#t and i was so done with everything that i made some really nasty remarks during lit class that my prof (who was an angel) had to ask me if

[uraandri]

there are a lot of pieces of media that are very memorable to me because of the circumstances in which i engaged with them (like the stranger + seobe mental breakdown combo) and most of the time it's stuff i liked and enjoyed but idk if anything is going to top watching darling in the franxx while sick in bed with the flu. genuinely think it made my fever actively worse and slowed down my recovery

[a-sea-with-no-shores]

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty notes for any other latecomers like me:

I liked the parts of it that I liked very much, including the main relationship. There are a handful of good female characters that rotate in and out. The fight scenes are mostly short and semi-realistic, light on the lightness skills (pun intended) and lacking anything more fanciful than that.

Women in armor, even if it's only a small amount of the time: A+++ (this is in the opening animation; that's not a spoiler).

You should have some tasty food on hand over the course of the series, including at least one bowl of noodles, or you will be Very Sad.

It's set in 1478 CE (the Chinese name is literally 成化十四年, 14th year of Chenghua*). Thus you get what you'd get in a show set in another region in a similar era: nasty attitudes about nations adjoining distant borders, deals made in fancy brothels, etc. etc., and I'm not going to write up all that because I expected it going in. Are there current political aspects involved? Yup. (Like, was that bit about exiling someone to Xinjiang historically accurate? I don't think the Ming actually had control of it well enough for that during this period!) But that all goes over there in the box marked General Historical and Modern Social/Political Problems With Everyone's (Quasi-) Historical Shows Everywhere.

(if you don't want to know ANYTHING more about the show before watching it, don't continue, although I've tried to avoid real spoilers.) *not everything in that article that's stated as fact is accepted as fact, though that should be a given with brief histories of any era whether on Wikipedia or anywhere.

Some things I was NOT expecting:

I was not expecting for Tang Fan to be such a cringey brat. I honestly wasn't sure I could deal with him at first. But underneath the (gestures) everything, as it turns out, he's remarkably strong even in a show full of steel-willed characters. I don't know exactly what caused all the (gestures) everything, but I have some guesses.

Holy shit, so many instances of people ending their own lives! I literally lost count. Generally for "I got caught and there's no way out" reasons but whew. Genre-appropriate but like. A lot. It wasn't triggery to me in the least but if you're bingeing it becomes a little ridiculous. (And there were two instances in which I was mad about it.)

ACAB: One main character is a judge/clerk/DA/public defender, kind of. One is an army veteran/cop/enforcer/investigator, kind of. One is a secret agent/spymaster, kind of. They are all deeply enmeshed in the machinery of power and have different relationships with it, which change over the course of the show. (Though they are all never more than one breath away from being crushed by it.) For the most part the overly idealistic/rigid pair change for the better, though there's a moment of what felt to me like real abuse of power over marginalized people that I think is mostly excused by the narrative as being done in the grip of panic (and love). But it also felt like it was written in a way that indicated there would probably be consequences? If so, they didn't come up. (I'd have to rewatch to really analyze it.)

I meant it about the food.

There are clearly good/evil characters, complex/morally grey/ambiguous characters, and then there's the third main character in this show, who's like ... a third, secret thing. Like, utterly amoral in pursuit of his own ethic? I would not want to live in the same time zone or decade as him.

Unexpectedly, there's a case that involves (sigh) an Autistic EngineerTM. I can't comment on this character or storyline in depth but over several episodes they managed to make the handling of the whole thing both better and worse multiple times. The ending made me mad but I don't know enough about the depiction of autism in Chinese media to say if even this kind of storyline was a positive or negative in that sense.

Actually, for both the above and the handling of Sui Zhou's PTSD, I can't say if the translation made things better or worse. That kind of vocabulary is pretty well beyond me. That said, I don't think "mental illness" is necessarily the best translation every time it showed up in the English subtitles.

Character ages make no goddamn sense. When I try to imagine that Wang Zhi is the age they claim he is, my brain just breaks. (I don't remember how old the real Wang Zhi was during this time period, though since the other two MCs are fictional it doesn't really matter.) I suppose it's a miracle that they let Consort Wan be played by someone who's 3 years older than the actor who played the emperor, even though in real life she was more like 15 years older (I forget exactly).

Gender/crossdressing: One male character wears a woman's clothes/makeup/etc. as a disguise and gets thoroughly laughed at by one other male character (others are surprised or matter-of-fact about it) but it's unclear whether the laughter is deliberate manipulation, mockery, delight, or a more complicated gender thing given who's doing the laughing. There are a couple instances of female or AFAB characters presenting as men as a disguise and/or as their daily life. I think in all of the cases these characters have some degree of agency when there's the inevitable (because it's a drama) revelation. Honestly in one case I was pleasantly surprised because the character continues to present as male. I honestly have no idea what the character's gender turns out to be, which is fine! The subtitles do change their pronouns to feminine but I can't remember from the spoken dialogue if there's any actual change in address.

I've only watched the show once and my memory is not that good so forgive me if I got anything wrong here. None of this is really criticism, just personal observations! I'd like to read the book eventually. (I've already begun to investigate the fanfic. I see that while the show forgot about Tang Fan's side hustle pretty quickly, fic writers certainly didn't lmao)

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - An Older Dramione Story, Part Two

Since folks seemed to like the first part (thank you so much for letting me know, by the way! It’s genuinely quite scary flinging stories into the dusky blue void of Tumblr, especially if you’re relatively new to contributing to a fandom...!!), here’s Part Two.

Premise:

Draco, eight months after becoming a widower, nearly loses his son too in a vicious attack at Malfoy Manor. In the aftermath, while he’s being questioned by the aurors, there’s no one to look after little Scorpius, who just won’t stop howling. In desperation, and remembering how good Hermione had been with his kids, Harry brings the baby up to her office. In the end, the only thing that will calm the child is the soft hum of Hermione’s voice as she sings to him. Of course, that would be how Draco Malfoy finds her, wouldn’t t it? And then, eleven years later, Hermione meets him again and ends up asking him to lunch at the Leaky…

(Warnings in Part One (and in any future chapters) for past Ron/Hermione, and implied infertility. No explicit Ron-bashing, but it’s implied that their relationship couldn’t take the strain and he looked elsewhere. I may develop it later, but it won’t be a Ron-bashing fic. They’re just ultimately incompatible in this universe).

Read Part One here

Part Two - Lunch for Two at the Leaky

___

Hermione, being Hermione, arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just over half an hour before she was due to meet Malfoy there. After getting a large glass of dry white wine from the bar and settling into a table with a view of the doorway, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then delved into her infinite handbag of holding to draw out a book.  

Twenty nine minutes later, a soft snort made her jump, and she looked up, blinking, to find Draco Malfoy towering over her table, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Some things never change, do they Granger?” he said. He was still in that beautiful navy blue suit that fitted him so damned perfectly he could have strolled straight out of the glossy adverts in Witch Weekly, and it made her mouth go unexpectedly dry, and her brain rather blank too.  

Her cheeks flushed and she opened her mouth, but promptly realised she had nothing to say in rebuttal, so closed it again with a click of her teeth and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“You want another one?” he asked.  

“Another book?” she blurted, frowning.  

To her surprise, Malfoy barked a short laugh, silver eyes glinting. “No, Granger,” he said with an odd intonation. “Drink.”

She glanced down at her nearly-empty glass, and pursed her lips. Raising one eyebrow, she turned her face to look at him slightly askance and smirked. “Just what kind of degenerate do you take me for?” she parroted back at him.  

“Of course. The ex-Minister for Magic can’t be seen drinking herself into a stupor at midday with a former Death Eater now, can she?” he sneered, the humour vanishing. “I’ll be right back.”

Blowing the rising tension from her lungs, she hoped this wasn’t going to be a huge mistake and closed her eyes a moment, then returned her book to her bottomless handbag. With nothing to do until Malfoy returned — if he even returned, of course; he could have just bolted for the back door and disapparated — she cursed and fussed with her cuticles until the crisp click of dragonhide leather Oxfords rose above the low lunchtime murmur in the pub.  

“That was ungracious of me,” he said as he sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” she said quickly. “I’m a touch nervous too.”

Malfoy went still at that, but instead of unleashing another snippy comment at her expense, he just twitched his lips and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “To the most unusual of days,” he said, raising his own glass of white. 

She clinked the remnants of hers against his, and added, “And to new beginnings, I think.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “They’ll be just south of Birmingham by now, I suspect.”

“Who will?” he asked after sipping his wine. She half expected him to make some kind of remark about its inferior vintage, but he seemed happy enough with it.  

“The Express,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten dear Scorpius already?” she teased.  

He shook his head. “No. But you’re as hard to keep up with as you ever were, Granger.”

“I don’t recall you ranking too many places behind me, Malfoy. And you beat me in Potions every year bar one, though I rather suspect Snape had a hand in keeping my marks down there…”

He shrugged noncommittally.  

“Which house do you think Scorpius will find his way into?” she asked. “Slytherin like his father?”

“Probably,” Malfoy said ruefully. “He can be a cunning little shit when he wants to be.”

She had to smile at that. “Tell me about him?”

Malfoy sighed and took another sip of wine. “He’s smart,” he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if he thought he might bore Hermione if he said too much about his son.  

“No surprises there,” she scoffed playfully. “Is he a future seeker too, or do the similarities end with the brains?”

A very slight flush blossomed on Malfoy’s ice-white cheeks. “I didn’t know you even remembered I played quidditch, Granger.”

Her eyebrows rose and she tried not to snort wine out of her nostrils. Malfoy had looked devastating in his quidditch kit as he’d grown into it, not that she’d ever admitted that to anyone. He’d been a right arse too back at school, no matter how beautiful his own had looked in his flying gear, so her admiration then had been purely aesthetic. “Yes, Malfoy,” she sighed. “I do remember that. I also remember the Slytherin team being quite the thorn in our side for most of our time there…”

He hitched a lopsided smirk and took a sip of wine.  

The way he held the glass in long, steady fingers made her core heat slightly and she had to look away. The reaction took her off-guard. It had been years since she’d felt even the slightest flicker of sexual attraction for anyone.  

“Are you admitting that we were actually good, Granger?”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes and shook her head, causing a cascade of curls to tumble into her face like an avalanche set off by the merest touch. Shoving it all back out of her eyes, she said, “Much as I’d like to say it was only daddy’s money and a set of fancy brooms that gave you an edge, it wasn’t. Flint was still a dirty rotten cheater, but half of you were pretty darned good. And it doesn’t even take a quidditch player to see that. So how old was Scorpius when you had him on a broom of his own?”

A cloudy look passed over his eyes and he blinked slowly. “Four.”

“Four!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I didn’t plonk him on a broom, slap the bristles, and send it racing off into the middle of Wiltshire with my son and heir alone. He rode in my lap with me until he was seven or so, and even then, I enchanted his broom not to go above five feet. He was furious about that,” he chuckled. “Naturally, he tried everything he could think of to undo the enchantment, but in the end he resorted to getting one of the house elves to undo it. She was devastated when she realised quite what she’d done and came to me immediately.”

Hermione’s lip curled involuntarily at the mention of house elves. “So long as you didn’t make her iron her own hands in punishment,” she said before she could stop herself.  

Malfoy blinked, blanching and obviously taken aback. “No, Granger,” he breathed, and after a long pause he added, “I am not my father.”

The words rang in the air between them and something unpleasantly akin to shame coiled in her belly, soured by the wine on an empty stomach. “Now it’s my turn to apologise for being ungracious,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not your father. I’ve known that for a very long time.”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth to reply, Old Tom shuffled over and stuck some menus under their noses. “You said you was stayin’ for lunch, ma’am, but neither of you’s collected a menu,” he said before disappearing.  

“Ma’am,” she repeated in a stage whisper to Malfoy. “I never got used to that at the Ministry. Makes me sound like some old frump.” A tiny, bitter snort escaped her and she added, “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Granger, please,” Malfoy drawled. “You are anything but an ‘old frump’.”

Drawn up short by the unexpectedly open compliment, she looked at him, lips softly parted.  

“What?” he asked, looking like he thought she might hex his balls off if he moved so much as a muscle. “Surely Weasley must have told you the same thing once or twice? I know the man is about as artless as a grindylow, but…”

The sudden mention of Ron’s name nearly gave her emotional whiplash, and she huffed a tiny laugh. “We’re not together anymore. Surely you heard?”

“I hadn’t,” he said, voice flat. “I’m sorry.”

“You must be the only person in the entirety of Wizarding Britain who missed that then,” she groused, opening the menu and taking in the options without really seeing them. “Rita Skeeter’s nasty little protégée wrote an entire Prophet article on our breakup.”

“I haven’t exactly kept up to date with current affairs,” he said awkwardly, lowering his gaze to the menu.  

“Current? This was eleven years ago, Malfoy.” She fixed him with a wary stare and whispered, “Don’t tell me Ginny was right? You really are a recluse?”

“This would be my first public outing in a very long time, yes,” he said carefully without looking up. “But I do venture forth from my little fortress every so often. I was at Theo’s anniversary do a few months ago.”

“I missed that,” she said. “I was supposed to be there, but Harry had a crisis with his brood. You’d never believe it - there was a cursed photo-frame stuffed behind a piece of panelling in the drawing room at Grimmauld, and Lily managed not only to find it but to activate it. She was stuck inside it for hours and Harry was beside himself, but we got her out and she was alright in the end.”

“Grimmauld,” Malfoy murmured, and his silver eyes rose to meet hers. “My aunt’s family home?”

She nodded and then the knut dropped. “I forgot you’re a Black too by blood.”

His mouth twitched and he nodded. “I haven’t been there since I was a very small child. I’m assuming they redecorated…”

“Thoroughly.”

“Not thoroughly enough,” he quipped. “That awful tapestry still knocking around?”

“God no,” she scoffed. “That was one of the first things to go. Along with the collection of shrunken house elf heads and the troll skull that screamed at you if you got too close to it. There was even a boggart in the basement, if you can believe the cliché. Anyway,” she said, keen to change topics, “You were proving to me that you aren’t a complete hermit. Was Theo’s party really the last thing you went out for?”

He seemed a little bashful as he nodded. “I… I don’t exactly find myself welcome everywhere, even now, Granger,” he said dryly. He’d nearly finished his wine, and when Tom hobbled over to take their food order, he asked for a second glass, in which Hermione joined him.  

“Guess we are degenerates after all,” she said as she met his eyes over the empty table.  

“The people behind you certainly seem to think very little of your choice of prandial company, Granger,” he said flatly, interlacing his long fingers and arching a pale eyebrow.  

Where at Hogwarts he’d had pale, pristine hands, now she saw innumerable scars and nicks across his knuckles, and they were undoubtedly the strong, steady hands of a grown man, with none of the softness of youth. Heat bloomed across her neck and face, and to distract herself she looked over her shoulder to glower at the people shooting them scandalised looks across the dark pub.  

“Screw them,” she muttered. “They have no idea about anything anyway.”

If Malfoy was puzzled by her outburst, he didn’t show it.  

They shared their meal and spoke easily enough about Hermione’s astonishing and unprecedented rise through the ministry, and how she’d cracked one day — the details of which she chose not to divulge — and had quit and decided to open a bookshop instead. “It’s been so much more fulfilling,” she finished, slightly breathless.  

“A bookshop?” he smiled, eyes glittering.  

“I know, I know,” she growled, gesticulating with her dessert spoon in between delicious mouthfuls of Florian’s ice cream which the Leaky now sold. “Could I be any more cliché?”  

With a graceful shrug of one shoulder, Malfoy just said, “I think it suits you. And if it makes you happy, why not?”

“What makes you happy then?” she asked before her brain had caught up with the question. “I mean…” she flushed hot again. “I just wondered what you do up at the Manor all day.”

“Well,” he said evenly around a slice of apple tart, “Until this morning, I largely oversaw Scorpius general education, but I have been involved in a number of other projects here and there too.”

“Projects?”

“Mmm,” he said, but clearly wasn’t in the mood to elaborate and she didn’t press.

“Well, Theo’s having drinks at his place on Friday… you should come.”

“Which place?”  

“He has more than one place? I thought he closed Nott Manor up for good?”

Malfoy smirked. “He has a number of places, Granger.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Well, his usual one here in London, I suppose… He didn’t tell me anything different…” She set her spoon down and sat back. “Merlin, I’m full,” she laughed. “So, will you come?”

“Do you always invite strays to other people’s parties?”

“Do you always deflect social invitations in the hopes that they’ll go away if you ignore them long enough?” she countered with an even stare.  

Malfoy’s spine stiffened a touch at that, but the look which settled onto his face could only be chalked up to respect, and he allowed himself another flinty smile. “Touché,” he said. “Yes, it usually works well enough.”

“Not this time.”

“Evidently,” he said with crisp enunciation. “Fine. I will consider attending.”

She snickered almost childishly at that. “You make it sound like it’s some fancy black tie do that you might condescend to attend if the mood strikes…”

“I don’t know what a ‘black tie do’ is, but I am considering condescending to attend all the same.”

“Fair enough. And a black tie event is a Muggle thing. It’s like dress robes for Muggles.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”  

And with that, their conversation stalled for the first time all afternoon. Hermione looked down at her watch and gasped. “God, Malfoy, it’s been three and a half hours!”  

“I’m surprised you lasted five minutes if I’m honest,” he said quietly.  

She frowned and delved into her handbag again, looking for her coin purse. “You fancy taking a walk to shake all this food down?” she asked, but Malfoy was already shaking his head.  

“Unfortunately, I really should get going. Please, Granger, let me pay for this. It’s been an unexpected pleasure on a day that would otherwise have been very grey indeed.”

His sincerity struck her like a physical blow, and she could hardly respond as Tom came over as if summoned by the clink of money, and Malfoy smoothly left a handful of coins on the tray and told Tom to keep the change.  

“Very well, M’lord,” Tom said, bowing slightly as he left.  

“‘M’lord’?” Hermione asked and Malfoy immediately rolled his eyes.  

“I really wish people wouldn’t call me that. Mercifully it doesn’t happen all that often. I usually find myself on the receiving end of far less gracious epithets.”

“You are a lord though? Your father wasn’t a lord, was he?”

“No. It’s Lord Black, technically. My father had no claim to the title, being a Malfoy, but with my mother’s blood, I inherited the title. Needless to say, I don’t bandy it around if I can help it.”

“I see,” she said, rising from her seat. “Well, thank you for lunch. You really didn’t have to pay though.”

“I know,” he said shyly as he stood with the grace of a lifelong seeker. “Still, it was a pleasure.”

She smoothed her clothes out, trying to avoid feeling like that frumpy old matron beside the lean, tall figure of Draco Malfoy, and pursed her lips. “See you Friday then?”

Before he’d obviously thought about it, Malfoy nodded. “Friday,” he said, and then realised he’d committed himself and laughed softly with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Friday,” he said again.  

Hermione held out her hand to him and he surprised her yet again by taking it delicately in his fingers and raising her knuckles to his lips. The faintest brush of a kiss against her skin set her tingling all over and she nearly gasped, flushing a dark crimson.  

“Good day, Granger,” he said, and stalked from the pub.  

Outside on Diagon Alley’s cobbled streets, he disapparated without looking back.

___

If you liked where it’s going and want to see more, do let me know! Either by reblogging this or sending me an ask.

Part Three

writing masterlist | Ao3

[cdyssey]

Regret

Summary: When Fran doesn't come down to breakfast after spraining her ankle, the whole house is concerned for her—especially Niles and Mr. Sheffield. Set after "An Affair to Dismember."

A/N: Okay, so I've binge re-watched nearly four seasons of The Nanny in four days, and had to get at least one fic out of my system, lmao.

Fran Drescher's acting in "An Affair to Dismember" when she suddenly broke while talking to Maxwell made me sensitive. ;-;

AO3 Link

—

Breakfast is a remarkably boring affair without Miss Fine bursting through the door, raising her arms in a floral robe, and proclaiming, with signature adenoidal stylings, “Good moooorning, everyone!” 

The clink of silverware, the scraping of ceramic plates, the ruffling sound of Mr. Sheffield anxiously attacking the New York Times like a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play has just dropped—all of it is so terribly drab that Niles spends the first fifteen minutes of her pronounced absence coughing loudly in the hopes that his employer will pick up the hint to do something about it.

“Oh, do go get a bloody cough drop, old man,” he finally snaps, smacking his newspaper down on the table. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Sorry, sir,” Niles arches a brow as he refills Mr. Sheffield’s coffee mug. “I have asthma.”

He turns away to replace the coffee pot on the side table.

“And half a mind to kick your tetchy derrière,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that, Niles?”

“Nothing, sir! Just saying thank you for your attentive care.”

“Dad,” Master Brighton thankfully interrupts, “where’s Fran, and what have you done to make her mad this time?”

Niles immediately turns around again in time to see his boss’s shoulders straighten in that way they often do when he’s indignant.

Or guilty.

Or some mixture of them both.

“I beg your pardon, Brighton,” he replies stiffly. “Why do you immediately assume I’m the problem here?”

“Process of elimination,” Brighton shrugs. “Fran’s not mad at me, Maggie, or Grace, and Niles is one of her closest friends.”

“You’re so astute, Master Brighton,” Niles smiles wryly as he moves to the left to get a better view of Mr. Sheffield’s face. The vein in his temple is beginning to throb, which is always a good time.

