#This movie logic never cease to surprise me ^^)'

[p-receh]

Talking about Boboiboy movie and searching some shots causing to fill up my space! It drained me out cause so many things that aesthetics-ly gorgeous yet my old laptop almost reached it's limit :'33

..

Anyway Fang in Movie 1 lmao I can't— 😭

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: The Odd Squad UK Gadget Competition Results Video (Part 1)

Do you guys remember the whole ordeal about the first Sonic movie? Where Paramount approved an ugly-ass design for Sonic and then went back and had the crew tweak it after massive bullying and backlash?

Do you remember it being one of the more definitive examples of "bullying works"?

Yeah, apply that logic to trying to get a whole entire television network to recognize a show it's shat on for 7 years. Sure, I was able to make them recognize older shows' anniversaries, but having them put out a promo for a show that is not only the defining one of next month's event, but has a new series/season premiering? Lol, no. I can go get bent until my vertebrae cracks, clearly.

This, however, is not that television network.

Ladies and gents, it took us 4 months, but we finally have the results of the Odd Squad UK gadget competition on the other side of the pond. And with it, we have a much longer sneak peek at the world of Odd Squad UK. Somewhere, DeWitt and her execs are awooga-ing at this, in the "what the actual fuck" kind of way. Either that, or they're too drunk on Hennessy to care. There is no gray area.

I said I was gonna make a followup on the video, and here it is. Come pop down below the break, why don't you?

(And, uh...mind the television bugs, why don't you. It's CBBC. They have a zillion shows on the roster. Don't be surprised.)

Four months and we already have somewhat better editing than the briefing video.

It's not a wide margin, but it's pretty significant.

(And if you're telling me we really need a recap...have you seen the numbers my reuploads are doing? The first video pushed me over the 1k-subscriber count!)

HHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOLY FUCKIN' COLLEGE SCIENCE LAB, BATMAN.

Even putting aside that this is where Asha Soetan and Alexander Shaw filmed the NETA PMAs invite video...because I know that rainbow megaphone anywhere...clearly partnering with the BBC gave them a much bigger budget to work with.

It's either that, or this is a second Lab, because this isn't the first one from the other video. That one was smaller and looked more reasonably like a Lab. This one looks like they yoted all the science teachers out of the University of Cambridge and hijacked it just for the lab alone.

(Alternatively, Captain O's about to go Eric Andre on that door in a minute.)

"Move, bitches. Out of my way. Don't make me get the crown."

Given how Oprah had "There you are, something very odd has happened" as a greeting catchphrase, and later had "Greetings, agents" when she became the Big O, Captain O having "ahoy, ahoy, and welcome" as hers is such a stark contrast that fits with her character and I'm living for it.

Also, apparently this is the precinct's...Gadget Room? Did the Lab not suffice or did we just get our first continuity contradiction of this series before it even officially premiered?

...Don't answer that. That's a rhetorical question.

For one thing, the guy's a regular Stanley Kubrick.

For another, Captain O apparently has earrings, because the only answer to "is she androgynous" and "DOES THE GORL HAVE A GENDER" is "yes! our tertiary sexual characteristics for this character are earrings and a braid".

...I can feel the U.S. Marine Corps trying to advertise to my "do sailors wear earrings" ass FROM WHERE I AM FUCKING SITTING.

"To help us...y'know, as opposed to, say, the sitting President of the United States or Olive and Otto-"

"Who?"

"Ah- n- never mind. Not important."

"No, seriously, Onom. I am your boss. Who are you speaking of?"

"...Well, allow me to tell you a little about the show you're in..."

Depressed-ass-who-won't-take-his-Cymbalta Ozzie, we get it, cease with the filler, I am begging you.

So what I gather is that Captain O is very close to mastering the art of the Fus-Ro-Dah, because that "ENOUGH!" nearly made me fall out of the chair.

Any higher and it'll match the sound of my fire alarm!

Already loving this actress and already loving the direction they gave her of "all the sass, cranked up to eleven".

Oprah had sass. She did not have enough sass to make it at Fashion Week, in either season.

Orpita...had no sass. Not an inch. Not in any of the three areas she was in.

Even past a pandemic, even when the virus that caused the pandemic still exists, they still got it.

Meanwhile, they gave Orwell the direction of "scare the children, but don't scare them too much".

No, seriously. Put him in a horror movie. Put him in a M. Night Shyamahanahana production. He'd fit right in!

"You have sent us gazillions of designs..."

Yeah, no fuckin' shit! Odd Squad is to the UK what Precure is to Japan! Again I say, no fuckin' shit!!

...

NO MOTHERFUCKIN' SHI-

If it took two of them to sift through the designs of thousands...honestly, I commend 'em for the commitment. Can't be easy when you dominate UK kids show ratings, y'know?

Okay, hilarious drama aside...

The...the Memer-inator?

...Okay, I'm looking at the very-automated closed captions. It's the Memory-nator. Which...well, the name alone already brings horrifying implications. Or maybe that's just me thinking of All Mixed Up again.

All right, which one of you crazy sonuvaguns sent this in and took home gold, hehh??

(A very obvious /j, but look, it wouldn't be the first time a fan from outside the franchise's demo has gotten a gadget design in. OddTube Season 1, anyone?)

I like how they make us believe the UK precinct has all this fancy-schmancy Blender-type stuff, but it's actually Sinking Ship Entertainment who made this.

The kids won't know unless they read through the Terms and Conditions. But I know my shittin' way around this show and have been involved with it for 10 years so help me God. I know how the animation works around here even if I'll never work for the company a day in my life.

You're laughing.

The sick man has a villain arc and you're laughing at this unnecessary drama.

OH WELL HELLO NEW TUBE-EXITING EFFECTS. HOW YA DOIN'.

The days of when Season 3 got an upgrade and everyone was...I dunno...divided on it? Yeah, I'll say the fandom was pretty divided on it. I kind of miss those days.

(And if you're on the side of "they've improved", look at "Down the Tubes" and get back to me. The stuff seen here is a very vast improvement compared to...whatever they were on when putting the touches on those special effects.)

Is...is that a fuckin' scooter?

Putting aside the fact that unless you're gonna bludgeon Ozzie on the head with it then it isn't needed...I mean look, if you can somehow ride a scooter on grass, then bless you. I tried riding one on grass once, and all I got was dirt and scrapes and a harsh reminder that tinny baby wheels do not fare well on dirt. Basic science, really.

...No, really, don't bludgeon Ozzie over the head with it. It won't change him. Not mentally, anyway.

Behold: one of the few examples when touching grass might get you offline, but it doesn't make you feel better.

Y' geddit? Because he was associated with villains? D' y' geddit?

DO YOU GEDDIT JIM. DO YOU GEDDIT. ARE YOU S T U P I D ????? DO YOU NOT GEDDIT??????

"And it's only Thursday."

I could connect this to OddTube, if I really wanted to. If I really wanted to try. If I really wanted to give it my all.

But I do not, and so I will not.

"Depressed-ass bitch..."

"Hey!"

"If it worked for putting the Sad Blob on the telly..."

"You mean the one for ecs-"

"No."

three funniest memories

this thing is nearly half over already

Look, one of the things this video has going for it is that it's handling this shit in five minutes a lot better than Tell Your Tale ever did, if you mind the filler.

The problem, however, is that someone on the writing team took the wrong lesson from trying to stuff meat into a five-minute meal.

"Well, we've only got eight days until premiere, so...if it doesn't work..."

"But he's gonna get sick with the Saturdays."

"What?!"

"And then there's that Bad-Luck-itis strain going around..."

"WHAT?!"

Ahp, yep, there we go. Our first second continuity contradiction and the show hasn't even fucking premiered yet.

At this point, it's been ten years. I have no emotion nor feelings towards this one way or the other. No one should be surprised by this unless they are just coming across this show, and if you are one of those people, I have nothing but pity for you. And a cookie, because I'm nice. And also a textbook for you to read for free.

That aside...at least we see where he got his cheerleading skills from. He's just using a mop instead of a flag, because this is what Hoarders has stooped to.

*throws a glass behind me, and the glass shatters*

The guy has memories from the future, and I know human biology rules mean fuck-all here, but I'd like a 10-page essay on why that is.

That being said, he's a cheerleader, but he absolutely sucks at it. And in a world where math reigns supreme, going "1, 2, 4, 8" is tantamount to hate speech.

Ohhhhh...so he's the head of a cheerleading team?

I mean hey, if we have sports teams in 13579, I don't see why we can't have a cheerleading team for the UK precinct. I also don't see why we can't have a boy be the head of it, because, y'know...breaking gender stereotypes is part of what this franchise is so famous for.

*silent, pained, muffled screaming*

Really, if I want something like this, I'll go watch "Training Day" aga-

...Hold on.

...

THESE ARE BITS FROM UPCOMING EPISODES AREN'T THEY.

I'M BEING GAMED AREN'T I.

MOTHER OF FUCKING FUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHCK.

Look, it doesn't beat the blob snot Otto got on him, nor does it beat the innuendo-filled bit at the end of "It Takes Goo to Make a Feud Go Right"...

But it'll work. It's a nice middle ground of "this happened and apparently it's sticky".

Genuinely can't believe it took this thing over half of its runtime to make me cackle. Orwell's laugh, though? Fucking sending me to Saturn. The others' laughter? Fucking sending me to the part of space where Star Twinkle Precure takes place.

Moral of this entire bit: Ozzie, get better workplace friends. If even your boss is laughing at you, you're not in the right job.

(Psst: go peep Part 2!)

[fairyringsandwings]

This is gonna be long, so apologies in advance, but I absolutely loved the latest chapter and the serious story revelation it gave me and I would love to hear from you if I’m right or on the right track with my theory, even if you have to put your answer under a read more for spoilers.

…Shuri is a genius, but she has a habit of going so far in her thinking in her desire to keep pushing against Namor that she misses clear hint drops or basic logic and facts that counter her schemes. She hasn’t seemed to figure out or realize that Namor literally never said that the Red Death works on him or any of the Talokanil. In both the original memory and her recollection, Namor is totally calm, specifically “pleasant” when describing the effects of the plant, almost as if he were proud of it, and he specifically uses directed speech like “you” and “your” instead of neutral words, as in "I would not touch that if I were you, Little One", “Once consumed it will slowly cease the pulse of your heart and infest your organs with cancerous growths”, and “Someone as small as you would not fare well for very long." From his foreboding warning at their final fight to his subtle hints on the effect of the new heart-shaped herb, Namor has shown time and again in your story that he’s very specific about which words and tones he uses when he speaks, especially to Shuri, so there’s no way that any of this is an accident. It actually reminds me of the part in the movie when Namor describes in detail what would happen to Shuri’s body if she tried to visit Talokan in the dress Namora gave her, none of which, of course, happens to the Talokanil when they swim about in the depths of the ocean.

Also, in the garden in the cave where Shuri woke up as a girl, the Red Death was the only plant growing beside the grass even though there were “Flowers of every colour drap[ing] from the ceiling, bushes of greenery bursting from every crook and cranny in between small, trickling waterfalls”, which reads very much as an intentional cultivation spot. The Talokanil are WAY too farsighted and self-preserving to allow a plant within their reach that could be used against them to grow; they never would have hybridized it that way to begin with, or not burnt every strain of it to ash if it grew that way naturally, much less have it growing uncovered in the areas that they frequent. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if this was another preparation for the war against the Surface World, creating a poison with no known cure to threaten or torture surface-dwellers who have valuable information with, even if it’s in a “you can die quickly and without pain or slowly and in agony” way.

It also seems to me that Shuri is misinterpreting the call of the ocean not wanting her near Namor when she has made up her mind to actively try to hurt him as proof that she actually CAN, instead of just, y’know, wanting her to “accept her new life” and fully give in the way he wants her to before taking her. After all, isn’t wanting her to succumb first the reason why it sent her all those visions and called after her so menacingly? And why it lets Namor know where she is after three days of wading in the ocean despite the “danger” of the Red Death poison she made? A hundred bucks says that Namor noticed immediately that Shuri had taken three red petals from that cave when he brought her back there, or seriously considered the possibility beforehand, or he noticed the necklace with the vial without her knowledge when he found her in this chapter, OR the ocean gave him a heads up in the three days it took for him to come to her, and, like with Shuri’s other thoughts and attempts to kill him after their fight in the desert, knew it wouldn’t be a serious threat to his wellbeing (and since she took the altered heart-shaped herb, to hers either) or their “relationship”.

Am I close?

Hello Anon!

You are veeeeeery close. In fact, here's the next chapter so you can see for yourself ^_-

Chapter 11

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Can you do one where Y/N is really sick and kuroo and Bokuto take care of Y/N but Y/n doesn’t want them to know? If you can ☺️✨ and I love you work bye❤️

Throbbing pain pounded against Y/n's head in unison with the blaring pitch of the alarm on the side of their bed. Pressure pressed gently against their sinuses, hinting towards the runny nose which is sure to come. A small itch persisted up and down their throat, threatening to develop into a coughing fit with each breath.

All instincts told Y/n to take a day off- it was a weekend and there were no Nekoma manager duties which needed to be get done promptly, perfect day to sit back and watch a couple movies. Except, they had plans. Months ago, Tetsurou, Koutarou, Yukie and Y/n and had discussed this day in hopes of having a bonding day with the captains and third year managers. It was an annual occurance for the four to all have the day off, there was no way Y/n was going to let a little cold get in their way.

Rubbing their eyes with a groan, they pulled themselves upright against vertigo. They sat with their legs over the edge- rooted to the floor for a moment, slamming the alarm until the incessant beeping ceased. Rubbing the sleep from their sore eyes, they fumbled their hand on the nightstand in search of their phone.

Various texts lit up on the screen, revealing Yukie's inability to show up to their agreed meeting and the two aces grand disappointment at such news.

There was no way Y/n could call out now. The boys wouldn't be able to handle such disappointment.

Groaning once more, considerably more exaggerated this time, Y/n pulled themselves to their feet, stumbling down the hall to the nearest bathroom. The wall held them up more than their legs did.

Looking into the mirror, they weren't too surprised at the sight which greeted them. Disappointing? Yes. But when feeling so awful, it wasn't expected to look like a runway ready model.

Though, the dark circles around their eyes did kinda look like some cool grungy makeup. Maybe they could pull off this look... Or maybe that was the fever talking.

Not that they had a fever, or so they didn't think so. Their motto was 'if there aint proof, it aint there.' So until someone shoved a thermometer into their mouth and showed them the high numbers, they were completely fine.

A coughing fit forced its way of of their body, ricocheting around their chest as their body's way of saying 'what type of logic is that you expired carton of single serving size 2% milk.'

Turning on the faucet and cupping their unsteady hands under the stream and splashing their face. Closing their eyes, Y/n rubbed the cool water over their scalp. Dabbing their face with a towel resting on a rack behind them, they took special care in rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Satisfied with the dryness of their face, they set off with the beginning of their routine.

---

--

-

The air was cold.

So very cold.

Y/n's knees shook as they walked to the meeting place, nearly collapsing from the relief of the familiar park table. Quickening their pace, they slid to a sitting position, folding their hands on the dewy table and keeping an eye out for her peers.

The pair of players were known for being late, though. Y/n didn't know how long they could keep their heavy head up. So they decided to rest it on their hands. Just to get a little energy. And hey. While they were at it, may as well close their eyes. It's not like they'll fall asleep or anything. They were good at staying aware with their eyes closed. That was for sure. They had remembered whole lectures while their eyes were resting. This will be no different.

-

--

---

"Are they okay?" Tetsurou asked as he approached the table where his two friends sat.

Koutarou shrugged, "they were like this when I got here, I poked their shoulder but they kinda growled at me. I don't know, it was scary. So I just waited here for you."

Testurou walked over to Y/n, crouching down next to them, examining their face. Heat radiated off of their sleeping face, causing his eyebrows to rise.

"Hey bro," he spoke quietly, "I think they're sick."

"No way dude, Y/n like never gets sick."

"There's a first time for everything, I guess."

He shook Y/n's shoulder gently, ignoring their sleepy complaints.

"C'mon you gotta get up, unless you want us to carry you home."

Y/n's eyes blinked open.

"It's about time you got here, I almost fell asleep in the time it took you to arrive," Y/n slurred, their voice gravelly.

"Yup came real close to falling asleep there. Say, why don't we go to your house?" Tetsurou offered, scooping his hands under their shoulders.

They laughed drowsily, "why are you tickling me? And why go home? Home is for like. Homers... Homies."

Koutarou spoke up, placing his hand over Y/n's, "Aren't we homies though?"

"Ohh yea! That's right. Let's go homies home!" Y/n began to push themselves up, not realizing the majority of their strength came from Testurous firm hands.

"I'll lead the way," they offered, tripping over their own feet as they stepped ahead.

"Mayyyybe that's not such a good idea when you're sick," Tetsurou argued, him and Koutarou taking hold of Y/n's arm.

"What do you mean sick? Are you insulting me?"

"Okay, okay! You're not sick. Be my guest, walk on your own," Tetsurou released his hold, nodding towards Koutarou to do the same.

Brushing off their shoulders Y/n began walking once more.

"You sure we should let them go ahead like that?" Koutarou whispered, anxiously eyeing Y/n's shaky footwork.

"Three. Two," Tetsurou stepped behind Y/n, "One."

Right on queue, Y/n collapsed into his arms.

"Now help me out. We sure hurry to their house before someone thinks we're kidnappers."

----

--

-

Warmth surrounded Y/n as their eyes fluttered open. A bright light flooded their vision Why was it warm all of a sudden? Weren't they at the park? Did they sleep through the whole morning?

No, that wasn't the sun. That was an artificial light. And they weren't laying on a bench, it was too soft for that.

"Good morning sleepyhead!" A familiar voice sang.

Y/n shot up, nausea induced vertigo sending them blinking to regain composer.

"Koubo? What are you doing here?" They asked, planting a firm hand on the side of their head.

