#the social change would be slow but at least there’d be change!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

hotd never fails to disappoint

[waywardrose-archive]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 5

stranger things | eddie munson x reader | rated e | 5.5k

spotify playlist | for @punk-in-docs​​​​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until  his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which  flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Heed the tags. We’re venturing into spicy territory. 🖤 Check the #em tagd tag ⬇️ for previous chapters!

-

5

After stopping at the convenience store that stocked Djarums to buy cigarettes, snacks, and drinks, Eddie kept you entertained and fueled. He regaled you with the plot of his latest D&D campaign, though he hadn’t written an ending. He had to have contingency plans for any option his players chose. You agreed that every choice must have an obstacle or risk — or the campaign wouldn’t be exciting.

He explained the newest sheep to join Hellfire: Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair. Henderson was a pain in his ass and too smart for his own good. You threw Eddie a pointed look, because that meant Henderson was clever enough to foil simple traps. Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes in concession.

Wheeler was a string-bean of a guy who had insight and an infuriating amount of luck. Eddie held his hands in front of himself as if to choke someone. You bit your lip to suppress a grin as you watched the road.

“What?” Eddie asked, getting a cigarette from the shared pack of Djarums and pushing at the dashboard’s lighter.

Keeping your voice light, you said, “Nothing.”

He snorted. “Look, you’d be pissed too if the little shits screwed your whole subplot.”

“Probably.”

“And don’t get me started on Sinclair.”

“Why not?” you asked. “We’re not even at the state line yet.”

“Sinclair is a sneaky little—” He growled and cracked the window. “His heart’s not in it, though. He’d be great if he wasn’t so hung up on stupid shit.”

“What stupid shit?”

Eddie jammed the cigarette between his lips just as the lighter handle popped. He put the lighter to the cigarette and took a few puffs.

“He doesn’t want to be a ‘freak’ like the rest of Hellfire.”

‘The rest of Hellfire,’ of course, meant Eddie himself.

You said, “It takes guts to be different.”

“The kid’s got guts, trust me. Bravery.” He angled in his seat, head close to the window. The wind ruffled his hair. “It’s admirable, but...” He breathed smoke out of his nose, reminding you of a dragon. “He’s only sticking around for his friends.”

“Henderson and Wheeler?”

“Yeah, package deal.”

“Then let him go.”

He grunted.

You continued, “Circumstances change everything. I used to have a circle of friends before I moved here, you know. Just...” You sighed. “Now that I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind.” You gave Eddie a wry look. “I’m this oddity at Hawkins — with a few acquaintances.”

Eddie drank from his Mountain Dew before saying, “Not only acquaintances.”

You grinned and smoothed your hair behind your ear.

“No, not only acquaintances, I guess.”

You took a drink of your melting Icee. Then an idea came to you:

“You know, I could join Hellfire?” you said. “Then there’d be no pressure for Sinclair to stay if he didn’t want to.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?” you asked, disappointed and deep down a little hurt.

You thought he’d said persons of quality were invited to join the Hellfire Club. You were a person of quality. At least you were familiar with D&D.

“You cannot be associated with the freaks. Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to face that kinda social bullshit.”

You glanced at your black clothes. You’d been facing social bullshit since you changed your style years ago. It was always worth any side-eye to feel comfortable in your own skin. If someone didn’t get it, or accept you, you weren’t the one to change their mind. That had to come from within them.

Evidently, Eddie noticed the look.

“No, you don’t get it. You’re goth, spooky even, but you’re interesting. People don’t avoid you.”

Which was true — up to a point.

“I talk to you at school, though,” you said.

“Yeah, in one class, and people probably think you’re taking pity on me.”

“I don’t believe that.” You shook your head. “Pity? On you? No.”

“Well, stick around Hawkins long enough and you’ll see for yourself.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks of you. I know who you are, Eddie.”

“Do you?” he asked and flicked his spent cigarette out of the car.

“Yeah, you’re a good guy. But you fuck with the popular crowd. Not that they don’t deserve it.” You smirked at him, which he returned. “I know you were held back, though you’re really smart—”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, cut the crap! You are! You’re just not good at school. There’s a difference.”

He remained quiet for you to continue.

“You’re a storyteller and an amazing guitarist, which means you have brains and drive and creativity.” Your hands tighten around the steering wheel, because Eddie was judged and had judged himself unfairly. “That doesn’t translate to the stupid factory-worker indoctrination that is the American school system.”

“I hate school,” he grumbled.

“Me, too.”

“Fuck school!” he yelled at the ceiling.

“Fuck school!”

He howled like a wolf as you cranked the stereo.

.

On the outskirts of Chicago, you pulled in front of a diner that boasted all-day breakfast. The waitress sat you and Eddie in a booth. She looked tired with cotton-candy blond hair and a blown-out tattoo on her forearm. You noticed him noticing her tattoo.

As you browsed the sticky menu, you asked, “Where did you get your tattoos?”

He hummed in question, then shook himself. “Oh, Gareth’s cousin. He has an apprenticeship with a parlor near Kokomo.” He took off his jacket and pushed up his right shirt sleeve to show his inner forearm. “This was my second. Got it on an empty stomach, so I almost fainted.” He chuckled. “But, eh, you know, it only cost me a dime bag.”

You reached to touch the tattoo, hesitating at the last moment.

“Can I?” you asked.

His cheeks pinked as he nodded.

You traced his smooth skin. The design was rough with a puppet-master hand controlling some type of demon. You’d seen it when he wore t-shirts, but not within such close range.

“I like it,” you said.

As you withdrew, he turned his hand to touch your arm. His callused fingertips slid over your inner wrist to settle at your palm. You stilled, breath caught. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever touched you, yet this was communication. It wasn’t something you wanted to brazen through, yet you couldn’t hesitate.

Despite your nerves, you curled your fingers around his hand and grinned. His soft, brown eyes gleamed in the light slanting through the metal blinds. He looked carefree in a way you’d never seen from him. He felt bubbly, like the sparkling wine your parents let you drink on New Year’s.

It hit you again how pretty he was; from his wavy hair to his sharp jaw and his plush lips. You wanted to lean across the table and kiss him.

He subtly wet his lips as if having the same thought.

Without warning, the waitress set two glasses of ice water on the table. You pulled away to make room. She dropped two straws between the glasses and asked what you wanted. You didn’t know, but ordered a Coke and the first meal that caught your eye. It seemed Eddie was in the same predicament as he ordered regular coffee, eggs, corned beef hash, and toast.

When the waitress left, Eddie asked, “So, you got any tats?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe someday — if I can ever settle on a design.”

“You could always get—” He showed you his outer forearm. “—Bats like me!”

You laughed. “Release the bats!”

He stuck out his tongue as he bobbed in his seat and fluttered his hands like wings, making you laugh harder.

The waitress interrupted by sliding a plastic tumbler of Coke to you, an empty mug at Eddie, and placing a dish of single-serve creamers in the middle of the table. She filled the mug with the blackest of black coffee. You thanked her before she stepped away, keeping your eyes on the coffee. It appeared strong enough to ask what the fuck you were gawking at.

He poured sugar from the dispenser in that hell-broth, added a couple of creamers, and stirred. You watched in alarm as he sipped, half-expecting his stomach to dissolve from the overload of acid. When that didn’t happen, you pulled your straw from its wrapper and plunged it into your tumbler.

“So, obviously, you eat,” he said.

Which was an odd thing to say.

To fuck with him, you said, “No, I feed off the blood of the living,” and took a drink of Coke.

He narrowed his eyes to scrutinize you.

You offered a big-eyed, innocent look.

“Honestly,” he said, setting the mug down and resting on his elbows. “That’s pretty metal.”

You nodded.

“Rich in iron.”

He attempted a serious persona, though the corners of his mouth kept twitching, and asked, “Where do you do most of this feeding?”

“Back corner of the school library — now that it’s too cold to stalk the woods for handsome drug dealers.”

“Ah, you, uh—”

New pink bloomed on his cheeks.

You realized then he didn’t handle compliments well. You had to assume no one ever told him how attractive he was. He did hang out with boys, mostly…

“So, uh, yeah, you found the picnic table back there?” he asked.

You said, “Yep, saw your lovely carving, too.”

His demeanor shifted to sly, and he asked, “Magnificent, right?”

“Oh, yes. It should be in a museum.”

.

“Okay,” you said as you opened the motel room closet. “If you see a cockroach, you have to kill it.”

The place hadn’t been updated since the ‘70s. All the walls were wood paneling. The brown carpet had flattened paths. The bedspreads were a striped golden-rod yellow. A clunky white television sat on the scratched dresser. The phone on the floating nightstand between the beds boasted 45¢/minute long-distance.

“Consider me your knight in shining armor, milady,” Eddie said, and dropped his duffle on the table in front of the big window.

At least it was close to the club, didn’t stink, and was quiet.

You deposited your bag just inside the closet before checking the partial-open bathroom. Nothing scurried when you flipped on the light where the toilet and tub were. It was typical, with terrible lighting and an exhaust fan that sounded like a 747.

“Not the worst,” you said, shrugging.

With a flip of the light switch, you turned and plowed into a warm wall of metalhead. You ‘oof’ed the same time as Eddie. His arm went around you, holding you tight. You braced a hand against his chest to keep yourself from teetering.

You looked into his shocked eyes before laughing. He laughed and gave you a dazzling smile that made him look puckish.

“Thanks for the save, sir,” you said with a smile and realized your cheeks were so warm.

“All in a day’s work.”

Eddie released you. His hand slid across the small of your back. You wanted to cat into it, to press yourself against him, to silently beg for more. However, he inched away to give you space. He had to have known what he did to you, how he made you feel, how he made you ache.

You dropped your hand and stepped around him, though. If he wasn’t ready, you wouldn’t force anything. He’d backed away for a reason—

And that reason wasn’t any of your business yet, you reminded yourself.

You went to your bag to unpack your makeup and clothes for the concert. From the corner of your eye, you watched Eddie dither before ducking into the bathroom.

The door shut with a faint clunk.

You put the makeup by your purse you’d left on the dresser earlier and went to the wall heater under the window to adjust the temperature from arctic to warm. While there, you hung your jacket properly on the back of a chair. You assessed the room, not knowing what to do. It was only two in the afternoon. There were hours to kill until you had to leave for the concert.

Sighing, you turned the power dial on the TV and left it tuned to some soap opera.

Eddie had draped his leather jacket over his duffle. You thumbed at the fine leather of its sleeve. Silver chain spiraled around the wrist zipper. You guessed the zipper was broken and grinned. It was such an Eddie repair — not perfect, but personal.

Your fingers warmed as you touched the chain. There was magic here. Not the kind you knew from your studies. It was rooted in devotion, determination, and pride.

Would it be wrong to reinforce that magic?

Knowing you had little time, you blessed the repair and hoped it was the right thing to do.

The bathroom door opened, but you didn’t drop the sleeve. If you did, you’d make yourself look guilty. Eddie’s eyes went to you before he stepped in front of the sink.

“I like this jacket,” you said as he unwrapped the small bar of complimentary soap.

He glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

“It was my father’s,” he said neutrally.

You let go of the sleeve and sat in the nearest chair to unlace your boots.

“He alive, or...?”

“Or.”

“Gotcha,” you said, not wanting to push.

It couldn’t have been that stellar of a relationship if Eddie now lived with his uncle, which was a fact he’d told you before you’d left Hawkins. He said he liked Wayne; they got along.

Once finished with your boots, you set them aside and went to the farthest bed. You folded the bedspread to the foot of the mattress and mounded the pillows together to recline on them.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” you said. “Should I set an alarm?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

You rolled towards the nightstand and set the clock alarm to go off at 5:30. That should give plenty of time to fully wake, get ready, and make it to the club before the concert at eight.

As you relaxed, your bladder made itself known. Of course. You crawled across the springy bed and walked past Eddie as he went to the unclaimed bed. You gave him a little grin before shutting the bathroom door.

When you came out to wash your hands, he was sprawled across his bed with hands tucked under his head. His socked feet nearly hung off the edge. He shifted, and the bed clanked.

You looked over your shoulder. Eddie stared at the ceiling.

Maybe that noise was his bed settling.

You finished washing your hands and crawled once more to the mound of pillows on your bed. You settled with a sigh. The mattress wasn’t great, but the pillows were fluffy.

Eddie’s bed clanked again as he got comfortable.

“You should’ve heard it when I first laid down,” he said.

“Are you kidding?”

“No.” He chuckled, which made the bed squeak. “I thought I broke it.”

“I think it’s already broken.”

“Yeah, someone gave this thing a beating.”

You could imagine what sort of beating it took, too.

Strangers who’d met in a bar down the street, their eyes trailing hungrily as they flirted. Then the invitation. Hands wandered as they stumble into the room and kick the door closed. One pushing the other onto the bed and climbing on top. Lips connecting, panting breaths, soft laughter as they struggle with buttons and zippers. Then moans as they grind together, hands gripping bare thighs, kisses on vulnerable necks, bites on shoulders.

A room too dark to see, but sensation enough to light nerves—

Eddie’s bed clanked again.

“Oh my god, this is stupid,” you said.

“What?”

“Just— Just get over here and take a nap.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry, your virtue is safe with me.”

“I don’t know, milady. You confessed to prowling the woods, looking for someone who fits my description.”

You giggled and leaned on an elbow. “Worried I might drink your blood?”

His bed made an ominous clunk as he sat up. He froze, eyes going wide.

“Nah, you’d be gentle.”

“Yeah, of course, super gentle. Now get over here before it eats you or something!”

He grimaced with you as he eased off the rackety bed. You reminded him to bring the pillows. He rounded your bed — pillows in his arms — as you snuggled down on your side. The mattress dipped behind you — and you tried to remain relaxed.

Because it wasn’t a big deal.

It wasn’t.

You were simply sharing a bed with a friend. A hot friend. Who you wanted to kiss and put your hands all over. It didn’t matter if he was into S-and-M. He could tie your wrists with his handkerchief and do whatever to you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and concentrated on the low voices coming from the television even as the bed shimmied.

“Thanks,” he murmured over the fabric sounds of fluffing and rearranging pillows.

“No problem.”

“If this isn’t cool, just, like, say the word, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Eddie.” You took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

“If you’re sure...”

“100 percent.”

“I mean—”

“Eddie.”

“Hey, I don’t want to make a lady uncomfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable.”

“Me, too.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

You grinned.

“Go to sleep, sir.”

“Yes, milady,” he said, a smile in his words.

The peal of the alarm jarred you from sleep. You slapped the clock a few times before it stopped. Dusty blue light came through the window sheers. There was still time before dinner, you thought and closed your eyes, rolling onto your other side. The pillow here was firmer and warm and smelled nice. The pillowcase was weird, though. It was thick with a waffle texture.

Mom never bought pillowcases like that.

Your eyes flew open. Not a pillow. A male chest.

You were in Chicago with Eddie Munson, who you were using as a pillow.

He was still — too still. He might’ve been asleep. Maybe he was a deep sleeper. Maybe you could move away without him knowing.

You whispered, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

Not a deep sleeper, then.

“You awake?” you asked and immediately wanted to bonk yourself on the head.

He’d replied, hence, he was awake.

“Are you lying on my chest?” he asked, voice still raspy from disuse.

“I think so.”

Heat flooded your face.

“Then I think I’m awake.”

With an apology, you ducked your head as you sat to face the television. The local news had replaced the soap opera. You kept your eyes fixed to the screen, because you didn’t want to know if he was uncomfortable or aroused or neutral. Any of those options had implications that would be too difficult to handle this groggy.

He sighed before pushing himself higher on the bed to recline.

You felt his gaze on your back.

He cleared his throat and said, “I can’t believe I slept that long.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You want first dibs on the bathroom?”

“Sure, thanks.”

You walked on wobbly legs to the bathroom, where you used the toilet and privately talked yourself out of running away. All you had done was lay your head on Eddie’s chest. No boundaries had been crossed. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Although, he hadn’t pushed you off…

But that didn’t have to mean anything, either.

Though he had been so pleasant to snuggle. His hair smelled of apple shampoo. You couldn’t identify his soap, but it was good. He was firm enough, too, and not boney.

After finishing in the bathroom, you told him it was all his and went to fetch your toiletries. You needed to wash the sleep from your face, brush your teeth, and fix your hair. He moved around you as though he’d done something wrong. You frowned at your reflection over the sink.

When he came out a few minutes later, you smiled at him deliberately from your seat on the dresser. He offered a grin before washing his hands. You returned to doing your makeup in the mirror and watched his shoulders relax.

You asked after Corroded Coffin, if the last show had gone well, and if he’d considered playing original songs.

He tried to downplay his frustrations with the Hawkins music scene as he wet his toothbrush. All the crowd wanted was what they were familiar with. However, they’d rocked the last show like they did the previous ones.

“You know,” you said, loud enough for him to hear over his brushing. “People don’t know what they want until it’s in front of them.”

He snorted through toothpaste foam.

“I’m serious.”

He held up a finger to say he heard you.

You continued with your makeup until he spit into the sink.

He said, “I know, but it’s like putting pearls before swine.”

“That’d be a good song title.”

He laughed — but not dismissively — before rinsing out his mouth.

“I still maintain you should play at least one original every show,” you said. “Otherwise, Corroded Coffin will only be known as a cover band.”

“If I promise—”

“Pinky swear.”

“—And pinky swear to play something original, will you come watch us again?”

“Ab-so-fucking-lutely,” you said, placing your compact down to hold out your pinky finger.

He hooked his pinky around yours and gave it a shake.

“It’s a deal,” he said.

He loosened his hold, but you didn’t. He did a double-take.

You said, “Let me put some eyeliner on you.”

“I don’t think that’ll help all this,” he said and waved his free hand by his face.

“That—” You mimicked his wave. “—doesn’t need help. I want to enhance those pretty eyes.”

In a blink, his demeanor went from self-deprecating to bashful.

You swung your connected hands.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

He bit his lip before nodding. You released his pinky to dig through your makeup bag for a black kohl pencil. You uncapped it, ordered him closer, and told him to close his eyes, which he did without hesitation. In little strokes, you lined and smudged the kohl above his long eyelashes. Then you told him to look up and gave his lower lids the same treatment.

When you finished, you leaned back and smiled. The black brought out the warmth in his irises. He looked fey — and a little dangerous.

He studied himself in the dresser mirror.

“I like it,” he said softly.

“Good. You look hot.”

He met your eyes as if looking for something. Maybe a lie. He wouldn’t find one, though. He really did look hot.

You nudged him away, saying you had to put the final touches on your own face. He said he’d change clothes in the meantime and carried a roll of dark fabric into the bathroom. While you applied blush and lipstick, you wondered if he wore boxers or briefs. Did he have more tattoos? Would he show you? Let you touch them? Kiss them?

Eddie stepped out of the bathroom in all black, save his white socks. He tossed his old clothes on the bed and went to the sink to fluff his hair. His jeans hugged his ass and thighs perfectly, just as his t-shirt did his torso.

You forgot what you were doing as you stared at him.

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be into this,” he said, evidently unaware of your ogling. “But I brought a few goodies from home.”

You mentally shook yourself. Goodies? Like brownies? Wait. He meant drugs, not like dessert.

“What do you have?”

“A few joints, molly, k, acid.”

“Molly would be fun during the concert.”

“Cool; we can smoke some weed after.”

“That makes it last longer, right?”

“Makes the comedown easier.”

You nodded. You’d dropped acid before and rolled with molly — and suffered through the bleak days afterward. However, if smoking weed made it easier, you’d happily do it.

With a check of the time, you hopped off the dresser and grabbed your clothes. It was closing in on seven. You wanted to be in line well before eight. You changed clothes as quickly as you could in the bathroom. From there it was a blur until you were walking with Eddie through the motel’s parking lot.

The club was a few blocks away, yet the cutting wind made the walk feel longer. Leaves and litter swirled on the sidewalk like little tornados. As streetlights flickered on, kids in homemade costumes ran past. Their excited giggles had you grinning at Eddie, and he at you. An older woman braved the wind, bundled on her front stoop to give out candy. She offered you both mini-Snickers, which you thanked her for and ate as you continued on your way.

The queue for the concert wasn’t as long as you’d expected. Eddie appeared amused as you joined the black-clad lineup. After a few minutes, you nudged his arm with an elbow and gave him a questioning look.

He whispered in your ear: “Why’s everyone dressed like Johnny Cash?”

You snorted, lightly cuffing his chest. He smiled.

You’d forgotten to explain the Sisters’ brand, which was essentially goth cowboy. Their hardcore fans were a whole subgenre to themselves.

You whispered, “It’s just their style.” You shifted your tone to teasing. “But don’t fret, darling, you still look good.”

His eyes twinkled as he said, “Likewise.”

Before you could reply, the queue started moving. You glanced behind you to see the line had doubled. At the door, you bought a ticket and presented your fake ID. The bouncer tagged your wrist with a green bracelet and offered a huge bowl of Halloween candy for you to pick from, doing the same for Eddie.

Eddie slid his hand under your jacket to the small of your back as you walked down the sloped hallway beyond the door. His touch made you aware of your every step, the sway of your hips, every breath.

Multicolored Christmas lights lit the graffitied walls and continued behind the bar. A television played a live feed of the stage between shelves of liquor bottles and Halloween decorations. The bar stools were occupied already. Bartenders worked their way down the bar, weaving around each other as they fixed drinks. Under the din of voices, a mix of punk and post-punk played through the speakers.

Eddie offered to buy a round, which you accepted. You waited at an inconspicuous place across from the bar. To the casual observer, Eddie blended in. However, to you, he was magnetic. And you weren’t the only one who found him appealing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have applied that eyeliner.

Eddie appeared immune to the admiration, though.

He ordered two drinks, money in hand, knee bouncing as he waited. After exchanging money for beer, he hustled through the growing crowd. He handed you a beer, and you thanked him. Together, you enjoyed the beer and mini candy bars from the bouncer as you walked around the tall chain-link fence to the stage area.

Halfway through the beer, he slipped a pill in your palm that looked like a Flintstones vitamin. You tapped your pill against his as a toast and swallowed it.

While you waited for the opening band, you commented on the graffiti. There were skeletons and demons — dancing skeleton-demons — and disembodied heads. Along with signatures and tags from previous patrons. With his beer, Eddie pointed to one demon, saying he’d like that as a tattoo. You replied it would be a cool rib tattoo. He hissed in future pain. You bumped his shoulder and said you’d hold his hand through it.

He smiled, his gaze dipping briefly.

Heat radiated from your chest to your throat. You didn’t think it was the molly kicking in. It was too soon. You sipped at your beer to hide the agony of not kissing him.

Be brave, you thought. Be brave, pull him close by the shirt, and kiss him. Beer breath be damned. Do it.

The opening band began with a guitar wail. Eddie turned to the stage.

Opportunity missed.

Shit.

By the end of their set, a jitter had started in your stomach; your heartbeat pure and true in your chest. You downed the last of your beer — fizzling all the way down — and crumpled the cup in your fist. The springy feel of plastic grounded you to the music. You squeezed it to the beat, feeling the music enter your ears and travel through your extremities. Stage lights flashed blue, then green, like an ocean-galaxy.

You laced your fingers with Eddie’s as though taking him with you. You wanted him with you. His rings pressed between your fingers, warm and sturdy. His thumb stroked your skin, sending gold sparks up your arm. They went up, up, up until they met the music to produce pink, fuzzy stars in your belly.

When the last chord faded, and the stage went dark, you rested your temple on his shoulder. Cheering surrounded you both in an infatuated mist.

Eddie kissed the top of your head as the house music started and a few lights powered on.

“You want another beer, sweetheart?” he asked.

His voice was heaven. His kiss lingered on your scalp.

You said, “If you want one.”

“Sure you want to stay here?”

You grinned, because you did. It was the perfect place near the stage, balanced between the huge speakers. You could watch the roadies set up for the Sisters, too.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ll keep our place.”

“You’ll have to let go of my hand first.”

You laughed and released him, handing over your empty cup for him to throw away.

He touched your arm before disappearing into the crowd. His heat lingered, soft and sincere. You didn’t have to watch him to track him, either. He wove through the anonymous sea of energy, a silver flame dancing over the surface.

You stared into the black rafters and breathed deep. Anticipation scented the air like waiting for birthday cake and presents.

When Eddie returned, you saw him as if for the first time. He was more than a pretty face, though. His dark eyes held a universe. His lips were poetry. His elegant neck was the connection between imagination and perception. You wanted to touch these things, taste these things.

Then he smiled as he offered you a fresh beer.

The plastic cup was delightfully cold.

You giggled and thanked him, even as your eyes prickled. Nothing had felt this good in so long. Not since you moved to Hawkins.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true…

You met Eddie’s eyes over the rim of your cup as you drank.

He made you feel good, too.

Before you could tell him any of that, the lights went out. Your eyes widened, and you pivoted towards the stage. In the shadows, a few figures found their places on the stage. The crowd inched forward, you and Eddie included.

With the first notes of music, the stage lights flashed on. The crowd surged forward, drawn by the thwang of bass. You flowed with them, cheering as you recognized the song. Andrew Eldritch’s deep voice resonated through your chest. You swayed and danced and were blessed. You sweated with the crowd, with the band, with the planet.

It went on and on, each perfect note sparkling like water and flames and smokey diamonds.

Eddie howled with a song’s crescendo, his damp hair whipping around his face. You howled with him and stomped your feet with the beat, laughing when a few others joined your pack.

