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[astartothemoon]

Boys! Boys! Boys! II Steve II

Summary: Steve is given his dad’s auto repair shop after Mr. Harrington up and leaves Hawkins. Things go semi-great and soon enough Steve and his coworkers (Eddie and Billy) need to come up with a plan to earn some money on the side to keep the shop going. Good thing they are all hot and willing to put on a show. Stripper!AU

This is part 1 of 3 - Steve’s part 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female Reader (nicknamed reader, little use of Y/N)

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of alcohol. Mention of food. Mention of sexual acts but no full on smut. This is a stripper AU. Billy Hargrove is mentioned in this part though he’s barely in it.

Wordcount: 8.8k

A/N:  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Not a single soul in the small town of Hawkins was particularly surprised when Thomas Harrington finally had enough, sold his car dealership, and went off to go live with his second not-so-secret family somewhere in Oregon. Least of all his son Steve.

What came as quite a shock though, was the letter the Harrington patriarch left behind. The one that said sorry, to Steve not to his wife, and that came with the ownership papers of Harrington Auto repairs, the auto body shop that his dad had acquired a while back but never got around to opening. The one that was meant to go hand in hand with the dealership.

"I know you're good with cars and bad at selling things, so have the garage instead of the dealership. If you want to open it, that would make me proud and if you want to sell it, that's okay too. It's yours."

As much as Steve hated to admit it, his dad was right and he probably knew him better than Steve had ever realized. He was good with cars but an absolute failure when it comes to selling stuff to people. Ice cream, family video membership cards, himself. He'd never get anyone to buy a freaking car.

He could fix them though. And he knew people who do too. People who needed jobs. People he wants to strangle at the best of times but that he calls his friends anyway.

Eddie was easy to rope in, the boy was as excitable as a golden retriever. And while he wasn't super enthusiastic about working a full-time job, the pay and the fact that he got to work on cars all day made it worth it for him.

Billy was a bit harder of a case to crack. Him and Steve having a bit of a strained relationship was the first obstacle. The second was the fact that Billy was a bit of an asshole. Self-centered, with an ego the size of a small country, vain, and a little bit aggressive.

But Billy was good. He knew a shit ton about cars and how to fix even the worst of the worst.  

It took a lot of groveling from Steve. A promise of good pay and the agreement to rent out the flat above the garage to him for Billy to come on board.

That was two years ago. Two years of hard work. Of sweat and (secret) tears and fighting and celebrating. Two hard but good years.

Things have changed - for better and worse.

Billy is less of an asshole now. He still has his moment but his anger doesn't cloud all of his judgment anymore. Now he's mostly just a smartass with a big ego. It's crazy what getting a kid out of a bad home can do. 

At this point, Steve might even consider him a good friend, though he'll never admit it. Ever.

That's the change for the better.

The shop though, that's barely scraping by. Bills are at an all-time high. Customers come in but with the low prices and relying mostly on locals, funds are limited.

"Eddie, that looks great!" Steve's voice echoes through the room. His eyes are fixed on the shiny blue Mercedes, an intricate silver design painted onto its side.

Turns out Eddie is not just a great mechanic but an artist on top. What started as a fun way to pass the time and something that Eddie had expected to stay a fully self-indulgent hobby, has quickly turned into a somewhat lucrative extra income for the garage.

"Yeah? I got these new spray paints in. The silver really pops against the dark blue."

"Looks great, man" Steve exclaims and gives the man an appreciative pat on the back, earning him a grin in return. Eddie thrives on praise. Golden retriever that he is.

"Hey, have you seen Hargrove? I need to know if Mrs. Hackman's Escort will be done this week.

"Oh, it's done." There's a teasing edge in Eddie's voice that both amuses and terrifies Steve.

"He fixed it already? I thought he was aiming for the end of the week. Wow, that was quick."

"Mmh, " Eddie responds and nods his head in the direction of the front desk where Billy is happily talking to the aforementioned Mrs. Hackman. He's got that saccharine smile on display, all teeth and dimples. All fake.

If there is one thing undeniable about Billy Hargrove, it's the fact that he is disarmingly charming. With his blue eyes and golden locks, he turns everyone's head. Man or woman.

Especially women though. Middle-aged ones to be exact. Like Mrs. Hackman. 

And when at first he kind of hated it. Felt used and dirty and uncomfortable with it, Billy has long ago realized that there's some money to make there. A smile means a tip, some flirting means an even bigger tip.

It's all pros and cons in life you just have to decide what outweighs the other.

Eddie lets out a huff, blowing a strand of curls away from his face. It's a terribly hot summer in Indiana this year. All, clothes sticking to your skin and air feeling heavy, kind of hot. 

They're all struggling through the heat but while Steve's hair is still looking fairly reasonable, Eddie looks a bit like a wet poodle.

"The AC bring broken is killing me, Harrington."

"I know. I know, me too. I'll — I'll go see what Bunny says."

He finds himself glancing at the closed door to the office at the top of the stairs. He can just imagine Bunny, their secretary, and the smartest person in this workplace, sitting by her desk palming her face in frustration.  

Sitting there looking absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous as ever, trying to get them out of this sinking ship, to keep the shop afloat. 

She's way too good for them, he's always thought so and probably always will. Which makes him even more grateful that she chooses to stick by them no matter what.

Maybe it's because she's Steve's oldest friend, basically his second half since kindergarten. Maybe she's got masochistic tendencies.

Whatever it is, he doesn't mind as long as she doesn't abandon them.

"Well," Eddie's voice shakes Steve from his thoughts "go ask her now because I'm literally about to die."

"You're being dramatic."

"You won't be saying that when I'm dead and stinking up the place."

"Okay, okay.'' Enough with the theatrics. I'm going."

With an overdramatic roll of his eyes, Steve pushes away from the car and drags his feet up the stairs, entering the office after giving the wooden door a swift rapt of his knuckles.

"Close the door! I don't want the hot air to get in."

Bunny is leaning against her desk, hair clinging to sweaty skin as much as Eddie's does, as much as his own does. She's fanning herself with a piece of paper while a fan whirrs behind her, blowing lukewarm air at her.

"It's just as hot in here as it is downstairs. Actually, it might even be hotter in here, now that I think about it."

She throws a bunny-shaped eraser at him, just barely missing his head. But by ty smile tugging at her lips, he can tell she knows he's right.

It's funny, he thinks looking around the office, how one small moment can change so much about someone's life.

Had he not befriended her at 4 years old she wouldn't be here today, making sure the store is going and keeping the boys out of trouble.

Had she not worn a hoodie with bunny ears that day he might've never called her by the silly nickname that still sticks to this day. She's (Y/N) to her parents and Bunny to everyone else.

"We need to get the AC fixed. Eddie is about ready to die out there and Hargrove is from California but even he is reaching his boiling point … literally."

She laughs at the joke like he knew she would. Of all the good things about her, her sense of humor is not one of them. He loves it, means she laughs at his jokes even when they're really bad.

"I know, Steve but uh - it's not looking so good."

It's not a secret. Even though he's not too involved in dealing with the financial side of the business, as the owner Steve is well aware that they are just barely scraping by.

"Shit."

"Yeah. I'm sorry Steve. We're just able to pay the electricity bill this month, don't think we can splurge on anything else."

He nods in defeat. It feels like letting people down. Himself, the guys, his dad. Everyone.

“You think we can manage to buy a fan or two at least? You know, just to keep Munson alive.”

She looks at him with that expression in her eyes that says “we really can’t but I’ll find a way to do it”. He loves her for it, for everything she does.

“I’ll see what I can do. We really don’t want Eddie to overheat. —“ a big sigh leaves her lips before she continues. “ But Steve, it’s really not looking good. I’ve been twisting and turning and pushing around numbers for what feels like forever now. I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.”

He knows this. No matter how much he’s trying to push it out of his mind. He is painfully aware of the shot show they’re currently in. Hearing her say it, outright and with no sugar to coat it, that’s like a dagger straight to the heart. Box cutter to the jugular.

“I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

“You always do.”

She puts an unwavering amount of faith in him. Steve is not sure he’s entirely deserving of it but he’s not gonna complain.

Thanks, Buns, you’re the best. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

When he places a soft kiss on the top of her head, the scene of her shampoo fills his nose and takes over all his senses for a moment. She always smells so good. Warm and comforting and like — well, like home. 

"What in the world is going on here?"

Loud heavy metal music echoes through the garage, it’s the one thing Eddie and Billy really can agree on. The music choice. This leaves Steve outnumbered when it comes to choosing the music being played during working hours.

It's not the music though, that confuses him, it's the fact that the boys are both shirtless as they lean against the respective cars they're working on, sipping on - water?!

Billy doesn't go out of his way to drink water usually, that boy has a sweet tooth like no other and if there's no beer there (which there isn't during working hours) he always goes for the coke. Regular, none of that watered-down, nasty-tasting diet crap.

And Eddie? Eddie eats and drinks like a 10-year-old. Soda or Juice are just fine but water? That's new.

"It's crazy hot in here, Harrington. Be glad it's just the shirts, Munson was this close to taking off his pants too," Billy jokes, indicating a tiny space between his fingers.

"Yup but I didn't want to make you guys jealous of my great ass. I know it's hard enough measuring up to a shirtless me."

"Whatever you say chicken breast." 

Laughter echoes through the hall as Billy twirls the dirty rag, he uses to wipe the grease off his hands, into a tight knot only to land it against Eddie's chest with a loud snap.

It's not always been like this. Fun and full of laughter. Their beginnings were awkward to say the least, neither of the boys was particularly fond of the others. But they've grown on Steve, even Billy. They're somewhat of a little family right now. Brotherly teasing and rivalries included.

"Wow, there are people out there who would pay a lot of money to watch this."

Robin's voice cuts through the boyish laughter and makes 3 heads turn in her direction. 

"This," she continues and waves her hand between the boys " I mean. You guys, half-naked, dancing or playing or whatever it is you're doing. Some people would pay money to see this. Not me - but I'm sure there's someone out there. "

"Are you here for another free oil change? You know you're my best friend but at some point, I'm gonna have to start charging."

"Calm down Steve, what do you take me for? No, I'm here for Bunny actually. I gotta return some records she let me borrow. So don't let me interrupt your - whatever session. Keep going, gentleman".

With a mock salute, she pushes past the boys and continues her way up the stairs and into the office. All that's heard before the door falls back into place is a loud "close the door! The cool air is getting out!".

He loves that the girls are getting along. His girls. The two people he trusts with his life. The first time he brought Robin around was nerve-wracking and sent his anxiety through the roof. For no reason, really. The girls got on like a house on fire. Now it's like they've known each other their whole life.

"Steve?" Eddie shakes him from his daydream. There's an edge to his voice now, a seriousness and sincerity Steve hasn't heard before.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have an idea."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The shop needs extra funds, right? I think I have an idea of how we can make more money."

“Do you know why we’re here?” Bunny asks as she shuffles into the garage long after store closing, Robin and Nancy following behind her with quick steps.

By the expression on their faces, she doesn’t even need them to answer. The same confusion she’s feeling is looking back at her.

“Steve just said it’s important and that it’s about the shop.” 

“Well, that’s more information than I got. Eddie just called me and said they needed my opinion on something then hung up before I could even reply,” Robin explains.

“They? As in Steve, Eddie, and — “ 

“ — and me! “ 

Billy grants the girls one of his million-dollar smiles. The one where his eyes twinkle and you wonder what kind of secrets are hidden in the corner of his lips. Not that it works on either of the girls. Especially now that they are all way too confused and focused on the huge elephant in the room.

“Why are you wearing a suit?” 

“It’s all part of tonight’s entertainment. Would you ladies follow me to your seats?” 

“Seats? Entertainment? “

Bunny isn’t sure he even takes notice of her questions, if he does he chooses to ignore them as he silently leads them further into the room to where 3 chairs are placed neatly in a row. 

“Please take your seats, the show is about to start.” 

A questioning glance passes between the girls. Nevertheless, they do as told and sit down just before Billy hands each of them what seems to be a leaflet of some kind. Though it’s hard to tell since he hands it to them with the print pointing down.

“ You can turn this around as soon as I leave you to it. Please just — just wait. “ His cool suave image slips for a second before his lips pull back into the familiar cocky smirk “now enjoy the show. “

He has the audacity to wink at them. What the hell is going on?

“What is this about?” Nancy asks as the girls turn the papers around, almost moving in sync.

In big bold letters, the flyer reads:

This one’s for the ladies!

Witness Hawkins’ Hottest:

King Steve

Billy the kid 

& Mr. Hellfire.

“So wait, are they gonna put on a play or dance or what? “

Robin’s chuckles cut through the confusion and, between long wheezes of laughter, she forms the words: “Holy shit, I think they’re gonna strip.” 

Before Bunny’s brain can even begin to comprehend the information that just tumbled from Robin’s lips, the lights dim, and the beginning guitar chords of Def Leppard’s “Pour some sugar on me” fill the room.

One after the other, the boys step onto a makeshift stage put together from old wooden palettes. All of them wearing suits, a sight the girls are far from used to. Sure Steve’s worn a suit before on several occasions but Billy and Eddie? 

Though none of that really matters right then. All Bunny can focus on, is the rhythmic though out-of-sync rotation of the boy’s hips. There’s a lot of hip thrusting from all of them, suggestive winks from Billy, and what can only be described as borderline obscene tongue movements from Eddie. 

Hands are tracing down their necks, their chests. The suit jackets go first, then the bowties, then their hands grab onto their respective buttons up and in the matter of a blink three naked chests are on full display.

Though if Bunny is being serious, neither Billy nor Eddie are at the receiving end of her attention. 

Steve looks otherworldly in the shine of whatever cheap lights the guys have dragged out here for their little show. All perfectly shaped muscles. He must’ve shaved for this and though she doesn’t mind his usually hairy chest, this just makes it easier to see all of him. Every dip and every ridge. 

There used to be a time when seeing Steve shirtless was just that. Seeing her friend shirtless, no biggie. That changed around the time she turned 15 and suddenly it wasn’t just Steve being shirtless anymore. Now it’s the subject of all her sleepless nights, all her inappropriate thoughts, and all those times she finds herself alone with her hands under the covers.

He is cut from marble. Made to represent the best a man can be.

When his hands move to the belt buckle, and he looks at her directly, Bunny thinks she might just die. Right then and there. A one-way ticket to heaven. Or maybe hell, she can’t be too sure about this. The thoughts running through her head right now, sure don’t seem appropriate to have when passing through the pearly gates.

“I'm hot, sticky sweet

From my head to my feet, yeah”

And then the pants are gone and she’s dying a slow and painful death.

He looks so good. Like she could eat him up right there and he’d taste like the sweetest poison.

Robin's laughter mixes with the music, a melody of chaos and joy. She's having the time of her life and Bunny is sure she'll never let the boys forget about this. This will be her "remember when" card for the rest of all their lives.

Nancy is just quiet, hand going to her face every once in a while, shielding her eyes from what she could potentially see. It's not like this is anything new. She's seen Steve this way before and though Bunny hates to admit it - Nancy is her friend after all - the thought does leave a bitter taste of jealousy in her mouth.

While the girls are caught between shock, amusement, and — whatever it is Bunny is feeling at the moment, the boys take this whole thing with a surprising amount of seriousness. There are teasing smirks on their faces, masks of pure confidence, and a banner of determination and courage that seems to wrap around them.

This is a serious strip show and they make it abundantly clear. If there was ever a doubt in the girls' minds, it is being wiped away completely when the underwear goes. Those shiny black bottoms that seemed entirely too tight for either of them. Bunny wonders if Steve bought them specifically for this or had them already stuffed into the back of his underwear drawer.

That’s the moment Nancy’s eyes go wide, almost threatening to pop right out of her head. The moment Robin covers her face, laughter turns into amused shrieks. And the moment Bunny thinks her heart might stop altogether. 

It's not like they get to see — anything. The boys make sure to cover everything with both hands. Both hands. But still, it's hard to look at the man that owns half of your heart, the recipient of your undying affection, standing there completely naked, and not die a little. 

The song comes to an end and Robin, still in a fit of giggles, starts applauding, Nancy following soon after. It's the first time that night that the guys let their act drop and a certain sense of insecurity fills them as they quickly scurry off to throw on some robes. Those ropes, Bunny is sure they bought specifically for today. They're all silky and shiny. Ridiculous if not a tiny bit endearing.

"What the everloving hell was that?" Robin questions as the boys make their way back toward the line of chairs.

"That, " Steve exclaims and clears his throat as if to fill his voice with determination, " is our chance to keep the garage going."

"You're going to strip for the customers?"

"We're going to strip for whoever books us."

This is all too much all at once for Bunny to properly process. Steve has had many crazy ideas over the years, a lot of delusional thoughts. More now that he's hanging out with Eddie and Billy who all have 0 impulse control. 

None of those ideas ever came close to this. It's on a whole nother plane of existence really. And the worst part? Bunny thinks the boys might be onto something.

"Wait, let me get this straight. You guys want to start a stripping business?"

"Yes, Wheeler. That's exactly the plan. Everything we earn on group booking goes to the shop. Everything from individual jobs goes to the funds for our own special projects. Like paints for me, car radio stuff for Billy. In the end, it all ends up helping the shop."

Eddie talks about the plan with childlike enthusiasm. It’s quite amusing considering the topic of the discussion. Though his words make the gears in Bunny’s head turn. This might not be the worst of all ideas. 

“So — Robin asks, swallowing another laugh, “ I hate to ask this but where do we come in? “ 

“Well, you — “ Billy replies and points and Nancy “are here because you’re part of our target audience. We wanna know if you think this is something that could be successful. You —” he continues now pointing at Robin “are just here because we knew you’d love making fun of us for this and you’d be pissed if we didn’t invite you.” 

“What about me?” 

It’s the first time Bunny speaks up since the show started. The words feel heavy on her tongue. 

“ Oh, you —” 

“We want you to be our manager.” Steve's voice cuts Billy off mid-sentence.

Manager? It’s then when it really settles in how serious the guys are. There’s a look on Steve’s face she’s only ever seen a handful of times. No joking around to be detected. He told her he’d figure out a way to keep the shop going and this is his solution. It’s maybe a bit unconventional and not at all anything she’d have ever expected but it’s a solution nonetheless. 

“Your manager?” 

Steve’s eyes connect with hers, full of hope and uncertainty all at once. He seems to be almost pleading — not with words just with looks. This means more to him than just a silly little idea with his friends. This is his last chance. 

“We need someone to help us out here. You know how shit we are at keeping our appointments in order. How unorganized and messy we are. How much we suck at financials and numbers and all that. We need you. “

“And you think this might actually work?”

Nancy’s voice cuts through the tension. “This might actually not be the worst idea. A lot of girls that I went to High School with got married last year and they all wanted a stripper at their bachelorette parties. But — well the choice was limited.” 

“You sure you want to end up stripping for people you went to Highschool with?” 

Bunny raises an eyebrow in question.

“I mean yeah, that might happen. We want to advertise mostly around Hawkins so not directly here. Just to avoid any awkwardness. But that’s also a reason we wanted to try this out on you. If we can do this for our best friends without dying of embarrassment then —” 

“You guys really want to do this?” 

All of them answer with a determined nod of their heads. There is uncertainty there but not about trying. No one can know the outcome of this but neither of them is afraid of trying. For the one thing they all helped build. For their shop. 

