#aside from that i plan to write all day! maybe y’all will get two fics back to back! who’s to say!

[wannab-urs]

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. 

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here. 

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH. 

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

[thegurlwhoisntthere]

Okay, so I can’t believe I’m writing this, the Maribat/Daminette fandom has me by the throat so, here we are

There are a lot of fics where Damian comes to Paris and they click and he gets the Black cat miraculous for various reasons, and also a lot where Marinette goes to Gotham with generally the same outcomes, but what about a fic where Damian and his class go on a trip to Paris before Hawkmoth first attacks.

Like, he’s 13 and forced into this trip because the fam wants him to experience more than just being a vigilante and he hates it. His school has a program with Marinette’s, so at the beginning of the year they pack up and plan to spend two weeks in Paris.

This trip just so happens to coincide with when Master Fu is looking for his new Ladybug and Black Cat (y’all see where I’m going with this?)

In this Au, Adrien makes it to the school sooner and misses Master Fu because he’s testing Marinette. Adrien still gets to go to school, because he deserves happiness, but he’s able to get there the first day, and so avoids the whole gum thing that make Marinette hate him, but also sees what Chloe does to Marinette which really changes his initial perspective of school. He would definitely be a temp hero later, but he gets to enjoy being a normal rebellious teen.

Anyway, so Adrien Misses Fu, so who’s going to be the Cat? Well, Damian’s school pulls up at the same time Adrien would have.

The class stops to do a head count and give the general speech of why they’re there in front of the school and Damian’s planning on slipping away because he’s 13 and thinks this is all a waste of his time. He thinks that if he can make it back to the hotel without anyone noticing he’ll be able to make an argument that they forgot him and that he should be allowed to go home (can you see where I’m taking my inspiration from?). Unfortunately for him, Fu sees this and does his test (the fall). All his classmates don’t do anything because they’re from Gotham and are suspicious of everything (and also it’s Paris and they don’t want to be scammed) and the teachers don’t notice. Damian, however, does notice. He considers leaving anyway because it’s not his problem, but he’s been Robin for almost 3 or 4 years at this point and, contrary to what some people might say, has grown a lot. He would feel guilty and maybe even a little unworthy of Robin if he didn’t stop for 2 seconds to help this old man up.

It goes quite similarly to how it did with Adrien, he helps Fu up, but gets caught and can no longer run away from the class.

Basically, this au is a “what if Damian was The Black Cat from the start?”

I have a lot more ideas, but here’s just a few:

Damian isn’t Chat Noir, but I haven’t looked up any cat related names that he could be yet.

As the cat, Damian acts a lot more fun than he normally would allow himself. He’s not Chat Noir level, but this is the first time in his life where literally no one knows who he is and is monitoring his behavior, nor does he have anyone’s expectations on him for who he should be.

He’s initially annoyed with Ladybug, because she’s so clearly untrained, unconfident, and unprepared, but then she comes up with the plan that shows what she could be capable of, and the speech and he might have a crush, but brushes it off as grudgingly respecting her

He 100% plans on training her and their partnership is more equal than what the show portrays it as, because one of my main problems with the actual show is that chat noir, despite being her partner is often shoved aside and given the sidekick role

Damian doesn’t tell his family what’s happening. As far as they’re aware, Paris is fine. Normally he would have, but he had no time until after the fight and he really enjoyed being the cat that he’s like “I’ll tell them later” which keeps being pushed back.

At the end of the trip he somehow talks his family into letting him actually transfer to Paris so he can stay as the cat

He is baffled that this works, but they are all so happy that he’s taking an interest in something other than Robin and Superheroing that they jump on letting him before realizing that it means he’s gonna be in Paris for months.

Dick is sad about this later, so is Bruce and Alfred and the others, but he’s the most vocal about it.

Damian is also baffled that they haven’t figured out what’s going on by now and as everyday passes he gets more and more annoyed by the fact that his so called family of detectives have realized that he’s decided if they can’t figure it out, he’s not telling them.

He has not figured out that magic is preventing knowledge of this from leaving Paris and even if it didn’t, Magic is protecting his identity.

He acts annoyed by Plagg, but he actually loves him so much

His cat outfit is still fun with the ears and tail, but it’s a lot more elaborate and has a utility belt and a lot of hidden things

In fact, because it’s so elaborate, Marinette’s boring suit only stays for the first time she transforms. Once the fight finishes her little fashion designer brain can’t stop thinking about it and comes up with a new design after consulting Tikki.

Of course, she only has the idea of the costume down, because by the time they finalize it, she sees the news and has her depression moment, so the first time she wears it is when she saves Alya.

Due to this first change, her outfit would constantly be changing throughout her time as Ladybug, as she learns more about fighting and what she’s comfortable with, as well as what’s actually possible with magic and the miraculous.

By the end of the year her firs are going to be crazy (wait till she finds out she can change her actual eyes (both color and the pupils and-) hair colors and length)

She will eventually bully Damian into making some changes but he’s generally happy with the first design.

They also know each others identities a lot sooner because Damian actually knows the benefits and his cold logic is able to cut through a lot of her anxiety.

It still doesn’t happen until at least the second season tho.

Y’all I have so much more, but this is getting long and I’ve got things to do so tell me if u want more or feel free to add your own ideas!!!

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[lesbia-with-her-sparrow]

Weblena week day 1: Across the world

A Free Trial of Love

Hi, Andie here! This is my first time posting my writing online, so I’m kinda super excited & nervous about it. This fic was inspired by the song Tourist: a love song from Paris by Paint. You don’t have to listen to it to understand, but you know, credit where credit is due and all that. Also, this gets into the trauma Lena & Webby would have from their childhoods, so if that’s something that might be triggering or otherwise emotionally difficult for you to read, feel free to skip this one. Thanks for reading, I hope y’all enjoy!

If Lena asked, their surprise trip to Paris had been completely spontaneous. If anyone else asked, Webby had been secretly planning it for months.

When they had met, Webby had barely left the mansion, let alone Duckburg, and Lena had told her she ought to go to Paris sometime. Now, she’d been all the around the globe, except there. It was a perfect opportunity, one that her horrible (yet also paradoxically kind) brothers helped her take advantage of.

Which left Webby, tapping her fingers nervously on the armrests of her chair as she sat next to Lena on the family plane, Dewey in the pilot’s seat and Huey sitting shotgun holding a map and a navigational skills badge, a proud smile slipping onto his beak. Louie was there too, somewhere, probably napping in the cargo hold or something.

“So, Pink, you gonna tell me where we’re heading?” Lena asked for what was probably the fifth time that day.

Webby shook her head emphatically. “Nope. Not until we get there.”

“You’re really gonna keep a secret from your best friend?”

“Mmm hmm,” Webby said, squirming in her chair.

It was a very long flight.

It was honestly kind of impressive, Dewey’s ability to stay focused on flying for nearly seven hours straight—he couldn’t even keep his train of thought long enough to win a game of tic tac toe. Even more impressive was his ability to do so with Lena pestering him and Huey every few minutes to ask where they were going.

Eventually they landed on a runway of one of Paris’ less busy airports, after a long and quite confusing conversation with air traffic control.

But hey, they made it, and that was what was important. They were here, in Paris, one of Lena’s favorite cities in the world, and it was just the two of them! And Webby’s brothers, but they would be leaving fairly soon, if the Parisian authorities were to be taken seriously.

Together, they stepped out of the plane and into the mid-afternoon light. It always took Webby’s eyes time to adjust, but she found it had the opposite effect of leaving a movie theater. It was like coming into the light of the screen, leaving her life of mundanities behind and joining the heroes in a bright, beautiful world of adventure.

The weather was pleasantly warm, a soft breeze tumbling through quietly and ruffling their feathers. The pink tips of Lena’s hair blew aside gently in a way that made Webby’s heart lurch. In a totally platonic way, of course. Or maybe not? She wasn’t really sure. Webby didn’t know what it was like to have friends before the boys, and they became her siblings. Maybe normal friendship felt like this, but how would she hope to know?

Lena grabbed her hand confidently, and she felt like she might melt. It was strange, maybe because she was a shadow being without blood to warm her up, but Lena’s hand was always cool to the touch. Webby didn’t mind, though. The way Lena’s hand felt—soft and smooth and cool, slightly damp—didn’t feel clammy, it felt like clay, like their hands had been perfectly molded to fit together.

“Okay, I’ve got it. You took me to a crummy airport,” Lena said sarcastically. “Where are we really?”

But Webby didn’t answer then, either. Instead, she adjusted her grasp even tighter and started running, dragging a very confused Lena behind. She didn’t even know where she was going, only that if they ran long enough, they’d eventually find something Lena would recognize, something beautiful and warm.

They stopped when they reached a wide road that obstructed their path, brimming with bright yellow taxis and colorful dots of cars.

A few yards away was the exit of the airport, flooded with tacky looking tourists and put-together businessmen shouting in French. Lena seemed to prick up at that, and her eyes went wide as she realized where they were.

“Are we—”

“You guys could’ve at least brought your luggage with if you were gonna run off,” came Louie’s voice from behind them, along with various grunts and heaving sounds from the other two boys. “Now they’re barely able to hold my stuff.”

Webby looked behind her, and sure enough, Huey and Dewey were dragging six suitcases between the two of them (Webby had packed two—it was better to over prepare than to pack light and find yourself without a grappling hook when you really needed one.) while Louie held nothing but a single concealed poster board.

“What’s that?” Webby asked as she took her luggage from where Dewey had swung it over his shoulders.

“Just a little heist I have planned. Ask anything more and you could be considered an accomplice.”

The less she knew, the better, especially where Della and Uncle Donald were concerned. And the police, she supposed, but really, Webby could handle herself in a standard interrogation, and she had a feeling Lena could too. You only get away with living by yourself for twelve years without public education by being pretty good at evading the police.

It really was a beautiful city. Webby watched through the taxi window, entranced, as they drove to the hotel they were staying at. If she’d turned around, she would have seen that Lena was watching not the sights of the city but her expression, a soft smile at Webby’s unrestrained wonder and awe.

The hotel was stunning as well. Webby had called in a favor with Goldie and managed to get them a room at one of her luxury hotels. A grand babbling fountain sat in the center of the marble-floored lobby, its undulating light reflected in the twinkling of the chandelier that hung above it. Large canvas oil paintings filled the walls, no doubt just as expensive as some of the ones housed in France’s most famous museums.

There was also an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, a hot tub, a gym, tennis courts, and a large dining area for free breakfast and even an evening charcuterie. Webby had lived in a mansion her whole life and she was still impressed. Lena, who’d spent a good deal of time living in a single room beneath an old broken amphitheater, was positively glowing.

A few minutes later, while Webby was speaking to the concierge, she heard the sliding glass doors move open and three sets of webbed feet enter the building.

“Woah! Is this what rich people live like?”

“We live in a literal mansion. We’re rich now too, dumbass.”

“Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not? Uncle Donald’s not here.”

“Seriously, guys, look at this place. Not a single cockroach in sight. And there’s an elevator and everything!”

Webby turned around to see Huey desperately holding back Dewey as he tried to run towards the fountain, then turned back to the concierge.

“We’re friends of the owner, Miss. O’Gilt,” she explained.

“I’m sure,” he replied, eyeing the five of them with distaste. “Let me call her.”

One phone call later, and they were in a big room with south-facing windows, a California king sized bed, a flat screen TV to match, and even a little kitchenette area. They couldn’t see the Eiffel Tower, but Webby took solace in knowing it was there, waiting for her to have sudden clarity about her relationship with Lena, followed by a dramatic display of… something.

Lena walked straight past everything and stood out on the terrace, looking out at the streets below. It wasn’t the prettiest view—just the parking lot and some of the buildings across the street, but it had a certain foreign charm in its unfamiliarity. Webby couldn’t wait to explore.

“Why’d you take me here?” Lena asked as Webby approached.

“You said I should go to Paris when we first met,” Webby said.

“Yeah, but why like this? Why now?”

Webby wasn’t quite sure she knew how to answer that question. “Why not?”

Lena sighed and turned around, leaning against the railing but facing their hotel room. “I don’t want to ruin your vacation.”

There was a plaintive air between them as they stood on that terrace, wind in their hair, facing opposite directions as though that might make the conversation easier.

“I don’t want you to hold it all in,” Webby said quietly. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just—it reminds me of my past. And like, back then, that was my happiest moment, but all my moments were so much worse than even my lowest ones here with you and Vi, and I—I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.”

Webby moved so she was standing directly in front of Lena, looking her in the eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But maybe we could face your fears together?”

But Lena just smiled sadly. “You can’t beat up trauma, Pink.”

“Okay, maybe we can’t get rid of all the bad memories you associate with this place, but we could at least make some good ones,” Webby said. “That way, next time you think of Paris, it won’t all be bad.”

Lena shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Webby extended her hand, and Lena took it, so she led her back into the room. She had planned for them to relax for a night before hitting the big city the next day. There was something sort of nice in it; they didn’t need to be halfway across the world to watch TV in bed, and yet it was such an excitement, such a warm sort of comfort.

It was late at night, the lights were off, the room only lit by the soft glow of the other buildings that surrounded them. Maybe it was that they were thousands of miles away from their normal lives, but Webby felt something in her tongue loosen, like she would tell Lena anything if she only asked the right questions. Being in a hotel room with your best friend at night is a sacred place—a place for secrets, a place for questions, a place for discoveries.

“What did you do?” Webby found herself asking. “Before you met me?”

From the other side of the bed, Lena gave what might’ve been a shrug. It was hard to tell when she was lying down. “Travelled, mostly. Magica’s power ebbed and flowed with the phases of the moon, so I had some time where I could mostly do what I wanted. And some where I had to spend every waking minute trying to find Scrooge or restore her power.”

“So that concert you went to?”

“That was during a new moon.” Lena sighed happily. “And—a lot of people don’t know this, but I’m sure you do since you’re such a super-genius—the moon’s orbit around the earth is actually elliptical, so it was during one of those stretches when it was at its farthest away. And I think mercury hadn’t gone into retrograde yet; that sort of celestial stuff affects her powers too.”

“I actually, um, didn’t know that,” Webby admitted. “Granny taught me all kinds of things she thought a good spy ought to know, but some stuff was kind of… skipped over. I mean, I learned my solar system, but Granny always said I was never ever allowed to go into space, so I wouldn’t need to know about it. I assumed it was her usual overprotectiveness until Della.”

“You know, you don’t act like it, but the way Tea Time raised you was kinda messed up. And that’s coming from me, the pinnacle of averse childhood experiences. I mean, locking you up in the mansion with her as your only source of information about the outside world? That’s kinda controlling, don’t you think?”

“Oh, that was only because of F.O.W.L. If they’d found out I existed—"

Lena cut her off. “I don’t think they were traversing Duckburg’s elementary schools looking for child who might’ve been Scrooge’s clone. You would’ve been fine.”

“Well maybe you think Granny watched me too much because Magica watched you too little,” Webby said, a tad defensively. Okay, maybe a lot defensively. But Webby loved her family and couldn’t stand to see it scrutinized. Besides, she didn’t like thinking about what it would mean for her if she hadn’t been raised in the way she ought to have been.

“Okay, so maybe we’re on opposite ends of the bad parenting spectrum. I still know what an over-controlling parent looks like, by the way, Magica literally possessed me a few times. All I’m saying is, you know, maybe we both went through some stuff and maybe we can figure it out together. Besides, I don’t think either of us really had the chance to develop any kind of social skills, so we’re probably not gonna have much of a friend repository to dip into. We gotta stay close, you know?”

“Yeah.” Cautiously, as though approaching a sleeping lion, Webby leaned closer until she and Lena were laying flush beside each other, Webby’s head on Lena’s shoulder and Lena’s arm draped around her. It wasn’t their first time sharing a bed—they’d had plenty of sleepovers before—but Webby had always been careful to give Lena her space. She sometimes flinched away when people tried to touch her, and Webby didn’t want to do anything that might make her uncomfortable.

But Lena just wrapped her arm around Webby tighter, and the two cuddled together as though they might be able to protect each other from all the horrors the world had to offer.

Webby woke up the next day in France, and by the time she remembered where she was, she had already leaped out of bed and scanned the room for potential threats. And okay, so that maybe wasn’t indicative of a normal childhood experience, but that was the fault of other kids’ parents for not preparing their kids enough. The first time Huey, Dewey, and Louie were kidnapped, they were utterly useless in getting out—and they weren’t nearly the shining standard for normal kids as they pretended to be. Checking a room for potential exits, entrances, hiding places, and bugs wasn’t paranoia, that was just plain smart.

You just had to be raised differently when you were a clone made of Scrooge McDuck’s DNA, and if that was anybody’s fault, it’d be Webby’s.

From the bed, Lena looked up. “You expectin’ to fight somebody, Pink?” She asked sleepily.

Webby looked back, slightly embarrassed, and opened her beak to respond, but Lena had already fallen back asleep. She looked adorable, her beak hanging open, drooling on the pillow a bit, a chunk of pink-dyed hair hanging over her face as the rest stood at awkward angles. With Webby out of bed, she had seemingly taken it upon herself to fill as much of the empty space as possible, and lay with her limbs sprawled on either side like a starfish.

Webby memorized every detail of Lena in that beautifully messy state and left to take a shower.

Webby had never been one for long showers. It was a waste of time really, and not a good one since it left you at your most vulnerable. When you’re sleeping, you can keep a gun under the pillow for safety (a knife is really a bad idea for multiple reasons), and it’s pretty easy to keep a dagger hidden under the waistband of your skirt, but the shower is too slippery to safely hide weapons, and you don’t even have clothes to protect yourself.

But the water was warm and pleasant, and who would think to look for them in France of all places anyway? Even as Webby felt guilt for not being as vigilant as her granny taught her to be, she felt it slide easily off her back, dripping off her tail-feathers and into the drain below. That was why it made that gurgling sound, she liked to pretend sometimes. That was the sound of all her guilt and fears and anxiety being ground into dust and eventually, nothing at all. Of course she knew it made no sense, but Webby had always been a rather imaginative child, and the idea had held a certain poetic charm she had been reticent to get rid of.

Surprisingly, Lena was actually awake and moving by the time Webby returned, fully dressed, from her shower. Webby had woken up later than usual, but she had assumed the jet lag would equally affect her and Lena, who usually slept in much later than her. Perhaps being made of shadows made you less susceptible to jet lag, though it was often hard to tell what was a shadow magic thing and what was just a Lena thing. It didn’t help that Lena didn’t know either.

Currently, she sat at the edge of the bed, fully dressed though with her hair uncombed, pointing at the TV with the remote in hand. “Hey Pink, come check this out.”

It was some French news station, though text scrolled through with English captions. It seemed some small but expensive sculpture had been taken from the Louvre, and nobody had any idea who it was. Nobody but them, that was. Webby was sure Huey, Dewey, and Louie would be taking off soon, if they hadn’t already, and something new would be joining them for the trip. She wasn’t going to ask about it; the less she knew the better.

That is, until her phone vibrated and she saw she had a message from Louie.

Louie-Inc: hey we’re leaving rn

Louie-Inc: had a good time hanging out in ur room all night 😉

“Hey Lena,” Webby called into the room. “If anyone asks, Louie was with us last night.”

“Yeah, whatever. He’s lucky I don’t like being a narc,” Lena replied.

But whatever the boys had done to cover their tracks proved to be working because by the time Webby and Lena finished their free hotel breakfast and left the building to do some sightseeing, not a single cop was in sight. It probably helped that they were staying in one of Goldie’s hotels. She probably had all kinds of procedures in place if the police arrived.

The Louvre was understandably closed, but there were plenty of other places, and Webby preferred history museums anyway. Like one that had a still-working guillotine from the French Revolution. It’s blade was ancient, brittle and corroded from years of use and open-air storage.

The day was bright with possibility. Most areas of the city were overwhelmingly crowded with tourists, but Webby’s interests were esoteric enough and Lena knew her way around that they were able to avoid some of the worst spots. She even found a cheap hole-in-the-wall cafe that didn’t seem to serve nearly as many of the wealthy tourists that clogged the streets.

Lena sat with her elbows propped on the table, stabbing her salad rather aggressively with a fork. She had never been taught proper dining, of course. Neither had the boys, who tended to wolf anything in front of them down so quickly you could hardly tell if they’d been using the right spoon for each dish. Webby wished she could do that, to find pleasure in simple things like eating without having to follow a thousand rules. That was what she liked about hamburgers—there wasn’t a fancy way to eat them, the very idea was antithetical to the life hamburgers represented.

Webby briefly checked her sandwich and drink for signs of poisoning. Old habits die hard, you know.

“You know,” Lena said, ignoring the way Webby scraped pieces of bread into a mysterious vial of clear liquid and shook it. It didn’t change color. “I haven’t seen much of this city during the day. It’s nice.”

Webby heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re still having a good time. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have just brought you here unannounced.”

“Yeah, I mean, I keep getting this weird anxiety? Like, I keep feeling on edge, waiting for Magica’s next order, but like, it’s not coming. It’s kinda hard to convince myself I’m free sometimes. It just doesn’t seem like this could possibly be real—I keep waiting for the bad part,” Lena replied.

“There doesn’t have to be a bad part,” Webby pointed out.

For some reason, Lena just laughed. “You know, your constant optimism is a good match to my fatalistic cynicism. Together, we just might make a reasonable outlook on the world.”

“I think there’s a lot of things we could do together.”

Internally, Webby panicked. Why did she say that? Why did she say that? Why did she say that? Why did she say—

“Why’d you really bring me here, Pink?” Lena asked.

“Oh, no reason.” Webby stuffed her sandwich in her mouth so she’d stop talking.

“Oh come on, we’re all the way across the world. If you say something you regret, we can just blame it on the altitude or something.”

“I thought I might maybe like you in a romantic way, but I’m not really sure because I don’t know what a crush is even supposed to feel like so I wanted to use this trip to try to figure it out,” Webby said, all in one breath.

Lena stared back in shock. Webby felt bad. This trip had to be a lot for her emotionally. So much for a chill, relaxing vacation. Lena stabbed at her salad thoughtfully, methodically, until she sawed a crouton in half.

Finally, she said, “How about this: for the rest of the vacation, we act like we’re dating. No one else has to know, and you can decide if you like me or not.”

“What about you?” Webby asked.

“I don’t have much experience in this area either. I think we could both use a little free trial to figure out our feelings.”

“Deal,” Webby said, and as they left the restaurant, she took Lena’s hand and interlaced their fingers together, as though punctuating her declaration with it.

There was something freeing in the idea that it was just the two of them, alone to struggle and be awkward where nobody they cared about would ever possibly see them. It took off the pressure of them doing things the correct way, whatever that was. Maybe Webby should have read more romance novels to figure it out.

Lena smiled at her, and her shoulders seemed to loosen a bit. Despite her laidback appearances, Lena was rarely relaxed. But when she smiled—like, really, genuinely smiled, it was one of the most beautiful things Webby had ever seen, soft and understated and delicate, like a flower that was crumbled but refused to die just yet. Webby had been chasing that smile ever since Lena let her explode that fist bump on the night they met.

As they walked down the street, leaning into each other’s bodies in the way a real couple would, Webby felt something fragile grow between them. Just two scared girls who had to toughen up against a world that refused to learn how to love them, too afraid to acknowledge what was blooming in the cracks of their iron casing for fear that it may fall dead yet.

It wasn’t fair, but nobody had ever told either of them that life would be.

When they got back to the hotel to freshen up a bit before heading back out, the police were waiting for them. Perhaps Lena had been right, and this was the bad part catching up with them. It was almost relieving in a way; people feel more comfortable in familiar situations, even if that means actively seeking out stress because it’s all they’ve ever known.

“This isn’t anything we can’t handle, innit that right, Englabeth?” Lena said in her atrocious British accent.

“Oh, indubitably so, Britannica,” Webby replied, and it was the last thing either of them said before they were separated at the station, sent into two different interrogation rooms.

The room Webby was placed in was dull and gray. She knew it was because she was supposed to be questioned in a neutral location, but it couldn’t hurt to spice up the decor a bit. She’d found that her stuffed animal interrogations had been just as effective in a genteel tea party setting. The least they could do was get her some juice.

But instead, they just slapped a rather embarrassingly thin dossier down on the table as though they might scare the girl who’d faced down gods.

“You came here with one Llewelyn Duck, oui?” The officer, a stout bear with a young determination in his eyes asked.

“Oui,” Webby replied, but that was it. The secret to situations like these was to say as little as possible without being considered uncooperative. But you had to be careful—you couldn’t let them think you knew more than you were letting on.

“Was it planned that he would exit the country now and leave you behind?”

“Oui.” Webby pulled out her phone and scrolled back on her group chat with her and the boys. “See?”

Webster: soooo if I could get some alone time with Lena that’d be neat

Lets-Dewey-This!!: ur finally gonna ask her out right

Webster: idk maybe? idk

Louie-Inc: u absolute useless lesbian talk to her

Webster: idk how I feel? About me? And Lena? It’s confusing??

Huey-Duck: We told you we would help you with any social problems you might be experiencing. I can say objectively, scientifically, you have a crush on Lena.

Lets-Dewey-This!!: ^^^^^

Louie-Inc: we’ll leave early if u talk to her

Webster: fine

“Hmm,” the investigator said. “And where was he last night?”

“In our room. He was trying to be my wingman,” Webby answered.

“We’ll take a look at the hotel’s security footage. You can go,” the man said.

Webby didn’t bother trying to warn Louie. There was no way he hadn’t already called in a favor with Goldie and gotten the footage erased. And Goldie, the sap, had probably already done it. She could pretend she was a lone wolf all she wanted, but she’d do anything for Louie. And she was starting to warm up to the others too. Hence them having the hotel room in the first place.

When she got out, Lena was waiting for her in the lobby.

“Wow, you got out even faster than I did,” Webby said, impressed.

“I said I had diplomatic immunity as a representative of the shadow realm, then I turned into a shadow and dipped out,” Lena explained.

“Do you think the shadow realm has to follow international laws or is it out of jurisdiction?” Webby asked.

“I mean, it’s not a member of the UN, so what are they gonna do about it?”

Webby shrugged. “Probably whatever they decide to do about the Moonlanders.”

Lena considered that a moment. “God, this is why I hate politics.”

“I love politics!” Webby exclaimed involuntarily. Then, because she could, she added, “I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

Lena laughed. “I hope you’re not breaking it off this early. Our first date was at a police precinct. God, it makes me sick just thinking it about. We gotta do something rebellious tonight to wash the stench of authority off us.”

That night, Lena took Webby to her first ever rave. Everywhere she went, there were dancing bodies and blaring music, drums so loud they forced her heart to beat along. They stayed at the edge of the action, not wanting to risk getting trampled, but even that was pretty overwhelming. Colored lights blinked in and out, neon pinks and blues and purples. The energy of the crowd was electric; every time the DJ spoke into his mic they screamed, though it wasn’t entirely clear to Webby what they were yelling for.

Webby liked dancing with Lena, at least. She didn’t really know how, but there seemed to be a lot of jumping involved, and she was pretty good at that. Sometimes, she’d launch herself off the ground just high enough to see above the crowd, the wave of people all dancing along to the music. Her head felt so stuffed with noise that she could hardly think. Lena, for one, looked happy about it.

Not that she was dumb or anything, just, she was able to clear her head in a way Webby might never manage. She liked watching Lena like this, at one with the music. Sometimes, the crowd forced them to dance so close, Webby thought they might kiss. Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or anxiety. Maybe that was part of the appeal.

The lights flashed. The music blared. All the bodies pressed in, in, in. And suddenly Webby found herself a hair’s breadth from Lena, their beaks nearly touching in the dark. Webby had never noticed how blue her eyes were. Lena reached behind her and pulled her in tight, protecting her against the crowd. Webby wrapped her arms around Lena’s neck and swayed, and it must’ve seemed so silly to an outsider, to see these two lovesick teens slow dancing at a rave.

“Let’s get outta here,” Lena said into her ear, and all Webby could do was nod and hope the darkness covered her rising blush.

They ended the night with a classic case of breaking and entering. It wasn’t anything terribly exciting, just stepping over the fence of a park that was closed. Webby always thought that was strange anyway, for parks to have hours. Nature wasn’t a thing that could be fenced in and shut down each night.

It was nice out; the cool, fresh air was a needed break from all the sweat of the rave. There weren’t many stars out, though Webby found it comforting enough to know that they were still there, just behind all the light pollution of the city. It was a new moon too, so the sky was nothing but inky blackness, stretching endlessly on.

“I wish for a blessing to follow Lena and me to the next cycle,” Webby said as they walked. Every once in a while there was a break in the trees, and she would stare up at the penetrating darkness, the moon in shadow.

