to fold and give into his nature. Billy likes bugging Steve while simultaneously protecting him.

war song by themundaneweirdo (1/1 | 1,789 | General)

Steve misses his soldier.

Don't Take Your Time With Me by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 6,864 | Explicit)

Billy is usually a light sleeper. But when he’s drunk, it’s a completely different story.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, rape fantasy, implied/referenced sexual assault, implied/referenced child abuse

I Can Do That by captainwingdings (1/1 | 1,971 | Explicit)

Billy wants to help out with Steve's heat, so he shows him a taste of what he can do.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Hot Blooded by captainwingdings (1/1 | 4,463 | Explicit)

The new guy from California catches Steve Harrington's attention for more than one reason. Not only was he hot as hell and didn't know how to button his shirts, but he was the strangest omega that Steve had ever seen. 

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Moaning Lisa Smile by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 3,735 | Explicit)

Billy maybe kind of hides the fact that he’s an Omega because he’s too queer, and too pretty, and would rather not deal with a bunch of idiot Alphas trying to screw the gay out of him. But Steve’s not an Alpha. Steve is also very pretty.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, consent issues

Sweet Dream (Saccharine) by Highsmith (1/1 | 16,039 | Explicit)

Billy and Steve aren't friends, until they are, and they're not more than that, because the world doesn't work that way.

warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, recreational drug use

Pressing the accelerator down by Etnoe (1/1 | 6,229 | Explicit)

Heat season takes a toll of two alphas who can't find anyone to share a rut with. Aside, of course, from each other.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Keeping a bit of you by peirypatt (1/1 | 697 | General)

Over the years Steve's room has had several changes and seen many trends and phases, but there was only one thing that didn't belong to Steve inside his bedroom. A denim blue jacket.

It came naturally to us by peirypatt (1/1 | 650 | General)

Saying that Steve and Billy held hands in 1999 for the first time would be wrong and right at the same time. It's complicated, and at the same time, it's not.

Don't Belong To Anyone (Else) by sparkleeye (2/2 | 31,145 | Explicit)

And he does, just Billy’s fucking luck, because Harrington licks his lips and hoarsely goes, “I fucking knew it, fuck Hargrove, you’re in heat.”

He shudders as Harrington takes a step towards him. The tangy, warm scent of alpha has him struggling to stand upright, already slipping into the too far gone state and it’s fucking Harrington’s fault because he still won’t leave.

Better yet, he knows, he can smell the sweetness of omega, particularly herbal and saccharine like lavender and vanilla - Billy knows he smells like a girly little candle, okay - flooding the air between them. He could push Billy over and take him there, on the floor, push his face down onto the cracked, dusty concrete and fuck him stupid.

aka -- Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Upside Down, You're Turning Me by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 7,885 | Explicit)

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go into the middle of the fucking woods in below zero temperatures to find someone who is probably high as a kite and just having the time of his damned life?”

“We’re worried--” Max starts and Billy sneers.

“That sounds like a personal problem, Maxine. Steve is a big boy, an alpha, and can handle--” Billy tears his gaze away from Max as Dustin climbs on top of his hood and sits there. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Not moving,” Dustin shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Doctor’s Visit by HalfNakedWriter (1/1 | 2,320 | Explicit)

Steve goes for his 38 week appointment. 

'Cause We Feel Young and Wild by BeautyInChains (1/1 | 1,515 | Explicit)

Soon, is Steve’s best guess. Soon like the subtle itch beneath his skin that intensifies with each passing day. Soon like the voracity of his appetite as his body begins to prepare itself for the upcoming marathon. Soon like the aggression that continues to build and threaten to spill whenever another Alpha so much as glances Billy’s way. Soon like the way he’s been tenting his sheets, his slacks, his gym shorts at so much as a gentle breeze.

So when Billy texts him that morning, an eggplant emoji followed by the fire, peach, and splashing water emojis with not one but three question marks, Steve replies with Soon.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Lost My Mind by trimorning (1/1 | 1,564 | Teen+)

"I don't want to be dramatic."

He doesn’t know what Steve is going to say, which isn’t normal because he’s a predictable kind of mess, so it makes him feel vulnerable.

But its fine, its just Steve so it will undoubtedly be fine. Billy looks back at the other boy, “I can tell you right now, that you are physically incapable of not being dramatic, so continue.”

---- An a/b/o Harringrove one-shot that has little to do with a/b/o and more with Steve's flirty and messy ass. enjoy

Lavender by PoisonousFlower3 (1/1 | 756 | Mature)

"Billy hated being an alpha. He hated how it made his sense of smell stronger and smell the despair that always seemed to linger in this town. He hated how he was always so angry, though he knew that part of it was the abuse from his dad and his temper.

What he didn’t hate was how it let him get a good whiff of Steve whenever he was around."

In which case home starts to include Steve Harrington for Billy.

Red by PoisonousFlower3 (1/1 | 602 | Mature)

"Yeah, maybe things hadn’t started off the best for them but Billy was definitely in love." Another little drabble for two idiots in love

now I got you drunk, hot, and vulnerable (how do you like me now? do i turn you on?) by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger (1/1 | 6,807 | Explicit)

The first thing Billy notices is the scent.

Heady, sweet, electric. It makes his mouth water, the second he walks in. Makes every bone in his body sing.

Heatstroke by HobbitSpaceCase (1/1 | 8,022 | Explicit)

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It's too bad Billy can't have this every time.

warnings: dubcon, sad ending

Steve Forgets by femmesteve (1/1 | 1,242 | Explicit)

Steve forgets his heat and Billy is there to be a jerk and fuck him how he needs.

you scratch my back, i'll bite yours by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 2,363 | Explicit)

Billy rushes Steve's fraternity and gets in, which sucks, only when it doesn't. Drunk Steve has a hard time staying away from what isn't good for him.

bite me, but not too hard by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,854 | Explicit)

Steve debates whether or not he should spend his heat tranquilized.

your teeth go deep (it seems) by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,554 | Explicit)

Nothing about his life, or his love life, has been simple thus far. The trend continues.

eat me (let it run down your chin) by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 2,837 | Explicit)

Billy ends things with Steve. Sorta.

Nine to five. by Fanflick (9/9 | 34,301 | Explicit)

Steve knew that everything would ultimately come to this, working for his father at a boring office job. It wasn't easy being an omega in hiding, especially now since Steve's boss is the arrogant alpha Billy Hargrove. Now Steve has to work alongside his high school rival while also trying to save enough money to get away from his father. How hard can that be?

warnings: boss/employee relationship

Drunken Things by Rhiw (3/3 | 10,566 | Explicit)

Nancy and Steve break up before Tina's party. Steve finds himself on the rebound, damned and determined to have some fun. Billy just wants to get laid.

Aka: The ABO of Stranger Things no one asked for. Written while drunk, with drunk characters, and lots of angst and smut and shit. Enjoy.

warnings: underage

what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way) by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger (14/14 | 119,016 | Explicit)

Billy knew Steve Harrington would ruin him. Steve knew Billy Hargrove was nothing but trouble.

They never expected it to end up like this.

warnings: misogynistic language, ableist language, mentioned dubcon

turn me loose by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,321 | Explicit)

Billy is a dominant, powerful alpha with a slew of omegas dying to win his affection. He loves it, lives for it, except when he’s in rut. Steve is an omega and fights it every damn day. But when his body goes into heat, needs to breed, he can’t do anything to stop it. Billy is in rut and Steve is in heat when a freak heatwave knocks out the air conditioning in their shared apartment complex. Open windows and rampant hormones? What could go wrong?

Punch by hati_skoll (1/1 | 2,330 | Teen+)

Steve is dragged off by another alpha, Billy handles it.

A Start by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 5,574 | Explicit)

The quarry was always Steve’s go to when he needed a place to breathe, an area where the smells weren’t in his face and he could think straight. It was strange how one person’s heat could trigger another. Steve, a slightly cowed alpha after Hargrove rolled in, was done with the overpowering scents and the looks that were being thrown around.

He wasn’t interested in any of it. None.

So, when he pulled up onto the edge of the quarry and stepped out, he almost groaned at the smell that hit him. An omega. An omega in heat. Fuck. This is exactly what he had hoped to get away from. He was ready to slide back in and yank his car in reverse when he looked up and saw, exactly, what car was sitting to the side, shaded by an overcast of trees. If he hadn’t actually looked, it would have slipped away. He blamed his sharper senses, his need to search out the omega.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Slick by hati_skoll (1/1 | 2,028 | Teen+)

Steve gets wet for Billy.

(Less porn inside than implied.)

Hold Me Tight Or Don't by BTSBlossom (1/1 | 4,808 | General)

Billy has some news for Steve, he just doesn't know how to tell him. At least he knows he's got Ms. Byers on his side. She'll be there for Billy if Steve isn't.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, abortion discussion

Wrap Me Up (In Your Love) by LadyMoonveil (1/1 | 1,254 | Teen+)

In which Steve keeps stealing Billy's clothes, and Billy is terrified of the implications when he comes to the realization that Steve is nesting.

After everything that Steve has done for him, all Billy wants to do is be good to his mate. (Even if it means adding things to his wardrobe that sadly isn't denim or leather).

Make me feel special by pizzz_10 (1/1 | 1,577 | Explicit)

A short sweet omega fic where Billy is an omega and Steve is his alpha who loves to spoil him

bück dich by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 966 | Mature)

Billy Hargrove arrives in Hawkins, with Steve Harrington's name written on his neck.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, mild blood/slight gore

sandman by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 2,226 | Explicit)

Steve’s not a fighter. He sucks at it, actually. He’s a little soft, but he isn’t totally weak or awfully tiny. He’s a good Alpha in many of the ways that count! Just because he isn’t running around sleeping with anyone willing, picking fights, and beating people to death doesn’t mean he’s a bad Alpha. And though Billy might do all that, but he isn't a bad Omega.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Silk by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 3,393 | Mature)

In Indiana, Omega suppressants are banned. Billy runs out after a while.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 35 - Shore Leave

"How long will repairs to the typhoon take?" Toothdee asked Skye, the fox shoulder-deep into a small maintenance area inside the typhoon. The sounds of maintenance and machine tools were present throughout the whole ship.

"A few days at the least, likely longer." Skye said, exiting the maintenance area, "We sustained heavy damage in our battle with the Black Typhoon. I'm just glad we were able to get back to this US island."

"Same, luckily; we did get some technical teams sent out. So hopefully, we can get this ship fixed and rearmed fairly quickly."

"Skye," Retsuko said, coming up to the pair. "That armor panel you prioritized has been repaired, as has the damaged electrical components you prioritized. Oh, and Toothdee, we're 37% restocked when it comes to our bombs and missiles."

"Thank you, Retsuko."

The red panda left, looking over notes on a clipboard.

"I must say, Skye, your engineering skills really impress me."

"Thanks. I'm one of the most highly trained field agents in the ZIA. I've got Jack, myself, and other agents out of a jam more than once."

The fox grabbed some tools and went back into the maintenance area.

"I know we're on that list as well. Do you think I could convince you to stay on with Heroes after the war?"

"Hmmm... I'm not sure. I haven't thought about that much. I do like working for the ZIA, and they might have other missions for us after the war instead of working with you guys."

"Well, just know that there's always a place for you and Jack in Heroes."

"Thank you, I'm glad to hear it."

000

"Lion versus lion! Blade versus blade!" Laval said, taking up a defensive stance.

"This is where it all ends on this beach...." Kion said, readying his blade.

There was a pause, with only the feel of sand beneath the lion's feet, the gentle sound of the lapping of the waves on the shore, the occasional breezes blowing through their fur.

"YAAHHHHH!"

The lions roared and raced towards each other, blades colliding with a shower of sparks and the sound of metal clangs.

Blades clashed as the pair swung their blades and blocked incoming attacks. Both warriors were evenly matched and experts with their swords.

Laval kicked up some sand in Kion's face, blinding the young lion and placing him on the defensive as he rubbed his eyes.

Laval was quickly able to block his strikes with his enemy blinded and knock Kion on his back with a hard kick.

The downed lion looked up at his adversary, who was pointing a blade at his neck.

"I win! One point to me!" Laval said.

"Hey, using sand is cheating!" Kion said, getting up and washing his eyes with a bottle of water he set down on the sand.

"You have to be ready for anything!" Laval said, using his sword to cut a small tally mark in a palm tree nearby. He looked over the two sections of the chart cut into the tree, one side labeled L, the other labeled K. "We're even. You may be a little taller than me, but don't let that go to your head!"

"Point taken, say why are you and Eris roughly equivalent in height? I mean, wild lions and wild eagles aren't exactly the same in size."

"I mean, you could say the same thing for other species. Nick and Judy are roughly equivalent in height, much more so that their wild counterparts."

"Yeah... you've got a point..."

The pair of lions readied themselves for another battle, stretching and practicing their sword swings.

"We're also somewhat different in height, even though we're both adult lions."

"Yeah, maybe it's just natural differences since we're from different parts of the world. Chima has always been somewhat unique biology-wise."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not sure, it might have something to do with the chi, or maybe it's just natural circumstances. I'm not exactly a biologist, though."

"It kind of reminds me of how Komodo dragons are only found on one island in the world. I guess it's just a unique location that adds to the diversity mammals have."

"Sounds about right."

"Now then, where were we?" Kion said, taking up an offensive stance with his blade ready to strike.

"I was just about to beat you again!" Laval said, roaring a battle cry before charging forward.

000

"You know, I've said it before, but I'll repeat it. The food you have here is better than the food I had when I first moved to Zootopia!" Judy said, rummaging through the cabinets in the typhoon's kitchen. "Meat, veggies, snacks, sweets, this ship is so well stocked!"

"Well, a warrior needs essential vitamins and nutrients to keep themselves fit for combat," Alex said, sitting at a table and scrolling through something on his tablet. Nick sat across from him and enjoyed a Pawpsicle. "Not only that, but better quality food keeps morale up."

There was a ding, and Judy retrieved her "carrots for one" dish from the microwave before sitting down with Nick and Alex. She pulled the metal covering off the dish, revealing three plump and juicy carrots.

"Look at that! When I first came to Zootopia, I got one tiny shriveled-up carrot, not carrots that actually look like what's on the cover!"

The rabbit pointed to the picture on the dish's covering.

"Eh, I'm more of a burger kind of person," Nick said.

"You're always eating fast food like chips and take out. You really should eat better."

"Well, next time we can get takeout, I was thinking of... oh wait, Alex, we can still eat Chinese food, right?"

"Yeah, duh. In fact, the Chinese food you eat isn't even actual Chinese food. It's an American creation."

"Oh, totally fine to eat then."

"All this talk of food reminds me. JayJay told me that wolves actually need meat to survive. Some humans don't eat meat, but wolves can't do that."

"Ah, yeah, you're going to have to get used to some of the differences between species."

"Yeah," Judy said, her mouth full of carrot." For example, I didn't know that foxes bite to show affection, so it was a surprise when Nick first did that."

"And I didn't know that rabbits rub their chins on things to mark them, so I was rather confused when that first happened."

"Well... she did nibble on my ear," Alex said. "That definitely surprised me."

Nick and Judy chuckled a bit.

"Although... fair warning..." Judy said. "Not all mammals are very accepting of different species relationships."

"Yeah, I know. But do you think some jerks are going to scare me?"

The fox and bunny chuckled again.

"Nah, you two will be fine," Nick said.

000

"Our warship is gone!" Dark JayJay said. "We've lost. It's just the two of us now."

"I concur," Dark Alex replied as the pair walked down a dark hall in a Chinese facility.

"All we can do now is inflict as much damage as possible on our enemy." He said, "But I will be sending you to where this all started. One of the artificial islands in the South China Sea."

"We should never have set foot on that island. Look where we ended up. We should see about calling for aid."

"I agree, but we will make our enemies pay a hefty price in blood for all they have wrought on us. However, I need you to make sure the information about what we did at the start of this conflict stays secret."

"Ok, I can manage that."

"We have tried to keep this information hidden before. But now, you must dispose of anyone or anything that risks revealing the truth."

The dark wolf nodded and went to prepare.

"Oh, and one more thing..."

Dark JayJay paused for a moment and turned to her ally.

"Don't do anything rash unless you have to. Follow your objectives, but keep that data out of enemy hands, at all costs."

[storybycorey]

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

(Full Version, A-Z)

author: @storybycorey

rating: R

word count: approx. 8000

summary: The ABC’s, as told by Fox Mulder.

For those of you looking only for part Z, just scroll a bit more than halfway down!  (or take a read back through the whole thing- there are references back to the first 25 letters in the final installment!)

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days.  Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him.  Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things.  He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there. 

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably.  Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting.  On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer.  The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch). 

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back.  With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now). 

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise.  His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days.  Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal.  But Dana is an enigma.  He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free.  It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path. 

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know.  He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really.  But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse.  The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly.  Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas?  He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.  

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between.  He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays. 

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife?  Girlfriend?”  

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes.  Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice.  He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried.  Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away?  Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything. 

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.  

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha.  Spin the Globe it was called.  They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away.  He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head.  Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully.  Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe.  Antarctica. 

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder.  That was more extraordinary than any adventure.”

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand. 

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire.  He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand.  It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm…,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute. 

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.” 

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip.  He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket.  The nice thing about it?  She doesn’t even pretend not to want it.  She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in.  They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub.  She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years.  Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.   He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned. 

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it.  It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks.  He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars... 

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres.  Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this:  In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time. 

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks.  It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.  

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.  

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.  

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully.  He’s not sure what else he expected.  Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.  

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day.  He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes?  Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe...”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.”   He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.  

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then.  Tomorrow...”

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

N is for No

He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, we’re better as friends. No, Mulder, I don’t love… The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that. 

He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchor—hair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.

Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesn’t roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk.  She giggles.  Bile rises in his throat.

No, Mulder, I’ve fallen for someone else…

He should leave, but Channing’s next words stop him cold. “How about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?”  

She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulder’s despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition.  

“Thank you, Rick, but no. I’m already…”  She smiles gently at him—him Mulder, not him Rick— “No,” she says again, then excuses herself down the hall.  

He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word he’s ever heard.

O is for Opal

His birthstone is opal.  Not that he’d ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone gifts—a topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.

Scully’s skin reminds him of that handle—the soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows she’d scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings can’t glow, don’t be ridiculous. But she does—she glows just like an opal.

The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer.  Her hand, her cheek—the safe parts of her body he’s been allowed to touch—they don’t even compare to the decades-old trinket.  He can’t imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be.  The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.

