#Week Two

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember.

Oh, He Wants

Week #2 Prompt: Backseat/Clothes On/Bruise | Word Count: 4608 | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Unprotected Sex, Bodily Fluids | Tags: Clothes On, Until They're Off, First Time, Virgin Eddie, Horny Boys in Love, Dry Humping, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Barebacking

Note: It's backseat sex. Suspension of disbelief is often required for this trope. Like the Tardis, it's simply bigger on the inside than it appears, haha.

The windows are steamed up, condensation rolling down the glass, as Steve lays on top of Eddie, grinding down against him, over and over again. Steve kind of thought that was just a thing from movies, not something that actually happens in real life. But they've been at this for at least an hour, both breathing heavily, slowly heating up the car, literally fogging up the windows. 

He feels his face flushing, and his chest is heaving as he keeps rutting against Eddie underneath him. Fingers digging into his arms, his shoulders, his neck. Probably hard enough to bruise. Just clinging to him anywhere he can reach.

It's slow, and steady, and the feeling of Eddie's cock pressed against his, even through all the layers of underwear and jeans, is really working for him. Steve's never been much of a backseat makeout kind of guy. He always had other places for that: Skull Rock. Under the bleachers. The last row of The Hawk. Not to mention there's never been a bedroom window he hasn't been willing to crawl through to fool around with a girl right in her own bed, her parents none the wiser.

But with Eddie? He'll get into the cramped backseat and love it. All day, all night, because he gets it now. He understands, wholly. The thrill of feeling like they are sneaking around, of getting by with something, even if they have other places to be together in private other than an abandoned dirt road.

They could hole up in Steve's big, empty house. Or at Wayne's place when he's gone at work all night. And they have. Make-out sessions that leave them both gasping for breath, needing, wanting.

Jeans, underwear sticky from coming in them as they pushed each other over the edge.

But this is different. Illicit and thrilling. He could take Eddie to a bed, he has every opportunity. Instead, they're here. Pulled off along a dead end dirt road.

And it's good. The shared breaths, the confined space, all of it.

It's a heady mix of lust, and love. Steve's fallen fast, and hard. Just like he always does. He'll never learn, and he knows he's probably headed for another heartbreak after Eddie's wrung out everything he wants from him, leaving the rest. 

Tonight they've kissed so much, so hard, Steve's sure his lips are bruised at this point. But he can't get enough of Eddie. He'll never get enough. He almost lost him before he'd even found him, and he's not gonna waste another minute more.

For as long as this lasts, he's all in. He's gathered up the pieces of his broken heart before, and he could do it again. Would do it again, for Eddie. 

It's worth it. Eddie's worth it. Love, too. He's probably hopeless. Robin would definitely say so, but he wants it so fucking bad. To be loved. To be someone's first pick, to go in the first round, to build a dynasty together. 

Okay, maybe the sports metaphors are a bit much, especially for Eddie, who wouldn't appreciate them. But Steve feels like he's been drafted to the future he wants, if he can only hold onto it, long term. 

Eddie is everything he's been looking for. He loves him. He's sure of it, even if that's never been spoken between them. 

Steve pulls back to suck in a quick breath, all panting and soft eyes, "Hi." 

Eddie smiles, lips swollen and red, "Hi." 

And Steve dives back in. Pressing his lips to Eddie's neck, his tongue sneaking out to taste salty skin. All he wants is this. To lay here and kiss, and grind, and just be close to each other. Nothing else to worry about other than this minute, and the one that follows after.

It might last a month, a year, or a lifetime. Tonight though, he's drunk on the feeling of Eddie under his body, the way they can't seem to get enough of each other. Hands roaming, bodies crushed together.

Steve hasn't felt like this in a long fucking time, if ever. This attracted to someone. Just being with them because you can. 

Because you want to. 

And Steve? He wants to be with Eddie in all the ways.

"Here. Let me readjust," Eddie says, and Steve lifts up his hips, as Eddie sticks his hand down in his jeans, under the waistband without unbuttoning them, into his boxers. It's fucking hot, for some reason.

To see his whole hand disappear, knowing what he's doing. Steve wants that to be his hand. To close around the hard, silky warmth. To feel the weight against his palm. To see if holding another man's cock in his hand actually feels any different. He bets that it does.

Eddie makes the adjustment he needs to make, then pulls his hand back out, and Steve re-lowers himself again to reestablish contact.

Goddamn, now Steve can feel even more of his length. Hard and ready, under him. 

He wants to put his mouth on him. Use every ounce of knowledge he has from girls sucking his cock, and apply them to doing the same to Eddie. Take all the best tricks and move forward, and leave all the worst ones behind in the past. 

He rolls his hips, and Eddie moans, in response, and it makes Steve smile.

"Like that?" he asks, keeping up the same soft, slow roll of his hips.

"Fuck yeah, I like it," Eddie answers, breath catching in his throat, his hands finding Steve's hips, not forcing him to move any faster, nor any harder, just holding him, desperate to feel the motion they're making together.

To hear the sound of the rough denim scratching together in the quiet of the car. Steve had turned the key to accessory mode to keep the radio on, but that went off long ago, now. And he's glad. He just wants to hear the sound of Eddie's breathing, and the rustling noises of their bodies moving together.

They haven't shed a bit of clothing, but they don't need to. This is so good on its own. 

He likes the cramped space, the feeling of being cocooned with him, like they are the only people on earth that matter at this exact moment in time. 

Then, Eddie is twisting under him, and seems to be all knees and elbows. But he squirms, and Steve leans back to see where this is going. He's unsure, but vows to just stay out of his way, and let it play out. He'll follow Eddie's lead, no matter where he's headed.

Surprising Steve, Eddie rolls onto his belly, bumping and jostling Steve the whole time. And Steve watches, trying to let him get situated, just enthralled as Eddie's hands are clearly moving beneath him. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. Then he's pushing his jeans down onto his thighs. Plaid boxers still covering his ass. 

Steve grips his hips, unsure. 

Steve's not even sure what Eddie needs. Or what he needs. He's never had sex with a man before. He's willing, and he wants, oh, he wants, but he can't ask for what he's never had. He doesn't have the words. 

He's not sure Eddie does either. 

But he's pretty sure they can't fuck in a car. He doesn't know much, but he thinks he knows that. 

He's satisfied with this, he'd be satisfied with anything, when it comes to Eddie.

Steve unbuttons his own jeans, pushing them down, and then presses his underwear-clad dick right against Eddie's ass. And presses down, testing, trying it out. He makes small thrusts against him, finding a rhythm and it must be right, because Eddie moans beneath him. 

"Goddamn," Steve breathes out. 

Steve's pretty sure Eddie wants this, maybe more, by the way he's providing the counterpoint. Pushing back, helping keep the rhythm. 

He's never been with a guy before Eddie, but he's been with plenty of girls, and knows horny when he sees it. And Steve wants to fuck him. Wants to slide into him, feel their bodies connected and Eddie all around him. 

Hell, he wants to rub off on him, just like this. Anything. Everything. 

He just wants to make Eddie feel good. He wants them both to feel good. 

"Is it good?" Steve breathes out. 

And Eddie nods. Hair moving. Shaking up and down. 

Steve takes a hand from one of Eddie's hips, and brushes the loose hair from his neck, and then bends down, kissing his slick skin. 

Then, he wants to at least see more. 

So, he pulls down Eddie's boxers, revealing the shock of white skin. He's so pale. Even here in the dark. Maybe even more now that he survived the bats. Like all that lost blood never quite returned to his circulatory system. 

There are jagged scars on his hips, and Steve is familiar with those himself. But they are somehow opposites. Steve's sides still look webbed with streaks of white on tanned skin. Like they were able to heal, but not disappear. Only fading with time. In contrast, Eddie's are dark against his pale skin, still reddened.

They're different, but the same. A matched set, both having survived the same terrible version of hell together.

They made it. Just not unscathed. 

And that's okay. 

Then he grips both of Eddie's ass cheeks, and spreads them apart. It's dark in the car. Nearly too dark to see, everything hidden in shadow, but what he can make out by the moonlight is enticing.

He digs his fingers into Eddie's ass, kneading a little, and then lines up. Cock bumping against Eddie's asshole through the remaining layer of Steve's underwear, and it sends Eddie scrabbling at the leather seats, with no way to find purchase. 