"It's a really funny story, but there's time for that later. Here, have some soup."

He sat down at the edge of Y/n's bed, tucking a steaming bowl of soup under their chin before bringing a spoonful up to their mouth.

Y/n let their mouth open, mostly out of confusion.

The soup was sweet, but also a bit savory. Surprisingly good considering the chef. Assuming Koutarou was the chef. Who else would be?

"Oh! You're up," Testurou exclaimed, entering the room with a 'Kiss the Chef' apron on.

Y/n practically spat out their soup.

"You're both here?" They choked out, "what happened?"

"What happened was someone doesn't know when to take a sick day," Tetsurou informed, taking seat at the foot of the bed.

Y/n shook their head, "I don't know what you guys are saying."

"YOU. ARE. SICK." Koutarou enunciated clearly.

"Oh."

"Want some tea?"

"I just wanna sleep."

"Okay we can go," Koutarou began to stand.

Y/n grabbed his arm.

"Stay."

[silverhart-makes-art]

I finished ‘The Rise of Flynn Rider’ last night. Had a really good time with it; it was like reading a wild episode of the series.Thoughts are below, but be warned of potential spoilers.

So many cameos of characters from the series that we know and love - Edmund, Eugene’s mother, the Baron, Stalyan (I love Stalyan more and more with every appearance, but especially sassy little Stalyan here), Captain, Maximus, Anthony the Weasel, the Stabbingtons, Hook Hand and Hook Foot, Ulf, Vlad, Big Nose, Attila, Shorty (I think?), the rest of the Pub thugs, the Tower randomly drops in, Pascal's mother (Pascal's mother?!), a new Brotherhood member we knew nothing about (what?!), the king and queen show up, Baron actually stole from the Spire Vault, which is impressive, Vardaros is mentioned, Cap randomly mentions Cassandra at one point. Just a wild cameo-fest. Pretty much every chapter had me going 'oh, I know that thing, that's from the series!' And with the exception of the Baron, Lance, and the Stabbingtons, none of these cameos really amount to much in the story. But they sure are a lot of fun. I appreciated them, even if some of them made no sense. It's just pure fandom fun.

Also something interesting to note, both in this book and 'What Once Was Mine' the kingdom is always just called 'the kingdom'. It's never referred to as Corona, or the Kingdom of Corona. I'm curious if recent events had something to do with that. It does make the reading a bit awkward in places, especially here where there is mention of the Dark Kingdom and the Seven Kingdoms, but Rapunzel's kingdom is just 'the kingdom', never capitalized or named or anything.

Spoilers ahead, but I was honestly surprised Vedis didn't turn out to be Quirin. Quirin coming to Corona with a circus is an amusing thought, and I don't see how it would mess up continuity any more than it already was in the book. But it is hilarious to me that pretty much everyone and their mother gets a mention in this book except for Varian. Too bad Varian, you weren't tall enough to be in this book.

This book sets up a lot of stuff that just... never comes to fruition. I like seeing Edmund and his wife getting a bit of backstory there, but there isn't enough there to justify it. There’s not even enough to really add to fandom speculation or headcanon, and the story doesn’t do anything with it. Edmund never comes up again, and eventually the whole Dark Kingdom plot is kind of dropped. It makes sense in the story to drop it, but then there’s no need to establish Edmund and all this Dark Kingdom lore in the first place. It would be stronger if the prologue were cut, and the reader had to discover the mystery along with Eugene. It feels like there should be a payoff, but the payoff comes years later and in another story called 'Tangled the Series'. They find Rapunzel's tower, and proceed to do nothing with it. The Brotherhood is mentioned, and is almost set up as this big interesting thing, and that goes nowhere. If I wasn't familiar with the series I think this book would be very frustrating to read (On that note, I would be so curious to hear the thoughts of someone who read this book and hadn't seen the series). But the absence of Lance Archer as a character is, I think, the most disappointing thing, since everything else is wrapped up in the movie and the series. Lance Archer is constantly referred to in this book, from the very beginning, up until the end, but the actual character makes no appearance. Having little Eugene and Arnie meet a childhood hero and either be inspired or discover they’re not as heroic as they thought, would’ve been really interesting and would’ve tied into the themes very nicely. Also the big twist could be that Lance Archer is actually a Lady-thief, or Lady Caine’s father, or something else fun like that.

It's not a well structured story, but like with 'What Once Was Mine' the characters are really what stands out most. The main theme of making your own family, is more or less solid. The beats it goes through are pretty formulaic, and some of the plot points are a bit convoluted, but Eugene and Arnie are very cute and I enjoyed reading about them. Also the fact that it is such an easy read makes me pretty forgiving of it's flaws. I read through it in about half a day. It's like the book equivalent of popcorn - it's just fun to munch on.

Also love the weird logic that an orphanage has to receive money from the kingdom in order to pay taxes back to said kingdom. But the same taxes get stolen on the way by a Robin Hood-esque Lance Archer who gives it back to the orphanage. It's the most convoluted tax program I've ever heard of. I'm not criticizing it, because it's clearly working - the money eventually gets to the orphanage. But wow, I've never been more curious about fictional taxes then I was reading this book. It's kind of hilarious that for all it's talk of cracking down on crime, Corona would cease to function without do-gooder criminals. All just a part of the kingdom's unique charm, I guess!

As a last note, this book also made me really interested in the Flynnigan Rider books. Like I know they don’t actually exist, but I wish they did. Every time I read or hear about them, I just want to get my hands on them. They sound right up my alley - swashbuckling adventures, just two friends against the world, fighting off bad guys, rescuing horses, swinging from ropes. Those are my kind of stories. Can someone please write the Flynnigan Rider book series into existence? Thank you.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 10 Favorite Fictional Couples

Happy Valentines Day, people on the internet who probably won't read this! I'm an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. And even though I'm a lonely bastard who will absolutely die alone one day, I am also a sucker for romance. If a story decides to include a cute couple in it, then you better believe I'm going to gush over them for an unhealthy amount of time for a man my age. Even more so if they answer the three most essential questions that I think applies to every romantic couple in fiction:

Why do they like each other? (Looks don't count. It can be an option, but it shouldn't be the only option.)

Would it make sense for them to be together? (Like, if this couple would exist in real life, would you expect them to last.)

Do they have chemistry? (This is the most important one as a couple can dominate just by the chemistry alone.)

So today, I am going to rank my top ten favorite couples in fiction, who just so happen to answer most, if not all, of these questions. Now, I could be cute and make a top fourteen list...but not too long ago, I just listed off the twenty best-animated series of the 2010s, so I think it's best if I stick to the basics. Also, I should make a few things clear:

A. These are couples, not ships. The pairing has to have a canon kiss, or at the very least, a canon confession to be on the list. This means sorry, Lumity fans, but Luz and Amity are not going to be on this list...even though they would absolutely be #1 if they could be!

B. The couple has to at least spend an entire episode being together, which means no last-minute hookups because the writers wanted to drag out the romantic tension. (Sorry, Catradora fans)

With that out of the way, let's get started with--

10. Laura Hollis and Carmilla Kernstien from Carmilla (Web Series)

The chemistry between these two is on point. Laura’s and Carmilla's actors Elise Bauman and Natasha Negovanlis are so convincing when acting like a couple that I am honestly shocked to find out they never actually dated. This is good because everything else about Laura and Carmilla's relationship is...kind of the worst. Don't get me wrong, as a couple, these two are fantastic, adorable, well-written, and well-performed. But the writers seem very fond of keeping them bickering and broken up rather than actually having them together. And that is where the issue lies. If the writers committed to Laura and Carmilla being together instead of doing this whole "will they or won't they" crap, on top of them being selfish idiots in season two, then you better believe they would be in the top three, at least. As they are, they at least act adorable enough to make the top ten.

9. Gregg and Angus from Night in the Woods

Ok, I'm gonna level with you: I just wanted to put an mlm relationship on this list, and this was the best I can come up with (I haven't seen Good Omens, nor have I finished Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts yet to see Benson's relationship with Troy. Leave me alone). As a male bisexual, I'm kind of disappointed. I know that male pairings exist in media, but for the life of me, I don't think they are as celebrated as much, or as frequent, as female pairings have been. This is sad because I would honestly love to see how more couples like Gregg and Angus.

These two act so much like a real couple. Gregg and Angus care and support each other so much, yet they still have big arguments as any couple would. They clearly love each other but still have issues they both need to deal with if they want to grow. Plus, I'm just a sucker for opposites attract. And you can't get more opposite than the loud and bombastic Gregg and his quiet and serious boyfriend Angus. There are probably better mlm pairings than these two (And if there are, then let me know. I'd love to check them out), but Gregg and Angus prove that any relationship, no matter the gender, can be the same as any other. Both the wholesomeness and the faults.

8. Peter Parker and Michelle Jones from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

I put these two a little low because we barely see them spend time as a couple. Peter and Michelle got together at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home, and we only get a glimpse of how their relationship works in the last few minutes. However, I'm willing to argue that they count because they are guaranteed to be a couple in the sequels, and we'll be allowed to see them grow. How often do you get to say that for other fictional couples who get together at the end of a long story? Plus, Peter and Michelle earn extra bonus points for being the best couple in a Spider-Man movie. Michelle is a league's better character than the MJ in the Sam Rami trilogy, and the chemistry is still adorable but not overtly cutesy like it was in The Amazing Spider-Man movies. So even though Peter and Michelle just got together, they show a lot of promise, if you ask me. Their interactions are adorable, you can tell that Michelle likes Peter for Peter, and they are the most accurate depictions of young love you’ll ever see. Just look at that first kiss. It was one filled with inexperience and awkwardness and I just love it! I’m already interested in what these two have to offer and I can’t wait to see what happens next with them.

7. Andy Dwyer and April Ludgate from Parks and Recreation

The best description you'll ever hear about this couple is that they are what happens when a dog and a cat fall in love. Andy is dopey, happy, and loyal to no end. April is intimidating, cynical, and is already plotting your murder as we speak. What I'm saying is that these two shouldn't work...but they do. Somehow, by every leap of logic, Andy and April complete each other. They are both so far gone from reality, yet at the same time, both keep each other grounded in more ways than one. It's a weird paradox that never ceases to amaze, nor does it cease to be adorable. They do go through bullcrap love triangles and a "will they or won't they scenario" in seasons two and three, but once that crap is over, the writers lean into the potential these two have as a great couple. And trust me when I say that it is all lovely to watch.

6. Rapunzel and Eugene from Tangled: The Series

Huh. I guess romance really does exist after Happily Ever After.

Joking aside, I was surprised by how well these two work as a pairing. Usually, when the Disney Prince and Princess get together in the end, there is nothing more to the relationship. And even if their movie gets a spin-off series, the dynamic is as generic and forgettable as it can be. For Rapunzel and Eugene, it is different. Their chemistry is top-notch, their constant love and support for each other are admirable/adorable, and the complete trust they have for one another is absolute perfection. I was already surprised by how good Tangled: The Series was, but the fact that the main couple is somehow better here than they were in their own movie is something I would have never expected.

5. Rigby and Eileen from Regular Show

And seeing how we're talking about surprises, who saw these two being the best couple in the series? With the number of times that the writers focussed on Mordecai's romantic hang-ups and how often Muscle Man and Starla were considered the only canon couple, I was shocked when it turned out Rigby and Eileen have the best loving relationship in Regular Show. Even crazier, their relationship is built entirely in the background of the first six seasons. Since her introduction, Eileen has been head over heels for Rigby since the beginning (for reasons I'll never understand), and Rigby slowly reciprocated. Until the big reveal in the season six finale, there was nothing but implications as they were trying to hide their relationship and not rub how perfect it is in Mordecai's face (no matter how much Rigby wants to). But once we get to see them as an official couple, it all becomes clear why they work so well. Eileen loves Rigby for Rigby, and will always support him, faults and all. Rigby pays it all back in spades, wanting to be a better person, as well as a better boyfriend, for the one person who always believes there was something good inside. Not even his own best friend had that much faith in him. And on top of all of that, they're just cute. They may not have been the central hook in the series, but they are definitely much appreciated.

4. Chris and Elise from Dan Vs./Millie and Moxxie from Helluva Boss

These four are tied because they pretty much have the same dynamic. Chris and Moxxie are these pathetic losers who somehow managed to marry Elise and Millie: Badass assassins who could effortlessly marry any man they want. And what they want are their pathetic losers. It's extra wholesome for Chris and Elise, as Chris really can't do that much right, especially in comparison to the ever-perfect Elise. Yet, she still cares deeply for Chris and will promptly destroy anyone or anything that causes him harm. That being said, while Millie and Moxxie are both equally deadly, there is an odd hilarity to the fact that these literal demons from hell are so gosh darn wholesome. Seriously, their literal job is to kill people who screw over those who went to hell, and I'm always going "D'aww" when M and M always do something cute. Explain that logic to me!

There's nothing more I can say about these four, as they're adorable couples that prove love comes in the most impossible circumstances and the unlikeliest places.

3. Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe

I'll always remember that Ruby and Sapphire are the first couple that proved to me that there is nothing wrong with a same-sex pairing, especially in children's media. Before Steven Universe, I wasn't necessarily told that same-sex couples are wrong, but they're not meant for kids. Then I found out that these two girls, on a kids show of all places, we're madly in love and my first response was: "...Huh." And this was before I knew I was bisexual, so I wasn't even that obsessed about it at the time. But the more I saw Ruby and Sapphire, and the more I learned about how starved the LGBTQ+ was for representation, the more I really appreciated them. Ruby and Sapphire never fail to be precious, and the fact that they barely spend any longer than a few minutes apart is downright heartwarming (and incredibly literal if you've seen the show). They also broke a ton of barriers to proper representation. Not only were Ruby and Sapphire one of the first explicit lesbian couples in children's animation, but they're also the first ones to actually get married. Because of such a power move, many networks and shows make it less of a challenge for writers to include more gay characters in their stories. There is still a lot of hard work that those writers face, but it certainly seems it's less of a challenge than it would be before Steven Universe came out (Ha!). Ruby and Saphire are the first fictional gay couple I have been introduced to and have made an incredible impression ever since.

2. Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum and Marcelene Abadeer from Adventure Time

But while it's Ruby and Sapphire that introduced me to the concept of a same-sex couple, it's Princess Bubblegum and Marceline that made me root for one. In (I want to say) 2017, I started rewatching Adventure Time, knowing that queer relationships were indeed a thing. This means that not only did I finally caught the INCREDIBLY noticeable subtext in "What Was Missing," but I was legitimately chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" when I got to the episode "Varmints." And when they finally did kiss in the series finale, I full-on jumped out of my chair and screamed, "YES!" That never happens. Not even for the straight couples that I've obsessed over before this. Either I coo at how adorable they are, or just smile a warm and gentle smile. But letting out a very audible cheer that my college roommates definitely heard? That shows how deeply I cared for these two. And can you really blame me?

Not only is the chemistry on point with Bubblegum and Marceline, but it's interesting getting to see their relationship evolve through the course of the series. They have a dynamic of a couple who broke up on bad terms (long before "Obsidian" confirmed this), and you slowly get to see them reconnect to that spark they lost long ago. Plus, the more you see them interact, the more of their history is revealed, and thus it becomes clear why they fell for each other in the first place. Bubblegum keeps Marceline responsible, while Marceline helps Bubblegum learn how to loosen up. They balance each other nicely, and after some much needed growing up from the both of them, that spark returns. And they're much more of a loving unit than they were years ago. It's incredible to watch, and I would honestly see an entire spin-off series about them. But, as great as Bubblegum and Marceline are, there is a reason they are not my number one.

(There’s no art for this one because they’re characters from a book and I don’t want to steal someone else’s fanart for the sake of my crappy Tumblr post)

1. Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase from Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Heroes of Olympus

And that reason is that I can't resist the first-ever pairing that I obsessed over. Percy and Annabeth might just be the example I live by for how couples should be written in media. Dynamic wise, of course. In terms of telling a story, their relationship was handled poorly in Percy Jackson and the Olympians. It was filled with agonizing love-triangles, a very long wait, and they were one of those couples who didn't get together until the end of the series. Which is a major no-no, in my opinion. But, when they finally get to be a couple in Heroes of Olympus, it is downright perfection. Percy and Annabeth are what happens if these two badass warrior heroes fell in love. They worry about each other and are willing to die for each other (if need be) but still have an intense amount of faith and trust for one another. The number of times Percy or Annabeth knew they would be alright because they have each other is incredibly high, no matter what series of books they appear in. They work well together, as well as off each other. Percy is this bumbling idiot who wins his battles through a mix of luck and skill, where Annabeth is this intelligent warrior who has trained since the age of seven. They compliment each other perfectly, and their constant playful bickering is always fun. I love these two, I love their love, and they will always be one of my favorite fictional couples in media.

(That is until Luz and Amity from The Owl House become cannon. In which case, you better believe they'll be number one.)

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

And those are my favorite couples. Out of curiosity, what are yours? Or, at least, what are your top five? Don't feel afraid to let me know or even make a list of your own.

Have a happy Valentine's Day, with whoever you want to celebrate it with and however you want to do it.

Now, if you don't excuse me, I have an entire to-do list of s**t I have to do, and I gotta figure out which to work on first.

(Should I review Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles next, or do that scene breakdown for Amphibia? Oh, the possibilities are killing me...)

[tsarisfanfiction]

I am entirely too asleep to name or summarise or anything this thing, but it’s short and fluffy (hey, might even count as fluffy enough for you, @willow-salix although there’s no John?) and @gumnut-logic prodded me into writing and posting it, so here it is.  Warning: I am more asleep than awake so I cannot promise much sense here.  But I can promise sleepy fluff.

The first thing he was aware of was the vague sensation of fingers running through his hair gently. No doubt his gel had completely lost the battle to keep it in place, although the strands that tickled his forehead felt unusually soft and product-free.  Had he not put any gel in that morning?