P is for Plum

Scully goes on kicks sometimes—bee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.

Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. There’s no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chin—his eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail.  

She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.

“Sorry!” she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb.  How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten.  

“No takebacks, Scully,” he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.

Q is for Quest

This job of theirs, it’s more than a job.  More than a career path.  It’s a downright quest.  

He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. There’s a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that.  

Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barber’s basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcinea— out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch.  

He sometimes can’t believe she’s still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends.  It astounds him really.  

And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isn’t so far away, that’s when he really believes—that being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.

R is for Rebel

Dana Scully is a rebel.  She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, there’s a troublemaker lurking.  It’s what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.

He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.

His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. They’ve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending I’m too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay.  

Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the last— hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.

His rumpled, sleepy little rebel.  She’s a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And he’s being as patient as he can be.

S is for Sexy

She’s sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself.  For the longest time, he blamed his body’s reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell… But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.

Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front.  Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she should’ve been, when cancer stole her color but didn’t steal her soul. And then there’s today. Today when there’s no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, “I think you may be right, Mulder,” tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.

What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isn’t on the outside at all; it’s what lies beneath—that intangible something that makes her Scully. That’s the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.

T is for Toes

She’s got cute little toes.  She’s got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one.  She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.

“Wanna stretch out?” he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.

He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum.  It’s all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest.  

Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie they’d been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going.  

As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, “The masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekends…”

She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, “Careful, I may just take you up on that…” before stepping onto the elevator.

U is for Umpteen

“Umpteen’s not a word, Mulder,” she tells him, eyes rolling, “It has no specified value.”  

She’s got a point of course.  They don’t have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve.  But umpteen is most definitely a word.  

Umpteen’s how many times he’s forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting.  Umpteen’s how many fantasies he’s had about sliding his hands through her hair.  Umpteen’s how many times she’s walked out the door, how many times he’s kept from going after her, how many times he’s sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteen’s how many times he’s wanted to kiss her.  It’s also how many times he hasn’t…

He chuckles, dipping his chin, “You’re right, Scully. We’ve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...”

Umpteen is how many times he’s said her name, it’s how many times what he’s really wanted to say was I love you.

V is for Volume

They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I can’t think over the noise she says).  He usually lets her win. 

Their relationship has its own volume control, he’s realized.  There are times when it’s loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn.  Other times it’s low—murmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly it’s somewhere between.  They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America. 

Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left.  Soft.  The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.

It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. I’m ready when you are."

W is for Wristwatch

This job has done a number on his wardrobe.  Jackets, slacks, shoes—all gone the way of the incinerator—either damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed.  Scully’s hasn’t fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.

His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch.  

There’s a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he needn’t even guess whom it’s from.  

“Scully,” he protests, but she stops him.

“Just open it, Mulder.”

It’s a watch—of course it’s a watch—a beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. “You didn’t need—” he begins, but she interrupts him again.  

“It was my father’s,” she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, “I’ve held onto it since… Here, let me.” She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.

“It looks good,” she whispers, “It brings out your… It looks nice—you’ve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuates—”

He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes.  “Thank you,” he tells her, “I love it.”  

There’s no way this watch lands in the incinerator. He’ll protect it with his life if he has to.

X is for XFiles

The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does.  It’s his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks it’s become hers, too.  They’ve created their own little world down here—a cozy, paranormal universe—and Scully’s as much a part of that universe as he is.

She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner.  It’s funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery.  She’s the very definition of an X-File.  It floors him that she chooses this life, that she’s willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.

There was a time he couldn’t have imagined not seeking the truth.  These days though? These days he’s beginning to believe he’s been searching in all the wrong places.  

The truth can’t be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields.  The truth—the real truth— exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.

It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.

Y is for Yawn

She yawns as he speaks, but it doesn’t bother him. Things feel sleepy—dreamy— tonight.

It’s been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and she…He’s not even sure what she’s been doing, doesn’t know that he wants to.  All he knows is that she’s here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.

It’s hard not to babble when he feels this good; he’s drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.

“And that says a lot… a lot, a lot, a lot…” Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life.  

He touches her hair—he can’t bear not to—covers her with a blanket to keep away the chill.  Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.

Z is for Zipper

He’s awoken by the sound of her skirt zipper, the dip of the mattress as she sits on the bed.

“Scully?” He’s not sure how long he’s been out, but the stillness in the air and a new moon slanting through the blinds suggest hours.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, “I tried not to wake you...” He’s never heard her voice in his bedroom this late at night. It’s softer than he’d imagined. Younger. “It’s late.  I’m not sure I should drive.  Do you mind if I—” 

“Sure, yeah.” He props up on an elbow. “Do you want me to…” He motions toward the living room, still half-asleep but awake enough not to assume anything he shouldn’t. Hotel room sleepovers (which they’ve partaken in) are in a different category than apartment room sleepovers (which they haven’t), and he knows this.

“I don’t mind,” she answers in silhouette, slipping off her skirt, “…not if you don’t.”  She’s stolen her way beneath the sheets before he has the presence of mind to offer her something to wear. 

“Of course not.”  He can’t think of anything he’d mind less than Scully lying beside him in his bed, near enough he can smell this morning’s perfume still on her skin.

She settles, and is so close, her breaths tickle his bare shoulder. Once, twice, three times.  He shudders. 

They’re quiet.  He listens to her nighttime sounds—the swish of her hair against the pillow, the cadence of her breaths, the occasional wet slide of her tongue across her lips. He wishes he had his little recorder on the nightstand. He’d make a mixtape, label it Sounds of Scully and play it every night for the rest of his life.  

He longs to touch her.  A hand, a foot, even just the tip of a finger. 

They lie there long enough and silently enough he thinks she may have fallen asleep, but then she shifts. Or he shifts. Or maybe they both shift, but out of nowhere her still sweater-clad back spoons perfectly against his chest.

A quiet gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t readjust. Neither of them breathes.

“Is this… okay?” he asks finally.

“Yeah, it’s…” The heel of her foot brushes his shin. “It’s nice.” 

Quiet again. His arm finds a place to rest wrapped around her waist.  His thighs nudge her bottom.  Her skirt is off, and possibly her nylons, too, but he thinks instead about her hair tickling his nose, her sweater against his belly.  He doesn’t think of other things—won’t let himself.

It’s nice was an understatement though. It’s so much more than nice.  He’s needed this, wanted this, for such a long time.  Even if this is all it is—the two of them spooned together in his bed until morning.

She snuggles a bit closer, slips a small, cold foot between his legs. He thinks about her pale pink toenails, he thinks about Dulcinea, he thinks about being number sixteen on a list he’s sure he was never meant to read.  He adds to his mixtape the sound of her hum when his thumb brushes the rose-petal skin of her arm.

“Foxtrot,” she murmurs sleepily.

“Hmmm?” He nudges the back of her head with his nose.

“Nothing,” she chuckles, “Just a passing thought...”

“Can’t have passing thoughts without sharing.  Bedroom rules.”  It’s strange how natural this feels, bantering with her in his bedroom, pretending this sort of thing happens often enough that rules have been made.

“Oh, in that case, maybe I’ll…” She makes to leave, pushing away covers and beginning to pull from his arms.

“Don’t you dare,” he threatens, tugging her back, wasting no time in snuggling her in even closer, wrapping himself around her like a question mark, which seems almost comically apropos on a night like this. She giggles, just barely, but it’s perfection, the sound of Scully giggling in his bed late at night.

“No, it was just…,” she continues, turned serious again.  “My father was obsessed with the military phonetic alphabet—Alpha, Bravo, etcetera...  He named my brother Charlie.  It just occurred to me that if your father had been the same, maybe you’d be Foxtrot instead of Fox.”

He chuckles. “Guess I should count myself lucky then.  Would’ve been a lot to live up to in the ballroom classes my mother made me take…”  She hums in amusement, and the vibration travels all the way through to his chest.  “Sounds like you’re a bit lucky, too.  Unless I’m mistaken, it was Dana, not Delta, who snuck into my bed tonight...”

“Hmm,” she ponders, “Maybe Delta's not as brave as Dana is....” He sometimes thinks nobody’s as brave as Dana Scully is, least of all himself. “Frankly,” she adds, “I always fancied Juliet anyway.”

“Juliet—I like it.”  He pictures her out on a balcony, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, lover’s name tumbling from her lips.  “You’d need a Romeo…”  He doubts Wherefore art thou, Mulder is quite what Shakespeare had in mind.  

“Who says I haven’t got one?” she flirts.  Her hand rests just inches from his own, and he twines their fingers together, curls them against her abdomen. He sometimes wonders how his heart can possibly contain the amount of love he feels for her. People die of broken hearts; do they ever die of ones so full, they’re overflowing?  

“Hey,” he murmurs into her hair, “What’s got you thinking about all this at…,” he tilts back his head to squint at the clock, “…one o’clock AM?” Her body is warm and impossibly perfect against him.

“I guess…,” she says, a contemplative tone to her voice, “I don’t know. These last few days have been a lot.  I’ve been forced to consider things I haven’t thought about in years. My past, the way things used to be... What I used to assume my future looked like.”

“How’d it look?” They’re both nearing that point these days, where their paths can’t just keep continuing in the same straight line. They’re nearing a fork, he can feel it.  Question is, will they both continue in the same direction?

“When I was a little girl,” she begins, “I was surrounded by Navy men, Navy wives, Navy families.  We were taught call letters before learning our ABC’s.  I always felt that sort of life was expected of me, too.” His air conditioner kicks on, fills the room with a gentle whirr.  She burrows even closer. “It’s just funny how far we stray from what’s expected…”

“No more call letters, huh?” His lips catch on her hair as he talks.  It’s wonderful.

“No, I guess not…To be honest, I sort of miss them.  Things were simpler then.  There were right choices and wrong choices, or at least it seemed that way.”

He realizes as they lie there that this moment is the fork in his path.  That though the line between right and wrong choices may be blurred these days, there’s one choice he’s never once questioned.  Dana Scully is the rightest choice he’s ever made.  With her mouth full of questions and her head full of answers, her ever-arched eyebrow and her ever-open heart—she’s been his choice, his only choice, from the very beginning.  

Scully is the Juliet to his Romeo—hell, she’s the Delta to his Foxtrot.    

“Scully,” he murmurs, heart beating bravely in his chest, “Have I ever told you about the Fox Mulder alphabet?”

“Hmm, let me guess...” There’s humor in her voice, that wry Scully humor he adores. “A is for Alien, B is for Bounty Hunter, C is for….  Am I close?” Christ, but he loves this woman.

He pokes her gently in admonishment, answers, “Good try, smartypants, but no… No, you’re actually not close at all.”

“Tell me then, Mulder.” She pulls their hands up to rest beneath her cheek. “Tell me about your alphabet.”  

And so he does. He takes a deep breath and he does.

He begins at the beginning. A is for Apple.

He tells her how watching her eat an apple once made him ache for her, how he can’t bite into a Red Delicious, or a Fuji, or even a Grannysmith anymore without thinking about her lips.

It scares him, being this honest, but there’s something in the air tonight, something in her mood, in the way she slipped off her skirt and climbed into his bed after falling asleep on his couch.

She’s quiet while he speaks, still—eerily so. Her breaths fall quickly against his hand. He’s sure he can feel her heart beating, or maybe that’s just his own, pounding much too dramatically within his chest. There’s a lump in his throat as he finishes, the No that’s terrified him for close to seven years dangling above like an anvil from some misguided Loony Tunes short.  

He waits.  And he waits.  And is about to apologize for assumptions he shouldn’t have made when—

“More,” she breathes.

Not no.  More.

He burrows his nose in her hair, presses a kiss of relief to her ear.

He gives her more, he gives her everything—he pours his entire heart out into silly little stories about a basketball game, about candlelight illuminating the skin of her back. The words spill out more quickly than he intends them to, but the dam has been breached; he cannot stop it.

She’s quiet through the basketball game, quiet again through the candles. Her little body doesn’t move. He understands. He knows it’s a lot to take in—the flood-like musings of Fox Mulder’s mind.  Her ears are all he asks of her tonight.

By the time he’s reached D though, she gives him more than her ears. “D is for Dana,” he begins softly. And instead of more silence, she whispers his name.  

By E, there are tears at her cheek. He wonders for an instant whether that long-ago jewelry store could possibly still be open, whether she’d wait for him here while he makes a quick trip.  

By F, she’s pressing barely-there kisses to his knuckles. Friends don’t do that, he’s sure.  Their relationship may be uncertain, but friends don’t press kisses to knuckles, they don’t lie in beds at one in the morning, tell stories in hushed whispers with backs pressed to chests.

By G, she’s murmuring my God against his palm, Mulder against each of his fingertips. His basement globe spins and it spins. Never could it have predicted an adventure like this.

H… I… J... Her toes slide along his shins, they follow the curves of his arches. Her long-lost jacket hangs nestled in his closet not ten feet away.

K... “New Year’s Eve, Scully… That kiss…”  He tells her she’s all he could want from this millennium, or the next, or even the next (that’s illogical, Mulder, he expects her to say).  She doesn’t though. She doesn’t say that.  Instead, she turns in his arms, raises big, wet eyes up to his.

“Keep going…,” she urges him on when he pauses, “Please, Mulder, keep going.” Her fingers tremble as they move across his chest.

And so he keeps going. L... (“Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully,” he breathes)… M… N… With each new letter, her touches grow surer—small, gentle hands find his ribs, his shoulders, the wildly-beating pulse at his neck.  By O, those same hands are in his hair, they’re cradling his cheekbones, they’re fingering the soft, curved shells of his ears.

P... “That plum,” he whispers, “…the juice…your thumb...” Her thumb (the same one he sucked into his mouth so many months ago) skims over his stubbled chin, makes its tentative way to his lips. His tongue steals out for a taste, and she sucks in a breath, her eyes fluttering shut. She drags her hand away before he can swallow her whole.

Q... (“Dulcinayyy-uhhh,” he sings quietly)… R… The heat of her breath hits his neck, hovers beneath his jawline until he can barely speak. “Don’t stop,” she whispers when he falters.  Her mouth slides against his throat and he groans.

S… T...  By U, he can’t keep from touching her.  A hand tangles finally in her hair, the other slips beneath her sweater and molds to the warmth of her back. She whimpers, her body arching sharply against him.  Umpteen is the number of times this very scenario has played itself out in his dreams.

By V, his lips are at her temple, “V is for Volume” spoken directly against her skin. She turns the dial all the way to the left, sighs so softly he almost misses it.

W and X fall between kisses, his lips on her eyelids, at her jaw, wrapped around the lobes of her ears. Barely-there whimpers slip from the back of her throat, and he reaches for that imaginary recorder, adds them to his mixtape as well.  Her legs tangle with his and he pulls her even closer.

“Y is for Yawn,” he murmurs against her hairline, “Tonight, out there, while we sat on the couch…”

“I’m not…,” her voice is low and husky, so close to his ear that he shivers, “…m’not yawning now, Mulder…”

He shifts, rests his forehead against her own.  Hot, ragged breaths collect on the pillow between them.  He can hardly believe a few hours ago, they were out on his couch drinking tea, a few years ago, they were meeting in the basement for the very first time.

“What about…,” she breathes, the tip of her nose nudging his, “What about Z?”  Their hands roam freely now, sensuous and slow.  She angles her pelvis against his, presses softly.

“Z…,” he barely gets out, “…is for Zipper.” She’s trembling against him, and it’s the sexiest thing in the world.  “The zipper from your skirt that woke me half an hour ago, the zipper that—”

She swallows the rest of his words with a kiss, open-mouthed and desperate, body melting against his.

Her lips, her tongue, the flutter of her fingers at his cheek… He forgets about candles, about earrings, about Rick Channing and Don Quixote and even about the wristwatch lying just across the room on the dresser.  He forgets about everything in the world except Scully and her mouth, about the way she kisses him with her whole damn body, with hands in his hair and toes flexed at his shins and hips arched so divinely against his, he worries he’ll faint.

As her sweater slides over her head, he marvels at the way everything has fallen into place, how a crisp, juicy apple led to a basketball game, how sleepy, sexy yawns led to the undoing of zippers, how all of it combined led to them being here, now, discovering each other for the very first time.

Their lovemaking is slow, achingly so.  It’s the Standard English Alphabet, the Military Phonetic Alphabet, and the Fox Mulder Alphabet combined—whimpers and sighs and Romeo and Juliet and ice cream and globes and… Amazingly, in the end, it all makes perfect, wonderful sense.

As they move together, the beginnings of a new alphabet emerge in his head—A for the arc of her hips as they rise; B for her short, quickened breaths; C for her cries, for her moans, for her whines; D for the softest derriere he’s ever held in his palms; E for her elbows, laid either side of his ears; F for fuck, for oh holy fuck, Scully, sweetheart, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…

“It’s crazy really, isn’t it?” he murmurs afterwards, Scully tucked beneath his arm, her leg slung sweetly over his sweat-damp thigh.

“Hmm?”  Her fingers play at his lips, trace over and around and between.  

“That it took us seven years…,” he mumbles around a pinky, “…when in the end, it really was as easy as learning our ABC’s.”

She hums, presses a kiss to his chest right above a nipple. “You could have had me all the way back at C if you’d wanted to, Mulder...”

He smiles, pulling her impossibly closer.  Her breasts are soft against his chest and her chin rests at his shoulder, and for a moment, all is right in their windmill-riddled, impossible dream of a world.  

“I think Z was perfect,” he says, kissing the disheveled part of her hair, “Absolutely perfect.”

[kevindayprotectionsquad]

The Foxes and their totally real horseback experience

Okay, so, I made this in the Kindle app notes on like my second or third reread of the Kings Men so bear with me, but here is how I think horseback riding went for the Foxes. This is also loosely based on my own experiences lol!  

Neil: The vacation was his idea, so he feels obligated to join when it is decided (suggested by Allison) to go horseback riding. He is actually super nervous go, both because of his injuries and because he’s never even seen a horse up close before. It helps to see the upperclassmen (and Nicky) so excited. He never even had a fish growing up, so he has no animal experience, and doesn’t understand how he is supposed to control a whole horse. On a good day, where he was feeling himself and not like a walking pin cushion, he would struggle with the concept of riding. Now he has to worry both about not hurting himself more AND control an animal that is much bigger than him. Luckily he gets a sweet, old gray horse that just follows the other horses, and doesn’t even need Neil. 

