#ends up seeing something strange about him!

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[hurlingdown]

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

[in1-nutshell]

HEY HELLO‼️ SO hopefully, you'll get around to doing this before it gets deleted, but i was wondering if u could do Tfp Human buddy getting kicked out of their house and with no where else to go they decide on walking to the autobots base but obviously that'd be dangerous since it's basically in a desert and I'd like to see how youd go around it‼️ I can't wait to see what u come up with, it'd be like a birthday present cuz today's my birthday‼️ 🎉

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

Wishing you had a great day today!!! Hope this is a good gift for you!!!

Hope you enjoy!

Team Prime react to Human Buddy getting kicked out

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Human reader

TFP

It was late night when it happened.

The team had just finished dropping off the kids and had just finished their nightly patrols.

It was time to turn in for the night.

Ratchet was the one who noticed something strange on one of the larger scanners outside the base.

One of the kid’s phones, Buddy’s specifically, was slowly heading to the base.

Ratchet alerted Prime on this.

Optimus decided to investigate this himself and drove out of the base.

A couple of minutes passed before Optimus pulled in, transforming while cupping a sleeping Buddy in his servos.

Everyone was rightfully worried about the human doing so far out in the desert at night alone.

Optimus gently placed them on the battered sofa.

They didn’t move at all.

Optimus told the rest of the team that Buddy had told him that they had a fight with their parents that ended up with them getting kicked out of the house, something that happened a bit from time to time.

The best the bots could do now was give them a place to rest.

Optimus

The Prime could not believe that someone, much less a parent, could do this to their child.

He wants to know why they even fathomed doing that to their child.

When Optimus pulled up besides Buddy, he could already tell that they were exhausted from their miles walk from their home.

It did not take a lot to get them inside his cabin.

Even less to get them to open up about what happened.

It hurt him to see them look so defeated and too tired.

He gently turns on the radio on a soft station and watches them fall asleep.

When they wake up the next morning, he takes them to Ratchet to make sure that they are okay.

 Optimus tells them that if they ever got kicked out again, to just call one of them and so they could get to the base safe.

Optimus: “If you ever need a place to stay, a home if you will, the base will always greet you with open arms. Never think for a second you are alone and a burden. You are our friend, part of our family, we will always be there for you.”

Ratchet

The chief medic is furious when he finds out why Buddy was outside at this hour.

He wishes he could do more for the human other than scan for any superficial injuries.

Ratchet makes sure to leave a water bottle, an apple and a blanket with them.

Makes it a habit to make regular scans to make sure that Buddy was doing okay.

Gets the least amount of sleep from the bots besides Optimus.

When Buddy does wake up, he makes sure that they are actually okay.

He might not know too much on human medicine, but he isn’t going to sit there and not try.

Eventually, does consult with June to see if he missed anything on his check up.

In which June is just as furious as he is when she finds out that Buddy was kicked out.

June and Jack make it very clear to Buddy that their house would always welcome them if their parents pulled a stunt like this again.

Ratchet does mention to Buddy that they could have just called and someone would have came to get them.

Makes sure to have a little list of what needs to be restocked and needs in case Buddy needs to stay at the base again.

Ratchet: “Make sure you have an extra tube of paste in your bag—no I don’t know what its called—Toothpaste?! Its made of teeth!?” Ratchet starts making a mental note to ask June what in the world was in the paste.

Arcee

Arcee wants to beat someone up so bad but can’t.

How dare they do this to Buddy!?

Feels like she should have checked in with Buddy and the other kids before heading back to base.

Secretly fixes Buddy’s blanket from time to time when its her turn to watch.

Next morning after she gets Jack back to the base, Arcee watches over Buddy like a hawk.

Is happy to know that the Darby’s also have Buddy’s back in case their parents do this again.

Does casually mention that she would personally get them to the base if another fight broke out at their home.

She updates June on Buddy throughout the day.

Arcee: “… You want to ride around for a while? It’s a nice day outside, perfect driving conditions too. Just make sure Jack hands you the helmet before we go.”

Bulkhead

Actually broke something in a fit of rage.

Ratchet is not happy that he has to fix another tool.

Is surprised that Buddy didn’t even wake up to the sound of something breaking.

It makes Bulkhead even sadder to know that they were this exhausted.

Gently strokes Buddy’s back for a bit before watching over them.

Next morning Bulkhead goes to pick up Miko and tells her what happened.

He is once again reminded that the Fury of Miko is not something he wants to be at the opposite end of.

The Wrecker does ask Buddy how they are doing once he gets back to base.

Miko already lets Buddy know that they can crash at her place when something like this happens or let her know to tell Bulkhead to pick them up.

Bulkhead also lets Buddy know that they can always call him whenever.

Now makes it a habit of going by Buddy’s place before leaving.

Bulkhead: “Miko and I are going Dune bashing in a few minutes, you wanna come? Its okay if you don’t wanna. I think Bee is having a movie marathon with Raf in case your interested.”

Bumblebee

Just as upset as everyone else, but is a bit more concerned about Buddy right now.

He knows humans are supposed to sleep a certain amount of hours, how would this affect Buddy.

It unsettles him how deep asleep they are.

Throws a couple more blankets on Buddy and watches them for a while.

When Bumblebee goes to pick up Raf the next morning, he mentions what happened with Buddy.

Raf is just as worried as he was asking if they were okay.

Once they get to the base, Bumblebee pats Buddy’s head gently when they wake up.

Idly waits for them to get the green light from Ratchet.

He helps out Raf make a card for them.

It is also the day he learns that humans can cry out of happiness and sadness at the same time.

Mentions that if they need a place to sleep to call literally anyone on the team and they would come and get them.

Buddy gets more head pats than usual for the next couple of days.

Bumblebee: “Beep bop boop bep bop bop. (Raf and I are going to be watching some movies after the racing tournament, you want to join in? You can have first picks!”

Concern Prime noises seeing Buddy alone at night.

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Why’d no one tell me he’s hot !? Pt.2

Rumble x human!reader 

Summary: you thought the cassettes were supposed to be mini including for you lol 

Pt.1  Pt.2

———————————————————————

As you’re both finishing going through the first stack of albums, Soundwaves head lifts up as he straightens his posture.

You can hear some type of beeping start coming from him.

When it stops, he vents a bit as he rubs his face mask where his brows would be underneath. 

“Is everything alright?”

He looks down towards you lowering his arm. “Affirmative: no critical problem.”  You just stare at him with doubt. He’s voice may be the most robotic type you’ve heard, but after knowing him for a good while you can tell something is up. However you choose to not pry further.

“Alright, Im choosing to trust you.” 

You lower your gaze as you look again at the framed picture.

Deciding to change the topic you go back to asking him about the minicons. “So, when exactly are the minis going to get here?”

He looks towards you again then towards a strange looking clock on the wall. “They will be here soon.” 

The excitement was evident on your face. He could see you twitch a bit trying to hid your joy.

Also glad to see you so excited he goes to pet your head, but as he does so, he can’t help but see some thoughts that you were thinking.

From what he understood, you clearly haven’t realized the true sizes of his cassettes. And he had no plans on ruining the surprise factor for when you truly found out they were all bigger than you.

Instead he gets up to go back to work on the other side of the room. But before he can even get there Lazerbeak crashes into the room, his body making a screeching noise when he landed on the ground.

“ Lazerbeak “

Seeing soundwave rushing to attend one pf his cassettes, you hurry down a ladder to see if you can help. When you reach them, He picks up Lazerbeak and takes him to his desk where he will further assist his mini.

Curse his long legs, It was moments like these that truly made you despise being smaller than your average cybertonian.

“Oh, I didn’t know we had guest.”

Turning to see the voice behind you, you came to recognize them as Ravage. Still a bit shocked from the change of situation you hurried yourself to respond back. “Um, hello. Sorry about that, I also didn’t really have time to notify my arrival since the arrangement was made really quick.” 

They nodded and didn’t say anything else. Simply walking past you over to where his boss dad was. You didn’t really mind their attitude. You were a bit glad the conversation ended since you felt a bit too drained to make the effort as well. Thankfully, it also didn’t take long for Ravage to be noticed.

“Ravage.”

Looking upwards acknowledging their call, “interrogative : where is frenzy and Rumble.” Oh he looked a bit pissed. 

You knew from the stories he shared with you that those two always seemed to get themselves in trouble. 

“I don’t know where Rumble went after speaking to Megatron, but I saw Frenzy heading towards the east side of the nemesis.” 

Soundwave nodded as he processed the acquired information. “Thank you Ravage. You are dismissed. New order: rest.” 

And at that he got up and left with Lazerbeak on his shoulder. Most likely on their way to find those troublemakers. 

Returning your gaze back to were Ravage was you saw that he was no longer there. In fact, he was already curled up, in what you assume was his berth, recharging from his previous mission.

Seeing the con sleeping, you made the room lights more dim. You could barely see anything, but surely the bots had no problem getting around. 

As you were about to head back to your personal quarters, the door is slammed open and whatever it was came blasting in at tremendous speed.

You didn’t even manage to move out of the way, and before you knew it. Whatever it was crashed into you quite hard tumbling the both of you onto the ground.

You groaned a bit as you tried to lift your head, yet they were still on top of you and they were not light. Moving a bit trying to get out from under them, you started to hear them move as well.

Also groaning a bit as they lift themselves up a bit from you. Not fully off, not fully on. 

They were practically straddling you. 

It was a bit embarrassing, but you guess that was still better than having them completely squish you with their whole weight.

The room may have been a bit dim and your mind might have been spinning, but that didn’t prevent you from seeing their face. 

They were cute. 

Crap, they started staring at you funny. Then they quickly looked around before their optics widened once more as they look towards you again.

“Huh? You’re not frenzy.”

———————————————————————Masterlist 

Previous 

[cutehoons02]

PREVIEW

(📖) THE STORY:

Here’s a small part of what you might find:

JAY:

Jay tried to push his body slightly to read what you were reading, you move to prevent him. But you inadvertently let the ebook slip for a few seconds from the large encyclopedia and with a quick gesture, Jay stoops down and reads a couple of lines out loud.

«... She sat on his lap, feeling her hands holding her at the hip until she felt a hand of the boy in front of her put it near her panties? Wait, wait a second.»

You looked up completely red and I put my hands over your face and heard Jay giggling

«I can’t believe it. Are you reading this? The good girl from school is reading scenes like this... graphic and a little explicit.. what would he say if your dad found out it would really be the end for you, princess»

"It’s not what you think. It’s just a novel. A love story, that’s all. 90% of the novels are now pink and don’t have romantic scenes."

He laughs quietly, sitting next to you looking relaxed.

«Yes, sure. A love story with the protagonists doing things like that? I didn’t know you were interested in this kind of... literature.»

You bite your lip, trying to put the book back in your backpack, but he stops you with a gesture of his hand.

«Wait. I’m not judging. Indeed I know for sure what a guy and a girl do while you are together, just it’s strange I didn’t think that a girl like you could have such a fantasy.

SUNGHOON:

«A sports romance? I didn’t think people would write as well taking inspiration from us athletes»

With a quick gesture, reach out and grab the book before you can stop it. You find yourself staring at him, his cheeks burning as he skims through the pages with the icy calm that distinguishes him. It’s a grin formed on his face as he glared at you all over your body. You were so embarrassed but at the same time curious about what he would say when he read what the two protagonists were doing.

«Let’s see... oh, interesting»

He stops on a page and curls an eyebrow. His gaze passes back from the book to you, and there is a spark of fun in his eyes.

«So, the protagonist finds herself...lying in the male protagonist’s bed. And he decides to, how do you say, take care of her... with a very personal approach using both his fingers and tongue to make him experience an orgasm that he hasn’t had in a long time and he succeeds. Fuck this scene is so detailed, he uses three of his big fingers and pumps them inside her and at the same time he fucks his clit and when finally the girl comes she licks his sweet pussy»

The way he emphasizes those words makes you want to sink. God, who is that ace wanted you to die early? Of all people, Sunghoon must have found you reading something so dirty and girlish that she wanted to get excited by reading a book...

" Can you give me back the book, please? I feel terribly embarrassed at this moment Sunghoon" You covered your hands with your face and Hoon looked at you amused, He had never seen you so embarrassed or slightly in a position where perhaps for the first time he could discover that you were not as good a girl as you appeared to all eyes but maybe you had a slightly dirty mind...

«Wait. I’m trying to understand. Do you read these things for... curiosity? Or because you’re looking for inspiration?»

Write me your @ if you want to be tagged

[midnight-mourning]

Thaw My Heart

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 9❄️❄️

Another done! Had some fun with this but won't lie, little out of it today due to some meds so this MAY be a bit incoherent, apologies in advance if so. That being said, hope you like it!