“Well, I guess I can’t let you do this by yourselves then, huh? You need someone to keep you in line.” 

The smile Steve grants her as he realizes she’s in sends Bunny’s heart racing. It’s ridiculous to be so in love with your lifelong best friend. Ridiculous and hopeless and dumb. Agreeing to manage his business where he will get undressed in front of a bunch of ladies sounds like a surefire way to break your own heart. But isn’t that the fundamentals of the human experience? Isn’t that love? Putting your own heart on the line for someone else’s happiness?

“We really do need you.” 

“Okay then, guess I’m in.”

Before the words even fully leave her lips, Bunny is already tackled into a hug. Steve is not a hugger, never was. It’s a side effect of growing up with emotionally absent parents who’d rather give you a new car than a hug. So Steve's hugs are always special. A perfect little cherry on top of every cake.

He’s so warm and he smells like sweat and too much body spray. It’s disgusting but she can’t fault him for it, that man just put on the performance of his life, danced his ass off, and stripped down both literally and emotionally. 

It also reminds her of all the times hanging out with him after basketball training. The best times.

“Thank you, Buns.” 

And maybe she pulls him a little bit tighter. No one has to know. 

“So,” Eddie speaks up as they pull away from the hug. “What do you say, manager? How did we do?”

“Well, glad you asked. If you wanna do this, we’re doing it right. You guys came up with names, now we gotta make them a character. King Steve? I’m getting you a crown and maybe we can also make use of that little sailor uniform of yours. You — “ Bunny snaps her finger and points it at Billy “get out those tiny red shorts you used to flaunt around in at the pool, I know you still got those somewhere, don’t even try to deny it. Maybe some sunglasses too.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

“And you, Mr. Hellfire.”

“Mmmh?”

“ How do we feel about some devil horns?” 

Word spreads fast in Hawkins, that’s not surprising. People are so damn curious about other people’s business and no one keeps their mouth shut — ever.

What is surprising, is that a small stack of flyers, just 50 of them, hung up in clubs and bars around Hawkins, leads to 5 bookings for Hawkins Hottest not even 3 weeks after the idea took seed.

The first one is a group performance. A group of girls books them to surprise their friend at her bachelorette party. It takes place in a small apartment just outside of Carmel and the stage is a living room barely big enough for all 3 men and the spectators. But they make it work. They have fun. It’s a good chance to gain confidence. To really settle into their roles.

And the pay is good. Good enough to buy 3 fans for the shop. A move that put Steve forever in Eddie’s good books. 

The second one is a bit of a bigger performance. An all-female bowling team book them for their 25-year anniversary party held at a venue just an hour north of Hawkins. 

Those ladies are scary in a way that Steve doesn’t even attempt to describe. Scary in a way that is fascinating and a little uncomfortable. But the job gets done and the pay is once again great. 

Bunny is there with them, always. Steve wonders what he ever did to deserve her. Her unwavering support. The faith she puts in him, displaced but appreciated. Her kindness, patience, and trust. 

She’s the one doing all the dirty work. Advertisement, bookings, financials. She makes sure the boys get to where they need to be on time. She books hotel rooms if needed. She provides snacks for the ride. She helps with costumes and makeup and sound and lighting. She does 12 jobs at once and she never complains. She just smiles and sometimes when Steve feels a little anxious on stage and looks for her in the crowd or backstage, she’s always there to offer him the encouragement he needs. She is everything. 

“So … are you ever gonna tell Harrington how you feel or are we all taking it to the grave?”

Eddie has a big mouth and no filter. Sometimes that’s funny, hilarious even. It makes for great icebreakers and exciting conversations. Sometimes his big mouth plucks a secret straight from your brain that you didn’t even know was there in the first place. And he presents it to the world. Those times his big mouth is less funny. Those times it scares Bunny.

"Not sure what you're insinuating here, Munson."

Her eyes involuntarily search for Steve across the room. His chest is on display, a shirt hanging loosely from his shoulder, unbuttoned and almost teasing. The boys are about to go on stage in just a few minutes and while Eddie is all cool and collected, Steve always gets a little nervous. He's a bit of a perfectionist, Bunny has realized lately. Not always, but about the important things. Especially when his future and the future of his shop are at stake.

"Mmmh. Of course, you don't. Not like you're undressing him with your eyes right this second."

"Eddie," she lets out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle "I've seen you guys strip nearly every night lately. I don't need to undress him, he's doing it himself.”

“So do I and you never looked at me like that, or Billy. Just good old Steve over there. I’ve deducted —”

“You haven’t deducted anything.”

“Just saying, I’m picking up some vibes here.” 

“Eddie —” Bunny says and fixes him with what she attempts to be a serious glare but probably ends up making her look as intimidating as a literal bunny rabbit “ — stop it. Go get some oil on that chest of yours, you guys are about to go on stage.” 

Stage. A real actual stage this time. 

The club they have been booked to perform at is small, smaller even than the hideout. It’s a bit grimy, with lots of mismatched furniture. Ripped concert posters line the wall and the dressing rooms smell like bleach and cheap air freshener. But it’s a stage! A real stage in front of an audience that paid an entry fee to see them specifically. It’s amazing to think that they’ve been given this chance only such a short time after starting this whole crazy idea. Sometimes it feels unreal. Like none of this is really happening. Maybe because it’s hard to explain to people. This insane whirlwind of an idea they’ve all willingly jumped into is not only working, it’s also fun. Most of them won't understand. Most of them will just judge. 

It doesn’t matter though. It never did.

None of it really matters when she looks at the boys as they perform their stage show. An immeasurable amount of pride fills her heart. This is something that quickly becomes more than either of them thought it could be. A spark turning into a raging fire. 

They’re all good, surprisingly. Stripped both figuratively and literally of everything. They are their characters and they’re putting on one hell of a show.

The room is filled with a sizzling static, a euphoric atmosphere. It’s sexy and fun and mesmerizing all at once.

Steve looks good enough to eat as he moves around on stage. Dipped in hues of pink and red and orange as the stage lights capture him, it’s quite the vision and not unlike some of the scenes from Bunny’s most intimate, most secret dreams. 

The baby oil that the boys have lathered onto themselves earlier, leaves a shiny gleam on his pecks. He looks delectable. For a moment she wants to scold herself for these thoughts, this is Steve. HER Steve. But isn’t this the point of all of this? These feelings of desire and lust and passion? Isn’t this what they want to awaken in their audience? 

So what if the audience is Bunny of all people.

He’s meant for greatness even if no one ever made him believe so. She knows it. Maybe that greatness is found on this stage. Or maybe it’s in whatever he chooses to do. Maybe it’s simply him.

A few weeks later 

“Are you nervous?” 

Her hand feels so warm as she rests it on his shoulder. 

It’s his first solo performance. The first time someone booked just him. Not him — King Steve.

A 21st birthday. All the way in the big city of Indianapolis.

This time it’s all on him whether the show is a hit or a failure. If he fucks this up, he fucks it up for all of them. Himself and Eddie and Billy — and Bunny.

Bunny who is sweet enough to drive to Indianapolis with him. To stay in a hotel room with him for the night because it’ll be too late to drive all the way back to Hawkins after the show. 

He can’t feed off of Eddie’s dramatic energy or Billy’s sense of seduction. Just himself and the character he is trying to create for his stripper self.

“A bit yeah.” 

“You’ll do great, Steve. I just know it.” 

He finds her eyes over his shoulder in the hotel mirror. There is no doubt in her. No one has ever believed in him like this. Not even his own goddamn parents.

“What if I fuck up?”

“You won’t!” 

“But what if I do?”

This is his last chance. This needs to work. There is no room for error when every little mistake could mean having to close the shop. He loves that shop even though he never thought he would. Never saw himself as a mechanic. But this is so much more. This is his baby. His home away from home. His friends are there. Bunny is there. 

And though it’s silly and dumb, he also wants to make his father proud. Even though his dad doesn’t deserve it. Even though he’s a huge asshole. Steve wants to make the shop work to make his dad proud.

“Steve, they booked you for a reason.”

“It’s because of the hair.”

“No, it’s not because of the hair, you dork. It’s because you’re good at this.”

He is. It’s not really something society allows you to take pride in but Steve can’t deny that he’s quite alright at stripping and putting on a show. He still wishes the boys were here too.

“You wanna go over the routine again? Would that help?” 

“Maybe.”

“Okay, let’s do it then!” 

Before he knows it, ZZ Top’s “I need you tonight” comes from the boombox they brought, perched on the desk in the corner of the Hotel room.

Bunny sits down on the end of the bed, hands resting by her side and digging into the soft, blue comforter. 

The encouraging smile she gives him makes him want to melt right then and there. He wonders if she knows just how much she means to him. When he said they couldn’t do this without her, he meant it. She is the beginning and the end of it all. 

He goes through all the moves as if his body works on autopilot. A swing of the hip, a turn, a twist. His brain doesn’t have to work to recall the choreography, it comes naturally. 

He doesn’t really register any of that. All he can see is her. Her eyes and her lips and her hands fisting the sheets. Her eyes. Her lips. Her hands. Her. 

The show continues as it would in front of the actual audience. Only it’s not the birthday girl he’s getting close to, it’s Bunny. 

It’s her body heat radiating he can feel as he stands before her and opens the buttons of his shirt leaving him bare. It’s her hand he takes to trail down his chest, to feel every dip and groove and ripple. It’s her perfume he smells.

Her eyes. Her lips. Her hands.

Her.

This is not in the performance. Being this close. Feeling her nose against his, her breath mingle with his. None of what he’s feeling right now is scripted. The tingles in his fingers. The racing of his heart. 

“Bunny, I — “ 

If the universe wants to play tricks on him, Steve doesn’t think they’re very funny. A shrill ringing sounds from the alarm clock on the bedside table making the two snap away from each other, breaking the spell and dropping them back into reality.

Steve doesn’t feel like laughing at the universe right now.

“I um — I set the alarm to remind us when we have to leave for the gig.” 

“Oh yeah. Yeah — good. Let’s uh — let’s get a move on. Chop chop.”

Chop chop? His inner voice is cringing at the words as they fall from his lips. Chop fucking chop?

She doesn’t meet his eyes while they grab their stuff, not on the way there and not as they meet up with the best friend of the birthday girl who made the booking. 

It’s only when he’s about to go on stage that she grants him a smile, though it doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s missing its usual sparkle. “Break a leg.” 

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll break two.” 

Steve, his inner voice scolds him again, sometimes it’s better to just keep your mouth shut.

But when he hears Bunny laugh. Like really actually laugh, he thinks he might just keep talking nonsense. Her laugh is his favorite sound in all the world.

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Go get them, King Steve.”

The man on stage, that’s not her childhood best friend. The man up there is King Steve, all suave and self-assured and seductive. All the dorky qualities her Steve holds are wiped away and replaced by confidence and courage.

It’s like he is two different people at once, both the best versions of him he can be at that moment. 

There’s something enchanting about watching him perform. He looks so free and liberated from all the pressure to be a certain kind of way that has been resting on his shoulders from the moment he left his mother’s womb. He gets to be whoever he decides to be. 

The girls are screaming and giggling as he moves his hips. When he loses the shirt then the pants — they lose their minds. 

She thought she’d feel some jealousy, watching him on stage, entertaining all these other girls. But it’s different. Some part of her is holding on to the knowledge that the version of him off stage, those girls don’t get. They know King Steve but they will never know her goofy, dorky best friend Steve. That version of him is hers and hers alone.

Red and blue lights paint every ripple and every inch of his body. He looks like a painting. A masterpiece.

“Sorry if this is disrespectful but your boyfriend is so damn hot.” 

The girl standing beside her isn’t even looking at Bunny, her eyes are fixed on Steve who at this point is only in a tight pair of shorts. 

“He’s not. My boyfriend I mean. No doubt he’s hot. That’s undeniable.”

That gets the girl’s attention.

“Oh so, you guys are not …” 

Things would be far easier if they were. And maybe the moment in the Hotel meant nothing but what if it did? Then again, was there even a moment to begin with? Or was this all just wishful thinking clouding her thoughts? 

“No, we’re just best friends. And I’m his manager.” 

“Okay cool.” Bunny hates the tone the girl’s voice takes on. Hates it with every fiber of her being. The girls staring at King Steve is one thing. Having one of them show interest in the off-stage him, that’s a terrifying thought to Bunny. She looks nice though, the girl. She looks like the kind of girl Steve would go for. Nice girls who let him know they’re interested and don’t hide their feelings for years until it’s too late and break their own hearts in the process.

A loud “ooooh” washes over the crowd as Steve loses the last of the fabric covering his body. Bunny doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of seeing him like this.

And when he looks across the group of girls and meets her eyes, he throws her a wink. That one, she knows for certain. That one is just for her from her Steve. 

There’s something awfully nostalgic about sitting crisscross on the hotel bed, a can of beer in hand as Steve sits across from her with a big smile on his face, reminiscing about the show he just put on a few hours ago.

“ — and the pay? This one show is paying for the next two months' electricity.” 

“You’re saving our shop, Steve.” 

“Can you believe people are willing to pay that much money to see me? King fucking Steve.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised. You’re worth every penny.” 

Steve scoffs at her words. He was never all that good at taking compliments, even when his ego was through the roof during their High School years. 

“Wonder what my dad would think if he knew this is how I’m keeping the garage open.”

Mr. Harrington was always perfectly nice enough to Bunny. He was polite and attentive and a good host whenever she was around at the Harrington house. He asked her about her parents and made small talk about school and work and everyday life. 

None of that mattered to her though. The way he treated his own son was all she needed to know to realize that he placed very low on her list of people. Steve didn’t deserve all of the weight put on him. All the degrading comments. The snarky remarks. The sour looks and scowls and scoffs.

He did the best he could, always. Steve is a good man and while he was a bit of a shithead during his teenage years, that can be chalked up to just that — being a teenager.

“Do you want me to be honest or nice?” 

“Honest. Always.” 

“How honest?”

“10 out of 10”

“Your dad would hate this. Because he doesn’t understand it, or the time we’re living in. And also because he hates seeing you succeed without him. It would make him have to face the fact that you are doing just fine without him. He can’t come by and say I told you so, and that would make him pissed.”

“Why does that make you smile?”

“‘cause I love pissing off your dad. He’s an asshole like no other.”

“Cheers to that” 

Laughter echoes through the tiny hotel room as they clink their cans, weaving itself into a sweet harmony with the music coming from the boombox.

“Ooooh, I love this song!” Bunny announces as the opening chords of Joan Jett’s “I love Rock n Roll” fill the air. 

“You know what I think?” 

“What is that, Steve?” 

There’s an intensity in his eyes, a sense of mischief on his lips. It’s both endearing and a bit unnerving all at once. 

“You’ve seen me do my show a bunch of times now, I think it’s only fair if you dance for me this once.” 

An unintentional scoff falls from her lips. For her to put on a show — to strip — for him? It’s a bizarre thought, truly absurd. He surely can’t be serious.

He is serious. It’s written on his face as unmistakable as a light-up billboard on main street. 

“You kidding me, Steve?”

“Creative expression through passionate and erotic dance is not a laughing matter, Bunny.”

He laughs anyway. That full-on sunshine Steve Harrington laugh of his that makes you feel invincible and grand. Like for a second, all the bad in the world has vanished and there are good things to believe in. Like laughter and friendship and cute boys with great hair.

“Alright, you asked for it. I’m just telling you right now I can’t dance very well — oh and the underwear stays on.” 

“Buzzkill!”

“Hey, hecklers will be removed from the premises!” 

Steve does a zipping motion across his lips only to follow it up by throwing away an invisible key. It’s a very Steve move, no thoughts behind the action, just good intentions and unrelenting loyalty.

Bunny starts moving her body to the rhythm of the song. It’s easy enough to get lost in the music but there’s no way she can fully let go. Not with Steve watching her the way he is. She’s unable to shake the thought of making herself look laughable in front of him. Steve’s seen her in all the stages of her life, all the best and most definitely the worst, and never had Bunny felt like this. But it’s different right now. There has been a shift and this whole night feels like it could be a turning point. A crash and burn or happily ever after kind of situation.

It’s terrifying. 

“Come oooon! I know you can do better than this. Go on, move those hips a little.” 

Before she knows what’s happening, his hands find their place on the side of her hips, holding her tightly. His skin touching the sliver of her’s that revealed itself where her shirt rode up a little. He smells like body wash and deodorant and spearmint chewing gum. He radiates an all-consuming warmth. 

Steve moves her hips in time with the music, rotating motions the way he does when he’s on stage. It feels like her body is moving on autopilot, vulnerable, and all his to do with as he pleases. His eyes lock on hers and like a magnetic pull, Bunny stares right back. Mesmerized and enchanted.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” 

He doesn’t let go, he just grabs on tighter, moves closer. There’s barely any room left between them and yet he’s not nearly close enough for Bunny’s liking. 

As if he can hear her thoughts, he pulls her flush against his body, chest to chest, heart to heart. His hands stay on her sides as if they were never meant to be anywhere else. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

There’s a saying that the flapping of an itty-bitty butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane. Bunny always thought that was utter bullshit. 

As Steve’s lips meet hers in a heated kiss, she thinks there might be a little bit of truth to the statement.

“Don’t stop!” 

Two words. Two itty-bitty words and they cause a hurricane. Change everything.

It takes a blink of a moment for Bunny to forget where she ends and Steve begins, he’s all-consuming. Mind and body and soul. 

She doesn’t even realize it as it happens when he picks her up and sits her down on the dresser as if she weighs nothing. Just a feather in his hand. 

His kisses are hot and needy on her cheeks, her lips, her neck. Everywhere. 

Bunny combs her fingers through his hair, hands trembling. It’s almost embarrassing how nervous all of this makes her. She’s touched his hair a million and one times. Not like this though, never like this. 

“Hey, hey wait a second.” 

She doesn’t want to wait. Doesn’t want to stop. What if they stop and he realizes this was a mistake? What if this is all an elaborate prank that life is playing on her? You think the boy you’ve loved since you knew what love was likes you back? Silly girl, so silly.

“Buns, come on look at me.” 

He cradles her face in his hands so gently, so soft, as if he’s holding the whole world in his palms.

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

“What if I open my eyes and all of this isn’t real?”

A chuckle tumbles from his lips but it’s not mocking. It doesn’t make her feel stupid or ridiculous, even when she very well might be.

All it does is fill her with infinite affection.

“Buns, what do I have to do to make you believe it’s real? Pinch you? Give your cheek a lick? A bite maybe?”

“Do not lick my cheek. — the biting though.” 

Steve’s laughter sounds so sweet. Like a song from a memory long forgotten and finally remembered. His chest shakes against hers making it impossible for her not to crack a smile. Secondhand laughter. 

“Oh, biting gets you going? Alright, I’ll remember that for the future.” 

“The future?” 

It sounds like too good of a promise to be true. 

“Bunny, look at me!” 

He’s soft in all the ways a person can be but the softest of all is the way he looks at her when she opens her eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you for an embarrassingly long time. It just never felt like the right time to act on it. Either you were in a relationship or I was or — things were just a liiiiittle messed up.” 

“So what changed?”

“I’m tired of waiting. I just wanted — no I needed you to know. Life moves surprisingly fast actually and I didn’t want to spend another minute pretending I don’t love you.” 

Those girls in the crowds, cheering and hollering, they may get to see his abs, even his ass, but they will never have this. This is all hers.