There was a weight across his collar bones, too.  Light but present, reaching from shoulder to shoulder.  It wasn’t at all restraining, and he felt that if he wanted he could move it without any effort, but that required sitting up, and wherever Scott was, he was comfortable.  There was material under his head; it had some give but not like a pillow would. Warmer than a pillow, too.

The fingers were still threading repetitively through his hair, that soft weight across his shoulders was probably an arm, and that meant… his head was in someone’s lap?

He definitely had not fallen asleep like that.

His eyelids were heavy with sleep and the annoying cold that had decided to drain all of his energy – that was why his hair was missing its gel; he’d been too tired to bother – but he forced them to peel open a crack to see whose lap he was apparently using as a pillow.

A blur of yellow took a blink or two to focus as blond hair, and there was no mistaking the dark amber eyes of his second youngest brother even with a sleep-and-cold-addled brain. They were looking down at him, and softened when Gordon noticed he was awake.

“Hey, bro,” the aquanaut said quietly, fingers still moving through his hair.

“Gordon?” he asked, internally cringing when his voice came out barely louder than a whisper.  “What-?”

His earlier assessment about the weight across his collarbones being easy to shift if he tried was proven wrong as he tried to push himself upright, only for the previously-lax arm to tense and pin him down.  Normally, it would be simple enough to escape.  Normally, he wasn’t weakened by a cold.

“You fell asleep during the movie,” his brother told him.  Right, he’d dragged himself out of bed and into the den only for the squid to persuade him to watch a movie instead of doing any work.  “It’s only been half an hour.”

Sure enough, if he concentrated, he could hear the tv murmuring away in the background.

He tried to push himself up again, but Gordon’s arms were strong and Scott was frustratingly weak. The fingers in his hair never broke their rhythm as he was pinned in place.

“Am I that uncomfortable?” Gordon asked, humour lacing through his voice.  “It’s fine, Scott.  You’re exhausted; go back to sleep.”

“But-”  The paperwork.  Hell, even the movie.  It wasn’t often he got to sit with just Gordon without another brother also around. Where were the rest of them?

“Sleep, Scotty,” Gordon repeated, softer.  Gentle and soothing, like the fingers in his hair.  “You need it.”

Scott wanted to rebel against the instruction, but the blasted cold had him weak and weary, and Gordon made a surprisingly comfortable pillow.  His eyelids felt like lead, and against his will they were sliding shut again.

The last thing he noticed were those fingers, never ceasing their movement, before sleep pulled him back under.

 *****

Gordon sighed as he looked down at his eldest brother.  He’d been pretty unsurprised when there had been a gradual weight on his shoulder, which a glance had confirmed to be his brother’s head, having expected Scott to conk out during the movie.  Slightly more surprising had been the lack of reaction when he’d shifted him from his shoulder to lie down properly, proving just how exhausted his big brother was.  Scott normally woke up at the slightest movement.

And now, after a groggy awakening where Gordon was certain he’d still been mostly asleep, he was settled comfortably, face pale from the cold that was gnawing incessantly at him. They’d run scans to confirm it wasn’t anything contagious he’d picked up on a rescue when he’d first flaked out at the desk – it wasn’t, just Scott’s body protesting from being overworked and shutting down on him in exhaustion – and when he’d come up clear, taken turns at trying to get him to rest.

Gordon was admittedly feeling a little smug that he’d managed to get Scott back to sleep with minimal complaints.  Even when ill, the Tracy stubbornness ran strongly through the eldest brother, but it seemed that this time that stubbornness had met its match.  Scott’s face was paler than normal – not white, but missing the healthy colour nonetheless – but relaxed in sleep.

It was a shame he was only relaxing because he was too ill to do anything else, no matter what hare-brained thoughts he’d had about trying to get work done in his current state before Gordon had coaxed him into watching a movie instead.

Scott hadn’t even gelled his hair that morning, for goodness’ sake.  If he wasn’t even up to that – or getting dressed, because Gordon was well aware he was still in his pyjamas underneath the hoodie – then he definitely wasn’t up to paperwork or anything else that required mental power.

Stupid big brother. Gordon had missed most of the movie in favour of watching him sleep in exasperated fondness.  He wasn’t even sure when he’d started running his fingers through gel-free hair.  Just something to do with his hand, because he wasn’t great at staying still, but Scott hadn’t commented on it or tried to get him to stop, so he kept going.

Maybe that was the secret to getting him to relax?  Hell knew Scott’s hair was usually guarded by hair gel and a warning glare if anyone dared try to mess with it.  Gordon filed that theory away for later experimentation.

For now, he was content to stay where he was, his lap providing a pillow for his big brother – even if it meant he wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere for a few hours.

If it meant Scott was getting some much-needed sleep, Gordon was more than willing to stay put.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Suspenders

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 2,048

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A Brooklyn 99 inspired drabble, featuring Jungkook as Peralta, Namjoon as Holt, and I’ll let you guess the rest. ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: Shanna writes fanfic within fanfic as an excuse to have Jungkook doing dumb shit in an uniform. Go nuts!

“JEON.” Crossing both arms over his chest, Kim Namjoon regards Jungkook with a mixture of exasperation and antipathy. “Do you care to explain why, for the past several days, you have worn those ungodly apparatuses into my workspace?”

“Captain, I’m so glad that you asked.” Jungkook reclines in his seat. “These are what we on the street call suspenders.”

“I know that.” Namjoon stares. “I am familiar with the vast array of garments which can adorn the human body. What I am not familiar with is why you are now choosing to dress like a Prohibition era mobster to work.”

“Well, Hoseok is at home taking care of his sick girls.” Jungkook speaks as though this should be an explanation. “I thought the office would be going through withdrawal.”

“I, for one, think he looks great in them.” Jimin beams from the desk beside Jungkook, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Thank you, Jimin.” Jungkook turns around in his chair. “I’m wearing these suspenders to increase precinct morale.”

Unable to stay silent any longer, you look up from your desk. For the past several minutes, you have been – unsuccessfully – pretending Jungkook is mute. 

“The Captain makes an excellent point,” you butt in. “Those suspenders are more distracting than they are motivating.”

Jungkook’s grin widens. “What’s so distracting about them? Is it the way they highlight my spectacularly toned physique?”

Forehead wrinkling, you give him a look which clearly states you do not trust his level of sanity. “Please. More like you would get caught on a doorframe running into a raid and kill us both.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi says, not looking up from his computer. “You would get yourself killed by suspenders, Jeon.”

“Really?” Jungkook cocks his head. “I always thought I would go out in a dashing way. You know, like John McClane or something.”

Staring at him, you attempt to ascertain whether he is being serious. “You know just because the movie is entitled Die Hard doesn’t mean they actually died hard, right?”

“Obviously.” Releasing his suspenders, they thud against his chest with a dull snap. Jungkook winces. “It was a metaphor. Duh.”

After another long moment, you turn to face Namjoon. “I second your question, Captain. Jungkook and I are supposed to be on a stake-out tonight and if he doesn’t change his outfit, I have major concerns.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “My concerns are different from hers, though. I’m largely concerned with the stick up Y/N’s ass.”

“There is no stick up my ass,” you snap, scowling darkly at him. “That would be highly improbable, not to mention painful.”

“Highly-improbable-not-to-mention-painful – title of Y/N’s sex tape!” Jungkook blurts out, high-fiving Jimin. “Captain, I can assure you these suspenders will not get in the way of my job performance.”

“Oh, come on –”

“Prove it.” Namjoon unfolds his arms.

Both you and Jungkook cease talking at once.

“I – what?” Jungkook stares in disbelief at the Captain.

“Prove it,” Namjoon repeats, arching a brow. “Demonstrate you can carry out your professional responsibilities in a satisfactory manner before leaving for your stake-out, or I will formally require you remove your suspenders.”

“But…” Jungkook sputters, trailing off. “Hoseok wears them all the time!”

“Hoseok is a more competent detective than you,” says Namjoon, utterly serious. “Any other objections?”

Grinning widely, you lean back in your seat – the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Captain.”

“And seeing as Y/N is the one concerned by this safety hazard,” Namjoon adds, turning to you, “I suggest she perform said demonstration herself.”

Your smile disappears. “What?”

Namjoon waves a hand. “Since the main concern is Detective Jeon incapacitating himself whilst in the line of duty, it only seems logical we simulate said responsibilities and see how he responds. Yes?”

“I – I guess.” Beneath your desk, your foot has ceased tapping.

“And as his partner, you are best suited to performing said simulation. Yes?”

“What about Jimin?” you meekly suggest. “He lives for this kind of thing.”

“Jimin is too loyal to Jungkook. The entire test would be a farce.”

“He’s right,” Jimin agrees. “It would be.”

“Good.” Namjoon nods solemnly. “Now that we are all in agreement, might I suggest the following? Y/N and Jungkook are on their stake-out when their location is compromised by a local gang member – Y/N, you will play the role of said adversary.”

“I – wonderful, sir,” you say, somewhat dazed.

“Hang on.” Jungkook holds up a finger. “If Y/N is said gang member, then who will play Y/N on the stake-out?”

“Excellent point, Jeon.” Namjoon pivots. “Jimin, you can play Y/N.”

“Of course, sir!” Jimin jumps up and salutes. “Always happy to help out in any role-playing scenario. Just let me get into character.” Scrunching his face, Jimin flicks pretend hair over one shoulder. “Mah,” he says, opening and closing his mouth. “Mah! MAH!”

“Captain Kim,” you protest, staring at Jimin incredulously. “Is this necessary?”

“Good question. Detective Park – is this necessary to get into character?”

Shaking his hands at the wrists, Jimin bounces up and down. “Yes, this is imperative to my creative process, but I’m finished. Where should I stand?”

“Over there.” Namjoon gestures at the open space before the water cooler. “Detectives Jeon and Park, please adopt your positions as the two on the stake-out. Y/N, you will enter from stage right and attempt to disarm Detective Jeon.”

“Captain...” Your brow furrows. “I must say, I don’t think this proves –”

“Are you questioning the Captain’s methods?” Jungkook stands from his desk. “I happen to think this is a great idea.”

“Stop talking, Jeon,” Namjoon says mildly. “Or I may change my mind.”

“Noted, sir.”

Jungkook strides across the precinct floor, adjusting his suspenders. Your eyes fall briefly to the curve of his ass, held snug by his pants and equally fast, you force your gaze upwards.

“Fine.” Standing, you smooth down the front of your shirt. “I’ll play along. Prepare for an epic beat-down, Jeon.”  

“Been preparing my whole life for that.”

Having no response to this, you slowly close your mouth.

The rest of the precinct is now paying attention, having set down their belongings as the situation unfolded. Jimin remains firmly in character as you, responding to Jungkook in a girlish falsetto.

“Oh, Jungkook,” he says, laughing shrilly. “You’re such a talented detective. Sometimes, I’m super jealous of how close you are to Jimin.”

Wrinkling your nose, you move closer. “Okay, first off – that impression of me is borderline sexist. Second, I would never say that. You two are weirdly close.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jungkook crouches beside Jimin. “Seems like someone is a little jealous of having a best friend.”

“I do have a best friend,” you retort, pausing behind the corner. “Yoongi is my best friend.”

“No, I’m not.” Yoongi seems bored by the proceedings, arms pointedly crossed before his black leather jacket. “I have no need to see any of you people outside of this office.”

“Cold.” Lowering your voice, you cock your head. “Also, a lie. What’s the plan, Captain?” Looking at Namjoon, you await further instructions. “Do I just… sneak up on them?”

“By all means – use your instincts, Y/N.”

Fighting an eye roll, you slowly step forward. “This is ridiculous,” you mutter to no one under your breath.

Jungkook lazily stretches an arm across his chest. “What a great night for a stake-out, Y/N!” he says loudly, glancing at Jimin. “Good thing I’m dressed appropriately for the occasion. Suspenders are such an under-utilized asset.”

Refusing to let him go any further, you barrel around the corner and make straight for his back. Feet pounding linoleum, you narrow your gaze at his shoulders. Jungkook stiffens, whirling to face you at the last second. He dodges your first blow, throwing one of his own.

“This is stupid,” you grunt, twisting out of his reach. “If I were actually an intruder, I’d have the element of surprise.”

“Not true!” Jungkook manages to loop an arm around your waist, yanking you closer. Huffing, you try and ignore how good his cologne smells. “If this were our stake-out, I’d have the door closed. You gave yourself away by banging it open.”

“Hngh!”

You do not say this last word, so much as grunt it, face smushed into the buttons of his button-down shirt. Although it gives you no end of annoyance to admit, the suspenders do make him look dashing.

Fortunately, they also provide a handhold.

Gripping them with one hand, you yank firmly down from behind. Jungkook swears, stumbling back and you rush into the opening. Shoving him with your shoulder, you knock him off balance and go for his leg, hooking one arm to tackle him to the floor. From this vantage point, you throw your weight forward and plant a knee on his chest.

“Winner!” you declare, triumphant.

Jungkook’s head falls to the ground. “Fine,” he groans, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll get rid of the suspenders.”

“Great,” you say, brushing dust from your hands as you stand.

“I’d just like to say,” Jimin interjects. “If this were a real fight, it would’ve ended entirely differently because in a real fight, I would never have sat here while Jungkookie was being attacked.”

“I appreciate that about you,” mumbles Jungkook, still lying prostrate on the floor.

“Anytime, buddy.”

Rolling your eyes, you look at Namjoon. “Are we done here?”

“Most definitely.” Turning on his heel, Namjoon walks towards his office. “Detective Jeon – remove the suspenders before you get yourself killed. Seokjin,” he adds, coming to a stop. “Please arrange to have my dry-cleaning picked up before the Captain’s dinner tomorrow.”

“Can do.” Seokjin does not look up from his phone. His feet are propped up on his desk, leaning far enough back to be labeled precarious. “Except tomorrow isn’t good for me, since mercury is in retrograde and my psychic said I should avoid high-stress scenarios at all cost.”

Namjoon stares. “Picking up dry-cleaning is a high-stress scenario?”

“Absolutely not.” Seokjin shakes his head. “I slept with the owner of the place though, and that is high-stress.”

Namjoon stares for a long moment before apparently deciding this is an acceptable answer and striding into his office. The door closes behind him.

On the other side of the room, the precinct has returned to normal. Yoongi swivels to face his computer, Jimin skips towards the espresso machine and you begin the slow walk to your desk. There is a mountain of paperwork calling your name.

Jungkook catches you easily by the arm.

Startled, you glance upwards. “What?” you demand, trying not to give in. Trying not to revel in how good his fingers feel on your skin – rough and tender all at the same time.

Jungkook’s gaze shifts into something unnamed. “I hope you know,” he says slowly. “I wouldn’t let my suspenders get in the way of your safety.”

Ignoring the way your heart thuds at his words, you yank your hand back. “Good to know,” you say, continuing towards your desk. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t need your protection, then.”

It would be a totally badass moment.

It would be a Charlie’s Angels-esque, walking away from the fire, hair blowing in the wind kind of moment – except Jimin left his fruit dehydrator out in the aisle and you unfortunately trip. Arms flailing, you barely refrain from falling flat on your face.

Chuckling under his breath, Jungkook comes up from behind you. “Oh, I know you don’t,” he says, walking past. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

Turning around, he hovers a moment before sitting down at his desk. The entire time, his gaze does not leave yours and, despite the circumstances, you cannot help but feel his wording is genuine. He really does like that about you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you sit down as well.

Those suspenders really were kind of hot.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Follow-up drabble: The Criminal

[theabominableblogger]

Rewatching “Fright Night” (the 1985 version)

No I ain’t watching the remake with David Tennant.  ‘Cause I said so.

*does Borat impression while loading the movie on Amazon Prime*

“Sit here beside me on the veranda.”  Is this the... TV show scene?  The show with Roddy McDowall?

SCARE CHOOORD!

“So... luminescent.”  *laughs*

Those were some... horrible kissing noises

I like the out of context implication that as soon as the woman asks the dude to lay on her chest, Peter Vincent’s like “NONE IN THIS HOUSE!”

“IF SHE BREATHES...”

What idiot puts their smelly ass soccer cleats on their headboard?

“We’ve been going together almost a year, and all I ever hear is ‘Charley, stop it.’“  Well then maybe that’s a you problem

Also what the hell is that map thing next to Amy?

“Let’s get into bed.”  *bug eyes*

Amy, that is not the look of someone who is ready to have sex.

“It says right here that the divorce rate is 76% higher among couples who don’t argue before marriage.”  Shut up, Mom.

“Thank you [Amy] for helping Charley with his homework.”  ...I was gonna make a sex joke here but nah.

Oh I hate Charley’s friend in his movie.

Charley’s car, while super nice, looks like a sunburnt cow

“My luck.  He’s [the neighbor] probably gay.”  AAAAAHHH THEY EVEN SAID IT!

I really Charley to slap Teach [Ed] at some point but I know it’s never gonna happen.

For a moment, I thought that the carpenter dude partner was gonna be like Kenny from “The War at Home” but nah.  He probably just uses his teeth a lot.

*silently jamming to the background synth music*

*Charley spots a woman removes her bra in the window*  What was this rated again?

AN:  It’s rated R

*yells when Jerry looks over to see Charley through the window*

*Shot of Jerry’s hand pulling down the window blind*  That... is a lady hand.

AN:  They were actually extensions that Chris wore and he helped apply them himself so that he could just rip them off after a day of shooting

*Charley’s mom ruins Charley’s cover*  DAMN IT MOM

This movie is basically “Who Cried Wolf” but with vampires?

“I’m his roommate Billy Cole.”  Can you believe just that the fact that this movie was made in the mid 80s when the AIDS crisis in the US was getting ready to happen and director Tom Holland and the screenwriter went “YES they’re gonna be GAY and THAT’S FINAL”

“You actually saw the body, Charley?”  Uh doesn’t that tone raise any suspicion from the detective STANDING NEXT TO HIM?