“She hasn’t dated anyone recently,” Miss Margaret pipes up.

“And she’s always fighting with her ma,” Miss Grace adds, “but that's never kept her from Belgian waffles before.”

“So, Dad,” Brighton grins, patting his father once on the back, “unless our math is wrong, that leaves you.”

“Goodness me,” Mr. Sheffield mutters, angrily stabbing a piece of link sausage with his fork. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of the lost Hardy Boy.”

“So you did do something!” Margaret exclaims. 

“No! I bloody well did not, Nancy Drew. For your information, Miss Fine accidentally hurt her ankle clubbing last night with Val. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ve called a doctor to come by just to check.”

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t offer to pick her up Cinderella-style and swoop her downstairs so she wouldn’t miss breakfast?” Niles asks chidingly, only to be greeted with a nasty glare.

“Yes, I did offer to bring her down to breakfast as a matter of fact... but Miss Fine seemed strangely subdued when I spoke to her through the door... I didn’t know what to make of it to tell you the truth...”

Mr. Sheffield’s brow contracts as he searches Niles’s face for an answer, and Niles stares back just as studiously, observing the profound concern in his employer’s dark eyes.

The gentleness.

The romance.

The stunningly oblivious care.

Niles sighs fondly.

Unlike Miss Babcock, he’s never had the heart to kick poor puppies when they’re down.

“I’ll bring her Advil and a fresh ice pack,” he promises. “Perhaps some pain relief will help her to regain her spirit.”

“I hope so,” Mr. Sheffield replies, self-consciously turning to his plate again, the tips of his ears rather pink. “I hate when Miss Fine isn’t feeling well.”

“Here, here,” the whole table concurs.

—

Twenty minutes later, Niles is at Miss Fine’s door with a silver tray laden with all the essentials: painkillers, an ice pack, a mug of coffee (milk instead of cream and extra sugar), and a copy of the new edition of Gloss. He lightly taps on her door with the side of his loafer.

“Miss Fine, can I come in?”

“No,” comes an immediate and sharp reply. “I’m not dressed!”

“How discouraging,” Niles sighs smilingly. “What ever shall I do?”

“Suff’a, and at least give me a minute to find a brassiere.” 

“Oh, we’ll be here all day then.”

He hears a strange thud, a collection of evaluations (“dirty, dirty, slutty, Maggie’s, dirty”), and an assortment of Yiddish curse words he now vaguely recognizes from being friends with Miss Fine for nearly four years now. And then finally— 

“Come in, Jeeves, but shut the door behind ya ‘cuz I haven’t applied a morning layer of lipstick yet.”

Niles elbows the knob and pushes with his shoulder until the door lights open to a peculiar sight. Far from being neat, Miss Fine’s room looks like Macy’s after its annual Black Friday sale with clothes strewn everywhere—from the dressers to the wardrobes to the floor. An empty suitcase is lying on the bed next to Miss Fine, who is sitting in bed wearing an oversized t-shirt, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow. Niles can tell, even from the doorway, that it’s red and swollen, but to his satisfaction and relief, it doesn’t appear to be broken.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Miss Fine mutters when she notices his incredulous gaze. “We got all the animals out t’day.”

“I can see that,” Niles replies, placing his tray on her bedside table and shutting the door. With his usual efficiency, he then walks back over, retrieves the ice pack, and gently places it on the affected area, frowning when she flinches.

“Mr. Sheffield said that the doctor was coming at ten,” he says as he gently lowers himself onto the bed, clasping his hands primly on top of his lap.

“Mm,” Fran grunts noncommittally, grabbing the two Advil pills and knocking them back with a swig of coffee.

“What? You’re not curious as to whether or not said doctor in question is single, Jewish, and living in a Manhattan penthouse? Miss Fine”—Niles reaches over and places the back of his hand on Fran’s head—“do you have a fever?”

“Oh, Niles,” she swats his hand away, “I’m not in the mood.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

“Niles!”

“Sorry, Miss Fine,” he withdraws his hand with a laugh. “You know I have to warm up before Miss Babcock arrives.”

“Glad to assist,” Fran quips, taking another sip of coffee, and it’s only as she closes her eyes to savor the taste, that he notices there are lines beneath her eyes from what seems to have been a sleepless night. 

The smile sinks from his face.

“You know,” he says quietly, “in all of our acquaintance, I’ve never known of you to injure yourself while dancing.”

Fran opens her eyes only to immediately glance away, tapping her long nails against her mug.

“Val tripped me up when she thought she saw Elton John,” she shrugs dully. “Turns out it was just a really lifelike poster of him behind the bar...”

“I see,” Niles returns, raising a brow. “It was nice of Miss Toriello to forgo her weekend trip with her parents to come back and… boogie woogie oogie with you.”

“Dammit,” she pouts, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t think I’d told you that.”

“You didn’t. I overheard you and Miss Toriello gabbing on the phone about it yesterday morning.”

Fran can’t seem to help herself; she smiles crookedly, even as she shakes her head.

“I dunno who’s more absorbent sometimes—you or the dish sponge.”

He smiles back at her, patting her uninjured leg gently.

“Me, naturally."

"I can believe it, Chatty Cathy," she sighs.

"Now tell me, Miss Fine"—he regains his solemnity quickly, unwilling to let her deflect with jokes—"why does your room look like a tornado went through Loehmann’s?”

Her dark eyes immediately glance around the messy room, as though looking for an excuse and failing to find one.

It’s only now that Niles is sitting down, taking everything in, that he notices that most of the articles strewn about are her favorite clothing items, from her holographic Versace dress to the black tube top that Mr. Sheffield can’t pry his eyes away from every time she wears it.

“I almost did a very stupid thing, Niles,” she half-whispers, looking down into her coffee cup, her fingers tensed and shivering around the handle. “And the thing is, maybe it wasn’t really all that stupid? Maybe it was the smartest thing I could of done in a lifetime of doin’ so many stupid things.”

She pauses briefly before sardonically adding, “People included.”

Though Niles doesn’t have enough dots to connect the full picture, he has what he needs in the way of evidence to get the basic gist: Nigel being in town, the two of them going out, Nigel leaving town, the suitcase, the swollen ankle, and Miss Fine's uncharacteristic melancholy, smeared across her face so sharply that it may as well be lipstick.

He swallows thickly, suddenly grasping how close that they had all been to losing Fran forever.

“Well,” he says, making an effort to hitch an oblivious smile on his face, “isn’t it your mother who says that everything happens for a reason? It seems as though you’re right where you belong.”

“Yeah,” she snorts indelicately. “Twenty-nine multiple times over, single, and livin’ in a mansion with a man who won’t even commit to his meal orders at restaurants, much less his very available and desperate nanny.”

“Beautiful, young, and living in a mansion with three children who love you, a butler who’d be lost without you, and a man who won’t commit to his tie choices either but still cares for you deeply all the same,” Niles corrects her softly. “He was very worried for you when you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning. He didn’t even do the crossword on the Times.”

“Gee,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “how romantic.”

“Very,” Niles grins, “a modern day Romeo—emotional hangups and all.” 

With that, he pats Fran again and stands up; he has no doubt that Mr. Sheffield will be calling for him soon to interrogate him as to Miss Fine’s wellbeing. 

Maybe he can even get C.C. on speaker phone to rub it in her face.

“Y’know, Niles,” Fran smiles at him fondly, “if this whole Mr. Sheffield thing doesn’t work out, we should elope in Vegas in ten yea's.”

“Only if you wear this little number,” he says, bending down and picking up a black cocktail dress from the floor, folding it neatly over his arm.

“You wish you could be so lucky.”

“If we’re going to be in Vegas, anything can happen, I suppose.”

After he retrieves the silver tray from the bedside table, he bends down and kisses Miss Fine lightly on the head, his heart hurting when he notices the way that she closes her eyes beneath the gentle touch—young and vulnerable and terribly hurt by something he can’t quite fix with a well-timed witticism.

“Get some rest, Miss Fine," her murmurs against her head. "I'll check on you a bit."

“Thanks, hubby."

—

Scarcely ten minutes later, he’s down in Mr. Sheffield’s office as per usual, offering the producer a fresh cup of tea even though he had already drunk his traditional two cups at breakfast. 

He insisted, though, on a third, for some excuse he couldn’t quite come up with.

And instead of coming up with an excuse, he immediately asked for all the particulars of Miss Fine’s health.

Predictable chump.

“Thanks, old boy,” Mr. Sheffield frowns, returning to his crossword, tapping the end of his pen arrhythmically against the paper. “Let me know when the doctor for Miss Fine arrives. I want to be there when he checks her over.”

“Ooh la-la-la,” Niles hums, dropping a sugar cube into the tea with a zesty plop.

Mr. Sheffield places his pen down on the desk angrily. 

“Not like that… I just want to ensure she’s going to be well… you know, for the children’s sake.”

“Yes,” he sighs theatrically. “How will the children ever be able to bear their nanny having a twisted ankle?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mr. Sheffield snaps. “I don’t pay you to be sarcastic.”

“No, sir, you pay me to help you with the crossword when you’re missing three-across,” Niles smirks knowingly when he glances down at the incomplete puzzle. “What’s the hint?”

Mr. Sheffield adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose before looking down again.

“A word that means feeling bad for not doing something that you should have done all along. Disappointment. A sense of shame.”

Niles straightens up with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“Oh, sir, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

[morimallow]

SFW/ Fluff Alphabet (Suna Rintarou)

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He is well-aware that he has a salty attitude. Up until now, he still wonders how you can still somehow manage to deal with his shit and stay with him and he adores you for that. Your patience is unfathomable. Whenever he rants about a recent issue regarding him, you can always sound unaffected and not sarcastic when in comes to your responses. He also admires how you respect his privacy and personal space. You would always ask him if he wants to talk about it and when he says no, you'd just stay with him until he's ready or when he gets over it.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Eyes. HE LOVES THE FEELING OF GETTING LOST IN YOUR EYES. It's like he could totally see your feelings for him. He looks at it to know whether or not you're lying, to know if you're joking, and to prepare himself if he sees your eyes getting glossy or maybe he just looks at it because ✨force of habit✨. AND YOUR SQUISHY CHEEKS. He likes to pinch them whenever you're within his reach because.. well, he just wants some sort of physical contact? Plus you're really cute.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Spooning. He doesn't want you to see that faint smile of his after he kisses your hair and shoulder once you settled against him. He loves your satisfied sigh when he lightly rubs your skin, his breathing lulling you to sleep. If you're just chilling on the couch though, he likes to snake one arm around your waist then he starts playing with your tummy like a fidget something.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Classic stay-at-home date. He doesn't want other people to meddle with your time together because he knows for a fact that someone from his team EHEM, TSUM-TSUM, EHEM always goes out and there's this possibility that you'd bump into him with girls swarming around him. Experimenting Osamu's recipes! He loves it when you appreciate things he does. Then after you'd just cuddle while watching horror movies.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

We all know he ain't verbal unless he's spouting insults so he's more into actions. Simple things like holding the door for you, bringing you lunch when it's near exams (he'd sometimes pull you to the cafeteria for a breather), and a silent trip with him walking you to your home. He isn't expressive either so you'd just have to decipher what his feelings are by looking at his eyebrows.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Hush, he maybe low-key probably theoretically might like babies. Doesn't mind if it's a girl or boy, he'd teach them how to roast someone. Plus just the thought of you holding your baby makes his heart go doki-doki. AFTER MARRIAGE, OF COURSE.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He used to think of it as a waste of time and money but now it's more like a way to say he cares about you. He buys you things you need like ink refills when he notices your pen nearly out of ink. He doesn't spoil you that much with material things because he knows you're already satisfied.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

The typical you'd-get-lost-and-it-would-be-hard-for-me-to-find-you-and-it's-too-much-work typa guy when you go out. He does creep his hand towards yours when you're alone but there are also times he just wants to link your pinkies because he finds it cute? Occasionally kisses your knuckles when you take a break from studying. He'd tap his thumb multiple times on the back of your palm before games and you'd tap back two times as a good luck.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If it's a minor one and he can just patch it up, he'd be silent, just making one-word commands as he takes care of you. Once done, he'd call you stupid can't you say “be careful next time” like a normal person and kiss your forehead after flicking it. If it's an accident in school, he'd be the one to take you to the clinic or if he's out, he'd have your friends reporting to him.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

YOU WOULDN'T REALIZE IT'S A JOKE. He considers himself funny though because his team laughs when he insults the twins but he realizes it's different with you. It's kinda like this: he asks you a question with his usual serious face, “What do you call a pony with a cough?” Silence. “A little hoarse.” He'd suppress his laugh because he really thinks it's funny but you just give him an unimpressed look.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Light. Feathery. Ones. On your forehead, nose, cheeks after he pinches it, side of your mouth. Even his pecks feel like one, long, passionate kiss. Keeps his kisses short and simple unless you show him signs of you-know-what. Likes to kiss the back of your head while he squishes your face with one hand.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Hugs. Plenty of them. It's a way of saying you're safe with him and he won't do anything to hurt you. Smothers you with kisses from time to time when he feels like you need reassurance. He takes care of you. He leaves a glass of water on your bedside table so you wouldn't have to walk in the dark.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

That time after one of the games when you came up to him and shamelessly kissed him in front of the whole team. He was frozen like the rest of them and they swore they saw him smile a bit as you smile up to him while playing with his hair.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Fears that one day, he won't hear your satisfied sigh when you're settled against him. That would mean he's not your safe space anymore and you already tired and uncomfortable.

O = Oddity (what quirk/s do they have?)

He likes to believe that cracking knuckles can release stress. After an argument, whenever he studies, he cracks his knuckles.

He says ‘I love you’ back ALWAYS. He's always conveying his feelings through actions so the least he could do is to reply to your I love you's. Even if he's already near dream land, he'd still say it back.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He usually sticks with “oi” but ehem, he likes to call you by sickly.. icky.. weak-to-the-knees endearments with that hot voice of his HAVE YOU HEARD HIM IN EPISODE 14 I WAS SCREAMING. He saves the darling, sweetheart, honey, boo when it's just the two of you but calls you by your cute nickname followed by baby when he wants to flaunt you.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

NAP DATES. NAP DATES. NAP DATES. NAP DATES. NAP DATES. NAP DATES. NAP DATES. YOU'RE HIS CHARGING STATION. YOU. ARE. HIS. REST. MAKING BULALO (I think it's called beef bone marrow stew in English???) IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT JUST BECAUSE. Drowsy kisses just because also. (╥﹏╥)

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

The Simple Things by Michael Carreon because... just listen to it.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

ABSOLUTE TRUST. Y'all are faithful and respect each other's privacy. If he doesn't wanna talk about it then no. If he does, then you'll listen. If you ask him something that's been bothering you like seeing him and one of his classmates walking through the school gates together while you're outside waiting, he'll explain. No arguments. He knows you're there for him and you know he won't tell you anything if he knows he can handle it himself. You're fine. He's fine.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Probably 2-3 months? He was whipped when you snapped at him. Man, his mind was blank. No rebuttals. Took him a week to confess to you then y'all started dating but you made it official by attending one of his games.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He'll buy you your comfort foods. Lightly squeezes your shoulder while you rant about the reason you're upset. OVERALL, HE WON'T TALK BECAUSE THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND YOU ALONE. Would probably do everything you make him do because you're upset. Keeps his nasty remarks when you're feeling better.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Either he won't talk about you or presents you to everyone with a smug look on his face, he's never in between. He is rather proud about you and your achievements because he's seen you through the process of it all. PROUD BOYFRIEND.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

If it's a physical fight, he'd fight behind you because he knows you can handle it. If some bastard harasses you, he'd fight for you. If it's a mental battle, he'd fight beside you. He knows you're strong but that doesn't mean you have to go through it alone.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Very, very well. Slight movement of your eyebrows and he knows you're uncomfortable. When you bite your lower lip, he knows you're gonna cry. With simple hand gestures, he knows you're hiding something. He's just very observant and he wants you to know that he knows what you're implying without even a word. One smirk, and you're pranking Atsumu the next second.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Asks you to marry him out of the blue. On your couch. With matching fuzzy socks, fox slippers, and satin pyjamas. While sipping on your hot beverage. Honestly so sweet, you can't change my mind.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Your gentle hand on his cheek and your soft gaze. Plus ice pops.

NSFW Alphabet (Suna Rintaro)

M. List

[mrsbarnes99]

The meaning of age and time

Pairing: Modern!CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are in a happy relationship but the comments of others about your agepap get to him and he starts wondering if you two are really suited for each other.

Warnings: Angst, big agegap (Reader is 23 and Bucky is 40)

Word Count: 1853 words

A/N: Here's a little one shot I came up with. I hope you like it. This is my first try at writing something and English is not my first language so please be kind.

You and Bucky had been together for almost a year and you‘ve never been happier in your life. He was the kind of boyfriend every girl hoped for: loving, charming, caring, funny and a bit dorky. But although you two were very in love and had been living together for a few months, there was one aspect that seemed to cause more and more problems. At first you never thought much about your agegap because you didn‘t deem it a problem in any way. But there had been situations in which you felt like Bucky was having some issues with the fact that you are significantly younger than him.

You first noticed it a couple of weeks ago when you two went out for some coffee in the afternoon.

Eversince the new cupcake shop down the street from your apartment had opened you wanted to try it out. So one Sunday you convinced Bucky - by convincing you mean giving your boyfriend a serious case of puppy dog eyes - to go there after taking a walk together. Bucky had always loved these little dates the two of you would go on practically all the time as Sam would say. This time though you noticed that Bucky was uncomfortable and kept glancing at everyone around you. Almost as if he was checking if they were looking at you two.

"Buck, if you don‘t want to stay we can take some cupcakes back home."

You were very surprised about the relief on Buckys face after telling him this but you figured that he was just exhausted and wanted to relax at home after a grueling week at work. Especially because everything seemed fine again once you had left the shop.

The second time that Bucky was all of a sudden in a bad mood was when Sam kept teasing Bucky with his "old age". Normally Bucky would just roll his eyes and start making jokes about Sam as well. Sometimes they would get so competitive that it almost seemed like a match. But this time Bucky just blew up.

"Y/N, grandpa here is really turning you into a homebody. When was the last time you went to a club with us?"

"I canceled one t-" "What is your problem Birdbrain!? Can‘t you just mind your own damn business for once?" You were shocked at how angry Bucky was and that he‘d just interrupt you like that.

"Cool it, Buckaroo or you might have a heart attack." Sam kept mocking. While glaring at him Bucky got up from his chair and then just stomped out of the café and back to his office. You and Sam just looked at each other confused. Neither of you understood why this would bring such a reaction out of him. After giving Bucky some time to calm down you went looking for him but he didn‘t go back to his office as you had presumed. So you went to his assistant and asked her where Bucky went to. "He left to see Mr. Rogers in his office to go over some contracts, Ms. Y/L/N."

You weren‘t sure if you should go up to Steve‘s office or not but decided to just knock and see if they were almost done. As you were standing infront of Steve‘s door you heard Bucky‘s voice "You don‘t understand Steve! I just don‘t know how to ignore it!" What was Bucky talking about? Ignore what? You were curious and kept on listening to their conversation.

"It was never a problem before. What changed?" "You just don‘t get it, Steve! Do you know how weird it is to feel how everyone around is watching you thinking what does he want with her? Can‘t he find someone his age? That poor girl he‘s probably just using her to feel young again. Why are they together they have nothing in common?" You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Why didn‘t Bucky tell you about his feelings concerning the agegap the two of you have? You decided it was better to go back to Bucky‘s office and wait there until he comes back to talk about everything. You didn‘t have to wait long. Bucky was back half an hour later and seemed to be in a better mood but once he saw your sad face he got concerned. "What happened, doll? Have you been crying?" "No. Actually, yes a bit." "Why?" Bucky sat down beside you and pulled you towards himself hugging you. "Ms. Romanoff told me you were with Steve so I went to his office and I overheard you guys talking. When were you going to tell me that my age bothered you so much?" You could see that Bucky was struggling thinking about how best to answer your question.

"Look, doll. I have always known that our relationship would raise some brows but that never bothered me until I heard some women talk about us." "When was that?" "That day at the cupcake shop." "So that‘s why you wanted to leave. But why does it bother you when someone you don‘t even know thinks it‘s ok to judge us?" "I didn‘t want it to bother me this much but I couldn‘t help but keep thinking about it. They did have some points..." "Such as?" You asked annoyed. "For example the fact that you‘re at an age where you like to go out an party on the weekends instead of chilling at home. Or that I‘m at an age where you settle down and start a family whereas that’s still in the far future for you. We‘re just in two very different places." "So do you feel this way too or have you just started thinking about this after hearing someone make these stupid remarks about us?" Bucky looked you deeply in the eyes, sighed and then kissed you on your forehead. "I‘m sorry, doll. I guess I just got too in my head with all this. I don‘t think that we‘re a bad match or not suited for each other just based on our age. I love you and I‘m very happy that you're my girl." "I love you too Buck. But promise me that you‘ll talk to me if something like this happens again ok?" "I promise, doll. What do you say to a movie and some Pizza tonight? So we can leave this all behind and spent some time together." You smiled at Bucky and gave him a kiss before grabbing your back and making your way back to the little clothing store you had started with Y/F/N a couple of years ago.