Andrew: Is. Absolutely. Terrified. Internally screaming the entire time, but will not admit it. He refuses to look like a wimp in front of everyone. When they are brushing the horses, he is holding the brush as far away from him as possible. The pinto pony swishes her tail and stomps at a fly, and it takes everything in Andrew to not jump out of his skin. Neil has to talk him into finishing brushing her. He makes sure Neil is on safe first before even worrying about getting on himself. He contemplates just walking away, but forces himself (with a pep talk from Neil) to get on the pony. He wants to be offended they gave him a tiny pony, but he is also grateful he doesn’t have to get on anything bigger. He has exactly zero trust in the pony. He spends the entire ride counting down until he can be done with the whole thing. 

Kevin: Poor Kevin also struggles with the concept of riding. It’s not like exy where he is in complete control of his racket and where he sends the ball. Horses think for themselves, so whats stopping them from killing all humans? He tries to tell himself this is just another sport, and that he can do it. He pays close attention to the instructions on how to get the horse to walk, how to steer, and how to stop. He starts to feel more confident... Until his horse starts walking. The bay mare is absolutely not going to hurt him, but she also isn’t going to let him just sit there. If he wants her to stop, he has to make her stop. He has the “I don’t want to hurt her” mentality, and she takes advantage of him. By the end of the ride, he has gotten the hang of it, and has decided he loves the mare. He secretly named her Athena. He thought it was fitting. 

Aaron: Also. Absolutely. Terrified. Just like Andrew. Does not trust his pinto pony. He thinks he’s too good for the whole thing, but he will be damned if he is going to be shown up by Neil and Andrew. He stays as far from the pony as possible. When he finally gets on, he realizes sitting there is not that bad, but as soon as the pony starts walking he goes into Panic Mode. It doesn’t help that the pony keeps getting left behind and speeding up to catch back up with the the others. Aaron is only happy when he is safely on the ground on his own two feet. 

Nicky: Is so excited. His favorite part is grooming his horse. He loves how soft the horses are. Especially their noses. He sneaks pictures of the twins brushing (being terrified) their ponies. He loves that the twins got matching ponies. When he is on, he really wants to gallop, but thinks trotting is too fast. Luckily his black gelding is the patient sort, and knows when Nicky is asking for more than he can handle, and takes good care of him. Nicky has an absolute blast. 

Matt and Dan: They feed off each others energy and have similar reactions to the horses. They are in awe and want to learn as much as they can about the horses. Dan asks a million questions and Matt is right next to her listening carefully. Matt doesn’t want help putting his saddle on and accidentally puts it on backwards. Luckily, the sorrel gelding forgives Matt when he gives him a cookie. Dan loves how bold her black mare is, but is a little nervous to get on. She gets over it quickly when she see Matt get on. He is immediately having fun, and Dan doesn’t want to miss out. Matt decides he wants a horse ranch when he retires. Dan lets him dream. 

Renee: This isn’t Renee’s first time around horses. She participated in a horse therapy program for at risk youth after escaping the gang, and actually really enjoyed it. It was similar to the trail ride operation.The gray mare she is assigned to loves her, and Renee loves her right back. No one is shocked. Everyone loves Renee, why wouldn’t animals love her as well. She happily chills in the back of the group, letting the mare pick her own pace. 

Allison: This is also not Allison’s first time around horses. Horseback riding is a rich person’s game. The social aspect, the fashion, the blatant flaunting of money. When she was younger, before exy, Allison rode competitively. She was an eventer, much to her parents dismay. They wanted her to be a hunter/jumper. Thats what all the other girls in the family’s circle of frends were doing. But Allison loved the thrill of going full speed on a cross country course, the adrenaline rush she got in a stadium jumping jump off, and loved all eyes being on her in the dressage ring. The hunter ring didn’t offer her any of that, and she gave it all up for exy. She doesn’t regret it. A trail ride with her teammates isn’t the same, but she gets quite the kick out of watching them all trying to figure the horses out. The trail guide gives her the difficult chestnut mare and Allison has to chuckle to herself. She always loved the sassy ones. Up until the trail ride, Allison had never shared her horse person side with her teammates, but she couldn’t help but show off a little. Seeing all their faces when she sends her borrowed horse over a fallen tree was priceless. 

[wwounu]

demonangel!wonwoo — heaven & hell soundtrack

—170796; for my dearest wonwoo, who deserves so much more

note: a mini snippet of my ideas, let me know if you want to see more of demonangel wonwoo~

wonwoo wasn’t any typical being of the sort, typically you would be divided into either one of three groups

angels, demons or a demi — humans who are either half angel or half demon

there was rarely a case of demons and angels clashing together as their worlds are strict to keep each other away from the alter, despite living in the same world after several battles in years beyond mankind

so when news spread about this forbidden clash amongst the angels and demons after so many years — it caused fuss all around

for angels, he’s been classed as impure

demons? a disgrace, a disappointment

there were more words for demons to call him but, those were the frequently used ones

demis were the least against wonwoo in any shape or form, knowing what it feels like to be half

on the other hand, the celestial side of the demi’s parents would warn about the demonangel, scared they might be harmed

but what’s so bad about wonwoo?

wonwoo, luckily, was born in peace and quiet, reflecting the child he’ll later be in life

his mother, an angel, and his father, a demon, chose to raise him in safety and away from those who could harm him

though they thought that he could be raised to be defined as one sub-being to cover up his truth, there was one complication

his wings — a crutial moment in angel and demon growing up

it’s the equivalent to a newborn’s pain when their teeth is trying to rip through their gums

and when wonwoo grew his first few wings, even his parents didn’t expect this to happen

white, silk-soft feathers with silver lining to add onto its delicate look, gorgeously complimenting him

but through the mixes of developing wings fades in a midnight black, speckled with gold at the rims, beautifully destroying against the white; practically a dead give-away to the celestial world

wonwoo never took it into consideration as a child, finding it the norm to have parents and wings such as these

even on opposite sides, having to work by themselves, his parents do the best to keep him as neutral as possible so that he won’t lean into any side — keeping unbiased at all times

he’d be taught the bad and the good, the sad and the happy, the right and wrong all in hopes to understand the world a bit more

going into the celestial world was a challenge — people would frequently look at wonwoo as he strolls with his mother, often asking (and shying away while doing so) why does everyone look at me all the time?

wherein his mother would smile and pat his cheek, replying because your wings are so beautiful darling

in most occasions, wonwoo would go out with his mother more as it was more risker to be seen with his father, the demons on his side wouldn’t take wonwoo’s presence lightly

and the innocent wonwoo isn’t yet aware of how cruel the world can be despite the roles this celestial world has to play

that is, until he grows up

he begins to understand his differences when he’s 10 the moment his friends’ parents would tell his friends to stay away from him

so his mind tries to connect pieces together until he realises that his wings is what gives him away the most, soon being the core of why he’s so insecure of himself

it was so bad at one point that he would go home and try to cut off the black feathers on his wings, stopping as it was too much pain to bare

he fully stopped the bad habit on the night his father came in and saw the blood drip down the structure of his wings, finding a teary wonwoo in so much pain

he grows up more and he’s the brightest and smartest amongst most angels and demons — if it wasnt for everyone else

being a naturally gifted student was something to be praised for

but wonwoo? it seemed like a sin

they would blame him for using his over-looming power, which confuses wonwoo because he’s just the same as them, or hexing everyone to believe that he’s someone he’s not

when wonwoo would convince everyone he wasn’t being a fake, no one would hear him out, excluding wonwoo from the picture often

from time to time he would seem down about that fact, but he was better off on his own anyway, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being alone all the time

he would sneak out and find a nice field of untouched, cotton-felt clouds to sit and look at either the moon, suns and stars

or he would look at the nothingness below the celestial world, often curious what’s down there

demons call it the void, angels call it the land of man, too far to see from above and where some demis lived, factually labelling the nothingness as the earth

wonwoo liked that name

another crucial part to is life is the moment he’s able to form into his fated animal — like how his mother forms into a elegant fox and his father, as typical for a demon, a snake

he wasn’t surprised when he could turn into a cat of pure white and sapphire eyes, not knowing how to control his tail because it kept hitting him

however he was surprised that when he looked into a mirror, another miraculous thing occurred

his reflection, instead of showing a cat with snow fur, mirrored a black contrast to it, with amethyst eyes staring into his blue pupils

again, something that his whole family did not expect

they didn’t even think twice that wonwoo could also turn into an owl — the perks of being part of two alters, wonwoo muses, growing fond of his differences

this time his feathers matched accurately to his contrasting wings and his owl abilities made him be able to turn his head so many times

best believe wonwoo got whiplash from it

in the end, wonwoo decided to prefer his owl form more, as he was too worried that being a cat would raise eyebrows if they saw a completely different cat in the reflection of a mirror

it’s also how he first explored the earth when he snuck down

(*snuck in his owl form, never mind the cat one)

and he was smitten upon first glance, which is a lot to take in since wow, he really likes this more than the heavens and hell

what felt like a few minutes became hours, just exploring cities, lands and countries that he couldnt tell apart because he never got exposure to them

so the moment he came back to the celestial world, only a few minutes since he left despite flying for a long time (the celestial world’s days last longer), he hurried to the celestial world’s library-equivalent to look up everything he can about the human world

ever since then, he would often ask questions to a few demis, who were unusually more accepting than angels or demons

now he’s aware about humans, the ‘turning points’ in history for humans and the horrid things like war, wondering what actions led them to do so

but he also realised the angels and demons that contributed through the small text on the bottom, saying oh that makes sense

his father was even on some too... he doesn’t know whether to be proud of that but he’s proud nonetheless

his angel duties also gave him leeway to his desire of living there as it was possible to be assigned to watch those in a local area on earth

the opportunity appealed to him because he was tired of the constant harassment from other angels — it’s not his fault he was born this way

his regular duties felt like a punishment rather than something to honour (he blames thinking that due to his demon side) so something like this was a getaway

and thats when he decided

he wants to live in the human world

he was quickly assigned to the duty and was ecstatic to leave, telling his parents about it the moment he got the news

wonwoo’s parents were happy, of course, but they had the slight fear that the world will do harm to their precious one

but he was growing up, considered to be 19 in human years, so it was time for him to decide his own things

within a few days, he was all set to leave and go under the name and identity of jeon wonwoo, living in a small part of seoul, making sure it was a quiet location so that he wouldn’t be disturbed 24/7

so on july 17th, he was set off to earth, consequently making his birthday (because he knew humans had to have birthdays) on the day he arrived

which leads to current day wonwoo, around 23 in human years, current owner of happy ending, a bookstore that contains all sorts of books for those to enjoy, even picking up a few favourite novels recommended by humans

his working corner was a dream too, fit snug in a corner with work and stacks of papers fixed neatly, along with plants decorated near the window, always making sure to take extra care with them

on weekends he would stay in, typically drinking something warm as he would read a new novel, relaxed as he was able to expose his wings at that time

barefoot, peace and quiet, listening to soft music as he waters his precious plants

this was his small world which he couldn’t dream more of

his wings were no different, still the same black and white with unique lining, but they grew a drastic amount, reaching to the tips of the floor, dragging along the cold oak floor

it was bigger than typical demons and angels, which gives his self-esteem a boost as he looks more intimidating

as well as that, he’s learnt to hide the black wings by blending them in with the white with his powers whenever he would go back to the celestial world for short visits

and just as expected, after 4 years of disappearance, life continued from the demonangel — wonwoo thought it was cruel that people of his own kind were so against him, but once he was gone, no one had a sense of sorrow

but as always, wonwoo kept in his anger to prevent being blamed once more, playing a convincing angel even though he wasn’t of pure blood (best believe his father thought he was plucking his wings again)

although he’s insanely smart, when it comes to the human world, it’s like he has to learn how to fly again

he doesnt have a phone because who does he need to contact? he only has a landline for the sake of his library

even though he likes travelling in vehicles, he usually flies to save time and money (even though he can just create more money if he pleases)

the reason why people never see him go outside is because he teleports too, never needing to walk out his doors

it’s a bad habit so hes trying to walk through the doors more

hates it when he gets summoned out of the blue

his looks slightly alter depending if he’s leaning to the demon side or angel side

his angel side is much softer, no kinks or tangles in his hair, a cleaner look as well as a simple fashion sense

his demon side isn’t that different except for the fact his eyes turn purple and his hair curls itself slightly, his clothes gradually turning darker

his dual sides give him many conflicts in the human world

someone: oh my god

wonwoo: ‘oh my god’?

wonwoo:

wonwoo: *slaps hand over mouth* i didn’t mean that

(then he questions if he can say oh my lucifer)

gasps anytime someone says oh my god

has a crisis whether to say for god’s sake or for satan’s sake

what the hell? or what the heaven?

usually he’s nice and gentle towards everything, but make him one inch angry, he’ll set something on fire out of anger

but as well as this, the angels and demons in the celestial world see him as much weaker as wonwoo doesn’t possess the true power of one type, apparently making it allowed to taunt wonwoo because of this

but that’s the world he used to live in

wonwoo lives within the human world now, content with his current life alone in his library of books and plants, enjoying the rainy days as well as the sunshine, hoping to add two kitties (a black and white one, preferably) to his small family, especially unaware of the power he truly holds

[nycttophilic]

RWBY Verse: Team BLST

Kira, Linkette, Grelle, and Midna’s team!! They’re a group of Huntresses (or training to be them, if you wanna meet them while they’re at school) who have been close friends since they were first made a team together. Let me go in a bit to describe them...

Team as a whole:

Team BLST is pronounced Team Bloodstone. 

The team is from Mistral and graduated (if in a verse post their schooling) from Haven. Despite all odds and what others thought of them, they graduated at the top of their class, mainly due to Kira’s guidance (despite being the youngest in the group). They’re loyal to Lionheart, that is, until he failed their whole city and sided with Salem only to be killed. Team BLST does whatever they can to keep Mistral safe in his absence, but there’s only so much they can do. 

Heavily relies on Kira’s leadership and calmness in the face of danger, so if she was taken out of the picture the team would surely fall. 

Kira:

Born in a small village-like-clan just outside of Mistral. It was a village of outcasts and criminals, in which her mother was the leader. However, when her mother went into Mistral for information, she met a man she fell in love with. It was against the rules to be with someone outside of the clan, and when Kira was born the two were in big trouble. Kira’s sister, Midna’s, dad killed Kira’s mom, and her dad took her to a family in Mistral. If you know anything about Kira, you should know what happened then—abuse...

When she accidentally killed her father, she was on the run until she found Midna, her half sister who was from the clan their mother was from. They wouldn’t want Kira there, and Midna didn’t want to stay there her whole life either. The two agreed to live in Mistral together and never speak of their family, and when they were old enough, they would both join Haven together and be damned if they didn’t become a team together. Very strong sisterly bond. 

Kira is a human and the youngest in her team, joining Haven RIGHT when she turned 17, unlike the others who waited a year or two. 

Kira’s semblance is that she heal others by putting her Aura into them to heal their wounds, quite like Jaune’s. However, unlike Jaune (that we know of), there’s a flip side to Kira’s semblance: she can shoot her aura from her body forcefully, which will bring incredible pain to whoever is hit. This is how she killed her “adoptive father”. It’s like a burst of magic from her hand when she uses it to harm someone, and a gentle flow from her palms when she heals. She can control how much pain someone experiences, but she’s working on how much/quickly she can heal someone. 

Her weapon is similar to Weiss’s in the sense that it’s a sword that shoots out dust, but Kira’s is actually dual katanas that shoot out dust. She can also shoot her semblance throw them.

Midna:

Kira’s older sister. She grew up in the clan thingy with the intention of being its next leader. Her mother was actually married to a member of the clan, but still had an affair with Kira’s dad. In this verse, she doesn’t hate Kira for the death of their mom, and instead wants to keep her only remaining family safe. Very protective of her little sis. 

She killed her father when she learned he killed her mom. She was 15 at the time, Kira 12. That’s when she left to go search for her little sister. They lived on the streets for a while with the goal to join Haven when they became of age, so Midna waited for Kira to turn 17 before joining herself. 

Midna was 20 when she joined Haven, Kira 17. Midna’s the oldest out of the group. 

Midna’s weapons are similar to Ren’s in the sense that they double as dual pistols. Kira and Midna both dual wield, but their weapons are VERY different—kira is best with her swords so close combat, Midna uses her weapons as guns so ranged combat. They’re also BOOMERANGS, and are very sharp ones that could easily cut the head off of a weak grim if thrown hard enough. This also makes them very dangerous, as Midna must catch it PERFECTLY lest her hand will get sliced off. 

Her semblance is very similar to her powers in LoZ. She can cover an area with twilight, thus meaning she can control whatever’s in the space or make the twilight in that area a WEAPON to kill her enemy, if they step in her terrain. She can also use the twilight in the area to make walls of twilight, as well as twilight electricity. This is a semblance that is passed down from the leaders of her clan, so it’s a VERY powerful semblance. Midna is definitely the most powerful member in terms of her semblance. However, such power is very tolling on her level of aura. 

Linkette:

Linkette, unlike my other girls, grew up in a good family of huntsmen. In Mistral, her family is definitely one of the ones on the top side, while the others live on the lower side. However, all of that changed when both of her parents were murdered, leaving her and her younger sister to be orphans. 

Linkette was 10 when she watched her parents being killed, her sister only 4. At that point, Linkette made it her mission to kill the man who murdered her parents. She also discovered her semblance at this time, which I will get to later. 4 years later, she in finally found that man and killed him. With that out of the way, she swore to never again kill someone out of cold blood. Also, now the sisters were orphans and were living on the street too. However, Linkette took care of things and protected her sister, so they lived better than Kira and Midna. Linkette worked for money and killed Grim for even more coin. That’s also where she learned to use a sword, from her sensei—who took her and her sister in (idk who this is yet, so if someone wants to give me someone to take care of sword girl and her sis PLS)

Linkette joined Haven a bit before turning 18, so she’s the second youngest. She’s also very down to earth and straight forward, as well has no tolerance for nonsense. She gets along with Kira the best and gets into fights with Grelle quite often, but it’s like sisterly bickering. 

Linkette’s weapon is VERY similar to Jaune’s. It’s a sword with a sheath that turns into a shield, really simple. But that’s the only weapon she knows how to use, so she’s excellent at it. Despite her weapon being so plain, she is hands down the strongest fighter on the team. 