*snorts in hilarity when Billy jokingly does the sign of the cross*

Charley, I would not trust anything Teach tries to tell you.

AND OF COURSE CHARLEY’S MOM INVITED JERRY OVER

OMINOUS SYNTH CHORD

My God, Chris Sarandon...

What’s with the celery?

Charley’s mom is the most oblivious character in this whole movie, I swear

FISH EYE LENS

I forget, do we ever see Jerry in vampire bat form or do we just see him as Chris Sarandon with fangs the entire movie?

Why yes, Charley, use your tiny crucifix.

Doesn’t the whole “enter with permission” count with bedrooms too or just the house in general?  If it counted with bedrooms, couldn’t Charley just put up a sign on his door that said “NO ADMISSION WITHOUT PERMISSION” and that would keep Jerry out?

Jerry is the most casual vampire I’ve seen so far.  Someone would just throw a chair at him and he’ll just No-Sell it like “Listen... I was just saying...”

There’s got to be a logical way to explain this Christmas thing.

We just need a vampire that’s like Catherine O’Hara from “Schitt’s Creek”

I love how Charley’s like 80% out the window and yet he can still reach for an entire mug of pencils

NO WAIT WE SEE HIS [Jerry’s] VAMPIRE FACE NEVERMIND

Valium?!?

Christopher Lee!

THAT FRAMING [of Billy kneeling directly in front of Jerry’s legs] ISN’T OBVIOUS AT ALL TOM HOLLAND

The logic for this movie is something else.  Charley sees someone on TV perform a vampire killing ON A TV SHOW and thinks “YES I’m going to ask him to help me with this vampire situation!” 

This is like asking Drew Carey if he can assist in a vampire hunting

*imitates Peter Vincent shooing Charley away*

*snorts at Teach and Amy walking in on Charley setting holy stuff ALL OVER HIS HOUSE*

Also I absolutely forgot about the weird side plot with Amy being an incarnation of a past love.  What is it with this and Bram Stoker’s Dracula going this route?

Man, Roddy McDowall is just a masterclass in classical acting.  You can tell the different style between him and the other actors.

There’s a bust of Klaus Kinski’s Nosferatu in the glass box!

AN:  *in best Janet from ‘The Good Place’ impression*  Fun fact, Klaus Kinski was actually an asshole

I like the red and black plaid night coat

God, all those clocks going off at once reminds me of the scene in Pinocchio.  That would give me so much anxiety in real life.

WHO TOSSED JERRY THE APPLE?!?

OH AND THEY [Jerry and Billy] WALK OFF TOGETHER OF COURSE

*imitates Peter Vincent saying “Good evening good evening”*

*going through AO3′s Fright Night 1985 tag as Peter explains what he’s doing*  Wow there’s four pages.  I might have to bookmark some of these.

Ohhhh kay, nevermind on half of these.  Not into that.  Nope nope nope.

I forget, is Billy also a vampire?  Or is he like some ghoul?  Werewolf?

...Interspecies romance?

For a fact, I know that if CinemaSins covers this movie, they would award Jerry the “eating an apple because he’s an asshole” sin and I would laugh

Oh he’s [Jerry] gonna go for the hand kiss, isn’t he? 

OH GOD DAMMIT

*has to still register it*

Wait, did Jerry hold the bottle up in front of the fire in case there was actually holy water?  Would heating it up counteract the holy water inside?

WAIT DOESN’T PETER CATCH JERRY’S LACK OF REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AS THEY LEAVE?

How did they do that?  Did they just... comp Chris Sarandon out or did they have him tuck out of frame but still say his lines?

AN:  Tom Holland originally goofed up the shot I guess but they ran with it

JERRY IS BI HEADCANON CONFIRMED

WAIT HE FOUND THE MIRROR SHARDS

The overhead tracking shot following Ed in the alleyway is actually pretty good.  And the way it slides to a normal shot is great.

Oh they do the creepy Dracula fog!

Wait, this movie came out the same year as Nightmare on Elm Street 2.  Dang.

And that movie also had a weird homoerotic tone to it.

You know what, the way Jerry offers Ed salvation only to attack him was actually pretty solid.  Just good acting from both of them.  I was sold.

WAIT IT’S THE CLUB SCENE!

*Peter presses a cross to Ed’s forehead*  Great prosthetic too, holy crap!

*jams out to the song playing at the club*

Why do Jerry’s dance clothes look like either my pajamas or really lame exercise clothes?

God, it’s [Jerry pacing back and forth watching Amy] like a cat stalking a bird holy crap

NOOOO I DON’T NEED TO WATCH THIS SHE’S LIKE SIXTEEEEENNNN

*jaw drops when Jerry runs his hand up Amy’s leg*  NOOOOOO

Not gonna lie, this song almost sounded like a remix of the Nightmare on Elm Street theme

NOOOOOOOO STOOOOOPPPP CEASE DESIST

Amy’s hair just gets wilder and wilder during this dance sequence

STOOOOOOPPPP

Quick, Charley, start a fight!  Just... punch someone!  Commotion!

*just yells when Jerry steals a kiss from Amy*

*Amy wakes up in a white dress in Jerry’s house*  NOPE

God and he [Jerry] took off his shirt too just *hides face in hands*

*covers mouth with hand in attempt not to say anything*

*Jerry’s dragging finger scrapes off wood on the banister*  Oh that’s just mean

*Jerry drapes his arms over the back of Billy’s shoulders*  HMM

They would be that duo who would pick up a phone and take turns to go “...surprise, Sidney...”

*A wolf walks out of Mrs. Brewster’s room*  WHAAAAATTT?!?

Dang they really just tossed a plushie wolf off the stairs

WAIT the guy that did the VFX for this movie also did “Ghostbusters” if I remember correctly

AN:  Yes

They are just... really dragging out Ed’s death scene

That kinda exasperated look Peter gives the smoking house is great

Wait is Billy a vampire too?  Zombie?  What is he?

I really just want Charley to reach out and just slightly poke dying Billy in the chest so that he crumbles backwards.  That would have been hilarious.

How long is Amy’s hair?

HE [Jerry] DOES TURN INTO A BAT!

Real plot twist would be that the bat bite also starts turning Charley into a vampire so Peter would have to kill three birds with one stone (heal Charley and Amy and kill Jerry)

Boss move:  Peter closing the coffin in front of Jerry

And it ends with the same shot as the opening!

“Oh, you’re so cool, Brewster.”  So is Ed alive?

[mysticwhore]

Babysitter

Steve x Reader

Notes:  This originally started as a Kylo fic, but I'm in a super big Steve rut, so, here you go. I started on this ages ago- think June- and I had the urge to finish it.

Warnings: NSFW (Daddy kink, vaginal sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, squirting), age difference, slight underage (where I live, the reader is over the age of consent, so nothing illegal happens). Cursing. Do not read is any of the following warnings offend you.

Word Count: 5,334

Whenever you had started babysitting, it was only for neighbors or family friends. It was only with the older kids- roughly 6 to 9- and you’d pick them up after school and take them to their house, watch them until one of their parents came back, get paid, and go home. Apparently, people were impressed with how well you handled the children since you had parents reaching out to you, and not the other way around. 

One particular client that stuck out was Steve. He was a single father, and he’d have you babysit his son, James, whenever he had to work nights, which required you staying at his house until the early hours of the morning. Originally you'd thought that your mother wouldn’t approve; he’s a grown man after all, and you would be over at his house until the sun came up, but she didn’t seem to think twice about it since he was her boss. You weren’t complaining though; how most clients paid a measly five dollars an hour, Steve would hand you a hundred dollar bill as you walked out the door and to your car. He’d always stand in the doorway and watch as you drove off, and he had requested you text him whenever you get home, so he would know you got home safe. 

His son was by far your favorite child to watch over. He was named after one of Steve’s friends- James. He was a big kid for his age, only 6 years old and standing three inches over four feet, but it wasn’t surprising considering his father was a giant of a man. His hair was the same dirty blond hair as Steve's, but his face shared little to no resemblance to Steve’s. His eyes weren’t the endless blue pools, and his skin lacked the signature moles, so you figured he took mostly after his mother. 

When it came to James’ mom, she was a neat mystery. You knew her name, which was Peggy, but other than that there was no sign of her being present in either of their lives. There were no pictures of her within his house, Steve didn’t wear a ring, and James rarely mentioned her; the only time he did was when he told you her name. You were curious about her but had half a mind to keep your curiosity to yourself. James didn’t seem to know much, and Steve? He was a sweet man, but you didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

     -

You scraped the dirt out from under your nails as you waited for the final bell to ring; you were babysitting James tonight and had to pick him up from school. He had told you that some of the kids in his class had a crush on you, which you found comical. You had never thought yourself to be the prettiest girl; you didn’t have perfect hair or completely clear skin, or the never-ending legs that only models seem to have, but you did feel a bit flattered knowing that first graders thought you were cute. 

You were pulled from your thoughts when someone tapped on your shoulder. You turned to see Mason, one of your friends, sitting behind you with a grin on his face. 

“What?” You turned the rest of your body so you were sideways in your seat. 

“Are you doing anything later tonight? I was thinking maybe we could play some Minecraft or something.” 

You shook your head. “Sorry, I’m babysitting again tonight. Steve’s working late again, so I have to stay until late.” The bell rang, and you started to pack up your things when Mason scoffed. 

“Babysitting? On the weekend? That’s tragic.” He patted your shoulder in mocked sympathy. 

“Oh please, I’m getting paid to watch one of the sweetest kids and have access to practically unlimited food. It’s not that bad,” you said as the two of you walked down the hallway. “Besides, Steve’s house is so nice. It looks like something out of a movie.”

Mason rolled his eyes and adjusted the strap of his bag. “This guy sounds kinda creepy. He’s loaded, and his baby mama is nowhere to be seen? The only known person from his personal life is his friend, who he named his kid after. Only sketchy guys do that.”

You smacked his arm with a decent amount of force. “Just because he’s got money and doesn’t have many personal ties doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy. Maybe he’s just a loner type.”

“You say that now, but just wait until you find a body in his basement.” 

He pushed open the door for you and walked with you to your car. “Look, I’ve got to hurry; I’m picking up Han from school.”

“Oh, I see. A six-year-old is more deserving of your time than I am. We’ve been friends longer than he’s been alive.” Mason held a smug smirk on his face as he crossed his arms. 

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “You know it. Maybe we’ll get to play tomorrow, but I’ll text you in a bit.”

You got into your car and began to pull away when Mason called out, “Let me know when you find the body!”

     -

“Hey, bud! How was school?” 

You held open the door for James as he climbed into the backseat. He flashed you a smile, his lack of one front tooth on display. 

“Good! We played kickball during recess, and my team won.”

You pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to his house. “Well, I’m glad. Anything else happen?” 

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “In art class, we were painting with watercolors, and I made this.” He held out the paper for you to look at. 

You glanced down at it for a second, since you had to pay attention to the road, but you smiled at what you saw. He had drawn himself, Steve, and you. 

“That’s really good, James. Did you choose to paint that for a certain reason?”

He put the painting back in his bag. “We were supposed to paint our family, so I did.”

You looked up at him through the rearview mirror. He had his cute little smile on his face, and you felt one beginning to mirror on your own. 

“That was very kind of you.”

~

The rest of the ride was pretty much uneventful. You stopped by the grocery store and picked up some drinks and some frozen pizza. Currently, you were popping the pizza into the oven as James babbled about the rest of his day. 

“-and there’s this new boy at school- his name is Lucas- and he’s really cute. I’m thinking about asking him to be my boyfriend.” James didn’t even look up from his coloring book as he gushed about how cute this boy was. 

“I think I’ll have to meet this boy first. I’m not sure if he’s worthy of the glorious James himself.” You sat down next to James and looked at what he was doing. 

He looked up at you and handed you a few crayons. “Want to help me?”

“And ruin your masterpiece? I think you should handle this one.” You rested your head against your hand as you watched him color. 

“I can give you a piece to color!” Before you could say otherwise, he ripped out the next page and handed it to you. You chuckled and picked up a blue crayon. 

“You just want to prove that you’re a better colorer than me, don’t you?” You looked up to see James struggling to suppress a smile. 

“Maybe.”

 ~

“I’m afraid it is time for bed, buddy.” 

He let out an exaggerated whine. “Just a little longer, please?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You said that fifteen minutes ago. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” You placed your hand on his back and ushered him to his room. Once he was all settled in, you began to stand when he grabbed your wrist. 

“What is it, bud?”

He had a mischievous smile on his face. “I think my dad likes you.” 

You gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I hope he does. He’s paying me to watch you.” 

James shook his head. “I mean, likes like you. He thinks you’re pretty, and you are.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up. Sure, you thought that Steve was attractive, who didn’t? The fact was that you were still a minor; granted, almost eighteen but not for a few more months, and this man was at least in his mid-thirties. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Sometimes I hear him say your name when he thinks I’m sleeping. He sounds like he’s running or something. It’s weird, but I think it means he likes you.”

Your heart began to pump wildly. This man gets off thinking about you? The logical part of your brain told you that you should leave, find this disgusting, but a part deep inside you felt heat begin to simmer at your core. 

“Well, regardless if he likes me or not, you need to go to bed.” You turn on his nightlight before kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, buddy.”

     ~

You couldn’t get James’ words out of your head.

Steve liked you? It was wrong, but it felt good, too. 

God, listen to you ramble about your client. He probably doesn’t even look at you that way. Even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t go around telling his son about it.

You groaned and flopped down on the couch. What were you supposed to do now? Usually, you’d sleep, but your core was too warm and tingly for that. You need to get over this crush. You grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned on the TV, hoping that the noise would distract you from your aching arousal.

It didn’t.

Halfway through the episode of Criminal Minds, you gave in and slipped your hand down the front of your shorts and underwear. Your fingertips skimmed over your moist folds, and you held back a small moan. Your index finger slipped down to your clit, and you made small, soft circles around it, before moving your middle finger down to your entrance. 

You ceased the attention on your clit as you sank your finger into your pussy, and you gasped. You were imagining Steve slipping his long, thick fingers deep inside you. Your walls clenched down on your finger, and then you slipped in a second.

"Steve..." You couldn't stop his name from slipping out, but it felt so right.

You sped up your fingers, but your shorts were restricting your movements, so with your free hand, you reached down and pushed them off your hips along with your underwear.

You lied on Steve's sofa naked from the waist down, the only thing covering you is a small throw blanket.

In your daydream, Steve had you pinned down as he pounded into you while whispering filthy things in your ear, calling you his little girl.

"Daddy!" you gasped as your fingers curled into a spot deep inside you, causing you to see stars. The knot in your stomach was threatening to snap. "Daddy, Steve, I'm gonna-"

"Cum?" At the sound of Steve's voice, you screeched and yanked your hand away from your core.

"Oh! Um, Steve, hi?" You didn't need a mirror to know your face was beet red- from being so close to release and being caught. "I didn't expect you back so early." God, why do you have to sound so out of breath?!

"I'm not early. I'm late if anything." Steve pointed at the large clock on the wall, and he was right; it was almost one in the morning. "But I see you were too distracted to notice."

You didn't think your face could get any hotter, but it did. There was no denying that he caught you knuckle-deep in your cunt.

"I-I'm so sorry you had to see-"

"Do you do this every time?" His face was intense, but you couldn't read it.

Your heart was in your throat. He thought that you've done this before? Fuck, he's probably going to make you leave. He'll probably tell your mom, too.

"N-no, sir! I swear! I don't-"

"Sir? I thought you preferred Daddy." Steve began to stalk towards you, his eyes more intense than his face. They were almost completely black with lust, and the crotch of his pants was pulled tight.

"Wha-what are you doing?" you squeaked as he stopped before you. You clutched the blanket with dear life- you still were completely bottomless.

"What does it look like I'm doing, little one?" He grasped the edge of the blanket and ripped it off your body. 

You yelped in and attempted to grab it, but it was too late. He had already thrown it to the other side of the room and left you exposed. With a whimper, you crossed your legs to cover your exposed sex, but Steve tutted.

"Now, now, little one, you don't get to fingerfuck yourself in my house and then act innocent. Spread your legs; Daddy wants to see how naughty you've been."

You whimpered again and hesitated. When Steve noticed you weren't making any move to uncross your legs, he sighed.

 "If you don't do as Daddy says, he'll have to take you over his knee and spank that pretty little ass until it's nice and red. Do you want that, little one?" 

You couldn't fight the wanton moan at the thought of him spanking you, and Steve chuckled.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His voice was velvet and thick- it made your cunt ache.

You uncrossed your ankles and let your knees fall open. You watched Steve lift one of your ankles to his mouth and press a kiss to the inside of it.

"Such a good little kitten. Now let's see how bad you've been." Steve rested your ankle against his shoulder while the other stayed dangling off the side of the couch. he shifted so his face was closer to your cunt, and with his free hand, he slowly spread your slick folds.

You felt erotic spread before him. He could see everything, and his expression was hard to read.

"You're fucking soaked, little one. You're such a dirty little girl." You met Steve's eyes and watched as he lowered his head to your cunt. He pressed a gentle kiss to your mound before sitting back on his heels.

 One of the fingers he used to spread your lips slipped down to your entrance and slowly dipped inside. You gasped as the thick digit spread your walls, and you mewled when he curled it.

"Feel good, little one? Does Daddy's finger feel good in your pretty little cunt?" He slipped another inside and you cried out. "Answer me, kitten. How do my fingers feel in your tight pussy?"

"S-so good, Daddy!" you moaned as he slowly pumped them into your slick opening.

After a particularly loud moan, you remembered where you were, and who you were with. You gasped and tried to sit up, but Steve pressed a hand to your lower stomach and held you down.

"Steve, we can't-"

"No, no, kitten. You call me Daddy, okay? Now, try again like a good girl." He stood up, and braced himself over you with the hand he had used to hold you down on the back of the couch. His fingers quickened their pace to were they were practically pulsing inside you. 