Now looking back at these two small incidents you wonder if you missed the signs which led to the big fallout you and Bucky had yesterday. When you came back to the apartment after work you were exhausted. Today just hadn‘t been your day. It started with an unfriendly customer and ended with a fashion magazine describing your stores latest clothes as boring and nothing new or exciting. You couldn‘t wait to just snuggle up to your boyfriend and forget about everything. But upon unlocking the door to your shared apartment it was like you entered an alternate dimension. There was a suitcase next to the door and you heard your boyfriend rummaging in the bedroom.

"Do you have to leave for a business meeting?" You asked confused, wondering if you forgot about something he mentioned. Bucky looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "Buck, what is going on? Did I forget about something?" You were starting to feel very agitated and uncomfortable like you already knew something bad was about to happen. "Look, Y/N, I think we‘ve been living in our own little world all this time but we just can‘t ignore the real world forever." "What do you mean?" You were shocked and heartbroken. Was Bucky really breaking up with you? And since when did he call you by your name? Normally he would refer to you by cute nicknames, mostly he would call you doll so much that his friends at first thought that that was your name. "It‘s just... you‘re too young for me. You're practically still a kid wanting to live their dream by trying to create a fashion brand with an itty bitty store. Whereas I‘m a cofounder of a well established firm who wants to start a family. We‘re in two different places in life and it‘s just not working. I mean your only 23 and I‘m in my forties. I need someone my age who I can marry and start a life with and you still have a lot to experience before you‘re able to settle down. You‘ll just resent me later on if I force you to grow up faster than you‘re supposed to." You were feeling numb. Too shocked to do or say anything. You only realized that you were crying once you saw the teardrops hitting your jacket that was folded over your arm.

"You can stay in the apartment as long as you need to find another place to stay. I‘m flying out to a conference and once I get back I‘ll move into my old condo." "So that‘s it. You suddenly decided to end it all over some comments other people you don‘t even know made? Don‘t I mean anything to you? I thought you loved me. How can you just throw it all away?" Bucky looked you in the eyes but you couldn‘t recognize the man you‘d fallen for anymore. His eyes were cold and detached like you were some nasty insect he wanted to get rid of. "Don‘t make this any harder on yourself. The faster you come to the realization that we never would have worked anyway the better. If you would be so nice as to let me leave now, I have a flight to catch that I can‘t miss because of your childish behavior. In the next couple of days someone is coming by to get the rest of my clothes. Oh and before I forget, here take this back it must have been expensive and you need the money more than I do." With that he gave you back the Rolex you had gifted him to his 40th birthday. You‘ve never felt so insulted „Really!? Is breaking my heart not enough for you? Do you have to insult me as well!? You can keep it. What should I do with it? I can‘t return it...remember it‘s engraved you egoistic, conceited asshole!" With that you shoved the watch back in his hand and ran off to the guestroom and looked it. A few minutes later you heard Bucky leaving the apartment and you.

Sitting on the floor you cried your eyes out. You‘ve never felt heartbreak like this before. Bucky had been everything you ever wanted but he just tossed you away like yesterday‘s trash. And the worst is that despite everything he just did and said to you, you‘re still not able to hate him. He still has your heart, sadly he doesn‘t want it no more.

[kermitbread]

did somebody say tsukanene? no? ok here ya go

It's also in my AO3, as always

What a rather confuzzling situation he was in.

Tsukasa didn't know how this whole attachment with Nene began. All he knew was that one day, he decided that maybe he'd give liking his brother's assistant a try.

Certainly it doesn't seem like he wants to stop any time soon.

Did he like her in "that" way, though? Who knows? Amane seemed to feel that way towards her, he can even tell. Why should he be throwing a fit if her attention's all at his older brother and not him sometimes?

Why should he be mad if she smiles at someone else instead of him?

This particular human confused him. She confused him so much. What was it about her that made her so special to Amane, anyway? Besides her shortening lifespan, and those strange looking ankles, everything else about her seemed… average in comparison.

She didn't seem to be disturbed by his oddness anymore. Like that one time he began leaving dead birds around the bathroom for her to find (his own little way of giving gifts). As frightened as she was at first upon finding them, she'd just smile shakily at him before saying,

"Thank you for the present."

That was said so genuinely, he admit it left him unable to comprehend her words. Usually when he'd leave those nasty little gifts to Sakura she wouldn't say a word, but the disturbed look on her face was enough to tell him everything.

Thinking about it was too much hard work, though. Too stressful.

Yet he finds himself thinking about it anyway.

He sat by the rooftop, by the edge, legs swinging back and forth. His face deep in thought, so much that even if his kokujoudai tried to poke him, he wouldn't snap back to reality.

Well, his train of thought came to a halt when the door suddenly opened behind him, along with footsteps.

"Waah, I can relax today for once!" Nene stretched her arms up, a smile on her face. According to Kou, Hanako had gone off to an important meeting with the Seven Mysteries, so it meant she didn't have to clean the toilets today.

She took a whiff of the fresh air, not noticing Tsukasa watching her up from a distance intently. That was, until he decided to deliberately throw himself at her from behind.

"Nene!"

"Eh—Tsukasa-kun?!" She took a moment to balance herself as he stuck onto her back at once. Managing to stay on her feet was a race against time, especially with the twins charging at her with such speed.

"Amane's not with you today? Did he go to those boring meetings again?"

"Yeah, Kou-kun said it was important. What are you doing here all alone, Tsukasa-kun?" Nene took a breather when he finally pulled back, settling for floating right in front of her instead.

He could only shrug. "I wanted to play with Amane but seems like he's out of the picture. He can be so boring sometimes, ya know?" 

"I guess so…" She muttered. "Why not play with your friends at the broadcasting club? Nanamine-senpai seems to have free time."

"Sakura won't play with me. That other guy's not around either. Mitsuba's probably hanging out with that zappy kid. But Nene's here anyway, so it's fine!!" Tsukasa seemed perfectly happy saying those words, which slightly disturbed her.

Despite being polar opposites, there was one thing the twins had in common, and that was they hid a lot of their true emotions deep inside.

They really are brothers, huh?

And so, one thing lead to another, and Nene found herself being accompanied around the school hallways by Tsukasa. She had to stop him from scaring a few unfortunate people here and there with his pranks, although it wasn't as bad as what he'd be prone to do.

"Tsukasa-kun! Don't break the windows!" She tugged at the back of his clothes, dragging him away from her classroom before he could commit another crime.

He laughed, because why wouldn't he? "I wasn't gonna do that! I was gonna break the lights!"

"That's even worse!"

"Yashiro-san?" The voice of her classmate Akane made her stop pulling at Tsukasa and drop him on the floor, making him let out a noise as he collided downwards.

Akane took one look at her, then at Tsukasa, then at her again. He wasn't one to judge that much, but Nene hung out with the strangest people, apparition or not. And he wasn't blind either, as he was perfectly aware that this boy next to her wasn't the Honorable No. 7.

"You're Honorable No. 7's brother, aren't you?"

Tsukasa grinned at that, pointing at himself. "That's right! And I think you're that clockkeeper guy! Amane's told me all aboutcha!" Cue some useless rambling that seemed to go on forever and ever.

"Yashiro-san, you get involved with a lot of weirdos, you know that?" Akane ignored Tsukasa and turned back to Nene, who grimaced at his remark.

"I can… see that." She gritted out. It wasn't easy being her at all.

Finally stopping his chattering, Tsukasa blurted out, "Hey, aren't you also that guy who has a crush on that girl? Aoi? Yeah, she looks like an elementary school kid more than anything."

Akane's mood suddenly turned sour, and Nene feared for the worst. "What did you just say, you stupid little brat?"

Tsukasa, upon seeing his darkening face, smirked. "I said what I said, four-eyes."

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no. Nene chanted in her mind. Why did Tsukasa have to provoke him?! When it came to her best friend, Akane wouldn't hesitate to send you to your doom if you made one wrong move.

"It seems… you want to experience a second death. I don't care if you're Honorable No. 7's brother, no one insults Ao-chan like that and gets away with it." Even in his civilian form, Nene could feel the strong aura of power coming from the redhead.

She had to stop him before things could get worse!

Why isn't Tsukasa-kun moving?! He could get hurt! Oh, come on!

"S—"

Akane was just about to bludgeon the ghost to oblivion when—

"—STOOOOPPP!!!'

Nene had forced herself in the middle of the two boys, arms spread outwards, shielding Tsukasa from the angry Akane. The redhead stopped in his tracks, blinking owlishly at her.

"Eh—Yashiro-san?! Why'd you get in my way? I'm trying to defend Ao-chan's honor!"

"You seriously need to calm down, Akane-kun!" She shouted. "Tsukasa-kun was only joking around! He didn't mean anything he said!"

"I absolutely did—" Tsukasa didn't even get to finish his sentence when Nene clamped a hand on his mouth, shutting him up.

With a deep breath, she continued, "Maybe you need to learn how to differentiate a joke and a serious sentence next time."

Akane stared at her for a moment, then sighed, rolling his eyes. "I dunno what's with you defending the disaster twins so much. You're crazy, you know that, Yashiro-san?"

You're the one to talk!

"But, it seems that I gotta let it go for now. I won't be merciful to you next time, you shrimp." Akane narrowed his eyes at Tsukasa, in which the ghost responded by sticking his tongue out mockingly.

By the time the boy left, Nene let out a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders loose from the tension. It was a good thing Akane had made the decision to stop or the bloodshed would have been horrifying to witness.

Why was hanging around with Tsukasa becoming more like a babysitting job?!

She started to pity Sakura a lot more now.

"Maybe we should also work on your communication skills, Tsukasa-kun." She managed to drag herself to the girl's bathroom, hoping Hanako was finally done with his meeting and she could get some peace of mind.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn't around yet, as the two of them were met with an empty bathroom with nothing but Mokke playing a match of hanafuda among themselves.

She resist the urge to groan, walking by the window and sitting on the floor next to the Mokke. Tsukasa had been strangely quiet since their trek to his brother's domain, which was unusual of him.

In fact, he had been looking quite concerning. A look of melancholy that mirrored that of Hanako's, but at the same time didn't seem to belong on his face.

"You know what?" He had spoken up from out of nowhere, startling her a bit. A Mokke in his hand, he sat by her side, pulling on the creature's ears like a stretchy toy.

"I've never been with someone this long before. Amane usually plays with me a lot, but he'd always be busy again before I know it."

He didn't notice how Nene looked surprised at that, as apparent to her widening eyes, mouth parting a little. So she was right, after all.

She turned her gaze down to her hands. An awkward silence hung around the bathroom for a while, as she began racking her brain with various thoughts. Sure, Tsukasa was a force to be reckoned with, but even ghosts like him felt a little lonely.

And even ghosts like him needed a little bit of cheering up sometimes.

Nene didn't even know why, but she did it anyway.

"—!!" Tsukasa didn't have time to process what was happening, as soon as he felt her tug on the front of his shirt and pull him to the side.

His eyes became wide as he finally realized what she was doing.

It was a quick peck on the cheek, but he could still feel the sensation of her lips on his skin, even if it was only for a second.

No sound escaped his mouth, as he remained uncharacteristically silent, frozen like a statue.

Nene let him go, feeling flustered and shy in front of him all of a sudden. Who wouldn't be? She just kissed him on the cheek out of all people!

"I—I just thought… you needed some cheering up, t-that's all!"

He didn't reply, nor made eye contact. As Nene tried to get his attention, the door of the bathroom opened, and Kou stepped in.

"Senpai! Hanako's done with his meeting! He's calling us by the rooftop!"

"Oh—right! I'll be right there!" Brushing the imaginary dirt off her uniform, she rushed over to Kou, but not before turning to the dazed Tsukasa on the floor and waving her hand.

"I'll see you later, Tsukasa-kun!"

By the time the bathroom door closed, Tsukasa blinked back to his senses. The Mokke surrounded him, quite curious about his sudden change of attitude.

For what seemed like the first time in a long while, he couldn't deny that she had just made his heart race.

He tilted the edge of his hat downwards, lips pressed in a thin line, as he desperately tried to hide the growing redness escaping his cheeks.

Yashiro Nene confused him so much. So, so much.

[bestworstcase]

farran rereads lost lagoon: chapters 5-6

- mixed feelings about eugene’s first impressions of cassandra here. on the one hand, she did make a snide remark about him being a thief, which must sting when he’s already making an active attempt at self-improvement and attending classes in criminal justice. this isn’t tts eugene - who spends 6-7 months loafing around the palace basking in luxury until cass drags him for being self-absorbed and lazy. this eugene has a work ethic and seems to feel some actual responsibility regarding his new role as rapunzel’s consort. it’s not fair for cass to make a snap judgment about him based on his past and decide to be rude to him because of it.

on the other hand… he and rapunzel did just barge into her space against her will and her subsequent prickliness was reasonable, which eugene doesn’t seem to have any awareness of. and taking into consideration the likelihood that this cass is supposed to be about 17 while eugene is an established adult, that isn’t a fun vibe.

- sort of amused by the role reversal of eugene, in the licensed fanfic cassunzel s1 au, is the one who introduces rapunzel to the library. i guess the key to unlocking rapunzel’s romance option is to not show her the books. but also, why is eugene the one showing her around lol

- did he steal from the coronan palace so much that he just knows where everything is

- the dialogue in this chapter is… hm

“You can take these books back to your room if you want,” Eugene said.

“I can?” I said, staring at the stocked shelves around me.

“I think I’ll open a window,” Eugene said. “It’s a little musty in here.”

like what’s going on here? is this a dialogue bug introduced by spot editing that didn’t get patched before publishing? does eugene have adhd? is this a romance novel™ thing to demonstrate that while eugene and rapunzel talk to each other plenty they’re not on the same wavelength to such an extent that raps asks a question and eugene responds with a complete non-sequitur, which will be contrasted with how completely rapunzel and cass ‘click’ together later? hello?

- one point in favor of the romance novel™ theory is that immediately after this eugene conks out instead of sharing in rapunzel’s discovery and exploration of the library and it is implied he is having a fun flynn rider dream ie he’s lost in his own fantasies and oblivious to rapunzel’s. symbolism!

- anyhoo, this is when the plot device of the ‘lost lagoon’ book of poems turns up. i will say that, having spent the better part of my teen years working in an actual library, it beggars belief to say that a book got shoved behind other books in a popular section (sports) by mistake and got left that way for so long that dust blooms out of it when it’s finally cracked open again; likewise, anyone who attempted to intentionally hide the book this way is an idiot. my dude, you are in a palace riddled with secret passageways. maybe hide the secret book there?

like it’s not even well-hidden. rapunzel pulls out one (1) book from the sports section and immediately spots it. which also just feels dumb. like… there’s a million other ways this book could have been hidden. inside another book would have been more believable. rapunzel rips a bone-dry book of census records off the top shelf because she’s insatiably curious about corona’s people and surprise! it’s got this slim little book of poetry crammed inside it. like ??? i know it’s juv fic but make an effort

- coronans canonically speak english according to this i’m die

- rapunzel hides the book from arianna just… because, and i can’t help but feel this is another case of anxiety written by someone who doesn’t quite get it. she’s ‘just not ready’ to share this book of poems that means absolutely nothing to her yet except that she thought it sounded pretty.

but like. this girl grew up with gothel, who made a habit of belittling her interests, thoughts, feelings, and desires. everything rapunzel had she had because gothel deigned to give it to her, and anything she valued could have been snatched away just as easily. in the film it’s made clear that rapunzel hides pascal’s entire existence from gothel, and while the reason for this isn’t spelled out, it’s clear to me that she was afraid gothel might hurt or get rid of pascal should she learn of his existence. so, like. this is all a recipe for rapunzel having this general anxiety about things being taken for her and with this fear being linked to mother figures it makes sense that arianna would tend to trigger it especially. there is a perfectly obvious, understandable reason for rapunzel to be terrified of sharing anything she found by herself and sees value in or is excited about with her new mom, even if she knows rationally that arianna would never take it from her.

as it is, it really comes across more as an arbitrary plot device to keep the lagoon a cassunzel-only thing.

- there’s a lot of odd characterization decisions in this book but i think rapunzel being resistant and reluctant with regards to the idea of having a human companion is probably the weirdest. ??

- arianna feels like she’s characterized the way a lot of fanworks characterize her, i.e. the authorial mouthpiece who (in the case of cassunzel fic specifically) overtly ships cassunzel and does things to facilitate that relationship. don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see her doing stuff at all, but… i dunno, i find this brand of arianna doing things just a little wearying. let her just be her own character.

- implication is that arianna and the captain agreed that cass would be rapunzel’s lady-in-waiting, arianna okays this with rapunzel and then tells rapunzel to announce it to cassandra at this public holiday feast. with no prior warning. wow. i think the kindest possible reading here is that the captain has been telling arianna that cass would be delighted and honored to receive this position and arianna assumes he’ll give cass a heads-up as a courtesy beforehand, but that paints the captain in a pretty bad light on account of him lying and essentially manipulating the queen in order to force his teenage daughter to accept this huge responsibility that she vocally does not want. in any case, absolutely nobody involved in this shitshow gives a damn what cass wants.

- lagoon comes in hard with the saporian!cass symbolism l o l. rapunzel reads a saporian poem out loud, not knowing what it means but loving the sounds, while daydreaming about becoming friends with cass.

- arianna seems to genuinely believe cass will be thrilled to have the lady-in-waiting gig sprung on her, which seems to lend credence to the theory that cap has been talking it up as something cass wants. or the intention here is to paint arianna as an out of touch noblewoman, but i don’t think that’s what howland was going for. i don’t know, it’s an odd conversation.

- eugene calls cassandra “sport” lmfao

- lagoon cass has never read a book in her life, apparently

- i don’t want to keep harping on this too much but it keeps leaping off the page at me; cass’s behavior throughout this dinner scene really just bleeds teenagerhood. eugene and rapunzel both make actual stabs at conversation by asking her about things they know she’s interested in, and cass brushes them off/stonewalls them. in tts, on the other hand, cass is actually pretty open to deep conversations with both rapunzel and eugene—it’s just that they never. ask her about herself. eugene goes 6-7 months before he asks cassandra a personal question in cassandra vs eugene, which if i remember right is the only time he asks her a personal question. rapunzel gets very invested very fast in becoming friends with cassandra, but she does it by strong-arming cass into being her partner in a contest, and when cass decides to open up to her it isn’t in response to rapunzel asking her things. the dynamic is totally different.

- actually now that i think about it - lagoon cass feels a lot like the cranky new dreamer version of cass (you know, the flavor of new dream fans who resent cass for ‘being mean’ to eugene, ‘being controlling’ of rapunzel, and ‘stealing’ eugene’s narrative spotlight). this cass is rude, she does come off as a bit spoiled and very bratty, she is nasty to eugene for no good reason, and while i do sympathize with her on the grounds of her evidently being a child i don’t find her to be especially likable or compelling as a character. if cass acted like this in tts i think the cranky new dreamer contingent of the fandom would have a much stronger leg to stand in - especially if she was still supposed to be 22.

like… this:

“So,” Eugene said, distracting me. “What’s it like to be the daughter of the captain of the guard? You obviously have a thing for weapons.”

“So,” I said.

“Have you been training since you were a little kid?” Eugene pressed on. “Do you have friends in the castle?”

“No,” I said. “Who needs friends?”

“Jeez!” Eugene muttered while Rapunzel whispered with the queen. “I don’t need just any icebreaker here, I need a pickax.”

I rolled my eyes.

this is way more interest in cass as a person than eugene shows in tts… like ever. at this point, eugene has met cass ONCE for a few MINUTES and he already knows more about her than he does in cassandra vs eugene, after six or seven months of frequent contact. yet cass scoffs and gives him monosyllabic answers and radiates way more hostility for way less reason than she displays even in tangled before ever after. i think eugene is totally justified in going, yeesh, what’s this kid’s deal?

- rapunzel goes straight from “i’d like you to be my lady-in-waiting” to “you’re my new lady-in-waiting!” without waiting for cass to answer. and i mean, at this point it is a done deal, queen’s orders and all, so i can’t hold this against rapunzel at all. but man, the adults involved in this decision sure aren’t concerned at all about making sure rapunzel learns how boundaries and consent works.

How was I going to train? How was I going to live the life I was born to live?

Fury heated my blood as I stared down the moon.

heh.

i wonder how much howland knew regarding the planned villain arc, because on the one hand lines like this are drenched in foreshadowing, and she’s done a much better job establishing cassandra’s belief in destiny than tts did. but on the other, had she known about the gothel twist, she would surely have known that cassandra is several years older than rapunzel, and that doesn’t square with how cass… acts.

this is half-remembered hearsay so take it with a grain of salt, but i seem to recall something about cass, in her original conception, being younger than rapunzel (and also aware of her parentage, and secretly villainous all along). could howland have been working from information given to her during the transitional stage between that proto-cass and tts cass? that would explain a lot.

- the last paragraph of 6 is the most effective passage in the book thus far:

This was a decision that had bars around it. I couldn’t protest without falling out of favor with the king and queen, and then there would be no way I’d ever be allowed in the guard. I couldn’t argue my way out of this with my father. A royal assignment was the final word. My fate had been sealed. I fell to my knees and stifled a scream.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Fiery Flirtation

I figured that I would have a go at write for a different fandom besides Game of Thrones, and my friend chose Star Trek. I decided to write for Chekov because he is adorable. I don’t own the characters or the gif.

