#wolf water radio

[oscardobewildin]

This is a canon scene from episode 15: What’s up, Doc? I don’t Make the rules sorry <3

[radioproto]

Went on a little vacation to Great Wolf Lodge for a day with my family; it was quite nice!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

CW: Smut, blood, knots, ruts Rating: Adult Summary: Alastor and his Doe have weathered the passing of the seasons, though he has failed to define their relationship and she's been too afraid to ask. Now, Alastor's Rut is upon him and it's time for her to return the favor. Follow up to Antler Play

“Alastor?” you called out as you stepped into your shared bedroom, fluffy doe tail flicking in worry.

Alastor had failed to join you for pastries over coffee. It was terribly unlike him and you feared you had done something to upset him. The relationship between you two was something strange. You shared a room, slept in his presence and yet you still were not totally sure what you were to the buck. 

He had been acting strange the last few weeks, scenting you when none were around. The musk of him clung to you, as if you needed any additional way for him to show his claim over you. 

Yet, you didn’t know what that claim was or what it meant for your heart. 

The door slammed shut behind you. Fear jumped through your system, forcing a squeak from your throat as you turned, looking at the door shrouded in shadows. They were too dark, too deep for the amount of dim light that was in the room. 

He was in here, somewhere. You knew that. You could smell him. The crackle of his power danced over your skin. 

“Cher,” his voice came from the radio sitting on the fireplace mantle, the speakers lighting up the way his smile did when he was more radio demon than deer as he spoke. “Remember how I helped you?”

“Alastor?” You turned, heart pounding in your chest as you looked for him. 

“I’m here,” his voice came directly over your shoulder as his arm wound around your waist, lifting you from your feet. 

His presence was overbearing as he carried you toward the bed, only to set your feet down on the carpet. Facing him, you couldn’t stifle the gasp. 

The antlers atop his head were heavy, wide and branched. Dark shadows clung to them, dripping from the tines. Bitter musk was thick in the air, making your mouth water even outside of your season. 

You were a sexual being, in life and in death. While you learned your seasons made you made with desire, you were not immune to it outside of that time like Alastor seemed to be. 

Trembling legs took you a few steps back from the advancing buck, eyes black as coal swallowed bright red radio dials that looked back at you. 

It all made sense. The last few months, Alastor had been more affectionate. He scented you more. He hovered more. He watched over you more. You thought something had changed between you. Perhaps he loved you, but.. he had entered his season.

His libido was awakening as his body prepared itself for his rut. He was a buck, but the way he looked at you made it feel very much like he was a wolf, ready to devour you. 

“Do you remember how I helped you last year?” Static was loud in your ears, but at least this time the words came from the man you had fallen in love with.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart pounding so heard in your chest that you were sure he could hear it. 

“Will you return the favor?” Alastor’s bright red eyes ran slowly down your body, taking in each curve as he did so in a way he never had before.

“y-yes,” excitement ran through you, shooting down your spine as the large buck reached out for you. 

“My doe,” his voice rumbled through the static, coming from all around you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Your feet dangled for a moment before you threw them around his waist. As he walked as if nothing out of the ordinary at all, shadows and tentacles ripped at your clothes. Stitching on the seams gave way. The fabric ripped- clothes fell from you in tatters.

Your body reacted instantly to the feel of him, to the feel of the static running over bare skin. The rich smell of forest and buck was all you could smell. Fire ignited in you, growing hotter with each deep lungful of him you pulled in. 

Everything was happening so fast. As Alastor laid you on the bed, you realized he was naked. Never had you seen him bare and yet his clothes melted into the shadows without you even noticing. The bulbus head of his cock pressed into your waiting opening as he climbed over you, pushing your legs up and apart. 

“You’re already ready for me,” Alastor said, though his voice came from all around as he thrust forward, length parting your walls in one smoothe stroke. 

He throbbed inside you as his hips met yours. Or perhaps it was your wet cunt that was throbbing? You were not sure anymore as you arched into him. Gruff groans reverberated through his chest as he pulled from you, only to slam back into your wet cunt. 

“Fuck,” you moan as his cock nudges your cervix, hot thick length spreading your core easily. 

Each thrust came hot on the heels of another. Alastor set a brutal, violent pace as he reached down, grabbing your legs in his large hands. He pulled your thighs up, higher and higher, as he thrust into you. As your knees sank, so close to framing your breasts, Alastor groaned again. 

Red radio dial eyes never left you as he thrust, hard and powerful, into your tight cunt, spread so open for him. Tentacles grabbed your legs, freeing his hands to hold your waist, pulling your core down to meet his hips in each painful blow. 

It hurt to be taken by the Radio Demon but the pain felt so good, you couldn’t help the moans, prayers made up only of his name dropping from your lips. He shifted back, pulling your body down the bed a few inches just as the top of your head grazed the headboard. 

He had fucked you up the bed. Reaching up, you braced yourself against the headboard. Alastor’s long arms made it easy for him to reach up, doing the same. The wood cracked as he used it for leverage, allowing him to thrust into you harder still. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, fingers tangling in the bedsheets as he fucked into you again and again. 

His grip on you was painful as he shifted, angling your hips and forcing your back into an arch. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your stomach, pushing out slightly with each thrust. 

Desperate for anything, you dug your nails into his arms. You clung to where his skin shifted from the black stains of blood spilled that he could never wash away to the soft tan of his skin and the light covering of fur over it. 

Sharp claws dug into your thighs. His hips slammed into yours, harder and harder, making you burn inside. You could feel every delicious impact, pulling breathless moans from your lips.

The pebbled buds of your nipples ran against the soft fur of his chest as he fucked into you, trying to reach as deeply as possible with each and very thrust. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll feel my cock in your pretty little cunt forever Dear” Alastor growled out, voice coming from the radio speakers as well as the man over you, “and after we’re done, I’m going to fuck you again, and again, until you can’t take anymore, just to make sure you’re so full of my cum, nothing else will fit”

“Alastor,” you whined, voice airy as you struggled against the force of his cock pounding through your insides, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Heat built inside you, being pulled forth by the pheromones wafting off of him. 

“You’re going to feel my cum inside you as you sit for breakfast around all of those pathetic sinners. You’re going to smell of me. Everyone’s going to know you are mine.” Alastor snarled through his promises, claws sinking so deep into your thighs that you could feel the trickle of blood running up your legs. 

“When I’m done with you,” his voice flipped, coming from him and the speaker, changing nearly every other syllable. “you’re going to suck me clean before I fuck you again”

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he continued to fuck into you. He couldn’t decide if he wanted our neck under his teeth or if he wanted your eyes on him as he forced you to cum on his cock. Did he want to taste you or see you as he marked you his?

“What?” You gasped out, losing track of where you ended and Alastor began. 

“All you’ll be able to do is think of the way my cock fills you,” he promised, dark words pushing you closer to the edge. “The taste of my seed on your tongue. The sound of my voice in your ears. The feeling of my teeth in your neck. My hands on your skin. My claws gripping your hips.” 

“Please, Alastor,” you begged for him, not knowing how to ask for what you needed. Never had you imagined him saying such things to you. 

“Thoughts of me will devour your mind,” he swore and you were so sure he was right, “until you return to me, begging me to take you again.” 

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out as his tongue ran over your neck. 

“You will dream of me. When you touch your pretty little cunt, you’ll wish it was my hands. You’ll wish it was my cock. I will ruin you.” 

You drug his face to yours, needing his kiss. It was the first kiss shared between you. What sweetness there was in it quickly dissolved into the fiery passion of mating. Sucking on his tongue desperately, you moaned and whined, needing him in all your holes. 

You wanted nothing more than his full possession as you submit, your body pliant just for him as he continued his lust filled rambles, “You’re going to cum so much for me aren’t you pet, gonna drag my cum deep inside you while your little cunt begs for my seed”

Leaning forward, his lips found your neck. Folding over you, each thrust had more power yet. You wrapped your arms around him. The strong muscles of his lean back flexed and bunched under your touch. Your orgasm washed over you with sudden, drowning waves of pleasure. Accompanying your sudden orgasm was the grunting bleats coming from your lover. 

His cock swelled inside you, pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust. The tip nestled against your cervix. Tears ran down your face as your opening was pushed wider with each thrust into you. 

Teeth sank into your neck, grounding him in the coppery taste of your blood and you in the searing pain ripping through your body. It distracted you from the pain in your opening as his cock swelled; the base growing larger and larger as he rutted it inside you. 

“Mine,” he growled as his body stilled, cock locked inside you as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into your fluttering cunt, painting your cervix with it. “Mine,” he rutted against you, hips rocking as he tried to push his cock deeper.

He stilled, lips placing soft kisses on bloodstained skin. Tall ears were pulled back, displaying the heavy antlers that clattered against the wall on occasion. Soft bleats filled your ears as your cunt continued to strain around his cock. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin, “I seem to be stuck.” 

“W-what?” you gasped as he tried to pull his cock from you and failed, his base far too swollen to slip out of your hole. 

Soft caresses smoothed your naked skin as he waited, peppering kisses along the bloodstained skin. He wrapped you up in his arms, dragging you to his chest as he rolled onto his side. 

“Mine,” he rumbled, rubbing the side of his head against the top of your head, ensuring he pushed more of the musky scent of him onto you.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, unsure if Alastor was in any condition to answer you truthfully. 

“My doe,” he said, running his hand down your back as his still hard cock, trapped inside of you with the large bulbous knot twitched inside you. “No other bucks will touch you.” 

“While we’re in season?” you braved asking, hoping that his rut was enough like your season to allow for a moment of clarity post orgasm. 

“Forever,” Alastor said, again scenting you. He ran his hooves up and down your shin, spreading the toes and smearing more of his scent onto you. 

“Mine,” Alastor said as he held you close.

“Mine.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[hazelfoureyes]

would Alastor have sex with a girl on her period? I feel like he’d like it cuz the blood but I wanted to ask the expert ❤️❤️

EXPERT?! Look what you did!

Hazel imagines….

Alastor would see your fidgeting, the way you crossed your legs and squirmed in your seat while listening to people talk around you.

He’d catch you in the hall, twirling his microphone staff, “Why the pout?”

You’d frown, “It’s personal, Alastor.”

“Ah so it’s related to your menstruation.” He said it too casually, you stopped so quickly he nearly fell forward when he stopped too. Alastor read your face, “Smell, dear. I’ve got quite an impressive nose.”

Mortified, “Everyone can smell me?”

He shrugged leaning against his staff, “Who knows? I didn’t care to ask.”

Your eyes looked to the left and down, “That almost makes it worse.”

“As much as I love guessing games,” his eyeroll said he did not in fact love guessing games, “care to clue me in to what we’re talking about?”

“It’s per-,” you couldn’t finish.

“A broken record is no fun, darling.” He closed the distance between you, “I can smell many things. So why not be forthright with it, hmm?” His head cocked to the side, a flash of his threatening radio dial eyes beaming down at you.

“My partner wont touch me, but I’m when I’m on my period I get so -,”

“Aroused.”

His blunt reply with that high toned accent was a punch to your gut, “Yeah. I already feel like shit and they wont even let me in bed with them.” Your chin quivered, emotions sensitive.

Alastor lifted your downcast face with the rounded back of his microphone, tutting, “Has the hotel run out of towels?”

You shook your head, confused.

“No more hot water?”

Another shake.

“Well I don’t see the problem then.” His face leaned down, back curving to lower to your much shorter height, “I’ve never shied away from getting a little bloody.”

༻Masterlist༺

I think if he was down to fuck for whatever reasons he had, the embarrassment reader had of their period would just enhance his enjoyment. If they weren’t embarrassed, he’d still not be offended by the sight and smell of blood, quite nostalgic if nothing else. 👀

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings

@looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @sailorsmouth /

[ellieslovr]

mad love (e.williams)

a day in the life of you and your girlfriend, notorious killer, ellie williams.

-A/N:This is an excerpt for a longer series i’m working on, which takes place in that same universe. I hope you all like it, if so I’ll post the first chapter! important note at the end too :)

-CW:extreme blood kink,possessive ellie, choking, breeding kink, degradation, strap on sex, spit kink, finger sucking, oral fixation, body worship, praise kink, domesticity kink? (is that a thing?)

-i do NOT condone any of these things irl as a disclaimer, this is a work of fiction.

˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹

It all happened in a blur. Ellie came home from her latest kill, still giddy with excitement. The adrenaline was pulsing through her veins, and she was practically bouncing off the walls.

She swings the door to the penthouse open and kicks off her steel toed boots, the same she had used to stomp her victim’s face into the ground.

She knew you’d scold her for getting blood on the hardwood you just cleaned, but she was too excited to care. She looks around for any sign of you, but all she sees is an empty room.

She checks the bedroom. Nope, not there. All of a sudden, she hears running water. She silently makes her way towards the bathroom, careful to not alert you. The door is unlocked, so she pushes it open quietly.

You’re humming contentedly to yourself in the shower, some pop song you’d heard on the radio.

With a devilish grin on her face, Ellie jerked the shower curtain to the side. Not expecting it, you scream bloody murder.

Ellie just stands there, beaming at you. Her eyes drop down to your naked body, and she wolf whistles. “Looking good babe.”

You roll your eyes. “You scared me half to death, you dick.” You reply. She smiles, reaching out to touch your cheek. You jerk away from her, and she frowns.

“Come on, gimme a kiss.” You shake your head and point to her clothes. “Take those off and get in here.” You tell her. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh? Are you trying to get dirty again?” She asks, laughing.

You whack her lightly on the arm as she strips off her clothes. “No, I just don’t want to use up all the hot water and leave you with none.” You reply.

She coos. “That’s sweet of you, babe.” She steps in the shower with you, letting the water run down her body. You take note of a few scrapes and cuts, ones that weren’t there earlier when she left.

“I take it they fought back?” You asked, a finger tracing one of the most prominent ones. She sighs. “Yeah, but I got him in the end.” She replied. You run your fingers through her wet hair, washing out some of the dirt.

“Who was it this time?” You ask. She turns around to face you. “Some rich dude who was involved with Joel’s crew back in the day. He fucked them over, didn’t pay back his debts. If it were me I would’ve killed him right there.” She groans in pain as you run your fingers over a bruise on her chest.

“Sorry.” You murmur, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She continues. “I took care of it though, you know me, I hold grudges.” You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re still mad at me for beating you in Mario Kart.” She sticks her tongue out.

“Whatever, you cheated.” “I did not!” You exclaim, splashing her with water. She laughs, moving out of the way. You turn back around and start to lather yourself up with soap, when you feel Ellie’s hands start to wander.

“Babe?” You call her. “Hm, what’s up?” She replies, hands going lower. “What’re you doing back there?” You ask.

You know for a fact she’s smirking as she remains silent, moving her hand down to slap your ass.

“Ellie!” You scold, turning around. “What? Come on, you knew it was coming!” You shake your head with a grin.

“Hurry up and get washed up, I’ll start dinner soon.” You tell her. She nods and continues her routine. You step out of the shower a few minutes later, with her in tow. You’re able to dry off and avoid her wandering hands. “They have a mind of their own, babe!” She’d told you once.

Once you’re dressed, you step out into the kitchen and grab one of the cookbooks from the shelf. “Els, what do you feel like tonight?” You ask. She doesn’t reply. You turn around, looking for her. “Ellie?” You call.

She appears behind you suddenly, wrapping her arms around your waist. She buries her face into your neck and inhales, groaning softly. “Shit, Ellie..” You mutter, pulling her closer. “You smell so good, fuck. I missed you so much.” You grin, leaning into her embrace. “I missed you too.”

Her tongue darts out to run across your neck, making you shiver. She slowly kisses her way up, until she reaches your lips. At this point you’re desperate, so you pull her into a hungry kiss.

She moans into it, her hands wandering down to squeeze your ass. Her tongue slides into your mouth, tangling with yours. When she pulls away, you’re both panting. “Take me to bed.” You tell her, looping your arms around her waist.

She grins and lifts you into her arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You loved how strong she was, how effortlessly she could pick you up and carry you around.

You also loved the little things she’d do for you, like lifting heavy things even if you were perfectly capable. Her love language was acts of service, and it definitely showed in her daily life with you.

While your thoughts were wandering, Ellie placed you down gently onto the bed. She pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you smiled up at her. “I take it you’re still on an adrenaline high?” You ask.

She nods, grinning like a maniac. “Mhm, you’re right. You gonna let me use you?” Her words cause you to blush. “Yes daddy.” You reply in a sultry tone.