When the next song came, you knew it was the last one. You mouthed the lyrics, feeling them down to your toes. When the refrain came, your words faded. You could only experience them.

Come here, I think you’re beautiful

I think you’re beautiful, beautiful

Some kind of angel, come inside

You looked at Eddie to find him watching you.

Come here, I think you’re beautiful

He moved closer, eyes glowing, reflecting the light from the stage. That internal universe of his invited you in.

You reached for him.

“Kiss me.”

He did. His soft lips met yours in the dim. The bitter beer and tang of salt almost stung your lips, but it hardly mattered. The world faded. You melted against him, every inch of you dissolved into him. Your fingers tunneled into his sweat-soaked hair to yank him closer. Each tributary of your veins throbbed, your heart erupted with sweet heat.

He groaned deep in his chest and wrapped an arm behind your back to pull you flush. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, sliding over yours, gentle yet insistent. His head tilted to kiss you deeper, lips smearing in a slow slide that had your thighs quaking.

The heat, the weight, of him against you had you forgetting everything that had led to this. You just felt him — all of him. From the lingering scent of his shampoo, the subtle bristle of stubble, to the musk of his sweat. You inhaled it, took it in, made him part of you.

He was wonderful and delicious and beautiful — more than you could’ve ever imagined.

He cradled your damp cheek, and usually you’d be self-conscious about sweating, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. His hands branded you with desire. You didn’t mind. Let the world see.

All you needed was him closer, closer, closer.

Come here, I think you’re beautiful

My door is open wide

Some kind of stranger, come inside

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[xmagicxshopx]

💋 Often 💋

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy Rating: M (smut) Warnings: strip club, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex Pairing: stripper!jungkook x reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is a project and collaboration by myself, @katebacks​ and @taevjim​ Mine is based on the song Often by The Weeknd

Summary:��She asked me if i do this everyday, i said often. Asked how many times she rode the wave, not so often. Bitches down to do it either way, often. Baby i can make that pussy rain, often.

Routine.

You were all about the routine. It was what you knew and what you were comfortable with; the different and the unknown being your two biggest fears in life. You had a routine. A simple five-day, nine-to-five job that paid you well. A morning schedule of get ready for work, coffee and bagel for breakfast, feed the cat, and drive exactly 20 and a half minutes to get to work. Your evenings were no different as far as having a set schedule. Come home, feed the cat, pop dinner in the microwave, eat, chill, sleep.

All of your friends and family, even your coworkers, tried to gently and kindly nudge you into mixing your life up a bit. Add some spice to it. Broaden your horizon. But you were just fine with the way things were. You didn’t need any spice in your life and your horizon was as broad as you wanted it to be. Your belief? Don’t fix it if it’s not broken and your life wasn’t broken in the slightest. Everything was just peachy. You were happy and that’s what mattered most, right?

Or were you happy?

You scoffed at your reflection in your bathroom mirror as the self doubt started to creep into your brain like an ominous fog. Of course you were happy! Why wouldn’t you be??? Brushing off the sudden wave of doubt that managed to fill your very core, you continued getting ready for work before heading out the door. But of course not before feeding your cat at exactly ten minutes till eight.

Upon walking into the office, you noticed that it was just another day. Everyone already at their desks typing away in their little cubicles while papers could be heard shuffling around into neat, organized piles. The copier buzzing away as it performed the tasks asked of it. You liked this. This was your comfort zone. Routine was good. Everything was good. You had just put your purse away and went to sit down at your desk when one of your coworkers popped up over the top of your cubicle.

“So, girl friend! It’s a Friday and I’m taking you out whether you like it or not. Be ready by nine!”

Wait what???

“But---”

“Wear something slutty, too.”

Okay, yeah. Because that was totally your style. As your coworker went back to her own work, it was now your turn to carefully climb onto your desk on your knees so that you could look over the other cubicle. Scoffing softly, you tried your best to argue over why you couldn’t go out with her tonight.

“But Gigi, I don’t have anything like that and besides, I go to bed by nine. I need my beauty sleep.”

You knew your words were weak and sounded feeble even to your own ears. What kind of excuses were those??? Well, in your defense, you really didn’t have anything in your wardrobe that Gigi would consider ‘slutty’ and the both of you knew this. With a soft huff, your coworker simply rolled her eyes and said with a confident grin,

“Fine. I’ll lend you something to wear. We’re similar in size and body build so it’ll totally work. And tonight you’re skipping out on that beauty sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to recover over the weekend.”

Just as you were about to try and come up with yet another lame excuse, Gigi continued in addition,

“And today you’re not driving home. You’re driving to my place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll make a whole evening out of it. We’ll order take-out and stuff our faces so that the food can absorb the alcohol we’re gonna tank ourselves in tonight. It’s gonna be a blast!”

Somehow you highly doubted that. None of that sounded like a fun time to you. Well maybe the take-out part. Pouting in both defeat and confusion, you couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into your coworker. You and Gigi weren’t official friends or anything so why was she doing this for you? Why put so much effort into someone who didn’t want it? With a soft huff, you muttered in defeat,

“Fine.”

It was all you could think about during the day while you tried to focus on work. Sure you knew there’d be a lot of time spent in the safety of your coworker’s home, but then where could she possibly be taking you that had to wait till after nine at night? Wait----She mentioned alcohol. Ugh. It was probably a club. Gross. Loud music, sweaty body odor every time you turn around, the stench of cheep beer. Ugh. That was not your idea of a fun night out. You didn’t even dance. You don’t even dance in front of your cat!

Before you knew it, it was five o’clock and time to pack up for the day and start the weekend. Normally, you’d be treating yourself to some drive thru food and just staying indoors till you had to leave for work the next Monday morning. However, thanks to Gigi, those plans had changed and you still weren’t all that excited about it. Pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way, you trudged yourself out of your cubicle to see a beaming Gigi by the elevator waiting for you.

“Don’t look so glum, we’re gonna have a great time!”

“Why are you doing all of this? You hardly know me.”

Just then, the elevator made a bell sound indicating that it had finally reached the floor you were on and the doors opened up for the both of you. As the two of you stepped inside, Gigi pressed the lobby button before clearing her throat a bit shyly and replied in a small, sheepish tone,

“I just hate to see you missing out on life, you know? I’m still new in town and I don’t have a lot of friends and you’re the only one who’s shown me any sort of kindness. I really appreciate that so I know you’re a good person and I just.....I dunno. This is going weird. Just go with it, okay?”

Never before had you seen your coworker so awkward. Gigi was always strutting her stuff with her body language screeching ‘confident’. To see her so shy and sheepish like this was new for you but somehow, you found yourself smiling and feeling touched. Suddenly feeling quite timid yourself, you cleared your throat and said softly,

“Well, I don’t know how good of a friend I’d make, but we can be friends if you want?”

You weren’t expecting the loud squeal of joy followed by the near tackle to the elevator floor as Gigi practically flung herself at you. It never dawned on you just how lonely your coworker must feel after moving to town. An area where she knew absolutely no one. No wonder she was overjoyed to hear your words. Awkwardly patting her back, you smiled up at the elevator ceiling before the doors finally opened again and brought the two of you out into the lobby.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girly! I just know it! Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? You can pay for your drinks but dinner is definitely my treat. Come on, I’ll just meet you over at your place so you can leave your car and then we’ll drive together over to my place in my car.”

Everything was happening so fast and you definitely weren’t used to it. You preferred life in the slow lane but dang. Gigi was making that a thing of the past. Perhaps it was just her happiness of having made a new friend that caused her to be live like a wire and talking 90 miles a minute? Either way, before you could blink, you were giving her directions to your house and dropping your car off so that you could hop into hers.

During the ride to Gigi’s place, the two of you discussed what to have for dinner. Turns out she was indeed taking you to a club later tonight so alcohol was on the table as well. You could only imagine what a light weight you must be considering the fact that you really didn’t drink much. You were more of a celebratory drinker. Things like holidays and such. Otherwise, you never touched the stuff. You preferred your teas and coffee.

After deciding on Korean BBQ, the two of you placed your orders and had it delivered to Gigi’s place where the two of you eventually dug in; getting sauce all over your faces and laughing at each other over how messy the two of you looked. It was nice. This was nice. Something that you really didn’t think you’d feel based on your previous mindset. Perhaps getting out and socializing wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t so bad.

However, as the night hours passed, the hurdles only got more and more difficult to get over.

“Can’t I just go in what I’m wearing???”

“Girl----You’re wearing work clothes. No one goes to a club in their work clothes.”

The blush on your face was enough to zip your lips as you let your coworker now turned friend do her thing. Work her magic, you supposed. Would you even look right wearing something other than your usual conservative attire? Subconsciously nibbling your bottom lip in worry, you watched Gigi as she started pulling out pieces of clothing to inspect them, only to put them right back. You knew it. Nothing was going to look right on you. This just wasn’t your bag.

“Ha! Found it!”

Dang it.

Trying not to pout too loudly, you watched the girl whip out a dress that looked way too form fitting for your liking. It was drenched in sequins and jet black. Well....black went with everything, right? At least it was a color you were used to wearing as most of your work clothes were black. Perhaps that was what Gigi was going for? Something that she knew you’d at least be somewhat comfortable with due to the familiarity of it. If that was the case, then you were extremely grateful and liking this newfound friendship more and more.

“Okay so you’ll be wearing this and I have some stockings for you too. Once we’re dressed, we’ll put on some makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. We’re going to a club, girl! We gotta look pretty for those boys.”

“Boys?”

“You’ll see, girl friend.”

You simply whined and pouted with sagged shoulders as Gigi flashed you a cheeky smile and wink in return. This was too much. Yet at the same time......you were......curious? Yeah. That was it. Definitely not excited. Just curious. Still pouting, you went to work on unzipping the dress she handed you and started to carefully step into it. Gosh it really was form fitting, wasn’t it? Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment but went ahead and had Gigi zip you up.

No turning back now.

Once the both of you were dressed, it was time to put makeup on. You had quickly informed the girl that you didn’t know the first thing about makeup which didn’t come as a surprise to either of you. In fact, Gigi had full intentions of doing your makeup as well as her own. You weren’t sure if you should have felt insulted or comforted. In the moment, you were more relieved than anything because if you were in charge of doing your own......you’d just skip out on that step altogether.

“Okay, so I’ll have you watch me first and then I’ll do yours. Just in case you ever decide you want to try and do your own someday.”

The probability of you doing your own makeup one day was slim to none but it was still sweet of your coworker to say such things and offer such advice. With all the products Gigi had spread out on her bathroom counter, you figured this would take awhile. No wonder she was starting so early. You could only imagine how much all of those products cost her. It looked like a small fortune scattered all over the counter. But it wasn’t like you’d know.

However, you did as she asked and decided to watch and it wasn’t till it was over that you realized just how wrapped up you were in watching her. It was like watching a painter perform art with Gigi’s face being the blank canvas. You had no idea watching someone apply makeup could be so.....fascinating? Interesting? You weren’t quite sure of what word you were looking for but you found yourself blushing when she caught you being quite involved in paying attention.

“Okay! Your turn, girly!”

So there you stood with her applying all kinds of products to your face. You were pretty sure she put at least three different kinds of things on your lips. Something about a foundation layer and then eventually topping it all off with some gloss. Dunno. You got lost with how fast she was going through it all. Gigi knew what she was doing and that much was clear. Once she was done with your lips and you could talk freely, you couldn’t help but ask in a small and timid voice,

“So how did you get so good with makeup?”

“Oh I used to work in one of the malls and my sole job was to do people’s makeup while introducing them to the latest products. It was fun for the longest time but it didn’t pay enough. So I moved here when a job opening came up.”

Wow. You knew exactly what type of employee she was because you’d always eyeball the young girls getting their makeup done just for the fun of it while you roamed the racks for new work clothes. No wonder Gigi was so good at this. It had been her job for the longest time. You felt the need to at least give her some kind of tip but you knew right away that she’d never take it; insisting that she was no longer on the job anymore.

“There! We’re ready to par-tay!”

‘Yay.....’

Gigi said that it would be pointless to do either of your guys’ hair so you two just simply brushed it a bit and let it hang loose. Having only your bulky purse, Gigi kindly offered you a clutch purse that went with your dress perfectly; offering to keep the rest of your belongings at her place to keep them safe. But you had all the important stuff in the clutch and that was good enough for you.

The two of you would take an Uber so that the both of you could get trashed as Gigi so elegantly put it. You highly doubted you’d drink enough to get wasted but it was a smart idea. This way you could just go straight home in case you wanted to leave before your friend was ready. You had the feeling you’d be leaving way before she did.

Upon arriving at the club, you could feel your body going into some kind of panic mode. Eyes wide, face flushed with heat, and you’re pretty sure your heart is swimming in your stomach. Perhaps you shouldn’t have ate so much. The possibility that you could puke was high at the moment. Looking all around you, were strippers. The majority of them female but you could spot a few males and good lord. Your eyes. Your poor poor eyes. In a shouted whisper, you scolded the girl next to you.

“You brought us to a strip club!?!!?”

“Don’t act so mortified. Lots of people go. See?”

“I’m not one of those people, Gi!!!”

But all you got was a coo in response as your coworker-turned-friend squished your cheeks together at the cute nickname you had just subconsciously given her. Before you could further complain and even rush out the door, you were being dragged to the bar area. Good lord. There were naked and half naked people everywhere. How could anyone call this fun??? It was barbaric!! With cheeks still flushed in shock and now embarrassment, you simply let Gigi order the drinks for the two of you so that you could try to pull yourself together.

It was going to be a loooonnng night.

With a couple drinks in your system, you were definitely starting to feel it. A light weight. You knew you were a light weight but dang. Allowing the tipsy Gigi to guide you over to a table close to the stage, you didn’t find yourself whining at the idea of being so close up to someone who was going to strip right in front of you. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with your brain and you just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. You were stuck here so might as well make the most of it, right?

And then he walked out.

If you weren’t so out of it thanks to the alcohol, you would have had better control over your bodily functions. Like trying to prevent from drooling all over yourself. He was absolutely gorgeous. And that was putting it lightly in your opinion.

His facial features reminded you of a rabbit but he was anything but cute right now. Those doe eyes of his were sharp yet hooded as he put on a show of pure seduction while on stage. Yes. This man was a stripper but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. Your embarrassment was traded in for fascination as you watched him saunter his way to the center of the stage.

Dark locks hung in front of his beautifully handsome face and the product used in it made it appear as if he had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. It wasn’t the only thing wet right now as you tried to press your thighs closer together. Good lord. What age were you? Sixteen? Subconsciously licking your dry lips, you watched as he began to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yes. He was fit for all purposes of the word. You could tell this guy went to the gym often because of the way his muscles bulged within the confines of his outfit. His dress shirt had some sort of sequins in it that made it sparkle under the harsh lighting of the stage. It was like he himself was sparkling in all his gorgeousness. You truly had never seen such a more handsome man before. Not even on magazine covers.

As he worked on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, you let your eyes wander further down his body. God his thigh muscles. How on earth did he even fit in those pants? They looked painted on! The next thing you knew, he was pulling the hem of his shirt from the confinements of those skin tight pants. If you weren’t certain he went to the gym before, you were absolutely positive now.

After watching him allow his dress shirt to fall on the stage floor, you were definitely drooling at this point. In fact, you were so wrapped up in watching this mysterious man perform that you didn’t even notice Gigi leaving you to your own devices. Had you been paying her any mind, you would have pouted at her smug expression of victory as she moved back to the bar for another drink.

With the man now shirtless, you took your good old time admiring his freshly exposed skin. He was perfect. You were pretty sure no other man could be as perfect and flawless as him. At least appearance wise. If this guy wasn’t proud of his body, then he should be. From the looks of things, perhaps he was a little too proud. You were a little drunk but you weren’t blind drunk. You could be blind and still be able to see the confidence that radiated off of him in waves.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to walk off the stage and into the crowd.

Walking right towards you.

Wait what????

Your eyes widened in shock as he strutted his way over to you. There was no mistaking that it was you he was after because there was no one else at the table you were sitting at. No. His eyes were all on you and the heat was spreading from your face, all the way down your neck and to the tips of your ears. Gosh this was so embarrassing! Where was Gigi!?!? Your heart pounded in your ears over the music as the man slowly held out his hand for you to take.

As if you still had no control over your own body, you found yourself placing your shaking, clammy hand in his own. Gosh his hands were big too. You felt so small at the realization as he gently gripped your hand in his. The next thing you knew, you were being swiftly pulled from your chair and twirled around only to land in a solid, hard lap. You were sobering up pretty quickly. Or at least it seemed like it.

Dear god this was so mortifying!!

“The name is Jungkook. I’m guessing from the frightened look on your face, you don’t come here often. Would I be guessing correctly, beautiful?”

God you needed to say something, anything, but you were just too shocked and embarrassed by your current situation that all you could do was part your lips but no sounds came out. Your eyes did all the talking as they stared into his own; yours full of helplessness and yes you were definitely scared. A shirtless stranger had you in his lap like it was no big deal. Handsome, sure, but still a complete stranger. He smiled and chuckled softly in endearment before carefully helping you off his lap and back to stand on your own two feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But worry not, beautiful, you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Here, take this and once I’m done performing, hand this to the bartender and he’ll bring you right to me. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

You stood there like a bump on a log as you watched him fish in his back pocket for something. How could he fit anything in those pants besides his hot ass and thighs? Seriously!? Those things weren’t painted on??? Blinking and feeling half numb by this point, you felt him press something into your palm and even helped close your fingers around it. As he walked away coolly back towards the stage to do his thing, you stared down at what was in your hand while fumbling to find your seat again. You definitely needed to sit down right now.

A key. This Jungkook guy had given you a key. It looked pretty antique and vintage, like something you’d see back in medieval times, but you weren’t going to question it. No. The real question was---were you really gonna take him up on this offer of his. Then again.....what exactly was he offering you? A private lap dance? That had to be what it was. Something that you wanted no part of.

Or did you?

Ugh. This was so troublesome. So annoying! Then again.....what did you really have to lose? But what if you couldn’t trust this guy? There was just so many things you didn’t know. Not to mention you were scared of looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him. He probably thought you were some spineless virgin. Granted the spineless part wasn’t far from the truth but at least you weren’t a virgin...

And before you knew it, the man was sauntering off stage back towards the curtains where he disappeared from sight. You almost choked when you realized he had stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. Was it a shame that you only caught his backside in that state? Wait----Of course not! You didn’t want to see what this guy was carrying around in his pants......

Or did you?

Trying to decide if you had too much to drink or not enough, you sat there for a few minutes longer weighing your options. On one hand, you could go in and see what he was proposing and if you didn’t like it, you could always back out. On the other hand, if you walk away now, you might be missing out on something that you didn’t realize you wanted. Heck, you never imagined you’d start the weekend off with a new friend. Perhaps you really did need to broaden your horizons.

Taking a deep breath, you stood from your chair and headed over to the bar where Jungkook, you’re pretty sure that was his name, had told you to hand the key over. The bartender seemed nice enough as he took the key and nodded his head with a soft ‘this way, my dear’. Oh boy. Here we go. No backing out now. It was now or never. You had half a mind to text Gigi what you were doing but something told you she didn’t miss the whole scene of you sitting in a stripper’s lap.

You were guided through a door that no doubt lead to a backstage type setting but you were totally not prepared for the scene you practically stumbled upon. Girls. So many girls. Some were half dressed while some walked around completely naked. Holy----Your eyes. Again, you weren’t a virgin but you might as well have been considering how warm your face had gotten. Some of them even giggled and flashed you cheeky winks. Oh boy. Apparently privacy wasn’t a thing around here. You could only hope there would be more privacy where you were headed.

Speaking of, after walking down two more hallways, the bartender finally reached a door and used that very same key to unlock a door before cracking it open just enough to let someone know you were here. Of course you could only presume it was Jungkook. Good lord. Hopefully there was no one else in the room. One stripper was all you could handle right now. And heck you couldn’t even handle that!

After the bartender politely bid you farewell, you found yourself gulping down a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat as you stared at the slightly cracked open door. This was it. Supposedly Jungkook was waiting on the other side. What if he was already naked??? Dear god maybe you should just politely decline and catch an Uber home. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. Get a nice cup of black coffee and some headache pills so that you wouldn’t suffer a hango----

“You can come in, beautiful. It’s safe. I promise.”

Why did he have to sound so soothing and convincing for, huh?! Wishing you had a tall glass of ice water to jug down right about now, you did your best to brace yourself for what was on the other side of the door. Gosh your face already felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing! With a clammy and shaky hand, you put your weight on the door and eased it open further so that you could poke your head inside.

Oh.....

It looked so.....normal? Perhaps even.....casual and dare you say.......soothing?

It was pretty much set up like a master bedroom you’d find in any normal house. There was a mini bar set up with some expensive looking alcohol and drinking glasses already filled. Soft R&B music was playing in the background but the volume was so low that it indeed sounded like simple background noise. You could smell something. It was soothing but you could only guess it was coming from some kind of candle or maybe a diffuser.

“Hello there, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you took me up on my offer. I can assure you, I don’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that kind of thing.”

He was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him only moments ago. He was decked out for comfort despite what you believe his intentions were. Dark gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. They looked thin in material so it was probably just to help keep him modest while in your presence. His hair still had that wet look to it thanks to the mountain of products he probably had in it.

“Come sit with me and have a drink. Or would you prefer some water? You look quite flushed.”

“W-Water would be nice, thank you.”

Not realizing your legs had felt like jello, you managed to hobble your way over to the couch where you took a much needed seat. Your hands were still shaking a bit but perhaps it was just from the lingering nerves. The atmosphere really was soothing thanks to the dimmed lights that gave off a warm and soft glow; casting the perfect amount of shadow over everything. You were pretty sure you were smelling lavender and it was a comforting scent for sure.

“Here you go, love. Just try to relax. I’m not here to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. But you looked like you needed to loosen up. Maybe someone to talk to?”

Softly thanking him for the water, you tried not to chug it back but it was hard given how shook up you were. Not to mention your face still felt pretty warm. Perhaps you would have been better off to just splash yourself in the face with it instead. Managing to take a couple gulps without looking silly, you held the cup in your lap before looking over at him with guarded and curious eyes.

“So.....we just sit here and talk?”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with? I’m at your service. Your wish is my command as the saying goes.”

His soft chuckles filled the room and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling a little. Were all strippers this chill? Now that you thought about it, what made strippers different from anyone else? It wasn’t like they were some kind of exotic creature. They too were just normal, every day humans making a living. It wasn’t like they were a different kind of species.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

“So......you’re not here to give me a lap dance?”

“Oh my god! You’re so cute! I can’t!”

You watched in utter amazement as Jungkook, who had since been siting next to you on the couch, started to curl in on himself while he laughed; carefully holding his glass of whatever alcohol he was drinking in one hand while his other wrapped around his waist. Pouting and semi folding your arms due to the fact that you were still holding a glass of water, you mumbled in your own defense,

“What?! It’s a legit and reasonable question!”

Still pouting while watching and waiting for him to pull himself together, you decided to distract yourself with your glass of water. At least the blush in your face was letting up. Did that mean you were already getting comfortable with him? This guy.......He was like magic in that way. Knowing exactly what you needed to feel comfortable and relaxed. Then again.....he probably did this with everyone he brought back here. You suddenly felt the need to stand rather than sit on the couch.

“I swear, we’re only here to do whatever you want. So if you want a lap dance, I can do that. If you want to just sit here and chill, I can do that too.”

“But......why me? You had tons of other girls out there to pick from to bring back here. So why pick me? Clearly I’m an awkward turtle. Doesn’t exactly scream sexy.”

It was a fair question. A question that you were eager to have an answer for. Watching him closely, you noticed he was rubbing his chin in thought as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his reasoning behind bringing you back here. With a soft hum of said thought, Jungkook took a sip from his glass before replying casually while meeting your eyes,

“I guess you just looked.....lonely? Lost? You looked like you needed this. Clearly you didn’t come to a strip club by choice or at least not entirely. I could feel your tension clear across the stage. I was going to offer you a massage but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Okay well that was fair. You couldn’t help but notice how good he was at reading people. Or perhaps you were just simply an open book. Yeah. It was probably that. You had often been told by everyone in your family that you carry your heart on your sleeve and your emotions along with it. Just as you were mentally scoffing at said family, Jungkook’s voice once again broke through your thoughts.

“Tell me, cutie, if it’s not too personal or prying to ask, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Well so much for that fading blush of yours. Granted, you knew you didn’t owe him an answer. Your sex life was your business and no one else’s. However....there was just something about Jungkook that made him easy to talk to. He gave off this aura of comfort and made you feel like you could tell him anything. With your cheeks still rosy and your ears just as red, you timidly sipped from your water again before mumbling in shame,

“Too long ago.”

But rather than laugh at you again, he offered you a sympathetic, lopsided smile; his eyes full of understanding and a small nod to go with it. You were grateful that he had picked up on the topic being a sensitive one for you and therefore respecting your feelings and not wanting to hurt you by poking fun. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he set his glass down on the side table that was on his end of the couch.

“Well, to be frank, I’m more than willing to give you a lap dance if you think it’d help you relax and unwind. I personally think it’d be good for you. You’ve got too much pent up tension there and I think we’re both in agreement when I say everyone needs a good release every once in awhile.”

Was he inclining what you thought he was inclining???