Description: Chekov meets the reader during her first day on the Enterprise. He is taken aback by her engineering skills, and Scotty helps him plan the perfect way to ask the reader on a date. However, their plan goes up in flames.

Warnings: none, just fluff

“Mr. Chekov, can you please report down to engineering? Scotty says that he needs to see you,” Kirk ordered from his spot in the captain’s chair.

Chekov turned around, confusion etched on his face. “Sir, why would Scotty need to see me?”

“He didn’t say. Maybe he needs you to fix something.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Captain.”

The last time that Chekov was in engineering, several things went wrong, so the odds of him being called down there to fix something were slim to none. There had to be some other reason. Chekov rose from his seat, and headed towards the elevator. The whole time he was wondering about what he would find on the other side of the elevator doors.

When he left the elevator, he was greeted by none other than Scotty himself. He turned around and smiled at the Russian. “Hello, lad! I have someone I want you to meet.”

Scotty escorted Chekov further into the engineering bay. Eventually, they reached the back corner, where a woman was working on a bundle of wires. Scotty cleared his throat to get the woman’s attention. She stopped her work and removed a pair of large goggles from her face. The woman smiled at the two men as she put her tools down.

“Y/N, this is Chekov. He’s a navigator here on the Enterprise. Chekov, this is Y/N. She’s one of our new engineers, and a bloody good one at that,” Scotty said as Y/N stepped forward to shake Chekov’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chekov. Good to finally meet someone who isn’t super old,” Y/N remarked.

“Hey! I’m not that old,” Scotty retorted. His reply earned a laugh from Y/N. Chekov would have laughed, but he was to distracted by the woman in front of him. Her laughter sounded like music to his ears, and her E/C eyes still managed to sparkle in the dim lighting.

“So, what are you working on,” Chekov asked as a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“Nothing much really. I just had to replace a few capacitors, but they can be a bit difficult to reach. See, you have to get through all of these tiny wires, and if you touch or cut the wrong one, you’re in for a nasty shock,” Y/N explained as she gestured towards the large mass of wires.

“T-That’s very interesting,” Chekov stuttered as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I agree, and who knows, maybe you’ll be able to show me where you work sometime.”

Chekov simply nodded his head, for if he tried to form another sentence, it would sound like pure gibberish. He quickly said goodbye to Y/N, and started to head back towards the elevator. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as he left. Despite only meeting him a few minutes ago, she was attracted to him. Y/N went back to work, and Scotty ran to try and catch Chekov.

“Hey,” Scotty said as he placed his hand on Chekov’s shoulder and turned him around, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I think I’m needed back up on the bridge. I have been gone a while,” Chekov replied as he tried to get into the elevator. However, Scotty’s grip on his shoulder remained firm.

“Are you sure there’s not another reason why you are wanting to leave?”

“Well, Y/N is a very amazing woman. I didn’t want to embarrass myself any further. We’ve only just met, and I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.”

Scotty couldn’t help but smirk at the Russian whiz kid. He knew exactly what was going on. “Come now, you don’t have to be so shy about it! If you like her, why don’t you just say so!”

“Please, keep your voice down,” Chekov exclaimed.

“Well, Y/N’s not going to be single forever. You’d best make a move soon before it’s to late. Maybe you could buy her some flowers and ask her on a date.”

Chekov pondered the idea. He would love to spend an evening with Y/N, but would it be to sudden? What happens if she rejected him and only remembered him as the guy who tried and failed to ask her out? Then again, she could easily say yes. Chekov slowly nodded his head. “Flowers. I can do that.”

Scotty couldn’t help but cheer. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Chekov simply smiled as he entered the elevator and headed back up to the bridge. His face felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t get Y/N out of his mind. After Chekov left, Y/N walked around the corner and stood beside Scotty.

“What was all the yelling about? Did I miss something exciting,” Y/N asked.

“Oh don’t worry lass. You’ll find out tomorrow,” Scotty said with a knowing look. Y/N was quite confused as to what was going on, but she would just have to wait and see what Scotty was referring to.

The following day, Chekov was once again heading to the engineering bay. He made sure to clean his uniform the night before, and he bought the best bouquet of roses he could find. He was feeling more confident than the day before, and there was no way that the plan could go wrong.

However, as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, a firey ball launched past him. He managed to dodge it in time, and he let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t relieved for long though, for the red roses were now a bright shade of orange as the flowers slowly burned to a crisp. Chekov quickly threw the bouquet onto the mental floor, and stamped out the remaining flames. As he looked at the onyx flakes that now blew up into the air, Scotty ran up to him.

“I am so sorry, Chekov. This new machine we have has been malfunctioning all day. I was hoping to have it fixed before you arrived, but you came sooner than I thought. I’ll buy you a new batch of flowers and everything will be fine,” Scotty rambled as he tried to sweep up the ashes.

“Why would he need flowers,” Y/N asked as the two men looked at her. Scotty pushed Chekov forward, and what little confidence he had disappeared.

“Well you see, I was going to bring you some flowers and ask you on a date. I know we just met, and I’m making a fool of myself, but your engineering skills are very impressive. I would love to get to know you more. Still, there’s no point now. I’ll just go back up to the bridge,” Chekov mumbled as he turned to leave.

“Wait, don’t go,” Y/N insisted. What flower petals remained crunched underneath her heels as she slowly made her way closer to Chekov. “I admire what you tried to do, even though it literally went up in flames. I may not know you well, but I can tell that you are kind and honest. So, where you going to take me?”

Chekov was surprised at how forward Y/N was. “H-How about we go to the bar that’s on the fourteenth deck? I could come by to get you at around seven,” he proposed.

“Sounds great. See you then, Chekov,” Y/N answered as she left a small kiss on his cheek. If Chekov wasn’t blushing enough before, he definitely was now. Y/N walked back to her work space, leaving a flustered Chekov and a flabbergasted Scotty in her wake.

“Well done, lad! Looks like you found yourself a good one,” Scotty remarked as he patted Chekov on the back.

“I agree,” Chekov confirmed with a slight smile.

After returning to the bridge, Chekov was greeted by small giggles and glances from his fellow comrades. He sat down in his seat, and even as he tried to get back to his work, the quiet laughter still continued.

“What is everyone laughing about,” Chekov questioned as he looked back at Kirk.

“Oh nothing much,” Kirk replied, “We just listened in on your attempt to ask out the newest engineer is all.”

“I see,” Chekov whispered as he turned back around in order to hide his embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Mr. Chekov. We all thought it was smooth. I’m sure you will have fun on your date. Just don’t get to drunk you hear me.”

Kirk pointed at Chekov in an attempt to look stern, but he added a wink shortly after to show he was only joking. Bones, who had just entered the bridge moments before, rolled his eyes at Kirk. “Come on, Jim. We’ve seen the vodka that Chekov keeps hidden in his locker. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I agree with Doctor McCoy,” Spock chimed in, “Chekov can not only handle his alcohol intake, but his charm and kindness will help him win Y/N over.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Chekov said as he finally got back to his work. He was glad to have the support of his colleagues, and he knew that if they had confidence in him, the date was bound to go smoothly.

One thing was for sure though, Chekov was hoping that the date would have more romance, and zero fiery accidents.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Tainted Love (Sriracha, Part 11.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble

Part Summary: Do I really have to tell you?

Warnings: SMUT: FINALLY SOME GOOD OL’ LEMONS. Inspired by multiple songs, so I won't name any of them. But there's some nice fluff at the end. 

A/N: Ey man, we are finally rolling! So, expect a sea of Hopper related fluff, bcs I think that boyfriend Hop is the best Hop. 

Word count: 4.6 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​ @missdictatorme​ @creedslove​

Master list: H E R E

That was the first time you moaned into a kiss. The first time ever something like that happened. You were moving in the flow of the song, yes, but that was the last thing that was on your minds. You gripped his hair with your fingers, bringing him closer. If those kisses normally showed you a new way to arouse your body, these ones were out of the world. 

You’ve never been with such an older guy - the biggest age difference you had was five years and that sex wasn't bad at all. But that guy back then couldn't bring so much out of you as Hopper did with one kiss. You were lost.

His hands traveled back on the small of your back, slipping under the t-shirt you had on, caressing the skin there. And Jesus, didn't his hands feel hot on your skin? You accidentally opened up your mouth even wider, letting him bite your lower lip. And you almost went loco when his index finger slipped under the upper hem of your pants.

Jim's approach to the situation was a bit different - he has done this many times with many beautiful women. He has done everything - one night stands, sleeping around, one-week-lasting relationships, basically everything you could name. But it never was as personal as it was at that moment. This wasn't just some random chick at the bar who got drunk and whispered him nasty things. It was you dancing with him, kissing him hungrily.

This was you. You gave him a proper choice - it was up to him if he wanted to do all of this or if he's going to refuse. Yet, there you both were, dancing to the Romantics’ song, your bodies bumping into each other while you kissed the hell out of each other. You let your hands just roam around him - his sides, back, jaw, you wanted to touch everything. And it felt fucking good.

“You tell me that you want me.” - Hopper sang to you as a joke when he made you sit on the bed while he kneeled in front of it. You laughed as well despite the flame inside almost eating you alive. 

First, he got masterfully rid of your shoes just as he did with his before taking another good look at you. Your palms were hugging his jaws while you were giving one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen along with one of the darkest stares. Your hair was a mess - and he didn't even start with you -, you looked excited and relaxed. 

Your skin was so smooth that he could've to caress it for days and never stop. He was slow with his hands touching almost every inch of your calves and upper thighs before actually getting to the hips and waist, and with that, he brought your chest to his face. His face disappeared between your breasts for a while, kissing them through the cloth of his t-shirt, continuing to your tensed throat and jaws before stealing another kiss. The closer he got to your lips, the more you bent your head, your breathing could be heard through the whole room.

At that moment, the song has jumped to another one - one which wasn't from the Romantics. This were the Soft Cell and their song Tainted Love. And if you could say anything, that song was sexy as hell. But you needed to make a bit of fun from Jim. 

“Do you really listen to these ones, old man?” - You whispered, bringing his head closer to get drowned in yet another kiss. Hopper chuckled, wondering about your endless witty remarks, getting back on his knees.

“You’ll be saying something different in a minute.” - His voice added before his hand on your belly pushed you down to the bed. - “Oh, really?” - You said with a giggle. With a little help from God or some other non-human ghost, he managed to undo your belt, which seemed to be almost impossible with his shaking fingers. When he pushed the shorts down, he saw another one of those lacy beauties you liked to wear - these ones were gray. 

Without hesitation, Hopper threw the shorts behind himself. He wasn't caring too much about where the clothes ended up when he was undressing himself or someone else, but this situation was even more urgent than any of the previous ones. 

You had a strange feeling that you couldn't exactly name - you were about to throw up because of the excitement taking over your whole body. You were extremely short with the breath, like if you just finished running a marathon. You closed your eyes and your fingers ran through Jim's hair when you finally felt your panties leaving their place, a smile displaying on your lips.

Hopper really needed to take a deep breath once you spread those legs for him. He smiled, smoothing your inner thighs, placing a trail of wet kisses just inches from each other. To say that you were ready was an understatement, you were basically so wet that it was a miracle that you weren't leaking on the sheets. He could tease you some more by creating another trail on your other thigh, but that would be too much for both you and him.

And you did indeed moaned when you felt the first movements of that swift tongue between your legs and you giggled when he dragged your whole body with one tug even closer to him. He was right - soon, you had different things to say than poking fun of his age. 

Any man was ever eating you out like Jim was. You never had anyone rolling your eyes back - until that very moment. He wasn't finding the spots right away, but he knew how to translate your moaning into helpful advice. Yes, you maybe were a bit too harsh with his hair, but he couldn't be mad at you. 

“So what are you going to tell me now?” - He smiled lazily and you didn't even find the will to raise your head before he pushed two fingers inside. You cried his name and ground back into his palm, riding him. That was something he could watch the whole night, all he needed was you riding his fingers. He could just lit up a cigarette and let the greedy beast inside of you get the best of you.

Oh, that was a good idea for another night.

With that, he took a dive back, this time opening the folds a bit to find the little bundle of nerves. And when he did, you gave him a high-pitched moan along with calling out to Jesus Christ. The experience could be easily spotted at every move he made. He was a mister of causing pleasure to others. 

When you came, and let's just say it didn't really take Hopper a long time to take you the top, you were crying out his name like a prayer, enjoying every bit of the feeling he could give you. You moved against his fingers until you rode out of the euphoria, taking a deep breath when he gave that over-sensitive spot a quick suck to prove his point. 

“Holy goddamn shit.” - You mumbled with your eyes still closed. Were your legs still attached to your body? Could you even move? You had no idea - your brain was screaming at you that you just came and that it was the strongest orgasm you ever had. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” - Hopper whispered once he sat next to you and moved the hair off your face. That exact moment was a moment he wished to capture on a photo - your lips were parted as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes shut tight, your body was just screaming how much of enjoyment that was.

“That you're clothed a bit too much.” - You answered simply, giving him a daring smile. That was just right - he still had his shirt and jeans on, while you were half-way naked. - “And that I want to you ride so bad that I’ll cry if you won't let me.”

With that, you pulled him for a kiss, climbing back on his lap. Quickly, you unbuttoned his whole shirt, while not pulling an inch away, getting it off his shoulders as quickly as possible. You wanted him naked and laying down in the quickest time possible. Hopper gladly helped you with taking off the t-shirt and bra, then you changed positions and you unbuckled his belt, throwing the clothes somewhere into the oblivion behind you. 

Hopper couldn't even recall when he saw anything as hot as you at that moment for the last time. You basically tore down the jeans and even the rest with one swift movement, throwing it to the ground as well. You didn't care what song was playing, you were too occupied with his dick and his dark gaze. It will be a miracle if you won't break his bed apart. 

“Condom?” - You asked without the skill to form a meaningful sentence and Hopper, unable to even speak, just pointed to his night table. You found it in no time, ripping the packaging with your teeth. You gave him a smile while blowing into the small circle to find the right side. 

Before you rolled the condom on him, you took one good look. You knew you will have to examine his dick a bit more, you wanted to blow him for a whole night if he lets you, but now, you haven't got the time to stop at wondering. With one smooth movement of your wrist, you rolled it down. 

You climbed on his lap with a dirty smile on your lips, taking his palms to put them on your hips before slowly lowering yourself down, gently gripping his cock to lead it into the right hole. Maybe one day, you could experiment, but that wasn't the day.

His head almost reflexively bent backward as you pushed himself into you, still holding your palms on his. For a moment, he would swear that he has seen the fucking universe rotating around him, especially when you ground against him and wiggled your hips a bit. So you knew what you were doing, alright. 

The first movements were almost torturing and slow as you tried to get a hold on the situation - but when you were ready for Jim taking the upper hand, you let go of his hands, raising up and down, waiting for him to come down to you from the universe you’ve just shown him. Before actually fastening up, he took a deep breath in, making sure you're steady and ready in the first place. 

Because in the next minute, he was trying to fuck you through the whole universe. At least that was you were seeing behind those closed eyes. You never knew you can make such a variety of sounds until Jim opened up the door for you - you were moaning, begging, calling out his name, screaming, and begging again. 

When Jim knew that he cant do it for much longer, he switched the positions to slow himself down - he still had the control, but now, you were laid down with legs spread like a gymnast. You tried to kiss each other, your nails dug into the skin on his back and soon, just when you cried his name again, he felt himself coming. You let him do a few last sloppy moves before you put your hand in use, making yourself come again. 

This time, you held his face so close that he knew you when you opened up your lips and closed your eyes, he felt your breath on his face and when you came, he kissed you again to shut you up and claim the victory. Both of you were sweaty, tired, but happy in every way, smiles weren't leaving your faces.

When you rested a bit, at least to catch a breath and stand up, you picked up the clothes and you made Jim actually fold all of them. 

Then you stole another of his shirts, going on to have a cigarette on the terrace at the back of the trail, Hopper soon joining you only in a t-shirt and boxers. He lighted up his one as well, hugging you from the back while he pressed his lap to your ass, kissing a spot on your head. 

"How are we feelin'?" - He asked before he stood next to you, looking at the quarry as well.

"Crazy." - You answered, moving to close that your elbows were touching to kiss his shoulder. You could feel every inch of the valley between your legs and you although you knew that this pain will slowly disappear, you would gladly let it stay to remind you. - "And crazy good."

"What about a shower a movie now?" - He asked back after a while, when the only held the butts, throwing it to the ashtray. He thought that you'll have a shower on your own, but at soon as you took out the t-shirt on the terrace, he knew that he probably signed a contract with the Devil.

"You're going with me, then. Come on, big guy." - You smiled and took off his shirt as well, taking his palms to lead him into the bathroom. A short thought about the horrendous bill for water and electricity crossed his mind for a small moment just as you bent your head backward and giggled when you helped him to lean you to the wall.

To say that you were going to sleep really late was a lie - the sun was already coming out, when you finally fell asleep, having his naked body pressed into yours. And he gladly fell asleep as well, a smile crossing his face.

When he found you again, you weren't laying in bed anymore - the door to the kitchen were opened up and you were eating the cold yesterday's burrito at the table while still looking at the flower he stole you from an old lady's garden.

"Good mornin'." - He mumbled and took one cigarette out of the pack. He was worried about the topics of your talks. What were you thinking about him? What did you want to know? Wouldn't it be better if he just woke up and your things would be gone? He wanted to himself a slap once he lighted up the cigarette on the terrace - he was glad that you were there. He was thankful for the time and night you already gave him. 

Again, he felt the uneasy feeling of being torn alive once more - there was a night he was grateful for, there were twelve days where he could get to know you, but there wasn't enough time. Each passing second, you were passing through his fingers. Each passing second could kill him easily.

“Are you trying to run away? Hm?” - You leaned your shoulder into the door, still chewing on the burrito. Hopper freaked out a bit before he turned his look at you. - “I think we should head to the grocery store as soon were able to. I need something to cook from.” - You mumbled while Hopper was still stuck at the first question. 

“We should go Bloomington, ideally. I don't need people to recognize me. I'll write us a list, deal?” - You asked once again and without Hopper answering back, you headed back inside. He was just out of his mind and while you were making plans for later that day, he was stuck in the history of the last night. Was he always like that? Maybe. Probably. Yes. Yes, he was like that.

“So you're stayin' the night?” - He asked once he came back inside. You furrowed from writing down the list, lighting up his filterless Camel cigarette as well. - “Do I look like I'm leaving?” - You clapped back, mumbling something about bagels and oranges.

“No, I was just worried...” 

“You think too much about everything, Jim. Calm down for a second, take a breath, live.” - You looked at him, puffing out some smoke. - “Twelve days, yeah? That's a promise. And you... You better come with a great fucking plan.”

With that, you sealed every remaining seed of insecurity that was remaining inside of him. You weren't planning on leaving, no. You were sitting at his table with the rubber end of the pencil on your lips and you watched him with a serious stare.

"I'll come up with a fuckin' plan." - Hopper nodded and kissed your forehead before he left for another shower.

That evening, he took you to the grocery shopping you demanded - it was around six o'clock when you stopped in front of the markets in Bloomington and that meant one thing - the shop was big and no-one was interested in shopping this late. So, naturally, you told Jim with a straight face that you needed ice-cream since freezing boxes were located at the other end of the shop.

Just as Jim stopped with the cart behind the vegetables and fruits section, you caught his shirt and dragged him a bit closer, surprising him with not a kiss, but with a full make-out session when you kissed each other so hastily that your breath was out in no time at all. Your palms tugged the shirt out of his jeans so you could slip under it and caress the skin he had there.

It was crazy, unexpected and it rose the adrenaline level in Hopper's veins pretty quickly - just as it sparkled some amusement over the part between his legs. You were younger in every sense of the word and it could be felt in the small moments when you let him push you on the freezing box, giggling from the coldness. You laughed when you made him lean into you in the aisle of cereals, hugging his shoulders with your arms. 

You were both giggling like little children when one worker almost caught you, immediately both acting overly polite with each other - at least until the moment you found yourself in the section full of alcohol and wines, where his palm slapped your right ass cheek with such a force that it had to be heard throughout the whole store. 

Somehow, you made him forget about Sara and Tuinal for a small while and you actually made him feel alive. Maybe you were making feel more than alive - you made him feel like a teenage boy once more. You both were barely hiding the smiles on your faces once you stood in front of the shop assistant, Hopper’s hand skillfully palming your butt so cleverly that the poor girl hasn't noticed anything.

Only a blind person wouldn't see the clear attraction hanging in the air - your reddened cheeks and wide smile were talking for themselves. Also, your hair and your clothes were really messed up. Once you were in Jim’s car, you sang Jim Croce’s song dramatically while you smoked, making Jim laugh. 

It was almost like re-discovering things Jim forgot about himself. He forgot how funny he could be, making you laugh so hard that you actually cried. Hopper even forgot how nice it is when he isn't all alone in the cabin. You were making your presence known by singing the lyrics while you cooked the dinner - he was watching your silly dancing while he was folding the clothes. You made him do that chore and you said that if he won't fold it, you will be sleeping on the couch. 

Not that he couldn't fuck you on the couch, but the bed was way more comfortable on that occasion. While Friday’s evening was more or less about the first discoveries and immediate passion that just needed to be fucked away, Saturday’s night was about discovering each other more closely. You didn't even play any music - you were just two naked human beings in one bed. 