Ellie’s pupils dilate. “Fuck. Let me take these off, baby.” She tells you as she begins to tug at your shirt.

You let her undress you, and she pauses for a moment, smirking up at you. “You didn’t put any panties on?” She asked. You blush. “They’re all in the laundry.” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “I just did the laundry.”

You groan, covering your face. “Shut up, you know why I didn’t put any on.” She laughs. “I know, sweetheart. Wanted me to have easy access, huh? Such a slut.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dripping onto the mattress at this point, and Ellie decides to take mercy on you. She slowly circles your entrance with two fingers, while using her thumb to massage your clit. “Ellie..” You moan softly, and she shushes you.

“Just relax baby, I’ve got you.” Her fingers move slowly in and out of you, making a shiver go up your spine.

“That’s my girl, so fucking wet.” She crooned into your ear. The wet squelching sounds of her fingers fucking you echoed off the bedroom walls, and Ellie grinned. “Aw, did this pussy miss me that much?” She asked, lips grazing your jawline.

Ellie’s thumb strokes slowly up and down your swollen clit, while holding you down to the mattress with her other hand. “Poor thing, she didn’t even touch you while I was gone? You must be so pent up.” The realization that she’s not talking to you, but to your pussy, makes your face grow hot.

It was degrading and demeaning, like you were nothing more than a toy, and you loved it. When a soft whimper leaves your lips, Ellie decides to take pity on you in her own special way.

You hadn’t noticed that she’d put the strap on, so you gasped when she pressed against you. You shut your eyes in anticipation and Ellie tuts in response, pushing into you.

She starts thrusting slowly, a low groan coming from the back of her throat. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Yeah, this pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn’t it?” She asks, grabbing your face with one hand.

You nod, and she glares at you. “Say it.” When you take too long to respond, she slips two fingers into your mouth. “If you can’t speak properly, put your mouth to better use.” You do as she says, not wanting to push her any further.

She keeps a steady movement, her hips slamming into yours while your tongue swirls around her fingers. She pulls them out of your mouth suddenly, and spreads them apart in front of your face.

A thin string of saliva connects them, and she brings those same fingers to her mouth and wraps her lips around them. You moan at this, rocking your hips to meet her thrusts.

Ellie grunts and leans over you, green eyes piercing into yours. “Open.” She orders.

You let your jaw hang slack, and stare up at her. She opens her mouth, letting your mixed saliva trail down to her tongue.

She spits into your open mouth, and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her flannel. “Swallow.” She orders, eyes never leaving yours. You do so, and she hums in approval.

She starts to fuck you faster, her pace brutal and unforgiving. When you look away for too long, Ellie grips your throat.

“Fucking look at her baby, look at the way she swallows my fucking cock. No no, don’t you dare look away.” She grunts.

You moan loudly, nails digging crescents into her back. You feel a bit bad, since her back was pretty scratched up from her victim earlier. She didn’t seem to mind though, as she was currently groaning into your ear.

“God, you’re makin’ such a mess. You’re a dirty fucking whore, you know that?” She asks, reaching up to roll your nipple between her fingers. “Just for you.” You breathe, back arching in response to her touch.

She lets go of your nipple and squishes your cheeks between her free hand once more, forcing you to open your mouth.

She leaned in to kiss you, letting her tongue slide against yours. She bit down, causing you to yelp. You kept kissing her nonetheless, as the taste of blood invaded your mouth.

You moan louder at this, and Ellie kisses you harder. When she pulls away, she gives you a lazy smile, her eyes half lidded. “I should come home all bloody one of these days, yeah?” She asked. “Fuck you while I’m covered in it, you’d look so pretty.” She groans at the image inside her head, pounding into you faster.

She has a tight grip on your hips, and you’re absolutely certain you’ll have bruises in the morning, but you don’t care. Ellie speaks up. “Oh fuck, I can feel you clenching around me. You like that idea baby? You want me to come home straight from a kill and fuck you, let the blood stain your skin?”

You rake your nails down her back, hard enough to draw blood. She hisses, a mixture of pain and pleasure, and continues to thrust into you.

“You’re a depraved fucking whore, nothing but a nasty slut. How long have you been waiting for my cock for, huh?” Ellie asked.

You whine in response, fucking yourself on her strap. “I’ll fucking give it to you baby, don’t worry. Anything you want princess, just say the word. I’d, fuck-” A particularly hard thrust. “I’d do anything for you.”

The weight behind her words and the emotion in her voice almost tipped you over the edge. You decide to ask her a question that’s been on your mind since the first time you found out who she really was. “Would you kill for me?” You ask her.

Ellie could’ve cum from just that question.

“Course I would baby, my girl gets whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.” She reaches down to pinch your clit between her fingers.

You moan as a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. “You spoil me too much.” You tell her. It’s half teasing, half sincere. She just coos down at you, speeding up. “Just take it baby.” She tells you.

You’re not sure whether she’s talking about her strap or her lavish treatment of you, but you decide not to question it.

“I meant what I said doll, anything for you. Cars, clothes, those expensive perfumes you like..” Ellie trails off, getting lost in the way you writhe and moan underneath her.

She takes in your soft skin, your pretty face and..how good you’d look carrying her baby. God, the thought alone could make her cum right then and there.

She’d considered it before, settling down, starting a family with you. She knew she’d have to change her ways for that, but she didn’t mind.

She meant it when she said she’d do anything for you. While the two of you did have a breeding kink, you’d never really explored past that initial conversation.

Ellie decides to test the waters. “Fuck, m’ gonna make you such a pretty little housewife. Gonna come home from work and fuck you on top of the same table we eat from, we’re gonna do such nasty shit-“ You sob, thrusting your hips to meet hers. “Yes.” You choke out.

Bingo. She’s got the green light, feels like she’s won the damn lottery.

She continues on. “Yeah, you like that baby? Wanna be my wife? You gonna let me fuck a baby into this pretty pussy? Gonna let me make you a mama?” You cry out, you’re so close, and she laughs condescendingly. “So fucking cute.” A kiss to your lips. “You want me to breed you that badly, baby? Stuff you full of my cum? The sneer in her tone was undeniable.

“Yes Ellie,keep me stuck here with you, bind me to you forever, please daddy-“

Your cries are cut off by Ellie, who lets out a loud guttural moan. She cums onto the strap, soaking your chest and stomach.

You follow soon after, a mixture of soft moans and pleas leaving your throat.

After a few moments of silence broken by occasional heavy panting, Ellie manages to catch her breath. “That was- fucking incredible.” She murmured against your chest.

You laugh. “It was.” You’re absentmindedly stroking her sweaty hair, trying to find the energy to get up and go to the bathroom.

When you finally stand up on wobbly legs, Ellie’s right behind you. However, her legs are shaky too, so she’s not much better off. The two of you hobble to the bathroom, holding onto the wall for support.

Once you finally reach it, Ellie turns on the water to start a bath. She dumps some soap in, and turns back to face you. “C’mon, I’ll help you in.”

You lean against her once you’re both in the tub, and sigh contentedly. “You planning on actually getting clean this time?” You ask her.

She presses her face into your neck to hide her smirk. “Maybe.” She replies. You laugh and she lifts her head up, grinning at you.

You take a moment to take it all in. How despite everything you and Ellie had been through, you were still here. She was still here. You bump your forehead against hers.

“Hey.” You murmur. She gives you a toothy grin and brushes your noses together. “Hey.” You reach up and caress her cheek, and she closes her eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. I love you.” You tell her.

You’ve told her this tons of times, it shouldn’t be anything new. However, she stills get choked up every time you say it.

“I love you too.” She replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew she’d be there by your side.

_________________

Thanks for reading this far if you have! I wanted to drop where i got my inspiration for this from. It’s from a book by Eden Emory, in the club petale series. Inspiration for Ellie’s personality comes from Avery, a character in the third book. I implore you all to read that book series, it’s genuinely one of my favorites. Please heed the tws though!

[maaneskin]

THE ANATOMY OF LOVING YOU. jack hughes x f!reader, 1.2k

note, repost from old blog also , rewritten. doll face am gna kms

summary, jack loves you a lot — especially when you have a beard made of bubbles

a soft smile was playing on jacks lips as he watched you, the light of his life, give herself a messy beard made from the bubbles that filled the bathtub. 

“how do i look?”

he grinned, “sexy,” 

you stifled a giggle, throwing him a wink, “what if i made eyebrows as well? would that look good?” you gathered more bubbles and brought them to your face when jack grabbed your hand, halting your movement, “what? you don’t think it would suit me?” 

jack laughed, his hand holding yours, “on no, honey, i think you would look sexy as fuck but it would likely get in your eyes,”

“yeah,” you sighed sadly, removing your hands from his and dipping them back under the water. you began blowing at the bubbles, moving them around the small bathtub, not noticing the way jack was looking at you.

jacks breathing slowed as he watched you play with the bubbles — bubble beard still in place. he felt utterly calm sitting in the small bathtub with you, in your newly bought, first shared, apartment. the small window was open, letting him hear all the people outside going about their day. he could hear the radio standing in the living room playing another overplayed song everyone under the age of 25 hated. he could smell the freshly baked cake that was cooling in the kitchen; the two of you had baked it together before getting in the tub, or rather, you baked it while jack stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, placing soft kisses everywhere his lips could reach. he could smell the scented candle standing on the bathroom counter luke had given as a housewarming gift. the flame adding to the ambiance of the moment.

but none of that mattered as he watched you play around with the bubbles, effectively, making more of them until both your upper bodies were covered completely. jack hadn’t noticed he was in a deep daze until you splashed him with water. he gasped overdramatically, loving how your smile grew wide, “now you’ve done it!” he threw himself across the tub and onto you, water and bubbled spilling onto the tiled floor. jacks heart sped up at the familiar sound of your laugh echoing throughout the apartment. he let go of your naked body to cup his hand underwater. 

“j, don’t, don’t do it!” you managed through laughter, eyes on jacks water-filled hands above your head, “jack, it’s gonna spill everywhere-!” the water from his hands spilled down onto your head and the floor, “jack!” you removed the water from your eyes, “that’s gonna take forever to clean,” you whined, a smile still on your face.

“you started it, doll face,” jack grinned brightly, placing a kiss on your forehead, “we should get out of here, the water’s cold,” he reached over to the toilet where you had laid out 2 towels. he grabbed one for himself and got out. you got up after him, standing naked as you reached for the second towel. jack wolf whistled, making you laugh and tell him to shut up.

“you’re hot, baby, i can’t help it,” he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

you were the first to pull away, eyes closed — kissing him was bliss, “i love you,” you muttered.

“i love you, too, doll face,” jack pressed a kiss to your forehead and another on the side of your head, sighing in content, “let’t get dry, we have a cake to eat,”

“we also have a floor to dry,” 

jack sighed, suddenly feeling the water on his feet, “yeah, i forgot about that,”

after getting dry and changing into comfortable clothes (jack wearing one of your oversized hoodies), you got to soaking up the water with your towels.

jack stared down at you from his place on the toilet, getting lost in thought. god, he loved you. never before in his life had he loved someone the way he loved you. everything you did made him feel something. everyday he went to bed excited to exist with you the next day. the day he met you was ingrained into his mind; your cute concentrated face as you wrote something down, your laptop with cute stickers, your socks with cute cats on them. (your socks were his conversation starter — luckily you thought it was funny). it had been 6 years since then, since you agreed to go on a date with him. your first date to the zoo was one of his favorite days. the way your eyes had sparkled as you held his arm, dragging him around to see the different animals. the way his heart had sped up when you smiled at him after seeing the penguins up close had made it clear you would be special to him. 

“jack,” you threw one of the towels at him, hitting him in the face and getting him out of his daydream. you giggled at his confused face, “help me,”

he slid off the toilet, gently swatting you with the wet towels. when the water was gone, he moved closer to you, pulling you into his arms, “are we eating the cake when we’re done here?” he leaned closer to your neck.

“no, it’s for desert; after dinner,”

“but you’re my desert,” he placed a few kisses on your neck before pulling away. he smiled at the deadpan you wore, though he could see you were flustered. he was more than aware of how much you loved it when he kissed your neck and he always used it to his full advantage. 

you gave him a gentle shove, “stop it,”

“never,” jack leaned back in and blew raspberry kisses on your neck, making you laugh. he couldn't hide his smile at the sound. he loved your laugh — it was his favorite sound (your moans being a close second), and he hoped to hear for the rest of his life. 

he placed a final kiss on your neck before pulling away, “i know we said it like an hour ago, but i love you… like a lot. more than i’ve ever loved anyone before. i wanna spend my entire life with you” he looked into your eyes, “you’re the light of my life and i-” his swallowed the lump in his throat, clearing it after, “i love you,”

you blinked away tears. his declaration had your heart racing. jack was never verbal with his love, but when he was it never failed to make you emotional. your eyes ran over his face. meeting his beautiful, bright eyes. you could tell he was getting more and more nervous as you remained silent. 

“say something,” he pleaded, feeling like he might explode.

you gulped, “i- i love you. i love you, too. you- i-”

jack’s eyes softened and he could tell you were getting overwhelmed. with closed eyes he kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a hug, “i love you, doll face,” he whispered, before falling silent knowing you needed a moment to collect yourself. his hand went up and down you back, placing the occasional kiss to the side of your head, “you okay?”

you nodded, face still pressed against his neck. arms wrapping around his body, returning his hug.

“dinner?” he asked, getting up from the floor before helping you. he kissed your lips, each cheek, and forehead before pulling away. he grabbed your hand and dragged you to the kitchen, just like how you dragged him to see the lions on your very first date.

[gorgynei]

loving monsters 𓁢 𓁢

'Start Here' by Caitlyn Siehl / 'Wolf Like Me' by TV On The Radio / Wolf Children (2012) / The Shape of Water (2017) / Beauty and the Beast (1991) / 'Suck the Blood from My Wound' by Ezra Furman / An American Werewolf In London (1981) / A Monster in Paris (2011)

[demonic0angel]

More Jazz Forms (click for clarity)

TW: disturbing content, body horror

1) Head only Jazz

+ She is a head that walks on a bunch of mysterious tentacles. She’s inspired by a CN novel called “Let the Villain Go” in a chapter where a demon pops up and is described as a head that walks on tentacles (I may be delulu and remembered it wrong).

+ Around 900 feet tall. Most of the height is her tentacles, but her head is still around 100 feet tall.

+ Jason is a little obsessed with how huge she is. When he is away, she stays standing over his apartment like a creepy water storage tank. Nobody can see her except liminals and ghosts, so she remains undetected by Jason’s side.

+ She is generally peaceful and doesn’t move much. She is a relatively quiet being with no explicit ability to defend herself or attack. I imagine her to be very dreamy, despite her piercing stare.

2) Celestial Object Jazz

+ She is a quasi-stellar radio source, AKA a quasar :)

+ Impossibly large and infinite. She is so big that her gravitational pull is pulling apart a piece of the universe. Jason thinks that she’s beautiful, and he looks for her every night. He uses special technology to see her on Earth and when he can, he sneaks onto the Watchtower to look at her.

+ The mass of the black hole that she is made of is around 150 billion solar masses. She is located extremely far from the Milky Way within the largest galaxy of the universe. Since she is technically both the black hole and the gas that surrounds it, she won’t be fading for awhile.

+ Her origin is unknown in this idea (but is related to her siblings, who have all become celestial objects themselves). Her existence is extremely old and that is partially Clockwork’s fault.

3) Corrupted Jazz

+ She has become corrupted from years of ectoplasm, death, and generally instability. The tentacles that come from her stomach is actually just pieces of her soul that are trying to reach for others. She calls for help, but no one but Jason has been reaching out.

+ She cannot be around people for too long, or she causes insanity, violent mood swings, headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations, paranoia, nosebleeds, and general weakness, even if they cannot see her. Jason is somewhat resistant to her, but she heavily restrains herself so the effects of her existence won’t hurt him.

+ She tries to stay away from Jason, but bc she’s so clingy, she watches him from a distance. Her presence brings shadows and darkness, so he’s also been getting a reputation of scaring criminals to pissing themselves whenever he comes by.

+ Her body is covered in shadows, but she glows a little from the ectoplasm, so her silhouette can be vaguely seen.

4) Monochrome Jazz

+ Inspired by Lady Dimitrescu and Hachishakusama

+ She dresses in all black and her skin is pale as well. A hat and face mask cover all available skin on her face. Any skin below the neck is also covered.