“You serious?” 

“As a doornail.” 

“That’s — that’s not how the saying goes but I love you anyway.” 

“Yeah?” 

There’s no room for an answer, it gets swallowed somewhere in the ocean of kisses he places on her lips, one sweeter than the next. 

Perhaps there doesn’t need to be an answer. Not one spoke with words at least. She hopes the kisses he receives in return are enough to silence his doubts forever. Quite honestly, she wouldn’t mind reminding him though.

“You feel that?” Eddie’s voice calls out, echoing through the shop as Steve and Bunny step inside. “The sweet sweet relief of a working air con!” 

“Well, you guys have been working your asses off to get it for us.”

“More like showing our asses off.” 

“Either way, “ Bunny says and gives Eddie a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It was all you guys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be upstairs in my office doing some paperwork and basking in the chilly air-con.” 

Just before she takes a turn towards the steps leading to the office though, she wraps her arms around Steve’s shoulders and places a long, gentle kiss on his lips. There’s something exhilarating about being able to kiss someone you’ve wanted to kiss for so long but were never allowed to. It’s addicting. It’s magical. 

“See you later, baby.” 

“What the fuck?!” 

Life comes with a lot of struggles. A lot of dark days and bad times. It asks for so much and often it feels like it gives nothing in return. But maybe that’s not all true. There is joy to be found. In the big things like kissing the one you love, like realizing the person you always wanted wants you back. And in the small ones like the taste of his lips, the feel of cool air on your skin, the knowledge that you can do great things and overcome struggles — and in the laughter of your friends sounding through the halls as they realize that love has finally found a way to settle where it was always meant to be.

[spaceorphan18]

Glee Musical Retrospective: Hair/Crazy in Love (Hairography)

Sung by: New Directions Original Artist(s): from Hair Soundtrack/Beyonce feat. Jay-Z

Hey! I'm back! I promise I didn't forget about this project, I just needed to take a step back for a moment. I'm actually really enjoying doing the in depth dive on all the music - it's been pretty fun.

Anyway... oof. This one. This is kind of a precursor to Run Joey Run - in which it is supposed to be /not good/ in a comedic way and, well, falls a little flat. Or maybe I've just seen it a hundred times now? But unlike Run Joey Run (or, say, Push It) it just doesn't have the repay value as some of those other 'bad' performances.

Story Analysis

It's funny - Sue says to Will, later on in the series, that he must have been really tired when he came up with this number. And I kind of wonder if the writers had a moment where they were just... tired. Not every moment in a tv show is going to be the best - and this whole number screams -- this was an interesting idea at the time but maybe didn't work exactly how we expected it to.

The purpose of this number is very straightforward. It's about looking (and I suppose sounding?) crazy. I mean, I can see how it felt pretty ingenious to find a Beyonce song that featured the lyric: "Got me looking so crazy right now" over and over again. And then to mash up with a song about hair... I mean, I can see how the writers thought this was a brilliantly stupid idea when they came up with it.

The 'comedy' I suppose is supposed to be from all the hair swinging around and the ridiculous choreography where the kids are literally just swinging their heads around and prancing around the room. I don't fully get the purpose of the weirdly, overt sexual component of the girls all jumping on a guy and, like, fake humping them. But it did add another layer of crazy onto the already bonkers performance.

[As an aside - the fact that Will came with all of this -- including a moment where the guys are mimicking anal to the girls -- is just, ick. I'm glad he feels shameful during the whole performance. Shame on you, Will. Shame.]

But really - the full purpose of the song is to show how all the hair and the ridiculousness can't really mask a bad performance. And how real music comes from your heart -- a message that will be amplified when the deaf choir sings Imagine next.

Interestingly - there's a whole other tangent to go down about how music has many purposes, and how a there's a place and time for low quality, club music -- and not every single musical number needs to be a genius work of art, but I digress.

Technical Thoughts

Okay. First I want to start off with the fact that this is barely a mash up. There are a few moments where the lyrics of 'Hair' are thrown in, but it's so far removed from the original that when I finally heard the original for the first time, I couldn't believe it was the same music. I get why on paper it makes sense, I do - but I think losing one song nearly completely into the mash up doesn't make it all compelling. And one of the reasons mash ups are so fun is the way the songs complement each other. I'll have to keep an eye out for it - but this might be one of the weakest mash ups the show does.

Vocally, it's not bad at all. Interesting fact - I guess Cory and Mark were supposed to be leads on this, but they gave it to Kevin instead. I agree with that decision - Kevin has a much better pop and hip hop voice and can handle back up Beyonce songs way better. Mercedes is on lead - which is great for the song. Amber Riley sounds fantastic on this, and I'm glad to see that even within early season 1 she's already really working on her voice and it shows.

My one kind of, idk, eye-roll? is the that Glee is still trying to go for realism, and that it's the kids who are creating all the music. But it's fairly obvious that the music is all put through a synthesizer or auto-tuned or whatever or mixed in a way that gives it a more electronic sound. I'm not sure if it's done out of time -- or because they wanted to sound like the original -- but nothing about this performance sounds like a show choir. (Oh - and my usual obligatory comment about how it sounds like they doubled the tracks on the back up vocals again.)

But... despite the choreography being insane - Glee rarely compromises when it comes to sound. At the end of the day, they still want to sell music and make money off it, so it's always going to sound good. (Mostly - there are some exceptions - and boy will I get there :D)

vs. The Studio Recording: It's the same song. Not really anything to comment on. Though - I'll say without the distraction (ha) of the visuals, you can appreciate Artie and Mercedes's vocals more.

vs. The Original Version (Crazy in Love): Other than adding some lyrics from Hair into a few places, they didn't stray from the original arrangement. I can see how the choreography was influenced by the music video, too. But there's a huge difference between the stylized music video full of professionals - and the Glee kids. And yes, I get that it was somewhat intentional for the comedy of the moment and the purpose of the scene but... eesh.

vs. The Original Version (Hair): I linked the 1979 version, because I find it fascinating. You can see some slight influences in choreography -- the way the prisoners are throwing themselves around - feels a lot like the way they incorporate the throwing themselves around in the Glee number.

Also - what even is this musical?? I mean, I read the synopsis -- as a rock musical set in the 60s. It seems absolutely wild, but the song is really catchy, and I kind of wished they had just done this number. Granted, out of context it would make even less sense, but still. Also, I'm kind of fascinated by how hair is seen politically, but that's really getting off point...

Also going to link the 2009 Tony Awards performance (Here) because I wonder if there was influence here, too! I'm sure it was somewhere in Ryan Murphy's head.

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[russilton]

🤲 pretty please, anything you like! <3

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

YOU KNOW I WILL, here’s 800 words from my favourite scene in aiwlyn so far

Australia feels like a dream.

George feels an ache in his jaw from smiling, his skin is sticky with champagne and beginning to itch where his under suit is glued to his neck, but he doesn’t care. He’s buzzing, a muted hyperactive feeling singing through his nerves as he’s rushed from the podium back to the excited cheers of his team, then before he can blink he’s ushered away to handle his press duties. He knows p3 isn’t something a lot of drivers would be happy with, a necessary part of a champions mentality being the instinct to only be happy with first. But it’s different for George, not only is this his first podium for Mercedes’, it’s his first true race podium too, erasing the conflicted feeling he had about Spa with new, joyous pride.

It’s only as he’s walking to the press pen that George catches sight of a grid showing the final race positions. The giddy joy of seeing his own name in the top three turns sour when he sees Lewis placed just behind him in fourth.

For the team, fourth is a great result, he knows when asked Toto will say he and Lewis achieved the best possible result for Mercedes’ today, that George will have to echo something similar himself. But George is a racer, he knows what it’s like to place behind your teammate. How frustrated anger can override any fondness. George doesn’t even know how he hadn’t noticed, he must have been too wrapped up in the glory of celebration. He had always assumed when he got his first podium for the team, that Lewis would be right there alongside him, that he wouldn’t have to worry about Lewis hating him because he’d be a step or two above him, hoisting his own trophy high.

But instead he’s the one keeping Lewis off the podium, and anxiety starts to climb up his throat as he wonders if Lewis hates him for it. It settles right in with the soreness from yelling. His feet are rooted to the ground, mind running horrible scenarios at break neck speed thanks to the residual adrenaline in his system, till his Press Manager finally realised George isn’t on his heels, and turns to grab him and pull him back on the path to his interviews.

The last thing George wants to do right now is put on his PR smile and talk to journalists. He wants to run back to his drivers room, hide on his own till he can figure out what he has to say to Lewis in order for Lewis to keep liking him. How to protect the new seed of their closeness, small, and oh so fragile.

His legs carry him on auto pilot, instinct taking over as he turns to talk to his first interviewer, hiding his now almost frantic worry about Lewis behind a stretched thin smile. He can’t let any of his anxiety slip, or they’ll pounce on it. The media have been desperate to get him to turn on Lewis, or vice versa, vultures circling an animal they’re sure is dying.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar hand on his shoulder turning him, and he’s yanked into a hug. It only takes a second to realise it’s Lewis, and George can’t stop himself from sinking into the embrace. It’s barely a half hug, there’s people around and both of them have interviewers to speak to, but it’s enough. He thinks he’s holding it together, fingers gripped vice tight around his water bottle so he doesn’t accidentally drop it and embarrass himself, but then Lewis opens his mouth.

“Congrats George, I’m so fuckin’ proud of you”

It’s barely a whisper, right into his ear, just for him. The already weakened dam around his overwhelmed mind cracks, and he has to tip his head forward and hope the brim of his hat hides the tears gathering in his eyes. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s exactly what George needs, a simple tactile reassurance that Lewis is happy for him. He won’t have to worry about resentment if Lewis is going out of his way to find and congratulate him. George is so relieved he has to resist burying his face in Lewis’s shoulder. This is enough.

His breath hitches as the strong band of Lewis’ arm around his back squeezes tight, patting him firmly once, and then he’s letting go. The moment barely lasts 30 seconds, but It feels like a lifetime.

He turns back to his interviewer on autopilot, taking a deep breath and trying to centre himself. He’s aware his eyes must look wet, and his lip wobbles as he opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t care.

He’s done it; he has his first true podium, the first that counts. As the interviews wind down he glances over his shoulder and spots Lewis grinning at him, he feels the answering smile threaten to split his face in two.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Asks

[peiperpotts]

December Writing Challenge

Day 18 - Road trip

Walter Schellenberg/OC

warning: ALL OF THEM. 

“Do I need a lawyer?” 

She asks standing still, as he circles her like a vulture. There’s another man on the street, the driver of the black car waiting for her - a sergeant, probably. She could give it a shot and try to run of course, but she could not escape them both at once. Marlene can feel her resolve crumbling and she takes a deep breath.

"Naivete is a fresh look on you.” Came his answer.

She scowled. “The innocent have nothing to fear.”

He broke a fraction before she did, a little chuckle.

"That’s a good one,” he said.“Schwing deinen Arsch ins Auto.” 

Marlene frowned. Then she did as she was told.

The door of the Mercedes slammed loud and harsh after her. 

She had her hands on her thighs. She sat quite calmly in the fine leather. Sedately. There was no reason for her hands to be shaking. Shivering. Trembling at worst. No reason at all, but they were.

“Am I under arrest?” 

She knew it was a distraction but she had to ask.

She does not get an answer.

Her heart missed a beat when the car turned into Avenue Foch, the main headquarters of the Gestapo stationing in France and the whole country at the command of its Brigadeführer. 

“Thought we were on the same side.” Marlene tries, but she couldn’t even make herself believe that.

“Are we? On the same side?” Schellenberg furrowed his brows. “We’re about to find out.”

He stared at her for several seconds. Until she was uncomfortable. Until she was nervous. Then he looked down, licked his lips, and nodded.

She knew that she had to listen to him and do as told – if he had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. Nevertheless, Marlene was at his mercy, and Brigadeführer Walter Schellenberg enjoyed every second of it.

“What are you really doing in Paris, Mademoiselle?” He looked deep into her eyes, sending shivers down her spine sitting across the table. A lone lightbulb was the only source of light in the dingy room that smelled faintly of piss, his cigarette in the ashtray and despair. 

“I live here. I lived here before you even set a foot in my country.”

“Why here? I heard your parents are living better off in Amiens. You wouldn’t have to scrub tables and drop your knickers for German officers there.”

She slaps him across the face, hard, and his front tooth nicks his bottom lip and it bleeds. He smiles with stained teeth and he strikes her back. 

Her mouth blooms like iron too.

“Are you seeing someone?” He asked suddenly and she gave him a deadly glare.

“Is that a part of the interrogation?”

“Your potential partner might work for the communist rebels.” 

“I am not seeing anyone.” Marlene grounds out. 

“That is the most suprising part” Schellenberg muses. “From a French whore.”

It’s his hands on her thighs now. They’re not trembling at all.

“For every moment you don’t tell me what I want I will take something from you.” He says coming to a stand, smoothly moving around the table.

“There’s nothing you can take from me that you haven’t already taken.”

He fits two fingers between her legs and he barely touches her. They brush the front of her underwear and then push past it, the pads of his fingertips seeking out the wetness there. 

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure about that-“

Suddenly one hand grip the back of her neck, pressing her face into the desk, as he looms over her from behind.

Marlene is positively shaking as he grabs a fist full of her hair and draws it back from her face;  she looks guilty, ashamed – he likes that. 

“You’re beautiful, but pathetic.” He whispers, with a grin in his voice.

Something pokes at her entrance, something cold, and smooth not something that she could recognize - and it was metal, too.

“Do you know what this is?”

His voice was struggling to keep the formality, lust seeping into his throat and twisting his tongue.

“N-no... I don’t know.”

Suddenly, violently, it was inside. Marlene almost screamed - maybe she did, She couldn’t tell. Her mind went erratic with terror. 

He laughs, mouth against her ear.

“How about now?”

She clenches around it, trying to understand it’s form while also trying to stop it from going deeper.

Another sigh. He sounds so irritated, but Marlene knew he was anything but. He is loving this. Every second of it.

“You don’t seem to know much of anything. I’ll give you a hint.”

The chilled metal slowly drags out of her, and she instinctively bucks backwards. Schellenberg leans back, his arm brushiing past her as he raises it up, toward the ceiling-

BANG.

Dust and fragments of the ceiling’s surface clatters to the floor.  A strong, smoky smell overpowers the cigarette’s scent, and the sound rings in her ears.

It was a gun.

Before Marlene could fully process the thought it is back inside her again- hot, burning hot, from the heat of the bullet leaving the chamber. 

Schellenberg drags the weapon out and pushes it back in, slowly, so fucking slowly, and she trembles with so many emotions all at once she couldn’t keep track. He keeps it moving, letting her feel that weight of it inside, the power behind it, the lethality.

“How about now?”

She could tell he has a smirk on his face, as if he wasn’t pushing a deadly weapon inside her.

He leans in close, one hand on the back of her neck, the other cupping her backside.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says. “All you have to do is tell me, and I can spare you from the pain. From the humiliation. It won’t offend me in the slightest. All you have to do is tell me where the communist scum are…”

Don’t tell them. No matter what.

Marlene shut her eyes and the word escapes her lips before she can swallow it down. 

“No.”

And for one blissful second, there is silence.

It doesn’t last.

“Fine, then. Have it your way.”

Her throat is raw from screaming when he is done and the same sergeant who took her from home enters the room reporting for his superior officer.

 “We arrested all of them at the given location, Brigadeführer. None escaped.”

Her eyes fly open and Marlene stares at the man above her straightening his godforsaken uniform.

“Good. Prepare for the trials then.”

“Jawohl Brigadeführer.” 

No. It’s impossible. 

“I don’t understand,” Marlene whimpers when they’re alone again . “How did you...?”

“One of your friends told us days ago,” Schellenberg says as if discussing the weather. “My crew were very persuasive. It didn’t take her long to talk.”

He looks down at her, his eyes pools of twirling darkness. 

“I suppose you’re wondering why I bothered with you if I already knew?”

She nods breathlessly and he kneels down next to her.

“Because I know your type. Your pride, your loyalty…they’re immovable. I knew you wouldn’t tell me anything, no matter what I did. So, I might as well do whatever I want.”

Marlene could feel the tears forming behind her eyes. She wanted to vomit.

“I admire that. You’re like me.”  Schellenberg continues petting her har like one does a dog who did the trick right .

“I am nothing like you,” she sneers back.

He only smirks in response and rises to his feet and gestures to what’s left of her underwear on the floor.

“You might want to clean yourself up,” he says. “Our trip for today is over. I will pick you up tomorrow. Same time.”

And the door closes behind him, leaving her sobbing and shaking on the floor.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 16

Day 16 - When your soulmate listens to music or is singing, you hear it in your own head as well. (Songfic, Crazy = Genius by PATD)

Pairing(s): Romantic Intrulogical, Ambiguous/Romantic Analomus, Background Roceit [the Janus part is ambiguous but whatever], Familial Logicality, Familial Virremile, Background Remile [again hinted]

TWs: swearing, sexual themes [light but they’re there], makeouts, Remus being Remus, drunken behaviour, pyromania, vomiting [not graphic just mentioned]

–

“Either of you pyros got a lighter I can borrow?”

Logan sighed, not making much in the way of eye contact with the emo sitting in the cell next to him and his soulmate. He dug into his jean pocket and lazily tossed the lighter to the boy clad in so much black and purple he looked like the sapient embodiment of a bruise.

“Keep it.”

“Oh. You sure? This is a pretty sweet lighter-”

“I insist.”, Logan groaned, running his hands down his face, “It’s not like I’ll be needing it ever again after this.”

From beside Logan, Remus slung his arm to the side, flopping it about limply to swat at his soulmate, “Shuddafuckup”, he slurred, hauling himself upright from his slumped over position, “S’gonna be fiiiine. Roman said he’d bail us oooouuuut, so fuckin’ chill-”

“Your brother told you last week that he would give us a ride to Dairy Queen but instead he was too fucking busy getting to third base with his boyfriend!!”, Logan snapped. Ugh, he would regret that in the morning. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously slicking it back. How had the night gone wrong so fast?...

-

‘You can set yourself on fire! You can set yourself on fire!’

Logan wasn’t sure what it was about the glowing ember embrace of a flame that drew him in toward it like a moth with a death wish, but as he allowed his soulmate Remus to haul his ass towards their usual hangout with the promise of some pretty choice items to burn, he found that he couldn't care less.

As he approached the overpass with his soulmate chugging a whole half a bottle of tequila without blinking, Logan wondered how he ever survived before without this whirlwind in human form.

‘She said at night in my dreams

You dance on a tightrope of weird

Oh but when I wake up you're so normal that you just disappear

You're so straight like commuters with briefcases towing the line

There's no residue of a torturer inside your of eyes’

“Check it the fuck out, babe! Did I bring the goods or what?”, Remus grinned nearly as brightly as the shine on the rather expensive looking crimson car - he guessed it might have been a Mercedes, but car brands all looked the same to him really - parked under the overpass. Logan didn’t have a particular favourite item to burn, but when Remus walked over in his lime green hoodie that barely covered his black leather shorts and fishnets to pose seductively on top of the hood? Logan hadn’t wanted to incinerate anything more in his life.

“You… How on Earth did you come by this?!”, he ran his hand along the curve of the hood, unashamedly letting his hand roam over Remus’ thigh. 