You kissed almost every piece of his chest and neck, caressing each other part while looking at him with a big warm smile. It was an exquisite feeling to slowly smooth your waist and hips, knowing he doesn't have to rush anywhere. You were sitting on his thighs the whole time, watching where his fingers dip the next time. More than anything, the image of seeing you leaving the other day was freaking him out. That was why he took the time that night, slowly making love to you for hours and hours, always keeping you close, almost freaking out every time you managed to wiggle out somehow. Even when you fell asleep around three a.m., he was sitting there for a long time, smoothing your hair while your head was laid down on his upper thighs, chainsmoking. 

He will be all alone at this time the other day. He realized that you have some things you do and that you need to be at home, otherwise your little secret would be out in no time. But wouldn't it be better just to steal you away and hide you away from the whole world in his trail, staying there with you? You seem to make his demons disappear for a moment - it looked like Sara is just a bad nightmare. He hadn't got a flashback the whole month and a half you were in the office. You were really making things better without realizíing.

“Hey, it's already seven in the morning. You should get some sleep too.” - You mumbled out all of a sudden in a raspy voice, leaning your chin into the muscle on his thigh. 

“Hm?” - He hummed back, finishing the current cigarette ha was smoking. You sighed out, sitting up and letting the blanket fall on your lap, showing him your naked chest - a spectacular view in his opinion. - “I said that you should get some sleep. What's bugging you off?”

“This time or in general?” - Jim asked back with a pretty sour smile. There was a lot of fuckery inside of him. He wasn't the most ideal guy, he might've been a few years ago, but that was a different Hopper living a family life in New York.

“We have the rest of the night. Start talking.” - You leaned over him to reach the nightstand to take a cigarette as well, leaving for a while before throwing a can of beer at him. You put one of the shirts you found laying on the ground, covering yourself in it.

“You probably know that I wasn't always the person I am today, huh?” - He leaned the back of his to the wall above the bed, watching you. You gave him a really ironic look before sipping from the can. - “Does it have something to do with your daughter?” - You asked silently, playing with a strand of your hair. You knew about Sara’s existence - of course, you did. There was anything he could hide away - he should just spill the truth, then. 

“She’s where this phase in my life started. I wasn't really feelin' good about myself when she left  - Diane divorced me soon after, the doctors told me it ' s just an episode of depression and frustration and that it will end up soon. Just a phase. Well, episodes grew into a period and I ended up here with Tuinal and work as a local cop. I never crawled out of that hole again.” - He told you and drank almost half of the can on the first try. You sighed. Some nightmares still haunted him that were in the air between you, something you could never fully help him escape, but you could lower them at least. That was something. - “Sometimes I'm just feelin' like I'm not good enough, you know? Like I'm alone a shithole that's becoming bigger and bigger over the time. And it looks like there's anyone who can take my hand and... You know what? Let's forget about that crap.”

"Come here." - You opened up your arms and let him hug you. His head was resting on your chest and your legs circled around his waist, bringing him close tightly. He wouldn't expect that telling you and a hug would rise such a big rock off his chest. But it calmed him down. The breath which was out of rhythm slowly went back to normal, his eyes closed as he hugged you tighter. Your hands were slowly smoothing his hair, sometimes you planted a peck before you put your cheek back there.

"It's okay. It's okay to have a problem or many of them, you know? If you weren't troubled, would you even be a human being? Huh?" - You asked him quietly. Jim took a slight moment to think about the answer. - “Mistakes are what makes us human, Hop. You can't live without making at least one. And usually, the mistakes are the most interesting thing about a being. If you were perfect, would you even enjoy life? Or would you just live through it without feeling pain, happiness, and maybe even love?”

"Aren't you mad at me?" - Hopper mumbled, bringing your chest even closer. Not to feel your boobs, even if they were spectacular, but to feel and hear your heartbeat. It was thumping in a steady rhythm, just as your chest rose and fell, it only shook a bit when you giggled.

"For losing the grip of mourning after your daughter? How could I be mad? We need to do something about Tuinal, yeah, but really... This makes me like you even more. I like trouble and problems. And you're just full of them." - You tapped out the cigarette and took another gulp of beer before leaning in for a kiss. - “Calm down, I'm not leaving just because you told me something like that, alright?” - You pressed your forehead to his for a small while, smiling and closing your eyes. - "How about you going to sleep now, hm? We can snuggle and you'll really try to fall asleep."

The whole time, you could see that he's not sleeping well at all, but every time it seemed that he might wake up, you hugged his shoulder tighter and kissed his forehead as you watched the overlook behind the bedroom window. It was a beautiful sight as the sun slowly rose up and shone on the water while the grass and trees were slowly moving in the rhythm of the breeze.

When he woke up around the afternoon, it was time to leave, but before you stepped out after checking that he has something to eat, the sound of your name made you stop.

"You and me, the movies tomorrow? What do you say?" - Jim asked and stood there nervously. He was nervous, to say the least, he couldn't practically remember the last time he heard his heart pumping in his ears. He was unconsciously fidgeting his fingers, like a teenage boy.

"Jim... Isn't that too... Much?" - You whispered and walked a bit closer. - "We need to keep this a secret, remember?"

"Yeah. I thought that you'll buy your ticket first and then we'll pretend that we met each other on accident?" - He explained quietly and you laughed out loud. This was just an idea which only a man crazy for a girl could come up with.

"That sounds good, actually." - You nodded and your smile widened. - "I'll call you tomorrow from a telephone booth, deal?" - And with that, you left the trail, screaming with happiness while you drove your bike home.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

Imagine Sasha and Max being friends tho.

(i’ll be real this whole thing took multiple hours to type please somebody actually read this or I might die tbh-)

Like I know they had one episode together but think about them a c t u a l l y being friends.

(below are a ton of headcanons for a friendship between them)

- Obviously they have a bit of respect for one another because of their alliance of convenience, but their friendship would probably be forged on laughing at someone else. Whether it's their friends fucking up or Pikeman's general incompetence or whatever else. I can imagine now their camps are competing or something but the stakes don't matter to them, so Sasha and Max just end up shit talking everyone else and watching the show.

- Since their friendship was forged on calling people out they'd kinda just start hanging out specifically to rant and gossip about the shit that goes down around camp. Like Max'll get fed up with how idiotic the campbell campers are and come to vent to Sasha and she'll be here for it, because of course she is or Sasha ends up getting ditched by Tabii and Erin again and just kinda goes to Max to talk about how annoyed she is.

-  Sasha keeps pointing out things like the circled under Max's eyes and other facial discrepancies and eventually he'll just be like "well how do you look perfect all the time?!?" because it's not fair. Sasha gasps super loud and immediately goes full makeover mode. She immediately shoves a ton of makeup onto him and prescribes him a skincare routine and Max isn't sure about it but he's actually kinda self-conscious and Sasha's like "do you wanna end up looking like Pikeman?" so Max follows her instructions to the letter and he looks amazing.

  - After that they kinda just end up doing each other's makeup all the time and stuff like that. Max usually just uses like concealer and stuff because he doesn't want it to look like he's trying, but occasionally Max'll give Sasha permission to put some eyeliner on him or something and he'll never admit it but he l o v e s the way it looks. They start hanging out even more of course because it's not like Max can go to anyone else about the whole skincare/makeup thing and honestly Sasha loves her other friends but it's relieving to hang out with someone more willing to gossip with her (even if she's slightly salty that Max doesn't have enough hair for her to mess with like Erin and Tabii do)

-  Sasha forces Max to watch a ton of shitty highschool movies and Max doesn't really like most of them but he'll put up with it because he (although he'll never admit it) cares about Sasha (and is a little intimidated by her when she's upset). He doesn't like them but occasionally Max can also coerce her into watching a horror movie with him so they're even in his books (even if the poor thing has to watch way more of her movies than he makes her watch)

- They actually end up being r e a l l y protective of each other. Like most of the time, they'll let people fuck with their friends (so long as no real harm is done), yknow? But if anyone says a word about Max and it gets back to Sasha they'll literally end up the laughing stock of Lake Lilac by the end of the day because Sasha's a bitch who can spread a rumor like wildfire. Alternatively, Max'll sick Nikki and Neil on anyone who fucks with Sasha (which won't end up pretty). And that's if they're lucky because that kid could do so much worse if he's got the right motivation. They try to hide the fact that they're acting in defense of one another and justify why they're screwing over whoever it is they're screwing over, but it's honestly just vengeance for their friend.

- All the gossiping makes the two more unstoppable than they were before tbh. Like Max always had other Camp Campbell camper's secrets tucked away for blackmail purposes and Sasha needs to know everything going on in her turf so of course she's got dirt on all the Flower Scouts. And it's not exactly hard to figure out the Woodscout's. So with their swapping info constantly both of them end up knowing everything about everyone and being able to screw them over in a heartbeat. Basically, hanging out together makes those two terrifying.

- They're also more confident as a duo than most other times. Like don't get me wrong, they're both pretty sure of their capabilities, and they trust their individual friend groups to have their back, but they know that the other person is competent in manipulation and incredibly cunning and they value each other's skillsets because they're super similar. When you're confident in yourself, having somebody who's like you around only makes you doubly confident. They feel super badass whenever they team up in something and it's great.

- Most of their arguments are probably petty tbh. Max calls one of Sasha's favorite movies dumb (she bases her life around highschool stereotypes and dumb cliche movies, of course, she gets pissed when he insults them) or Sasha makes one too many comments about Max's physical appearance (the girl is obsessed with looking good and as much as Max is willing to listen to her advice, it gets to him when she comments on his weight or how he needs to sleep more because the circles under his eyes are getting harder to cover up. Like, he has depression, do you not realize that weight changes and bad sleeping habits are a symptom of that?!?). A common source of disagreement is how used to being in charge they each are. Like yeah, they know they don't always have to take the lead, but it's so ingrained into them that they struggle with it. Max watches Sasha's dumb movies all the time and took her advice on skincare and stuff so she occasionally forgets that she's not his boss like she's in charge of her other friend's and of course he's willing to compromise on some things but he doesn't take well to being treated like a lackey and she's too stubborn to admit she's wrong half the time.

- Their fights get bad. Despite normally being over small things and the person who's in the wrong normally realizing they're the one who's wrong, both Max and Sasha are very stubborn people and they will die on this hill no matter how petty the whole thing is honestly. They'll scream and throw things and once or twice they've even wound up physically fighting. Usually, if it comes to an actual physical altercation they'll stop there because actually injuring your friend is super fucked up. Once Max threw a book at Sasha without thinking and it gave her a black eye. Another time Sasha literally slapped him and it left a bruise for like a week. They both felt like shit after. When Sasha gave Max a bruise she literally cried and he forgave her on the condition that she help him cover the bruise with makeup (He said he'd dealt with worse and something about the way he said it made her uneasy. She can't place why). The time that Max hit Sasha with a book he froze up completely and refused to even look at her for like an hour. Partially because he felt guilty and couldn't verbalize his regret but it was honestly more than that. You don't shut down and practically disassociate for an hour because you don't know what to say. There was absolutely something wrong with the way he shut down after the whole thing but she didn't push for answers and he apologized and they just decided to forget it ever happened. They never aim to actually hurt one another, they just don't have many ways to actually get out their frustrations. They never once actually physically hurt the other more than once each. It's just not something either of them wants to go through again, honestly. If their arguments don't end with one of them going too far and the two felt like shit and making up within seconds one of them will eventually storm off and they'll both get super petty. Making sarcastic remarks at one another whenever they see each other, pointedly ignoring the other, the occasional mean prank. Usually, they forget all about it within a week, though, because as stubborn as they are something dumb happens to one of them and they'll need to vent. None of their fights are ever serious, as nasty as they are, so it's easy to get over and never gets mentioned again.

- They had one serious fight that actually put their friendship in danger. Tabii had ended up crying to Sasha because she was devastated over being rejected by Neil. Like, she was super broken up about how he doesn't love her and it's probably because she's ugly even though Erin told her she wasn't. Sasha wasn't happy about it. At all. Like, she normally just rolls her eyes and brushes it off whenever she sees Tabii going after him, but she watched so many stupid cliche high school movies where the girl got the guy if he was good and anyone who rejects the protagonist is an asshole. So Sasha, going by movie logic, was pretty sure that Neil was insulting Tabii by rejecting her and was a terrible person. She also failed to realize that Tabii's whole attitude towards pursuing Neil was kinda creepy and stalkerish to begin with and she already had a low opinion of him since he's a nerd who called her a cunt and hangs out with Nikki, who she also hates. She did not like seeing one of her best friends in the world (who's basically like a sister to her tbh) cry. So Sasha, with a burning rage towards Neil, wound up spilling the whole thing to Max. And he wasn't happy with her for insulting his friend either. Max basically cussed Sasha out because Tabii's behavior was creepy and it was making Neil super uncomfortable, which he was not cool with. He told her she was a moron if she saw nothing wrong with how Tabii acted but thought that Neil was out of line for rejecting her. Sasha didn't take well to being called a moron or to her friend being accused of being creepy, and she said something along the lines of "It's not my fault you hang out with a retarded nerd and a girl who can't even be a girl properly". Max basically called her an ignorant bitch and told her to go fuck herself, then he left. Normally their arguments are long and wordy and even violent but this time he just cut it short and stormed out. Sasha still thought she was right, of course, because that boy who Max was friends with had made Tabii cry and he was a moron for not liking her! And yeah maybe the insults to Nikki weren't exactly called for but every word was true, right?  She just kinda expected Max to get over it eventually but a few weeks passed and he never really did. The fact that Max had called her ignorant kinda stuck out to her more than anything. That's the same thing Neil had called her, isn't it? Why would they both use the same insult? It's not like that was a go-to thing to call somebody. The whole thing drove her crazy and eventually when she confronted him about it she got a long lecture about how romantic relationships work, the fact that bullying a girl over dressing or acting slightly differently from her is a shitty thing to do, and that calling Neil 'retarded' is offensive because he's actually mentally ill and even if he weren't, the word's still terrible. She didn't quite understand all of it but she got enough to feel guilty and she apologized. Sasha still doesn't really like Nikki and Neil much and it's not like she's stopped shit-talking them, but she's eased up a bit because she doesn't want Max that angry at her again, and in a way she can see how she maybe...was a tiny bit wrong.

- They don't normally get super sad or deep on each other. Neither really likes to be emotional or open up so they wouldn't exactly initiate any sort of depressing dialogue. However, they are both observant people so they notice things anyway. Max notices how Sasha talks a little too much about her weight and thinks anything over one hundred pounds is horrifically obese to the point where she diets incessantly. He notices that she cares too much about looking young and pretty too. Damned highschool movies. Sasha, on the other hand, notices that Max doesn't trust adults at all and that he flinches when she gets too loud (even if he tries to cover it up) and that he either doesn't sleep at all or sleeps way too often...amoung other things of course. They don't talk about these things out loud but they've both deduced that the other isn't healthy.

- Max practically forces Sasha to eat every time they see each other and refuses to watch a single movie with her that even mentions dieting in a positive light because she is ten years old and shouldn't be counting calories and refusing absolutely all fat. He'll insist on doing her makeup and will make sure to do it lighter and lighter every time because as much as he himself appreciates makeup and uses it to cover parts of his skin he doesn't like, she needs to be more confident and he can't in good conscience let her go on the way she's been going on. Sasha, on the other hand, if she ever notices he's having a bad day and isn't functioning well, will let him hide out with her all day even if she has other things to do and he should be at camp. Occasionally she'll even let Nikki or Neil in her room if she or they feel Max really needs their support (he can't just stay at his own camp, he'd never be allowed out of activities all day). She doesn't exactly understand why he's sad and tired and angry and has a hard time with sleep but she won't ask. Sasha has some theories on why he doesn't trust any adult and flinches when she yells but she doesn't like thinking on that one too long (his comment when she slapped him 'i've had worse' comes to mind). They're not always great at it and they don't always understand but they try to help each other even if they have an unspoken rule not to ask questions.

- While they normally spend their hang-out time watching movies or doing each other's makeup/hair/nails or talking crap about other's behind their backs, they've occasionally had adventures of their own. They typically leave Lake Lilac for these, honestly. Sasha couldn't care less about anything going on at Camp Campbell and Max isn't about to get involved in Flower Scout politics so if they're ever inclined to go on an adventure it's in town or even the big city. And usually involves crime one way or another tbh. Once they accidentally managed to get Max elected mayor of the whole town and Sasha as treasurer. Money was embezzled, fires were set, and they're now banned from muffin tops for life. That's the kind of adventure those two have whenever they're compelled to do anything at all. Go big or go home, basically.

- They're actually super honest with each other. The general light-hearted nature of their friendship and the fact that they gossip and chatter about pretty much everything that pops into their heads means they don't exactly stress about getting judged or anything like that as long as they aren't confessing to horrific sins or anything.

- They love to fuck with Pikeman. Like they normally just sit around at the Flower Scout's camp or out in town or the city or something like that but occasionally they'll screw him over because they both can agree he's an incompetent asshole who deserves it.

- Sasha flipped her shit when she realized that Max knows how to bake, cook, sew, and knit (he definitely can knit and sew we’ve seen him do it in the show and I headcanon he’d have to learn to cook and stuff cause his parents don’t feel like doing it for him) She nearly died and made him sew/knit her a bunch of stuff for her and decided they had to bake together and she was just super happy about it. Once upon a time, she would've judged him for it because of gender roles and stuff and she wasn't used to guys doing any of those things, but after the whole incident where he called her an ignorant bitch she wasn't gonna push it and besides, she was happy to have her gossip and makeup buddy also be able to do those other things with her. Like she can do those things with Tabii and Erin too but Max kinda gets her and she needs a break from the two sometimes.

- Most people don't actually know they're friends. Nikki and Neil are vaguely aware they hang out but they don't see much besides the occasional banter when the Flower Scouts and Camp Campbell interact as a group. Max doesn't talk about Sasha much around them since he knows they don't exactly like her. Sasha doesn't dare mention their friendship around Tabii and Erin because they'd freak out completely and probably assume they're dating since those two don't realize guys and girls can actually have platonic friendships. She doesn't want that drama. Their friendship is kinda a secret, which is surprising since they may not talk about it but they visit each other and chat enough when they cross paths that you'd think people would realize. But they're kinda glad. Lake Lilac is a chaotic place and when they're hanging out it's one of the only times they even have the option of just relaxing.

(imma be real I literally came up with the idea of those two being really close friends because I watched the episode where Nikki hung out with Dolph and Nerris and I thought 'Max have other friend too? :0')

Literally, ANY input is welcome. I spent multiple hours on this so if you have anything to say you know I'm down for a conversation about it

[ineffable-endearments]

Foiling Nightmares

Rating: T

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Post Almost-Apocalypse, Cuddling, Kissing, Wings

Word Count: 3466

Content Warnings: brief mentions of violence/death, mild suggestive themes

Aziraphale decides to try an ancient human experience that some people would say he's never given much of a chance: sleep. He isn't quite prepared to have a nightmare about certain recent apocalyptic events, but fortunately, he also won't have to deal with it alone.

Will be reblogging with a link to AO3! Thanks to FangsScalesSkin and ArgentConflagration on AO3 for their eyes.

=

Six thousand years - over two million days - and this is probably his best day in existence. Aziraphale adjusts his bow tie in eager preparation as he and Crowley walk the vast, echoing halls of Heaven. As soon as they finish this discussion with the Archangels, they can go back and save Earth, and everything will be better than it ever has before.

Of course, as he’s told, no demon has ever Risen before. He’s not sure how the process would work, or if anything would change for Crowley except some ceremonial non— er, some ceremonial process by the Archangels.

Uriel had been the hardest to convince. They had made exactly the same arguments Crowley had made - that demons are unforgivable, that to try and redeem one would be to defeat the original purpose in casting them out. But Gabriel’s enthusiasm and the assurance that this must also be the Lord’s work had won them over in the end.

Michael had been unexpectedly enthusiastic. It was rather surprising, as Michael did lead the original War in Heaven. But Aziraphale had been able to convince them without much trouble by framing Crowley’s exile and return as all part of the Great Plan, not as an error in Michael’s judgement. (Of course, Aziraphale couldn’t have cared less why Crowley was coming back, just that he would be here.)

Sandalphon...it was better not to linger on Sandalphon. Sandalphon hadn’t been disagreeable, had been rather easy to convince, following Gabriel’s lead on the whole thing, but it had bared its teeth in this nasty grin that reminded Aziraphale of crucified corpses and salt pillars.

After the initial explanation (“I believe that in the course of our enmity, well, the demon Crowley has asked— he would like to— I believe he may be interested in being redeemed, you see, it really is quite remarkable”), Gabriel had seemed rather jovial about the possibility, all things considered.

And this led them here, to the great white expanse of Heaven, all the great monuments of the world visible from the massive windows. Crowley trails uncharacteristically behind, looking nervous; every now and then, Aziraphale turns back to give him a reassuring smile. Each time, Crowley nods. Aziraphale can’t quite place the expression on his face, but oh, well - he can’t be blamed for being nervous.

At last, they reach the end of Heaven’s hall, the door they were asked to enter for the meeting with the Archangels. Aziraphale smiles at Crowley once again, then holds the door open so he can go in and begin his new life.