It feels good for Steve, and it clearly does for Eddie, too.

"Fuck me," Eddie whines, begging. 

Steve can't fuck him. Can't just slide inside. No matter how much he wants to. Eddie's not slick and open and ready like a girl, even if he's just as willing. 

But Steve brushes his thumb against his opening, then pulls his thumb back, licks it, getting it wet and sloppy with spit, and does it again. Pressing against his hole, but not trying to push inside. 

Eddie arches off the seat, moaning. 

Steve wants to eat him out. Eating pussy always got him going. Got his dick hard, and ready. He's absolutely certain eating Eddie's ass would do the same. 

He doesn't know how they could possibly make room for that in here, though. 

They'll have to do other stuff. 

Steve presses himself upwards. As close to upright as he can get in the backseat of his car, his head and neck crammed against the roof, the soft lining tickling the back of his neck, as he unbuttons his jeans and wrangles them off his body, struggling with the lack of room.

But getting them off. Tossed out of the way.

And he knows shouldn't, but he does. He pushes his underwear down under his dick, and slides the head of his cock right against Eddie's hole. Pressing against him. Steve's leaking, because he's been leaking all fucking night, making a wet spot in his underwear, but now that helps slick the way.

Not enough to fuck, but enough to glide against him, definitely.

"This okay?" Steve asks. 

"Yes, yes," Eddie answers, "fuck yes."

So, Steve takes his cock in hand, and rubs the head right against Eddie. And Eddie whines, and pushes back. 

Another bead of precum slides out, right against Eddie's warm skin. 

Maybe they could rut here until he finishes between his cheeks. Come splattering his hole. Fuck. The thought. 

But there's more he wants to do first. 

"Flip," Steve says, and with some sloppy, slightly dangerous maneuvering, Eddie does. Again on his back, looking up at Steve. 

Steve pulls his own underwear back up, but forces Eddie's jeans and boxers down even further, until he can slip them off one of Eddie's legs, leaving them dangling off the other. 

Then he heaves Eddie's legs over his shoulders, bumping them on the roof of the car, making Eddie fold himself nearly in half to make the angle in this limited amount of space work. 

Eddie's cock is hard, wet and dripping at the tip, laying back against his belly, begging for attention. But Steve bypasses it. Instead, nudging behind Eddie's balls, and swiping his tongue against his hole. 

Eddie keens, letting out a wild noise that makes Steve's cock throb in his underwear. Getting even wetter.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eddie whispers, mainly to himself, Steve thinks. 

He looks fucking hot all contorted like this, spine bowed, hands in Steve's hair. Pulling. Tugging. Clawing. 

And Steve keeps licking him, before pressing the tip of his tongue inside, making Eddie gasp. He wonders if he could eat him out enough to loosen him up to fuck.

He'd definitely be willing to try. It's musky and earthy, and not at all bad, even if he feels a little naughty doing this. Especially tasting the salty traces of himself there. As if he's staked his claim. As if the taboo-ness of it makes it even hotter. 

Steve pulls back, and spits on his fingers. This isn't ideal. They can't go from zero-to-fucking, but that seems like exactly what they'd both like to happen tonight. 

But he presses the tip of one inside alongside his tongue.

"I've never," Eddie groans, "uh, never even, oh fuck, gotten head. And Steve Harrington is eating my ass. What is happening?" 

Steve stills at that. Well, leave it to him to skip a few bases. 

He scoots forward, pressing his chest against the back of Eddie's thighs.

"Can I? Can I do that?" Steve asks, searching his eyes.

And Eddie nods, emphatically, "Fuck. Yes. Please. Anything. You can do anything." 

He sounds shocked and borderline hysterical, but in a good way. A really, really good way. 

Steve feels like maybe Eddie's gonna be his undoing. And isn't that a hell of a drug to have rushing through your veins?

Steve wants to slide into the floorboard, but his driver's seat is too far back. 

He can fix that. He lowers Eddie's legs, and leans over the seat, reaching the lever, scooting it up as far as it'll go. 

Then he wedges himself down on the floorboard, and cups Eddie's bare hips. Sliding the still dangling clothes off Eddie's leg, and tosses them up front with his own, out of the way. Eddie's still got his shirt on, but so does Steve, and that's okay. Kinda hot, even.

He takes in the sight of Eddie laying there, cock hard, the base surrounded by wild, dark hair. Even his cock looks like it belongs on Eddie, somehow. 

He's gorgeous. 

"You're gorgeous," Steve tells him, meeting his eyes. 

"Stop," Eddie whines, looking embarrassed. He shouldn't be. He is gorgeous. How nobody else ever did this for him, how they never wanted to see him looking like this, is actually insane. Crazy. 

Steve presses both thumbs onto the dips of his hips, "If you actually want me to stop, say so. If not, I'm gonna eat you alive."

Eddie's dick jerks and bounces at that promise, and Steve grins, "That's what I thought." 

He wraps his hand around Eddie's girth, sliding, giving a slow stroke, before pushing his hand down towards the base of his dick to keep his pubes out of the way, and out of his mouth. Then he lowers his head, sliding the head of Eddie's cock between his lips. Eddie's never gotten head, and Steve's never given it, but they're in this thing together now.

And Steve couldn't be happier about it.

He glides his mouth up and down, not going too far, definitely not brave enough to take him very deep. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, with all the noises he's making. So, Steve keeps it up. Finds a rhythm, using his mouth, his hand, and it doesn't take long. 

Steve feels Eddie's dick harden further, knows that tell-tale sign.

"I'm gonna," Eddie says, and Steve nods, squeezing his hip with his free hand.

And Eddie does. Comes in his mouth, and Steve doesn't know what to do with it. He holds it there for a few seconds, and then lifts his shirttail, and spits in it.

Maybe not the first choice, but it worked, and Steve pulls his now wet shirt over his head, tossing it away with their jeans.

Eddie claws at him, pulling him towards his face, and Steve kisses him. Over and over. Hoping he's tasting himself on Steve's tongue.

Eddie tilts his head, pulling back, and Steve lets him go.

"I. I need," Eddie says, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"What do you need?" Steve asks, hand brushing the hair off his forehead, to get a better look at him. He'll give him anything.

"I need you to eat me out some more," Eddie says, head twisted to the side, not looking at Steve. As if he's embarrassed to ask for this.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, surprised, but happy.

And Eddie nods.

Steve maneuvers his body backwards towards the other door, and then gets Eddie's legs up over his shoulders again, and goes all in. Licking, pressing in with his tongue. Eddie's whole body is loose from his orgasm, and sliding the tip of his tongue inside is a little easier, now. So, he licks, and presses his tongue flat against the furled skin, loving the sounds Eddie makes. Breathy moans, heady whines.

"Steve, Steve," Eddie says, "Can you? Can you fuck me?"

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's sweat-slick skin, "Are you sure? We don't have to do this now. We can wait. Do it right."

"Do it now," Eddie begs, "do it, do it." 

Okay, Steve will do it now. If he can. If he has anything to make that happen. He digs around in his bag on the other side of the floorboard, and comes up with a strip of three condoms. But nothing to use as lube.

The condoms are lubricated, and he opens all three, sliding one on his dick, and then getting all the lube off the others as best as he can. With that, and the foreplay, he thinks it just might be enough. 

It's not a lot of lube to work with, but he's finally knuckle deep, and Eddie's making good noises. Which he finds encouraging. 

"Have you ever?" Steve asks, twisting his finger, and then adding a second. Eddie groans, and presses back against his hand. And well, he's not acting like this is the first time something's been in his ass.

"Only to myself," Eddie says, and Steve puts that on the list of things to try alone, now. To see what it feels like. Steve wishes Eddie were slicker, but this is what they've got to work with. 

He'll have to see if it's enough, now.

"If it hurts, let me know. We'll stop." 

"I like a little pain," Eddie admits. 

"Well, if it's bad pain and not the good kind, speak up," Steve tells him. He definitely doesn't want to hurt him. What a shitty first time that would be.

Eddie nods, and Steve starts pressing the head of his cock against Eddie with steady, solid pressure. Not rushing, but not pussy footing around, either. He's not scared of sex. It's one thing that he feels confident about, and he can't see why that'd change today. 