Her semblance is very similar to her BSD ability. Basically, she has these four masks that when she puts one of them on, they completely change her body and give her special powers. If you’re curious about them, just ask me about it and I’ll send you the post about them uwu

Grelle:

Grelle, like Kira and Midna, grew up on the dark side of Mistral. She was poor and lived in a large-ish family (three sisters, two parents, and herself) so she grew up stealing from people to provide for her family. Her parents didn’t like her since she was the youngest, as they hardLy cared about their children. She was basically raised by her sisters. 

Grelle is actually a FAUNUS. She’s a fox Faunus, with a fox tail and ears to match. Her entire family are fox Faunus. This helped her be sneaky when stealing from people, thus aiding in her criminal life. However, when she learned of her semblance (explained later), her sisters told her to ALWAYS use it to hide the fact she’s a Faunus. So, you can’t tell she’s part fox just by looking at her—she looks completely human. 

Grelle is trans, so as a child she was seen as a son in her parent’s eyes. And that’s it. Only her sisters saw her as an actual person, so she loves them very much. However, when it was clear she had feelings for both men and women, her homophobic parents kicked her out of the family and onto the streets. Luckily, she lived her whole life on the streets of Mistral, so she was fine. 

Grelle joined Haven Academy at 18 years old. She gets along best with Midna, and she adores messing with Linkette and making things less perfect for her. If you ask her why she became a huntress, she would answer “So I could meet some hot huntsmen~~”. 

Her semblance is the ability to manipulate her appearance. This makes her excellent in secret missions as she could make herself look different, and also this is how she gave herself a female body to accomplish her dreams of being a woman. And, of course, how she hides her tails and ears. She’s gotten so excellent at this ability that she can maintain her feminine form while asleep, and most of the time can continue to hide her ears and tail while asleep too. But if she completely changes her appearance, that’s harder to maintain while her mind is occupied. 

Grelle’s weapon is hands down the most messiest. She legit has a fucking CHAINSAW that can shoot out bullets of dust, but she usually uses it to hack up grim that gets in her way. She’s the best at stealth missions due to her semblance and fox-like abilities, but as huntresses they don’t really have jobs like that very often. She’s also VERY strong, but she doesn’t look it because of her appearance semblance. 

[itsstickball]

Rivalry pt.2

(pt.1, pt.3)

Things progressed normally through the regular season and Neil soon found himself breathless staring up at a scoreboard that meant the Furies were going to the National Cup Championship. A moment was all he had to breathe it in before his entire team was swamping the court and sweeping him up into their raucous celebration.

Later, after press duty, showering and changing, Neil checked his phone. There were the usual messages of congratulations, asks to hang out later, a rare “good job” from Kevin – whose own team had qualified the week prior. He was significantly more surprised, however, by the twitter notification saying that he’d been tagged in a message from @AJminyard. It was mostly odd in that Andrew rarely actually tweeted anything his publicist didn’t mandate, and even rarer in that he actually tagged someone rather than just using their actual name.

Curious, he swiped the app open.

Sure enough, Andrew had attached a brief clip of the Furies’ celebration, mostly centered on Neil being hoisted above their heads as the smallest player, his face nearly split in half with a grin. The article it was attached to was fairly congratulatory, and Neil skimmed it for only a moment. Andrew’s comment however, was far more succinct and far less generous.

-Shame @NJos10 won’t be celebrating like that two weeks from now.-

Two weeks, of course, was when the Furies would play the Miami Marauders. For all that Andrew claimed to hate the game, Neil knew that he’d bring his best that night and had every intention of rising to the challenge. And if he played hard enough to beg off from going out with his teammate afterward, no one would blame him.

-We’ll see. @AJminyard-

He replied, swiping back to his texts with a private smile. The rest of the team was waiting in the lounge as he strolled out, duffle in one hand, phone in the other.

“Aw man, look at that baby face! Neil, when are you gonna buck up and let us meet this secret admirer of yours?”

“My what?”

He looked up from his phone to stare quizzically at Martin.

“You’ve got that sappy look.”

Neil turned to Lovejoy for help, but the older man just nodded his head sagely.

“I’m looking at pictures of Matt’s puppy?”

He explained slowly, showing them the most recent round, in which Boulder is dressed in a different doggy jersey for his, Matt’s, Andrew’s and Kevin’s teams, plus a custom one for Dan’s Class II collegiate team, the Devils.

Both older men let out a sigh, but then dutifully comment on how good the puppy looks wearing their purple and red. Neil texts their responses back to Matt and then closes out of his phone. Nila Jones, their female offensive dealer picks that time to sling an arm around Neil’s shoulder and simultaneously join their conversation and steer them out of the room with the rest of the team.

“Hey y’all, the vote was unanimous, for once in our goddamn lives. So, everyone’s off to Chewy’s to celebrate.”

She looked at their various expressions and the way they’d been huddled around Neil’s phone and continues before any of the men can get a word in edgewise.

“What’s with the pow-wow? Don’t tell me you were trash-talking Minyard without me again. I still owe him for that return ball to the ass.”

This time it was Lovejoy and Martin’s turn to look confused.

“Why would we be trash talking Minyard?”

Nila shared a long-suffering look with Neil, who just shrugged and correctly assumed that she’d explain it for him.

“Uh, because the midget just threw down a gauntlet on twitter?”

“Who did what!?”

Another voice called out, drawn in by Nila’s naturally loud voice and fiery attitude.

“Andrew Minyard’s already talking shit to Josten about the playoff game.”

A third voice chimed in, Henry Beckett already passing his phone around with the exchange pulled up.

“Of course, he is.”

Someone else sighed amongst other mutterings or exclamations as the topic of conversation grew to include the rest of the team. Thankfully, their stomachs were just as big of a deal as their chirping and the group continued to migrate out to their cars. Since they were all going to the same place, it was typical to carpool in smaller groups. Neil was less than surprised when several players packed themselves into his “mom car.” It had plenty of seats and a guaranteed DD. He did smile as the conversation washed pleasantly over him, though. Being the driver also had the excuse of having to pay attention to the road rather than feel obligated to join in.

A few minutes in, however, despite those in the back having long moved on to a different topic, Martin brought Andrew’s tweet back up.

“Seriously though, don’t stress yourself about that Marauders game.”

Neil glanced over at him with bland incredulity written on his face.

“Why would I be worried? I practiced against Andrew for four years.”

One of which he was probably actively trying to keep from killing me. He doesn’t add.

Martin laughed, softly and warmly.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be. I just wanted to remind you that we’ve got your back. And if Minyard tries to start anything, I’ve got 40lbs and ten inches on him.”

Neil seriously doubted that was as much of an advantage as Martin thought it was. Andrew could wipe the floor with him. He nodded anyway.

“I’m fine…but uh, thanks.”

Practices for the next two weeks include a lot of speed and precision drills and even more scrimmages. When they play the Arizona Diamondbacks, the win comes almost too easily – even with Laila Dermott in goal. It’s definitely one of the more brutal games of the season, with everyone on both teams pushing themselves to be the better player, but Neil flies through it with single-minded focus. When they line up to shake hands after the match, Neil is only a little surprised when her grip pulls him into a fierce hug.

“Give him hell next week, Josten.”

To anyone watching or listening, her show of support banked on the rivalry. It wasn’t hard to tell that she’s talking about Andrew. But there was a warmth and amusement in her eyes that told Neil she didn’t believe the hype and it settled him. He returned her grin and tightened his grip on her arm before letting go.

“With pleasure, Dermott.”

St. Louis and Miami were far enough away that there was no question of whether the Furies would be flying or driving. Neil snapped a picture of the runway from his window seat and sent it to Andrew as they waited for the rest of the plane to finish boarding.

-On my way-

It didn’t take long for the goalie to respond with a curt -154%- and Neil found himself smiling at it before he put his phone in airplane mode and pulled up the “TRAVEL” playlist Nicky and the girls had made for him his Junior year. (Directly below that was a playlist labelled “Neil’s pop culture education” and below that one labelled “Junkie” that consisted solely of songs about obsession created by Andrew.) Neil certainly didn’t have the fear of heights that Andrew did, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being stuck in a metal tube hurdling through the air. Luckily it wasn’t that long of a flight and his teammates were just as eager to talk Exy when they got bored as he was, so it wasn’t too bad overall.

When they landed in Miami, Neil was hit with two things; the roar of a crowd and a wave of humidity. Even in early October the heat was suffocating. Neil found it amusing for a moment that Andrew had been willing to put up with it just for the sake of denying Kevin’s campaign to get him to sign to Chicago with him. It was just absurd enough to be perfectly, quintessentially Andrew that Neil found himself smiling. Despite his discomfort, the soft grin remained as the team was shuffled through the crowds by their security team.

Stepping into Miami’s inner court had a similar effect. The Marauders’ maroon and sky-blue color scheme coupled with their pirate mascot lead to a very other-worldly feel to their court. It exhilarated Neil to feel like he was encroaching on the territory of some long-lost pirate king, to know that he’d be facing down Andrew when the doors locked and the buzzer sounded. It bolstered the blood pumping through his veins and the lazy grin that liked to take residence on his face on game-days.

“Now there’s the Neil Josten the world knows!”

Martin crooned, ruffling Neil’s hair and bouncing off of him to swat playfully at the rest of the team before taking up his proper spot in line.

“Ah, yes, the true Fury. Honestly, with someone like Josten around, why do we even have a mascot?”

Nila joked, her own face lit up with a fierce grin.

The Furies were hardly the Foxes, but regardless of their pasts, they banded together over the thrill of dominating on the court, of struggling for every win and fighting tooth-and-nail against every loss. They were a team of passion and adrenaline. Sometimes that meant they made mistakes or pushed themselves or their opponents too hard, but they never regretted it. Neil, never regretted it.

“All right team, listen up!” Their coach called, shouting to be heard over the crowd just outside of the tunnel and the announcer making his way through the Marauders’ line-up.

“You’ve been working hard all week and all season. I know there are some other external factors pushing you to be your best for this game,” His gaze dragged over Neil for just a moment. “and while I’m glad it’s pulled some of your heads out of your asses, don’t let it make you sloppy. This may be a pirate court, but ships burn and flags fall to even the slightest miscalculation. Now let’s show those Marauders who’s boss!”

And with that warning and pep-talk all wrapped up into one, the Furies turned their attention to the court and stepped into the roaring wave of supporters and enemies alike.

Neil had warned his fellow strikers in the practices leading up to the game of Andrew’s unpredictability. “He’ll try to shut me out completely, but there’s no telling if he’ll put the effort in against anyone else.” He half-explained. “We need to put as many points on the board as possible before that happens.”

The Marauders liked using Andrew as a last line of defense, throwing him on in the second half. Even a bored Andrew had the potential to make better saves than any other goalie, plus it gave him time to watch how the other team’s strikers played. Thankfully, the Furies typically played Neil at the start and end of the games. Unlike the Foxes, they had more than enough people to switch people out in a quarterly fashion rather than waiting until a substitute was actually necessary. It allowed him to play hard and start the team off on the right foot and then rest before giving it his all to clinch a win, or at least drag the score closer to even. This meant that Neil and Andrew didn’t share the court until part-way through the second half.

He heard the crowd roaring, a chorus of cheers and boos, as he stepped into the court and clacked sticks with the striker he was replacing. However, he only had eyes for Andrew. The goalie had been casually resetting from the goal his strikers had just scored, but his stance shifted when he caught Neil’s gaze. Though it was nearly impossible to see from halfway across the court, Neil grinned. What was clearly visible, however, was the mocking two-finger salute he gave Andrew before taking his starting spot on the half-line. For the first time all game, when the buzzer sounded Minyard looked tensed to protect his goal.

The Furies’ plan to rack up as many points as possible before Neil and Andrew faced off went about as well as possible considering that they still had the whole rest of the team of professional players to deal with in that time. Andrew didn’t put up much of a fight against Neil’s fellow strikers, but he didn’t just stand there disinterested either. They had a two-point lead when Neil came on and he would be damned if he let that slip.

The Marauder’s backline, newly replenished, had apparently made it their goal to keep Neil from even getting near the goal. Their efforts would have been admirable if their rivalry had any actual substance to it, but even just the fact that Neil knew their persistence and borderline fouls bothered Andrew more than it bothered him gave him extra strength to push through. In the end, their efforts were futile. He was too quick, too resigned to the possibility of injury and too determined to make his shots to be stopped by something as mundane as solidarity.

Andrew, it seemed, didn’t appreciate this either.

The first shot Neil took on him, ricocheted all the way to the far court wall.

Even inside their plexiglass box, the scream of the crowd at that power move and Andrew’s return salute was deafening. Neil bared his teeth and kept going.

His second, third and fourth attempts were similarly thwarted, though the last time, Andrew had the audacity to slam it back at him fact and hard enough that Neil stumbled back several steps in order to retain possession long enough to pass it back to his dealer. It was a warning and a challenge all in one. Neil couldn’t out-power Andrew like he had the backliners, not when Andrew knew him so well. He had to play smarter.

A thrill ran through him, even as the Furies lost possession and their goal lit up red. By the time they’d moved into position to restart play, Neil had already planned out his next goal, the possibilities stretching out before him like a hundred different threads of light – all leading to the wall behind Andrew’s back. He turned to look at his fellow striker, inclining his head once he had Beckett’s attention. The man grinned back and let out a whoop as the buzzer sounded.

Neil, who typically sprinted at the start of play, hesitated for just a moment. Nila had possession of the ball to start the game and Beckett was the obvious choice to pass to given their positions. She didn’t waste time throwing a quizzical look in Neil’s direction, but everyone knew his main strength was his speed. Likewise, he kept his focus on the backliner charging towards him and counted to three in his head before finally taking off. For a moment, it looked like he would hit the man head-on, but then he swerved, changing his course so that he was on the opposite side of the course. Beckett passed him the ball high off of the wall and then juked out of the way of his own backliner’s attempt to check him. Neil knew they only had a few moments to plan his best route before both of the backliners would converge on him.

He wasn’t in the ideal position and ten steps wouldn’t be enough to get there, so he shot the ball back to Beckett, diverting the woman who was supposed to be Neil’s mark to guard him. Their brief encounter provided him with the time he needed to get around his own new mark. He whistled and kept moving towards the back wall, picking up speed so that his backliner had to sprint to keep up. Finally, Beckett found the opening and shot the ball back to him with impressive accuracy.

When it found its way into Neil’s waiting net, the backliner was almost upon him, but it was too late. The back wall loomed up in front of him and Andrew had shifted to place himself between Neil and the goal. It was possible that he’d pass it back to Beckett or Nila, but both were tied up with their own defensemen and Andrew could smell a shot like a shark drawn to blood. Four steps and he’d be even with Andrew, six and he’d hit the wall. His backliner breathed down his neck, ready to turn that six into three. Instead of dodging, however, Neil pushed himself harder and launched himself at the wall just before his mark could shove him into it. His right foot propelled him off of the ground and his left reversed his momentum from the wall back toward the court. He twisted his torso and passed to himself off of the wall, catching it just after clearing his backliner’s hunched form.

The first step stumbled.

The second secured.

The third pivoted.

The fourth provided enough torque for a backhand shot right into the unprotected center of Andrew’s goal.

Neil didn’t know what was more deafening, the utter silence from the players and crowd as the goal lit up red, or the roar of disbelief as the buzzer sounded half a second too late and everyone went wild.

He did know, however, that the momentum from his trick shot him forward so that he tumbled head over heels to lay flat on his back in the mayhem. He grinned up at the ceiling as everyone around him freaked out. Intellectually, he knew he should get up before that freak-out turned from excitement to dread at a possible injury, but for now he was content to lay there and absorb the moment.

Beckett reached him first.

“You know,” He said, towering over him like a friendly shadow giant against the bright lights of the stadium. “I thought you were absolutely nuts when you first started adding all of those jumps and gymnastics to your circuit. But if that’s what comes out of it, then damn, sign me up.”

Neil’s grin widened and he accepted Beckett’s hand up. Once his pads were straightened out, he turned back towards the goal.

Andrew stood there like a statue, immoveable, immutable, invincible. Except Neil had just scored on him. The goalie wore his disdain plainly on his face and Neil knew, short of another crazy stunt or miracle, it was the last goal their team would make that night. But it was worth it. Worth it for the thrill, the point, the so-called rivalry. It was worth it for the way Andrew stood on an Exy court and felt – even if his feelings had more to do with his annoyance for Neil than the actual game.

This time, when Neil smiled, it was small and private. And even though there was no way for Andrew to see it, he huffed and called out after him in Russian.

“Idiot.”

“How much money do you think I just won Allison?”

Neil replied cheekily.

The rest of the players froze for a moment, given that Andrew very rarely said anything to anyone on the court – especially not to the other team, but when Neil walked calmly away, they followed suit.

True to his prediction, Andrew locked down the goal for the rest of the game, regardless of who was shooting at him. Despite this, Neil put his best effort in. He used the time more to irritate Andrew with trick shots that made him work for it or aiming at the top of the goalie’s helmet or his left foot. He’d probably pay for it later on, but it was worth it for the fire he saw in Andrew’s eyes each time.

The Furies won 7-6.

No matter how they tried to play things, the Furies knew there was no escaping Neil doing press duty for the game. It was too exciting of a game and his reported rivalry with Andrew was too high-profile for anyone in the room to let it go. So rather than waste other players’ time fielding questions that weren’t actually for them, Coach threw Neil out after their showers alongside the team’s captain with a strict warning not to start anything.

He knew how futile it would have been to demand he remain completely civil.

“Raymond! That was one hell of a game. How do you feel about the Furies’ chance for the National Cup this year?”

Neil’s captain grinned.

“Honestly, Julia, I think the team really showed themselves tonight. We were up against a tough opponent on their home court, but still managed to come out on top. We couldn’t have done that without relying on each other and staying sharp. I think tonight’s game is a good indicator of the season the Furies are looking forward to.”

Predictably, the actual Exy questions ran out long before their time with the press did. Neil wanted to look at his watch to gauge how long they’d managed to stay on topic, but he kept his attention on the reporter as they inevitably brought up Andrew.

“Neil, how did tonight’s game feel for you? That was one hell of a goal in the second half, but it had to have been frustrating to be shut out the rest of the game.”

“We came into this game expecting a hard fight. If the goalie wanted to add a little personal challenge to it, then that’s his prerogative. It wasn’t a perfect game, but the way I see it, we won. I’m more than happy with the results.”

“Speaking of personal challenge, both you and Minyard have been incredibly vague about this growing rivalry, but after tonight, it doesn’t seem like it’s likely to die down anytime soon.”

“Is there a question in there?”