"Daddy, plea-please!" You knew what an orgasm felt like, and this feeling was similar but much more intense. You could feel a pressure building in your bladder.

"Please, what, little one? Tell me what you want. Ask like a good girl." His voice was pure sin, and his impossibly fast fingers sped up. 

The pumping of his digits created the slick sound, and your cunt felt like it was on fire. The pressure was almost unbearable. "I wanna cum! Please, Daddy, let me cum!" You didn't even sound like yourself anymore; your voice was airy and thin to the point where your words were just moans.

Steve chuckled darkly. "Cum, little one. Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy." As if he had spoken your climax into existence, you came. Hard. Harder than you ever had before.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm crested, and the pressure released. Fluids soaked your shirt and Steve's hand, and you would have gasped in horror if you were crashing from your high. 

When your climax faded, you opened your eyes to Steve sticking his fingers in his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. When he caught your eyes, he smirked and sat down on the couch beside you. 

When Steve began pulling you to his lap, you tried to shove him away, but he grabbed your wrist and tugged you to his chest.

"Good girl, you're such a good girl, baby. You did so well." He cradled you in his arms and rocked you back and forth. 

You gently pushed yourself from his embrace and looked at him with round eyes. "Steve..."

"Hush, kitten. Let me hold you." His fingers traced invisible lines under your shirt, causing you to shiver. He gently gripped the bottom of your shirt and tugged. "Up, little one."

You slowly stretched your shaky arms above your head and let Steve pull your top over your head. He tossed the clothing aside and grasped you by the forearms.

"You're so beautiful, little one." His eyes skimmed over your body before meeting your gaze. They burned with such intensity that you had to look away.

You shifted in his lap and accidentally brushed your knee against his crotch, and he hissed. For a split second, you'd thought you'd hurt him, but the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

"Steve..." 

He shushed you by placing a small kiss on your lips. His lips were soft and tasted vaguely of mint and something else unknown. He cupped the back of your head and tugged your hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you barely opened your mouth to let him in. 

His tongue caressed yours, and you moaned. Steve echoed you, before parting himself from your lips. A shiny string of spit kept the two of you connected but broke when he leaned back.

"Here is what's going to happen, little one. I'm going to take you to my room, and I'm going to fuck you until your legs are numb. I'm going to fill your sweet little cunt up so you'll feel me for days. But, if you don't want that, you have to tell me. Once I start, I'm not going to stop until your belly is swollen with my cum." His eyes were intense, and you gulped. His hand snaked between your legs and thumbed your clit.

You whined at the overstimulation, and he chuckled and added more pressure.

"Answer me, kitten. Do you want me to stop?"

A part of you wanted to give in, let him fuck your brains out, but you hesitated. This wasn't entirely legal, and you were entirely comfortable with the idea of sleeping with him. You were still a virgin, and though you would say you were saving it for someone special, you weren't eager to have sex- especially with someone who was over two decades older than you.  

"I... I don't..." Your cheeks flushed as you stumbled over your words, and Steve chuckled.

"You're thinking too much, little one. It's yes or no. Don't think, just feel." Steve's hand fell from your scalp to your cheek as he looked at you with such a tenderness that your heart melted.

Don't think.

Just feel.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. In less than a second, Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and devoured your mouth with his.

Steve lifted you off of the couch, and you cupped his face in between your hands as he began to move towards the stairs. He stopped halfway to press your back against the wall. He gripped your ass with such strength you wouldn't doubt bruises being there tomorrow. His tongue slipped down your throat, and you timidly began to suckle on the warm muscle. He groaned and continued his ascent to his room.

You were too caught up in his kisses to notice him throwing his bedroom door open, for the next thing you knew was being tossed on his bed. You squeaked as you bounced, but watched Steve with half-lidded eyes and heated cheeks as he ripped off his shirt; his abdominal muscles shifted as he moved. 

Steve undid the buckle of his belt and let his pants fall, leaving him in only his boxers as he crawled over you. His broad shoulders made you feel so small as they boxed you underneath him. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. 

"I can't get over how beautiful you are, kitten. So fucking beautiful." Lust practically dripped off of his words. He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before he descended down your jaw and throat. 

Your mewls of pleasure were soft but grew in volume the farther he went down your neck. 

He stopped at the swell of your breasts, and you waited with bated breath for his next move. His teeth sunk into the tender flesh, and you cried out at the pain. Steve sucked harshly against the skin, groaning at the sounds you made.

He repeated the process three more times, each hickey just as large and dark as the first. 

"You look even better with my mark on you," Steve growled as he pressed gentle kisses on your breasts. His tongue began to draw little circles over your right nipple before he closed his mouth over the pebble. His tongue lapped over your peak, suckling and nipping softly before switching to the other.

Your legs shook at the stimuli, and your cries began to grow louder. Steve let go of your nipple with a 'pop' and left open-mouthed kisses up to your lips.

"You need to be quiet, little girl. Don't want to wake up James, do we?" 

At the mention of his son, you attempted to sit up, but Steve pushed you back down to the bed. 

"No, no, baby. Daddy isn't done with you." He pressed a deep, sloppy kiss on your lips before he began to slide down your body. He let go of your wrists in favor of your knees. He pushed them to the sides and slid down in between the space. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands slid up your thighs and inched closer to your core.

"I'm dying to taste you, kitten. Will you let Daddy eat your pretty cunt?" Steve punctuated the request with a brush of his lips over your folds.

You nodded, but Steve just stared at you expectingly.

"Use your words, little one."

You gulped. "Please, Daddy."

He shook his head and started to back away from the center of your thighs. "Please, what? You're a smart little girl. Tell me what you want."

"Daddy, please..." Your voice shook as you watched him. His eyes lit up encouragingly, so you continued. "Please, taste me."

Steve inched back towards your pussy. His fingers slid up and parted your folds. "Taste you where, baby girl?"

You dropped your head down to the pillow and whimpered. "My cunt! Daddy, please, I can't-"

He cut you off by licking a long strip between your folds. You squealed when the tip of his tongue flicked your clit, and he wrapped his lips around it as he suckled. Two of his fingers plunged into you, stretching your walls. They curled into a rough patch over and over again. 

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair and pulled him closer, and he groaned.

"You taste divine, little one. Absolutely delicious," Steve growled, the vibrations going straight to your bundle of nerves. 

The pressure building was becoming overwhelming, and Steve could feel you clenching around his fingers.

"No-!" You gasped as Steve pulled his fingers out of you and sat up. He smirked as he licked your slick off of his fingers, all the while keeping eye contact with you.

"I want to feel you come with me inside you," he whispered and proceeded to shed his underwear. 

Your eyes widened at the sheer size of his cock; you didn't even think you could fully wrap your fingers around him.

He smirked when he saw your expression. "Don't worry; it'll fit, kitten." He lowered himself back between your legs and wrapped them around his hips. Steve looked down between your bodies and positioned his tip at your entrance.

He pushed in, the head settling firmly inside you, and you gasped. You'd never felt this full, and you'd barely taken any of him.

Steve pushed even further, and he groaned. "Fuck, baby girl. You feel so fucking good." His head dropped down to your shoulder as he panted.

You whimpered with each inch that slipped inside, and your fingernails dug into the fleshy muscles of his shoulders.

Steve finally settled to the hilt, and your thighs quaked at the stretch. He shifted your legs from his hips and pulled them over his shoulders as he sat up.

"I want to see you, little one. Fuck, you're gorgeous." He sounded winded and breathless, and you mewled.

"Please, Daddy, fuck me!" you begged, and he chuckled.

"Anything for you, kitten." He slowly shifted his hips backward, but slammed them back down on yours a second later. 

The sudden movement jostled you, and you cried when the tip of his cock brushed deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Steve dropped down to his elbows and pounded down into you. With your knees were pushed up against your chest, he reached even deeper than before.

"You're taking me so fucking deep, little one. I'm going to fill you up so fucking good," he panted as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. The gentle kiss he placed on your lips was a sharp contrast of the brutal pace of his hips.

The pressure building in your core grew stronger and stronger, and your heart fluttered. Your moans turned into cries, and Steve went even harder.

"Don't you cum, baby girl. Don't you fucking cum without asking," Steve growled in your ear before he flipped you over. 

You didn't have time to react before he slid his cock back into you. His pace was tenfold of what it was earlier.

Steve grabbed your neck and pulled you back to his chest. "Your little cunt is clenching around me, sweetheart. Are you going to cum?" His voice was mockingly sweet, and you nodded blindly.

"Daddy, please! I wanna cum!" If you were in your right mind, you would have scolded yourself for sounding so whiny, but you were so close to orgasm that you didn't- or couldn't- care.

"Oh, you'll get to cum, little girl." His free hand snaked down to your pussy, and he pinched and tugged at your clit.

Your hands latched on to his wrist, your body shaking at the stimulation. Your loins tingled and burned the higher your climax built.

"Cum, little one. Cum on Daddy's cock."

You cried out, and if it weren't for Steve holding you up, you would have fallen face-first in the bed. Your thighs quivered, your lungs squeezed, and your eyes threatened to roll back into your skull. You threw your head back against his shoulder, and as you were coming down from your high, you heard Steve growl before an unnatural heat filled your belly.

As Steve gently laid the two of you on the bed- him on his back, and you lying on his chest, you could feel a slickness pooling in between your thighs. He wrapped you up in his arms, and your ear rested over his heart. It was still fast, but with each deep breath he took, you could feel it begin to slow down.

The two of you sat in soft silence, and you looked up at him when he began stroking your hair. 

His eyes were full of adoration, and you felt your heart clench. His hair was wild, and you assumed yours wasn't much better.

"What?" you asked quietly, your voice conveying your curiosity.

"Nothing, kitten. Just appreciating your beauty." Steve smiled and leaned down towards you. You shifted to meet his lips in a deep kiss, his tongue stroking yours slowly.

When he pulled away, your eyes slipped shut as you rested your head back over his heart.

"How was that for your first time?"

You snapped your eyes open at his words and your head popped up. You furrowed your brows, and he smiled.

"You're a dead giveaway, kitten. It doesn't take a genius to know that I just popped your cherry." 

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled in your throat. Steve looked at you with a sweet curiosity. 

"What, baby?" Steve pressed another gentle kiss to your lips.

"It's just no one says that anymore." Your giggles grew louder, and his smile turned into a smirk.

"Is that so, little one?" He pressed another kiss to your mouth.

"You're not mad?" you asked quietly, and his eyes softened.

"Why would I be mad?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, little one. I was one, too, at one point."

You couldn't fight the laugh. "It's hard to imagine you being a virgin."

He looked puzzled. "How so?"

You shook your head and smirked. "Seriously? You look like a walking sex god, and as far as I'm concerned, you are."

Steve threw his head back in a hearty laugh. His chest vibrated under your hands, and you joined in. 

Your cheeks burned from laughing so much, but you stopped when reality hit you. 

What now?

Steve noticed that you'd grown quiet, and sighed. "What's wrong, baby?"

You slowly met his eyes, and you gulped. Your fingers toyed with the hair on his chest. "What happens now?"

He shrugged, and you huffed. You removed yourself from his arms and shifted to the end of the bed.

"What're you doing?"

You didn't even look back at him as you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over your head. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're upset. So, sit down and we can talk about it." You heard Steve shift, and a second later his arms snaked around your waist.

You leaned back into his chest and sighed. "It's just... what do we do know? Where do we go from here?" You twisted around in his arms to face him and grasped his face. "I'm really interested in you, Steve. I don't want this to be a one-time thing, but I also don't want to do this if you're just in it for my body."

Steve shook his head and gave you a sad smile. "I'm sorry that I gave you the impression I was using you, 'cause I'm interested in you, too. I know this isn't the most legal thing I've ever done, but I want to be with you, sweetheart." Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and sighed. "As for now? Well, the metaphorical now is that we're going to see where this relationship goes. If you're okay with that, of course." 

Steve gave you a cheeky smile, one that you returned with a blush.

"As for the actual now, I still have a promise to fulfill." A mischievous grin stretched over his face and you gulped.

"What promise?"

He hesitated, and his smirk grew. "To fuck you 'till your legs are numb."

[let-me-write]

The Truth Untold

Find chapters 1 2 here

Chapter 3: The Consequence of What-ifs

Kit Herondale stood in front of the towering old cathedral, wondering if his presence here was warranted. He had been deliberating under this street lamp for what felt like hours.

Tessa had opened a portal from Devon for him. He sighed now, opening the gates to the gothic building...it was time to go in. They would be waiting for him.

The New York Institute never failed to awe him, despite his several visits. It was magnificent in its height, overwhelming even in the dusk light. It donned an air of mystery that pulled you in, while its eerie facade terrified you from any thought of approaching it.

Kit couldn't help but compare it with the only other institutes he was familiar with: The Los Angeles and London Institutes. All three churches, except, the latter two somehow blended with their surroundings. This one though stood out like a sore thumb in the busy Manhattan neighbourhood.

In one of his past visits, he had thought that this would be the obvious abode of a sinister supervillain in a low-budget thriller. He had been almost right... He had learnt later from Simon that the mundane facade of the institute, had indeed been the backdrop for a few indie horror movies.

He opened the door to the Institute and was greeted with the familiar voices of Jace and Clary.

" Jace, calm down. It's not a big deal. This is not Kit's first time. Stop it or I'm calling Simon to record this...you wouldn't like one of those edits again would you? "

"I'm obliged to acquaint him with the traditions of our legendary family, Clary. Not even you could stop me..."

Kit exhaled heavily.

He wasn't ready to take in his cousin's shenanigans now. He moved further ahead, before stopping near the landing where the heads of the institute were busy arguing, oblivious to Kit's presence. He cleared his throat and said, " Hello Clary, need some help? "

Clary turned around surprised, " Kit !! You're here. I'm so glad to see you ", she patted his arm excitedly. She continued, " Well, yes, I need your help" and gestured at the head of her fiancé.

Jace was wearing a ridiculous headgear, with a monstrous-looking duck adorning it. Of course, he was...

Jace had taken it upon himself to sensitise Kit to the sacred traditions of the Herondales since he had learnt that Kit - to his absolute horror- loved ducks. He is yet to cease in his campaign to dissuade Kit from the "demonic birds".

Kit wished he had a normal cousin; except not really...then who else would be capable of distracting him-so spectacularly-from his worries. He felt a flush of warmth towards Jace.

Jace was leaning forward to hug him now. Kit reciprocated with a quick hug.

Jace then looked at him up and down while commenting, " Christopher, I see you have buffed up since I saw you last. I'm glad my mentoring has worked "

Kit shrugged nonchalantly.

He took that as an affirmation and grinned all self-satisfied. " I've made all the necessary arrangements for your stay here. You will have a splendid time, well, apart from the mission " he assured.

Kit just stared.

He raised his eyebrows, noting Kit's quiet demeanour and shared a look with Clary. He said " We had planned to have a take-out dinner. Why don't you join us? "

Kit smiled at him with a nod, before reaching up to pull the duck hat from Jace's head and donning it on his own. He said with a cheeky grin, " Thank you, Jace, for such a thoughtful gift. You have satisfied my adoration for duck collectables of all forms. Get me a dragon duck next time "

Jace groaned aloud, while Clary burst out laughing.

...........................................................................

The dinner had been a quiet affair, after which Kit had been introduced to his room at the Institute. He sat there on his new bed, pondering over his observations of the night.

He had noticed that the residents of the Institute were quite exhausted, in spite of their enthusiasm at his arrival. It was evident from Clary's dark circles and Jace's wild hair. There was a tense nature to their stances, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

It was to be expected since they were helping Alec's Clave-in-exile, besides dealing with the new development in the streets of New York.

Downworlders were getting killed in the past few months, in isolated incidents. The only clue was that the modus operandi matched the murder of a downworlder couple three years ago.

The Conclave of New York had strengthened and increased the frequencies of their patrols to prevent further losses. Special patrols under the Downworlder-Shadowhunter alliance had been constituted for the purpose. In fact, Clary and Jace had gone for the same tonight.

They had declined Kit's offer to join, citing his unfamiliarity with the city. Besides, he could start his patrols for the mission once the others arrived, they said.

The others...the Centurions, would arrive early tomorrow.

The thought made Kit almost queasy.

He would be meeting Ty after a long time. He didn't know how they would get past the awkwardness between them.

He wondered if Ty would even recognize him.

Kit fiddled with the paper in his pocket. He took it out and smoothed the worn-out edges.

Ty had sent the message a week ago. He had been curious and slightly concerned when he had realized it was Ty's.

He had read it numerous times since then...

He reread now while tracing each word with his finger:

Dear Christopher,

I have been assigned my first mission in New York, to investigate mysterious energy emanating from the Shadow Market there. I believe there's a link between Barnabas Hale and this phenomenon.

I trust you will understand me when I tell you, I couldn't help but think of you. I remember your familiarity and ease in dealing with the denizens of the Shadow Market.

Hence, as the leader, I am requesting you to accompany us on this mission. Your inputs would be highly appreciated and you would be a valuable addition to the team.

Besides, it is not an exclusive mission for the Centurions. Students of the Shadowhunter Academy will also be a part of it...Dru will be there.

I'm not sure if you would read this or would even consider coming but I hope you do.

If you do, please come to the New York Institute next week.

Regards,

Tiberius Blackthorn

It was the most formal, any communication between them had ever been.

He had hated it; hated that Ty was distant now and that he was needed only for a mission by the other boy.

It had made him feel miserable.

But, he couldn't help the tiny hope that arose in his heart, at a chance to meet Ty again and the thought of Ty needing him for something, even as trivial as his familiarity with the Shadow Market.

He sighed, disappointed with himself...his innate desire to be a part of Ty's life, to mean something to him...it had never disappeared.

After he had received the message, he hadn't been sure if it was real or just a manifestation of his wishful thinking.

He had then stayed cooped up in his room, holding onto the message, keeping a watch so that it didn't disappear.