Prompt: Oh, this is such a cool idea!! i think my request will be making the DCA like the grinch, hating Christmas because they never got to really enjoy it themselves! Not just Moon- but Sun as well. It’s something they both strangely agree on, they’ll decorate and pretend for the kids, but when the reader is alone working with the both of them or cleaning up after hours, they learn that both actually lowkey DESPISE Christmas�� So! The reader has to find out why and fix that! Before the DCA met the reader, they never got to help someone warm up from the cold outside, never kissed someone under mistletoe, never had a reason to bake cookies (they shouldn’t get the kids hyper and they have to consider allergies), nor have they ever had someone get them a Christmas gift! Then, by Christmas, both of them manage to make a very sweet homemade gift, something sentimental and both Sun and Moon are worried sick it isn’t good enough, similarly the reader is scared their gift isn’t good enough either… so just in general- helping the DCA truly learn what Christmas is about and why people like it so much- not for the commercialized reasons!

Word Count: 2597

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You noticed the moment you walk into the Daycare, boxes of holiday decorations in tow, that something's wrong.

Well, maybe wrong isn't quite the right word, but there's something up with the Attendant, that's for certain. Sun's smile doesn't match his tone, strained as he takes note of the items in stacked in your arms.

"Oh? What's all this, friend?" He asks you, but there's something about the way he says it that tells you he is already fully aware.

Still, you brush it off as you misreading things and smile, setting the boxes down nearby. "Decorations of course! Figured we'd go ahead and get started now since the month will go by fast. Want to help?"

"Sure... I would love to..."

Again his tone gives you pause. You turn to glance at him, concerned smile on your face. "Is everything alright?"

Sun seems to realize himself, shaking his head. "Of course! Sorry friend, I didn't mean to worry you. Let's get started!"

"Great! We should be able to get most of them up before the kids arrive." You start to open boxes, pulling out decorations.

"Can't wait."

You do get started, managing to put up the tinsel and wreaths prior to the official start of your shift.

When the kids arrive, they're more than thrilled. In fact, all they can talk about is what holiday crafts and activities you'll be doing this month. You're happy to indulge, but again, you can't help but notice that Sun's acting, off, about the whole ordeal.

You're certain something's wrong when Moon appears for naptime, less than thrilled when the children ask for holiday stories as opposed to his usual. Still, he obliges, despite the strain noticeable in his words as he does so.

It isn't until after the end of the day, when you decide to stay for a bit longer to decorate that you find out the reason for their odd behavior.

You're decorating the mini tree for the security desk when you hear a disgruntled noise from Sun. Peeking over, you see his eyes are narrowed as he examines the small green and white herb in his hands; mistletoe.

Not being able to help yourself now, you decide to speak up. "Are you sure everything is okay? You guys have been kind of off today."

"To be honest, Sunshine. I kind of hate all of this." Sun says, blunt.

You turn to him, eyes wide, not quite the answer you were expecting. "I, oh, I'm so sorry. We don't um, we don't have to do all this if you don't want to—"

His turn to be surprised, seemingly at his own slip up. "Oh no no no, I'm sorry, friend! I don't mean to discourage your fun, or the children’s." His rays shrink and looks away from you, tone bitter. "It's just, well, we've never had a good reason to celebrate, Moon and I."

You frown, setting down the items in your hand as you move over to him, hand on his arm. "Would you, want to talk about it maybe?"

Sun jumps at your touch, looking down. He seems to hesitate a moment, then moves away.

"That's alright, friend! No need to worry about it. It's just a small pet peeve is all."

He moves to the other side of the Daycare, humming a tune now. However, it doesn't go unnoticed by you how tightly he grips the bundle of mistletoe in his hands.

Your frown deepens, concerned and even a bit of sadness seeping in for a moment. Then, you shake your head, a determination setting in as you decide you have to do something about their heavy dislike for the holidays. You don't know their reasoning, and perhaps it was none of your business, but you would do your part to make things right for them, no matter what.

Was it partly because you've had a rather large crush on both sides of the attendant for some time? No, definitely not. Was it absolutely because they were your friends and that regardless of the whether the felt the same for you, you just wanted to make them happy? yes, of course. And if you could cling to that latter fact and ignore the rest, well, that's what you'll do then.

You decided to start small, probe out how much their disdain outweighed their desire to make others happy. Your first idea was prepping crafts for the kids, making a few small things for both attendants yourself. They were receptive, at least you think. 

You were well aware when Sun disliked a piece of art, going so far as to cover it on the bulletin board with something else he preferred, ever the dramatic, you know. But with your little snowflakes, and you roughly cut out tree, those were hung front and center. You took this as a good sign.

The next step was baking, something not actively Christmasy but very well could be. So, you invited them both to join you in the kitchen and bake cookies for the kids and some of the staff. This, while messy, also seemed to go okay. While maybe not overly enthused, they did seem to at least enjoy your company in the work. And maybe you were going a little crazy, but they really seemed to appreciate your time together.

Like when Sun towers over you, hand under your chin as he chuckles. "You've got flour on your nose, Starshine! Let me get that for you." He wiped it off with a swipe of his thumb, but his hand remained for just a few moments more before finally pulling away.

And then later, with Moon as you waited in front of the oven for the cookies to finish, draping a banket over your shoulders and providing you a cup of hot chocolate. Which would have been fine on its own, if he hadn't sat down beside you, arm on your shoulder.

"You seemed a bit cold, can't have you getting sick on us now, right?"

To say you were flustered would be an understatement.

It got much worse when you decide to try watching a few holidays together, without the kids. Alone.

You were used to cozying up with the attendant on occasion, as friends, of course. But this felt different somehow.

Maybe it was how you were snuggled into their lap, their arms around yours as you binged several holiday movies late into the night, well past the end of your shift. How you woke up in that same pose the next morning, not intending at all to have stayed so long. Or in such an, intimate position.

Adding on to that, when you made holiday cards with the kids, you received several from a mysterious secret admirer that you could only assume was the two of them. And while simple, and silly, there was an air of flirting to the little cards you’d found scattered about that made your heart flutter.

It convinced you to finally, shoot your shot, so to say, and decide to commit to the gift ideas you had for them, that went past the bounds of friendship into an actual confession of sorts. You just simply hoped you were right with your thoughts.

The closer the end of the month came however, you felt a shift in the two. They were still indulging you and your ideas, and enjoying your time together, however, you noticed they started to draw back a bit. Become more, nervous perhaps? 

You weren’t quite sure, but it certainly didn’t help your own anxieties that had begun to build again. Maybe you were wrong, and the feelings you believed had been growing had just been all in your head, as usual. But, you were far too gone now to back out of these gifts.

And so, there you stood, awkward and on edge as you wait for Sun to say goodbye to the last child before closing down for the day. Once he does, he whips to face you, hands together, fidgeting.

"Friend."

"Sun." You smile, but your nerves make you worry it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You clear your throat. "I, um, have something for you guys. If that’s, um, alright."

"Oh!" He seems surprised, but also, off put?

"Is, is that okay?" You squeak out, cringing at how your voice rises. 

He turns to face you fully, hands clasped. "Yes. Of course."

"G-great! Well, um." You take a deep breath, presenting the gift you had for Sun first. "Here you go!"

Sun gently takes the wrapped gift in your hands, inspecting it just a moment before meticulously unwrapping it. 

He holds the metal container up, rays flicking a moment. "Crayons?" He asks, voice light, slightly teasing.

"Oil pastels, actually. Thought you could um, expand your horizons!"

"Oh..." He trails off, then lights up. "Oh oh oh! How lovely friend! Thank you!"

You beam. "Of course!"

Sun stares down at the gift for a moment, hand tracing the edge of the box for a moment. 

"Is it alright if I give Moon his?" You ask after a bit more quiet. 

Sun seems to come out of his daze, nodding once. 

A few seconds later, the lights are off, Moon holding his hands out expectantly for his gift. It makes you chuckle, taking a bit of your nervous edge off. 

Once it's in his hands, he tears into it, and because of the nature of what's inside you have to scold him about being more careful.

It's a neatly wrapped collection of books. Your hand grazes over his own as you explain. "You have access to all sorts of titles through your data base I know, but I know you like be able to hold something physically—"

Moon's smile presses to the top of your head for just a moment, shutting you up instantly as he chuckles. 

You cough, ears burning. "Well, um, I'll take it that you like it then?"

"Very much so, Star."

You nod, nerves on high alert as you fidget with the last package hidden under your jacket. 

Moon seems to pick up on your anxiety. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah I just, um." You shake your head. "Listen, I know you guys have been trying your best to go along with my shenanigans this month, and I've really appreciated it. Truly, I have. So I wanted to give you this, for um, both of you. If that's okay."

Before Moon can say anything further, you shove the gift into his arms, stepping back.

"I know it's kind of awkward since you can't open it at the same time but—"

Something happens then, Sun's rays appear around the sides of Moon's hat, one of his eyes shifting to match the white of the playtime attendant's. 

"We can." They both answer. "Not very often, but just for you, we can make it happen." You swear the bot winks at you for a moment, before opening the present. 

However, the playful nature is gone once they realize what's inside, freezing entirely as they stare down at the large, slightly messy, book. You know why, you weren't exactly subtle with the title of the scrapbook, 'All the things I love about you'. Their hands shake just slightly as they look page through page. And as the silence grows, your smile starts to falter more and more. 

"You, you made this for us?" They ask, tones unreadable in that moment. 

"Yeah, um, I, I did. I just um, I've, I've really liked you, both of you, for so long and I just thought that this would be the chance to show that,"—you swallow, shaking your head—"I care. I care a lot."

Neither speaks. Their faceplate twitching to the side every so often being the only indication they haven't completely crashed. This was a mistake, you realize in that moment. You've read this all wrong, and any kindness they showed you throughout this month was just simply out of the desire to appease you and your stupid holiday traditions.

When they still say nothing, you take a deep breath, starting to make your way towards the Daycare doors. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't, I guess I just misunderstood—I wanted to make something memorable for you both, but I think I've ruined that now and I—"

A hand on your wrist stops you. In a swift movement, you're spun around, pulled in close to the Attendant's chest. Their gaze as they stare down at you is softer than you've ever thought possible. 

"Starlight." They say. 

You swallow again. "Yeah?"

"We're going to kiss you now." Their other hand comes up to your cheek, head tilting. "Is that alright?"

It takes you a second to register what they've said. Then—"Oh! O-okay then."

The Attendant bends down, pressing their smile to your lips. After a few, long, exceedingly tender moments, they pull back. 

They must notice how starstruck you are, as they chuckle then, still holding you close. 

"We have something to confess."

The hand on your chin goes to play with your hair. "To be honest, the reason we've never liked the holidays was because we've never had anyone to share it with."

"We've always been on the sidelines, watching as everyone else gets to partake in the festivities. It was, lonely."

Their gaze comes back to your own. "Until you came along, that is."

More heat rushes to your cheeks. 

"You made us realize that this time of year, it means something to so many people. You made it worth all the years that came before, and made us see that there's something special about it, and, about you."

Before you can say anything, they kiss you again, then step back. "We, we have something for you too, if you'll still accept, that is."

"Yes." You say immediately, then clear your throat. "I mean, yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Another chuckle. "You were just about to walk out the door, Sunbeam. We got a little worried."

You giggle, but find yourself speechless as they pull out their gift to you. It's an intricately patterned bracelet, with multiple connections and chains that are woven together so meticulously. The charms seem to glisten in the low light, twinkling like stars.

"We don't um, have access to a lot, in here, but, well, it's what we have." They look up to you then. "Could we, put it on you?"

You nod. "Please."

They're faceplate spins once, and taking hold of your wrist, they attach the bracelet. It jingles and clinks ever so slightly as they take hold of your handing, squeezing gently. 

"I love it." You say after a moment, free hand reaching up to cup their face. "Thank you."

This gives them pause, they turn away, face spinning rather quickly in a way that makes you laugh. You think if possible they'd be blushing. 

You turn their focus back to you, standing on your tiptoes. "So you really meant it? I've changed your mind? Among, um, other things?"

They answer you with another kiss that makes your heart soar. 

"Yes, among other things."

You nod, once, twice. Then—"Sweet."

The comment makes them laugh, and you join in, only being interrupted by another kiss, to your hand, your cheek, and your lips again. And with how tightly they hold on to you, and how warm you feel in that moment, something tells you there's many more to follow. 

Yeah, you'd consider this quiet the success after all, in more ways than one.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

gahh i tried to go for a bit of extra fluff at the end there, hope it turned out alright! Thank you @cosmic-quakes for the super cute request! Hope i did it justice ^-^

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[narcjsistx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 | OS

karasu tabito x fem reader ; words: 1.9k (1939)

coming from this event, fifth day, 22/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: the pact had been clear from the beginning: only needy kisses when the situation called for it, but no relationships. everything had been going smoothly up until that point, but the main problem was that now you were falling for your enemy's best friend. does tabito not want relationships because he doesn't want to set up seriously or just because he's afraid of ruining everything by being mediocre?