Maybe that was why Magica’s powers were so low during this time. There was no light on earth for shadows to be cast by.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked.

“There’s a superstition that if you don’t ask for a blessing on a new moon, bad luck will follow you for the next month,” Webby explained.

“Don’t you know the goddess of the moon? Can’t Selene just give you blessings like, whenever?”

“There’s more to the world than gods and goddesses,” Webby said like it was obvious. Didn’t Lena know that? “There’s also spirits and cosmic forces that guide and shape the universe through our actions, not their own. A new moon represents wiping the slate clean, giving yourself a new beginning. You have to ask for a blessing because the spiritual realm is resetting itself, giving you another chance at connecting with it, following the path Fate laid out for you.”

“You’re kinda something else, aren’t you, Pink?”

They continued the path in pleasant silence. It wasn’t like Webby to just stop talking, especially when she was nervous, but she found that her anxieties wore down until she was enveloped in a sense of calm. Maybe it was remembering that her life lay in the palm of Fate, and that while Fate could be cruel, She always saw fit to give a sort of poetic justice in the end. Or maybe it really was that blessing coming through.

They stopped at a bridge overlooking a large body of water. Bridges were very supernatural too, of course. They represented the pathways between one realm and the next.

Lena sat on the railing, her legs dangling over the edge. She looked out at the small ripping waves, mostly dark but sparkling ever-so-slightly in the reflected light of the city. Webby sat next to her.

“I’m not very good at feelings,” Lena said suddenly. “But Webby, I—” She turned her head away and took a deep breath. “I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Aww, Lena, that’s—”

“But sometimes I just feel… I feel selfish, because you’re the most compassionate, wonderful person in the world and I—I put you in danger for my freedom. And I know you forgive me, but… you deserve the perfect girlfriend and I don’t know if that’s me.” She paused. “I want it to be. And if you choose to go through with this then I promise I’ll try so hard to be the person you deserve, but—I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

Maybe it was a bit insensitive, but Webby actually laughed. “Can’t you see? You are the perfect girl for me! Don’t you see the way I’m more confident? I’ve loosened up and learned to think for myself and not just blindly follow whatever I’ve been told to do. Lena, that’s all you.”

A small smile pricked at the corners of Lena’s beak. “A noble teen ne’er do well, huh?”

Webby gripped the railing tightly with one hand, and with the other reached out, held Lena’s face in her hand. “And a beautiful idiot too.”

Webby wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, enveloped in the dark, black night they were kissing, and it felt like magic spreading from the tip of her beak to the rest of her body. It was everything she had ever dreamed of. It was nothing she’d ever expected.

There they were in Paris, France, not on the Eiffel Tower but on a graffitied bridge in a closed park, kissing for the first time. They hadn’t even reached the end of their free trial of a relationship yet, but Webby had a pretty good feeling about where it was heading. For now, she relished in the secrecy, in the fact that it was something just for them. Just two scared girls, on the other side of the planet, letting the cracks in their carefully constructed walls burst wide open.

Just two scared girls, on the other side of the planet, falling in love.

[jolynej]

I’m Not in Love

Summary: You and Prosciutto, both determined to keep things casual, are sent out on a mission to eliminate a target, but something goes wrong and you end up hurt, forcing Prosciutto to come to terms with his feelings

A/N: I started this weeks ago, but have been so busy that I haven’t had time to properly finish it until now! I’m a very slow writer, and I struggle with creating longer fics that exceed 1k words, so this was a huge labor of love! I hope that y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: heavily implied nsft, violence, guns, minor character death, blood, Prosciutto being a bit of an asshole, fainting

You both told each other when you made this arrangement that it was strictly physical and that you were only doing this out of convenience and carnal desire. Sure, he’s very attractive, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about lingering in bed and pretending that you’re still asleep if only to savor his body heat and the weight of his arm across your torso for a few more minutes. But you couldn’t possibly cross that line.

The lives that both you led didn’t allow for the luxury of developing and maintaining romantic — or any, really — relationships that were outside of your work. You’d lost friends and family members to the steady passage of time and lack of communication. It came with the territory of the job, and though you’d tried to justify your drifting relationships by assuring yourself that it was done to protect those you used to hold close, you knew that was just an excuse you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

The initial adjustment to your new job was tough in that aspect, but Prosciutto, aside from being your mentor, slowly became a comfort and a confidant for your bouts of anxiety and late night regrets of leaving your old life behind. You’d joined him outside at night on the balcony of the hideout plenty of times. He would self-soothe with cigarettes, exhaling out his demons in the shape of a puff of smoke whilst he listened to you reminisce on your happier, less bloody days.

“It’s a damn shame you’re so good at you job,” he’d told you one particular night, when the orange and white city lights below cast a bright glow over his sharp features; yet simultaneously, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, and the shadows beneath those jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline made him look far older than he was. Prosciutto looked beautiful as he did horrible.

You just shook your head and smirked, inquiring, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Kid, there were many different paths that you could’ve picked from,” He stops briefly to take a drag of his cigarette. “But this is what you opted for.” The blond flicked his cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his oxfords, answering with, “All I’m saying is that you had your whole life ahead of you, and instead of getting a normal, decent job, you decided that this was worth the Louboutins and those diamond earrings of yours.”

“It’s good that it ended up working out for you.”

His compliments were usually pretty backhanded, but you could tell that this wasn’t just because of his usual condescending behavior. He seemed almost... sad and guilty, but then again, it could just be from the shadows on his face exaggerating his features.

“I’m glad you’re damn good at your job, too,” you remarked, leaning against the railing, savoring in the feeling of the warm, summer night wind caressing your face.

Soon, you found the touch against your cheeks was replaced by his calloused fingers and then his lips, giving birth to a routine that would continue every-so-often: you’d join him outside at night and would wake up in bed next to him in a tangle of limbs and satin sheets.

Maybe it was only natural that you and him would end up growing closer and more intimate.

—

This little arrangement between the two of you continues, and with each time you bare yourself to him, you struggle with your developing feelings. After you had slept together that first night — before you had a real chance to give yourself a proper chance to evaluate your own feelings �� he assured you that the prior night’s events had meant nothing to him, that it was a mistake. He apologized, confessing that the rendezvous had stemmed from a place of pent up arousal and convenience and that it wouldn’t happen again.

That’s what he’d said the second, and third, time too. But by the fourth time, you’d both decided to become ‘coworkers with benefits’ as you’d so eloquently put it. It’s purely out of physical need and mutual trust and nothing else. There’s no time for romance.

—

The following spring, you were sent out together to a job on the coast, and were given a shared room at a hotel near the warehouse where your target was supposedly going to be tonight. The assignment had worked in your favor, you’d both arrive mid-morning, have time to scout out the location, go back to the room for a quick fuck, then proceed to the location, clean up, and spend the night between the sheets until you both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“The target should be on location this evening,” he informs you casually as he’s sliding on his trousers, as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the mattress. He gives his watch a quick glance before speaking again. “Which gives us approximately an hour before we need to head out.”

You nod, reaching for your clothes — his hand stops you, grasping your wrist. “Let me clean you up first,” he says, briefly locking eyes with you, before averting his gaze just as quickly. “If you’re going out you should at least be comfortable.”

While Prosciutto walks off to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water and a washcloth, you look down at your naked body. Your combined releases dribble down your thighs, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the sticky, wet sensation on your lower body.

He’s back approximately a minute later, the glass is set upon the nightstand, and he’s kneeling, still shirtless, at your feet with the wet washcloth in hand. He cleans you up in relative silence, and the intimacy and vulnerability in this situation is not lost on either of you. It hangs around like a heavy fog that both of you desperately try to ignore, hoping that it’ll dissipate.

Under different circumstances, you’d love to be able to cradle his chin in your hand and confess every single romantic thought that you’d ever held for him, and in turn, he’d press tender kisses up your thighs, and trade the rag for his tongue, cleaning you up with a few slow licks. Instead, you give him a curt, ‘thank you’ and get dressed.

Your little trysts were littered with subtle, more domestic moments like this one where you wanted to push the boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate when you’re in a friends-with-benefits situation with your coworker. Even without the romance that you so desperately craved, there was still a strong sense of intimacy and familiarity with each ‘Was I too rough?’ or ‘You can sleep in here tonight’ that could only stem from a certain level of trust and comfort.

The rest of the time leading up to your assignment was spent going over your plan of attack and working out any loose ends or confusion on either side, and as he spoke, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to travel down to his plush lips and the exposed patch of skin from his half-buttoned blouse that, when he shifted at a certain angle, allowed for you to catch a glimpse of a dark red bruise where your lips had been.

You were passing the threshold, the imaginary line. You’d stepped on it, gotten it stuck to your feet, and try as you may to deny its presence and scrub it clean from your skin — you could scrub it raw, until you bled — it wasn’t something you could erase.

As he’s stepping out of the hotel room, you glance back to ask him if he’s ready, but you’re caught off guard by the buttons of his shirt. They’re all closed completely save for a lone button rendering the bruise no longer visible. Inquisitively, the blond quirks up an eyebrow, silently asking if there’s a problem.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” you sigh, matching your stride with his as you both exit the hotel and journey to the warehouse.

The target doesn’t show as planned, much to your and Prosciutto's dismay and annoyance. You had both searched the large building and its surroundings as thoroughly as possible but still the target hasn’t made an appearance. There aren’t even any hidden clues as to where he’s run off to. As pissed as you both felt in that moment — you were cursing to yourself and your partner was leaning against a metal structure with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth — Risotto was going to be absolutely furious.

Unlike most contracts where you were paid after the deed or half before and half after, the client had paid a hefty sum up front and with a dark leer he was insistent that the job be completed as soon as possible. Something deep within you knew that he would not be the type of man whose bad side you’d like to be on.

Defeated and angry, you both decided to bite the bullet and head back to the hotel to inform your superior of the unfortunate situation. Just outside of the hotel, Prosciutto glances over at a payphone on the street corner.

“Go on inside and shower and eat, kid, I’ll talk to Risotto.”

“Are you sure? We can speak to him together, or I can just sp—“ He cut you off with a hand patting your cheek, gently thumbing your skin. He was stressed and so were you.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he manages a tiny half-smile. “I’ve got it.”

Yeah, you are stressed as all hell, but at least you didn’t have to be at the receiving end of Risotto’s wrath — for tonight anyway. Thinking about Prosciutto opting to do so in your stead and acting out of concern for you sends a cacophony of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He has always looked out for you ever since you’d joined, but this was something more than just him looking out for a junior member of his team. There was no way that he’d touch Formaggio or even Pesci like that, with such a pure tenderness that leaves your skin tingling from where his fingers were.

Making your way up the stairs to your shared room, the sensation of butterflies immediately flees from your stomach and instead, an eerie, insidious feeling begins to tiptoe up your spine, and you get the sense that something is very, very wrong.

One of the hall lights has gone out, and the other is flickering in random spasms as it emits a faint buzz. With each step towards your door, the broken light fixture seems to dim and buzz louder until it makes one final loud screech and dies completely the moment that you touch the door handle, and as soon as your fingers gripped the metal handle, an overpowering jolt of electricity fizzles throughout your entire body, sending you doubling over in pain, desperately croaking out for your stand as you fall to the dingy carpet.

The world around you seemed to morph into blackness and little snippets of sounds — you weren’t sure if you were still awake or if you’d lost consciousness — but you clung onto what you could decipher to the best of your ability. Static, the plodding footfall of someone running on carpet with urgency, the unmistakable click of a gun, a heavy thud, then silence.

You crane your head and espy a familiar pair of oxfords, and with a sigh of relief you feel your eyes grow heavy.

—

You come-to in the backseat of a car, and if it weren’t for the intensity of the events before you passed out, you would’ve happily shut your eyes to the steady thrum of the car speeding down the road. A bubble of panic rises up your throat, throwing your senses in overdrive as you carefully assess your surroundings. You find that a suit jacket has been draped over you like a makeshift blanket, and the familiar scent of cologne, tobacco, and cigarette-smoke is an instant relief.

Looking up, you find Prosciutto is in the driver’s seat of the car with a plain, white tank top in the place of his button-up. The bones of his knuckles are prominent due to the strain and force of his grip on the steering wheel, and they’re dotted with specks of red that extend up to his forearms.

There’s an evident scowl on his lips, which are scabbed and bloody from worrying teeth marks and not from — what you can safely assume given the sound you’d heard earlier — a gunshot to the man that had been in your hotel room.

“The target was dealt with,” he says upon seeing you awake, and he disguises it with a cough, but his entire face softens with a relieved sigh. The visible tension in his bulging veins on his forearms eases along with the death-grip that he has on the steering wheel; Prosciutto settles one hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out on the fabric of his trousers, feeling for something in his pocket — cigarettes most likely. He’s still antsy and tense, alternating between his hands on the wheel to search his other pocket.

You have a myriad of questions wreaking havoc on your brain, which is still a bit fuzzy from the electricity and has brought on a dull headache. With the blazer clenched tightly to your chest, you fiddle around until you find a pack of his smokes and pull them out, holding them in the air with a dopey, lopsided grin that says ‘lookee here!’. It earns a playful eye roll and a smirk from Prosciutto who brings his hand back to take them from you.

When you offer the box up, your fingers brush, and you swear that he leaves his hand extended towards you a moment longer than necessary. The sensation sends a full-body chill through your veins.

“Put the coat on, kid, I don’t want you freezing up and getting sick in the car.” He’s staring straight out at the road, but you know the sentiment is there, beneath the layer of sweat and blood there’s worry. “Go back to sleep,” he orders in that gravelly, stern but caring tone of his that he uses on you when he gives you orders, and only you. In a way, it’s not that much different from how he talks in bed, and the familiarity has you warm all over. God, you’re in love with this man.

“I’ll wake you up in about an or two, capisce?”

—

You’re awoken by Prosciutto opening the door of the backseat and calling your name. You can barely see him, he’s almost a dark, looming figure in the night. The sky in the countryside is worlds away from the city skyline that you’re accustomed to. Behind him, there’s a sea of twinkling stars, and the bright crescent moon hangs proudly behind his head like a half-halo, and he appears to you like a fallen angel, still clinging on desperately to something good and holy that someone like him does not deserve. In his right hand, he holds a shovel, and his arms and face and tank top are caked in the weight of his sins, blood and dirt and sweat; you surmise that the closer you get to him, the less the moon resembles a halo and moreso a pair of horns. Again, the night is playing tricks on you.

“I’ve buried the remains,” he explains. “I decided it would be easiest to just take care of it myself until we can get you checked out. We don’t know the full extent of the damage that you’ve received or what effects that my stand could have on you in this state.” It’s a poor excuse, and you both know it, but it’s easier for him to lie to you when his facial expressions are harder to see.

Still, you don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline in your blood, your feelings for him, or some leftover electricity that’s done something to your brain, but you decide to call him out.

Sitting upright, you say, “I still could’ve helped, Prosci, otherwise there would be no point for me to come on this mission with you. You’ve done more than enough to help me, and I… I really appreciate everything that you’ve done to help me, but I have to work to earn my share of the payment!

“I can’t just lie back and let you treat me like some doll or damsel in distress!” You spout, wadding up his blazer and tossing it at him. He catches it with a growl, and the shovel clatters to the ground with a resounding clang.

He’s crawling across the backseat, hovering over you like a mangy beast; truthfully, you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so unhinged and disheveled. His scent bears no resemblance to the comforting aroma of his suit-jacket, and instead, he emits a pungent odor of grime and sweat, evident by the damp, dirty stray pieces of hair that encircle his face and the thin layer of earth that stains his skin with splotches of gray and brown. He looks like he can hurt you, and for a second you make the mistake of thinking that he will.

“Kid, you need to listen to me! I—“ he huffs, but upon seeing your face up close, all scared and doe-like, he kisses you. It’s emotional and hurried and needy and far unlike any previous kiss that you’d shared. It’s not spurred on by wanting or lust but by love and a great fear of loss.

“I love you,” he whispers like a gasp when he pulls apart from you. “I love you,” he says once more, softer, sweeter. “I love you.”

In his eyes, you can see every word that he leaves unsaid, his confession of how afraid he was that he’d never see you again, how he panicked and saw red and shot the man on sight, how he carried you to the car with a metaphorical knife stabbing at his heart, and how he almost cried from relief when he saw you open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you say back, smiling, kissing him again with that same passion as before.

[xulcan]

Cook off

Summary- You and Ban have a friendly cooking contest to settle things with the Boar Hat costumers as judges.

Paring: Ban x black!reader

Word count- 0.8K

Genre- Fluff/Crack

Mini’s Minutes- Maybe I did write this during class, maybe I didn’t but jokes aside I hope y’all enjoy this little fic! Maybe the reader is black cause i literally can’t write a damn sentence without aave what about it? Please it’s a habit.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────• 

“Ain't no way your cooking is better than mine.” You scoffed at Ban, he shrugged his shoulders at you “Believe it we both know I have the better cooking.” You and Ban walked down the stairs into the bar of the Boar Hat, you walked up to Hawk and pat his head “Hawk who’s food tastes better mine? Or Ban's.” As you stated his name you rolled your eyes with exaggeration. Ban walked over to you and draped an arm over your shoulders “We both know it’s going to be so, quit while you’re ahead babe.” You rolled your eyes once more, “So Hawk who’s it gonna be?” Hawk stared in thought recalling all the scraps he’s had in the recent days, the flavors, and the person who made them “Well Ban’s scraps are pretty tasty…” Ban smirked at you “Told you.” “He’s a pig. He doesn’t know what he’s talkin about.” "HEY-" You looked down at Hawk with a fire burning in your eyes, "Nevermind." Hawk mumbled as he trotted away.

King yawned as he flew in on his floating pillow “What’s going on?” “Y/N thinks their cooking is better than mine-“ “Which it is by the way we both know this.” You interrupted with a hint a bitterness in your tone. “But if it makes them feel better I’ll let them believe it.” He smirked down at you. “Believe it? Boy sit down somewhere-“ Soon after the rest of the Sins piled into the bar. “What is this commotion about?” Escanor asked standing tall and mighty. “Ban thinks he’s a better cook than me which is obviously not true.” Elizabeth tilted her head to the side “Maybe we could hold a little contest to settle things?” Diane clapped her hands his excitement “Oh! I love this idea it sounds fun!” Merlin shrugged her shoulders with a small smile “I suppose this could pass the time.” “MORE SCRAPS!” Hawk yelled while hopping. “We could do it during opening hours! The Boar Hat is going to be packed” Meliodas said with a grin and excitement clear in his tone.

You looked at Ban with a slight smirk “Are you ready to lose?” “I plan to win this.” You said as you matched his smirk

A few hours later the Boar Hat was open and packed, with King and Diane going around the town spreading the word.

The rules of the contest were simple, whichever chef sells the most meals by the end of the day wins. Currently, you were in the lead by 5 meals, determined to keep that lead you were focused on every meal you made. Ban was catching up slowly but surely soon you were tied. Your contest was about to conclude as time was running out.

"How are you holding up Y/N?" "I'll have you know my soul food is coming along great thank you very much." You placed your meal on the counter and waved Diane over, "And that puts me in the lead you teased. Elizabeth walked up to the counter with two empty bowls in hand. "Ban I'll need two more dishes please!" Ban turned to you "Hear that Y/N two more dishes, I'll take that lead thank you very much." You grumbled under your breath as you returned to your cooking station. As you were prepping for your next meal you noticed Howzer and Gillthunder sitting at a table, a small smile grew on your face as you approached the two. "Hey, guys! I'm cooking today would you like to order something?" Howzer's eyes practically had stars in them "You're cooking today Y/N? I'll take two bowls! Oh, and one for Gill too." You nodded at them "Sure thing!"

When you walked back into the kitchen Ban raised his brow at you "Why were you talking to them?" "The rules said that one chef had to sell more dishes than the other they never said how."You scoffed. Ban stared at you as you walked off to your cooking station he knew you were right he just needed a way to get more people to order his dish.

As time went on you and Ban were neck and neck with only 30 minutes till closing time, with the help of Elizabeth going from table to table he was able to take a lead for himself until you caught up. You had to finish the last of your orders before Ban to win this contest, you both had 5 orders to complete however with the short time limit there was little room for error. You and Ban were putting out orders left and right finally you had both made it down to only one plate. You both cooked as fast as you could while maintaining the effort you put into a good dish. You had both finished your last meals at the same time and, shouted for your respective waitresses for the night.

Now it all comes down to which waitress gets your meal out fastest.

[dukeofonions]

Duke Gets Personal

So I’ve been doing a bit of thinking lately (dangerous I know) since the last Asides and I’ve come to this conclusion: I miss enjoying this series. 

(This gets long and is just a mess of feelings and thoughts so sorry in advance)

I miss analyzing videos and the characters, I miss looking at theories and coming up with my own, I miss getting excited for future episodes. I really wanted to stop enjoying it and move on to something else, but then this flipping video dropped and I just loved it.

This is the first time I’ve just genuinely loved and enjoyed an episode since Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, the one where I stayed up until almost 2 or 3 in the morning to watch even though I had work the next day. 

The videos that followed just didn’t really do it for me, and the whole concept of Asides didn’t help either since it’s purpose seemed to have been lost with the first episode. Heck, I hesitated to call this last one an Asides just because it feels like it should have been a main episode.

That combined with the waits (especially after Putting Others First) also killed a lot of my engagement with the series. I’ve said before that POF felt like it was set up to lead directly to the finale, only for Asides to be crammed in and forcing us to wait longer for the conclusion to that episode, and season two as a whole.

I’ve said countless times how Asides has messed with the flow of the original series, with the complete tonal whiplash that was Flirting With Social Anxiety being the follow up to POF, and how the introduction of Nico completely undid everything that happened (at least to Roman) at the end of POF by having things suddenly be happy and good between him and Thomas.

I’ve said that certain moments (like seeing Virgil having to face Thomas again after his confession) were ruined by the Asides as well since we don’t get to see them happen in the main series and tend to be, well, brushed aside.

And you know, to an extent, I still see Asides as completely unnecessary and it feels like it was thrown in at the last second because they forgot they wanted to add a love interest to the plot so had to find some way to do it without disrupting the flow of the main series but ended up doing so anyway and so far all these Asides could just be regular episodes because they were apparently necessary to have before the season finale despite Asides being a relatively new concept so why would we have to have them before the season finale unless you were planning to go this route the whole time so why bother making a “separate” series in the first place when you were just going to be telling the same story anyway???

Sorry for the run on sentence but it felt like the best way to describe my confusion.

But to summarize, the last episode clearly shows that things are being set up for the finale. Everyone is reaching their breaking point and clearly, everything is not as fine and dandy as I initially thought the series was implying. And it’s here that I get to the actual reason of this little post.

The thing is, I’ve been jumping to conclusions about the series and making judgments about it as if I have the complete picture when, that’s not even remotely true.

Like this episode clearly showed that things are being put into place, and there is more thought to the story and characters going on than I initially gave them credit for. Sure, there are things I still don’t like, but I’m starting to come to the realization that I just need to wait and see where things go before jumping to judge something I don’t even have yet.

And part of that is because I do want things to get better. Like take Virgil for instance. I hate how he’s been written lately because it feels like all his negative actions just get excused and the show never addresses how harmful some of the things he says and the solutions to dealing with him (I’m glaring at you Embarrassing Phases) aren’t actually good or healthy at all and maybe I’ll elaborate on that later. 

But my point is that I need to see these things be resolved and for them to get better. It feels like all these characters flipping hate each other right now and it’s exhausting to see them like this. I just want them to work things out and start on the road to getting better because my gosh I just want them to feel like a family again. 

And I understand that story-wise it makes sense as to why they’re all so prickly with each other but y’all, Virgil’s been mad at Patton for who-knows-what for awhile now and we still don’t have a conclusion to that and again, I think the waits are a problem when it comes to this series because things get left unresolved for months, or even years, only for an episode to finally drop and the issue is never even brought up because those characters are completely absent.

And that’s why the Asides bug me so much because they initially promised something (less angsty content that we’d get more frequently between the heavier longer episodes) that we never ended up getting and it gets treated like a joke. 

Like I understand that so far the main thing that separates Asides from Sanders Sides is that they tend to be filmed in a different format, but is that really enough to count it as a separate series when it’s existence is deemed necessary for the series you’ve already been working on for awhile now?

I dunno, I loved this episode, I genuinely did and I’ve loved seeing people pick it apart and analyze it because there’s so much to unpack with it. And just from a technical standpoint, my inner film lover was geeking out at the use of camera angles, lighting, music, all of it.

And since I loved it so much it started to make me wonder if I’ve been being too harsh on the series, and even Thomas and the team in general. Most of my thoughts have come through assumptions made, and my own personal feelings, towards Thomas and the team, and I’ve realized that yeah, I have been harsh. And honestly, a bit unfair.

I’m not saying I don’t still have my own personal issues with them all, but a lot of the things I’ve said have just been, well, assumptions. Especially in regards to how much care and planning actually goes into this series. With all the details put into this last episode, how could they not have been planning things out?

Now part of me is hesitant to let my guard down in regards to how this series will go due to a number of things. One of them being that this could probably be the last episode that Joan had any input in, and personal feelings towards them aside you couldn’t deny that they had so much passion and love for the series. And it makes me wonder if future videos will be better, worse, or even the same without them.

Another thing is, again, the waits for videos. I still don’t understand why Thomas’s content in general takes so long to make, especially the unscripted videos which are fairly simple in terms of their content, so why do they take months to come out? And with everything they’ve talked about wanting to do or are planning to do, it makes me wonder if anything will ever get done due to them not seeming to be able to find a way to make their videos faster.

Like I don’t know if it’s an issue with finding people to work on videos, or them continuing to make things more difficult than they need to be, or maybe them just not working as much as they say, or a combination of multiple things. But again, I don’t know if any of that is the case.

All we have is Thomas’s word and the end product when it does finally come out. And yeah, this last video was really good in terms of the production, but there are still some things about it that make me feel iffy about certain aspects of the series that could come in the future, but this post is already getting longer than I intended for it to be so I’m just gonna wrap things up here.

On one hand, I don’t want to get my hopes up all the way due to one video that exceeded my expectations (which I had zero expectations to begin with) when the rest of the series could end up going downhill. On the other hand, I want to let myself try and enjoy the series again and find things to love about it instead of constantly focusing on the negatives.

Negatives that, technically, aren’t even real negatives to begin with.

So what does this mean for my blog? Well like I said, I still have some issues with the series and other things that I’m not gonna push aside (I use that word a lot don’t I?) just because of one video. However, I’m going to try and stop making harsh conclusions about the series before I’ve gotten the whole picture.

And of course, my blog is still open to anyone that has their gripes with the series because that’s what it’s for. Even if we don’t agree I like to get other perspectives from people and a lot of y’all really do bring up some good points. And the last thing I’m gonna do is turn around and start saying that y’all are wrong for feeling a certain way about the series.

This is all personal here. How I’ve been thinking and feeling in regards to what I’ve been personally saying. And you know what? This could all completely change by the time the next episode finally comes out because who knows what could happen between now and then?

When you’re presented with a new perspective or new information, sometimes you’re just bound to change your own and that’s just the way it goes. 

I’m probably going to start delving into the fandom and series again. Maybe write a fic or two or just some simple analysis. I do have one passion project of mine that’s been in the works for awhile and I’m finally getting closer to making it a real thing so I’m excited about that.

But I also really wanna start branching out into other media as well. Talk about movies or shows that I like, dislike, or have some kind of connection to. Whatever it is, I just wanna start having fun again, in whatever form that takes. 

So, yeah. That’s the long and short of it. 

I am gonna make an actual post talking about the video because oh boy there’s a lot to unpack with that one. But this has been pressing on my mind quite a bit since the episode and I just needed to get my thoughts out. If y’all stuck around to this point I’m sorry for the emotional spiel, and I’m also sorry if anything I’ve ever said has made anyone feel bad or ashamed for liking the series because really, there’s a lot to love about it and I don’t want people to think they shouldn’t like it just because of what some random person thinks.

I mean heck, I love movies and shows that are considered “bad” by most and who cares? As long as it’s not my family hating on the things I love than I don’t care. 

*laughs in family issues*

Alright, gonna atually close this out now so... see y’all and hope y’all are going okay.

[punkpoemprose]

I Love You Pumpkin- A Kristanna Week “Yellow” Fic

Universe: Modern AU Rating: G (It’s just fluff y’all) Length: 2826 Words

For day 3, yellow, I went with concepts of “harvest” and “joy” to make a little pumpkin farm date AU. I threatened to write one of these a while back after going on a pumpkin farm date with my boyfriend, but didn’t finish it for Halloween. I hope y’all will enjoy it anyway!