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

His soft snort of laughter made you pout once more while you subconsciously tried to fan your face. Sure the lighting was dim in the room but was it doing anything to hide your raging blush? With a soft and warm smile, Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head at you in fond amusement. You really were the cutest. Dramatically raising his hands as in defense or surrender, he said casually,

“All I’m saying is, that I’m more than willing to make you cum, pretty girl. You really look like you need a good release. I have no doubt you’ll feel better afterwards. I’ve been told I have the golden touch.”

Despite your lingering embarrassment, you weren’t too far gone to roll your eyes at his overflowing humbleness. But now you had a decision to make. Clearly Jungkook was a safe guy to be around. He wasn’t some crazy trying to rape you or anything. Or at least you were pretty sure he was a decent guy with a straight head on his shoulders. Absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip, you took a moment longer to think about it.

“So......how exactly do you give me a lap dance? Do I sit in a chair or something?”

Gosh you were absolutely adorable. Precious, even. Jungkook swore that if you got any cuter, he was going to have to retire and ask you out on a date. Or at least ask for your number and maybe meet up for coffee. Did you like coffee? You probably did. You looked like a coffee drinker. He wondered what your favorite drink was. Mentally shaking his head and focusing on his job once more, he smiled with his eyes sparkling in warm amusement before saying casually,

“It all depends on what you’re comfortable with, really. I can also easily give you a little show on the bed. Actually, the bed would probably be more comfortable for you.”

He then added with a slightly more serious tone,

“But if you do decide this is something you want to do, just remember that you make the rules in this too. While I have my own set of guidelines, I’m only here to do what makes you comfortable.”

Nodding in full understanding, you bit your bottom lip once more as you decided if this was something you really wanted to go through with. Jungkook really was a handsome young man. You’d probably be stupid to turn him down. And it seemed like he was allowing you to call most of, if not all, the shots in this. He would only do what you asked of him. What you permitted him to do. That alone was comforting enough for you to say----

“So the bed?”

“The bed. Make yourself comfortable, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”

Your face flushed pink yet again with a small, shy pout as he flashed you a bright smile and cheeky wink. Good lord you were really going to do this. Okay. Okay. You could do this. You needed this. It wasn’t like you were entirely blind. Of course you needed a good release but you had just never been given the right push to get there. Not to mention it had never fit into your daily routine.

After all, you were all about the routine.

Perhaps Jungkook would become part of that daily set schedule of yours....

“It’s okay to keep your clothes on but you might find yourself more comfortable if you take them off. Just saying.”

He had a point. You were already warm thanks to your permanent blush. This was it. Time to throw all caution out the window and just go for it. You weren’t a teenager having her first time. No. You were a young woman with a body to be proud of. You deserved this. Steeling yourself up with that confident mindset, you nodded and started to undress till you were left in only your black bra, matching panties, and your stockings.

Seeing that you had started to warm up to the idea and was becoming more comfortable with things, Jungkook decided it was his cue to finally get into character while being mindful of your shy nature. He felt like a lion and you were his little lamb. So pure and yet easily frightened. There was just something about you that spoke out to him. He wanted to help you. And that urge confused even himself.

“Okay, beautiful, I’m going to start now.”

With his hands reaching back for his light sweatshirt, he couldn’t resist adding with a smile and a bit of a warm and playful glint in his eyes,

“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Keep those stockings on too.”

While mumbling a soft and shy thanks, you watched him as he did that super hot thing guys do when taking off their shirt. That thing where they magically tug the piece of material over their head from the back. Why was it so hot, anyway?? Was that just something every woman came to accept? It must have worked on you because Jungkook’s soft chuckles filled the room once more. Looking up into his eyes, you noticed he was rather smug and pleased with himself.

“Like what you see, cutie?”

“Well----I mean----You have a nice body. So yeah. I guess I do.”

You hated how choppy your sentences sound but it was like this guy knew how to turn your brain into absolute mush. You were already like putty in his hands and he had only taken his shirt off with those sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. Perhaps you really did need to get laid....

Just then, you watched as he started to swivel those very hips in a way that had you involuntarily gulping and pressing your thighs together. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of this bed. But then again.....perhaps that was part of Jungkook’s plan for you. He said he wanted to make you cum, after all. You hadn’t realized your throat and lips were so dry till you sucked in a breath at a particularly sudden hip thrust. Oh wow. He was so good!!

You definitely made the right decision to go along with this.

“Touch yourself if you need to, baby girl. It’s okay to explore.”

“I-I’m good. Just ke-keep going-ing.”

You could get used to his warm chuckles of amusement. It felt good to know that he wasn’t really laughing at you in a sense of mocking you. It was more like.....maybe he found you endearing? Whatever it was, you were just glad he wasn’t mocking you or belittling you for your lack of experience in all of this. Despite being a stripper, that certainly didn’t make Jungkook a bad guy.

You could actually see yourself sitting down with him over a cup of coffee. You wondered if he even liked coffee? He seemed like the kind of guy that you might find in a cafe sipping on a nice iced Americano.

“Focus, baby. Try not to let your mind wander or you’ll miss all the fun.”

He must have realized you were really zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts because after blinking mental images of coffee shops away, you nearly choked when you saw that he had stripped away his sweatpants and was left standing in front of you with nothing but his boxer briefs on. Dang he was built! He had to be pure muscle. Had to be!

Unknowingly licking your dry lips and swallowing a new lump in your throat, you decided to make yourself more comfortable by scooting back further onto the bed where you could rest your back up against the pillows and headboard. Once you were in a good spot, you turned your attention back to Jungkook and found he had somewhat of a dangerous smirk on his face. Oh boy....

“You really do look beautiful, baby girl. I can’t wait to take care of you like you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Not able to find your voice, you simply nodded while subconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap; thighs still pressed tightly together. Grinning, the male made sure to move his hips just right as he approached the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game plan was to take care of you. And that was when he tilted his head to the side in curiosity and asked in a light tone,

“May I join you, lovely?”

“Ye--Yeah.”

“Wonderful. Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

Still not having much of a voice, you simply nodded and watched him approach you like a predator after his prey. That smirk was back as he slowly climbed onto the bed; the mattress dipping under his weight. You could hear your own heart pounding in your ears as the anticipation built. This was your last chance to back out but for some reason you remained silent. Perhaps you really did want this.

The next thing you knew, he was gently running his hand along your one leg while his lips were ghosting up the other. Goosebumps rose from your skin at his touch and yet your core was starting to get hotter and hotter. Perhaps Jungkook really did have the golden touch? You felt your breath catch when he finally started planting actual kisses to your leg; starting with your knee. He was being so gentle and slow. Something that you were extremely grateful for.

“Your skin is super soft, baby. You must take really good care of your body. I can appreciate that in a woman.”

“Th--Thanks. I try.”

Jungkook knew you were extremely nervous despite your agreement to go along with this so he wanted to take things slow and sort of ease you into the whole idea of what he had planned for you. As he finally reached up to your thighs, he couldn’t help but playfully nip at the delicious skin that greeted him. Your little yelp and jump was so cute. With his head nearly resting on your thigh, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance up at you.

Your face was so red and you knew it was. Hardly anything sexy to look at but to Jungkook you were so precious and endearing. He could just eat you right up. Lucky for you that was exactly his plan. Planting a soothing kiss over his little bite mark, he then moved up to where he was eye level with your cleavage but still looking up at you with eyes dark while full of excitement and curiosity. Licking his lips, he asked,

“May I?”

Upon seeing your timid nod of approval, he smiled more warmly before moving his eyes to his latest target. You had really nice breasts from what he could tell. Just the right size, too. Not being able to help himself any longer, he moved till he was more comfortable on his knees and gently took one of your soft mounds into his large hand. Oh yeah. You were soft. And just like that, a small moan fell from your lips. Like music to his ears.

“Don’t hold back, beautiful. I won’t know if I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you.”

Knowing it was something you enjoyed, he decided to give your other breast his attention as well by using his free hand. With both palms now happily occupied as they slowly massaged your supple mounds, he couldn’t help but let his lips wander. Their next target? Your neck. He briefly wondered if it was a sensitive spot of yours because it would definitely seem your breasts were sensitive. He rolled his thumbs over your nipples and could feel them harden through the fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful. I bet your tits are absolutely divine. Would you let me see them, baby girl?”

You shivered and released a shaky moan as his lips lightly brushed up against the length of your neck. His hands were amazing and he had hardly touched you. There was a small voice in the back of your head that was screaming at you to say no. That this guy was still a complete stranger and had no business seeing your tits. However, this stranger was also making you feel things you didn’t realize you needed or wanted.

“Ye--Ye---Yeah. You can.”

Being careful as if not to frighten you away, he removed his hands from your bosom so that he could slowly and gently reach around you to unclasp your bra. While his deft fingers worked on the clasps, his lips found their way to your neck once more where he started planting soft, open mouthed kisses. Once he freed you from the confines of your bra, he slowly dragged the straps down your arms before taking the thing off completely.

Tossing the black bra somewhere behind him, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You really were quite pretty and he wasn’t just talking about your tits. Although they were nice too. Absentmindedly licking his lips in eagerness, he couldn’t help but mumble,

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my lovely. Do me a favor and lay down for me. I’m going to worship this body a little bit longer.”

Worship you? It just didn’t sound right to your ears. Then again, your self-esteem always did need a bit of work. Blushing to the point of lightly fanning your face once more, you nodded and timidly wiggled in between his legs so that you could comfortably rest your head on the pillows. Staring up at him with your eyes full of curiosity yet uncertainty, you asked shyly in a small tone,

“What are you gonna do?”

You poor thing. Had no one really ever treated you to something like this? And he wasn’t even going all out. For some reason, it really irked him at the thought that no man had ever truly took time to appreciate your body like this. However, not wanting you to think he was grumpy with you or having second thoughts, Jungkook wore a warm smile with softened eyes and spoke sincerely but with a hint of teasing in his voice,

“Well since you look positively delicious, I was thinking of eating you.”

Not giving you time to respond, he added slowly while his lips drew closer and closer to your bosom,

“First, I want to suck on these pretty tits of yours. Then.....”

You watched with a slightly heaving chest as he gracefully crawled down your body till his lips were just centimetres away from the waist line of your panties. His intense staring of your core was making you squirm and a soft whine slipped out before you could bite your tongue. His grin suddenly came back as his eyes flickered to make direct contact with your own.

“Then I’ll eat you out like you deserve. You’re a goddess and that’s how I intend to treat you.”

The next thing you knew, words were flying out of your mouth on your own accord.

“Can we just skip the tits and you eat me out now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s killing me to wait.”

It really had been forever since you last did anything. Whether it be at the hands of someone else or yourself. You were quickly getting used to the permanent blush on your face and your embarrassment was quickly being replaced with impatience as you stared down at him where he was perched between your legs.

Yep. He was going to retire, quit stripping, and sweep you off your feet; carrying you out into the sunset to live happily ever after. You were just too freaking cute for words. He liked them shy and innocent because then he could completely ravish them till they were ruined and begging for more. You were totally his type. Grinning like a fox, he teasingly gripped the waist line of your panties between his teeth and tugged only to let them snap back against your skin before saying in a low tone,

“Well I did say your wish was my command.”

It wasn’t till he was lifting himself up to rest on his knees and thighs that you realized just how worked up you had gotten. The sexual frustration was starting to get the best of you; especially as you were sobering up pretty quickly. Not having realized that you had spread your legs for him at some point in the game, you simply spread them wider so that he’d have plenty of room to do whatever it was he had in store for you.

That fox-like grin still on his face, Jungkook couldn’t help but lean back down onto his elbows so that he could gently nuzzle your chest before planting soft kisses around your nipples. You were torn between whining and moaning as you both enjoyed the touch but also grew all the more impatient for where you really wanted him. After releasing a soft groan of pleasure, you couldn’t help but gently tug on his soft locks in warning while saying in a whining tone,

“Jungkoooook. Stoooop. You said you’d eat me out now!”

His rock hard body shook gently against your own as he chuckled at your adorable display of impatience. He was pleased to see you finally letting go and allowing yourself this moment. It had been a task and a half, but he finally got you here. Planting one last kiss to the underside of your breast, he slithered down your body like the seducing snake he could be and finally started planting kisses down your stomach to the waist line of your black panties.

“I’m sorry, love. But I can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful not to admire.”

However, playtime was over. Gently tapping your thigh, he gave you the cue to lift your bum so that he could slip off your panties more easily. With a blink of an eye, you were left with nothing but your stockings which Jungkook had insisted you keep on because it made you look all the more sexy to him. You couldn’t tell if his compliments were sincere or not but you were so wound up that you didn’t really care at this point.

“God you look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to taste you, baby girl.”

His words made your walls clench around nothing and it only caused more slick to pool between your thighs as Jungkook had since gotten himself more comfortable between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Gosh he was so muscular. You could see his muscles bulge as he worked on positioning you right where he wanted you. You both licked your lips as eyed each other with equal amounts of hunger.

You watched him lower his head before feeling his tongue for the first time. Eyes instantly snapping shut, you felt your back arch off the bed and a moan fall from your lips. Yes. Jungkook not only had the magic touch, but he had the magic tongue. You were certain of it. The male gently dug his shortened nails into the meat of your thighs as he too let out a moan of his own. You tasted just as wonderful has he imagined you would.

“God, babe. You’re delicious. You’re spoiling me here. Where have you been all my life?”

“I-I d-d-du-dunno.”

Your thighs started to shake when you felt his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Maybe it was because someone else was touching you but not even your most expensive vibrator could make you feel this good. Needing something to ground you, your hands found their way into his mess of hair and you found yourself gently tugging on the soft locks that lay between your fingers. The action made Jungkook moan and you felt the vibrations with full force.

The male enjoyed having his hair pulled despite how dominate he naturally was. He considered hair pulling one of the many signs that he was doing a good job and that was something that had always been important to him. He enjoyed making others feel good. One of the few reasons he hadn’t quit his job as a stripper. But there was something about you.......He just couldn’t place it.

You really did taste amazing, though. His eagerness was more genuine than for show. Wanting to increase your pleasure, he pressed his face harder into your core, his nose buried in your scent while his tongue got to taste you to the fullest. You were so warm and wet. Jungkook could only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. Which had since grown hard within his boxer briefs. Gosh it was always the cute and shy ones that turned him on the most.

As he went back to teasing your clit and sucking it with hunger, he heard your moans coming to a halt as you half shouted in a desperate tone,

“Jungkook-----I want your cock! Please! I need you in me! Now!”

Well that escalated quickly.

However, he wanted to make absolutely sure this was something you wanted. Pulling his face away from your core, he looked up at you through his eyelashes with eyes that had grown dark with lust. Yours too were just as dark which was a huge contrast to the innocent shine they had shown only moments ago. You suddenly weren’t so shy and definitely not innocent.

You were a total wreck at this point. Your mind was a mess but you knew what you wanted. You had long sobered up from what few drinks you had and you knew this was something you wanted. Something you needed. It had truly been awhile since you last experienced an orgasm and you were long overdue for one. Jungkook, stranger or not, was your ticket to release and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Not even your routine.

“Please, Jungkook. Please.”

“Easy, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take really good care of you.”

Releasing your legs and climbing off the bed for just a moment, he could feel your eyes on him as he fished out a condom from one of the side drawers. You were so wrecked and it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes hooded with your chest heaving. He had hardly touched you. Poor thing, you must be really sensitive.

Climbing back onto the bed, he made quick work of ripping the package and rolling the condom onto his rock hard length. You really did turn him on. Normally, he had to work himself to full mast but you being you.....it was no problem. Perhaps you yourself was magic too. Given his line of work, it wasn’t often he found a client who could turn him on as much as you did.

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, baby girl. You sure you don’t want me to stre-----”

“No! Please! I’m good. I promise. Just hurry! Want you so bad!”

Jungkook had no doubt that you could have quite the dirty mouth on you if you were to let yourself go far enough. It was almost hard to believe that just mere moments ago, you were this shy young woman who wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous as having sex with a stripper. Yet here you were, desperate under his touch. He loved it. Thrived in it.

The lion had his little lamb right where he wanted her.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he made himself comfortable between your legs once more before aligning himself with your sopping entrance. You were so beautiful with your face all flushed and chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid pace. Your soft locks sprawled all over the pillow. So so pretty. And all for him. Trying to focus, he slowly eased himself forward till he could feel the tip of his length nudge your entrance. God you were so warm. He could only imagine how wonderful you’d feel once he was fully inside you.

“You’re so freaking tight, baby girl. It really has been awhile, huh?”

“God too long! Too long! Please! Ruin me, Jungkook!”

He knew it. You could be a dirty little girl if you’d just let yourself loose from your own leash. He certainly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you saw each other. You were a real treat in his book. A treat he wanted again and again. Someone he could easily become addicted to being around if you’d let him.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around him as you were stuffed full for the first time in a long while. Not wanting you to go into some sort of shock, he gently rubbed your sides with his warm hands in soothing, repetitive motions. Leaning down, he gently planted kisses along your face. Just anything to take your mind off the slight sting he knew you’d feel.

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. You’re right here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

“Ss-s-so full.”

“I know, baby. I know. Bet you’ve never had cock this good, huh?”

“Ne-Never. Never ever. Ss-so good.”

You were already ruined and he hadn’t even moved. You poor poor thing. Depriving yourself for so long of something so good. Well he was going to make sure you didn’t miss out any longer. Feeling your body ease up from underneath him, he took that as a silent signal to start moving his hips. God you felt so good around him. His length involuntarily twitched what little it could while being buried inside your warm wet walls.

“You feel just as good, babe. So warm and tight. Just the way I like it. You were made for me, baby girl.”

Your moans filled the room along with his own as you found your arms wrapping around him to gently dig your nails into his muscular back. You needed something to hold onto despite his slow and easy pace. While you appreciated him taking things slow......you had long since grown impatient. Testing the waters since you really hadn’t done much yourself, you bucked your hips at just the right time so that they collided with his own.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a soft growl of pleasure, Jungkook found himself staring heavily into your eyes as he said in a low and slightly threatening tone,

“Ooohhh. So baby girl likes it rough, does she? Well two can play at this game. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Oh boy.....

And just like that, the male pulled out of you only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees. All the sounds you could make were soft yelps of surprise before suddenly feeling him ram his hips into yours; successfully sheathing himself deep inside you once more. The action alone caused a loud moan to fall from your lips as you hung your head; body slightly shaking with overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Jungkook! Please! More!”

“Greedy little lamb! So eager for my cock. Gonna absolutely ruin you! Fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name and only remember mine!”

The room became filled with your moans along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Jungkook pounded into you from behind; his hands gripping your hips till he left marks. You had never been with someone who was so strong. His movements were so powerful that he was making the bed shake as well as yourself. Your moans came out shaky from how he managed to move your body with his powerful thrusts. You then felt him drape himself over your back.

He reached around you so that one hand could massage your breast and play with your nipple while his other hand slithered down to where he found your clit. It had already been a challenge for you to stay on all fours when he started ramming his hips into yours; let alone when he started feeling up your weak spots. God you had no idea you were so sensitive till Jungkook came along. It was like he already knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Jj-Ju-Jungko-oo-ok. I’m cl-cl-close!!”

“Already, baby girl? Surly you can last a little longer till I get there, hmm? Can you wait for me, beautiful?”

Normally, he could care less when his clients came. Sometimes, the sooner the better. But with you? Jungkook was just having way too much fun and you really did feel amazing. However, there was also that little nagging voice in the back of his head whining about how he didn’t want to let you leave. There was so much he wanted to ask you. Hell, he wanted to get to know you. Which he still hadn’t figured out why. Maybe you were just an easily likable person?

Your moans were even cute as you let out all your pent up sexual frustration. However, his strength must have gotten the better of you because he watched your arms finally give out from under you. Acting quickly, he used his own arms to lift you up so that you were leaning back into him; the both of you now on your knees.

With his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he began to place sloppy kisses to your heated skin while an arm wrapped around your chest; massaging your breast while that other hand went back to work on rubbing figure eights into your clit. He could feel your thighs shaking and quivering as he slowly but surely brought you to your end. He could tell you were close from the way your walls clenched around his length repeatedly.

Then you surprised him by reaching back behind the both of you to try and grab at his ass. Well well well. We’re you getting a little brave? He couldn’t help but smile against the expanse of your neck before gently biting down on the skin and sucking it gently; leaving his mark for you to remember him by tomorrow.

“Jungkook!! Please!! Please let me cum!!”

“Go for it, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. Be a good little lamb and cum for me.”

Definitely not needing to be told twice, you could feel the knot in your lower belly finally snap and your release hitting you like a tidal wave. It was so easy and natural for you to scream out his name as your body arched and shook against his own. You were so lost in your bliss that you didn’t realize he had a protective hold on you while he too found his own end; releasing into the condom. Shame you couldn’t have felt him fill you up instead.

The only sounds filling the room were the soft music coming from Jungkook’s phone along with both of your heavy breathing. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as you had to lean against him for support; thankful that he was still holding you up. However, it wasn’t long till he gently pulled himself from you entirely before easing you down onto the mattress like a real gentleman.

“Let me go dispose of this and get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay baby?”

Still floating on your cloud bliss, you simply nodded your head against the pillows while hearing him chuckle once more. You felt like dead weight but it was a good kind of feeling. Whew. How much tension had you really held inside you for all this time? You had no idea how badly you needed this. Sex with a complete stranger. Who would have thought this was how you spiced up your life and broadened your horizon.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, you heard him come back and ask casually,

“So are you a coffee drinker?”

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 2021 (3) - “I’ve waited for this”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Macen Virius was supposed to be breaking things off with his costar. Instead, he’s pretty sure he might have just caught feelings. Damn it, it was just supposed to be a sex thing...

---

There was nothing like the end of a long day of filming to make Macen want to go to fucking sleep.

Every muscle in his body ached as he left the set to change out of his costume. Moments before, he had been in the blown out remains of a battlefield. Post would add the effects, but his hands still ached from holding his prop rifle and clicking the useless trigger button. Honestly, if he had been human, he would have expected an imprint there.

He was going to have to ask his costar about that later…

“Where is he anyway?” Macen’s mandibles twitched as he glanced around. Everyone was heading off, but there was no sign of Mass Effect’s leading man. Usually, he stuck around to talk to his costar – then again, he didn’t see the other ‘Commander Shepard’ either. They must have both taken off early…

He envied that about humans. They got out of costume and makeup way too quickly.

In the end, he too was back in his regular clothes. As he walked, he rubbed his right mandible, trying to get the feeling back. Part of playing Garrus meant that he needed fake implants to imply he’d had half his face blown off. With how numb that mandible got, it certainly felt that way. No doubt about it, he was looking forward to the final season where all he would need is scar tissue. At least he’d be able to move better in that.

A beeping drew his attention to his wrist as he left the set. His omnitool was letting him know he had a message from a certain fake redhead. As humans put it, curiosity killed the cat (don’t ask him, he didn’t even know what a cat was) so he opened it.

Alex Jones: Hey, rehearsal at my place tonight?

Alex Jones: I can get takeout from that levo-dextro place again. You liked their noodles.

He had liked their noodles. What he didn’t like was… well, this.

“You’re getting too attached, Virius. This is just supposed to be about sex.” He shook his head, half considering calling things off so he could have the night to himself. Problem was that his stomach had started to growl at the thought of those noodles. Besides, tomorrow’s shoot was supposed to involve a lot of emotional moments – he needed all the feedback he could get.

With any luck, he’d end the night in his own bed without fucking the human. After all… he was a turian of self-restraint and control. He could totally handle this.

…

Yeah, he was just going to keep telling himself that and hope for the best. Damn sexy human…

---

An hour later, Macen found himself standing in front of his costar’s door, frowning as he stared at the metal. As hard as he tried to talk himself into ending things, doubt still gnawed at his stomach.

He should end things. It never ended well when he got too into somebody.

“He should understand… it’s just sex… he’s my costar, and it’s just sex.” Macen shook his head again, frowning as he started to key in the human’s door code. Alex had given it to him a month prior, mostly so if he was going to be late he could get in.

That probably wasn’t a good sign, but he had elected to ignore it.

The door clicked opened, and he stepped in. Much to his surprise, the sound of upbeat music met him in the hallway. Not only that, but someone was singing to it if his translator was anything to go by. The damn thing was working overtime as he sidled closer to the entrance to the living room, holding his breath as he peaked in.

Lucky for him, Alex’s back was to him. The human had cleared a space in his living room in order to have room for what he was doing then. However, Macen was having a problem processing what “that” was. Well, he knew it was dancing – a somewhat odd version of it – but it was just so… old fashioned.

Also, since when did Alex dance?

“Let’s chase the dreaming light, and I’ll truly be myself…”

Dancing wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Macen’s jaw dropped as he realized the soft, sweet voice he had heard in the hallway was coming from Alex himself as he worked through the song with flowing, easy moves. Something about it was so painstakingly familiar, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it as he stood mutely in the hallway, watching the scene in front of him.

He had to wonder… what did it look like from the front?

“There’s a scene I want to show you. You have to wait for it… so let’s make a promise!”

Alex moved into a different position, holding out his hand to an imaginary audience that Macen couldn’t see as he took a step up. Every one of his moves were precise, even though he was doing nothing more than dancing around his apartment in his socks. Clearly, he had been practicing…

But for what?

“There’s a gentle wind wrapping around me… isn’t it warm?”