+ She is around 9 feet tall. She stalks Jason whenever she can and always follows him around. She is extremely hostile and dangerous and does not hesitate to attack when she feels even the slightest bit threatened. She is also completely mute.

+ She is both a ghost and an urban legend, hence why she looks like that. Underneath her mask is a mouth of razor sharp teeth like a moray eel.

5) Wolf Jazz

+ Inspired by Jason’s Red Hood motif that is similar to Little Red Riding Hood. That’s also why I associate Jazz with so many canine themes :)

+ Black fur, several pairs of eyes, and two sets of deformed ears. I am debating whether or not she also has 3 pairs of legs.

+ She follows Jason around like a dog, but does not behave like a pet. As such, he can’t order her around unless she wants to listen to him. Thankfully, she likes cooperating with him and the two of them terrorize the criminals of Crime Alley.

+ She is around 5 feet tall when standing on all fours, but when she stands up on her hind legs, she is around 9 feet tall. She is very fluffy.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Hunting! (1)

I should have known better. They told us. TRAINED US. Over and over, drilled into our heads! Don't assume! Don't PROJECT Human body language onto alien species! Think that just because they look similar, are ACTING similar, their brains are in any way WORKING similar!

Not every species pack bonds! Some of them are PREDATORS. Be CAREFUL!

I was an idiot. A fucking IDIOT!

I gasped for air. Ran. Ran and ran and RAN. Desperately trying to put distance between me and the hunters behind me. I could hear screams. Crashing. The sound of weapon fire. The air here wasn't RIGHT. Too high in oxygen? Too low? Some other trace element, slowly poisoning my lungs?

I didn't know. Scared! Oh god, I'm so scared!

I thought he was my friend!

Thought THEY were my friends! Stupid. So God damned stupid! You really will pack bond with ANYTHING, won't you?! They bare their teeth and you fucking thought it was a SMILE! No wonder I barely graduated. They never should have-!

A root catches my foot.

Crashing to the mulch of the forest floor. Scramble to get up. My ankle on fire. Hurts. Oh god it hurts! Ignore it. Go! Keep going! Gotta get OUT! Find a ship. Any ship! Radio for help!

All the trees look the same. Am I even going in a straight line? Deeper or across? Away from civilization? I don't know how to survive here! Can I even drink the water? No. Run! Just RUN! Nothing else!

I can't hear them.

Him.

I thought he was my friend.

My grades were shit. Worst of the Best, but ultimately good enough. Got to see the stars. The galaxy. Meet real life aliens. Was a glorified gofer for the Earthling Diplomat's Entourage. Galactic Council offered staff. Wasn't really an offer. We took um. Some of them were the "better" guards then the super military badasses we had brought.

Military badasses were pretty offended.

But I was a gofer. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Just here for the aliens, right? Yay getting to meet some, right? I couldn't even PRONOUNCE their species name. I was mortified. Tried my damnedest. They thought it was hilarious. My pronunciation was god awful. Was calling them the cutesy babified version of "office chair".

Met Wolfe. He seemed FRIENDLY. Kind. Considerate. He told jokes. Asked about my day. I started sharing. Hobbies and interests. Stories about home. Explained weird human behaviors. We were close. I... I thought we were close! Was it a lie? Was everything A LIE!?

When my rotation in space was coming to an end, I was SAD! Fucking HEARTBROKEN! That I might never see my friends again. Since communication between our two planets wasn't even stabilized yet. Might never be. I wanted to savor our time together. Treasure it!

But then things started to go wrong.

Random malfunctions, that delayed and delayed us. Lost communications that nearly caused interplanetary incidents. Took days and weeks to fix at a time. People went MISSING. We looked. Every time we LOOKED!

They're dead, aren't they? Oh god. Dozens of crew members DEAD.

Then the engine "broke". Conveniently just close enough for us to make an emergency landing on this planet! And oh, would you look at THAT! A sacred cultural festival!? They won't help us unless we join in.

It's a MARRIAGE HUNT.

Heavy emphasis on the HUNT part!

They weren't surprised. Not a single one. Every last one just turned too different people and... and...! Wolfe planned this. THEY planned this! We're gonna die. I trusted him and now I'm gonna DIE! Can't breathe! Branches whipping at my arms and hair and face, as I RUN. Down slopes. Across shallow rivers. Even as my limbs BURN. I... I HAVE TOO-!

A powerful wall of muscle slams into me.

I scream. Thrash, even as I fall. My arms are easily tucked and pinned against my side, as the body covering mine rolls with me down a slight incline. The smell of wet plant matter and upturned soil thick in the strange air. Dizzy. I feel sick. Oh god please no!

Heat and pressure pin me down. Arms like thick steel bands. Still, I struggle, like a cornered animal. I have too. They always tell you to FIGHT. Only chance and survival. The deep rumble of crooned reassurances in an alien dialect fill my ear. I can feel how DEEPLY he breathes me in, before each sentence. Like hes been holding back and finally no longer has too, is giddy with it. How his hands already spread possessively, eager to explore.

And he's strong. Oh god, he's so strong! Please please please! Let go. LET GO!

"Shhhhhh shh shh, is 'okay' now. I have you. You ran so hard! Did so well! My precious little human~ so brave. So strong. You did it! Now, no one can EVER seperate us! You don't have to worry anymore. No more tears~" Hunter, Warrior, oh god it was never a GRIN-! His teeth are so sharp. Pressed so close to my skin!

"I'll take care of EVERYTHING~"

I'm scared.

[candiedspit]

Smear Frame (1992)

The night I got home from the hospital, we had peas and squash and good chicken. Nobody spoke. The radio spoke for us; vitamin deficiencies, lights spotted across Vegas, another building demolition. The first couple of days, I stayed in my room throwing a ball against the wall, doing long division in my head. The television playing a documentary about squid brains. On the third night, mama asked what I was planning to do.

You can be a thing in the world, she told me.

We were in the kitchen, the evening light staining the windows above the sink.

You do have a choice, she continued. But you choose to suffer like an idiot. Even the rabbit knows better than to follow the wolf.

Learn something, Jane.

And she left the room. I held her words in the belly of my chest, going over them again and again. That night, I got dressed in my trench coat and went out to the middle of town. The lights were buoyant and fresh, amazing slashes, amazing range. The moon was pinned against the skies like a cop’s badge. I stepped into Lousy’s which was a bar I had been to before. I liked it because it was dark and cold. I often pretended I was in a cave or in some sort of comet, minutes away from approaching the quiet tendrils of earth.

I ordered a Shirley temple and sat at the bar watching the bartender spin and shake and serve drinks.

What’s the drink with the longest name? I asked.

A terrible, unearthed bitter and lame dirt tonic, he said.

I mused on this for a while and eventually someone spoke to me. An older woman wearing red and large earrings asked me what time it was. I shrugged.

Maybe sometime around midnight, I said.

Don’t you have a watch? She asked. What kinda man doesn’t have a watch?

The question of my masculinity continues to come under fire, I laughed.

So, what’s your problem? She asked. Why are you here at maybe sometime around midnight?

I got out of the loony bin last weekend, I said. I’m trying to map out the world again.

How long were you in there for?

Six weeks, I said.

Do they zap your brain? She asked. I had a cousin like that, always in and out of those places.

How is he doing? I asked.

On the side of the road, she said. Begging for cash, not hiding the bad time he’s having.

That’s admirable. But no, they didn’t zap my brain.

Did they strangle you with Valium?

I was never sedated, I said.

Who put you there?

My parents, I said, I was seeing the holes in the plot, could see the failing strings in the fabric of the universe, the whole picture. I stoped eating, stopped sleeping. All I did was play chess with spirits and paint my nails over and over again. I showed the woman my hands. See? They’re clean.

The woman was quiet, sipped on her drink. I continued.

It was sorta nice, I admitted, not speaking to anyone but sounding out the idea.

Being taken care of like an infant who can’t speak. You get medication in the morning and you moan about the news. Someone starts screaming. Someone stops screaming. You go into a dreamless, milky sleep. And your roommate mumbles in his sleep, sweet robotic poems. And you don’t have a pencil so you commit them to memory; a fog roars, abstain, chapel, chapel, chapel. And you disappear from the world. Headlines float around every day and you wander around the unit making funny faces to entertain yourself and someone calls you and they ask how you are and you tell them you can’t wait to go home. And then you get home and the world is indifferent.

Cheers, the woman said.

And we clinked our glasses. Around three, the woman stood up and gave me her number and shook my hand and left. I kept the slip of paper in my coat pocket. I went out to walk by the river-end, watching the rising of the waters, the night reflected on the surface, dark rivulets. A sort of vile peace.

A couple of months afterward, I found work at a fish market. Slicing trout in half and packaging swordfish into white papers. The work was mindless, bleeding work. Nobody spoke to me. I smoked cigarettes. When I got home, the house smelled of blood.

A while later on, I called the woman. I was on my way home from work. I had not spoken to another human being in ten hours. I had forgotten what my voice sounded like. I could see myself getting slower by the minute. Words died in my head like vermin. The woman answered within four rings. I explained who I was. The boy in the trench coat. It was nighttime and we spoke for a while. You were drinking a tall martini and every so often would dive into your purse to fix your lipstick.

You sound different, she said.

I feel different, I said. I feel like an aspirin. I feel like a headache that won’t resolve.

Where are you? She asked.

By the river, I said. I like seeing the water enunciate. Where are you?

She told me she was making tea for her husband.

He’s not feeling well, she said. I’m doing what people say to do; ginger and saltines and warm baths. But he’s persistent with his pain.

Some people are, I said.

The clouds are fragrant tonight, I continued.

It’s getting late. I can see my mother checking the time, fidgeting in the kitchen then checking again. It’s something I relish. Getting home late. The worry she must feel. The worst things happen in your brain. Perhaps I fell down a flight of stairs. Perhaps I cut my hand open on a knife and I’m in the hospital bleeding out beneath the fluorescent lights. She has a feeling but doesn’t want to endorse the feeling in case it becomes a truth. And when I arrive at last, the feeling subsides and instead is replaced with a mute disappointment. I am the one she loves but not the one she missed.

I began to call the woman—whose name I never bothered to ask for, I wanted to name her myself—often. When I was on my lunch break barely eating a tuna sandwich. When I was smoking cigarettes. When I was in my room reading the newspaper and playing with myself. When I was half asleep.

Once, I was naked in bed with the radio on, and there was a sullen exasperation in my stomach. I felt as though I knew when I was going to die and if I focused long enough the date would come to me, would emerge from the foggy brain matter and I would be freed. I had been thinking of death for weeks. Death was my babe, my habit. I had visions of my own death. Dying struck by a moving car and being stuck in the tire. An aneurysm so I’m alive one moment and exploding the next. Being stunned by a bullet and feeling my cells gasp in unison.

Death is an orgasm, I told the woman one night. Death is a great, wondrous love. You go into the light. You feel peace for the first time in your pathetic silly little life.

You sound twisted, the woman said. Death is what you avoid, everything you do, you do to put death out. Your bravado is not going to protect you from what will happen or what has happened.

That winter I was sleepless. I slept for thirty minutes at a time, watched the sunrise slur into my windows, made tea for my parents and gutted samurai fish and wrapped tuna and walked around town, dreaming of poisonous gas. Sometimes, I choked on my visions.

One afternoon, I felt a pop in the back of my head and walked out of work during my lunch break. And walked straight home. When my mother saw me, she placed me on the couch and pointed a flashlight in my eyes and placed a cold towel on my forehead. I mumbled for the angels.

I had been in the hospital for two weeks when I called the woman, I had been blotted out and cast into a week of sleep. I was feeling alright.

What kind of dreams have you been having? The woman asked,

I don’t dream, I told her. I stumble in and out of sleep like a newly born calf. I feel like I’m full of milk, a white calmness in my arteries, a saline stillness.

Come see me, I said. Come see my blue scrubs and bandaged fingers and dirty acne and limp, sedated gait.

I will, she said.

It was New Year’s Eve when she came. The nurses had hung up garlands and the television played the ball drop in New York City; that mirage a thousand light years away.

We were given virgin champagne and the nurses counted down with us and the woman was there, her hand on my back.

Focus on living one breath at a time, she said. Count the breaths until you forget you’re even counting.

The year turned over onto her stomach. That night, I laid down and recounted the poem again.

Chapel. Chapel. Chapel.

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

---

Chapter Eight: Home, Safe.

Now Playing: Everlong by Foo Fighters

Charlie was pissed when he found out that Bella had run off to Italy to save Edward. I couldn’t really blame him.

Jacob was pissed that she was running back to him after all the shit he put her through. The rest of the pack agreed, but I thought they were a little biased. I agreed with them, so I suppose I was biased, too.

I was grounded for not telling Charlie about Bella leaving, so for the entirety of Spring Break I was locked in the house until Charlie fell asleep. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? I sounded like my sister.

When Charlie fell asleep, I would slip through my window and into the woods. Jacob would be waiting for me in wolf form, letting me climb on his back so he could whisk me away to Emily’s. I would wait anxiously for a call from Bella, but all I got was radio silence.

She had left the first day of break. Three days later, and she still wasn’t back. I had no explanation, no texts, and no returned calls.

Sitting at the dinner table at Emily’s was comforting. We had two new additions to the pack; Seth and Leah Clearwater.

I didn’t think Leah was meant to turn. She was twenty one, older even than Sam was when he changed. The proximity to a vampire triggered it, though, just like everyone else.

Her brother, Seth, was forced to change before his body was ready. He was only fourteen, and he had been a scrawny kid, too. The stress of his father dying and sister turning had shoved him into his own change.

Jacob had told me that the first change was painful for everyone, but that it had especially hurt for Seth. His body had rapidly developed the fever, shooting his temperature up from ninety-eight degrees to one hundred and eight. He had passed out, his body trying to save him some of the pain as it tore itself apart during his transformation into a wolf.

Jared had whispered to me that Seth had broken or tore nearly everything in his body. They had to call his mother to come help set it all again so he would heal properly. I realized then that rapid healing didn’t always mean correct healing.

I snapped back into reality when I realized that everyone was looking at me. I cleared my throat, “Sorry, zoned out.”

Quil laughed, “You need some sleep, Y/n.”

“I’m well aware,” I sighed, reaching out to take a sip of my water. The phone rings and Paul answers it as he’s getting another burger. His eyes go wide.

“Y/n, it’s Bella!” He says, and I’m up as soon as he says my name. I clamor around the table, nearly tripping over Jared’s large furry ass as he lays on the floor in wolf form. I quickly regain my balance as Jacob hauls me back to my feet, the two of us anxious to hear my sister speak.

“Bella?” I ask, my heart beating in my chest, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, we’re all okay, Y/n,” She says, her voice slightly raw. “We’re heading back to Forks now.”

I glance at Jacob, and he gives me a meaningful look.

Carefully, I ask, “You mean yourself and Alice, right?”

She hesitates, and I sigh loudly.

“Am I on speaker? Actually, no, he can hear me anyway, right?” I don’t wait for an answer, barreling on with my rant, “Edward, you sparkly leech, leave my sister the hell alone! She was finally happy and now you have to go and mess everything up again!”

“Y/n—” Bella tries, but I cut her off again.

“No! No, he needs to hear this!” I say vehemently, “He needs to know the hell he put you through while he was traveling around the world for funsies, and how he’s going to screw everything back up by coming back!”

I speak directly to Edward now, “I don’t care if you’re some immortal vampire, asshole, if you come back to Forks to fuck up my sister’s life again, I’m gonna make you wish you had never been reborn as a sickly reanimated corpse!”

There’s silence on the other end, and I know Bella’s hurt by my words. I don’t care. Let her be hurt by the truth and by the fact that neither Charlie nor I can stand that boy.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Alice says, “I’ll deliver Bella safe and sound to your home, Edward will stay away.”

“Thank you, Alice.” I say, my voice harsh but infinitely kinder to her, “Drive safe getting here. Bella; I love you, I’ll see you soon, and also you’re grounded. Charlie’s pissed.”

She sighs, mumbling, “Yeah, I figured. I love you too, Y/n, I’ll see you tonight.

The line goes dead and I hang the phone up.

“She’ll be back home tonight,” I announce, cheers ringing up. I continue, “She’s bringing that freak back with her.”

Boos and gags sound, and it makes me feel better. An idea floats in my mind, and I grin.

“Jake, I need you to go into the spare closet of the house and get the duffle bag of clothes we haven’t donated yet.” I order, and he salutes me, grinning, before turning and running.

“Why’re you grinning like that,” Embry complains, “It’s scaring the children.”