The Furies’ captain admonished. The reporter inclined their head and rephrased their point, still directing it at Neil.

“If you could, perhaps, shed a little light on how, exactly this rivalry came to be or why you both seem intent on letting it continue?”

Neil shrugged.

“Andrew hates me. Always has. As for me, well, I guess my survival instincts aren’t as good as they used to be.”

He grinned sharply into the camera, too smug to resemble his father.

“Now, are there any more questions actually relevant to tonight’s game? I did just spend two hours running around and the hotel we’re staying at has a Jacuzzi.”

Beside him, his captain muttered a quiet “thank god” when no one responded and he was able to wrap things up with a quick goodbye before herding Neil as far away from the microphones as possible. Neil found it funny that he thought they’d gotten off lightly.

While he hadn’t lied about being tired, or the hotel room having a nice tub, Neil did not return to it when he begged off celebrating with the team early on. Instead, he typed a familiar address into his GPS and drove 20 minutes to a more suburban area, pulling his crossover into the open garage of a nondescript grey house. Beside it, long cooled, resided a black Maserati.

“Took your time.”

Said the figure lurking in the doorway into the house, clad completely in black. Neil looked up from the car to meet Andrew’s hazel eyes. He shrugged.

“Some of us actually make an effort to bond with our team.”

“Well if you’d rather do that, then don’t let me get in your way.”

Andrew’s comment was snide, but his tone level. Still, Neil rolled his eyes and walked around his car to the steps in front of Andrew.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pity.”

Andrew replied, acknowledging his current height advantage only with a sweep of his eyes. After a moment, he pushed off of the door jamb and turned to go back inside.

“I’m not kissing you in the garage.”

He called back, leaving Neil to shut the outer door and follow him hastily inside.

“You were great tonight, you know.” He yelled in after the blonde. The thud of the freezer door told him Andrew was in the kitchen.

“I’m certainly not touching you if you’re going to talk about Exy the whole time.”

Neil grinned, watching shamelessly as Andrew stood from returning his ice-cream to the freezer. He waited until he had the blonde’s full attention before he stepped up into his space, his eyes glittering with playful question.

“Then why don’t you shut me up?”

Andrew rolled his eyes, but the kiss he pulled Neil into betrayed him and Neil sank into it.

[charliesfairy]

Hybrid Haven (BTS Hybrid AU)

1,700+k words

~Hybrid Haven~ 

A safe place for all hybrids. 

                                   Making New Friends

“Jimin, it’s time to get up.”

Jimin wakes to Namjoon gently shaking his shoulder.  He squints up at the human with a frown.  He didn’t want to get up.  The bed was warm and soft, and he still felt sleepy.  When Namjoon asks him to get up again, he grumpily refuses and closes his eyes again, turning away from him.

“If you get up,” Namjoon leans closer to Jimin and whispers a bribe, “I’ll give you a cookie after breakfast.”  

At the mention of sweets, Jimin perks up.  He quickly opens his eyes and stretches out his arms over his head.  Namjoon giggles at the kitten and straightens back up as Jimin sits up.  He reaches up and rubs at his cat ears, letting out a squeaky yawn.  Namjoon mumbles something barely audible and then tells Jimin that a change of clothes is in his nightstand drawer.

“Take a quick shower and come down to the dining hall.”

Then, Namjoon was gone, a line of young hybrids eagerly following him out of the room.  Jimin watches with a tilted head.  Everyone here seemed to love the human, and despite the events of yesterday, he didn’t know whether or not he was one of them.  He’s never met a human that wasn’t mean to him, and he was starting to believe that there isn’t one out there that would be nice.  

Jimin throws his legs over the edge of the bed and lets them dangle for a moment.  He stares at the floor, knowing it’d be cold, but that isn’t why he’s reluctant to get out of the bed.  He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in an actual bed because it’s been so long, and he didn’t want to give it up just yet.  

After a few seconds, he pushes himself down, hissing quietly when his small feet hit the floor.  He stretches out his tail and turns to the nightstand.  He pulls open the drawer and finds two sets of clothing.  He pulls out the first one, finding it to be identical to the one he was wearing.  He folds them as best he can and sets them back in his place.  The other set, however, he barely recognized.  It wasn’t until he found ‘Park Jimin’ written on the inside collar in terrible handwriting.  He smiled somberly as he ran his thumb over it, remembering the day he wrote it.  

He was six years old and scared.  He was scared he’d lose his memory, scared that he’d lose the only clothing he had.  He had found a black marker and branded all of his clothes with his name and his birthday so he’d be able to remember the only important things about him in case anything did happen.  He filled his arms with the clothing and grabbed the clean underwear that was with the other set of clothes, and he set off to find the bathroom.  

Across the hall, he found two doors: one labeled ‘Showers’ and one labeled ‘Bathroom.’  He entered the one labeled ‘Showers’, hoping no one else was in there.  Luckily, he was alone to explore the new room.  The room was lined with smaller ones that he found were individual showers so the person was ensured privacy.  He chose the closest one and slipped in, locking the door behind him.  

He set his clothes on the small shelf that was standing against the wall and cautiously pulled back the shower curtain to find just a shower head, the drain on the floor, and another small shelf.  He fumbled with the handles that control the water flow and temperature before hot water was falling out in front of him.  He sticks his hand under to test and temperature and squeals when it’s hotter than expected.  He quickly twists the handles and the water was perfectly warm on his skin.  He eagerly tugs off all of his clothing and pulls the curtain to hide him from the rest of the empty room.

For a moment, he lets his eyes close, reveling in the warm sensation on his skin, before looking for soap.  His eyes land on two pink bottles labeled ‘Sweet Pea’ on the middle shelf.  Soon, his entire body was clean.  His fur was no longer matted and were as fluffy and soft as they’ve ever been in his entire life, and he also gave off a slight aroma of flowers.

Soon, he was descending the stairs to the fourth floor.  The dining hall is loud as he enters, no one even turning their head to look at him.  He looks around at the room he was fed in yesterday.  It seemed different today.  Maybe it’s because he was less focused on the food, or maybe it’s because he’s wearing his own clothes.  We wanders a little before finding the door in the back of the room he saw Namjoon bring food from yesterday.  He curiously makes his way towards the door but doesn’t make it far due to a kitten hybrid with different colored ears blocking his way.

“Hullo!” the kitten squeaks happily, sticking out his hand, “I’m Youngjae!”

Jimin looks over the cat as he puts his own hand in his.  His eyes shift from his bright smile to his slightly rounded nose to his mismatched eyes to the small freckle underneath the left one.  Jimin’s then pulled out of his head by Youngjae asking what his name is.  He stutters out only his first name as Youngjae lets his hand go.  

“Cute!” Youngjae compliments him before briefly glancing at the kitchen door. “Are you hungry?”

Jimin nods and finds himself hand in hand with the kitten, being lead to a small table.  Youngjae pushes him into a seat and tells him to wait.  Jimin looks around at the two people he was placed by, immediately feeling himself shrinking.  Their dark eyes dug into him as they looked him up and down.  

“Sorry about Youngjae.  He’s a little excitable.” The taller one spoke, one of his amber, fox ears twitching on top of his head.  His matching eyes finally let go of Jimin to return to his food.  The other did the same, but not before looking over Jimin once more with a disapproving grimace.  Jimin brought his tail up to wrap around his forearm, a nervous tick he hasn’t been able to get rid of.

“It’s okay.” he says, his voice small and unsure.  

When he gets no response, he relaxes a little, happy with the lack of conversation.  He brings his head up to look over the strangers again.  He notices a small scar in the left eyebrow of the one that gave him such a mean look, making him wonder if the cat was really as mean as he appeared.  The piercings and cold, blue eyes made him look dangerous, but his friend was somehow warmer.  He gave Jimin a mean look when he was shoved in front of them, but his appearance was softer and more inviting.  

“Stop staring.” The cat says lowly, biting on his toast.

He didn’t even bother to look up at Jimin which made him even more frightened by him.  He apologizes and brings his head back down right as Youngjae joins the group.  He places a tray of food in front of Jimin and smiles, “Don’t worry, he’s not as mean as he looks.”

Despite the glare Youngjae received, he went on unbothered to label the cat as Jaebum and the fox as Jinyoung.  Jimin then learned that Jaebum only allowed Youngjae to call him by his nickname, “Jaebummie,” but that didn’t mean he hated it any less.  

By the time breakfast was over, Jimin had learned the names of everyone in the room.  Youngjae had spewed random facts about everyone at Jimin until they were the last ones sitting in the room, which didn’t phase him one bit until Jaebum cleared his throat.  Youngjae then realized it was just them.  He apologizes and motions for Jimin to follow him to return their trays.  

“I’m going to show you around today!” Youngjae exclaims once they reach the others again, “Joonie asked me to.”

In reality, Namjoon had asked Jaebum to show Jimin around as he was becoming an employee soon but worried he’d scare Jimin too much due to his cold demeanor. He hoped Youngjae would break the ice and lighten the mood and Jaebum would follow suit.  He also hoped that the less formal tour would make Jimin feel more comfortable than the one they had given him yesterday.  

The four of them headed to the staircase after Jimin confesses his fear of the elevators with Jinyoung breaking off to go upstairs as they went down.  Jimin followed quietly, listening to Youngjae point out pictures on the walls of the main hall until they reached the lobby.  There was a moment of silence as Jimin watched the passing cars through the tall windows until it was broken by Jaebum shoving a map into his hands.

“Here,” he says and starts to speak again, but he’s cut off by Jimin’s small voice telling him that he already has a map by his bed upstairs.  Jaebum’s face turns a light shade of pink from embarrassment, making Youngjae giggle through his hand he had clamped over his mouth.  Youngjae’s laugh was so contagious that Jimin couldn’t help but to giggle, as well.  Jaebum awkwardly placed the map back and cleared his throat, obviously trying to swallow the embarrassment.  

Throughout the tour, Jaebum seemed to get warmer thanks to Youngjae’s bubbly presence.  He would make whatever Jaebum said a bit happier and made the fifteen minutes seem to flash by, and by the end of it, Jaebum had a smile on his face, which made Jimin realize that it was all just acting.  Youngjae was right; he isn’t as mean as he looks, or maybe, his connection to Youngjae made him less hateful.    

After inviting him down to the game room with them, the two left Jimin alone in the bedroom.  Despite the fun experience, Jimin wasn’t sure how he felt about the pair.  They seemed like they needed each other in a way he had never seen before, and it was unsettling to him.  Besides, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to stay here, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have a choice.  

[alexandrawilbraham]

Best of BBC First 2018 with a cheeky look at 2019

By Alexandra Wilbraham

First published in Dutch translation: https://www.bbcbenelux.com/blog/?article=bbc-first-benelux-best-of-18-19

Joy to the world and welcome to our round-up of BBC First’s best of 2018. Prepare to get festive as we celebrate a fantastic year of BBC series. Stick around to the end to find out what amazing new content you can look forward to in 2019.

So, pull on your Christmas jumper, the one you keep stashed away at the back of your wardrobe and pop on a Santa hat. Make yourself hot cocoa, go the whole hog and decorate your beverage with whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate shavings. Light some cinnamon candles and snuggle up on the sofa as we dive into the pile of presents this year had to give.

In the first month of 2018, the BBC gave to me! Well, it kind of works. January started with fireworks and a new series of Silent Witness. First broadcast in 1996, the series has seen many cast changes over the years. Series 21, however, saw the return of the amazing Emilia Fox as forensic pathologist Dr Nikki Alexander. She and her dedicated team (Liz Carr, Richard Lintern, David Caves) work closely with the London police to solve a slew of mystifying murders. Sometimes the best witness is a dead one.

Travelling back in time, if I can remember where I parked the T.A.R.D.I.S., to London in the early 1960s, we were again joined by the nuns and nurses of Nonnatus House convent. As they provide care to the expectant mothers of London’s East End, they find themselves tested both personally and professionally. Series 7 of Call the Midwife puts a bit of a downer on the festivities as we said goodbye to the beautiful Barbara (Charlotte Ritchie) whose grave, decorated with a red rose and toy carousel, we lingered on in the poignant final moments. However, with sadness comes joy and we saw both new and familiar faces appear at the convent. Leonie Elliot (Black Mirror) joined the cast as Caribbean midwife Lucille Anderson and a return of Nurse Trixie (Helen George) was heavily hinted at.

Guess what, we’re still in January! But we’re off on our first holiday of the year as we join Detective Jack Mooney (Ardal O'Hanlon) on the sun-soaked island of Saint-Marie. Peaceful isn’t it? Sadly not. Because, even in the beautiful Caribbean, crime will always spoil your day. Series 7 of Death in Paradise has Jack rise to the challenge in a bid to impress the commissioner and make his mark on the island. Luckily, he has his team to support him as he has some almost impossible mysteries to uncover.

Wake up! We’re back from our island vacation and straight into February. Before heading back to city life, we get to spend some time in the English countryside, rolling hills dotted with small villages, rural parish churches and large country houses. There is also a fair bit of murder.

Don’t worry though, as series 6 of Father Brown sees Mark Williams (Harry Potter) return as the charming local priest and amateur detective. Although he is at risk from old foe Katherine Corven, who looks for revenge on Father Brown when she is suddenly released from prison. I think we should move on to March and hopefully, we’ll find ourselves in a safer environment.

To sleep, perchance to dream as March arrives with a series completely new to the BBC – Shakespeare and Hathaway: Private Investigators. No, not William and Anne. Although this comedy-drama mystery is filmed in Shakespeare’s birthplace, Stratford-upon-Avon. Two well-known TV faces, Jo Joyner and Mark Benton, star as chatty ex-hairdresser Luella ‘Lu’ Shakespeare and out-of-shape and short-of-money private inspector Frank Hathaway. The highly unlikely and hugely entertaining detecting duo quickly discover that all is not as peaceful as it seems in their picture-perfect theatre town.

Brace yourself. Our next March series drops us straight to the front line of series 3 of Our Girl. We do get to travel internationally, but this is no holiday. Series 3 takes female army medic Georgie (Michelle Keegan) and the tightknit unit of soldiers in 2 Section from a humanitarian mission in Nepal, across Afghanistan and to a Nigerian refugee camp. With the arrival of old flame Elvis (Luke Pasqualino) and new recruit Maisie (Shalom Brune-Franklin) tugging at her sleeve, Georgie must face the highs and lows of army life while also fighting her own personal battles.   As the soldiers face kidnapping and assassination attempts, they have to confront the ultimate battle: head versus heart.

May the merriness be with you. Or rather the conflict, since this family is already in the divorce court before the relationships start crumbling. New family drama The Split follows Hannah Defoe (Nicola Walker), a member of a family who all work as divorce lawyers in the same firm. Following a bitter argument, Hannah takes a new job at a rival firm where she reconnects with the only other man she ever imagined sharing her life with, and her estranged father returns after 30 years. It sounds exhausting but makes for a smashing series.

Ring the bells everyone! The month of June means we are halfway through our TV year. A perfect time for the first Agatha Christie story to be adapted for the BBC by screenwriter Sarah Phelps, who also penned the script for J.K. Rowlings’s A Casual Vacancy. A wealthy philanthropist is murdered and her son Jack dies in prison, accused of her murder. A year later, a mysterious stranger arrives to prove Jack’s innocence. If his story is true, the murderer is still in the family. In one of Christie’s most satisfying stories, the cast presents a host of well-known faces, including Bill Nighy and Anna Chancellor. Murder, plot twists and a fantastic cast. Can it get any better?

It most definitely can! September brings with it the second instalment of Christie magic. Now, how well do you know the person next to you? It’s the question that made Agatha Christie the best-selling novelist of all time. And Then There Were None sports an all-star cast, including Charles Dance (Game of Thrones) and Aidan Turner (Poldark). Ten strangers, each accused of a terrible crime, are lured to an island mansion and quickly find themselves at the mercy of their unknown host. And Then There Were None has seen many adaptations, but this is the first screen version to include Agatha Christie’s original, less cheery, ending.

It’s time for the home stretch everyone! With October we welcome a third Agatha Christie series. In Sarah Phelps’s second Christie adaptation for the BBC, the cast is headed by Toby Jones and Kim Cattrall. Witness for the Prosecution is the perfect Film Noir for a 1920s London. It’s a thrilling two-part drama about the murder of the rich and glamorous Emily French. All evidence points towards her young lover Leonard, but how will the jury decide?

The cold days and Idris Elba go together like bread and butter, or an attractively greying beard and a warm woollen coat. In Series 4, Luther introduces himself very non-dramatically: ‘There are some things you might have heard about me that could be true.’ If that is how Luther introduces himself to his colleagues, you should take care not to become his enemy. After a leave of absence living a reclusive life on the English coast, Luther is back in London on the trail of a cannibalistic killer, while also attempting to uncover the truth behind Alice's apparent death. With trouble following him wherever he goes, the case is fast becoming a test that will push Luther closer to the edge than he’s ever been before.

There we are. 2018 is all wrapped up, but there are more presents under the tree. 2019 is just around the corner and there is so much BBC content to look forward to. Why don’t you have a peek?

In 2019, fans can look forward to Emilia Fox’s 14th outing as Dr Nikki Alexander. Cast members David Caves, Liz Carr and Richard Lintern are also confirmed to return. Although not much is known about the 22nd series, actor Richard Lintern has said the new series will focus on bringing in London more as a character than has been done before.

New year, new Call the Midwife. Harry Potter star Miriam Margolyes, who will always be Professor Sprout to me, joins the cast for the Christmas special and the first episode of series 8. Fenella Woolgar (Victoria & Abdul) and Ella Bruccoleri (Genius: Picasso) move to Poplar as newcomers Hilda and Frances and (yeah!) Helen George returns as Nurse Trixie Franklin.

In series 8 of Death in Paradise, Shyko Amos joins the cast as officer Ruby Patterson. She has, what shall we say, a unique take on crime fighting. From a local radio DJ murdered while live on air to a zookeeper killed by a poisonous dart, Jack and his team definitely have their work cut out.

Welcome back to the beautiful English countryside. Let’s just take some deep breaths of fresh air and ignore Father Brown trapped outside on what is a dark and stormy night, with a murderer on the loose. Don’t bother yourself with the kidnap of Lady Felicia and Mrs McCarthy. I’m sure everything will be fine.