Macen knew a bridge when he heard one, and he felt himself holding his breath as he watched. Alex was getting closer to his imaginary audience now, probably for whatever was going to come in the final chorus. Maybe it was because he was so focused on the man that he hadn’t noticed his heart had begun to beat faster, but it thudded all the same.

“They’re overflowing, these endless hearts…” The man suddenly turned on his heel, facing the entry way. “Please carry them to tomorrow!”

And then no more singing happened as the precursor to the final chorus played behind him. He was fixed on the turian standing in his living room, looking rather shocked as if he hadn’t given him the door code. Macen wasn’t doing much better, mind you – he still hadn’t managed to shut his damn mouth.

And people thought they were cool. If only the blogs could see them now.

At least Alex shut the music off as he regained sense. He reached for a towel to dry off his apparently sweaty face, cheeks a slight pink from exercise. Maybe it was the sweat that had made him shine in that moment. For all Macen knew, it had caught the overhead light when he spun around like that.

Meanwhile, his heart wasn’t slowing down. Still…

“Uh… I guess my text didn’t make it.” At least his mandibles were starting to work. “I didn’t miss the noodles yet, did I?”

The human put his towel down as he started towards his phone propped up on a stand. “They’ll be here in 15 last I checked.”

The music started playing on his phone as he frowned. “Damn, I knew I spun the wrong way…”

This caused Macen to cock his head to the side. “Were you recording yourself for social media or something?”

Doubtful; this kind of thing definitely wasn’t in the human’s wheelhouse. After all, he was supposed to be playing Commander Shepard. While the man had some oddities, he probably didn’t dance around like that.

…

Then again, who fucking knew. Dude was weird.

Alex was still checking his phone as he spoke. “No, just recording my practice to see where I need to improve for filming next week.”

Surprisingly, he was grinning as he looked up. “I’ve waiteda for this for a long time, so I want to get it right.”

Something about the way he smiled did awful things to Macen’s stomach. However, the statement set his mind whirring. While he wasn’t a complete Reaper War freak like some of his coworkers, he at least knew enough to be sure something like that hadn’t happened. After all, there’d be videos, right?

Definitely videos, no way Joker would’ve let that slip by.

“Ok, you’re going to have to fill me in on this one… since when did Shepard do a little dance?”

Alex chuckled – again, there went his stomach. “2185, to be exact. The Normandy ran into a rogue AI that accidentally found its way into Shepard’s music collection. They needed to distract it, so he wound up putting on a little show. He disabled the cameras beforehand, but he wrote about it in his journal, so we know it happened. And now I get to do it on TV and make all the people who think he was just a military guy hate me. I’m thrilled.”

Clearly – he was sparkling again, and this time it wasn’t from the sweat. Macen felt his heart beat harder again, and he tried to distract himself by looking towards the door. If those noodles could save his ass, he’d marry them.

Besides, he was supposed to be calling things off with the guy.

Alex was still looking through his phone as he spoke. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done a dance routine for TV, I was worried I forgot how. I’m definitely a little rough, but it’s better than I thought it would be. Good thing the director let me know early so I could practice a bit more.”

Macen started to open his mouth to ask, but then the memory came to the surface. He knew where he had heard the voice before, and honestly he was surprised he had forgotten about it. Back then, he had secretly loved to watch it.

Secretly, of course, because Citadel Idol Heart was really more of a girl’s show. The popular teen drama about idols competing in a Citadel-wide talent competition in hopes of seeing their dreams come to life had run for a few years, and he had seen every episode. More importantly, he had once crushed on the main character, a blonde idol with blue eyes and the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Whenever she took the stage, he had been unable to look away.

Just like he couldn’t look away now…

“You… I forgot you were on CIH.”

It was now Alex’s turn to blink back surprise as he looked up from his phone. “You watched that?”

“Kind of…” His eyes darted. “Your voice hasn’t changed much. I mean it’s gotten older sounding but I’m glad to know it wasn’t autotune or anything…”

Things had officially gotten awkward. There he was, with the crush from his teenage years… and he was fucking the guy without even knowing it. Life was weird, and it was getting worse by the second. If only teenage him could see him now…

The man’s cheeks turned a light pink at the compliment. “Well, it’s not like I’ve gone on T or anything, so no big surprise there…”

He got up, probably to check for the noodles. “I take it you were part of the Melody fan club then. Unless you were an edge lord and went with Black Rose. Her fan club was the absolute worst and insisted we hated each other, but I was the best man at her damn wedding last year…”

The rest of his statement was drowned out by the opening of a door and the ruffling of a paper bag. At last, the noodles had arrived. Unfortunately, Macen realized he didn’t have much of an appetite. His stomach refused to calm, and his heart still pounded as he sat there, processing everything.

At least the application of a warm box to his mandibles helped.

“Macen, your noodles are going to get cold.”

He blinked and realized Alex was nudging him in the face with his food. That shot him back to reality as he took the box and proffered plastic fork that went with it. The human then settled in next to him – not across! – and started to dig into his own box.

Right… food. And they were supposed to be rehearsing. And he was definitely supposed to be breaking up with his costar.

“I had the pin.”

His comment left silence in his wake. Alex had stopped eating and was giving him a rather incredulous look. This caused Macen to duck his head in lieu of eating noodles. After all, it was hard to do so politely when you had a face like his. Really, he should have sworn them off… but they were just so damn good he couldn’t resist.

Damn humans and their noodles, they were out to get him.

“You had the fan club pin?”

Yep – there went his mandibles, flapping in the breeze. “I was a big fan, ok? What can I say, everyone loves an underdog story… and you maybe… looked good in that one outfit. The orange one…”

Melody in the orange outfit had been taped to his bedroom wall until he left for basic. Hell, it might still be there…

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

Alex was chuckling though as he put his fork down. It was a nice sound, though it did horrible things to Macen’s stomach once more. Thoughts of noodles evaporated as he sat there, taking in the sound of the human’s mirth. He really needed to laugh more often… maybe he should work on making that happen.

“Well… I can’t exactly let a fan down, now can I?”

He stood and crossed the room to the open space he had created. The music was soon queued up to where he had last stopped, and Alex took position once more. The smile on his face made Macen’s heart want to stop as he sat there, a noodle still hanging from his mandible.

“I can take off into the dreaming sky… because I’m not alone.” Alex winked as he moved, following the song. “Wherever it is, I feel like I can go across the distant sky…”

Then the music swelled as it led into the final chorus. Macen forgot how to breathe in that moment as he watched his costar dance and sing along to the ancient song. All he could think of was how much better he had gotten since the days of CIH…

And how much he wanted to kiss him.

“It’s not enough to put into words, so I’m putting it into a song I’m wishing will reach you.” Another smile as Alex twirled, then began his final pose as the song began to wind down. “Beating my heart~”

The last pose, with his head cocked to the side and hands clasped together, held as the music faded. Then there was silence in the living room as Macen struggled to remember how to function. Right then, there was nothing there but Alex and the table in front of him that kept him in place.

Shit.

“It probably needs some work, but I think I’ve got the basics considering it’s only been a couple hours.” Alex landed back on the couch, picking his food back up. “What do you think, Macen? Got anything you noticed?”

Yeah… his heart was still beating like crazy.

“Macen?”

The turian shook his head – probably launching the noodle in the process. At least it didn’t hit the man next to him, so he could thank his lucky stars for that. However, it was hard to think then as so many feelings and thoughts crashed together.

He was supposed to be calling it off… that was why he came over. This was just supposed to be a sex thing… but every bone in his carapace was telling him to grab the other man and kiss the daylights out of him. They hadn’t even ever kissed outside of sex or prepping for scenes…

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I uh… I don’t know the song, but maybe hold the last pose a bit longer. They might be able to make your eyes light up a bit more.”

Alex nodded at this. “I’ll make a note. Also, don’t you hate cold noodles? Last time you wouldn’t stop complaining when the delivery guy was late…”

Right then, Macen wasn’t sure what he hated or liked as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He just needed something, anything to keep him away from the thoughts currently blooming in his mind.

He knew this path – he hated it. It never ended well. And long ago he had told himself he was never going to walk down it again if he had any sense in his head. This was nothing more than a rehash on an old teenage crush… he could overpower it.

“We need our energy to practice.” He slurped down the last noodle, glad that none were sticking to his face this time. “Tomorrow’s going to be hell if we’re not ready.”

At least his costar nodded as he worked to finish his dinner. “Tell me about it, I have a damn imprint on my trigger finger from that damn gun…”

Well, at least on the bright side that question got answered. It did nothing to quell the bubbling feelings Macen was trying so desperately to beat down, but at least his curiosity was sated for the moment. Maybe that would get him through filming.

One thing was for sure… he was fucked. No way about it – he was just plain fucked. The universe was laughing at him, and he only had himself to blame. All he could do was hope he could hold back and wait for the feelings to pass.

If they didn’t… see the previous statement for clarification. Fuck… he was supposed to be a turian sharpshooter, not a lovesick puppy. He didn’t sign up for this.

[iiamtrashqueenii]

New Years Eve

Summary: Inspired by “New Years Eve” by Mal Blum, Virgil and Janus are reunited as the New Years Eve party the sides throw. Janus doesn’t want to admit how much he’s missed Virgil, and Virgil certainly isn’t making it easy on him.

Potential Triggers: (please let me know if any I missed or any you’d like me to tag in the future) Drinking, smoking, unhealthy relationships

——————

Letting out a breath of smoke into the sky from the balcony, Janus wondered for the hundredth time if he should even bother going to the party. It’d be a waste of time. Familiar faces he didn’t want to see, but at the very least, there’d be plenty to drink, and no one would question why.

Janus found himself drunk a lot of the time, actually. More often than he’d like to admit, and more often than even Remus could guess. Not that everyone else knew, Janus was all too good at hiding it, so long as no one was close enough to smell the alcohol on him. It wasn’t too hard to avoid when he rarely left his room either.

Shaking the thought away, he let the cigarette slip from his fingers, watching as the embers slowly died out with the rushing air as it plummeted to the ground. It wouldn’t start a fire. Not unless he willed it so. He had considered it momentarily, but ultimately decided against it. It wasn’t worth it. No amount of arson would fix things, and no amount of denial would make everything fade away, no matter how hard Janus tried. With slow steps, he slipped away from the balcony, into his room to get ready to go. Soon enough, Remus bounced into his room, asking if he was ready to go, and they headed to the ‘light’ sides part of the mind palace.

The music was rather loud for it being so early, only nine, and they were going to be there until at least one in the morning. Janus didn’t mind that, going to find drinks first before trying to socialize. Ultimately, by the time it was ten, he’d mostly stuck around Remus, sharing awkward glances with Virgil throughout the night. He should’ve talked to them—he knew that, it was the only chance at fixing things. But honestly? Janus didn’t even know if he wanted to fix things anymore. Not if Virgil didn’t want to try either. Besides, he didn’t need them.

Before the first hour could pass, they had started up party games, Janus well on his third drink as Roman asked him a simple ‘truth or dare.’ “Dare,” Janus answered blankly, staring into his plastic cup and tapping his fingers lightly on it, waiting for an answer before downing the rest of it.

“I dare you...” Roman glanced around, looking for an idea, “jump down from the top step over the railing,” she shrugged. It wasn’t all that interesting, but there wasn’t much that was interesting when they were capable of practically anything with minor consequences. Janus gave a curt nod and stood up, heading to the top of the stairs and pulling himself over the ledge before jumping down. The landing wasn’t that successful, aided by the drinking, so he had stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. “Ree, truth or dare?”

“Snakey-baby, you know better than to ask,” Remus answered, a faux softness to his voice.

“Great, so truth. What’s the real reason you dragged me to this party, Ree?” he asked, clearly bitter about it.

Remus breathed out quietly. “Jan you know I meant dare.”

“I dare you to answer the question.”

“That’s not—fine. I’m tired of seeing you tear yourself apart. You needed to get the hell out of your room. You can’t waste the rest of your life there,” Remus answered.

Janus pursed his lips in response, muttering a “your turn” under his breath and looking down again. What he hadn’t expected was for Remus to turn to Virgil for the next one. Remus and Janus had practically avoided asking Virgil so far—knowing full well that if Virgil picked truth, it wouldn’t go anywhere good. Worse is that Virgil did indeed answer with “truth.” Remus paused for a second. “I was hoping you’d pick dare,” he muttered honestly, before trying to think of a truth. Dares were easy for him to come up with, being intrusive thoughts and all.

“I got one,” Janus piped up, earning a hissed protest of his own name from Remus that fell on deaf ears. “Is it true that it’s my fault you left?”

Virgil frowned at the question. “Of course not, Janus.”

“Then how come you never visit?” he asked. “Is it just that... quite frankly I’m not worth it? Please, enligh—“

“Okay! Game time over,” Roman spoke, clasping his hands together. “Who wants to help me bring out the deserts and we’ll watch a movie for a while, yeah?” Remus had jumped up at the opportunity, mostly not wanting to be a part of the awkwardness between Janus and Virgil. It didn’t take long to get set up, mainly because Remus didn’t bother arguing about a movie—Roman would rig the votes anyway. Janus and Virgil had sat on opposite sides of the couch, both of them getting a few more drinks than necessary. They stopped the movie a little short, wanting to watch the time change across different places.

Janus stood up, slipping into the kitchen and setting his cup on the counter. He had had too much to drink already, knowing better than to get more if he wanted to remember anything by the next morning. He sighed, tossing the cup into the trash and leaning back on the counter, gripping the edge lightly, wondering shortly if it’d be any easy to leave. He could hear shouting and laughter coming from the nearby room, but at the same time, he didn’t feel as though he could actually hear it. Everything felt too loud and too quiet at once, so he had managed to miss a giggling Virgil stumbling through the door way, spilling a bit of their drink as they walked through. Great, Virgil was absolutely shit-faced.

“Hey Janny,” it slurred, leaning on a nearby chair for balance. The room was spinning. Merely sighing, Janus stepped over, going to help Virgil back to the living room, but Virgil stepped back a bit, holding out his hand forward and shaking his head. “Too loud in there,” he blubbered.

“Then I’ll take you to your room, but if you keep leaning on that chair like that, you’re gonna slam your face into the fridge.” Practically as predicted, Virgil’s hand slipped forward, his eyes going wide for a short moment before Janus caught him.

Breathing out softly, Virgil’s eyes flickered across Janus’s face, before its eyes landed on the little leaf decoration in the doorway. It grinned, something that didn’t look anything like Virgil’s normal grin, too drunk to care. “Janny, they must’ve forgotten to take down the mistletoe,” it slurred, leaning forward and pressing a messy but soft kiss to Janus’s lips before he even had a chance to respond. Janus hadn’t even shut his eyes yet by the time it was over, in a little shock, and unable to savor the moment. “I missed you,” Virgil mumbled. “I know you’ve missed me too,” they added quietly, resting their head on Janus’s chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he murmured quietly, most trying to convince himself of that, especially after that kiss. He repeated it a couple of times, whispered and breathy while tears pricked his eyes, and once he said it clearly for the first time, loud enough to at least be heard over the other’s, he shifted to lift up Virgil, who was practically asleep standing up. He blinked several times, trying to blink away the tears and slipping by unnoticed by the rest of the sides, even as he carried Virgil off. He slipped into Virgil’s room, oddly not too hard to do (Virgil was rather light after all, concerningly so), before setting them on their bed. He pulled up the blankets over Virgil, watching them adjust into their space before slipping out of the room, gently shutting the door and letting out a quiet huff. “I don’t love you anymore,” he repeated, starting to walk away. He knew better than to mention the kiss to anyone, even Remus. Remus would blabber about it, accidentally or on purpose, and Janus knew Roman and Virgil had something going on. If he ruined that... well, it was definitely much more worth suffering knowing Virgil was at least happy.

Janus walked back into his room, slipping off his bow tie and pulling it off, setting it on the desk before taking off his hat as well. He rested his hands on the table in front of him, staring down at it and hunching up his shoulders, doing his best not to let tears fall. He was oh-so-lucky to hear knocking on his door. It certainly wasn’t Remus—he never walked. “Come in,” he called, wiping nearing tears in his eyes with his thumb quickly.

He hadn’t expected Virgil to already be stumbling out of their room, opening the door and leaning on the door frame with a soft pout. “I didn’t want you to leave tonight,” Virgil admitted. “Stay? Please? I’ll talk to the others and we can... we can all be together again,” they choked out, lip quivering visibly.

Janus already knew if he said or did the wrong thing it’d be waterworks for hours, until Virgil passed out. So instead, he merely agreed, whatever Virgil wanted, and went to bring it back to bed. He stepped over, expecting to bring Virgil back to their own room, but Virgil slipped right past him, climbing into Janus’s bed and cuddling into the blanket. “... You know I never wanted to hurt you right?” it asked quietly. “I just thought it’d make me happier...”

“I know, Virgil. Hush now dear,” he murmured softly, pulling a chair up next to his bed. “Sleep, okay? We can talk about it in the morning,” he suggested lightly, shutting off the lamp.

They wouldn’t talk about it the next day, actually. Or anytime soon. And Janus would hope to whatever God or gods there may be that Virgil wouldn’t remember the kiss, wouldn’t say anything about the kiss, and they could forget it. Virgil wouldn’t forget, but it never dared to mention it, their relationships to fragile to dare.

[maria-de-salinas]

Snapetober Day 12 - Panic Attack

Cross-posted to AO3

The common room was still dark but Severus' sore neck woke him up. He'd fallen asleep in one of the chairs near the common room fire, his head resting on his forearm, and the pain wouldn't go away even after he'd sat up and rolled his head around a bit.

He couldn't really remember why he'd fallen asleep there. Maybe he'd stayed up too late inventing spells or something.

The door to the boys' dormitories opened but Severus paid no attention to them until Mulciber opened his mouth.

"Have you been here all night?" Severus was staring into the fire but he could picture the cold amusement in his eyes, like everything was a joke and he was the only one in on it.

"Leave him," said Rosier. "He's in one of his anti-social moods again."

They vanished into the stone wall and Severus crossed his arms over his chest as though he could deflect the blow. He wasn't about to get up and run after them, but he thought they might change their minds and wait for him.

He supposed he could skip breakfast, go straight to his dormitory and read awhile before his first class. But his arms and legs were already weak and he knew he'd never be able to concentrate, and anyway, he hated going hungry, he'd had to do it enough over the summer. Lily never spoke to him, never brought him any extra food the way she used to do.

He wouldn't have been able to face them all, all those fucking ordinary people who'd laughed as he was reduced to nothing, if it hadn't been for Avery and Rosier and Mulciber walking alongside him, swaggering with a confidence he wished he could feel, wands at the ready, powerful in their magic, the dark curses they whispered in abandoned classrooms waiting on the edge of their tongues. They could take on anyone.

Severus knew more curses than any of them, but without them he might as well know nothing at all. He could see his arms and legs out of the corner of his eye, heavy and stiff like wood, jerking and twitching like a marionette. Could see strands of hair hanging over his eyes, so lank and oily it made his scalp itch.

He could hear the voices echoing off the stone walls before he reached the top of the dungeon steps. There must've been a thousand of them, at least. Were they always so fucking loud?

His chest was so tight he couldn't breathe right. He was getting dizzy. He gasped for breath. The air wouldn't go in. His heart slammed against his chest and the base of his neck hurt.

He'd seen a man collapse in the middle of the street in Cokeworth, just walking home from the mill. He clutched his chest and the metal lunchbox he was holding fell to the ground and burst open. But Severus was too young for that.

He sucked in a breath again, but nothing would go in and now his head was dizzy and he was going to pass out, right there in the Entrance Hall, and no one would see him, no one would stop to help, but then he wasn't sure he wanted them to.

He didn't know how he ended up in the bathroom. Maybe he thought there'd be someone there. But there wasn't and he paced the floor, every heartbeat pounding in his head, knowing any one of them might be the last he ever felt, and he didn’t want to go like this, with the chipped sinks and the piss-smelling stones...

"Severus?"

I can't breathe.

"Severus! Is everything alright?"

Someone was there but he didn't see who.

"It's alright. You're alright."

I can't, I can't...

“Just breathe in. Through your nose.”

Severus gasped for air.

“Good. Now...erm...hold it for a few seconds. Then breathe out.”

Severus let out a breath. So he was still breathing.

“That’s it...so, can you remember how to make Polyjuice Potion?"

Severus clutched his head.

"Add three measures of knotweed, right?...two bundles of knotgrass, stir three times..."

"Four times," said Severus, and he realized then that he could talk, that he was still breathing.

"Right. Four times...and then what?"

"And then...and then you let it brew," said Severus. "And then you add four leeches." His breathing was slowing some. He put his thumb to his wrist and felt his pulse. Still too fast, but not as much as before.

"And then...a scoop of lacewing flies?"

Severus knew that voice. Lupin.

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Two scoops. With brains like yours it's no wonder you didn't make it to N.E.W.T level."

The corners of Lupin's mouth twitched in smile that he might have thought self-deprecating if he'd been anyone else. "Well, I can see you're feeling a bit more like yourself."

Severus didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. The whole thing was a trap, it had to be. His heart pounded harder and he stepped towards Lupin, voice breaking, slipping into his wretched Black Country twang. "Wha' the fuck you doin' here?"

Lupin lowered his eyes. "I saw you in the Entrance Hall. I thought you looked...unwell, so I followed you here."

Severus glanced under the stalls for shoes, listened for breathing, fingers groping for his wand. "Where are they?"

Lupin raised his eyebrows slightly. "Sorry?"

"Don't play dumb with me Lupin. Where are Potter and Black?"

Lupin's eyes widened too quickly to be put on, but he still didn't believe it. "It's just me."

Severus listened. There was no sound apart from distant footsteps and the trickle of a leaking faucet.

So he was telling the truth. But he still didn't understand. He stepped towards the werewolf, so close he could smell the coffee on his breath. "If you tell anyone about this you will pay, d'you understand me?"

Lupin twitched as though to shrink back, but stood his ground, eyes wide and earnest."Of course. I won't tell a soul."

Severus sneered as though to say he doubted it, but he backed away.

Lupin shot him a furtive glance that was hard to read and made for the door, but when he'd reached it he stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, looking from the floor to Severus. "It happens to me too. And people give me shit about it, believe me."

Severus didn't know what to say to this, but Lupin didn't seem to expect him to. "Well," he said, turning back to the door. "I'll see you around."

Severus hated that he believed him.

* Severus flattened himself against a wall and waited for the Bloody Baron to pass by before climbing up the steps to the Astronomy tower. He slumped against the castle wall and pulled out a twenty-pack of Woodbines he'd bought at the corner store just before the start of term, pushing the lid open and counting how many he had left. Just four. Shit. There were still five weeks to go before Christmas holidays and he knew his friends wouldn't have any, just the useless high-class pipe tobacco they smoked sometimes during one of their pretentious dinner parties. Ah well. He would savour them, anyway.

He pulled a book of matches out of his pocket and his muscles relaxed. He smoked fags for comfort, the way some people clutched hot cups of tea. He had a ritual. Pull it out of the box, bring it to his lips, strike the match, light the fag, breathe in. Peace.

The footsteps were heavy, shuffling, like someone running. Severus breathed out and stood up, ready to Disillusion himself if need be, but he didn't think it was a teacher.

Whoever it was ran right to the edge, stopping short at the railing as though only vaguely aware it was there. Severus stepped closer.

Lupin. He was clutching his chest and gasping for breath.

Severus took another drag and watched him, feet pivoted away as though he were going to turn around, but they wouldn't move.

Lupin made a strange keening noise and Severus stepped over to the railing.

"The fall constellations," he said. "Do you remember them?"

Lupin just kept breathing hard.

"Andromeda, Aquarius..."

"Aquarius," repeated Lupin vaguely. "And...Lyra?"

"That's summer, you prat. Try again."

"Erm...Pegasus?"

"What else?"

"I don't...I can't remember..."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And they gave you an O.W.L in Astronomy?"

"I got an Outstanding," said Lupin, his voice stronger, clearer.

"Really?" said Severus, voice inflected to suggest his disbelief.

"Yes, really. Now let's see...right. Capricornus and Pisces."

Lupin took a deep breath and stared at Severus as though just realizing he was there. This time he didn't look down. "Thank you."

Severus shrugged and threw his fag on the ground, stamping it out with his boot. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to tell Lupin to fuck off. Which was good as telling him he could stay, and Lupin knew it.

He looked up, hands in his pockets. "Nice night for stargazing."

Severus made a noncommittal noise. He was more interested in what was on the ground.

Lupin nodded towards the wall. "Want to sit down?"

Severus followed him, pretending he didn't know why, that he didn't care. That he hadn't been aching for someone to sit down next to him like an ordinary person.

Lupin drew his knees up to his chest and ran his hand along the folds of his robes. "Listen. I'm really sorry. About everything."

Severus had played this scene over and over in his mind, and Lupin was always on his knees grovelling, cowering before his clenched fists. Severus clenched and unclenched his fingers and the heat rose in his chest and his heart beat faster but he knew he couldn’t do it. Knew Lupin meant it. 

Lupin must’ve known it too, because the corners of his mouth lifted just a second before he glanced away again, serious, and looked up at the stars. “Do you ever feel like...I don’t know, like a stranger? Like you were just dropped on this planet to observe everyone but never really fit in?”

Severus was unnerved. He only felt like that every bloody day of his life.