“I’m not scared!” Seth protests, but Embry shoots him a baffled look, “I’m children! I’m scared!”

I ignore them, “Sam, I need to borrow any shirts that don’t fit you.”

He eyes me, “What for?”

“To piss off Eddie boy, what else?” I ask, going into the laundry room and finding all the clothing scraps we haven’t been able to throw away yet. I put them in an old grocery bag and set them in my room. When I get back, Jacob is panting as he hands me the duffle. I grin, setting it down on the table and pulling out shirts.

I hand a pile of shirts to everyone with instructions to either hold them, wear them, or somehow make them smell like a werewolf. The biggest pile goes to Jacob, and I take the remaining pile and crouch beside Jared, still in wolf form.

“Hey buddy,” I say slyly, and he almost seems to laugh as he rolls over onto his back. I snicker as I rub several shirts over him, looking up when I hear laughter.

Quil has stuffed himself into one of my old shirts, and it looks like it’s about to burst at the seams. It fits him like a crop top, tight as a corset. I cackle as he pretends to model it, laughing harder when he moves a little too much and splits it in half.

---

When Bella comes back, I had already hidden the clothes around the house. In the vents, under her floor boards, under her mattress, in her pillows, behind the mirror in the bathroom, anywhere and everywhere I could think of was fair game. I was even wearing one of the shirts, just in case Edward made an appearance. I had a good deal of them hidden in my room, and Charlie’s. Again, just in case.

He didn’t come, thank god. Alice wrinkled her nose when she got here, but gave me a hug anyway. I hugged her tight, thanking her for keeping my sister safe.

Bella went and showered. I sat in her room and waited for her to come out. When she did, I saw how weary she looked. I didn’t ask questions, just wrapped her in a blanket and turned off the lights.

Charlie was furious the next morning, telling her she was grounded until she wasn’t anymore. She accepted it with grace.

---

Months passed. It was summer now.

I stormed into Emily’s house, throwing the door open as they all sat down for lunch.

“Woah, what’s got you bent out of shape?” Quill teased, and my scowl deepened.

“That stupid, idiotic girl is accepting him back into her life so easily!” I yell, flinging my hand out in a direction that isn’t necessary towards my house. Jacob dodges my arm easily, continuing to eat moodily.

I pitch my voice higher, “‘Oh Edward, my sickly Victorian child, I missed you so much! Please, make me your vampire child bride! I don’t want my soul anymore, I don’t care what this will do to my family, I—”

I take a shuddering breath, hot tears streaming down my face. Emily stands, coming to hug me tightly.

“Oh, Y/n,” she says quietly, rubbing my back.

“She’s so stupid,” I bite out, “Throwing away her life for—for him!”

Jacob had stopped eating, staring furiously at the table. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his body shaking. He looks up at me, his eyes blazing.

“Well then, I suppose that we’ll just have to try and be voices of reason.” He spits out, and I sniff, nodding.

“Besides Edward,” Sam said slowly, “Why does she want to become a vampire?”

I swipe at my eyes furiously, “Apparently Alice saw her as one in a vision. You know, the ones that are constantly subject to change.”

I know I sound bitter, but I feel betrayed. I don’t want to lose my sister.

---

Edward had appeared at Roy’s the day I started back. I scowled when I saw him, but he held up his hands.

“I’m here to tell you what Bella isn’t.” He said, and my attention was snagged.

I stared for a moment, then slid into the booth seat across from him. I had gotten off work already, so I had time.

“Bella wants to become a Vampire.” He said, and I nodded. “I don’t want that. I want her to remain human for as long as possible. I want her to stay human forever.”

His words surprised me. I had figured that he was the one to put ideas of vampirism into Bella’s head, but he was apparently thoroughly against it.

“She had my family vote.” My heart stopped in my chest. He continued, “Everyone voted yes aside from Rosalie and I. Neither of us want her to be changed.”

I clenched my hands into fists, “Why tell me this?”

He sighed, “Because I’m hoping that you can talk sense into her. I haven’t been able to, Rosalie can’t. You and the wolves are our last ditch effort to dissuade Bella from becoming a vampire.”

I was silent.

“What are you telling her to keep her from getting someone else to do it for her?” I asked, and he paused. I scoffed, “She wants you to do it, right?”

He nodded, and I continued, “She’s stubborn. If you won’t do it for her, she’ll get someone else to. My bet’s on Alice.”

He let out an odd sort of snarling sound, vaguely similar to one of the snorting sounds that the guys would make in wolf form when they would fight playfully. This was out of frustration, though.

“Tell her something, anything that would keep her from getting someone else to turn her,” I begged, “Buy time, and I’ll change her mind.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I’ll do my best.” He said quietly, looking almost defeated.

He got up to leave, but I grabbed his arm.

I flinched, so used to feeling higher temperatures that it was a momentary shock to feel his frozen skin.

“Give me your number. We’ll keep each other updated so Bella can’t hide or lie.” He nodded, handing me his cell. I punched in my number, texted myself so I had his, and nodded.

“I still hate you.” I told him, “But I hate you less for this.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“I’ll take what I can get, I suppose.” He said, then added, “I did think I was doing the right thing, leaving her. I thought she would be better off.”

“She was.” I tell him, adding, “But there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

---

Ok!! Short chapter to transition between New Moon and Eclipse! I do plan to give reader some more clarity on Edward’s feelings btw bc I knowwweww he was pressed about Bella wanting to be turned.

Anyway, I hope yall enjoyed ☺️

[houseofwolves-v1]

Hi friends, I finally have consistent reliable cell service again for the first time since Friday. I’m so incredibly thankful that my family and friends are all safe and experiencing only minimal disruption to our homes and living situations in the wake of Hurricane Helene, especially since the same cannot be said for the majority of our area.

I’m going to be compiling a list of local nonprofits and mutual aid funds in Western North Carolina that are helping with disaster relief that are in need of donations and support (I’ll continue editing this post to add more as I find them)

My family and I are doing what we can to help out since we have the ability to do so, but resources are scarce here right now and outside help is greatly appreciated. That being said, please please please DO NOT physically come and try to offer volunteer aid! There are coordinated groups that are making supply runs back and forth, and we need to make sure roads are kept as clear as possible so that emergency and utility workers are able to do their jobs. The majority of the area is still without power and/or water and there are enough of us in stable situations who can volunteer where it’s needed without bringing in people who will be unnecessarily using precious resources.

*EDIT: most places have received such an influx in donations they’re requesting a halt on physical items so that they have time to distribute everything, so monetary donations to purchase bigger ticket items (generators and other such things) are now the priority!* Items needed are non perishable food, bottled water, trash bags, blankets, first aid supplies, pads and tampons, diapers, formula, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, toilet paper, paper towels, bleach, shovels, gloves, coolers, propane, camp stoves, flashlights, and batteries. There are plenty of groups outside the area that are coordinating with groups here to bring those supplies up, so locating someone who is doing that to donate those supplies to is key if you’re wanting to offer a physical donation rather than monetary.

Buncombe County:

•Blue Ridge Public Radio has been an incredible source of information and provides regular updates, both on air at 88.1 if you’re local, and on their instagram page @/blueridgepublicradio (this one is a resource suggestion rather than a donation suggestion)

•BeLoved Asheville- local nonprofit working to distribute supplies and coordinate clean up efforts, Venmo: @/BeLoved-Asheville, PayPal: @/belovedasheville

•Babies Need Bottoms- local nonprofit distributing wipes and diapers, based in Asheville but serves all of Western NC normally, so hopefully they’ll be able to start expanding where they’re offering supplies to soon, Link to Donate: https://babiesneedbottoms.org/donate/

•Pansy Collective- mutual aid collective, also Asheville based but serving the Western NC area, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo and CashApp: @/pansycollective

•Asheville Survival Program- mutual aid collective, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo: @/AppMedSolid, CashApp: $streetsidehelene

•Manna Food Bank- private nonprofit distributing food, they serve all of Western NC but just had their headquarters severely damaged by flooding (although they have still been out regularly distributing food the past few days), Link to Donate: https://donate.mannafoodbank.org

•Brother Wolf Animal Rescue- local animal shelter that is urgently seeking foster homes for pets if you’re in the area, and also seeking monetary donations as their facility was severely damaged by flooding, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/rebuildbw

Madison County:

•Community Housing Coalition- local nonprofit providing home repairs to low income residents, Link to Donate: https://chcmadisoncountync.org/donate/

•Rural Organizing and Resilience (also known as ROAR WNC)- mutual aid effort working to get supplies out to people who can’t access shelters and food distribution sites, Link to Donate: https://ruralorganizing.wordpress.com/donate/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaYcowwFWXMZ2KX9E5soM2mg1dXfHbe3s8j1_S2D5HAuPuyYv3JtPXzeEDc_aem_rI_E3daUQlumDDLbIEn22g

•Holler Harm Reduction- mutual aid collective, working with ROAR to help distribute supplies, Link to Donate: https://www.hollerharmreduction.org/get-involved

Watauga County:

•@/sweetleaf161 on instagram- regularly sharing mutual aid links for Boone and surrounding areas

•Watauga Humane Society- working to provide pet food to locals, and offering available facility space for those needing a safe space for their pet to temporarily stay during this time, Link to Donate: https://wataugahumane.org/donate/doogies_hope

•F.A.R.M. Cafe- local nonprofit providing free or pay what you can meals, Link to Donate: https://farmcafe.org/donate

•Hunger and Health Coalition- local nonprofit distributing food and medications, based in Boone but serving the whole High Country area, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/thehungerandhealthcoalition

[rosewaterandivy]

i. aconite

Summary: there are strange things that go bump in the night, and then there’s steve harrington and his inexplicable nailbat.

Pairing: s.h. x f!werewolf reader

W.C.: 5.5K

Warnings: supernatural elements, questionable bodily substances in the adults only section of Family Video, steve gettin’ the heebie-jeebies

A/N: the thing that has been scratching at the back of my head for months tbh.

m.list | playlist

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

And if he’d only listened to Munson, he wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night with a nailbat and a flashlight.

But Steve wasn’t in the habit of heeding the advice of the harbinger of Hawkins from the wrong side of the tracks.

Not when there were things afoot that tended to go thump in the night. Not when Munson’s girl wound up bruised and unconscious on his doorstep.

There had to be a logical explanation, right?

Unfortunately for him, these woods had secrets to keep and you had miles to go before you would sleep.

The moon shone low and lonely in the night sky, illuminating the man in front of you— his coif of hair and lazy swinging of the bat.

The weak yellow beam of his flashlight cast about this way and that with every step he took further into the woods past his house.

Picking your way across the pine needle-ridden forest floor, you trailed him at a leisurely pace. Senses heightened, you could hear the dry snap of twigs under his feet and the soft whistle from his lips; could smell the sweat beading on his brow, his cologne giving way to salty musk beneath.

Even in your sleep, you could track him— never mind how much you wish that weren’t the case.

Not, of course, that he knew any of this. Eddie had seen to that. And yet, despite the warnings, here he was: Steve Harrington ambling about the woods on the night of a full moon, seemingly without a care in the world.

And it fell to your lot to see that no harm befell him, even though he’d cast his crown aside long ago and traded it in for a rowdy bunch of kids and shifts at Family Video.

None of that mattered in the end, because King Steve or no you’d run until your feet were bloody if it meant keeping him safe.

That’s what you’d been born, cursed as you were, to do— protect.

Kill, if the occasion warranted it.

Though, it would help matters if he didn’t get himself into so much trouble.

But hey, we can’t have everything, right?

The first time it happened, it was a coincidence. The house did back up against a forested lot afterall.

The second time it happened, it was an accident. Cutting it too close to daybreak and utterly exhausted from activities hidden under a blanket of darkness.

The third time though…

The third time signified a pattern, and not one you could necessarily recognize.

Because when it happened, the wolf, the beast, the curse, what have you, the world narrowed to a singular point of focus.

Loping in the underbrush of the dense forest, pure instinct called you to follow a scent you couldn’t quite name— sharp, salty, with a tang that lingered on the tongue. Warm like the sun, and beckoning like a raging fire.

Mine, the beast purred from the depths of your throat.

In this form, the rational and logical part of you fell by the wayside as the beast unfurled and stretched to fill the caverns of your mind.

Retaining just enough of your waking self, you paused at the edge of the forest ears attuned to the sounds of the evening air. Radio frequencies, TV static, car engines turning over, water rushing through pipes.

Yet one sound soared above them all.

Stay, the beast hummed as you sat back on your haunches.

Foolishly, a part of you hoped to hear the bright sound once more, to have it fill the well inside of you and overflow into your veins.

A laugh.

“Robin, knock it off!”

The beast sighed as you settled against the underbrush, chest and stomach to the earth.

A surge of longing threatened to pull you under, a low whine eeking from the cavern of your chest. Laying your head down on the cool ground, you swallowed thickly around that hollow feeling.

Wait.

The last full moon had found you alone and waking up in the back of Eddie’s van as he drove down the quiet suburban streets of Loch Nora.

”Again?”

Your voice was barely a rasp, sore from disuse in its normal register, striking a muddled alto in the otherwise silent morning.

Eddie just sighed and reached over to toss an old Hellfire shirt and some boxers your way.

Shrugging off his jacket and the musty blanket he laid on you, you tugged on the worn raglan and shimmied into the plaid shorts. Once decent, you clambered over the console and tumbled into the front seat.

Your body, while sore and aching, didn’t audibly complain. Far used to rougher treatment by now, especially after a full moon.

He lights up a cigarette, not bothering to crack a window or look your way. Just simply and calmly states, “I told you so.”

Fuck.

The chains and aconite were supposed to be enough, that’s what all the books said. At least, all the books you could scrounge up in Hawkins.

A dull ache radiated from your wrists, telltale bruising from the shackles that were meant to contain the beast.

It was you, you were the beast— as if you could ever forget.

Lycanthropy by way of puberty, what a welcome into womanhood, huh?

”The chains are shot,” He says, turning onto the main drag. “Drywall too.”

You rolled your lip between your teeth and slumped down into the seat, heating in embarrassment.

”I’ll pay for the repairs.”

Eddie grunts and takes a long drag from the cigarette. He exhales slowly, rolling through a stop light before pulling off toward Forest Hills.

Silence from your best friend was never a good thing. All it signaled was a prelude to the inevitable rant driven by sheer boredom or hunger. But maybe, he was just tired.

You certainly were.

He parks the van and swings out of the door, loping onto the ground with the grace of a beleaguered old man, his knees cracking and popping like a bag of marbles. You follow shortly after, and no worse for wear, in spite of your bruises.

The comforting scent of tobacco and coffee hits your nostrils and the tension of your body melts away. Wayne left a warm pot on before passing out on the couch, and you tip-toe your way across the trailer as silently as you’re able.

You take a deep, bracing sip from a mug heralding Roswell as the ‘UFO Capital of the World!’ as cinnamon dances across your tongue.

Good ol’ Wayne.

Eddie is in his bedroom, cigarette dangling from his lips as he throws your backpack over his shoulder and eyes you up and down.

“Pants and shoes would be good,” He suggests, brushing past you on his way out the door. “We’re leaving in five.”

Setting the coffee aside, you scramble through piles of clothing, their cleanliness questionable, searching for anything that doesn’t scream ‘freshly fucked by Eddie Munson.’

You chug the coffee on the way to school, the sounds of Dio doing absolutely nothing for the throbbing pain behind your left eye. The van squeals into a parking spot just as the tardy bell trills.

Eddie’s hand braces against your chest, halting your exit from the vehicle and ensuring a pink slip from a hall monitor. The morning cigarette seems to have settled him, his gaze now concerned rather than annoyed.

”I’m sorry,” you say glumly, carding a hand through your tangled hair and tying it up in a loose bun. “I thought it would work Ed, I really fucking did.” Hands scrub down your face, desperately trying to hide your shame.

He pulls you toward him in a loose hug, his chin tucking over your head as it's buried in his chest. Soft, warm, familiar, his scent burrows its way into your consciousness calming the racket of your heart.

”We’ll figure it out, kid.”

And you’re about to laugh, can feel it wet and thick, currently lodged in your throat, when a maroon BMW swings into a spot not five paces away.

Tension cords the tendons of your body, a breath escapes you, as if it’s been forced from your chest. Pulse accelerating, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to just breathe.

Safe with Eddie. Safe with Eddie. Safe with—

A discongruent note of citrus and musk tinges the air. The sound of laughter, a euphoric baritone against a sputtering, higher-pitched explanation churns like magma through your veins.