A new adaptation of Victor Hugo's 19th-century classic Les Misérables is packed full of big-name actors and this time none of them has to sing. A brave choice, considering the success of the long-running musical and Oscar-winning Hollywood film. Dominic West will lead the cast as Jean Valjean, with David Oyelowo as the obsessed and villainous policeman Javert. Olivia Colman takes on the role of the abusive Madame Thénardier, while Lily Collins will play Fantine. Adapted by Andrew Davies (War and Peace, House of Cards), the six-part drama will delve deeply into the story of love, revolution and survival, vividly bringing to life the vibrant and engaging characters.

When you manage to book Richard Geer (Chicago, Pretty Woman) in his first major television role for 30 years, you’d better have a story to match. MotherFatherSon is an eight-part original drama created and written by Tom Rob Smith (The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story). The story revolves around the toxic relationships of a mother, a father and, err, I forget the last one. Anyway, Gere plays Max, the owner of one of the world’s most influential media empires. When his son Caden’s (Billy Howle) self-destructive lifestyle spirals out of control, he and his estranged wife Kathryn (Helen McCrory) have very different ideas about how best to support him.

And finally, he might not be sporting Hercule Poirot’s trademark moustache, but John Malkovich as the iconic detective is already heading the list of 2019 must-watch television. Malkovich is joined by a collage of well-known faces, including Ron Weasley, I mean Rupert Grint, as Inspector Crome. 2019 sees the adaptation of the ABC Murders by the incomparable Sarah Phelps. 

Poirot faces a serial killer known only under the alias ABC. Using the British railway network, the killer strikes methodically, leaving behind nothing but a copy of the ABC railway guide. Poirot must find a way to match his nemesis and, in the process, everything about him will be called into question: his authority, his integrity, his past, his identity.

And finally, that’s 2018 dusted off and stored back in the attic. I hope you enjoyed our little excursion through the best of BBC First. With 2019 almost upon us there is so much more amazing BBC content to come. What were your favourite series and moments of 2018? Are you looking forward to a fabulous 2019 on BBC First? I definitely am.

From me and all of us at the BBC a very merry festive season and a happy new year!

Written for BBC First Benelux 

[ionchef]

King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 3

In which Celena curtsies and Allen drinks Martini.

It was quite rare that Fanelia's royals received visitors from the ruling family of other countries, what with the dragon infestation and all. It was also quite rare that the king was anything but thrilled about the attention public treatments of foreign relations would get in his precious free time. Except, maybe when the one visiting was a dear friend he'd known since childhood.

Only a few years his senior, princess Millerna Aston was the youngest of the ruling Asturian king's daughters. A tragic illness had taken the middle sister, Marlene, so the loss of a sibling was something which created an even stronger friendship between them.

Relations between Asturia and Fanelia were to be deepened a few years ago after Folken claimed the throne but then the whole fiasco with the rite of dragon slaying happened, so needless to say that whole plan went poof. It would have been easy enough. Millerna's older sister, Eries, was supposed to be wed to Folken. They would have made such a great pair and no wonder Eries was so completely down in the dumps about his death. Not only had they known each other since they were little, but they actually harbored real feelings for each other. A rare thing with such unions.

The strategy changed after that and Marlene's death. Eries was instead to take the Asturian throne since the laws were progressive enough to let a woman rule alone there, but she was too shook about Folken's death, even now still mourning after all these years. It was unlikely that Eries, although always appearing reserved and seemingly strong on the outside, would ever recover from her broken heart.

What a mood killer to think about it again right as the gates in the wall opened to admit the armored vehicle convoy. They were bringing in the visitors who had landed at the airstrip not far from the city perimeters. Luckily, no dragons had been sighted in the area around that time but just in case, a good number of the melef drones had been sent on patrol. The airstrip was really just a paved area in the woods with a few bunker-like hangars which housed equipment and the royal jet. Staff communicated with, and coordinated flights remotely.

Just like everything else, levi ships had also evolved over time to become aerodynamic, metal pieces of engineered ingenuity. They were still powered by levi stones at their core, but the energy was now being more thoroughly harnessed. Thanks to mechanical designers and progress in technology, they looked less like ships which sailed the oceans and were much, much faster.

If civilians wanted to travel to other countries, there were enough commercial services which overlayed in Fanelia for a short time but none had their home base here- no surprise there. On occasion, dragons could be spotted from high up in the air. Seeing one was kind of cool but only if one didn't consider the havoc they could wreak upon that small, pressurized, metal tube if given the chance.

When Van and Merle stood on the mosaic in the palace square, waiting to officially greet the royal envoy, the king couldn't help but grin a bit when noticing that Merle took special care to chew her gum as discreetly as possible to avoid it being taken from her. She was looking forward to seeing Millerna because they both were party girls at heart. He already dreaded this evening when they would drag him along to the Mystic Moon, Millerna's favorite place to visit when in Fanelia.

Van wasn't fond of the nightclub. Oodles of odd high-society folk liked to dance the night away there, usually several notches too imbibed. In the occasion that he did show his face there, women vied for his attention and men in positions of leadership or high office tried to pander to him without shame, hoping to reach new heights in their careers. As if a whiff of vodka from their mouths would sway Van in their favor.

More than once, he'd wished he could have just given them a firm nudge and watched them fall over to be collected by security but he couldn't be seen doing that. Even though, no doubt, many of them woke up crapulous the next day, memories slowly dawning on them about how they had embarrassed themselves in front of the king. Sadly though, he was the head of his country and required to treat people with respect. Even when they were drunk off their asses, especially if they were related to diplomatic offices from other countries.

But anyway, this was a problem for future Van. Present Van actually cracked a smile when he saw princess Millerna exit the elevators first and confidently make her way towards him as the forefront of the entourage. She hadn't changed much from the last time they'd seen her except that she probably was even more radiant. No wonder her father had her protected so well.

A whole group of guys in navy blue suits along with a younger woman in a white sundress tagged along not too far behind. The princess herself wore light pink, her favorite color, and the dress itself, although proper enough, still hugged her body snugly. With her long, wavy, blonde hair and periwinkle eyes, she was nothing short of stunning. Hey, nobody could blame a guy for noticing those things. She was standing right in front of them by now, after all.

As soon as elaborate greetings between the king, the princesses, and the officials concluded, some pictures were taken from the few press representatives who had been admitted. Then, the group was off towards the palace where everybody finally was able to relax again after the double doors shut tightly behind them. Millerna's high heels click-clacked even through the crimson carpet covering the marble floor before the three royals came to a stop.

Not able to contain her excitement anymore, Merle squealed and both women hugged tightly in a proper greeting which prompted another, rare smile from the usually reserved king. "I'm so excited you're here Millerna!" Merle exclaimed as the other princess hugged her back tightly.

"Me too!" Millerna replied and then held Merle at arm's length. "Wow, your hair is so different I barely recognized you at first glance. You look more mature."

"Oh but wait," Merle laughed and reached into the pockets of her blue etui dress, only to retrieve two rubber bands. While chewing on her gum more shamelessly, she made quick work of the pink tresses and in no time had them back up in a pair of trademark buns on top of her head. "Better?" She asked Millerna.

"Much better. Now you look more like the cute kitten I used to know," Millerna nodded, pearly whites showing through a satisfied smile.

Van snorted a bit with a slightly raised eyebrow at the comment. Sweet kitten? More like a sly fox at times. Oh well. Much love, though.

With so many unfamiliar faces behind Millerna, a few more introductions were in order. On cue, a guy with long, blonde hair and the only other woman in the group approached.

Millerna motioned for them to come closer. "Van, this is Allen. He is my new head of security."

The blonde guy bowed lightly at the waist. "King Van." He greeted politely. "Behind me are our pilot and my second, Gaddess, as well as Reeden, Kio, Ort, Pyle, Katz, and Teo," he introduced the rest of the crew who bowed in greeting.

"…and this lovely lady is his sister Celena," Millerna continued. "She may look innocent but don't let that fool you. She hopes to become a member of Asturian security too. Until then, she's permitted to trail along and shadow Allen and the rest of the guys."

Celena, the young woman in question, offered both Fanelian royals a perfect curtsy. "Your highnesses."

Merle immediately liked her, Van could tell. She nodded eagerly, sensing an ally and fellow party girl only waiting for a chance to show it. "You can call me Merle when we're alone. It's totally fine. I can already tell we're going to get along well. Just wait until tonight when you get your first taste of Fanelia out and about. We're all going to the Mystic Moon! It's the best nightclub in town!" Noticing Van's scowl, she elbowed him gently in the ribs. "It's going to be awesome. I'm there with my friends a lot but it's going to be even better with you all."

Van was fully aware of how well she was plowing through his lack of enthusiasm- with the unyielding strength of a pack mule. Really though, it was good to have Millerna and her together. One, because he was hoping that Merle would take on some of Millerna's more mature qualities and two, because having a friend like her around made the palace instantly feel warmer.

The Mystic Moon's location was easily visible from anywhere in the capital because of its sky beam. A solid, blue column of light shone straight up into the inky night sky like a guiding beacon and young Fanelians flocked to it on weekend evenings like moths to a lamp. Likewise, Hitomi, Yukari, and Amano were on the way there.

Being that it was a Saturday night, the streets were livelier still than during the week. Some restaurants had extended seating outside in the pedestrian zone and on sidewalks. Groups of people enjoyed a late dinner and friends sat together for a glass of wine and to talk story. Hitomi would have much preferred to do so too, but Yukari was too excited to see the club for the first time and Hitomi didn't want to be a downer. Even though the prospect of mingling with a crowd of strangers didn't appeal to Hitomi, she at least owed her best friend an attempt at fun.

So there they were, ready to party. While Amano was dressed not much different than usual, in a pair of slacks and polo shirt, the girls had taken the opportunity to wear things bought on a whim during shopping sprees which likely would never fit another occasion. Yukari sported a purple, strapless dress and was proud to have matched it with her favorite heels to ensure maximum dance capability.

Hitomi had, after some persuasion from Yukari, finally given in and cut the tag off a pair of hunter green shorts made from some velvet-like fabric she'd had in the back of her closet for longer than she could remember. They were tighter than she would have liked but now, with the tag off, she'd sort of committed to at least wearing them once. A pair of strappy, black heels in addition had even made her bestie whistle at the sight of her legs. Too bad her usual sneakers really weren't an option. Thankfully, combined with a long-sleeved, ivory, high-collar blouse, the outfit looked more classy than trashy.

The Mystic Moon was located in one of the old, historic mansions in old-town, not far from where they lived. It had been renovated on the inside and some on the outside, thereby keeping the original structure and charm of the building intact.

The line to get in already wrapped around the corner and by the looks of some of those in that line, they'd been waiting for a good while. Some left eventually when it wasn't moving for a long time or were turned away by the hostess for random reasons after finally making it to the front. Few attempted to hide the looks of disappointment as they walked off, apparently too casually dressed or not important-looking enough to be admitted.

All this waiting in line to be let into a club they were barely good enough for. This was starting pretty great already, Hitomi thought while wondering what the night was to bring. There was a separate line for those who were on the guest list. It made Hitomi feel weird to bypass all the other people but Yukari marched up to the hostess with such confidence she had to admire her.

The woman eyed them suspiciously when Yukari announced that they were on the guest list. She scanned their attire, taking her sweet time, then finally clicked her tongue. They probably reeked like peasant but Yukari was calmly smiling at her, imperturbable as always. When the hostess scanned the guest list, her red lips curled in a somewhat dissatisfied manner because she couldn't turn them away.

"Go on," was all she said and motioned for the giant mountain of a bouncer behind her to let them pass. He grunted in acknowledgment and used one of his meaty arms to pull open the nearest one of the brushed steel double doors next to him.

Yukari beamed at him in passing and Hitomi wasn't far behind, followed by Amano. Sound waves of a pumping bass hit them before their eyes adjusted to the visual overload that was the inside of the club.

In front of them, a buzzing mass of people was dancing and drinking, moving through a kaleidoscope of colors. Although the club was mostly dark, light emitted from the inside of glass tables, the structure of the bar areas in different locations throughout the club, and pillars that went all the way up to the tall ceiling made for an otherworldly kind of mood. It looked as if the place had been built with cosmic mortar and pestle. A big disco ball was mounted right in the center of the tall, vaulted ceiling and reflected the colorful lights around the club, casting stars across any surface it could reach.

"Wow," Hitomi allowed herself to say.

Yukari elbowed her, giggling. "This is awesome!"

Hitomi laughed. "Okay, this is pretty cool."

Amano couldn't help but admire the ambient too. While there were small tables to sit or stand by around the sides, the middle was reserved mainly for dancing and busy waitresses dressed in black expertly weaved through the crowd to deliver drinks to thirsty guests.

"Come on! Let's find Allen!" Yukari yelled in Hitomi and Amano's direction while taking her boyfriend's hand and already dragging him along. Hitomi followed them as they made their way around the side of the dancing crowd, dodging a few people who were so immersed in their moves they had strayed from the rest.

Allen had sent a message a few days ago, letting them know that they were on the guest list for this evening and that he'd be near the VIP area, mainly off duty with his second, Gaddess, in charge but still close to the princess just in case. Fanelia was known as extremely safe due to good diplomatic relations but being overly cautious never hurt.

"I see him," Amano announced, pointing to a set of three, wide steps straight towards the back. A long, red carpet was spread across the floor there and leading up the stairs with another hostess desk occupied by a duo much like that at the front door.

Not far behind the thick, velvet rope which separated the VIP area from that of the common people, a man in a dark blue suit with a martini glass stood half facing the crowd back there and half lazily scanning the area down where the three friends were. Although Hitomi knew that Amano and Allen were twins, seeing a nearly identical copy of Amano smile warmly at them was strange. His features were so strikingly similar.

The only difference was the hair. While Amano's was chestnut brown, Allen's was platinum blonde. It was the wildest thing. Hitomi tried to remember if the few times she'd seen Allen in younger years, his hair had already been this shade or if, perhaps, some hydrogen peroxide had been used to help with that.

As they neared the stairs, Allen lifted a hand in greeting. He moved to meet them halfway after the hostess stepped over to unhook the rope for him so he could exit the VIP area. His long hair trailed behind him when descending the stairs; and not without an obvious look of admiration from the hostess, Hitomi noticed. No wonder, Allen was quite the looker in many regards, tall and handsome like his brother but with a different style.

Allen deposited his Martini glass on a tall side table in passing, this one illuminated pink from the inside. The guys wasted no time in greeting each other with a manly hug and slapped each other on the back.

"Hey little brother," Allen greeted Amano.

Amano rolled his eyes. "Don't start that again. By two minutes…," he trailed off, shaking his head lightly, knowing that their never-ending argument already had a longer beard than Emperor Dornkirk of Zaibach.

Yukari looked back and forth between them, obviously a bit overwhelmed by seeing the two next to each other after four years. She snapped out of it when Amano placed his arm around her shoulders, thereby popping any developing phantasy bubbles involving the handsome duo and herself.

Allen took Yukari's hand, bowing over it in a formal gesture that was probably making her blush a bit, but who could be sure in that lighting. "It's been a while, Yukari. I see Amano finally had the guts to follow his heart."

That made Amano pull Yukari a bit closer against himself. "Better late than never."

The three laughed and by now Hitomi felt fairly awkward off on the side, pretending to be busy scanning the crowd during the reunion. She glanced towards the VIP area where Allen had just come from. There was a small but packed dancefloor with a bar on the right but on the left, even further back, bead curtains hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor. They looked like somebody had strung up diamonds but they certainly weren't real, or were they? Hitomi wondered what could be behind them. Probably a seating area to give the high society some privacy when chatting with each other or otherwise…occupied.

Yukari's voice reached Hitomi from the side. "Allen, do you remember…"

"Hitomi," Allen's voice rang clearly over the sound of the music.

She turned her head around and up to lock her eyes with Allen's. They were ocean blue and regarded her with curiosity. Just like with Yukari, he took one of Hitomi's hands but instead of just bowing, he kissed the back of it like he would no doubt for some highborn lady. Despite the absurdity, Hitomi couldn't deny herself some enjoyment out of the formality.

"How could I forget Hitomi. You were one of Amano's best friends, after all. It was my bad for not making enough time to hang out with all of you back when we were younger." Allen held on to Hitomi's hand for just a bit longer than necessary. "I'll be sure to make up for some of that tonight," he finished with a slight wink to emphasize his promise.

"It's good to see you again, Allen," Hitomi responded. It really was, although the sudden interest from his side was unexpected.

More conversation ensued after the four of them ordered drinks at the nearest bar. Yukari immediately wanted to know more about princess Millerna's schedule in Fanelia, of course, to which Allen simply smiled knowingly.

"Well, actually she is here tonight although you can't see her because she's somewhere in the crowd on the dancefloor up there. My crew is strategically placed around the area to ensure her safety. He said all this with aplomb, thereby earning him looks of awe from the girls and a proud nod from his brother.

"Didn't think she'd be here! I thought this was something like your night off," Amano said.

"A bodyguard is never really off duty, but she's cool with it. Underneath it all, she's really just a person like you and I and she has siblings too don't forget that. She insisted that I take the time to see you after I mentioned that my little brother lives in Fanelia." Allen twirled the stem of a new Martini glass between his fingers as he talked.

Amano combed several fingers through his hair. "Here we go again."

Yukari gripped his upper arm in a gesture that left no room for arguments. "You know what? It's way to amazing here to stand around and talk. Plus, I love this song so why don't we give that dancefloor a try?" She didn't wait for an answer and instead pulled Hitomi in front of herself, then pushed her towards Allen. "We even got the right amount of dance partners." Winking, she already had Amano's hand in hers and was on the way to join the crowd.

Hitomi smiled a bit nervously while smoothing her short hair behind her ears. She did like to dance but that was normally done at low-key parties with Yukari and not with a guy like Allen at the hippest nightclub in town.

"Shall we?" Allen asked her, extending his hand expectantly.

Well, she couldn't think of a tangible reason to say no. Not that she wanted to think of one.

While Merle, Millerna, and Celena danced their collective hearts out, Van was content to sulk moodily in their reserved seating area, nursing a glass of neat whiskey. The bass was pumping in his ears and even made the silly bead curtain separating their table and couches from the dancefloor and bar shake. At least he'd be left in peace here unless somebody choose to come looking, of course.

He ran a hand through his hair which was neatly combed and briefly wondered what it'd be like to come here incognito. Would he enjoy it more if nobody knew who he was? If he were to be able to hang out with a group of normal people? Like his…ahem…acquaintance from the coffee shop?

Damn.

He'd done such a good job up to this point to not think about her again. However, the tricky part when trying to not think about something was that he had to think about it to remind himself what not to think about. Considering that, he'd actually done a lousy job because it required him to think about her at least once a day.