But it's not slick enough. Eddie doesn't give under him. Not at all. Fuck. 

He pulls back. 

"What? No," Eddie says, reaching for him. 

"This is gonna hurt like this, there's gotta be something in here we can use," Steve says. 

Because there has to be something. Anything. 

And he hits the jackpot. A bottle of aloe vera in the console. Left over from summer, he's sure. When the girls wanted to get oiled up to tan faster, and Robin just burned. Badly. 

He squirts some on his fingers, and presses one inside Eddie. The sound Eddie makes is something he'll take to the grave. It was that good. 

Once he has him slicked up and even more open, he's gone a little soft from the concentration, and when he tries to get filled out and the condom back on right, it tears. Fuck. And he used all the others he had trying to get some lube off of them.

He crawls on top of Eddie, putting the bottle down by his head, "Please tell me you have a condom in your wallet. 

"I don't," Eddie admits. 

And Steve punches out a breath, cupping Eddie's cheek, "That's okay. Next time."

He presses his mouth to Eddie's, tongue sliding back in. Eddie wraps one arm around his back, and tilts up his hips. 

Then he takes his other, working it between them, guiding the tip of Steve's cock right against him. 

And Steve moves his hips to rub against him. 

"Oh," Eddie breathes out, "Oh, Jesus Christ. Fuck. Goddamn." 

Steve grins, "That's what I like to hear." 

And Eddie laughs. Steve likes to hear that even more. 

"Fuck me," Eddie says. 

"I don't have-" 

"And I don't care right now. I've never been with anyone, so this is your call." 

Steve's good. Eddie knows it, too. Robin made them all get tested at some event in Chicago, where she was stretching her little lesbian wings, both of them just along for the ride. 

They shouldn't. But they could.

"Steve." 

And Steve nods. 

He inches in, head of his cock popping past that tight ring of muscle, then letting Eddie adjust. Even as it feels like a fucking vice grip on his dick. He wonders what it feels like to be on the receiving end. He hopes he gets to be on the other side of this, and soon.

"I can't wait until I get to do this," Steve says, because he can't. He wants it. He wants it all. 

"I'm almost ready, I think," Eddie answers, and Steve screws up his face, thinking. Finally realizing. 

"Not that," Steve says, hands running down Eddie's thighs, loving the feel of the hair there, tickling his palm. He's so fucking bisexual that he isn't sure how he ignored it until Eddie. Like, it seems absurd, now. 

"Not that, take all the time you need," Steve says, reaching his hand down, touching where they are connected. "This. I can't wait until you fuck me. If you want to. Do you want to?" 

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie says, "of course I want to. But if you keep making me think about that, I'm gonna come again before we even get started." 

Steve might just have the same problem. He's never been inside anyone without a condom before, and he's never done anal at all. He's overwhelmed, overstimulated, in the best way. 

Steve chuckles, stroking Eddie's skin, laying a kiss on the inside of his knee, then resting his cheek there, eyes still gazing towards Eddie's face, "Okay. I'll quit." 

"Thank you," Eddie teases, rocking back just a little, clenching down on Steve. 

Testing. Trying it out. And even if it's hard to stay still, so hard Steve swears he's about to break a sweat from it, he lets Eddie go at his own pace until he's sliding up and down on Steve's cock.

It's over fast. Before it really starts, honestly. They just barely get a rhythm going, Eddie fisting his own dick, then groaning as he clenches down on Steve as he comes. That's all it takes, Steve has to make a decision, "In or out?"

"Are you crazy? In," Eddie demands, tightening his legs around Steve, punctuating his answer. Steve thrusts a handful more times, uneven and hurling towards the point of no return, before following him over the edge. 

Coming inside Eddie. 

Goddamn.

After he catches his breath, he slips out, watching, and slides back into the floorboard, knees against rough carpet, and immediately presses his tongue to Eddie's cock-loosened hole. 

"Oh, fuck. I died. I died, the bats got me, and this all in my poor, oxygen deprived head," Eddie rambles, and Steve pulls back to laugh. That's when he sees that Eddie has the back of his hand on his forehead, like he's in fear of fainting. 

He's ridiculous.

"I'm hypoxic."

So ridiculous. 

"Not likely." 

And Steve puts his tongue back on Eddie, in him, tasting himself. And the bitter aloe. But mainly himself. He's fucking his tongue in and out, just eating him the fuck out some more. If Eddie wants this, Steve's happy to be face-deep forever. 

In fact, this is gonna be his new thing. He's decided. 

He gets lost in the feeling. He only takes breaks to bury his nose in Eddie's pubes, inhaling the musky smell of him. He feels like a pervert, but doesn't fucking care. Eddie's a self-proclaimed freak, and by god, Steve's gonna be a freak right along with him.

"Steve. Steve," Eddie says, and Steve finally pulls back. Eyes heavy, and hooded.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie says, pulling on him, tugging until he slides up his body, mouths sliding together, slick.

Getting lost in just being together. Basking in the afterglow, the heady smell of sex surrounding them in the car.

Bodies grinding. And Eddie is hard again, but so is Steve. How long was he down there? And when can he go back?

Eddie starts wiggling, and rolls over, again. Like he can't stay still. But it's worth it. Now, his ass is right there. Pretty, used hole looking right back at Steve. 

He's gonna put his tongue in it again. 

"Again," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't need to be told twice. He moves to scoot down, but Eddie whines, "Your dick. Not your tongue, even if that's gonna be the star of every wet dream I have from now until my inevitable demise." 

"Okay, okay," Steve says, smiling at his weird, but endearing, rambling as he slicks himself back up, squirting more aloe on Eddie, watching as he jumps, "Sorry. Cold, I know."

Then he slides right back inside. No resistance now, all slick give, and soft moans. Hole gripping him, sucking him in, as if it wants him there as much as he wants to be there.

Fucking him for real this time. The edge off, so he's able to actually set a rhythm. And in the moonlit car, he watches his cock slide in and out of Eddie. 

Then he slides all the way out, and rubs the head of his cock against the warm, welcoming opening, the place he's meant to be, just teasing Eddie as he gets to watch. The sight of Eddie stretching, opening, as the head of his cock finally slips back inside, is so fucking hot. 

"I wish you could see this," Steve says, then adds, "because, fuck, I love…this," Steve says, catching himself, pivoting his words, and Eddie laughs, which makes him clench around Steve.

"I love you, too," Eddie says, not letting him get by with it, and Steve presses in all the way, stopping. Chest heaving, tears burning his eyes. 

"You do?" Steve asks, desperate for that to be true. 

"Don't be obtuse," Eddie says, and Steve's not exactly sure what that means, but he gets the message. Loud and clear. And then Eddie doubles down, and it's music to Steve's ears, hearing him say, "Of course I love you." 

Steve pulls almost all the way out, and slams back in. A punctuation, as he says, "I love you. I love you, too." 

And he fucking does. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesmuttyseptember and follow along with the filthy fun! 💦

[the-babygirl-polls]

Tianlang Jun - Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

[tlmtwelve]

Cuddling enhanced clones can be a rough job but someone's gotta do it

[lorraine-dcmbr]

micro rebellion acts Hobie headcannons!! (octobie week two)

> octobie masterlist < > read part one here < > next part will be here <

would TOTALLY wear a skirt/"not appropriate" clothes to school and ask to be dress coded to stand with the girls

I see him as such a girl's person

is able to pickpocket but would only do it to big companies

things he would steal includes : diapers, cans of food, baby wipes, menstrual products, ...

if you were to hangout with him, it will probably end by tagging some fast fashion store at 4 am

would leave a note saying hi and sorry to the employees though

is one of the protest organizers

Vivienne Westwood's biggest fan

author's note : wdym i'm late ? No i'm not

[ineffablyruined]

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in Week One: Eye Contact! It was a blast to read all the poems and fic and see the gorgeous drawings you all came up with. As a reminder, the week one collection will remain open, so anyone who wants to contribute can continue their submissions.

Now for this week's prompt. And a special shout out to @interesting-egg who helps me pick which of the truly unhinged number of prompts I have should be used for the week.

Week Two:

Wanting.

Is someone yearning for something? Was someone found wanting, unable to measure up in some way? I don't know - you tell me!

The Rules Are Simple:

Every Friday until the Season 3 premiere, I'll post a prompt.