Anna took Kristoff's hand as he helped her out of his truck. He was, as always, the most courteous man she'd ever met. It was just in his nature, she thought, to take care of others. Since they'd started dating she'd truly come to notice and appreciate just how second nature it was for him to help. 

It was one of the things she loved most about him, his willingness to step up and support her. She was glad for it, because it coincided with a particular inability on his part to ever say no to her. She knew that it was silly to plan a whole day around going to a pumpkin farm meant for children without bringing any children along, and yet when she'd suggested it, he'd just smiled and nodded and let her make the arrangements appropriately. 

"I'm so excited!" 

She was barely able to contain her desire to bounce up and down in her seat when she spotted a little hand painted sign with the farm's name just ahead on the path leading away from the gravel parking lot. She hadn’t ever gone to a pumpkin farm, at least not that she could remember. Her family didn’t do many outings at all after Elsa got sick, and while she’d been reassured by many that she hadn’t missed out on much, she still felt that she had missed something.

Kristoff understood. He’d had all those childhood experiences that Anna craved, but he’d had them after turning eight, when his parents adopted him and strove to give him the childhood that every other normal kid had. He understood that while most people didn’t think a trip to the pumpkin farm was important, it was important to Anna. For him, she knew, that was enough a reason to take the half hour drive.

"I noticed," he teased, squeezing her hand a couple times as he swung the passenger side door shut, "You were bouncing your foot the whole way here. You only do that when you're nervous or excited and I figured my driving couldn't have been that bad, so it must just be the pumpkin farm anticipation."

Anna smirked, squeezing his hand back and rocking up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek.

“You’re an excellent driver. I trust you completely. I don’t even grab onto the door like I do when Elsa drives.”

He grinned at the compliment and chuckled at the mention of her sister’s driving. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Elsa was a bit of a distracted driver, often too caught up in her own thoughts to notice someone in front of her braking until the last second.

She pressed close to his side as he led them toward the gravel path that led to the pumpkin farm. It was a warm afternoon for autumn, the morning had been frosty but the light breeze didn’t chill Anna in her flannel and bluejeans, nor did it seem to affect Kristoff. It carried on it the scent of popcorn and something sweet.

“I read on the website that they have a fudge house,” he said, either noticing the scent for himself or being somehow able to sense Anna’s mouth already watering, “Is that going to have to be our first stop, or?”

Anna shook her head as the many small buildings of the farm came into her view. She could see the sign posts just ahead pointing to the different attractions offered by the farm, among them being spooky displays, a haunted haywagon ride, a small family friendly corn maze, a barnyard, and of course, the pumpkin patch. Sprinkled between there were small shops selling snacks and small trinkets that Anna already knew she’d be picking up before they left. 

“Of course not. They have a barnyard, we have to start there.”

She felt Kristoff bump into her side playfully and rocked her hip over to bump him in return.

“Of course, how could I be so foolish. It’s not as if you’ve ever seen a chicken or pig or goat before.”

She had, on more than one occasion, visited his family’s small farm and while there petted their livestock and most recently spent time picking apples from their orchard. She hadn’t been raised in a large city, but she had been far enough into town that she hadn’t spent much time around animals as a child. Helping her collect eggs for his mother and bringing her to see their newest goat when it was newborn were other ways he’d tried to help fill in gaps for her. They were experiences she treasured, particularly the memory of him, hand over hand, helping her to bottle feed the small kid.

“I’ll have you know sir,” she said with mock annoyance, “That they have a mini horse.”

He lifted both hands in surrender, picking up hers with his as he did so, not releasing it even as he teased her.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

***

After the time spent speaking in a baby voice to the miniature horse, Anna brought Kristoff along with her to look into each and every little display set up on the property. They tossed coins into a witch’s cauldron in return for a wish, watched as a skeleton popped out of a steamer trunk, and spent some time listening to children speaking to a giant talking pumpkin, asking her questions about her life to which she promptly replied.

“You’d be great at that job,” Kristoff mentioned as an aside as they walked away from the children.

“Being the lady on the other end of the microphone in the pumpkin?”

“Well,” Kristoff offered, “I don’t think she’s actually in the pumpkin, I assume it’s an intercom situation, but yes. You’re great with kids and you’re smart so I think you’d come up with quick answers and keep the magic for them.”

Anna felt her heart skip at the compliment, but Kristoff carried on walking them toward the fudge house like it had been nothing to say something so kind. She often wondered whether he knew how much he affected her when he said things like that, or when he casually reached for her hand, or when he kissed her, even chastely. There were days where she thought she might catch fire under the warmth and multitude of his affections, and he never acted as if it were anything more than natural.

She sometimes imagined a future where he was like that with their kids, kind and loving, doling out praise and affection easily and with little pomp and circumstance. His free way of giving affection, even when he was cranky and acting gruff was one of her favorite things about him.

“I guess I should inquire for next season then if things don’t go well with my teaching job.”

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek quickly as they walked behind a building out of the sight of prying eyes.

“They love you there, you’re the best third grade teacher they’ve ever had. I saw the crayon drawings on your fridge to prove it. I don’t expect you’ll need the job. Unless of course, you’re planning on buying enough fudge to fill my truck, because then you might want to think about it.” 

***

She didn’t buy enough fudge to fill his truck in the least, buying two large pieces, one for herself and one to give her sister if she didn’t eat it on the ride home. Kristoff had bought them both cider and doughnuts that they called an unhealthy pre-dinner snack before buying their tickets for the corn maze and hay wagon ride. 

The afternoon had dimmed down and night approached nearer, and while the corn maze hadn’t been much match for them, Kristoff being able to see the exit the whole time due to the way they’d cut the corn down shorter for the kids, the hayride proved to be quite fun. As they passed by different “haunts” on the path the tractor and wagon took, they worked together to spot little secrets or decorations that made the displays even more interesting.

Kristoff had been the one to notice a lightning rod in the woods behind Frankenstien’s monster, and Anna had been the one to tell him that one of the monster masks on the trees had been painted, scuffed up, and generally repurposed from a kid’s superhero costume. A scarecrow with glowing eyes caught Anna off guard, and Kristoff had taken the opportunity to pull her closer to his side as she jumped. 

While it wasn’t truly frightening, and while the air wasn’t quite cold yet, Anna had been happy to have the excuse to cuddle in close to him. Leaning her head against his shoulder as they chatted a bit more about the displays and discussed their thoughts on what pumpkin they should purchase before leaving.

***

“We have to get the ugly one Kris,” she said, purposefully giving him puppy dog eyes and sticking out her lower lip. 

Of course she knew that the theatrics were unnecessary and that he would consent to any pumpkin she chose, but it was all part of the fun. She had to convince him to love the oddly shaped, warty, off kilter pumpkin as much as she did.

“No one else will pick him, and he deserves a home for Halloween. It’s like the tree in Charlie Brown. It’s not such a bad little pumpkin.”

Looking directly at her, she saw him trying to hold a stone face. His eyes betrayed too much mirth though, for any real protest to be present in his thoughts. 

“Maybe,” he said with a sigh, a smile forming quickly on his lips as he cracked, “If we carve enough out of the one side, he’ll balance better. If not I’ll grab some shims and we’ll give him a support system to keep him standing up on the porch.”

She excitedly lifted the pumpkin from the ground at his approval and acted as if she didn’t watch his hands twitch as she carried the large gourd towards the checkout stand. Many others had caught her eye as they walked through the neat rows of pumpkins and squash, but this oddly shaped one had called to her. It was awkward to carry, and while Kristoff didn’t offer to take it from her as she hefted it along, she saw him in her periphery putting his hands into his pocket so as to not reach for it. 

“I’ll pay the man,” he said, clearly not being ready to watch the balancing act that would ensue if Anna were to hold the pumpkin in one arm and try to riffle through her purse with the other. 

She thought it might be funny to attempt it, if only to see his crabby side come out for a moment. He was never mean, of course, but he did sometimes grumble like an old man, and she often found it enjoyable to kiss the crankiness out of him.

It was a pastime of hers that she found he also enjoyed.

With the pumpkin paid for and their adventures concluded for the day, they set off for his truck once more, the sky getting darker by the minute, but still bright enough to see quite well by.

“So,” he asked as he loaded their pumpkin into the back of his truck, paying particular attention to ensuring that it would not roll despite its odd shape’s propensity to do so, “Was this the pumpkin farm experience of your dreams?”

Anna nodded, seeing the pumpkin successfully loaded, and turning to open the door to the truck.

“All that I could dream of and more,” she said, patting her purse where the remainder of her chocolate fudge, as well as her sister’s piece were located, “Thank you for coming with me. I had a great time.”

He stepped around to her side of the truck, offering her his hand as she stepped up to enter the cab, releasing it only when she was seated so that he could close the door behind her.

She watched from the passenger seat as he shoved his hands back into his pockets and walked around the truck to enter his side. 

There was a bit of an odd look on his face, like he was mulling something over in the short five step walk. His hand was still in his pocket when he opened the door with the other and climbed in, swinging it shut, a bit awkwardly, with the hand that was not in the pocket.

“I’m glad you had fun… I’d like to make everyday… no, that’s not it…”

He was mumbling a bit and Anna offered him a confused look and a tilt of her head. He wasn’t usually a man who started saying something and cut himself off unless he was still thinking about what he wanted to say, or unless he was trying to say something important.

“Anna, everyday I’m with you is an adventure. I never thought that I was the type of man who wanted to wake up to a surprise everyday, but I guess it’s no surprise that I love you, and if pumpkin farm dates and ugly gourds and small animals are what you love then I guess I love those things too. If you’ll let me, I want take you on adventures, and hold your hand for as long as we can.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, and in the quickly dimming light of the afternoon turned evening, she saw a small shining ring in his large palm.

“Anna, what I want to ask you is… will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of letting me call you my wife?”

***

The ring was beautiful and unique, the stone in the center being a beautiful yellow-orange, flanked on either side by smaller stones set into leaf-like shapes. Anna could hardly breathe, let alone speak, so for a moment she simply flapped her hands in surprise as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She nodded yes quickly, and managed to choke it out as he watched her with a shy smile.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be, but I’ve been trying to find the right time for weeks, and I tried to take you out to dinner last week but I got called into work and I wanted to do it with your sister there so you could have her and…”

Anna leaned across the console of his truck and wrapped her arms around him, the hug not quite as full as she wanted it to be with the separation. She kissed him fully on the lips when she got him close enough, stopping his apology in the middle as she showed him exactly how perfect he’d made the proposal, and every moment of every day before it since they’d met. 

They sat like that for a long while, pulling each other close and kissing and smiling and wiping away happy tears, until finally he slid the ring onto her finger and they were content to take a moment to breathe with their hands clasped atop the console.

“I was so nervous tonight,” he admitted, his thumb running along hers as he spoke.

She shot him a look of surprise, then laughed. 

“You didn’t seem nervous at all. You never seem nervous when we’re alone together.”

He smiled at her in return and shook his head, “I was checking my pocket every ten seconds for the ring and then I kept wondering everytime we did something. Is it the right time? Should I propose in front of the mini-horse or on the hayride?”

She couldn’t help but snort at the idea of being proposed to in front of a miniature pony. She probably would have loved it in the moment though, given it was Kristoff proposing.

“This was perfect. Just you and me, in your car, knowing that we’ll get to show all our friends and family later but just having the moment for ourselves. It was perfect.”

“Well, just so we don’t slight anyone… we could send the mini horse a wedding invite.”

She swatted him playfully and fell back into her seat, releasing his hand so that she could put on her seat belt.

“Or we could head to your parents house now and inform them… and maybe also the goat.”

“Do you want the goat in the wedding?”

“No,” she said, mentally making note to call her sister as soon as they were on the road and have her meet them at Kristoff’s parent’s place, “But if we have it on the farm it would be rude not to invite all the residents.”

She heard his laugh, rich and joyful, before she felt his arms wrap around her again, pulling her as close as possible for another kiss.

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 18

Well it’s still a decent hour for me, but I think I failed to get this posted before @what-does-mine-say fell asleep. She’s been the real MVP of these last couple parts, too, just saying.

Anywho, no long note this time. All I have to say is thank you to everyone who continues to read and support this lil fic (that’s not so lil anymore), and I really do hope you enjoy :)

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 18/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Language; angst.

Catch up on previous parts here.

Adam spent the entire fifty-minute drive home bracing himself to face Callie. He knew she’d be upset; she had every reason and right to be upset. He’d turned her down, pushed her away, disappeared and left her to find out when she woke up, alone. It was cold, what he’d done. Heartless. And someone as warm and loving as Callie shouldn’t have to put up with it. She deserved better—better than what he could give her; better than him. And the longer he drove, the more he felt like that was all he could say to her.

His stomach twisted in knots as he turned down the road to his house. It only got worse when he pulled into his driveway and saw that Callie’s car was gone.

He put the gearshift in park and cut the ignition, but he didn’t get out of the truck. He sat there in silence, staring at the spot that Callie’s car usually occupied. He had a sinking feeling that she hadn’t just run around the corner or gone for a drive herself. This felt like a more permanent absence.

He got out of the truck and walked to the front door. It was locked. He fumbled with his keys to get it open. When he stepped inside, he found a note waiting for him on the kitchen island.

He could guess what it said before he read it.

              I decided to head to Florida early and stay with Britt for a while. You need space to figure out what’s going on in your head and in your heart. It breaks my heart to write this… but we can’t go on the way we have been. I hope you’ll figure it out soon. I’ll miss you. I love you. x Callie.

Adam read the note over and over, until the words started to warp and blend together. There was a crinkled spot on the paper from where a tear had fallen as she wrote. He set it back down on the island, numb. It had to be a ten-hour drive to where Britt and Adam Cole lived outside Orlando. If Callie would rather take on that than face him, Adam had a feeling she wouldn’t be coming back. She was gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Imagine that it’s Tag Team Appreciation Night, and the number two ranked tag team in all of AEW doesn’t have a match, not even on Dark. Oh wait—we don’t have to imagine it, because we’re fucking living it!”

Alex frowned across the locker room at Chuck. She didn’t blame him for being upset; she was upset for him. Outside the Young Bucks, Best Friends were the most established tag team on the roster—and yet, they’d been completely left out of this so-called “Tag Team Appreciation Night” that FTR was hosting on Dynamite that night. It was a slap across the face. And, in the back of her mind, Alex couldn’t help but wonder if her situation with Cash was to blame for why Chuck and Trent had been excluded.

“They’re not even gonna interview us about who our favorite tag team is,” Trent lowly said. “They interviewed Kenny and Hangman.”

“Of course they did,” Chuck said with a roll of his eyes. “No offense, Alex,” he added.

Her eyebrows arched. “Why would I be offended?” she quickly asked—maybe a little too quickly. She’d been paranoid ever since Saturday that Chuck somehow knew what she’d done with Kenny on his balcony. Granted, she absolutely would have heard it by now if he did… but still. Just the thought of him ever finding out made her want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

He gave her an odd look. “Because Adam’s your friend. And Kenny’s… whatever.”

Alex swallowed. That answer didn’t help her paranoia. “Oh. Well, none taken. I don’t blame you for being upset.” She looked sheepishly down at the floor. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“It’s not your fault, Alex,” Trent assured. “They’re just trying to hold us down because they know we’re better than them.”

A corner of Alex’s mouth turned up. But she didn’t know if it was sweet or just pathetic that Trent knew she needed to hear that they didn’t blame her. “I’m gonna go to catering,” she said as she stood from her seat. Another thing she needed was coffee—and probably a chocolate chip cookie or two. “Does anyone want anything?”

Trent and Chuck both shook their heads no; James didn’t even respond from where he sat on the couch, leaned back with his arms spread out, one ankle crossed over his knee. It looked like he was asleep. He had a match against Chris Jericho that night and he was completely unbothered. Alex only wished she could be so carefree.

She pushed her way out of the locker room and pulled her phone from her pocket, her thoughts turning to other things. She hadn’t heard from Callie in days, not since she’d tried to text her when she was in Philadelphia; since she’d left her on read Saturday morning. It was obvious something was wrong—she just wasn’t sure what. Adam hadn’t really talked to her since Saturday, either. And Alex didn’t know if she should ask or just mind her own business.

Catering was just around the corner now. She turned it and slowed to a stop. Dax and Cash were right in front of her. Her eyes met Cash’s. Her heart jumped into her mouth.

“Alex,” he said. He looked just as unprepared to see her as she felt to see him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she returned. She flashed back to the middle of the night in Philadelphia, to the balcony underneath the moonlight. Guilt gripped her so tight that she struggled to breathe.

Dax looked awkwardly between them. “Okay. Well, I’ll let y’all catch up.” He made a hasty exit. Cash watched after him as he disappeared into catering. Alex couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with him for bailing or not.

She awkwardly cleared her throat before the silence could drown them. “Um, how are you?”

He let out a wry laugh. “I didn’t hear from you all week, Alex.”

His tone implied a follow-up statement: How do you think I feel? She knew the answer: hurt, forgotten, cast aside. But she felt all those things, too. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me,” she said.

His brow puckered. “What? All I wanted was to hear from you.”

That surprised her. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because—” he cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “You need to figure out what you want, Alex. Not me. And the fact that I haven’t heard from you at all… it feels like you’ve made your decision.”

Alex’s eyes burned and her stomach turned. She could almost feel the hot summer air on her skin, hear Kenny’s voice in her ear. Her actions that night spoke louder than her silence. But she’d been drunk and emotional. She’d given in because she was hurt that she hadn’t heard from Cash. Right?

He let out a sigh and moved closer. She didn’t expect it when he reached out and took her hand in his. Her skin tingled at his touch. “I want us to talk, sweetheart. But not here. Maybe we could go somewhere after the show? I know you have a Dark match, but—”

“Wait, what?” she cut him off, suddenly confused. “I don’t have a Dark match.”

He gave her an odd look. “I just saw it on the card; you have a match against Anna Jay. Did no one tell you?”

Alex bit down on her jaw, frustration bubbling up inside her. No, no one had told her. And she had a feeling she’d been left in the dark on purpose.

She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, and she pulled her hand from his and marched toward production. Her anger built with every step she took. It was near boiling-point by the time she found the match card taped to the wall. There it was, printed on the paper as clear as day: Alex Hawthorne vs. Anna Jay, slotted as the second match after the end of Dynamite.

She ripped the paper from the wall, crinkling it in her clutched fist as she marched back out of production and through the halls of the arena. She knew exactly who was responsible for this, and he had another thing coming if he thought she’d just lay down and take it.

She arrived at the EVP room and knocked hard and fast on the door. Someone called, “Come in”; she barged in before they even finished. Adam, the Bucks, and Brandon Cutler stared up at her, matching looks of wide-eyed surprise on their faces. Alex walked right up to Matt Jackson and slapped the paper down on the table in front of him.

“What the hell is this?”

The entire room went still. Matt’s eyebrows arched, obviously stunned by her nerve. He glanced down at the paper. “Well, it looks like the match card. Did you take that off the wall?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And when were you planning on telling me that I have a Dark match against Anna Jay?”

“Oh.” He looked her right in the eye and said, “You have a Dark match against Anna Jay.”

Alex’s other hand curled into a fist at her side. She could have hit him she was so angry. Knocked that indignant look right off his stupid face—

“Alex,” Adam stood and put a hand on the small of her back, trying to diffuse the situation, but she ignored him.

“Is this about Cash?” she charged. “Are you punishing me for what he did?”

Matt’s brow lowered. “I didn’t realize giving you a match was punishment.”

She gaped back at him. “I didn’t know I had it until two fucking minutes ago!”

“Alright, come on.” Adam took her gently by the arm and whisked her out of the room. Alex let him lead her down the hall and around a corner into a private corridor. She started to shake as she leaned back against the wall. Adam gripped her shoulders.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

She took his advice, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Her anger started to give way to embarrassment and shame. Had she really just done that?

“That was ballsy,” Adam commented. She breathed out a rueful laugh. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Alex tilted her head back against the wall as she looked up at him. She was tired of everyone asking her that. She was just tired all around. And that was exactly what she told him.

“I’m tired,” she breathed. “I’m tired of feeling like everything is falling apart around me. I’m tired of doubting myself and feeling like I have no control over anything. I’m tired of trying to do the right thing just to have it backfire in my fucking face.”

Her voice cracked, and Adam pulled her into him. She looped her arms under his and buried her face in his shoulder, drawing in another deep breath. She didn’t want to cry. She was tired of crying, too.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Adam said. “More than you realize.”

Alex pulled back and looked up at him. That was her opening to figure out what was up with him and Callie. “Why?” she asked. “What’s going on with you and Callie? She hasn’t said a word to me since she tried to text me when I was in Philly.”

Adam let her go. His arms fell to his sides as he took a step back. It looked like the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. But she couldn’t have predicted what he said next.

“Yeah, you and me both. She left.”  

“What?” Instinctively, Alex reached out and clutched one of his hands in both of hers. “What do you mean, she left?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he returned. “When I got back from driving to your place, I found a note in the kitchen. She’d just gone.”

Alex squeezed his hand. “What did it say?”

He shifted, avoiding her gaze, but he didn’t let go of her grip. “That I need to figure out what I’m feeling. That she’s gonna stay with Britt for a while.”

His eyes finally met hers, and she swore she felt every emotion coursing through him herself. She’d already felt all of it, for days now. Pain. Guilt. Hopelessness. They were stranded in the same fucking boat, up shit creek without a paddle. But even though misery loved company, Alex didn’t want Adam to be stuck there with her. She’d push him out and make him swim if she had to. She wanted him to be happy.

“I’m so sorry, Adam.” She reached up and pulled him into a tight hug. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I wanted to,” he said into her shoulder. “But you’re dealing with your own shit. I didn’t want to bother you with mine.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me,” she assured. He hugged her tighter. She did the same. “She hasn’t said anything to you since she left?”

“No,” he said. “I haven’t even seen her today. I don’t even know if she’s here.”

The resignation in his voice broke Alex’s heart. But before she could think of anything to say in return, he flipped the conversation on her.

“What about you? Have you talked to Cash?”

She pulled back and unwound her arms with a heavy sigh. It was only fair that she fill him in on her shit, too. “I ran into him before I burst in on you guys. But no.” She chewed on the inside of her mouth. “I think he wants to talk after the show.”

“Well, that’s good,” Adam offered, hopefully. “Right?”

She looked away, down the hall. “I honestly don’t know.” She thought back to the look on Cash’s face, to how he’d taken her hand and called her “sweetheart.” But she shook her head, snapping herself back to the present before her overthinking could carry her away. “Right now I just need focus on getting through this fucking match I just found out about.”

“You’ll be fine,” Adam said. “Just don’t let Anna or any of the other Dark Order freaks get in your head.”

His eyes turned dark; introspective. Alex frowned. It seemed like he was speaking from experience. But it wouldn’t benefit either of them to go there right now. “You’re defending the tag titles tonight, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, against Jurassic Express. I need to focus on getting through that fucking match. Although Kenny seems to be in a better mood this week, so that helps.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed when she heard that. “Oh? I haven’t seen him.” She and Kenny had talked since Philly—of course they had. But if Adam wondered if she had anything to do with his tag team partner’s improved mood, he thankfully didn’t ask.

“I guess I should get back in there,” he said. “We were going over some stuff for BTE when you burst in and bit Matt’s head off.”

“Jesus.” Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m probably gonna pay for that, aren’t I?”

But, surprisingly, Adam waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on winning your match. And not joining a cult.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. It was small, but it was nice to see him smile; hear him joke. They needed to do more of that, like they used to. “I don’t know,” Alex returned with a sarcastic laugh. “Joining a cult might be a nice change of pace at this point.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Dynamite wasn’t over yet, but FTR wasn’t sticking around for the rest of the show. They’d done what they’d set out to do with Tag Team Appreciation Night: prove that they were the best tag team in the business. It wasn’t their fault that Rock ‘N’ Roll Express had gotten in the way. Those old-timers should have hung it up a long time ago, anyway.

They burst back into their dressing room to grab their things and get the hell out of dodge. As Cash waited for Dax to finish packing up, he pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the lock screen. He still hadn’t changed the background; it was a picture of him and Alex from the night they’d gone out with Adam and Callie, at that fancy restaurant downtown. She smiled wide at the camera as he held her close, his arms tight around her waist, his face nuzzled against her cheek. That night had only been two weeks ago. But it felt like a lifetime.

“Hey.” Dax got his attention and he looked back up. He nudged his chin at his phone, at the photo on the screen. “You sure you don’t want to stay for her match?”

Cash looked back down at the picture. The screen went dark. “Yeah,” he returned. “She can find me if she wants to see me.”

He pushed the phone back into his pocket. And then he grabbed his bag, and he and Dax left the arena.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Smack!

Alex saw stars and fell backward to the mat, stunned by the unexpected bicycle kick from Anna Jay. She covered her and hooked her leg. It was only on instinct that Alex was able to kick out. Her head hadn’t been in the match from the moment it had started.

She knew Cash had left. She’d gone to talk to him after the melee in the ring with the Young Bucks and Rock ‘N’ Roll Express only to find FTR’s dressing room empty. It cut deep that he’d just up and gone without so much as a text, especially after claiming that he wanted to talk. It made her wonder if he’d really meant it.

But Alex had no choice but to focus on Anna when she climbed on top of her and started choking her.

The ref counted as she struggled to breathe, clutching at Anna’s wrists. “1! 2! 3! Come on, Anna, let her go!”

Anna let out a sadistic chuckle as she released her. Alex had barely managed to gulp in a breath of air before Anna pulled her up by her hair and threw her hard into a turnbuckle. She let out a cry and charged; but Alex threw up an elbow, hitting her in the jaw and stunning her. She climbed to the top rope as quickly as she could. When Anna stumbled back around to face her, Alex launched herself into the air and hit her with a missile dropkick.

She scrambled to cover her; Anna kicked out at two. Alex clutched her throat as she glared at Anna.

That crazy cult bitch had choked her.

That crazy cult bitch had made a terrible mistake.

Alex grabbed a fistful of Anna’s long blonde hair and sat her up. She didn’t let go of it as she kicked her hard in the back with a resounding whack that made the people watching in the audience wince. Anna arched her back, bending her knees and fingers in pain, and Alex ran toward the opposite ropes, rebounded off, and nailed her in the jaw with a running knee. She sat on top of her and hooked her leg. She kicked out and powered her shoulder up at the last possible second, sending Alex tumbling off of her. She stared at the ref in disbelief. “It was two,” he confirmed, holding up two fingers. She bit down on her jaw in frustration.

Alex pulled Anna to her feet. She grabbed her forearm, pushed her back to the ropes opposite the ring entrance, and Irish-whipped her to the other side. Anna rebounded and Alex ran toward her—but someone caught her eye as they appeared on the entrance ramp and she stumbled, rolling her left ankle. She managed to lift her right knee at the last second and hit Anna in the gut, sending her flipping to the mat, but Alex fell with her. He ankle throbbed as she looked back at the ramp. Brodie Lee, Evil Uno, and Stu Grayson stood in a line. Watching.

Alex knew she needed to act fast. She crawled over to Anna and locked on her finishing submission maneuver, the ’88 Sleeper. Her ankle screamed in protest as she put weight on it, but she channeled the pain into wrenching Anna back harder. It wasn’t long before she tapped.

The ref called for the bell. Alex threw Anna aside and fell back onto the mat. She reached for her left boot, fumbling to undo the laces and loosen the pressure on her ankle; but she stopped when a pair of brown dress shoes appeared in front of her. She looked up, and up, until her eyes connected with the cold, dark stare of Mr. Brodie Lee.

He grinned down at her. “Hello, Alex.”

She froze. Grayson and Uno flanked his either side. She was surrounded.

“That’s a helluva submission you have there,” Brodie complimented. “Granted, I’m not happy Anna lost…” he cast a glance at Anna Jay, who laid still clutching her back on the mat. “But you impressed me.”

He held out his hand. People throughout the arena shouted and booed, but Alex didn’t hear any of them; Brodie’s eyes were arresting. Haunting. Inviting. She didn’t even realize that she’d reached up and slid her hand into his until he gripped it and pulled her to her feet. Her ankle smarted and she stumbled; Brodie put his other hand on her waist to steady her, and Alex grabbed his arm. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were so dark that she almost couldn’t tell the pupil from the iris. Two black bottomless pools. She wanted to jump in and see how far she’d sink—

“Alex!”

Someone wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from Brodie, breaking the spell. Chuck. Trent and Adam were with him. They stood between her and Dark Order like a barricade.

“Keep moving, pal,” Trent warned. “She’s not available.”

Brodie let out a laugh, slow and deep in his chest. He looked back at Alex. “Do they think they own you?”