His soulmate hummed, leaning in to steal a kiss, murmuring softly against Logan’s lips, “If I told you I might’ve hotwired it just this afternoon? Is that a turn off or a turn on?”

Goddamn him, Remus knew just how to speak right to Logan’s soul.

“The latter, and you know it.”, Logan all but growled into their kiss.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Brian Wilson’

In the back of his mind, Logan did wonder what his father and morally conscious little brother would think; if they knew he snuck out to satisfy his pyromania, make out with his feral cryptid of a boyfriend, and engaged in petty acts of vandalism and thievery from time to time. What would Thomas and Patton think of their stoic, orderly son and big brother who - instead of studying for his undergraduate degree in astrophysics - would rather spend the night getting dangerous and dirty alongside his soulmate who had literally just admitted to auto theft  to acquire a ridiculously expensive car for him to burn?

The thought was there for all of two seconds until Remus’ tongue licking into his mouth banished it away. The only thot he needed tonight was the one driving him crazy with a kiss alone.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Knowing they came here for a reason, Logan reluctantly ended their makeout session and grabbed for his trusted blue lighter.

“How full is the gas tank?”, Logan made sure to ask, popping open the door to the driver’s side to see what was left in the car. Might as well keep anything worth selling.

“Not sure.”, Remus shrugged, twirling the keys around his finger excitedly while he finished off their first bottle of the night, “Wanna help me make sure there’s nothing left?”

‘She said darlin' you know

How the wine plays tricks on my tongue

But you don't seem to change when you stuff all of

your feelings with drugs

Other boys you may have dated serrated your heart with a slice

But the cut of your love never hurts baby, it's a sweet butter knife’

Logan wasn’t sure how Remus managed to look even more majestic every time he looked at him, but as he clung tight to the hand rest above the passenger window while his soulmate pulled off his sixteenth donut in a row, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have him. Like a trickle of water turning into a river, Logan recognised the beginning of Na Na Na starting to play in his head. Of course. He knew Remus well enough by now to know that was coming. The humming under his soulmate’s breath also gave it away somewhat. 

While Remus kept trying to empty the tank, Logan couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for their first meeting; Remus’ older brother Roman had asked Logan to stand in for the theatre department’s regular dramaturge when Logan began to hear the beginnings of Avenue Q’s The Internet Is For Porn begin to invade his mind. Luckily for him, it hadn’t taken long for Remus to saunter over and try to flirt with him, humming the exact tune Logan had been hearing the whole time.

From there, they’d begun dating though it took a good few months before Logan would join Remus in his fantastical ramblings. He lamented on how he felt trapped by a father who meant well but expected so much from him, how stifled he felt having to be a role model to his living marshmallow of a little brother. How Logan just wanted the fun, exhilaration of doing something extreme for a change.

With Remus’ encouragement, Logan opened up about his pyromaniac tendencies which his soulmate was 110% onboard with. Ever since, the underpass had become their dirty, out of the way, graffiti scarred home away from home. Where Logan could indulge the urge to burn away his stresses and lose himself in Remus’ mantra of doing whatever the fuck they wanted.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Dennis Wilson’

With the car finally seemingly out of gas as it shuddered to a stop, Remus fluidly slid out of the open window - you know, like a normal functional human being - and slid across the hood of the car to open the door for Logan, “Alright, time for this bitch to burn!”

Logan was more than happy to get down to the main event after doing a last quick sweep of the car. All he’d found worth keeping was the planet shaped air freshener; so sue him, the sweet scent of mixed berries was delightful. Whipping out his lighter, Logan escorted Remus a safe distance away and pulled out the hairspray he’d swiped from his room earlier. He aimed the spray towards the car - making sure it wasn’t against the wind or pointed back at himself, he preferred to keep his eyebrows, thanks - and watched as the plume of fire engulfed the car’s seat cover. 

Crackling flames. Straining metal. Hissing fabric burning to a plastic like mess. It was a symphony and Logan was it’s conductor.

With his boyfriend wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Logan tilted to kiss him once more as the heat of the fire caressed their skin. Remus’ eyes never once left Logan, seeing his soulmate delight in an act of pure mindless vandalism, watching the way Logan looked truly free, sent his heart racing. In compliment, Logan turned back to Remus, grinning already at the shades of orange and yellow that painted his handsome features. He always thought Remus was at his most beautiful that way.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Logan couldn’t tell you what happened next; one minute the two of them were watching the flames while his soulmate continued his campaign to destroy his kidneys with alcohol, the next Remus was sitting in his lap leaving hickeys all over his neck while Logan let his hands roam around under Remus’ hoodie. In the back of his mind, Logan could make out the beginning of a song he didn’t recognise at first, but as the lyrics kicked in, he let out a breathy chuckle. Of course, trust Remus to pick a thematic piece of music for the night’s events. As the song got louder - and Remus marked him more needily - Logan found he rather liked the song. He’d have to ask Remus what it was called later.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire’

The next thing either of them knew, there was a vague clattering noise followed by a  thunderous metallic bang. Followed by another, then another. One after another for a total of seven times before it finally quieted down. No music, no bang, just the fire crackling away. Thoroughly shaken, Remus and Logan untangled themselves from each other, the former demanding all too loudly, “What the creme fresh fuck was that?!”

“I-! I have no idea-”, Logan began. There wasn’t anything that would’ve done that inside the car, he’d checked. However, as he rounded the car, giving the flames a wide berth, Logan noticed someone laying on the ground on the other side of the car; dressed in a dark, patchy hoodie and ripped jeans, a plume of purple dyed frizzy hair poking out from the hood. He looked like your run of the mill emo. For a second, Logan was worried he and Remus would have to dispose of a body, but fortunately the young man groaned and began to sit up. To his side, Logan winced at a metallic glint blinding his vision.

The spray can doing so had clearly rolled out of the bag full of other cans, all in different colours. At least now Logan could put a face to the rather beautiful graffiti that tattooed the underpass as well as what had exploded in the fire as he noted the burst open paint cans under the car.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened?”, Logan questioned firmly, though he knew the disoriented emo on the ground likely couldn’t answer right away. He assumed from the way the young man rubbed the back of his head that he’d taken a rather nasty fall. The anxious artist seemed to remember exactly where he was, eyes blown wide in fear, 

“Dude, get outta here quick-”

“There he is!”

Three officers rushed towards the two of them prompting the emo and Logan to make a break for it, being sure not to run into the inferno. Remus pretty quickly got the idea and joined the two of them. It seemed neither of the three of them knew exactly where they were trying to run to, but a silent, unspoken agreement saw them all heading for the same direction. Looking back on it, Logan wondered if parting ways and heading for his car with Remus could’ve at least seen them with a better chance of getting away. 

But hindsight is a bitch that wakes up seven hours late and didn’t even bother to bring Starbucks. 

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)’

Before long, all Logan could hear was his sneakers scraping the ground and his own breathing competing against his heartbeat to dominate his ears. The urge to stop and breathe was intense but it felt as though doing just that would send the world crashing down around them. 

Of course, prolonged exercise and a stomach full of alcohol wasn’t the best combination. 

“‘M gonna fuckin’ puke-!”, Remus huffed, trying to cover his mouth with his hand. 

“Just hold on, Remus, we’re-!”

Logan watched in horror as his soulmate stopped to empty his stomach, unintentionally doing so in a way that blocked off the hoodie clad young man trying his best to keep up.

“Ah sHIT-!”

He didn’t need to look back; the clattering of the satchel, the mutual yelps of surprise and pain, Logan kept running even as two of the officers apprehended his soulmate and the hooded lad. The guilt would catch up to Logan before the third officer did, or it would have if he didn’t mistime his turning around the next corner only to end up nearly getting run over. How poetic; from making out on a car hood to being cuffed against one. Had Remus not been busy insulting the officers’ mothers rather colourfully, Logan theorised he would’ve no doubt made some innuendo about it.

Exhausted from their chase and thoroughly cuffed, all Logan could do was let himself be loaded into the back of the cop car with Remus and the anxious emo.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’ 

-

“Mmm… Logan, can you-”, Remus burped a little too wetly for it not to make Logan feel as queasy as Remus looked, “Can you stroke my hair? Pleeeeeease?”

Sighing in that playful kind of annoyance only true love can allow, Logan did as asked. The night may wind up with him being harshly reprimanded by his father and possibly losing his come-and-go privileges, but at least for now he had Remus.

“...... I’m sorry.”, came the rough voice of the emo in the cell next to theirs, “You both wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t for me.”

Remus just gave a dismissive grunt in reply while Logan assured their cell companion, “While you may have led the police to us, I doubt our proclivity for fiery vandalism would’ve kept going undetected forever.”, he looked the emo up and down, “Might I ask,...?”

“Virgil.”

“Virgil,”, Logan repeated, “Might I ask how you ended up stumbling across us?”

Virgil shrugged, “I’ve been painting the underpass for years. Pretty much everything down there’s something I’ve done.”. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I had a shitty night so I came down to paint something when I walked in on you two getting all ‘friendly’,”, he airquoted, “So I went to go home but I got stopped by an officer and started panicking. So I just…. ran.”

His posture curled a little while he twirled Logan’s lighter between his fingers in a stimming action, “Then I realised I was way too fucking close to the fire and I blacked out.”, Virgil embarrassedly pulled his hood up, “Fire scares the shit outta me, always has. Next thing I knew, I woke up with you staring at me. You both know the rest.”

Logan nodded quietly. It really did fill in a few gaps, “I can’t blame you for not wanting to stick around. I do apologise that we inadvertently ruined your night.”

Virgil shrugged, “Eh, it’s alright, it’s just gonna suck having to have my dads bail me out again. Not that dad would mind but pops will probably gimme another lecture about ‘unhealthy coping habits’ again....”

At that, they sat for the most part in silence. Then that song began to trickle into Logan’s brain again. As nice as it had been in accompaniment to their antics before, Logan found it almost grating now. He sighed and gently nudged Remus, 

“Re-”

“Logan, babe,”, Remus groaned, beating him to the punch, “Can you fuckin’ give it a rest with the music? M’fuckin’ head hurts.”

“....But you’re the one who’s been thinking about that song, right!?”, Logan’s concern was obvious. Remus caught on as well.

“No!? I thought it was you!?”, he sloppily hauled himself onto Logan’s lap, pressing their foreheads together, “Issokay babe, I won’t let-”, he stifled a burp though it did nothing to save Logan from Remus’ drunken breath, “Won’t let fate change our soul bond! I’ll fuckin- I’ll whip out my brain surgery skills right here if I gotta-”

“Remus!”, Logan sternly held him back a little, “Calm down, let’s just try and think rationally, okay!?”

“.... Have you ever MET me, you stupid sexy science bitch?”, Remus cackled at the alliteration.

“Please be serious for once.”, Logan sighed, fixing his glasses in a self calming gesture, “Do you know the name of the song in your head?”

“Yeah, iss fuckin’ um...”, Remus clicked his fingers in thought, trying to place it, “S’fuckin Scream In The Club, or some shit who sings it...”

“..... You mean, Panic At The Disco?”, came Virgil’s voice from the neighbouring cell.

Remus pointed dramatically, “THATS THE BITCH!”. He put his fist to his chest to stifle another burp, instead taking a second to turn and spit out some of the awful taste on his tongue, “Fuckin’... the lyrics were like…. “You can set yourself-””

“- On fire?!”, Virgil finished, looking rather interested in the conversation now.

Logan nodded between the two of them, “Yes, that’s the same opening line I remember. Virgil, I take it you’re familiar with the song?”

“Well yeah, and I’ll do you one better. Uh,....”, he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’ve had that song stuck in my head all night.”

Remus and Logan shared a look of shock. Could Virgil really be their soulmate? It would explain the times when they would hear music that didn’t seem to line up with each other’s tastes. Before Logan could propose a test, Remus was way ahead of him; he rolled his eyes as the music flooded into his skull. 

Virgil brightened up, “Ashnikko, huh? Good choice-”

“HOLY SHIT, LOGAN, WE GOT-! WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!!”, Remus screeched, wriggling excitedly in Logan’s lap, almost causing his boyfriend to drop him.

“Indeed.”, Logan sighed fondly as he tried to get Remus to sit back down on the bench instead of his lap, “So now you better call Roman and see if he can bail us ALL out..”

----------

... I know I won’t probably be able to catch up but hell with it, I love some of the prompt ideas, I’ll just stop tagging the blog if I run over at this point.

A big thanks to @accidental-sanders for the idea for this one, it was really fun to do.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom

[unmitigated-bleat-blog]

I just discovered a new YouTube channel that I'm really digging. It's a guy who tells stories, basically, and it's quite fascinating. He has a lot of recent material and his stories are engaging, and for the most part, well-researched. He is also reliable about citing sources, and he is a charismatic presenter. What brought me to him is that he tells true stories of crazy things that happened, and I'm kind of a true-crime buff and fan of Curiosities and Oddments.

The true and well-researched stories he tells are of real-life horror: that poor guy that got stuck in Nutty Putty cave and died, absolutely chilling stories of scuba-diving deaths, and really awful crimes. He told a true story I'd never heard before about a guy being cooked alive with boiling water and steam under the streets of NYC that legit gave me nightmares. About 1/3 of the stories he tells are stories I've heard before. Lots of them have even been made into movies. He sticks to the facts and tells it well.

For about two weeks, I got caught up on all his videos. Or, ALMOST all. He also has videos labeled stuff like "Halloween Horror Stories", and he tells stories of ghost, UFO, and other supernatural encounters. Personally, I don't believe in ghosts or UFO's, and I think that almost all sightings or encounters of these kinds are either intentional deception--hoaxes--or an unknown earthly explanation. Just because we don't know the explanation, doesn't mean there isn't one.

(This includes the entire cast of Cryptozoology's Greatest Hits--Nessie, Bigfoot, Champ, etc. I still claim and stand by it, that every single Chupacabre sighting in and around Texas is a coyote with sarcoptic mange. Fight me.) I watch these videos while I'm working from home, and generally just let auto play choose the next one. That's how I saw the handful of these that I saw. Now, I mostly skip those videos, which is cool, because they are maybe 15% of his content, so he's still an excellent creator.

I grew up in the country. No, not those subdivisions that promise "country life", with city convenience, the actual Texas Hill Country. Having successfully adapted to city life, I am accustomed to knowing things that city people know that country people don't (let's face it, rural areas are rife with ignorance of all kinds), but once in a Blue Moon, I find the opposite, and it always takes me by surprise.

There are some things that people who are from big cities just don't know. Like for example, the woods aren't scary. They're not. Shhhh. Keep that quiet. Because camping stories are VERY well represented in supernatural fiction; they're like the Pizza Guy in porn. The details keep changing, but basically: Someone went camping, heard a lot of strange noises, saw something moving in the distance, or maybe a bright light, and smelled something stinky. They immediately ran back to their car and barely made it out with their lives, and no one knows, to this day, what that was. Wooooooo :-|

I vaguely remember one where a woman went alone on something like a 5-day camping trip, and didn't return. Three weeks later, she ran out of the woods, terrified, without any of her gear, certain that "something" was after her. I actually laughed out loud. And another Bear Grylls wanna-be heard noises in the dark, went to investigate, and then saw his own light moving back at camp, and ran for his life. He was lucky to make it back to his Mercedes alive.

I could actually walk you through how that g-g-g-ghost was me and my brother when we were kids. And it's not because we just enjoyed terrorizing campers. Most of these stories are because people from the city think [trees = forest = public property], but that's not the case at all. The problem is, these “adventurers” didn't even do enough recon for their trip to realize they are on private land, and have pitched their tent in someone's orchard. The noise they heard was the middle-school-age children that live there, hiking up from the house to find out why there's a fire burning in the berry patch.

As a bonus, these misplaced "campers" pay out gold every time they get hit, like Sonic the Hedgehog. Whenever they startle, they drop a Coleman stove, a Maglite, and a sleeping bag from Nordstroms. And they should also maybe do a little more research on the plants and fish they were eating in that area. Or else, stick to eating just their dang organic vegan gluten-free granola from Whole Foods when they need to feel Hippie Chic and At One with Mother Gaia. 🙄

Go home, Paighslyye, this ain't Coachella and you don't belong out here. Don't worry, I'll get the gate you found closed but left open, so my neighbor's livestock doesn't cause a fatal car accident on the highway. But you gotta quit swinging that stupid machete around. Cause you've already cut yourself twice, but mostly, because those grapevines you're hacking at were imported from Europe. And btw, if you'd assembled your dumb titanium rod and sealskin yurt 20 yards to the west, you'd have fallen 100 feet down an unmarked well and drowned before anyone found you. And please stay away from the razor wire fence over there that you don't even see. You'd get cut, but also, there's a bull in that pasture. Do you need the wifi password or nah? 😉

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 22: An Offer

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Lacey has a meeting with Mayor Mills

Read on AO3

Content warning for verbal abuse and sexual fear

The clacking of Lacey’s heels against the sidewalk was music to her ears. She felt right, dressed like a whore and parading herself down Main Street. After her conversation with Mayor Mills, the stupid voice in the back of her head was quiet. Finally, things were back to normal. 

Now it didn’t matter that Mr. Gold had been acting like a stranger since October. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her, that he was fucking somebody else. She didn’t need him. She didn’t have to be “Mrs. Gold” in order to get what she wanted out of life. All that bastard did was pay her. He didn’t own her. He’d given up that privilege months ago. She didn’t have to belong to him. There were lots of other people out there. Mayor Mills wanted to help her. Mayor Mills wanted her.

At least, she was pretty sure she did. It was hard to tell. Lacey had never had a woman look at her the way Mayor Mills did sometimes. It was a sharp, laser-focused look. A look that cut her to the bone and then began to saw into her marrow. Like everything Lacey was, everything she had ever been or had ever dreamed of being, was laid bare for Mayor Mills’ approval. 

Mr. Gold used to look at her like that.

Lacey dug her nails into her palms. Or maybe she was an idiot. Maybe she had been imagining the little signs. Maybe the mayor of Storybrooke would try to help anybody she came across in town, offer them rides in her sporty black Mercedes-Benz. Maybe she would arrange an after-hours meeting with any married woman who called her up. Maybe it was a public service.

Or maybe not.  

She remembered this feeling, this knowing-but-not-knowing. The anticipation. The unanswered questions. The tension gave her a thrill. A thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Maybe that was why it was so easy to lie when she walked into the pawn shop.

Mr. Gold looked up from his inventory book when he heard her. His eyes were cautious. Afraid? Was this sad little coward really afraid of her? Maybe that was why it was so easy to grin at him, to reassure him with bright eyes and a lilting voice. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing for lunch,” she chirped. “Want me to pick up something from Granny’s?”

The corners of his mouth lifted up. It was almost a smile. “No thank you, Mrs. Gold. I brought leftovers from home today.”

She nodded, and tapped her fingers against the counter in front of him. How many times had he fucked her against these display cases? How many times had she dropped to her knees behind the cash register while the shop was still open? He would challenge her to hurry, to suck him off before a customer walked in on them. He told her he would beat her black and blue if she failed.

What kind of things would Mayor Mills want her to do?

“Hey, I’m sorry about this morning,” Lacey lied. “I’ve just been really stupid and emotional lately.”

“You’re not stupid,” Mr. Gold said softly. “I know I haven’t made things easy for you. I’m sorry about that.”