Even though you are literally in each other's arms, you feel Karasu light years away from you. The grip he had on your hips a few seconds ago has suddenly diminished, remaining sloppily leaning but not holding them. It took just a few words to destroy the perfect harmony that has existed between you since this strange situation began, and you don't know whether to regret having said them or to still be as convinced as you were until recently. You just know that, now, Karasu is not the same one who was kissing you until a moment ago, with the same usual sweetness

"We should stop. I'm starting to develop feelings for you and I don't want to suffer through something like this"

Words spoken in one breath, but which contained everything, or more, that you felt for the boy who until today has always been your kisser. You said that you started, and not that for months now you have thought only and exclusively of him, that you dream of being able to have a relationship with him, that you would simply like to stop being an ordinary girl and become his girlfriend. But what you dreamed of didn't fit your plan, the one that until now had given you the chance to be so close to him. The plan was simple: just kisses, maybe sooner or later a sexual relationship if you both agreed, but never and ever a relationship

Yet, it seemed so easy to fall in love with him. Karasu is polite, he knows how to joke without being offensive, he has a hobby that he is committed to and has many friends who love him, and he also knows how to treat women. It was impossible for you to understand how a boy like that is best friends with Otoya Eita, the same boy who broke your heart after a relationship that lasted no more than two weeks. You could easily say that the hatred you felt for the ninja turned into love when it came to Tabito.

It all started with this pretext: help me make Otoya regret leaving me, make him understand that I am the best girl he could spend his life with. Betting on his best friend had been a risky choice, but Karasu had accepted. And so, in front of the white and green haired boy, the kisses between you and Karasu had begun their battle against him, who frankly had never paid much attention to you two, only surprised to see Karasu with someone after long time since last time

Almost everyone, even his friends, thought you were a couple. But you both said no, you were just young and a relationship would only hinder the beautiful bond you had. Yet, your goal of making Otoya jealous had turned into nothing in less than a few weeks, while you began to reflect that Karasu was actually a good guy. That, besides the kisses, he also treated you well, and he didn't have the same behavior with girls as he had with you

And so, for a year now, you had begun to think that you loved him seriously, that kisses were not enough for you. It had taken you a year to say the words you had just said to him, and yet you had already regretted it. His face conveyed an all too obvious surprise, untypical for someone like him

"I know you don't want a relationship, so let's end this. It was fun"

You knew he didn't want a relationship, he had made it clear from the start. You had talked about it other times, and his words were always the same. They hurt you, but they were reality

"I don't want a relationship, it would hinder me and my future career as a striker. Professional players never have a steady relationship until they reach an important goal, and I will do the same. After I win, I will look for someone to spend the rest of my life with. But it's not that time yet"

Your heart hurt, your body, everything. It hurt to think that from now on, you would do without him, without his lips on yours and without the good feeling that always existed in your stomach when you knew he was looking at you. You were letting go of something you loved so much, but you knew that by doing so, maybe you would save yourself more future pain

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. It's all over, I don't want anymore"

You didn't know why he didn't want a relationship, or rather, the explanation he had given you so long ago didn't seem entirely right. Karasu, in your eyes, seemed like someone who needed love so much, who even sought it, but why did he reject it if he had plenty of it, of yours, under his hands?

There was something that told you that he was rejecting love because of a more personal fear, because of something that you had always had before your eyes but had never understood. Something that, you thought, made him very insecure. But what was this insecurity of his if he was so perfect? What he was hiding from you?

Slowly, you pulled away from his grip, which no longer held you to him. Your lowered gaze helped you not to look him in the eyes, because seeing even a shred of sadness would have destroyed you. It was the best choice, but why did it hurt?

"You can't be serious, everything is going great"

"It's precisely because everything is going well that I want to stop. Karasu, I think I seriously love you, kisses are no longer enough for me. But at the same time, I know you don't want a relationship, and I don't want to force you to have one with me. If everything continues to go so well in my mind we will be like boyfriend and girlfriend, while you will continue to think of us as just two friends. And I will suffer from this, because I know myself"

You had to be harsh with your words, even if you didn't really want to be, and especially not with him, who hadn't actually done anything to you. But if you weren't, it would have been even worse

He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship

But really, why?

"You can't just go away and break everything. Don't you think about me?"

Karasu has never been someone who blames things, he has always admitted that he hates those who do it, because he thinks they are mediocre, and he hates mediocre people

"Yes, and it's better for both"

"You don't know what's fucking best for me..."

"Instead, yes. Think of it as if our relationship was a test for what you will have with your future girlfriend"

"I don't even want to think about anyone else other than you"

Karasu wasn't the type to say things like that, especially things that sounded like a declaration of love, and hell, it seemed like one to you. Why did he just say those words if he always reminded you that he doesn't want to think about anything but his career? Is there seriously something he's hiding from you that goes beyond the simple justification he's always given you?

"If you don't think I know what's best for you, tell me. What's best for you, Tabito?"

Maybe you had crossed the line, just maybe

"The best thing for me is to believe that I am enough for you, but I can't be if I am so disgustingly mediocre. Giving you something mediocre, being yours, is something that bothers me, because I never want to see you with something or someone who is not on your level. The thought of you walking away suffocates me, but I know that sooner or later you would realize how much I am not enough. I don't want you Y/n, even if I really do, because you don't deserve shit. Why did you fall in love with someone like me instead, so mediocre?"

So there was actually something in Karasu's thoughts, something that you actually didn't even remotely expect: how could he, so perfect in your eyes, consider himself mediocre?. The excuse of his career was therefore evidently just a bullshit to hide this more intimate side of his, who had fought so hard to hide it from your eyes, who instead saw it with an inhuman perfection

"Mediocre things don't work, they don't make things enjoyable. Settling is not love, and putting yourself in a situation like that would destroy me. I would ruin everything sooner or later, trust me"

You wanted to shut him up, you seriously wanted to. Hearing him talk so badly about himself hurt your heart, since you didn't even remotely have these thoughts about him. Never ever, in your thoughts, had you imagined him ruining everything, he who in situations always tried to resolve in the best possible way. Maybe he wasn't aware of how great it was, how 'mediocre' was the last word in the world to describe it. Maybe he was genuinely insecure about something that didn't actually exist, but was just in his head for some unknown reason

"If you consider me enough for everything, how do you explain the thing that I fell in love with you, that instead you consider yourself mediocre? Don't you think that I fell in love because you are so perfect in my eyes that I don't understand your doubts? Karasu, you have no idea how much you are not even remotely wrong, you are anything but wrong. Falling in love with someone so perfect, who knows how to love but is afraid, is I think one of the most intelligent things I have ever done, and you know that I have done a lot of stupid things in life. But I want to make you aware of how much you are enough, much more than enough. For me you know how to love, you want someone who loves you, but you are afraid. I want to take away this fear from you"

Silently, you had unmasked the mask that Karasu Tabito had so glued to his face: under that self-confident, sometimes even selfish face, there was a boy who was extremely insecure about himself, who was just waiting for someone who could love him without fear of his insecurities. You had destabilized him with your words, you could see it from the way he was slowly destroying himself. Your words were true, and you hoped that by destroying himself he would understand that you meant them

"Suppose I accept your love. Suddenly I do something, I ruin everything"

"I'll try to love you again until everything works perfectly. And in the meantime you learn where you went wrong and you don't do it again, because I know you can do it. To err is human"

You wanted to love him, you wanted him to love himself. And if trying again with him every time meant making him realize that he wasn't as shit as he said he was, you would try again and again

Mediocre was his fear, not he. A human mediocrity, because in reality everyone has fears of this kind; you had some too

"Let yourself be loved, Karasu. Let your dream come true, because I never want to see you sad about something like that"

"If I make a mistake, will you try again? Shall we try again?"

"Until my last breath"

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[formosusiniquis]

The thing is that Leverage Consulting & Associates is, on paper, a legitimate company. Or it was a legitimate company at one point. It was founded by Harlan Leverage III, that’s how Hardison set it up and we know that he’s good at setting up the paperwork to make something look legit.

So with that in mind, I propose the following.

Parker is getting better at the people thing, the strange people thing. She’s good with the boys, they’re her boys. They get her and she gets them, usually. There isn’t the thing that Sophie is always talking about, conventions. Expectations that she has to know how to meet. It’s easier with a con, there’s a goal she just has to figure out the right things to say to reach the right end. It’s like a dialogue tree in one of Hardison’s games.

Meeting with clients is harder. Having to work out what they think they want and what they really want. It’s a mess of implications and vaguely stated desires. She doesn’t know why everyone can’t just say what they’re really thinning. She tries to have Hardison or Eliot there with her, to translate the innuendo that she knows she misses or correct her misinterpreting of a facial tic. But Eliot is running recon on the mark that they’re about to take and Hardison is working on one of his projects to help fix the world.

So it’s just her in the brew pub looking for Steve, a middle school teacher for the hard of hearing whose school is getting shut down. She finds him at the bar, the hair is, as Eliot would say, distinctive.

“Mr. Harrington,” he startles when she taps on his shoulder. Maybe Eliot is right and she’s not making enough noise when she walks.

“Yes, hello, hi.” Nervous, he’s nervous, that much she understands what to do with.

“Hello, I’m Parker, we-”

“Parker?” A question she thinks, it ticks up at the end like one. But he hasn’t actually asked anything.

“Leverage. You contacted us about your school.”

“Oh,” he brightens, maybe he thought she was confused or a stranger. “I didn’t know it was a family business.”

This was another thing she didn’t get, the weird connections people made. How the thing that she said turned into what he said. That confusion must be plain.

“I did some research, tried anyway, my sister-in-law is pretty handy with the computer stuff.”

They’ve run a lot of cons, sometimes pictures do pop up of them in the middle of a grift, Hardison’s crawlers are good but the internet is changing, apparently. It makes sense, in a way, that he might have seen a picture of her with the boys.

Eliot and Alec are her family. Nate and Sophie too.

“We are. A family business. Does that matter?”

He smiles, a real one, she knows what that means. “No! I think that’s fantastic. Family is important to me.”

“Great. Now, Mr. Harrington, what can you tell me about what is going on with your school.”

The con keeps them busy for several days, but at the end she’s excited to see Mr. Harrington again to tell him the good news. She likes this part, maybe more than the gloat. It’s like the opposite of money, the ephemeral way the joy and the gratitude on their faces can’t be hoarded.

“Thank you, Ms. Leverage, you can’t imagine how much this will mean to the students. It’s amazing that the business has stayed in the family since the 1900’s.”

It’s such a strange thing to say that she isn’t sure how to answer. So she defaults, “We’re just glad we could help.”

He leaves not much later, joining up with a man that she knows from the background check is his husband.

Alec and Eliot slip behind her once he’s gone. A quiet and subtle presence, until Alec can’t help but break the silence. “Parker Leverage. It has a nice ring.”

And it isn’t hard to admit, “It does, doesn’t it?”

[txjuns]

That’s so true

Pairing: reader x Heeseung

Inspired by “That’s so true - Gracie Abrams”

I highly recommend listening to it while reading this

Synopsis: You and Heeseung had been broken up for almost two months. You were highschool sweethearts. When both of you went to college, things got harder on both of you. You couldn’t see each other because you were constantly busy, so you both just decided to end it.

Warnings: angst, sexual themes, smut (kinda?), pretty sad imo

A/n: here’s a little something I wrote a while ago while I’m busy writing another part for my Taesan fic.

Night of the break-up

You and Heeseung were laying on the hood of his car, watching the stars. The cold air was nipping at your exposed arms which sent a shiver through your whole body. He noticed immediately and pulled you closer.

You looked up at him, a faint smile softened his features.

“I forgot how quiet it is here” he said, his voice low, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness around you.

You nodded against his chest, “You get used to it after a while. The city’s more exciting anyway.”

“It is,” Heeseung admitted, “but it’s not home”

The words lingered in the air between you, heavy and bittersweet. Heeseung had been back in town for just three days, a fleeting visit during winter break. You’ve been counting down the days since he left for college, imagining what it would feel like to see him again, but now that he was here, the reunion felt more fragile than you’d expected. Like something beautiful you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“What’s it like there?” You asked, needing to fill the space between you. “College, I mean.”

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “It’s… different. Fast. Loud. Everyone’s trying to prove something.” He turned his head to look at you, his voice softening. “It’s not bad. Just… not what I thought it’d be.”

You hesitated, then asked the question you’d been avoiding. “Do you think you’ll stay there after graduation?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you closer. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I’m supposed to. There’s more opportunities there, you know? But…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to the stars.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew what he meant—what he wasn’t saying.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. “We knew this was going to happen.”

He looked down at you and you could feel his arms loosening around you. “Y/n—”

“It’s okay,” you repeated, cutting him off. You forced a smile, even though it hurt. “We can’t hold each other back. You have your life, and I have mine. It’s just… not the right time for us.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s over,” he said, his voice urgent. “We’ll find each other again. When it is the right time.”

You looked at him, your heart breaking and swelling all at once. “Promise me?”

He reached for your hand, his fingers lightly threading through yours. “I promise.”

For a moment, you stayed like that, your hands clasped, the stars above you indifferent to the ache in your hearts.

—

You were moping around your apartment, with a ringing in your head. You’ve been stressed, because of all your classes. The lingering feeling from 2 months ago wasn’t helping either.