You will have a week to write, draw, paper craft, record, completely scrap and start from the beginning after a crisis of confidence (oh, is that just me?), and post your interpretation of the prompt.

Tag your post #IneffablePromptAThon, #IneffablePAT #Ineffable Prompt-A-Thon, and/or #IPAT. Make sure to use them on Tumblr, X, IG, and AO3 so everyone can easily find your works!

Also tag your posts and AO3 with the Week Number and the Prompt, so we can all tell which prompt your creation accompanies.

Tag me @ineffablyruined in all of your posts, too, so I can reblog!

Add your contribution to the Ineffable Prompt-A-Thon collection on AO3 for this week. Link is below!

Look for the next prompt. Rinse. Repeat.

HAVE FUN!

This is meant to be zero stress. If you can't do a week, that's completely fine! Prompt not working for you? Skip it. Going to be late? No worries at all!

It is just meant to be a fun outlet to get your creative juices flowing and keep the fandom well-fed with copious amounts of fic and fun until our Ineffable Duo makes their return to our screens (whenever that may be).

There is no length requirement, no rating requirement, no timeline requirement. It can be canon-compliant, AU, crossover, whatever tickles your fancy, as long as it's Good Omens related and incorporates the prompt. It's all Tickety-Boo!

If you want to be tagged in the posts, let me know and I'll do my best to accommodate.

Link to this week's collection:

Tags below the cut:

@naturallyteal @bumblee27 @czitara @martinsharmony @ineffable-xenanigans @dierama-mojo

[sarahsmi13s]

The Chosen

moon knight but lewis pullman

"you're the only super power i've ever had"

Bob Floyd died during something completely unrelated to his job as a WSO. Pursuing a hobby while off duty, Lieutenant Floyd was exploring his archeological finds in Egypt before robbers seized him and stole the valuables he found. During the incident, Bob was fatally injured, barely making it inside a temple only to bleed out at the foot of statue. The statue belonging to Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon. He offered Bob a second chance, on one condition... Bob must be his Avatar and fight the evils he can not. And little do either know... Bob has a few extra tricks up his sleeve.

[theladyofshalott1989]

MCtober2024: Week 2

Study Habits

Damien is an incredibly hard worker, which is amplified by his realization that he's lucky to have come into his magical abilities, even though they came late. Hence, he puts in every bit of effort he possibly can. He also enjoys learning about magic to an absurd degree. If he were born a century or so later, Damien and Hermione Granger would have gotten along quite swimmingly.

History of Magic Class

Damien is fascinated by the subject, but he struggles immensely with Professor Binns’s dull lecture style. Damien sometimes skips class when he hasn’t had enough sleep the night before, which goes against all of his studious instincts.

Mr. "I'm Awake...I'm AWAKE!" Evans

Damien's Best Friend

Natty is Damien’s best girl friend. Damien discovers over time that he can let loose around her, so he's much more goofy and fun when they're together. If Damien weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw, he would have been a Gryffindor, which Natty can sense. She loves to tease Damien in a friendly way, much like she teases Sebastian. In fact, she was the first person to notice that Sebastian and Damien were into each other, even before either of them realized it. (In Natty's humble opinion, boys can be rather dense.)

A Conversation with Natsai Onai, a.k.a. Miss "I’m rolling my eyes, but deep down I’m smiling":

Natty: Are you... dancing?

Damien: Yes! Can't you tell?

Natty: Well, you're definitely… moving.

Damien: Thank you! I'm very gifted.

Natty: Hm, yes. I’m quite certain no one else could pull that off.

Damien: I aim to confuse and amaze. Clearly, I’ve succeeded.

[beckerart]

HELSAWEEN - WEEK TWO

- Mirror -

Reflection of a potential future, a future where he got more than the desired crown and power, where he got the love that maybe he wanted more (just in my head, unfortunately)

It's just so irritating that he could have had a happy life and all Helsa fan dream come true, but no, he had to be the bad guy. (i love you Hans, but you're such an impatient idiot)

@helsaweenfun

[every-character-ever-poll]

NANO SHINONOME - Nichijou

[unleashed-fest]

UNLEASHED FEST: WEEK TWO

And that's it, week two is over! Feast your eyes on these gems, check out what you might have missed this week and tomorrow we'll bring you the full anonymous masterlist before reveals in a few days!

🐾

🐾 FIC

Creature Comforts (Draco/Harry, M, 86k)

When Draco is turned into a werewolf, he does not expect to be given a postbellum bedroom in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, nor does he expect to find a whole new set of friends.

When Harry is turned into a werewolf, he does not expect to make a whole new set of friends. He could have anticipated, however, falling even harder in love with the stubborn, acerbic, workaholic prat who’s been hovering at the fringes of his life for the past seven years.

This is exactly what happens.

Raising Kids (The Other Kind) (Pansy/Neville, E. 4.8k)

"Pansy exhaled deeply. “Neville,” she said slowly, “When I suggested we get a pet, I meant a cat or a dog. I never mentioned a fucking goat.”"

When Pansy suggested they get a pet to practice their parenting skills before trying for a baby, she hadn't expected Neville to walk in the door with the world's worst behaved goat.

The Cat that got the Créme (de la Potter) (Draco/Harry, E, 22.6k)

Draco's doing fine after the war. No, really! He's a repentant, industrious employee by day and a gorgeous, vigilante cat by night. So what if he's been disowned by his parents (father)? Life's great!

And, when he gets into a spot of trouble? Pffft … he's going to save himself! Easy peasy. The Chosen One is not actually required. He just happens to be there. It's not like Draco went looking for him … or anything.

Ripped Apart (Draco/Harry, E, 4.3k)

Following his father’s failings in the war, nobody in the Wizarding World knew of Draco’s affliction - his father’s punishment being his son handed over to Greyback to do with as he pleased. Somehow Draco had managed to claw his way back - pun intended - into some form of acceptance in society again, although he knew there were those out there who thought he should be in Azkaban - or dead. He’d also fallen in love, with none other that Harry fucking Potter. If they know we’re dating, it will only be worse for him, Draco thought as he walked through Knockturn Alley on the way to the apothecary. Draco couldn’t know at that moment how wrong this thought was.

Scales and Sorcery (Draco/Harry, E, 13.9k)

As toddlers, Harry Potter and Draco’s lives change when they befriend each other on James Potter’s Romanian dragon reserve, where Draco is hatched as a rare shape-shifting Hungarian Horntail. The two quickly become inseparable, and as they grow up together, their bond deepens into something truly magical and unbreakable.

Follow them on this unique coming-of-age journey of self-discovery and first love, where Harry finds his soulmate in the most unexpected of creatures.

Kaleidoscope (Harry/Ron/Hermione, E, 39k)

Dear Mooney and Padfoot,

It’s been months, and I’m sorry.

Harry discovers old letters written by his father, and uncles, while organizing Hogwarts' archives. Desperate for any type of connection to the dwindling memories of his parents, he embarks on a journey to become an Animagus with Ron and Hermione - Leaving his job, his emotions, and his fiancée by the wayside. Maybe if he digs around in the past for an answer, the universe would be kind enough to help him out… Unless said universe was sick and tired of Harry Potter looking backwards instead of forwards.

Wherever He Leads Me (Draco/Harry, E, 11.2k)

Draco never knows when a certain someone’s stag Patronus will block his path as he’s trying to sneak out of a memorial or leap on his pelvis during yoga class.

He doesn’t even know if Harry Potter is sending frantic messages via stag on purpose.

But he does know that whenever the stag appears, he’ll follow it.

No matter where it leads.

🐾 PODFIC

Trevor the Escape Artist by DrPansyParkinson (Pansy/Neville, G, 30-35min) Trevor the Master of Escape feels his reputation being ruined because a certain someone keeps successfully locating him and bringing him back to his owner. Trevor is often found in bathrooms because he likes humidity.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Nap at a Time

Week #2 Prompt: Afternoon Naps | Word Count: 1992 | Rating: T | POV: Gareth | Pairings: Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve, Steddie | Characters: Gareth, Steve, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Road Manager Steve, Corroded Coffin on the Road, It's Exhausting, So. Naps. Lots of Naps

Eddie's already sprawled out on the couch in their venue dressing room, when Gareth flops down next to him, bumping his fist against Eddie's knee. 