A plastic smile was a wonderful talent. She was used to using it on other people, but now Mr. Gold was as easy to fool as everyone else. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said sweetly, even though she was ready to spit acid in his face. “I just needed some time to myself this morning. But I feel better now. Later today I’m gonna get my hair done. I scheduled an appointment for around five.”

Easy as it was to lie, there was a specific delight in letting him get the wrong idea from entirely factual information. He had taught her how to do that. She would go to Janine’s and get her hair styled. And then she would have her appointment with Mayor Mills at five o’clock on the dot.

And he just nodded, just went along with it. Idiot. “The shop will be closed by the time you’re done. I can pick you up at the salon.”

She wrinkled her nose. Playful, casual. Not a care in the world. “No, I don’t know how long I’ll be, and the weather looks like nothing but blue skies. Besides, you’ll want to start supper. What are we having tonight?”

He began to ramble on about spring onions and fricasseeing, while Lacey counted the hours until her appointment at City Hall.   

****

Officially, the city offices closed at 4 PM, but everybody knew that Mayor Mills stayed as late as she needed to keep the town running.  Everyone admired her devotion, but pitied how often she had to leave her sweet little boy unsupervised. Rumor had it that was why Henry was so troubled, why he kept hanging around shady characters like Sheriff Swan, his birth mother. But his real mother was doing the best anyone could under such circumstances. Henry had appointments with Dr. Hopper several nights a week to keep his moods under control.

Why do you know so much about Regina’s life? Why is that woman the center of the universe in this town? Think about it!

Of course the voice was back. Lacey wasn’t sure if she wanted a stiff drink or a total lobotomy. Whatever would get it to shut up.

City Hall was quiet, that was part of the trouble. The empty hallway echoed so much she could hear her heart beating along with the sound of her footsteps. The voice always started jabbering at her during moments of stillness, moments when she should have been at peace. 

She couldn’t tell if City Hall was serene or creepy. Like most buildings in the rich part of New Town, the design was sleek and modern. The interiors were stark white trimmed in black--plaster walls and gleaming tile floors. Right now, it had the terrible oddness of a place that was supposed to be filled with people, but wasn’t. 

At this late hour, the fluorescent lights were dimmed. During the day the brightness was intimidating, but long evening shadows didn’t inspire confidence either. The doors lining the hall were a fake wood laminate, so dark they were almost black. The only other color came from the occasional piece of corporate art hanging up on the walls. Black and white photos of Storybrooke, all in frames as red as blood.

This is a bad place. You need to leave! 

“Shut up,” she hissed. She would try not to tell Mayor Mills about the voice right away. No need to let the mayor think she was crazy. Besides, if all this went right, Lacey would feel a lot better very soon. 

The door to the mayor’s office was ajar, but Lacey still knocked on the ebony frame.

“Come in,” Mayor Mills’ voice was brusque. For a split-second, fear clenched at Lacey’s stomach. She should listen to the voice in her head and run! Run away from this place that felt like a haunted house, run back home to Mr. Gold or to her father or to Sheriff Swan or anyone but Regina!  

But she didn’t. 

All Lacey did was adjust her purple bustier and walk in.

“Close the door behind you.” Mayor Mills didn’t look up from her paperwork.

Lacey did as she was asked--did as she was told. Her pulse quickened to be obeying orders again. 

Like the rest of City Hall, the mayor’s office was nothing but black and white. The only difference was the clutter of prints and patterns. The wallpaper, the curtains, the upholstery on the conference table chairs--they were all a different print, but they were all monochrome. There was no illusion of serenity here. The room looked designed to disorient.

Even the stone floor was inlaid with black and white. An outline of a circle took up most of the space between the door and the desk. The circle was black, with tapered black flags coming out from the center. It looked like a pinwheel, or a clock, or something a bad guy would use to hypnotize someone in a cartoon. 

Without any other instructions, Lacey decided to stand in the middle of the circle. She waited, at the point where black and white met and disappeared into each other.

Mayor Mills stayed at her desk. After a few more signatures, she set her pen down in a drawer and began to stack the papers neatly into a shiny black file folder. So she was meticulous. Lacey could appreciate that. 

She kept waiting. The mayor didn’t look at her until the desk--a white slab of polished stone set on top of two carved stone pillars--was empty. 

“You were seven minutes early,” she said at last. 

Lacey swallowed and kept her hands at her sides. “Mr. Gold says that punctuality is the virtue of princes, Madame Mayor.”

One perfectly outlined, jet-black eyebrow raised on Mayor Mills’ forehead. “Mrs. Gold, if you’re looking for a prince, I don’t think I can be of any help to you.”

Would it be okay to laugh? Or would Mayor Mills think that was impertinent? Lacey just pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“Do you want to tell me what you are looking for, Mrs. Gold?” 

Now she opened her mouth, but she didn’t have the words to answer.

Rumple. Rumple, help me! Rumple!

“R--r--really, I… I don’t know if I can put it into words, Madame Mayor.”

Mayor Mills gave her a considering look. She stayed at her desk, but leaned back in her black leather office chair. “Sit down.”

Two black and silver chairs sat in front of the desk. Lacey put her purse down in one and perched on the edge of the other. 

“Would you like something to eat?” Standing up, Mayor Mills went to the conference table that took up most of the space on the right-hand side of the room. A large white bowl--ceramic, and shaped so that it looked like a collection of bleached, dead coral--was full of apples. All of them were as red as blood. The mayor took two and held one out to Lacey. “I often find that when I need to think, one of my prize-winning Honeycrisp apples always helps me focus on what’s most important.”

Lacey took the apple and held it in her hands. If she had seen this in a grocery store, she would have sworn that it was a Red Delicious. But of course the mayor would know her own apples. She had grown apples since she was a little girl. The tree that grew these ones was right outside the window behind the desk. 

“Are you going to thank me?” The mayor was quiet, but it was the quiet of a viper about to strike.

“Yes,” Lacey said automatically. “Yes, I’m so sorry, Madame Mayor. Thank you for the apple. And for your time. I--I know you’re busy.”

“I am,” Mayor Mills agreed. Behind her desk, she pulled open a drawer and took out a silver knife. There was a design carved into the handle, Lacey couldn’t tell if it was an apple or a heart. After walking back to the front of the desk and leaning against the edge, the mayor began to cut into her apple. “There’s a lot of trouble brewing right now in Storybrooke. But I’ll make time for you, Mrs. Gold.”

“Why?” Lacey muttered. “I’m just a cheap, trashy slut.”

Grinning, the mayor took a slice of her apple. She chewed, swallowed, licked the juice off her red lips. “Is that what Mr. Gold told you to think of yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at the apple in her lap. She had said the words before to people, said them with a smile, like they were an honor. She had puffed up her own performance like a balloon. Only now she had popped, and there was nothing left of her but tattered shreds of rubber. 

Lacey felt something cold on the bottom of her chin. Mayor Mills held the flat edge of the knife against her skin and lifted her gaze until they were eye to eye. Sitting down, she was looking up at the mayor.  “Is Mr. Gold in charge of you, dear?”

She blinked. “I--He was. But I don’t want him to be anymore.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes.” Lacey wanted to look down again, but the mayor hadn’t released her yet. “He--he cheated on me. And he’s been keeping secrets from me. And--and he’s just different, I don’t know how to explain it, but I hate it. I hate it, Madame Mayor!”

Mayor Mills took the knife away, and cut herself another slice of apple. She smiled. “He’s not the man you married.” She seemed almost smug to say it. “So now you’re looking for someone who can take his place. Someone who can remind you of why you were put in this world.” 

“Yes!” Absurdly, Lacey felt her eyes begin to well with tears. Those were the words she had been looking for! She had been so right to come here. Mayor Mills knew exactly how to make everything right again! “I--I hope you’re not offended or anything. That I thought of you first when I wanted to find someone who would--would treat me the way I like to be treated.”

“The way you deserve to be treated, you mean.” Her voice was so low, so dark and so dangerous. “You cheap, trashy slut.”

It was like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and she was just perverted enough to love it. Repeating the same words that had just caused her shame, rubbing them in her face. This was exactly the kind of pain she had been looking for. Mayor Mills was brilliant.

She wanted to kiss her boots.

Lacey looked up at the mayor, at the way her crimson dress clung to her curves. Her silhouette was an absolute hourglass, tapering down into legs wrapped in tasteful nylons. So much classier than Lacey’s whorish fishnet stockings. 

Mayor Mills’ eyes were dark and intense. Black, where Mr. Gold’s were brown. Her makeup was dramatic but flawless. Her lips were as red as the apple she was eating, her teeth as white as its flesh.

Lacey had never felt so small before, not in front of another woman. Not in front of anyone but Mr. Gold. She looked down. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper, a breath. “What can I do? In order to deserve you?”

The mayor’s laugh was rich and throaty. It sounded like red wine at a midnight feast. She set down her apple and her silver knife and held Lacey firmly by the jaw with her own silky-smooth hands.

“Let’s make sure we understand one another, Mrs. Gold: You don’t deserve me. You can’t deserve me. Nothing you could ever do would be enough to get you even close to my level. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Lacey whispered. She couldn’t move. Fear and arousal were too overpowering. “Yes, Madame Mayor.”

“Good.” She took her hand away and went behind her desk. “You know, you’re actually a very lucky girl. Until quite recently, I was content with the submissive I had. But then he… disappointed me, and we had to part ways.”

You killed that poor man, you vile--

“So!” Lacey said, too loudly. “Are we agreed then? Will you take me on as a ‘submissive’?”

Mayor Mills looked at her from her office chair. Her gaze was steady and unblinking. “Do you think you can submit to me? Even though I’m not your husband?”

“Yes,” she said. “At least, I’d like to try.”

“Have you ever served a woman before, dear?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No, of course you haven’t, not properly. Well, I’ll warn you, we’re not like men. We’re not easy. There’s no one-and-done climax while you lie back and think of England.”

Lacey opened her mouth. Her instinct was to defend Mr. Gold, to say that sex with him had never been like that. But that wasn’t anything Mayor Mills wanted to hear. 

“I’m going to demand a lot more of you than a man would,” the mayor went on. “I’m not satisfied by anything but perfection. And the cocks I use never go soft.”

She shifted in her seat. Were these threats or promises? “I would like to satisfy you, Madame Mayor,” she said softly. “I would like to please you.”

The mayor smiled again. “Of course you would,” she purred. “I think everyone in this town understands the benefits of having a happy mayor.” Her eyes flickered over Lacey’s body. “Are you wearing anything underneath that ugly skirt?”

 A flash of heat went through her body. Partially it was the shock and pleasure at the sudden shift in the conversation. But there was also a bit of embarrassment. Lacey liked this skirt--black vinyl with blue tulle ruffles underneath. Was it really ugly?

“Well?” Mayor Mills said patiently.

“Oh! I--yes. A thong. It’s purple, like my bustier.”

“Mmm.” The mayor smiled like a cat with a bluebird in its paw. “Well, that I simply must see.”

Lacey sprang to her feet. She moved to unzip the tight skirt, but then she got an idea. “May I take off my blouse as well?”

“Oh, if you insist.” Leaning back in her chair, the mayor picked up her knife and cut off another slice of apple. She ate it, while Lacey stripped down to her lingerie and folded her clothes neatly on the conference table. 

Then she stood in the center of the circle again, in front of the mayor’s desk, wearing nothing but purple silk, black lace, high heels, and jewelry. 

Looking at her, Mayor Mills crunched into the last bite of her apple, then threw the core into the trash. 

“Turn around,” she ordered. “Slowly.”

Lacey obeyed. God, this was amazing. Under the mayor’s scrutiny, every inch of her felt alive. This was what she was made for. This was the reason she existed in this world.

“You're groomed, at least. And it looks like you have some marks,” the mayor said coolly. “Am I safe in assuming they’re not recent?”

“No--I mean yes. They are not recent. Mr. Gold hasn’t touched me since October.”

“I imagine that would be frustrating,” she smirked. “For both of you. Come closer.”

Lacey stood directly in front of the desk. It was like she was here on official business, like she was going to ask for funding to re-open the library or something.

“Bend over, with your elbows on the desk. Lean forward until that pert little ass of yours sticks up in the air like a bitch in heat. I’m sure you’re familiar with the position. Keep your head up, but your eyes lowered. Don’t look at me.”

She did the best she could, remembering that the mayor was only satisfied by perfection. Once she was settled into place, she kept her eyes downcast. Her head was spinning. For some reason, it was hard to breathe. 

Then Lacey felt the mayor’s hands on her throat. 

She gulped,  but didn’t move. Do the brave thing. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of Mayor Mills. But the movement had been so sudden, so unexpected that it caught her off guard. And the mayor did have a very tight grip.

Her hands weren’t cold, but Lacey would have been hard-pressed to call the touch warm. A better word would have been to call the touch… proprietary. Appraising. She was inspecting the goods before she made a claim on them. 

Obediently, Lacey kept her eyes down while the mayor touched her. She couldn’t see her face. She heard her chuckle as her fingers explored the skin of her neck. 

“All these little scars here look like you lost a fight with a rose bush. How did you get them?”

You gave them to me, you bitch! You and your dragon! She made thorns grow into my skin while you made me fuck you!

“I don’t remember,” Lacey said. Honestly, she didn’t remember having scars on her throat. “I don’t think Mr. Gold gave them to me.”

“Hmm.” Despite Lacey’s ignorance, Mayor Mills sounded pleased. Her hand moved from Lacey’s neck down to the upper edge of her bustier. There was enough space between the cloth and Lacey’s skin that the mayor could have slid inside and copped a feel. But all she did was trace her fingers over the mounds of cleavage and pinch.

“Ow!” Lacey yelped, but stayed braced against the desk. It was a little shameful how quickly she reacted. But a sharp pinch could hurt more than a spanking and she was out of practice. Besides, Mr. Gold always liked her to be vocal. He liked to know exactly how much pain he was causing.  

The mayor rubbed at the sore patch of skin and gradually expanded her touch so that she cupped the whole of Lacey’s breast. 

“Oh poor thing,” she cooed. “I’m just surprised to see that they’re real. Of course, it would be a waste of Mr. Gold’s money if you paid for tits and these were the best you got.” 

The mayor emphasized her words with a sharp twist, digging her long nails into the soft flesh.

Lacey gasped in pain. The heat of it started at the mayor’s hand, coursed through all the nerves in her body, and eventually settled between her legs. The gasp turned into a whine, and then a moan.

“Good girl,” Mayor Mills said quietly. “But remember, slut, this is a public building. I can’t have you defiling these hallowed halls with your grunts and groans. You disgusting animal.”

Pressing her lips together, Lacey tried to swallow her hungry noises. 

“Ugh.” She could imagine the mayor rolling her eyes. She could imagine the disdain, the contempt on her face. Lacey was so worthless. And now she had finally found someone who understood that she was worthless, who would treat her like she was worthless.

God, she was so wet.

“Here.” The mayor took Lacey’s apple from where she had set it down earlier. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you refusing to eat this. That was exceptionally rude. Ungrateful, even. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s ingratitude.” 

“I’m sor--” She began to apologize, but as soon as her mouth opened, Mayor Mills had shoved in the apple. Lacey’s teeth broke through the red skin and she tasted the sour-sweet juice on her tongue. After only a moment of having the apple in her mouth, she felt the juice dripping down onto her chin. It mingled with her saliva and made her a slobbery mess. 

“Better.” Now Mayor Mills’ voice was gentle, sweet. She was happy. It was good to make her happy. 

Lacey heard her footsteps move around the desk. She couldn’t see the mayor, and she couldn’t make any noise. Apple flooded her senses of taste and smell. All she could do was hear. And feel.

The mayor was behind her. Manicured nails scraped at the exposed flesh of Lacey’s ass. She would have made a noise, to show how much her body liked the attention, but the apple was an excellent gag.

“You know, I can smell how wet you are, you tramp.” Her hands rested on either one of Lacey’s hips. “You stink. You’re filthy. You’re a disgrace.”

Unable to moan, Lacey shivered. Her hips rocked against the desk for a minute, until Mayor Mills dug her nails in and she stopped. 

“Why do you even wear panties?” She plucked at the straps of her thong. “You always soak right through them. Every time I walk by you, you reek of pussy. You needy, greedy little cunt.”

She couldn’t stop herself. She jerked up, pushed against the desk in a desperate search for any kind of friction. 

“Wriggling like a worm,” the mayor sneered. “You’re not even really a person, are you? You’re just a sex machine, like a junkie looking for a fix. You’re nothing but your need. Just a trio of fuckholes, desperate to be filled.” 

When had Lacey started crying? She was bent face down on the empty desk. The apple in her mouth was the only thing that kept her face from pressing against the cold stone. Her hands were balled into fists on either side of her. She didn’t dare move her arms.

Everything the mayor had said echoed in her mind until she felt the vibrations of the words in her body. Her flesh trembled and shook. Her cunt clenched and it didn’t matter that it had nothing to clench against. She just wanted. Her body wanted...  

“Don’t you dare!” Mayor Mills roared. “I forbid you to come. Don’t you--”

But then there was silence.

Desperate to obey, Lacey tried to stop her orgasm. She had done that often for Mr. Gold. There was a trick to it--pretty much the same thing as stopping yourself from having hiccups. As her body calmed, she became aware that Mayor Mills hadn’t spoken. 

Then she became aware of a breeze swishing back and forth over her nearly-bare ass. It was like when Mr. Gold would pretend to spank her, just to see her jump. He would laugh at that. But Mayor Mills didn’t seem to find it amusing at all. 

“What the hell?” 

Even without seeing her, Lacey could tell that Mayor Mills was clenching her jaw. Again and again, she felt the breeze of phantom spankings. Did the mayor not want to spank her? What was going on? 

“Hands flat on the desk!” the mayor barked. “Let me see your fucking wrists!” 

Her wrists? Why? But Lacey did as she was told. Gracelessly, the mayor pulled on her hands. She turned them around and examined them. While she was distracted, Lacey dared to look up at Mayor Mills. 

She was livid. Her breath came out in huffs and her red lips snarled around bared teeth. Suddenly, she slapped her right hand beside Lacey’s left. 

“This ring,” she hissed. “That’s your wedding ring, isn’t it?”

Lacey lifted her mouth off the apple and nodded. 

Mayor Mills looked angry enough to burst into flames. “Take. It. Off!”  

Hands shaking, Lacey tried to obey. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken off her wedding ring. Mr. Gold had wanted her to wear it day and night. But what the fuck did Mr. Gold matter now?

When the ring was off, she set it on the desk next to the gnawed apple. She stood at attention, with her eyes downcast. 

The mayor took the ring and held it between her thumb and forefinger. She looked at it, and shook her head. 

“Unbelievable.” 

Yes, it was unbelievable that Lacey would go to a seduction still wearing her wedding ring. What a stupid whore she was. Thoughtless. Sloppy. Ungrateful. 

Mayor Mills tossed the ring back down on the desk, like touching it made her sick. Then she stood up again.

“Let’s try something else.”

For a moment, her anger had abated. Her hips swayed softly as she walked over to Lacey. Gently, she put one hand on Lacey’s neck, and cupped her cheek with the other. She tilted her head back. 

Lacey closed her eyes and parted her lips--but nothing happened. The mayor’s hands moved away. After another moment, Lacey opened her eyes. 