You and Heeseung haven’t talked since that night. Which was strange, because you both promised to stay in touch. The kiss goodbye at the airport gave you a little bit of hope that things would get better, but now you felt stupid for thinking that. I think about your dumb face all the time.

You looked at your phone and the time read 6:45. You plopped onto your bed, thinking you were going to have an early night. That was until you received a message from Yunjin. “Party tonight. Look hot. It’s not a question.”

You groaned in protest. Promising Yunjin to go to that frat party with her was probably your biggest mistake ever. You didn’t feel like partying at all, let alone get drunk. She never knew when to stop. It was always shot after shot, and not even a sip of water in between. That girl is a real party animal.

—

The music thumped through the walls, a bass-heavy beat that seemed to vibrate in your already aching head. You weren’t sure why you decided to come to the party. You hated these kinds of things, the noise, the press of bodies.

“You need to get out, have fun,” Yunjin said, dragging you out of your sulking state. “I know things are hard right now, but that’s why you need to unwind and set your inner animal free.”

You rolled your eyes at her, “The last thing I want to do to “unwind” is go to a frat party.”

Yunjin grabbed your arm and dragged you into the kitchen, “You need a drink asap.”

As Yunjin was pouring your drink, you saw someone approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/n! You came?” You turned towards the voice and saw Jungwon.

Your eyes widened. “Jungwon? No way!” You squeeled and immediately went in for a hug, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

Jungwon is your best friend since your first day of high school. Ride or die homie since day one.

He went off to college 2 hours away. That didn’t stop him from regularly coming to visit. You guys would have sleepovers with Yunjin and Sunoo. Your only two friends who stayed in town.

You pulled away and looked at him in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You smacked his shoulder.

He let out a chuckle, “I wanted to surprise you,” he had a bright smile on his face and that iconic eye smile. “It was all part of the plan, right Yunjin?”

Yunjin giggled and you smacked her arm too. “You knew about this?!”

“Well it was a surprise,” she said with a warm smile.

You and Jungwon were sitting on the couch, catching up on everything. Yunjin disappeared after saying she needed to dance.

“How is everyone else?” You asked, trying to remeber everyone’s faces. They haven’t had the chance to come visit yet.

“Where do I begin?” He thought for a second. “Niki got an audition to join a major dance crew, Jake is the captain of the college football team, Sunghoon’s ice-skating career is sky-rocketing, Jay is in a band and Chaewon has her own art exhibition.”

Your mouth fell open hearing about your friends’ successes. You felt glad that they were doing well for themselves.

“Oh, and Heeseung is captain of the basketball team” your heart sank when you heard his name.

Jungwon noticed your change in behavior when your head dropped, “Listen, I heard what happened. I’m so so sorry, Y/n.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at your lap.

Jungwon grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. “If it makes you feel better, which it probably won’t, I haven’t talked to him since. None of us have.”

You held onto his hand, “It’s okay. It was bound to happen.”

“Can I get you another drink?” Jungwon said as he stood up.

“That would be lovely, Jungwon. Thank you.” He grabbed the two cups and made his way to the kitchen.

Your head started thumping again so you dropped it onto your hands that were propped up on your knees. The music made it so much worse. You looked around the room, watching people dance against each other, spilling their drinks and some even making out.

Your eyes locked with his. Those eyes were all too familiar. So much so that every inch of pain you felt that night, came rushing back. He had a crooked smile on his lips, that once was yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the girl holding onto his arm. What. The. Fuck.

The girl was beautiful and effortlessly put together, the kind of girl who seemed to belong at parties like this. She leaned into Heeseung’s side , her hand resting lightly on his arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You felt the ground tilt beneath you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You could still feel the ghost of his promise, whispered under the stars just two months ago: “I’ll come back for you.”

You noticed that he was wearing the leather jacket that you gave him on his birthday. All while his arm was around another woman. You wondered if she could still smell your scent when he wears that.

But here he was, like you were nothing more than a memory.

“Y/n? You okay?” Jungwon’s voice snapped you back to reality. You turned to find your friend watching you with concern, his brows knit together. He handed you your drink.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hollow. You took a long sip from your cup, hoping it would dull the ache that was spreading through your chest.

You turned back toward Heeseung just in time to see the girl laugh, her head tipping back, and him leaning closer, his expression warm, familiar. I’ve been there too.

You couldn’t watch anymore. “I need some fresh air.” You said and Jungwon pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. You set your cup down on the nearest surface and turned towards the door, the pounding music fading into the background as you slipped outside.

The cold air hit you like a slap, but you welcomed it. You pressed your palms to your face, trying to breathe through the wave of emotions crashing over you—anger, sadness, disbelief.

Two months. That was all it had taken for him to move on.

You heard the door creak open behind you and stiffened. For a second, you thought it might be him, coming after you, but it was Jungwon again.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “He’s here. With someone else.”

Jungwon’s face softened, and he stepped closer, pulling you against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

You let yourself be held, your tears hot against the cold night air. Jungwon’s heart broke when he heard your sobs, so he pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t face him again—not tonight, maybe not ever.

You wiped your tear-stained face. Jungwon convinced you to stay since you haven’t seen each other in so long. You just had to avoid him and his new girl. No, I know, I know, fuck off.

—

You’d told Jungwon you wanted to leave, but something in you refused to go. Maybe it was stubbornness, or maybe it was that little, traitorous part of your heart that still wanted to see him—to see if he was happy without you.

You walked into the house and saw Yunjin standing in the corner. You went over to her and she immediately saw your reddened eyes. You caught up on what happened and she gave you a massive hug.

Yunjin was watching you carefully, her eyes darting between you and Heeseung across the room. Finally, she grabbed your arm. “You’re not hiding over here all night. Come on.”

“Yunjin, no,” you hissed, panic flashing across your face.

“Yes,” Yunjin insisted, pulling you toward the kitchen where Heeseung stood with his new girl. You dug your heels into the floor, but Yunjin wasn’t having it. Before you could protest again, you were there, standing just a few feet away from him.

Heeseung looked up, and when his eyes landed on you, his smile faltered for the briefest of moments. But then he recovered, the easy grin returning to his face. “Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Your throat tightened, but you managed a small smile. “Hi, Heeseung.”

The girl turned to look at you, curiosity flickering in her brown eyes. She had the kind of energy that lit up a room—effortlessly magnetic. “Oh, is this Y/n?” she asked, her voice warm and friendly.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

The girl beamed and stuck out her hand. “I’m Karina. Heeseung’s told me so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you!”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You glanced at Heeseung, who looked slightly uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. But Karina’s enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Karina tilted her head, her smile widening. “You’re even prettier than Heeseung said. And let me just say, you have great taste in music—he played me that playlist you made him. Absolute fire.”

You blinked again, caught completely off guard. You glanced at Heeseung, who rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly regretting sharing that detail.

“I—thank you,” you managed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite your true feelings.

Yunjin, sensing the tension easing, jumped in. “Karina, where are you from? You’re not local, right?”

Karina launched into a story about her college and how she’d met Heeseung in one of their classes. As she spoke, you found herself relaxing, drawn in by Karina’s easygoing nature. She was funny, genuinely kind, and effortlessly charming. But I think I love her, she’s so fun. Wait I think I hate her.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Heeseung saw in her that he hadn’t seen in you—or maybe he had, and that’s why he’d chosen someone so different.

But then Karina said something that made you freeze. “You know, Heeseung says he’d never have survived the first semester if it wasn’t for all the advice you gave him. You’re kind of a legend, you know.”

You glanced at Heeseung, who was looking at the floor, his ears turning pink. “I didn’t say it like that,” he mumbled.

Karina laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, he totally did. And I get it now—you’re great.”

For the first time that night, you felt a strange sense of peace. It wasn’t the painful confrontation you feared, nor was it the awkward reunion you dreaded. Karina was fun, Heeseung seemed happy, and you realized that he genuinely feels nothing for you now.

Yunjin leaned in, whispering in your ear, “She’s cool, huh?”

You nodded slowly, your lips curving into a genuine smile. “Yeah. She is.” You said, though you hated to admit it.

When you looked back, Heeseung was staring at you. It was as if he could sense every emotion you were feeling. Or he noticed your redened eyes and felt somewhat guilty for what he’d done.

You couldn’t be around them anymore. As much as you like Karina as a person, thinking of them doing the things that you used to do hurt too much.

—

You rembered the night you and Heeseung had your first intimate moment.

It had been late September, the air still warm but tinged with the crispness of fall. You were in Heeseung’s room, a small lamp casting a golden glow across the space. You just returned from one of your long walks around town, the kind where you’d talk about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow as easily as your laughter.

That night had been different, though. There was a quiet tension between you, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but instead felt electric. You both knew something was shifting, something you couldn’t quite put into words but could feel in the way your hands lingered when you touched or in the way his gaze seemed to hold yours a little longer than usual.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar resting against the wall nearby. You remembered teasing him about his music taste, laughing as he defended his love for cheesy 2000s punk songs. But as your laughter faded, the silence between you grew heavy again, charged with unspoken feelings.

“You’re staring at me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, nervous smile. “You’re beautiful.”

You rolled her eyes, but your heart pounded in your chest. He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours so softly it made you shiver. When he pulled you closer, you didn’t resist.

He presses his lips against your, slow and tentative at first, as if he was testing the waters. But soon, the hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something raw and unguarded. His hands found your waist, your arms looped around his neck, and the rest of the world seemed to blur into nothingness.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice filled with both desire and concern.

You nodded, your cheeks warm but your eyes steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

What followed was a dance of discovery, a clumsy but tender exploration of each other. You whispered nervous jokes and stifled giggles as you fumbled with buttons and zippers, the intimacy of the moment both exhilarating and terrifying. He had been so gentle, so careful, checking in with you every step of the way.

Afterwards, you laid tangled together under his blanket, your limbs intertwined as if you were trying to become one. You remembered the way his fingers traced absentminded patterns on your arm, the soft kisses he placed on your forehead, and the way he whispered your name like it was the only word he wanted to say.

“I love you,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

You had looked up at him, your heart full and aching all at once. “I love you too.”

—

You closed the bathroom door behind you and leaned against it, the muffled noise of the party outside suddenly distant. Your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your breath uneven. Seeing Heeseung with Karina—laughing, smiling, and fitting so seamlessly into a life that didn’t include you—had been harder than you thought.

There was a knock on the door.

“Occupied,” you called, trying to steady your voice.

“Y/n, it’s me.”

Your stomach sank. Heeseung.

You hesitated, but then you unlocked the door and opened it a crack. He was standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face drawn tight.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed but stepped aside, letting him in. As soon as the door clicked shut, the tension between you were suffocating.

“What’s there to talk about?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice low.

You laughed, a bitter sound. “Upset? What gave you that idea? The fact that I had to watch you with your new girlfriend all night?”

“Karina’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly.

“Oh, sure,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “She’s just a random girl you bring to parties and laugh with like she’s the best thing in the world.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “She’s a distraction, okay?”

That made you pause. “A distraction?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rising. “Because it’s easier to pretend I don’t miss you when I’m with her.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “What?” You whispered, your arms falling to your sides.

“I miss you, Y/n,” he said, his voice breaking. “I miss everything about you. I thought maybe if I… if I tried to move on, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it does. God, it hurts every day.”

You stared at him, your anger melting into confusion, then something softer. “Then why, Heeseung? Why her? Why didn’t you just call me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Because you told me to let you go. You said we couldn’t hold each other back, remember? I thought I was doing what you wanted. What was best for you.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I didn’t want you to forget about me,” you said quietly. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I’m not happy,” he said, stepping closer. “Not without you.”

The air between you were thick with unspoken words, unprocessed feelings. Heeseung hesitated before reaching for your hand. You let him, your fingers intertwining like they used to.

“I still love you, Y/n,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to stop, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but you smiled through them. “I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto each other like you were the only solid things in a spinning world.

“What do we do now?” You asked, your voice cracking.

He squeezed your hand. “We figure it out. I’ll drive here every weekend if I have to. I’ll write you letters, I’ll call you every night—I don’t care how hard it is. I’m not losing you again.”

Your breath hitched as the tension in the small bathroom became almost unbearable.

He stood so close now, his hand still holding yours, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. His gaze softened as he searched your eyes, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel unsteady.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion, "I mean it. I'll do whatever it takes. Just tell me you'll let me."

Your chest tightened, the intensity of his words pulling you closer to him in ways you couldn't fight. "I don't know how to stop loving you either," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I tried, but I couldn't."

Heeseung's free hand came up to your face, his touch warm and familiar. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as though he couldn't believe you were real.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly as your defenses crumbled.

"Then don't stop," he said softly.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft at first, almost like he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn't.

You kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as all the pain and longing of the past months melted into something warmer, something that felt like home.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the cramped bathroom didn't matter. He pressed you gently against the sink, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you could feel the way his heartbeat matched yours. Fast, frantic, and filled with everything you hadn't been able to say.

