#it’s a li’l hard to get the hang of at first but once you do it’s rlly interesting

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

Made some Millie x Sarah in Gacha Life 2!! 🖤💖

[iamjungkooked]

All In

Synopsis: 

Jeon Jungkook is everything you have ever desired in a partner. He’s kind, passionate, funny, honest, warm and every positive adjective in the dictionary. He totally gets you and you get him. He seems like the perfect guy for you, except he is dating your best friend. What could possibly go wrong? 

OR 

The four times you get the wind knocked out of you by Jeon Jeongguk

Genre:  Angst (a lot of it) + mild smut + a li’l bit of fluff but mostly angst

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Word count: 13.1k 

A/N: a huge thank you to you if you read this. Any kind of feedback is appreciated ❤️ I hope you enjoy it!

                                   *****************

So far there have been two times in your life where you have gotten the wind knocked out of you. The first was when you saw your favourite band in concert for the first time ever. The second is when you see Jeon Jeongguk across the room at your best friend’s party. 

{3 years ago}

Standing in the corner of the room, you scan the crowd that has filled the house. As you continue your examination, your eyes catch a stranger across the room. He’s got a beer in one hand, and with the other, he is running a hand through his hair. To say you feel unsteady on your feet and can’t breathe would be an understatement. Immediately mesmerized by his smile, you find it hard to take your eyes off him. He catches your gaze across the room, and you immediately lower your eyes. Fidgeting with your phone, you leave from the crowded living room and make an escape for the front yard of Mina’s house, which is the only quiet place.

The night is silent, save for the sounds of crickets chirping into the distance somewhere. You amble quietly towards the tree in the yard, which is yours and Mina’s favourite spot. Dusting off the roots that protrude from the ground, you sit down and rest your head against the bark.

“I thought I saw someone heading in this direction” the nameless stranger from before makes an appearance, almost making you lose your balance even though you are sitting.

“Hi” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear

“What are you doing out here leaving that awesome party?” he chuckles as he sits next to you, drawing his knees to his chest.

“It’s too loud. Not my kind of scene” you play with your hands in an effort to detract from the nervousness.

“Thought I was the only one”

You shake your head. “I took you for the parties-are-my-thing- kind of guy”

With eyebrows raised in surprise, he looks at you. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Only the people swarming around you, and just your general aura. I guess” you shrug.

“Hmm” he nods in thought. “I am Jungkook, by the way” his hand crosses the gap between you, and he holds it in front of you.

You look at his hand for a moment, before sliding yours in. “I am y/n”

“Nice to meet you” his lips stretch in that perfect smile, which is capable of breaking hearts.

“So, if parties aren’t your thing, what do you like?” he asks after a moment of silence.

“Nature, books, Netflix of course, and people watching”

He laughs at your response and nods his head. “I haven’t met a single person to date who doesn’t like Netflix. But people watching, now that is something I haven’t heard before”

“I mean, you would have to be some kind of a monster to not like Netflix. People watching is a weird name for it, but more like observing my surroundings. People more so than other details.” you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. “The human condition is very fascinating”

“How so?” his interest piques.

“You can learn a lot about someone just by looking at them. I don’t mean giving them a once over, but really observing them”

“So what did you learn about me?” he grins with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You are confident given your posture. Definitely an extrovert, since you just struck up a conversation with a random stranger. You keep an open and inviting body language, which tells me you aren’t afraid of showing your true self and letting people in. What else?” you pause in thought. “That is all I can think of right now”

“Was I just a part of the crowd or did I happen to strike your fancy? I saw you looking at me”

“Oh that…” your lower your gaze partly in nervousness and partly in embarrassment. “I am sorry if that was weird. I was looking around the room, and I saw you and just…” you trail off.

“It’s alright. I am happy you did. Otherwise, I would never have come up to you and I never would have known how intelligent and fascinating you are”

You didn’t expect him to respond like that which eases your nervousness, allowing you to gather the courage to look at him. “You are good at giving compliments. Thank you” you smile at him, heart beating slightly faster than usual.

“Actually, thank you. For saving me from boring conversations” he motions his head to Mina’s house. “I am glad I met you. I have seriously never met anyone like you”

“I have never met anyone like me either” your lips stretch into a grin.

“What do you gather about them?” Jungkook points to presumably a couple in the making sitting on the steps leading to the house.

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” you prompt with a crooked grin.

He mulls the offer for a moment. “Well…” he pauses as he studies the couple. “She’s leaning in, so she’s definitely interested. He might be interested but he’s put a little bit of distance between them. So maybe he’s not sure about her. She’s touching his arm, and she just threw her head back and laughed so she’s totally into whatever he said. Either that or she likes him so much that she’s just laughing at whatever. He’s fidgeting with his hands, so maybe he’s nervous” he looks to you for confirmation. “How am I doing so far?”

“You are a pro at it Mr. Jungkook”

His smile widens. “The effect of hanging out with intelligent people” he winks.

You chuckle and shake your head. “It’s funny isn’t it?”

“What?” he turns to look at you.

“It takes a lot for two people to be together. There are so many layers and so many complexities and so much drama involved. There is no guarantee that we’ll be happy once we find whatever we’re looking for. Yet, we’re all desperately searching for the one person who can give us the validation we need without even knowing where we will end up. It might be a good person or a bad one, but we never stop. It’s like actively looking for heartbreak, and that possibility is somehow better than being alone”

“Everyone wants to be loved. I don’t think it’s the feelings that we crave or even physical contact. I think it’s the fact that someone is choosing us for who we are. You know the whole package of good, bad, and ugly. That is why we have so many dating websites now. Everyone wants in” he replies looking at the couple who is still sitting on the steps.

He gets you. You can actually have a proper conversation with him. He’s the whole package too. He’s smart, and from what you can tell a genuinely kind guy. He’s not just a superficial guy, like many others you have met before who only want to talk about interests and hobbies, and likes or dislikes because those are the topics of conversation when you first meet someone. God forbid, you actually dig deeper and try to unravel the many layers of human personality.

“Do you want in?” you question.

“I-” he’s interrupted by Mina, who is approaching.

“Y/N!” she squeals and you move to stand up, but Jungkook is already offering you his hand.

You slide your hand in his and nod your head for a thank you.

“Oh my god! Thank god you guys met!” she exclaims. “I was so scared to introduce you guys to each other. But the universe took care of it for me” she looks heavenward and sighs.

You can smell the alcohol on her breath. Mina is a typical social animal. She’s got tons of friends, and whenever the occasion arises she hosts parties . Of course, like any other extrovert, she is constantly embroiled in the painful cycle of relationships. She’s had so many boyfriends over the years, you can’t even count anymore. Ever since you met her in grade 1, she’s always had someone she’s either crushing on, or she’s in a relationship with. She is the perfect example of people suffering from “love syndrome” as you like to call it. But she’s also your best friend because, despite everything, she will fiercely defend you if anyone hurts you, and she’s always there for you. She’s been through thick and thin with you and in the 2 decades of friendship, you have gone through a lot with her.

“What do you mean?” your brows knit together in confusion.

“Y/n, this is Jungkook. He’s my boyfriend”

You blink at her owlishly because there is no other way to respond. You never thought there would be a third time when you would feel like you have been sucker-punched. But this is it. This is the third time in your life when you felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

By the end of the night, all the fantasies you had built in your head about marrying him, having a cute family together, and living a cliche suburban life came crashing down.

Because Jeon Jeongguk is your best friend’s boyfriend.      

 *********

{Present day}

“Please do it!” Mina begs folding her hands, following you around like a child needing attention.

“No!” you shake your head as you pick up the cleaning agent and the cloth and head over to the table that was occupied by a group of high school students. Mina follows you to the table. You begin cleaning the mess the kids made.

“Why!?” she questions.

You can’t give her the real reason. So you settle for the whole I-don't-have-time-to-date-right now spiel. But there is only one reason why you don’t want to date: Jungkook. As hopeless, and wrong it is to have a one-sided love for him, you just can’t seem to invest in anyone else. As much as your instincts and reasoning contradict this stubborn desire of yours, you still can’t seem to detach yourself from the insufferable feelings.

He is, after all, Mina’s boyfriend. So that should make things easy. But not for you. It’s been three years since Mina and Jeongguk got together. It was three years ago you when your pining for him began and it’s three years later and you are still stuck in the same place. Sometimes being around him is suffocating. Sometimes you hate him for being the reason behind your inability to move on. It’s been three years and you have not understood what it is about him that appeals so much to you.

At first, it was the fact that you could have genuine conversations with him. But then you met Kim Namjoon, who is your ex-boyfriend. It was surprisingly easy with Namjoon. You could talk about the most superficial to the deepest things in the span of one conversation. Namjoon managed to stimulate your mind in a way most people can’t. Yet, it didn’t work out because of your inability to invest in the relationship. But you did end up getting another best friend out of it.

Being with Namjoon made you realize that it’s not that you could have genuine conversations with Jungkook that made you like him, but it was the unfathomable truth that you just liked him. That was all there was to it. Love without a reason is the hardest to grasp and it was no wonder you are having difficulties understanding your emotions.

“Bullshit!” Mina yells, startling you with her shrill voice. You turn around to face her.

“Bullshit? My choices are bullshit for you?”

“Yes. You have been doing this for so long to yourself that you can’t even see what you are doing is not good for you” she stares at you unyieldingly.

“If you really knew what I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. In fact, we wouldn’t even…” you feel the anger which is prompting you to act this way.

“Wouldn’t even what?” she folds her arms against her chest, and motions her head at you.

“Look” you sigh. “I have had a long day Mina. I can’t get into this and trust me it’s better this way” you begin to walk back to the cash counter and shut the tiny gate so Mina can’t enter

She is relentless in her pursuit of you as she follows you to the counter and leans against it. “Why can’t you just go on one date with Hoseok? He’s a perfectly nice guy!”

“Because I can’t date!” you reply.

I only want your boyfriend, which makes me the biggest bitch in the entire world.

“It’s not that you can’t. It’s just you don’t want to and I want to know why. I am not forcing you, babe. I am just worried for you” her brows furrowed together in concern.

“I am sorry Min. I love you but please drop this” you open the cash drawer and begin counting the bills.

“No. This has gone on forever” she digs her heels into the ground to prove to you just how serious she is. 

You drop the bills you were holding in the cash drawer, and slam it shut. It’s good that the cafe has closed early because you can actually leave. You turn around and go to the back where you know Mina can’t follow you. But you can still hear her rambling by herself, which she does when she is pissed. You roughly take off the apron and instead of hanging it on the hook, you leave it on the floor. At this point, you just need to get away from her. Grabbing your coat from one of the other hooks, you go back out the way you came in.

Of course, Mina is still there, but she’s sitting in one of the booths, her eyes glued to her phone. You walk past her towards the door and hear her calling out. But instead of turning around you walk right out and take a right on the street. You have no idea where you are going, but you are too wired to try and figure it out.

You put in your headphones and pull the hoodie over your head. The sound of music instantly soothes the anger that had built up. You turn around to make sure she is not following you and when you find yourself on the street alone you let out a long exhale.

You don’t see it because you were somehow too busy gawking at the cobbled sidewalk, but you end up bumping into someone.

“I am so-” you stop midway because it’s none other than Jeon Jeongguk.

“Hi, stranger” he steadies you by putting his hands on your shoulder.

“Sorry I didn’t see you” you pull out your headphones and shove them in the hoodie pocket.

“Are you okay? You look a little stressed”

How he always knows what you’re feeling, you’ll never know. That is one of the things you like about him. You never have to say anything to him and he always knows how you feel, which at times makes you wonder if he is aware of your feelings towards him. If he is, then there is nothing worse and more embarrassing than that.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” you sigh and look heavenward, and stretch your neck to the right.

“No. I know you extremely well” he rubs concentric circles on your arms, and that is when you realize he had been holding you the entire time.

“Your girlfriend and I just got into a little argument and I might or might not have been completely unreasonable and by default a bitch”

“Another date?” he questions, his hands still on your arms as he switches to gentle stroking. You almost want to move away, put some distance. But you like the feeling of him touching you too much to do that. At this point, all you want to do is, collapse in his arms, and let him hug all the negative energy away. But you can’t. It’s absolutely and completely wrong. Even wanting that, makes you feel like you are the worst human being to ever exist. You have to grapple with so much guilt every day that it’s a true wonder you still have the ability to feel the whole spectrum of emotions.

You remember he asked you a question and nod. You don’t even need to ask how he knows. He’s Jeongguk and he’ll always know. So, why you aren’t together despite being so perfectly in tune with one another, you don’t know.

“I am exhausted” you mumble, feeling your lip tremble and a lump form in your throat. It’s the worst possible moment to cry but he’s standing right there in front of you. You already feel too much from your conversation with Mina and now Jeongguk is there and you can’t help it. Loving him is the worst thing ever. It’s like drugs. You know they are bad for you, yet you can’t give them up. You realize what you had told him on the night you first met about human- beings actively looking for heartbreak.

The irony of that statement hits you because you are doing exactly that, despite telling yourself you never would. First guilt, then hurt, and now self-betrayal.

“Hey” he whispers in a soft voice, which makes it even harder to hold your tears back.

You sniffle as they fall one by one. You tuck your chin into your neck so he can’t see you. You should not be crying in front of your best friend’s fucking boyfriend. But there you are, doing exactly that. It almost feels cheap because you feel like you are forcing him to react in a way that he shouldn’t because he’s Jeongguk and he’s nice and he’ll do whatever he can do to comfort you. So knowing him you know what’s coming next.

Sure enough, he wraps one arm around your waist, and with his other, he gently pats the back of your head. You bury your face in his chest.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” he continues to gently caress your hair.

You sniffle again and press your face in his chest further. He doesn’t say anything and holds you. But he shouldn’t because Mina isn’t there. It’s too intimate.

You sniffle again and remember how wrong this is. “I am sorry” you pull away from his arms.

Jeongguk almost looks shocked, and a little bit disappointed too. Maybe you are being delusional. He nods and slides his hands into his jean pockets. Neither of you say a word and stand in the middle of the sidewalk unable to look at each other.

“A-anyway” you croak. “You should go check up on Mina” you offer a weak smile.

His lips push into a thin line. “Take care y/n”

You walk past him, your arm brushing against his. A few steps down the sidewalk you look back and see him disappearing into the corner and then he’s gone. That's’ when you finally break down.

Why does it have to be him?

 *********

Mina hasn’t spoken to you in 24 hours which is a record for her, considering she is a chatterbox. You don’t know how to approach this new development in your friendship. If anything, it strengthens your resolve of preventing Mina from knowing your feelings. Because if she is this angry when you refused a date with another guy, it’s easy to imagine how angry and hurt she would be if she knew your feelings.

The only person you can think of at the moment for help is Jeongguk. But you will be damned if you ask him. You need to stay as far away from him as possible and figure your life out because you have decided you cannot be a pathetic loser for the rest of your life. So the only way to kill two birds with one stone is to do what you are about to say.

“I’ll meet Hoseok” you glance at Mina and then pretend to flip through the magazine.

It’s silent. That is not what you were expecting. You look up to confirm if she is there and that she heard you. She is present alright. But she’s frozen at the spot, and she is staring at you with the eyes of someone in complete disbelief. If they open any wider, you are sure her eyeballs will pop out of their sockets.

“Are you serious?” she moves so quickly, you don’t even register she is sitting next to you on the couch.

“Yeah” you close the magazine.

“Oh my god. I never thought you would say yes!” she wraps you in a hug so fast that you both end up toppling over and you hit your back against the couch.

“I’ll go” you pat her on the back.

“Yes!” she squeals and sits up, allowing you to do the same. “Well, since I know how much you hate going on first dates, I already invited him over for dinner tonight” she looks at you with anticipation.

“How did you know I was going to say yes?”

“I know you better than you know yourself, honey” she laughs.

“That is true” you laugh with her.

“I cannot wait for you to meet him y/n. He’s so sweet and I am already imagining your cute babies together!” she exclaims and wraps you in another hug.

 *********

Mina left the house to go get groceries. She wasn’t exactly a good cook, so obviously, Jeongguk was going to come over and cook for everyone. He was going to come anyway since Mina had arranged a dinner. He was perfect in every way possible. Mina was such a lucky person to have found him. He was lucky to find someone as caring as her too. The only unlucky person is you, who is stuck with horrible unrequited feelings.

It comes as no surprise that Jeongguk arrives earlier at your place. The weather suddenly takes a turn for the worse with lighting and thunder making a sudden appearance in the sky every so often. You can hear the wind howling outside the window. Jeongguk enters the house completely soaked.

“Oh my god Jeongguk” you exclaim and sidestep quickly to let the poor man in.

“I am okay” he sneezes.

“Yeah. Totally” you roll your eyes and take the bags from him and leave them on the kitchen counter. “By the way, Mina went to get groceries. I guess she didn’t inform you”

Jeongguk sighs and shakes his head. “As usual, she did not”

You hurry to the bathroom and grab a spare towel for Jeongguk. You hand it to him and he runs it through his black locks, which fall over his forehead. “I am going to wash up before I catch a cold” he sniffles.

“But your clothes…”

“Mina’s room” he supplies.

Your heart sinks. Of course, Mina has a spare set or two of his clothes. He is her boyfriend, you remind yourself.

“Right” you smile halfheartedly.

Jeongguk turns on his heels and disappears into the bathroom. While he’s gone you arrange the groceries on the counter so it’s easier for him when he’s cooking. You know you shouldn’t do nice things for him because it only makes you more attached. But somehow when you see him every resolve you have ever built goes out of the window.