Aziraphale enters behind Crowley, and…

It’s an all-white room. Oppressively bright, some would say. The Archangels are all there, standing around a bathtub, inside of which immaculate clear water has already been poured. They’ve left room in front of the tub, on the side closest to the door.

“What’s this?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley is unnervingly still, glasses off, full-snake eyes glancing back and forth at the Archangels.

“This is the Rising Ceremony,” Sandalphon oozes.

“It’s a very important custom,” Uriel adds.

That’s odd. They’d said this had never happened before...

“Crowley must get in the tub before he can be fully integrated into Heaven,” says Gabriel.

Michael is standing by, silent, with a crystal-clear pitcher Aziraphale recognizes.

“I don’t—” he stutters. “I don’t know if this…”

“Don’t you worry a bit,” Gabriel says. “If Crowley is ready to come back to Heaven, the holy water won’t hurt him at all!”

Crowley turns to give Aziraphale a look of pure terror.

“You did say he was ready,” Michael says. “You said he changed.”

Uriel nods. “You said it must have been a miracle.”

“Well, but this isn’t necessary,” Aziraphale says. “Crowley is here. He’s already at your mercy.”

“These are the rules,” Gabriel says.

The Archangels stand there, foreboding and immovable. It’s the sparkle in Sandalphon’s eye that finally jolts Aziraphale into grabbing Crowley’s wrist.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to follow through with this after all,” he says. “Perhaps Crowley should—”

“Oh, he’s not leaving,” Michael says, stepping forward with the infinite pitcher. Sandalphon is already advancing; Aziraphale tries to open the door behind the two of them, but it’s locked.

For the first time, while Aziraphale is fiddling with the doorknob, Crowley speaks. “Angel, please.” He tries to take over, but the door doesn’t yield for him, either.

Aziraphale turns to the Archangels. “Hold on,” he says. “I’m quite sure if we just talk, you can clarify that Crowley is planning to be loyal to Heaven, you understand, and certainly doesn’t need to take any risks to prove it.”

“You know as well as I do that’s not good enough,” Gabriel says with a scorching smile. The Archangels surround the two of them.

=

Aziraphale is barely conscious again before he stumbles through the dark, still in sleepwear, to the phone. It isn’t necessary to see the dial to make the call. As an afterthought, he flicks on the desk lamp for a small bit of light.

“Everything alright?” Crowley asks the instant he picks up.

Oh, dear. He hasn’t thought this far ahead.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale says, impatient, because nothing is wrong. Obviously. “What about you?”

“Wha— Me? I’m not the one who called at 3 AM,” Crowley says. He’s tetchy, which means he’s nervous.

“Well. I just wanted to make sure!”

“Um.” There’s a moment of palpable confusion from the other side of the line. Aziraphale has to admit he doesn’t blame him. “Is something wrong? Weren’t you saying you were going to try sleeping tonight?”

“Oh, I did! It was fine, but I’m done now!” says Aziraphale.

“You’re...done,” Crowley echoes.

“Yes. And now, I really should be going.”

“Wait, hang on—”

“I’m glad everything is well, Crowley!” Aziraphale says, overplaying the cheer a little before he hangs up.

There’s an eerie silence in the bookshop now, the conversation still ringing in his ears. Outside, a messy mix of snowy slush is coming down at an alarming rate; he would normally feel protected in here, clad in these warm flannel pyjamas in his dry sanctuary of books in the cold night, but at this moment, he’s feeling only isolation.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. That was - that call was foolish. He shouldn’t have done that. What an absolute bother. He takes out a copy of a favorite novel - it’s one he’s memorized, but it’s still comforting to see the words there on the page - and hunches over it on his desk, trying in vain to concentrate before noticing he’s opened it upside down.

It’s hardly eight minutes later when the Bentley whooshes up through the sleet, its headlights blaring. Thoroughly humiliated but not surprised, Aziraphale pulls the door open.

Crowley is as handsome as always as he jumps from the car. The red of his hair, a dash of heat, stands out even in the streetlights made faint by precipitation, and he grimaces at the weather but does not bother with a miracle to stay dry.

“Nice PJs,” he says, rushing to the bookshop’s front step.

Aziraphale nods, preoccupied. “Ah. Yes. Alright, then. You should come in.” The pyjamas are quite nice, he thinks, delightfully vintage, his favorite tartan, but Crowley might be being sarcastic. And anyway, they’re not the point of any of this.

Crowley stalks in. He peers around and seems to find nothing of particular interest in the dim light except for Aziraphale, who he levels with a piercing gaze through his glasses. He radiates a sort of energy, and if Aziraphale had to put that energy into words, they would be “I’m not going to relax until you admit the problem.”

Aziraphale lingers by the door after closing it, feeling profoundly awkward. “Had a bit of a nightmare,” he confesses. “I’m - I’m fine now. Just wanted to talk to you, you know, in the real world, to shake it off.”

Crowley points at his own chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Crowley studies Aziraphale, starts to say something, and pauses for a moment. “Nasty feeling, bad dreams,” he says finally, and slouches toward the old couch in the corner. On it lies the rumpled blanket, betraying Aziraphale’s lack of imagination for sleeping arrangements.

Aziraphale follows without a word, but does not help himself to a seat. He stands and wrings his hands before remembering himself, arbitrarily choosing some books to rearrange on the shelf instead.

“I...should maybe have reminded you,” Crowley adds, frowning at the thought as he takes a seat. “About nightmares. Not sure why I didn’t think of it when I was egging you on earlier.”

Aziraphale shrugs, standing there, not committed to where he wants these books to go, nor particularly caring. He shuffles them from place to place. “I knew about them. We’ve talked about them before. It isn’t your problem.”

“Would it help to talk about it?” Crowley attempts.

Surely he can’t expect Aziraphale to be straightforward about this…?

“It was you who got...hurt,” Aziraphale answers, instead of “no.”

“Oh,” Crowley says, frowning. He pauses, then opens his arms in a sweeping gesture. “Well, as you can see, here I am, doing fine.” He replaces the sympathetic frown with a smile. It’s comforting in a way that only he can manage.

Aziraphale nods. “You are.” He hovers next to Crowley.

“Come on, just sit already,” Crowley says, scooting left, leaning casually to the side with one of his own arms sprawled over that of the couch, patting the seat beside himself.

“It wasn’t just anything that harmed you,” Aziraphale continues, voice low, as if sharing something shameful. Maybe it is. He sits next to Crowley, as invited, a little closer than he would have a few months ago. “It was the Archangels. You - I brought you back up there. Said you were - you’d work with us.”

Crowley snorts. “Hah. First clue it was only a dream.” Sometimes he’s too cavalier, but this time, the tone is welcome. It helps shake off the dream. Of course it would be Crowley who could bring him back to Earth.

“It wasn’t bad at that point! You were a bit too quiet, now that I think of it, but everything else seemed fine. They - the Archangels - said they were going to, ah, test you.”

“Eurgh.”

“But what it really was, it was the same as your--” and here Aziraphale rushes through, as it doesn’t bear thinking about “--execution in Hell. Only they said it wouldn’t hurt you if you were really on our-- um, on Heaven’s side.” Aziraphale pauses.

Crowley waits, as easy-going as ever. Aziraphale finds himself seeking his eyes, accustomed to peering through those dark shades; he’s looking for a sign of discontent, but finds only patience written anywhere on Crowley’s face. Aziraphale shakes his head once, trying to pull himself out of it. “Anyhow. We tried to run. Woke up knowing we were both dead, though I didn’t see it happen.”

“Was only a dream,” Crowley murmurs. “Fake. Like reading a horror story in a book. It’s over now. I know it’s awful, but they pass.”

“I know.” Aziraphale scrunches his eyes shut. He’s read extensively about dreaming, but he can’t say it’s a part of humanity he’s envied. They don’t seem to have much control over where their minds go when they’re asleep. He’d frankly hoped he might be able to shut it off, but if there’s a way to do that, he didn’t find it tonight. “What’s bothering me about it,” Aziraphale continues, voice trembling as he puts his finger on the pulse of something terrible, “is how it almost did really happen. It’s not just any horror story.”

“It didn’t even come close. You’d have never got me up there in reality.”

The lamp on the desk flickers a bit. Aziraphale gets his feelings under control.

“Listen,” Crowley says. “The world was ending, and now it’s not. You said it yourself - everything worked out for the best. Right?”

“Of course, of course.” This is stupid. Aziraphale is being stupid. He should be able to shut all of this off immediately. He shouldn’t have even called Crowley in the middle of the night. “Seeing them in my sleep…” He sighs. “Reopened the wound, I suppose, is all.”

Crowley takes a deep breath and shuffles. It’s the first sign of impatience he’s shown, and it sets Aziraphale on edge, but the line of his brows and the curve of his lips are as soft as ever when he fixes Aziraphale with his gaze.

“What do you want? Like, really want?” Crowley asks. “Find a distraction?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale says.

And he’s struck, all at once, with the sensation of having waded far out into the sea and realizing he won’t be able to get back to solid ground before a colossal wave washes over him, because he does know what he wants.

“Angels aren’t supposed to have...this,” he revises.

“What?”

“What I want. Wanting at all, I suppose.”

“Give it a shot,” Crowley says. “We’re not playing by their rules anymore, remember?”

“Ah. Well.” Aziraphale can’t seem to keep the anxiety off his face or out of his voice. It’s not that Crowley isn’t allowed to see him that way, but the veneer of calm would certainly be a comfort right now. “The thing is. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly.”

Crowley shifts his weight so he’s leaning forward toward Aziraphale. It’s not an impatient gesture. Oh, for -- for Someone’s sake, there’s nothing to be afraid of!

“But it’s you,” Aziraphale finally admits. “I only know that I want you, whatever that means, very badly.”

Crowley is silent for a moment. He removes his glasses and lets them drop the short distance to the rug on the floor.

“Just to clarify,” he says carefully, “are you talking about...in the human way…with, you know...?”

Oh, blast it. Aziraphale can’t seem to make eye contact while he’s talking about this. “I’m familiar with what it usually means. And-- and it’s not…” This is supposed to be two different conversations. “I do contemplate the, ah, the carnal way, sometimes. A little bit like...I’ve had your body in the most literal sense,” he says, not bothering to censor any implications about their successful body-swap, “and I think about that, a-and other things too. But it’s not exactly what I mean here.”

Crowley tilts his head to the side, rather like a puppy with snake eyes. “Uh...hmm. Go on.”

“I would like to, um, be very close to you again and simply rest with you. For a long time,” Aziraphale tries. “Perhaps in our own corporations?” The physicality of it, he thinks, might be different that way, and worth exploring.

Crowley frowns and glances about as if he can observe his thoughts floating in the air. Aziraphale can practically see the gears turning in his head. At last, he raises his eyebrows and seems to return to his senses.

“Angel, that’s snuggling. You’re talking about snuggling.”

It is a good thing, he supposes, that at least one of them is capable of being blunt. Aziraphale winces at having his desires laid bare, put so directly, but he does manage to look at Crowley and give him an encouraging half-smile. “I suppose that’s true.”

Crowley swallows. He looks nervous; it’s not what Aziraphale had intended for him to feel. Aziraphale doesn’t question the depth of their bond, but not even all humans show affection physically, not everyone wants to do this sort of activity...

The thought flees along with all other possibilities of rational thought as Crowley moves forward and puts his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, gentle, not resting his full weight. “‘S this fine?” he asks, quiet and gruff.

“Brilliant,” Aziraphale whispers back, and leans over so Crowley can reach him better. Whatever spell was restraining him breaks, finally, and he leaves his slippers behind on the ground so he can curl up for real on the couch. Crowley brings his other arm up for a true embrace while Aziraphale holds him, pressing his face into his neck, inhaling his smokey fireside scent.

For everything he’s held - piles and piles of books, things he’s been asked to carry for missions - Aziraphale’s arms have never been so full. Being able to hold Crowley like this, both of them nestled together on the couch now, causes something, something ancient and primal and blissful, to bloom in Aziraphale’s soul.

There’s a chime and a displacement of space that would seem odd to anyone who wasn’t ethereal, and a pair of black wings are wrapped around the two of them. They’re warm, intensely warm, in a way that isn’t physical.

“And this? How’s this?” Crowley murmurs. He’s got a hand resting in Aziraphale’s hair, and it is delightful to find another new sensation to enjoy after so long here on Earth.

“Splendid. Although…” As much as Aziraphale is experiencing a greater euphoria than he’s felt in all his millennia of existence, there is something a tad unfinished about the situation...

Ah, yes. Aziraphale takes his wings out, too. He casts a hinting look, and Crowley readjusts so he can be embraced by them as well. Aziraphale makes a point of holding him tightly with arms and wings alike, pulling him in as if they’re outside in the slushy mess and only Aziraphale’s heart can shelter Crowley from it.

There. Crowley’s wings may still be overlapping his, cocooning them on the outside, but at least he’s covered by Aziraphale on the inside. And Aziraphale threads his fingers in Crowley’s hair, too, because the reciprocity seems nice, and oh, he’s rather soft, isn’t he?

“You’re here,” Aziraphale says. “You’re here, and...you’re alright?”

“‘Course I am,” Crowley says, voice catching. “What else would I be?”

Aziraphale closes his eyes, allowing a familiar pain to surface at last, and presses his face into the crook of Crowley’s neck. “I’m supposed to be a being of belief...and I never believed this could happen. I never thought we could be allowed such a thing.”

Crowley caresses Aziraphale on his back, where his wing joins his corporation, and his head. His touch soothes the ache, as if the nightmare had reopened a gash on Aziraphale’s heart and Crowley has the balm for it. (Of course he does. Crowley has always been a salve.) “What thing? This?”

“Yes. Do you know...I’ve frightened myself with how badly I want you.”

“You’ve got me, angel.”

Aziraphale, who realizes he can be oblivious but is definitely not stupid, has known this for a long time. But it wasn’t always the same; he hadn’t known he could save Crowley. He’d only known that if the two of them got this close before, he’d never be able to stop, and they’d be found, and they’d be wrenched apart, and they’d be destroyed. He catches himself trembling with how badly he wants to never, ever let that happen.

“It’s alright, Aziraphale. I’ve got you.”

“The dream. It felt a bit like Heaven reaching down and trying to take you away.”

“They’re not going to,” Crowley says fiercely. “And neither will Hell. We’ll see to it.”

Aziraphale, emboldened by Crowley’s unflinching acceptance, leans up and plants a kiss on his cheek. He waits, eyebrows raised, for a sign of approval. Crowley snorts in that affectionate, indulgent way of his, and returns the favor, this time on Aziraphale’s temple.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says. “May I try something else?”

“Please do.”

And their lips meet, a brush of tenderness. Aziraphale isn’t very experienced with this. He tries it a few more times and worries it will get boring, but all seems to be going well, as he draws a pleased hum from Crowley with every kiss. After the constant dance at arm’s length, the pushing-away and the guarded stances, he needs multiple chances with this moment. He suspects Crowley does, too.

There is no equivalent to this behavior in Heaven or Hell; it’s quite remarkable, though, how intense and delicate it can be at the same time, pressing together these soft parts of their bodies that have expressed so much and yet have never been allowed to touch before. The heat of a kiss, Aziraphale discovers, is like the heat of their wings: not entirely physical.

“Lovely,” he murmurs. “But do you mind staying like this for...a while?”

“Not at all,” Crowley says.

“I don’t think I want to sleep.”

“You don’t have to,” Crowley says. “Sometimes the part when you’re lazing about in comfortable clothes is more fun, anyway.”

And so they remain, a pair of Earth-touched eternals swathed in their own black and white wings, curling into each other among the comfortable clutter of a dimly-lit bookshop, a heart of warmth on a slushy London night.

[mystery666]

Dreams of a better life

Part one of suicidal Charles story

Charles was giggling in his dreams he was cuddling Henry the perfect Henry who never left him and treated him like he was actually real. "Thank you Henry for staying with me at least you'll never leave me" Charles said softly hugging Henry closer. "Charles we can only stay together as long as your asleep the Henry out there would never treat you like this" dream Henry said gently caressing Charles lip before leaning in and kissing those soft lips. Charles kissed back he loved his dream Henry but knew that this perfect Henry didn't exist. "I don't want to wake up Henry I dont want to leave you" Charles said softly crying as he began to wake up. Why did real life have to rip him away from his fantasy world Charles woke up with tears on his face looking up at two people laughing at him. Henry and ellie were in his room laughing because Charles never slept in. "get out" Charles said angrily shoving them out of the room. Charles looked back at his pillow seeing his secret under there contemplating using his secret to go back to sleep "not today t-there's too much to do"

Charles sighed getting ready for the day and leaving his house trying not to hear the whispers and nasty remarks about how bad he looked. Charles mental health had been steadily declining ever since someone said that he was basically a burden on the team of triple threat. Ever since he hadnt said much loosing his old cheerful attitude and acting more like Henry only speaking when it was needed. Charles sat in his helicopter and waited for Henry and ellie to get seated Charles took off once they had. "Hey Charles any idea what to do for this mission" Henry asked Charles didn't answer focusing on flying at least he could still enjoy his time in his helicopter. "Charles come on what's got you into this funk come on suggest something for us to do" ellie said. Charles sighed "you don't need or want my help your just pretending" Charles said quietly before hovering above their mission place. "That's it Charles, come on land and come with us" Henry said "that isn't our dynamic you guys infiltrate im the pilot that only helps with transportation" Charles said but Henry and ellie dragged him out onto the mission with them.

Charles felt better during the mission beginning to smile and laugh a little and give little witty remarks. Charles was almost his old self again during the mission until the general yelled at ellie and Henry for breaking from protocol on this mission. "Cool it general if you haven't noticed Charles has seemed miserable for a while we were trying to cheer him up" ellie said. Henry seemed angry because the generals comment had erased the previous wide smile on Charles face. "While I appreciate you guys attempting to cheer him up this mission was too dangerous for that" the general said "it was working" Henry said softly. Charles was told to take a few days off for his own mental health but this made it even worse he began to hurt himself his arms covered in cuts. Charles was sleepy today and didn't get out of bed looking at his knife before he sighed sitting up charles slowly held up the knife inspecting the dried blood on the blade. Charles smiled gently pulling off his bandages and his long sleeves cuts and scars were plentiful on one arm but the other one hadn't been given the same treatment yet.

Charles ran the knife across his wrist feeling a bit of relief at the pain shutting down his head he did this again and again more and more cuts formed on his wrists as he smirked. Once charles felt he had done enough damage to his arm he cleaned up the bloody knife hiding it again and wrapping his wrist in bandages. Charles fell back into his bed laying under his covers and he yawned sleepily before falling asleep for a few hours henry woke him up. charles looked up at henry who told that they were going to lunch with Ellie and charles got up slowly he got his wallet and went with henry and ellie to lunch but several other government soldiers said very rude things to charles. Charles learned that Henry and ellie had lured him here to insult him and he cried taking the sharp knife on the table. All the soldiers Henry and ellie gasped when that knife soon found a new home in Charles chest stabbed into his chest by Charles himself. Charles fell to the ground bleeding and unconscious but he was smiling as he faded out of consciousness expecting the after life.

Charles woke up in a place that was white all over and he saw his perfect Henry smiling. "come with me Charles you'll never have to be alone again we can dance forever" henry said. "What happened i thought I was dead" Charles said softly "no you missed your heart your alive just in a coma" Henry said shifting so he wore a beautiful black tux. Charles took henrys hand and was lead in a dance by his perfect Henry smiling gently he suddenly was wearing a white tux and a red bow tie with gold accents. On the outside all of those soldiers had been severely punished while ellie and Henry were also reprimanded for making a depressed man feel even worse about himself. "Henry im deeply disappointed in you you should know just how bad mental illness is on a person! You've got bipolar disorder" the general shouted at them. Ellie and Henry felt the like the worst friends ever they essentially tried to make him feel better by getting Charles insulted by the meanest cadets in the government forces now Charles was in the hospital in a coma because of their own meanness and stupidity the jerks.

Charles began to wake up really late at night two months later he pulled the stupid things out of his body looking at his chests healed hole. Charles got up putting his clothes back on and he left the hospital he went home and looked at his favorite helicopter plushie which was as big as him. Charles wrapped his arms and legs around it and nuzzled into the softest thing he had in his house which was a pillow he had given to Henry but Henry has returned it because he apparently didn't like soft things. Charles didn't feel that ache in his chest anymore for some reason but he was sure that it would return. Charles yelled at both ellie and Henry that they were the worst friends ever and Henry and ellie told him that they'd try to be better. Charles was silent for a while then told ellie and a few other friends that he had a crush on Henry for a while. "That guy is a player there's no chance he'd ever date you" Rupert said painfully truthful again Charles sighed "i know that but I was hoping he could at least love me A little".

Charles broken heart was the absolute worst feeling he felt empty and broken and he decided that he was going to move. "I'm going to go visit my sister for a few months maybe I'll start to feel better with a change of scenery. Who knows maybe I'll find someone who can actually love me" Charles said softly to Henry and ellie as he packed everything up. Henry and ellie nodded knowing that charles needed something to help him and maybe a visit with his family members would help him with that. when Charles came back three months later everything had seemed to have gone well but Henry got really bad vibes off the guy Charles now called his boyfriend.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Meet me in the past part two

AN: yeah so this part two of the story, I hope you enjoy! I wasn’t exactly sure if there was a door leading the garage from Bill to his house, but in my story it sure is so. please let me what you think! 