Adam shoved him then. “Get the hell out of here before I make you.”

Grayson took a threatening step forward; but Brodie held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t bother,” he said. “The inner demons will take care of this one.”

Adam bit down on his jaw; but Trent put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it, let’s just get Alex out of here.”

Alex’s eyes stayed glued on Brodie as Chuck helped her hobble to the ropes; Trent held them open so she could gingerly duck through. When she was on the other side, her gaze connected with Brodie’s again. He smirked.

“Think about it, Alex.”

It wasn’t until Chuck draped her arm over his shoulders and turned her away that she was able to pull her eyes from his.

“Can you put weight on it?” Chuck asked as they started to walk.

Alex winced, but nodded. “Yeah, but it hurts.”

“It’s probably just a sprain, then.”

He helped her through the tunnel into the back. Trent and Adam were close behind. “Jesus, Alex, I thought I told you to focus on not joining a cult tonight,” Adam quipped—but Alex didn’t hear him. Kenny had just run into Gorilla.

“Alex!” He hurried toward her, worry etched on his face. “Are you alright? What happened out there?”

Alex didn’t answer; she couldn’t. She was too overcome with emotion at just the sight of him. Cash had left—but Kenny was still here.

She removed her arm from around Chuck and limped over to him. She practically fell into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed as he hugged her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I got distracted when Dark Order came out and I stepped wrong and rolled it. And then Brodie was suddenly there and—”

“It’s okay, forget about him,” he gently returned. “Come on, let’s get you to the trainer.”

He took her by the waist and helped her out of Gorilla and down the hall toward the trainer’s room. And as they walked, Alex couldn’t help but think, over and over: Cash left, but Kenny’s still here.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had left Daily’s Place right after the tag title match. She’d wanted to stay and watch Adam; she was happy that he and Kenny had retained the titles against Jurassic Express. But after that, she caught an Uber back to the hotel. Even though she’d wanted to see Adam wrestle, she still didn’t want to talk to him.

Besides, she needed some time to herself. While she was beyond grateful to Britt and Adam Cole for letting her stay with them, Britt had been, for lack of a better term, smothering her ever since she’d arrived at their house late Saturday evening. And because she and Britt were sharing a hotel room, too, she decided to take the opportunity while the doctor was still at the arena to grab some dinner and air to breathe.

She pushed the down button for the elevator. When it arrived several seconds later and the doors slid open, she was surprised and confused to see Cash standing inside.

“Hey.” His eyebrows arched, obviously surprised to see her, too. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Callie said as she stepped onto the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby. “Aren’t you supposed to be hosting Tag Team Appreciation Night right now?”

He laughed lightly to himself. “Dax and I did what we needed to do and then left. I’ll just put it that way.”

Callie arched a curious brow, wondering what exactly he meant by that. But before she could ask, he asked her, “Why aren’t you back at the arena with Adam?”

The elevator arrived at the lobby with a ding. Callie drew in a deep breath as the doors slid open and she and Cash stepped out. She was both surprised and not that he didn’t know what was going on with her and Adam. But he’d find out eventually—the entire locker room would—so she might as well take the opportunity to tell him herself.

“Actually, Adam and I are kind of on a break right now.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “What? Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He doesn’t want to talk to me about anything anymore, so I left him a note and drove down to Britt’s Saturday morning. And… yeah. We haven’t spoken since.”

It didn’t hurt as much to tell him as Callie had expected it would. After four days of no contact with Adam, she’d resigned herself to the situation. She’d tried to help him. But only he could help himself now.

“Shit,” Cash breathed. He ran a hand through his hair, still obviously thrown off by the news. “I had no idea. I mean, Adam did seem pretty distracted tonight, but that’s honestly not that unusual.”

“Exactly,” Callie returned, more firmly than she intended.

Cash’s brow puckered in sympathy. He looked down at his phone, as if considering something. “Well, I don’t know where you were heading; I was just gonna go to the bar to get a drink,” he said as he pointed a thumb in the direction of the hotel bar. “But I could eat, if you want to go grab something. Misery loves company, right?”

Callie blinked, surprised at the offer. But then she realized: if anyone could relate to what she was going through right now, it was Cash.

She nodded. “Sure. But I get to pick the place.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They ended up walking to a bar and restaurant not that far from the hotel. It was a nice night, and they opted for a table outside on the patio. It was tucked away in the corner; intimate. The hostess had probably assumed they were on a date. Callie had been grateful when her cocktail arrived.

“So, if misery loves company then I guess that means you and Alex still haven’t worked it out?” she asked as she grabbed her straw and took a long sip. The drink was already halfway gone and their food hadn’t arrived yet.

Cash reached for his beer, shaking his head. “No. Back at the arena I told her I wanted to talk with her after the show, but she freaked out about her Dark match and ran off without saying anything.” He took a sip, swallowed it down. “The ball’s in her court. She knows how to find me if she wants to talk.”

Callie frowned. The part of her that had come to value Alex’s friendship wanted to know how she was feeling about all this, what she was thinking. But the jealous part of her still resented that Adam seemed so willing to open up to Alex instead of her. “Kenny practically bragged about what happened,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and gave a sarcastic laugh. “Of course he did. You know, after the first fight with Kenny, I admitted to Alex that I was worried he could steal her back. I wish I’d been wrong.”

His forearm flexed as he gripped his beer glass in frustration. Callie’s brow furrowed. “You think she’s gone back to him?”

Cash shook his head again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes I feel like I made a mistake telling her to choose. But I can’t be with someone who obviously has feelings for someone else.”

Callie reached for her straw again. And before she could stop herself, she muttered, “That’s how I feel about Adam.”

The comment obviously took Cash by surprise. “You think Adam has feelings for someone else?”

Callie bit her lip. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she thought Adam had feelings for Alex. So she danced around it. “I practically offered myself to him on a plate the other night, and he literally pushed me away to get another drink. So that really helped with my self-esteem. I don’t know; I guess there’s someone else he’d rather see in skimpy lingerie.”

Her cheeks suddenly burned, realizing what she’d said. She needed to slow down on the alcohol. But when she glanced at Cash and saw the look on his face, she wanted to down the rest of her drink in a single gulp.

“What?” she asked.

Cash laughed to himself as he shook his head. “Nothing. Just something’s wrong with him if he turned you down.”

Callie’s face flushed again. The waiter couldn’t have arrived with their appetizer at a better moment. She pointed to her drink as he set the dish on the table. “Can I go ahead and order another?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Why didn’t you go get dinner with Kenny and the Bucks?”

Alex took a sip of her water as she sat next to Adam at the hotel bar. Filming had wrapped not that long ago, and while Alex had come back to the hotel with the boys, Kenny had gone with Matt and Nick to grab a late dinner. Alex had hoped that maybe—maybe—Adam would go with them; but her hopes had been dashed when he’d texted her asking if she wanted to get a drink. She’d agreed to meet him, but she didn’t feel like drinking tonight.

“Please,” Adam scoffed. “They didn’t ask me.” He swirled his whiskey and took a sip. He gave her a sarcastic look as he set the glass back down. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

She pursed her lips. “Really?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You two seemed pretty cozy when he took you to the trainer after your match.”

Alex’s cheeks burned and she shifted in her seat. Kenny had stayed with her in the trainer’s room the entire time, holding her hand as it was determined that she’d—thankfully—only suffered a bad sprain. She’d be out of action for two-to-four weeks, but it could have been a lot worse. Afterward, he’d kissed her and told her he was glad she was alright. She hadn’t said anything, choosing instead to kiss him back deeper. But she didn’t have to tell Adam that.

“He was there for me,” she said. “And I appreciated it.”

“Didn’t you say Cash wanted to talk to you after the show?”

Alex blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden interrogation. “Yeah, but he left the arena after he and Dax attacked Ricky Morton and didn’t even say anything to me.”

His eyes hardened when she said that. “I can’t believe they fucking did that.”

Alex frowned. “I know,” she agreed. But she didn’t want to go down that road, so she took another sip of water and changed the subject. “Have you talked to Callie?”

Adam shook his head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I want to.” He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the bar. He glanced at her as he signaled the bartender for another drink. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

Alex put a hand on his arm. The muscle tensed underneath her touch. “Adam,” she said, urging him to look at her. But he kept his eyes fixed on the empty glass in front of him. “Don’t throw out what you have with Callie.”  

The bartender swapped out the empty glass for a full one, but Adam didn’t reach for it. He looked down at her hand on his bicep. He reached across and placed his hand on top of hers. “Alex…”

But Alex’s attention was suddenly drawn to the lobby. “What the fuck?”

Adam’s brow furrowed and he turned to look where she stared. Callie and Cash crossed through the lobby—and judging from the carefree looks on their faces, they’d been drinking. Adam and Alex watched as Cash put his hand on Callie’s back, and then they disappeared out of sight toward the elevators.

Adam turned around to face forward again, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “What the fuck,” he repeated. He grabbed his whiskey and took a long drink.

Alex laughed wryly to herself. She wanted to believe it wasn’t what they thought it was. But she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Yeah… I’ll take that drink now.”

[doc-pickles]

never thought i’d see it break

okay listen.... i am sorry for this fic, mainly because i know some of y’all are going to drag me into the ground for this. but i wanted to write some angst and while it might not be super angsty in theory it definitely counts because our favorite idiots don’t end up together. like at all. so once again, sorry for any mental anguish i may cause, i promise i’ll make it up to you guys tomorrow.  

also i cried writing this so good luck

Halloween 2020

She really didn’t think that the day would hit her so hard. The days leading up to it had been uneventful, the decorations lining the halls at work not fazing her in the slightest as she went about her daily routine. But when Jo woke up on Halloween morning, it felt like the past year of her life was slapping her in the face. The cold harsh reality of her husband up and leaving her sat deep in the pit of her stomach, her mind reeling as she laid in bed. 

“Are you getting up today,” Levi looked at Jo from his position on the couch, eyeing her warily. “Because I had plans but I can cancel them.” “Get out, go away,” Jo’s monotone voice was barely above a mumble as she stared menacingly at Levi. “Let me wallow once again in the realization that my marriage has failed and I will probably die alone. Or with you. Can’t tell which of those is worse.” 

Levi blew out a short breath, gathering his things and letting Jo know he was going to hang out with Nico for the day. Once the door to the loft was closed and locked, Jo reached beneath her bed and pulled out a large black box. Pulling the lid off, her breath caught in her throat as she took in the contents of the box.

Laying on top was a ratty tshirt, one that Jo had once religiously worn as she climbed into bed every night. The faded Iowa State logo stared up at her with a menacing aura, the memories that came with it too painful for Jo to relive. She set it aside and reached for the photo album below it, the dusty jacket brandishing a name she’d wished she could forget but rang through her mind everyday. 

The Karev’s. 

She knew it was torture, opening the book up to look at photos of a day that was once happy and beautiful but now filled her eyes with tears, but she did it anyways. The shades of blue and yellow that graced the pages, the smiling faces of their friends, of him, were like a glowering unwanted sign that her life had taken a detour that she had neither wanted nor anticipated. It didn’t help that there was a Polaroid tucked into the back page, her and Alex grinning at the camera with fake blood and vampire fangs adorning their faces. 

Hastily shoving the photobook and shirt back into the box, Jo ignored the numerous photos, ticket stubs, letters, and other memorabilia from the years she’d spent with Alex and shoved the box back under the bed. Why she’d thought taking it out was a good idea she would never know, but the feeling that had been blossoming when she woke up was now taking over her entire chest in a painful display. 

How had her life been so different a year ago? Sure it wasn’t ever picture perfect, her and Alex had their differences but they’d always worked through whatever was thrown at them together. His dad, DeLuca, Paul, him getting fired, her mom… every single problem they’d faced in their seven years together had been done exactly like that, together. Whether by choice or by reluctant agreement, the two were always there for one another, but apparently ex wives with two children she kept a secret for five years was where they drew the line. Where Alex drew the line.

Knowing she wouldn’t be doing the laundry that was piling up or scrubbing the sinks that needed some TLC, Jo settled back into bed, eyes watering as she scooted to the right side of the bed and clutched the now unused pillow that lay there. It didn’t smell like him any longer, but the comfort of holding the fabric to her chest still held. 

That’s where Meredith found her hours later, tear stains across her cheeks as she slept through the afternoon. A heavy sigh left the blonde as she settled onto the edge of the bed, one hand patting Jo’s shoulder affectionately as she woke. 

“Schmitt texted, he said you were wallowing in misery so I figured that was a cry for help,” Meredith let out a chuckle at Jo’s angry expression. “Come on, you can come take the kids trick or treating with me, it’ll be a good distraction.”

“I don’t want to move,” Jo mumbled into her pillow, eyes barely moving to meet Meredith’s. “I want to lay here until I sink so far into the mattress that no one can ever find me again.” “Jo, it’s been months. And I know it’s not easy, but you’ve been so strong through all of this, I’d hate to see one day ruin everything for you,” Jo sighed at Meredith’s words, knowing her friend was right. “If you get up now I will pour wine into a tumbler for you to drink while we walk around.” “Fine,” Jo rolled out of bed, glaring at Meredith as she did so. “But I’m only getting up for the wine.”

Halloween 2023

“You know I don’t normally interact with other humans on Halloween.”

Jo stood in the doorway of her apartment, a grin on her face as she looked at the man in front of her. His grin was threatening to overtake his face as he leaned down and kissed her sweetly, one arm wrapping around her waist, “I brought beer and scary movies, will you let me in now?”  

“Okay fine, only because of the beer and not because I like you so much,” Jo rolled her eyes and opened the door fully, letting Jack into the apartment and locking the door behind him. “Please tell me you have Scream in your collection, otherwise I don’t think this is gonna work out.” 

Jack pulled out the aforementioned DVD case, eliciting a cheer from Jo as he set up the movie. She really didn’t think she’d been this happy in a long time, the feeling of happiness bubbling in her chest as she grabbed popcorn an altogether new experience. 

When she’d picked up a Safe Haven baby from Station 19 four months ago, she hadn’t expected to have an hour and a half long conversation with Jack Gibson, who’d been sitting with the little girl before she’d arrived. Their conversation flowed so easily that the two had picked it up over dinner that night and the rest was history. 

She hadn’t seen anyone since Alex left, she hadn’t wanted to waste time on something that was going to leave her heartbroken again because she just couldn’t do that. But the connection she felt with Jack was real and exciting and something Jo hadn’t realized she’d needed until she had it. It almost distracted her from the fact that today her and Alex should be celebrating four years of marriage together. Almost. 

“Are you dazing out again over there,” Jack’s voice was light and cheery, but Jo could see the concern etched on his face as soon as he took a good look at her. “Hey, what’s wrong? We can watch Poltergeist if that’s what you want.”

A heavy sigh left Jo as she realized that she’d have to tell someone else exactly why today was one of her least favorite days of the year. Of course Jack knew that she was divorced, he’d met Alex once or twice when bringing in patients but he didn’t know everything. It wasn’t something that you should burden your partner with four months into your relationship, the ways that you failed in your previous marriage. 

“I was married. Obviously. And we got married on Halloween, so that’s why I don’t like being around people today, because it still sucks,” Jo’s gaze was concentrated on her fingers as she spoke, not wanting to see the pitiful expression on Jack’s face as she relayed her tragic backstory. “And I didn’t really wanna bring it up because you… you are the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time and I don’t want to ruin that by talking about my failed marriage.”

Eyes finally flitting up to look at Jack, Jo was startled to find empathy instead of pity in his expression. She knew he’d had a rough upbringing like her, that neither of them had been handed anything they had in life, but the unexpected compassion and Jack showed her always took her by surprise. 

“You are a badass. And for the record, you’re the best thing that’s happened for me in quite awhile too,” Jack wrapped his arms around Jo and brought her into his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Would it make you feel better if we played a drinking game and got ridiculously drunk?”

“You know me so well,” Jo giggled as her eyes met Jack’s, his green eyes sparkling with that same sense of compassion that he always wore so brightly when he was around her. 

The two settled in for a night filled with laughter, shots, and scary movies as Jack cracked jokes all night, making sure that the smile on her face never left.  For once Jo didn’t feel like the day consisted of her replaying all of her past mistakes. Instead, for the first time in a long time, Halloween felt like a new beginning. 

Halloween 2025

“Oh man it is too early to be awake,” Jo’s groans echoed through the empty fire station, her feet leading her towards the soft voices she heard. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“We’re in here,” a smirk played onto Jo’s face at the sound of her boyfriend's voice, not expecting to see him today. “Hey there.”

“Hey yourself, who do you have there,” Jo walked further into the room that Jack sat in, a tiny bundle settled in his arms. She peeked over his shoulder, taking in the dark curls and soft features of the baby he held. “Well aren’t you a cutie. How long have you had her?”

“Just an hour or so, she’s been perfectly calm,” Jack looked up to Jo, gladly accepting the kiss she placed on his lips. “Usually by now they’re screaming at me, but this one hasn’t wanted anything except snuggles.”

“Maybe you’ve just got the magic touch with this one,” Jo settled into the chair across from Jack, giggling at the faces he pulled as he tried to entertain the baby. “She seems content there.”

“It sucks, she’s got no family and she doesn’t even get to celebrate her first holiday,” Jack’s finger ran across the baby’s cheek, eliciting a quiet coo from the little girl. “Oh I know sweetheart, maybe if you’re lucky the nice doctors will sneak you a lollipop.”

Jo’s heart leapt at the sight before her, fingers twisting the silver chain across her neck. She’d been to the fire station to pick up babies more than she’d like to say in the past few years, but seeing the tiny infants cradled in Jack’s arms always made her heart burst. 

“How do you feel about stealing a baby,” Jack’s eyes widened as they met Jo’s, a grin taking over her face at the shocked look he wore. “Cmon, trust me on this one. It’ll just be for a little bit, plus you’re off now right?”

“Yes, but now I’m concerned about what my girlfriend has planned for this poor innocent baby.” +

“I give you about ten minutes of this before someone calls you out and we get arrested,” Jack’s eyes nervously flitted around the bustling Peds ward. “I will give you props though, she looks pretty cute.” Jo turned from the sight of children running down the hospital halls to the infant in Jack’s arms. They’d stopped at Target before coming to the hospital, grabbing a pumpkin costume to put on the newborn before they took her around the Peds ward to trick or treat. Jack and Jo both knew that they were being a little silly, but they wanted the little girl to have at least one day where she felt loved. 

“Of course she does, she’s the cutest little baby in the world. Aren’t you Hallie? Yes you are,” Jo grabbed the infant’s foot, looking up to Jack who was staring her down with an unamused expression. “What? She needed a name and I watched Parent Trap last night. Plus it’s kind of fitting, Hallie… Halloween… Oh you’re just a party pooper!”

“Jo! What’re you doing here,” Link sauntered up to Jo and Jack with a smile, sleeping baby strapped to his chest. “Woah who's baby is that? Did you hide a pregnancy from me for nine months?” 

Jo’s eyes widened as she stared her best friend down, lightly slapping his arm, “No you idiot, this is Hallie. She’s a Safe Haven baby, but we wanted to dress her up and let her have some fun before we turned her over.”

Links gaze floated from the baby still cuddled against Jack to Jo who was perfectly settled into his side. He held his hand out, a knowing smirk on his face, “Give me your phone, I’ll take a picture of you guys.”

Without hesitation, Jo handed the object over and both her and Jack wore bright smiles as Link snapped the picture. He handed the phone back, both adults leaning in to look at the photo in awe. 

“I give you about a week,” Link chuckled, both Jo and Jack too caught up in the infant with them to notice his words. “I’ll see you guys later!”

Jo absentmindedly waved her friend off, grabbing Hallie from Jack’s arms and bringing her to her own chest. The little girl blinked up at Jo before settling contentedly against her, eyes closing in a matter of seconds. 

“You know, she seems pretty content with us,” Jo looked up from the baby to her boyfriend with wide eyes, not believing the words she was hearing. “What? She does, she’s barely cried since I got her this morning and looks so comfy snuggled up with you.” 

“You are pretty cute, I’m just gonna sneak you out and take you home,” Jo squeezed the hand of the infant, looking up at Jack who was staring at her with an awed look. “What? Do I have baby spit up on me?”

“Nothing, you just look good. You’re a natural,” Jack brought Jo back into his side, pressing a kiss to her head. “I love you.” “I love you too,” Jo laughed as the baby burped loudly before settling herself back against Jo. “And I think she likes you too.”

Halloween 2030

“Bailey, I just finished my charts and I am heading out,” Jo sighed as she set her arms on the nurses station, head leaning warily against one hand. “I’m off for the rest of the day, I’m just going to check on Mr. Olsen in the ER before I duck out. Pretty sure my kids are driving their dad nuts and the addition of sugar tonight won’t help with that.”

Bailey let a laugh out, dismissing Jo for the day and letting the younger woman know she wasn’t needed the next day. A sigh left her as she climbed into the elevator with her purse in tow, Jo finally feeling a small sense of relief. 

“You are not making my job easier, you’re much more troublesome than your brother,” Jo settled one hand onto her growing baby bump, a strong kick meeting her hand as she rolled her eyes. “Typical. You’re going to have your sister's attitude aren't you?”

The elevator dinged loudly, bringing Jo away from her conversation with her unborn child and into the real world. As she stepped off the elevator, her hands dug into her purse in search of her phone. She’d finally dug it out when she ran straight into whoever was walking in front of her. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was ju-,” the air in Jo’s lungs left suddenly, as if it had been sucked away by a vacuum as she met the eyes of the person she’d bumped into. “Oh my god. Alex.”

Alex Karev, ten years older than when she’d seen him last, was standing not even two feet in front of Jo. Her heart was hammering as she stared at her ex husband, his presence the last thing she’d expected, especially today of all days. 

“Hey Jo, good to see you,” hearing his voice almost brought tears to Jo’s eyes as she stared dumbly up at Alex. “I’m working on a case with Hayes for the week. You look good, happy… round.”

A small laugh escaped Jo then, her hand falling to her bump as she finally found her voice again, “Yeah, this one kinda popped out right away. Between that and my constant morning sickness, I couldn’t hide being pregnant for very long.”

“I’m glad, that you’re uh happy, that’s good to hear,” Jo watched Alex’s eyes flit to the wedding set on her left hand, then back up to her. 

“Mama!”

Both Alex and Jo turned toward the excited voice sounding down the hallway, a head full of black curls flying past Alex as the little girl they belonged to wrapped her arms around Jo’s legs. A second shorter head of messy brown hair crashed into Jo’s legs, laughter escaping her as she tried to wrangle both children, “Okay you two, mom can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, they escaped as soon as I walked through the door,” Jack appeared next to Jo a second later, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning to Alex. If he was shocked to see the man, he hid it well as he extended his hand towards him. “Hey, Jack Gibson. Alex, right?” “Yeah, nice to meet you,” Alex shook Jack’s hand with a small smile, Jo’s heart skipping a beat at the unusual sight. “You guys have some good looking kids.”

Jo laughed, her face lighting up as she looked at the two children now preoccupied with a game of tag, “I can’t take all the credit, Max is Jack’s clone and Hallie just kinda… fell into our laps. She’s got my attitude though, if that counts for anything.” “That counts for everything, you know she uses that to get whatever she wants,” Jack slung his arm around Jo’s shoulder as she leaned into him, her hand coming back to her burgeoning stomach. Jo could tell Alex was watching them, but she didn’t have the words to verbalize how odd it made her feel.

“I gotta go, but it was nice to meet you Jack,” Alex waved his hand at the other man, before turning to Jo. Their eyes met for a second and it almost felt like that day eleven years ago standing in a courtroom in the most ridiculous costumes. Jo’s throat tightened as she offered a watery smile to Alex, his own eyes glassy as they finally broke away from hers. “It was good to see you again Jo, it really is good to see you happy.”

Jo could only nod, lifting her hand in a wave to Alex, “You too Alex. Have a good stay.” Alex turned and left then, Jo’s eyes watching him until he turned a corner and was out of her view. The sight tugged at her heart strangely, her mind bringing up the image of him walking into an airport so many years ago and never turning around. She doesn’t realize there’s tears floating down her face until Jack nudges her lightly. 

“You okay?” “Yeah,” Jo swipes at the tears that have pooled on her cheeks, turning to Jack with a smile. She leans up to press a kiss to his lips, holding on a bit longer than she normally would in public before pulling and meeting his green eyes with her brown. “I’m perfectly fine, just another Halloween. You guys ready to go?” Jack pauses for a moment, holding Jo’s stare before turning back to their kids who are still running around the hallway, “Yup, we just came to pick you up before we headed to Meredith’s. Hallie! Max! Let’s move it!” The two kids followed Jack and Jo out of the hospital, a string of laughter following the family as they made their way into the chilly Seattle air. Jo’s eyes lingered on the trauma bay as they left, remembering a day so long ago it felt like another lifetime when she’d first met the man she’d been married to. A swift kick to her ribs pulled her out of her thoughts, her fingers squeezing Jack’s as they made their way through the parking lot. 

Just another Halloween….

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions!

A day late, but ah well...

As usual, we’ll go ahead and do an Open Question Night. Which basically means that, while my ask box is always open, tonight I’ll be keeping an eye on it and answering things as they come in. Any fandom or work I’ve talked about here (or posted on AO3) is fair game, as are general questions about writing, etc. I do accept prompts, but I am. Not very good at filling them in a timely manner unless they Immediately spark something, lol.

So, yeah, what’s on your mind?

Also, since I don’t think I have for a couple months, plug for my Discord server! It’s pretty quiet, mostly intended to be a slightly more interactive extension of this space, but you’re welcome to check it out!

Anyway, the usual Coming Attractions details are behind the cut!

PodTogether 2021:

I participated in this challenge for the first time this year, and it was a whole lot of fun! Of Other Suns is a SW/AtLA crossover, and I think it turned out pretty well! My reader/podficcer and I worked pretty closely together during the initial brainstorming process, working out what we wanted to do, and also bounced off one another during the whole editing/finalizing process. There’s a lot that I didn’t end up putting into the fic (because time and length; I am a. Uh. Very wordy writer; the aim was for 6-12k words, we ended up with nearly 15k as it is...), so I might poke more at this specific AU, or crossovers linking up at a different time (either a different point in the SW canon, or in the AtLA canon, or both). I...definitely have extensive headcanons for SW characters as benders of various elements (or nonbenders), and there are at least two Force-sensitive AtLA characters who were outside the scope of the crossover.

Anyway, if you want to check it out...click this link XD (and definitely listen to the podfic too!!! It’s really great)

Precipice:

So, between the final push on PodTogether and some origfic stuff I got done, I...did not get anything finished and posted for this, alas. But! I am saying it here in the hopes that doing so publicly will for once get me to actually stick to a deadline, which is that I will get either the first Protectors chapter or the next Preludes one-shot (or both!) up by this Sunday, September 12. The Protectors chapter will be mostly scene-setting, establishing where various characters are when we open, six years after we last saw our heroes. The Preludes segment will involved Hondo contacting Obi-Wan (and Anakin, who’s with him when he gets the call) about something Relevant To Their Interests.

I will for sure get that Prelude out this month, and hopefully at least two Protectors chapters, but we’ll see how things go at work and how much brain that takes, which is always a factor...anyway, with any luck, I’ll start establishing a Rhythm. I don’t think I’ll be doing weekly updates, the way I did for the first few arcs of Precipice (in part because there are some other longform projects I intend to start putting out and if I am going to do Weekly Fic Posts, I’ll probably alternate), but we’ll see how things go.

AtLA Fic:

Again, I didn’t finish what I wanted to (other than the aforementioned crossover for PodTogether), but I have been working on stuff in the background and, while I’m not going to commit to a Specific Deadline like I am for Precipice, I do plan to post at least the opening chapter of the still-untitled Avatar Zuko AU I’ve been working on this month, so watch this space!

Other Fic Projects:

I’m poking around at what to do for next years SWBB (if only because my wordcounts have been Steadily Increasing and I’d like to get a head start in anticipation of that happening again this year, lol). Still considering exactly what to do, whether I pour all my focus into OFLAM, like I consider every year, or see if I can work up Bail Unfucks the Timeline or another half-plotted AU I have in the back of my head, or go with a different prompt/storyline that occurs to me at some point between now and then, but I’m starting to Actively Ponder things.