{2 years ago}

“I wish I had met you before I met Mina” Jeongguk muses in his drunken state as you support him. If you knew holding him up would be such a nuisance, you would never have let him drink this much. Mina is a similar story if not worse. By the time you get into the taxi, Mina is already asleep and snoring away and Jeongguk is softly mumbling something you cannot make out. Shutting the backseat door, you get into the passenger seat and give the driver the address to your apartment which you share with Mina.

The car starts moving and you look back to find Jeongguk’s and Mina’s limbs entangled with each other. You chuckle and face forward, hoping that getting them into the apartment would be a better experience than getting them into the taxi. You arrive fairly quickly.

The taxi driver was kind enough to lend you a hand with Jeongguk, after you settle Mina into her bed. You give him an extra tip for kindness because you couldn’t have supported Jeongguk all by yourself, especially since people tend to feel heavier when they are asleep.

After paying for the taxi, you enter the apartment and take your shoes off at the entrance. You can hear Jeongguk rambling something in his sleep once more, and go to check on him. Throwing your purse on the coffee table, you crouch down and take his shoes off. Then you collapse next to him, feeling like all energy has been drained out of you.

Jeongguk snuggles up to you, which causes your breath to catch in your throat. “Jeongguk” you try to push away his arm from your waist, but he has you locked in. Even in a drunken state he’s that strong.

“Jeongguk” you call him again, hoping this time he would let you go.

“Just stay like this” he mumbles. “You smell good”

“I am y/n. Not Mina”

“I know. I am drunk but not that drunk” he tightens his hold around your waist and snuggles further into the crook of your neck. “Please. Stay. I like you y/n. Don’t leave me”

The moment he utters those words, you forget to breathe. He’s completely wasted and he won’t remember any of it which means you shouldn’t react to it at all because it’s meaningless. Yet, your body reacts. Your heart quickens, stomach tightens in knots. Out of guilt you glance at the partly closed door of Mina’s room.

“No you don’t. You’re drunk” you manage to say as you turn to look at him. His eyes are closed and he’s half asleep yet he insists he isn’t that drunk.

“I know you think I am wasted. But drunk people don’t lie y/n. I like you and I wish” he stops. “I wish really badly that you and I…” he trails off and the sounds of his heavy breathing fills the room. You look down at him sleeping soundly and only one thought occupies your head.

“Why does it have to be you Jeongguk” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes and letting slumber take you.

The next morning, you wake up alone with a blanket drawn over you and Jeongguk isn’t there.

 *********

“Y/n” you are drawn out of reverie by Jeongguk’s voice. “Where are you lost?” he asks.

You blink away the thoughts in your mind and focus on him. “Uhh.. nothing. I was just thinking about something”

“You think a lot you know?” he chuckles as he moves behind the kitchen counter and starts washing the vegetables and laying them out on the cutting board.

“It’s a disease” you reply with a smile of your own. Grabbing the water jug, you pour yourself a glass of water. Being parched around Jeongguk is like an occupational hazard because loving him somehow has become your full-time job. You are in the midst of taking a sip when-

“But that’s what I like about you” he replies in a mindless manner, all focus directed at chopping the vegetables that he doesn’t even look at you.

You choke on the water, followed by a coughing fit which immediately grabs Jeongguk’s attention. He rushes to your side and begins stroking your back in a gentle manner. It only makes you cough harder because that what happens when he touches you; whatever you are feeling in the moment is amplified ten times more.

“I am okay” you croak heavily, grabbing your throat.

“You scared me for a moment” Jeongguk shakes his head. “You good?”

You really want to ask him what he meant by his earlier statement, but that will only cause you to spiral. You will dissect it to the point of driving yourself nuts. When it comes to him, you are back to being a fucking teenager. It doesn’t really get much worse than that.

“Yeah” you clear your throat and stay at your spot while he turns his back to you and resumes chopping the vegetables and you-- well-- you stay you.

“Hey” Jeongguk looks at you over his shoulder. “Did Mina mention anything to you?”

“Like what?” you question, suddenly curious.

“We just had a little fight. So, I thought she might have said something to you”

“Surprisingly enough she didn’t. Would it matter if she told me?” you prod further and move closer to where he is standing.

Jeongguk abandons the knife and his intention to prep for whatever he’s making as he does a 360 turn to face you. “It matters what you think” he shrugs. “To me” he adds whilst leaning his back against the kitchen counter and scrutinizing you in a most intense manner.

You stare at this lovely man who stands in front of you. A man you love so much, that you don’t know what to do with your feelings. A man who makes you want to cry every time he’s around because everything is hopeless. In fact, if you could, you would cry right now because when he’s around there is always a tight feeling in your throat which you have to keep swallowing down.

“Why do you always say things like that?” suddenly things become much more serious. You can feel it in the air.

He’s silent as he regards you. You wait, feeling the weight of it as every moment passes.

“I am not supposed to say this. Hell, I am crazy for even thinking this but I have wrestled with this for so long” he scratches the nape of his neck.

Don’t Jeongguk, You scream inside your head

You have an inkling as to what he’ll say.

“Don’t” you shake your head before he even opens his mouth. He looks at you and you know he understands what you mean.

“So you know” he steps closer, and you take a step backwards.

“No” you whisper. He takes another step forward and you take another backwards. “I didn’t know. Until now” the words fall as another whisper through your lips. He moves forward, and you move backwards.

“You?” he questions. “Do you?” he prods. He doesn’t even need to complete the question because you know what he’s asking. You have waited for this moment for three years. You clearly never imagined it would happen so suddenly, nor while he was still with Mina.

“Will my answer change anything?” You continue your little dance as you step back again while steps towards you.

“Maybe not” he speaks so softly, it’s almost at the edge of a whisper. The only sounds in the room are that of the refrigerator and the sound of the heating system as it turns on.

“We shouldn’t be doing this” you look him in the eyes. That is when you realize how terrifying it is to look in someone’s eyes and see how they feel.

“I know” he takes his final step forward and has you pinned against the kitchen counter. He places his hands on either side of you on the white marble. “Is it bad that I want to” he leans in and his lips hover so near to yours, that you can almost taste his signature strawberry scent.

You know what you should say, but it’s not easy because you want it too. Maybe this is your chance. Maybe if you just say ‘no’ now it will put an end to all those painful feelings. It’s right at the tip of your tongue. You can’t believe you are actually considering it. But then an image of Mina flashes to your mind, which pulls you back into reality.

“Yes, it’s bad. We can’t. No matter how much we want to. We can’t do it. We’re good people” you lick your lips as your eyes bounce to his lips.

“What do I do?” he whispers against your lips. “You make me want to be a bad person y/n” he caresses your cheek and reaching up your hands clench onto the material of his shirt.

“ It’s only a moment. It’ll pass. I know you won’t do it, no matter how strongly you feel about this. You’re a good person Jeongguk.” your voice cracks because you are so close. You are so close yet so far from him that it breaks your heart for the millionth time and tears well up in your eyes.

“And that’s the problem isn’t it?” he bites his lip. He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. For the next few moments, your breathing even out and matches with his. You stand there trapped between his arms, trying your best to soak this feeling because it will never happen again. The fact that you are doing this simple thing is wrong on so many levels you begin to feel the guilt creep up. You begin to feel ashamed of yourself for even letting him this close but goddamn it, you want him so bad you can’t help it.

Taking a deep breath he pulls back and steps backwards, putting some space between you.

You smile at him.

“How can you smile at a time like this?” he muses softly, eyes resting on you.

“Just knowing how you feel is enough. It’s more than enough Jeongguk”

He regards you in silence, his eyes bouncing from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“I am already feeling weak y/n. Don’t be that nice. I might just kiss you”

“And knowing that is enough. You’re with Mina and I could never do that to her. I know you would never do that to her either. Maybe one-day karma will bless us with something good” you pause. He waits in silence for you to continue. “Just not today”

He nods very slowly. “Just. Not. Today” he repeats softly.

 *********

You, Mina, Hoseok and Jeongguk sit on the circular dining table. If there was ever a slim chance that you could skip one moment of your life and go to the next, it would be this one. Never have you felt so awkward. It’s not Hoseok. It’s not Mina. It’s Jeongguk. It’s the way he looks at you when you speak to Hoseok. It’s the way his eyes tell you to stop when you laugh with Hoseok. When you told him the first night you met him you were good at reading people, you meant it. Because you can read him like a book right now. His halfhearted smiles, listless eyes, closed-off body language clearly express his disinterest in the entire evening.

He hasn’t spoken a word to Hoseok the whole time. Jeongguk has only glared at Hoseok or completely avoided looking at him. You glance at Mina and Hoseok who are completely immersed in their conversation. It leaves you and Jeongguk. But you won’t say anything to each other. Not after admitting you like each other in the vaguest way possible. It’s because you can’t be together that makes it awkward.

Mina and Hoseok are immersed in their conversation which leaves you and Jeongguk to do the same per social rules. But it’s too much, too soon. You can’t even look at him properly without wanting to cry. But somehow knowing his feelings has lessened the burden of your own feelings.

“Y/n” Mina puts a hand on yours. “Help with the dishes please” she motions her head to the kitchen

You comply, but only after glancing at Jeongguk. He shakes his head signalling you not to go because he’ll be left alone with Hoseok. You mouth ‘sorry’ to him and follow Mina into the kitchen.

“So. What do you think of Hoseok?” Mina questions as she puts all the plates in the sink.

“He’s…. Nice” which is true. But he isn’t Jeon Jeongguk and therein lies the problem.

“Do you like him?” Mina turns around to look at you, and places her palms behind her on the counter and leans against it.

You should say yes because it’s the only way you’ll move forward. But since you have been hit with the disease of stupidity all you can manage is a shake of your head. “ I am sorry”

“I know. I can tell” she smiles.

“I know I shouldn't bring this up because this is about me and not you. But did you and Jeongguk fight?”

“He told you?” she doesn’t even try to deny it.

“No” you lie. You wouldn’t throw him under the bus. “It’s the way you are with each other today. You are distant from each other”

“Goddamn, you and your people-watching skills” Mina sighs. “I am not going to lie to you y/n. Things are not the same anymore. We’re trying. We are trying so hard to get back to the way things were, but you know that connection you feel when you get together with someone? It’s just not there anymore. But we promised we wouldn’t give up on it and try to make it work”

Unsure how to feel about it, you offer a halfhearted smile. On the one hand, you should be happy your best friend is working for her relationship, but on the other hand, this means that you might actually get your chance with Jeongguk someday. You try to shake the latter thought away because it is wrong. No, in fact, it is immoral for you to think that way about your best friend’s situation like that.

Just then Hoseok strolls into the kitchen. “Everything okay ladies?”

“Yeah. Actually, I need to speak with Jeongguk for a moment if you two will excuse me” she smiles at you knowingly before she leaves the room.

Surprisingly enough you don’t panic. Normally, you would be internally freaking out, trying to think of every which way you could get out of this situation. But you’re not doing anything like that. It’s probably because you know how Jeongguk feels now and the element of the unknown has been erased from the equation. Now that you know, you don’t have to kill yourself over and over again for thinking it’s just you. It’s him too which makes it easier to move on because now you should. It feels like closure. Not to move on, would be akin to sabotaging their relationship. And a saboteur you are not.

“Jeongguk seems like a nice guy” Hoseok muses as he looks down at the floor.

“ Yeah. He is” you clear your throat, definitely surprised at him for bringing Jeongguk up. It’s not exactly a first “date” topic of conversation.

“Let’s be real with each other y/n” his eyes move from the floor to you. “You and I are both not interested in dating each other. I can tell by looking at you. I also know that something is definitely up with you and Jeongguk”

“No-” you try to speak but he raises his hand.

“Don’t worry I won’t tell Mina” he reassures you. “Since I know that about you, it’s only fair I tell you that I feel the same way about Mina as you do about Jeongguk”

“What!” you look at him with raised eyebrows.

“I have liked her since the first day we started working together. We talked about a lot of things and I just felt this connection with her. But she told me she has a boyfriend, so I let it go. But working at the same place and seeing each other 5 days of the week doesn’t exactly make moving on an easy task” he sighs.

“I can understand that” you offer in agreement.

“So, I am in the same position as you except I don’t think Mina feels the same way about me that Jeongguk does about you” a corner of his mouth rises up in a sympathy-smile.

“No” you shake your head vigorously as if that will change his opinion. “You have got it wrong. Jeongguk doesn’t”

“I see the way he looks at you y/n. It’s the way I look at Mina. Love doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong and our bodies respond to it without us even noticing. I don’t think he knows it either. He looks at you the way a connoisseur of art looks at paintings. Bad metaphor, but it’s true”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that because anything I say will be wrong” you huff through your nose as your shoulder slouch.

“It is tricky. But it is what it is. We can’t change how we feel any more than a cow can learn how to fly” he chuckles.

“You really have a thing for metaphors don’t you?” the corners of your lips stretch into a smile.

“What else can a man do but pull out bad metaphors in a situation as dramatic as this” she shrugs casually in his defence.

“I agree. Don’t worry I’ll keep your secret too” you reply. You are in no position to interfere with this matter because you are doing the exact same thing as Hoseok. You would be the last person to throw Hoseok under the bus because you totally understand him. 

Silence befalls, but it’s the comfortable kind of silence because now you both know each other’s deepest secrets. And that makes you more than friends. So you feel comfort in knowing that you are not the only one. Not that it makes the guilt feeling creep back into the shadows.

Just when he is about to say something, your attention is stolen away by the sound of what seems like arguing. You can clearly distinguish when Jeongguk is speaking and when Mina is. Hoseok and you share a look before treading a few steps closer to the entrance of the kitchen.

“Well, why the fuck are we even here then?” Mina shouts.

“Because we wanted to try didn’t we? Goddamn it!” Jeongguk replies in an equally loud manner.

“I can’t do this right now Jeongguk”

“Me neither” Jeongguk replies.

Then you hear the sound of the door slamming shut. You and Hoseok look at each other, clearly aware of how sour the situation turned very quickly. Both of you make your way to the living room where the sounds were coming from. The closer you get, the sound of sniffling gets louder.

“Oh Mina…” you hug her and she cries on your shoulder. You gently stroke her back and let her cry it out. Because God knows this is the least you can do to be a good friend because you haven’t been a good friend to her at all.

“You- you h-h-heard that didn’t you?” she chokes in between sobs.

“I am sorry. But we were in the kitchen and we could hear everything” you squeeze tighter around her waist as her body wracks with violent sobs.

She pulls away from you and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She glances at Hoseok and then at you. “I am sorry you guys had to see this”

“It’s alright” Hoseok interjects as he sits down on the other side of Mina.

“Where did Jeongguk go?” you ask Mina.

“I don’t know” she sniffles and Hoseok hands her a tissue that she uses to wipe her nose.

“I would ask Hoseok to go, but they don’t know each other. Is it alright if I go check up on him?” you ask Mina for permission because it’s the right thing to do.

She sniffles again. “He’s probably off somewhere crying his eyes out too”

You chuckle at the thought of it because it sounds sweet. “Thanks, Min” you kiss her cheek before standing up. Glancing at Hoseok, you nod at him and does the same in understanding.

 *********

“Hey stranger”

Jeongguk turns around to face you. The wind whips through his hair, making his hair stand up in every direction. He turns back around. You approach him slowly with your hands behind your back. You pause next to the bench on which he is sitting and watch as he stares mindlessly at the black sky twinkling with hundreds of stars.

“I thought I would find you up here on the roof” you glance at him but he’s still preoccupied with looking at the sky. You take a seat on the other corner of the bench, ensuring you put plenty of space in between.

“I guess you know me as well as I know you” Jeongguk deliberates.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you turn to look at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the wind blows through your hair.

“It would just complicate things even more” he shrugs and fidgets with his fingers.

“Does my being here make you nervous?” your eyes flicker to his fingers and then to his face.

“Yes,” he replies in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

“Do you want me to leave?” you question, heart thumping in your chest waiting for his answer.

He remains silent, still playing with his fingers. Still not looking at you. So, you take that as your cue to leave. You get up and pivot on your heels, about to leave when you feel his hand hook around your wrist. You turn to look at him and he shakes his head, pleading with his eyes as they bore into yours.

“‘Stay” he manages to say.

So you sit down. Silence falls and both you gaze at the sky. Even silence with him isn’t terrible like it is with other people.

“Hey, do you want to go get coffee?” Jeongguk turns to look at you.

“Now?” your brows rise in question

“Yes. Coffee Monster would still be open”

You mull it over for a moment. How ‘right’ would it be for you to get coffee with him when Mina is downstairs in a sad state? Not at all. You should be with her because she is your best friend. You should be the one consoling her right but Hoseok is doing that for you. He’s there when you are not. Instead, you are on this roof with Jeon Jeongguk; the last person you should be alone with given your predilection for him, seriously considering if you should take him up on his offer.

“If you are thinking it’s wrong for us to be alone like this. Let me remind you we are friends too” Jeongguk poses with a shoulder shrug casually.

“Okay. Let’s get coffee” he manages to put you at ease. It is enough for you to agree.

 *********

Just like the world is starved for love, it’s also apparently starved for coffee. There is some kind of coffee place at the corner of every block. It’s ridiculous. You walk side by side, hands warming in your pockets, occasionally glancing at each other but not exchanging a single word. Jeongguk kicks his feet as he walks, and you copy him, making a game out of it. Maybe for this one night, he can just be your friend, and you don’t have to feel guilty about your feelings for him.