You shudder in his hold, but it’s enough.

He tugs you closer and drops an affectionate kiss to the crown of your head before saying, “Okay, fuck this.”

The engine roars to life.

Before Eddie can hightail it out of the parking lot, your head swivels back to catch a glance from warm hazel eyes, and you can’t help the pathetic whine that eeks up your throat.

”So,” He clears his throat, hands fidgeting on the wheel, “It’s getting worse.”

Facing forward once the school is out of sight, you draw your knees into your seat and rest your head against them.

”Yeah,” you say glumly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Later that week, when Steve and Robin are drawing straws for who has to wipe down the 'ADULTS ONLY' room and the crusty questionable remnants found therein, she asks:

”So, anymore of those weird dreams?”

Steve takes his time picking his straw, moving left and then right to gauge length before taking a step back and cocking his head.

Robin has her fingers curled in a tight fist, making it difficult to assess which straw is the shorter of the two. And Steve braved the room behind the little red curtain last week, so he’s not terribly keen to see what fresh hell is back there now.

”Not since I told you last time, no.”

Surprisingly, there is rather a bit of time to kill after the evening rush on a Friday night at Family Video. The girls coming in for candy and movies at their sleepovers, toddlers absolutely wrecking the shelves as they sweep through with abandon, harried mothers trailing in their wake.

As such, Robin has pitched herself as a quasi-dream interpreter after reading some book about the subject, much to Steve’s chagrin and her entertainment.

”Seriously, nothing?” Her eyes blow wide, eager for anything to alleviate her boredom.

Steve assesses his options, eyes narrowing and biting his lip as he goes in for the kill. He pulls a straw from Robin’s grasp just as the bell on the door chimes, signaling a new customer.

”Welcome in,” Robin chirps, unraveling her fingers to reveal her straw.

”Let us know if you need any help!” Steve adds on automatically, holding his straw to hers for measurement.

She groans when she realizes that she’s drawn the short straw, eyes rolling in distaste while Steve pumps his fist into the air in victory. Robin grabs the gloves under the cash register, a spray bottle of cleaning fluid, and a rag.

”If I’m not back in ten minutes…”

”Call the NRA—“

”EPA!”

”Yeah, yeah,” He smirks at her indignant squawk, “I know.” And waves Robin off to the back of the store with a lazy hand.

Steve leans against the counter, hand falling to a slinky resting on the laminate. He props himself up on an elbow, cupping his jaw with one hand, and wraps his fingers around the glorified silver spring.

He nearly forgets there’s a customer in the store until someone softly clears their throat. Letting the slinky drop with a metallic ching, Steve looks up to find a familiar face.

“Hey,” he greets as you slide the tapes across the counter, “Find everything okay?”

You nod, pulling out your wallet out of your pocket to count some bills as he tallies up the total.

It’s quiet, save for the rattle of the air conditioner and sound of plastic as Steve runs the tapes through the machine to unlock the cases. He can see you worry your bottom lip in between your teeth, the raw red of your lips a stark contrast to the white of your teeth.

And it’s not like he’s staring or anything; Steve’s mindful to keep his gaze moving, not landing in a particular spot for too long. That is until your eyes meet his and he drops a tape onto the floor.

“Shit,” He mutters, kneeling down behind the counter to reach it.

Your eyes aren’t normally that bright, are they? It’s just a trick of the light, surely.

He returns, momentarily baffled to find Eddie at your side, because he didn’t remember hearing the bell chime from the door.

Steve nods to Eddie in greeting and slides the case through the machine. He keys in a code on the register before asking, “Weekend rental?”

Again, you nod. Lip popping plump and full as your teeth retreat.

“Okay, so, Sunday night return,” Steve says and rattles off your total.

Sliding the bills across the table, his fingers brush yours just barely, and you retract your hand as if it’d been burned.

The register drawer dings open and before he can give you a receipt, you’re gone.

Eddie stands at the counter, the door swinging in the wake of your exit.

“She had to, uh—“ He begins to say, fingers drumming on the laminate. “Y’know what? It really doesn’t matter.”

He takes the receipt from Steve and shoves it into his pocket, leisurely backing toward the door.

“Dunno if you heard,” He says, voice raising just slightly as his back pushes against the glass and metal. “But there’s a party out on the lake, if you’re interested.”

”Yeah?”

He nods as Robin, dramatically shoves the velvet curtain open, the screeching metallic sound jarring as she stumbles toward the counter.

Eddie raises his brows in interest and bemusement, while Robin peels the yellow gloves from her arms and plops them into a nearby trash can.

”Yeah, some bonfire thing.” He kicks his foot back, the bell chiming as Eddie exits the store, “You should come by, if you want.”

Robin glances between Eddie’s retreating back and Steve, curiosity evident in her gaze.

”What was that all about?”

Steve shakes his head, momentarily transfixed at the memory of your eyes— so bright, they were nearly phosphorescent. Fascinating in the way they captivated him, both alluring and haunting.

He couldn’t recall seeing a color or hue quite like it, except for in his dreams.

The bonfire had been burning for a little over an hour by the time you and Eddie arrived on the scene.

You’d killed the time by categorizing the little baggies of his lunchbox, under the guise of double-checking that he had enough stock from Rick for the evening’s business. When, in reality, you were making sure none of your wolfsbane had made its way into tonight’s offerings.

Not that there would be much of the dried blue petals left to do much of anything to the average American teenager. You’d been pounding the stuff all week, as if it was going out of style.

Anything to keep the beast in its slumber.

Following Eddie as he made his way through the crowd of drunk or on their way to it teens, you pondered the recent uptick in Wolf-like Incidents you’d had to deal with.

Because, while incredibly annoying, the beast used to be reliable. Every full moon, like clockwork, you would up your intake of aconite in the days leading up to it.

And it used to be enough to quell the ache in your bones. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you wouldn’t even transform at all. Just wake the next morning feeling like fresh road kill.

But recently things had been… well, worse, for one.

The tinctures and teas didn’t cut it any more, so after copious research you had added chains to the equation. That helped, for a time. And that time was quickly coming to a close.

Now, even without the ticking time bomb of a full moon, you felt the throb of your canines pushing underneath your gums. You had blood in your mouth, more often than not. And your senses seemed permanently heightened— scent, sound, touch.

It made day-to-day life an over-sensitized nightmare that you couldn’t wake from.

At least under a full moon, the preternatural senses were a boon rather than a burden.

Catching your gaze, Eddie nodded before slipping off with a few customers on the outskirts of the group. You kept your eyes trained on them as they walked further into the woods, even though he said he could handle himself.

Yeah, you could count on one hand the amount of times Eddie had successfully “handled” it. Settling your back against a tree trunk, you cross your arms and wait.

Robin is still fixing her hair when Steve kills the engine of the beemer at Lover’s Lake.

“Seriously, you look fine,” He says, opening the car door and shoving the keys into his pocket.

He can hear the thump of the music and see the golden and amber flames from the fire a ways away.

Robin shuts her door and Steve crosses the hood of the car to sling an arm around her shoulders.

“It’ll be fun,” He promises, breath tickling against her cheekbone.

They shoulder their way through the crowd leading up to the keg, where Steve watches with a smirk as two linebackers haul out a replacement keg.

They stare at each other for a minute, brows furrowed as to how the beer possibly escapes a sealed keg while the line behind them grows restless.

Steve sighs and extricates himself from Robin, “Where’s the tap?”

”What?”

He rolls his eyes, “The tap? The plastic pump that makes the beer come out?”

The linebackers nod and make a show of looking for the elusive tap. After a few minutes of frantic searching, there’s a victorious crow from the crowd when the tap if finally held aloft.

But still, the linebackers seem puzzled.

Steve, having quite enough of their bullshit, takes the tap from their grasp and slams it into the keg, twisting until a soft hiss sounds.

”Great,” He says, taking a step back. “Now, get to pumping. If I’m back in two minutes and you dinguses haven’t figured it out—“

Robin drags him away before he can finish the thought.

They tramp through the woods, twigs breaking underfoot, as Robin drags him along by the wrist. Beer cans skitter with a metallic clink as their shoes kick them along.

Once at the outskirts of the crowd, Robin drops his hand and turns to him with an incredulous look on her face.

“What is with you tonight?”

Her arms are crossed, a sure sign that she’s peeved, and he must be really in for it. She taps her foot impatiently awaiting his response.

“Nothing.”

She balks, “Yeah, sure. Then why the sudden emergence of King Steve, huh?”

“That wasn’t—“ He sputters, carding a hand through his hair.

He fails to string together any semblance of a response. Has no reason or excuse for how keyed up he feels right now. Itchy as if his skin is too tight, an impatient feeling skittering underneath the surface. Something is off, but he doesn’t know what. Which makes him frustrated, hence the scene at the keg.

The dull sounds of the party drown out the strained silence between them, the timber cracking from the bonfire loud enough to startle.

Steve starts to think that maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. But then, Robin’s eyes light up at something behind him. Steve turns to look and sees the copper flash of Vickie’s hair in the firelight.

He huffs a laugh and turns back to Robin with a smile, he jerks his head behind him and says, “Go.”

Robin pulls her lip between her teeth, “Y’sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

A smile breaks across her face as she pulls him into a hug, “You’re the best, Stevie.”

Steve sighs as he watches her go. Luckily she refrains from her typical idiot run— all gangly legs and spaghetti arms— and sends Vickie a shy wave as she skirts the bonfire and makes her way over.

Something tugs low in his gut, snapping like a rubber band. It’s an odd sensation and not entirely unpleasant, and Steve finds his blood thrumming just under the surface.

A languid breeze passes through, carrying on it a smoky woodiness and subtly crisp scent.

There’s something comforting in it, something familiar.

A sudden note of pine and rain steals the breath from his lungs. He exhales as if it was shoved from his chest, a dull pressure on his ribs and something akin to nausea swaying beneath his lungs.

He stumbles back, bracing himself against a nearby tree. Takes slow, deep breaths as the world shifts incrementally.

Steve blinks, his vision going fuzzy at the edges. The glow of the fire seems very far away, the sounds of the party even further.

Stay, says the voice in his mind.

And he readily agrees, swaying slightly as he sinks to the forest floor.

Under the dull roar of the crackling bonfire and whoops and hollers from the party, there’s a distinct sound of heavy breathing.

Your head turns to the left, closer to the party, and you narrow your gaze.

A body falls maybe a hundred or so yards away.

You’re on your feet before you can think twice about it, heart beating a tattoo in the cage of your ribs. Keeping your footfalls soft, you slow to a stop just as Robin’s mouth falls open in a soft gasp.

“Steve.”

He’s conscious but somewhat slumped against the trunk of an old oak tree.

Part of you knows that you should give them space, it is the polite thing to do, after all.

But a larger, territorial part of you snarls to say, “Stop,” as you stalk over to where he is.

Robin, curiously, does what she’s told.

He looks up at you, squinting eyes and furrowed brow, but says nothing. He takes deep breaths in and out, his chest rising and falling in equal measure, while your eyes rove across him.

There’s no copper tang in the air, and no broken skin that you can see.

Steve sits up a bit, appearing more alert than he was before. He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs, cheeks growing pink under your assessment.

“I’m fine,” His voice is syrupy thick and sends your blood surging. “Jus’ light headed is all.”

Robin hesitates stepping forward, eyes falling on you, as if for permission. You nod, not trusting yourself to snap at her, and watch as she crouches next to Steve.

Clenching your fists, you will the burning in your chest to subside.

Everything is fine, you try to reason, Robin’s just helping Steve get to his feet. She offers her hand to him and pulls him upright. He leans back against the trunk of the tree, eyes dreamy and hazy.

His lips kick up in an easy grin at the sight of you. Turned toward him, the firelight illuminates one side of your face, the other cast in shadow. Crossed arms, stiff posture your entire vibe screams ‘fuck off’ yet here you are.

Steve didn’t even realize a rager at Lover’s Lake would be your scene, but then again, where Eddie goes you tend to follow and vice versa. A lot like him and Robin in that respect. Still, it’s a nice surprise to see you there, lip worried between your teeth.

He wishes you wouldn’t do that, has half a mind to pull it from your glorious maw himself. Steve shivers and blinks owlishly at the thought.

“Thanks for uh…” He worries his thumb at the nape of his neck, searching for the words.

“Don’t mention it.” You say, incisors gleaming in the firelight.

Steve swallows, audibly. Blood rushing straight down at the sight of your pretty face, lips flushed, and eyes bright. God, he really shouldn’t have worn the Levi’s tonight— there’s no fucking give in these things.

He coughs and catches sight of Robin’s smirk. As you look back toward the crowd, she takes the opportunity to waggle her brows mischievously. Steve’s about to mouth something like ‘fuck off’ back to her when you turn back toward them.

“Robin!”

She turns and waves at Vickie who has two solo cups in her possession. Her eyes light up at the sight of the redhead, and it’s fairly obvious what’s about to transpire when you clear your throat to say:

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Buckley.”

“You sure?” She looks to Steve, questioning.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

You snort, “Right, sure.”

Robin’s pointy elbow lands in a patch of soft tissue on his side, just between his ribs. “That’s so nice of you!” She says brightly, “Isn’t that nice, Steve?”

“Uh huh, nice.”

“Be good,” She calls over her shoulder and melting back into the crowd.

An awkward beat of silence passes between you. Steve toes at the pine needles riddling the forest floor and grumbles, “I really don’t need a babysitter.”

“Well,” You say with a casual shrug. “I don’t see any babies that need sitting on at present so.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Mmm, clever.”

“I try.”

Joining him, you let your back rest against the oak tree, posture much more relaxed than when you first arrived. He can feel your breath as you exhale, the puffs of air brushing against his arm.

It’s a welcome distraction.

Because, let’s be honest, it’s not as if Steve really knows you. He remembers you, fleetingly, from the halls of Hawkins High— you and Eddie, bundles of frenetic energy careening from class to class. Loud, boisterous, and with an ever-present smile.

He remembers once overhearing the tail end of a conversation between you and Higgins about your “less than satisfactory” attendance. He’d been in the office with a doctor’s note or something, bargaining with the attendance clerk.

Higgins has his usual disdain written across his face, the stern line of his lips and arms crossed against his chest. You, however, were less than concerned. You shrugged on your backpack and left his office with a sarcastic salute.

“Aye, aye, cap’n!”

“Chief Hopper will be hearing about this, young lady!”

You turn, incredulous, “Oh," You lob back at him with mock sincerity, "Rest assured, sir, I’m shaking in my boots.”

And before Higgins can go postal on your ass, you dart past Steve and out of the office doors with a swiftness he could only envy.

So, yeah.

Steve and you had exchanged a grand total of maybe a dozen words the entire time you’d known one another. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for making any overtures of friendship.

Besides, you’re Eddie’s girl.

Everyone knows that, what with the way you’re attached at the hip most of the time. Your wardrobes are so intermingled by now, that Steve would bet good money you’d be hard-pressed to find a shirt that Eddie hadn’t wormed his way into.

He sighs, it’s better left alone.

Steve figures Robin will hitch a ride with Vickie or some band nerds whenever she’s ready to go and pulls his set of keys from his pocket. Before he realizes it, you’ve snatched the keys from his hand.

“What the—”

“Looks like I’m your chauffeur for this evening, Harrington.” Your tone brokers no room for argument as you twirl them in warm yellow light. “Where to?”

He trails after you, and your strides, oddly, rival his own.

“I really am fine,” Steve points out. “Seriously!”

You round the car and slide the key into the lock on the door, flicking your wrist to unlock the front cab. One hand catches the window of the door, resting casually as you wait him out.

“Sorry man,” You offer a non-apology with a shrug. “I’m not in the habit of distressed damsels driving themselves home.”

Steve colors at that, can feel the heat radiating from the tips of his ears.

“‘M not a damsel.”

“Really?” You drawl as you slide into the driver’s seat and slot the key into the ignition. “You nearly passed out a party, princess.”

And oh, hearing you say that should be illegal with the way it has his traitorous blood flowing due south.

He petulantly joins you in the car, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“If that’s not damsel behavior, then I dunno what is.”

The car roars to life, stereo playing a tinny version of “West End Girls” by the Pet Shop Boys as you navigate out of the makeshift parking lot. The sounds of the party fall by the wayside as you pull onto the country road that’ll lead back into town.

Steve resigns himself to his fate and lets his head fall back against the seat.

It’s dark on the outskirts of town, no street lights until you’ve passed the Millers' farm and enter into Hawkins proper.