Ha. Once a day? If only…

It also didn't help that just at that moment, he spotted a way too familiar face near the bottom of the steps. He could see her between the cracks in the curtain.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

If he hadn't been sure before, he definitely was now because she was staring right at where he was sitting, just she obviously couldn't see him behind the sparkly diamond fringe. Seeing her here was like spotting an island in a vast, wild ocean. She seemed a bit out of place but it wasn't due to her looks because she was by far more tastefully dressed than most of the women he'd fended off earlier this evening. She seemed out of place because this obviously wasn't her natural environment.

He saw Allen greet a guy who looked a whole lot like him, no doubt the brother Millerna had mentioned he was going to meet. And there was the other woman from the coffee shop. The one who'd been in line in front of him the other day, so excited about the upcoming visit to the Mystic Moon.

After some elaborate show of courtesies from Allen's side, the four went further away so Van couldn't see them anymore but now he certainly couldn't stop his thoughts from spinning. And spinning they were, around the image of a certain short-haired, green-eyed woman. Why couldn't he just stop thinking about her? Pondering this for a while, he then waved over a waitress who was only too eager to assist her king.

They were all out of breath when they ordered a new round of drinks at the bar. Despite everything, Hitomi had to admit that she was having a great time. Allen was a good enough dancer to make up for her level of ineptitude with his confident moves. A few gulps of water and more potent drinks later they were nothing short of stunned when the VIP hostess appeared beside them and told them that they had been invited to enter that area.

"Wait but who…," Yukari began to ask but the hostess interrupted her.

"Look, do you want to come back there or not? I don't have time for this," the woman said over her shoulder while already on the way back to her post.

Amano chuckled, "now that's a pure-bred Rottweiler. She hardly even needs the bouncer's help."

Shrugging, the quartet made their way towards the VIP area, albeit a bit weary still. The hostess stood and looked them up and down, much like her colleague outside while unhooking the thick, red piece of rope to allow them passage. She was clearly not in favor of having any of them except Allen in this area but couldn't do anything about it despite her position as a gatekeeper. Some higher power had overwritten her authority.

To Hitomi, the grass wasn't much greener on the other side. Except that people here were perhaps dressed even fancier, looked more self-important, and the drinks they held looked more expensive too. Half-full bottles of Champaign and liquor had been carelessly left on tables littered with overturned glasses and crumpled bills, including traces of white powder which looked a lot like cocaine. It instantly gave the term high-society a whole new meaning.

They stood there for a few minutes, looking around to take it all in again, minus Allen who was already used to it. Nobody paid attention to them and even Yukari was still a bit taken aback. She probably couldn't believe her luck about having the chance to come all the way to the heart of the club on her first visit.

They were still standing at the edge of the dancefloor when Hitomi looked behind herself and saw somebody she didn't expect to see again in real life. All the tumult receded and everything around her grew hazy like standing in a dark tunnel with him at the end. Aw crap.

Dressed in a black suit with the royal crest embroidered on the breast pocket, sans sunglasses and with his hair combed back, the king of Fanelia could hardly be mistaken for anybody else. A few people who'd been busy dancing in that area took a moment to stare and exchange some hushed words which were easily lost in the sound around them. Yukari, Amano, and Allen were still looking the other way, pointing at the bar, when he came to a stop in front of Hitomi.

Neither of them said anything until Van offered a "hello."

"Hi…," Hitomi answered in an equally awkward way.

Cue for the others to finally notice the person who'd joined them. That seeing the king of this very country suddenly stand a mere few feet away shocked them would have been an understatement. Well, everyone except Allen again, of course, who was merely surprised to see Van approach them.

"King Van," Allen acknowledged him. "Was there anything you needed from me?"

Van looked at Hitomi for another moment before shaking his head. "No." He then proceeded to kick himself mentally. He'd thought about what exactly to say but now it was all gone. Smooth. Real smooth. Distraction! Now! "Is this your brother?" He asked although it was quite obvious that the guy next to Allen couldn't be anybody but an identical twin.

Allen was taken aback that the king had decided to not only venture out into the open but now also showed interest in his family life. "Indeed, your majesty. This is Amano, his girlfriend Yukari, and their friend Hitomi." Allen introduced them all. "We all grew up together in Asturia."

Van didn't crack so much as smile, one hand clutching his glass of whiskey like a lifeline. Meanwhile, Yukari's eyes were still as big as saucers, words having failed her. Was this a dream? The awkwardness of the situation was completely lost on her. Hitomi, on the other hand, was close to bursting out in hysterical laughter. How was it that she kept stumbling into him?

Van nodded at the group as a collective greeting. "I saw you with them and thought it would be better to keep everybody together."

Amano was the first of the others to say something, shaking his girlfriend out of her stupor. "Thank you for the invitation, your majesty. Would you excuse us for a moment though? I think my girlfriend is thirsty." That said, he took her hand and coaxed her out of the semi-circle.

Hitomi could hear her protest a bit.

"Amano, why are you pulling me away? It's the king for Pete's sake…," Yukari huffed when they were out of earshot.

"Because you've been staring at him since the very first second," Amano laughed. "Calm down and we'll go back over there eventually, okay?" A mere warm, loving gaze from him usually did wonders in cooling her down.

Yukari rolled her eyes and nodded. "Fine. You're right. Thanks for making sure I don't say anything weird."

"Not a bad idea that with the drink," Allen said. "Hitomi, can I get you anything too?"

"Uh…sure," she answered.

"Your majesty? Anything?" Allen asked Van too.

"No. I'm alright," he answered and lifted his whiskey glass.

After Allen made his way towards the bar, it was just Van and Hitomi continuing their stare-off.

Hitomi finally laughed, but it was more because she was at a loss for what to say and do than actual amusement. It wasn't like this could get any more awkward. Enough shilly shallies.

The few drinks she'd had and the extravagant, overpowering atmosphere made her bold. "What now? Are we going to pass the time dancing? We know each other well enough after all." The absurdity of it all.

"No…I hadn't planned on it," he responded ruefully while taking in the sight of her in the party outfit. Although she looked glammy with the velvet shorts and high heels, the blouse gave her an aristocratic look and only underlined her natural beauty.

Even if he wanted to dance with her in a place like this, he couldn't. Not in a club where more than half the people were drunk, on drugs, or both. The possibility of somebody snapping a picture of him doing anything that would shame the royal house was too big. If was different when his little sister was spotted on the dancefloor. She was known as a party girl, a bit younger, and the darling of the media but he needed to be taken seriously at all times.

"Then…what am I supposed to be doing while we wait? Pretend to converse with you?" Hitomi asked him. "Like we just met for the first time?"

She was becoming impatient. Not many people would usually get away with talking to Van in such a way- it was quite sobering.

This was going absolutely not excellent. If only he could remember what he'd planned on saying earlier to smooth out the wrinkles.

Van scowled at her. She was testier than he remembered and his cheek tingled in remembrance.

Finally, another person saved them from their own stubbornness.

"Van! Look at you coming out of your hiding place!" A melodic voice proclaimed from the side.

"Millerna," Van said a bit gratefully.

"Who is this? Hi, I'm Millerna," she introduced herself, not even waiting for Van to do it.

The blonde was almost as tall as Van in her heels and shook Hitomi's hand eagerly. "Are you a friend of Allen's? I saw him here just a moment ago."

Allen was still not back and a quick look around confirmed what he had told them earlier. That Millerna's security detail was positioned at various places in the club. A guy in a navy blue suit was close by but still far enough away to give them privacy.

"Y-yes, your majesty," Hitomi said, the title feeling strange in her mouth.

"You don't have to call me that. At least not when it's just us. Call me Millerna," she offered.

"Uhm…alright…Millerna," Hitomi said.

By the gods. She was standing in the middle of the Mystic Moon's VIP area, talking to not just one but two royals, which doubled the number of royals she had ever talked to in her life.

"How do you know Allen? We haven't been to Fanelia in years, and even then it was before he became head of my security detail." Millerna asked curiously.

Hitomi felt a bit more at ease. The princess was clearly more laid back than she would have expected. "I'm actually from Asturia too. So is my friend Yukari. She is Amano's girlfriend. The three of us share an apartment here in town."

"What a crazy coincidence!" Millerna exclaimed. "Why'd you leave Asturia? Too boring because no dragons?" She joked.

Van stood next to them as the two women fell into an easy conversation. He was really quite relieved that Millerna had shown up. It gave him an excuse to look at Hitomi without the need to say anything at all. So far, he had only gotten himself in trouble or been a nuisance when alone with her. Not a great track record. Maybe it was better if there were other people and no disguises.

When Hitomi and Millerna arrived at another topic which they could bond over, both their eyes lit up. While Hitomi was nearing the end of her nursing education, Millerna was on her way to become a physician. She'd taken up medical studies despite her father's vehement protests and continued them even after Eries had threatened to abdicate after Folken's death, thereby making Millerna the only eligible heir in the event that she'd make her threat a reality.

Allen eventually came and delivered a drink to Hitomi but Millerna insisted that he re-join his brother and Yukari at the bar, which he did, albeit reluctantly. Hitomi had a feeling that Amano was keeping Yukari away on purpose still, to make sure the alcohol wouldn't prompt her to say things in front of the king and princess she'd later on regret. Millerna assured Allen that Hitomi and she were now best friends and that they had important things to talk about. The only reason Van was allowed to stick around was, well, who would tell a king to butt off? It of course also helped that he didn't say a word while the women were talking.

On the other end of the long bar, a guy with silver hair was playing absentmindedly with the ice in his empty glass. His eyes scanned the crowd without aim, watching people dance, laugh, and yell at each other over the loud music. Those fools.

Dilandau Albatou came solely for the people-watching and drink. Definitely not for the dancing and horrible music. Clad in a merlot shirt and black jeans, he was one of the more casually dressed people here. However, as a member of the Zaibach attaché corps, he never had trouble getting into the Mystic Moon no matter how he was dressed.

Reaching into a pocket, he retrieved a small plastic bag containing a single, white pill. Drugs weren't anything too uncommon here and the effects some of the stuff had on others was too entertaining to not sit back and watch. Sometimes, people did downright cringe-worthy stuff when high.

After ordering another round, he slipped the pill into one of two drinks in front of him before taking a sip from his own gin and tonic. He waited until one of the waitresses he knew well came by to load her tray with new orders.

Dilandau stopped the woman with the wavy, teal hair as she picked up drinks from the bartender. "Sylphy. I'm feeling generous tonight. Would you bring this to someone for me?"

"Sure. Who do you want me to bring it to?" Sylphy asked with a facial expression that suggested mild indifference.

Dilandau was regarded as a weirdo in certain circles. As an albino, his outward appearance was unusual. Pale skin, eyes the color of rosé, and nearly white hair weren't exactly what women would list as top desirable features. Although money had, more often than not, helped make them forget about that. It wasn't like he ever felt like wasting time with pleasantries in a woman's company anyway.

In his position, he enjoyed all the honors of a noble but was content to remain mostly antisocial. When he came to the Mystic Moon, he rarely left his favorite seat at the bar. The reason he was still a favorite among the staff was that at least he tipped well.

"Dealer's choice," Dilandau answered with a lazy grin. "Bring it to whoever looks like they could use it."

Shrugging, the waitress tossed her long hair over one shoulder before placing the glass on the tray, grabbing it and walking off into the crowd, weaving through it carefully.

Taking a big swig of his drink, he nearly choked on it when, very unexpectedly, a single finger poked his shoulder. Who the hell was dumb enough to approach him?

"Hey," a female voice demanded his attention.

"What?" Dilandau asked, obviously annoyed and not even turning around because he was trying to not lose track of Sylphy in the crowd. She was moving fast, doing her job well so he didn't want to miss who she'd deliver the drink to. Then, when he saw her finally zoom in on someone and hand the glass over, he was finally ready to deal with whoever had intruded his personal space.

"Did you just spike someone's drink?" The female voice prodded.

Even though many people in the crowd were on some sort of drug, they took them with intent. Dilandau whirled around and immediately backed away a bit because the young woman's face was closer to his than expected. Two pale blue orbs stared at him so accusingly that it made him feel naked on the spot. It was as if she was trying to read his thoughts.

When focusing on her more closely, he realized that she was around his age. He should be able to deal with that easily, or not? "No," he still answered calmly. "I spiked a drink. Not someone's. There's a difference." Dilandau regarded the young woman lazily, challenging her.

Her hair was cut the same way as his, although with natural waves. She wore a pair of thin, black palazzo pants and a lavender, silk, crop top. Where a lot of women liked to take the opportunity here to dress up to the nines, she looked like she was on her way to Sunday brunch. It gave her an air of sophistication and that made him a little curious.

Contrastingly, the girl was holding a fresh bottle of beer by the neck, apparently having stood not far away to order a fresh round for herself. Beer wasn't really the choice beverage of high-society girls. She was pretty and interesting so far, he had to give her that.

What he said made her frown. "Well," she said innocently. " Why would you spike a random drink?"

Dilandau chuckled. "Just sharing some Intensified Luck in hopes it will make someone's evening."

Brow slightly furrowed, the girl slowly said, "right. Because let me guess, you're a generous guy?"

Celena looked at him with an expression that was completely unfamiliar to him. Not outright disapproval about doing something fucked up like drugging a random person but instead bypassing the outrage and going straight about finding his motivation for it. That, in combination with her confidence about approaching a guy who was a stranger to her in a bar, made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Shit. You won't believe how many snappy one-liners I just forgot and because of that, I need to go." Dilandau said while getting to his feet and downing his drink in one large gulp while simultaneously grabbing a black sports coat from the back of his barstool.

In any other situation, he'd never be the one to back down. Who was he, to be scared of some naïve girl getting under his skin by merely looking at him? Even as he pushed past her, moving her out of the way with his elbow carefully but deliberately, she didn't make any attempts to follow him. At least, she knew what was good for her. The dancing crowd swallowed him in the blink of an eye.

Fuming, Dilandau ducked into the men's room. His evening entertainment was ruined for the time being. The audacity of this blonde bitch. He was so mad he kicked the silver trashcan sitting in the corner which earned him an annoyed glance from the guy at the urinal.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Dilandau challenged him.

The guy shook his head, finished his business, and left the bathroom without washing his hands. Pig.

Dilandau walked up to the sink and braced his hands onto the marble washbasin. His own reflection stared back at him. Of course, he'd taken some of the Intensified Luck himself too but he already knew what it'd make him feel like. Like he was actually in control for once. Weird, because normally people took drugs for the exact opposite reason, to be able to let go.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the marble surface harder and focused on his mirror image. The more he looked at himself, the more the resurfacing images of his surreal nightmares threatened to swallow him again. Hissing at his own image, he tore himself away and strode into the far-off stall, banging the door closed before locking it.

The smoke detector in the closed-off room was still damaged from the last time he'd broken it. He leaned his back against the side wall and reached for the pack of cigarettes in one of his pockets. After lighting one up, he inhaled greedily and then rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to be more comfortable. At least here he'd be safe from the curious, little inquisitor for a while.

Hitomi had lost track of time. At some point, a waitress stopped by and handed her a drink.

"But I didn't order anything," Hitomi protested while the waitress thrust the gin and tonic into her hand.

"It's from this guy at the bar," she explained and gesticulated vaguely towards it.

Over the woman's shoulder, Hitomi could make out Allen, Yukari, and Amano. Allen smiled at her from across the distance and she raised the glass in a toast before tasting it. It had obviously been sent by him- how nice. She was actually having a good time now even though the dark king was still next to Millerna and her, hanging out there like a soggy raincloud. After two more sips, she was glad about the refreshment even though she'd already had a few drinks up to this point.

Van was pretending to look as much interested as a guy could reasonably be expected to be when two women were conversing animatedly, not including him. But that was just fine with him. It gave him all the time in the world to glance at Hitomi whenever appropriate, drinking in the sight of her cheerful face more eagerly than the whiskey. Her genuine nature made him feel more at ease in the usually dreaded environment.

More time passed as the women talked about similar classes they'd had and shared stories of training rotations with obnoxious patients and shocking diagnoses. It was Millerna's turn to tell a story about a guy she'd treated in the ER who had thought it a splendid idea to mend a wound on his leg with superglue, which then necessitated them to soak the affected area in acetone.

Hitomi wobbled a bit and smothered a laugh with her free hand when Millerna talked. It wasn't actually that funny but an unfamiliar feeling in her head stole away her ability to keep it together. "'Scuse me for a moment please," Hitomi said and stepped away as gracefully as possible. What in the hell was wrong with her. She hadn't had that much to drink, or did she?

She stumbled into the VIP restroom where the sound of music was more muffled and the light was brighter, aiming for the sinks. Two other women were in there, fixing their flawless warpaint and giggling amongst themselves. "…sooo hot in that black suit and I can't believe he's here tonight."

Hitomi stifled a groan as she put down her drink and turned on the faucet to splash cold water onto her face, not caring if it would smudge her own, much less elaborate makeup. The cool water helped her focus again better. As far as she could tell from her reflection staring back at her, she looked fairly normal. Phew. At least she wouldn't embarrass herself completely if she went back out there to let her friends know that she would be leaving.

The two high-society girls brushed past her with envious looks on their faces, one whispering something into the other's ear without Hitomi even taking note. Right. Good. So that was the way out. Kind of hard to tell with all the light and glitz in there. All she had to do was follow them. Back out into the cosmic darkness of the Mystic Moon. The difference in lighting and intensity in sound after the brief stop in the restroom hit her like a brick wall against the head. She was feeling worse and worse by the minute and the refreshing effect of the cold water had worn off fast.

She wobbled again, looking around but everything appeared strange. It was as if she had fallen through a rabbit hole and been spit out in another dimension. Faces were blurry and bodies moved too fast for her to follow. Walking felt like having to wade through molasses. She stumbled to the other side and reached the area across from the bathroom doors where a polished shelf along the whole length of the wall was meant to hold drinks for those whose hands were otherwise occupied. Only a few steps away, a couple made use of just that and had abandoned their champagne glasses while thoroughly exploring each other with hands and mouths.

Hitomi reached out to place her half-empty glass onto the shelf but, in her delirium, misjudged the distance. Only halfway on the secure surface before she let go, the glass fell and shattered, sending shards of expensive crystal, ice, and booze flying. Some splashed on her toes, some on the couple's legs and ice went sliding across the floor. They only spared a moment to shoot her an annoyed glance before stepping away further and resuming their previous activities.