You arrive at Coffee Monster, and like the gentleman he is, Jeongguk opens the door for you.

“Thank you, kind sir” your lips widen in a smile

“No problem m’ lady” he tips his head graciously.

The smell of coffee wafts to your nose and you inhale it all in because nothing like coffee to make you feel better.

“I’ll go get our drinks” he offers kindly.

“I want-”

“An iced caramel macchiato, with soy milk, and extra caramel on the top. I know” he smiles.

How does he always do this? It warms your heart every single time and makes it that much harder to let go of him.

“As usual, you’re right” you mirror the smile.

He goes to the ordering counter, while you go to find a spot to wait for him. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to Mina.

You: Mina are you doing okay?

A second later your phone chimes

Mina: yes, I am okay. How is Jeongguk?

You wonder if you should tell her you are getting coffee with him just to be transparent. But then you decide against it because what if she takes it the wrong way? You don’t want to upset her more than she already is.

You: Yeah. He seems to be doing okay 😊

Mina: Okay, love. Take care of yourself and him 🤗

You look up to find a girl next to Jeongguk, with long brunette hair, and modelesque features, chatting with him at the pickup station. She’s leaning into him with a suggestive smile on her face, gently touching his arm and throwing her head back as she laughs at something he says.

Your brows furrow as your watch from afar, feeling a little hurt. But then you notice Jeongguk hesitate and step back a little. Just as she leans in, he leans back and tries to put space between them. You watch as he taps his foot on the ground and angles his body slightly away from her.

You approach them with a grin. “I thought you ran away with our coffee’s” you stand next to Jeongguk, wrapping your hand around his arm

Jeongguk looks down at you and immediately grins. “I would never”

“Who is this?” you question as you look up at him.

“She just wanted to talk” he shrugs casually. The girl frowns at the sight of you, clearly unable to hide her dislike.

“Are you a friend?” she asks

“I am his best friend” you squeeze his arm tighter and he takes it as his cue. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, the one you had been holding onto and pulls you in closer. “A little more special than a best friend”

“Oh… alright” her face falls, and her previously self-assured demeanour disappears and so does she.

You wait for her to get out of sight before separating yourselves from each other.

“Thanks, y/n” Jeongguk smiles at you.

“I am sorry if that was weird. I saw you getting uncomfortable so I thought I could help you out” your gaze lowers to the ground.

“No. It was actually nice” he partly pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

“Damsel in distress” you tease him.

“The biggest damn one you will ever meet” he grins

“One iced and one hot caramel macchiato for Jungkook” your conversation is interrupted by the barista.

Jeongguk picks up both the cups and hands yours to you.

“Are you copying me now?” your brows knit together in a mock frown.

“Did you know that people who like each other, tend to copy each other’s actions?” he says casually but then a second later he realizes what he has just said isn’t so casual after all. His smile disappears into a thin pursed line of his lips as he avoids looking at you.

“Yeah. We like each other, so what? We’re friends” you try to lighten the mood but somehow it just gets more awkward.

“Right” he nods and takes a sip of his coffee. “Friends” he scoffs.

 *********

You walk the same path you had come from. Both of you are silent again, avoiding eye contact with each other as best you can. You try to distract yourself by studying your surroundings but your mind is still preoccupied with Jeongguk’s proximity and the occasional brush of his arm against yours.

“How was Mina?” Jeongguk glances at you.

“As well as can be expected. She was crying” you bite your lip.

“Shit” he exhales. “I am the worst boyfriend ever”

Hearing that word from him is like reality slapping you in the face. Your relaxed demeanour vanishes and you tense up because it triggers the return of guilt. You should seriously not be here with him.

“Fuck. I am sorry y/n” he stops in his tracks. You are forced to do the same but you would much rather keep walking. “I should not have said that. I am sorry” he turns to face you and you do the same.

“It’s fine. It’s true so it doesn’t matter how I feel” you shrug casually tying your best to pretend you are not affected by it.

“I care about how you feel. I have since that first night we met. I mean, fuck. Why couldn’t I have met you before I met Mina?” he laments.

“You can’t do anything about how I feel. You cannot even do anything about how you feel so what’s the point in talking about this?”  

“But why can’t we?” he runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, what is so wrong in talking about this. About us?”

You scoff. “Us? Jeongguk there is no us. There can never be an ‘us’. It’s not happening”

“Wow” he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “So, you won’t even stop for one moment to talk about it?”

“What is the fucking point Jeongguk?” you look at him wide-eyed.

“For fuck’s sake y/n. It’s been three years. Three whole fucking years we’ve been skirting around each other. We have been tiptoeing around our feelings for one another for so long, we have forgotten what it feels like to be any other way. I mean I can’t remember a single time when being around you wasn’t a painful reminder of what I could have had with you. The least we can do is talk about it!”

“It’s not fair to Mina!” you exclaim

“It’s not fair to us!” he matches the loudness of your voice.

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s not fair that you’re with her and not with me. It’s not fair that we both have to go through this endless cycle of pain and hurt. It’s not fair that we both have to keep silent about all this. But Jeongguk, that’s how it is. That is our reality and we have to accept it”

“Bull-fucking-shit!” he responds.

“You think it’s easy for me to watch you be with her!” you pause to swallow the thick lump of emotions that has risen to your throat. “I have been heartbroken so many times you have no fucking idea. But what’s wrong is wrong. Loving you is wrong. It just is. I can’t change that. I desperately wish I could. I wish I could say to you that it was right. But it’s not. You are my best friend’s boyfriend Jeongguk. She loves you. I can’t get in the way of that” your chest heaves and falls with effort

Jeongguk blinks owlishly at you. “You love me?”

Shit

“I- I. No! No, I don’t love you” you shake your head as if you are trying to convince yourself more than him. You look at the cemented sidewalk because God knows you can’t look at him.

“Then look at me and say it” he steps towards you.

“You should go home to Mina”

“Shut up” he takes another step forward and you can feel him towering over you. “Look at me and tell me you don’t love me”

You choke on a sob and press the back of your hand against your lips.

“Look at me y/n” Jeongguk presses.

You shake your head in response.

“Please”

You shake your head again.

“The only way to get over this is to tell each other how we feel” he steps towards you once again, and places his hands on your shoulders and presses his forehead to yours. “Please look at me” he whispers.

He pulls back to look at you and you finally find the courage deep within yourself to look at him too.

“I love you” he exhales and closes his eyes, waiting for your response.

Something breaks inside you. Whatever inhibition was holding you back vanishes the moment you hear those three words from him. 

“I love you too” you reply before you can even think about it.  The weight of those words you had been carrying around for three years lifts. You feel light like a load has been taken from you. Your tense body relaxes, and your frantic breathing begins to even out. There is a sense of relief beyond all the other layers of emotions you feel. If you had known you would feel so much better after telling him, you would have done it years ago.

 *********

As it turns out moving on isn’t exactly easy.

As it turns out, you still love Jeon Jeongguk

As it turns out, Jeon Jeongguk still loves you.

It also happens to be that Jeon Jeongguk is still with Kim Mina and you are back to square one.

But not completely because one single revelation is about to change things.

“You did what!” you blink at Mina, slightly unable to comprehend what she said.

“IkissedHoseokandthenweslepttogether” she mumbles quickly and avoids eye contact, pretending to be busy doing something on her laptop.

“I am sorry” you crouch in front of her. “You kissed Hoseok and then you slept together?”

She nods, shutting her laptop and hiding her face behind her hands.

“Mina! Oh my god!” you fall on your butt.

“I know. I know” she whines and topples over on the couch, still hiding behind her hands.

“I thought you and Jeongguk were trying to work things out” you look at her wide-eyed, hardly able to believe it.

She finally reveals her face. “We are, or were. But things have been different between us. Since that fight we had when Hoseok came over, Jeongguk been different. I mean I can’t say I am hurt because I am not. He’s avoiding me and to be honest I am relieved he is!” she whines. “That night when you left to go check up on Jeongguk, Hoseok really helped me and then he told me he likes me and then he leaned in for a kiss and I kissed him and then we slept together. That night I realized I like him too” she rambles to explain herself.

“Then why in the world did you try to set me up with him?” your face contorts in confusion.

“I just thought that pushing him towards someone else would force me to move on. And I knew that if it happened to be you, I wouldn’t act on my feelings” she exhales. Oh, this is the worst thing ever”.

You knew all too well what she meant and the fact that she would back off if Hoseok got together with you makes you feel even worse because you couldn’t do the same with Jeongguk. “Do you love Hoseok?” you question.

“I guess. I mean I am not sure. But I do know I don’t feel anything with Jeongguk anymore. I feel suffocated around him. I love him y/n. I do. I truly do and I only want the best for him. But I am not in love with him anymore”

“Does he know?” you ask.

“I don’t think so” she shakes her head.

Just when you thought things would start getting better, they just got worse. You love Jeongguk, Jeongguk loves you. Mina doesn’t love Jeongguk anymore, and she thinks she likes Hoseok. But Hoseok definitely loves her and you don’t know what Jeongguk feels for Mina.

Your head spins just thinking about it. “I need water” you announce from your position on the floor. You stand up slowly to avoid getting dizzy because lord knows you are on the verge of fainting. You slowly retreat back to the kitchen and pour two glasses of water. You head back to where Mina is and offer her one glass.

“So what now?” you ask once you had your fill of drink.

“I guess I have to talk to Jeongguk. Because we can’t do this” she sighs and so do you because who knows what is going to happen next?

 *********

{3 weeks later}

The clock strikes at 8 pm. Mina isn’t home. She’s working late and you hope to God she isn’t fooling around with Hoseok because she and Jeongguk broke it off only three weeks ago. But you cannot control her life any more than you can control your own. Besides, she has the full liberty to make her own decisions as an adult. All you can do is make sure she doesn’t do anything that will harm or hurt her in any way.

You flip lazily through the channels, with your feet propped on the coffee table. All you need is a glass of wine in one hand and you would be the advertisement for a lazy Sunday. It’s been too long since you have had the apartment to yourself. The quiet save for the sounds of television is exactly the kind of relaxing environment you need. Sometimes solitude is the best company one can have.

Your stomach grumbles as a commercial plays on TV depicting the perfect, juiciest steak you have ever seen. So it is naturally a given that you abandon your perch and head to the kitchen to fix up some food. Rummaging through the refrigerator all you find are a few eggs, some asparagus, a carton of milk, a loaf of bread that is expired and some apples. You really need to go buy groceries.

You look through the pantry to see if you can find something. You find a bag of chips hidden in the corner so you settle for it. You drag your feet across the marble floor and make your way to the living room. Settling down back in your spot you turn up the volume.

Just then the bell rings and you get up with a sigh and make your way towards the door. Through the security system monitor you see Jeongguk standing on the other side of the door.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit” you panic because you are in no shape to be seen by Jeongguk in your PJ’s,  with dishevelled hair, and bits of chips on your shirt. You run back to the living room and fix the coffee table, and shove the bag of chips underneath one of the cushions. Running to your room, you quickly take off your PJ’s and grab whatever comes into your hand as you throw open your closet. It’s a white shirt and you grab a random pair of jeans. The shirt gets stuck on your head because in a panic you end up trying to put the sleeve through your neck. Once you figure out the shirt mess, you fix your hair up in a ponytail, while another bell rings at the door.

“Coming!” you shout and race to the door skidding to halt right in front of it. You take a few deep breaths and compose yourself as you place your hand on the doorknob. You unlock the door and try to put on your best smile.

“Hey! Come in” you usher him inside.

He hangs his jacket on the coat hanger by the door and goes to the living room.

“Do you want anything to drink?” you ask as he settles on the sofa with a thud, and you proceed to the kitchen.

“Water will be good” he rubs his face and rests his neck against the back of the couch. “Do you know where Mina left the box of my stuff?” he calls out.

“In her room!” you call out and hear faint footsteps going in the direction of her room.

You go back out into the living room with a glass of water and leave it on the coffee table for him. Just then he comes out carrying a big brown box of his stuff and he leaves it by the door under the coat hanger.

He comes back to the living and you notice he’s staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” you question, patting your cheeks and your face to see if you have something on your face.

“Your shirt is on inside out,” he says and presses his lips together to hold in his laughter. But you can see his chin quivering, and his eyes getting glossy.

“Fuck” you look down and sure enough it is inside out. You collapse onto the couch grabbing one of the cushions and hiding your face behind it.

You hear him break out into laughter and feel the sofa dip beside you. He continues laughing for a good minute and for the duration you ensure to keep your face hidden behind the cushion.

“I am sorry” he chokes out between laughs. “It’s too funny”

“Yeah. My misery is obviously funny” you mumble against the cushion

You look up to find him bent over his knees, holding his belly. “ Sorry” he laughs.

“It’s your fault” you pout at him.

“Me?” he points to himself, chest still heaving with the effort of laughing.

“Yes. You showed up so suddenly, unannounced I didn’t want you to see me in my PJ’s and bedhead hair”

“You didn’t have to do that you know?”

“Yes, I did. You would have never let me live it down if you saw me like that” you try to suppress a smile.

“That is true” he nods.

He looks around the living room and peeks his head into the kitchen.

“Have you eaten yet?” he questions.

“I was actually going to buy groceries. We’re out”

“Let’s go then” he stands up and offers you his hand.

“You want to come with me?” you look at him in question.

“How could I ever miss the chance of grocery shopping with you? It’s so domestic” he grins, clearly enjoying the idea of domesticity more than anything else.

“I’ll just go fix my shirt” you tell him to wait and within thirty seconds you are out and by the door

“I didn’t know you wanted to do this so bad” you ask him as you crouch to the floor and tie shoelaces.

“I am a free man now y/n. I can finally follow my heart” he offers you his hand and once you place your hand in his, he interlocks your fingers and leads you out.

 *********

The mart is close by so you and Jeongguk decide to walk. The whole way there you walk hand in hand, swinging your arms like children and laughing for no reason other than pure excitement.

You arrive at the store and you are about to let go of his hand to grab a shopping cart, but he pulls you back and shakes his head. Instead, he grabs the cart with his free hand and maneuvers it like he’s done it a hundred times.

“I am not letting go of your hand” he squeezes tighter.

“I can see that. But you know it’s a little impractical” you motion to the cart which is going sideways instead of going forward. He fixes it so it movies in a straight line

“I have wanted to do this since the first night we met. I have wanted to spend time with you for so long, so now I am going to make up for it. No matter how weird, crazy, or impractical you think it is” you walk hand in hand around the store.

“It’s only been three weeks since you and Mina broke up” you remind him. “Isn’t this too fast?”

“A month, technically. Anyway, one, we broke up mutually because we both fell out of love with each other and fell in love with different people. Two, it’s not fast for me because I have waited years for this. Three, I want everyone to know how I feel about you. In fact, I want you to know how I feel about you because I am sick of hiding it”

You stop in your tracks and tug him by his hand towards yourself. “How do you feel about me?”

Jeongguk stares at your eyes and then your lips. “Fuck it” he mumbles and he presses his lips to yours. His hands enclose your waist and he pulls you in further. You rest your hands on his shoulders and melt into the kiss. It’s everything you imagined it would be and more. He feels like home and never in your life have you felt calmer than that moment. No heart racing, no tight knots in your stomach. Nothing. Only a sense of calm that washes over you as he holds you in his arms and spills all his love into the kiss. It is tender and soft. His lips are warm against yours, and his kisses are even warmer. He pulls back to look at you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Perfect” he murmurs as he cups your cheeks. Then he kisses your forehead, your left cheek, right cheek. He plants a soft kiss on your nose followed by a quick peck on the lips.

You giggle like a little girl. “I did not take you for the romantic type”

“I’ll show you just how romantic I am” he entwines your hands once more and hurriedly leads you out of the grocery store.

 *********

You are completely pressed between the wall and Jungkook as he kisses you. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck. He stops to look at you, as if for confirmation.

“Just kiss me” you pull him in by grasping the fabric of his shirt and he doesn’t hesitate.

He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him as if you will never have tomorrow with him. He leaves gentle kisses everywhere and you don’t know if you have ever felt this euphoric in your life ever before. Every part he touches is left in goosebumps and tingles.

“I love you” he breathes against your lips as he captures them again in a kiss.

“I love you too” you gasp as his hand traverses down your abdomen.

And love you, he does. It’s an indescribable feeling to be wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled, soft kisses left here and there. His hands never rest for a single second because he wants to explore every inch of your body. He wants to know you in a way no one has ever known you before. You lose count of how many times you come undone as you lie in his arms and he shows you how much he loves you.

 *********

The next morning Jeongguk acts like a baby and doesn’t let you get out of bed.

“One more kiss and I promise I’ll let you go” he whines and grasps your wrist and tugs you back into bed. You are helplessly pinned underneath him.

“Fine one more” you tap his lip with your index finger. He pushes your finger away and his lips are onto yours once again. Unlike the first time he kissed you, this feels more rushed like he’s scared he that he’ll never have another day with you.

“I could do this all day long “he mumbles as he pulls away.

“Unfortunately for you Mr. Jeon Jeongguk. I don’t have all day to do this” you shove him and he falls on his back on the bed.

“Yes you do” he sits up on his elbows and stares at you with a suggestive look in his eyes. “Round 2?” he questions.