Your fingers drum absentmindedly against the steering wheel as you drive, the chipped nail polish of your fingertips barely visible in the dim light.

And you’re not… unattractive. You’d just never really crossed Steve’s radar until recently, but that’s probably more to do his own headassery than anything else. You weren’t really his usual type— all closed off with stiff posture spliced and the chaotic stylings that come with being around one Eddie Munson.

Like a shower where you had to move the taps just so for the perfect temperature; sometimes you’re too hot, then in other moments too cold.

Steve could never really get a handle on that, how your demeanor could change in the blink of an eye. There was something more appealing about looking at someone like, say Chrissy Cunningham with her bubbly personality and kind eyes, than catching you in a mood, which can feel something akin to a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He can’t be bothered to make heads or tails of it as you roll back into town, the streetlights flickering through the windows of the car.

It’s there in an instant and gone in the next, and he’s positively sure that this isn’t some trick of the light.

Your eyes shift from their local color to something otherworldly, and he wouldn’t have caught it if not for the streetlight from the next house over.

“What?” Your tone is light, curious and absolutely nothing to be frightened of.

But watching as they shift again, from that luminous phosphorescence back to your normal eye color. It does something to him.

He slams the passenger door shut a little too forcefully and a bit too quickly. You raise your eyebrows at him over the roof of the car, tossing him the keys.

“You okay there, Harrington?”

He clears his throat and smiles outwardly.

“Yeah, totally.”

Because what is he supposed to say?

Actually no, I’m not fine because your eyes just like, changed in front of me? That’s not something that just happens, right? And how did you find me so quickly back at the bonfire— I couldn’t see you anywhere near me. Why is it that you smell so good, kinda how it smells outside after a rainstorm? And why is every instinct telling me to run?

“If you say so,” You nod and step silently from his drive, pink tongue gliding against a pronounced canine with a predatory glint in your eye.

Internally, Steve is both screaming and oddly turned on.

None of which, by the way, goes to explain why it is exactly that Steve is wandering the woods alone on the next full moon.

What could have possibly compelled him from the relative safety of his warm bed and into the cool spring night?

You, unfortunately enough.

It’s all your fault.

Because in an attempt to explain away the bruises braceleting your wrist to Robin, of all people (another go round with the new chains and repaired drywall in preparation for the full moon that weekend), you had settled on the completely rational response of:

“Oh, I sleepwalk sometimes.”

Her blue eyes blow wide, “Like, alone, at night?”

You nod and try to focus on the equations on the chalkboard as Mrs. G. drones on about something or other.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie chimes in from behind you, “Should put a bell on her or somethin’.” And his smile is that annoying one you’d like to smack off of his face, “Like a cat.”

And that was that.

Or, rather, that should have been that.

But Eddie and you were none the wiser as Robin relayed all of this plus the goings on of the band kids to Steve as he picked her up for work that evening.

“Yeesh,” He says, pulling into his spot behind Family Video.

“Yeah,” Robin says stepping out of the car. “And she was so normal about it. Like rambling around at all hours of the night completely unaware of your surroundings is a perfectly fine thing to do!”

Steve locks the car and follows her through the employee entrance to the store. He twirls his keys absently, trying to remember if he noticed any bruises on you at the bonfire last month.

She chats with Keith as he clocks out for the night, and shucks her bag on the sagging couch against the wall.

“What if they’re like, wolves out there Steve?”

So, yeah. In the end, he really has no choice about it.

Because there is definitely something out there.

[skrunklydoo]

working on a monster high ninjago AU!

the characters are students at monster high and are all different monster species! here’s the ghoul squad (+ some other main characters), nicknamed the ninja by teachers, under the cut:

characters in brackets are who they’re replacing (some have two characters they’re replacing) + info about ships

zane julien: the new ghoul at school. a robot, he can remove his limbs at will (frankie stein/abbie bominable, pixane (pixal x zane))

jay walker: a 1600-year-old anxious, jumpy and somewhat impulsive vegan vampire (draculaura, plasmashipping (kai x jay))

cole brookstone: the overprotective and brave werewolf of the ghoul squad. fashion designer (clawdeen wolf, lost/geodeshipping (cole x geo))

lloyd garmadon: a normie-presenting (a normie is a human in the monster high universe) dragon-oni-human hybrid who initially bullies zane but gradually grows close to him (cleo de nile, aromantic-asexual lloyd, platonic garmagoths (lloyd, harumi and morro))

kai smith: a fire elemental-water monster hybrid (more fire elemental than water monster) and nya’s brother (clawd wolf/heath, plasmashipping)

nya smith: a fire elemental-water monster hybrid (more water monster than fire elemental), the school’s champion swimmer and kai’s sister (lagoona blue, amber phoenix (nya x skylor))

harumi jade: a boogeyman tomboy lesbian biker girl. a good friend of lloyd’s. that’s all i have to say for harumi (deuce gorgon, platonic garmagoths, her and lloyd aren’t dating in this AU)

geo goyle: a gargoyle from screamtaro (the AU equivalent of shintaro) who was shunned for being a hybrid of a geckle and a munce gargoyle (rochelle goyle/neighthan rot, lost/geodeshipping)

p.i.x.a.l. borg: a matchmaking bone elemental-robot hybrid who runs the school’s relationship advice radio show with her boyfriend (c.a. cupid/robecca steam, pixane)

morro: a ghost and the co-manager/co-writer of the school gossip page, the ghostly gossip. one of lloyd’s good friends along with harumi (spectra vondergeist, citrusshipping (morro x echo zane), platonic garmagoths)

echo zane julien/mr. e: a frankenmonster and co-manager/co-writer of the ghostly gossip. when angered, he transforms into mr. e, an overprotective biker. zane’s brother (jackson jekyll & holt hyde, citrusshipping)

vania: a plant monster-ghost hybrid and former princess of screamtaro before she moved to monster high after the whole skull sorcerer thing (venus mcflytrap)

chen the cheerleader: the overconfident and arrogant werecat leader of the fearleading (cheerleading) squad (toralei)

sora: a tortured teen werecat pop star from imperium who eventually joins the ninja with her best friend arin (catty noir)

arin: a boogeyman who, with sora, joins the people he idolised the most (twyla boogeyman)

sensei wu: the dragon(ish) headmaster of monster high (headmistress bloodgood)

misc ships in the AU: nightshade (chamille x tox) and dark thinking (neuro x shade)

if you have any questions on where other characters fit in this AU, please let me know!!

also thank you @lonleyzodiac for giving me almost all of the ideas for this THANMK YOU

this AU is mostly focused on g1 monster high but some elements from g3 will probably be sprinkled in too

[pjohoo-reclists]

hey, i was wondering if you had any fics where percy joins luke?

Hi Anon!! You're in luck, I've got a few.

Percy Jackson Joins Luke Castellan Rec List

A list of fics where Percy Jackson joins Luke Castellan and Kronos's side during Titan War. Ships vary. Enjoy!

love is the salvation of the world by crazymateinnit

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Luke Castellan

The gods are bad parents, Luke Castellan centric, Good Kronos

In another world, Percy Jackson was the Champion of the Gods. But in this world, Percy was born three years earlier. He found the love of his life in a bitter blonde boy who hated his father but still offered Percy all the love in the world. In this world, Percy took a place in the General’s army. In this world, Percy fought against the gods. OR: Percy falls in love with Luke Castellan and joins him in Kronos’s Army.

i was the good kid (and it got me nothing) by phoenix_flying

T | 2.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson & Alabaster Torrington, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase

Good Luke Castellan, Self-indulgent, Percy joins Kronos

“You should’ve died in Tartarus. But you’re just a kid. Younger then me when I got to camp. I have an offer.” “An offer…?” "You could join us.” OR luke and percys chat goes a lil different

Soulmates on Opposing Sides by Takara_Phoenix

T | 2.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Luke Castellan/Octavian

Polyamory, Soulmates, Percy joins the rebel army

[Prompts: triads + soulmates] Luke had a plan. A solid plan. Until his soulmate comes stumbling into Camp Half-Blood. Suddenly, his plans need some adjustment. Or: Percy's flaw is his loyalty, what if he has a soulmate with whom that loyalty now lays...?

you shall be deceived by one who calls you a friend by phoenix_flying

G | 2.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Alabaster Torrington & Annabeth Chase

Good Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson joins Kronos, Post The Lightning Thief

Percy leaned his head on the window, letting his eyes close. His mind drifted to a car ride with his mom, the radio playing some random station they both enjoyed and a comfortable silence as they drove. He missed her. OR percy meets some of his allies

Stripped by robindrake93

M | 2.4k+ | Last Updated Feb 20, 2024

Percy Jackson/Luke Castellan

Homelessness, Runaway Percy Jackson, Action/Adventure

When Luke asks Percy to run away with him, Percy says yes.

A Heroes Fault by EMMESCRISIS

G | 2.7k+ | Last Updated April 27, 2024

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Dark Percy Jackson

Percy joins Luke on his quest to bring back Kronos.

If I Could Kill You, I Would by TheGayGhostKing

T | 3.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood

Dark Percy Jackson, Songfic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Percy joins Luke at the end of TLO Wolf In Sheep's Clothing Songfic

Dark Side of the Sea by Takara_Phoenix

T | 4.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Jason Grace, Side Pairings

AU - Canon Divergence, Dark Percy, Fluff

When Percy joins camp, he joins Luke's side of the war, because instead of straight-up trying to murder Percy, Luke actually tries to sway him. Later down the road, Percy is sent to sway some Romans... and Jason Grace finds it impossible not to be swayed by the son of Poseidon.

A New Age by Lukes_pet_scorpion

T | 10k+ | Last Updated March 15 2024

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Manipulative Kronos, Luke Castellan Lives, Dark Percy Jackson

Percy is fed up with how the gods are ruling. The way they could care less if their own children die or not. They send half-bloods on hard quests just to do their bidding. Well, Percy's had enough. That's when Luke Castellan offers Percy another chance to join him. (This is set during The Sea of Monsters-The Last Olympian)

Not Only is it Thicker (Blood is Stickier Than Water) by Simmshine

T | 10k+ | Last Updated March 26, 2024

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase

Brotherly Angst, Cain instinct, Percy Jackson needs a hug

Luke had framed him for his theft, Luke was ready to be a catalyst for a war. Luke was serving Kronos, the very root of Percy's torment, his nightmares. The son of Hermes studies his gaze for a moment, before he turns back to the stone to slash what feels like the final indent into the ruin. The clearing is bathed in crimson, but the sounds of the fireworks are distant now as Percy's hands shake. The older half-blood, the one Percy had oh so idolized, raises his sword. Percy knows he is at a crossroads, two decisions offering themselves to him. He can do nothing, let Luke rip through the barrier and escape the camp with him. Or he can do what he's done for weeks now, the one thing that had gotten his father's attention. He can fight. He looks at Luke and part of him cries brother while the other raises Riptide. TLDR; Percy and Luke's encounter goes differently, and Percy finds himself as a harbinger of war. (Meanwhile, Annabeth just wants a her family back.)

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 9

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker joins Colt on set, things between the siblings gets argumentative. How hard will she try to convince everyone of something only she seems to see?

Read the story here: prev / next

Parker was dying.

Well, no, not really, but she was pretty sure that dying on the inside was the same kind of misery as dying on the outside—something Colt would wholeheartedly disagree with, but, whatever, he wasn't around to dispute such a wild claim—and as she failed at yet another attempt, she quite literally could feel her sanity evaporating like water on a hot summer day. It was ridiculous that the instructions were only five steps; even more ridiculous that there were high school art students who could do this with their eyes closed while gabbing about what the prettiest Met Gala dress of the year was and contemplating what the next Suzanne Collins' book would be.

"I think she should write more prequel books," said high school art student was blabbering on from the other side of the shelf, and while Parker's eyes went crossed and frustration welled like a heavy weight on her chest, Melissa didn't seem to notice as her train of thought continued on a cross-continental journey. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I will always love Katniss and Peeta's story, and hearing about their kids would be interesting, but there are seventy some years of Games that we haven't even heard about yet. That's so much material for her to write about!"

Parker glanced at the mess lying at her feet; tape and paint and abused shelf liner was sprawled around her as if a bomb had just gone off, and while Melissa continued on her fifth monologue of the hour, Parker almost wished one would.

"—did you see it? It was so good. Tom Blythe has to be my new celebrity crush. Right behind Tom Ryder, of course, but above Tyler Poser. Nothing against him personally, he just hasn't really done anything since Teen Wolf, you know? And—"

She was pretty sure black spots were dotting her vision, and when she attempted for a sixth time to smooth the bubbles out of her liner, Parker swore her head was going to implode.

How did one talk so much?

And more importantly—

"Jesus Christ!" she cried above the din of chatter. Melissa's voice cut off at the exclamation, but as she crossed one arm over the other—ruler clattering to the ground in frustration—the radio continued to play a steady stream of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. "I'm so confused!"

A steady silence came from the adjacent aisle for half a moment.

"You... don't get the Hunger Games prequel? I thought you read it."

"Oh my fu—" she started, before cutting herself off. Melissa had gotten on her last week about having such foul language, and while Parker really didn't care about being a bad influence on the next generation, she did care about the stupid little jar sitting on the front counter that had collected half of her weekly coffee allowance in just three days. Pinching her nose, she swerved, "fudge, I don't get how you're doing this. I really don't."

"Doing—?"

"Not Suzzanne Collins," she snapped before Melissa could even go down that particular road. Honestly, the girl never stopped talking. "I understand that. I read those books before you were even born, kid."

"Okay, I'm not that young, and you're not old enough to be calling me kid," her voice floated above the shelves; judgmental and scornful all in one.

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose, only for some wayward tape to get stuck to her cheek, and as she ripped it off her skin with a groan, she considered sinking onto the cold floor for a nap.

Said floor was a mess of art supplies, however, and so she elected to tap her foot in an impatient staccato on the ground. Knowing there was only one thing left to do, Parker swallowed whatever pride still existed after this little art project. "...I don't understand how to put on the shelf liners," she admitted. "It doesn't make any sense, and I'm wasting material, and I'm—I'm going to set this place on fire if I have to keep doing this!"

A tut followed by Birkenstocks on hard wood before Melissa was popping around her side of the shelves. She looked too cute to be doing something misery-inducing like this—bubble braids over each shoulder, mascara and glittery white eyeshadow to balance out the glow of highlighter on her cheeks and nose, lips a soft bubblegum pink to compliment the pale color of her sweater—and Parker added it to the list of things that her employee did to annoy the shit out of her.

Teenagers were supposed to be pimply and awkward; when did the next generation start skipping that phase to jump right into cute outfits like that?

"What are you—?" she started, only to zero in on the absolute disaster that was Parker's attempts at interior design. The shelf liner was warbled and misshapen, cut too short on one side and too long on the other, and at her feet half a yard of wasted material lay sprawled. "Parker! Do you have any idea how expensive this stuff is?"

Parker blinked at her. "Do I—? Of course I do! I was the one that bought it in the first place!" she snarked incredulously.

"Then why are you wasting it?"

"Well—because—I'm not doing it on purpose!" she blustered.

Melissa clearly didn't seem to believe that if her raised brow was anything to go by. As if Parker had woken up that morning with the single goal in mind of making this process as difficult and expensive as possible.

Yeah, right.

Parker hadn't been stealing eggs and bread from her brother's when she visited just for the thrill of the grift.

"The instructions don't make any sense," she continued to defend herself; though, the fact that she needed to in the first place was ridiculous. It was her shop, afterall, and she was the owner. Oh, right. She was the owner. "I knew we shouldn't have done this. The paint and decorations look good enough. Why, oh why, did I let you talk me into doing shelf liners too? You know the books are just going to cover the pattern, right? No one will see them."

That seemed to upset Melissa, and in response, the teenager's entire face contorted into something righteous.

"Firstly," she said, flinging up a electric blue nail, "everyone will see them. The books are only so big, so the liner is still visible even when the shelf is full, and when people take books off the shelf it adds character to the store. And secondly," she continued, ticking another finger up into the air, "I've already finished three whole shelves in the time it's taken you to do half of one. Improperly, too. It's not impossible. You're just bad at it."

"Ugh!" Parker's mouth fell open. "Excuse me. I'm not bad at it."

"Could'a fooled me."

"You know," she snarked while planting her hands firmly onto her hips. Melissa didn't seem intimidated one bit, and she watched as the teenager gently pulled up her crumpled liner. "You're lucky I'm your boss because someone else might fire you for sass like that."