Logically, he knew he shouldn't go. He had a life at Devon with his loving family, untouched by any harm courtesy of his legacy.

Unfortunately, his mind had refused to budge from the What-ifs...

What if this was his last chance to meet Ty in the flesh? What if they ended up never talking to each other till they died? or worse, What if he didn't get to see Ty ever again?

Those had terrified him.

Then, he had been haunted by a particular memory, when he had believed he was dying, after the encounter with the Riders of Mannan. He had tried to ask Emma then - with what he had believed to be his last breath - to " Tell Ty that I am sorry "

Dread had filled his mind: What if he fails to ask Ty for his forgiveness, for not being a good friend, for letting him endanger himself, just because Kit didn't want to be left out and for making him cry with his harsh words?

It was long overdue and Ty deserved to know, except Kit was clueless on how to act on that.

He had decided then that his participation in the mission could be the first step towards it, at least, in opening up a dialogue between them.

It wouldn't be an easy task, it would hurt him to be so close to Ty.

But Kit was willing to try, to act, which he had failed to do in the past years.

It was hard at first, to convince Jem and Tessa. They were concerned at his sudden interest in a mission and feared for his safety.

To them, Kit's safety was the priority and they worried about him attracting dangerous attention if he left Devon, alone.

Kit had assured them that it would be a short mission and besides " Where else would I get to show off my Shadowhunter training? I think it will be a good opportunity, Jem " he said.

They agreed, but only after confirming that Jace and Clary were in the Institute and would take care of him, for they were one of the few who safeguarded Kit's dangerous secret.

He had packed lightly and waited for Tessa to open the portal for his departure.

The previous day, Tessa had done her best to place a shield on his powers. His hereditary faerie powers were transient, having appeared only intermittently since that day at Idris.

He had trained with Tessa to wield it but all to no avail, since he couldn't even voluntarily manifest it in the first place. Tessa, however, had told him she could sense the power in him, dormant and waiting for an outlet.

Even though the dark origins of the power let Tessa and Magnus feel it, they were yet to decipher its nature and extent. She was able to only place a shield, a minor deterrent on its volatility.

During the time of departure, Mina had hugged him close and murmured " I will miss you Gē-Ge", with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. He had rubbed her head lovingly while assuring her that he would be back soon and that he would say 'Hi ' to Max and Rafe for her. Tessa had asked him to be good and return safely. Jem had just smiled and hugged him before sending him off through the portal.

At present, lying wide awake in an unfamiliar room, with its blank wooden walls and the Manhattan skyline visible from his window, Kit missed his family.

He was anxious to meet Ty and even Dru tomorrow. At the same time, he wished that the time would pass by soon and that the dawn would arrive...he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes and played one of Jem's compositions on his iPod. It calmed his nerves and brought in a sense of familiarity.

Kit drifted towards what would most likely be a restless sleep, with the words 'I couldn't help but think of you ' lingering in his mind. He looked forward to a day that was bound to be, vastly different from the ones of the last three years of his life.

...........................................................................

Please reblog if you like it. Your comments are welcome too!!

[docholligay]

Angst Prompt Day: Pharah / Mercy, "N I G H T M A R E"

2361 Words. I hope you enjoy! 

For most of her life, Pharah had avoided most mental scars related to her service. The human mind is a strange thing, and while seeing comrades killed in combat saddened her, and losing her arm had been painful in more ways than one, she had gone through the rocky periods of her life and come out quite unscarred. She held Mercy, when she cried, the high wind reminding her too much of that night, and she did Dva the favor of speaking softly when some too loud boom took her far away, and she was even known to grip Tracer’s shoulder tightly when a sharp cold got in between her ribs, and she trembled. 

But Pharah could not imagine what any of these things felt like on a personal level, because her mind had seemed to reject that precise method of injury. Tracer had grumbled that of course she didn’t, because Pharah was bloody fucking perfect all the time, and Pharah had shaken her head, and simply said there was no accounting for the way a mind reacted. But, in truth, she approached it with a mix of pride and fear, in ways she could not have potentially articulated to anyone but herself. There was, of course, a pride there, that she was strong, and she was resolute, and while any other normal person would have faced these consequences, Pharah was untouched. But there was the argument, of course, in the back of her mind. You are untouched because you are untouchable. You don’t feel things like other people do. You’re just like your mother. Cold. 

But Pharah was, above all things, a logical sort, and she could not change what did and didn’t affect her, and she did try very hard to show kindness and empathy, and so she put the worry to the side. She would be better than her mother, because she would try, and so she simply allowed that her brain was good at protecting her. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Moira broke Tracer, and it was a well known fact. That she had managed to claw her way back to a fully functioning human being was the sort of miracle that could only be explained by the very nature of Lena Oxton, a woman who would not be beat, who would only die when she was good and ready. Pharah loved that about her, that she was a tiny Jack Russell Terrier in human form. Seeing her bound back into the office a few months after being put in an induced coma, once again dirtying three different spoons because she couldn’t remember where she’d put the last one, yelling about how she was going to shoot Moira through the temple and see if she didn’t, gave Pharah a sense of stability in the world. 

But Moira broke Tracer, and everyone knew it. Pharah was very lucky not to be too seriously hurt. Tracer had been cobbled back together, but Pharah had only been deeply scratched. She was perfectly functional. 

And then she dreamed. 

During the day, it was very easy to distract herself from the sense of panic that rose up at the strangest times. A gate would clang shut at just the right tone, there would be the sound of a boot on a concrete floor, and all of a sudden she could feel the restraint at her wrist, the buzz through her body, the sound of Tracer screaming….but there was the warmth of a brick beneath her hand. There was the conversation fo the two old ladies behind her, complaining about Marks and Spencer’s, there was Tracer, putting an ice cube in her hand, and gently telling her, ‘you aren’t there, love.’ 

The night held none of this. The soft darkness was a canvas that her mind could work its will upon, and she traveled there, and she felt angry and betrayed by her own mind, how richly it painted the picture, how she could feel Moira’s breath against her cheek. She woke in a cold sweat, her chest tight, and often rushed herself down to the kitchen to panic quietly, to not bother Mercy, to click the spoon against the edge of her mug as she stirred and let it be the bell that chimed her home. 

Pharah was not generally unkind to herself, but she had a tendency to take all responsibility as hers and hers alone, and so it was her who would figure out the mess Moira had made of her, and wasn’t it self-pitying to even note the pain in her shoulder and the panic in her mind, against what had happened to Tracer? She didn’t complain, and so Pharah would put her head down and work this out. 

 What she had not counted on was the intense and deep love of her wife, and how little escaped her notice, even if she allowed things to pass without comment. It was foolish, Pharah would later chuckle, in the way that as her hair greyed, she laughed at herself more and more, to think she could hide her symptoms from an actual doctor, to not have known that Mercy was simply giving her time, but she could be very arrogant in that way from time to time. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her, Mercy’s touch in the night, but it was all the same. 

It came one night, a handful of months after the incident itself. Pharah would often object to the absolute lack of creativity on the part of her mind, in the darkness. It never came up with anything novel, never played new parts or reminded her of different hurts, but came back to that same grey place. 

“You take so much for such a little thing.” 

Pharah heard that line, over and over, the villain of the picture entering stage right. She bucked against the restraints holding her, just as she always did, ignoring the searing, shooting, hammering pain running down through that shoulder that came to a stop. The movie progressed as always, with no response from the unfeeling leather around her. 

She wanted to yell, wanted to make some clever quip and science or Ireland or a football team or anything that would pull Moira away from her work. Tracer had come up with so many, her mind was so quick and agile, and Pharah could not remember if she had hated herself so much int he moment or if her ind had gently supplied her the hindsight, but she burned with rage that she was so logical and straightforward and had no real mind for sass. She had never considered it a military gift of Tracer’s, because she was a fool, and could not see things as expansively as her small teammate. 

“Oh fuck off, Moira, couldn’t even properly be doing this, ‘ad you not stolen Win’s work.”

Tracer’s voice was reedy, always, but filled with that biting contempt, too. Shut up, Pharah wanted to say, stop talking, stop making her want to hurt you. Don’t you dare say that next line--

“Win’s work, Ang’s...you’re not a scientist, just a bloody fucking thief, and you won’t learn nothing from doing this love, you’re a--” 

She screamed. She always screamed, when Moira hit the switch, when she dangled Tracer in between time and timelessness, seeing how long one could sustain in that space. Tracer only ever blinked for a second, maybe a second and a half if she was pushing her limits, but Moira just kept her there, letting it eat at her, but not releasing her into it either, playing tug of war with her body. 

Had Pharah yelled? Had she even tried? She felt like she must have, but she never did, here and so maybe she had been--

She sat up straight, gasping, cold sweat pouring down her back. There wasn’t any air in the room, she was still in that grey cold laboratory and it was running out of air, and she felt it begin to crush her. Then, there was a strong pull around her shoulders. A lamp clicked on. 

“Fareeha.” There was a voice in her ear, and it wasn’t quiet. “Fareeha, come here.” 

It was a command and it was her wife, and she felt the edge soften on the thought, because Mercy hadn’t been there, and if Mercy hadn;t been there than maybe. There was a pinch on the back of her hand, and the world started to come back into view, and for the first time she took a breath with air in it, and the tightness began to cease, slowly ebbing like the tide. 

“Fareeha look at me.” 

She turned around and there was Mercy, her face in opposition to all the command and ferocity of her demands that Pharah be released from the thought. 

“You are not there. Tell me what time it is.” 

Pharah turned her head and looked at the clock. “1:02.” 

“Yes, it is 1:02. Do you know what day it is? Tell me.” 

Pharah turned it over and over in her mind, the memory receding into the background as she imagined the calendar. “It has to be the 23rd, I think.” 

“What is four times six?” 

It was then that Pharah came back to herself enough, got enough air in her lungs, to realize what Mercy was doing, to love her so intensely that it cast out all other feelings and fears. She smiled. Moira faded in the background, having lost the battle in record time. How could a devil stand against this angel? 

“Twenty-four.” 

Mercy cupped her cheek gently. “Yes. How are you?”

She was still shaking, a bit, and the pour of sweat down her back was making her cold, but Pharah was back home, now, with her wife, and she was safe, and though her shoulder still hurt from what had been done to it, she was free now, and on the mend, and Tracer had lived, and she was mending. She remembered all these things, in a beautiful instant, like coming up from the deep water to see the sun. 

Pharah nodded, and then flushed. “I---I apologize.” 

It sounded silly even to her. She would never begrudge Mercy any of the love she had given her, when she had been struggling with fear, with the memories of what had happened to her, but she had been a child, and Mercy was very tender, and so it was much more natural that she would need help. Pharah was the anchor in a storm. She was iron. 

She looked at Mercy, who had taken her hand away. Her brows were furrowed and she was angry, maybe even hurt, as she assessed Pharah. 

“Why should you do this yourself? Why are you thinking you are stronger than all of us?” It came sharp, in that rare way Mercy used to call someone to account. “Do you not--do you not trust me with your feelings?”

Pharah had not taken it as the arrogance it was. She had not taken it as a mark of her attempts at invulnerability. She never would have taken it as an act of mistrust. She was helping, she had assured herself. She was not piling things on to people struggling with their own lives. She loved Mercy more than anything on this earth, and she was meant to help her, and she had already done so much with Pharah’s injury not one, but twice. She wanted to protect her, and not be the protected. 

She closed her eyes. It was frustrating, how she fell back into these traps. How she worked and worked at being more open, more soft, and yet, the moment there was trouble, she shut herself up again like an oyster, and she would be that alone, if she didn’t fight to keep herself open. And she had done it again, pledging that she would honor Mercy and then refusing to do her the love of trusting her with her most fragile things. 

But Mercy was good, and sensed her frustration, and touched her with great love, her voice soft and warm again. 

“Fareeha, I am here to be your partner, in life.” She ran her hand through Pharah’s scattered hair, “Your help. You have always helped with my burden.  Do not be thinking I want you to carry this yourself. Why, when we have four hands?” 

“Three.” Fareeha chuckled. ‘At night.” 

Mercy scooted close to her. “You are allowed to be hurt. You are allowed to need.” 

Pharah felt tears sting at her eyes, surprised by the rapier of tenderness that stuck between her ribs. Be strong, had been the ethos of her childhood. Be hard, be the rock that evil breaks itself upon. An Amari is an army in herself, she was told. Command requires firmness. 

“I love you, Angela.” Whatever she said, it was never enough, never the depth of what she truly felt, but as she laid her head on Mercy’s shoulder, she trusted that Mercy would know the all the meanings behind it. 

Mercy kissed her temple. “Let us help you. There is no shame in having to need it.” 

The Pharah that life had built argued inside her. No, it said, I am not the one who needs help. This is the weakness of a moment, and I will be fine in the morning. I am the helper. I am the one who brings order from chaos. I do not require the things that other people do. I am a wall. I am a rock. I am the sword that brings justice to this world. 

But there was another Pharah, too, one that she was growing, row by row, leaf by leaf. One that she was trying to nurture, and water, no matter the difficulty. And it was this Pharah who spoke now, two carefully chosen words.

“I’m struggling.”

[89tczier]

People are talking

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

read on AO3 

word count: 3.9k

7 days before

“–and keep an eye on Ben and Bev!” Richie shouts, “I don’t want my bed broke–” he’s cut off by a very exasperated Eddie.

“Can it, Trashmouth,” He snaps, pulling Richie the rest of the way through the door by the lapels of his jacket. For some reason, those two were being trusted to bring back some actual alcohol rather than the shit Richie’s always left with at the end of the month. They all know its gonna take them twice as long than if anyone competent was sent, but the others are frankly just too lazy to offer themselves.

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

Bev’s quick to respond, patting his back and giggling in a way that makes Ben feel a little loopy, “jeez, babe, you alright?”

Ben nods, composing himself under the watch of his friends, clearly interested in what could have possibly caused this outburst. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” Ben casts a glance back at the door, “they’re like… totally in love, right?” He’s met with nothing but confused looks.

“Richie and Eddie?” Stan asks incredulously while perched in Mike’s lap.

“Richie and Eddie,” he confirms.

Bill, currently nestled under Mike’s arm, snorts like it’s one of Richie’s stupid jokes, “the f-fuck are you on about?”

Ben almost gawks like he didn’t just figure this out, but he did kind of expect the pieces to fall quickly into place once he pointed it out, “have you not seen the way they act? Textbook married couple.”

“They’ve always been like that though,” Bev shrugs, her brows furrowed as she appears to be trying to follow Ben’s logic (he loves her for trying).

He raises a finger. “My point still stands,” and goes on to explain, “they’re literally always together, hanging off each other… who’s the first person Richie asks for at a party? Who does Eddie always sit next to on movie night? They just– how can you guys not see it?”

“You’re talkin’ absolute bullshit, Benny,” Mike shakes his head, “Eddie’s close to ripping Rich’s head off half the time.”

“Oh come on, if he was really that annoyed he’d have said something about it. Eddie doesn’t stand for anything he doesn’t like.” Ben takes a pointed sip of his shitty beer to punctuate and this point seems to land, and Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the least bit satisfied with himself. He’d always had an eye for this stuff, even if he was rather shitty at acting upon it himself (but hey, it worked out pretty well for him).

“Leave it to Trashmouth Tozier to flirt with someone by annoying the life out of them,” Bev smiles.

“And leave it to Eddie fuckin’ Kaspbrak to flirt back with threats and holy fuck Ben I think you’re right.” Mike’s face goes blank.

“See!”

Bill still seems like he’s considering it, “it would explain a l-lot, mainly how Eddie hasn’t actually k-k-killed him yet… a-nd the fu-fucking hammock!”

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s go around the circle. Then it all becomes clear.

“God, they’ve had this since high school?” Bev snorts.

“Why haven’t they said anything?” Mike asks, “It’s not like we’re gonna care, we’re one big lovey mess,” he squeezes both Stan and Bill for emphasis.

“I don’t think they’re dating, necessarily, they’re just… in love.” Ben shrugs.

Bill grins, “now that guh-gives me an idea…”

“You’re hot when you scheme,” Stan hums, resting his head against Mike’s.

“Tell me about it,” Mike agrees, and is poked gently by Bill.

“I think, and I s-say this only for the b-benefit and happiness of my two dumbest friends, we should… encourage them to get a fuh-fucking move on.”

Bev shuffles forward and straightens up, “like… goad them together?”

Bill raises his bottle, “exactly,” and takes a sip while Mike and Stan nod to each other in agreement.

“Smokin’ hot.”

Bill chokes, and laughter fills the room as he curses his boyfriends out.

“Sounds like we’re missing out on something, Eds, they’re officially kicking us out,” Richie pretends to mope as they enter Richie’s apartment again, a bottle in both of his hands. Eddie scoffs.

“Maybe you, asshole, you’re the one who got held up by some dog on the street,”

They all wait for it.

“And don’t fuckin’ call me Eds!”

Richie grins like he’s won a prize.

–

6 days before

Bev isn’t the least bit fucking surprised when she wakes up to see she’s been added to a group chat called “operation: let’s get our two losers together”. She smiles, shifting some in Ben’s arms. He stirs, letting out a warm breath against her skin that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

“You see this?” She asks, turning the screen some so he can see. He squints and lets out a sleepy chuckle which makes Bev melt a little. She runs a hand over his forearm and locks their hands together, squeezing for good measure.

“God, this is either gonna go great or really terrible,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the skin where her neck meets her shoulders.

She hums, turning to face him, “I don’t know… I have a good feeling about this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… they seem meant for each other, I guess…” she pauses, smiles, and kisses him, “we all do.”

Ben smiles against her mouth and is about to return the favour when a string of texts floods both their phones.

put it away Benny Boy, we’ve got matchmaking to do ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:23

Meet us in our flat ~ Stan, sent at 08:23

guys, give em the chance to wake up, they had a long night ;) ~ Mikey, sent at 08:24

they need to hurry up and get a move on, we’ve been talkin all night and they need to get caught up ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:24

Well, not all night ~ Stan, sent at 08:25

…cease ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:25

“On second thought, this is the worst idea ever.”