“No more rounds Jeongguk. I have to go back to the apartment and figure stuff out” you pull your shirt over your head. You sit at the edge of the bed and put your pants back on. The bed dips behind you and you feel Jeongguk’s arms enclose around your abdomen and his chin rests on your shoulder. He kisses your cheek gently.

“There is nothing to figure out” he whispers close to your ear.

“Yes. There is the matter of telling Mina about us” you place your hands on his arms and lean into his chest.

Jeongguk sighs and digs his forehead into your shoulder. “I know” he mumbles.

“So” you pat his arms. “Let go of me so that I can go and figure it out for us. Plus it’s her birthday in 2 weeks and I want her to know before then to save everyone any drama that might occur because of us.”

“Us” Jeongguk muses. “I like the sound of that”

 *********

The silence weighs heavy in the air. Mina is chewing on her lip as she deliberates what she has been told. She mumbles and nods to herself which kind of scares you because she only does that when she is angry.

“Say something” you look at her in concern.

“Well, there is nothing to say y/n. He loves you and you love him. I am just mad for not seeing it sooner. I should have picked on it” she sighs in frustration. “Looking back at it, to be honest, I don’t think we ever loved each other” she muses the last part to herself. 

“I am a terrible friend, aren’t I?” you try to swallow back the tears.

“No!” she moves closer to you and wraps one arm around you. “If anything, I have been a bad friend to both you and Jeongguk. We should have broken it off a long time ago”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better. I know you loved him. But I still had these feelings for him. I swear to you I tried my hardest to forget about him. I even dated people I shouldn’t have dated just to distract myself from Jeongguk. I thought maybe I would meet someone worthwhile and I would forget him. But I couldn’t and I am sorry. I am a terrible person and a worse friend”

“I am not going to lie. It’s a little bit weird. I mean you and Jengguk. It feels strange to even say it and I am going to need time to adjust to it and it’s not because I am hurt or disappointed in both of you. I am perfectly okay with you guys dating because Jeeongguk and I were over a long time ago. We just held on because we were too scared to hurt each other” she pauses to look at you and you nod for her to continue. “But I have no feelings for him. It’ll just take me time to get used to seeing you with him just because I dated him too once and now he’s with my best friend. I hope you understand”

Of course, you understood.

“Thanks, Min” you wrap your arms around her in a hug.

“I am happy for you babe” she squeezes you gently.

 *********

Jeongguk’s late.

He’s not winning himself favours by being late. You tap your foot on the footrest of the barstool impatiently, quietly sipping your drink. A sports bar was the last place you wanted to be at, but of course, Mina wants to celebrate her birthday at a place that serves booze. You sigh and signal the bartender for another cocktail. You had no clue Mina knew so many people. But then again she is a social butterfly so there are close to one hundred people present. Somehow she even managed to get a small section of the place cordoned off for her birthday party.

You look at your wristwatch, and the clock keeps ticking. Yet there is no sign of Jeongguk. You crane your neck to check the entrance but it’s as empty as ever.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Mina makes an appearance from her tight schedule as she has to keep floating around between different groups of friends she has.

“What boyfriend?” you scoff, annoyed by Jeongguk’s tardiness.

“Ooh” Mina winces. “He’s in trouble” Mina looks over your shoulder. “Speaking of” she motions her head towards the entrance and none other than Jeon Jeongguk is approaching you with a grin on his face. “That’s my cue” Mina leaves.

“Hi, there stranger” Jeongguk props himself up on the seat next to you.

“Hi” you avoid looking at him and keep your eyes affront.

“So what is a beautiful girl like you doing sitting alone at this bar?” he leans into the palm of his hand as he looks at you, a grin simmering at the corner of his lip.

“Waiting for my boyfriend” you sip your drink.

“Well he’s not a very good boyfriend if he’s making you wait”

“Clearly” you turn to face him.

“Hmm. How about we remedy that?” he offers you his hand.

“Are you making a pass at a committed woman?” you squint your eyes at him

“No. Just asking you for a walk outside” his lips curve into a smile. “Besides, I am a better man than your boyfriend”

“I think all men are the same” you slide your hand into his and he helps you down the stool. You then let go and walk past him towards the entrance.

Outside it’s dark. Cars and buses are passing by and the street is really busy.

“Are you still mad at me?” he slides his hand into yours and interlocks your fingers.

You huff. “I am not mad at you”

“You look mad” he turns on his heels and tugs at your arm to bring you closer and then wraps an arm around your waist. “I am sorry I was late, but I was getting this” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny red ring case.

“Are you…” your blink furiously as you glance between his face and the case in his hand.

In answer, he opens the ring case and you find one silver ring, embedded with his name on it.

“Jeongguk” you look at him as tears well up in your eyes.

He takes hold of your hand pulls out the ring and slides it onto your ring finger. “It’s a promise ring”

“A promise ring?”

“Jeongguk..” you whisper as your vision gets blurry. “I don’t have a ring” you choke on a sob as tears stream down your cheek. “But I promise that I will be honest with you every step of the way, I will offer you my unconditional support in whatever you choose to do, and that I will love you till the day that I die”

“I promise that each day I spend with you, I will love you. I will choose you every day knowing that you aren’t perfect. I promise I will give this relationship the best of me, and that I will honour your heart and your feelings for the rest of my life” He uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“You remember when we met the first night at Mina’s house party?” Jeongguk holds both your hands in his as he faces you.

“Of course”

“Do you remember you asked me if I want in?”

You nod again because every single detail about that night is still fresh in your mind.

“Well, I want in. I am all in. With you” Jeongguk dips his head and places a chaste kiss on your lips.

And that was the fourth time in your life you felt like the wind had been knocked out you and it was always because of Jeon Jeongguk.

End.

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[neerasrealm]

you write poly stuff?? 😏 could I be so bold as to request a three way makeout session with slenjack? bonus points if slender is really worked up and tense or tongue gets involved 😉

YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE H O R N Y

deadass this fic reads like the opening to a smut ggghdhs tw for some graphic kissing and a lotta sex jokes

LJ’s room smells of candy, and feels comfy and warm. Maybe it’s the dim lighting and the glowing stickers slapped on his walls and ceiling, or maybe it’s because he’s hugging you close against his soft, plush body and kneading his equally soft lips against yours. His lips taste sweet and sugary, and his boney black hand runs up your back as he kneads against you. Your lips break and his hands grab your hips. Your foreheads touch and he giggles softly.

‘’I luv ya…’’ he murmurs before pecking your lips again. You laugh quietly.

‘’I know you do.’’ you cup his face in your hands and look into his eyes. They’re a very, very pale blue. Almost white. The only speck of colour left on him. They seem to shimmer as he hears you speak. You move in to kiss him again and-

‘’Knock knock knock.’’

LJ turns his head away from you and over to the door. You huff quietly in frustration. Rude, you’re trying to kiss a clown in here. Who the hell thinks they have the right to disturb you?

‘’Hello dear,’’ Slender says as he pokes his head into the room. Nevermind, disturbance forgiven. Slender can interrupt clown kissing sessions whenever he wants. He just has that power. His head moves slightly. ‘’Oh, hello to you too, love.’’ he says, presumably to you. It’s kind of hard to tell with his lack of eyes. He steps into the room. ‘’Mind if I join you two?’’

‘’Nah, we weren’ doin’ anyfin’ impor’an’ anyway.’’

‘’Rude.’’ you murmur back. You were about to pull out your best lines just for him! Jack needs to learn to appreciate a good pickup line when he gets one.

Slender laughs softly as he scoots himself onto the bed next to the two of you. Jack rolls his eyes and grabs him, tugging him over to the two of you. This man has so much dignity that he refuses to crawl on a bed like a normal person. Terrible. Jack’s arms stretch and hug the both of you tight. Really tight- you’re sandwiched between both of them. Not that you’re complaining. You got a face full of clown tiddy. Delightful. Slender’s arms wrap around the both of you and he hums, pleased. You’re squeezed even tighter between the two giant cryptids you call your lovers.

‘’Mmm- guys-’’ you murmur, squirming below them. They pull apart and look down at you. Ah, the joys of being the human in the relationship.

‘’Sorry luv.’’ Jack says with a laugh. Slender reaches down and combs a hand through your hair.

"Sorry dear," Slender murmurs. "I keep forgetting how small you are." He adds with a chuckle.

"I'm not small, I'm human sized." You reply defensively. "We can't all be eight foot tall Eldritch abominations."

Slender laughs more and pats your head. "Of course. I'm sorry."

His hand withdraws and you shift around, sitting against Jack's chest, facing Slender's. "Alright, continue what you two were doing."

Before Slender gets a chance to protest Jack grabs him and yanks him forward, sandwiching you again between the two of them. He knows exactly what your game is LJ leans up, kissing Slender softly. Slender wraps his arms around the both of you, squeezing you in between them. You reach up and unbutton his blazer, then slip your hands under it, caressing his hips and hugging him against you. You lean up and nuzzle your face against his chest, his tie swinging in front of your nose. You smile wide and inhale deeply. He smells like petrichor and the pages of old, worn books. And wine. If Slender wasn’t an eldritch being that (presumably) can’t get intoxicated that’d be concerning. But instead it’s just another aspect of him you love. You open your eyes and look up at the two of them. Despite Slender’s lack of mouth, the two of them move against each other almost in sync. Jack tilts his head a bit, deepening the kiss and pressing against him more. It's- less of a kiss and more Slender getting his face eaten by a clown. You still love the sight though. Seeing them being so passionate with one another is one of your favorite things. You love them, and they love you as well as each other, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

‘’Mmh...Slen,’’ Jack pulls away from the kiss ‘’Ya feel tense. Ya okay?’’

‘’Hm?’’ Slender’s hand slides down your back as he looks at Jack. ‘’No, I’m okay. A little tired I suppose but-’’

‘’A li’le?’’ Jack gives him a suspicious look. ‘’When’s th’ last time ye blew off any steam? Er tried ta relax?’’

‘’Well...I took Slendra to the park the other day.’’

‘’Tha’ wuz five days ago.’’

‘’Well- how about when the three of us watched a movie together?’’

‘’That was last week.’’ you pipe up. Jack gives Slender a dissatisfied look. You move away from Slender and give him the sternest look you can. He looks away from you both nervously.

‘’Maybe I’ve been working a tad hard- but it’s nothing, honestly.’’ he murmurs. Jack glares at him.

"Ya ‘ave ta be careful wiv yerself, Slen…" he murmurs. Slender sighs.

‘’I’m sorry, love…’’ he murmurs. Jack pecks a kiss onto his face again.

"It's fine." He murmurs. ‘’We’ll jus’ ‘ave ta make ya relax.’’ he adds with a grin. Slender blushes. You pat his chest because well- it's the only thing you can do. He moves a bit, giving you more wiggle room. You lean up and drape your arms over Slender's shoulders, resting them directly on top of Jack's. You close the gap between the two of you and kiss his mouth- er- where his mouth should be. He leans against you, tilting his head as if he had lips for you to work with. You hear Jack chuckle gently behind you. His head rests on your shoulder, grinning lazily as he watches the two of you. His arms move a bit, and you assume he’s rubbing circles into Slender’s back. You pull away from Slender for a moment and catch LJ’s eye. A smirk curls up your face and you lean into Slender again. You kiss him gently, making him melt into you, and then slowly...you slip out your tongue and lick where his mouth would be.

You’re abruptly shoved away while Slender makes a series of loud clicking noises that you definitely weren't expecting from him. He coughs, clearing his throat and looks away from you both. His face is flushed a dark grey. It’s silent for a few moments before you hear raspy laughing next to you. LJ chuckles, softly at first, and then louder until it’s full blown wheezing and cackling. You fight a smile, then let out a soft laugh, and then chuckles, until eventually you’re howling with laughter over- well, nothing really that funny. Jack hugs you tight, cackling into your shoulder while you wipe at tears.

‘’It’s not that funny.’’ Slender mutters. The two of you wheeze together.

‘’I’ kinda is.’’ Jack wheezes out. ‘’Ye go’ so flustered ye star’ed speakin’ fae-’’ He adds before breaking into chuckles again. You grin. So that’s what that was.

‘’Damn I’m better than I thought.’’ you murmur. Jack wheezes beside you, burying his face in your shoulder.

‘’Aw fock I love ye.’’ he wheezes out. You grin wider. Slender makes a ‘hmph’ noise and frowns.

‘’Neither of you can ever behave yourselves, can you?’’ he grumbles.

‘’You like it when we misbehave.’’ you reply with a wink. He flushes a darker colour and glares at you before looking away again. He folds his arms and makes another couple of quiet clicking noises. You glance at Jack for a translation. He shrugs at you and sits up, looking at Slender.

‘’So...do I ge’ ta lick ya too or-’’

‘’Yes but I’m going to hate every second of it.’’ Jack snickers and leans in to him. His grey tongue flicks out and licks where Slender’s mouth should be. Slender’s face scrunches up in disgust and Jack pulls away. ‘’Disgusting, thank you.’’

Jack laughs and leans in again, kissing Slender. You wind your arms around Slender and kiss along his jawline. He lets out a quiet, pleased sigh at the joint attention. Jack’s hand combs through your hair. You lean down a bit, pecking kisses down Slender’s neck. Carefully, you reach up and loosen his tie. Slender inhales sharply. You know him too well at this point; he gets especially flustered about his tie being touched, for some unknown reason. You loosen it just enough to undo the top button of his shirt and lean in, peppering kisses on the newly exposed skin. You hear a couple more clicking noises, followed by Jack making a gravelly hum.

And then you hear it.

The sound of ripping flesh, right above you. Your eyes widen in horror at the unexpected noise. Slowly, you cast your eyes up and stare in shock.

Sitting above you, you see Jack panting, his eyes closed and Slender...you shiver involuntarily as you stare up at him. His face is ripped open, exposing a jagged hole that forms a mouth. His true mouth. Hanging out of it is a long, black tongue. You stare in shocked horror. His mouth- his true mouth, is something you’ve only seen twice before. Once when you walked into his office without knocking, and the other when he actually sat you down and tried to calmly show you it. You don’t want to admit it, but the image of Slender’s mouth, especially his tongue, has haunted you ever since. So actually seeing it up close and personal...is certainly an experience. Your stomach lurches and you swallow as you stare at Slender, who slowly looks down at you. His tongue quickly retracts back into his mouth.

‘’Sorry dear.’’ he murmurs. His voice is deeper with his true mouth exposed, and his voice seems to swarm around you, seeping directly into your skull. It’s accompanied by a slight ringing noise, like a second voice mimicking him. His mouth closes, the skin of his face melding back together like nothing happened. ‘’I didn’t mean to scare you-’’

‘’No no it’s okay!’’ you cut in quickly. Slender recoils slightly. You gulp. ‘’I know Jack is used to it- right?’’ you look over your shoulder at your other boyfriend. He nods. ‘’So I can get used to it too- and it doesn’t really scare me much! I just- wasn’t ready-’’

Slender fiddles with his hands. ‘’I don’t want to scare you off- I-I know it’s a lot and you’re a human and you’re so fragile and-’’

‘’Slen.’’ he’s interrupted by Jack, who reaches up and caresses his face. ‘’It’s alrigh’...ye’re no’ g’nna. y/n’s g’nna luv ya no ma’er wha’.’’ his voice is soft and loving. Just by listening to him you can hear over a century’s worth of trust of love. Slender relaxes. He looks over at you, not saying a word.

‘’I’m not scared.’’ you say gently. Very slowly, you lean in to Slender, gripping his shoulders gently. His hands brush against your hips as you close the gap between the two of you. You kiss him again, lips gently brushing against smooth face. Jack’s arms wrap around the both of you, his hands running up Slender’s back and rubbing circles into it. You pause for a moment and gently run your tongue against where his mouth was previously. You hear the quiet noise of flesh ripping again, then feel a meek, black tongue brush against your lips. You tilt your head and open your mouth for him. Slender’s tongue slides into your mouth and quickly begins to explore. It runs along your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, the top of your mouth- everywhere. You don’t fight against him, you want him comfortable, and melt against the kiss. Slender’s hand reaches up and cups your face, tilting you up against him. You groan into the kiss. Any and all anxieties you had previously have melted away. Now the only thing you’re focused on is the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

Much to your disappointment, he moves away, leaving you gasping for air. While you’re catching your breath Jack leans in and kisses Slender. It’s only fair he gets his turn, you suppose. You lean against Jack again. Your breathing is shaky, and you feel adrenaline rushing through you. Before you're able to fully compose yourself however, Jack's hand cups your face and pushes it over towards his. Your lips meet unexpectedly and you shiver. His tongue drags along your lips and you open your mouth for him.

Jack's tongue is much thicker than Slender's, and much rougher. Slender's tongue was gentle, curious, but Jack? Jack is well acquainted with your mouth by now. You push your own tongue against his, fighting against him. He grabs the underside of your face, forcibly holding you in place as your tongues wrestle. He's far too forceful and you know you don't have much of a chance against him. You moan against him and he pulls away, a string of saliva hanging between you two. Gross.

Jack's face scrunches up in disgust. "...didja 'ave fish fer lunch?"

"Yes?"

"Bleh." He shakes his head at you disapprovingly and reaches into his sleeve, pulling out some strawberry flavored candies. "Ere, eat these will ye?"

You glare at him. "Rude." You mutter as you take the candies. You eat them only because they taste nice and definitely not because you want more clown kisses. He snickers.

"This is what I lived with for over a century." Slender says with the most deadpan expression a faceless man can give. You laugh. Jack leans in again and gives you a quick kiss, his tongue running around your mouth only for a couple moments.