I do have that BSG1 crossover outline in the works, I swear XD I’ve got...uh...maybe half to two thirds of the first third of the overall storyline written up? XD It’s a. Uh. Long one. I might go ahead and release it in three parts, just for length/convenience, and because it does more or less have three distinct sections (the initial contact/New Caprica fallout and establishment of the Haven settlement which makes sense in context; the second contact/algae planet; and then an adventure on a resurrection ship to retrieve a Specific Boxed Five and possibly walk away with Ellen because that would just ruin Cavil’s day and I do so love to ruin Cavil’s day, lol). ...I’m going to go ahead and post a preview snippet at the bottom of this post, as Motivation XD

I think that’s all the fanfic stuff I have specific updates for. There’s generally always stuff noodling around in my brain (lately, for Star Wars, AtLA, BSG, or some combination of the three), it’s just how much of it materializes, lol.

At some point, I plan to revisit some BSG epics I had going on (Serenissima; rewriting For Sorrow Sung or doing a slightly different storlyine with the same concept; The Other Battlestar; a few others), but no concrete plans as of yet.

I also kind of want to explore a far-past AtLA setting I designed for a challenge community way back? But I’m not sure if that would work better as an original work with the serial numbers filed off, if I could figure out how I wanted to do that (I have done it before, as I’ll talk about below, but this concept, while not directly involving any characters from Avatar canon as it’s set 2000 years prior to Sozin’s reign, does to an extent lean on the Avatar specifically as a concept, in a way that the other fic I did this with did not).

Original Fic:

Due to a challenge on rainbowfic, I actually got. Quite a bit written? Most of it was not super plot-relevant, but I dropped some Hints about a character in Lux and I got to play in some heads I don’t very often. I might go back to the Regency AU at some point, and there’s a specific reveal I want to write up for a secondary character in The Farglass Cycle, but I haven’t quite figured out how to structure that one, so we’ll see how it goes.

Had an interesting discussion the other day about the way original fiction sometimes starts as fanfic with the serial  numbers filed off and...well, a lot of my original stuff starts that way? Or has some roots there, anyway.

Lux doesn’t quite as much, but I definitely ported in at least two characters who started as fanfic characters (leaving aside that this is, y’know, The Apocalypse IN SPACE so, like. Various fandoms that deal with that probably influenced things, plus several key players are Public Domain Characters sooooo), plus some of the way the world is constructed draws on the Native Tongue trilogy and I flat-out stole a concept from Queen of the Damned, though the way it works in this world is different (also, to be fair, I think I’ve seen it in other places, too; but I personally got the idea from there).

The Farglass Cycle and Untitled Intrigues Story, however, straight-up started as fanfic concepts. And I don’t think it’s obvious unless I point out what the source materials were? Farglass, in particular (it’s the AtLA fic I mentioned earlier), because it started as an alternate future and then the map and magic system got reworked, plus the Avatar themself wasn’t even super involved in the original fic context, and while certain characters are very loosely based on AtLA characters, by now they’ve been so altered by the setting that it’s...I used the same archetypes, if that makes sense?

And then Untitled Intrigues Story started as a fusion between two wildly different fandoms, and while one character is a pretty clear expy if you know where he comes from, and another character kept the same actress in my head, I don’t think it’s very clear other than that.

...anyway, not sure where I’m going with that, other than it’s been in my head lately, lol.

...I think that about covers it! What about you guys? What are you all working on? Slash any questions, etc.?

Teaser for BSG1 AU outline, as promised:

So, anyway, SG-1 is prepared for rain and mud and a survivable-but-kinda-unpleasant environment. They’re also prepared for the usual shenanigans--Goa’uld, cranky local politics, weird alien tech that Daniel really should know better than to touch but sends him into another dimension anyway...

Just. Y’know. A normal mission.

They’re...not quite prepared for what they actually find when they step through.

Which is a very tense and now slightly Confused crowd of people, and a firing squad made up of very large killer robots, with a teenage girl as their target.

(One of the large killer robots is. Uh. Well. Half a large killer robot now; that particular Centurion was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got kawooshed in the face. As one does.)

(Said Centurion absolutely wins the ‘Weirdest Death’ pool for the week in Download City, because that is clearly a thing that exists because it entertains me)

There’s a beat where everyone just stares at everyone else, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

The wormhole disengages.

Daniel takes half a step forward, opens his mouth to start the ‘we are peaceful explorers from Earth and y’all seem to be having a Moment here, sorry for interrupting, but, uh...’

And then the moment end and absolute chaos erupts.

[threadsketchier]

Hey Sketch! Not to be a pest, but any progress on Libero? It’s my absolute favorite fic for Star Wars or maybe just in general, and I know I’m not the only one on pins and needles!

I KNOW, I AM TOO  (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

On paper, so to speak, I shouldn’t really have an excuse - @alderaan-babe helped me out a ton with figuring out space battle logistics and all that less fun crud.  This is becoming more like...

...ok, time for Dirty Laundry Posting™, Debbie Downer ahoy

I’m slowly mentally edging toward a Blue Screen of Death because of two primary things:

I’m kind of a full-time caregiver to my mom, who’s dying a slow, gruesome death at home and

I need to find a job.

**I’m not going to get into the personal details of how I do have money to live off of right now, but suffice to say it’s not a bottomless Scrooge McDuck pit, eventually it’ll run out.

Very very ironically, after leaving my toxic job in Sept. 2019, I planned on taking a little hiatus and then looking for work again in March.  Ha.  Yeah, laugh with me.  We all know what happened then.  So I put that off, especially when it was a struggle bus to obtain food and supplies for like 2 months straight with all the shortages everywhere.  The amazing thing is, despite confining myself to my apartment for the past 7 months, the year’s gone by too fucking fast.  It’s already enough to deal with helping Mom, doing household chores, ordering and then meticulously cleaning all grocery items, in addition to wanting to stay in fandom by hanging out in 2 separate chat servers and being on Tumblr and seeing my favorite YouTube channels...

It’s been too easy to put the looming Work specter aside from all that.  But I can’t avoid it forever, or else we’ll wind up homeless.  I also don’t want to rejoin humanity.  COVID will definitely kill Mom if I brought the germ home, and I don’t want to get it either because I do not have a good track record with illnesses.  I don’t want to play that game of Russian roulette and be one of those outlier statistics of young healthy people who somehow still managed to die from this shit, or wind up in extreme medical debt if I survived (because of course right now I’m uninsured).  I’d really really prefer to find a remote job, especially because I’m already accustomed to it; I had to do plenty of remote work for my last job.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few months.  Every day is going by so quickly.  I’m terrified that I’m not going to find anything and we’re going to be out on the streets.  And if I DO secure a job, I may not have time for fandom anymore, or so little time that I can’t write anymore.  Now, you’d think that would motivate me to hurry up and finish barfing out the story so that it could be done ahead of me needing to stop having a life, wouldn’t it?  But that’s all I can think about when I try to open the draft and keep typing.  I even have another WIP I foolishly started but I’ve stalled on both of them.  It makes me feel the nihilistic sentiment of, “why does this stuff even matter?  It’s pointless, ephemeral fan blather on the interwebz.”  Fic and fandom aren’t going to rescue me when my bank account is empty and I’m hungry and shelterless.

(Sadly, this is the very point my mother tried to make to me all while I grew up, but I was the arrogant, reckless dreamer who just wanted Experiences™ and fun, fuck the consequences.  Well, they’re catching up to me again now.)

Alas, I wish I was a Twitch streamer or a slime-maker on YouTube, raking in the dough, or somebody with a million Patreon supporters, but I’m not “special” enough for that.  I gotta get in line with the rest of the world, as much as I don’t want to.  I just want to write fic and draw again and try podficcing and yell across the internet at a bunch of nerds I’ve gotten to know all day, but I can’t.  I have to face reality and stick my resume on a prettier template and spend the next several weeks desperately combing through job listings, hoping somebody out there is willing to exploit and whip me as a corporate slave again so I can keep paying the bills.

This post feels extremely relevant right now, even though I know all my readers are lovely and patient and aren’t pressuring me.  The thing is, even though we’re technically not obligated to anything because this content is free...we still kind of are.  Because I chose to start posting in the first place.  I started stringing people along by making the story public.  I do kind of owe it to everyone to either finish the story or explain the rest of the plot, at least, because it’s doing readers a disservice to leave the narrative hanging when I first made that unspoken promise by posting it.  I’m never going to learn my lesson that I’m better off not posting content unless it’s complete to avoid causing this kind of disappointment, both to y’all and myself.  Yeah, Darth Real Life happens, but I still feel I’m in the wrong here.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a fic writer and her number one fan can’t get enough.

Note: This is probably the most meta shit I’ve written but for all the fic writers out there, this one if for you. Hope y’all get the good d you deserve but until then, here’s this!

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You let out a sigh of relief and hit ‘post’. It was almost pathetic but it was the best part of your day, or most days. Having something to share with others was nice. The fact that they enjoyed your work and your boredom-induced work made it worth the frustration. 

It wasn’t real writing. You knew that. Fanfiction was a genre to be laughed at. You didn’t admit it to anyone but there was a sense of pride to go along with the shame. 

That part of you was kept online. The darker parts; the lust, the angst, the fear. It all went hand in hand and no one would guess that the bookshop assistant was stevies-doll. It felt almost scandalous to have a virtual alter ego.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. More than enough to get ready for work. Plain blouse, grey pants, mary jane flats. You were the typical bookish girl with dreams that would never come true. 

The bus was late. Oh well. You’d still be there in time you’d just have to forego your usual espresso. Afternoons were draining and you often needed the boost to keep from nodding off in the last hour. You really weren’t sure why the shop stayed open so late; not many came out after five for books but traffic was relatively steady in the hipster village.

Nina met you with a frown. She preferred you at least ten minutes earlier. Tardiness had seen several other clerks fired and you had been the only to make it more than a year in the shop. Three in fact. This place was like a second home. A garden of ideas to plant the seeds of your mind.

When Nina left, you rearranged the desk. You moved aside her ledger and replaced it with your notebook, two pens to the right of it. In between the chime of the door and the rare customer queries you did most of your writing. When you reached a block you’d read, but today you felt particularly inspired.

The world was saved again. The news reports had shown footage of the daring rescue. As grim as the situation was, you couldn’t help but fantasize. The first avenger with his golden hair and sharp jawline was every woman’s Adonis. At least, you thought he was the very picture of perfection.

It wasn’t obsession. That was your mantra. You often argued with yourself. As much as you thought of the great Steve Rogers, it was only admiration. It wasn’t the possessive infatuation often found on social media. It was a hobby. An escape from the world. 

You bent over the notebook. The shop was empty. The dulcet tones of indie folk floated along the shelves. You set pen to paper and waited for the ring to draw you away from the world behind your eyes. 

You leaned on the counter and scribbled the first line in ink. That was always the hardest part. Then again, the beginning was always more exciting than the end.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

It was amusing at first. The thought of another person spending so much time writing about him. That someone would fabricate an entire universe in which he was entirely different. Somewhere out there was a woman who wore the pseudonym ‘stevies-doll’.

Steve knew he should have been perturbed by the fact. The idea of another so consumed by him that they would post almost every other day about him. He couldn’t remember how he stumbled on the small blog. A decent following but nothing close to viral. 

The first story he read was cute. It even made him feel warm. The second was very much the same. He clicked through to another, this one more serious. Grey and daunting. A few more and he stumbled upon one he found most interesting, the letters NSFW emblazoned across the top. He googled the acronym and clicked back to the tab. Excited almost.

When he finished, he was warm in another way. Hot, almost. The things he read, the idea of him doing them, was almost arousing. Of course, he had never done any of it. Had never been more than the perfect gentlemen. Sweet and doting. That was how love should be. But that wasn’t love, no, that story was sex. Pure, unadulterated fucking.

He forced himself away from the computer after that. He needed to sleep. He had intended to browse his email quickly but he often found himself in the oddest rabbit-holes. That was definitely the deepest. He shook his head and chuckled. It was funny.

The next morning he awoke and went about his usual routine. He was out the door by seven. Off to save the world. Or wait around for it to need saving. At Stark Tower, he listened to Tony with his eyes on his phone. It wasn’t anything important. Some recounting about how he had scared Pepper with a nano-spider. 

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and Tony went back to his screen. “Tough audience,” He muttered to Bruce who merely shook his head.

Steve leaned against a stool and squinted at his phone. He stared at the google search. Why had he typed it in? Somewhere in the tedium of Tony’s chatter, he had keyed in the name. He hit the first link and his phone loaded slowly. 

His own face stared back at him. The banner was a press photo he had taken over a year ago. His bright eyes were staunch beneath the mask as he stared off into the distance. She had posted again. His thumb hovered over ‘read more’. Did he dare? 

He looked up to make sure he was not being observed. The two scientists were too distracted to care about his online activity. He stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” He lied. A grumble from both scientists as they squinted at the floating screens. “Right, have fun.” Steve said dryly as he left them to their work.

He stepped out in the hall and pressed his thumb to the screen. He bent his head over the phone as he walked blindly down the halls. Neither Tony or Bruce noticed through the window that he had gone entirely the wrong way. Steve didn’t either as his eyes flitted over the screen.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

You couldn’t believe how much your blog had grown in the last few months. You didn’t know if it betrayed your unexciting life or your one-track mind. Both, maybe. But it made your everyday responsibilities a little less tedious.

And the messages were even better than the hit count. Several had messaged to say they loved your work and went so far as to call you an inspiration. It was flattering but it was easy to remember who you were. No Stephen King or JK Rowling. You wrote silly one shots with limited development. 

Today your inbox had been steady. Every time you found yourself bored at work, you opened the app and you had another message. Most of them short or even just emojis but nice nonetheless. And there was one you were waiting to answer

So long and in depth you had to give it more than just a thanks. You opened it several times and reread it.

‘Your story is really interesting. I think the way your portray Steve is believable. In this type of writing you rarely find anything realistic but your writing feels genuine if not entirely accurate. I would say you capture the essence of Steve perfectly and his actions at least make sense.

I always enjoy your updates and even look forward to them...especially the NSFW ones. ;)’

It was one of the few users who didn't use the anonymous feature and also left a complete comment. It was refreshing and you had come to look forward to their commentary. They went by CapUSA. Another Steve fangirl who was surprisingly inactive outside your blog. Her page was almost a clone of your own. They liked every post, reblogged, and commented. What more could a writer ask for?

Original characters maybe and not just fantasies of someone who’d never know of her existence. You closed your laptop and sighed. It felt like time. You could feel the block at the back of your head. The little thrill you got was wearing off and it felt like a phase better left to fade with your emo days in high school and that month in university when you dyed your hair purple.

You readied for work. Back on days that week. Opening was always easier. It didn’t feel so drawn out. Nina would be in at one and you’d keep her company until four. It meant little time for writing. Maybe that was for the better. You needed to start planning. For the future. For something truly your own. A fantasy so detached from reality that it would make market and maybe even a dime.

That was your dream. You didn’t want to be the listless fangirl forever. Ugh, how you hated to even call yourself a fangirl. No post today, you resigned. Maybe none tomorrow. You’d have to work up the courage to announce your hiatus. Life was calling and for once a sliver of genuine inspiration. 

And the bookstore. It was Shakespeare’s birthday, which conveniently was also his death day. This meant two for one on all of his works. Nina also  hired actors to stand outside the shop and re-enact famous scene from the playwright’s repertoire. They wouldn’t arrive till noon but you had a lot of set-up to do. Enough to keep you from thinking of the disappointed messages that would fill your inbox.

-

Steve scrolled through the pale pink blog for the dozenth time that morning. It had been two weeks since stevies-doll posted. The longest two weeks of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had become a staple in his life. A ritual almost. He’d read her latest fic as he laid down and try to clear his head of blood and grime. Lose himself in the person she dreamed he was. The man he had come to envy. Fictional but all too real in his head.

But there was nothing. At first he re-read and read again. But that grew old. He knew almost every story by heart at this point. He could recite the intro line to most and he fell asleep as his imagination reconstructed the things he had never done. 

Her banner flashed across his sight when he woke, the image of his blue eyes staring beyond him. He’d come to think of her Steve as an altar ego. The beast buried deep inside of him. He was tired of being the nation’s golden child. Their unwavering moral beacon. He wanted to be him and she had helped him figure out who he truly was.

But she was gone. No green dot above her name in the chat window, her last post dated fourteen days ago, her blog like a time capsule. The ice that had preserved him for seventy years. Where was she?

Then a thought struck him. A devious one. He had been on enough missions to know his way around a computer. He considered himself quite savvy after living nearly a decade ahead of his time. It was simple enough. He tracked down many a drug pin this way and they were often concealed behind walls of encryption. He doubted she had more than a store-bought antivirus, if that.

He climbed out of bed and booted his computer. His leg shook impatiently and he tossed his phone just beneath the corner of the monitor. He rubbed his palms together as the home screen loaded and he clicked on the browser.

Her IP was simple enough to find. Right-click, inspect. When he found it, he felt his heart jump. This was a line. A very clear one. If he did this, there was no going back. He let go of the mouse and leaned his chin in his hands. He stared at her page, split by the window of code, and his jaw ticked.

He hit back and went to the messenger. He clicked on her name and his fingertips ran over the space bar. He didn’t know what to say. He’d send her little asks about her fics but he never messaged her directly. Would she respond?

‘Hey,’ He typed slowly, his fingers sped up with each key, ‘I’m a fan of your work. I think it’s excellent. I just wanted to check in and see if you were still writing for this blog.’

He hit enter and waited. He focused on the grey dot beside her name. If she saw this, it likely wouldn’t be until morning. He checked the time and sighed. It was late. He had an early briefing with Tony and he should try to sleep. 

He hovered the cursor over the x but the dot turned green and he paused. The little ‘...’ blipped in the bottom of the chat box and the ding of her reply was music to his ears.

‘Hey, sorry. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’m a bit behind at the moment. Thank you though for following me. I always enjoy your comments :)’ He read it several times before he could reply. Before he could even think of the words to.

‘It’s okay. We all have responsibilities. Take your time.’ He wanted to tell her to hurry up but who knew? She might be someone important, like a lawyer or teacher. He could wait. As long as there was hope. 

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Really.’ That response was quicker. Curt, almost.

‘I don’t want to overstep but are you okay?’ His cheeks were hot.

‘Ah, you know, life.’

He scratched his chin as he leaned back in his chair. Slowly he sat forward and typed. It took him three tries to get it right. Concerned but not pushy. ‘Anything you wanna talk about?’ He waited. The three dots appeared then faded. Several times before her answer blipped up.

‘I don’t wanna trouble you but I appreciate you asking. Nothing I won’t get over.’

‘Ok, no problem. Just know that if you need it, I could listen. It’s could to talk about stress.’ He laughed at himself. He should take his own advice. He had a horrible habit of letting things pile up until he burst at the seams.

‘Thanks again. I’ll ttyl. I gotta get some sleep. Have a good one.’

‘You, too,’ He replied a bit too quickly. ‘Talk to you then.’

-

You were ready to post again. It had been almost a month since your last fic and you had been reluctant to return. You couldn’t help checking in daily to see your notifications and scroll mindlessly through your own content. And your offline writing had come to a halt. You were stuck and you didn’t know how else to cope but fall back on what you knew.

Your new friend had helped too. CapUSA had quickly become a stalwart of your blog. She, or he, you still weren’t sure, spoke to you almost everyday. They encouraged you to try one more fic as you mulled over a certain prompt. Why not? It would be like a writing exercise. Maybe it would help you with your original writing. Take some of the pressure off.

And you didn’t just talk about writing. You talked about the bookstore and Nina’s incessant complaints. You talked about the stresses of your lives. Friends, or lack thereof. Cap seemed a popular person and recounted stories of the latest drama. A close knit group of friends who acted more like adversaries. It was amusing and made your forget that your life was rather empty.

You hit post and smiled. That familiar rush rolled over you and you snapped closed your laptop. You were already dressed and ready for work. You crammed in the quick editing session before the bus was due and now you’d have to run for it.

Back on afternoons. It was rainy and you were soaked by the time you got to the shop. The weather always helped traffic and you ducked behind the counter where Nina was tending to the line with Cara, a new addition. The curly-haired blonde reminded you of old Hollywood. Her high cheekbones and rose lips rivaled Monroe’s.

“Do you want me to start early?” You asked as you tucked your bag under the counter between them.

“You better. I’m gone in ten and Cara’s only on til three.” Nina muttered. “We got a new shipment. Boxes are at the end of the aisles. We’ve not had a chance to touch ‘em.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” You pin your name tag on and stepped back around the counter. She was in one of her moods and all the better that you avoid her until she left. You went to the end of the history aisle and opened the box against the wall.

‘You working?’ The vibration drew your attention from re-arranging the non-fiction section. The message floated in a bubble on your lock screen. You smiled. This faceless stranger felt like more. Of course, virtual friendships were often fleeting.

You glanced down the aisle, both Nina and Cara were squinting at the computer as a customer waited patiently for them to figure out their conundrum. You swiped away the lock and typed swiftly with your phone hidden behind your leg. 

‘Closing. Here all night.’

‘Oh :( you got company at least?’

‘For a couple more hours. But no shortage of work. :/’

‘Damn. Should I leave you alone?’

‘Up to you. My responses might be sporadic. Boss isn’t very pleasant today.’

‘Cool. I just read your new fic.’ 

‘Yeah? Sorry I haven’t checked my notifications just yet.’

‘No problem. I left a comment is all.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Taking a break from driving. I should actually get back to it. It’s a long trip.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a friend.’

‘Ah, ok. Well, drive safe.’

‘I will ;) See ya later.’

‘ttyl :)’

-

‘Nina’s Nook’. Steve read the crooked moniker several times over. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. That she was inside. He made good time on the road. An eight hour trip in six. Of course, he hadn’t exactly abided the speed limit. His impatience had turned to recklessness. So unlike him.

The sky was dim. The summer nights came later and later. She’d be done in an hour. The streets were dying down and the door hadn’t chimed in almost as long. He felt nervous all of a sudden. He tried to shrug of his anxiety and took a breath. 

She wouldn’t know it was him. Well, she might recognize him but she wouldn’t know he was CapUSA. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Steve Rogers in her bookshop. In this town. It would be a story she would recount for the rest of her life. An encounter she would never forget. 

Oh, he’d make sure she remembered it.

He crossed the street. A single car passed as he stepped up on the curb. It was much quieter than New York. No honking, no shouts, no hissing sewers. He liked it. It was quaint. He stood before the door and peeked through the glass. There was no one behind the desk. But the sign read open and the lights shone in welcome.

He pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. The bell announced his entrance and a small voice called from the corner of the shop. “One moment, please.” He heard the shuffle of books and light footsteps. She emerged from the far shelves and his lips parted at the sight of her.

He had seen her before. Her few photos on Facebook and Instagram. He had found those shortly after he ferreted out her IP. He couldn’t see much but her privacy settings allowed him a glimpse into her real life. Her smile was nicer than in her pictures. 

“Sorry, I was--” She stopped short as she saw him. She blinked. He closed his mouth as hers fell open. Her voice was higher when she spoke next. “I was just sorting some stuff out. I--How can I help you?”

“Um, a friend recommended a book to me and I was passing by, I thought maybe by chance… you might have it.” He kept his voice even. The same one he used for his press conferences.

“Do you have a title?” She asked. He could see her fingers tremble. The guilt as her eyes rounded. She was thinking of all the things she had wrote about him. He was thinking of those too.

“Jeez, you know, I’ve totally forgotten but the author was, uh…” He pretended to think and his eyes drifted down her body. Her flowered blouse was boxy but her pants hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She clasped her hands together and the gesture pushed her chest together between her arms. “Margaret Archer--er, Atwood.”

“Hmm, she’s done a lot. Do you know what it’s about?” She pulled her hands apart and wiped her palms on her dark pants. His eyes followed the movement. He wanted his hands there. Wanted to feel her thighs against him.

“Something about an apocalypse...um, a character named...Snow--Snow something.” He acted like he coudn’t remember. Couldn’t recall that it was stevies-doll who had recommended the very book. 

“Oh, Oryx and Crake, I think it is. It’s an interesting one.” She smiled, proud to have figured out the riddle. “If you will, it should be with our most popular books.”

She hesitated as she passed him. He followed her as she went to the shelf just beside the counter. She hovered her finger before the titles as she read them. She bent as she got lower. He admired her ass as she did. He tucked his hands in his pocket before he could reach out.

“Yeah, I think it’s in sci-fi.” She stood and peeked over her shoulder. “It’s just over here.” She led him down the narrow aisle to the end. “Starts just here so Atwood…” She scanned the shelf, “Here.” She pulled out the book and held it out to him. “We have it in hardcover too.”

He took it and felt the raised letters on the cover. “Thanks.” He didn’t even acknowledge the book in his hand. The aisle was so tight she was trapped between him and the wall. She gave a sheepish smile and he turned to press his back to the shelf. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

She nodded and squeezed past him. Her chest brushed against his torso and she pretended not to notice. Once past him, she cleared her throat. “If you need any help, I’ll be up front.” She turned before he could respond and her watched her go. He never would’ve guessed the mousy shop assistant would have such a lurid imagination.

-

You were in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Steve Rogers in your book shop? No, you were dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Oh god, why had you written all that stuff? You needed to delete. Now. You could hear him. The floor creaked as he moved slowly down the aisle. You hoped he would’ve taken the book and gone. The longer he stayed, the worse you felt. Your cheeks were on fire.

Your phone vibrated. You swiped the screen and found a new message from CapUSA. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You should just pretend you didn’t see it. You unlocked the phone and read the message.

‘Hey, how’s work?’

‘It’s fine.’ You answered. What could you say? Who would believe that Steve Rogers had walked in your door?

‘I just was thinking about your last fic.’

‘Oh yeah?’ You peeked over at the far aisle. The floor no longer whined with his weight.

‘Yeah, I’d love to re-enact the last scene.’

‘Sorry?’ You sent the message and it went unanswered. ‘I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

‘The one with the girl on her knees. Begging to be fucked.’

‘Okay? I still don’t understand.’ Your heart jumped. This was really weird.

‘Or maybe and I could fuck you on that counter you’re standing behind.’

You hit close and locked the phone. You dropped it and looked around the shop. You rushed out from behind the counter and glanced out the window. You turned the latch and the floorboards groaned. You turned and pressed yourself to the door. You forgot he was there. 

How could you forget something like that?

“Sorry, uh, we’re closing up,” You felt around for the lock, “I was just--”

“That’s okay. I think I’m just about done.” He slapped the book against his palm and placed it on the corner of the counter. He set his phone on top of it with a flourish. “Why don’t you flip the sign and we can get started.”

“What are you--”

“Do you prefer I call you by your real name or stevies-doll?” He leaned against the counter and smirked. “Or I can just call you doll. I know you like that.”

“No,” You exhaled shakily, “Y-you can’t be…”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He asked. He didn’t sound like the hero you saw on the news. Barely looked like him now. His pupils dilated to darken his blue eyes and the shadows of the shop cast his face in sinister tones. “You can call me Stevie if you like.”

“I...What I wrote, it was just...” You spluttered. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m not mad. Intrigued really.”

He stepped closer and your ears pounded as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. You turned and fumbled with the lock. The door opened an inch before his hand slammed it shut again. He easily flipped the lock back into place and spun the sign with a flick of his thumb. 

“You can close early and we can have some fun...maybe inspire a new fic.” His arm was around your waist and you grabbed onto his thick wrist.

“They’re just stories.” You kicked as he pulled you away from the door. He tugged the blind down over the window. “Stupid fantasies.”

“Well, consider this a dream come true, doll,” He spun and let you go. You collided with the desk and gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. “I think you remember this scene.”

“What do you want?” You clung to the desk as you turned to him. 

“You know, I’m everything people think I am. Straight-laced, valiant, boring.” He planted his feet and stared you down. “Or was...until I found your blog.” His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “It gets lonely on the road. At first, your blog was like a secret companion. It gave me something to look forward to but then it made me think. So many things I never even knew I was missing out on.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want from me,” Your voice cracked. Your fear surged and left you shaking against the counter.

“I want…” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed, “You.” He paused and pushed his shoulders back. “On your knees.” Your eyes rounded, “Oh yes,” He raised a finger, “Naked.”

You stared at him. You were frozen in place. The counter your only support from melting into a puddle. His nostrils flared as he exhaled; long and drawn out. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He snarled and his hand balled into a fist.

You gulped and held yourself with one hand against the counter as you bent to unlace your oxfords. You kicked them off with your socks and mustered your strength. You stood on your own and unbuttoned your shirt. You kept your eyes on the aged carpet stretched across the hardwood.

You dropped the blouse onto your shoes and unzipped your fly. The wool trousers slid halfway down without help and you untangled your legs from them. You added them to the heap and stood straight.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered. Your eyes snapped over to him. “Good.” You reached back and he raised a hand. “Stop...I wanna do it.”