Melissa shot her a blithe look while dropping the ruined liner to the ground. Within seconds, she cut a new piece—perfectly sized—and calmly started lying it down. "Okay, sure, Park. Whatever you say."

"I could!"

"Uh-huh," the girl said again, clearly not buying into the power play for a second. Parker might have taken more offense to that if, well, Melissa wasn't right. She never had an employee before, but Parker didn't handle workplace confrontations well, and she couldn't imagine ever firing anyone. Let alone her best customer.

Still. She could at least pretend to be intimidated.

Before Parker could argue that point, Melissa stepped back from the shelf with a flourish to reveal a perfectly placed, smooth and colorful liner.

"Son of a..." Parker muttered at how easy she had made it look. Not to mention the fact that it did look really good. She could already picture how much character it would add once the shelves were re-stocked with their books. "How did you—?"

"It's honestly so easy. Like, I'm embarrassed for you."

And—yeah.

Parker was definitely dying.

"I liked you better when you only came in once a week," she announced, dropping the wasted paper into the trash bag. "You were a lot nicer then, at least. And you already gave me money instead of costing me heaps of it."

Unbothered, the teen popped her bubblegum with a shrug. "You were a lot cooler then, too."

"What—?" she cried, tracking around the shelf in Melissa's wake. The teenager seemed pretty pleased with herself, and as she giggled into her hand, Parker propped her shoulder against the wall with a glower. "Oh. Hardy-har-har. Hilarious. Let's all pick on Parker; that seems like a fun way to spend the day. How about this? You can finish this little project yourself since it was your idea in the first place."

That managed to wipe the smirk off of her face, and Melissa responded by stomping her foot. "This place is huge! There's no way I can finish this on my own."

"Please," Parker rolled her eyes, not buying that for a moment. "You've done six times as much as me in an hour, and better too. It's like you said—I suck at this."

"I didn't say you suck."

"Bad, suck, they're all the same insult. Are you regretting the sass now?"

Melissa scowled. "Fine. But I want to re-negotiate my salary."

That wiped whatever smug look Parker was wearing off her face in seconds, and as if this was a game of tug-o-war, the smugness transferred back to Melissa in the following seconds. So smug, in fact, that she started humming to herself as she set to work on the next line of shelves.

Shaking her head, Parker couldn't do anything but laugh. "Fat chance of that! You're already robbing me blind with the stupid swear jar. Besides, this whole thing was your idea; you wanted the job, and now you got the job. You don't get to re-negotiate your hourly pay when you've barely been here a month. That's not how employee contracts work."

"America as a late stage capitalistic society is failing and is not what you should be basing a business model on, but if that's how you want to play it, fine. This is a supply and demand market. There's nothing to say I can't negotiate my salary when my needs as an employee go up. Your demand has changed, ergo my supply for you has changed," she chirped, and not for the first time, Parker was wondering when teenagers became so socially aware. When she was Melissa's age, she babysat for five bucks an hour, and most of that was just spent making sure the kids didn't swallow their Gumby doll. Needs of an employee her ass. "Besides, we agreed on that salary when I thought I would have help doing the manual labor."

"You're awfully smart for someone that didn't read the fine print."

Melissa paused in her work to cross one arm over the other. And—fuck—how was she being intimidated by someone wearing a best friends forever necklace?

Saved by the tinkle of the front door bell, Parker broke off their stare down to give the girl a flippant gesture that would definitely not hold up in court as any sort of agreement, before moving towards the front. She didn't even care that they were closed, a customer was more than welcome at the moment. Even a neighborhood cat would do.

Melissa trailed after.

"All I'm saying is—" she started.

"Ah, ah, ah. No money talk in front of customers. It's totally kitsch," Parker chirped over her shoulder.

"It's Sunday. We shouldn't even have customers. Can't we just tell them to leave?"

"And they say good customer service is dead," said customer drawled from the front counter as he pilfered through her bowl of mints. Several clattered to the floor as he tried to dig out his favorite flavor, and with a wince, Parker watched him not-so-subtly nudged them under the counter with his shoe as if it hadn't happened at all. "Er, those were already down there when I got here."

"Ass," she rolled her eyes, bending over to scoop the mints up before mice decided to add themselves onto the list of things she had to deal with. She was already stuck between two pestering leeches, a third infestation was not ideal.

Before Melissa could complain, Parker stuck a dollar into the swear jar.

"Whatever. Tom, we were just—" Melissa pushed past Parker with an exuberance that had been lacking moments before. It deflated the moment she got a better look at him, however, and the girl's grin slipped into a sour frown. She crossed one arm over the other to peer suspiciously at the blonde. "Wait, you're not Tom."

Colt experienced a variety of emotions in a single second, and Parker couldn't help but laugh when he let out an offended squeak.

"What—how does she know Tom?" he hissed.

Parker dumped the fallen mints back into the bowl with a shrug. "He's stopped by before. She's a huge fan. Number one, apparently. She's seen all his stuff."

"Twice," Melissa added.

Parker pointed at her. "Twice," she reiterated, just knowing that it would piss Colt off.

Just as expected, he responded by rolling his eyes with a second, high-pitched groan. It sounded like he was in pain. "You're a fan of Ryder? Seriously?"

Melissa squared her shoulders at him. "Seriously."

"You do know that he wears a wig, right?"

She huffed. "No, he doesn't."

"Uh, yes he does."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does—"

"Okay, that's enough of that," Parker interjected with a groan of her own. What had started off as an amusing blow to her brother's ego was quickly turning into a headache. "Melissa, don't bully him. He has a sensitive ego."

Colt threw his arms up—bowl of mints scattering everywhere—to cry, "Parker! That's not—I don't—who even is this?"

"Who am I? I work here. Who are you?" she shot back, bright eyes narrowed into slits. Parker could imagine her in high-school now, scaring off boys left and right, and if her brother didn't have the mental maturity of a middle schooler, she might have let them argue a little bit longer.

Alas. Colt's weakness was women, and she didn't fancy giving him chest compressions when he inevitably choked on his pride.

"Melissa," she gestured, "this is my brother, Colt. He's a professional stuntman, and has been Tom Ryder's stuntdouble for years. That how I met him in the first place. Colt, this is my new employee, who also happens to be a teenage girl, Melissa."

In unison, the pair gave cagey hmphs.

"Nice to meet you or whatever," Colt sniffed.

"Yeah," she responded with a blithe look. "Totally."

Parker glanced between the pair; both had matching postures, arms crossed, arms averted, neither wanting to acknowledge the other, and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. Although, to be fair, only one of the two was an actual adult. Despite how Melissa might carry herself from time to time.

Remembering this, she steered the conversation back to more important things. "If I step out for lunch with Colt, do you think you can finish the shelf liners? You can invite one or two friends to hang out. If they help, I suppose I can pay them too."

Pettiness forgotten, Melissa gave Parker a wide-eyed look. "Really?"

"Flat rate. Fifty for the day, a max of two friends. Just no posting on instagram or snapchat or—you know—anything else. I don't need social media being my downfall before I even get started."

"Oh my god, you're so old, Parker. Who would even want to cancel you?" Melissa laughed over her shoulder before disappearing towards the back. Her cell phone was already dialing, and by the time she started pasting on liners, her friends were already on their way.

With that taken care of, Parker blinked over at her brother.

"Yes."

Colt, having replaced whatever book he was pretending to read, furrowed his brows at her. "Yes, what?"

"Whatever you're going to suggest we do, yes, please take me away from here before I commit a craft-themed crime."

"Is that a crime?"

"A violent one."

He clicked his tongue, tossing another mint into his mouth with a curious side-eye across the counter. "Maybe I just wanted to stop in and see how things were looking. You were talking about it at the party so much I figured I'd have to see it eventually."

That was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Colt may have been her biggest cheerleader, but her brother didn't know the difference between paint and lacquer. Not to mention that he was red-green colorblind, and would certainly have a hard time noticing any change in paint around them.

"Coooolllltttttt," she whined.

He quirked his brow at her. "Seriously?"

"Please?" she asked, slumping across the counter. When that didn't work she attempted to flutter her eyelashes at him. That only provoked an eyeroll from him, and she deflated with a moan. "I'll ber lurnch," she muttered into her sweater sleeves.

He lifted a finger to his ear, patronizing and provoking all in a single sweeping gesture. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't get that. What did you say?"

Atop her arms, she glared before slowly reiterating, "I'll buy lunch."

That he understood.

The bastard.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" he cooed, and when he attempted to pat her atop the head, Parker swatted him away with a glare. She was already reconsidering going anywhere with him, but a single glance towards what was awaiting her in the back of the shop had her sitting up straight. "I have to go to set today for some wardrobe fittings and thought you'd want to come with. Might as well see how the magic is made. We're gonna be late if you keep moping, though."

"We wouldn't have been late if you didn't get all mouthy with Melissa," she snarked while gathering her things. Feeling a bit guilty about leaving the kid to finish the work, she dug a twenty out of her wallet. "I'll be back later! There's money on the counter to get lunch for you girls!"

She got no response—as a mom rarely did with a teenager—and it took Colt tugging her by the elbow to get Parker to step outside. His truck was parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

She raised a brow at him, utterly unimpressed.

"What?" he asked when he caught the look she was shooting him. And, as if it wasn't a low-stakes crime that he was committing, Colt just grinned. "Relax, grumpy-pants. It's a Sunday. Fire hydrants don't count on Sundays. Now get in before we really are late."

There was a lot to say to that, but Parker didn't bother wasting the energy, and with an easy-going grin of her own, she clambered inside.

---

An hour later and Parker finds herself propped on an overflowing table filled with sewing needles, accessories, pens, papers, and a binder flush with polaroid photos of her brother from every angle. The film's wardrobe department, despite his warnings in the car, was more than thrilled that Colt had brought along his sister, and while he was poked and prodded, shifted left and right on a pedestal for everyone to critique, Parker had been set up with an iced coffee, some freshly made baklava, and front row seats to the most amusing thing she had seen in weeks.

"I think the crotch is too tight," Betty said, tugging on the material with long, sharp fingernails that Colt eyed like they were a sleeping snake. "See how it's bunching, we need to let it out, or maybe—see this? We could try—"

"No, no, no, it doesn't need to be let out," Sasha, a blonde woman with oversized cat-eye glasses tutted. "It's supposed to be tight. Remember?"

"It'll rip."

"It'll be fine."

"I suppose for standing, but I think he'll be wearing them for a running sequence—"

The ladies bickered back and forth, hands clawing too close for comfort at her brother's privates, and every so often he would wince when they tugged a little too hard. Parker, watching all of it, giggled every time it happened.

"How come I've never been brought along to fittings before?" she mused, a Cheshire-like grin in place. He had been standing up there for the lasty forty minutes, and every time she took a sip of her drink, Colt would look a little more green in envy at their difference in treatment. "This is fun."

"Fun," he said, mocking her with an eyeroll. "You come up here and try this."

"I happen to think I would look amazing in those pants. I have the ass for them, anyway," she chirped, and Sasha took a break from her bickering just to laugh at the idea. Beaming, Parker added, "I didn't realize that wardrobe fittings for the stunt double would be so... invasive."

"Yeah, well, usually the pants aren't so tight. That's all thanks to Ryder."

"I bet they look good on Tom," she said, half teasing, half meaning it. Anything looked good on Tom as time had proven again and again; from covered in sweat, puking in a toilet to wearing Gucci brand glasses, she had yet to see the guy look bad. Speaking of, "shouldn't he be here too?"

Colt, adjusting the tight collar of his leather jacket, shot her a look. "He's probably staring at himself in a mirror somewhere. That's how they trap raccoons, you know. They get so distracted by their own reflection that they forget to run off before the coon dogs get them."

"That's not a thing."

"Sure it is," he said, twisting on the pedestal as the ladies started to adjust the inseam of the pants. He eyed their gleaming needles nervously as they continued on their warpath across the fabric. "You should watch Animal Planet sometime. They did a whole episode on it."

"On how to catch raccoons?" Parker reiterated, absolutely not believing her brother for a second.

"It was a special."

"Maybe a Looney Tunes' special," she deadpanned with an eyeroll. Colt's mouth propped open in argument, only to freeze up when two pairs of hands started plucking the fabric across his butt, and she watched his face flush red. "Seriously? You're such a child!"

Being called out, Colt scowled at his sister. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am—you know what?" he caught himself before he could go on his second preschool tirade of the day. Parker sipped her drink with an impish gleam in her eyes. "Whatever. You're supposed to be amusing me, not stirring up shit. Tell me something interesting."

"Sure, Caesar," she rolled her eyes. "What would your highness like to be amused by?

"I don't know! Anything. Like—what were you and Melissa doing today at the shop that had you running scared?"

She blew a raspberry, spinning slightly on the table to snatch up an oversized top hat. She didn't have a clue what sort of movie it would be acceptable for—definitely not a sci-fi one—but she traced the stitching with a bored eye anyways. "Shelf liners. They're way harder than they look, and she can get mean when she wants to be. I swear she acts like she's the boss sometimes."

"Ooooh," he teased. "Scared of a teenager?"

"You should see her first thing in the morning. She must wake up at five am to do her beauty routine, and anyone with that sort of willpower should be feared. I think I'll have to move when she finally saves up for her car. God knows the roadways won't be safe."

"Just because you can't wake up before noon without a liter of coffee doesn't mean everyone else can't. Some people are naturally early risers."

"Says the guy that slept for nineteen hours straight once."

Colt shot her a cross look. "I had a concussion."

"All the morning reason not to sleep that long. Isn't rule number one of head injuries that you're supposed to wake up every so often for a health check?" she asked.

Her brother popped his mouth open to argue, finger poised, before he slowly let it drift down to his side. His silence spoke volumes, however, and she raised her brows at him with a smug smile.

"Oh, like you're so perfect," he huffed irritably.

To which she beamed, plopping the top hat onto her head with a flourish. "Maybe I am. Ever thought about that? I'm pretty, popular with famous people, and am the reigning champion at beerball five years running."

"You cheat at beerball," he snarked before the rest of what she said caught up to him. With a gesture, Colt flexed on the pedestal, adding, "and you're not the only hot Seavers. Look at me? See how these pants are hugging my curves? You wish."

Parker laughed at that, couldn't help it if she tried. Her brother was so ridiculous that at times the way he spewed word vomit surprised even her. Not to mention the fact that he was her brother, best friend on too many planes to count; it was hard not to be in a good mood when hanging with him. Even if she was watching him get pampered like a princess before an upcoming ball.

Speaking of, "so, you don't think Tom will be around?"

Something bewildered cracked across his features at the same time that Sasha and Betty told him to step down from the pedestal. The ladies took their notes to the table, adjusting this and that, while Colt stepped behind a privacy screen. She could hear him grunting as he tried to maneuver out of the pinned clothes without sticking himself.

"Do we need to talk about this?" his voice echoed.

"About what?"

"You. Tom. Whatever weird relationship the two of you have going on," he continued, before yelping when he did stick himself on a pin. Sasha rushed behind the screen to help him get out of the pants, and when she returned, she had the garments in hand. "It's sickening to even think about."

"How is us being friends sickening?" Parker echoed.

"Because—you—he—the guy is an ass!"

"He's not an ass," she argued back, surprising herself at how quickly she came to his defense and how little she actually cared. There were few things her and Colt disagreed on; siblings that knew each other as well as they did often had minor squabbles, but nothing ever world-changing or big. Yet, it didn't feel right to let him say those sorts of things. She could consider why later. "He's just... misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" his voice pitched behind the screen, before he was stepping out in a totally new suit. It was black and yellow, leather, emboldened with the NASA logo, and for a moment she forgot entirely what they were talking about to ogle it appreciatively.

"Ooh, nice job ladies, I like that one."

Colt paused, glancing down at himself. "It is nice," he said in surprise, twisting and turning in the mirror. As he smoothed the material down, he added, "comfortable too. Is this worn much in the film?"

Betty checked her notes. "Looks like he wears it in a few scenes. Oh, looks like you should be wearing it for a harness drop, so make sure you tell us if it's too tight anywhere," she said as the women headed back over to him with their tape measures and pins. "Good?"

He stretched up and down, left and right, before gesturing to the armpit seams. "Probably could be loosened a bit."

She nodded, and the ladies got to work on that, as Colt returned his attention to his sister. Clearing his throat, he continued their earlier disagreement. "I can't believe you of all people think he's misunderstood."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, hello? Remember the whole coffee thing?"

"I think I understood him perfectly well then," she argued, top hat shifting on her head as she gestured. It was surprisingly heavy, and Parker fixed its lean half-heartedly. "He was an asshole during that encounter, and several encounters since then."