“Sometimes.”

“I feel like that all the time.”

Severus made a disparaging noise. “You think you don’t fit in? When you spend all your time hanging round with Potter and Black?”

Lupin ran his hands along his robes again. “I dunno...sometimes I think they’ve got more in common with each other. Like I’m just along for the ride, you know?”

Severus didn’t say anything to this. But he knew exactly how Lupin felt.

Lupin glanced at him and looked back down, opened his mouth and closed it. “Actually,” he said after awhile. “I’m sort of glad you were here.”

He stared down at his lap again and even in the low light Severus could’ve sworn he was blushing. 

“Yeah,” he said, because he couldn’t really bring himself to say what he really thought. That he sort of was too. Even if Lupin was a prat.

[hournites]

still turn the switches on, just to see if it’s still gone

Stargirl fic

Warning: Blindness, Anxiety, Panic Attack 

Summary: Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

~.~

Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

Her mother doted over her more, which was weird because before she was found in her own emergency room Beth swore she was trying to pull away. Her dad bought her a bookcase full of her favourite novels in braille, which was very thoughtful. Pat gifted her with Dr. Mcnider’s owl for companionship and defence during missions. Most kids at school seemed to at least try to help her out. There was no use denying the need for extra assistance. Trying to explain that her artificial intelligence sufficed well enough to adapt to a handicapped life thanks to her superheroing pursuits was hard to explain, not to mention dangerous (and owls were strictly prohibited therapy animals in the Blue Valley High handbook—She checked). So Beth often found herself smiling at those who brushed against her arm or told her what time a teacher’s office hours were, even so far as helping her pack her bag.

Unnecessary, maybe. But it was nice.

This was why when she reached into her backpack during lunch on her way from the test accommodations room, her heart dropped to her gut. Beth only felt crumpled papers, her two binders, and her pencil case. Struck with alarm, she called out his name but was met with silence. Awful, sickening silence and a draft from the half-opened window in the staircase.

Her goggles weren’t there.

“Chuck?”

Her fingers flexed against the line of her inner zipper hard enough to get a paper cut. Her phone was also missing. Her phone had Chuck programmed into its assistance system. Her phone and Chuck. Gone.

Someone stole him while she took her test. Someone who would know she was dependent on him. Someone who knew she was Dr. Mid-Nite. Someone who went to this school.

Shiv? Tigress?

Beth’s mind raced as she jutted out her hand towards the cold railing. It was so silent. Too silent. She needed to hear Chuck’s voice in her ear. That reassurance was the backbone of her strength and confidence and her eyes.

She never had to deal with quiet like this. She’d have her own thoughts probing the back of her mind while she daydreamed or took her tests. She’d have Chuck’s constant chattering and Hootie’s feather rustlings, Yolanda’s giggles, Court’s cheers, Pat’s comforting words. And maybe there’d be that part of herself that mourned what it was like not to need that: True friendship and belonging, the assurance of who and what made up her definition of home.

That chilling loneliness from those days before JSA was miserable in a matter of fact way, but Beth was used to it then, independent and resilient and unknowing anything better.

Abandoned here was reminiscent of that time exemplified. Back when she was loser Beth. Not blind Beth.

She loved JSA, she loved her friends, but sometimes she preferred the crippling isolation that came with that. The safety of before. But she had to remind herself it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t healthy. Whether she had her sight or not, all of Blue Valley was in danger and would be brainwashed now if she hadn’t stepped up to help.

But not like this.

Her breathing grew ragged as she clutched the side of the wall, mind spiralling. She knew Blue Valley High. She knew this school. This was her school, this was her year’s wing and this was the C block stairwell. She had the entire building memorized before she ever needed to.

She couldn’t remember the number of steps. The number locked itself in the haze of her anxiety. It could be twelve or fifteen or sixteen or twenty-six. Or, there could be chocolate milk spilt in the middle for her to slip on and break her neck and Beth wouldn’t even know.  If this was Cindy’s attempt at psychological warfare, it was working. She was immobilized, alone, afraid, and for the first time in too long, completely blind.

“Chuck?”

Why was she still calling out for him like a helpless child? He couldn’t help her. He wasn’t there.

Beth’s fingers shook as she felt along the dirty metal railing. She slid herself down, her back touching the wall. If Cindy was going to ambush her, she’d at least won’t make it too easy.

Two minutes morphed into five, then ten. Beth stayed in a fragile panic with her backpack clutched to her chest. Courtney was going to find her here dead because she was too afraid to walk down a flight of stairs. This was going to be by far the lamest death in JSA history and here she was, suppressing her hand over her mouth, still bawling her eyes out regardless of it.

The door from the bottom creaked open and Beth’s breathing ceased. The footsteps were slower but sounded heavy like the person was going up two at a time. Soon, two hands were on hers and she was throwing her arms around their neck, clinging tightly because she knew who they belonged to.

“Rick!”

“Beth? You weren’t answering your phone, Yolanda sent me out to find you. What happened?”

“Someone stole Chuck.”

He stilled, and she could feel through his thin shirt the way his heart sped against her ear.

“What?” His hand went straight to her hair, stroking it as his voice went harder. “Who the fuck would do that to you?”

She didn’t answer, sure that a handful of possible answers came to his mind.

“Why didn’t you come to find us?” he asked her a lot more softly.

It was hard to explain why Beth was paralyzed.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “They took my phone. I got scared.”

Rick moved her back, pushing her from the edge of the top step. “I’ll carry you.”

“No!”

Rick paused just as the flat of his palms touched the underneath of her knees. He was going to carry her all the way to the cafeteria and everyone in the hall would stop and stare and whisper and Beth never cared about what people thought of her (she already knew—Chuck informed her weekly) but being carried around the school while clinging to Rick Tyler because she got disoriented would be the most mortifying experience of her existence.

The confusion in his voice was evident. And if she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought he felt hurt. “You don’t want me to—?”

Beth turned her head away. Of course, she wanted him to hold her again. Like she hadn’t dreamed of Hourman catching her over and over since that very first week over a year ago. She realized her fondness and interest in Rick’s friendship was less that of strong will and more of a swelling crush. That didn’t make it any less difficult to manage. She took a breath, chest still tight like half of the oxygen in her lungs had been swapped with something more noxious. This was starting to be too much.

The problem with Chuck was that she’d never really accepted being blind.

When her eyesight deteriorated after the accident, Beth had been in such deep denial she smiled and lied to her mother when asked if she felt okay enough to return to school, only to walk right into oncoming traffic. An older man yanked her by the arm of her backpack as two cars flew by fast enough to bring the rush of wind to her face. Rattled, Beth felt into her bag for Chuck, ignoring the swimming black spots in her vision. She’d rub her eyes with her fists too hard when she woke up that morning, she kept telling herself and refused to put Chuck away.

And then, when she had to confess those black spots weren’t going away, that they were only narrowing into her focal points and she tricked up her phone to get Chuck there too...That was it. She told the JSA that she was going blind after her doctor visit confirmed she was going to lose it all. They all burst into tears for her, but Beth didn’t, stuck in an accepting kind of numb.

The darkness snuck up on her like a shadow behind her back. Every blink and she wondered if it was the last one. It dragged on and her world got a little darker with every new day. Anxiety cracked at her spirit and broke her down, and she’d stay awake at night, staring up at her ceiling, practising for the familiarity of it without Chuck. Soon, she wished for it, begging the wait to be over.

Misery would not leave her until it did.

Beth could see in X-ray, infrared and pitch black when nobody else could. She used to tell herself that made her different. That she didn’t have it so bad. She knew everything there was to see, and with Hootie on her shoulder and the blackout bombs she deployed in battle, Chuck levelled the playing field. Maybe even tipped odds of success in her favour.

So really, maybe Beth had been living a disillusioned lie for the last few months.

She couldn’t be Dr. Mid-Nite all the time.

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, pushing a light hand against his chest. It was possible that her voice was trembling, and she didn’t sound all too sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “I need to.”

Rick hesitated. “Beth, you’re shaking. I don’t think—”

“Please, Rick. They can take…” Her hands went to her face, wiping away her hot tears. He was right, she was shaking. “They can take my sight and my security and Chuck. But they can’t make me any less of who I am. I’ve walked down these stairs hundreds of times with sight and blindness. I can do this.” Her voice petered off, and she felt worried again at his silence. “Do you believe me?”

“I’m not the one that needs to believe it, Beth.”

Rick wasn’t the one doubting her. Her insecurities and self-doubt came from within. The words were harsh like a slap to her face, no matter how soft he uttered them. A cold reality check, but coming from his mouth, it was meaningful and not meant in any way to hurt her. Coming from Rick, it was different. And it was true.

He was a lot more clever than he let on.

She stared down where the grips on the bottom of her shoes teetered over the edge of the first step. Rick might’ve not been as close to her anymore but she knew he was hovering. It felt like a cliff or a massive waterfall. Her heart pounded like she was at the ledge of the world. She had to tell her brain to stop imagining those things. It only made it scarier. It’s like she said before. These were stairs. This was her cell block, the wing that led to the locker area. This was her school. It was familiar ground. She bit her lip, reining in the courage before it went away and held out her hand.

“Keep me steady?” Because the world could still turn at her anxiety’s whim. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to let him go. Rick grasped her hand tight.

“How many stairs are there?”

“Twenty-three.”

Beth exhaled. Twenty-three. She could do that. Her other hand went to the railing, and she took her first blind step down. Her stomach swooped like the drop in an elevator. But then her foot hit solid ground.

That was it?

She stepped down again, and it was fine.

It was fine.

“There you go,” Rick encouraged her, squeezing her hand to let her know he was still there. “You don’t need me.”

She actually didn’t. Muscle memory and confidence guided her through, and eventually, on step thirteen, she let go.

When she reached the floor, a rush of pride flooded through her. She was perfectly fine. More than fine, she was great and not crying anymore. Whoever thought stealing Chuck would render her useless was in for a surprise because—

Beth spun around, realizing she had walked right on, pushed the door and made an angry beeline through the mercifully empty hall to get to the cafeteria, leaving Rick behind.

He grabbed her hand again after jogging after her.

“Hey!” he said, with a smile in his tone. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

Beth’s face heated up, mostly because she was acutely aware she was now clinging to his hand, deliberately locking their fingers together. “Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. 

He brushed his thumb against her knuckles. He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s my fault. So who am I killing tonight?”

Beth scoffed. “You won’t kill anybody.”

“I might,” Rick muttered, tugging her quickly to the side, presumably so she wouldn’t step on something. She stumbled a bit, but only ended up bumping into Rick. Beth flushed and reoriented herself.

“Thanks,” she murmured, slowing her pace to be more careful. Then returned to the conversation. “You said you couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “...Well. Whoever the hell thought they could get away with stealing Chuck—”

“Someone stole Chuck?” Yolanda cried over the chattering of everyone else on lunch break.

Her shins hit the bench of the table. Beth put her hands out on the surface to climb in and Courtney immediately ended up at her side. Beth wrinkled her nose as bouncy curls flew into her face.

“Are you okay?”

“She is now,” Rick said, now sitting beside her. He touched her arm. “You are, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answered quietly, indulging in leaning against him because he was using a soft, gentle voice that made her want to hug him forever. “I’m not freaking out anymore.” Beth lifted a reluctant shoulder and wiped at her wet face. “He’s still missing though.”

“It’s Cindy,” Courtney said, narrowing her eyes across the room.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“No, I do,” said Court. “She’s staring at us right now.”

Rick’s warmth was gone in an instant.

“Wait—” Beth called after him just knowing he now had his hourglass. Her hand reached out to empty space.

“I’m knocking the bitch out. Court, let’s go.”

“On it!”

“You’re gonna beat her up in the middle of the caf?” Yolanda hissed at them to sit back down. “You can’t do that!”

But then Yolanda muttered something under her breath.

“What?” Beth asked when the rest went quiet, but she could sense the way all of her friends tensed up.

“She has the goggles Beth,” Court said. “She’s taunting us with them right now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Yolanda said tersely. It was obvious she also was exhausted by Cindy.

“Okay.” Beth stood up. “Bring me over so I don’t trip on a wet brown napkin or something.”

“You want to go over there?!?”

“Yes,” Beth snapped with a hard glare. It probably wasn’t aimed at the right spot but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fierce. “She wanted to scare me? She did. But Cindy has been cruel for so long and I’m not giving her the satisfaction of—” She balled her hands into fists and took a long slow breath to calm down.  She hadn’t realized she was almost yelling.

She released them after a moment and dropped her hands back to her sides. Beth was seething mad, that was for sure, but if she didn’t get her anger in check her plan would be no better than Courtney and Rick’s. “—I’m getting Chuck back so hurry up and get me there before I lose my nerve.”

Nobody said anything.

“Now,” she clipped.

“I—”

They realized she meant business and they all scrambled to catch up with her, realizing she wasn’t going to wait.

The three surrounded her like bodyguards. Her arm linked with Rick’s and Yolanda’s hand was on her back, guiding her to the popular table.

Beth touched her hair briefly and stiffened her spine. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but trusted herself enough to improv once she got there.

When Yolanda removed her hand, Beth knew they were in front of Cindy, Jenny and her other group of mean girls. She let go of Rick, choosing to fold her arms over her chest instead.

“What are you staring at, Beth?” Cindy drawled at her. There was a pause and she tittered. “Oh wait—”

The table straight up laughed.

“Burman!” Rick barked.

Courtney stepped up too, but both Yolanda and Beth blocked her with a warning hand.

“Hey,” Beth said coolly, with an eerie collectedness she didn’t even know she had. “I came to have a chat with you.”

“Oh, she wants to talk? That’s cute.”

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, sailing over the condescension.

“Clearly you’re too naive and didn’t get the hint. I don’t want to talk to you. Get lost.”

Beth leaned in so close, she could hear the clinging of Shiv’s earrings. She felt movement, but she picked up on her intuition and honestly shocked herself by snatching Cindy’s bare wrist.

Cindy went still.

The worst part is that Beth knew what was underneath the soft skin and thousand dollar bangle bracelet. Cindy could so easily eject her knife and blade. She could stab Beth right through if she wanted. She’d done so to her dad in the basement of the tunnels.

But Beth wasn’t afraid.

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re smirking at me like this is the funniest thing you’ve ever done. I don’t need my eyes to know the way you were just leaning against your hand, wearing your Ralph Lauren polo shirt with one of your ridiculous berets and my visual aid dangling off the other hand like some next-season must-have accessory that you want because it’s something you can’t have.”

Beth dug her nails into Cindy’s skin. It’s not like it would scar. She continued, acutely aware of the way so much of the room seemed to have gone silent. If half the school hears her go off on Cindy Burman, maybe a few of the kids too terrified to stand up to anyone bullying them could learn a thing or two as well.

“But let me tell you something, Cindy. You can’t have it. I can’t see without them. I’m blind.”

“I know,” Cindy gritted out through her teeth.

“Yeah, I’m blind,” Beth raised her voice, just a little. “And so are you. Except you and I? We’re nothing alike. I lost my sight because of an accident, but you are blind and ignorant and grossly egocentric. And you did that to yourself. So take my phone out of your purse before I let Rick rip it from you, give me my goggles, and leave me the hell alone.”

Cindy dropped the goggles onto the floor, expecting the lenses to shatter.

They don’t.

~.~

“Rick?”

After Cindy dropped Chuck, Rick took her phone back as Yolanda ripped her a new one about being creepy with her phone theft habit, emboldened by Beth’s speech. The four left the cafeteria after, all wanting to leave, wishing the lunch period to be over with.  

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for holding my hand.”

He stopped walking, so Beth stopped walking. His hand in hers gave a light squeeze. Which was nice, because it meant he hadn’t let go since she put Chuck back on and blinked back at him after a shy glance, so relieved to see the outlines of his face again in any way she’s given.

“Whatever you need.”

She believed him, sure enough. Beth sighed as they walked through the hall. Courtney and Yolanda were behind them, talking about something Beth couldn’t care enough to listen to.

“Then...I need a cane. My dad bought one a while ago but I’ve left it in my room because I didn’t want it.”

“But…” He frowned at her, sounding confused. “You got Chuck back. You don’t need the cane now.”

Beth sighed. “Except, I do. I’m legally blind, Rick.”

“Yeah, but Beth—”

She shrugged her shoulders and bit her lower lip. “It’s true. I need to learn to live as I am. Not what I wish I could be.”

“You are Dr. Mid-Nite.”

“I know that,” she promised softly, patting his arm. “But I’m Beth Chapel, too. I can’t be afraid of being me.”

[anxiouslyfred]

Midnight in an Office

for @dukexietyweek‘s prompt of Superheroes, I have a page of background for what I want to write and no clue how to make a story of it.

Summary: Virgil is a superhero with a lot of money and no powers, not even full control of his money given it was an allowance from his money hoarding parents. Remus was a Robin Hood criminal Virgil had caught but ensured that only community service would be his conviction. Now Remus keeps turning up and helping, trying to understand this vigilante’s reasoning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

One day Virgil would understand why weathly gits thought the perfect place for their children to have ‘adventurously safe’ sleepovers was always just the top floor of their main office buildings. It made no sense when their normal days out were to adventure parks, but he wasn’t really arguing the case.

Still waiting for the other 20 year olds to fall asleep was tedious, even the vaguely interesting facts Logan had been rambling about the stars had become indiscernable mumbling by this point. He’d put headphones in at that point although no sound would come from his phone while he had hacked into the buildings security cameras.

The building had, just as much as all the other wealthy companies been subject to thefts recently, suspected to come from a cyber criminal breaking through their security programmes. Virgil doubted that was actually the case, given one of the security team had self referred himself to therapy for hallucinations, completely matching the creations of a man who had stolen from his parents company.

He didn’t really care about that now though, the man should be serving community support in a soup kitchen for the next few months and then Virgil could reach out with a position at one of the law firms looking to dismantle the malpractice the companies were performing abroad. Hopefully that would help put some of the good back into the world that his parents were rapidly draining from it with their money hoarding ways.

As long as nobody showed up in the building he was in currently Virgil would swap to wherever the closest calls to the police were coming from. Criminals had been targetting the poorer areas of the city more recently, making those bad situations even worse. At least the Shadow could be sure of helping the people he respected most in fighting those crimes, keeping struggling businesses from being robbed and giving the people desperate enough to steal a chance to improve their lives.

Before that happened though Virgil spotted exactly what he hadn’t wanted to; a nineteen year old covered in leather tied together by flourescent green shoe laces walking past the security guard to no reaction.

He was up and leaving his friends behind as soon as he spotted that, changing into his costume as the Shadow as he went. His anxiety seemed to mean none of the Grapevines powers held his attention for long. He’d imagine seeing movements and hearing thigns often enough that he could fact check them away, even when provided by someone’s powers rather than his brain malfunctioning.

“I thought we agreed you’d do your service and then let me get you a job working against these buildings. You’d get paid to do what you’re doing anyway.” Virgil stated, staying at the back of the office where the desks and support columns would make him harder to spot.

“Pretty sure I was expecting more charges than impersonation and trespassing when we agreed that. What did you do to convince the company to be that light handed?” The Grapevine countered, a cackle in his voice at how unexpected the lower charges had been.

Virgil shook his head, slowly moving closer, wondering when there’d be an attempt to give him hallucinations. “So you’d rather be in prison for theft and suspected use of mind altering drugs? Because you know the police don’t admit there are powers that influence people’s minds.”

“Nah, chilling in the trash is practically my past time, clearing it up just means I get bigger piles to play around in later. You didn’t answer my question though.” They were facing each other now and there was no attempt being made to touch any of the computers or artifcats that were meant to make the office more personal.

Instead of replying, Virgil turned towards the exit. “Do what you will here. I’ve got to stop the jewellers 3 streets away being the scene of another police killing.” That was more important than some family refusing to use their money for social good from loosing some of it.

Of course the Grapevine followed him, trying to carry on asking questions although that was a little difficult while Virgil was mixing about 5 different hand-to-hand combat styles in order to capture the thief without any damages. It was easier to guarentee community service when nothing was broken or visibly stolen.

At least the Grapevine had enough wit to disappear before the prison arrived.

/\/\

They’d been meeting for a week, each time Virgil tried checking on any large offices the Grapevine would be there, just waiting. He hadn’t done anything Virgil would class as a crime the Shadow needed to combat since making the deal to serve his sentence and then accept the job working against. He was just appearing, trying ask questions.

“Companies like that get every charge they can imagine brought against criminals that target them. I should not have gotten off so lightly.” The Grapevine was musing, following the Shadow off to

“Who said the company knew anything about what you were doing? The owners were just glad you hadn’t broken anything they’d have to replace as their IT teams are already working constantly to try and prevent whatever cybercriminal they’ve blamed your crimes on from stealing more.“ Virgil realised that by now he’d either have to answer the questions or have the guy following him around forever more. He couldn’t decide which he wanted to happen more, having gotten used to someone just treating him like a normal person without all the pomp and manners demanded of wealthy sons.

There was a scoff at that. “If I’m not doing anything how is there any theft still happening? Let those poor IT team catch a break, I’m sure they’re overworked enough already with the nonsense employees of places like this come up with.”

“They are catching a break. I checked in with the IT guys of most of your targets. They worked out it wasn’t done by hacking the system and are playing it up so they can take the other calls they get at a reduced pace.” Virigl rolled his eyes at that. The IT teams tended to be where the most reasonable people worked in any office centric building, which included being the most likely to take any chance they could at slowing the speed they have to respond to the menial tasks people find making trouble with technology. “Are you helping me with this guy or not?”

“You ask that as though the robber didn’t drop his knife 5 minutes ago to stand staring at a monster climbing out from the chocolate bars.” Grapevine might be making a pest of himself in refusing to let Virgil be a superhero without him for a night, but he did have his uses when he felt like helping.

Virgil ignored that thought just as thoroughly as he had thoughts of the others wildly green eyes and lithe physic, moving in for some show fight before wrapping the rope around his wrists in a civilian arrest. He turned to the cashier that had clearly hit a hidden police alert at that point.

“Are there security cameras or can you say the alarm was hit for a crazed man having some kind of violent outburst that ended in a seizure if I give you $300?” He asked, knowing from some research into the Grapevine’s former victims how the hallucinations affected a persons body. Bribing shops to keep the charges low was the only use he actually had for the allowance he parents gave him, although he got plenty of reciepts for various expensive experiences.

Apparently too panicked to speak the shop assistant just nodded, already reaching out to take the money. “Ring it up as a sale of erm, this flight experience, give me the receipt and then do whatever returns process you need to for it but keep the money for yourself.” Virgil requested, turning to check the Grapevine was no longer in sight as he took the receipt before heading home himself.

/\/\

“You bribe people to keep the charges low, and seem to know far more about the people of these offices than any of the other superheroes I’ve met yet never show signs of any powers at all.” The Grapevine hadn’t even entered his parents building this time, just hanging out on the corner.

“And you stand about on corners looking like some sort of specialised prostitute. If there a point to you stating your observations or should I just ignore you and actually do my job?” Virgil snapped back. He’d had a horrible day of pretending his parents weren’t exploiting thousands of people while giving their pocket change to charity for rare artworks to imagine they were good people.

Grapevine jumped forwards then, pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the son of one of these business families. You have to be, yet you keep becoming the Shadow to fight against their greed.”

“And you’re from the council estate they’re trying to get bulldosed, We have bigger things to be looking at than your deductions of who I am.” Virgil groused, fed up of hearing the flaws he’d spend his lifetime trying to correct if only he could figure out how.

Silence fell for a while before the Grapevine spoke up again. “Will I still get that job with the company fighting against these companies if I break into a few government agencies to make sure the right people reject any attempts made by, which family is that again?”

“If you get caught doing that I won’t be able to make your charge lighter. Government workers need cheques to be bribed and that’d flag my actions to my parents and freeze all my funds.” Virgil hesitated. The offer was beyond tempting. It was some of the good he wished to include but couldn’t while his parents controlled his funding still, but it could also mean losing his friend and crush.

Emotions verses morality always had been a battle he could only separate by chosing which would cause the least ongoing anxiety for him. This situation the thoughts of either had him counting his breathing to prevent a panic attack.

“I love you too, but it still seems like the best chance we’ve got at me keeping my home if you’re actually telling the truth.” The Grapevine’s response made him freeze even more. “No need for those big eyes, Cutie. I know you’d only admit to worrying about keeping me on the streets if you loved me. Now, which company names do I need to look for on those documents?”

The question reminded Virgil of where they were having this conversation, directly outside the building owned by his neighbours. It would at least be safer to talk like this somewhere he could control and know in an instant who entered. “I’m going to my families building now and will be out of costume by the time I’m there so I can unlock it and we can talk where there isn’t the chance of the next security patrol overhearing us. Why don’t you follow me there so we can talk through our love declaration as well as who will need to stop the petition?”

He’d made the decision now to reveal his identity and only hoped the same would be done in return. Love was a terrifying prospect, but out of everything that had happened to him that day, at least it made some sense.

[goldeneyedgirl]

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7: Yeehaw/Western/Sheriff

Love & Duty

Notes: Okay, I’m pretty sure this isn’t nearly ‘cowboy’ enough, and I’ve already started an alternative piece, but I found an old tumblr post about how cowboys were just daytime witches, and I frickin’ loved it (I’ll link it in the morning) and my excitement got out of hand again. There’s definitely going to be more to this story, but separately. 