"Alrigh' we're good."

"At least take me to dinner first." You mutter. Jack wheezes again and, surprisingly, Slender chuckles. You watch him shrug off his suit jacket and neatly fold it up beside him. Jack leans into you.

"Th' jackets comin' off, ya fink we're ge'in' i' tonigh'?" He whispers before receiving a light slap from one of Slender's tendrils. He lets out a small yelp of surprise and rubs at his cheek where he was slapped. "Wha' wuz tha' fer?!"

"For not getting your mind out of the gutter." Slender replies, removing his tie. You chuckle. Slender's tendrils reach over and grab you both. You're set down gently in Slender's lap, his hands gently holding you by the shoulder and back, while Jack is plopped down behind Slender.

"Wha're we doin' now?" Jack's head rests on top of Slender's shoulder while his striped arms curl around his body, hands running down his white shirt curiously.

"I'm going to relax with my two partners, and we're going to stop making sexual remarks about one another."

"No promises." Jack chuckles back.

A tendril curls up and pushes your chin, tilting your head up. Your mouths meet again, and you hear the ripping once more. It's less scary now that you know what it's leading to.

His tongue carefully slips into your mouth, running along your teeth and your own tongue. You push gently against him, taking in the feeling of him. His tongue is thin and smooth, and slides curiously around your mouth. He tastes of wine and something sweet. You can't identify what it is but the flavor is almost intoxicating.

His tongue curls and wraps around yours, constricting it almost like a snake. You shudder and melt into him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. His tongue unwinds and instead slowly slides to the back of your mouth. His tongue slides down your throat and you shudder violently, your body convulsing from the overwhelment of the situation.

Involuntarily, you moan against him and his tongue withdraws from your throat. He pulls away from you, breathing gently. "Are you okay dear?" You breath deeply for a few moments, trying to remember what planet you're on before giving a slight nod. "Was that too much?"

"It-" you glance aside. "It...was a lot…but I think I'm okay." You smile up at Slender and Jack, who's peeking over his shoulder at you. He smirks a bit.

"Ye don't 'alf know 'ow ta trea' some'ne, do ya china pla'e?"

Slender turns to him. "Oh shush. You'll get your turn." He murmurs before turning back to you. He leans in again and peppers gentle kisses along your face and down your neck. You feel his tongue against your throat, making you shiver again and let out a small sigh of pleasure. He moves up again and gently holds your face in his hands. His forehead presses against yours and he feels deliciously warm against you. The smell of petrichor envelops you again, this time accomplished by the smell of flowers, probably from Jack.

"I love you." He breathes. His voice seems to fill your skull, making your thoughts hazy and dumb. You relax into him, letting his warmth envelop you.

"I love you too…" you murmur to him. "Both of you."

Slender's hand gently runs down your back and you hear him clicking again. And although you don't speak fae, something tells you they're sweet, affectionate nothings.

[vanchlo]

Guitar Talk

Blurb Synopsis: Although thousands of miles away, you wouldn’t give up guitar lessons with your boyfriend, Niall, for anything. Even if he can be a little shit.

 Genre: Lots of fluff, although a little sad. 

Word Count: 4.5k words 

Pairing: Niall x Reader

*

The red circle blinks in front of your eyes. Your eyes flit to your hands that begin to move effortlessly, music coming from them. Well, actually it’s coming from the guitar strings you play. Picking the strings, you play a D suspended chord before moving to the G major 7. A smile bends your lips when you play the next chord, B minor 7 without a hiccup, and the A suspended chord too. But when you get to the G major 6 chord, your fingers struggle with where to go on the strings. You stop there and make a funny face at the camera. The red circle stops blinking and you exhale, feeling the nerves worsen. 

Now your fingers tap along the screen, a message composing before your eyes. 

Does this sound better?

With the guitar sitting in your lap, you hit the send button. Saving the message, you swipe over to the home screen. After viewing a few snaps from friends, you reply with random selfies and messages. When you return to the home screen, the arrow in front of his name is empty. Opening the conversation again, his little brunette haired bitmoji pops up. A white cloud above his head with an ellipses appears too. Niall is typing, it says. The sound of a bubble popping greets your ears and new words appear. 

sounds good luv. but looks like ur struggling with that last chord. here’s a tip - the 2nd time u play the lil sequence through, use the same finger to press down for the same two notes on that string. way easier than adding another finger to the mix. does that make sense ? xx

Your eyebrows knit together over your tired eyes. Rubbing them doesn’t help, because the words in front of you still don’t make sense. Holding your thumb down on the message, you tap Save. It’s always annoyed you how you can never remember what was said last time in a snapchat conversation, if you don’t save it. Exhaling, you try to read through his message again, but the second time isn’t the charm. No, not when Niall starts talking in guitar language. One you’ve just started to learn, with his help. But it’s always been easier for him to teach you guitar when it’s not over fricken Snapchat, you think to yourself with a silent groan. You’re tempted to go and put the guitar back on the stand in the corner where you’ve wanted to leave it since he left. But you try to play that sequence over again, but once again you mess up. Your phone chimes again with the popping noise. 

Snapchat from Niall 

Dragging your thumb across the screen, you sigh from frustration. 

hello luv ? did u try that ? xx

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you set the acoustic guitar on the mound of bed covers. Padding out of the room in your fuzzy socks, you turn down the hallway. Even though it’s been almost two weeks, you still can’t get used to how quiet the house is without him. 

Usually there would be a football match on the tv, his singing or guitar playing echoing throughout the house, or him blasting music while working out or cooking. Your most favorite of all is how he could never fail to scare you. 

Whether it was walking into the study while you’re doing homework, and giving jumper cables to your sides. 

Yelling ‘boo!’ when he walked in on you cleaning the kitchen, making you drop the cleaning spray. 

Opening the door to the shower quietly and whispering something into your ear.

Suddenly saying ‘ah!’ while grabbing your side in the middle of a movie - a horror movie or not. 

Whatever he did, you always jumped to high heavens with a scream. Although it got on your nerves sometimes, and almost made you cry when you were half asleep or the movie was scary, you miss it. You miss him. 

His contagious laugh. Those wicked blue eyes. The empty cans of sparkling water sat around the house, although they annoyed you. Him yelling at the referees on the tv, even though he knows they can’t hear him. His sometimes annoyingly loud singing. Even if he always left the seat up on the toilet, but to his defense he kept saying he’d remember next time and that no, you didn’t need to get one of the fancy seats that lifted itself. You missed well, everything. His advice, that of course, you can still get, but it’s not instantaneous anymore. You can still see his smile over FaceTime or through pictures, but that’s delayed too. So is saying goodnight to him, because you have to figure out the time zones and his schedule. Getting his help on something, whether it’s figuring out where he put the strainer for the pasta, or his advice on an essay you wrote. Now, even his guitar lessons that he insisted you continue while he’s away are even harder with his absence. Although they’re frustrating and his guitar language is unintelligible at times, it’s made you feel closer to him. And that’s not something you want to give up, especially now. 

You’ve kept telling yourself that it will all be over soon. He has a few more shows until he’s done with this leg of his tour, and then he’ll be home. Well, just for a few weeks before he goes out again. But then you can join him, because your courses will be done for the semester. You would have tagged along with him in a heartbeat, like you so often do. But two of your classes this semester were only offered on campus, and with the end of your degree nearing, there wasn’t any way to get around it. As you wash your hands after using the bathroom, you recall the look on his face when you told him last November. He tried to hide his disappointment, but after he asked you why you couldn’t take them online or wait on them, he found it impossible to mask any longer. 

Shaking your head of the unpleasant memories, you turn off the bathroom light. The memories you shared in there still linger - Niall’s first bath bomb that left glitter on him for days, messing each other’s shampooed hair up into different dos in the shower, and the Eagles picture he has framed above the toilet that you still laugh at. Only he would hang that picture there to look at while he takes a leak. But the memories are whisked away when you hear your ringtone, a recent favorite song of yours. Then your Macbook chimes in as well, receiving the call too, because it’s synced to your phone. 

Rushing to your shared bedroom, you plop onto the large bed. Huffing, you find your phone in the sea of covers after a few seconds. Your rapid heartbeat from the fear of missing the call only increases when you see the name. Or more like the picture lighting up your screen. Your heart warms at the smiling picture of a brown-haired little boy. And then it aches.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready to leave for the arena, you said,” the words fall from your lips in an annoyed sigh. 

“Oh, t’anks. Jus’ wanna talk t’ me lovely girlfrien’, but guess not. ‘ll jus’ go then,” Niall responds sarcastically. 

“No don’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to make you late.”

“Ya won’. Jus’ answe’,” he replies, knitting your eyebrows together. But before you can ask what you’re supposed to be answering, your phone twinkles, and then your Macbook. 

You can’t stay upset as you see the message flash on your screen. Ni wants to FaceTime. 

“Ni,” you begin, trying to sound stern. 

“Jus’ answe’ tha bloody FaceTime befo’ I change me mind,” he tells you, his words ending in a laugh. “C’mon, love, I don’ got a lotta time.”

“Okay.”

Pressing the green Answer button, you let your phone fall into the cream covers once again. Criss-crossing your legs, you drag the laptop over to sit in front of you. A hum leaves its speaker as Niall’s image materializes on the screen in front of you. A warm smile paints his stubbly face as one soon covers yours. 

“Hi, love.”

“Hi. Why the FaceTime? I mean I’m not complaining, but I thought we were going to wait until tonight,” you say, confusion rolling off of your words.

“Grab yer guitar,” is all he says, his favorite Lowden guitar suddenly appearing in the frame. “‘m gonna help ya wit’ dat part befo’ I hafta go.”

You try to hold back the smile inching up your lips, but it’s hard. You’re sure some body part of yours fills his screen as you lean over the laptop to grab the guitar. 

“Oi! I thought ‘d brought t’ose shorts wit’ me. I see where they’ve gone now, ye li’l thief!” Niall exclaims from the computer. Giggling, you sit back down, the bed moving as you get comfortable. “Wha’d ye go in me suitcase befo’ I left an’ take what ya wanted?” he guffaws in his famous laugh, it having been too long since the last time you heard it. If only a couple of hours. You try not to think of how many days it’s been since you heard it without a phone in between you two. 

“No!” you scoff in disbelief, settling the Gibson G-45 Studio on your lap. A present from Niall for your birthday after you agreed to let him finally teach you how to play guitar. You told him again and again not to spend a lot of money on it for you. Unbeknownst to you if he did, he only said that he wanted to get you something of quality. And he said something about how there’s no point in playing something lousy that won’t hold up to the music. Then he wouldn’t shut up about how good Gibsons are and how many guitars of theirs that he has. 

“Sureeee. Now le’s jus’ try dat first verse yer learnin’. See how I can help. Oh an’ fo’ tha record, ‘m goin’ through yer drawers when I get home t’ see what else ye took o’ mine,” he smirks, shaking his head as he mutters your name. 

A red blush covers your cheeks, giving him the guilty verdict he was looking for. Rolling his eyes, he rakes a hand through his flat brunette hair. He tugs on the collar of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, the frame of his hotel bed behind him. “Ye li’l shit, you,” he mumbles affectionately with another shake of his head. Sticking the white guitar pick between his lips, he holds onto it there before moving something out of frame. 

Thoughts of missing his lips and what they could be doing to you right now muddle your thoughts. They cause you to fudge up the very first chord you pick. But with encouraging words from him, you carry on. It happens again when you get to that dreaded G major 6 chord. 

“‘Kay, since ye ignored me Snapchat ‘bout tryin’ it wit’ tha same finga, watch me,” Niall insists, humor sticking to his words. 

“I didn’t ignore it! You don’t make sense when you talk guitar, you know that? I told you that you have to dumb it down for me. Plus, I had to go pee, so there were more important matters,” you argue, resting your hands on the top curve of the natural colored wood. 

“Oh ‘m sorry, love. Yer right, I gotta rememba dat. ‘Kay, so watch me now. Watch how I use tha same finger t’ play tha next note on dat string. So I pluck tha fifth string wit’ me finga on tha second fret. Then next it wants me t’ pluck tha same string, but on tha third fret,” he explains, looking back and forth between the guitar and you. He walks through every step as he plays the two notes slowly. “So ‘m gonna use me pointa finga, coz tha’s what works fer me. ‘ll play tha first note on tha second string, an’ then almost drag it down t’ pluck it again, but on tha third fret. Make sense wha’ ‘m sayin’? You try it now.”

Your head goes up and down at his words, mumbling an ‘okay.’ Hands leaving your guitar, you drag Niall’s image to the side of the screen. The note showing the guitar tablature Niall wrote comes out of hiding to help you. You scroll down until you find the G major 6 chord. With Niall watching, you nervously try the technique he showed you. It’s rocky at first, because the fingerpicking is different from the previous chord, but soon you hear applause. 

“There, tha’s it. Yer gettin’ tha hang o’ it, love. I really t’ink that’ll be easier fer ye. Jus’ keep tryin’ dat technique I taught ye. An’ go slow, ye don’ need t’ speed up ‘til yer comfortable playin’ dat. Ye start off slow ‘til ye can start t’ speed up. T’ink o’ it dis way - if yer makin’ too many mistakes, then yer playin’ it too fast. But if yer not makin’ any mistakes, then speed it up a li’l,” Niall narrates, almost losing you for a second with the guitar talk again. 

“Okay, I get it. Thanks, I’ll try that,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the screen awkwardly. 

“Wha’? Why ye bein’ all shy, love? ‘s jus’ me, nobody else ‘s here wit’ me.”

“You know it’s hard playing in front of you,” you begrudgingly reveal, repeating this for perhaps the hundredth time. 

But it never makes you settle, because it’s just as nerve-wracking each time you play for him. Or send a snapchat recording. Or when you know that he’s listening in the next room, well because he used to make comments, but that was until you got annoyed and he stopped. Or when you’d play outside in the garden to escape his ears, sure he’s eavesdropping somewhere. You know, because he did the same thing before with your singing. He’d crack the bathroom door open just to hear a hint of you singing in the shower. Or stop just around the corner from the kitchen when you sang along while cooking. 

“I know ‘s nervewrackin’. It was fer me when I first started, an’ sumtimes it still ‘s when ‘m ‘round otha guitar playas. But, babe, ye gotta let dat all go. Coz ‘ve learned if ya don’t, yer not gonna get anywhere. Hey, look at me, will ye?” Niall coos from the screen of your laptop. Lifting your eyes from the covers, they return to his smiling face. “An’ I hope it counts fer sumthin’ dat ‘m yer numba one fan.”

With that, all of your nerves go out the window. He puts a smile on your face and you can’t help but nod in response. “And I’m yours,” you respond, immediately seeing his head go up and down. 

“Believe me, I couldn’t forget. I know ye always will be, darlin’,” he smiles, his bubblegum lips spreading to show his straight white teeth. Memories flash in your mind from the hundreds of songs you’ve watched him perform with his guitar. On stage, and well, on the couch. “Now, will ye try it once mo’ fer me, my love?” 

Nodding, you hear him cheer which sends you into a fit of giggles. Soon, his loud laugh pours from the speakers to grace your ears. One of your own trickles from your lips as you find your fingering on the guitar. He counts you off to 4, and then you take your time fingerpicking the chords. The G major 6 appears out of nowhere, but you use Niall’s trick again this time. The next words out of his mouth echo your thoughts. 

“I t’ink dat went betta dat time too. Good job, love. Yer jus’ gettin’ betta an’ betta. Really, I mean it. Ever since we started t’ese lessons a year ago, yer doin’ so well. ‘m so proud o’ you, bub,” Niall grins, scratching his beard before his chin settles in his palm. 

You’re choked for words, unsure of what you could say that could express your gratefulness. But you feel rest assured, knowing that he knows how much he means to you. As well as how grateful you are for him for teaching you how to play. 

“Why d’ya wanna learn dis song o’ mine anyways? Neva gotta ask ya dat bit,” he questions, twirling the pick around in his finger. Absentmindedly, he kind of chews on it as he waits for your answer. 

“I dunno, I’ve always liked it. It sounds so pretty, and you said it would be fun to play together since it has two parts,” you reply, the words finding their way. 

“Mmmm, I see. So yer gonna finally let me play a song wit’ you, huh?” 

“We’ll see,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’ go on teasin’ me. Wait, ‘s dat gray Eagles jumpa o’ mine yer wearin’? I was lookin’ all over da place fer dat when I was packin’!” Niall exclaims, his face getting closer to the camera. 

“Um no, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hurry, pushing the laptop screen back to raise the camera away from your chest. 

Shaking his head, he tsk-tsks your name once again. “Ye li’l bugga, you. I dunno what ‘m gonna do wit’ ye when I get home. Well actually, I might ‘ave sum new ideas since ye keep stealin’ me clothes,” Niall winks, a sly smirk sticking to his lips. His eyebrows dance amongst his forehead, sending your lips into giggles. 

“Hey! They were still in your closet, so they were fair game!” you counter, inching your head forward. 

Pressing his lips together, his head shakes fast. “No, no, no. Tha’s not how it works, an’ ye know it, love. Said ye can go bloody wild wit’ knickin’ me clothes, afta I packed me suitcases. I swear t’ God dat jumpa wasn’t in me closet when I went through grabbin’ stuff t’ pack. An’ it just so ‘appened t’ end up on yer body now, afta ‘m gone. Hmm, I can only wonder how dat ‘appened,” Niall quips, a smile soon peeking at the corners of his lips. You both try to hide the laughs you’re suppressing, but soon they fill the ears of the other. “Bloody hell, ‘m really gonn’ get ye when I get home soon. T’ink I might tear dat off ye soon as I walk in da door.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” you admit, a blush warming your cheeks. You savor the sound of his laugh in your ears, and the smile spreading across his face. 