She cackles, dragging both of them up and towards the bathroom. The boys could wait a little longer.

“Casa de Stan, recently co-owned by Bill and Mike too, speaking please?” This is always how he answers, the dope.

“Hey Mikey,” Ben says, voice still a little groggy from sleep. God, he’s hot, Bev thinks to herself, slotting a gloved hand into his.

“Hey guys!” The door clicks open, and they breeze up the first flight of stairs.

Bill greets them at the door, still in his sleep shirt. “Don’t,” he deadpans, right as Bev’s about to poke fun at the bruising around his neck and chest. She grins slyly at him, patting him on the back as she passes him.

“Benny! Bev! Get in here!” Mike calls from the den. Bill follows them in, taking a seat next to Mike and throwing his legs over his boyfriend’s lap. Stan’s stood hunched over the small stove on the other side of the room, scrambling some eggs which smell unfairly delicious to a moderately hung-over Beverly.

“You’ll get some in a minute,” he states, reading her mind.

“Always knew you were my favourite,” she said, which earns a ‘hey’ from both Mike and Bill.

Bill calls them all to sit down, explaining that they need to actually plan this out as quickly as possible. Richie and Eddie were the only ones with early classes that day and it would be suspicious (and mean) if they were told to keep at bay while the rest of them hung out.

They chow down on some scrambled eggs (which exceed expectations, Bev reminds herself to get the recipe off of Stan), and it ends up working out like this:

They’re going to pry for a few days, see if they can get a rise out of either of them, then at the end of the week they’re all going to meet up at Stan’s place. Using an excuse they haven’t though of yet, they’re going to try to get both Eddie and Richie into the bathroom at the same time and then block the door.

“N-nothing like a confined space and a l-little bit of drink to get the vibe g-going,” Bill grins.

“Speakin’ from experience there, Big Bill?” Beverly playfully chides, giggling as Bill’s ears go pink.

Ben hums quietly, ���what if they don’t go for it?”

“They looked three seconds away from mauling each other last night, I think they’ll jump at any excuse they get,” Mike points out, and the plan is set.

They say their goodbyes afterwards, and as Bev fiddles with the key to their flat, Ben takes her wrist gently, turning her around and pulling her into him.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her in that wonderful way he does that leaves her wanting so much more.

“I love you too,” She grins, draping her arms over his shoulders, “always will.”

–

4 days before

Richie is head over fucking heels, Bill decides.

The two of them offer to help Eddie study terms for a quiz at the end of the week, which fuck knows why they had any hope of that working.

They start off well, Richie and himself trading roles as Eddie nailed each piece of terminology about cognitive processes with detailed explanations to boot. It takes about ten minutes of their relaxed sprawling over Eddie’s floor for their resolve to break. It starts with Richie’s foot-tapping Eddie’s shin to the beat of whatever song he’s humming as Bill reads from the flashcards. Then it’s the complements, and holy fuck, how has Bill never caught this before.

“So smart, so cute!”

“Rich, if you don’t shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it, I’m like a mama bird watching her baby take flight for the first time. Just wanna puke some worms into your mouth.”

“Richie! That’s fucking disgusting!” Eddie near screeches, pushing himself up and lunging forward, knocking Richie back onto the ground and pinning him down. Richie’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and Eddie is too. He can’t believe these assholes are in college.

Okay, this is perfect, Bill thinks, as right on cue, Eddie leaves the room to grab his textbook.

“Got somethin’ on my face, Billy?” Richie asks once he catches the ‘care to explain?’ look Bill is giving him.

“Don’t w-worry about it,” Bill gives his best nonchalant shrug, “it’s just cute, that’s all.”

And he catches it, the signature ‘i’m fucking whipped’ look: the dopey smile, the avoidance of eye contact, the excepting laugh. Gotcha, bitch.

“Isn’t he just?”

–

2 days before

Stan’s starting to fret.

The text came through a few minutes ago, and Stan is reeling.

eddie said he met a guy last night??? went home w him and everythin??? ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:03

“A one night stand?” Mike asks, leaning over Bill’s shoulder to read with Bill’s glasses on because his own are fuck knows where.

“Fucking apparently?”

“Okay, this might not be as b-bad as it seems. They d-don’t know about the other l-liking them, yeah? Eddie’s p-probably, like, in denial or coping or som-something.” Bill slots his glasses off of Mike’s face.

Stan stops pacing and takes a breath, collapsing onto the arm chair opposite, “you’re right, probably just Eddie being stubborn.”

“‘Atta boy, Stan,” Mike grins, shifting to the side and stretching out his legs, resting them in Bill’s lap.

did eddie seem interested in the guy? ~ Big Bill, sent at 13:11

not really, didn’t really talk about him much ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:12

They all sighed.

“Why are we so invested in this again?” Stan mumbles.

“Because it’s gonna be entertaining as fuck if we pull it off.”

–

1 day before

Mike has more luck.

He, Bev and Eddie are browsing around the grocers, preparing for tomorrow when they hear a yelp from the isle next to them. Mike peeks around, seeing a very excited looking Richie pick Eddie up from behind, bouncing him around like he weighs nothing. Mike expects a slew of curses, but Eddie giggles like Mike’s never heard before.

“Put me down, you asshole! You’re gonna knock something over.”

“You’re the one flailing your limbs, Eds– Mike and Ikes! Fancy seeing you here!” He damn near drops Eddie, who’s flushed and breathless.

“We’re trying to shop, you asshole, can’t we have five minutes peace,” Eddie gives him a light shove.

“Oh I know, I’m on a last minute supply run.”

And Mike’s stupid enough to fall for it and ask, “why?”

“Pickin’ up Eddie’s mom, need condoms.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh as Eddie goes ballistic.

“Get the fuck out of here, Trashmouth, before I commit a crime,” he shoots Richie daggers, and Rich gives him a salute.

“Sir yes sir,” he half-shouts, sprinting over to a very tired looking cashier.

Eddie’s still watching him, “asshole,” he says with so much fondness Mike thinks he might start floating.

“You don’t seem to mind,” He pokes at Eddie’s pinked cheeks, snorting as Eddie smacks it away from his face.

“Hey dipshits,” Bev calls, carrying a basket full of crisps and liquor, “did you get the chasers?”

Eddie sighs, turning on his heel and walking back to the fridge, which Mike’s guessing was where he was heading before Richie snatched him up.

“Will diet do?”

“Sure, go crazy.” Mike says, as he quickly types.

eddie’s absolutely gone for him, this is gonna go great ~ Mikey, sent 21:33

–

The night of

It’s a slow day for Eddie. His test has been eating away at him slowly and painfully (no matter how  many times Richie said he’d crush it) and while he left feeling confident, he knows he’s still gonna stress about it. It goes fine, but he’s still thinking about it during his shift and the worry hasn’t left him.

It’s just a stupid test, he thinks as his stomach continues to knot itself. Thank god he’s getting drunk tonight.

Eddie lives the furthest away from Stan’s (and Bill and Mike’s) and he really doesn’t wanna walk that far in the cold so he stops by Richie’s after class, knowing he probably has a couple of nice shirts left over there from nights where he’s really too drunk to go home, inevitably leaving the next morning in one of Richie’s shirts instead (huh, funny how that happens). He also knows that if he so much as catches sight of his roommate, he’ll fucking blow up.

He fishes Richie’s key from his pocket, lets himself in and thinks Christ, would it kill Rich to clean up a bit? He’s certain that the pillows from the couch are still there from last Friday. He steps over them after pushing off his shoes in the corner.

“Rich, You fuckin slob! Clean your apartment,” Eddie calls out in place of a hello.

“Afternoon to you too, Eddie!” He hears back. Eddie follows his voice through to the bedroom and finds himself lost for fucking words.

Richie’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless, drying off his mess of curls with a towel. He doesn’t notice him for a moment, and Eddie takes that moment to curse the way those jeans hang from his hips. He lingers on Richie’s wiry frame for just a moment more than he probably should.

Damn, Tozier he huffs.

“You peeping on me, Eddie?” Richie’s dumb Southern Belle accent should drive Eddie up the wall, and Eddie does roll his eyes, though it’s really just for show. They both know that.

“Your den is a mess.”

“I like it that way,” Richie’s quick to reply, brushing past Eddie as he heads for his dresser.

“Tough shit, I don’t,” Eddie snaps back, now back in his rhythm as the blood returns to his brain.

Richie grins as he picks through his shirt, taking his sweet time with it and all Eddie can focus on is the hint of his happy trail poking out above the waistband of his jeans. He chooses one, and now Eddie can actually look away as Richie holds the tee up for his approval.

It’s his The Cure one, black, matching his nails and jeans, and easily Eddie’s favourite, both on Richie and to wear himself (it’s comfortable, and it definitely has nothing to do with the looks Richie gives him in it).

They kill time by fixing up Richie’s couch and watching weird ASMR videos on Richie’s laptop. Eddie’s sure the effect is lessened by only having one earbud, but it’s still uncomfortable but so worth hearing Richie snort each time Eddie cringes.

“Is it just me,” Richie says, hitting pause on a woman in cat ears about to pretend to ask them out, “or have the others been acting weird.”

“Right?” Eddie yanks the earbud out, “Bev’s been like… weirdly invasive… like more than she usually is.”

“They all have, what do you think it’s about?”

“I have a funny fucking feeling we’re gonna find out.”

–

There’s a weird fucking vibe in the place when he and Eddie arrive.

“We miss out on the world’s weirdest orgy or something?” Richie asks, mostly joking, as eyes fall on the two of them.

Stan makes an exaggerated gagging sound, and Bill’s face screws up. What a great audience he has.

“Shut up and sit down, Trashmouth, we’re doing shots,” Bev playfully snarls at him.

It gets a little less weird the more Richie has to drink, but he’s either going crazy or there’s something going on. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie shrugs right before he throws a shot back, and Richie gets to watch his Adam’s Apple bob and his eyes squeeze shut and his nose crinkle up because Eds–

“–cant fuckin stand tequila.”

God, he’s cute.

He meets Richie’s gaze, “what the fuck are you smirking about?”

He’s hot, too.

“You take every shot like it’s your fucking first, Eds,” he teases back and it’s huskier than he means it to come out, because he’s tipsy and can’t stop staring at that little drop of liquor running down Eddie’s chin.

Bill chokes, sending everything in the shot glass over his face. Mike cackles.

“Rich, can you go g-get me a f-fuckin washcloth.”

And it’s there that everything ramps up to fuckin’ eleven. Ben starts grinning, Stan’s got that fucking look on his face that can only mean trouble.

“Why the fuck do I have to do it?”

“C-cuz you m-made me spit every-w-where!”

Richie puts his hands up in mock defeat, “alright, alright, damn.” And he stands up, shuffling into the bathroom.

“Oh!” Stan calls after him, “my contacts too!”

“Aye aye!” Richie yells back, scanning the mirror cabinet for anything resembling a fucking contact case. Disinfectant, no, flavoured lube, nice but no… Richie’s squinting as if that’s gonna fucking help. “Can’t fuckin find ‘em, Stan!” He calls back out to them.

He hears a soft “Eddie, go help him,” from Mike.

“You’re going blind for real, fuckface, lemme see,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him, and tries shoving Richie out of the way with his side, but really just ends up pushed up against him. He’s warm and smells of spirits and vanilla, Richie doesn’t fight back, nor does he notice the others approaching the bathroom either.

He’s so focused on the way Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly when he’s concentrating he’s a second too slow to realise.

“When did Stan start wearing contacts– oh shit, Eds, wait–” Richie’s barely gotten the words out before the bathroom door slams shut, making Eddie jump closer against him.

The other losers are whooping and hi-fiving from the other side of the door, and Eddie turns to stare at Richie as if to say what the fuck just happened???

“Beats me.”

“Admit it and we’ll let you out!” Bev says in what Richie assumes is a terrible Terminator impression.

It takes a second (again, because liquor and Eddie) to realise, and he flashes Eddie the biggest grin he can muster.

“Golly gee, Eds, I think they figured it out!”

He’s not being loud, but the others can apparently hear him, because they’re gloating stops in an instant.

Eddie matches his grin, “fucking finally,”

“Wait, what?” Mike sounds confused.

The door opens, and the others are staring at them like their fucking martians.

“Wait what the fuh-fuck?”

Hm, that’s interesting.“I have a feeling there’s been a big misunderstanding,” Richie starts, still grinning.

“Did you guys do it already?”

Eddie snorts, Richie scratches the back of his neck, “uh, gonna have to ask you to be a bit more specific, Benny.”

“Confess. Did we not hear it?”

Eddie frowns, “confess to what?”

“Don’t be difficult, Kaspbrak,” Stan groans, “that you’ve been secretly pining for each other for fuckin’ ages?”

“Is that what you shut us in there for?” Richie asked, his voice creeping up an octave because oh, this was delicious.

The five of them answer simultaneously “yes!”

Richie looks down at Eddie, who holds his gaze for all of one second before they dissolve back into shit eating grins.

“God we really gave you guys too much credit.”

“Stop being coy, trashmouth!”

“We’ve literally been dating for three months, holy shit, guys.” Eddie rubs his face like he’s exasperated.

“What?” Ben nearly yells.

“Here we are thinking you dumbfucks finally figured it out–”

“In fairness, Rich, they got halfway there.”

“When the fuck were you planning on telling us?” Stan demands, keeping a hold of Mike’s arm for balance.

Eddie volunteers to explain. “Well, it took a few weeks to kinda… figure stuff out, and we were gonna tell you then but then Rich wondered how long it would take you guys to figure it out on your own–”

“So you guys kept this shit on for three months?”

There's a mixture of confusion and amusement around the room. Richie had been kind of worried that they’d be angry that the two of them had kept this for so long, but upon learning that they’d also been scheming themselves for the past week, Richie feels pretty fuckin justified now.

Eddie gives his best ‘are you fucking joking’ face, “you guys never said anything! And as much as we wanted to just get over with, it was so fucking funny to see how much shit you guys would let us get away with.”

“Such as?”

“The fact that you, Beverly, bought “I needed a shirt after my ‘walk of shame’” as a reasonable excuse as to why I was standing in Richie’s kitchen, wearing one of his dumb band tees, absolutely covered in hickeys.”

The other four turned to look at Bev, who pursed her lips and mumbled, “understandable,” as Stan whisper yelled “how the fuck did you miss that?”

“Stan you literally walked in on us mid makeout!”

“What? When?” He demands.

“You burst into my flat, mid-rant…”

There’s a good five minutes of the two of them listing all the times there beautiful, supportive, oblivious as all fuck friends had missed what was so clearly in front of them. The energy shifted into something warm and jovial.

“So,” Richie takes Eddie’s hand, “which one of you started this.”

Everyone answers “Ben.”

Eddie grins up at him, and Richie swears he’ll die right there, “told ya so.”

[sienna27]

Me / My Writing

Once again, faithful, patient, readers, I will be putting up a story that is not what you’re looking to see.  I am genuinely sorry for that, and because I honestly don’t know when/if I’ll be able to get back to my TWD stories, I felt like I should explain what happened because it wasn’t the usual ‘hey, life happens’ bullshit which led me here.  Some of you might have noticed that I’ve hardly been on Tumblr this year, and it’s all related to the following.  In brief, in the early spring my mom had a psychotic break, and she tried to kill my dad.  Started with verbal abuse, escalated to physically hitting him, finally went after him with a hammer.  A hammer.

He’s 86, she was 84.  

Weeks and weeks of hell, with her in and out of hospitals, back home on new medication, all to deteriorate to violence again and again, finally after the fourth time she had to be removed by emergency services we all, my dad included, accepted that after 63 years of marriage, my mom was going to finish up their remaining time together in a psychiatric ward.  So that’s where she’s been since May.  My dad, the stress has nearly killed him.  Literally.  He’s been in the hospital five times, in August he had a heart attack where he was technically dead for 28 minutes.  Only alive now because our neighbor who was with him was a paramedic and started CPR immediately, which kept oxygen going to his brain.  But the call I got at work was basically my sister sobbing, ‘dad’s dead.’  Fun drill!   And my mom isn’t my mom anymore.  The medication does nothing.  It’s some kind of organic dementia presenting as psychosis.  She has no affection for any of us.  She is hateful and cruel (told my oldest brother that his birth ruined her life) and suicidal, and her brain is completely broken.  I haven’t talked to her since July.  I miss her.  Sometimes I sit and sob I miss her so much, but the exasperating, ‘crazy,’ woman that I loved and hated and argued and fought with for forty years, isn’t the person that lives in that brain anymore, so cutting off contact is all I could do for my own sanity.  I mail her cookies and send my love along with the family who still visit, and that’s all I can do.

And then in October, my cat died.  My Stevo.  It wasn’t sudden because I had about a week to prepare, and yet it was sudden, because it was just over and he was gone.  Sixteen years he was my boy.  Sixteen years he ran up to greet me at the door when I came home, and slept next to my pillow on the bed, and now he’s just not here anymore.  And it’s killing me.  It’ll be two months next week and I still sob uncontrollably, randomly, for about five minutes every day.  Then I get my shit together and go on with my life like I’m supposed to be doing.  And the five minutes of sobbing is completely separate from random ‘normal’ crying or tearing up.  I’ve been doing that every single day, since the spring.  I have literally cried every day for the past eight months.  There is no medication to make that better because it’s not simply an ‘imbalance’ (which I had before all this anyway), this is now just my reality as it currently exists.  It’s a constant grieving for everything slowly falling apart in ways that you just don’t really imagine happening.  And it sucks.