In the meantime, Hitomi could do nothing but stare at the floor, dumbfounded and utterly at a loss for what had just happened. As if hypnotized, she stood in the same spot for what felt like an eternity before she, even despite the blaring music, heard glass crunch under the soles of, no doubt, expensive shoes and felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

Tbc...soonish.

A/N: Really, I had nearly 19 pages written already but decided to cut it off sooner for my own sanity. That said, ch 4 (or rather chapter 3, part 2) shouldn't be as long as this update. Alas, real life often gets in the way.

Thank you to everybody who's taken the time to review. It's motivating, as you can imagine. Keep it up!

Until next time!

[radiostationman]

Group Mom-bro

Inspiration for this fic came from this as well as this.

Also because I love Nino, he is my son. He deserves OT4 love, yes he does.

Warning: Kinda NSFW-ish

---

If you had asked him, Nino wouldn’t have been able to tell you how it all started. Sure, he was their friend and it was his job to be there for them… but becoming the ultimate mother hen to four of Paris’ greatest heroes?

How was this his life?

“Come on, he is definitely the better blogger! Just look at his black and white pictures about-“

“Current models dressed as old timey people in old timey clothing? Al, those already exist and are definitely unoriginal.”

Alya grabbed at her chest in mock offense, “How dare you call this MASTER photographers art UNORIGINAL! I’ll have you know that he graduated the top of his class in the navy seals and-“

Nino was quick to cover her mouth with his hand, eyes wide and shoulders hunched in disgust. “That meme has finally died, please let it stay buried and at rest forever.”

He nearly shrieked when a gross warm and wet tongue sloppily licked a stripe up his palm, resulting in him pulling away and desperately scrubbing at his hand with a fistful of napkins. “ALYA!”

All he received was an amused smirk and an eyebrow waggle.

Groaning, he tossed the used napkins onto the café tables surface and cupped his hands around the ceramic mug before him, pointedly dropping his gaze into the tea’s swirling depths and not at the gorgeously powerful woman before him.

“Now now, Lahiffe, don’t give me the, ‘I’m pretending to ignore you but can’t because I’m too nice’ stance. I know you too well for you to get away with it and will tickle you into submission if need be!”

The twitching of his lips was a dead giveaway that her words had taken affect, yet he kept his eyes trained on his green tea.

Alya sighed in mock defeat, holding her hands up in an ‘oh well’ gesture.

“It seems like you have forced my hand. Prepare to be- “

The whole building suddenly quaked, hanging lights swinging and forcing many of the cafés occupants out of their seats, including Alya and Nino. When the shaking had stopped, all went silent, as though no one knew what to do with themselves.

Turning to the blogger next to him, Nino opened his mouth only for a car to smash through the window right next to their table. Alya tackled him to the ground and out of harm’s way just in time, covering him from the shower of glass and the screaming of civilians inside and outside of the building.

As the chaos around them continued, Alya pulled him to his feet and quickly checked him over before giving him an apologetic look. Before she could say anything, he gave her an encouraging smile and tipped his head in the direction of the latest akuma. “Go, and be careful.”

Grinning dangerously, she nodded and ran in the direction of the restrooms, calling over her should as she went.

“Rain check?”

“Rain check.” He confirmed with a warm smile.

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

When Nino had returned home later that night, he flipped his bedrooms light switch on and made his way inside only to stop with a look of surprise on his face. There, standing in the middle of his room, was Volpina. In her arms were an assortment of sweets and delights, as well as a small bouquet of his favorite flowers.

She placed the objects down on his bed before a feral look took over her face, sharp teeth glinting as she trained that look onto him. “Now, about that rain check?”

Nino closed his door just in time for the fox heroine to pin him the wooden surface, her clawed hands smoothing up his thighs to his waist, slipping beneath his t-shirt to turn him into a trembling red-faced mess.

“Yes p-please!”

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

After a week of no akuma’s, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when one showed up at school in the form of an angry janitor seeking justice against the school board. Specifically, their school.

After everyone fled, Nino managed to stay at a safe distance while also keeping an eye on the four heroes. Luckily, after only- he glanced down at his watch- forty-five minutes, the akuma had been dealt with and school was called back into session.

They had ten minutes to sort themselves out and Nino took it upon himself to drag them all to a secluded alley where he handed out the necessities to everyone. Food for the kwami-bros, an emergency makeup kit for Chloe, and some bandages and muscle-rub from the medkit for anyone in need of it.

“Alright guys, we have t-minus eight minutes and twenty seconds to freshen up and get back to class. So, let’s hustle!”

The DJ exclaimed while helping Chloe brush and retie her hair as she applied her makeup as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had two hairclips held between his teeth as he did so, too focused on the blonde’s hair to notice the lovesick looks the other three sent his way.

The four kwami munching on their individual snacks only some feet away shook their heads in bemusement. Their partners were such dorks.

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

“-and that’s why you should totally date all three of us!” Alya exclaimed, hands on her hips and as confident as ever.

Adrien and Marinette stood beside her, clearly nervous but standing strong.

Nino on the other hand felt as if he were dreaming… or about to faint? Probably both from how he swayed the slightest bit, a dazed look taking over his features. Of all the places to ask him out it was after he was already hyped and excited that his favorite album finally came out. He was on his way to get to the store before the crowds came in, only for his three best friends to stop him in the middle of the park and hand him not only said new album on vinyl but-

“Aaaaaand we broke him.”

“Shit!”

Was that Marinette?

Suddenly, petite yet strong arms caught him before he hit the ground.

“Nino! Are you alright?” She asked in a panic, pretty blue eyes staring down at him from above. Wait, above? He shook his head to ward off the dizziness, wondering why everything looked all fuzzy around the edges, before realizing the Mari was dipping him. As if they were dancing and she had taken the lead, that kind of dipping.

“Uhhh…” He blinked, eyes widening in amazement as he snapped out of his stupor.

Marinette, as if suddenly realizing their position, squeaked and turned red. Nino knew he must be matching her with how hot his face felt. Damn him and his thing for stronger women.

With a mental shake, he gave her a nervous smile and murmured a quiet thank you. She had saved him from the hard ground, after all.

Seeming to calm down a bit, she returned the smile and straightened them both.

“Well, that was a beautiful example of a heroine and damsel in distress, eh Adrien?” Nino and Marinette’s heads both snapped in the direction of Alya’s voice, balking at the phone in her hand that was obviously recording the entire scene. Adrien, looking relieved yet also amused, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the mischievous girl.

“Seems like it.”

Nino was thankful he wore his contacts that day, as well as his favorite hooded sweatshirt. Why, you ask? So he could become a literal turtle and hide from the world. He did just that by throwing his hood over his head, as well as his entire face, and making a frustrated (and definitely not a whining) sound.

“Aww, don’t be like that Nino.” A warm hand settled atop his hood covered head, before gripping the fabric and pulling it back down. Adrien’s face came into view and, oh wow he was super close! Noticing this, Nino felt his face heat up all over again, and could tell that his best bro knew just from the way his eyes tailed across his flushed cheeks.

“I can be anyway I want as long as it’s legal and not hurting anybody, bro.” Nino replied, smiling even though he was eyeing the ground as if it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

The model hummed before stepping closer and tipping Nino’s head up with his fingers. Green eyes locked with golden ones for a moment. Instead of feeling awkward, Nino felt comfortable. Sure, he was a little nervous with how close they were but…

Once their lips brushed against one another’s, his hands flew up in surprise to grip onto Adrien’s shirt. He considered pulling away until he felt the other male become more confident in his actions. Thinner lips pressed much more firmly against his own, hands sliding around his waist to pull their bodies together completely. Nino nearly melted at the experience of it all, similar yet completely different to Alya’s ministrations. Hands larger than hers but not any less strong and sure of their place on his body, only staying in one area instead of immediately conquering every inch on his person because this was Adrien; his best and most loyal friend- although the friend part was starting to shift into something more. Sure, he had always had a crush on him, as well as Mari, but he never thought they’d all feel the same.

Yep, he must be dreaming. That’s the only way this could be happening, but he’d be a complete idiot not to enjoy said dream. With a moan he slid his hands up from Adrien’s chest to around his neck and relaxed against him, somewhat deepening the kiss in the process.

The tightening of the arms around him made him shudder, his sole focus on the male before him. They most likely would have continued if it weren’t for the squeal beside them.

Pulling apart in shock, they turned to the currently embarrassed Marinette who had clearly made the noise, if her own hands covering her mouth was anything to go by. Alya, on the other hand, was once again holding up her phone with a victorious grin.

“So we can take that as a definite yes then?”

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

When Nino woke up he noticed it was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He struggled to open his eyes for a few minutes, nearly falling back asleep in the process several times, but was finally able to at least crack an eye open to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

In bright green numbers the electric clock flashed 11:00AM. That’s the earliest he’s gotten up in months, considering the fact that his career in the music industry involved a lot of traveling, late nights, parties and random meetings that his agent set up for him.

Sighing, he nuzzled his cheek into one of the many stupidly soft pillows littering the bed and tried to remember what he had to do for the day.

It was Saturday, he was in a large king sized bed (although it seemed bigger), he was alone and-

Wait, if it was Saturday then why was he alone?

With a frown, he racked his groggy brain for answers and after a moment he remembered. He was able to take the next two weeks off before meeting with his new producer in order to finally solidify his presence in the music business. His significant others, who were able to get weekends off depending on the season, mentioned something about a fashion event nearby that they had to attend. With Adrien taking on his father’s business and Marinette beside him as a lead fashion designer, both of them were a force to be reckoned with for sure, and it would be no surprise that they would be attending something so important. Alya was quick to work her way up as an editor to publisher and editor-in-chief of her own websites, magazines, and even channel on tv where she put E! news to shame. So, she would be there to get the latest scoop first hand, considering she wasn’t one to let her own workers have all the fun.

With a sigh he tried not to frown at the thought of his boyfriend and girlfriends being away from him. He was proud of them, and damn it all he would not admit to being the clingy one!

While his thoughts distracted him, Nino didn’t notice the bedroom door opening, nor the slight rustle of expensive sheets behind him. It wasn’t until a warm, toned body slid up against his that he snapped out of his thoughts and gasped, still too tired to react properly.

“Good morning~” Adrien purred into his neck, his hand sliding from the waistband of Nino’s boxerbriefs to his stomach.

With a sigh a relief, Nino relaxed and carefully flipped over to face his boyfriend. “You dork, you scared the heck outta me.” His actions betrayed his irritation as he wrapped his arms around Adrien’s torso and leaned forward to eskimo kiss him.

He nearly grinned when the affection-lover melted against him and tightened his grip around Nino’s waist. Adrien and Marinette were both romantics and went to great extremes to show it. If they loved you then they would make sure you knew it, by nearly any means possible.

“Uh oh, the bed goblin strikes again.”

Pulling back just enough to send Alya a playful glare over Adrien’s shoulder, Nino untangled his hand from his boyfriends torso to flip her off, only to have it grabbed and yanked on. He was stunned to find himself on his back in the middle of the bed, mentally cursing himself for forgetting how strong not only Alya was but his other significant others were as well.

“Really?” He deadpanned, feeling his eyebrow twitch at her growing smirk.

“Really.” She confirmed, pushing his legs up and open to slide in between them.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know we were having a party. I would have brought macaroons.” Marinette smirked as she walked in, untying her ponytail at the same time.

Alya turned to send her girlfriend a grin over her shoulder, “Didn’t you hear? Nino is going to let us do whatever we want to him in order to show how much we’ve missed him while he was away for all those lonely months. He was all alone, with no one to give him love or affection and he is starved! We must fix that at once!”

Nino felt his face heat up, “W-wait- “

“That’s a great idea, Al! We can’t let our boyfriend think he’s unloved and alone, now can we? Right Adrien?” It was Marinette’s turn to send a cheeky grin to their next partner in crime, who sat up with a matching grin and agreed, “Definitely not, my love~”

Suddenly, Nino found himself pinned down by three gorgeous super heroes and tickled mercilessly.

“OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS ARE SUCH DORKS!”

[storybycorey]

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

Finale posted tomorrow!  

We’ve made it from A-Y, and I know some of you have been waiting for the whole thing to be posted before reading, so thought I’d gather it all together in anticipation of the finale tomorrow at 7 PM!

Each of the letters up to this point have been approx. 200 words, but Z is close to 2700 words, so I promise it will be a satisfying end to our alphabet!

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet, Letters A-Y

author: @storybycorey

rating: PG-13

wordcount (so far): 4612

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days.  Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him.  Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things.  He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there. 

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably.  Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting.  On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer.  The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch). 

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back.  With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now). 

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise.  His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days.  Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal.  But Dana is an enigma.  He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free.  It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path. 

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know.  He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really.  But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse.  The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly.  Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas?  He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.  

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between.  He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays. 

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife?  Girlfriend?”  

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes.  Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice.  He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried.  Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away?  Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything. 

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.  

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha.  Spin the Globe it was called.  They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away.  He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head.  Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully.  Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe.  Antarctica. 

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder.  That was more extraordinary than any adventure.”

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand. 

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire.  He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand.  It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm…,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute. 

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.” 

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip.  He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket.  The nice thing about it?  She doesn’t even pretend not to want it.  She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in.  They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub.  She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years.  Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.   He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned. 

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it.  It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks.  He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars... 

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres.  Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this:  In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time. 

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks.  It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.  

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.  

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.  

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully.  He’s not sure what else he expected.  Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.  

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day.  He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes?  Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe...”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.”   He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.  

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then.  Tomorrow...”

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

N is for No

He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, we’re better as friends. No, Mulder, I don’t love… The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that. 

He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchor—hair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.

Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesn’t roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk.  She giggles.  Bile rises in his throat.

No, Mulder, I’ve fallen for someone else…

He should leave, but Channing’s next words stop him cold. “How about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?”  

She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulder’s despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition.  

“Thank you, Rick, but no. I’m already…”  She smiles gently at him—him Mulder, not him Rick— “No,” she says again, then excuses herself down the hall.  

He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word he’s ever heard.

O is for Opal

His birthstone is opal.  Not that he’d ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone gifts—a topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.

Scully’s skin reminds him of that handle—the soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows she’d scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings can’t glow, don’t be ridiculous. But she does—she glows just like an opal.

The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer.  Her hand, her cheek—the safe parts of her body he’s been allowed to touch—they don’t even compare to the decades-old trinket.  He can’t imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be.  The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.

P is for Plum

Scully goes on kicks sometimes—bee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.

Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. There’s no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chin—his eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail.  

She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.

“Sorry!” she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb.  How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten.  

“No takebacks, Scully,” he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.

Q is for Quest

This job of theirs, it’s more than a job.  More than a career path.  It’s a downright quest.  

He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. There’s a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that.  

Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barber’s basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcinea— out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch.  

He sometimes can’t believe she’s still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends.  It astounds him really.  

And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isn’t so far away, that’s when he really believes—that being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.

R is for Rebel

Dana Scully is a rebel.  She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, there’s a troublemaker lurking.  It’s what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.

He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.

His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. They’ve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending I’m too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay.  

Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the last— hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.

His rumpled, sleepy little rebel.  She’s a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And he’s being as patient as he can be.

S is for Sexy

She’s sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself.  For the longest time, he blamed his body’s reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell… But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.

Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front.  Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she should’ve been, when cancer stole her color but didn’t steal her soul. And then there’s today. Today when there’s no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, “I think you may be right, Mulder,” tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.

What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isn’t on the outside at all; it’s what lies beneath—that intangible something that makes her Scully. That’s the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.

T is for Toes

She’s got cute little toes.  She’s got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one.  She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.

“Wanna stretch out?” he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.

He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum.  It’s all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest.  

Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie they’d been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going.  

As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, “The masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekends…”

She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, “Careful, I may just take you up on that…” before stepping onto the elevator.

U is for Umpteen

“Umpteen’s not a word, Mulder,” she tells him, eyes rolling, “It has no specified value.”  

She’s got a point of course.  They don’t have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve.  But umpteen is most definitely a word.  

Umpteen’s how many times he’s forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting.  Umpteen’s how many fantasies he’s had about sliding his hands through her hair.  Umpteen’s how many times she’s walked out the door, how many times he’s kept from going after her, how many times he’s sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteen’s how many times he’s wanted to kiss her.  It’s also how many times he hasn’t…

He chuckles, dipping his chin, “You’re right, Scully. We’ve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...”

Umpteen is how many times he’s said her name, it’s how many times what he’s really wanted to say was I love you.

V is for Volume

They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I can’t think over the noise she says).  He usually lets her win. 

Their relationship has its own volume control, he’s realized.  There are times when it’s loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn.  Other times it’s low—murmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly it’s somewhere between.  They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America. 

Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left.  Soft.  The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.

It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. I’m ready when you are."

W is for Wristwatch

This job has done a number on his wardrobe.  Jackets, slacks, shoes—all gone the way of the incinerator—either damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed.  Scully’s hasn’t fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.

His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch.  

There’s a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he needn’t even guess whom it’s from.  

“Scully,” he protests, but she stops him.

“Just open it, Mulder.”

It’s a watch—of course it’s a watch—a beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. “You didn’t need—” he begins, but she interrupts him again.  

“It was my father’s,” she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, “I’ve held onto it since… Here, let me.” She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.

“It looks good,” she whispers, “It brings out your… It looks nice—you’ve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuates—”

He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes.  “Thank you,” he tells her, “I love it.”  

There’s no way this watch lands in the incinerator. He’ll protect it with his life if he has to.

X is for X-Files

The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does.  It’s his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks it’s become hers, too.  They’ve created their own little world down here—a cozy, paranormal universe—and Scully’s as much a part of that universe as he is.

She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner.  It’s funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery.  She’s the very definition of an X-File.  It floors him that she chooses this life, that she’s willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.

There was a time he couldn’t have imagined not seeking the truth.  These days though? These days he’s beginning to believe he’s been searching in all the wrong places.  

The truth can’t be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields.  The truth—the real truth— exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.

It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.

Y is for Yawn

She yawns as he speaks, but it doesn’t bother him. Things feel sleepy—dreamy— tonight.

It’s been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and she…He’s not even sure what she’s been doing, doesn’t know that he wants to.  All he knows is that she’s here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.

It’s hard not to babble when he feels this good; he’s drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.

“And that says a lot… a lot, a lot, a lot…” Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life.  

He touches her hair—he can’t bear not to—covers her with a blanket to keep away the chill.  Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.

Z posted tomorrow night (9/25) at 7PM EST!