Mayor Mills had one hand extended toward Lacey’s face. It was flat and open, like she was about to slap her. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t. Aside from some pinching, Regina hadn’t been able to do anything to her.

Rumple, you genius!   

When Lacey caught the mayor’s eye, she started and looked away. Without a word, Mayor Mills walked over to the other side of the room. There was a cabinet by the fireplace, from which she pulled out a bottle and a glass.

Her back to Lacey the whole time, the mayor poured out a measure of clear alcohol and drank it in one gulp. Then she took a deep breath. 

Then she turned around. 

“Mrs. Gold, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to continue this relationship.” She gave a bittersweet smile. “You see, unlike some people in this town, I value marriage. I couldn’t possibly engage in an affair with a married woman.”

“What?” Lacey’s voice cracked. “No, you can’t mean that! I-- Mr. Gold isn’t taking care of me anymore. Our marriage is dead! I--I need you, Madame Mayor!”  

“And you can never know how happy I am to hear you say those things, dear. But the facts are facts--as long as you’re married to your husband, I can’t touch you. Not in any way that matters, at least.”

“Fuck.” Lacey put her hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, Madame Mayor. I--I really need this, you know?”

“I know,” she nodded. She went over to the conference table and picked up the stack of Lacey’s clothes. She held them out to her. “And I am truly sorry that I won’t get to punish you the way you deserve. But this is how it has to be.” She turned back to her desk.

“Wait!” Lacey clutched her clothes to her chest. “You--you’re just doing this because I’m married, right?”

The mayor nodded again. She had pulled out a paper towel from a desk drawer and was wiping up Lacey’s spit and apple juice. 

“Well, what if--what if I left him? What if we got a divorce?”

Mayor Mills stopped cleaning mid-wipe. For the first time in a while, she looked Lacey in the eye. “Divorces can be messy. They can take a long time. I thought your issue was more pressing than that.”

“I--I don’t know what else to do, Madame Mayor.” Dumping her clothes on a chair, she got on her knees in front of the desk. “You’re right, I do need what you can give me. I need it now, and I’ll do anything to get it!”

She smiled. A light shone in her black eyes. “Anything?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm.” The mayor stood. She began to walk around Lacey in a slow circle. “Well, my point still stands. I simply can’t do anything worthwhile to you while you’re married to Mr. Gold.”

Lacey opened her mouth to beg again, but Mayor Mills lifted a finger and she fell silent.

“And, as we’ve established, a divorce might take a while to finalize. Especially with your husband’s thorough approach to contracts. So I suppose I’m forced to meet you halfway. I’ll just need some proof that your marriage is dead.”

Lacey licked her lips. “Proof?”

“Yes.” When her circle was complete, Mayor Mills was in front of her desk again. The golden ring was still on the surface. She picked it up and handed it out to Lacey. 

It was a bizarre reverse-proposal. Lacey was the one on her knees. The mayor was giving her her own ring back to her, in exchange for a promise to end a marriage.    

“This is part of a matched set, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s useless on its own. Your husband wears the other one?”

Lacey nodded. 

“Alright,” Mayor Mills said. “So in order for me to have you, I’ll need both of them.”

“What?” Lacey felt her eyes going wide. “You want me to take Mr. Gold’s wedding ring?”

The mayor shrugged. “If your marriage is as dead as you say, he won’t miss it. If it isn’t, then, well, I have no power over you.”

“No.” Scrambling to her feet, Lacey took the ring from the mayor’s hand. “No, I want you to have power over me. I really do!”

A knowing, full-lipped smile. “There’s not much that would make me happier than having absolute power over you, dear. And it will happen, just as soon as I have both of your wedding rings.”

“It will,” Lacey nodded. “I’ll make it happen. I won’t disappoint you, Madame Mayor!”  

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 10 - The Lost Girls

Warnings: slight violence, slight language. 

Word count: 2.2k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Timeline of the Winchester family lives and deaths. Flashback chapter. 

Guest OCs: Joel Winchester (FC: Josh Brolin), Marie Campbell (FC: Fairuza Balk), Mandy Winchester (FC: Cristina Scabbia).

Guest Characters: Jacob Seed and Miller in war flashback. Archangel Michael, Raphael and Gabriel in flashback. 

Note: The italic red indicates different time periods so bare with me on this chapter. They’re all short mini chapters within one big chapter. 

********

June 1988

Joel Victor Winchester has enlisted into the U.S Army, and his father Alfred isn’t happy about it.

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna do?” he asks his son, “You’re gonna throw your life away?”.

“Dad, I don't want to hunt anymore. I want to travel. See the world” he explains to his father.

“Yeah sure, getting yourself killed will definitely help out with that” he sarcastically tells him. 

Joel grew tired of hunting monsters for a living. He wanted to change his life for the better, he enlisted into the U.S Army. His girlfriend Mandy was against it, but at the same time she didn’t want to hold him back. Within a few months he went off to training in Georgia. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders once he stepped off in that training base. 

Aside from the Sergeants getting into his face, and yelling at him. Making him do 100 push ups in 1 minute. Joel actually liked it there. Better than stabbing a demon in the face, or cutting off a vampire’s head. It’s better than getting chased by Hellhounds. 

________

November 1990

Iraq, the Gulf War. Operation Desert Storm. Joel along with his unit of 10 other men are passing through a desert town somewhere near the Persian Gulf. When an ambush causes Joel and his fellow soldiers to get separated from each other in the middle of the desert.

“This is Winchester to base do you copy?” he says into his radio, “Base this is Winchester do you copy?”. 

Nothing but static on the other end of the radio. 

“Now what?” Miller asks him. 

“We keep moving forward” he answers.

“Are you sure?!” another soldier asks. 

“Yeah, I’m sure” he replies. They all push forward through the hot desert as the sun shines bright on them. 

“I don’t think I can push forward” a young Jacob Seed tells Joel. Panting and stumbling through the hot sand. 

“C’mon Seed we have to keep moving” he tells him.

After several minutes of walking through the sand an explosion sends Joel, Miller, Jacob and a few others flying several feet away from each other. They all manage to find each other after god who knows how long. Almost dying of dehydration.  

“We gotta keep moving” Joel’s second in command tells him.

Joel looks around and notices they’re missing a few of their men.

“Where’s Seed and Miller?!?” he asks them. They look around for them, and accept that they were either killed, or they got lost in the explosion. 

“We have to look for them” Joel tells them. 

“Sir, we have to keep moving forward to base” his second in command tells him. They move forward through the desert and make it to their base. Not wanting to leave two of their men behind, knowing they could still be alive. 

__________

December 1991

It’s been over almost a year since Joel came back from Iraq. He wasn’t the same after all that shit. He suffered from PTSD, night terrors and insomnia. He has burn scars on his right shoulder, bicep and 30% of the right side of his body. 

Thinking that Mandy would leave him because of his trauma and disfigurement of his skin. She stood by side through all of it. She didn’t see him any differently, she still loved him regardless. With the help of her sister Marie, he planned on proposing to her. On December 22 1991 just before Christmas. He proposed to her at a Christmas party in front of all their friends and family.

Taking a knee, the usual way of proposing. 

“Mandeline Lucille Campell will you marry me?!” he asks, ring in hand. The crowd of their friends and family “awe” in response. 

Her hands covering her mouth, she nods her head and softly mutters “Yes” to his proposal. 

Tears filling her eyes as he places the ring on her left ring finger.

________

September 7 1992

The wedding of Joel Victor Winchester & Mandeline Lucille Campell. 

"Are you ready?" Marie asks her older sister. As she dusts off her white wedding dress. 

Mandy nods her head, taking a deep breath, "Yeah, yeah I'm ready!". 

Preparing to walk down the aisle, and marrying the love of her life. Her long-time boyfriend, then fiancée and soon to be husband. 

“Do you Mandeline Lucille Campell take Joel Victor Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband. In sickness and in health. For good, or for worse. Till death do you part?” the priest asks.

Looking up at her soon to be husband, “I do” she answers. 

He asks Joel the same exact thing, and he gives the same exact response.

“I do” he says, looking down at his now beautiful wife. 

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride" the priest tells Joel, and he kisses his new wife. 

_______

May 1994

Mandy announces her pregnancy with her first child. Waiting patiently for the results, sitting on the bathroom floor as Joel sat on the opposite side of the bathroom door. She got the results, and she is indeed pregnant. She opens the door, and immediately runs into Joel’s arms, tears streaming down her face. 

“What is it?!, what is it?!” he asks, excitedly. 

She shows him the stick, and he lifts her up. Kisses her.

“We’re gonna be parents!!” he mutters, excitedly. Lifitng her up off the floor.

____________

July 1994

Joel and Mandy get the results on the sex of their first child. The ultrasound technician puts the gel on her stomach and uses the sonographer to scan her belly.

Joel holds onto Mandy’s hand in anticipation. Squeezing it.

“So let's see what we got here” she tells them, as she scans her stomach. 

“It looks like you’re having a girl!” she tells the soon to be parents.

They look at each other excitedly, in shock and in tears. 

“We’re having a girl!!” Mandy mutters to Joel, kissing him. 

___________

January 19 1995

Mandy goes into labor a few months early, and gives birth to a healthy baby girl at the Phoenix Regional Hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. After being in labor for 7 hours.

Weighing 7 pounds 6 ounces. Born at 2:15pm. 

“She’s so beautiful” Mandy says, cradling her daughter. A nurse walks into the room, with a clipboard in hand and asks “So what are we naming her?”.

“Paige Hannah” Joel tells her. She writes down the name and takes it to file it for records. 

“And you wanted to name her Dawn Mercedes” Mandy mocks him, looking down at her new infant daughter. 

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m glad you changed my mind about it”. 

A few moments past and a man walks into the room.

“Joel and Mandeline Winchester?'' he asks, walking into the hospital room. They both look up at the man. 

“Yes?” Joel questions him, “Who are you?”. 

“I’m Michael” he tells them, “Archangel Michael”. 

They look at him in confusion, Joel stands up from the hospital bed and becomes defensive. 

“What do you want?” he asks in a threatening tone. 

He puts his hands up showing that he means no harm. “I mean no harm to you, your wife and the new addition to your family”.

He goes on to tell them that he is baby Paige’s Guardian Archangel. That he will protect and watch over her until the day she dies. 

"So what? Babies are assigned Archangels when they're born?" he asks. 

"Yes, I believe Raphael is Mandeline's guardian Archangel, and I'm yours" Michael tells them. 

__________

August 5 1998

Mandy gave birth to another girl at the same hospital where she had Paige. 

Almost having her at their home which is 15 minutes away from the hospital.

Weighing 7 pounds 8 ounces born at 7:42am, now with baby number two in the family. 

Mandy’s sister Marie watched over Paige while they went to the hospital. 

After 3 in half hours of labor pain and contractions, she finally had baby Katella. 

“I can’t believe it” Joel mutters, looking down at his new infant daughter “We now have 2 beautiful girls. She’s so beautiful”. 

They both stare down at their new addition to the family. 

“I’m so glad Paige stopped me from naming her Sasha Georgia” he says to Mandy. 

She chuckles, “Yeah me too. Katella Evyanna is a better name for her”. 

“Gabrielle would’ve been better” a man tells them, who appeared out of the blue in front of them. 

They both look up at the man, Joel scoffs at him, rolling his eyes and looking up at the ceiling “Let me guess. Gabriel? Archangel?”. 

He smiles at them, and says with his hands up “Guilty!!”. 

“What do you want?” Mandy asks him, Already knowing what this is all about. 

He sighs, sitting at the foot of the bed “The same route my big bro Michael did with little Paige. I’m this little one's Guardian Angel. I will protect, watch over her and blah blah blah until she dies. All that jazz”. 

They both look at him in confusion, and also in a way underestimating the youngest Archangel.  

"It's not too late to name her Gabrielle Tricksterina" he tells them. 

"We'll stick with Katella Evyanna. Thanks Gabe". Mandy says to him. 

________

November 14 1998

Baby Katella is 3 months old, Paige is 3 years old. 

“What time are you gonna be off?!” Mandy asks Joel, from the kitchen table. 

“Same time as usual” he tells her from their bedroom “5:30pm”. 

He continues to get ready for work while Mandy feeds Kate her bottle, and Paige is sitting in her high chair eating cut up fruit.

He walks into the kitchen, and kisses her, and his daughters goodbye.

“I’m leaving for work now” he tells her. Kissing her head, as well as the two little girls. 

Going to his job at the auto shop where he works as head mechanic. 

Mandy is taking maternity leave from her job as a receptionist at a dental office.  

________

April 19 1999

The night where it all happened, the night where Azazel took Joel’s life by causing a house fire.

Killing him when he went to check on baby Katella. 

Confronting the demon that took his life. Killing him and pushing him up to the ceiling. 

Mandy woke up to the smell of smoke, thinking Joel was cooking something. 

She went to check on both Paige and Kate. Upon checking on her youngest daughter, a droplet of blood lands on Mandy’s hand, she looks up and sees her husband laying against the ceiling. 

Within seconds the whole ceiling was engulfed into flames. Killing Joel instantly. 

Paige runs to the room, and sees everything. Mandy grabs Kate from her crib and hands her to her eldest daughter.

Telling her to take her sister and run as fast as she can.

Running out to the front lawn as the house is engulfed in flames. 

_______

September 2011

“Mom what’s going on?” 16 year old Paige asks her mother.

Des Moines, Iowa. A teacher from Paige and Kate’s high school had reported to Child Protective Services about some cuts, bruises and other wounds on Kate’s arms and hands. 

A cut on Paige’s left cheek, and bruised, bloody knuckles. 

Reporting that the 2 girls are being abused by their mother. 

Mandy would never lay a finger on her kids. Wasn’t able to convince the police and CPS that she would never hit her kids. 

Even with Paige and Kate coming to her defense. They still took them away from her.

“Everything is fine girls” she tells them. 

“Girls you’re gonna have to come with us” an officer tells them. 

They both look at him, and everyone else in confusion. 

“What’s happening?!” 13 year old Kate asks. Hiding behind her elder sister. 

“Girls I’m Nancy from Child Protective Services. You’re both gonna have to come with us” she tells them. 

“Why?!” Paige asks. 

“You both attend Des Moines Junior high?” the officer asks.

“Yeah” Paige answers. 

“A teacher reported some wounds, and other physical injuries on you” he tells them. 

They take the girls away from Mandy after they both resisted. Taking them away in separate vehicles. 

Mandy later would have child abuse charges against her, and she would flee Iowa shortly after. Paige and Kate were sent to live with their uncle Brent and aunt Laura. 

Mandy was charged, and had a restraining order against her. Forbidding her from seeing, or contacting her daughters until they turned 18. Once Paige turned 18 she took off and searched for her mother. 

__________

January 2012

"There's a man in Hope County, Montana that needs protection" Raphael tells Mandy. 

"Okay, what's his name?" she asks. 

"God hasn't given me his name, but you are the one that must protect him" he tells her. 

Not understanding what the job is actually about, she reluctantly agrees to protect this man whom she has no idea who he is or what his name is. Not knowing what he looks like either. 

"Okay, I'll go to Montana and protect this man who I never met, nor seen" she tells the Archangel. 

[suportbicicleta]

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Emotional abuse refers to acts or omissions that harm a child's sense of self in a way that causes, or could cause, behavioural, cognitive and emotional disorders. Physical neglect may involve inadequate food, clothing, shelter, cleanliness, medical care and protection from harm. Emotional neglect occurs when a child's need to feel loved, wanted, safe and worthy is not met.. But the 'beef' with Hamilton wardrobe seems to be that he avoids standard, sombre hued legjobb kutyaruha esőkabát suiting and embraces colour, print and decoration.This year Elle Style Awards saw him eschew a classic suit by opting for one in a rich paprika colour by Marni good on him, I saw. 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[lilikags]

Game Plan (Kenma Kozume)

Gamer soulmates do exist, huh. 

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x female gamer reader  Type: fluff, soulmate au Before read notes: The game referenced here is Epic Seven, sorry if you are confused but I think you get the idea... right?

You sighed. You didn't know what to do. It was gym class, the last class of the day. It was your least favorite class. They were doing volleyball, and you knew just about nothing about it, even though you had been forced to play it for years. You figured you'd forgotten how to play.

After changing into your gym uniform, you started to think about what you were going to do after school. It was a Friday, meaning that it was the weekend as soon as school ended. You were going to play games, since that's what you usually do. Roana's coming out today, huh. I guess I'm going to pull. She seems good. I have enough to pity in skystone, and I've got about 400 bookmarks. So, 80 summons without using skystones, and  3,800 skystones'll be used up if I do end up pitying. If  I just do the daily missions, it'll take me around probably 80 days to get that back, not including the daily sign in prizes and the Re:Birth event, if I get stuff from that- (1)

"(y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)!" you heard a voice call you. Looking up, probably after the third time you were called, you asked, "What's up?"

"Geez, your head's in the clouds! What'cha thinking about?" you best friend, (b/f/n),

"Hmm.... well, just what I was going to do later," you replied, knowing that (b/f/n) could see through you like just-polished (does that makes sense?) glass.

"What were you going-" (b/f/n) was interrupted by the teacher, who had started the class. She sorted the class into 4 groups, with 2 games going on at a time. You and (b/f/n) were separated, so you couldn't talk during class. You mostly just stood there and walked around, looking like you were trying. During your second game, your team and (b/f/n)'s teams played each other. (b/f/n) was really into it and made you participate for once.

When class was over, you went to the locker room to change, and as you were about to put your shirt on, (b/f/n) did a jump scare on you, which made you jump.

"What the heck, (b/f/n)?" You always hated jump scares, especially from (b/f/n), because her hands were always cold. Cold hands on bare skin (A/N: it sounds weird, but you're in the locker room. changing.) is always the worst.

"Heh! Got'cha again!" (b/f/n) laughed. You sighed. You finished changing and left the locker room. You started to think about your game plan for Epic Seven. (A/N: it's an amazing game, check it out!) You weren't too far into the game, and you'd just entered midgame by being able to auto Wyvern 11 and want to focus on building a golem team. You had already built and 6-starred Cermia, your nuker, and wanted to build Cecilia, your tank and defense breaker. (2) You were thinking about using either speed/hit sets or health/def/hit sets, when (b/f/n) scared you again.

"Can you just stop that already?" you asked (b/f/n), getting annoyed from her jump scares.

"Y'know, (y/n)..." (b/f/n) started.

"Yes?" you answered, curious to what she was going to say.

"Why don't we go to the mall later?" You were surprised that you didn't expect (b/f/n) to say that. It seemed very (b/f/n) though.

"Since when have I willingly gone to the mall?" you asked, not wanting to go.

"I heard there's a new anime store there~~" (b/f/n) tried to convince you. That was the reason you were going to go. You and (b/f/n) bonded over anime years ago, and you always watched every season's most popular anime. (3) So even though you spent more time playing games than watching anime, you were always on top of the trends and still loved it.

"Okay, I'll go," you answered, trying to hide the fact that you were actually excited.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing! The bell rang, meaning that the school day was over and you were finally free. You and (b/f/n) walked towards your lockers together, since they were right next to each other. You listened to her talk about fashion and other things like that. She'd gotten into that recently and was all over it.

Both of you finished gathering the stuff you needed over the weekend, and while at your lockers, you and (b/f/n) had decided to drop off your backpacks at (b/f/n)'s house, so that you could talk the whole day. You don't talk too much, but (b/f/n) does, and you don't mind her talking much.