He waved you forward and slowly you stepped away from the counter. He bared his palm in a gesture for you to halt and you hung your head. “Eyes up.” He corrected as he came closer. He walked around you and stopped just behind you.

His thick fingers touched the band of your bra and ran along it until they met at the hooks. He carefully unclasped it and the cups fell loose. He tickled your arms as he pushed the straps down them. He took it and flung it away from him. His hands came up to cup your tits and he pushed himself flush to your back.

“You always wrote so vividly of me but...I never knew how beautiful you truly were...how good you feel.” He squeezed and slowly lowered his hands. He dragged them to the side of your panties and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic. He bent as he guided the panties down your legs. “God, that ass.”

You shivered and his hands cradled your ass. He ran his rough palms along your cheeks and up your back. They settled on your shoulders and he pushed down firmly. “On your knees.”

He stepped back and you unsteadily got to your knees. He walked another circle around you. You could hear his dusky breaths. Glimpsed how his hand ran over the front of his jeans. 

“Now ask, like a good girl,” He stopped before you and stared down with a smirk. “Go on, doll, I know you want it.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You grit your teeth and gather what was left of your wits. A story. That’s all this was. The letters could be backspaced and no one would know better of it. 

“Please,” You recalled the last scene you had posted. The tingle which had flowed through you as you hit the button. What had she said? You opened your eyes. “Please, I want to...I want to make you happy.” You shuddered as the words whisked from you. “Can I?”

“Can you...what?” He taunted.

“Can I suck your dick?” It was barely a whisper. 

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely,” His hands were on his belt as he spoke. “But I have a different scene in mind for tonight. A new one.” He unbuckled his belt and cracked his neck. “I want you on the counter. On your back.”

You made to stand and his hand went to your head. He held you down. 

“Crawl.”

You weakly dropped forward and turned. You crawled on hands and knees as he followed, stopping just in front of the desk as you followed his pointed finger to the other side. You stood and lifted yourself onto the counter and laid on your back. He guided your head over the side as he pulled you close and his hands found your tits again. He tweaked your hard nipples and you bit your lip.

He rescinded his hands and finished unzipping his pants. You tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down, his briefs too. The blur focused and you gaped at the size of him. He gripped himself and you snapped your mouth shut. He grabbed your chin and squeezed.

“Now, now, don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” He pressed his cock to your mouth and you were forced to open as his fingers threatened to crush your jaw.

He slid inside and your gasp was stifled as he met the back of your throat. He forced himself further and you threw your arms out. A clatter of books and papers as you swept them off the counter. He lingered at his limit and wiggled his hips. You arched your back as you choked and he grabbed your tit, kneading it as he slowly pulled out.

He pushed back in just as you gulped down air and you writhed atop the desk. He thrust in and out of your mouth. You gagged and groaned. The noises only fueled his fervour and he sunk in over and over until your head pulsed. The spit smeared around your lips and his balls.

He pulled back and slammed back in suddenly. His motion slowed as he came. He grunted, his breaths stuttered by the staggered rock of his pelvis. You clawed at the counter top and kicked until you could breathe again.

He slipped his cock from between your lips and his cum leaked from your mouth. You sat up and coughed. His hands were on your shoulders again. His fingers danced along your throat as if to ease your struggles.

“Come on, that’s just the first act,” He drew away and you glanced over your shoulder. “Turn around.” 

You turned on the desk and he pulled your legs over the edge. He pushed your knees apart and stepped back to admire the view. You dug your nails into the lip of the counter to keep yourself from closing your legs.

“I know you’ve been dying to see this,” He grinned and pulled his shirt over his head. 

His cock hung out of his pants. It twitched as he tossed his shirt at you. You caught it. It smelled like him. He shoved his pants down without pause and he hardened again. You dropped his shirt and looked away guiltily. 

Had you not written this scene a dozen times over?

He was completely naked when you looked again. He came close, his hands on your knees as he knelt before you. You tried to pull your legs together but he held them apart. He shook his head and tutted. 

“Just sit back and enjoy,” He licked his lips. “Trust me, it’s better than you could ever imagine.”

Your shock took over completely. You watched as he bowed his head and you felt his hot breath on your thighs. When his tongue met your pussy you gasped. He delved between your folds and swirled around your clit. Your nails went deeper into the wood and your thighs shook. It felt good. It shouldn’t, though.

He buried his face deeper and you watched his golden locks from above. He reached over blindly, his large hand found yours, and he guided it to the back of his head. He held it there a moment before letting go. You clung to him as he hands glided up your thighs and he framed your vee with thumb and index.

You arched your back and moaned. It was your declaration of surrender. You couldn’t resist it any longer. The heat stirred inside of you, the flames licking at your thighs and back. You urged Steve closer though he couldn’t possibly go any deeper. 

His hands slipped down to the outside of your thighs. Your legs closed around his head and held him there. He tipped you slightly and you curled around him as he continued to lap. Your breaths mixed with throaty hums and you fell back. 

You had one hand still on his head and the other in your hair as you cried out in a mighty climax. He didn’t stop until you were shaking across the counter. When at last his mouth left you, you shivered. A sudden coolness washed over your body. He stood and you looked at him through the haze.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you to your feet. You wavered and he spun you quickly. You caught yourself on the desk and he slapped your ass. “That’s it,” He purred. “You’re getting it now.”

He nudged your shoulder until you were bent entirely over the counter, your toes barely met the floor. He rubbed your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. His cock poked you as his hand slipped lower and he tickled just below your ass. You squirmed and he chuckled.

He felt around and his cock slipped lower as he bent his knees. He dragged his tip along your folds before prodding at your entrance. He shoved his hand between your legs and forced them apart. 

He pushed inside and slowly stretched you around him. Your head shot up at the strain. A mix of pain and pleasure as he got deeper and deeper.

You whined as he bottomed out and his hips bucked almost instinctively. He hit your cervix and you cried out. He eased out and pushed back in. He repeated this again and again, his motion careful. Deliberate. He brought his pelvis flush to your ass and groaned.

“Fuck,” He slapped your ass again. 

He drew back and slammed into you all at once. All restraint was lost and he thrust mercilessly. His pace was wild. You reached out to grab at the edge of the counter, your hips hitting the other painfully. The spark had caught and you felt the flame about to burst. 

Your orgasm was surprising. More agony than pleasure. You whimpered and pushed your head into the counter as you heaved. You could barely breath as Steve never wavered. He fucked until you until your walls ached. Until they turned numb and you were nothing but a mewling fool before him.

He bent over your, his muscled torso against your sweaty back. He rutted atop you frantically. His hips jerked as his grunts deepened. His breath caught and he swore. He lifted himself off you and you felt the warmth spill down your ass and thigh. 

You laid breathless as he panted behind you. He rubbed his cum into your skin with two fingers and you shook. You tried to push yourself up from the desk. He caught your hip and shoved you back down.

“Oh, we’re not even close to the finale,” He pinched your ass and you squeaked. “Not to mention the epilogue.”

-

tags to be added in reblog

[imaginesofeverykind]

Uncharted: Forged [Re-Write]

y’all the Sam Drake feels are hitting HARD, im replaying all the games atm and I reread my old fic from 2017 and decided I love Melissa so much so we’ll give this a red hot crack! <3 xx Majority of the fic is the same, i’ve mainly updated wording and layout, but of course some lines and inner thoughts have been changed to add more to the fic if you’ve already read the original! <3

OC x Sam Drake

Summary: It always went without saying that where you found the Drake brothers, Melissa Bridges wasn't far behind. More correctly, wherever you found Samuel Drake; Melissa Bridges wasn't far behind. The pair were quite literally as thick as thieves, partners in crime, their very own Bonnie and Clyde. It was short lived between the two of them. Sam's death struck a chord with Melissa, what she chose to do with the grief is the question. Better yet, what does Melissa do when straight from the 'grave' fifteen years later she is reunited with the oldest Drake brother?

Warnings: Swearing(?) Dorky as fuck Sam Drake,

Word Count: somewhere in the high 2000’s

|PART 2| PART 3||

Samuel Morgan had a reputation. Not only exclusive to the Orphanage he grew up in, but also to the sister Orphanage several blocks away; Sister Margaret's. He caused fights, disrupted the peace and was caught doing illicit activities on the building grounds. But believe it or not; he never truly used to be as much of a delinquent. In fact, his behavioural changes can be traced back to ten months ago when he met Melissa Bridges. As innocent she may seem, her bad influence on Sam caused quite a turn of events in his life, some good, some bad, some ugly. But when it came down to it, Samuel and Melissa were always there for each other.

[1] Boston: A Bad Influence

Every day like clockwork, Samuel Morgan would peer out his window, looking beyond the gates of the Orphanage to catch a glimpse of her as she walked by. Her hands always seemingly shoved into a denim vest that looked miles too big for her as it covered what appeared to be a faded pink dress.

On the days he managed to see her while he was out in the courtyard, he spotted smaller nuances and details missed from afar. The boots she wore looked as though they had stopped fitting several years ago, long exceeding their lifespan judging by the soles flapping with every careless step she took. Her hair was always tied up neatly in a ponytail to gather her long dark locks.

Some days — he noted — she was accompanied by groups of girls. Most days she would stride on her lonesome but regardless, alone or not; every day at Midday, Melissa Bridges would pass by the Orphanage in a direction that didn’t quite add up.

It confused Sam, considering Sister Margaret's was in the opposite direction and there was evidently nothing in the direction she was headed. If he wasn't so chicken shit to do so, he would find a way out just to talk with her for even five minutes, maybe even a polite ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’

He spent an embarrassing amount of time watching her, understanding her routine to the point he questioned if his motives were borderline criminal. His curiosity and infatuation with the mystery that shrouded the peculiar girl always kept him from pulling away from her. When he told himself; let it go for today, he’d catch himself looking out the window at just the right time, like it was a habitual instinct he somehow developed.

On weekends she would walk by not just at midday but once more, later in the evening between seven and nine. The few times he mustered up the courage to finally leave, he got as far as opening the window before deciding against it. Despite slight behavioural issues, he was top of the class, rarely did anything out of line despite the occasional fistfight between other boys in the home.

One night in particular, however, Sam decided he was finally going to do it. Go beyond the gates and finally speak to Melissa, a girl he only knew from the distant affections via observation. Did he know her name? No. Did he know anything about her? Aside from her being in an Orphanage, no. Did he know her eye colour? Not at all, but he would like to.

Despite knowing less than the bare minimum about her, his infatuation with curiosity constantly drove him to the brink of madness, urging himself to find the answers he sought out. He wanted to know why she would walk so braisingly confident, in clear sight of St. Francis undeterred by the Nun’s there and where she was heading that was apparently so important she ditched her classes. What was she doing at said place— if she was even going to a destination. Most importantly, he wanted to know how she managed to pull a fast one on the Nuns, knowing how their eagle eyed scrutinous gazes fell on the boys here.

His watch beeped, displaying the time as seven o’clock. It’s time, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath before opening the window. The frosty Saturday night breeze spilling into the room, the chill bite prickling his cheeks. The boys would be attending dinner in the hall at this time of night which is why he decided now was the time to make a break for it.

Sam had a clean record...ish... He had high hopes that in the event he was caught out, he would only merely get off with a warning and maybe forced to write some convoluted, meaningless essay.

He vaulted out of the window and dangled over the ledge, recollecting the plan he had rehearsed in the forefront of his mind. It wasn't a special night or anything, simply the night Sam decided to finally 'grow a pair' and talk to her, this marking the first night he even got as far as dangling out of the window.

Sucking in a breath, he released his tight grip from the ledge and dropped down a few feet, hitting the brick roof of the lower level. The loose brick slates cracked under the sudden strain, however, absorbing most of the sound which came as a pleasant surprise. His heartbeat quickened as he chuckled to himself, "I'm actually doing this," the thrill of potentially being caught hung in the back of his mind as he scaled the side of the building. Reaching the front chapel and administration block, he stopped momentarily, his arms burning from the sudden intense activity.

On the streets below — like every Friday and Saturday evening — Melissa walked along the dirty streets, keeping her head down and hands jammed into her pockets as she strayed in relative proximity to the street lights. Leaves crunched under her boots, accompanied by the sounds of the loose soles slapping the sidewalk. She hummed to herself a leisurely tune — having listened to the beastie boys most of the day — she rounded the familiar corner where Saint Francis Orphanage stood.

It was always much more peaceful to pass it in the evening given that similarly to Sister Margarets; Dinner was around this time.

This night, however, as she finally strode by the fenced-off Orphanage she couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. Something lingered behind her, more so, someone. She cursed under her breath, not wanting to turn to see the figure on the principle of merely acknowledging it. If she didn’t look, it wasn’t there right?

Many scenarios crossed her mind, perhaps it was a Nun that had followed her out of the Orphanage, they were always watching her like she was on the brink of committing a major felony. Nevermind that their concern wasn’t an underreaction by any means. But if it were a Nun, they’d have her by the ear and on their way back now.

It could perhaps be a drunken stray from the pub she passed a block ago, this occurrence was regular more often than not. Of course, in her experience, the drunkards were quite lovely and just wanted some quaint company on their journey home.

Or... it could definitely be someone not as kind as the drunken strays and not as merciful as the Nuns. That thought crossed her mind too, it often did. Being a young woman, regardless of looks and attire, she was on her lonesome which made her an incredibly vulnerable target.

Or so many people thought.

She was positive someone was tailing her, their footsteps would stop every time she did and would start back up again when she proceeded. Around the corner she rounded, there would be fewer street lights, instantly darkening the streets actively causing them to look far more menacing. This hadn’t deterred her, though, she was hardly bothered by a lot. But the prospect of someone snatching her up from the street was something that bore into her mind and chipped away the panic that simmered inside of her.

Stopping just shy of the safe glow emitting from under the streetlamp, she waited in anticipation, counting quietly to herself before whipping her hands out her pockets. In a swift motion, she spun around, connecting her fist with the lurking figure behind her in an impressively powerful sucker punch. They groaned, stumbling backwards into the light. "Oh shit," She uttered, apologetically after catching a glimpse of the person she punched. Just a kid from Saint Francis.

Despite being punched by her, Sam couldn't deny she was as attractive close up as she was at a distance. Being even prettier than he imagined her to be, glancing through his eyelashes to look at her bright green eyes, tanned skin and plump lips. He had seen a lot of girls in his time, but none that took to him quite like Melissa had.

Samuel Morgan had just been sucker-punched by a girl, that would be quite the story to tell his younger brother Nathan. He was stunned as he held the side of his face in a dazed state, did that actually just happen to him, or was it a dream? Both fortunately and unfortunately for his ego, yes indeed it did happen.

"Crap. I’m so sorry, my bad..." Melissa's face softened as she stepped slowly toward Sam, outstretching a hand to touch his shoulder comfortingly, "I thought you were following me." she stated, a panicked chuckle falling through her lips, the sound was music to his ears.

"Uh-uh, I mean... Yeah, I was — well no, not like that! I mean — just put me out of my misery and hit me again." He stumbled on his words making Melissa laugh, squeezing her hand on his shoulder, offering yet another apologetic smile at the welt forming on the side of his sun-kissed face.

She clicked her fingers once recognising his features in better detail, once the light hit it at the right angle, "you're uh, that kid from Saint Francis, yeah?" They hadn’t met prior but he looked so familiar to her, perhaps they had sat near each other when both Sister Margarets and St. Francis’ homes came together twice a month for communal mass.

He stood upright at her question. Having always imagined what it would be like to finally meet the strange girl surrounded by a unsolvable paradox, none of the scenarios he thought of began with her sucker punching him in the middle of the street. He caught his bottom lip in between his teeth to stifle the minor laugh, scratching the back of his neck nervously, "there's a lot of kids at Saint Francis you're gonna have to be more specific." His tone was laced with a hint of sarcasm, a trait he was blessed with after years of dealing with the Nuns dull and humourless personalities.

Melissa rolled her eyes subtly as a smile ghosted her lips, the way he spoke was seemingly more familiar to her. Then it hit her. She recalled the last communal mass just a little over a week ago where the boy was dragged away by the Nuns for misbehaving during silent prayer. His name passing their holy lips as if it was a curse word while they dealt with him.

"Uh... Samuel something, right?" She tilted her head on the side and shrugged, her memory wasn’t all that great but she did recollect thinking how amateur it was of him to get caught like that. The fact that he got caught at all was amateur in itself.

"Samuel something?" He repeated, a smile pulling on the sides of his lips as his heart fluttered. She knew him. After thinking for quite some time she had no idea who the hell he was, this was a revelation that couldn’t help but make him giddy. His grin appearing more genuine as the palms of his hands began to perspire.

With a nod and a smirk, she quirked her eyebrow at him, "you got kicked out of church last week, yeah? I know because I was thinking how funny it was that you got caught… Rookie mistake,” Her tone was purely in challenge of his efforts, he too recalled being whisked away by the Nun’s and forced to write an essay on something he’d long forgotten.

He mustered up a laugh, bashfully nodding. His mind fixated on the thought of him getting her attention completely unintentionally, but thankful that it happened in the first place. What did she think of me? Was the question that flooded his mind, almost like it was flashing in neon lighting to keep his attention on it. “Clearly we’re not all good at getting away with everything — or does that come naturally to only you?”

The minute the words left his lips, he regretted them. Overthinking the tone of his voice, cringing at how much more sarcastic and blunt it came across than intended. When she merely scoffed at him, he felt relieved that she quite clearly had more tolerance to sarcasm than he originally anticipated, taking up the opportunity to feebly point to himself, “I’m Uh… Sam, Sam Morgan.”

She clicked her fingers yet again, instantly recognising the name, “Samuel Morgan, that’s right… I know you — our history papers get graded together and I know for a fact that you almost got a higher mark than me." She raised her eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on her lips. She drew out the ‘almost’ as it taunted him with her acute sense of pride.

Sam looked at her, in awe almost. He spent many of his waking hours thinking about what she would be like, she was much more confident than he imagined and that factor alone seemed to make her all the more desirable. A history buff and confident, not to mention the way her frame was highlighted by the street lamp behind her made it look like she was otherworldly. He was convinced she was merely a figment of his imagination, but the bruising on his cheek and slight blood nose stated otherwise.

"You must know a thing or two about history to beat me," he chuckled, shifting awkwardly once he found himself staring at her for too long, this night was not panning out like he had planned or visualized. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Only a little bit." She smiled, gesturing with her pointer finger and thumb, attempting to repair the boys already significantly damaged ego. Although she knew based off the report she snatched from one of the Nun’s offices; she had beat him by a landslide.

"What's your name, sorry?" Sam asked, clearing his throat. He ignored the proud smirk she wore as she kept her thoughts to herself, he knew she was a lot smarter than she admitted at the expense of keeping his hubris intact. The fact she hadn’t been caught sneaking out yet also lent itself to her sharp awareness and intelligence.

Melissa perked up, dismissively apologising as she gestured to herself, "Melissa, but you can call me Mel... Follow me, I know somewhere to get your face all cleaned up pretty boy — once again... Sorry."

Pretty boy. His gut twirled in a nauseating fleeting motion, something he hadn’t felt before but he knew it wasn’t a bad feeling. She waves her hand, indicating for him to follow her as she slinked into the darkness of the street they were on.

Sam was stunned— albeit, incredibly intrigued and infatuated with the idea of her. Eager to savour the rest of the evening in her presence, he shook his head but followed her, "So...." He trailed off, walking in sync beside her, "where are we going?" Was all he could think of, wanting to hit himself for asking such a basic question in comparison to the myriad of ones he kept stored away, why was he so mundane? "I uh... I watch you— I mean, I see you...sometimes walking past the Orphanage..."

Melissa looked to her odd new companion, a smile tugging on her lips. "You've never been outside the gates before have you?" Her smile gradually turning into a grin, everything about Sam screamed goody two shoes yet here he was, outside against the strict rules the Nuns abided by.

Sam frowned and put his hands up defensively, "Of course I've been outside the gates before—."

She cut him off, shaking her head, "no, I mean outside the gates without supervision and outside of curfew." Her eyebrows were raised as she waited to get an answer from her newfound friend, he merely shook his head coyly, her grin grew wider and she had a bounce in her step. "Well, pretty boy… when we get you cleaned up, are you ready to have the most fun you’ll ever have living in this shit hole?”

Sam thought for a moment, the nagging at the back of his head, the rules he was currently breaking would have severe consequences, but the rush and thrill of it all was so appealing. Melissa was appealing. And his insatiable need to fulfil his curiosity often always bettered his own moral compass. "Hell yeah." He commented enthused, kicking himself for being a little too enthused. She quickened her pace and motioned for Sam to pick up the pace as well.

Melissa was an addict, a thrill addict. Although she went to Sunday Church every week with the other Orphaned girls and went on bible retreats; it was a facade. She craved adventure, close encounters and thrill-seeking. On this particular night was the night Samuel Morgan's addiction to adventure had begun. Awakening that feeling deep within him, reminding him of the stories their mother would tell them before bed, the artefacts and trips they went on. He was aching to break free, and finally, he did.

And there was no turning back for him.

[anistarrose]

Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually - Chapter 5

AO3

Summary: It’s time for the hunt to resume. Noelle makes a promise, Kravitz conducts an interview, Taako plans a séance, and Barry makes a friend.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, The Director | Lucretia, misc. BoB cameos, Julia Burnsides

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz, Kravitz & Angus McDonald

Sorry for the late update! I was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then on Thursday I decided to focus entirely on losing my mind over the new TAZ episode, so that means it’s time for a rare Friday chapter. Lots of stuff is happening in this chapter, so hopefully it was worth the wait!

(Also, I normally don’t write the chapter titles on tumblr for this fic because it makes the title section of the post look cluttered, but this one is called “me and the boys at 2 am looking for jeans.” Just really wanted to make sure you were all aware of that fact.)

***

Long past the curfew established by the Reclaimers’ training routine, at the hour of night when the moonbase’s artificial lights dimmed and the bonfires on the planet below faded away, four pairs of eyes watched Avi from the shadows. A murmur of excitement escaped from behind one of the glass spheres when he yawned and checked his watch, followed by a chorus of disappointed sighs when he slapped himself across the face and set back to work unloading a new supply shipment, but he didn’t seem to notice them over the muffled roar of high-altitude winds.

Finally, a passenger sphere floated back into the port and the Bureau’s three top Regulators disembarked, back from a planetside drill that had run long. From her perch on Killian’s shoulder, Carey leaned down to affectionately slap Avi on the back, and he quickly accepted her invitation to join their gang for drinks at the Chug ‘N Squeeze. As Avi led the way out of the port, Carey and Killian hot on his heels while Noelle followed more distantly, there was much hushed rejoicing among their shadowy, impatient observers.

“Finally,” Taako huffed. “I was starting to think he was pulling an all-nighter.”

After checking one last time to make sure the coast was clear, Angus stepped out of his hiding place and reached for the door of the transport sphere, but Magnus grabbed ahold of him by the collar of his shirt.

“Sorry, little guy, but you’re staying behind this time.”

Angus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, at a loss for words for the first time since he’d started speaking in complete sentences at age fourteen months.

“It’s nothing personal, Agnes — we just need someone to stay behind and distract Avi if he comes back before we do,” Taako explained. “And no one can resist all your nosy questions once you get going, so you’re the perfect accomplice!”

“I can think of a few people who can resist it,” Merle scoffed. “Number one, me.”

Magnus ignored them both, kneeling down to look at Angus in the eyes. “Ango, if I’m being honest… we had some close calls last time, and that was in a cave where we honestly weren’t expecting to find anything besides a clue or two if we were lucky. Tonight, we’re going to try and get a lich’s attention, so this morning, we all sat down and talked about it and agreed we’ll feel better if you’re safe up here.”

Taako sighed. “Gee, way to let the kid know we actually care about him. Now his ego’s gonna grow until it’s bigger than mine, and then where will I be?”

“It’s okay, sir. I’m sure you and Merle will still find ways to keep me humble.” Angus managed a smile.

“Stay safe, all right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Merle laughed, as Magnus picked him up and placed him inside the sphere. “Now hurry up and set the trajectory, Taako. Barry Bluejeans isn’t gonna arrest himself —”

“Please, hang on just a second!”

Four heads whirled around to face the port’s exit hallway, where Noelle was floating.

“It’s just me, don’t worry!” she assured them, noticing Magnus and Angus’s guilty expressions and Merle and Taako’s panicked ones. “I won’t let the Director hear a peep of this, I promise — but if you’re going after Mr. Bluejeans, I’d like to come with you. If you’ve got room in that sphere, of course.”

“Well, the scale of this lich hunting team is rapidly veering past ‘secret club’ and careening into ‘elaborate conspiracy,’ but… I guess this whole bargain is about your life too, isn’t it?” Magnus thought out loud. “Taako, Merle, are you guys alright with this?”

“A ghost would know where to find another ghost better than any of us would, right?” Merle asked, and Taako shrugged.

“Then welcome to the lich-hunting conspiracy, Noelle,” Magnus declared.

On her way to the sphere, Noelle patted Angus on the head, surprisingly gentle despite her heavy robot arms. “Sorry, pal. I didn’t mean to replace you.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Angus told her. “I know you’re better in fights than I am, so… just be sure to keep them safe, okay? And if you get a chance, could you ask Barry if our theory about the Voidfish was right?”

Noelle’s face display flickered, somehow expressing a determined smile with just a few dozen lit-up pixels. “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

***

There were many reasons for a soul not to join the others in the Astral Sea, but most often, it was because they were waiting for someone. Luckily, the person Kravitz wished to speak with was one such soul, so he was able to find her in only a matter of minutes.

There was only one island in the Astral Sea with a cottage on it, after all.

Though expertly constructed, it was clearly unfinished, lacking a door, roof, or windows — so Kravitz knocked on the cedar doorframe, and waited outside for the house’s occupant to respond. Just seconds later, a tall woman with a bandana tied around her hair met him at the doorway, smiling sadly and shaking her head as she laid eyes on Kravitz.

“Oh. You’re the emissary of the Raven Queen. I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t sure if I was hoping or fearing that you were someone else.”

“I understand.” Kravitz said softly. “You’re Julia Waxmen-Burnsides, right?”

“That’s right.” Julia offered him a calloused hand. “Nice to meet — er, formally meet you, Death.”

“Death is my mother. Call me Kravitz,” Kravitz replied as he accepted the handshake, and Julia chuckled.

“Okay, Kravitz. What brings you over to my humble island?”

***

“Well, this spot should be as good as any,” Taako announced, kicking a pebble across the black glass circle that once was Phandalin. “Magnus, did you bring the sacrificial denim?”

“Sure did!” Magnus held up a pair of freshly purchased jeans. “Also some candles, and an ouija board that Carey helped me steal from Leon the other day as part my rogue lessons.”

“Tell Carey that gaslighting Leon is my job, and she needs to quit infringing on my brand.” Taako pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, tried and failed to draw a circle on the glass, then conjured a paintbrush instead and started painting a pentagram.

Meanwhile, Noelle drifted around haphazardly, the lights on her face growing dim. “It’s… it’s so empty here. I was bracing myself for ruins, for bodies… but there’s just nothin’ left. I can’t even remember where the bar was, or the hotel, or the stables…”

Merle looked away. “Sorry we dropped the ball on this one, Noelle…”

“S’alright. You made up for it in the lab last week, with the savin’ the world and negotiating for my soul an’ all.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable in your robot body, ‘cause we might not have much time left in the living world if Barry doesn’t show tonight.” Taako placed the jeans in the center of the pentagram, then lit them on fire. “But I think this’ll get his attention. Everyone, come join hands!”

Magnus kneeled and took Taako and Noelle’s hands, while Merle stood up on his tiptoes to do the same.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Merle whispered.

“Plenty of times.” Taako summoned a Mage Hand and adjusted his scarf to cover his nose and mouth, as the fire in the center of their circle intensified. “Noelle? Would you do the honor of reaching out for us?”

“Uh, I’ve never been to a séance quite like this one. Maybe you’d be the better one to —”

“Barry, you asshole! Too much of a coward to show your face!” Merle shouted. “Heard about how I banished Legion and got the heebie-jeebies, didja?”

The ruins of Phandalin fell eerily silent, aside from the quiet crackling of the fire.

“Sorry. Still not detecting any liches,” Noelle reported.

“Well, being a dick didn’t work,” Merle muttered. “Shoulda brought some booze and thrown a party — maybe that would get his lazy ass’s attention.”

“I’m pretty sure liches can’t drink, Merle,” Noelle told him. “And honestly, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I can’t imagine why Barry would be obligated to haunt this here town just ‘cause it’s where he died. Are y’all sure this is the best place to look for him?”

“Positive,” said Taako, but Magnus spoke over him.

“Maybe we should widen our search area. Quick, what other places would be significant to Barry?”