"Y/n," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "God, I missed you."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your forehead resting against his. "I missed you too," you whispered, your hands trailing down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto each other like you were afraid to let go. Heeseung's hands slid up your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of you. You shivered under his touch, your heart racing as he pressed another kiss to you lips, this one deeper, more urgent.

"Are we really doing this here?" You asked breathlessly, a small laugh escaping you despite the intensity of the moment.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. "I don't care where we are, as long as it's with you."

You felt your resolve dissolve completely at his words. You tugged him closer, your fingers slipping under the collar of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. The sound of the party outside seemed distant now, like you were in your own little world where nothing else mattered.

As the make-out grew more passionate, he lifted you, sitting you on the edge of the sink. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and you could feel the strength of his hold on you, grounding you even as the moment felt overwhelming.

"I love you," he whispered again, his voice a mix of need and reverence.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice breaking slightly as you pulled him closer.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything else faded away. There was no distance, no uncertainty-just the two of you, finding each other all over again in a moment that felt both fragile and infinite.

He pressed his hips into yours, and you could feel his length growing against you with every kiss and touch. His hand played with the hem of your skirt before he lifted it.

His lips traveled down your neck as he rubbed his thumb over your clothed heat. You pressed your hips forward, into his touch. You craved it.

His other hand pulled your straps down your shoulders, exposing your chest, your shirt now sitting around your waist.

“God, how I’ve missed every part of your perfect little body.” He whispered in a low tone.

He pulled your panties aside, and rubbed circles into your clit. You let out a soft moan as your head fell back onto the mirror.

You were now onto your third orgasm, bent over the sink as he pounded into you hard. His one hand was in your hair, forcing you to look at him in the mirror, the other had a tight grip on you hip.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his head falling back. He could feel you tighten around him as you neared your orgasm. He was close too.

Your breathing was heavy and the pleasure was overwhelming. You let out a stiffled moan as you felt a knot in your stomach, threatening to explode.

[voidspiraling]

What do you think about the Red pupils in alien stage? Because when I first see them I think it’s just an Ivan trait, but in a few shots, Till has them too. Specifically when it’s related to Ivan. I would think it’s stress because of the fact he was stressed when Luka was manipulating him, but there’s also the Metor shower scene where he’s the happiest we’ve seen him at. Also! Thoughts on the comic where Till says “Because of you Mizi won’t play with me anymore?” And Ivan says that it wasn’t Mizi playing with him it was him? Like, what do you think that comic could mean on both their relationship + how Till loves Mizi? Cuz I think it’s interesting that he’s in love with her because of her smile and her presence but mistakes Ivan for her

Hiiii Srry for the late reply I had finals weeks and was dying. Thank you so much for your ask I’m happy to talk abt red pupils and the comic!

Red eyes are super interesting in IvanTill.

This is the first shot from R3 we get of baby Ivan, and his eyes naturally have the red dot in them. Usually they’re a darker color so his eyes look black most of the time.

So I disagree with the theory that the aliens experimented on Ivan’s eyes to turn them red. His eyes have always been red, you just don’t notice it unless you boost the saturation and contrast. Or have super strong eyes ig. HOWEVER.

Ivan’s eyes get redder when he feels strong emotions. This is the comic showing his final thoughts, here he is likely feeling jealous that Sua was able to be in a mutually requited love with Mizi. It’s almost like his entire world is turned upside down. What do you mean the girl who is so similar to me is able to find happiness? Why couldn’t I? Why is she so happy and I’m so miserable when we’re both the same? So we can associate bright red eyes with intense feelings. Just like how the color bright red can mean intense love but also extreme danger. Now let’s talk about when Till’s eyes are red.

The first time in canon is the infamous meteor shower scene. It’s one of the happiest times we see him. In this moment I think the red pupils represent the happiness and love he feels for Ivan. I’ve talked abt the red sky before but I’ll briefly say that this bright sky is a pivotal moment in both of their lives. It’s where their love was almost fully realized (in my delusional eyes) before being ripped to pieces. Remember red means love but it also means danger. So when Till’s eyes are red it means he’s feeling an intense emotion related to Ivan, bc Ivan naturally has red eyes. In this scene it’s probably love that he is feeling intensely.

Now let’s look at R6 Till, his eyes are red here too but it’s not out of happiness but of heartbreak. I wanted to talk abt this later so I’ll keep this short. But isn’t it strange that Till was so defeated after Mizi disappeared. She wasn’t even confirmed dead but he was already at his lowest. I think the real reason he stopped singing wasn’t just bc he was sad abt Mizi, but bc he didn’t want to win against Ivan. Losing his idol made him realize that the only person he has left is Ivan. It’s like a reality check for him. (Honestly if Mizi somehow won R5 I feel like he’d still throw the match but I’ll explain my delusions separately.) Anyways in this moment right before Ivan kisses him, he is probably shocked at seeing Ivan. Remember Till doesn’t realize that Ivan loves him, he probably attributes Ivan’s weirdness around him as something he does out of hate rather than him trying to get the attention of his crush. So seeing him also throw the mic away and stand so close to him was surprising but also comforting in a sense. At least the last face he sees will be Ivan.

Now onto R7, this is I think the brightest red we see in Till’s eyes. I think this is bc his world just ended hours ago (however long the time between rounds is idk rlly all I know is that R6 and R7 happened the same day.) All the ppl he grew up with died, he doesn’t know what happened to Mizi, and he’s up against the Ruler of the Stage. But here his eyes are red when Luka impersonates Ivan. Again his red eyes likely represent the deep heartbreak and sadness he feels about Ivan. After Ivan’s sacrifice and kiss Till has to re-contextualize everything Ivan has done. I think also it forced him to confront the red sky that haunted him (ie: missed chance at freedom, finding happiness with Ivan) there was a lot of red scenes and red lights during R7 that reinforces this idea.

Overall red eyes are Ivan’s signature, but it’s easy to miss bc it blends with the black of his eyes. Ivan also wears a lot of black you can barely see any red on him. But Till who cares a lot more abt Ivan than he’s willing to admit, notices the red in his eyes. So when Till’s eyes turn red it means what he’s feeling is connected is related to Ivan. We don’t see Till’s turn red when thinking abt Mizi.

There is one exception however.

It’s in R2. Now this could just be thematic, Till just killed an alien living in his guitar. HOWEVER let’s pretend it’s more than that. Red eyes represent Ivan bc he naturally has red pupils. BUT the color red represents Till. He’s got bright red pants, dark red gloves, blood red on his pants and he’s seen cherishing and holding red flowers.

Methinks Red is Till’s signature color bc Till likes the color of Ivan’s eyes. (And if you think abt it pink is just a lighter shade of red hehehe…)

To answer your question red eyes are an Ivan thing bc he was born with red eyes. But red eyes on Till means he’s looking at Ivan meaningfully, acknowledging his own feelings for Ivan it could be positive feelings or negative feelings. But considering that Till’s eyes turned red from being depressed over Ivan, I think Till has mostly positive feelings for Ivan.

Now part 2!

This comic is basically Till threatening (failing to threaten rlly I mean look at Ivan’s face XD) to punch Ivan in the bathroom bc he believes Ivan was somehow the reason Mizi wouldn’t play with him. You can find the translation on Twitter by @WhataFruit.

Ivan’s response was basically what the hell are you on Mizi never played with you in the first place. Then the small text is him saying I was the one who played with you.

On Till’s side the real reason Mizi doesn’t play with Till, is bc she thinks Till doesn’t like her. She likes how artistic he is, and thinks his piercings suit him. But she sees him awkward and uncomfortable around her and assumes it’s bc he doesn’t like her. She wants to be friends with Till but due to Till’s avoidant tendencies they’re not close.

He blames Ivan for this bc he doesn’t have anyone else to blame. He’s May not even be aware that he’s avoiding ppl like this. Ivan was just a jerk to him anyways so it’s easy to blame him if something he doesn’t like happens to him. This is the kid that steals his pencils it wouldn’t be too surprising if Ivan said something weird abt Till to Mizi.

Another thing is that he talks abt Ivan wanting revenge for hitting them when they were younger. This could be bc Till likely feels guilty abt hitting Ivan. When they grow older, yeah Till still gets pissed at Ivan, but he doesn’t hit him anymore. In fact he tries to ignore him like in the R6 flashback when Ivan pulls at his wound on his cheek. It’s like when you tell a little girl to stop reacting when a boy is mean to her bc he likes her (not that it ever stops the boy from being abusive but whatever). So I think this is how Till sees Ivan’s feelings towards him. He’s doing weird stuff cuz he’s mad at me/hates me for hitting him when we were younger. It could also be he feels guilty for throwing away his only chance at freedom with Ivan. Cuz it wasn’t just his freedom he gave up it was also Ivan’s freedom that was lost. It wasn’t Till’s responsibility or anything I’m not blaming him for Ivan’s choices. But as a result of Till’s actions both him and Ivan are trapped as pets again. Till blaming himself for Ivan coming back could be why he thinks Ivan only has negative feelings for him. And why he doesn’t attack Ivan after Ivan provoked him, he probably thinks he deserves Ivan tormenting him.

Now let’s talk abt Ivan’s response. He’s blunt as always with no tact when he says Mizi never played with you in the first place. But the smaller text is him saying I’m the one who plays with you.

From this the smaller text makes me think abt how Ivan is only truly honest when Till isn’t awake or looking at him.

In R6 Ivan is showing comfort and care to Till after he had been forced to sing for the aliens (idk if that scene has actual SA or if they just drugged him and hit him but regardless Till is suffering here). There is no way to misconstrue Ivan’s action as anything but care here. He unlocks Till’s collar and nuzzles his gently the way Till nuzzles flowers. He could’ve kissed Till here, could’ve unbuttoned his shirt or pinch his face etc. But the only thing he does is gently comfort Till.

I think this shows how Ivan wants to be kind and cherish Till. But something holds him back from doing it when Till can receive that care properly. It doesn’t matter how much you love give someone if the other person never receives it in a way they understand. It’s probably bc for Ivan who has been treated as a product/investment he doesn’t have a lot of self-worth. He’s so used to just fulfilling everyone’s expectations of him that he lost his individuality. Loving Till doesn’t fit inside everyone’s expectations of him, not even Till’s. So he only does what he wants when no one is aware of it, when he’s by himself. In the student interview he allots a lot of time for “private time” this could be bc that’s the only reprieve he gets from constantly acting like the perfect pet for the aliens. And with the low self worth and calling his feelings “shallow” he like Till also believes he’s not worthy of affection.

He acts like a jerk to Till partly out of immaturity, anger at Till for not leaving with him and bc if he acts like this he can maximize the time he spent with Till. If he acted like Mizi, gentle and kind, he assumes Till would run away like he does with Mizi. Remember Till grew up being taken away from his mom and being abused by Urak. As a defense mechanism he assumes that violence is normal and avoids the unknown kindness others have for him. As an avoidant person myself, when you’re not used to ppl being unconditional kind, it is VERY uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that we shy away from it. So that’s why Ivan fulfills Till’s expectation of him being a jerk when he’s awake. But when Till isn’t looking at him or when Ivan’s abt to die he shows pure love towards Till.

Look at the face, that’s the look of someone in love. And one of the few times we see him wearing a collar. It’s bright green when looking at Till, Ivan you have so much affection how can you call it shallow 🥲 How many ppl could give up their chance at freedom just for the person they love? (This is why I can’t get behind ppl who think Ivan would cage Till or trap him by his side. Ivan literally respected Till’s choice not to leave their hell and even stayed with him and loved him the entire time they were together ;-;)

Also abt the last part I’m unclear where exactly Till mistook Ivan for Mizi? From my understanding I see Till loving Mizi as a performance and I think Vivinos said Till saw Mizi as an idol. Like how most ppl love idols, we only love the fantasy version we come up with of them. Very rarely do we see the messy human side to them. And even tho we may obsess over them and feel intense love for our fav idol. Eventually we turn off the screen and go through with our day. That’s how I see Till loving Mizi.

I mean whenever Ivan is watching Till, Till is mostly drawing, practicing/composing music or just by himself. There’s not really a scene of Ivan watching Till look at Mizi. It could just be that bc it’s Ivan’s pov we only see Till and no one else. But we also know that Ivan has spent a lot of time with Till in the garden, he’s our only insight into what Till is actually like. So I think Till loves Mizi from afar bc he unconsciously doesn’t want to actually get to know her and ruin his image of her. Even after seeing her attack Luka in R5 he still hallucinates her as a gentle almost angelic figure.

I mean I think Till has always loved Ivan but that’s just bc I’m delusional lol.

Anyways thank you so much for the ask! Sorry for the lateness and the nonsensical yapping. My brain is kinda fried rn from all the tests but I might come back and re-analyze the comic.

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Worth More than Gold (Reader x Laios Touden)

@alex126486 Reader first meeting laios in gold scraping , reader listens laios fascination on monsters and what they tasted like then asking he could cook one for him one day

"Do you remember? Back when we first started out with gold scraping?" You chuckle over at the tallman.