"Steve's been screaming that it's four hours until soundcheck," Gareth says, leaning his head back against the cushions. They're a little lumpy, but he's so fucking tired, it doesn't matter.

This tour has been a goddamn bear, and they aren't even halfway through it.

They're never gonna make it. Not at this rate. They're gonna implode, one by one, and he thinks he might go first.

"I heard him," Eddie says, leaning back next to Gareth, "believe it or not, his voice carries."

It's snarky, but there's no heat there, just endless affection. It's gross, and Gareth swears he will never, ever act this way when he has a girlfriend. He'll make damn sure of it.

"Anyway. This is your four-hour warning," Gareth says, closing his eyes. Maybe he can catch a short nap. Twenty minutes would make a world of fucking difference, he's pretty damn sure. Then laughs, "You're the one that hired him to yell at us."

"Mistakes were made," Eddie says.

"No they weren't," Gareth answers, closing his eyes.

"No, they weren't," Eddie confirms, and even with his eyes closed, Gareth can hear the smile on Eddie's face, as his eyes feel heavier and heavier.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" 

Gareth hears Steve's voice, and jerks awake. Sitting bolt upright, disoriented.

Steve's standing at the edge of the couch, hands on his hips.

"What?" Gareth asks, still foggy, "Huh?"

And Steve laughs, pointing, and only then does Gareth realize that Eddie's still asleep on the couch and that he must have been laying against him, or on top of him, one or the other.

And Gareth smirks. 

"Jealous?" Gareth asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, saying dryly, "Yes. Terribly."

"In that case then," Gareth laughs, and lays back down, squeezing between Eddie and the back of the couch. Eddie must feel the movement, because Eddie slings his arm over Gareth's side, pulling him closer. 

"Soooo comfy," Gareth hisses, taunting Steve, but not wanting to wake Eddie up if he can help it.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, "this is your hour warning. Got it?"

Gareth whines, but Steve taps him on the toe of his shoe.

"An hour? Seriously? You sure?" Gareth asks, because that can't be right.

Steve sighs, exasperated, "You don't think I can tell time now? Yes. Seriously. An hour."

They've been asleep for three fucking hours? Holy shit. He couldn't even begin to guess the last time he's gotten three hours of sleep straight. Weeks, for sure. Maybe longer.

Steve's still busy working himself into a lather, "Gareth, if I have to come back, so help me-"

"I got it," Gareth interrupts. 

"Good."

An hour isn't nearly enough time. Not at all. But it's better than nothing, Gareth supposes. So, he sets the alarm on Eddie's watch, Eddie sleeping through the whole process, just to make sure they don't oversleep and piss off Steve.

And an hour later, Eddie's slept through his wrist beeping, but Gareth hasn't, so he shakes Eddie awake, "Steve's beckoned us."

Eddie stretches, sitting up on the ugly couch that's more comfortable than it looks, rolling his shoulders. Eddie yawns, and that's about right. Nap or not, they've been spread too thin.

Then, Eddie says, "Damn. That was the best nap I've had in a while. I might actually be half-rested before a show. What are the fucking odds of that?"

And Gareth laughs, because he agrees, wholeheartedly.

The tour continues, and so do the naps. In green rooms, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. On the bus. Wherever they are, Gareth will find Eddie and squeeze in with him, and go to sleep. Or Eddie'll find him. It's almost like their early days on the road, when they had to share a motel bed. It's comfortable, and normal, being this close, so much so, that it's put them both right to sleep when they've needed it most.

And Gareth thinks nothing of it. Steve comes to get them, or Goodie, or Jeff, and when it's time to roll, they'll get moving. 

One more show scratched off the schedule, one more nap taken somewhere along the never ending road.

And then the tour ends. Months on the road over, as they chipped away at the schedule, one show at a time. Now, headed home in time for Christmas.

Gareth isn't sure what the fuck he'll do with himself. It's been a long fucking time since his time has been all his own. Is he just supposed to go home to his mom, and do what? Nothing? Maybe he can just crash with Eddie and Steve?

Though, he's sure they're ready for some fucking privacy for a change. 

Maybe Goodie and Jeff will entertain him. Let him into their secret best friend circle, for once.

He doesn't know, but he'll have time to figure it out. Right now, they're tidying the bus up as they head home, trying to get it ready to send it back to the company they leased it from, when Steve turns up. Book in his hands. It's not his tour bible, though, and the schedule is over anyway. No need to keep meticulous notes anymore, so Gareth's a little confused.

"What's up?" he asks, stuffing clothes into duffels and suitcases. His shit grew over the months, accumulating over time, and now he doesn't have room to pack it all up again. He'll have to resort to a trash bag he's pretty damn sure.

"Got something for you. For you and Eddie," Steve says, and Gareth knows he's up to no good. Steve's face is schooled neutral, but he can read him like a goddamn book after all this time in each other's back pockets. And he's up to something. For sure.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Steve hands over the book, and Gareth flips it open. 

And he laughs, yelling, "Eddie!"

Eddie pops through the curtain, "What's up?"

And Gareth shows him, and relishes the sound of Eddie cackling, head tossed back, fucking amused. Charmed. In love with Steve, and everything he does. Including this.

A book of Polaroids. Dozens. Maybe, hundreds. 

Every single one a picture of Gareth and Eddie asleep together, in various positions, on various couches, all across the country. Sometimes one of the other guys is posing in front of them, making faces, but mostly, it's just them. 

The story of this tour, one nap at a time.

Gareth shoves the book into Eddie's hands, and catches Steve by the neck, squeezing him tight. 

And Steve laughs, hugging back.

"Thanks, Steve. That's a fun souvenir from this hellacious tour."

Steve just shrugs, "I didn't realize how many we'd get when we started this little project."

And Gareth hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder, looking down as Eddie keeps flipping through the pages. Gareth was here first, he has best friend privileges, and first dibs, but he knows Steve loaned Eddie back to him these past few months. There's no question about that. One nap at a time, giving them time together, even if it was just to sleep in what appears to be uncomfortable positions, one random couch at a time.

"Maybe someday they'll be worth money. Some good blackmail," Steve says.

"No way, we're proud of these," Eddie says, "it proves we can sleep anywhere."

And it kind of does. It also probably proves they're immune to head lice. Some of those couches were pretty gross, looking back at the photographic evidence.

Eddie points at one where Gareth's feet are in his face, "Look? I didn't die from the smell alone."

Gareth bites his shoulder, and Eddie laughs even harder.

There are no secrets between them, no privacy. He's taken showers with Eddie, shared beds and bathrooms. Underwear and toothbrushes. Looked at, and has shown, all manner of questionable bumps and rashes. Held hair and hands, cleaned up puke, and one time they never, ever speak of - actual shit.

A few naps are nothing on the friendship intimacy scale.

Eddie looks at the bunk, the one that Gareth's sort of cleaned out, and asks, "One more for the road?"

Gareth laughs, but agrees, crawling into the cramped space, nearly on top of Eddie.

"It was a good tour, kid," Eddie says, hand splayed against Gareth's back, keeping him from falling out of the bunk and onto the floor of the bus.

"Yeah," Gareth agrees, "and the next one will be even better."

At home, back in Hawkins, Gareth wanders around. A little lost. He's tired, but wired, all at the same time. It's weird to go, go, go and then just stop. Cold turkey. That's never worked for him for anything else, so he's not sure why it would work for stopping touring, either.

They should have tapered down, weaned themselves off.

He rides his old bike, because his El Camino battery is deader than shit, after sitting so long. He hopes Goodie and Jeff will come over later and give him a jump, to get it up and running. If not, Steve will.

He doesn't realize where he's headed, until he's already there. Harrington House. He drops his bike in the yard like he's a kid again, and heads for the front door. Letting himself in. Steve is at the bar, doing paperwork.

Always doing paperwork.

"Hey," Steve says, looking at him for a moment, and then back down at the papers spread out beneath him.

"Isn't the tour over, what work do you have left now? You're supposed to be on vacation, relaxing in your new digs," Gareth says, leaning against the counter. 

"Just, running the final numbers."

"We end up in the black?" Gareth asks, leaning over to look. But he doesn't understand Steve's chicken-scratch shorthand, and gives up.

"Looks like it," Steve says, and Gareth grins. They got to play music, night after night, week after week, month after month, and even made some money doing it. Hot damn.