“How ‘bout the cave where he got his ass kicked?” Merle suggested. “You know, the place where we met G’larg or whatever his name was.”

Magnus let go of Taako and Noelle’s hands to fan the air in front of him. “Well, a hike sure sounds better than standing around inhaling denim fumes, I’ll give you that.”

Taako extinguished the blaze then cast Phantom Steed, and Garyl manifested atop the embers of the fire, rearing into a majestic pose. “Hiking’s for chumps. Garyl and I will race you there!”

***

Julia led Kravitz inside the cottage, which smelled pleasantly of cedar and lavender, and motioned for him to sit down in one of two rocking chairs. She sat in the other, crossing her legs and absentmindedly rocking back and forth.

“So, Maggie went and got on the Raven Queen’s bad side, did he?”

“Not permanently, I’m hoping,” Kravitz replied. “I don’t know him as well as you, but he and his fellow death criminal associates don’t strike me as anything like the usual bounties I hunt. I was hoping you could testify on his moral character, and maybe also shed some light on how he cheated death, because he sure doesn’t seem to know.”

“Well, he’s survived some close battles — but I assume you’re looking for necromancy, not near-death experiences.” Julia drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “And I know Magnus is no necromancer.”

“I figured as much. Did he know any necromancers, though?”

Julia shook her head. “No. He’ll stand up to any authority figure if he believes they’re abusing their power, but that’s not because he just walks around looking for rules to break — it’s ‘cause he can’t stand injustice. He’s a good man, and I can’t imagine him throwing his lot in with a lich or someone like that to flaunt the laws of life and death…”

Her voice trailed off. “Do you know how long ago these so-called crimes happened?” she asked.

“They all registered in our system at once, about twelve years ago. Needless to say, I’m assuming he didn’t die 19 distinct times within minutes of each other, so there must’ve been some warding that was previously hiding him from our detection. We’ve seen that kind of thing before, although never quite to the same extent.”

“Twelve years ago was before I knew him,” Julia admitted. “I’m not sure I even know where he was living or what he was doing twelve years ago.”

“Forgive me changing the topic, but are his parents still alive? Or any siblings, aunts, uncles?”

“He was an only child, and his parents passed away before I knew him — I think he was an adult at the time, but barely, so… that would’ve been thirteen, fourteen years ago, maybe? He never told me how they died and I never pressed him, so — wait a second, you’re the Grim Reaper. Shouldn’t you know exactly who’s dead and who isn’t?”

“I really should,” Kravitz agreed, “and that’s the problem, actually. I can’t find any relatives of Magnus in the registry of deceased souls — no parents, no grandparents, no cousins…”

“You only found people who were Magnus’s family by marriage,” Julia realized out loud. “That’s why you came to talk to me.”

Kravitz nodded. “Exactly — but it gets even weirder. Magnus’s fellow adventuring buddies and apparent death criminals are an elf named Taako and a dwarf named Merle, whom I don’t suppose you know —”

Julia gasped, not in recognition, but in dawning realization. “Don’t tell me you can’t find their families, either.”

“All I found for Merle were some fourth cousins, and equally distant relatives. I couldn’t find anything about Taako.”

“The plot sure has thickened, huh?” Julia muttered. “You’re right that I don’t know Merle or Taako, they must’ve been… you know, after my time. But I can swear to you, if this is some kind of — some kind of necromantic conspiracy, then Magnus is the victim, not the one behind it. He could not and would not plan something like this for years while keeping it a secret all this time. He wouldn’t have hid it from me or from Steven —”

“I believe you,” Kravitz told her, “and I believe Magnus, when he says he genuinely doesn’t know how he died nineteen times. But because I believe you, and because I think you’re right on the mark with regards to a necromantic conspiracy, I have one last question: have you ever heard the names Lup or Barry Bluejeans?”

Julia snorted quietly at the latter name, but shook her head. “No. Are they… necromantic conspiracy suspects?”

“You could say that. More specifically, they’re liches whom we first detected around the same time as Magnus. At the time, I assumed it was a coincidence, but now… well, there a few different first impressions of Magnus and his adventuring buddies that I’m reevaluating.”

“Tell me about it. That man contains multitudes.” Julia leaned back in her rocking chair. “If there’s anything else I can do to help exonerate Maggie — any questions or testimony you need — I’m sure you’ll be able to find me here for a long, long time, but… can I ask something of you, if it’s alright?”

“Depends. What is it?”

“Can you help me send a letter?”

***

For the first few hundred feet of the race, Noelle kept up with Taako via her rocket boosters, but then opted to save her fuel, and Garyl surged ahead towards the mountains.

“Eat my dust!” Garyl whinnied. “I’m gonna find those oatssss!”

“Liches, Garyl. We’re looking for liches,” Taako reminded him.

“Yeah, but liches always have some loose spectral oats in their robe pockets!” Garyl scaled the foothills with ease, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. “Sometimes they even give me spectral sugar cubes! Why dontcha ever hang out with liches anymore?”

Taako yanked on the reins. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t given me sugar cubes in decades,” Garyl moaned as they came to a halt. “Or even spectral carrots.”

Taako dismounted, turning away from the face of the mountain to look at Garyl in his iridescent rainbow eyes. “You gonna elaborate ‘bout me allegedly hanging out with liches, pal?”

“What is there to elaborate about? You used to hang with liches, and then you just —” Suddenly, Garyl’s eyes went wide. “Look out! Above you!”

Taako dismissed Garyl with a wave of his hand, and the binicorn disappeared in a flash of rainbow smoke. “Yeah, no, I’m not buying that. You’re just pulling my leg again —”

He turned around slowly and casually, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary — only to find himself facing a crumbling mountainside, dozens of massive boulders already rolling on a trajectory straight towards him.

He instinctively raised his Umbra Staff, only to freeze up, no idea what spell he could cast in time to save himself — but then something in his peripheral vision flashed red, and not a full second later, he was standing atop a distant hill, a hundred meters away from the site of the rockslide.

“Are you okay?” a voice behind him rasped. “I didn’t mean to startle you — I know you probably had it under control, but I — I just panicked. Sorry.”

Taako turned around to face a familiar red-robed specter, two vaguely eye-shaped lights under his hood looking Taako over.

“You know, I was actually pretty un-startled until you popped up behind me and started rasping in my ear! Let an elf have his personal space, Barold!”

“What?” The lights beneath Barry’s hood froze in place, as did every thread of his robe, paralyzed in spite of the gentle breeze. The rasp in his voice dissipated as he went on: “Taako, how much do you remember?!”

Taako blinked. “Remember?”

“Talk to me, Taako! Please!” Barry grabbed Taako by the shoulders, incorporeal hands trembling. “Do you remember your sister? Do you remember Lup?”

“Ugh, that sound! Why do you have to do that right in my face?” Taako shrugged off Barry’s barely-tangible grip, clapping his hands over his ears.

“You heard static?” Barry gasped. “Oh, no. No. I thought —”

“You bet I just heard the worst five seconds of ASMR ever! What do you want from me, man? All I know about Lup is that she’s a lich like you, ‘cause that’s all Kravitz could tell me —”

“Kravitz told you about us?!”

“Yeah, he did! Told me you two were his most elusive bounties, and that I could never let my guard down around you!” Taako reached into the quiver slung over his shoulder, pulling out a sapphire arrow. “And I think it’s about time I gave him a heads up that you’re hanging out right here, soul ready for reaping —”

“Do NOT summon Kravitz!” Just seconds before Taako plunged the arrow into the ground, Barry tore it out of his hand and hurled it through a rift. “Why the fuck would you summon Kravitz?!”

Taako’s grip tightened on his Umbra Staff, and Barry recoiled. The lights under his hood looked like they were melting, shedding glowing droplets that cascaded down some semblance of a face within the void.

“Taako, please,” Barry pleaded. “I’m not your enemy, and — and Lup isn’t either, I swear! She wouldn’t want this!”

Taako raised the Umbra Staff to cast, but no spell fired from the umbrella as it shuddered in his hand.

“You can’t listen to what Kravitz tells you — he doesn’t know why we became liches! He doesn’t know about the Hunger!” Barry’s robe was fraying before Taako’s eyes, crimson threads unraveling at the edges of his sleeves. “What if — what if he thinks you’ve cheated death? What if he sends you to the Eternal Stockade?! Taako, I’m begging you, I — I — I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too!”

Taako cast again, and the Umbra Staff still refused to fire, the beginnings of a spell entering his arcane focus on one end but never leaving it on the other. As Barry drifted closer, sparks jumping between stray red threads and face a mess of swirling light and shadow, Taako turned to his last resort — stalling for time.

“You know, Kravitz was thinking real hard about sending me to ghost jail the other day, but I convinced him not to. Don’t you want to hear my side of the story?”

Barry froze, the unraveling of his robe momentarily halted. “In the Miller lab? What happened?!”

“We made a deal. He was going to arrest me, Magnus, Merle, Lucas, and Noelle — but I got an idea he liked better. I asked if he’d let us go free if we captured another bounty or two for him — so he gave us two months to capture you and Lup.” Taako shrugged, so focused on trying not to panic that he hardly noticed the sound of electricity crackling and fabric tearing. “So if you just turn yourself in, then at least you’ll only have to worry about me half as much.”

Barry convulsed as a jagged gash tore through his robe from shoulder to waist, an intangible darkness spilling out from within him and pooling on the ground below.

“LUP!” he shouted, voice echoing between mountains and through underground lairs for miles and miles. “They — they signed their own death warrant, Lup! I — I can’t do this without them, I can’t do this without you — where ARE YOU?!”

“Taako! There you are!”

Magnus sprinted onto the scene, Merle and Noelle hot on his heels. He thrust himself between Barry and Taako, then pulled a sapphire arrow from his own belt, jabbing it into the shadow-covered ground at Barry’s feet. “Kravitz, we’ve got a bounty for you!”

The lights beneath Barry’s hood coalesced back into two flickering eyes that immediately fixated on the arrow, which was already engulfed in a crackling blue aura.

“Boys, I promise I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, and then vanished into thin air.

“Wait, come back!” Merle called out, rushing towards the spot where Barry had been floating. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you —”

Taako yelped as his Umbra Staff inverted, and the arrow flew through the air towards its maw — but milliseconds before the umbrella snapped shut around it, Kravitz manifested in a puff of smoke, already dual-wielding sapphire scythes.

“Did you find Barry? Where is he?”

“He got away, I think,” Magnus sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have summoned you where he could see, but I rushed in because I was so worried about him hurting Taako —”

Noelle floated around Taako in tight circles, scanning him from all angles. “It doesn’t look he hurt you, but… I’m getting some traces of conjuration magic? Did you have a wizard’s duel or something?”

“Oh, god no. I probably wouldn’t be alive if we had,” Taako admitted. His heart was still pounding, but he tried not to let it show. “Conjuration magic, though… let’s see. That would probably be from when he — when he teleported me away from the mountain, after those rocks started falling.”

“Those rocks?” Noelle gestured towards the massive pile of rubble at the foot of the nearest mountain. “Those look like they could’ve killed you!”

“I know, right?” Taako replied. “Very uncharacteristically benevolent of him to show up when he did.”

“As great as it is that you’re not dead, Taako, it was also very convenient of him to show up when he did,” Kravitz paced across the hilltop, scythes crossed in front of him like the world’s most dangerous dowsing rods. “I can’t sense his presence anymore, meaning he’s squirreled himself away in some sort of warded hideout… but if he appeared out in the open here only shortly after you did, then that hideout of his must be nearby.”

He turned away from Taako, facing the mountains. “Which means he’s still nearby.”

Taako felt his hand grow warm, and looked down to see his Umbra Staff, energized from the absorption of the arrow… and pointing directly at Kravitz’s back.

“Let’s search the area.” Kravitz continued. “Leave no stone unturned —”

Taako pointed the Umbra Staff towards the sky — not a moment too soon. A beam of white-hot plasma pierced the clouds above and bathed the entire mountain range in daylight for a fleeting moment, before it fizzled out with a crackle of electricity and a whiff of ozone.

Kravitz whirled around. “Taako?!”

“I didn’t cast that spell! I don’t know how to cast that kind of spell!” Taako gasped. “My umbrella’s been acting up all night, but I didn’t know it could act up like this!”

Kravitz sighed and placed a hand on Taako’s shoulder.

“You know, on second thought,” he said, “maybe we should postpone the lich hunting until you get that thing checked out.”

***

Merle made a beeline for his bed the second the gang returned to the moonbase, while Taako took it upon himself to relay the night’s events to Angus as a bedtime story, and hopefully ensure that the kid actually got some sleep. Noelle had opted to stay planetside for a little longer and fly back up to the moon on her own later, explaining that she needed some time alone to process what had happened in Phandalin, and that left Magnus and Kravitz alone in the common room between the Reclaimers’ individual dorms.

“There’s no way Angus will relax enough to fall asleep in the next week if he hears about what happened tonight,” Magnus sighed, collapsing onto the couch. “Either Taako lies and says nothing happened, or he uses a sleep spell on a ten year old. You wanna make a bet on which?”

“I’ll pass. But you just reminded me, I actually have something for you.” Kravitz rifled through the interior pockets of his vest, pulling out a piece of shimmering blue paper. Although folded over on itself several times, it still felt almost intangibly thin, like parchment woven from cobwebs or even air itself.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That better not be magical junk mail.”

Kravitz smiled, slowly shaking his head. “I spoke with someone in the Astral Plane today who had a lot of good things to say about you,” he explained. “She’s waiting to see you again, but hopes that day won’t come too soon, and… well, I haven’t read her letter, but I’m sure it speaks for itself.”

Magnus accepted the paper gingerly, eyes tearing up as he unfolded it to reveal Julia’s handwriting.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Kravitz plucked a raven feather from his robe, transmuting it into a quill pen with a snap of his fingers before handing it to Magnus. “I don’t allow this kind of thing every day, so don’t go around telling too many people about it — but you can use this pen to write a response on the back. Fold it up again once you’re done, and it’ll make its way back to her.”

Magnus leapt up from the couch to crush Kravitz in a hug that would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs, had he still been alive and breathing.

“Thank you,” Magnus repeated. “Thank you —”

Taako barged into the room, Umbra Staff slung over his shoulder. “You wanna guess what ‘cha boi had to do to get the kid to go to sleep? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t — okay, what am I interrupting here?”

A joke no doubt on the tip of his tongue, he froze as he noticed the tears running down Magnus’s face. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Magnus let go of Kravitz, wiping his eyes and picking up the pen and letter again. “I — I’ll be in my room. I need some time to… I just need some time.”

Taako nodded. “Don’t forget to get some sleep yourself. Apparently you humans need, like, eight hours of it, go figure.”

“He’ll be alright,” Kravitz whispered to Taako, as Magnus closed the door to his room. “He just got a letter from someone he hadn’t heard from in a while.”

“‘Course he’ll be alright. He’s Magnus, he’s indestructible,” Taako replied, but Kravitz could hear the relief in his voice. “And in case you were wondering, the way to get Angus to fall asleep is to read him a detective story, but only as a distraction while you’re preparing a Sleep spell.”

Kravitz chuckled. “You know, speaking of distracting — what’s with that flashing Chug ‘N Squeeze sign on the moon campus? I don’t think it was there when I visited you the other day.”

“Oh, that? I think it’s some kinda wine and pottery place — why, you wanna check it out? ‘Cause it’s supposed to open in a day or two, or so says all the hottest moon gossip.”

“Well, I mostly just asked out of morbid curiosity, but it does sound like something I could enjoy ironically — and maybe even unironically, as a break from all this lich hunting and detective work. Do you want to check it out with me?”

“Oh, a wine and clay vacation day with the Grim Reaper? That’s a hell yeah from Taako!”

***

The second Barry returned to his cave, he bolted straight for an unassuming chest beneath a pile of discarded scrolls and tattered jeans. Though it only occupied about two cubic feet, it was warded against everything from fire to water to acid, and sealed with an arcane lock — which Barry dismissed by uttering the passcode, emergency bonds.

From inside, he retrieved a handful of trinkets — a driftwood necklace from Merle, a wand that Magnus had once unsuccessfully tried to summon a dog familiar with, and most important of all, a dozen different wedding rings, all hewn from different materials and given in different ceremonies on entirely different worlds. Barry picked up the envelope beneath them and then gingerly placed them back in the chest, opening the envelope to look through the pictures it contained.

The shadowy essence of his lich form had stopped leaking out of his robe the second he’d opened the chest and been comforted with the wave of nostalgia, but he felt his soul stabilize even further as he pulled out the first picture. It was a candid shot of him, Lup, and Taako in the Starblaster’s lab, buried up to their elbows in notes as they studied the Light of Creation, which the camera had only been able to capture as a vague white blur. The three of them all had bags under their eyes, but they were still smiling. They’d been so determined to develop a new theory, to find the answers that would save them and their family.

And there was no reason for Barry to abandon that determination or give up on that goal now.

For the next four hours, he scrawled calculations on almost every blank scrap of paper he had at his disposal, comparing research he’s done half a century ago with papers he’d read on cycles even further back. He unfurled no less than five individual maps of Faerun, circling promising locations before changing his mind and scratching out all but a few that he’d personally visited in the past.

By the time his plan was complete, almost all of the rips in his robe had mended themselves — though he still looked unsettlingly threadbare, and he trembled slightly even while floating in one place.

How long did Taako say they have? Two months, as of the crystal incident? There’s no need to panic — I’ve got time. I just need to play this smart.

He extended his senses outside of his lair, scanning the surrounding area for Kravitz or another emissary of the Raven Queen — and there was indeed an undead presence lurking near Phandalin, but unlike Kravitz, it lacked even the faintest trace of celestial energy. Even stranger, its aura seemed shielded, but less so than a lich possessing a living body would’ve been… as if the soul was inhabiting an inorganic body, instead.

The robot no doubt sensed him approaching, but gave no sign of signalling for help, which made Barry feel much better about his decision to venture out of the safety of his cave.

“Mister Bluejeans? That you?” she asked, and the sound of her voice was all it took for Barry to connect a series of dots that couldn’t have been further from his mind just a few moments ago.

“I know you. You were in the Cosmoscope — and before that, you were in Phandalin. You were a halfling.”

“That’s right. I’m Noelle — Noelle Redcheeck. I’m surprised you remembered me.”

“I’m surprised you’re not furious with me,” Barry whispered. “I couldn’t save you, or anyone else in Phandalin — I’m so sorry, Noelle. Maybe, maybe, if I’d been in my lich form, I could’ve —”

“You tried your best,” Noelle assured him, “just like the Reclaimers. Really, the only person I should blame is whoever made that terrifying gauntlet in the first place —”

“No,” Barry interrupted. “I knew her, and I knew how implausible this will sound, but she didn’t want this. She tried her best to stop it, too.”

Noelle took a moment to reply. “It sounds like you know a lot of things that the Bureau doesn’t.”

Barry nodded. “Speaking of which… I really shouldn’t stay out here in one place for much longer, or someone will sense me, be it the Bureau or Kravitz. Do you mind if we take this conversation somewhere else?”

“Just lead the way.”

They headed not to Barry’s main hideout, but to a slightly nearer cave that he used mainly for storage but had placed equally powerful wards over. Abjuration had never been his specialty, but his ability to pick it up on the fly had been invaluable during his time as a rogue lich — and now, he thought, my abjuring might be the one thing that saves my family’s lives. Funny how that works out.

“So, Noelle,” he asked out loud, “I saw you with Magnus and Merle earlier. Do they know you’re still down here?”

“I told them I wanted to stick around Phandalin for a while and think about what happened,” Noelle explained. “Which, come to think of it, wasn’t a total lie — because I did want to talk to you about Phandalin, and I guess I got that chance after all. But I’m also here because I promised my detective friend that I’d ask you something.”

“Assuming your friend’s alive, then they probably won’t even be able to comprehend the whole answer — but fire away, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Did the Voidfish erase the fact that you were a lich?”

“Getting right to the root of the problem, huh?” Barry paused. “Hmm. Let me put it this way — the Voidfish erased all memories that could make me believe I was a lich. Whenever I’m alive, whenever I’m amnesiac, the idea that I could be a lich or even a necromancer just sounds like a joke. I’ve tried leaving messages to remind myself of that fact, after coming back to life — but my living self never believed it.”

“It sounded like a joke to Magnus and the others, too.”

Barry sighed. “That’s ‘cause they’ve lost a lot of memories of their own.”

“But… they’re innoculated. How is that possible?”

“Noelle, we’re well past the point where I need to warn you about keeping this conversation a secret from the Bureau, right? And… probably from your detective friend, too, assuming they work for the Director?”

“Yeah,” Noelle sighed. “Angus will be disappointed, but I understand.”

“There’s a second Voidfish,” Barry explained. “It’s very well guarded, and only the Director’s been innoculated by it — so she’s used it to erase all kinds of information, from the Reclaimers’ pasts to… a coming storm, which this world is unlikely to survive.”

“This storm… will it be worse than the Grand Relics? Worse than what happened to Phandalin?”

“It’ll be not just worse, but maybe even infinitely worse. Because it’ll go on to destroy worlds beyond this one, if we let it.”

Barry had forgotten what it felt like to speak so freely about his past and the Hunger, to speak without worrying that his words would be distorted by static, and more and more information just poured out, far more than he’d initially intended to share.

“There is an entity called the Hunger that seeks to consume all of existence, and it’s only a matter of months until it begins its assault on this planar system. The Director and the Reclaimers and I, we were all like family, and we worked together in search of a way to destroy this Hunger, but… we had some disagreements. And really, neither side was right, but Lucretia — Lucretia used the Voidfish to erase our whole mission, the Hunger included. I became a lich to protect my family from the Hunger, so… when I’m alive, I don’t have any memory of being undead. And my family doesn’t have any memories of me… aside from that time in Phandalin when I got Merle to stab himself with a fork, I guess, which probably didn’t leave a great impression.” He managed a bitter laugh.

“How long ago did they forget?”

“Almost ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It dawned on Barry that he was having most sincere, two-sided conversation he’d experienced in a decade — and ironically, the realization left him at a loss for words.

The same couldn’t be said of Noelle, who continued on without hesitation. “I promised my friend Angus not just that I’d get answers, but also that I’d look out for the Reclaimers. I don’t want the Grim Reaper, or the apocalypse, or whatever’s coming to hurt them — or anyone else in this world, like Angus, or Carey and Killian, or my family in Hogsbottom — so please, Mister Bluejeans, tell me what I can do to help. I want to do something with this extra time the Reclaimers gave me.”

“If you get caught helping me,” Barry warned her, “you’ll be imprisoned one way or another — either on the moonbase, or in the Eternal Stockade, depending on who catches you.”

“Well first of all, it sounds like at the rate I’m going, I’m gonna end up either back in the Astral Plane, or consumed by this Hunger entity in a matter of months if I don’t do anything to help you,” Noelle replied. “And second of all, I’m not plannin’ to just give up and let them arrest me if I do get caught.” She cocked her arm cannon.

Maybe it was risky to accept help from someone he barely knew, but Noelle had seemed nothing but sincere — and Barry had spent so long working alone that frankly, he was amazed it hadn’t killed him yet. He was a creature of bonds and of love; he sought out companionship by both nature and necessity. He didn’t know if he could do this alone, but alongside another undead soul who could actually understand and help, he knew for a fact that he could.

“Welcome aboard, Noelle.” Barry chuckled. “First things first: I’ve tried to stay out of the Raven Queen and her servants’ ways, because they’re really not evil at all, but if there’s any chance of stopping the Hunger, then we’ll need Taako and the others’ help for sure. Which means we’re going to have to do something about the Grim Reaper situation —”

“You know, I might have something to help with that.” A drawer Noelle’s main body slid open, revealing a sapphire-tipped arrow. “Magnus figured we should all have some summoning beacons on our person, in case of emergency.” She winked. “But I was thinkin’ we could use it to lure him into some kinda sinister trap.”

She paused. “He can’t eavesdrop on us through this thing, can he?”

“Not if we don’t say his name. But I’d close that drawer for now, just to be on the safe side.” Barry said as he summoned a scroll and pen, then started jotting down notes. “This is all perfect, though! I already hashed out the spell theory for a plan, but you just made it about a billion times easier to pull off — not just because of the arrow, but because you can gather components, and I won’t have to risk him sensing my location and realizing what I’m up to!”

“Makes sense,” Noelle replied, looking over Barry’s list. “That’s all you need me to get?”

“Yeah. I was thinking most of it would be salvageable from the Miller Lab — uh, except maybe the iron filings, which are commercially available anyway.”

Noelle beamed. “I won’t let you down, Mister Bluejeans.”

“Thank you, Noelle.” Barry looked down at his robe, which looked less tattered and more vibrantly red than he’d seen it in years. “For everything.”

***

End notes:

Apologies in advance if the update schedule gets a bit less consistent from here on out, since I’ve burned through my pre-written buffer chapters, but I’ve at least got a solid chunk of Chapter 6 written and a detailed outline for the chapters after that! It’s just about getting into the write headspace to write.

as usual, comments/reblogs mean a lot!

[ngame989]

“Glow” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 5

Writing: @ngame989

Art: @toxicpsychox

Editing: @toxicpsychox, @seddm, @dinodinodude​, an invaluable IRL friend

Summary: A new sort of feeling arises in Star and Marco's relationship, leaving them uncertain how to handle it. But with the advice of their loved ones and their unbounded emotional honesty with each other, they might just discover for themselves how to bask in its glow.

Comic Page

This one’s a bit different, y’all. It deals with sexual themes and has two separate versions, the full story on AO3 being non-explicit/tasteful M and the edited Tumblr version being a heavy T. This is the only fic for TGG that I plan on crossing the T/PG13 threshold with, but my goal for this series was to catalog the journey of Star and Marco after the show ended and I stand by my decision to include this as a part of it. Please read the content warning and enjoy whatever version you are most comfortable with, if either.

Also, as a fun aside, you may recall the first scene of this from the teaser I posted here months ago, so the snippet of Starco fanfiction I wrote in the presence of Daron Nefcy is now officially part of the work!

Masterpost

See below for the text and an important content warning, hope you enjoy!

IMPORTANT CONTENT WARNING AND AUTHOR’S NOTE: This chapter deals with sexual themes and my telling of a >16 year old Star and Marco’s first time. The text below is a modified version of the complete fic, posted exclusively on AO3 (linked below). I want The Greatest Gift as a whole to be accessible to a PG13 audience, and as such the Tumblr and FFnet versions have been altered to fit that, but I would HIGHLY advise you read the full version on AO3 for the intended narrative experience. It contains a non-vulgar and tasteful but still direct depiction of sexual intimacy that I feel is non-expendable to the emotional narrative, but I fully understand if any readers are not comfortable with it and hope you enjoy the version below.

FULL VERSION (AO3)

***

Star Butterfly was sure of only a few things in life: cake is the best kind of breakfast, wood deserves to be destroyed at every opportunity, she loved Marco, Marco loved her - just some basic truths she could always rely on. Certainty was a lofty bar, but if she died right now and went straight to heaven, she was almost certain she’d recreate magic with her bare hands just to portal back to Earthni as quickly as possible. Star wasn’t sure why, really; it was nowhere near her first kiss, still far from her first kiss with Marco, and it wasn’t even their first time getting a bit… heated. Of course she always enjoyed it, but why did everything feel amplified tenfold?

Her train of thought was delightfully derailed when Marco broke their nth kiss of the evening – she’d lost count of how many quite a while ago. She pushed herself back up on her elbows and knees and gazed lovingly at her boyfriend beneath her on the bed, his soothing chocolate eyes and visibly flushed cheeks standing out against the baby blue of his pajamas and bed sheets. So cute, her mind purred. His hands lingered on her cheeks for a few more seconds before they reached up to try and corral a few stray blonde hairs that draped down near his face. His brow furrowed as he struggled to tame her mane; it could have killed the mood after the first few failed attempts, but tonight Star found herself with a slowly spreading dopey smile on her face watching Marco struggle to neaten her up. “Hey,” she giggled after a long few moments, leaning down to kiss him on the nose.

Another large strand of hair draped onto him; his visage took on a determined look as he puffed some air to move it. “Hi”, he responded, satisfied with his efforts and finally returning her grin. They stayed like this, just basking in their goofy intimacy in the starlight twinkling through the window. Those feelings were still slowly smoldering inside, but they instantly ignited when Marco wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on top of him, resuming their kissing with renewed ardency. Her eyes shut as she tried to just tune out the world and experience nothing but Marco. The lingering scent of shampoo or soap, some variant of cinnamon, was something she’d no doubt smelled countless times before, but in the moment it was intoxicating. Instinct took over, and Star’s instincts in this field all tended to lead to one particular place. One hand, then another, slipped their way under his pajama shirt, tracing the area where another Marco in another time might be buff beyond belief, but the last year had still done him quite a bit of good in that department. A tingling sensation, one that she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, pricked her skin all over when one of Marco’s hands moved upward to tangle itself in her hair and bring them ever closer, trying to feel as much of his presence as she could. Light began to seep in through her eyelids, which was odd considering the sun had gone down and all the lights were off. She opened her eyes, still maintaining the kiss, and moved a hand up to the back of Marco’s head to inspect the situation while idly twirling a lock of his hair.