"Then what's with the whole PR parade?"

"I just think he's, I don't know... not always like that."

Colt stared at her; blinking, wide-eyed, with wheels spinning slowly between his ears. She swore she could smell the smoke from there, and Parker prepared herself for whatever ridiculous conclusion he was going to come once the spinning stopped.

"You didn't drink any kool-aid recently did you?"

And, yup. She saw that one coming from a mile away.

"Jesus Christ, Colt," she rolled her eyes, huffing. "When are you going to stop with that Jonestown shit?"

"It was a big deal! More people should be talking about it."

"Yeah, like, three decades ago. No one is trying to copy it with kool-aid. That would be a little bit of an obvious tactic, don't you think? I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not in a cult!"

He held his hands up to placate her, before dropping them back down at Sasha's disgruntled tsk-ing. Parker supposed the ladies would be amused by their conversation if they weren't so intently focused on their work. That or they would be seriously concerned for the siblings' mental welfare.

"I'm just checking. Cult leaders are hard to spot you know. That's their whole gimmick. They look normal, just like you and me, and then next thing you know—wham! Indoctrination. Cult. Weird clothes and bad bathing habits and no teeth. It's a slide, not stepping stones, Park. Tom Cruise fell for it in the eighties and hasn't gotten out since"

"Yeah, well, I don't have any sort of money to give a potential cult leader so I don't really think I'm a good target in the first place. Plus, Tom Cruise seems to be doing just fine with the whole Scientology thing," she replied drolly. He didn't have an argument to that, and she shook the melting ice in her cup half-heartedly. "All I'm saying is he's under a lot of pressure from a lot of people. Isn't it possible that he overreacts sometimes?"

He didn't look pleased with her line of questioning one bit, shaking his head at her like a disappointed parent. "I don't think you should be friends."

"What?"

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"Now who's drinking the kool-aid?"

"I'm just saying! It's weird," he continued, gesturing to her a second time only for Betty to snatch his arm and tug it back down with a glare. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, as he barreled on in the way that idiots often did. "First, it's the bookstore. Normal, no biggie. Then, it's the little giggling and laughter. Odd, but whatever. But then, all of the sudden, he has an invite to my exclusive birthday party—"

She threw her head back with a groan, top hat tumbling to the table. "I already apologized for that!"

"—and next thing you know, our Friday night is being highjacked by some ritzy party in upper LA where I have to wear my nice shoes and act like an adult. I'm telling you—rockslides only take a pebble."

"Are you saying you didn't have fun?" she asked with a pointed look, to which her brother hedged and hawed instead of answering. Like a guilty dog that knew it was in trouble, he avoided eye contact. Replacing the top hat onto her head, she waved her hands around. "See? So what's the problem? You got along then, too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then isn't it possible you misjudged him too?"

"I've known him a lot longer than you."

"But you've never actually spent time with him outside of work."

"For good reason."

"Really? Because you always seem to get along when I'm around," she continued, not ready to let the point go if only because she needed it to stick. "So, how good can the reason be? Maybe he's grown up since you first met him, and you just don't want to accept that."

It was a solid argument, they both knew that.

But Colt was as stubborn as she was. He sniffed. "Well, I still don't like it. Is something going on between you two?"

"Like what?" she asked, despite knowing exactly what was going on between the two of them.

They had kissed. Once. Twice. Three times. Then a few more times until she couldn't really remember what was happening. All she knew was one moment they were kissing and the next moment she was riding home with Colt and Jody, bewildered, breathless, and giddy.

"I have no clue what you're on about," she said despite knowing exactly what he was on about, deciding that gaslighting her brother might be the best option at the moment. "We're just friends."

"Well, obviously," he scoffed, as if anything else was beyond the scope of his imagination.

Which—fair.

She couldn't exactly begrudge him for thinking that there was no chance in hell Parker could kiss someone like Tom Ryder. She could barely believe it, and she was the one that had done it. Still, she scowled at him, contemplating it she wanted to drop the subject entirely or tell him in explicit detail all the reasons he was an idiot, but before she could, the fitting room door opened, and in he walked.

He looked good.

He always looked good.

But today he looked especially good with his dewy skin and jean jacket. Or, maybe, Parker was just looking at him in a new light, and when his gaze landed on her, she couldn't help but grin at him.

"Hey, Tom," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. If he thought it was odd, however, he didn't comment on it. Just ran his gaze over her.

"Nice hat. I'm glad you're finally taking my advice and trying to improve your style, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"The—? Oh!" Parker snatched the top hat off her head with a blush, and in face of her karma, Colt snorted with pleased laughter. Ass. She shot him a side-eye before chirping, "it's Colt's, actually. I told him it looked ridiculous, but the prom is coming up, and Jody is just so exited. You should see his cummerbund. Straight out of the eighteen hundreds."

That effectively wiped the smirk off his face, and Colt started to argue just as Betty ushered him towards the privacy screen for another fitting.

Pleased, she blinked back at Tom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Colt dragged me along for his fittings. Something about being scared of the fashion department team," she joked in a half-whisper, gesturing to where he was hidden behind the privacy screen knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her. "What are you doing here?"

"I just finished my fittings."

She perked. "Oh, you're done, then?"

He nodded just as Colt re-appeared from behind the screen. The flight suit had been replaced with a suave looking tuxedo that seemed to fit wrong in every place it could, and without knowing fashion at all, Parker had a feeling it would be a while before they finished pinning this particular look. Feeling both rebellious and like a high-schooler with a crush, she cast her brother a look. He immediately caught it, and returned one of his own.

Don't you dare, he said.

She lifted a brow testily. Oh, I dare, the look said.

And just like that, Parker faced Tom and asked, "you want to get lunch?"

"With you two?"

"I don't think Colt will be finished for awhile," she said, mock sincerity in her voice. Her brother heard it, face blustered and annoyed, as she batted her lashes across the room at him. "We could always bring him back something."

"But—!" Colt cried, gesturing at them so hard that he almost whacked Sasha in the head. He didn't even notice in his rush to argue, and it took both seamstresses to position him on the pedestal where they wanted him. "We were gonna get lunch!"

"Well, you're not done, and I'm starving."

"I—I could be done. Right?" he asked, turning his own version of puppy dog eyes towards Sasha and Betty. Unlike Jody and their mom, however, it seemed that they were immune to his charms, and together, they tutted at him. "...but—but!"

"This one needs a lot of work on it," Sasha said, as Betty patted him on the back. "And there's still four more looks to get through before we move you to hair and makeup for mock-ups."

"But—!"

"Don't worry Colt," she cooed at him with a victorious grin, and she would have felt bad for abandoning him if he hadn't been so adamant about his opinion on who she could be friends with. Plus, he accused her of being in a cult four times a year; this was his penance. "We'll bring you back something."

"Do I even want to know what that was about?" Tom asked her once they were in the safety of the hallway.

Parker gave an impish look. "Just Colt being Colt. He gets mopey when he's hungry. Is Mexican okay? I really am starving."

His amusement turned scathing. "Mexican? That's all carbs. No fucking way, I just had my fitting done this morning, and I'm not going to have my pants let out."

She rolled her eyes. "Carbs are good for you," she tutted.

"Not that many."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Tom blinked at her—as if he couldn't believe she would suggest such a childish solution—and started off down the hallway without another word.

"Well—we can do two out of three!" she cried in his wake, and it wasn't until he disappeared around the corner did she realize that he might actually leave her to deal with Colt alone. Yelping, she rushed after him. "Okay, okay! Fine! Sushi?"

---

"I can't believe you actually eat this stuff," Parker whined twenty minutes later, a salad with more vegetables than she could name, quinoa, and some sort of vinaigrette dousing the top set out in front of her. The lettuce is limp when she lifts it with a fork, and she can't even pretend to find it appetizing as Tom munches through his. "Like, seriously? I'm not about to be Punk'D?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You have to be famous to be Punk'D."

"I'm with you, aren't I?" she sassed, prodding the food like a toddler not allowed to leave the table before finishing their peas. She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "I get that salad is healthy or whatever, but don't you ever eat anything that tastes good?"

"This does taste good."

She shot him a look of disbelief to which he shrugged.

"I mean, kind of good," he corrected after a moment.

"It's disgusting. Why is it both limp and hard? You know an entire ethnic community eats all the carbs associated with Mexican food and they're thriving. Have you ever seen a Cinco de Mayo party? Unreal how much fun they're having."

"That's because they're drunk on tequila."

"Well, sure," she hedged, head tipping left and right as she tried to ignore the weird smell coming from the bowl in front of her. "But you gotta live a little, right?"

"I don't want to live a little," he corrected her, spitting out the word like it was distasteful. But he had that same sort of tone that he used when he was repeating something he heard a thousand times, but didn't necessarily believe. "I want to live to be a hundred, and I want to look good while doing that."

"Colt eats Mexican food," she argued.

"Colt isn't the face of a multi-million dollar movie franchise."

"No, just the body."

"Maybe you should have just gone out to lunch with Colt, then," he said, both look and tone cross.

And suddenly Parker felt like she had ceremoniously swallowed her foot in front of him. It hadn't occurred to her that he might have a touchy relationship with food, and guilt settled on her shoulders like a weight. She felt pretty stupid for not seeing that—just like she had told Colt, the amount of pressure he was under at all times was not something either sibling would be able to comprehend—and five minutes into lunch she had already made an ass of herself.

"Sorry," she said, stuffing limp lettuce into her mouth as if to prove that she agreed with him. It tasted gross, though, and Tom definitely didn't miss the way she had to choke it down. "Mhmm, it's so... salad-y."

Whether it was her tone or the look she made while saying it, something about the act worked, and when he shook his head she caught the edges of a smile peeking across his face.

Feeling better, Parker aimed for more neutral territory.

"So, your party was fun," she said, before immediately realizing that was clearly not a neutral territory if the way he paused in his chewing was anything to go by. The last thing she wanted was to come across as some sort of lovesick teenager, and she nearly choked on her tongue to add, "I just mean—Colt and Jody really liked it. She got to network a lot. Plus, Colt has been dying to see your house for, like, ever."

"He has?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "You guys have worked together for almost a decade. I think he's always wondered what your life outside of work looked like."

Tom digested that information as slowly as he digested his food, and she managed another bite of soggy, lemon-flavored lettuce before he decided on a reaction. "I didn't realize that he really cared."

"What do you mean?"

Tom shrugged; one of the rare moments he actually looked awkward while talking about something, and Parker set aside her fork to wash the bad flavor down with some bitter tasting kombucha.

Bad. It was all bad. The health food industry had to be some sort of joke.

"I don't know; just never really thought about hanging out with Colt outside of the set. I told you the stunt guys don't like me."

"What?" she deadpanned. "You? That is such shocking news. I'm shocked."

Tom huffed, then laughed, before shaking his head at her. "Don't be an ass."

"Me? Never."

"Never," he echoed, clearly mocking her. She didn't mind though. It wasn't vindictive or mean, and if it made him feel better, her ego could handle a little mocking banter. Especially when his shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being taken off them. "Whatever. Glad they, uh, had fun."

"Well, you know—open bar, secrets about the Hollywood elite. What wasn't there to like about the party?"

He nodded, another bite taken, as Parker miserably tried to force herself to eat her own food. When he had suggested a vegan salad spot, she hadn't been thrilled, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be this bad.

"Did, uh," he cleared his throat, "you enjoy the party?"

"Hm?" she hummed, not properly hearing the question as she tried to figure out if the brown thing in her bowl was a raisin or a date. Then she did, and Parker blinked up to find Tom watching her carefully. "Oh. Yeah. Yes. I had, you know, lots of fun. With Colt, Jody, er... you."

He glanced away, nodding, before peeking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was... it was nice. I mean—not just the, er—you know. Not just when you—when I—when we..." she overemphasized, face hot and red as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. She absolutely didn't want to sound like their kiss was the only thing she had thought about all weekend, but she also didn't want to act indifferent because dating had somehow drifted into a game of tag nowadays.

Not that they were dating.

Oh god.

It was one kiss. Obviously they weren't dating, and he probably hadn't even thought about it a second time, and that's probably not what he was asking about in the first place, and—she was obsessing, wasn't she?

Oh, god.

"...um," Parker choked, swallowing some more kombucha before remembering she actually hated the taste of it. Wiping her mouth, she slumped onto the table with an embarrassed sigh. "Can you just put me out of my misery, please?"

Tom lifted a brow. "You might do that yourself. Are you having a stroke?"

"Maybe."

He passed over his cup of water, and Parker took a couple small sips until her cheeks didn't feel so hot. He was still watching her, still eating his food, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eye and the smug curve of his mouth that he was greatly enjoying the show. "Just wanted to make sure you had fun," he said.

"I would have had fun if we just played twenty questions," she said, catching the way he hesitated in his eating, before continuing. The cocky gleam was gone from his eye, and something kind remained when he glanced at her. "Not to complain about the... other stuff, but I meant everything I told you. I don't hang out with you for an open bar."

Tom's gaze swept the planes of her face before he nodded. It was a confident nod, for once, and he spoke he almost sounded... happy.

"Well, that's a relief at least. With how much you drink, I'm a little worried between you and Gail I'm going to go bankrupt this year. I swear every party costs more and more."

"Can't you set a budget?"

"It's Hollywood," he deadpanned, and she supposed that was an obvious enough answer that the deadpanning was necessary. "You think anything is ever under-budget?"

Parker wouldn't really know; the only thing she stuck to a budget for was Bath & Body Works lotions and Uber Eats. Just like he had said though, if she didn't, she was confident that she would be bankrupt within days.

Shrugging, she quipped, "next time you can just invite Jody and I. By keeping Colt away, you'll probably spare yourself a few thousand on alcohol alone. Though, he did behave himself last time since he was the designated driver, but I swear he's put a few bars out of business from Happy Hour deals alone."

Tom, another heaping of lettuce down, jabbed a fork at her. "Think I'd be better keeping you away considering how many napkins you took."

"Oh, shut up. They're, like, fifty cents each!"

"You had at least a hundred in you purse when you left."

"Well—" she threw her arms up, blustering, "it's not like I took all of them. Plus, when I sell them on eBay I'll give you a commission. Unlike when you got this fancy sci-fi role. I'm still waiting on my agent's fee for that one."

He shook his head at her. "Yeah, just hold your breath on that one."

With all the maturity she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at Tom, and with all the maturity he could muster, he chucked a carrot at her. It bounced onto the patio ground, and she noticed with a look of betrayal that not even the local squirrel population would touch it.

"Tom," she leaned forward, "I am begging you. I need carbs."

"You don't—"

"I'm going to die. Dramatically. And not quietly. Everyone will know, and they're going to think you killed me, and the tabloids will never let that go. Forgot living to a hundred, you'll be seventy and in a retirement home. Please."

Her pleading did nothing.

So, taking drastic measures, Parker used all of her own acting experience to flutter her eyelashes at him, eyes wide and dog-like. And whether it was the pathetic way she threw herself onto the table, or maybe it was the smell of the hotdog cart from down the street, but after a long moment of begging, Tom's shoulder sank with a sigh.

"Jesus Christ, fine."

"Oh, thank god," she slumped, a disgruntled look towards her salad and kombucha before the idea of real food had her perking right back up. She had tossed their stuff in the trash before Tom could manage one more bite of his salad, and though he tried to look disgruntled by that fact, when she tugged him to his feet with a giggle, he was fighting off a smile. "Have you ever had the monster burrito from Lolita's? It has cream cheese and pickles."

"That sounds disgusting."

"I know!" she bounced in excitement, pulling him along after her, gabbing all the way.

Tom let her drag him down the street without any complaint, let her order him her favorite burrito, chips, and Mexican lemonade without arguing—though he did try to see the calorie count on the menu before she snatched it away from him—and because they were on an empty set on a Sunday no one paid them much mind.

A good thing, too, because if someone had, they might have noticed the goofy grin she was wearing, or the amused smile he was; and if they looked closer, they might have even noticed that even after they got to where they were going, Tom Ryder was still holding her hand as they waited in line, letting her lean against his chest as they waited on their orders, before sitting awfully close to her on a little stone bench outside.

But, no one noticed.

Not until her shrill ringtone broke through their game of twenty questions about an hour later as her brother complained about how hungry he was. And though he suspected something weird was going on, not even Colt noticed the sly smiles they shared with one another when they delivered his food as promised or the spot of wet lipgloss smeared on Tom Ryder's mouth.