Laios doesn't look up from where he sits preparing the rest of the vegetables from Senshi's garden for you to fry up with the last of the basilisk meat and egg you're making. "Remember what?"

it's always been exciting being around Laios.

You were one of the Touden Party's three mages. Marcille with her explosive fire specialty, Falin with her cleric powers, and you with a specialty in protection and gnomish magic.

You once worked together with him as part of a gold-scraping band.

And it was then that he began talking to you all about his fascination towards monsters.

Little facts about the creatures you would face.

And when you gave no indication of disgust, Laios took the opportunity and ran with it, happily expounding upon monster features for hours upon end.

And when it became clear that you enjoyed his sessions of information -

he began to speculate with you about how monsters tasted.

Would a cockatrice taste more like chicken or more like reptile?

Do strangling plants have sweeter fruits than man-eating plants?

"Who knows? Maybe one day I'll cook you one."

Laios' jaw dropped, and he looked almost about to cry before he nodded seriously.

"That sounds great! What are you thinking of cooking?"

And years later, after traveling with Senshi deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you remember your offhand little promise.

"I once said I'd cook a monster for you. Way back when we were gold scraping."

Laios beams, and you know he never forgot. "I did! I didn't think you had."

"I hadn't, til just now. It must be so much fun for you to discover all the answers to the questions you've had."

Laios nods. "It's a dream come true!"

He glances over at a glum Marcille. "Though of course, saving Falin's the top priority."

"Of course." You nod. "Though if I can be honest, I've really enjoyed the stuff you and Senshi have made."

"That's great!"

"I know Marcille and Chilchuck tend to be squeamish about it-"

("Hey!" Marcille whines)

"-but I dunno. So-called 'normal' animals are pretty weird and gross too, but we eat them. Farming can be nasty too, what with fertilizer, but we don't consider crops gross. It's all just... part of a cycle. If you can make it taste good and it's safe to eat, then why not?"

Laios looks at you with something akin to awe. Chilchuck and Marcille look as though they have lost an ally to madness.

"Anyway, try this. I wanna know if I seasoned it enough." You hurriedly say, seeing Laios still looking at you with that strange expression.

He opens his mouth, seemingly expecting you to... feed him?

So you do, resting the chunk of cooked egg and meat on his tongue, feeling his mouth close around your fingers.

So innocuous, but so intimate, your fingertips compressed as his mouth moves from them, slipping out from the corners.

Part of you is going crazy, thinking one thought - that you've just put your fingers in a teammate's mouth and he just... ate from them. His lips touched your fingers.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Mmmmmm! That's perfectly seasoned."

"Oh! Uh... good." you feel your face heating. Chilchuck smirks over at you. "Good. Those vegetables, then?"

He happily hands them to you.

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For keeping your promise. For cooking. For feeding me."

It's an odd way of phrasing it, but you enjoy the sentiment. "You are welcome, Laios... anytime."

He grins, and leans in close. "You might even be better at cooking than Senshi. It might just be that tallmen have different palates and spices they like, but I love it when you cook."

"I, uh... thanks. That means a lot."

You all but flee to prepare the stir-fry, lowering your gaze, smiling to yourself.

Maybe nothing happened yet, and he's just being nice.

But the friend you've had a crush on since those days of gold-scraping has just practically kissed your hand and complimented your cooking.

And that is worth far more than any gold.

[heliads]

you're going to have to shut this down - steve rogers

You grew up with Steve Rogers in the 1940s and froze with him until the present day, too. When he leaves you after killing Thanos to return to the '40s, it's the biggest betrayal of your life. If there was a way to ever see him again, it would require the crossing of many timelines, something you'd know nothing about. The TVA might, though.

masterlist

a/n: back from the dead! who would have thought (not me). who can say how long. enjoy xoxo

You join the TVA because you have nothing else to do. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered. It makes about as much sense as life normally does for you, which is to say, not at all. You’re getting better about understanding the splashier technology, the speedier cars, the altered accents. Not everything is going to seem like it’s fresh out of the 1940s, because only you are. It’s been several years since they got you out of the ice. By all accounts, you should have settled in a long time ago.

And you have, honestly. You did a good job of learning fast and moving on. Still, all it takes is one odd word of slang you don’t understand or a reference to a world-altering event that you never heard of to shove you two steps back instead of forward. You never expected it to be easy, trying to live in the new century. You just didn’t think you’d have to do it alone, either.

The Avengers helped. Despite the infighting and the many false retirements and the deaths, that job helped put you together more than anything else. Everyone was strange there, so no one was. Even the person out of time. 

Maybe that’s why the TVA reached out after it was all over– they knew you needed a fresh start. A new team, too, one that didn’t really care about your understanding of any one particular timeline. It was the perfect fit. Why not risk your life for someone else all over again?

It had made sense at the time. After Thanos was defeated, you’d lost your purpose. The Avengers didn’t technically disband, but enough of the original core had been lost to death and retirement and better things. You could sense a new generation rising up to take the mantle, and, not wanting to go through the same cycle of learning new faces just to lose them again, you stepped aside.

Retirement wasn’t good for you. All that time on your own left you twitchy, waiting for something to do, someone to see. You suppose it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it weren’t for one specific absence, but that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Maybe you should have learned a long time ago to never bet your happiness on Steve Rogers, because when he left, you felt like you’d lost everything.

Even after all this time, you still can’t fathom why he did it, why he left you behind. You had grown up in the 1940s by his side, next door neighbors and family friends. Your parents knew his, and died around the same time his did, too. You’d been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You thought it was the worst pain in your life when he and Bucky went to war, so you followed, taking on a position as a medic in their regiment.

Steve had been absolutely furious that you’d put yourself into harm’s way like that, but you didn’t care. Everything was good so long as you were still together, and for a while, it was. Sure, it took you a while to remember how to act normally after he underwent his Captain America transformation, but he was still Steve, your Steve. And that was okay.

You were almost starting to believe in fantasies that you’d be able to make it back to Brooklyn one day, and then the cards stopped falling in your favor. First, you were sent to hunt down Zola, which was doomed from the start. You’d lost Bucky from the side of the train, which was the beginning of the end. Steve was spiraling and you knew it. It should have come as no surprise that he’d plunge himself into whatever danger he could find to try and keep his mind off the loss. It should have come as no surprise that you’d go with him.

However, neither of you expected to find yourselves on a plane headed into the ocean. It felt fitting somehow, dying with Steve. Bucky was gone anyway. You might as well join him. It was cold enough that you didn’t feel the water entering your lungs. You knew Steve’s hand was in yours even after you lost the sensation in your fingers. You felt him with you even after you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only, it wasn’t the final time. You woke up after what seemed like a matter of hours and ended up being several decades. The new century was full of trouble, but you and Steve were determined to run headfirst into it. You can still remember listening to the new music with him, quizzing each other on current events, doing everything under the sun together in the name of embracing modernity.

Even if it felt wrong to be so suddenly transplanted out of your normal world and into this bright, fast-paced future, some part of you was glad for it. You’ve had a secret crush on Steve since you were ten years old and starry-eyed for the boy next door. What did you lose by leaving the 1940s, anyway– sickness, the war, significantly worse water quality? Steve needed you here more than he ever needed you there. There was so much more in this modern world that would bring the two of you together, and you were delighted for it.

You were delighted, that is. You had assumed that Steve was, too. He certainly seemed like it, always down to visit a new museum or take a trip out of the city. He’d been happy with you. You were certain about it.

Yet, years after you first woke up together in a strange new world, he traveled back in time to return the Infinity Stones and came back as an old man who had already lived his life back in the 1940s. You weren’t there when it happened. Steve had actually sent you away, back to New York, so you could monitor the sites where the transfer of the Stones would take place to see if anything went wrong in the future. You’ll always wonder if he did that on purpose, to make sure you didn’t come with him, or if he really was worried about something as mundane as the Stones after all.

In the end, you’ll never know. Steve never told you about his plan to go back. You’re certain that Bucky was aware of it, even if he denies it. You saw the look on his face when Bucky returned from the job alone and told you that Steve had made his choice. He wasn’t surprised or shocked like you. He was sad, but accepting, because he already knew.

It was the worst betrayal of your life. You told Steve everything except the fact that you love him, and he left without telling you a single goodbye. Somehow, somewhere along the line you had walked together all your lives, Steve decided that he would rather live and die in the past without you than face the future you’d been building since they took you out of the ice. You’ve tried to remember moments in which he wasn’t happy, when you could have seen the signs and known that Steve was going to leave, but you can’t. Steve never seemed to have a problem with the modern world until he left it. It makes no sense, and so the awful mystery consumes you whole.

It would be one thing to retire from the Avengers with Steve by your side, just like always. Now, though, you’re losing not just your main activity but the last vestige of your heart. Bucky is your friend, close to family, but he’s not Steve and never will be. You’ve tried to spend time with him, but every time you see Bucky, you’re haunted by a third presence that should be there yet isn’t. You haven’t talked in a while. It’s probably better that way, anyway.

Luckily, you weren’t left to your own devices forever. One lonely morning, an orange panel of light opened up in front of you, and out of it stepped Loki, who, according to Thor, should have died when Thanos visited. He’d explained briefly how he was still alive, but focused more on offering you a chance to work with the TVA. Without anything better to do but sit around and mope, you’d agreed.

You and Loki have gotten along well for the most part, surprisingly enough. Barring the part where he’d tried to invade New York, you’ve come in contact with him through Thor several times and gotten along through a shared sarcastic sense of humor and biting wit. You’re probably one of the Avengers Loki tolerates the most, a title you bear with no small semblance of pride. Loki had needed someone to advise him on a variant, and he’d gone to you.

It’s a good job for someone out of time. The timelines all converge and diverge in mysterious ways, so who could truly say what’s current or out-of-date? You help Loki and the other TVA officers in maintaining the timeline. Slowly, you settle in, and you stop thinking about going back to your usual timeline. Why bother, anyway? There’s nothing left for you there. Bucky has moved on. Steve is gone. Your family passed on decades ago, and your friends in the Avengers are dead or busy. It’s not a place for you anymore.

Honestly, it’s decent work, all things considered, until you hear about an errant variant totally destroying not just his universe but every one to cross his path. Loki comes bursting into the main office, which isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but the look in his eyes certainly isn’t. Apparently, there’s some guy who left his universe and started jumping around in many others. He’d stayed in his first place for many years, but made so many major changes that the timeline was all but destroyed. Once this variant took note of the fires he couldn’t put out, he started jumping into other places, doing the same thing in less time.

He’s someone who’ll have to be stopped, to say the least. It’s certainly a cause for concern, but that doesn’t explain the cagey expression on Loki’s face. There’s something he isn’t telling you, to be sure, something big. Something that might make you rethink this assignment entirely.

“Loki,” you say slowly, once the god of mischief has calmed down enough to go from frenetic pacing to merely glaring at the small hologram of Miss Minutes across the room, “What’s really going on here? Who exactly is this variant?”

Loki hesitates, and you know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. This variant isn’t just anyone, is it? No, of course not. That would be too easy, and if you’ve learned anything in your voyages across the timelines, it’s that nothing in any universe is ever easy.

The variant destroying the worlds– it’s Steve. And it’s your Steve specifically, the one who’d decided to leave you to go back in time. It’s the precise version of Steve Rogers from your universe who had abandoned all you’d built to go back and live to old age in the 1940s.

You suck in a harsh breath. “That’s impossible. Steve would never do a thing like that. He saves the universe, he doesn’t destroy it.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “Think again, Y/N. It’s him.”

You shake your head unthinkingly, but as little as you want to even contemplate the idea, you can’t deny that it might be likely. Steve already upset the laws of the multiverse when he went to live his life in the 1940s. Who’s to say what else he might do?

You stand up and join Loki in his pacing. “Don’t go through the usual steps. Bring him here.”

Loki starts to protest, but you silence him with a glance. “Think of it as a favor. You owe me, you know that. I won’t kill him, not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”

One desk over, Mobius holds up his hands. “Wait, wait. Maybe this Steve is a friend of yours, but he’s still a dangerous variant who is quite literally destroying the fabric of time with every jump he makes. Are you sure that bringing him into the TVA is the best idea?”

You lift a shoulder. “Do you have any other ideas of where to put him?”

Mobius sighs. “No, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like this,” you tell him, “but I need to talk to Steve. Please.”

You look over at Loki hopefully, and feel a crush of relief when you see him caving. “Fine, but the second Rogers tries anything, we’re all over him. We can’t risk the multiverse for one melodramatic walking flag.”

You chuckle in spite of yourself. It’s not a happy sound. “Just let me see what I can do.”

You have no idea what you’ll do with your errant Steve once he gets here. Before that, though, you’re going to have to solve the problem of bringing him here in the first place. If what Loki says is true, Steve is not going to come quietly.

You’re still having trouble wrapping your mind around the whole concept. Steve– your Steve– destroying timelines? Rampaging through the multiverse? It doesn’t even compute in your mind. After all you’ve seen of him, through every decade, in every incarnation, every uniform, he has still been himself at the core. Even when he just came out of the ice. Even when he lost Bucky after Thanos’ snap. Even when you lost the biggest battle of your lives.