Summary: After Stanley Uris takes his own life, his daughter goes to find the recipients of his letters and ends up in Derry. After and incounter with IT, she ends up traveling back into the past, meeting the younger version of her dad and his friends.

warnings: cursing that’s it I think 

tagging; @artlovingbre​ @cocastyle​

‘Shit do you think Bowers got to her?’

A hand was touching her forehead, softly moving her head back and forth. Emily jumped up, slapping the hand away. She had to shut her eyes at the blinding light that seemed to burn her eyes away. It took a few seconds before everything came back to her, about her dad, the losers club and the Jade oriental. Her eyes snapped open once more at the thought of the restaurant. Her eyes made eye contact with a boy, most likely her own age, who was looking like a deer in headlights. Emily looked around, but she wasn’t in the restaurant anymore.

Instead she was in some sort of back alley. It looked disgusting, there was trash on the ground all around her, and she was pretty sure she was sitting on what used to be a cradle of beer. It sure as hell smelled like it. ‘Where am I’? Emily asked, her voice sounding gravely, most likely because she just woke up.

She turned back toward the boy, finally noticing that there were more people than just the two of them. Behind the boy there were 5 other boys, and one girl. Emily blinked in shock once she focused on one boy in particular. The curly haired boy did not seem like he wanted to be here at all, he had a scowl on his face and he was trying his best to put distance between him and herself. He was wearing a Kippah, and dressed a lot more fancy than the other boys, and girl did, he dressed like an adult man in a kids body. He also looked an insane amount of Stan. Emily frowned as she kept staring, the resemblance between the boy and her father were remarkable. The boy in turn opted to glare at her.

‘Can we go now, she woke up and who knows how she got here anyway?’ Emily was wondering the same thing. The last thing she remembered was falling in the restaurant, and although she didn’t know the adults all that well, she had never suspected that they would just leave her on the street.

‘Who are you guys’? Emily asked choosing to ignore the Stan look alike.

‘I’m B-b-bill, the first boy told her. She took notice of his stutter immediately, but he looked embarrassed so she didn’t comment on it. She knew what it felt like to have people judging you for something you couldn’t help. ‘Wait, did you just say Bill?’ Emily frowned at him, and at her question, his eyebrows rose up.

‘Y-y-Yeah, why?’ Bill asked, sounding confused. Emily tore her eyes away from him staring at the others. She didn’t understand what the hell was going on. ‘My names is Beverly’, the redhead introduced herself, ‘but you can call me Bev’, both Beverly and Emily said at the same time. ‘Wtf new girl’, another boy, one with magnifying classes spoke up. ‘The names Richie, but the ladies call me Trashmouth, want to find out why?’ He asked with a smirk.

‘Beep beep Richie’, another boy bristled. ‘You think you’re so funny huh, dickwad? As if any girl would be into you and your Trashmouth,’ he spoke bitterly. Richie continued unfazed. ‘Don’t worry Eddie Spaghetti, you know your mom is still the only one for me’.

Eddie, Richie, Bill and Beverly. Emily started to feel lightheaded, the panic spreading like a wildfire. Eddie and Richie were still bickering, but Bill and Beverly were looking at her questionably.

‘I’m Ben’, a boy shyly spoke up, while shuffling back and forth on his feet. It was clear that the boy was self-conscious and didn’t have a lot of confidence, but Emily thought he looked quite nice. ‘Ben’, she repeated. He nodded his head timidly, while looking down at his shoes, unable to make eye contact with her.

If their names were all the same as the adults in the restaurant, then, ‘Mike’, a boy with a white overall spoke, confirming her suspicions. Emily’s breathing picked up, all of these kids looked eerily similar to the losers club she had met only 3 hours ago . At least, she thought it was three hours ago, she wasn’t sure what day it was, and how long she had been laying in that back alley. If all of them were the people her dad wrote these letters too, than her dad- lookalike, should be called Stan as well.

Her fist clenched together tightly, she was sure she was absolutely losing her mind. There was no way that these kids were the same people she had met as adults. Still, she couldn’t help the way her eyes hopefully looked into the last boy’s eyes, the only one who hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was looking at her too, and Emily felt the shared looks turning into a staring match. She felt the hostile demeanor aimed towards her, and she wondered what she had even done to deserve that behavior.

‘Stan’? She asked softly, while her voice shook. The boy broke eye contact at that, a surprised look crossing over his face before covering it up and putting on a blank face. He nodded solemnly, but instead of making eye contact, this time he stepped another step back.

‘How did you know that? Are you a friend of Bowers?’ Stan asked her, but Emily was too busy to focus on not crying to comprehend his question. This had to have something to do with what happened in the Jade Oriental.

 This IT that Bill had been talking about. She thought back about the fortune cookie attacking her, about her falling flat on her back and passing out. Bill had talked about this IT transforming into the things you feared most, and maybe that was what was happening right now. Could IT transfer into humans? It sure seemed like it.

She just had to think about this logically. That’s what she always did; best case scenario, this was just a dream. Emily pinched herself but it did nothing except sting, not a dream then. The other option was that this was IT, and he was trying to trick her for whatever reason that may be. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the third explanation, which was that she was send into the past. She wasn’t sure she could handle being in the vast proximity of her dad.

Back to option two, this was this IT. Would it help if she pretended that she wasn’t on to what IT was doing? It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try. She smiled, a wobbly, tired smile that seemed more like a grimace. ‘I have no idea, who this Bowers guy is’. She told Stan, standing up for the first time since she woke up. She stumbled forward, but Richie and Bill held her back. ‘E-e-easy, you m-m-must have t-t-aken a nasty f-f-fall.’

It wasn’t, but she didn’t know what other excuse she was supposed to come up with. She turned her smile to Bill, nodding her head, but stopping once she realized she was only worsening her headache. ‘Yeah, I fell while I was trying to chase my dog’. She told him. Emily had always had an excellent poker face, and she hoped it wasn’t failing her now.

The losers seemed convinced, even though Stan was still sharply watching her. ‘Did you find him’? Richie asked, adjusting his glasses to stabilize them. Emily shook her head, trying to seem sad as she told them that the dog had been too fast for her. It wasn’t hard to be sad as she thought about all the things that had happened in the last couple of days.

‘I hope you find him’, Ben said hopefully, flashing his big smile as Emily looked at him. ‘I’ve never seen you around here, are you new?’ Stan asked, sounding too laid back to have it come across convincing. Emily’s breath stocked, it was the same type of voice her dad would use against her as her tried to figure out if she was lying about something.

Emily didn’t trust her voice, so instead she nodded. She hadn’t even interpreted the question, but she was too afraid to.

‘So where do you live’? Eddie asked, while trying to pry Richie’s hands of his arm, the scowl on his face wavering as his smile threatened to break through.

Emily hadn’t thought of that, at all. She didn’t what she was supposed to answer. If this really was IT, why hadn’t he done anything yet? Besides, it was shocking to see her father this young, but it wasn’t exactly scary. Not like the thing attacking her had been.

‘I, I don’t have a house yet’, she said, ‘I came early, my parents still had some business to take care of at home’. She gulped, it was a bad excuse and she knew it. Still though, it was hard I come up with answers on the spot, especially since she wasn’t sure what was happening.  

‘Oh, so where will you be staying?’ Richie inquired. Emily looked around hopeless. She had no idea.

‘W-w-ere h-h-having a s-s-sleepover, I-if you w-w-wanna come?’ Bill questioned, and Emily felt a surge of gratitude towards him. ‘Yeah, that would be great’.

Richie hooted, to which Eddie shut him a look as if to say that he should stop it.

‘B-b-ev is r-r-riding white m-m-e, but y-y-you can r-r-ride w-w-ith Stan.’ Bill said. Stan’s head turned so quickly it almost sounded like his neck broke. He mustered the most angry look at Bill, turning his glare towards Emily, before huffing, turning around and leaving his bike there, as he walked down the street. It was still for a couple of seconds, nobody daring to move an inch. Richie was the first one that spoke up. ‘I’ll go after him’, he sighed as he too turned and walked after Stan. It was becoming quite obvious that Richie and Stan cared about each other.

Emily felt like crying all over again. She had never been on the receiving end of that look from her dad. He rarely even got that angry, only when the neighbor would once again ride his car into the mailbox after a night of partying, and if one of his customers called him to complain when he was at home. It may not have even been her dad, but it still hurt.

She just wanted to go home, to her mom, so she could be mad at her father in peace. ‘He’s just worried about us, bowers has been really vicious lately’, Bev explained.  

‘Who’s bowers?’ Emily shrugged helplessly, her dad hadn’t said much about his childhood.

Ben looked down, his hand grazing his shirt near the underside of his belly, hissing once his hand made contact with something. ‘A bully’, Eddie answered.

‘Well, I don’t know him at all, so don’t worry. I have no plans in bullying you guys.  I mean I don’t even have friends’, Emily mumbled bashfully. It wasn’t exactly true, she did have a best friend, but she didn’t really think that counted.

The group smiled. ‘W-w-well you d-d-do now’, bill smiled.

‘Welcome to the losers club, new chick’. Richie beloved as him and Stan approached the group again. Stan still looked reluctant, but he didn’t seem as mad anymore.

‘Oh right, My names is Emily’ she flushed.

‘Hey Emily’. Mike had the kindest smile on his face as he said this, and he already turned towards his bike, getting on it. ‘You can ride with me if you want?’

Stan sighed, ‘or with me, you can also ride with me’. He said looking apprehensive, still though, he offered, and that made Emily more happy then she would have liked.

Nevertheless, she turned around towards mike, ‘thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll just ride with Mike’. Stan nodded, quickly getting his bike as well, and with Bill the leading, the group got on their way.

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

Stan rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. Even though it was starting to get a bit annoying, Emily couldn’t help but giggle at the way Richie and Eddie were still bickering. It was endearing to see. She had been at Bill’s house for about 3 hours now, and it was becoming clear that these people really got along well with Stan, and were very close with one another. They were accepting and kind, and they made Emily feel right at home in their group. Richie could be a bit much at times , and Eddie freaked her out a bit with his rants about how she shouldn’t sit on a dirty floor, do you know how much bacteria were on there? Still, they were a fun group, each with their own personalities, qualities and opinions of their own.

Currently they were playing 20 questions, as they said they wanted to get to know Emily better. She had, of course agreed, but it was only after answering several questions that she had the insight to lie a bit. She didn’t want IT to know too much about her, and even if this was really her dad, she couldn’t make it weird by telling him all the stuff his daughter would like to do in the future. They had the usual questions like what are your hobbies (Theater and reading), what do you want do when you grow up (teacher), what was the name of your dog?  

Though everyone was nice, Stan still seemed very uncomfortable with her being there. It hurt. She had always been close with her dad. They would hang out every Sunday, whether it was making a puzzle or going to a theatre, it was their hang out day. Even if they had a fight, which happened from time to time, they would never go to bed without making up. He always listened respectfully to her opinions, even if it didn’t really make sense. He was just a great father in general, and a respectful man.

 Emily could definitely see that in younger Stan, but it seemed as if this Stan had trouble hiding his distrust towards everything. She could see how happy and open he was with his friends, but he wasn’t at all like that with her. With her, he was stiff as a board, watching her like a hawk would watch its prey, as if waiting until she made a mishap.

It was better than when she had woken up too though, as he would sometimes give her reserved smile. The smiles were obviously fake, but Emily still appreciated the effort. He asked her about where she came from. Emily wanted to say Atlanta, but she didn’t want to give too much away, so she told the group that she came from Brooklyn. Stan then had asked about her parents, and it was clear he was trying to figure out what her intentions were. Bill had given him a warning look and Stan had backed off, but Emily had felt very faint in that moment.

‘you aren’t very loud, are you new girl’? Richie asked her. It was true. Her mother had once joked that Emily had the quietness of her father, only without his weird sense of humor. Emily was quite, and could really enjoy jokes crude or not, but she could never come up with jokes herself. She shrugged towards Richie, proving his point more with a smirk, and Richie laughed with her. Her attention was once again drawn towards Bill, who was fidgeting on the floor where he was seated. He had been doing that for the past hour. As Emily and Bill made eye contact, he smiled and stood up, brushing his pants as he did so. ‘I’m just going to grab some more drinks’, he said as he walked out of the room.

‘I’m sorry’, Stan mumbled suddenly from beside Emily. She turned her body towards Stan, indicating to him that she was listening. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rude to you’, he finished. She smiled, feeling a little lighter at his words, he was starting to remind her more and more of her dad. ‘It’s okay, I guess I was kind of strange’, Emily said.

Stan smiled back at her, and this time, it was genuine. He still didn’t look like her trusted her completely, but it was clear he had taken, at least a slight, liking toward her. Before anything else could be said, the door of Bill’s room was thrown open again. Bill was heaving slightly. He was holding what seemed to be a map clenched in his fist. ‘I g-g-got it’, he said while looking around the room. As he looked at Emily his eyes widened, as if he had forgotten that she was there.

Eddie seemed to jump in to help him. ‘hey Emily, do you think you could clean up the kitchen? It’s a weird tradition we have, to clean up the kitchen yeah. So because your new you should do it. Do you know how many bacteria’s there are in a kitchen. My mom said she had a friend that died because some of the bacteria’s of her kitchen table got into her soup and-‘

‘Okay, Eddie thanks for that detailed story,’ Stan said, cutting off Eddie’s rant successfully. ‘I’m sure she gets the gist by now’.

Emily frowned, it was a weird story, but she wasn’t exactly going to question it. Especially not because her story was also suspicious, and they didn’t push her about it too much. She nodded, already begin to stand up. ‘yeah of course, where will you guys be’? She asked turning around at the door to face the group.

‘The garage, we’re going to look through some of Bill’s old stuff’. Beverly answered. All of the losers gave her a tight smile before getting up themselves

Emily accepted this answer and started her way to the kitchen, Bill had showed her around when she had first gotten here. She heard the others go to the garage, and she felt the need to follow them. It was obvious that they were hiding something.  If there was anything that described Emily well, it was that she was very curious. Still, she showed the respect her parents had taught her, and she stayed in the kitchen. It didn’t look like the kitchen needed any cleaning to her, as they had only been into the kitchen to grab some drinks and chips, but she still searched the cabinets to find a washcloth.

Normally, she wouldn’t check someone’s cabinets either, but Bill hadn’t told her were any of the stuff was to clean, so she had to figure it out herself. She held the washcloth under cold water and added a cleaning soap before beginning to wipe it across every surface of the kitchen. This wasn’t usually her chore. This was what her mom did. Emily herself always did the dishes while her mom cleaned the kitchen, and her dad would put everything away that Emily had just dried.

 It was a weird thought to have, a random one, but for some reason she wished there were dished she could do. Just to get into a familiar setting. Just as this thought had she heard screaming coming from the garage.

She dropped the washcloth and ran towards the door she had seen the losers disappears through. The door was locked, she couldn’t  get it open. It freaked her out and for a second she did nothing but stare at the door. Emily suddenly had a flashback to seeing her mom standing at the bathroom door, screaming her father’s name but getting no answer. The screaming still continued. It tore her from her flashback as she once again tried to open the door. As soon as she did, the screaming stopped.

Emily banged her fist against the door. ‘Guys, guys are you okay’? She screamed, her mind instantly thinking of all the bad possibilities that could have happened. A loud crash stopped her from trying to open the door once more. The sounds were coming from the living room, but Emily was too scared to go and see. Another crash caused her to take two steps forward, peering her head around the door that lead into the living room. She couldn’t see anything from where she was standing, so reluctantly, she let go of the doorknob she was still holding. She took another step forward until she was fully in the door opening.

There was a vase laying broken into the middle of the room, but besides that, Emily couldn’t see anything. She walked towards the vase and bowed down, already picking up several pieces. She felt a looming presence behind her suddenly, and in her hurry to get up she felt forward into the sharp pieces of the vase. She held her hands out, and felt the pieces piercing her skin. She hissed instantly jumping up, taking a look at her hand who had instantly started bleeding. A gloved hand landed on her shoulder, causing her breath to stock. The glove was white, and the hand that was in it was gripping so tight was starting to hurt.

 Slowly Emily turned around, the blood draining from her face, her mount opening as if to scream, but no sound came out. Before her stood a clown. That was the best way to describe him, though right away you could tell that he wasn’t just a clown. His mount opened so wide that Emily could see the rows of teeth inside of it. He looked like he was going to kill her. However, when he reached his other hand towards her neck, he himself stopped. His mount closed again slightly, and turned his face so that Emily could see his eyes. They were yellow.

He tilted his head, and got his face closer to her. Emily could see from the corner of her eyes that there was a poke form a fireplace, right within her reach. She could reach out and use the poke as a weapon to defend herself. As she tried to though, she felt her hands shake so much, she had never felt so scared before, and she knew she would never have the courage to fight this thing.

The clown seemed to smell her, drawing his head back as fast as he did. It seemed confused. With a gasp, Emily realized that this was the IT that Bill had told her about. A smirk spread across IT’s face. It wasn’t nearly as playful as the smirk Richie god when he tried to annoy someone. No, this smirk was pure evil. ‘Uris, huh?’ The clown giggled, and finally Emily found her voice.  She screamed as loud as she could. The door leading up to the garage began to pounce, this time from the other side. She could hear her name being called, but she was too busy screaming to truly notice it. How did this thing know that? She only looked away from the clowns eyes when she heard gasps. The losers club was now standing in the living room, right in front of both Emily and the clown.

Mike sprinted forward, grabbing the poke Emily had been too afraid to reach for. Before he could swing it towards IT, he drew back, letting go of Emily. The clown kept smirking, walking backwards, not saying a word anymore. Only when he disappeared did Emily collapse onto Mike.

 Stan and Eddie ran forward towards her aswell. Richie, Bill and Ben ran out of the room to see where IT had gone off too, but ultimately didn’t see anything as they returned empty handed. Emily started sobbing , the pure fear draining her of any inhibitions both mentally and physically. Mike had tried to attack IT, which meant that there was no doubt about it anymore, Emily really was send to the past. Stan, who was sitting in her right side grabbed her arm to look at the wounds the shard of glass had left.

He was careful not to touch any of the blood. Emily knew that this was because he didn’t like any of his stuff dirty, but she didn’t think about that as she hurled herself towards him, gripping him tightly. Stan went rigid, but she didn’t let him go. This was her dad, even if he didn’t know it.

 She was so mad at him for leaving her, so furious, but right now he was here. Even if he wasn’t the dad she knew, he was still her dad. He still smelled like vanilla and safety, or maybe he had always smelled that way. Whatever it was, Emily didn’t want to let go of him, she had missed him so much. She heard Richie chuckle awkwardly behind her. ‘Okay, Emily, let doctor K look at the wounds’.

‘Shut the fuck up asshat’, Eddie spewed out, but he did pulled Emily’s arm towards him, taking a look at the hand himself. Emily pulled away from Stan, the tears flowing freely. She turned her body towards Eddie, and settled back against the wall once more. Eddie started pulling out pieces of shards and she cringed, but didn’t pull her hand away.

Though Stan still sat uncomfortable, and shuffled back a little further away from her, he didn’t get up and leave, he stayed by her side, even if he was undoubtedly dying inside at the blood on his shirt. It made Emily’s tears slow, at least her father still cared, young or not.

As Eddie did his best to fix her up, there was only one thing on her mind. What the hell is she supposed to do now?

[emospritelet]

Okay prompt request for dark heart remix! 26) “How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?“

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [AO3]

Last time, Gold gave Belle a swanky apartment to move into and they agreed it was probably best they took a day to calm down before speaking again.

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

x

Gold had booked a hotel suite for the week, but no matter how comfortable the bed was, or how dark the room, he was restless, and by four o’clock he had given up on the idea of sleeping, and got up to make some coffee. He drank it looking out on the darkened park, waiting for the sun to rise and listening to the news with half an ear. Rain was falling, lashing the windows in streaking trails limned in silver. He wondered if Belle was sleeping well. Whether she got enough rest. It didn’t look like it to him, and he hoped her stubbornness and righteous anger wouldn’t prevent her from accepting his help.

He was still angry over the fact that she had waited so long to tell him, still furious about the conditions she had chosen to live in rather than ask for his assistance. She and the baby could have burned to death in a fire and he would never have known. He focused on that anger rather than pick apart and study the desperate tangle of emotions that had burst into life in the deepest recesses of his brain upon learning that he was about to be a father again. There was too much fear and regret there for him to handle, and so he did what he had been doing for decades with unwanted thoughts and feelings, which was to shove them aside and ignore them.

The sun rose, a fact discernible only by the lightening of the sky. It was heavy with dark clouds, those at the horizon glowing red as embers. It seemed as though the rain would continue. Gold put on more coffee, and took a shower while he waited for it to brew. His usual morning routine of a wash and shave made him feel a little better, and he pulled a robe around himself and checked the time. Still reasonably early, but the city was coming to life, and so he poured the coffee and placed a call to his lawyer, Ella Deville.

“Alexander Gold,” she drawled, when he was put through. “It’s been too long, darling. How are you?”

“Fucking livid,” he said sourly. “I need some advice.”

“Whenever you need advice it makes me money, so do go on.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help grinning.

“I presume everything’s going well on the Misthaven building deal?” she added.