(b/f/n) wanted to go to the clothing shops first. She had to go to some family reunion soon, so she had to buy something fancy. You accepted, knowing that (b/f/n) wouldn't forget about the anime store, because ever since she discovered Kimetsu no Yaiba: Demon Slayer,  she's been all over it too, and you were 99% sure that new anime store would have Kimetsu no Yaiba merch.

You didn't know much about fashion, so (b/f/n) picked out the clothes for herself and asked you for a second opinion. While she was picking out clothes and trying them on, you had nothing to do, so you thought about the build you were going for. (A/N: for Cecilia, referenced earlier in the chapter) Your phone was almost dead, and you wanted to save the remaining battery in case your parents called or something. So, you borrowed (b/f/n)'s pen, which she carried everywhere for a reason you haven't been able to figure out for years, and started to write out your plan for building Cecilia.  

                                                                *

"Hm?" Kenma noticed some pen marks on his skin all of a sudden. He and Kuroo were walking to practice when he noticed it.

"What? Did you notice something from your soulmate? ~~ Hmm~~~?" Kuroo teased him, knowing what was up.

"Mhm. She wrote something."

"Hmmm? Let me see," Kuroo leaned over to see what was being written.

Cecilia-

- Speed/hit set

- main stats: Effectiveness%, Def%, health%

- substats: effectiveness, def, health, eff. resist

"Hmmm... seems like game stats?" Kuroo figured. Kenma shook his head.

"Character build?" Kenma nodded, meaning that Kuroo's second guess was right.

"You know which game?"

"Epic Seven, I guess."

"Heh~~? So you do know. Maybe gamer soulmates do exist~~" Kenma didn't reply. The two walked into the court, and they began their daily volleyball training. Kenma noticed that there was something new written in few minute intervals. (A/n: does that make sense?) They had a common theme: Epic Seven builds. First was Cecilia, then Tamarinne, then Ravi, and so on.

"Woah! Your soulmate writes their skin?! Cool! Mine doesn't! I've tried lots of times, and they wouldn't respond!" Lev noticed what (y/n) was writing.

"I think they're for herself," Kenma muttered.

                                                                   *

"Wait, (f/n)!" (b/f/n) called out. You turned around. "Hm?"

"You're walking too fast! I can't keep up!"

"You're just slow."

"Oh, come on!" (b/f/n) had to run to catch up with you. As you entered the store, one thing caught your eye. It was an Epic Seven Poster, which you went straight to.

       (b/f/n) followed straight behind, and asked what this was about.

"It's an Epic Seven poster. I don't know who made it, but I'm buying it. It has Krau, Ludwig, Aither, Vildred, Destina, Yuna, Ras, Arky, Mercedes, Karin, Iseria, and best girl Angelica in it. It's totally worth." You explained, putting on a smirk and feeling like you're the smartest around.

"Oh, you really like this game," (b/f/n) said.

"Yeah, you didn't know? All this time?" you said back, trying to get at her for those jump scares.

"I just didn't know you liked it this much. Maybe I'll give it a try."

"Wait... really?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"We're going back to your house and getting you this game once I'm done here."

"Once WE'RE done here."

"Yes, once WE'RE done here. Yes, yes."

The two of you walked around, excitedly looking at the different merch they had there. You ended up buying lots of stuff, since you're a collector and love collecting things. Once the both of you got to (b/f/n)'s house, you took her phone out of her hands and downloaded Epic Seven. You charged yours while you were at it, and you gave it back to her once you got back and it loaded. Even with the tutorial, you explained everything in detail, and (b/f/n) knew she couldn't stop you, so she just listened and figured it would make understanding the game easier.

You had tons of notes on your hand at this point, so you figured you might as well write (b/f/n)'s username on there as well. You wrote it, along with her discord server, since (b/f/n) had gotten it recently and invited you to her server.

                                                                            *

Kuroo was staying over at Kenma's for a sleepover, and they were playing Smash Ultimate. (A/n: if you don't know what this game is, you live under a rock.) Then, Kuroo noticed some more notes on Kenma's hands.

"There's more."

"Hm?"

"Your soulmate wrote more. Let me see~." Kenma lifted his hand from the controller for once, and Kuroo spotted a discord server and an Epic Seven username.

"Ooh, maybe they want you to join a server?"

"No way. It's probably for herself again. There wouldn't be any need to tell me."

"Let's join it! I want to see who's in it. Your soulmate'll be there!"

"I don't really care."

"I know you'll join it later 'cause you're curious."

"I don't really care."

"Well, I'm joining it."

"It's rude to just join other people's servers without their permission-"

"Whoever gets the link is welcome~~" Kenma sighed. He couldn't stop Kuroo at this point.

→ kuroo hopped into the server.

(b/f/n): Uh, how'd u get the server invite? idk who u r.

kuroo: I got it from my friend. His soulmate wrote it on her hand.

(b/f/n): Ah, I know who you're talking about. I think.

kuroo: Ooh, great! Let's introduce them!

(b/f/n): OMG YAAAS. I wanna see how their ship turns out~~

kuroo: Great minds think alike, let's take this to private chat

(b/f/n): 'kay- got it!

(y/n): You know I joined the server, right?

(b/f/n): ...

kuroo: ...

→ applepi joined the party.

applepi: Well, you can write your plans here. I don't mind.

(y/n): I don't mind either.

(y/n): Hey, applepi, if you're my soulmate, text me.

applepi: later

(y/n): now.

(b/f/n): wow, hasty now, eh?

(y/n): I just want to confirm.

(y/n): and when I read the word "hasty", i immediately thought of Haste. pretty high on the tier list imo.

kuroo: what?

(y/n):

       (y/n): That's mah boi Haste. Ever since Melissa event. tho W. Schuri and A. Vil are higher on the list but they're ml so they're hard to get.

applepi: He's cool, but Roana's better.

(y/n): she ain't even out yet. tho best waifu now.

applepi: well, it's because she gives the revive buff... vampiric touch isn't that great compared to revive

kuroo: can you just take this to private

(y/n): thank you

Placeskip brought to you by Haiba Lev.

Soulmate: So, you're (y/n)?

(y/n): yeah. Wanna try going out? It seems pretty interesting how people instantly fall in love with their soulmates. I wanna test a theory.

Soulmate: ....

(y/n): I'm an expert on Epic Seven. I know "cheats". well not really, but farming gear gets better when you do it my way.

Soulmate: sure. ok.

(y/n): actually, I don't know your name yet. what is it?

Soulmate: Kozume Kenma. Just call me Kenma.

(y/n): vid call?