"Where's Eddie at, anyway?" Gareth asks.

"Trying to take a nap," Eddie mutters from the couch in the living room. Gareth hadn't even realized he was there. 

"Sorry," Gareth calls back, he can take a hint and go. He squeezes Steve on the shoulder, getting ready to leave, when Eddie speaks again.

"Don't be sorry, kid," Eddie says, then asks, "you in?"

Hell yes, he's in. 

"Steve, get the camera, I'm goin' in," Gareth says.

"I'll get right on that," Steve says dryly, but Gareth can see that he's smiling. 

Gareth toes off his shoes by the door, and then hurries into the living room, following Eddie's voice, telling him to hurry the fuck up. 

When he gets there, Eddie makes room, scooting over so Gareth can settle in alongside him. And Gareth stretches out, resting his arm over Eddie's waist. 

This couch is much more comfortable than any of the others have been. Steve has good taste, expensive taste, and picked something damn comfortable for a nice, long nap.

"Steve's couch is nice," Gareth says, face muffled in Eddie's shoulder.

"Everything about Steve is nice, haven't you learned that by now, kid?" Eddie mumbles, and Gareth smiles. He might have taken a while to warm up to Steve Harrington, but now, even Gareth has to admit that he's perfect for Eddie. He makes Eddie happy, and that's all Gareth could ask for, honestly. That Eddie's happy. And loved.

It doesn't hurt that Steve's shaped up their tour schedule, either. It was long, and exhausting, but they made it through. Left to their own devices, he's not sure that would have been true.

"What'd you do today?" Eddie asks, stifling a yawn. 

And Gareth closes his eyes, telling Eddie about his day, until he feels when Eddie goes slack beside him, back to sleep again. Gareth trails off, stops talking, and lets himself fall asleep, too.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

[the-babygirl-polls]

Edward Teach - Our Flag Means Death

Propaganda:

He's literally a Disney princess, have you looked at him? The hair, the beautiful brown eyes? The definition of babygirl

beautiful man with the most beautiful eyes. killed his shitty abusive father. fell utterly in love for the first time. the biggest hearteyes ever. had his heart broken. hurt people that cared about him but was ultimately forgiven (I think?). feels really guilty (as he should). wanted to die and had a vision of his boyfriend as a merman.

[will80sbyers]

A Stranger Halloween week 002 -> one of the scariest scenes in my opinion

[louisrarepairfest]

LOUIS RARE PAIR FEST 2024

- Week Two Roundup -

🫐 Glitz, Glammer, Top Hats, Cigars and Suits by @rockstarlwt28

[NR, 3k, Louis/Dominic Harrison | Yungblud, fic post]

Based in the 1920s - Alternate Universe. When Isla found a love for the melody formed by a strumming of strings, Louis didn't expect to fall equally in love with his daughter’s guitar teacher, Dominic Harrison.

🫐 Spirits by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14

[E, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac, fic post]

A one shot set in and Edwardian music hall. Prompt from and written for the Louis rarepair fest. This was a challenge and a pleasure to write. Edwardian music hall performer Louis Tomlinson meets the newest act in the show, the American magician Oscar Isaac. Romance, smut and a seance ensue. Also featuring best friend wing man Harry Styles.

[jimin-updates]

Two more Billboard updates from week two 🤩

And

It’s Jimin’s 13th week on the Billboard Artist chart; he becomes the 2nd-longest charting kpop soloist on the chart!

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

#9

Thursday

On Wednesday at 9:33 AM, Amai Odayaka’s body was found by Kyoshi Tachibana. Her story was that she was checking every area and every room of the school to see if every student was in class, since three were reported to be out of class. The three students in question were Saki Miyu, Ayano Aishi and Amai Odayaka.

Saki was last seen with Daku, who claimed that she was following Amai wherever she was going. Saki wasn’t seen by anyone since then- not even Daku himself, who waited in the hall for her until 8:30 AM. Ayano Aishi was found in the Nurse’s Office tending to a wound that she’d acquired earlier that day that had supposedly opened back up. Scilla was able to vouch for her since he was the one who accidentally inflicted the injury on her in the first place.

Amai was last seen by Daku and Saki, although Saki has since been labeled missing. The only other person who saw her was Shoku around 7:55 AM, although he went to class around that time as well. His other classmates can vouch that he did attend class at that time.

The only clue that they have towards Amai’s death is a note left beneath her shoes, which was left on the rooftop. The note, after plenty of investigating via the police, confirmed to the authorities that this case was, in fact, a suicide.

The note read as such:

“This may seem like a spontaneous decision, but if that’s the case then that means that I’ve been hiding everything well. I don’t know if I want my death to make an impact as a last wish or if I want it to be brushed off for the sake of those I care about.

“I guess the main question that will arise is ‘Why?’ The reason why is because I don’t think I… fit here anymore. I’ve been through so many stressful moments in my life, all in which I’ve overcome with the help of my loved ones. But this is something else entirely.

“Part of me feels like it’s my fault that bad things keep occurring in my life. Is it my past selfish actions that are coming back to bite me in the form of guilt? I know I’m not the reason my family’s bakery is failing, but I know that I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life once it does. In that case, am I selfish?

“Maybe I’m just a coward. I realize that my whole life has been set around one thing, and that was my family’s bakery. Every ounce of my life was surrounded by thoughts, concerns and wishes for the bakery. When that thought came to me I realized just how much of ‘nothing’ I would be once it was gone.

“I know it wasn’t a waste, but I also know that it was going to be once our bakery failed. I’m eighteen now. I don’t think I have the time to start from the ground up anymore. Even every ounce of my childhood was set around baking. I barely went to the playground, I didn’t go on playdates or anything. Now I just don’t have the time to do that.

“Everything was always set out for me. It was meant to have hardships- but ones that we were able to overcome. This isn’t one of those. So many misfortunes have reached us, and so many that we aren’t able to overcome anymore.

“I know I have people I consider friends and parents who love me, but I don’t think it’s enough. I know that sounds selfish, but I think that’s all I can do to put everything I’m feeling into words. If it was enough, wouldn’t I be fine right now? I don’t know how to fix this and I can’t stand the thought of burdening anyone anymore with whatever the Hell is going on in my mind.

“I’m really sorry to Saki. I’m sorry that your parents don’t talk to you like normal.

“I’m sorry that you have to stress about our health, Kenko. I know that you would’ve helped everyone who needed it if that were possible.

“I’m sorry that your passions are so discouraged, Seiyo. Life’s about making your own path in life, and I think you can do it, no matter how hard it may be.”

“I’m sorry, Ajia. I promise this isn’t your fault. I know that you’re a good person deep down.”

“I’m very sorry, Shoku. I know this is selfish, especially since you always wanted me to be the leader, but I think I need to leave the club in your hands. I know you’ll do a lovely job.”

“And I’m not sure what words I can say to express how sorry I am to my parents. It’s one thing to lose a bakery, but I know that losing someone you’ve raised since birth is much worse. I’m sorry that all of that time amounted to now.

“Mom, Dad, I’m still unsure about this. I wish I had the courage to ask you to help make me feel better, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m not sure that I ever was, or ever could be.

“I’m sorry. But I think my fear for the future overpowers the love I have for you.”

No one believed it. It didn’t matter that it was a page torn from her own diary. It didn’t matter that it was written in her handwriting with her pen and it didn’t matter that there were other note “drafts” that she berated herself for being too selfish or dishonest still sitting in her diary.

Her parents refused to believe it, Shoku refused to believe it, but the proof was there in front of them.

School was let out for Thursday, with Friday being optional to the students for a funeral held in Amai’s honor.

The Odayakas have since shut down the bakery, with Amai’s mother seeking daily therapy and Amai’s father working at the Dark Delights bakery as a way to keep making money.

Taro was nothing if not conflicted. He didn’t have the courage to talk to the cooking club or Amai’s parents, and has instead been talking to Osana and his sister about the incident. He plans on attending Amai’s funeral, but is too disturbed to try to join the Cooking Club.

The Cooking Club have been dealing with their loss in different ways. Kenko seems to be taking it the best, although he was never the type to let his emotions drag anyone else down. Seiyo can’t bring himself to watch his favorite shows like normal, and instead spends his time looking through pictures and videos of the club and Amai.