Something must have happened to him when he was going back in time, that’s all you can imagine. It’s certainly a better thing to tell yourself, it makes you believe that there was a reason outside his control that he would have left you in the dust. Yes, this must be the fault of traveling through time, and not the simple fact that Steve didn’t want you anymore.

You suit up with the rest, ready to head out and collect your errant Captain. You deliberate over the helmet when Mobius advises you to hide your face in any way possible. He’s had many bad dealings with variants over the years, he claims. No one knows what Steve would do if he saw you.

Face obscured, you walk through a Timedoor to the latest universe Steve has attempted to conquer. It doesn’t take long to find a disturbance; you’ve hardly stepped through the orange portal before you’re greeted with the sound of screaming, the smell of smoke. Buildings are burning. It’s like the world is on fire, and all you can think about is that somehow, Steve caused this.

“We have to move fast,” Mobius urges. “The timeline is unraveling by the second. Find the variant and drag him through a Timedoor as fast as you can.”

You nod your assent and start moving. The easiest thing to do is to head towards the center of the chaos, and so you do, the other TVA agents not far behind you. The smoke gets thicker, all culminating around one building in the center of the city. With a chill, you realize it’s what should be the old Avengers complex, but the letters on the outside still read Stark Tower. This universe might not have gotten the chance to ever get its Avengers, so there is no one to fight off a corrupted Rogers except the TVA, too little and too late.

“I see him,” Loki shouts suddenly, pointing towards a figure moving through the rubble. “Amazing, his hair shines even in a bonfire.”

You don’t have it in you to laugh, but surge forward recklessly. You have to see, you have to know, is it him? Could it be? As you draw closer, you’re certain that you see him, that Steve is here after all this time. A lump rises in your throat utterly unrelated to the pollutants clogging the air. You’ve missed him for so long, and now he’s right in front of you.

Mobius flings out an arm, stopping you short. “Wait,” he says. “He’s a variant, Y/N. Remember that.”

You come thundering back to reality at his words. When you look again, Steve isn’t standing there harmlessly, but holding an unconscious figure in his arms, the head thudding lifelessly against his bicep. This is the real Steve right now, someone you could never recognize.

Two of the TVA agents hurry forward, attempting to cuff him, but Steve brushes them aside easily, even after Loki and Mobius try to enter the fray. Suddenly, the situation looks like you’ll lose it for good, until a wild, terrible idea occurs to you and you shout out to him, “Steve!”

Instantly, Steve’s whole body goes rigid, and he starts scanning the area frantically. “Y/N?” He calls out.

He sounds like a madman, that’s the first thought that rises to your mind. His eyes are wide, his syllables unsettled. You rip off your helmet and Steve turns to you as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” He repeats again, this time far more quietly, the words all but disappearing on the smoke-burnt wind.

Steve starts to reach out a grimy hand to you, but one of the TVA agents surges up behind him, jamming a syringe in his neck and knocking him out cold. Cuffs are tightened around his wrists moments later, and Mobius conjures up the requisite Timedoor straight to a holding cell back in the TVA. Everyone starts filing away, but takes you a few more moments to gather yourself together long enough to follow them.

Once back in the halls of the TVA, lights buzzing cheerfully overhead, Loki turns to you at last. “The move with the helmet was risky,” he chastises.

You can’t focus on the rebuke. “He knew me,” you whisper. “He knew me, and he stopped fighting.”

Loki’s lips thin. “That’s not Steve,” he says. “Not the one you know, at least.”

You steal a glance towards the locked door of the cell anyway. “I have to talk to him.”

Loki’s expression shifts from frustrated to simply tired. “I know.”

Still, you’re not blind to the wishes of the TVA, and you let Mobius go in to talk to Steve first. You decide it’s probably best if you’re not the first face he sees, and if you’re not going, Loki would be an even worse choice, so it’s Mobius alone in there with a few guards for security. He barely makes it ten minutes before he comes storming out again, though, obviously frustrated.

You could hear shouting outside the cell and down the hall, but still, you’re curious enough to ask Mobius, “What happened in there?”

Mobius drags an irritated hand through his hair. “Your little hero isn’t really the talking type.”

You frown. “That’s unlike him.”

“All of this is unlike him,” Loki intercedes. “You really couldn’t get through to him, Mobius? That’s startling. Surely there’s some sort of homegrown charm you could pull on him to twist his mind in your favor.”

“That’s just called manners,” Mobius frowns, “but no, I tried. He refuses to talk to anyone but Y/N.”

Loki swings around to stare at you curiously. “Fascinating. He left you and now he won’t even indulge in a friendly conversation with the authorities. What sort of Captain Rogers is this?”

You roll your eyes to hide your growing discomfort. “Forget that. Are we going to give in so fast? Don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on interrogating a suspect after less than half an hour.”

Mobius shrugs. “We might as well let you in. Might learn something, he doesn’t seem inclined to give us anything else otherwise. Why waste more time?”

You might argue a little harder were it not for the fact that you’ve been dying to see Steve since he got here. Before that, really. You’ve been wanting to talk to him since he left you in the first place. Maybe it’s not the best strategy for dealing with a variant, but in your heart, he’s still Steve, and always will be.

Steve’s head is down when you enter the cell, but it flies up the second you take a seat opposite him. He’s sitting down, hands cuffed behind him, but you have no doubt that he could free himself in a heartbeat if he tried.

Still, he isn’t trying. He’s just looking at you, eyes wide, mouth a little agape, as if he really can’t believe it’s you even after demanding to meet. “Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You nod. “Steve.”

Your voice seems harsh in the hollow stillness of the TVA cell. Steve doesn’t flinch, but he might as well; his eyes gain a thin veneer of hurt you’ve known since the forties. 

“You’re not my Y/N, though,” he decides. “You know, I never really believed in the whole multiverse thing. Strange tried to explain it to me after Thanos, but I just thought it was a bunch of crap. No way there were a million versions of us. But I’ve met enough of you and me to know otherwise now.”

Your heart feels heavy in your chest. “You’re referring to all of the universes you hijacked.”

“Hijacked,” Steve muses. “That’s a strong word.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You entered universes that were not your own and caused chains of events that led to destruction of that world, every single time.”

It horrified you, looking at the footage. Every single universe was the same:  heroes gone or killed, skies full of smoke, thousands of dead. Everywhere Steve went, chaos followed him. It felt impossible, but it was true. Shockingly, awfully, it was true.

Steve’s eyes go dark. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it still happened,” you point out. “And you saw it happen but you kept going in more universes anyway. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Anger sparks in Steve like a match to gasoline. “I wasn’t trying to tear the universes apart, I was just trying to go back home,” he spits. “I couldn’t find the way back. I didn’t realize how delicate the multiverse was. Maybe that means you guys are bad at your job if a few detours can send the whole thing spiraling.”

The jab doesn’t even land, you’re too distracted by what he said before it. “You– you were trying to go back? Back where?”

A thundercloud of emotion passes over Steve’s face. “Back to the present,” he says softly.

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but he glances sharply back at you again and cuts himself off. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re just another version of you. What universe are you from, anyway? One where you leave instead of me?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you whisper. “You have no idea who I am, Steve.”

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “No. No, I know you’re not my Y/N. My Y/N never would have agreed to go in the same room as me.” 

He straightens up suddenly. “Say– you’ve seen all the endings of the timeline, right? Is there any– are there any universes where you forgive me? Where I’m able to go back?”

Your breath feels faint in your chest. “You want to know if you ever go back to the present?”

He nods. “Surely I could do it at least once. Don’t tell me it never happens. And if I do, don’t say you hate me for leaving.”

His face, suddenly pleading, makes you almost sick to your stomach. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I never looked. I was too afraid that you would have left me for nothing.”

Steve draws back suddenly, looking at you with a fresh wave of curiosity. “You mean– Y/N. You’re the one I left? How did you get here?”

You nod. “I was lonely after you disappeared. I needed something to do. But Steve– I thought you would stay in the forties. Why would you ever go in the first place if you were just going to leave again?”

Steve looks stricken. “I thought I would like it better back then. I wanted to go home, but Y/N, I was wrong. The forties weren't home, you were. I realized it after a few months. Nothing felt right without you. I tried to go to our present day again, but it had been too long since I jumped and I couldn’t figure it out. I tried finding Strange, but of course he hadn’t been born yet, and I was sent into another universe instead of ours.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t understand. If you were trying to get back, why destroy all those universes?”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy them,” Steve says lowly, “I was trying to get you back. Only– you’re pivotal to all of this, and you don’t even get it. If the Avengers formed without us, they wouldn’t make the decisions needed to stop the Chitauri, or save the world from Thanos, or anything.”

You comprehend it all at last. “You weren’t destroying the multiverse, you were meddling with the timeline. Of course. The TVA always insisted on the danger of even the smallest variant. I get it now.”

“I made a mistake by leaving, Y/N,” Steve tells you. “I’m trying to make it right. Will you let me?”

And, looking at him in the low fluorescent lights of the TVA, you ask yourself if there’s still a place in your heart for the man you’ve known all your life. It’s been a long time since you saw him. It’ll be longer still before you forgive him for leaving in the first place. However, there’s not many people like you in this world or the next. You have Steve back at last. How could anyone not take a chance like that?

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @blondsauduun, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[ppnuggiexxx]

-> abbadon trio poly relationship || whb

• characters :: ronove ,, phenix ,, dantalian

• contains :: mentions of sex ,, innuedos ,, tw asmodeus himself appears /j ,, afab reader ,, no pronouns used for reader ,, mention of dantalians philia (and indulgence of it too) ,, however ronove's wont be mentioned ,, nsfw hcs will be at the end of this (and will be noted if you wish to not read them) ,, is it obvious that i like abbadon devils the most ,, gunplay + knifeplay (dantalian) ,, roleplay ,, reader is dominant ,, mention of cum ,, bondage ,,

| • dating this trio is definitely an experience ,, one that'll be hard to forget anyways

| • there are some interesting times ,, and some interesting intimate moments together ,, whether youre with one or all of them

| • dantalian would be the most tame of them ,, while phenix is definitely the wisest of them ,, and ronove is what usually makes things interesting for you

| • abbadon devils are already notorious for their libido and insanity ,, adding three of asmodeus's nobles in the mix — together might i add — just ampts it up even more

| • if you're ever craving for a day inside ,, ronove would gladly fulfill this ,, dragging you to bed and letting his cats comfort you

| • they are quiet sweet and friendly after all ,, purring and laying in your lap as they demand pets

| • rainy days are the best with him ,, staying inside and binge-watching any show or movie series you wish to watch

| • he'd be interested most in horror movies specialized with gore or torture ,, or just dark themes in general

| • phenix and dantalian would be best to shop with ,, though their minds may stray from innocent clothing to leather garments to lather yourself in for the next group session you may have

| • or maybe phenix is priming your mind to want to

have another session anyways and he's offering a little something to spice it up next time

| • dantalian would help you with outfits he'd think you'd look best in ,, easily catering to your tastes . whether you want to dress more feminine or masculine he knows the right stores for your taste in fashion

| • ronove is more knowledgeable about what shops are good for baked goods or to dine in ,, what shops you should avoid or shops that contain taboo items and accessories that you may not want to see

| • despite being devils of lust they do care for your consent and what makes you comfortable and uncomfortable ,, they wouldnt want you to see or witness something you wouldnt want to

| • asmodeus will eventually learn about your little relationship ,, teasing his nobles while making innuendos towards you

| • though they hold asmodeus in high regards ,, they will ask to tone down any sexual comments regarding you or their relationship if they find youre uncomfortable

| • asmodeus does welcome you to his country and palace anytime you wish ,, whether its just to say hi or ask about his nobles ,, or maybe even himself if youre interested

| • these three will be protective of you though ,, having known for years how cruel the angels can be ,, especially with grabiel's seal on you too

| • phenix would worry the most should you be captured by angels ,, though they can easily hatch a plan get you back

| • phenix would want to take you to paradise lost if youre injured ,, after all the devils there specialize with hospitality and injuries

| • dantalian would be the second to agree with phenix about an injury ,, though they won't fret over a small cut unless an angel had put some strange substance over it

| • over all ,, they take any injury you gain from angels ,, or in general ,, quite seriously

| • devils from other countries ,, especially the kings ,, wonder how you can even keep up with them

| • youve been squandered by satan asking obsessive questioms about your relationship ,, though in the end as long as youre safe and continue to uphold your end of the contract he doesnt mind who you date

| • leviathan's envy increases by tenfold ,, maybe even a thousand fold ,, though its safe to say that should you — and your partners — visit hades the residents around leviathan will instantly be hung ,, envy spewing from the king just to even see you associated with someone other than himself ,, let alone in a relationship

| • at least glasyalabolas ,, barbatos and foras are having a field day ,, until leviathan stops hanging foras