So, that’s my life, right now.  And as such, with this never ending shitstorm of 2019, the characters and fandoms that were previously offering me some ‘respite’ from real life, have ceased to do so.  I don’t know why that is, but I haven’t been able to write in anything I had going.  And with life as it has been, and still is (literal, never ending pit in my stomach - my dad is back in the ICU as of last night so I’m listening to Chopin and stress eating Christmas cookies) I needed to find something to break up the emotional maelstrom before I hit a complete breakdown.  To my surprise, it ended up being the Harry Potter fandom that has kept me from slipping off the cliff.  First the books, then the movies, then the fanfic.  I devoured this world that I had felt only a casual affection for in the past.  And when I say that I tried SO hard to ignore any flutters I had for story ideas here, it was ridiculous.  I didn’t want to start writing in a new fandom when I have unfinished stories over in TWD, but the brain does what it does.  And once the spark came, and the story began to flesh out in my mind, inevitably, I had to start writing it down.  Once I had ten thousand words I realized it was coming into existence whether I wanted it to or not.  It’s helped some as a distraction, so in that respect it has done its part, and beyond that I hope it will bring some diversion to others as well.  So if you want to stick with me for a little longer, I do have this new story.  It’s focused in nature, maybe seven chapters I’m thinking.  I have the first two done, third drafted and final fleshed out, so it’s a project I believe I can complete.  You know, barring some other horrible event happening which splinters my world in another fun, new way.  

But anyway, it’s an AU where Snape survives and something happens that brings Hermione back into his life a few years later.  There is a specific plot, and romance will also ensue.  To be clear, this is an ADULT Hermione/Snape story because don’t be gross.  If you aren’t locked into her as soulmates with Ron, Hermione with Snape actually makes a lot of sense with them getting together post war.  And I realized that the pairing fits for my own pattern of writing couples with the Emotionally Repressed/Brooding Male and the woman who brings an unexpected bit of light into his life.  Historically, it’s the Mr. Darcy/Elizabeth Bennett template, in case you hadn’t noticed.  So stepping back, after the fact, I realized how logically I fell into this Snape/Hermione ship that I had given zero thought to prior to three months ago.  

And that’s all folks.  Hope your lives are well, and if they’re not, I hope they get better.  I’ll be around ❤️

cc: @sesamesquirrel​ cpmv71

[yesicecreamislove]

My Biggest Regret

I was at an out of town conference last weekend, and there was a question going around during intermission. It was at conference room AB-400 that I finally realized, letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.

‘what is your biggest regret?’ The lady in a pink pantsuit asked.

Memories of walking away from your house, the crying, the pain and betrayal all only days before we left for college…haunted me. I still can’t shake that image from my head. The memories are like a virus that infected me all of a sudden and there is no known remedy for it. A mirage of you has invaded me like a parasite and it’s eating me alive.

All I can think off, these past few days, is how happy I used to be when we were together. It’s as though the minute that I left you a raging storm wiped out all the rainbows and sunshine away. All that remained was a deep, endless void. But, why haven’t I realized this until that lady in the pantsuit asked?

The reason is that I tried my best to envision a life without you in it because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to survive. You were the sole reason that I woke up in the morning and went about my day. I knew, even then at eighteen, that I had to erase your existence and everything that was related to you. Have I really done a good job at that if a mere question triggered me and brought me back to when we were at our adolescent prime?

If this letter somehow finds its way to you all I ask of you is to remember that cold, December night. There was a flood, and everybody stayed home, nobody left the house that day because floods were uncommon, and everybody was frightened to the bone.

You threw rocks at my window, so I knew it was you. How many times have you broken my window and my father cursed at and accused my neighbors’ children? If only he knew it were you.

You asked me to sneak out and I did. I snuck out with nothing but a picnic mat and my phone. We spread the mat on the floor off the meadow and lay down to watch the twinkling of the stars as though it was some sort of theater performance. We did that often, but that time was even more special than all those other nights we snuck out to watch the stars just like that night. Why? It’s because that was the night that we confessed our love for each other, underneath the dancing stars. Some might think that this is a premise of movie, but it isn’t. It’s real life. It was OUR life. It ceased to exist when I made the biggest mistake of my life.

I was pointing out the constellation of Orion as we watched the meteor showers of December, and you threw me off by saying ‘I love you’ out of nowhere. You surprised me. Your eyes were so radiant and full of sparkle and I don’t think that their brightness was a mere reflection of the stars. Rather, a mirror to your beautiful soul. That’s when I knew, or thought, that you were my soulmate and we would be together forever. But, I just forced myself to grow up. I forced myself to lose all my faith in love, the stars, and the existence of souls and how some are bound by a red thread to each other. I just had to become this logical scientist who only believes in things that can be tested. Where has that gotten me? If only I never left.

Now, you’re married to someone else and you have two kids. Yet, I live alone in a dingy apartment. All this time, I’ve convinced myself that this is the life that I wanted for myself and I was happy. Or at least, I thought I was. Not until intermission in conference room AB-400.

You see, I didn’t allow myself to grieve when I left you. I forced myself to be an ‘adult’ and start a new life. Dated around quite a lot in college all as a coping mechanism. I didn’t cry. Not even once after I left you. Maybe that’s why I can’t get you out of my mind now. They say that the irony of thought suppression is that it has the opposite effect on your consciousness. Maybe my sub-conscious got filled up and forced somethings out. Somethings are you.  

The memories of our brief time spent together, are engulfing me like a wave spreading across a shore, drowning all who immersed themselves in the summer breeze. Except, there isn’t anybody else on this shore, it’s just me and I’m being dragged by the harsh currents to the pit of the sea. There’s nothing but darkness here because you were the light of my life and now you’re gone. The false light which I’ve lived by for all these years was a mere illusion which my mind had created. Besides, my life was hardly a summery haven even if I’d deceived myself into thinking so.

I just wish I could go back in time to stop myself. Stop myself before I walk into your house and break up with you. But why would I? I’ve always been selfish, and you deserved better. If I hadn’t had left you, you wouldn’t have had met her and found your happily ever after.

Now that I remember, I left you behind because I saw you as a burden. As something that’s holding me back from fulfilling my dream of being a successful scientist, so I broke up with you. I thought if I wanted to succeed I cannot be romantically involved with anyone. That wasn’t true. I was wrong. The point is you weren’t a priority to me, and I hadn’t realized how precious you were until I’d left you. I’m never going back because I am not worthy of you and not the other way around as I had you believe. I’ll just have to live with my mistake. My biggest regret, because even if I walk back to you I don’t think you’d greet me with open arms. Who would blame you? I certainly wouldn’t.

Please, just hold onto our memories, I cannot stand the idea of being erased from your entire world. Despite erasing you myself. Here we go again with my selfishness. I’ll resort to saying goodbye one last time. Goodbye.  

[wallwriterstuff]

Untitled Pain

So this is in response to the challenge set up by @thisismysecrethappyplace and I used the dialogue prompt of “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing between us, then I’ll stop and leave this alone.”. 

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (she/her pronouns)  Warnings: Undiagnosed condition, low-self-esteem, insecurity

Summary: Angst that does turn to Fluff! She’s sure she’s unlovable, that she’s too broken to be held together in loving arms. Dean wants to prove her wrong. 

She really didn’t deserve him.

 Not him with his sharp jawline and enthralling emerald eyes. Not him with the body of a Greek God and killer-watt smile that lit up plenty of girls – and guys – when he entered a room. Not him, whose determination could rival that of a hundred soldiers and was fiercely loyal to those he loved. It was a fantasy to believe he could love her, and she knew it. Nobody could love something so broken, and this…this was exhibit A.

 She was doubled over in the kitchen of her small apartment, unable to straighten out but also unable to sit at the bar stools behind her while she waited for the water to boil. Her hot water bottle lay discarded on the side, ready to be filled as another sharp wave of pain made her fold even further in the middle before she forced herself to straighten out. She was desperate for it to end. She’d taken pain killers and the antispasmodics her doctor had prescribed for her in an effort to relieve the pain when it came, but nothing had kicked in so far, and even when they did, she knew the pain would linger in a form of discomfort unlike anything else she’d ever experienced.

 For now, she’d have to hobble like a hunch-back to get her water bottle back to her bedroom, gasping and whimpering as she went when the pain let her know that whatever it was wasn’t a fan of the movement. She had to just get to bed, to lie flat on her back and let the waves of pain lap at her until they passed. There was no other treatment, no other remedy. The hot water bottle was burning hot against her skin, even above layers of pyjamas, but the heat was soothing in a way the drugs never were. She was still unsure what worked to “cure” the pain, to stop the stabbing and tearing of her lower abdomen as it tried to…well she wasn’t even sure what it was trying to do.

 Two hours of relentless torture where her bladder and bowels malfunctioned, taunting her with the need to use the bathroom and then deciding that actually there was nothing to come away with at all. Two hours of sharp twisting and pulling and stabbing in her gut that had her sure she was dying before it ceased and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was lucky enough for that to be the last one. It never was, and she couldn’t move. Movement hurt, to sit up straight at a chair hurt, to lie down still hurt – there was no winning. No…no, he could never love someone this broken. As if the pain wasn’t enough to make her cry, the overwhelming desperation of just wanting to be well again, coupled with the intense feeling of rejection and hopelessness certainly was. It wasn’t the first time she’d cried herself to sleep that way either.

 Not that Dean knew. All he was aware of was that she wasn’t answering her phone, and that could mean many different things. Logically he had concluded that she was most likely fine and simply busy, perhaps with her college work, but the niggling anxiety wouldn’t leave him just yet. Cas had just come home, Cas had been dead, Dean had grieved. He wasn’t going to be grieving again anytime soon if he could help it. Maybe that was what had pushed him into Baby and onto the open road? He had never consciously made the decision to go and was taken by surprise when he found himself outside of her apartment. He’d been seeing her for roughly a month now, long enough for him to have been to her place once or twice, but never for anything more than dinner. Oddly, Dean didn’t mind.

 He couldn’t remember ever having anything steady since Lisa, and the thought that maybe this was a sure thing was terrifying. To drag her into this world was to drag her away from innocence and normalcy and into a whole other realm of destruction and death. Did he really have it in him to do that to her? Then again, he didn’t think he had it in her to live without her anymore either. A month wasn’t long, but it felt like a lifetime when it was with the right person. She was funny, never took herself or life too seriously, and it helped she was truly gorgeous. More than one person had eyed her for her figure, for her hair, and he had glared them all away to claim her for his own. She wouldn’t let him do that just yet, but he was sure he would be allowed one day. He didn’t want to just leave her this time, didn’t want a one-night thing, but he was also too afraid to selfishly ask her to stay in his world. Hell, after she saw it, she probably wouldn’t want to stick around anyway.

 Her door was open.

 His hand automatically went to the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and with his hand resting on the grip he tentatively pushed the door open. It looked the same as it was when he’d left a few nights ago, the same bright open space in her closet sized apartment with the colourful furniture still in place and –

 The bills were on the floor.

 Dean pulled the gun free of his jeans, keeping it held at chest level as his entire body tensed. He was sure she’d have picked them up, she was too much of a neat freak to leave them there like that scattered on the floor. Water had splashed on the side in the kitchen to and the tap was still dripping where it wasn’t properly turned off. No, no something here wasn’t right. A floorboard creaked behind him and he whirled around, eyes widening when she jumped and almost immediately clutched at her side with a grimace.

 “Are you hurt?” he demanded, lowering his gun and hurrying to her side.

 He had to get her out of here, whatever had attacked her might still be lingering. She wasn’t bloody, maybe broken ribs? No, her hand was placed way too low for ribs.

 “Dean what the hell are you doing in my apartment? With a gun!” she cried.

 She was watching him with wide eyes, and he swallowed.

 “Are you hurt? Who else is in here? Did they attack you?” he asked again, voice firmer now.

  He needed answers, had to find and deal with whatever it was to give her time to escape and-

 “Dean there’s no one here, just me. How did you even get in?” she asked exasperatedly. He slowly lowered the gun, his brows furrowing.

 “Your door was open and the letters on the floor, the water spillage…looked like signs of a struggle to me. Your favouring your left side Y/N, what’s wrong?” he questioned.

 She bit her lip, looking away from him, and Dean wondered briefly if the whole situation had been misread. Maybe she was going to come out with a funny story about pulling a muscle reaching for something on the cupboards top-shelf. He had to take a moment to process the idea that she was really safe and sound.

 “I must not have closed the door properly when I came back in, sorry for scaring you.” She sighed.

 She forced herself to straighten out, but he could see her rubbing her side still, massaging the skin as she made herself a cup of coffee and offered him one. Dean shook his head, gripping her arm and turning her to face him with eyes full of concern.

 “I want to know why you’re in pain sweetheart.” He said, voice softer now, “Please…let me help.”  

 By now she had turned her face away, the shame in her eyes obvious. Dean didn’t understand, couldn’t see the internal debate she was having. She didn’t want him to run from her, didn’t want him to leave because she was too broken and required some maintenance. She really did like him. She liked how he’d hold her on movie nights in that way that always made her feel warm and safe. She liked how he’d come in here guns blazing just to make sure she was okay, because he cared. She liked that he had a smile that crinkled his eyes, and more often than not she was the reason he smiled that smile. She liked him, but if she wanted to keep him, she had to be honest and let him decide.

 “I…I’m not hurt. I have a condition that causes me a lot of pain sometimes.” She confessed quietly. Dean was silent for a moment, and when she risked a glance up at him, he looked more concerned than before. Slowly, he nodded his head and reached behind her to fix his own mug of coffee. With a mug in each hand he jerked his head towards the sofa, and her heart leapt. He’d hear her out at least, and then he’d most likely be gone.

 “What condition?” he asked. She savoured looking at him, tracing the plains of his face with her eyes and trying to brand the image into her memory.

 “I don’t really know. I’ve had an ultrasound before, and a pelvic MRI just last week that I’m waiting on results for. It could be any number of things, but my doctor said it’s potentially adhesions, ovarian cysts or endometriosis.”

 “Okay, so…what the hell’s the first and last ones?” his brows furrowed considerably, and she couldn’t help but smile.

 He looked darned adorable when he was confused, though it was rare since he was quite sharp and intelligent.  She explained it as best she knew how, that adhesions were internal surgical scars that stuck her organs together and endometriosis was essentially tissue you’d find in the womb growing where it shouldn’t be. He had paid rapt attention throughout her entire explanation as she told him exactly how debilitating the pain could be, that it had flared up suddenly that morning and she’d had to stagger back up the stairs to her apartment and in through the door, hence why it had failed to close properly. His hand had moved to her knee at some point, thumb rubbing soothing circles over her pyjama’s bottoms.

 “It’s only occasionally like that though right? I mean, you’ve been fine whenever we’ve seen each other.” Dean said, looking somewhat hopeful.

 “Actually, not always. It’s not always sharp enough to confine me to bed, sometimes it’s just really uncomfortable, like a tight cramp where your muscles really tense in your shoulder but, low in my stomach, like the skin’s been stretched too far underneath. It’s easier to work around that though.” She admitted.

 Dean’s frown deepened as she explained that pain medication was only of limited use, that it didn’t really work, and as he listened to her story he saw her change from his happy-go-lucky girl to a fighter. She was strong to live with this, he realised. Too always be in discomfort or pain was no easy challenge, he knew from wearing his injuries as they healed, and to know she suffered in silence with a smile on her face most days was both heart-breaking and…daunting. How strong was this woman? Strong enough to tackle his lifestyle choice, he was starting to think. But she was crying now, and he automatically reached for her tears, surprised when she flinched away.

 “Hey, hey come on now sweetheart.” He murmured.

 “D-don’t pretend, it’s okay. You can leave, I get it.” She sniffed.

 Dean’s head jerked back in surprise. She wanted him to leave? No…no she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t want him to leave, she thought he wanted to, she was ashamed of her condition, of having no name and no diagnosis, of being unable to help herself just yet until the results she needed were found. He cupped her face firmly in his grasp, turned her head and planted a short but forceful kiss on her lips. He searched her wide eyes, spotted every insecurity and formulated plans on how to tackle them.

 “I ain’t leaving sweetheart. Not now, not ever.” He promised her.

 “But – but why? There’s thousands of girls out there who aren’t broken, people you don’t have to look after or fix.”

 Dean let his hands fall to her sides, one place tenderly on her waist while the other gently rubbed the sore spot on her stomach. She looked at him with such vulnerability that Dean understood his next words would make or break them, and his tongue suddenly felt heavy as he thought of what he wanted to say. He weighed each word carefully before he spoke, praying they were the right ones.

 “I don’t mind some maintenance work, I’ve got enough scars that need some TLC every now and then to. You’re not broken, not to me, your strong, and beautiful. I don’t know what this is, but I’ll be with you every step of the way as we find out, and when we get a diagnosis we can get you a proper treatment and get you better, okay? Alternatively…if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing between us then I’ll stop and leave this alone.” He said.

He pulled back to give her room to think, to let her decide to let him in or not. Her chin touched her chest briefly, fingers twisting together as was her nervous habit. She wanted it, he could see she wanted it so badly, but she was still so afraid it was too much for him, that he’d leave. He mentally prayed she’d take the chance, hoping Chuck was listening and felt like throwing some divine intervention his way so he could keep the angel across from him.

 “I feel it to…I’ve always felt it.” She conceded.

 Her eyes met his, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at her, scooting forward to properly take her hand and pull her closer to his body. She bit her lip, a small smile forming on her face.

 “We’re in this together then, you and me vs…whatever the hell’s going on down there.” He vowed. A breathy laugh escaped her, the relief evident in her face as Dean kissed her. It was slow and sweet, savouring the taste of her lips as his hands slipped around her waist. He hoped she could feel it all through that kiss, the love and the passion, the desire and the admiration. His hands had automatically moved to dip below the waistband of her jeans and she pushed him back slightly with a light blush. He gave a quiet apology and she smiled.

 “Probably not a good idea for me when I’ve had a flare up to be tensing my muscles like that…but there’s no reason you can’t.” her coy smile was enough to get him halfway there as it was, and when her hands began to tug at his belt buckle, he knew he had been right.

 Chuck had certainly sent him an angel, and he was determined to help heal her.