Ajia, despite Amai’s note to her, has been doing nothing but blaming herself. In her state of grieving she’s broken personal items in fits of rage and has stated numerous times that she’ll never cook anything again. Her parents don’t know what to do outside of continuously offering her their support and therapy.

Shoku went home first, and has yet to open his door for anyone or eat anything. After hearing about how close he was to Amai, Amai’s father has sent a package with gifts Shoku has given Amai to his residence. Geiju has stayed home as well for the time being, and plans on staying home for as long as Shoku will. Shoku’s parents will let him stay home as long as he needs, but won’t let him go too long without food.

That then leaves the mystery behind Saki’s disappearance. Since she was seen following Amai, it was speculated that she witnessed Amai kill herself, and was hysterical and in shock by the loss that she ran away somewhere. No one knows where, but her face has since been plastered all over the town.

__

Info-Chan: Your Senpai is okay.

Info-Chan: He doesn’t think that he’s tied at all to Amai’s suicide, so the only thing wrong is how shaken up he is by the event. As are most.

Yan-Chan: Okay.

Info-Chan: You’re lucky the majority believe Amise’s note. I personally thought that it was a little tacky.

Info-Chan: But in the end it did you well.

Yan-Chan: Yes.

Info-Chan: I get that you’re shaken up, but that’s to be expected!

Info-Chan: You finally went through with an effective plan. Good job!

Info-Chan: I am proud of you :)

Ayano noticed that the muscles in her hands and arms had been twitching often since she dealt with Amai and Saki. She no longer thinks that it was because her limbs were sore, but something else. Some intense feeling that she couldn’t quite place. Then again, how could she? As far as she was concerned she was bare of feelings, anyway.

After she had finished tossing Saki and Amai over, she sat on the rooftop for at least ten minutes, likely processing what all had happened. Eventually, Info-Chan’s blasted alarm finally caught her attention, and she rationalized that she needed to get to work with ridding of the evidence.

The first thing she made sure to do was grab the note Amai had in her pocket. There was something calming about seeing Amai lying there and slowly getting colder. It must have been the relief of not having anything else to worry about.

Next was to get rid of Saki’s body. If Kyoshi had to find anyone’s body immediately, it had to be Amai’s, and Saki’s body was right in front of the door. Anyone from down the hall would be able to see her.

It was hilarious, really. Such a rushed death could’ve been saved and ruined Ayano completely if Saki had landed on either of the hedges. That alone likely would have saved her life. It’s a shame she wasn’t that lucky.

Unfortunately, grabbing a crumpled body proved more difficult than Ayano thought. Akademi was a tall building, so it would make sense that there would be so many shattered bones. It was a strange experience, though. Strange bumps and jagged ends were not something Ayano expected to feel prodding against such regular, human skin. She had skin like that, too. Part of Ayano wondered how that would feel.

Regardless, the gardening club seemed like a dreadfully long walk with the weight of Saki in her arms. As she passed the incinerator, she saw a readied mop and bucket waiting in front of it. Despite Amise claiming to dislike the thought of killing her rivals, she still had several things ready for her just in case. Not only the bucket and mop, but a lockpick, just in case.

The lockpick proved useful. This allowed Ayano to get into the shed and use the shovel to dig a deep enough hole to keep Saki hidden. It took at least twenty minutes to make a reliable hole. It was smaller than Ayano imagined when she started, but still deep enough. Thankfully, Saki’s body was already plenty crumpled to fit into the hole.

After finishing with that, Ayano grabbed the mop to clean up the blood that Saki left behind. Thankfully, that was a much quicker process than carrying Saki’s body. After she was finished with that, she requested a new uniform from Info-Chan, cleaned her own, and began working on her alibi.

She did this by cutting the injury she received a bit deeper, washing the knife used, and heading to the Nurse’s Office after haphazardly wrapping the bandages back around. She told Nurse Kankoshi that her wound opened up and she tried to fix it herself for a long time before eventually coming to help. The wound was by all means real and Amise claimed that Ayano was going to fix her wound before class, which made Ayano’s alibi tight enough to be overlooked.

Speaking of Amise, she of course was with the Cooking Club when the police came to the school in attempt to calm them down and help them feel better, but her efforts definitely proved useless for the more… inconsolable members of the group.

Info-Chan: You should see what your peers have to say about their loss :3

Ayano blinked slowly. She was exhausted, really. The smarter decision would be to go to sleep, but…

Looking over at her own bed, Ayano realized just how dark it was. This coaxed her to turn on her light, which eliminated the choice to sleep at the moment. So instead, Ayano sat down at her desk, scrolling through her computer and heading to whatever social media the students at her school were using.

Eventually, she found a post that had a picture of the school from afar, showing a group of people working on building a large fence around the school rooftop. It was posted by “Beasness”, aka Bea, and was blowing up with all sorts of reactions. Mainly from others from the school, with her own following just asking what had happened. There was plenty of “RIP” and “fly high” in the comment section of the post, but something else caught Ayano’s attention.

Particularly an anonymous comment that was placed suspiciously in the comments despite the dislikes and disapproving replies from others. It read:

Anonymous:

‘ I’m sure literally everyone will disagree with me here, but I don’t think that Amai killed herself. I know what was in her diary and her note and everything, but considering that Amai’s life just started getting “harder” around three days ago, it’s weird that she’d jump to such an extreme “solution”. ’

There were bound to be people like this here and there, but Ayano was surprised that this person would make such a bold comment so soon after the incident. It didn’t seem like anyone was agreeing, so it might not have been something that Ayano had to worry about. Most of the comments were simply saying how inconsiderate this user was being.

Hoshiko commented “Pun intended?” with an angry face, likely so that it wouldn’t look like she approved of the possible pun. Kokona left a long message about how everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but sometimes those opinions didn’t need to be shared. And then Musume asked why Bea hadn’t taken this comment down, if not for the dislikes than for the fact that it was simply inconsiderate. Bea herself didn’t reply to that, but she did leave a like on her comment.

Thanks to the comment being anonymous, everyone was left without a face to slander, and Ayano was left without someone to keep an eye on. Part of what the commenter had said was true. Amai, regardless of what was put into her diary and note, obviously wasn’t the type to solve her problems like that. After a little while stalking Amai, that much was irritatingly obvious to Ayano.

Even the small flaw that Amai had wasn’t enough to make her look like anything other than the perfect girl. It didn’t matter if she could easily be convinced, Taro could just as easily be manipulated, Ayano was sure of it.

Ayano wanted to say that she was glad that Amai was dead. But there was an aching feeling in the back of her…heart..? It wasn’t her head, because her chest is what was hurting. Something… inside her ached. Something inside her was disturbed. But what?

__

Taro sat on the couch silently. It was only around 1 in the afternoon, but the living room was dark. He attempted to distract himself with another book, but it didn’t sit right with him, so instead, he turned on the tv. Despite the dread that had washed over damn near the whole school when Amai’s death was announced, nothing popped up on the tv about her.

Now that he thought about it, he probably didn’t want to think about that anyway. He’d only really known Amai for less than a week, but he could already tell what an amazing person she was. She didn’t seem depressed or troubled, but what exactly would Taro know? Despite the fact that Taro wasn’t too close to Amai, it was still… disturbing to hear that news. He talked to her less than six hours prior to the incident.

What if Taro had somehow worn her down? What if he unknowingly contributed to her actions yesterday?

Before Taro could bury himself in his thoughts, the front door opened. “Oh my God why is it so dark?” Hanako paused in the doorway, dropping her bags and blinking to adjust her vision. She put leaned over, feeling the wall for the light switch and flicking it on. “Jeez, Taro, that is not good for your eyes. You know that.”

Sighing, Taro stands up, stretching his limbs briefly before walking over to Hanako. Despite today being a school day for her, she decided to stay home as soon as she realized that her brother was distressed. Her twin, Haruka, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to get in trouble for something that they could all talk about during dinner.

Taro felt a bit bad. Looking through the bags proved that Hanako had bought him plenty of things that she knew that he would like. Some books he was planning on getting, a favorite snack of his, and so on and so forth. “You didn’t go shopping just for me, did you?” He asks, almost shocked at all of the things Hanako had bought.