“An’ ‘m hidin’ it afta dat. Coz tha’s one o’ me favourite jumpas, an’ ye know dat, too!” 

You try to act all innocent, but he knows you’re guilty as hell. He knows you. From how much milk you put in your cereal, what kind of clothes you like for when he brings you home new merch of his, what new song of his you’ll love before you’ve even heard it, often why you’re crabby although sometimes he claims not to know, and while he’s gone he always knows what time you’re doing homework or when you go to bed. He never forgets a goodnight call. 

“What am I gonna do wit’ ye, bub,” he sighs, scratching at his stubbly neck. Although he tries to act annoyed, a smile finds it way back onto his face as he stares into the camera. “How’s yer day been since I talked t’ ya dis mornin’? Well, mornin’ fer me.” 

“It’s been fine. It’s gross here - it’s all rainy and cold,” you explain, the words guiding your eyes to the misty windows. “It kinda makes for a good studying day, though. I got a few assignments done, and then I was going to make some dinner soon, seeing it’s half-past 6.”

“I s’pose I shouldn’ be sendin’ ye photos o’ tha hot an’ sunny day we’re ‘avin’ here, then,” Niall chuckles, a teasing gleam in his eye. “But tha’s good ye got sum stuff done. Whatcha gonna make fer dinna? Did ye eat up all t’ose frozen meals I made fer ya befo’ I left?”

“No, I still have a few left. That’s a good idea, though. I didn’t really want to cook,” you smile, watching his soon mirror your own. Fuck that few second delay, you think to yourself, finding it hard to ignore. 

His face freezes for a few seconds, making you sigh. The picture grows blurry but then he starts moving again. “Sorry, love, connection got bad fer a bit there. What’d ye say ye were makin’ fo dinna?” he repeats, his voice sounding far away, reminding you that he’s halfway across the world. In your chest, your heart squeezes at the thought, one that you can’t push away as well lately. 

“Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. I wanna know. I like t’ hear all t’hese li’l details, coz they make me feel like ‘m there wit’ you,” Niall insists. You swallow, feeling emotions come back up. Yeah, no thanks, you say inaudibly to yourself. 

“Um, I guess one of the lasagna pieces you froze. It’s been sounding good to me lately.”

“Mmmm, ye it does sound good. Maybe ‘ll ‘ave it fer dinna tonight, too. Can be like we had dinna togetha,” he says in his Irish lilt. 

This time, the words hit you harder, and it’s hard to hide the effect they have on you. Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you try to focus on your breathing to will the feelings away. 

“Ye holdin’ up okay, sweetheart?” Niall ponders, once again proving how well he knows you. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence, bad timing, or he’s feeling the same way. 

Exhaling slowly, you swallow past the lump in your throat. Returning your eyes to his inquisitive blues, your insides tighten at the sight. One that is so comforting and relaxing, but at the same time, it can be so painful you can’t bear it. 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” you mumble, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Ye don’ gotta lie t’ me, y’know,” he almost whispers, before his bottom lip comes between his teeth. “T’ese guitar lessons ‘ave made it a li’l easier fer me dis time ‘round. I mean, fook, ‘s neva easy, but it takes me mind off it. I hope it does fer ye too, bub.”

You can hardly see the tip of his nose as his head has fallen. The plucking of strings follows the sound of his voice, but you’re unsure if he’s distracted by his guitar or if he’s doing it on purpose. “I feel like I always come t’ love ye a li’l mo’ when ‘m away, but now teachin’ ye guitar makes me love ye a li’l more too. Didn’ even t’ink dat was possible,” Niall admits with a small laugh, his striking blue eyes returning to yours. 

“Okay, you’re really going to make me cry now, so stop it,” you confess in tear-choked words. True to your word, tears obscure your vision within seconds. You laugh, but you know it sounds fake and out of place. 

“Ye betta not start cryin’, or else ye know I will too. So ye knock dat off right now, young lady,” Niall says firmly, but you hear the wavering of his voice. “‘Kay maybe dis will stop yer cryin’. Imma hide all me jumpas when I get home so ye stop bloody stealin’ ‘em, maybe me gym shorts too. Ye think I don’ know, but I know where ye hide ‘em, love. Know ye hide ‘em in da linen closet. Found sum ‘d been searchin’ all ova fo’ when I went t’ put new bedsheets on da last time. So yer secret’s out.” 

His bright laugh licks your wounds, but the effect doesn’t stay. Because then you hear him sniffle, and your eyes drop to your lap. “‘s hopefully da last time we’ll hafta do dis, with ye ‘avin’ t’ stay back when I go on tour fer ye courses, but-.”

“Yeah, I registered for the fall and my advisor worked with me to be online for the rest of my degree. I just spoke to her yesterday about it,” you reveal. Lifting your eyes to his reddening ones, a smile splits your lips as you deliver the news. 

“Aw, babe, tha’s wonderful! Couldn’ ‘ave heard betta news today than dat. T’ink ye jus’ made me whole bloody day!” Niall grins, pumping his arms in the air with a cheer. But as his laugh fades away, you watch him wipe under his eyes. “I know it doesn’ take ‘way da pain right now, tho’. Coz I feel meself hurtin’ everytime I wanna tell ye sumthin’, show ye sumthin’, or when I reach for ye in da middle o’ da night. Even miss ye on t’ese video calls.”

His quiet sobs accompany yours as tears trail down your cheeks. Hiccuping, you let the feelings out that you’ve been packing away for a rainy day like today. With your heavy workload this week, you didn’t want to distract yourself with the tears. You left them until nighttime, lying in your cold bed with his side empty. No laughs heard under the covers, or his fingers dancing across your ticklish ribs, or waking up to kisses along your jaw with his voice floating across your skin. None of that. You think that although the house is empty and you can hear his voice over the phone, you feel the most lonely at night and waking up alone. 

“Niall,” you barely get out in between tears, and heavy thoughts. As a tear spills onto your cheek, your eyes focus on his head of hair bent over his guitar. 

“But I told meself dis’ mornin’, only five mo’ days, Niall. Then tomorro’ it’ll be four, an’ then t’ree an’ befo’ not much longa, ‘s zero. Then I getta t’ come home t’ ye wearin’ me clothes, dat I know I bitch ‘bout, but I really do love,” he divulges, guitar notes floating in the air amongst his words. “Five mo’ days ‘til I can slobber ye all ova wit’ kisses, an’ fall asleep wit’ ye in me arms.” 

“And steal your clothes back, and play guitar together,” you hum, watching a tear splash onto the shiny surface of your guitar. 

“Mmmmhmm, an’ ‘til then ‘ll keep teachin’ ye ova FaceTime an’ bloody Snapchat,” he guffaws, pulling up the corners of your lips happily. “An’ maybe if ‘m lucky ‘ll get sum otha pics on Snapchat.”

Shaking your head, you can’t hold back the laugh behind your lips. His loud one echoes yours soon after, your cheeks growing red. 

“Oh God, only five more days,” you sigh, clucking your tongue. He lifts his head, and although he’s on the other side of the planet, somehow you can feel his eyes glassy with tears stare into your soul. 

“Ye, an’ yer gonna get sick o’ me with how much ‘m gonna be lovin’ on ye.” 

[verai-marcel]

Tech Support (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Neighbor AU, Chapter 2 of 2, 18+)

Tags & Summary are in Part 1.

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

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Side B - Low Honor

Word Count: 1450

You were lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through tumblr when you heard a knock on the door. You bounded out of bed and opened the door, heedless of the fact that you were dressed in your lounge shorts and tank top.

“Whoa, hey, don’t just open the door like that, could’ve been anyone,” Arthur said once he saw what you were wearing.

“Sorry, just so bored being cooped up at home all the time, didn’t think about it,” you said sheepishly. “Anyway, what brings you here?”

“Was hopin’ you could help me set up a webcam,” he said. “My computer don’t have one.”

You blinked. “I didn’t even realize you had a computer.”

“It’s sittin’ in the closet. Haven’t really used it since I got my smartphone.”

“Ah, makes sense, then. I’ll go find my old webcam, then I’ll come over.”

***

“Oh god, this thing is old as fuck.”

“Does it still work?”

“We’ll find out.”

You tinkered with the old machine, feeling a wave of nostalgia as you poked around the old Windows 8 menu and cursed its stupidity. You got your old webcam to work with it, but realized his battery was shit, so you crawled under the desk to plug it in.

As you backed up to get out from under the desk, you bumped into something with your butt. That something started to caress you.

“Arthur…?”

“You stay right there, sweetheart,” he rumbled. His hands kneaded your ass before he pulled down your shorts. One hand reached down to slip your panties aside to stroke your folds while the other reached for your breasts beneath your tank top.

You panted as he straddled your legs and trapped you in place, his hand shoving your tank top further up your body to expose your breasts. He gave them one last squeeze before trailing his hand around to your shoulders, down your back, and finally to rest on the curve of your backside. His cock grew hard as he dry humped you, his fingers sliding along your core.

“Have to fuck you,” he growled as he removed his hands from your body. You heard the sound of unzipping and fabric moving before you felt the tip of his cock pressing into you, nudging you open.

“Always wanted to do this,” Arthur said as he sank inside of your tight heat. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Oh yes,” you hissed as he filled you up, his hips coming flush with your ass. “I always want your cock.”

“That’s right,” he said as he rocked his hips, building up a steady pace. “My pretty li’l slut, getting fucked under my desk.”

You moaned; you had the same fantasy too, being fucked like this, that damn boss & secretary porn trope coming to mind. But it was hot as hell, and Arthur, with his big hands grabbing at you, holding you down as he fucked the hell out of you, was fulfilling your fantasy oh so well.

“Love seein’ my cock disappear into yer pussy like this,” he muttered as he slowed his thrusts, taking his time to pull almost all the way out before slamming back into you.

After he had taken his sweet time enjoying the view, he pulled out of you and moved away, sitting in his chair. Patting his thigh, he grinned. “C’mere, princess. Sit on my lap.”

You got up from the ground and sashayed over to him, slowly moving your legs to either side of his. You started to slip your underwear down, but his hands stopped you.

“Turn around first,” he commanded. “And don’t take them panties off. I wanna mess’em up.”

You smiled cheekily as you turned, shaking your hips as you reached down and slid your panties to one side before slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. Sliding down his shaft, you sighed as the sweet feeling of being filled with him returned. Arthur’s hands gripped your waist and pulled you down the rest of the way. Once you were seated fully, he wrapped one arm around your chest to hold your neck, his other hand resting on your hip.

“Ride me,” he growled in your ear.

You moved slowly at first, undulating your hips as you lifted yourself so that just the tip of him was inside of you. After a few strokes of being a tease, he slapped your ass.

“Faster.”

His tone was dark, menacing, and your heart beat faster as a little thrill went through you. Quickly changing your pace, you let yourself go wild, riding his cock as you leaned your head back and moaned like a porn star, letting yourself drown in lust. Your legs wavered, your hands gripped his thighs as you rode him faster and faster.

Arthur reached down to stroke your core, driving you towards your peak. You let out a strangled cry as the wave of pleasure crashed through you, making you quiver and fall backwards onto his chest as you rode out your climax.

“Good girl,” Arthur crooned as he rubbed your belly. He made soothing sounds until you stopped shaking. “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

“Then suck me off.”

You got up and knelt between his legs, looking up at him in just your tank top as you took him into your mouth. Wrapping your hand around his girth, you stroked and sucked him sloppily, letting yourself drool on him as you made soft moaning sounds.

“My dirty whore,” he said lovingly, his hands stroking your head like you were his favorite treasure. “You wanna drink?”

You nodded happily, his cock still in your mouth.

He placed his hands on your head and thrust upwards, thrusting a few more times before he let out a guttural moan of pleasure as he came into your mouth, murmuring your name as he watched you lick it all up.

“Damn, I love watchin’ you do that,” he sighed happily when you got up and licked your lips, smiling at him. 

“Guess we better clean up,” you said as you pointed at his laptop. “You got a call soon, right?”

***

After you and Arthur had taken a shower and gotten dressed, with you in one of Arthur’s hoodies over your tank top, you sat in Arthur’s lap as you taught him how to use the software. However, you weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to your lesson as he kept massaging your butt.

With the lesson over, he texted Eliza, and soon, he received a video call request.

“Hi Daddy!”

“Hey there, Isaac. How’re you doin’ today?”

“Good. Mommy taught me multiplication today.”

“Oh? That’s advanced stuff for your age.”

“It’s pretty easy.”

You smiled; it helped that he was a smart kid, and when you were babysitting, you often helped him with his homework and gave him extra math lessons on the side.

Then he called out your name, as if he finally noticed you.

“Yes kiddo?” you asked.

“Why’re you with daddy right now?”

“Uh, we’re friends! We like to hang out together,” you said, not knowing what Arthur had been telling him of your relationship.

“You mean like a girlfriend?”

You looked at Arthur. You felt like Isaac was too young to know these things, but 7 year olds these days sometimes knew more than you did at that age.

“Yup, she’s my girlfriend,” Arthur answered nonchalantly.

Isaac’s eyes widened. Then he smiled and laughed. “Oooooh, daddy has a girlfriend!”

You started cracking up, unable to hold in your laughter. “Haven’t you heard? Girls have cooties!”

Arthur made a disgusted face. “Ew, gross.”

Both you and Isaac laughed.

***

After talking with Isaac about his studies and making him a promise to take him to the natural history museum when the lockdown was over, you let Arthur and Isaac have some father-son time and walked out to the living room to scroll through tumblr again. After a while, Arthur came out and sat next to you.

Looking up at him, you noticed he was looking a little forlorn.

“You alright?”

He suddenly picked you up and held you tightly in his lap.

“Ar-Arthur?”

He was silent for a few moments, just holding you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Then he finally looked up at you. “Let’s move in together.”

You were shocked silent for a few moments. He waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“Give me some time, Arthur. I need to think about it.”

He nodded and gave you a rueful smile.

You snuggled into his arms and hugged him tight. It was a lot to think about. But the thought of waking up every morning to his arms around you was very tempting.

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

End Notes: What, is low honor Arthur secretly a softie? Why yes, he’s still Arthur, after all. Hope you enjoyed this part! I’ve finally taken the time to outline where I want this series to go, and how it’ll end. Meaning, there will be two more parts after this, so Part 8 and Part 9, and then I’ll end this story. Thank you for reading!

[caffeinetoons]

Name: Quinn

Nicknames: Q, Lori (like a Rainbow Lorikeet)

Voice: Penny [The Amazing World of Gumball] www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPjh7V…

Species: Avian

Age: 15

Gender: Bi-Gender (waves between male and female)

Personality: up-beat, enthusiastic, cheerful, usually never angry, sad or scared, determined, kind, inclusive, wise, bit of a tom-boy sometimes

Likes: dancing, suits, dresses, colors, jokes, flying-based sports, musicals, making others happy, rain, friends and family

Dislikes: negative thoughts, people being unhappy, greyscale, confrontation, people eating bird related food, Drake’s bullying and flirting

Family: Alanzo [father], Jackie [mother], Kess [aunt], Kestral [cousin]

Quinn would have to be one of the most optimistic, enthusiastic and just the happiest avian you would ever meet in Safe Haven. Like both her parents, she has a talent for dancing and a burning passion for it when expressing her emotions. She can shape shift into a Rainbow Lorikeet as seen by the multiple colours in her hair, and has been given the nickname, ‘Lori.’ It’s easy for her to socialise and always be inclusive towards others, even if some of them (like Maria) are complete grumps. Quinn does try to make people around her as happy as they can be, and whenever she sees someone upset, angry or scared, she will try her best to make them smile. Sometimes she will do this with either jokes, funny little dances that her father taught her, help them cool off or just simply talking to them. Her biggest fear would have to be people eating bird related food, as the very thought of it makes her feel sick.

Quinn loves both of her parents, Alanzo and Jackie, dearly and vice versa, she’s the apple in their eyes and couldn’t be happier with each other. It’s thanks to both of them why Quinn has such a compassionate and cheerful personality, and why she loves dancing so much. Alanzo has always looked at his daughter with complete joy, though the difference now is that when she was little it was extremely hard for Jackie to get Alanzo to rest when he was always making sure Baby Quinn was alright. The poor man got completely freaked out whenever Quinn sneezed as a baby, thinking that she was getting sick, but his wife was always there to reassure him that Li’l Quinn was okay.

Other than her father, Quinn and her mother, Jackie, share a strong mother and daughter bond, and pretty much gets most of her enthusiasm from her. It was also Jackie who taught Quinn how to shape shift and fly when she reached 3, and to this day the two of them will bond over dance lessons, shopping or just flying above the city and watching it from above. The two love each other dearly.

Though it’s been so far fruitless, Quinn has always tried to make Maria at least smile once. Ever since they were in kindergarten, Quinn saw Maria with a grumpy expression and has since then been trying to make her smile so that she can feel happy like everyone else. However she doesn’t know if the two of them are friends.

She has teamed up with Eboni at times to try and get Maria to laugh at some jokes, even if some of them were annoying. Within the dance wing of the ZPA, she had met her dearest friend, Charles.