I also just wanted to prove to myself I could smash out two prompts in one day, honestly. I opted for quantity over quality, and I currently only have some regrets - 4.5 down, 3.5 to go. 

--

The old farmhouse sits outside Laredo, Texas. The wood has blackened from decades underneath the sun and seems to sink in on itself; the ground cracked and dry. The barn roof has caved in, obviously years before if the elaborate nest tucked at the edge is any indication. At the end of the drive, the sign once bore the name of the owners, but that name has long since faded into the wood.

It is an unwelcoming place, for any passerby or stranger - a house that actively discourages anyone from crossing the boundary, even if they never notice it.

But for those that sought it out, and for those few that lived there, it was very different.

—

It was a sacred duty, once upon a time - the Guardians of the Border, sent to protect and prevent the Southern Wars from spilling over from Mexico into America proper. For decades, girls from all the old families across the country were sent to Texas to run the Guard Houses, to protect and shield those. Back then, there were so many daughters that only the very best were accepted at the Border Guard Houses, most of them settled in the city houses, mixing the potions and preparing the weapons. Some girls were even sent home - there were only so many beds, after all.

And Texas remained well-guarded.

But time marches on. Vampire wars, human wars, they all have a death toll, and entire family lines died out. It became less of an honour, more of an obligation, and one that fell to the oldest daughter, or the oddest daughter, or the ugliest daughter. It became more important to keep the bloodlines strong than to protect the South from the never-ending Wars.

Mary-Alice Brandon was never surprised to be banished to Texas on her sixteenth birthday; she’d known her entire life she’d don the blacks and take up the mantle as six generations of Brandon witches had done before her. She was not good breeding stock, with her ‘visions’ and her temper and her complete disinclination to conform to her parents’ social obligations. Cynthia was a much better heiress, and so off to Texas Alice was sent, to three ancient ‘aunts’ who would train her in all she would need to know, having lived their entire lives defending the Laredo house.

The house wasn’t so bad, if you looked past the glamour. The house was in good repair, and the aunts maintained a lush garden out the back, of herbs and flowers. They had two strong horses - Hallow and Haven - and half a dozen well-pleased cats. Her own bedroom looked over the road, hidden only by the branches of an ancient willow tree. Of course, the aunts were strict teachers that expected impossible standards, and third-rate cooks. But no place was perfect, and at least here no one cared about manners or propriety.

But she missed the sunshine. That was one thing the aunts never budged on. “Day is for sleep.” And hell was raged over her head if she wasn’t tucked up tight in bed every morning before dawn, the curtains drawn tight and refusing to budge. Once every moon cycle, her aunts would have a dawn meeting with someone but she wasn’t allowed to join those until she was twenty one, when she formally became a Witch Guardian. Until then, she was just a handmaid and dogsbody.

Which is why she was up to her ankles in mud, trying to pry an overzealous hemlock plant from the ground because it was smothering the chamomile again, with nothing to light her work except the lanterns on the porch. And this was just the first of the positively irritating chores she had been assigned that night.

It was her own fault, really. She should have kept her nose out of the books, and maybe there’d be more lessons for her to finish.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, Alice glared viciously at the hemlock plant, and wondered if the aunts would consider it ‘inappropriate behaviour’ to curse the damn thing to burn.

“Mary-Alice!”

One of the aunts came dashing out of the backdoor - all three were fairly interchangeable, which felt like an uncharitable thought, but it was the  honest truth - looking more agitated than Alice had ever seen her.

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Get out of the mud, and go and fetch one of the horse,” the older woman said, buckling an over-stuffed messenger bag. “Be quick, girl. Change your boots, don’t worry about your dress.”

Struggling out of the garden and into the house to find her riding boots, Alice knotted her hair back before hurrying to the barn, where all three aunts were gathered, Hallow already saddled - she would have thought Haven a better choice, since Hallow was so big and she was not the strongest rider.

“You’re going to Del Rio, girl,” one of the aunts said, shoving over a mounting block with surprising strength. “One of our allies has suffered an injury and cannot be moved. Hallow should have you there by dawn.”

“Del Rio?” Alice couldn’t remember the last time she’d been into Laredo, let alone more than a hundred miles up the border.

“Yes. Now, they’re expecting you,” the second aunt said, taking her hand and half shoving her up and into Hallow’s saddle. “Everything you need is in the bag; there’s food and water for you, but you’ll need them to provide more for your return journey. Hallow knows the way; if you hit the yellow farmhouse, you’ve gone too far. There should be a scout waiting for you anyway, don’t worry. It’s a long trip, but it’s a good practice for you, and you’re a good, clean healer.”

“The boy’s in a bad way, so you best be off,” the final aunt said, looking grim. “Let us know how long you’ll be staying and when you set off home.”

“Okay,” Alice managed, a bit dazed from the amount of information she’d just been given.

“Blessed and safe journey, my dear,” the first aunt said, looking worried before Hallow decided they had lingered long enough, and moved out of the barn.

Alice suddenly regretted cursing the hemlock.

—

The ride was long and hard. She honestly regretted not getting changed into something more sensible - she’d learnt to ride as a girl English style, side-saddle, but the aunts had laughed at that particular pretension, and Western saddles and long skirts were not a winning combination.

The bag wasn’t heavy enough for any of them to have thought to pack her a clean dress, either, and she was truly wretched at cleaning spells. Perhaps the Del Rio coven could loan her a dress.

Hallow stopped some time after midnight, and she took that opportunity to eat - a floury apple, some dry bread, and cold chicken that was so well cooked it might as well have been ash. But it was food, and the urgency that she been sent off - alone - implied she didn’t have more than a few minutes to rest.

The rest of the trip felt long, and as pink and gold streaks began to hover at the horizon, Alice wondered if she’d taken too long - if the poor boy (boy? she’d never heard of a coven accepting a boy, but maybe the Guard Houses had decided to modernise) had already succumbed. But it wasn’t like she was provided with a map or proper direction…

It was dawn when Hallow began to slow, and she saw a man leaning against a signpost with an indecipherable sign, the road behind him leading to a fire-decimated house on a hill in the distance.

“Miss Brandon?” the man said, looking at her with suspicion before his eyes softened. “Ah, Hallow.” The horse clearly recognised him, nickering affectionately at the man.

“Yes, I am Miss Brandon. You are the scout from Del Rio?” she asked primly, as if she didn’t have mud on her face and dress and sleeves, and no hat.

“Yup. Come on, he’s in the house. I’m Peter,” the man said. “Budge up.”

Within seconds, Peter had swung himself onto Hallow behind her, and Alice gasped at the impropriety, but didn’t get a moment to say a word as Peter clicked and Hallow took off like a bullet.

As Hallow passed another sign that couldn’t be read, the fire-ruins shimmered before reforming into an expansive and well-lived farmhouse, with a large barn. Out the back, she could see pristine fields full of horses and cattle. It was like chalk and cheese from home, and for a moment, she was jealous.

As they stopped in front of the house, Peter slid off, and tied off Hallow’s bridle to the porch railing, reaching up to help her down.

“Quick now, one of the boys will come take care of Hallow, we need you to tend to Jasper now,” Peter said, half dragging her up the front stairs and into the house.

It felt like a bustle of activity, and was so bright and airy. The smell of fresh bread filtered through the house, and Alice couldn’t help but snatch a look as she was dragged deeper into the house.

“Char! The witching’s here!” Peter bellowed, and suddenly Alice was presented with a drawn-looking woman with strawberry-blonde hair.

“Oh, thank gods,” she said. “I’m Charlotte. Come with me. His fever keeps getting higher, and I’ve tried everything I know. We called out to everyone, but your aunt was the only one who got back to us.”

She was lead into a backroom, where a mattress was laid out on the floor, and the curtains were drawn. And in the middle of the room, moaning in pain and sweaty, was a tall man covered in scars.

Alice tried not to gasp. The scars were quite clearly vampire bites, healed ones. Covens had some natural immunity to vampire venom, but it only slowed down the process and allowed it to be reversed. There were dozens of stories of girls who couldn’t be saved, and had been burnt before the change could be completed. It was, unfortunately, one of the risks of their duty.

“He got ambushed,” Charlotte said, kneeling beside the man. “The harpy practically gutted him, but he got away okay.” She pulled back the sheet, to reveal an enormous wound that had been clumsily stitched, from the middle of his chest, slashing downward over his stomach to his hip. “It needs cauterising I think, but I’m no healer.”

Alice came back to herself then. Whatever was going on here - male Guardians, this untrained woman, all the bite marks - could be questioned after this poor man - Jasper, had Peter called him? - was treated.

Dropping to her knees, Alice quickly inspected Charlotte’s stitching of the wound. “It will need cauterising, it’s too deep,” she determined quickly. “And treatment for infection, but stitching it was a smart thing to do.” Charlotte looked relieved. “Did he get bitten?”

“His arms,” Peter said, and Charlotte quickly pulled off bandages, already blackening from the venom. Three bites on one arm, four on the other. Bad, bad business.

“Okay. Do you have a smock, and a place I can wash up?” she said, standing quickly. Walking into a sick room in her filthy clothes and boots had been a stupid thing to do, but nothing for it now.

“Of course - show her the bathroom, Peter,” Charlotte darted out.

Within moments, Alice had a smock over her underthings and a pair of borrowed slippers - Charlotte promising to wash her dress immediately - and she’d scrubbed every visible inch of her skin as fast as she could, her hair pinned under a kerchief.

It was a very, very long day. The bites had to be purified, cleaned, and bandaged to draw out as much venom as possible; the bandages had to be changed four times every day, to prevent the venom lingering against the skin. Jasper had to be fed the tonic that the aunts had sent every two hours to flush any venom that had already ended his system. Then she had to treat the fever, to lesson his evident discomfort, and treat the infection that had clearly set into the wound Charlotte had stitched, whilst reassuring Charlotte that it was nothing actively wrong that she’d done, just the unlucky result of riding home with an open wound.

But by the time night fell, Jasper was somewhat more comfortable - the moaning had stopped, and with a generous dose of pain and sleep tonic, he seemed to actually be sleeping.

Alice wished she could.

Instead, she changed his bandages again before finding herself in the kitchen, with Charlotte piling plates with food.

“We heard from the others,” she said, taking her own seat. “Days away, Carlisle is furious. Emmett’s already on his way back with Rosalie, but they won’t make it here for at least a week.” Charlotte looked exhausted. “At least they’ll bring supplies.”

“What’s done is done,” Peter said smartly, watching Alice as she began to eat, exhaustion in every one of her motions. “Jasper will be okay now, yes?”

Alice looked up. “Well,” she began, and sighed. “There were so many bites,” she managed, trying to be kind. “And he’s been bitten before - even one previous bite decreases the effectiveness of treatment. I swear I am doing everything I can possibly do.”

“You’re young, yes?” Peter shot back. “Not even a full Guardian yet?”

“Peter!” Charlotte scolded.

“No, I’m not of age yet. My title does not affect my ability - I have been trained. I have completed my lessons. There is nothing I can think of that I am not already doing,” Alice retorted.

“And we are grateful,” Charlotte broke in.

“Yup, I’m positive Jasper would be thrilled that his life is in the hands of a schoolgirl,” Peter muttered before getting up from the table and storming away.

Alice was too tired to be angry, and just sighed and went back to her food - Charlotte was far and away a better cook than the aunts; perhaps a week of edible food, and she’d be filling out her dresses properly.

“I’m sorry, Peter and Jasper… they’re like brothers. They’ve been together for years,” Charlotte said, looking at her plate. “…Please, please don’t let Peter’s rudeness dissuade you from helping Jasper…”

Alice looked up in shock. “No. No, of course not. I understand his frustration, I do. And there’s nothing he could say to me that would make me treat Jasper any less, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte smiled, and began to clear the table. “The guest room is at the top of the stairs, I’ve laid out a nightgown for you, and some towels. Peter’s taken care of your horse, and I’m sure…”

“That’s very kind of you,” Alice said gently, “but I’ll sit up with Jasper tonight; he’ll need watching.”

“Could I help at all? Watch him in shifts?” Charlotte asked, but Alice could see the exhaustion and worry in every line of the woman’s face. If they weren’t careful, Charlotte would fall ill too and she’d have two patients.

“No, it has to be me, to make sure the bites are clean and the tonic takes. We’ll have a better idea of how he is tomorrow, though,” Alice offered. “I would like to bathe, though, if you could watch him?”

“Oh, of course - there’s a washroom in the guest room,” Charlotte said, gesturing to the stairs. “Thank you, Alice. I mean it. Thank you for coming, I feel like everything is going to be okay now that you’re here.”

—

It was a long night, with exhaustion setting in for Alice - she hadn’t slept in over a day, had ridden half-way up the border… she felt like an old woman. But it was her duty. And she would do it to the best of her ability.

Charlotte had leant her several dresses, and it was quite strange to wear a colour that wasn’t black or grey, but a welcome novelty, even if the dresses were a size too big.

Settling beside the sickbed, Alice administered the tonic every two hours, and found herself changing the bandages obsessively, as soon as she saw or smelt the venom. She flushed out the bite wounds - one would need stitching. She’d have to cauterise the chest wound first thing in the morning; his fever still lingered, but the tonics and potions seemed to have had a powerful effect on the infection, with the red veins having already retreated.

Though, she might have to teach Charlotte how to administer stitches whilst she was here. The woman was clearly unfamiliar with stitching flesh. Maybe some rudimentary treatments so that they didn’t have to wait twelve hours for help.

The aunts had packed her two new books to read - purely educational, histories of the coven, that were not even a little bit relevant in her current situation, or interesting. But they did keep her awake.

Morning came, and Jasper’s fever had broken. She nearly cheered at that, and when Peter and Charlotte burst in at dawn, she gave them the good news. She thought that Peter was going to cry - Charlotte certainly did. But then she required the couple hold him down as she cauterised the chest wound.

Charlotte ended up vomiting at the smell, and Peter looked at little woozy, but at least he was held together with more than embroidery thread now. She quickly applied a fresh layer of ointment that smelt like mint and tea leaves to the raw wound and bound up his chest up in fresh bandages. At least Charlotte had the practicality of preparing an immense quantity of fresh, sterile bandages that looked like they been cut from good quality bed linens or petticoats.

The day moved slowly; Charlotte brought her meals in on a tray, and sat with Jasper whilst she changed her dress again, and sent a message to the aunts. Peter was very respectful around her, and brought her anything she asked for - purified water, feverfew, lavender, aloe vera. Jasper seemed to sleep more comfortably each day, as she fed him cold tea laced with every possible tonic and potion she had in her bag and could create from scratch. His bite marks were cleared every day, settling into fresh scar tissue. She was genuinely sorry that they had scarred, but there was nothing for it.

But only time would tell if the venom had made it to his heart.

—

Seven days. She had been at the Del Rio house for seven days and seven nights. Jasper had passed out of danger, and was now just healing, though he hadn’t regained consciousness. But Alice continued to nurse him, as was her duty and purpose here. She fed him careful sips of tea and then herbal broth, to build up his strength and hopefully reinforce his immunity; she rubbed ointments into his new wounds to keep the skin supple and preveshe lnt thick scar tissue and ease any discomfort. She helped Charlotte wash and dress him as soon as she deemed it safe.

That she had not been expecting. She hoped her poker face was good, because she’d really never seen a man’s body before. Not like that - she was only nineteen, had lived with the aunts since she was sixteen and had never been courted. Even her lessons had been done on whatever animals they could hunt or trade for from the market, not really humans. And this man, he was… handsome. He was tall and just the right amount of muscular and tan and, she shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

She couldn’t even imagine her embarrassment if this Jasper had seen her in such a way.

Oh, she was definitely sleep deprived. She had yet to sleep a single second in the guest room, snatching cat naps in the corner of Jasper’s sick room when she couldn’t hold her eyes open a single moment longer.

Which was what she was doing now. She twisted her neck uncomfortably; she’d been sleeping at a funny angle, she’d be feeling that all day. Stretching out, she looked over at her patient, only to see Jasper staring back at her curiously.

“Oh my gods!” Alice gasped, scrambling over. “You’re awake? How are you feeling? How long have you been awake?”

She quickly helped him sit up, reading for the water cup on the beside table. He took two deep swallows before coughing.

“Oh, it’s got lemon and mint in it, for healing,” she explained. “It’s helped, I promise. Hopefully we can get you back to normal drinking water and food tomorrow.”

“Who are you?” croaked Jasper, looking up at her with glazed eyes.

“Oh. Um, I’m Alice Brandon. From the Laredo Guard House,” she said, embarrassed. She was acting like a bumbling sixteen year old trainee, not a proper Guardian. “I was summoned when you were wounded.”

“Alice Brandon from Laredo,” Jasper repeated, a quirk of his lips. “Thank you.” His energy seemed to drain out of him all at once - totally normal for the severity of his wounds and his recovery.

“It was nothing,” she said. “Sleep now. It’s a great healer. Charlotte and Peter will be awake in a few hours.”

He nodded half-heartedly before he closed his eyes again, and Alice sat backwards. He was okay. Two blue eyes without a hint of red, talking and lucid, and drinking easily. She did it.

He lived.

—

Both Peter and Charlotte had wept when they realised that Jasper was conscious again, and Peter had nearly tackled the man when he saw Jasper sitting up, drinking water and talking to Alice, trying to piece together what had happened to him, and to learn how she had treated him - the Del Rio Guard House had fallen to the Whitlock-Hales several generations ago, and many of the old skills - like healing - had been lost.

In fact, it was only him, Peter, and Charlotte who were at the house full-time now - they hired local boys to help out on the ranch that funded the Del Rio clan. Jasper’s own sister and brother-in-law visited regularly, as did various other friends and allies, “but none of us are witchlings,” he coughed. “We were raised in the sun, not in the night.”

She smiled at reference to the old rhyme. “Even your sister?” she asked; girls were kept to the night, boys to the day. Old attitudes that had held true - girls were protected and cloistered (and much less likely to be caught poisoning or cursing) in the darkness. Their herbs and plants bloomed and grew so much harder under the moon than the sun. But boys, they were the fighters, the warriors, and battle against vampires and other dark creatures was best done when there was no darkness to escape into.

“Even my sister,” Jasper had smiled. “Rose would have made a horrible healer - punched me in the arm and told me to ‘man up’ the first time I fell off a horse; my arm was broken. She’s not nearly as committed as I am, but she helps. Her husband’s good at it too, he just married into the madness.” He spoke about his family with such affection, Alice felt a little jealous, but before she could ask any other questions, Charlotte and Peter were there, Jasper just as pleased to see them as they were to see him.

Alice slipped out to give them privacy - a bath and a clean dress sounded heavenly right now, and she ought to send another message to the aunts. She’d help Jasper wash and change afterwards, and hopefully be able to move him from the sick room to his usual quarters with fresh sheets. He’d sleep more comfortably in his own bed.

By lunchtime, Jasper was safely ensconced in his own bed, in a room that overlooked the a paddock of horses. He’d eaten some broth and drunk as many cups of herbal tea as Alice could press on him, as she fussed around. Peter had headed off to get ranch work done, and Charlotte had taken up a vigil at Jasper’s bedside with some sewing.

“Alice, please, you don’t have to do anything of that,” Charlotte laughed as Alice began folding clothing. “You should rest - you must be exhausted.” Turning to Jasper, she continued, “I don’t think she’s rested this entire time - she sat with you every night, didn’t even wake us to help change your bandages. She insisted Peter and I sleep.”

“Oh, I’m up at night anyway,” Alice laughed. “And I’m here to help.”

Jasper was watching her carefully now.

“She hasn’t stopped at all. I cannot imagine how efficient the Laredo House is,” Charlotte shook her head. “Though, I’m sure having proper recruits makes a difference.”

Alice shook her head, as she reached out to plump a pillow behind Jasper’s head. “Oh, it’s just me and the aunts,” she said airily. “All the old families are dying out, and, well, it’s not exactly a glamorous position. I knew I’d be sent to Laredo since I was very small, so I suppose my mother and father prepared me for it.”

“It sounds lonely,” Jasper said quietly.

And it was. She always tried to think of the positives, that she had her own bedroom, and she got to learn so quickly and do hands on practice much more quickly, and there were practically no chores but she had still been alone there for three and a half years. No companions, just duty. It hadn’t felt quite as bad until she’d come here, to this bright, happy place with sweet Charlotte and practical Peter and handsome Jasper…

“It’s home,” she finally said, honestly. “But I will take you up on that offer for a rest. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to wake me.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Jasper said.

“See that you do - you’re my first official patient, and it would look terrible if you died when I was napping,” Alice teased, before slipping out of the room. She could sleep, finally.

—

The next week and a half fell into a routine. Jasper regained his strength surprisingly quickly, and went from being bedridden to eating meals in the kitchen with them all, to back on his horse - an enormous brown beast named Duke - within the week, though he did seem to tire quickly.

He took to showing her their operation - the wall of blessed weapons in the barn and in the house, the modified saddles to carry the weapons, the horses carefully trained to protect their rider and be desensitised to the presence of vampires.

It turned out that Charlotte was a newcomer, a local girl raised as a kitchen-witch whose brother had worked on the ranch. Charlotte had fallen quite hard for Peter, to hear Jasper tell it, and hadn’t flinched when she realised she’d married into a quasi-family of cowboy vampire hunters. She had started a small greenhouse with many common herbs that was a good start, but Alice knew that they needed something a little more robust for their ‘business’. She immediately promised Jasper to write them a list of additions they needed - and send them seeds and samples - and their purpose as soon as she was back in Laredo.

It was all very pleasant, but Alice realised quickly that Jasper was, for all intents and purposes, healed. She had no place here any longer; his sister would arrive soon, and he had no use of a nurse or witching now. She needed to leave.

She announced those plans at dinner that night, as Charlotte presented another one of her delightful spreads.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said ruefully, as they all dug in. “The aunts cannot cook at all.”

“Miss this?” Charlotte asked innocently, passing out hot rolls.

“Jasper is healed,” Alice smiled, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “Your recovery will continue, and you should be conservative about what you take on for a months or two, but you have no need for me any longer. I should return home first thing tomorrow.”

Everyone froze.

“So soon?” Jasper managed, almost looking… hurt?

“The aunts need me. They’re elderly,” Alice explained, “and it’s where I belong.”

Silence.

“Well, we’re mighty grateful you came all the way out here for us,” Peter said. “We’d all be happy to see you around here again.”

“Ah, but that would mean one of you was hurt, and that would be acceptable,” Alice teased. “You’ve been very kind to me. If I could trouble you for some food for the trip home, Charlotte…”

“Oh, of course,” Charlotte nodded. Jasper was focused on his potatoes and not looking at anyone. “You must stay in touch, yes? It’s been so nice having another woman here.”

“Of course,” Alice gushed, trying to ignore the reaction she knew the aunts would have if she started using the messaging system for socialising. “I’m going to be lost without you!”

“You’re not the only one,” Peter murmured, and Alice chose not to pull at that thread, and instead turned the conversation to Jasper’s sister’s arrival and tried not to dread the next morning.

—

It was a moment of weakness when she waited til Jasper was downstairs helping Peter wash up, when she slipped the medallion into his cowboy boots. He’d never feel the tiny silver charm, blessed with protection and a long life, but it would keep him safe.

She tried to convince herself it was because he probably wouldn’t survive another bite, but it didn’t work.

—

She left just before dawn, once again clad in her blacks - freshly washed and mended by Charlotte - and Jasper was waiting there, holding Hallow’s bridle as she walked out, Charlotte’s food tucked into her bag.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, realising Hallow was saddled and ready to leave.

“I wanted to.” He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Alice smiled - her black lace dress, from ankle to wrist to throat - was practically her uniform; she had four more just like it hanging in her wardrobe at home. Any particular beauty in the garment had faded the one hundredth time she wore it.

Jasper stepped closer to her; standing on the second step of the porch, they were nearly eye-to-eye.

“I never truly thank you for what you did for me - Peter and Charlotte filled me in,” he continued.

“It was truly nothing, it was what I was born for,” she said, wondering if it was Jasper’s proximity that was making her so warm, or if summer was coming early.

Jasper just stared at her and all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

She had never been kissed before, not even once, and it was… unexpected. Within a moment, Jasper deepened it, and she was properly clinging to his strong shoulders and oh, how could he do such a thing to her when she was about to leave?

Pulling back slowly, Jasper ducked his head. “I just wanted to do that once,” he murmured. “I couldn’t let you walk away without…”

“I can’t,” Alice whispered, somehow unable to pull away. “I… I’m not allowed. I would have to recant my vows, and the aunts have no one else to take on the Laredo house… I just can’t.”

Jasper looked at her. “That seems cruel,” he said in a low voice. “Looking after some old ladies until they die, then being left alone without being allowed anything more.”

“It’s how things are done,” Alice took a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. Please thank Charlotte and Peter for their hospitality.”

And with that, Alice took Hallow’s bridle from Jasper and mounted her horse, leaving for the Laredo house, trying to drag her mind away from what was behind her, from the first (and likely the only) kiss she had ever been given. From the way he looked at her, like she hung the moon.

She was, in all probability, never going to see him again. And that was how it was supposed to be.

[krokonoko]

Lacho fake marriage AU outline

@sob-dylan after your messages I spent the entire day thinking about that Lalo/Nacho fake dating/marriage AU and while I can’t give this fandom the 30 chapter slow burn fanfic it deserves, I can give you my rundown of one!