“Very well,” he said. “Except for the top floor corner unit. Looks like I’m going to lose money on that one.”

“Why? It’s a perfect location, and the market’s in reasonable shape, all things considered.”

“Nothing to do with the property,” he said quickly. “It’s actually why I’m calling. I - I’m kind of letting someone stay there. Rent free.”

“You’re not usually known for your soft heart, darling,” she remarked. “It’s one of the things I admire about you. What’s caused this sudden crisis of conscience, and how is my excellent advice going to help?”

“This isn’t the usual real estate deal,” he said. “You may need to refer me to someone else. It’s a family matter.”

“Well, now I’m going to keep the case just to be nosy.”

Gold took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the heat of it on his tongue.

“It’s my - well, my ex, for want of a better word.”

“Your ex?” She whistled. “My my, this is a first. The reclusive Mr Gold lets slip hints at a social life. Tell Auntie Ella all the sordid details, you bad boy.”

“Certainly not,” he said dryly. “It was a bad break-up and I wasn’t expecting to see her again.”

“And now?”

He hesitated.

“She’s pregnant.”

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line.

“Well,” said Ella. “That must have been quite a shock.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” she added. “I presume she says it’s yours?”

“Yes.”

“And you have doubts?”

“I - I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not saying I think she’s lying, but - well, we hadn’t spoken since the break-up. I have no idea what she’s been up to.”

“Of course.” He could hear her scribbling. “She could be playing you, and we certainly can’t discount it. You’re a very rich man, after all, and that has to be a better prospect than whatever lumbering college boy caught her fancy one drunken night, hmm?“

Gold closed his eyes as he remembered what Belle’s boyfriend looked like. Was he the father? Had he abandoned Belle over the baby, leaving her no choice but to come to him? Would she really be that cruel, to make him responsible for another man’s child? To get his hopes up only to crush them? Could you blame her if she did? You did it to her after all. You led her on, then broke her heart, and destroyed the both of you in the process.

“Alexander?”

He blinked, clearing his throat.

“She must know it’s the sort of thing that can be tested,” he managed.

“Oh yes,” said Ella. “But desperate people do stupid things, I find.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, they do.”

“Well, I suggest a paternity test,” she said briskly. “Easy enough, and quick. A simple blood test should do it, and then you’ll know. One way or the other.”

Gold felt a momentary chill at the thought of the result being negative.

“Right,” he said. “Yes.”

“If the test is positive, we can talk about next steps,” she said. “Any initial thoughts on what you want to do?”

“I want to exercise my rights to the child, of course,” he said curtly.

“Yes, but there’s a myriad of options in that field,” she said. “If you think things are likely to get nasty, I may need to get one of my colleagues to handle the case. Ursula is a fantastic family lawyer, as well as being an excellent kisser.”

“I’ll rely on whatever you advise,” he said. “I - I hope we can come to an agreement without the need for that, but she’s stubborn.”

“I suppose it’s early days,” she said. “What are your initial thoughts on the ideal outcome?”

Gold ran a hand through his hair, short, damp strands licking against his fingers.

“I - I want to make sure she can’t take it from me,” he said. “I need to ensure that. I want to be named as its father, to be equally involved in raising it, to have equal say in any decisions about its life, education and welfare.”

“Hmm,” she said. “I see you’ve given this quite a bit of thought.”

“Well, it’s not like I spent the night sleeping, or anything,” he said sourly.

“Why don’t we make sure there’s a right there to be exercised, first,” she said. “Let’s do the test. We can worry about the complications afterwards. Is she seeing anyone?”

“I - I don’t know,” he said. “She lives alone.”

“I see. Well, once we get the results, you can start planning your future,” she said. “Should take about a week. When is the baby due?”

“May fifth.”

She made a strangled sort of noise.

“And you’re only calling me now?”

“I only just fucking found out!” he snapped. “Hence me saying I was livid!”

Ella tutted slowly.

“Just how much of a giant arsehole were you to make her not talk to you until she was seven months pregnant?”

His mouth twisted.

“I believe you can guess the answer to that.”

“Hmm. That bad?”

He winced.

“Probably worse.”

“Surprised she called you at all, in that case.”

“Can we leave the character assassination for another day?” he said shortly. “Will you arrange this test?”

“You’ll need her consent.”

“Oh, I’ll get that, I assure you,” he said grimly.

“Let me make a few enquiries, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m staying in Boston, by the way. Just call me on this number.”

He hung up, slipping the phone into his pocket and turning back to his coffee. Just under twelve hours before he could see Belle. Just under twelve hours that he had to fill to keep his mind from concentrating on the worst that his imagination could produce. At least she was unlikely to run away, in her current condition. At least there was that.

x

After Gold had gone, Belle went to run herself a bath, and explored the apartment properly. It really was beautiful, the furniture sleek and expensive, the rugs soft and thick beneath her feet. She looked in the kitchen cupboards, finding a multitude of cans and dried goods, and the fridge, which contained a wide variety of vegetables, fresh milk, cheese and butter, eggs and cream and fresh juice. There was a sliced loaf of bread on the kitchen counter, one of those artisan loaves with seeds in the crust. She was hungry, but exhausted, so she made herself a sandwich and ate it at the kitchen table, washed down with a glass of milk.

Taking a bath felt like true luxury, and she stayed there until the water was tepid, wrapping herself in a thick towel when she was done. The bed was king-size, ready made with heavy cotton sheets and a dark grey eiderdown, and Belle curled up in it, a cup of tea steaming on the nightstand. The apartment was beautiful, but a part of her worried that she had moved into a gilded cage, from which she would find it hard to escape. A cage where Gold could swoop in and take their baby if she ever displeased him.

She was anxious, and her sleep was restless because of it. Waking up to pouring rain didn’t help, but she made herself scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast and ate it at the kitchen table, looking out over the city as it started to come to life. She had a view of the park and tree-lined streets, and she had to admit that it was a much better start to the day than in her old apartment, where she would have been listening to the couple next door yelling at each other. She would have to make the best of losing some of her freedom, for the sake of the baby.

The rain had eased a little by the time she got to the university, and she headed straight for the coffee shop, where she found Emma juggling a pile of books in one arm and a large coffee and Danish in the other. Belle took the coffee from her before she could drop anything.

“Thanks,” said Emma, nodding to a free table. “How are you? You look kinda beat.”

“Yeah, didn’t sleep well,” said Belle, and hesitated. “Alex tracked me down.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she shoved her books onto the table.

“Wait right there!” she ordered, wagging a finger before hurrying back to the counter. Belle took a seat, watching listlessly as Emma ordered a tea and another Danish and hurried back, shoving them across the table at her. She shrugged out of her heavy coat, pulling the woollen hat from her head.

“Right,” she said. “What happened?”

Belle launched into an explanation of everything that had happened between them the previous evening, and Emma listened, only interrupting to snort loudly or curse Gold out. By the time Belle had finished, though, she was looking thoughtful.

“He seriously said he’d take the baby if you didn’t do what he wanted?”

“Pretty much.”

“You think he was serious?”

“Oh yes,” said Belle dryly. “I think he meant every word.”

“What an asshole.”

“That’s one word for him.”

“Well, we just have to make sure he can’t follow through on the threat,” said Emma.

“So - do as he says?”

“If what he wants means the baby’s safe and you get to keep it, then yeah.”

“Ugh.” Belle sat back, pulling a face.

“Just saying.”

“I know,” sighed Belle. “I know it’s the sensible thing to do, I just - I hate that I don’t have options, you know?”

“I know, honey.”

“He just - he just waltzes back into my life with his perfect suit and his stupid perfect haircut and looks down his nose at me and I have to dance to his bloody tune!” groused Belle. “I was already well aware that I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, I didn’t need a reminder!”

“You’re doing fine!” said Emma soothingly, reaching for her hand and squeezing.

“I’m not, I’m - I’m a mess!” said Belle, feeling tears sting her eyes. “I have zero control over my life and I’m just - just winging it every bloody day! How can I get through life like that? How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?”

“Honey…”

“You think I don’t know what he saw the moment I opened that door to him?” Belle went on, gesturing with a hand. “I’m pathetic!”

“Belle,” said Emma sternly. “Stop. Breathe. You’re one of the least pathetic people I’ve ever met. You’re just going through some pretty serious life events right now, okay? It’s enough to throw anyone off their game.”

Belle huffed air out in a long breath, slumping in her chair a little, but nodded. Emma squeezed her hand again, and reached for her coffee.

“How’s that paper going?” she asked. “You get all those resources you were looking for?”

“Most of them,” said Belle, tearing a piece off her Danish and popping it into her mouth. “Professor South gave me some good feedback on my last piece, so I’m hoping I can build on that. You?”

“I have about fifteen hundred words of my criminology paper, and most of that’s crap,” said Emma bluntly.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Okay, maybe only thirteen hundred words is crap.”

Belle giggled.

“You want to get together for a study session this weekend?” she asked. “Turns out I suddenly have a lot of space to work in.”

“Sure. If you let Neal and Henry bring dinner over when they pick me up.”

“It’s a date.”

Belle reached for her tea, taking a sip, and Emma took a bite of her Danish. She watched Belle as she chewed and swallowed, reaching for her coffee again.

“So,” she said. “Baby daddy’s given you a new apartment?”

“He hasn’t given me anything, he’s letting me stay there,” said Belle morosely.

“Still.” Emma took another bite. “Gotta be better than the old place. I kept telling you it was a fire hazard.”

“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers, right?” said Belle. “And now I’m dependent on him.”

“Not forever,” said Emma reasonably. “When you finish college you’ll be in a way better position. And at least it seems like he wants to help out, right?”

“I guess,” she said despondently. “I just - I hate feeling powerless.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Emma took a slurp of her coffee. “But you need to think about what’s best for the baby. And sometimes that means swallowing your pride. Believe me, I know.”

“Yeah.”

Belle picked up her Danish and took a bite, and Emma tilted her head.

“You said he’s coming over tonight,” she said. “You want some backup?”

Belle shook her head as she chewed and swallowed.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “We need to talk about what we’re gonna do, I know that. I just hope we can do it without me wanting to strangle him with his own tie.”

“Try sleeping with him,” suggested Emma cheerfully. “I’m willing to bet you could bang your way to a better deal.”

Belle shot her a flat look.

“Okay, that’s a piece of advice I definitely won’t be taking.”

“Really.” Emma’s voice was flat. “How does he look?”

Belle groaned, slumping in her chair.

“He cut his hair,” she said gloomily.

“So?”

She sat forward again.

“He used to have this long hair,” she said. “It sort of came to his jaw and it was really soft and it used to brush my face when—” She pulled a face. "Well, you know.”

“And now?”

“He’s cut it all off.”

“So that’s good, then,” said Emma. “He looks like shit?”

“No! That’s the problem!”

Belle slumped forward, letting her head thump onto her folded arms.

“So, getting back to my sleeping with him idea,” said Emma, and she raised her head.

“I’m not doing that!”

Emma winked at her, popping the last piece of Danish into her mouth and licking crumbs from her fingers.

“We’ll see,” she said. “I give it a week.”

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

A Taste Of Christmas, 5/6

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 5/6.

Pairings: Metacrisis Nine x Rose.

A/N: Sequel for The Summertime Of Our Lives. Written for doctorroseprompts' ficmas challenge. Ficmas challenge: Ornaments, Wreath, Ribbon, Stockings, Rooftop, Earmuffs, Bright. Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Christmas is a time when you get homesick - even when you're home.” - Carol Nelson.

CHAPTER 5:

The table was covered with papers of different colours, glue sticks, bits of cut papers, cutting shapes, scissors, stickers, paint, Posca and a mix of silver and red flakes. In the middle of this mess, there were ranks of homemade invitation, cards, name tags and menus elegantly ornamented with Christmas themed elements like snowmen made with buttons of different sizes and colours, Christmas trees made with pine needles, pine cones made with bits of cardboards, candy canes made with paper straws. Those were things Tony had never seen in his entire life and he had been more than happy to help his sister crafting these little pieces of art. For him, it meant nothing because he never celebrated Christmas and because it was all new and secret – Pete must never know! – it was an exciting mission for the seven years-old boy. In the middle of this mess, the Doctor found the blonde head of his wife. She had collapsed on her table of work after working really hard on the last details for their upcoming Christmas party. She wanted it all to be perfect and she was pushing herself to exhaustion. The Doctor had already cleaned Tony up and put him to bed. Now it was time for his lovely wife to follow the same path. She was working hard, too hard, for their celebration to be perfect. They could have chosen the emblematic date of December 25 for this because it was in the middle of the week and everyone was working. Instead, they had chosen December 21 and 22. It was in two weeks time so it was important for the invitation cards to be sent as soon as possible or no one would be available. They didn’t have many friends around here, just a handful, but it was more than enough. The Doctor delicately picked Rose up. She protested, opened her eyes but ended up wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling closer to his chest. He took her to the bedroom and lay her down. He carefully removed all leftovers of her artistic activities from her face and hair. He had always seen Rose as a young woman who was mature and clever for her age. More than other nineteen years old kiddos of her kiddos of her generation. With all the traveling they did and all the dangers they faced, she had grown up faster than she should have. This universe had completed her transformation into a grown-up woman. This was the first time in ages that he was seeing the child in her. Participating in this impossible Christmas revival was making her innocence and childish behaviour resurfacing. He congratulated himself for this idea. He was falling more and more in love with her. As he needed less sleep than a normal human being, he was often pacing around the house and resolving grids of crosswords to keep busy until finally sleep came to him. Tonight, though, he had other projects. As soon as Rose was tucked in bed, he left a note on his pillow and used the wrist device that was formerly Jack’s. He profoundly disliked this device: it was having too nasty effects on the user. However the TARDIS wasn’t ready to travel yet. She still needed to mature. Better give her all the time she needed to be at the best. He was one careless driver and an insatiable traveller. She would see the universe. She would see his family, help with raising his children. That was how he had dreamt his life with Rose once. The house, the human friends, the ‘ordinary’ life were just good bonuses. He was sprawled out on the bed when Rose woke up. All dressed in his signature outfit – jumper, leather jacket, black pants and boots – he had fallen asleep as soon as he had reached the bed. Strangely, he was wearing more colours than usual. These clothes were dark, reflecting the darkness of his soul when they had met and bringing a sort of protection to their owner. They were an homage to all the lost ones he was carrying on his shoulders with the damages of the war he was the only Time Lord to have survived to. Today, they were covered in an elegant mix of pastel and bright colours. On his head was resting a wreath of flowers Rose had only seen once in her life. The device around the Doctor’s wrist confirmed that he had been travelling while she was asleep. But what had he been up to in the galaxy? Why was he covered with flowers? Like he had done for her the night before, she delicately took off his shoes and jacket. She left the flowers on him just for the pleasure of having him waking up later with them and gently mocking him. It was breaking his bad boy appearance, making him look like a soft warrior. The Doctor could have been one of the French soldiers who left fresh and joyful for the first World War had he not already lived the horrors a war could cause to a person, to a population, to a whole planet. He was a warrior recovering from this war that had happened long before they met, a war that would haunt his mind for as long as he would be alive. Flowers were a meagre comfort for the broken man who had a hard time pulling himself back together. Where would he be without her? Who would hold his hand during the dark times? It was a question she still was asking herself. Less now than in the first days of her new life here, but sometimes she caught herself wondering who was holding the hand of the Doctor who was still running for his life. A thought she was keeping for herself not to sadden her Doctor. At least, he had her hand to hold; he had the woman he had always desired. And the Time Lord could make friends with anyone, as annoying as he could get when he was babbling relentlessly and considering the persons, humans or not, facing him like they were completely stupid. But if you were asking for help, he never refused and that made him a great friend. Being friend with such a person wasn’t without risk. You have to be prepared for the worst at any time. This life wasn’t for everyone. Some just couldn’t handle it. Rose had adjusted to this life for the man she had fallen in love with. She went downstairs and cooked breakfast for the two men of the house who weren’t up yet. She had no idea when the Doctor had fallen asleep but Tony was sleeping in. She had never seen him sleep this late on mornings. The sound of his steps on the ground above her proved her wrong. The boy was up and he was coming her way for breakfast. She had put everything down on the table and was making pancakes by the time he joined her in the kitchen with dishevelled hair and a sleepy face. He mumbled a hello and settled down at the table to eat his breakfast and drink his hot chocolate. Rose smiled, ruffled his hair and kissed his head before dropping a couple pancakes in the empty plate beside him and covered them with honey. It was his favourite meal to have on morning. Something the Doctor loved too… if she added bananas that tasted like bananas. “What is it, Rosie?” “Hm?” Rose sat down on the chair next to him for her morning tea. She had sugar and stirred the brewage for a perfect mix of the flavours. Tony was pointing to her tattoo. She was used to it now and didn’t notice it as much as she did before but to Tony, this was new. He hadn’t remarked it sooner. The lines were going from a wrist to the other in elegant lines forming long loops and drawing tight knots. The Doctor was wearing the same tattoos. He had had a harder time to get used to them. Maybe that was why he was wearing the leather jacket again: to avoid people’s looks on him now that he was vulnerable. Just like them all. “That’s a tattoo.” “Cool!” “Mum didn’t find it cool when she has seen,” chuckled Rose. “Dad has one too. That’s a number. He said that the day he met mum but she told me it was bollocks.” It was. Pete had had that tattoo long before their mother came in this universe. He had revealed the meaning of it when she was her prisoner in one of his labs in Torchwood. It was connected to his activities in this huge institution of researches. The Cybermen and Daleks, the Void, they hadn’t been caused only by her original universe. Pete had helped with it and played dumb when everything happened. They all had been fooled by him and she was the only one to see the truth behind his mask. The numbers on his arm indeed were a date. The date of his entry in Torchwood which matched the date he had met Jackie in the other world. “The Doctor and I are married,” explained Rose. “We did a hand-fastening marriage this summer and instead of wearing wedding rings, we chose to have the ribbons of love tattooed on our arms.” “The Doctor has them too?” “Yep,” replied the hoarse sleepy voice of the concerned man. He had swapped his jumper for a T-shirt and I kept his pants and socks. His short sleeves revealed the lines tattooed on his arms. The exact same lines as Rose. He stuck his arms together for the pattern to be complete and Tony was amazed by the complexity and beauty of the arabesques forming the ribbons. He could have had them off in some planet in the far future but he had chosen to keep them. They were the symbol of his love and marriage with Rose and he was growing quite fond of them. “We can get married with tattoos?” “Not really. There’s a ceremony called hand-fastening. The engaged couple brings ribbons made with fabric that have a special meaning to the both of them. A qualified and close person to you tells the story of the hand-fastening and what it means to the engaged couple. You face your loved one, gather the ribbons and take the hands of their hands. Your right hand takes their left on and your left takes their right one so your arms are forming a sort of eight or an infinite sign. The person you’ve chosen to marry you fastens the ribbons around your joined hands and tie them with a nice knot. You say your vows and the ceremony is over.” “But the tattoos?” “There are married couples that feel the need to exchange gifts that were very personal and dear to them to symbolise their love and trust. Others choose to have bond tattooed for everyone to see their love. Or simply as a reminder of their bond. Rose loved the tattoo idea so we’ve picked it and it’s fantastic to see that our marriage wasn’t just a dream.” The Doctor walked over to Rose and dropped a kiss on her lips. Tony had a wide smile. It made him so happy to be surrounded by so much warm love. He giggled when the Doctor ruffled his hair and tickled him. But he was so intrigued by what he whispered in his ear that he finished his breakfast and ran in the living room. Rose raised an eyebrow, the Doctor shrugged innocently and Tony squealed happily. Rose was intrigued so she went in the living room and there, she understood: in the night, the Doctor had built a fake chimney and had hung Christmas stockings on the mantel. There were one for each one of them and one for their friends. who were invited to their party. Every stockings was filled with chocolate and crackers and candy canes. Everything to make this first Christmas here even better. She threw herself in the Doctor’s arms. He really was fantastic. “Oh, Rosie, it’s snowing!” Tony put the stockings back on the chimney and ran to the closest window to watch the white flakes fall from the sky. Snow for Christmas, long time it hadn’t happened in their original universe. Thankfully global warming didn’t exist in this world. Somehow, they had managed to protect it for the future generations. As if anyone wanted to conceive and raise children in this full scary world. And since they were in a small quiet town, away from the big cities, the skies were as clear as they could be, offering them an impressive cover of shining stars to observe.an activity that the Doctor loved doing when was sitting in front of the patio door. When the night came, he chose to watch the stars with his little family: his wife and brother-in-law. But changing a habit had a certain price and he hadn’t seen it coming. The stars were brighter than usual that night and watching them from inside the house was lessening this beautiful brightness. The Doctor wanted to climb in the rooftop but Rose firmly refused. It was too dangerous. She allowed him to watch them from outside on the condition that he was dressing up to face the cold. He ended up muffled up in a warm coat and scarf and gloves but also a pair of earmuffs he was sulking about. Rose had insisting on the fact she loved his big ears the way they were and didn’t want them to suffer from the cold. She won the battle obviously and he soon forgot the argument-that-wasn’t-really-an-argument. Standing in the snow and holding the hand of his wife while speaking about the stars he knew to Tony was better than sulking about stupid earmuffs that indeed were keeping his ears warm for Rose to sexily nibble them later…

To be continued...

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