The two are often seen hanging out in the dance wing practicing dance moves for assignments, and sometimes she will listen to Charles play the guitar and look at one of his paintings, each with an inspiring look as she finds his talents to be amazing. Once she heard that his grandmother, Latika, had passed away, her instincts kicked in and immediately rushed in to be there for Charles through his emotional loss.

She is also best friends with Charles’s cousin, Andrew. Ever since they were little Quinn has been by Andrew’s side through thick and thin. She would be there to compliment how tall he was when others picked on him about, and doesn’t at all mind if he’s clumsy, he’s still a loving person. She was also the first person to notice Andrew’s poetry skills by reading over his shoulders at what he was writing, and she has never seen such skill and detail within someone! To this day she’s his biggest fan of his writing, though is completely oblivious of his crush towards her. However the worst part she’s seen about Andrew is the number 1 person that has tormented him since they were little: Drake Starlena!

To Quinn, she is willing to be flat faced and not at all impressed towards Drake. She can barely stand the way he treats Andrew, and even his own brother! What makes her even more mad is that he has the nerves to try and even flirt with her! Why out of all people would she want to date someone who’s only goal is to care about nobody but himself and his own needs! She tries desperately to avoid him, but unfortunately he finds her every time. When he tries to swoon her she instantly denies it, sometimes even before he speaks.

She is completely sympathetic towards Drake’s younger brother, Reginald, he’s a sweet little boy and shouldn’t be treated like he’s a villain or be given disrespect towards. His. Own. Brother! She is afraid of how Reginald might turn out if he’s treated horribly to everyone, even scared that the idea of him just being seen as an enemy might make him think that’s all he’s good for. She is however glad that he does have Tina, Andrew’s younger sister, as a friend, and is more than impressed at Andrew for allowing his sister to hang around his bullies brother.

She is friends with the ZPA trio, she finds James’ determination and curiosity both intriguing but also a bit dangerous and Zacks laziness to be amusing at times and his chill personality to be calming.

She is also pretty close with Alice, as both get along well with each other. She’s been an expert at cheering her up at times and dealing with any bullies in the right manor, by holding back Zack and James for as long as she can before they tear them to shreds.

Quinn/Maria/Alice/Zack/James/Charles/Eboni/Andrew/Drake/Reginald/Tina -> Me

Alanzo/Jackie/Kess/Kestrel -> VivziePop

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Fledgling

You float in the pool where the soundtrack is canned You go ask your questions, like “What makes a man?”

Expectations are a motherfucker.

Quickdraw hugged his knees, leaning against Mimi as she rubbed his back and soothed the hiccuping noises coming from his narrow chest. His black eye hidden by his arms and his torn shirt hanging loosely on his frame he whimpered his faults between the soft “Sssshshshsh” coming from his big sister.

“You know our dads love you no matter what, Qd. And no one knows ‘em like we do.”

“You’re just fine the way you are, I promise.”

Day in and day out- he stared at his reflection. Flicking the side of his front teeth with a thumbnail and hating the gap between them, the way they didn’t seem to fit in with his widened double canines. His cupid’s bow and the softness of his lips, the sharpness showing in his cheekbones and the thick waves in his hair that ate through brushes and combs alike.

He tugged at the chopped shirt he wore- the edge hanging well above his navel and showing the lanky skinniness and isolated roundness of his stomach in the center of a birdlike torso.

He was broken stone and vines, he was a battered shrine to his parent’s legacies that he felt like he was failing with every displeased look and every disappointed P.E. teacher.

He flexed his arms, sighing at the uneven muscle blooming under skin and over bone and felt tears bubbling up in gold eyes before he hugged himself around his narrow chest and bit his lip until the skin tore again and leaked violent red over cashmere skin until the door creaked open and he nearly screamed.

Whirl stood behind him, face worried and patch absent to show the wild scarring around a milk-white and dead eye.

“...Kiddo, c’mon. Talk to me sweetheart.”

“D-Dad I-I-I- It’s nothing I-I’m f-fine-”

His stammer rising in time with his anxiety and a gurgle in his stomach as he clapped a hand over his mouth and hiccuped burning. A nod of Whirl’s head and Quickdraw leaned over the toilet and let his stomach expel nothing but his worries and retched his mourning- tears bubbling up over his cheeks as he heard Brainstorm and Drift’s worried calls from the living room.

“I’s alright, his stomach’s just upset!”

An answering murmur, the sound of Drift fumbling with the phone to contact Ratchet or First Aid or who knew who else as Quickdraw’s long fingers curled into fists and his tears came faster and thicker and he swore they were viscous and sticking to him like shoplifting ink.

He cried in cornstarch as he mourned the falsehood calling Whirl his father felt like.

Whirl rubbed Quickdraw’s back, softly hushing the muted whimpers that escaped nervous nausea as the adolescent’s heaves finally calmed and quieted and he returned to his forlorn vigil in front of the mirror- brushing the teeth he wouldn’t look at and dodging the teary eyes he hated recognizing as his own.

He rinsed his mouth of the final traces of terror and Whirl put a hand on his shoulder.

“Mimi told me you had trouble with your P.E. teacher again; do I gotta go down to the school and give him a fuckin’ piece of my mind?”

“He gave me trouble BECAUSE you did that.”, rasped Quickdraw- before the dam broke. Wiry shoulders shook and his arms held against his chest as those sugarsyrup tears came back like cast resin and his breathing shuddered, “B-Bec-vause I’m n-no Wrecker’s SON!”

Whirl froze, something vicious flickering in his good eye before it was blinked away and he turned Quickdraw to face him, “What did you just say.”

“N-No one b-believes I-I’m your b-boy!”, he sobbed, “B-Because I-I’m so s-soft!”

“Who in the hell-”

“B-Because I l-look girly and g-g-g-g-”

“Deep breaths, young’n. Deep breaths, and speak slow okay?”

“Th-They say I l-look gay a-and I can’t b-be Whirl’s son-n.”, he hiccuped, coughing bitterly once, “A-And they j-joke I’m ado-dopted since Whirl wouldn’t h-have such a stupid soft kid like m-me!”

He leaned his head forward, sobbing hoarsely again as his lanky jackdaw limbs uncurled and wrapped around his father’s waist in a desperate bid to stay on Earth instead of flying away on his own wheezed crying, “A-And it’s f-fucking HARD dad I’m trying so HARD to make you and p-papa and everyone proud but e-every DAY I hear this-”

Whirl hugged his son tightly, trying desperately to calm him, to soothe his worries and fears and flaws and perfections as the boy broke into little glass shards all over the floor- weeping his morningdew and carnation petals and wisteria all over the tile floor.

Whirl gently loosened Quickdraw’s hold, getting down onto a creaking knee and holding his boy’s sharp face in his warmed steel hands. His thumbs stroked over sharp cheekbones and the beginning of Brainstorm’s keen smirk and sharp frown and pouty lips and feels his heart break that his boy can’t see the beauty waiting to bloom in softness.

“Don’t you EVER listen to pieces of shit like that, Quickdraw- you hear me?”, he said, his voice a paternal growl even as stardust leaked from Quickdraw’s eyes in rivers, “You are MY BOY, and I have NEVER been prouder of you, you understand me?! Those pieces of shit don’t have a damn clue about me, and they never will- hell, they’re probably the same fucking dumbasses who gave me shit about my hair. I got long hair and steal Papa Bee’s shirts all the time, who gives a shit. So you wear half shirts, baby boy you got too much torso like me and that gets sweaty and fuckin’ itchy when you run! And boy you run everywhere! Not your fault those pieces of shit look like the corpses of Barbies used as Chrona’s chewies when she was a li’l pocket potato.”

Quickdraw hiccuped a giggle.

“Anyone who’s gotta problem with you can fuckin’ take it up with me. What they think don’t matter. They give you shit? Call me. Right then and there- ah, ah, ah; I don’t CARE if phones ain’t allowed! I’ll punt a teenager, I’ll clock a principal! Papa Whirl gives ZERO fucks if his baby bird is bein’ harassed, you got it? And if they really piss me off, I’ll hand ‘em over to Brainstorm and Percy and really watch the fur and feathers fly.”

Whirl huffed, smoothing Quickdraw’s hair out of his face as the boy blinked owlishly. The tears had slowed at least, and his breathing only shivered a little behind his birdcage ribs.

“You are my li’l canary-boy; you’re my dino-baby and you’re Quickdraw and that’s fuckin’ aces to me, got it? You don’t dissapoint me, you ain’t ‘failing the legacy’ or what the fuck ever just cause you like makeup or doin’ your nails or wearin’ skinny jeans or someshit. Hell, ask Papa Percy some of the ridiculous shit I got up to with my appearance; he still hates half my tattoos and don’t get ‘im STARTED on the piercings I got.”

“S-So I’m n-not a bad kid f-for not being strong and tough like y-you?”

It hit Whirl like a lightning bolt, and his eye widened until it watered.

“...Quickdraw, Qd- Nothin’ makes me happier than knowin’ you got a gentle soul.”, he said softly, pulling his son back into a hug, “Nothin’ brings me as much joy as knowin’ you and your sister got so much love in your li’l bodies, are you kiddin’ me? Qd, I spent so many damn years runnin’ on hellfire and hatred that I was SCARED of havin’ kids... I was so scared they’d be like I was, cold and cruel and sharp and angry. Seein’ you and your sisters in your little blanket forts and watchin’ sappy movies? Seein’ you bring home puppies and kits you found walkin’ home cause you were scared they’d be hurt? I knew right then you weren’t gonna carry my scars and rage and that brought me more peace than I ever thought possible.”

Whirl got to his feet, lifting his son easily and feeling spindly limbs coil and cling as he reached behind him and opened the door fully.

“You and your sibs taught me I still got love in me, cause you all have so much in you and ANYONE who tells you bein’ ‘soft’ in a world like this is wrong? I’m gonna make ‘em learn why they called me a Polyhexian Devil. My fists are reinforced now, and they’re just ASKIN’ to find out how much.”

Brainstorm stood outside the door, face livid and high in color as Quickdraw buried his face into Whirl’s shoulder and hiccuped softly again. He followed Whirl and their son back out to the couch, curled up next to them and gently brushed lab-scuffed knuckles against his boys teardamp face until he opened watery sunrise eyes.

“Quickdraw.”, said Brainstorm firmly.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Your fathers, your family, says you are perfect the way you are.”, said Brainstorm firmly, “At the end of the day, nothing else matters- all you need to worry about is us... and You. Are you happy, with who you are?”

“I-I think I’m p-pretty cool.”

“Then fuck everyone else. If you like yourself, no one else’s opinions matter; and when you get a little older? Not even your dads’s opinions matter anymore. If you love yourself, everyone else can either fall in step or fuck right off out the door.”

A kiss to Quickdraw’s forehead.

“And if that means, my li’l munchkin wants to wear pretty things? Then rock it. If anyone complains, we’ll take care of ‘em.”

“And yeah, I’m goin’ to your school next week Qd.”, growled Whirl, “Me an’ your P.E. teacher are gonna have a nice long talk in the parking lot.”

“Give him a busted eye socket from me, babe.”

Quickdraw giggled thickly at Brainstorm’s request, complete with fluttering eyelashes.

Whirl squeezed his son once more for good measure before loosening his hold and letting Quickdraw shift down to fit perfectly between his parents as Brainstorm hugged him around bony shoulders.

“Become whoever you want, whoever you feel like being, baby boy.”, said Brainstorm softly as he planted a kiss against Quickdraw’s wavy mop of hair, “We’re ALL proud of you, as long as you’re being true to yourself.”

“Ok-kay.”, he said, a hiccup breaking the word in half like a cracking lock on a door he hadn’t realized he hid behind, a wardrobe made of barbed words and stuffed full of all the things he dreamed of being.

[scaryscarecrows]

Bat-recs

Y’know, for fun! Add your favorites; we were all new to this hell at some point, maybe this could be useful for someone.

Batman: Gothic

This was actually the second one I bought; it came across my table when I volunteered at a used library books organization. Two bucks. Immortal murderer? Haunted underwater monastery? Generally freaky? Sign me up! NOT RECOMMENDED FOR THE WEE BABES, we got child murder, mentions of sexual assaults, and a literal head in the trash can. Poor Bruce. This story put him through the absolute wringer and I want to hug him.

The Cult

Also freaky! Bane says he broke Batman. Bane broke Batman a few years LATER; Blackfire...jeeze, man. (So far, two for two on the whole ‘immortal evil religious figure’. Hm.) Psychological horror out to HERE, and there’s a couple of pages that just WORK so WELL, when Robin!Jason finally finds poor Bruce. Also not for children, here there be a lotta bodies. And rats. And Bruce being...uh...well, we don’t need to talk about that now.

Scarecrow Year One

MY FIRST AND FAVORITE. (Ahh, evil religious individual! But not immortal this time.) Jonathan Crane’s backstory-one of them-with bonus Batdad content. Sean Murphy's sketchy artwork works really, really well for, well, Scarecrow, and Baby Crane is a little cutie. Protect him at all costs. Eh, if you or your kid’s a frightened type, the swarms of attacking crows might be a bit much, but there’s no corpse-stacks or child murder this time.

Li’l Gotham

Tired of everything hurting? Say no more. Tooth-rotting fluff is HERE. Batfamily getting along. Damian loves his mom and she loves him back and I am HAPPY ABOUT IT. This is what you’d think DC is like all the time, based on fic. Worth having for when they inevitably ruin something else. The same team has since done Once Upon a Crime, which is also precious.

White Knight

Did I see ‘Sean Murphy’ and smash the preorder? Yeah. Do I decree that this Ivy design is the best Ivy? Yeah. Elseworlds/Black Label, so he’s free to deconstruct Batman...and Batman’s proclivity for destroying Gotham in the pursuit of one asshole. (I feel a little called out, given my driving in Arkham Knight.) Has a sequel, and I’m waiting for the TP, but I’m sure I’ll love it just the same. Harley’s looking good here, guys; she is taking no shit AND she’s not being treated as a bimbo. She has brains and she’s not afraid to use them! Eh, mild nudity and violence, but barring Jason Todd’s standard woes, I’d rate it about the same as SYO in terms of ‘will this traumatize my kid?’

Under the Red Hood

1) No kids. There’s a bag o’ severed heads lovingly detailed like, five pages in. Red Hood ain’t Batman, a fact that he would like to make very clear.

2) THE SASS. THE SAAAAAAASS. EVERYBODY IS A SNARKY BASTARD AND I LOVE IT ALL. Well, almost all. I will grant that the animated film fixed my one big grievance with the ending. :) Seriously, though, ‘oh, my goodness gracious! I’ve been bamboozled!’ is golden and I’m WAITING for that line to make it to screen. Don’t be cowards, DC.

Haunted Knight

Everyone’s gonna rec The Long Halloween, as well they ought, but Haunted Knight-same team-is also great. Scarecrow’s design is...I’m torn between loving it and wanting to yeet it into the sun, but it works for him. This is a short story collection featuring Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, and and a Bat-ified Christmas Carol.

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

OKAY. This is sort of like The Long Halloween in that it’s frequently considered ‘required reading’, but I do legitimately enjoy it; it’s very, very, creepy. THIS is where the Arkham Asylum game takes a lot of its inspiration; the Rogues do not go to Batman. He goes to them. This also establishes Arkham’s history. I will say that you should pick up a newer edition with the annotated script included (most of them have it now) because there’s a LOT of symbolism in the art that you might miss, and knowing it really adds to the experience. I’d totally teach this in a psych class, though. Or an English class. It’s great. Bonus for everybody having their own style of dialogue: Joker does not have speech bubbles, for instance, Bruce is  black and white. Really gives you an idea of how they talk. It’s also nice that most of the Gallery gets some page time, even if they don’t talk; Scarecrow, for instance, has no dialogue, but he doesn’t need it. His presence is enough. Hard R-rating for scary images and implied childhood sexual abuse.

The Animated Series

Yup. Start here. START. HERE. Every major rogue (and several obscure ones) gets an episode in the limelight, Bruce is at his absolute best-that perfect combo of ‘gettin’ real tired of your shit, Villain of the Week’ and the compassion that’s gone missing lately-Harley looks great (and, y’know, LIKE A HARLEQUIN), and although it is kid-friendly, it doesn’t treat the viewer like a kid, so you can enjoy it as an adult. (You’re a lying liar who lies if Baby Doll’s episodes didn’t make you teary-eyed. It’s okay. There’s no shame to be had.) Bonus: Dick Grayson is a little ray of sunshine compared to Batman, but that’s not all he is and the writers remembered that. :) And, well...

Iconic.

The Arkham Series

These are almost the animated series for a more mature audience (complete with a lot of the same voice casting!); murder is now allowed to be confirmed. If you’re intimidated by the comics, this is also a good place to start. Again, all the major rogues and a few lesser-knowns get some time to shine, the characterization is working (Bruce is not here for Joker’s shit, but he can still take a minute to calm down a panicking guard), and yeah, I love the designs.

Look at my baby. THAT is legitimately frightening. 10/10, would run from again. Bonus: not only do we get Alfred, we get three whole Robins AND Oracle. That said, while the games give you PLENTY of options to go ‘I’m Batman’, Bruce takes almost none of them, so you have to do it. You gotta. It’s the law.

EDITED TO INCLUDE

Gotham County Line

Batman deals with the psychological guilt of not being able to save everyone, and there are...zombies. Sort of. Amazingly, Scarecrow is nowhere to be seen, yet Bruce does admit, straight-up, ‘I’m afraid’. Me too, Bruce. Me, too. 