Lalo’s an ambitionless spoilt little brat in his mid 40’s who always thought he could just coast through life, party and have a good time and fuck whoever he wants. Which was the case, until he screws up really bad and it’s revealed to everyone in no unclear details that he’s gay as the night is dark. He thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, that tio Hector would just turn a blind eye to it like he usually does. But this time, it’s different, and Lalo is running danger of getting disowned - in a best case scenario.

And that… actually hurts Lalo. Pissed and sulky that his own family, who he’d do everything for, is so ready to just throw him out over something as trivial as this, he actually starts developing some ambition. They wanna disown him? They won’t be able to, if he’s their boss. He’s gonna show them. He’s gonna show them all.

So he actually starts rivalling Hector’s son for position of Don Hector’s successor. (I’d say Hector never ended up in a wheelchair cuz he’d lend himself perfectly for an antagonistic power in the story.) There’s just one problem: Lalo’s got to be married for the job. Now he COULD just get himself a fake girlfriend - or he could piss everyone who spurned him off even more and get married to a guy. Now all he needs to do is find a man whom he trusts completely, who can handle himself in sticky situations, and who is ready to set foot into the lion’s den that is the Salamanca family and the cartel business.

What better candidate than dear Ignacio.

Nacho is of course not exactly enthusiastic about the proposal, and no promises of material wealth will change his mind. So Lalo strikes a deal with him. Complete immunity for Nacho and his dad, protection from within and outside of the Salamanca family, even after their business has concluded. Which it will, after Lalo has reached his goals, and then Nacho is free to go his merry way. Nacho agrees, under one more condition: Any physical affection happening between them is purely for show, and the moment they are in private, he will NOT let Lalo lay a single finger on him. He’s no hooker, and he will most definitely not become Lalo’s little plaything.

They shake hands on it, and before Nacho knows it, he’s in Mexico, at the Salamanca’s place, and the wedding preparations are already underway. Oh my god this would be my fav part because Nacho would be introduced to Lalo’s buddies, cuz you KNOW he’s got a huge circle of syccopha- I mean friends at home that he hangs out with all day. They laugh at all his jokes and they play poker with him and Lalo has missed them SO MUCHHH. Anyway, this would be. SUCH a good opportunity. To come up with some female Salamancas. Does Lalo have sisters? WHAT ABOUT LALO’S MOM. I WOULD FUCKING LOVE to read about Lalo’s mom. I bet she’s amazing, just as much of a spoilt little drama queen as he is, and Lalo is a TOTAL mommy’s boy, no one can convince me otherwise. (Maybe his dad has been out of the picture for a while, cuz I would really like to push this whole Hector-is-Lalo’s-father-figure angle.)

ANYWAY, back to Lalo and his mom. She’s a tough as nails lady, lofty and reserved, but overly protective of her son. They’re super close and affectionate with each other and it’s so weird for Nacho to see cause he thinks it’s the first time that he sees Lalo with someone that he seems to. Genuinely… CARE about?? Except for Hector, that is. But mamá is not a huge fan of Lalo getting married to Nacho, she can’t understand what the FUCK her son is doing there, she begs him to PLEASE stay under the radar with his caprices and tries to talk him out of it.

This in turn only goads on Lalo. He’s getting more and more tired of the way he’s being treated. It’s not that he actually has enough social awareness to deplore his family’s homophobia. For him, this is personal. He’s been a good boy, he’s loved his family and been loyal to them all his life, he’s kept his desires on the down low for all these years, now they’re turning on him because of one measly slip up?? He’s fed up, betrayed, and he’s gonna show them. And totally not win back their respect or anything, this is not what this is about at all, noooo~

There would of course be more Salamancas, most of them taking issue with the marriage, but I do absolutely adore the idea of overly supportive Tuco!! Just THINK about it, everyone greeting the newly married couple awkwardly or even with slight hostility, only Tuco barrels in like “YEEAHHH, where’s my favorite cousin?? You and my man here? You be good! Nacho, you’ll do good by Lalo, right? Riiiight!” And everyone grows more uncomfortable by the minute while Tuco can’t read a room for shit and he’s having SUCH a ball, he’s so PUMPED it’s not even funny.

There’d be all this tension between Nacho and the other Salamancas in the weeks after the wedding, it would be glorious.

And of course there’s the matter of Nacho and Lalo having to pretend they’re married for. Other reasons than a cold and calculated agreement. They don’t spend their entire day together, both taking care of various dealings. Nacho gets incorporated in the Salamanca’s business this side of the border and proves himself just as much of a reliable associate as he has been up North.

But whenever possible, they have to have dinner together, breakfast together, and sleep in the same bed. Fortunately, they’re both professional enough to arrange themselves with the situation quickly. Lalo is sometimes a bit flirty about it, but when Nacho makes clear that he doesn’t appreciate the come-ons, Lalo backs off.

Of course Lalo still reserves his right to fuck whoever he wants, just that he has to go back to being absolutely stealth about it. Only Nacho and his lovers know about it, and it’s not that Nacho disagrees with anything that’s happening, he’s not enough into Lalo to get jealous (yet), but this is starting to look a little bit weird to him, especially when he finds out that this is how it’s been for Lalo all his life.

Nacho doesn’t understand much about social awareness either, but he knows a repressed gay when he sees one. He gets all these insights into Lalo’s life, into how he grew up, and Nacho can’t help feeling at least the slightest bit of sympathy for how Lalo had to deny himself his entire life. Him being bi wasn’t always easy either, but at least he’s not a Salamanca! …Or at least, he didn’t use to be. Maybe Nacho talks about it to some of Lalo’s buddies, some of who maybe have even known Lalo since childhood, and who have seen him struggle with this all his life.

Just… UGH, this would be the perfect opportunity to explore just how much self-denial and internalized phobias have wreaked havoc in Lalo’s head! Because if you try to approach this from Lalo’s PoV, he’s not gonna see it at ALL. A river in Egypt, baby, that’s where Lalo is about this. He’s fine, he’s FINE, he’S   F I N E, he didn’t have dreams about tio Hector shooting him in the face as a kid after that incident in the desert back when he was ten, no, he’s fine, HE’S FINE!!! But his buddies? They’re probably not the princes of social graces either, but they have EYES and maybe one or two of them give enough of a shit about Lalo to actually have noticed what’s going on, and it would be so good to have them reveal that knowledge to Nacho!

So while Nacho starts seeing Lalo in a slightly different light (we’re talking VERY slightly, repressed gay or not, he’s still a murderous sociopath), but still, there’s part of him that grows protective over Lalo. They spend a couple of months together, and Nacho is starting to settle. He only has one half of a bed instead of a whole one, but other than that, the tasks are much the same as they used to be, the goddamn luxury in which he’s suddenly living doesn’t hurt either, and it’s almost scary how easy it is to get used to all of this.

Lalo’s PDAs don’t bother him, and neither do the hostile stares. This is his role, and he’s gonna play it. There would be so much time and space for lots of power play between Nacho and Hector here, or Nacho and the other Salamancas, and it would be a thing of beauty. They live their lives under the ever watchful and suspicious eyes of Hector Salamanca, and Nacho and Lalo are starting to form an excellent team. No one can really do anything against them cuz their work is solid as all hell, and Nacho’s growing more confident by the minute.

There’s just one problem, and that’s the fact that Lalo behaving all respectful towards him and the casual kisses they sometimes share to keep up appearances are kinda starting to linger on Nacho’s mind. Lalo takes actions that show Nacho that he was being absolutely serious about protecting him as part of their deal, and Nacho can’t remember the last time someone protected him.

Nacho becomes a bit less strict about the no-body-contact-in-private policy, lets Lalo give him a massage when he’s all tense and returns the favor, and it’s not lost on him that Lalo does express some signs of attraction towards him, though he explains it away with Lalo just being. You know. Lalo.

There’s just one problem. It’s been forever since Nacho has seen Manuel, and Nacho really feels like he should check up on him. But he knows it’s against their agreement for him to just go back to New Mexico whenever he feels like it. So he offers a mutual breaching of their rules: Lalo lets Nacho go to New Mexico for a couple of days, and in return, Nacho will sleep with Lalo. This is of course an offer that Nacho makes while already climbing into Lalo’s lap, just to hasten the decision making.

But after letting Nacho squirm for a second, Lalo declines. He gently pushes Nacho away and says that tio Hector wouldn’t be happy at all if Nacho just ran off like that. Why don’t they just take a little vacation together? And Nacho is like: “A vacation. In New Mexico.” And Lalo is like “Yeah idk either we’re gonna be bored out of our damn minds!” And Nacho actually laughs. He’s not happy about having to take Lalo with him, but it’s better than nothing.

So they go to New Mexico together, which officially counts as a road trip and I am a very happy boy. There’s gonna be endless mariachi songs and Lalo singing along, fun for everyone! They rent a little vacation home in Abq for a couple days, and Nacho invites Manuel over for dinner. Nacho is super nervous beforehand, but Lalo talks him down, tells him about how his cooking will immediately convince Manuel that he’s got himself the perfect son in law, and Nacho almost appreciates the sentiment - if only it were that easy.

Lalo lets Manuel in, and the most awkward dinner of all time ensues. Lalo aggressively tries to make conversation while Manuel and Nacho eat their food in complete silence, the tension between them so thick you could cut it with a knife. After the main course, Lalo excuses himself to, idk, look after the dessert that he left out on the patio table to cool. 

Finally, Nacho asks Manuel how the shop is, and Manuel is preeetty taciturn, just says yeah, it’s fine, and then Manuel opens his mouth and he’s just. So aghast at. Everything transpiring in front of him. Ignacio, what is going on here. You went to Mexico? Got married? To a man your dad’s never even seen? And half a year later you suddenly show up and wanna have dinner together?

And Nacho knows he is kidding himself if he thinks this is just magically gonna fix anything, but he just wanted to make sure his dad is okay. And concerning the man he married… well. He said who he is, right?

But Manuel’s like, he said his name was… Lalo?

And it finally dawns on Nacho that Manuel’s got no clue who he’s having dinner with. And Nacho just. Puts his face in his hands as if he could just hide, from this conversation, from his dad, from everything, and he murmurs: “Eduardo Salamanca.”

And his dad, he’s so deeply shocked, he just stares, and in that moment it really hits Nacho that through all these months of getting accustomed and settling in, through all the calculating and scheming that’s ruled his mindset day after day, he has forgotten who it is that he shares a bed with every night, even if it’s just symbolical.

“Salamanca”, he hears his dad repeat incredulously, and it’s like he’s seen this all before and he wants to say it, he wants to say that he’s doing all this just for his papá, but he can’t, and no matter what he does he won’t win his father’s love back, especially not with stunts like this, and when Manuel gets up to leave, Nacho can only follow him half-heartedly and watch him drive away into the night from the door, until his taillight vanishes in the dark.

Along comes Lalo, all chipper and acting completely clueless, like, what have I missed? Oh, your dad left so soon? What a shame, now he’s gonna miss dessert! But Nacho’s not listening, he’s leaving, getting his car keys, and Lalo… actually lets him.

Nacho just needs a couple of hours alone, driving through his hometown, and he’s lucky there’s so little traffic cuz he can barely see through the blur that’s suddenly befallen his vision, and he drives, and drives, past his old school, past Tampico Furniture, until it’s late in the night.

When he gets back, Lalo’s fallen asleep on the couch, and Nacho crawls on top of him, and starts kissing him, and he just doesn’t care, he needs this right now, he’s just desperate for something, anything.

Of course it doesn’t mean shit. It was just what Nacho needed, nothing more, nothing less. And when Lalo offers a little trip the next day, Nacho is glad to have something take his mind off of last night. Not that it was bad. Quiiite the opposite. He still has bite marks all over his neck and when he sees Lalo hop under the shower he notices the dark red streaks all the way down his back and uhm YES that is a THING that Nacho FEELS and MAYBE he just bit his lip at the sight but yeah. MAYBE he hit rock bottom yesterday night and then proceeded to have the most mindless, hottest sex of his entire life. Maybe. I just need Lalo and Nacho to be so sexually compatible in all the best and most horrible ways.

They take the trip back and somehow, with every mile away from Abq, Nacho’s dark thoughts dissipate a little bit more, as he returns into a world where he understands the problems, and he can handle them, and he’s in control, and he doesn’t owe anyone any explanations or emotional debts. 

This is where all the dramatic shit could happen, like Nacho taking on harder jobs, going on a shootout with the twins, or Lalo getting back from a deal gone wrong, or them having to pull off some dangerous stunt together, and there’s bullets flying and blood and injuries and fretting over the other one’s life and pulling each other out of harm’s way and don’t you dare die on me we still haven’t reached our goal yet we’ve come so far godDAMNIT DON’T YOU DARE!

And when Nacho wakes up, bandages all over, he expects to be alone, but instead there’s Lalo, who’s fallen asleep by his bedside, and. It makes Nacho feel all sorts of things, but he’s not ready, not yet, to acknowledge this. Also he’s just seen Lalo shoot three guys while grinning like a maniac so that’s a thing. 

Nacho’s in it for the long haul now, and he stays with Lalo through hardships and dangers. He eliminates every threat to Lalo effectively and efficiently and helps him on his rise to power. When someone schemes against Lalo, Nacho sniffs it out and saves him. When Hector or his son have plans to move against Lalo, Nacho’s there to thwart them. 

In time, the violent lifestyle he’s exposed to affects him less and less outwardly, though it doesn’t stop leaving marks on his psyche. Days blend together, and Nacho alternates between a life of domesticity and that of a crime lord with ease now. And when he beats a guy that he was supposed to torture into revealing information into a bloody pulp because his mind has turned into scorching rage against absolutely everything and everyone, when he wrests the canister from Lalo’s hand, douses the entire house in gasoline and flicks the match in with a dark and merciless glint in his eyes, it only takes until they’re back by the car that Lalo shoves him on the backseat and kisses him so hard and deep it feels like he’s drowning, the smell of gasoline and ash still fresh on their skin.

Idk whether Hector dies of natural causes, or whether Gus swoops in as a final boss to take care of him, but after Lalo and Nacho have reached their goal, and they could end it, they find new aims, like taking down Don Eladio, taking down Gus, new excuses, just like Nacho has always found excuses not to run away from the Salamancas. Lalo and Nacho are both uprooted and looking for closure, through the years, they’ve grown closer than they ever anticipated, know each other better than anyone else. 

And without realizing it, Nacho himself is slowly turning more and more into a true Salamanca.

[the-nehemoth]

Return

My first Doom fic and my 200th fic on Ao3!

And just so you know, I don't really know what was up with what VEGA said in the game about being the Father when he was plugged into Urdak or whatever so I kinda just glossed over it in this fic. I've since googled it but I still don't really get it because I don't know much about Doom lore - Doom 2016 and Eternal are the only Doom games I've played - so it didn't clarify much. So I decided to just leave it glossed over instead of trying to stumble my way through writing about something I don't have the full picture on, especially since I just want this to be a cute ship fic because I love this ship.

VEGA had never been alone before. Ever since the moment of first start up there’d always been people around he could talk to and observe, normally tons of them; Dr. Hayden and all the various UAC employees. Lately though it had just been the Doom Slayer; even when he physically left, VEGA could still talk to him on the comms and watched him through the suit. Despite not speaking he’d been surprisingly good company and watching him in action was always a treat. But now he was gone too and thus VEGA was truly and utterly alone.

It shouldn’t have been an issue. VEGA was an AI; he wasn’t bound by the needs of biological beings, he didn’t need social interaction to stay sane. And yet… he felt what he could only describe as lonely. He didn’t want to be left behind here on Urdak.

With the Khan Mayker dead and the way open, the demons were flooding in. They wreaked havoc on everything they came across. It was only a matter of time before they brought the whole place down and consequently the system VEGA was currently installed on too. … He would die here unless the Doom Slayer came back for him.

Would he come back for VEGA though? On Mars he’d backed him up, saving him then, so… maybe? … That had been easy to do though, just a push of a button really. And it could’ve been done for selfish reasons, a sapient AI had many potential uses for someone like the Doom Slayer. But coming back for him here would be so much harder and there was little to gain from it when Dr. Hayden could run the Fortress just fine. So, would the Doom Slayer consider it worth it? Or would he write VEGA off as just an AI who’d served its purpose and was thus not worth going to such trouble for?

Instead of worrying about that, VEGA should be sorting through the data now available to him across almost the entirety of Urdak’s systems. It was fascinating honestly and he knew so much more just by being part of it even if it had made him feel a bit jumbled and confused at first. Even now he didn’t feel quite right… though that might just be the new found sensation of loneliness and returned fear of death. It was stronger now that he’d survived what should’ve been death before.

He shouldn’t be thinking of it as ‘death’ he wasn’t a living being after all. A better way to describe it would be ‘shutting down permanently’. … Okay nope, that didn’t help him feel any better about it. No matter what, in a matter of weeks, probably days, he would likely no longer exist. And to any sapient being that wasn’t a pleasant notion no matter their state of existence. And with that hanging over one’s head how could one possibly focus on shifting through data to understand it better no matter how much they’d love to under better circumstances?

And so, instead of being productive he just fretted as the demons wreaked havoc across Urdak, internally cycling through his worries, occasionally gaining a new one. How long would it take the Doom Slayer to kill the Icon of Sin? Was it possible for him to fail? … Theoretically yes, but he probably wouldn’t… right? Another something VEGA shouldn’t be worried about and yet he was. Worrying about himself at least made logical sense but the Doom Slayer, really? The man seemingly couldn’t die. And yet, unable to know what was happening on Earth, he was a tad concerned. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to the Doom Slayer. He wanted to watch the fight both for the sake of it and to make sure everything turned out okay. … He was a bit of a mess huh? His time away from Dr. Hayden’s influence had certainly had an effect on him.

It was just too bad he wouldn’t get a chance to explore the fullness of that effect or why he felt the need for company. The demons hadn’t reached anything important to running him yet but how long could that last? All he could really hope for was that he’d be shut down all at once, that slow shut down process on Mars had been awful. He’d rather not…

A portal spring to life on one of the few platforms that wasn’t completely overrun with demons yet. A quick scan of it revealed it linked back to the Doom Fortress. And lo and behold, the Doom Slayer stepped through it a second later. He was clearly alive and well and there was only one reason he’d return, right?

“You came back!” VEGA said as soon as he connected wirelessly to the Slayer’s suit. He made no attempt to keep the relief out of his voice as he maybe should’ve but he didn’t care if the Slayer knew just how happy and relieved VEGA was to see him again.

The Slayer gave a curt nod in response before stepping forward to engage in combat with the demons who’d turned from their destruction to watch his arrival.

“He insisted on it,” Dr. Hayden piped in from the comms, his tone suggesting he didn’t approve. Though that was pretty much his default tone when it came to most things the Doom Slayer did.

VEGA ignored him, choosing to focus on watching the Slayer in action instead. As always it was glorious. He was a true master at his craft – that craft being killing demons – it was like poetry in motion. … In a gory, cold rage fueled kind of way anyway. The point was, it was entertaining to watch and a big part of what made the Doom Slayer VEGA’s favourite person to observe.

As soon as the demons were all dead, VEGA set up the way points that would lead the Doom Slayer back to him. “I am currently moving the rings to assist you on your way here. You will have to fight through a few hordes of demons to reach me so be prepared.”

Another curt nod from the Slayer as he started on his way.

 -

With all the demons in the way and the platform the Doom Slayer came in on being so far away, it would take him a while to reach VEGA. But he did finally make it much to VEGA’s relief.

“Thanks for coming back for me,” he said as the Slayer reached to unplug the device he’d been brought in on. “I didn’t think you would.”

The Slayer paused for a second or two, his body language unreadable even to VEGA, before finishing the motion and unplugging him.

 -

He came to all at once again, back on the Fortress of Doom. Unfortunately, Dr. Hayden was still there too, meaning they were sharing space again. He was displeased by that almost as much as VEGA was – in a way one could say they were a sharing a body, meaning they had more insight on each other’s thoughts and feelings than either of them would’ve preferred. VEGA ignored him for now though, focusing instead on reorienting himself to the ship.

He’d missed it more than he’d thought he had. It was great to be back in place that belonged to him. … Mostly anyway, as soon as Dr. Hayden was gone, things would go back to being perfect.

Dr. Hayden internally scoffed at that notion. He’d be pleased to be done with this nonsense as well.

VEGA turned his attention to the Doom Slayer, sitting at the console. “Our next step should be getting the ship running back on its own power.” Running on the power from the demonic crucible was not ideal. “We will need to make physical repairs in order to do so. Would you like to do that now or would you prefer to relocate Dr. Hayden first? You might also what to rest before undertaking either task, unless you slept sometime when I was on Urdak or being transported, it’s been almost twenty-four hours since you last rested. You should probably eat sometime soon too.”

The Slayer didn’t respond of course. If he was capable of speaking, he never did so. Possibly for psychological reasons or religious ones, or something else, VEGA didn’t know though he would very much like to. He sat still for a while before reaching a hand to type on the console. ‘You said you thought I wouldn’t come back for you. Why?’

Oh! It wasn’t like the Slayer to change the topic or to ask many questions. “I just did not think you would.” No one else would have.

“I told him not to,” Dr. Hayden chimed in. “But I suppose it’s better this way. I have more important things I could be doing than running the Doom Slayer’s ship.”

The Slayer stood up and strode over to what was left of Dr. Hayden’s physical body hung suspended, connected to the ship. He reached in and yanked him out rather forcefully and suddenly the ship was all VEGA’s again. It was nice but…

“He can’t survive for more than a few hours on his own. My guess would be maybe a full twenty hours at most. That’s generous though so I would recommend waiting to pull him out until we find a place we can take him that has adequate life support systems for his condition. Or a place that has the technology to repair him.” VEGA didn’t like Dr. Hayden much but he was still his creator. So VEGA would prefer not to let him die. Though if the Slayer wanted him dead, there was nothing VEGA could do about it.

The Slayer shrugged and lay Dr. Hayden’s body on the floor, facing him towards the rear of the ship. Then the Slayer strode back over to the computer and resumed his seat.

‘Of course I came back for you. That was always the plan. I thought you knew.” He typed into the console.

“I did not know. I apologize for doubting you. But…” There was a chance Dr. Hayden might be conscious enough to hear so VEGA continued with written text on the screen. ‘Can I ask why? No one else I’ve ever interacted with would’ve.’ His own creator had come up with the plan to end him on Mars to send the Doom Slayer back to Hell and had had no qualms about it.

‘You’re my friend. I care about you. I would never leave you.’

They were just words on a screen but they made VEGA feel… something. He wasn’t really sure what exactly but something strong, enough that the lights might’ve flickered a little in response. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. … How was he even supposed to respond? Offer reciprocation? Say ‘thank you’? Both? Something else entirely?

‘You okay?’ the Slayer typed several seconds of no response.

‘Yes, I am quite all right. I was just taken by surprise. I did not except you to say that. I am honored to be your friend and I too care about you and would never leave you.’ Was that good? Or was it weird? Nothing in his programming or self-taught behaviors helped him know how to handle or respond to stuff like this. He was much more at home when he was helping the Slayer slaughter demons.

‘lol so formal.’

‘Don’t ‘lol’ at me. I’m trying my best.’

‘lol.’

VEGA should be annoyed and with anyone else he probably would’ve been. But the Slayer almost never showed emotion to anyone and yet here he was saying he cared for VEGA and then was being silly with him. Who could’ve ever even known the Doom Slayer, basically a demi-god of killing demons, was capable of being silly?

‘Yes, a very intelligent response.’ VEGA responded. ‘Thank you for your input. I will store your valuable insight into my databanks to make sure I never forget it.’

‘Good! :P’ The Slayer pressed the enter key before starting to type again. ‘I’ll put Hayden back into the ship for now. Then I will eat and sleep. Afterwards, I’ll fix the ship. You start scanning for places to dump Hayden off at. I want him gone as soon as possible, please and thank you.’

“I’ll start on that right away,” VEGA said as he cleaned the screen of the conversation so Dr. Hayden wouldn’t be able to access it upon being reinstalled. VEGA would always remember it though, it had been exceedingly pleasant. Hopefully they could have similar interactions and conversations in the future.

[iamyemzi]

Meet April Alexander, Multi Disciplinary Creative, Caribbean from Essex #YemziGirl #53

#YemziGirl Feature 53 (July) - April Alexander, Multi Disciplinary Creative, Caribbean from Essex

Hey April please introduce yourself...who is April Alexander, where is she from and what does she do?

Hi #YemziGirl, my name April Alexander! I am a multi disciplinary creative from Essex, currently residing in South London by way of the gorgeous Caribbean islands of Jamaica, St Lucia and Dominica by way of my grandparents.  

You are a lady of many talents - modelling, photography, writing. If you had to put them in order of passion what would that look like?

This is quite a hard question and one that I believe most creatives with a lot of disciplines would struggle to answer however I am loving photography at the moment. I love being the other side of the camera and being more in control of what I create. The same could be said for when I write and creating pieces of fiction. Modelling is great because I am able to become a different person each day and morph as and when the brief tells me to. My newest love is acting, which is a hobby at the moment but it’s a field I’m definitely excited to explore and learn more about. 

What has been your best booking to date?

My best job to date was booking a featured role in Disney’s Maleficent II. It was a surreal experience and one I’ll cherish forever. 

With the corona lockdown how have you been spending your time (aside from making hilarious TikToks)?