Hanako always was quick to panic whenever either of her brothers were upset, and was even more notorious for overreacting, so it wasn’t too surprising. But the fact that she’d bought all of this within the first day that they both stayed home was impressive. She didn’t have a job yet, so all of this likely came from her saved allowance money.

“Duuuuuh.” Hanako muttered, checking her phone laxly. After a moment and as Taro lifted up the bags off of the floor, Hanako kicked the door closed and followed Taro to the kitchen counter. “So, that girl’s funeral is tomorrow?” She asked, frowning at the thought.

Nodding, Taro frowns and takes the groceries out of the respective bag. “Amai. Yeah.” His frown deepens as he sighs. “She was such a nice girl. Everyone at school was just as shocked as I was. It’s obvious that no one expected that from her of all people.”

“I bet.” Hanako frowns. She and Haruka had accompanied their father when picking Taro up, and everyone around was devastated. Hanako hadn’t even properly heard what had happened but the sheer dread around was enough to almost make her cry as well. “It was… unsettling picking you up that day. Especially since everyone knew what had happened except me!”

Taro shook his head. “Dad didn’t want you to overreact, I guess.” One by one, he puts the groceries up where they belong. “Which you 100% would have. I almost cried and I only knew her for a couple of days.”

“Well, duh. It’d be weirder if you didn’t feel like crying.” Hanako said, sitting down at the counter. She put her cheek in her hand and looked Taro’s way. “I bet a bunch of other students are absolutely devastated right now. And it’s not necessarily because they knew her, but because someone as bright as, ah… Amai was ending their own life just isn’t something anyone wants to hear. Imagine if they were struggling at home or something. After hearing the news, they probably feel doomed. ‘If someone as great as Amai just couldn’t do it then how can I?’”

Taro nods. “Yeah, I get it. Dread is something that affects people differently, regardless of who the person in the situation is.”

Hanako nods as well, glad that her brother understood. “So is Osana affected at all by this?” She asks, wondering about the red-head. It had been a while since she’d formally seen Osana or spoken to her. That was to be expected since the two had different lives and went to different schools.

Welcoming the change of subject, Taro smiles a bit. “Most of Osana’s friends our outside of Akademi. The only friend of hers that attended the same school as her was Raibaru, who didn’t really know Amai much either. I’m glad that the two of them aren’t too bummed out about that, though. The day before they were helping Amai’s club out with specific dishes.”

A shiver crawled down Hanako’s spine as she thought about that again. “Gosh, that really is terrifying. Imagine talking to a girl one day and finding her… well… gone the next?” She holds a hand up to her mouth as she furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to me.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Taro says, sitting down next to Hanako and laying his head on his arms on the counter. He scratches the counter softly for a moment, a displeased frown on his face. “...Hanako, uh..” He sighs, and quietly continues. “...is it… bad that I wish I hadn’t met Amai?”

Hanako raises her eyebrows, more so in interest than shock. “That depends.” She says simply, coaxing Taro to keep going.

“I don’t..” Taro groans, putting his hands on top of his head as he tried to think, which muffled his voice as he spoke up again. “...Amai was a great person. And she didn’t deserve to die. But, this whole incident is just… I guess I’m paranoid now..?”

Despite Taro struggling to explain how he was feeling, Hanako simply listens, waiting for him to piece it all together. “We met when she was trying her best to make me feel better about Osana. And I’m greatful and she did help me, but if it prevents me from feeling so conflicted or… or even better, somehow prevents Amai from taking her own life, then I’d rather we never met at all.” He mumbles.

Hanako frowns, laying her head down as well to look at him. “So you’d rather feel how you did before you met Amai then now.” She guesses, looking at her brother sympathetically.

Taro peeks out at her briefly, before burrowing his face in his arms again. After a heavy sigh he speaks up quietly. “..yeah.”

Reaching her hand over, Hanako pats her head. “I understand, Taro. You’re not in the wrong for wishing that.”

After Taro murmured a quiet ‘thank you’, Hanako noticed the sound of rain outside. Quite fitting for the overall mood. Hopefully this would help settle Taro down a bit.

He always did like the rain.

__

Bea lets out a long, exaggerated hum as she watches the rain pour outside. She spins in her chair, looking to Kokoro, who was sitting on her phone. “Guess I can’t ask Genka for that talk show for a while after this whole incident, huh?” She asks briefly, flicking her fringe of dyed hair back out of her eye, although it just fell back down again.

“Bea.” Kokoro whined, clearly wanting to say ‘you can’t say that’, but their history preventing her from doing so. “No, you can’t. If you tried to crack a joke on speaker any time this month someone will probably hit you.”

For a moment, Bea wonders if one person hitting her for being apathetic would be worth getting that talk show she wanted. Nothing big, of course. Just a quick announcement in the morning, during lunch and after cleaning time. It would help promote her app, which would also help her bring news to the school. All Bea really was good at was collecting information, so a “talk show” where she could share that information was perfect for her.

Kokoro could tell exactly what Bea was thinking and frowned at her. In return Bea only snickered. “Yeah, whatever, I get it. I’ll wait a little longer.”

After a moment of thought, Kokoro speaks up again. “...Emile could probably do it.” She says, raising her phone up to her face as Bea gave her an irritated smirk.

“Har har.” Bea rolls her eyes. Emile was another computer nerd that actively tried his best to get on people’s good side. He was still a jerk, but not as much of a jerk as Bea. And since people generalize Bea as the bigger jerk, Emile’s schemes are often overlooked. “Stupid, four-eyed freak.” She mutters. She would never admit it (because it didn’t need to be admitted), but she despised Emile. Thanks to Emile valuing reputation over fun, he’s earned Genka’s good side where it lacks for Bea.

Instead of dwelling on her friend’s nasty comment, Bea decides to think of something else. “So, what have the girls been talking about this week?” She asked, leaning her chair back as far as it could go. Rather than joining in on the gyaru’s group gossip, Bea usually just got Kokoro to tell her important things that happened since most of it was crush BS anyway.

Kokoro’s phone screen turns off as she thinks, but she still keeps it close to her, as if she were still using it. That was a habit embedded into her back in middle school. “...uh, Musume says that Scilla–”

“--it better not be anything that amounts to ‘he’s a freak’. The whole school already knows that.” Bea warned her. She reached over to grab her juice box but threw it on the other side of the room when she saw that it was empty.

“No, I mean.. Musume says that Scilla was lying about cutting Ayano.” Kokoro says, anxiously tapping her phone screen. Whenever she did that it usually meant that one of the girls found out something that they enjoyed but Kokoro was 100% against. Not that she’d ever say that.

Bea makes a low humming noise, looking suspicious. “Well, she’s wrong. A whole hallway saw him trip on her and bandage her up. What else is there to it?” She asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Kokoro twists a piece of her hair between her fingers. “...uh, Musume says that… Scilla says… that his scissors didn’t cut as deep as Ayano’s wound was. Like, there was too much blood for it to have come from his scissors, or… something.”

Bea’s eyebrows raised in interest immediately, and she almost stopped smiling in her shock. She scoffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she thinks that over. “...so by that logic, Ayano’s wound got worse somehow. But she claims that it was just from running into Scilla… which would mean that Ayano was lying.”

“Don’t… don’t say that..” Kokoro muttered, fearing Bea letting this newfound information slip. Whenever Bea thought that she had an interesting piece of gossip on her hands, she would usually go on long rants that somehow tied to ridiculous schemes. “I’m sure it was a mistake.”

Bea swats her hand at Kokoro dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s treat this like a story, then. One of them Wattpad reads.” She says, raising her hand back over her mouth. “So, hypothetically, if Ayano had lied then that implies that she has something to hide. If not, then just tell them what made the injury worse. Even if it was something embarrassing like tripping over an ant, you’d still want to tell the police so that you’re 100% clean. Y’know, an air-tight alibi.”

Kokoro frowns in disapproval and shakily speaks up. “She does have an alibi. She isn’t tied to anything.” She insists, really just hoping that Bea will drop this. “...and anyway, Amai’s case is closed. Even if Ayano was hiding something, it would have nothing to do with Amai.”

“Hmm…” Bea gives her a mischievous look. “Yeah, right, okay. I’ll just keep the fact of the matter in mind, then.” She mumbles, turning to her computer with an excited smile. “Ayano Aishi is hiding something.”