Kenma: .... not yet.

~~~END~~~ uwu

Extra! bc this is the 1st chappie! :)

"Hello?" Kuroo answered.

"Can you see us?" (b/f/n) asked.

"Yeah, can you see us?" Kuroo asked and answered. We both nodded.

"I think he's cute! If you don't hurry up, I'll take him~~" (b/f/n), the scare and provocation master told you.

"He's mine already... baka," you muttered. Kenma heard it, and both of you blushed.

Hello, it's Lili! I hope you liked my terrible first fic!

Some notes:

- (1) This whole time, I was talking about Epic Seven. It's a great game.

- (2) Def break/decrease defense- debuff that decreases the opponent's defense by 70%

-I'm not an expert at E7, I've only been playing since the SSB (Seaside Bellona) banner (July 2019) so I'm not that great. And it was the first gatcha game I really ever played besides Food Fantasy and Love Nikki, but those don't really count.

- 2174 words 

- Suggestions/comments/constructive criticism/grammar suggestions all appreciated!

Edited 5/10/20. Posted on tumblr: 7/4/20 Edited on tumblr: 10/12/20 Note: There are pics on the Wattpad chapter, but I couldn’t put them here (I lost them when I changed computers :/). Check it out there if you’d like to see the pics!  Credits: Original header image is from Igor Karimov on Unsplash.

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 34 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Some might consider this a little bit of a filler chapter, but I actually think it’s a really important piece in establishing Bee as a person.  Anywho...hope you guys enjoy!  The next two chapters they are back in the West Coast, so you know what that means..........😇

It was going to take a while for Bee to comes to terms with the fact that two of her best friends were leaving Toronto.  In the past ten days, she had tried to feel less selfish about the situation – how it affected her and how her life would change, how sad she was about it and how she was going to cope with it – and instead focus on the positives – how Tyler being in Ottawa would be a good leadership opportunity for him on a young team, and how Naz being traded to Colorado meant he would still be on a Cup-contending team.  She tried to think about the positives for Ashley, too – how Denver was a beautiful city to raise a family in.  How the media would still be loud but much quieter than the media in Toronto.  How she’d probably be able to check her Instagram and not have DMs flood her inbox or have bunny blogs gossip about her shopping habits at Holt Renfrew based on information they heard from their sister’s friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s hairstylist’s dog walker’s niece who saw her buy her second Yves Saint Laurent bag of the month.  

It would be okay.

Bee had to believe it would be okay.  Because if any doubt arose in her about the situation, she’d have another crying episode like she did that night of July 1st, where Morgan had to hold her all night, assuring her that everything would be okay, giving her the only answers he could.  She kept trying to think of the positives.  She didn’t do things to distract herself from the situation – she genuinely internalized the reality of the situation and tried to see the positives as much as possible.  It would make her feel better, she thought, about everything.  And Morgan – bless him – was helping as much as he could.  He knew better than anybody that it wouldn’t be easy for her, and so he took it upon himself to ease the pain.  No small feat.  But he did, because he loved her, because he wanted to see genuine smiles and laughs from her instead of forced happiness.  He started a countdown to their vacation to Vancouver.  He told her about how nice Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot (Kerfy, apparently) were, and how she’d like them.  How Kerfy was already a good friend because they had grown up together and played together in Vancouver.  He bought her bigger bouquets of flowers.  They got ice cream more often.  He let her cuddle into him however and whenever she wanted, and let her fall asleep on his chest with their limbs entwined and he’d carry her to bed, holding her in his arms the entire time.

Despite the emotional minefield that was July 1st, in the following days, she managed to register herself to write the first exam for her CFA certification in December, and she passed her driving test.  She was officially a G2 class driver.  Life had to move on.  It always did.  The only thing constant is change.  

So when Morgan told her to get in the car, because he was going to take her somewhere, that it was a surprise, she was excited to.  The last time he did so they ended up in Muskoka making love for an entire weekend.  She even offered to drive there, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary, because it would spoil the surprise.  So she hopped in the passenger’s seat.  They got on the highway.  And they travelled north.  Like, really north.  North of the city, to the suburb of Vaughan, where Bee noticed Morgan turn into the driveway of Pfaff Auto, where he had gotten his Porsche, a small smile on his face as they parked the car near the front.  

“What are we doing here?” she asked as he turned off the ignition.  

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.  

Before she could answer, Bee noticed a man in a suit outside Morgan’s window, and she nodded her head towards it so it could grab Morgan’s attention.  The man waved enthusiastically and Morgan opened the door.  “Santi!  Hey!”

“Morgan!  Nice to see you bud!” he said as Morgan opened the door.  “This must be Bee!” Santi waved at her.  “How are you Bee?”

“I’m…good,” she said awkwardly as she saw Morgan start to get out of the car.  She followed suit and walked around to where the men were standing.  

“Morgan mentioned how you had passed your driving test.  Congratulations!” Santi said.  “We thought it would be a great idea to bring you in and welcome you into the Pfaff Family!”

“Oh?” Bee looked between Santi and Morgan.  She stood stiff in between the two men.  “Am I…you…you didn’t bring me here to pick out a car, did you?” she asked Morgan, who only smiled.  “Morgan.”

“Don’t Morgan me,” he said, his response every single time she said his name in that tone of voice.  “Let’s go inside and see our options, hmm?”

Bee didn’t really have a choice.  They were already there, Santi was already smiling and waving and ready to show her cars, and when they walked inside, other employees waved and shook hands and it was all very nice, but Bee didn’t know what to do.  She wondered if anybody could see how out of her element she was.  She felt like a visiting Princess Kate being given a tour of something she had no clue about, smiling and nodding along and asking basic questions about things to make it seem like she understood what they were talking about and comfortable with what was going on around her.  But she wasn’t.  For a person who had never owned a car before, and who had only been in the very basic cars of her friends, she really didn’t have a clue.  She knew the names, obviously, but everything else was extra.  Everything else was so…extravagant.  

Santi was nice.  Warm.  Accommodating.  To his credit, he was an excellent salesman and knowledgeable of every little detail about every car or SUV they saw or sat in.  He would usher her into the driver’s seat, he’d get into the passenger’s seat, and Morgan would slip in the backseat, and he’d go on and on about all the features.  The leather seats.  The luxury interior.  The beeping sensors for when you were reversing.  GPS Navigation.  The backup cameras.  The sunroofs.  The option for add-on DVD players for the backseat.  Luxury add-ons here.  Luxury add-ons there.

Bee had to write down all the names of the cars so she could remember them all.  The Porsche Cayenne Sport, the Mercedes Benz GLS 450, the BMW X7 xDrive 50i, the Porsche Macan Sport, the BMW Alpina B7 xDrive, the Audi A8 L 55, the BMW M5 Competition, the Mercedes Benz S-Class.  It was all so overwhelming.  There were so many things to remember.  Santi didn’t even mention gas mileage.  He didn’t mention how much it cost to fill up a tank of gas, how expensive it was to insure these cars, how expensive they were even just to maintain.  She got more and more nervous the more she thought about it.  It filled her with anxiety, being in something that was so expensive.  

These cars weren’t for her.

“What’s the price point you’re looking for?” Santi asked as they sat together in the BMW X7.  It was a beautiful crossover, no doubt, and Bee liked it, as objectively as she could like a car this expensive.  

“We’re not thinking about that today,” Morgan butt in from the backseat.  Santi gave him a smile.  She looked at him through the rear-view mirror.  

“What a guy, eh?” Santi joked, nodding his head towards Morgan.  “We’ll take care of you guys, anyway.  When Chris comes in he’ll arrange all that.  He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Who’s Chris?” Bee finally piped up.

“Chris Pfaff, the president and CEO,” Santi said.  “After Morgan and I chose the Porsche last year Chris made sure Morgan was taken care of.  And with Morgan referring some of the other Leafs to us, there’s no way we’re not going to take care of you again.”

Bee wondered what Santi meant when he said ‘take care’, but she knew if she asked she’d seem like an idiot.  Maybe it just meant they got a good deal on the car or something.  A discount.  An add-on for only half the price.  $100 in gas gift cards, like she always saw advertised on TV.  

After what seemed like sitting in the millionth car, Santi was called away briefly, leaving Morgan and Bee alone for the first time since they parked.  They stood beside an immaculate Range Rover.  Bee looked over at Morgan, who was already looking at her.  “What do you think?” he asked her.

“I don’t want to make a decision today,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t know why.  He seemed to be having the time of his life being in all the cars.  She never understood boys’ fascination with them.

“What?”

“I don’t want to make a decision today.  I don’t…” she shook her head slightly, biting on her nail.  “I want to think about it.”

“But they--”

“I want to do my own research,” she interrupted him, not wanting to get into it now.  “I just want to go home with all the information he gave me and I want to do my own research and make my own decision.”

Morgan looked at her for a moment.  He studied her.  He saw the biting of the nail and saw her furrowed eyebrows and he nodded his head.  “Okay.  Okay.  We’ll let Santi know.”

Santi gave Bee his card and told her to call him when she made her decision.  She thanked him endlessly for all his help and information, and she and Morgan left Pfaff, beginning the long trek back downtown to their place.  Bee sat looking out the window, not saying a word, mulling over everything going on inside her head.  Morgan would take occasional glances at her, allowing them to sit in silence until they pulled into the parking garage and into their designated spot.  He knew something was going on and he wanted to know.  

“What’s wrong?”

Bee felt ashamed.  She couldn’t even look at him even though she knew he was looking directly at her.  “I don’t want any of those cars,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t want any of those cars,” she said a bit louder so he could hear.  “I don’t…I don’t need any of those cars.”

“What do you mean you don’t need any of those cars?”

She sighed.  “I only need a car that can get me from A to B.  I’m not even going to drive it to work.  The most I’ll be driving it is up to Rocco and Clarette’s house or to go grocery shopping.  Maybe to go visit Aryne and John.  I don’t think I need a ninety thousand dollar SUV to do that.”

Morgan shifted in his seat.  “Okay…I get that,” he admitted.  “But…I mean, they can help us, you know?  The guys at Pfaff can take care of us.”

“Why do you guys keep saying that?  What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice more assertive now.  

“They can gift it to us, Briony.  Like the Porsche.”

Bee whipped her head towards Morgan.  “Gift it to us?  Like the Porsche?”

“Yeah.”

“You…” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “You’re telling me this Porsche is a gift.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t pay a lease payment on this thing?”

“No.”

“A financing payment?”

“No.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she exclaimed.  “This entire fucking time we’ve been driving this car you haven’t had to pay a cent on it except for gas and insurance?” she asked.  Morgan nodded his head.  “What the fuck, Morgan?!”

“Why are you so angry?” he asked, remaining the calm one in the conversation.

“We don’t need a free car!” she yelled, unable to hold her emotions back any longer.  “We have the money to pay for a car!  We have the money to pay for any car we fucking want to and you’re telling me you’re paying nothing?!  We should be paying for a car!”

“What’s the big deal?” Morgan questioned.  

“It’s the principle!” she began.  “This is exactly what’s wrong with this entire fucking system.  I grew up with literally nothing by no fault of my own and I was still expected to pay my whole way through whatever came up in my life.  You – and I don’t mean you specifically Morgan, but people like you, other hockey players and those stupid Instagram influencer girls from here just dying to hang out with you guys for status and clout – you guys have all this money and yet you get everything for free so long as you put it on your Instagram.  It’s not fair.  It’s not fair when so many fucking people in this city are struggling to get by and working their asses off at minimum wage jobs just to afford rent and the Toronto Maple Leafs are getting free luxury cars.”

Morgan stayed quiet.  He knew she was right, like with most things, and he had never considered her perspective before.  He had failed to consider the entire situation from her perspective.  It was hard for him.  He just thought it would be a nice day out.  Go to a dealership, pick out a car.  He’d take care of it for her, like he promised her he would with everything on that dock in Muskoka.  And although she had accepted that, this wasn’t the way she wanted him to go about “taking care” of things.  She obviously wanted to do everything fairly.  “Briony…”

“I can’t believe you never told me this car was a gift,” she said, her voice much calmer now.  “Look, I’m sorry I raised my voice.  But we’re not poor.  We can afford the financing or lease payments on any car I choose to get.  And that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“Okay,” Morgan nodded his head, his voice soft.  “Okay.  We can do that.”

“I can do that,” she corrected.  “I want to pay for my own car.  This entire time I’ve been saving my money and I can afford it.  I’ve budgeted it out.”

“But Briony--”

“Morgan--”

“I told you in Muskoka that I wanted to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it.  That I didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”

“I know, Morgan, but please, please, you have to let me do this for myself.  Please,” she was practically begging.  “I know you want to do that for me.  I know.  That’s why you brought me to Pfaff today.  And I love you and I appreciate it and you know I do but I’m doing this for me.  You…you have no idea what it means to be to be able to buy my own car with my own money.”

Morgan could hear by the tone in her voice how much this meant for her.  He couldn’t deny that he wanted to do this for her – to get her whatever car she wanted, luxury or not – but he also couldn’t deny her the opportunity of being able to get a car herself.  For her, it was independence.  It was investing in something she never had the opportunity to before.  It meant having something of her own, when her whole life, she didn’t have anything to her name.  Who was he to deny her that?

“Okay,” he nodded his head again.  “Alright, okay.  I’m sorry Briony.”

“There is no need for you to apologize,” she said, reaching over the console to grab his hand.  “I should be the one who is sorry for raising my voice.  I just…I felt overwhelmed in there.  It was fun but overwhelming.  You’re the best boyfriend in the world for doing something like that for me.  You probably think I’m insane.”

“Why would I think that?”

Bee gave him a look.  “A girl rejecting a luxury car so she could get a cheaper one?  Who does that?”

Morgan smiled slightly, shaking his head.  He leaned over the console to give her a kiss.  “Briony McTavish does that,” he whispered once he pulled away.  “And that’s why I love her.”

“Oh yeah?” Bee smiled slightly.  

“Mhm,” Morgan kissed her again.  “You’re something else, Briony.  I’d do anything for you.  And this means so much to you.  You’ve put your mind to it.  You’ve budgeted it out and you know you’re going to be okay and that you won’t have to worry.  I would never take that away from you.”

Before their conversation could advance any further, Morgan’s phone started to ring through the Bluetooth system in the car.  On the screen on the dash, Nazem’s name flashed.  “We’ll continue this later,” he said before answering the call.  “Naz!  What’s up?  You’re on speaker with me and Bee.”

“Hey guys,” he said into the phone.  “You uh…you guys might want to make your way to Toronto General.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.  

From beside him, Bee’s jaw dropped.  “Ohmygod Naz, did Ashley have the baby?”

“Come quick.  Come meet her,” he said, a slight giggle in his voice.  

“Her?!” Bee screamed.  “Her?!  Ohmygod we’re on our way right now.”

***

“Here she is.  Baby Naylah,” Naz was smiling from ear to ear as he led Morgan and Bee through the doorway to Ashley’s room.  John and Aryne were already there, Aryne sitting in a chair and John leaning against the windowsill as Ashley cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

“Heeeyyyy,” Ashley said gently, a beaming smile on her face.  “She’s here.  She’s finally here.”

“Oh, Ashley…” Bee cooed, catching a glimpse of the little girl’s face tucked between the swaddling blanket and little hat on her head.  “Ashley, she’s absolutely beautiful.”

“How you feeling, momma?” Morgan smiled.  

“Labour was about eight hours, but everything was fine,” Ashley said.  “We came in yesterday around this time.  We’ve just been in our own little world with her until now.”

Morgan smiled and looked at Naz.  “Nazem Kadri, father,” he shook his head.  “Lord help us all.”

“That’s what I said,” John said as everybody laughed.  “Father to a girl, nonetheless.  She’s gonna make you the biggest sap in the universe.”

“She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger,” Naz shrugged his shoulders, admitting defeat.  He was still beaming, still on a high from welcoming his daughter into the world.  “I’ll admit it.  She’s gonna get whatever she wants.”

“You wanna hold her, Aunt Bee?” Ashley offered.  

Bee’s jaw dropped again.  “Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Can I?”

“She’s very calm.  She just woke up and might need a feeding soon so it’s your only chance,” Ashley smiled.  Bee moved closer towards her as Ashley placed Naylah delicately in her arms.  “Make sure you support her head.  She’s swaddled so she should be fine.”

Bee held Naylah close to her chest, rocking her back and forth.  She heard Naylah make little noises and watched as Naylah’s eyes looked up at her, studying her closely.  She knew this random, strange lady was definitely not her mom.  “Hi Naylah,” Bee cooed.  “I’m your Aunt Bee.  I’m so glad you’re finally here.”  She continued to look down at the tiny baby in her arms, marvelling at her little expressions and tiny features.  She couldn’t believe she was finally holding her.

Bee looked up briefly to see everybody smiling at her.  “Looks like you’re still the baby whisperer, Bee,” Aryne giggled, resting her hand on her bump.  “You’re gonna be back here in two months doing this all over again.”

“Bring it on,” she said, continuing to rock Naylah back and forth and cradling her small head in her hand.  “Give me all the babies and the babysitting duties and I’ll be one happy camper.”

As if on cue, Naylah began fussing a little bit, her eyes closing and lips pursing.  “Uh oh.  Spoke too soon,” Bee said.  She tried to calm her down but the attempt was futile.  Naylah continued to purse her lips until she let out a small cry.  “Looks like someone is hungry again.”

“That’s our cue,” Aryne said, standing up from her seat.  “We’ll wait outside until she’s done, maybe go grab some coffee.”

“I’ll let you guys know,” Naz said as they all began to exit.  “My sisters are coming back soon, too.  You might see them.”

John and Morgan decided to hang out in the waiting room while Aryne and Bee decided to go for a coffee run to the Starbucks.  As they were waiting for everybody’s drinks, Bee told Aryne what she and Morgan had been up to that day at Pfaff and the discussion they’d had in the car.  Bee explained her reasoning.  Morgan’s reaction.  Her insistence on getting the car on her own.  

Aryne sipped on her own coffee as she listened to Bee.  “You’ve always been really principled,” she said.  “You don’t need to apologize for anything.  I get where you’re coming from.  But I also understand where Morgan was coming from.  Especially after what you told me he said in Muskoka.  Like, I get him wanting to do that for you.”

“Me too,” Bee said.  “And I promised him I’d try to stop feeling uncomfortable about it.  And I have – I mean, the trip back to Vancouver and this bracelet are perfect examples of that,” she said, flashing the Cartier love bracelet that was still on her wrist.  “But I…a car is different.  I never thought I’d have a car.  Now I have an opportunity to get one.  I want to get one that’s economical.  I don’t want to get a BMW or Mercedes just because I can – well, just because Morgan can.  I can’t afford one of those cars on my own.  Morgan’s wanted me to save my money all this time anyway.  It’s only logical I use it to make the biggest purchase of my life thus far, right?”

“You don’t need to defend yourself, Bee, especially if it’s your own money,” Aryne said.  “Especially if it’s your own money.  Whatever you buy with what you’ve earned yourself is a big fuck you to everyone.  Car, designer bag, shoes, a book – whatever.  Fuck anybody who criticizes you.”

Bee was so thankful for Aryne.  Whenever she needed a voice of reason, someone to guide her through this crazy life and help her make decisions, she knew Aryne would always be there for her.  “You’re the best, you know that?” Bee smiled.

“You’ve told me that once or twice,” Aryne winked.  “Listen…on a similar vein of fuck-you purchases and people criticizing you, I need to ask you a question and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

Bee noticed her sudden shift in tone.  “Okay…”

“What did Sydney say to you?”

Bee was speechless.  “Wha…” she stuttered out.  “What do you mean?”

“I saw her comment on Morgan’s post for your graduation, and I saw what Morgan responded,” she explained.  “She had to have said something.  So what was it and when did she say it?”

Bee took a deep breath.  She wondered if she should just run out of the hospital to avoid this conversation.  “Aryne…she’s your friend.  I don’t feel comf--”

“What did she say, Bee?”

Bee gulped.  “Um, so it was the day of your baby shower,” Bee began.  “Ashley picked us up and we were driving through Moss Park to get on the DVP and she called it the ghetto.  When we came up on a red light I pointed out a building where I used to live and I told her how I grew up there and she was like ‘Well, thank God you got out’.”

“So that’s why Morgan made the ghetto comment,” Aryne connected the two together.  Bee nodded her head.  “How did Morgan find out?”

“Zach told him, sort of accidentally.  Because Alannah was there too and she was really upset about everything that happened and --”

“What else happened?” Aryne interjected.  Bee felt like crawling into a hole and dying.  “What do you mean ‘everything that happened’?  What else was there?”

“Um…I…” Bee tried to look for an escape.  “Listen.  Um, Morgan doesn’t know this part.  He only knows about the ghetto comment.  But Sydney…she, uh…she kind of kept making these comments…”

“About what?”

“About me.”

Aryne’s eyes darkened.  “What did she say.”

“It’s really not--”

“Briony,” Aryne’s voice was firm.  “What did she say.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Aryne.  I dealt with it.  She uh, she sort of kept making, um, comments about my body.  Saying it was good that I chose that dress I wore with vertical stripes because they were slimming and that’s why it looked good.  And then Alannah asked about a deal on yoga pants I got and Sydney piped in and said she could recommend a personal trainer for me and that they’d ‘definitely help me with everything I need done’,” Bee used air quotes because she remembered the words said to her so vividly.  

“She said what?” Aryne seethed.  “Are you kidding me?”

“Aryne, it wasn’t a big deal.  I confronted her about it in the bathroom afterwards.  It was dealt with.”

“This happened during my baby shower?” she asked, her face utterly disgusted at what had transpired.  “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Listen, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt.  She was stressed about the wedding and--”

“Don’t give her the benefit of the doubt.  God, Bee, do not give her the benefit of the doubt.  You’re being too nice.  She was my friend in Long Island and I’m absolutely horrified she’d say something like that to you.”

“It’s not…” Bee began, shaking her head.  “My mom used to say stuff like that all the time.  She used to tell me I’d end up alone because nobody likes smart chubby girls.  It’s okay.  And it’s not like I haven’t heard it before in DMs.  You know what they look like.”

Aryne gave her a look – one mixed with the anger she was feeling but also with sadness at what Bee was revealing.  Aryne couldn’t imagine a mother saying something like that to a daughter.  “Bee, just because your mom used to say that sort of stuff to you, it doesn’t make it okay,” she stressed, reaching out to hold her hand.  “Nobody deserves comments like that being said about them.”

“I know.  But when that sort of stuff is said to me, people who mean nothing to me always say it.  My mom.  Fangirls.  Sydney,” Bee said.  “I told her that.  I told her she meant nothing to me and that even if she didn’t like me she needed to respect me--”

“Good.”

“—and I told her not to take me for a fucking idiot,” Bee couldn’t help but smile.  She was still sort of proud of herself for pulling out that line in the washroom.  “I think Sydney thinks she needs to put on a mix of this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ and ‘I’m the Queen B cool girl’ persona because that’s the image she’s built for herself and she lets it get to her head.  The fact that she grew up with a lot of privilege hasn’t helped that.  But I dealt with it.  She got married and had a beautiful wedding.  I’m still chubby.  It’s done.”

“Okay, but wait…” Aryne furrowed her brows.  “Morgan only knows about the ghetto comment?  Why?”

“That’s all Zach told him.”

“And you didn’t tell Morgan what you just told me?” Aryne asked.  Bee shook her head.  “Why not?”

It was Bee’s turn to give Aryne a look.  “I’m sorry, have you met my boyfriend, Morgan Frederick Rielly?” she asked, causing Aryne to giggle.  “God knows what he’d say to Syd – or Matt – if he found out.  He’d drop a nuke on Long Island if he could.”

“He is really protective of you out in the public sphere,” Aryne digressed.

“Exactly.  He had to make a phone call to Steve Keogh on Canada Day to try and solve my incessant DM issue,” Bee informed Aryne, who already knew all about the DMs sent on Canada Day.  “Despite Morgan’s best efforts he couldn’t get Steve to fly back from Europe, where he’s on vacation with his family, to handle the situation immediately.”

Aryne snorted.  “What a guy.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So then what’s the next step?” Aryne asked, fixating all the drinks into the Styrofoam holder the barista provided.

“With what?” Bee asked.

“Everything.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders.  “Just live my life.”

***

@brionymctavish: my first car!

@angiefavs: WE MATCH!!!!!

@morganrielly: lookin cute

@alynntavares: LOVE IT BEE!  I know how much this means to you!

@enzosauce: can you drive it out to Edmonton for a visit?

@stephlanchancee: um is that a Honda Civic?

                       @brionymctavish: Yup!  First one ever!

@lucygardiner_: congrats Bee!  Can’t wait to zip around town with you!

@frederikandersen31: I hope I fit in there

                       @brionymctavish: I’ll stuff you into the trunk if need be

[ginnyzero]

5 Books that Got Me Interested in Werewolves

I like werewolves. Both of my current book series, Heaven's Heathens MC and the Dawn Series include werewolves. And if you've read any of my previous blog posts, you'll know that The Lone Prospect (Heaven's Heathens MC #1) was inspired after watching the Expendables  2 during a binge watching of Sons of Anarchy.

My interest in doing werewolves instead of say vampires came from reading a lot of books about werewolves, where in the series werewolves weren't the main focus. I wanted a series of books that wasn't expressly romance that focused on werewolves and werewolf dynamics and adventures and being a werewolf was more an accepted part of life than "woe is me, I am a monster."

Monsters more often than not have human faces. See Frankenstein.

These are not necessarily recommendations. But if you like werewolf books and aren't picky, you may like these.

1. Bitten by Kelley Armstrong

Elena Michaels is the only female werewolf that has ever survived the change. A journalist good at investigating, she used her skills to track down rogue werewolves and kill them. Until she got tired of the violence the life required no matter how much she loved the male members of her pack. She's been trying to live like a human, but an old enemy is about to resurface threatening the pack she loves. Now, she's being drawn back into that world.

This was Kelley Armstrong's first novel. I liked the original cover and that's why I bought it. It focused completely on werewolves and was an interesting start to a new series. Book 2 started introducing other races and after a while I gave up on it when it focused exclusively on the young witch that was also introduced in book 2, Stolen. Bitten doesn't really hold up to any sort of in depth critical thinking when it comes to werewolves. Why is Elena the only female werewolf? She's also an orphan who has been sexually abused and then her boyfriend changed her without permission. I can see why she left the guy. I don't care how hot he's supposed to be. My last gripe for this book was Elena really felt like a stand in for the author. They are both Canadian and the politics commentary was really heavy handed. Maybe it was supposed to make the book feel relevant in 2001. It just made me grimace a bit.

2. Fool Moon by Jim Butcher

Business has been slow, no dead, for Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional Wizard. Until Karen Murphy comes with a case of brutal murder. Mutilated corpse, strange paw prints and a full moon. It's going to take all of Harry's knowledge and skill to get to the bottom of which werewolf group is performing the murders. And the answer may be closer than he thought.

Fool Moon was Jim Butcher's second Harry Dresden Case File. He hadn't quite hit his writing stride yet. (That didn't happen until book 3.) In the book, Jim Butcher went through and used about every single type of werewolf he could think of to blow the readers off the scent (see what I did there) of who the real murders were. He used a lot of "classic" Universal studios werewolf lore and lore from other werewolf, lycanthropy, berserker type werewolves as well. And then he pretty much dropped the whole werewolf thing like hot potatoes in the books after this in order to pursue his Black Council and Winter Court Fae big story lines. And the times he does end up using the werewolves, it can be rather offensive, such as werewolves going into heat and the general way he describes the female werewolves. (He also has this problem with most of his female characters. I digress.) It was a good starting point for me at least to look at the different werewolf types and go research more on my own.

3. A Fistful of Charms by Kim Harrison

Rachel Morgan's love life has never been that great. Now, Nick, a former boyfriend who cut and run needs Rachel's particular skills as a runner. A thief, he's stolen an artifact that could give the werewolves more power over the vampires and now he's been caught. It's up to Rachel to find the artifact and free him from the werewolves. The problem is, he's not in Cincinnati, but up in Michigan and on an island in the middle of one of the Great Lakes. And it's going to take more than a few magical spells and wishful thinking to get him out alive.

This was book 4 of Kim Harrison's Hollows Series. In one of the previous books, she'd made a one off character, an insurance adjuster, who was a werewolf. Kim Harrison is not someone who really outlines her books in advance, so this insurance adjuster suddenly became a lot more important and so did werewolves for this fourth book. Because Rachel Morgan is so caught up in vampire, demon and fae politics, other than some consequences of what happened because of this book and her joining the insurance adjuster's pack for ... insurance... purposes, after this, werewolves were dropped. So, this book was the best look at the way werewolf packs worked in her world. I liked it because there was one part of the book where it was clear that the lead female of the pack had as much power as the male leader. And in other books, there were female pack leaders as well. But the series became very much about Rachel Morgan, her love life and how she was so special. I read until the last book, but left feeling very unsatisfied as a reader. But this wasn't that bad of an adventure! I especially loved Jenks in this book. Jenks is one of my favorite characters in the entire series. This was "his" book so to speak.

4. Moon Called by Patricia Briggs

Mercedes Thompson is part Native American, part mechanic and all coyote shifter. When a scruffy werewolf teen ends up at her auto shop looking for a quick job and a place to sleep, she helps him because of the werewolves that raised her. When his dead body ends up on her doorstep. She goes looking for who killed him and ends up getting entangled again with the man she thought she loved and had to leave them to get away from it all.

Moon Called was a promising first book, some Native American anachronisms aside. (Becca did a better review of this than I ever could.) As far as the series went, since Mercy lived right next door to a werewolf and later ended up dating him (and I won't spoil whether that worked out or not) the books had plenty of werewolf story lines. And if you like your werewolves to be OCD barely controlled anger management monsters controlled by the patriarchy then sure, this is the series for you. Sure, there were times Mercy tried/tries to address the problem of male dominant packs but that doesn't and isn't the focus of the books. Most of the books are how Mercy somehow gets involved in another species like vampire or fae's trouble despite the fact she's a relatively low powered coyote shapeshifter. There's no real reason why Mercy is "special" and everyone wants her, she just is. These werewolves have absolutely no basis in any sort of wolf science. Being the series is so werewolf focused, it started to drive me bonkers after a while. I gave up when another "bad thing" happened to Mercy after 10 books. (The Rape happens in book 3 btw. Just a warning.)

5. Master of Wolves by Angela Knight

Officer Faith Weston, head of the Clarkston PD K-9 department is still reeling from losing her previous dog. She's hoping that an all business front and a new dog will help her move on and keep the attention of her lewd boss away from her. Her new dog Rambo was big and tough and didn't give her any crap. Too bad Rambo was more than he seemed. Jim London, bounty hunter and werewolf, is certain that the murder of his friend Tony has been covered up by the Clarkston police department. There's only one way to find out and that's to go undercover and his dog form is perfect for the job. Faith Weston though is bringing out the animal in him.

Okay, yes, spoiler alert, Master of Wolves is a romance novel. I don't read a lot of these and when I do they tend to be primarily fantasy focused. I've read Terry Spears (one book and no more, no, never again, bad wolf science, BAD,) Thea Harrison and a few others, but Angela Knight was the one I picked up back in 2006 when looking for werewolf novels to read. There are a few moments of "I don't know what Angela Knight was thinking" when it comes to the scenes about Jim being a dog and... thinking like a man hound dog about Faith and later Faith seems okay with it? Maybe it was supposed to be funny but, yeah. 4 of the 9 books in Angela Knight's series focus on werewolves and for the most part they are pretty much very formulaic romance novels and the werewolf pack dynamics were once again patriarchal and based on bad wolf science. Really, it was more the fact that this book was focused on werewolves and solving a mystery and using all the forms that the werewolf had to do it that stood out to me.

Five different books, five different treatments of werewolves, though most are the same "werewolves are monsters" based on no good modern science about wolves. But they each had different facets that got me thinking about how I would write a werewolf focused novel if I ever wrote one. Then I did and it's called The Lone Prospect, available in ebook (3.99) and paperback (7.99) on Amazon.