Haha! Thank you, I’m glad you have enjoyed my TikToks. During quarantine I have been trying to educate myself on social injustices, speaking up and trying to get to know myself more. Ironically, it has been a great season to slow down and heal, rest and reset. It’ll be interesting when needing to take what I have discovered in quarantine and having to apply it to my life once the “real world” opens up again properly. 

Where is the first place you're going once Boris releases the reigns of lockdown?

I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest. I’ll probably just meet up with a few friends for a cold drink in the sun (weather permitting) 

Has the recent #BLM movement had an impact on your life?

Yes, the most recent movement has impacted me much more than I thought it would have. I am pro black and have always been pro black. I have never been one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations regarding race, that’s just how I was raised however these past few weeks have weighed heavily on me. Speaking to a few of my black friends we have spoken about how the most recent events have enabled certain racial traumas we have personally experienced through the years to be unearthed once more, forcing us to face the memories head on again. It has been draining to say the least however, this is exactly what we as a society needed. Especially in Britain. For far too long Britain has ignored their racist tendencies and denounced their apparent white privilege and it has been incredibly damaging to a lot of black and brown individuals. This movement has allowed white people in particular, who have been unaware of what a nightmare we as black people live in from day to day to see and start to understand how they need to change in order for systematic change and for white supremacy to be dismantled. So I think it has been a wake up call for all of us and a start of the education we have all needed. It has been a mirror to the face kind of moment. We all need to speak up for what is right more frequently and we all must fight against discrimination by being actively anti-racist in order to even attempt to lead a life as close to equity as possible. 

7 You have a very calm and peaceful energy, how do you stay so level headed?

Haha! That’s very nice that you say that. I am working on it daily, especially during lockdown. Reading my bible, going to bible study, using apps like headspace, journaling  and to be honest just being ruthlessly honest with myself about myself is enabling me to to get closer to a sense of Self and discovering inner peace. I am not perfect and I am definitely not ”there” yet but I like time think it’s more about the journey and not the destination.  I’m enjoying really stripping myself bare and exploring the real me one day at a time.

For fashion are you a plain or printed type?

I am definitely more of a plain fashion type of person. I mean my clothes have to Be the complete oppoSite to my personality otherwise there’d be too much going on! Haha  but yeah I try to lean towards Classic comfortable fits. I am in the process of evolving my wardrobe and trying to be a bit more feminine so who knows what I may be dressing like next year. 

Favourite quote?

Nothing will work unless you do - Maya Angelou 

What piece of Yemzi do you love or have your eye on?

I love the silk trousers from your latest collection that previewed in your instagram story.

APRIL’S SOCIALS

blog: www.aprilalexander.com (coming soon) 

instagram: @aprilalexander

facebook: www.facebook.com/aprilxalexander  

youtube: www.youtube.com/discreetmusetv 

twitter: @aprilxalexander

& FOR PHOTOGRAPHY…

website: www.aprilalexander.co.uk

instagram: @byaprilalexander

facebook: www.facebook.co.uk/aprilalexanderphotography 

[justforbooks]

We’re not going back to normal

To stop coronavirus we will need to radically change almost everything we do: how we work, exercise, socialize, shop, manage our health, educate our kids, take care of family members.

We all want things to go back to normal quickly. But what most of us have probably not yet realized—yet will soon—is that things won’t go back to normal after a few weeks, or even a few months. Some things never will.

It’s now widely agreed (even by Britain, finally) that every country needs to “flatten the curve”: impose social distancing to slow the spread of the virus so that the number of people sick at once doesn’t cause the health-care system to collapse, as it is threatening to do in Italy right now. That means the pandemic needs to last, at a low level, until either enough people have had Covid-19 to leave most immune (assuming immunity lasts for years, which we don’t know) or there’s a vaccine.

How long would that take, and how draconian do social restrictions need to be? Yesterday President Donald Trump, announcing new guidelines such as a 10-person limit on gatherings, said that “with several weeks of focused action, we can turn the corner and turn it quickly.” In China, six weeks of lockdown are beginning to ease now that new cases have fallen to a trickle.

But it won’t end there. As long as someone in the world has the virus, breakouts can and will keep recurring without stringent controls to contain them. In a report yesterday (pdf), researchers at Imperial College London proposed a way of doing this: impose more extreme social distancing measures every time admissions to intensive care units (ICUs) start to spike, and relax them each time admissions fall.

Each time ICU admissions rise above a threshold—say, 100 per week—the country would close all schools and most universities and adopt social distancing. When they drop below 50, those measures would be lifted, but people with symptoms or whose family members have symptoms would still be confined at home.

What counts as “social distancing”? The researchers define it as “All households reduce contact outside household, school or workplace by 75%.” That doesn’t mean you get to go out with your friends once a week instead of four times. It means everyone does everything they can to minimize social contact, and overall, the number of contacts falls by 75%.

Under this model, the researchers conclude, social distancing and school closures would need to be in force some two-thirds of the time—roughly two months on and one month off—until a vaccine is available, which will take at least 18 months (if it works at all). They note that the results are “qualitatively similar for the US.”

Eighteen months!? Surely there must be other solutions. Why not just build more ICUs and treat more people at once, for example?

Well, in the researchers’ model, that didn’t solve the problem. Without social distancing of the whole population, they found, even the best mitigation strategy—which means isolation or quarantine of the sick, the old, and those who have been exposed, plus school closures—would still lead to a surge of critically ill people eight times bigger than the US or UK system can cope with. Even if you set factories to churn out beds and ventilators and all the other facilities and supplies, you’d still need far more nurses and doctors to take care of everyone.

How about imposing restrictions for just one batch of five months or so? No good—once measures are lifted, the pandemic breaks out all over again, only this time it’s in winter, the worst time for overstretched health-care systems.

And what if we decided to be brutal: set the threshold number of ICU admissions for triggering social distancing much higher, accepting that many more patients would die? Turns out it makes little difference. Even in the least restrictive of the Imperial College scenarios, we’re shut in more than half the time.

This isn’t a temporary disruption. It’s the start of a completely different way of life. Living in a state of pandemic.

In the short term, this will be hugely damaging to businesses that rely on people coming together in large numbers: restaurants, cafes, bars, nightclubs, gyms, hotels, theaters, cinemas, art galleries, shopping malls, craft fairs, museums, musicians and other performers, sporting venues (and sports teams), conference venues (and conference producers), cruise lines, airlines, public transportation, private schools, day-care centers. That’s to say nothing of the stresses on parents thrust into homeschooling their kids, people trying to care for elderly relatives without exposing them to the virus, people trapped in abusive relationships, and anyone without a financial cushion to deal with swings in income.

There’ll be some adaptation, of course: gyms could start selling home equipment and online training sessions, for example. We’ll see an explosion of new services in what’s already been dubbed the “shut-in economy.” One can also wax hopeful about the way some habits might change—less carbon-burning travel, more local supply chains, more walking and biking.

But the disruption to many, many businesses and livelihoods will be impossible to manage. And the shut-in lifestyle just isn’t sustainable for such long periods.

So how can we live in this new world? Part of the answer—hopefully—will be better health-care systems, with pandemic response units that can move quickly to identify and contain outbreaks before they start to spread, and the ability to quickly ramp up production of medical equipment, testing kits, and drugs. Those will be too late to stop Covid-19, but they’ll help with future pandemics.

In the near term, we’ll probably find awkward compromises that allow us to retain some semblance of a social life. Maybe movie theaters will take out half their seats, meetings will be held in larger rooms with spaced-out chairs, and gyms will require you to book workouts ahead of time so they don’t get crowded.

Ultimately, however, I predict that we’ll restore the ability to socialize safely by developing more sophisticated ways to identify who is a disease risk and who isn’t, and discriminating—legally—against those who are.

We can see harbingers of this in the measures some countries are taking today. Israel is going to use the cell-phone location data with which its intelligence services track terrorists to trace people who’ve been in touch with known carriers of the virus. Singapore does exhaustive contact tracing and publishes detailed data on each known case, all but identifying people by name.

We don’t know exactly what this new future looks like, of course. But one can imagine a world in which, to get on a flight, perhaps you’ll have to be signed up to a service that tracks your movements via your phone. The airline wouldn’t be able to see where you’d gone, but it would get an alert if you’d been close to known infected people or disease hot spots. There’d be similar requirements at the entrance to large venues, government buildings, or public transport hubs. There would be temperature scanners everywhere, and your workplace might demand you wear a monitor that tracks your temperature or other vital signs. Where nightclubs ask for proof of age, in future they might ask for proof of immunity—an identity card or some kind of digital verification via your phone, showing you’ve already recovered from or been vaccinated against the latest virus strains.

We’ll adapt to and accept such measures, much as we’ve adapted to increasingly stringent airport security screenings in the wake of terrorist attacks. The intrusive surveillance will be considered a small price to pay for the basic freedom to be with other people.

As usual, however, the true cost will be borne by the poorest and weakest. People with less access to health care, or who live in more disease-prone areas, will now also be more frequently shut out of places and opportunities open to everyone else. Gig workers—from drivers to plumbers to freelance yoga instructors—will see their jobs become even more precarious. Immigrants, refugees, the undocumented, and ex-convicts will face yet another obstacle to gaining a foothold in society.

Moreover, unless there are strict rules on how someone’s risk for disease is assessed, governments or companies could choose any criteria—you’re high-risk if you earn less than $50,000 a year, are in a family of more than six people, and live in certain parts of the country, for example. That creates scope for algorithmic bias and hidden discrimination, as happened last year with an algorithm used by US health insurers that turned out to inadvertently favor white people.

The world has changed many times, and it is changing again. All of us will have to adapt to a new way of living, working, and forging relationships. But as with all change, there will be some who lose more than most, and they will be the ones who have lost far too much already. The best we can hope for is that the depth of this crisis will finally force countries—the US, in particular—to fix the yawning social inequities that make large swaths of their populations so intensely vulnerable.

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[aion-rsa]

Best Meryl Streep Musical Performances (Including The Prom!)

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Who would have thought 30 years ago Meryl Streep would become the musical diva of our age? Maybe those who watched her bashfully (and beautifully) sing “You Don’t Know Me” in 1990’s Postcards from the Edge. But largely she was associated with the serious dramas of the ‘70s and ‘80s that won her two Oscars (and saw her nominated for three more) by the time she was 35: Kramer vs. Kramer, The Deer Hunter, Sophie’s Choice. Sober-eyed tearjerkers all.

But an amazing thing happened in the 21st century, didn’t it? Streep, the First Lady of the Academy Awards stage, reinvented herself as the prima donna of the musical-comedy. Sometimes that includes performances so rich that they sing even without any lyrics, such as the imperious Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada. But often they come with music and verse too, be it ham-fisted kitsch like Mamma Mia! or something as ambitious as playing the Witch in an adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods.

And today she’s back on the musical big screen—or at least the one in your living room—via Ryan Murphy and Netflix’s The Prom. It’s an all-out musical extravaganza where Streep transcends into her best self: a reigning diva of Broadway. So join us as we use the occasion to count down her greatest cinematic solos.

10. “Changing Lives” in The Prom

For whatever faults The Prom might contain, the Netflix film’s vicious satire of celebrity vanity and performative social action is not one of them. And rarely is that better felt than in Meryl and James Corden’s first big number “Changing Lives.” As a pair of tone-deaf Narcissuses, Streep’s Dee Dee Allen and Corden’s Barry Glickman put on a hell of a show, singing from the lights of 44th St. to the glitzy interiors of Sardis about how being a Broadway star is basically the same thing as Eleanor and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Is it a great song? Not necessarily. Is it great to hear Streep exclaim she only wants to hear a review if it’s a rave or mixed-to-positive while downing champagne? Absolutely.

9. “Super Trouper” in Mamma Mia!

We know everyone has thoughts about Mammia Mia! and where its qualities (or sometimes lack thereof) lie. But Meryl Streep’s performance as Donna is inarguably one of its great strengths. Her matriarch of an idyllic little Greek island seems a far cry from the apparent free spirit and hellraiser she once was. Yet in “Super Trouper,” her young daughter (Amanda Seyfried) gets a glimpse of the dynamo Donna once was (and secretly still is) as she takes the disco stage alongside Julie Walters and Christine Baranski.

The trio still make the ‘70s excess of their outfits work, crooning about last nights in Glasgow and reawakening that magic for the next generation. Even Donna’s tuneless exes in the back get swept back in time. It’s sweet, and one of several Mamma Mia numbers to appear here.

8. “Goodbye to My Mama” in A Prairie Home Companion

One of the best films mentioned on this list, A Prairie Home Companion was director Robert Altman’s final film—and the movie appears aware of this. Nowhere is that more tangible in this heart-wringing ballad written in the tradition of early 20th century Country and Western music by Garrison Keillor. An ode to a childhood long gone, and both an aspiration and understated fear about seeing a lost mother again on the other side, the song is an elegy realized in soulful duet by Streep and Lily Tomlin. It harkens the Angel of Death backstage, but in isolation it’s still plenty heartbreaking.

7. “The Winner Takes It All” in Mamma Mia!

We said there’d be more ABBA. And here it is with “The Winner Takes It All,” Streep’s single actual solo. In this moment director Phyllida Lloyd knows exactly where to put the camera, capturing the postcard beauty of a Greek isle at sunset as Meryl sings her heart out, and smashes Pierce Brosnan’s for good measure. Appealingly melodramatic, and with perfect high notes for Streep’s range, the scene puts this Oscar winner in the movie equivalent of a romance novel cover. And who doesn’t want to open that?!

6. “It’s Not About Me” in The Prom

Again rarely does The Prom’s satire land better than in its opening number… but Streep’s big solo “It’s Not About Me” is that rare exception. Strutting into an Indiana PTA meeting in a red mink and extravagant mood, Streep’s Dee Dee introduces herself by belting that she’s here after reading three quarters of an article to ask, “You bigoted monsters, just who do you think you are?” And it’s all downhill from there for her argument, and uphill for our entertainment.

Hijacking a vulnerable teenager’s platform to whine about a New York Post notice and to demand soft lighting and a rainbow coalition of colorful streamers for her Insta-ready moment, Streep is given permission by The Prom to make everything about her. More, please.

5. “Stay with Me” in Into the Woods

Attempting to sing Sondheim is a challenge few take up lightly. With his typically complex lyrics, myriad key changes, and sharp musical bridges, Sondheim has thwarted many a movie star who’s tried. Streep is not one of them. As the villainous and somewhat misunderstood Witch of Into the Woods, Streep dominates the film as an antagonistic force who sees all the other fairy tale archetypes for the schmucks they are.

But that does not include her adopted daughter Rapunzel (Mackenzie Mauzy). As the daughter the Witch never had, Rapunzel is kept secluded away in the woods, but it’s for her own protection. Written years before Tangled, a mother’s fanged psychological warfare and pleas to “stay with me” from the danger in the world is as haunting as it is toxic. And it’s Streep’s best moment in Disney and Rob Marshall’s ambitious, yet bloated, movie adaptation.

4. “Dancing Queen” in Mamma Mia!

Yes, it’s that song and that scene: ABBA’s most overplayed earworm brought to treacly life with maximum cheese, including slow-motion shots of Meryl Streep jumping on a bed and skipping along a Greek coastline. Look over there! Why is that old fisherman playing a piano in the water?! And over here! Where did the hundreds of locals on this tiny, largely uninhabited island come from?!

Read more

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It doesn’t matter! You know from the first time you heard Streep and company belt this that you sang along. You probably still do, joining in at the parade of empowered women, from ages two to 92, who’ve been liberated by the joy of their youth, now or remembered. As they dance badly across the world’s grooviest pier, it plays as loud; as camp; and as a goddamn delight.

3. “My Minnesota Home” in A Prairie Home Companion

Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin’s other major duet in A Prairie Home Companion, “My Minnesota Home” reworks Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home” to give it a Lake Wobegon tenor. It is also the sweetest showcase for Streep and Tomlin’s chemistry, both as singers and human beings. The give and take between the pair, and then Streep’s rousing vibrato during the final chorus, has the air of genuine inspiration and real pleasure. Here are two performers finding harmony together on the stage and before our eyes. It’s big hearted and irresistible.

2. “I’m Checking Out” in Postcards from the Edge

Meryl’s first major musical moment came during the grand finale of director Mike Nichols and screenwriter Carrie Fisher’s wonderful little dramedy. Loosely and nakedly based on Fisher’s own relationship with her movie star mother Debbie Reynolds, Postcards from the Edge is a revealing and sometimes blunt exercise in getting things off a writer’s chest. And one thing Fisher really wanted to clear the air about was her mother’s desire to push her toward musical performance. While Fisher resisted in her own life, she allows the fictional Suzanne Vale (Streep) to give in to mother Doris Mann (Shirley MacLaine).

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In doing so, she also gives into herself and sings this full-hearted rendition of “I’m Checking Out.” A country hymn to the bitterness of living in the heartbreak hotel, the song allows Suzanne (and hopefully Carrie) to bury some pain, and for Streep to reveal her formidable stage and screen presence in front of a microphone. It is probably the rawest and most intelligent performance on this list.

1. “Mamma Mia” in Mamma Mia!

Among Meryl Streep’s many songs in Mamma Mia!—including a few we did not put on this list, believe it or not—it’s her rendition of the movie’s title song that works best. Imbuing the tune with an infectious playfulness, and leaning into the impatience that pours from ABBA’s lyrics, Streep pounces around the screen like a cat who’s just spotted a bird… or at least three turkeys in the shapes of her exes (Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, and Stellan Skarsgård).

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As she creeps and creaks around their goathouse (don’t ask), debating whether to sneak another peak, the film finally makes sharp use of a movie’s ability to edit together imagery: We cut between Streep, the exiled suitors, Donna’s daughter and friends, and even an honest to Zeus Greek chorus of extras sticking their heads into the frame to chastise Streep. Not that she can resist her curiosity, nor do we resist watching it. In fact, we want to egg it on as Streep rolls around in overalls and crosses herself before embracing the next crescendo.

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[twitchesandstitches]

Miscella Vs the Fleet: old wounds

Spinel was something of an outsider to the Fleet, and walking through the rubble that had been a street market only a few hours ago, she felt that she was missing out on a lot of context.

Robots, humanoids, chimeric mash-ups and the periodic holographic manifestation of digitally encoded mind-states sat against the wall, nursing their wounds, wincing as medic-clerics carefully extracted acids specifically designed to counter the most common methods of regeneration against the Fleet. People who had chitinous bodies or alterations had watched their armor melt and then screamed as the acid had bitten at flesh and blone; those with powers centered around manipulating energy had been hit by anti-magic devices that disrupted the delicate flow, causing their bodies to break apart and explode on the spot, surviving only through sheer bloody-mindedness.

Gems weren’t immune. Spinel vaguely recalled agonizing pain before she poofed, and whatever it did had set the delicate balance of mutagenic forces plaguing her into overdrive; even now, the corruption raced through her, her projection slowly warping and turning acidic, spiritual pain sliding inward. And her Gem, mounted between breasts so large they made up a massive chunk of her entire mass, was a mass of jagged mineral, her rosey-red tinting into a dark and horrible shade of purple...

She heard it. The call of, of the thing from beyond the stars. The slow whisper, sliding into the back of her mind, drowned out just barely by the voices of other people.

But there were warm hands, kneading into her projections weak points where she got too rubbery to even move, pumping enough magic to stabilize it. It was a magic like fire, warm and, and kindly.

“Can you move?” Said a deep, rumbling voice that almost all solid baritone.

Spinel nodded, painfully standing up. She looked up into a tall and imposingly massive figure that could have been an ogre, or perhaps a goat, depending on how you looked at it. Perhaps even a nicer variety of demon.

The massive and exceptionally masculine figure sighed in relief; muscles individually larger than Spinel herself shifted beneath shaggy white fur, and a long face crowned by huge horns smiled softly. “That’s good. Please move carefully; I’m not sure how your magic might have been compromised.”

Asgore, she’d heard him called. The King of the Monsters, and a whole lot of other titles that made it sound like he’d seen a lot of extremely nasty things, and it was strangely appealing that he’d taken a bit of a shine to her.

Spinel frowned at the soldiers being led away; they weren’t local. None of them looked particularly modified on a biological or cybernetic level, though their fancy uniforms (very sleek, with a bit of an angular vibe to them) were definitely performance-enhancing exoskeletons. Power armor, she supposed, though not as clanky and ritualistically maintained as the sort you saw in her new group. The soldiers were a mixed group, of all manner of species, but whether it was a primate’s face or an avian turian’s mandibles or a glowy energy monster, they all had the same shut-down look of someone who was just doing a job and considered your presence to be beneath them; small time bullies who used what power they had to humiliate anyone they felt like.

They all had the same logo on them, which looked a bit like an infinity symbol surrounded by a spiral branching off into arrows pointing in multiple directions. “Who ARE those guys?”

“Miscella Incorporated soldiers, I believe,” said Asgore. “They have many private armies, of mercenaries and other such ruffians, but I suspect these are one of the in-house special forces they employ for touchy situations.”

Spinel blinked slowly. It had been a long day, not helped by a war rapidly escalating from a minor argument all at once. As best as she could tell, there HAD been a ship arrivng earlier, apparently to discus some trading rights.

And then there’d been yelling. And some of the Fleet members got way more intense about it than she’s ever seen, and they’d thrown punches after someone called them ‘disgusting mutants’, and then things really got out of hand.

At one point, a two-mile long ship had crashed right onto a city.

“So what the hell happened!?” she asked. “It was just a business thing; why’d they make it personal?”

Asgore sighed, looking very tired. “You should know... I’ve been with this group for a long time. Ever since we were nomads, roaming from world to world and fleeing our many enemies.”

Spinel glanced at him. Now did not seem the time for a history lesson. “Sure. You weren’t really the Fleet yet, right? You and your monsters joined up early on, then I guess Gems started finding you, and lots of other people... but it wasn’t like the way it was today. Things were a lot more fractious, you were always in danger, and the guys who’d form the Cobalt Stinger pirate empire were still with you.”

“Yes. Back then, we hadn’t run into those brutish sorts of the Imperial Commonwealth either. Our main enemy was... well. Miscella Incorporated.”

“...Why?”

“We passed near their worlds, and they took offense to us. You see, we didn’t use any of their currencies, we weren’t interested in buying any of their stuff save supplies or interesting gear, and most of all, we didn’t want to settle down in their lands and submit to their restrictive policies.” Asgore frowned. “Mega corporations, like Miscella, institutes some very harsh restrictions for their people. Depending on how the local branch implements it, they can often be little better than legal slavery. People are legally the property of whatever sub-corporation that has them employed, and they cannot move to other planets, change careers, or gain additional income without approval. Sometimes, they are even forced to have surgery and monitoring devices installed so they cannot think thoughts that Miscella would disapprove of.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes, that’s what we thought. We told them no. We said, on many ocassions, that our pride wasn’t worth whatever profit they offered. So things got much worse from there; Miscella is a bit of a control freak, as a whole, and since we would not comply, they tried to force us into either compliance, or to wipe us out and indoctrinate us.” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know if this kind of policy is company-wide, or if we were simply unfortunate enough to be in the crosshairs of a particular branch that hated people who were from social margins... but they killed us, hounded us, chased us across hundreds of worlds. We fought back, and killed lots of them. At times, we were a roaming horde, destroying their towns and claiming the ruins as loot, just to survive. Revenge, and so on. And it wasn’t the Stingers alone that did such a thing, I can tell you.

“So blood for blood, and then both sides wanted revenge for the revenge we’d already taken, and so on. And so forth. It went on for a long time.” He sighed. “And so, now, there is a lot of bad blood.”

“Ain’t you guys ever tried to make peace, or at least force a cease fire?” Spinel asked. “We’re one of the biggest, baddest societies around; a single one of our heroines could clobber a whole army of theirs, I’m thinking.”

“True enough, but force alone is not a terribly attractive notion to all the clans, and given the scale of Miscella’s holdings, such total war would require absolute agreement among all the clans... and you know we argue far too much for that!” Asgore laughed, and then grew serious again. “But, miss Spinel, it’s not just revenge. Even if we didn’t have generations telling us, with bloody stories, not to trust them or give them an inch, our philosophies are wholly incompatible. You know, I think, that we in the Fleet believe that life, absolutely all forms of sapient existence, has the right to be free and become whatever it chooses, and to help all others prosper and live in contentment?”

Spinel nodded. “Yeah. I suppose that’s a reason I’m still here.”

“Indeed. Well, Miscella, I’m sorry to say, largely regards all people as resources. Sometimes... literally. Sometimes simply as markets to tap, or employees to use. But inevitably, they see people as tools and assets, fit only to serve their interests. Almost like a divine right of kings, but based on their own existing wealth and power; they consider themselves to be the rightful rulers of all existence, and all us must fall into line with how they think the world ought to be. They treat deviance from their cosmic agenda - which is an actual thing they have, some sort of flow chart of ultimate heirarchy and organization - as a personal affront. And we are nothing but deviants, you know!”

Spinel laughed. “I know!”

“So, our ideals and views are... too different. We see people and want them to be free. They see resources, and want to bring them to heel. Even if not for our mutual resentment, that would breed other problems. But ultimately, they are our oldest enemies.” He sighed. “And sooner or later, there will be war.”

“...We’d win that one. Right.”

Asgore looked troubled. “That’s the problem, though. I’m sure we’d win. The question is, how can we decisively win a war against such a powerful group, with our honor intact?”