Upon seeing a two brilliantly glowing moons on his cheeks, she started suddenly enough that her forehead collided with Marco’s. “Ow, Star, ow, what the-”

“Marco… your cheeks…”

His eyes opened after he finished rubbing the pain in his forehead out, finally noticing the brilliant light. “That hasn’t happened since right after Cleaving. Weeeeird. Wait, why aren’t yours glowing?”

“They aren’t?” Star’s nose scrunched up in thought; rationally, she knew that there wasn’t necessarily any reason to expect it, but usually everything between them happened in sync. “You’re right, it’s weeeeird.”

Marco propped himself on his elbows and shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. Could be something dumb, that happens a lot with magic. Maybe it’s just because I drank too much soda earlier,” he jested.

“I finished off all the Mountain Mew days ago, and mine didn’t light up then,” Star retorted, but her eyes went wide before she’d even finished saying it. Oh no, Star, you really screwed up now...

“Explains why you were so jittery,” he sniggered, shifting to lie down once more. He was halfway down on the bed before he sprang back up, pivoting directly towards Star and staring at her incredulously. “Wait, all of it? Even the limited edition Caja Clash?” She merely responded with a guilty lopsided smile, eyes downcast. “Staaaaaar... That was Quest Buy-exclusive, and that was like a year’s supply…” he groaned and slumped back into the pillows.

“It’s just so delicious, Marco! Ugh, it was dumb, I’m sorry, I always tell myself ‘just one more’ but then-”

“Star,” he said firmly to cut off her imminent rambling. After a long moment, during which Star finally managed to still herself, he warily smiled. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, I’m sure we can find more somewhere. Maybe Tom has connections or something. Besides, I still have at least a few hidden in case something like this happened, so we can just-”

“Well, about that…”

“Decoy backup stash,” Marco stated flatly. “Good thing Janna hates the stuff, though, or else there’d be no hope for any of it.” Star snickered, relieved that she hadn’t screwed everything up. He shuffled under the covers and gave her an expectant look, at which she crawled in beside him. Deep down she bemoaned the fact that something just always seemed to get in the way lately, but she cherished all these moments nonetheless. They shared one last quick kiss before she turned around and wiggled herself into his arms for their usual night-time cuddles.

“G’night, Star, love you.”

“Love you too,” she sighed out, but something still didn’t add up. It had to be the soda, right? It still nagged at her a little bit, but it was more comfortable believing that the unexpected tonight was all some dumb delicious soda’s fault. Maybe it wasn’t certain, but it was easy, and giving in to that idea calmed her until sleep finally took hold.

***

Forward, forward. Thrust forward. Steady on your feet. Star pressed the attack with a flurry of slashes, keeping her momentum driven towards her opponent relentlessly. He took it in stride, deflecting each blow and hopping backwards in lockstep with her, spinning and ducking and dodging, seemingly immune to being thrown off balance. A forceful parry turned her most powerful strike against her, sending her reeling backwards.

You can do this. Her eyes darted around momentarily in an attempt to regain her bearings. Steel from Marco’s blade sparkled in the fading Earthni sunlight, distracting from the far more ornate guard covering his hands entirely from this angle - dark blue with a heart and crescent moon on opposite sides of the weapon - it was only fitting he’d decided to nickname it “Cleaver” when she gave him the custom-crafted falchion for his birthday months ago. He was wearing an outfit similar to his riding gear, a ripped jacket on top of his grey t-shirt to protect from the chill of the evening weather. Star couldn’t help but notice that it was hugging him a bit more closely than when they’d started these sparring sessions in recent months, probably from a combination of his growing height and the light muscle definition making itself visible through the fabric. The calm of their recent lives was wonderful, but this was a welcome dose of action and adventure, and she wasn’t exactly opposed to getting to seeing Marco in the heat of battle more often.

Focus. Their eyes finally met, his smoldering with enough confidence to outmatch the fire in her own. Star and Marco stared at each other for a few moments, breathing heavily. Finally, Marco slowly advanced, measuring his strikes carefully to be counterable but still successful, shoving her backwards without ever completely finishing the job.

He’s good, but you’re Star Butterfly. She huffed each time metal clanged on metal, trying her best to mirror Marco’s cool responses to oncoming attacks but getting more and more frustrated and unsteady with each blow. Finally her patience snapped as she dashed towards him with a strangled scream. His eyes narrowed as he powerfully swung in retaliation and Star’s realized a split-second too late what he was aiming to do. The silver blade struck home near the hilt of her own right when she adjusted her grip for her own strike, knocking it to the ground.

Oh crud.

The two registered what was happening at about the same time, a spark of panic evident in Marco’s expression as Star started to topple to the ground. He tossed his weapon aside gracelessly and dove forward instinctively, wrapping an arm around her before they both hit the grass, rolling until she was lying haphazardly on top of him.

“Soooooo… draw?” Star suggested playfully after she’d regained her breath.

Marco chuckled, stretching out his limbs on the ground rather than wasting any energy trying to get up. “Fine. It was a close one.”

She rolled over and debated pushing herself up on her hands to face him, but instead opted to flop down into his chest since her arms felt like pudding. His heart pumped forcefully enough to make the vibration felt on her cheek. “Yeah, but I haven’t won yet. Still getting used to fighting without any magic.”

“You’ll get there, Star.”

“I know. I do have the best teacher, after all,” she crooned, waggling her finger lazily in the air before booping him on the nose and scooting upwards to nuzzle into his neck. Another few minutes of rest went by until Star shivered, feeling an especially potent blast of cold air on her skin. “OK, Marco, cuddles are great and all but it’s kinda cold and I’m kinda sweaty.” She stood and helped him up, taking the swords back inside. “Dibs on first shower!” Star shouted when Marco was distracted, bolting upstairs before he could try and stop her. She stepped under the spray, letting the initial burst of cold water hit her to rinse off before settling in under a soothing warm deluge. The only thing that kept her from letting it massage her aching muscles for minutes or hours was the fact that she knew Marco needed a turn just as badly as she did, so she cut it short - by Star standards, anyway - and got dressed before giving Marco the all-clear.

Right as he finished, Angie called upstairs to inform everyone that dinner was ready, and Star followed her downstairs, famished from the afternoon’s high-octane physical activity. Marco joined while his parents were collecting the bowls in the kitchen, his hair still damp and glistening. Star giggled and poked at pieces matted to his face, brushing them aside. Without realizing it, her left hand lingered on his face, thumb idly rubbing circles on his cheek, while her right dropped to his chest and fiddled with the neck of his fresh t-shirt. She had no trouble admitting he was every kind of adorable - he was her boyfriend, after all, and she’d even thought he was cute long before she’d even figured out her feelings for him - but moments like this, where she got to just sit back and drink in every little detail that made her Marco Marco, crystallized it at the forefront of her mind until she could scarcely focus on anything else. His own hands caught and held hers as they just basked in the familiar tranquility of togetherness alone.

...until, that is, Rafael and Angie barged in from the kitchen with the stew he’d made for them tonight, smirking at the sight in front of them. “You two remind me a lot of us at your age, you know,” Angie cooed, setting the side dishes on the table. Earthni had tragically inherited some of Earth’s farming conditions, leading to a desperate shortage of corn in the winter. The frozen stuff was good, but it could just never be the same. The thought distracted Star enough to break the trance she had still been in before, and she finally separated from Marco and turned her full attention to the meal in front of her. “Well, except for all the breaking up and getting back together.”

Marco choked on the first bite he’d taken. “Wait, you two broke up a lot? Whaaa-”

“Long story, hijo,” Rafael cut him off, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I am so glad to see the two of you fighting all the time! It’s wonderful to watch.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh-” Star and Marco stammered out in unison.

“What your father means to say, dear, is that the two of us spied on your little swordfighting session earlier. We even got some pictures! Who would’ve thought our Marco would be like an action movie hero someday?”

“Oh boy,” Marco flatly responded, burying his head in his hands. The rest of the dinner continued on in a silence that felt a bit tense as Angie and Rafael kept giving each other funny looks, as if trying to converse without words, but Star was far too hungry to pay attention to the details while she scarfed down two whole bowls of the old Mewnian stew that Rafael had taken a liking to cooking (albeit with his own flair, which made it far better by Star’s estimation).

Once they were all done, Angie glanced up at her husband inquisitively one final time, and he nodded. She seemed to take that as a cue for something, raising her eyebrows and staring at each of the teens in turn with motherly concern, clasping her hands together on the table. “Star, Marco… we noticed you two have been doing a lot of sparring lately. First, we want to say that we have absolutely no problem with you... sparring. You’re both very mature and responsible people for your age and I trust you can handle yourselves responsibly. But if and when you both decide to get more serious with sparring, make sure you’re properly protected, OK? That’s all we ask.”

“Sure thing, I still have closets full of armor at Eclipsa’s.” Star phrased it almost as a question, not sure what to make of the statement and why they seemed to cautious to talk about it and why she kept pausing on the word “sparring” and why they were still looking at her expectantly oh sweet Mewni you’re such an idiot, Star. She violently coughed, trying desperately not to hack up the meat and vegetables she’d inhaled, upon the realization of the implied meaning of the statement, but Marco seemed unfazed by it as he tried to ease her through the fit. Once they’d all settled down and he made sure Star was feeling OK after her seemingly inexplicable fit, Marco followed Rafael into the kitchen with the first batch of dishes.

Star stood up to follow them in, but Angie held up a hand to block her. “Star, honey… you did get what I was saying, righ-”

“Uh-huh, yep. Totally understood,” she blurted out, desperate not to dig that topic back up. She loved Marco’s parents, but that didn’t make this any easier. Angie’s eyes softened as she patted Star’s arm sympathetically. “Well, I’m not quite sure Marco did. Mind giving us a few minutes with him?”

“Yeah, sure.” She was more than OK with getting out of there as quickly as possible, shuffling upstairs before plopping on their bed and getting out the necessary tools and snack stash for tonight’s planned movie marathon of the new Mackie Hand. Why anyone thought a realistically animated remake of a live action movie was a good idea was beyond her, but it looked so stunningly awful that it was sure to deliver a few good laughs.

But her mind couldn’t put aside the after-dinner conversation for long, even with the warmth brought by the promise of bad movie night laughter, snacks, and cuddles awaiting her, and she unconsciously squirmed with a weird mix of embarrassment and worry despite no one being near. Would he feel the same way she did about this? They were no strangers to physical intimacy, even before they’d sealed the deal with their feelings, and it had certainly been flourishing in recent months. Star was far from shy about expressing physical attraction or affection, but recent events were her first experiences diving below the surface with anyone else. She wanted more of it, more of him. But there was a huge difference between just letting what felt right happen, and talking or even consciously thinking about it, and the latter most definitely wasn’t one of her strong suits.

“Star?” Marco’s voice cracked sheepishly as he peeked into the room. “You still, um, up for the movie?”

“Totally, totally, totally,” she pumped her voice full of enthusiasm to try and forcefully cut through the awkwardness preemptively. “TV’s set up, blanket is cozy, and Sizzlin’ Hot Cornritos are ready for snacking!”

He hopped into bed next to her, high-fiving her. “Tonight’s gonna be perfect.”

It didn’t take long for Star to drift over into his arms, cozying up as was tradition for Thursdates (or most other times, really), but something felt off. Still warm and affectionate, yet not going any further than that as she’d come to expect. Every smile or kiss was still met with one in turn, but his facial features strained slightly, holding back as though she was made of glass. She tried to pawn off her focus onto the movie, but it unfortunately turned out to be bad in the boring-slash-cringey way more than anything, a fact Marco lamented quite vocally at every opportunity, never failing to make Star roll her eyes. He was still her normal Marco in that way, at least.

Once the credits rolled, Star took the mental hype she’d been slowly building for herself during the entire course of the film to conquer her fears and speak up. “Hey Marco? About earlier…”

“Zzzzzzz...”

She suppressed a growl in her throat. It still miffed her that even just trying to talk about going further got stalled out, but she resigned herself to her inability to do anything about it now. In truth, she too was pretty worn out from the long day of training, so after turning off the TV and shoving everything away, she snuggled back under the blanket beside Marco and welcomed a comfy yet frustrated night of rest.

***

Heart, moon. Heart, moon. Heart, moon. The two remaining marshmallows danced in the leftover milk of the cereal bowl after Marco gobbled down a few diamonds and spades. Marco had already wondered whether buying Captain Blanche’s Cleave Crunch was such a great idea when he’d bought it - though some part of him was certainly flattered - but the regret he was feeling over it came from an unexpected place, just a reminder of his current restlessness. He’d felt like an absolute idiot after his mother had to explain what she meant at dinner a few days ago a second time, and he felt even worse that he’d completely avoided the issue with Star after. Maybe he was dense at times, but in hindsight it was obvious Star took the hint the first time, and neither had spoken up about it since. Finally he slurped down the remainder of his midnight snack and wandered back into the corridors of the temple, tired from the long day of dealing with Meteora alone while Star had girls’ night at Janna’s. How was he going to bring it up with Star? Every part of him wanted to talk to her, wanted to tell her how he felt, wanted… wanted more, with her. Too tired to stay awake, too lost in thought to sleep, his wallowing continued as he turned a corner- Bam!

Marco stumbled back after the unexpected collision, picking up the cereal bowl and groaning at the driblets of milk he couldn’t slurp that were now on his hoodie.

“Oh, dear! So sorry, Marco.” Eclipsa, clad in her usual pink pajamas helped steady him on his feet and took the bowl, sending it with Archibald to the kitchen.

“It’s fine, this needed washed anyway. Meteora spit all over it as I was trying to go to put her to sleep. She wasn’t sick or anything, she waited for me to turn my back and crawled out of her crib just to drool on it,” he griped, rubbing his temple.

She put her hand in front of her mouth to laugh, leading Marco out of the entryway and into the much more open dining room. “That’s my little girl. I do hope she wasn’t too much trouble. Deep down I think she’s coming around to you, slowly. Maybe Mariposa is rubbing off on her.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, rubbing his downcast eyes.

“Is everything alright, dear?”

“Can’t sleep… just got a lot on my mind.”

“Would you like to talk about it? I personally find it’s quite helpful to not go to bed with a stray concern, if at all possible.”

He finally glanced up from his shoes, meeting her sympathetic expression only momentarily before studying some nearby floor tiles. “It… might be kind of awkward.” She merely raised an eyebrow inquisitively. A sigh escaped his lips, knowing he probably didn’t have much of a choice - even if she didn’t press, he wouldn’t forgive himself for keeping this bottled inside even an hour longer. “It’s- well, it’s just- um, you see, the thing is… it’s Star awkward.”

“Ah,” she smirked knowingly. She located two of the finer armchairs from the periphery of the room and placed them opposite each other, beckoning Marco to join her. “I can handle awkward, dear. Do tell.”

“You’re sure?”

“I was a teenager in love myself, once upon a time,” she joked, causing the corner of his mouth to reflexively turn up. “It’s not always easy, and- well, let’s just say my mother wasn’t someone I could have easily gone to for my particular troubles. If being a listening ear can help lessen that burden for you, it would be my honor.”

A warmth spread through his chest at the words, ever grateful for the support. Even to this day, he felt a small pang of guilt that at some point he’d been incredibly distrustful of the woman, though he knew she didn’t hold that against him. In the time leading up to the Blood Moon Curse debacle, she’d been a nurturing shoulder to cry on, so he wasn’t sure why he was being so hesitant - perhaps it was just a thought spiral getting to him. “Things with Star are great, it’s not about that, it’s just- it’s been getting… serious, lately.” He stopped fidgeting with his hands and spared her a glance, noting that her body language was still passive and inviting him to continue. “Um… physically serious, I guess. Kind of. Not- not that, yet.”

“It’s not my place to judge, dear. You’re trying to figure things out for yourself, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

He nodded once quickly, mostly to reassure himself and spur himself onward. “It’s just… new to me. All of it.”

“So Star is the first girl you’ve gotten ‘serious’ with, then?”

The blush that had been steadily growing on his cheeks was burning now, but he soldiered on. “Well, yeah, she is, but it’s more than that. There was this one day at school a few years ago that everyone hated where they talked about puberty- um, basically human Mewberty, without any of the weird bug stuff,” he clarified upon seeing her confusion. “And they said that when it happens, you’ll start to have, uh, sexual feelings, but I never really did. It’s not like I didn’t know what those kind of feelings were or anything. But every crush I had, even with Star, wasn’t about that at all. Holding hands or kissing was nice, but I- I never really felt like I wanted anything more, if that makes sense. That was just normal Marco.”

Once more, his eyes darted upwards to meet hers, looking for some direction. Eclipsa had her hands folded on her lap, nodding along with his words. She took a moment, then clasped her hands together. “Mmmh. So what’s different?”

“The past month or two, it’s all caught up to me, I guess. Everything we do, even regular everyday stuff, just feels so much more intense, and I’ve never felt this way before, and then my mom gave me and Star a talk about it and it-it-it’s just so much all at once a-and I don’t want to screw anything up or hurt her-”

Eclipsa sprung out of the chair, closing the distance and pulling Marco into a warm embrace. “Oh, sweetie.” Marco’s attempts to stifle the incoming sob only made it worse, gasping for breath as the tears that had welled up in his eyes cascaded freely. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright. I’m here, dear.” It was as though a dam had burst, letting loose all the tension and self-doubt he’d been pushing out of mind into the comforting shoulder. Even now, after so many wonderful months with the girl he loved more than anything, he still found a way to bury feelings until they bit him on the behind. Good one, Diaz, he sardonically remarked to himself. Once the waterworks dried up, Eclipsa stood back, pulling them both into a standing position. She wiped the last salty tear off his face with a somber yet calming grin. “You’re a kind, compassionate, and adoring young man, and you mean the entire world to Star. I’m afraid I can’t promise there will never be any hurdles, but I’m confident that you two can solve anything. Love is one of the most magical things in the entire universe; the fact that you're here is living proof, after all.”

“Thanks, Eclipsa. This is- it really means a lot. Thanks. And, um, speaking of love and magic… a few weeks ago, my cheekmarks - only mine - glowed one night while Star and I were, um… ‘getting serious’.” He rubbed the back of his neck as she softly chuckled. Somehow this was part of the conversation living up to the promise of awkwardness the most. “It wasn’t, um, the first time I started feeling like this, but it was definitely the first time it was strong enough to just hit me in the face. Literally,” he unintentionally jested.

Her smile widened immensely, bordering on teasing him. “When I was younger, Glossaryck fancied me more than most of his prior students, which led to the rather unfortunate situation of him striking up casual chats to gossip about queens. Plenty of information I had no desire whatsoever to know, and certainly a fair share of stories no living being needs to hear again, but I did learn that cheekmarks react more readily when emotions are both powerful and novel, so it doesn’t surprise me that yours would glow during such a moment. And as for Star’s…” He mentally flinched as she paused, preparing to answer the question even the darkest corner of his mind hadn’t dared ask.

“Everyone’s own relation to magic was a little bit unique, and you two are already a special case nowadays. Just be honest with her, dear. It’s the best way to sort it out, and all knowledge is good knowledge, you know. Even as a former magical queen, I truthfully can’t give you all the answers and figure out why Star’s hearts might not have reacted.” She hugged him one last time, and he was too dumbfounded to reciprocate before she started walking out of the room. As his mind began to process everything she said, her voice rang out once more from right at the entryway. “I am still a wise old woman with a bit of experience in this area myself, though,” she drawled with a wink and a finger tapping her cheek. “And if I knew anything about you two, I’d bet all the chocolate I own that it’s because Star has those same feelings, but they’re nowhere near new.”

***

“Hello? Anyone home?” Weird. Star strolled up and down the hallways and staircases of the Monster Temple, looking for any signs of life. As far as she knew Eclipsa and Globgor were only supposed to be gone yesterday while she was at Janna’s, and Marco hadn’t indicated he’d left yet even though his babysitting duties were presumably over. Kitchen? Nope. Dining room? Nuh-uh. Foyer? Even Archibald didn’t seem to be around. What the heck was going on?

She finally made her way through the winding route to her room, finding it empty as well and falling spreadeagle onto the bed, smacking the octopus on her dress directly into the silky sheets. Girls’ night had been a blast, but it left her restless. Hanging out with Janna and Ponyhead always threatened to deliver stressful experiences, but surprisingly it wasn’t even about that - she’d have welcomed the usual frustrating shenanigans to divert her mind from things. Unfortunately for her, however, the planets had aligned and put girls’ night at a peak among Pony and Seahorse’s rollercoaster of chronic breakups and public spectacles made out of getting back together, and Pony couldn’t wait to tell the world about every moment of their relationship. While Star was pretty sure no living being deserved to be subjected to the details therein, the forwardness in every part of their relationship still reminded her of the subject she’d been avoiding in her own, and had just left her impatient to get back to figuring out how to broach that topic with Marco.

The thud from her hitting the bed had gotten Marco’s attention from his room in a fresh grey t-shirt and dark jeans, hair ever-so-slightly damp. He took off his headphones and put down his laptop, opening the door. “Star? Is that you?”

“Eep!” Marco’s voice kicked her out of her reverie, causing her to launch off the bed and spring upwards, bouncing once on the mattress and falling back onto it facefirst. “M’ok!” she cried, muffled, into the mattress. He strode over to her bed, helping her up and sitting down next to her, giggling at the antics. Last night’s talk with Eclipsa had clarified a lot for him, but Star’s presence still uniquely made him feel at ease. “Not funny,” she pouted, but she broke composure soon enough as the laughter was too infectious to resist.

“How was the sleepover?” Marco asked as he let himself fall backwards onto the pillow. “Sounded like you were busy when you texted me earlier.”

Star shrugged and turned to face him. “Ponyhead is back with Seahorse.”

His eyes widened in terror. “Did she-” she nodded, causing him to shudder. “Oh no. Her last set of stories about that relationship gave me nightmares for a week. Never thought I could actually feel that bad for a soulless seahorse that’s probably a robot.”

She sighed, partly in agreement and partly at the continual reminders of their own situation needling her brain, and lay across his lap. “Despite everything, I think they somehow make each other happy, so good for them I guess? Anyway, we spent most of this afternoon cleaning up eyeball juice from Janna’s house- don’t ask,” she cut in before he could voice his concerns, “and I stopped a few times on the way here to get cleaned up, eat, and all that junk.” The last few words came out hurried as Star tried to shove the full story out of her mind. “Anyway, where is everyone? This whole place was empty when I got here.”

Marco sat up, his eyebrows furrowing in perplexion. “Wait, Eclipsa isn’t here? We picked fresh corn and had dinner, like, an hour ago, right after you texted me. Globgor’s elotes are amazing, by the way. Year-round corn and Mew-Mex cuisine is the best thing on Earthni.”

“Aww, if I’d have known would have just waited to eat. You wanted them all for yourself, didn’t you, mister?” She lightly punched him in the arm with a teasing smile, to which he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Still, I don’t remember her saying they were leaving or anything. Maybe I should call her-”

“Wait, Marco, look,” she pointed to his door, which had swung partially shut on its own, revealing a note posted to it. She stood up and walked over, reading it aloud after he sat back up to focus fully on her. “Dear Star and Marco, Meteora started teething and ate holes through most of her toys and even took a chunk out of her cradle. Globgor suggested taking her to the forest to chew on some stiff bark and get it out of her system. We’re staying with Moon and River tonight, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a good talk. As always, make yourselves at home. Ta-ta!” She walked back over to the bed. “Guess we have the place to ourselves. Aww, look, Marco! She drew a little cereal bowl here. She knows us so well.”

“Yeah. She does.” Marco choked down the lump that was steadily rising in his throat as he got a good look at the note himself. Eclipsa had left them alone, there was an incredibly exaggerated flair on her signature that underlined the word “talk”, and last night hadn’t even been the first cereal-adjacent conversation he’d had with Eclipsa about Star. The hint wouldn’t have been more obvious if the paper balled up into a fist and decked him on the spot. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You got this, Marco. Legs curled up into himself, brown hair knotted up in his fingers, and breaths became audible. “Star?” he croaked out. “I- I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking too.” She bit her lip in concentration.

Marco fully turned on the bed to face her and she mirrored him. “About what my mom said?” he asked hesitantly. Star nodded tightly, focusing entirely on the rich brown pools shining into her own. She wanted to clear the air, no matter how awkward it might be, and the calming energy radiating from his own pushed her through. “Ugh, I feel so stupid for not bringing it up earlier-”

She clutched one of his hands sympathetically; now was not the time for him to get into one of these moods. “Marco, it’s not your fault! I didn’t either, and besides, it was only a few days ag-”

“No, it wasn’t.” His eyes closed, trying to achieve some sort of zen as the words shuffled themselves around in his mind, but the twitching of his free hand gave away his nervousness. “It- it wasn’t just a few days ago. That night, with my cheekmarks… it was the first time I’d felt something really strong, for you, thaaaat way…”

“Sexually.” Star completed the sentence calmly, clearing her mind and giving him space to talk. Marco nodded, but a split second later his eyes widened in realization of how she might be taking it.

“No- well, yes, b-but… what I mean is, ugh, I- it’s a me thing. Not you,” he stammered. “These types of feelings… it’s all new to me. Whenever I liked someone, I always just thought they were cool or pretty or adorable. Or all three,” he smirked, squeezing her hand. The last thing he wanted was for Star to think he had anything less than the utmost affection for her. “But I guess the more physical stuff just never clicked for me. I- I never really felt that way about anyone before, a-and I really enjoy it but it just freaked me out and I-I didn’t want it to be in the way-”

She planted her lips on his, initially meant to just be a peck, but lingered momentarily before pulling away. It always seemed to be this song and dance between them, putting their concern for the other over their own, but she was determined not to let him sink into that mire again. “Marco… it’s OK to feel that way about me, I want you to. I feel the same about you.”

Both his hands tentatively took hold of hers. “Do you want to… go further?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I- it’s all still new to me, I haven’t done anything like this before, but I really do, Star.”

“Same. Let’s just go with the flow and see what happens. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” he repeated softly, heart doing backflips in his chest. Star tugged him forward, pecking him gently as their night began.

***

“Is this weird?” she said many minutes later, pausing to appreciate their current situation before they crossed the final threshold together.

“Maybe a little,” he responded, leaning forward and kissing her sweetly. “But I love it.”

The strings of tension in her body all thrummed with warmth as the remaining jitters started to melt away. “I love you, Marco.” It was a refrain uttered casually between them these days - though they certainly meant it each time - but now it felt as though her entire body poured every emotion she had into that one expression.

“Love you too, Star,” he responded much the same before they closed the gap together, lips performing an intimate dance moving as one. The rest of their bodies followed suit and collided confidently, the mix of wild lust and bashful hesitance giving way to something new. A soft light became visible through their closed eyelids, and they separated, eyes widening at the sight. Two hearts and two moons emitting a pink glow in unison. They brightly grinned at each other, tracing the outlines of the marks on each others’ cheeks with their fingers, fully embracing the essential truth of their unbridled devotion to one another in mind, body, and soul, ready to follow their passion to its finality.

***

“So… that was something,” he uttered.

“Sure was,” she fondly smiled at her love, the sunken eyebrows and heavy lids framing his gaze emanating an aura laden with tender love. “This is nice. So what now?”

A rumbling in his stomach answered the question for him “...I’m kind of hungry already.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’ll make nachos and you find a movie?”

“You know me too well, Mr. Diaz,” she sighed, holding him tighter. “But, um, we should probably get cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “It’s kind of cold. And sweaty. Maybe we should stay in my room tonight.”

“Guess naked cuddles aren’t always all they’re cracked up to be. A shower sounds really good right now,” she tittered, committing one last snapshot to memory before standing up on the floor and stretching her tired limbs. A hand intertwined itself with hers, stopping her from walking away.

“Mind if I join you? J-Just to shower…” he floundered, but she understood. Neither were up for continuing, but they still didn’t want this newfound intimacy to end.

Nothing more was said as the pair went hand-in-hand, wholly alone together. The bedroom light was the sole beacon lighting up the Monster Temple’s mountain, a pinprick glow joining the shining stars in the Earthni heavens above.