— nsfw

| • sessions with them are interesting though ,, whether youre having sex with one or all three of them

| • roleplay becomes interesting ,, especially when it comes to play with dantalian’s philia

| • if you dont feel comfortable hurting him in such ways ronove always comes in hand to help with pleasuring dantalian

| • it takes a lot for phenix to be relieved enough to be able to sleep for a few hours because of asmodeus’s influence on him ,, and ronove also helps regarding that if you and dantalian are becoming overstimulated

| • while you wont play into ronove’s philia ,, you dont mind doing other things with and regarding him ,, besides he wouldnt want you missing your limbs in the first place

| • if you do indulge in dantalian’s philia the two of you enjoy tormenting him ,, sometimes taking a gun to his head and holding him hostage

| • or teasing a knife against his neck or trailing it down his chest ,, not hard enough to make him bleed but enough to insinuate adrenaline

| • phenix is flexible to do many positions ,, whether you’re on top of him or the other way around ,, whether its sideways or with limbs in complicated twists

| • of the three ,, phenix has longer horns that you usually use as handlebars — in a way — whenever you ride him

| • that being said ,, you do pay attention to the others’ horns ,, licking along dantalian’s while ‘threatening’ him ,, or playing with ronove’s when he rests his head in your lap

| • there will be a lot of cum ,, especially with phenix in the room . dantalian doesnt cum too much but ronove only needs to cum one or two times to make a mess equivalent to phenix . phenix can cum many times but his load isnt as big as ronove’s ,, especially considering how often and easily he can cum

| • ronove lets you tie him up in different ways and with different material . whether you want to see him in ribbon or leather he’ll comply ,, though give you a few pointers along the way

| • ronove’s dick is the biggest of them all ,, though phenix comes in second and dantalian last

| • its easy to ask them to do something for you ,, whether there’s been something on your mind you’ve wanted to try or a new roleplay idea ,, or if you feel a little burnt out from work or the day and just want to be pampered

| • phenix is the first to offer himself if you need a quick fuck or just want to be ate out ,, while dantalian would rather you suffocate him while he eats you out

| • ronove would be tied up ,, though he could easily break out he stays still ,, and lets you use him how you please

| • whether you ride his face or tease his body with bites and treat him roughly

| • aftercare with them is a must ; cleaning up the mess from the activities and helping patch up dantalian in case he has any major injuries (though you try not to take it that far)

| • a bath would be run ,, bath salts from around hell used to help calm everyone down and relax them

| • maybe a movie or two will be watched before everyone settles for bed ,, all making themselves as comfortable as they can with words of affection and affirmation

[red-doll-face]

You're much younger than Arthur. Maybe he doesn't mind as much as he thinks he does...

Low-High Honor Arthur Morgan x fem. reader who is younger than him.

Some head canons that ended up way too long 😭😔 hope you don't mind too much! I am 23 currently so these are really in the mind of reader being over 18 at least. At 23, Arthur is still way older than me so I guess it's just what does it for me! Includes both high and low honor versions. Thanks for reading!! and please let me know if you like them 😭

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only pls, Daddy Kink, Innocence Kink, Corruption Kink, nasty boy low honor arthur being toxic and manipulative (not too badly tho) its ok sweetie arthur is here to balance it out 😳💖💓🥹😳😭

:High Honor:

He had convinced himself that he was way too old for you and quite honestly shut that shit down the second he found his mind wandering to how pretty you were, your own natural beauty catching his eye. He can think you’re sweet and nice, that you understand him and go out of your way to talk to him. Doesn’t matter, he mentally smacks himself for thinking of you past anything like “mentor” or something. He might steal a glance once in a while but he feels bad about it every time. It’s just that, stolen, because in his mind, you don’t belong to him and you never will. He’s more than 10 years your senior, it makes him feel like a dirty old man. Arthur has a strange conflicted energy around you, like he wants to spend time with you but also doesn’t want to come off as creepy or too attached to something that can never be. If you make efforts to be around him, he does appreciate it and will stick around but he always cuts it sort of short. 

Will subtly try to remind himself how young you are, referring to you as girl or kid to others or even to you. He has no idea you think that’s kinda hot. Will jokingly say you’re too young for certain things and thinks it’s cute if you pout and try to fight back against him. Holds alcohol out of your reach and clicks his tongue at you. When you point out the other young women in camp, he’s giving in but only a little, he still watches out for you. He’s protective in the sense that he does see you as someone who needs protecting. He can lie and say it's because of your age but really he just likes you and doesn’t want to admit it.

Anytime you try to get him to understand that you think of him as more than a vague father or brother figure, he’s missing the signs, straight over his head. Light jabs at his age, like calling him Mr. Morgan; make him roll his eyes a little bit but you can catch an endeared smile on his face. Truly a bit hard headed when it comes to noticing that you tease him with more than poking fun in mind. You have to find reasons to touch or kiss him on the cheek. He still might miss physical signs, real dumb dumb behavior. It’s impossible in his head that you would think of him like that. 

If you can get him to open up, having emotionally charged conversations with him is a good way to get him to understand that you care about him at least. Arthur just likes to feel like you’re listening and that you like him enough to care about his thoughts and feelings. If you offer comfort to him in hard times, he’s lowkey simping for you…He can be very closed off, not all too willing to share his truths, especially with someone who may not even understand but if he can be himself around you and you don’t judge, he can forget his feelings about your youth for a moment. 

It’s hard for him to initiate because he’s convinced that if anything were to happen between the both of you, it would be wrong or perverse in some way. If you tell him you like him, he might try to tell you otherwise, trying to get you to think differently of him. Suggests you find someone closer to your age or someone who hasn’t led a life like he has. It’s all really sad because he’s also insinuating that he’ll ruin your life in some way. 

The first time he kisses you will be way too gentle, you’ll hardly call it a kiss. He thinks of himself as too rough for you so he holds back like 99% in an attempt to seem more like a gentleman. It takes you grabbing onto him and deepening your kiss for him to give you more. He’s gentle, hands on your cheeks, holding you like you’ll break if he squeezes too hard. 

Expect a whole lot of “this ain’t right,” or “I’m too damn old for this,” at first. But once you get him to give in, there’s no going back. He gives you his all, no matter what. He does get a bit bashful making things official, especially when there's something to be said about it. John calling him something terrible for being with you like cradle robber or something puts a sour look on his face but he tries his best to power through it. “She ain’t a goddamn baby,” “She might as well be, how old are you again? Or did you lose count?” “Shut the hell up, John.” Hugs and kisses from you definitely make it worth it. He gets a bit used to it, letting things like that stop affecting him so much. 

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you and some small part of him will always believe that you could still be better off with someone else but he gets greedier and greedier with you, the more you love on him, he doesn't want to even think of you with anyone else. He's still so confused that you think he is attractive at his age. He’ll show you pictures of him when he was young and he sort of expects you to say that he was more appealing back then. But you don’t; you just pet his face, his scratchy beard and his sun kissed skin. Arthur lets you see his soft smile when you say you love him right now, more than anything. 

Taking your firsts might put a weird (not bad though) taste in his mouth. First kisses or virginity, he’s nervous he’ll come up short and not be what you're expecting. But his best is more than enough to make you happy. He wants to make your first experiences feel special and memorable, the last thing he wants is to put pressure on you, he just puts way too much pressure on himself. He ends up being just a little too gentle. He needs a lot of praise, a lot of egging on to get more confident. If you beg and plead for more, he can’t say no, he always gives you what you want. Getting him to be more “out there” is a little more difficult. He’s embarrassed to admit he might like when you playfully call him daddy or your old man. The guilt kind of turns him on but he has a hard time coming to terms with that. At his own pace, he’ll indulge more if you’re into it. You’re crossing some weird wires in his head, he swears. If you say it to him in the right context, he’s giving you a shocked look and a halfhearted scolding as he tries not to get turned on in the middle of what he’s doing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl,” makes you giggle at him. 

:Low Honor:

He might also be somewhat against it but for different reasons. He thinks girls like you have high expectations and it annoys him. But if he thinks you’re pretty that’s what he thinks. He doesn't let anybody get too close so if he’s thinking about you as more, your age is not something that stops him from doing so. It does just take him some time to think about letting you close enough for anything more than his usual rude demeanor and standoffish personality. 

The only way he'll know he likes you as a bit more than another thankless and ungrateful face in the crowd of people he begrudgingly provides for is if you thank him for bringing money or things back to camp. He gets a little quiet, trying to suss out ulterior motives but he thinks you’re quite adorable. Looks away and says it’s nothing. He’ll indulge you, doing things that are just for you, just to hear you say thank you again. 

He teases you more, emphasizing how young you are, in a way that rubs him the right way. Calling you little girl, intimidating you with his size, or keeping you away from certain things like cigarettes. “These are for grown ups, sweetheart,” If you’re a brat around him, he likes a bit of brat taming. “Dunno, might need to take you over my knee if you’re gonna act like that,” has you gasping and stuttering out a clumsy response.

It’s easy to sway him into taking things further with you. He isn’t one for hanging around the camp, so close to everyone else anyway, he likes his alone time. Catching him when he’s by himself, smoking a cigarette, is a good time to get on his nerves enough to force his hand a little bit. Stand too close to him and run your fingers over the handle of his gun and ask if you can hold it, he’s so close to snapping. The look in his eye under the shadow of his hat makes you feel 5 degrees warmer. “You better quit playin’ games with me, girl. Not sure you know what you’re askin’ for,”  Maybe not the best idea to defiantly ask him to show you.

Then you’re sat on his knee, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, sloppy kisses with no regard for whether you think it’s too much for you or not. He’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, one hand to steady you and the other groping your tits. He’s mostly trying to get you to be as noisy as possible. 

He’s really not guilty at all. Maybe a little but he doesn’t let guilt affect his actions. It may be true that maybe you could be with someone better than him but if you’re with him, you know what you’re in for. You’re his girl and there isn’t anyone else for you if he’s your man. Arthur may not admit it but in the back of his head, there is a voice that whispers to him that one day you’ll leave him behind. He overcompensates for it, doing what he can to see you smile, rather reluctantly asking if you’re happy with him once in a while. If you ask why, he’s unclear, “Jus’… makin’ sure,” your enthusiastic yes, followed by a kiss on his cheek actually flatters him a little, rubbing his neck, a quiet ‘good’ is all he has to say. 

If he gets shit for being with you, he brushes it off. He might get flack from some well meaning people, Hosea or Abigail might tell him to leave you alone, that he should know better. But he thinks they should know better too, Arthur has very little restraint. So if a young pretty thing wants to be his girl, he’s not saying no. Any notions of how guilty he should be don’t come from him. He may think he’s a sinner and a bad man but those things don’t stop him from wanting you. And Arthur always gets what he wants when he can help it. 

Arthur has never given too much thought about what women think of how he looks. He certainly doesn’t think too much of himself and knows he isn’t exactly in his prime, looks wise at the very least. He’s not too confident about his looks or his body really, he’s more confident when it comes to his abilities and skills. So if you tell him you like the way he looks, he isn’t gonna argue, just pleasantly surprised if he happens to believe you. There’s a chance he thinks you're lying. He knows there’s something perhaps a bit off with you, most girls your age don’t give him a second glance but does it stroke his ego when you stare at him, bite your lip when he grabs his belt, pulling all of your attention to the size of his hands and his crotch. 

If you’re softer about your affections for him, he’s happy to accept them too, you’re his little angel, but he has every intention to pull you down from heaven to make you his. You can start with soft touches over his face, rubbing up over his shoulders and chest but he’s quick to pull you deeper with him. His teeth nip softly at your lips, his hands roam all over you.

He's eager to take your firsts, in his twisted little head, he knows he can regulate what you think is normal. He doesn’t have to play gentle and sweet, he bites and sucks marks on you, slaps your ass pretty hard. Arthur’s happy to have himself be the man that ruins you for other men, he’s your first and your last. 

Sorry but he’s kind of toxic, he likes the way you do things like kiss him, or touch him, take him in your mouth; but sometimes he puts on a little bit of an unimpressed face, not exactly bored or anything, just enough to see you try harder to please him. He always gives in; especially when he can tell you’re trying. His proud little smirk and affection are something you might have to work for. Your inexperience is the perfect opportunity to have you eager to make him happy. 

Huge innocence kink, he loves to corrupt you, teach you about what a man does with a woman he likes. Even better if you have no clue, or you think babies come from kissing or something, god is he eager to fuck all of that up. He’s all for you calling him daddy too, the guilt or the imagery or whatever doesn’t do it for other people just makes it so much more appealing to him. Most of the time, he likes to keep your affairs private but once in a while, he’ll show out, just to show who you belong to. If people happen to overhear the racy things you two talk about and they give you a weird look, he just has a knowing smirk for the eavesdropper.

Can you tell that I think age gaps are hot? RDR let me fuck that middle aged man right neow!!! When will they let RDO be about dating Arthur Morgan??? 😔😔😔😔wish he was at least a fuckin stranger mission or something SIGHHHH anyway Thanks for reading and pls let me know if you liked it! Otherwise I'll feel like a freak LMAO