10/10 for creep factor here. I went into this unaware it was possible to be scared of Alfred. It is. It is possible. I am a changed woman now. Nothing really...comes of it...but I swear, I turned the page, and this was waiting for me:

Mommy...

Also unsettling; the hanged man in general. A+ unsettling artwork, I’m sure that guy will haunt me. Added bonus: Zombie Robin Jason popping in to save Bruce’s bacon, because he is a good boy, and Zombie Waynes being proud parents. I did not expect the Feels Crowbar...but it was a nice surprise.

[hawkbucks]

Number One With A Bullet

I saw a prompt comment on the WinterIron subreddit, and I thought I’d try my hand at it. It read:

Tony grows up in an average household, but his brain still lands him at MIT. One unlucky night, his trip to the bank gets interrupted by a robbery. However, the criminals leave as soon as they see Tony’s face. Looking into it, it turns out Tony was put on the No-Harm list by the leader of a global crime syndicate who goes by the Winter Soldier. He is completely flabbergasted when the Winter Soldier looks exactly like his ex-boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.

Tony doesn’t live in a bad neighborhood per se, but he wouldn’t be caught at an ATM in the dead of night with no more as defense than his keys poking through the slits his fingers make when they’re balled up in a fist.

And yet, that’s how he finds himself, standing under a cloth awning with a yellow light doing its best to illuminate him and provide a feeling of safety. He slides his card into the slot and waits for the mechanical voice to tell him to punch in his PIN. Damn the fact that the nearest convenience store is cash-only (seriously, they might as well be an inconvenience store with that policy in his very humble opinion), and damn the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s going to need at least 2 extra cans of Red Bull to get through his courseload tonight. He squeezes his keys harder, his keyring starting to dig almost painfully into his palm. Maybe leaving New York was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just went to NYU; at least then he’d be surrounded by familiarity.

The ATM asks for his PIN.

As his thumb hovers over the keypad, something sharp presses into the base of his spine. He freezes, breath catching in his throat, and hopes to god that he’s just imagining things.

“We just need you to withdraw a li’l something for us, alright?” a raspy voice sounds from over his right shoulder. It’s muffled slightly, probably due to a ski mask or a pulled-up scarf covering a mouth. “We don’t want this to get ugly.”

Yeah. So much for imagining things. He has his makeshift claws, sure, but he never thought that he’d actually have to use them, and the usage of ‘we’ isn’t exactly instilling any sort of confidence in him, especially when the presence of another person is confirmed by a low hum in agreement.

‘Course, it’s either stand here and let these guys bleed him for all the money he has in his account, or act out—and possibly get stabbed to death—in hopes of scaring them away once they see he isn’t going to be that easy of a target. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind doing a little tango with death if that means he isn’t going to be evicted from his apartment and end up living out on the streets. It’s not like he has that much to lose anyway (unless you count his piles of rising student debt and well-worn clothes as something).  

“You know what to do, right?” the voice continues. “Just give us some money, and we’ll be right outta your hair.” The sharpness grows insistently, and he knows it’s only a matter of time until it breaks through his clothes and sinks into him.

“Just money?” he asks, swallowing down any residual fear.

“Just money.”

He blinks and nods twice. Now or never, Stark. Now or never.

He wildly turns around and punches out with his “claws,” satisfaction settling in his chest when he hears a grunt of pain. The knife clatters to the ground, and he watches as they reel back, holding the side of their face.  

He sets his shoulders, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his breathing becomes heavy. He glares at the other, daring them to come forward.

Except that the other doesn’t come forward. No, their eyes are wide through the holes in their mask, and their knife is hanging loosely at their side. “Oh, fuck,” they start, their voice higher-pitched and more nasally. They look at recently-punched-guy out of the corner of their eye before looking back at him. “Uh, shit. Dude, it’s him. Norman, fuck, it’s him.”

Tony furrows his brows together. “It’s him”? What the hell does that mean? Last he checked, he wasn’t anyone that would get people caught up while attempting to rob him, unless he somehow turned into a celebrity overnight.

“Aw, man,” recently-punched-guy—or Norman, as he’s recently learned—moans, looking at Tony, knees buckling from underneath them. “The Soldier’s gonna have our heads.”

The Soldier? The closest person he knows to a Soldier is Rhodey, and he’s pretty sure Rhodey isn’t the kind of guy who would go around threatening to have people’s heads if they screw with him. Or maybe he is, but he’s definitely not the kind of guy who would make good on that promise if the way his would-be robbers are looking like they’re staring their death sentence in the face is any indication. (Speaking of which, probably not the smartest move to have given Tony one of their names.)

“We didn’t know it was you, man, we swear!” Not-Norman pleads, sounding on the verge of hysterics. “Dude, you gotta tell the big man that we didn’t know!”

He stays silent, racking his head and trying to figure out who this Soldier could be and why it seems like they want to protect him so much. Rhodey’s out, obviously. Pepper may be the next most likely candidate, but there’s also the fact that she has better taste than to call herself the Soldier. It can’t be Peter, that kid he tutors, since Peter is 12, and it’s not Peter’s Aunt May because he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t hurt a fly even if it was buzzing all over her lasagna.

Norman and Not-Norman, however, take his silence to mean that he is, in fact, considering not telling the “big man” that they didn’t know. “Listen, if we knew it was you, we wouldn’t even have approached you!” Norman says. “Just tell him that, yeah? ‘Cause we have to go. You—fuck—you hit hard!”

“I’ll tell him,” he says. If he could ever find out who “he” was.

“Okay, okay. We good?” Not-Norman’s already backing away.

Tony nods.

Norman, still holding his face, turns tail and runs. “You can keep the knife!” he shouts out, Not-Norman lagging just a few strides behind him.

Tony looks down at the knife, considering.

See, someone calling themselves the Soldier sets off alarms in Tony’s head. Unless they’re some 14-year-old on an MMORPG, they’re probably involved in some shady, shady business, and it’s not like he can just Google who they are. Fortunately, Tony knows someone who deals in shady businesses (mostly because they’ve been friends since elementary school and, while they went down incredibly different paths, she’s always looked out for him). He sprawls himself out on his couch and dials a familiar number.

“Who the hell’s the Soldier?” he asks once he hears her pick up.

“Wow. Not even a hello,” Natasha quips dryly. Rustles of cloth and faint shouting can be heard in the background.

He decides not to ask. It’s probably for the better. “Hello.” He pauses for what he assumes is an appropriate amount of time. “Who’s the Soldier?”

“What makes you think that I’d know?” Natasha says in a tone of voice that makes it painfully clear that she does, in fact, know.

“C’mon, ‘Tasha. I’m curious.”

Natasha hums in acknowledgement. “Answer one of my questions first.”

Oh, great. Intelligence for intelligence, as she says. “I—sure, okay.”

“You’ve never asked me about them before, which leads me to believe that you’ve never even heard of them until now. Who told you about them?”

He stares at his ceiling. “Uh, Rhodey? You know how he works for the military and all? He—”

“The truth, Tony,” she sighs exasperatedly, cutting through his lie like a knife through butter. So much for that.

He mumbles, “I was in the middle of… getting robbed—”

“Getting robbed?” Natasha’s voice is razor sharp, concern seeping through.

“It’s not—that isn’t important.” He waves a dismissive hand although he knows she can’t see. “I wasn’t hurt, which is exactly why I’m curious, because those guys stopped once they saw me and then they started acting like this Soldier was gonna kill them.”  

“Who was trying to rob you?”

He could rat out Norman and Not-Norman, but he thinks that not even they deserve whatever kind of hell Natasha would rain upon them. “Not important.”

“It’s important to me.”

“Not to the story overall. ‘Tasha, please, I don’t want to talk about this any more than I have to.”

“…Fine,” Natasha acquiesces in her own way of apologizing. “I know him. Not personally, but I know him. Give me an hour and I’ll send you his address.”

“You can’t just tell it to me now?”

“I’m working, Tony.” With that, she hangs up.

He wonders if it’s revenge for him not telling her about Norman and Not-Norman. Knowing her, it is.

His base is near Boston, Natasha’s text reads, his text tone startling him awake. You’re lucky. Tell me how it goes.

If he’s being honest, he didn’t expect the base of someone with enough power to make a couple of simple-Joe-robbers nearly piss their pants at the thought of them to look so… plain. Bricks stained a dark red from the passage of time and accumulation of grime, black-tinted windows denying any nosey onlookers the pleasure of being able to look in, and a rather nondescript sign proclaiming the building to be under the ownership of a company calling themselves HC Inc.

He takes a deep breath and enters.

There’s a receptionist there, maybe a year or two younger than himself. Blonde. Her eyes widen when she sees him, but she quickly clears her throat and goes back to typing on her computer.

“Hi!” he greets once he’s up at the counter. He flashes her what he hopes is a friendly smile, because something about her tells him that she won’t hesitate to put him through the floor if she thinks he’s suspicious in any way, shape, or form. “I’m looking for, er…”

She smiles back up at him, eyes glinting. “The boss, right? Don’t worry, I’ll phone him.”

He nods politely before backing up and walking a few steps away, just far enough that he can still hear her without looking obvious (or at least he hopes he isn’t looking obvious).

“There’s someone here to see you, boss man,” he hears. “No, it isn’t her. It’s—” she glances at him— “it’s Stark.” A pause. “I’m sure. He looks like the picture.” Another pause. “Yes, of course.” She places her hand over the mouthpiece and beckons him over. “Can I see ID?”

He fumbles with his wallet as he fishes it out. He flashes his MIT ID, hoping that’s enough.

And enough it seems to be. She nods towards a hallway off to the left. “There are elevators down there. The boss is on floor 30.” She uncovers the mouthpiece as he walks away. “I’m sending him up right now.”

The room the elevator opens up to is far more extravagant than he would’ve expected looking at the outside of the building. A heavy-looking mahogany table sits in the middle, magazines splattered all over the surface, while a pair of thick maroon curtains help block out anything the tinted windows can’t. A chandelier illuminates the room in a soft yellow light unlike the harsh flickering from the ATM before.

Either he’s about to be served the finest glass of red wine he’s ever had, or he’s about to be executed while Chopin bombards his eardrums. It could be both. Not that he’d mind.

He takes a few careful steps, looking around the room. “Uh, hello?” he calls out, trailing his fingers on the table. After a couple of seconds of no response, he picks up a magazine and flicks through it. He can play the waiting game.

“Tony?”

He yelps, turning around to smack whoever that voice belongs to with the magazine, but is stopped when a large hand wraps around his wrist. “Wh—” he starts, then everything he’s about to say dies in his throat. No way, right? There’s no way?

It’s been a few years since they’ve seen each other, since they broke up because he wanted so desperately to go to MIT, to leave their state, but he’s pretty sure that he’d recognize the other anywhere and in any life.

“James?” he squeaks. James is taller now, broader and more muscular with a fair amount of scruff on his chin and hair that reaches his shoulders, but his eyes have always stayed the same: this cool blue that brings him back to the ocean. “You’re the Soldier?”

“Winter Soldier, technically,” James says, releasing his wrist. “Sorry, I—I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Winter Soldier?” Tony narrows his eyes and rubs at his wrist. He doesn’t doubt that James didn’t mean to harm him, but his grip is strong. “Like… like from when we used to play Runescape?”

James cringes, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t think of anything else. What are you here for anyway? I never thought that you’d… that you’d find out.”

“I—” Tony throws the magazine back on the table— “was approached by a couple of lovely guys, and they mentioned you. Said something about how you’d have their heads for even coming near me.” He crosses his arms. “I’d like an explanation, please.”

James rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a list that I have of people that, uh, that shouldn’t be hurt. You’re on it. So are a couple other people, but… yeah, you’re on it. You’re number 1, actually.”

“Number 1?” Tony isn’t sure if he should be flattered or afraid. Flattered because, well, it shows that James still cares for him, still thinks of him, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t send his heart aflutter. Afraid because there’s bound to people out there that aren’t scared of the Winter Soldier’s wrath, and the fact that James just offered his name and face up on a silver platter… he’d just have to hope, as with most things.

“Yeah. You’ve always been my number 1.”

No. Tony can’t have that. His head is already spinning what with all of this information that he’s under the protection of some mob boss (although Tony strongly suspects that James is the head of more than just a mob) and that mob boss is his high school boyfriend that he thought he left in New York. He can’t have old feelings resurfacing. He can’t think about the nights where he stared at James’ contact information in his phone, never quite building up the courage to call or text. “We haven’t talked in years, James.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ve grown any less important to me.”

Tony exhales. He can’t really come up with something to say against that. Or at least he can’t come up with something to say that wouldn’t make him feel like a monster (which is funny, because James has probably dealt with much worse people than an old flame with a lashing tongue). “What is that supposed to mean?”

James shrugs loosely. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

Oh, no. Oh, no, Tony, don’t, his mind says. James has changed. He isn’t the same boy that used to quote Star Wars with you all day. He’s dangerous, more than likely. “And if I want it to mean something along the lines of us trying again? As friends, and maybe… maybe we can see where it goes.”

James smiles sanguinely. “I can accept that definition.”

[tf2-hoe]

sniperengie or sniperdemoengie headcanons?

SniperEngie and SniperDemoEngie Headcanons - How They Show Their Love

I’ve never heard of these ships before, but I’m willing to give it a shot!

SniperEngie

Sniper always has a cup of coffee ready for Engie in the mornings

Sometimes Engie will cook breakfast for them both if Sniper isn’t already handling it

Engie likes bringing homemade muffins to Sniper whenever they hang out; he likes making them because he misses cooking for people

Sniper struggles to show how much he appreciates Engie, but this boy is trying

Engie knows how hard it can be for Sniper considering his shyness, and he’s always patient for him

“Darlin’, your is gettin’ a li’l warm.” “I-I know.”

Engie finds it cute when Sniper gets flustered, and it honestly makes him start to laugh

Sniper once tried to act more confident to impress Engie, but he ended up mentally overloading himself and ending up hiding in the camper to recuperate

Engie was both flattered and worried that Sniper pushed himself so far just to make him happy

“You know I love you just the way you are, right?”

Engie goes out of his way to tell Sniper how perfect he is with little love notes

Sniper keeps the notes in a safe place, and he carries his favorite one into battle for safekeeping

SniperDemoEngie

Demo was the guy that brought himself, Sniper and Engie together

He liked one, but he also liked the other, so he sat them both down and talked to them about his feelings

His heart swelled when Sniper and Engie both confessed their shared feelings to each other

Demo is honestly the voice of reason in this relationship

He lets Sniper and Engie vent to him, and he makes sure he’s seeing everybody’s sides whenever there are arguments between them

When Sniper goes hunting, he’ll split up the meat between him and his lovers

He loves keeping them fed, so he’ll be going hunting often

Although he’s confident in his hunting, Sniper’s very shy and doesn’t exactly display his affection very well

He’ll kiss Demo and Engie back, but he never initiates it, and he’ll actually get flustered if he’s asked to do it

Engie bakes sweets for everyone; he wants 

Demo and Sniper fight over the last pastries every time

Until Engie stops their fighting by bribing them with kisses, of course

Engie is the most affectionate of the two, and he definitely brings out the more extroverted side of Sniper

Engie pulls them in for cuddle piles and literally lays across their laps

I hope you enjoyed the headcanons; this was my first time doing these ships, so I’m not used to planning interactions between them. Thank you for the submission!

[yeenybeanies]

( new ) g/t prompt list

6. sweets

arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc )  

2503 words

mild language warning

feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thank you!!

Tiny hands grip on the hard, metal band that seals the jar’s lid that separates the sweet, syrupy peaches from the world, and from Devin. They grunt in frustration, teeth gritted and knuckles white, as they pull again, trying again to dislodge the band, but it’s not budging. At this point, it feels like they’d sooner tear off their arms than loosen this screw. 

“ Need help with that? ”  The voice comes from above and behind, soft, but still quite booming to a borrower. Devin releases their hold and spins around, back pressed to the glass, eyes wide and staring up, up, up at the giant of a man towering over her. Even when crouched, he’s still so damn tall. 

“ Mr. Morgan––– ”  Arthur. They kick themself; the man has told them multiple times now that they don’t have to be so formal.  “ –––er . . . if you wouldn’t mind . . .. ”  

Arthur doesn’t seem to pressed about his name––not that he ever is, not with Devin. Reminders are always gentle and good-natured when he gives them. The corners of his eyes crinkle just a bit more in time with his widening smile. He always seems to have a smile when regarding Devin. More often than not, they have a blush to match, though it’s not something they acknowledge, and Arthur has yet to point it out ( thank god ). 

“ Don’t mind at all. I offered, didn’t I? ”  The borrower scurries aside, ducking away from the large hand that sails overhead. Fingers as tall and thick as their whole body grip the jar by the lid and lift it easily from the ground. It’s equal parts astounding and intimidating, watching Arthur move. Devin can’t help but stare. Menial tasks––something as simple as opening a jar––to him are incredibly difficult, if not impossible to them. The strength matches the man, of course. It’s easy to remember that those jar-opening hands could so easily cause something Devin’s size insidious harm, hence the ever-present intimidation. They’ve only known him a short time––just a few weeks; while they won’t run at the sight of him, there’s still room for some trust to build. Arthur is patient, though, and exceptionally respectful of their boundaries and discomforts.

The lid pops up, uprooted with the blade of a knife once the band’s removed. Arthur tucks the knife away in the holder he’d fished it from and gives the canned fruit a sniff. 

“ Got a sweet tooth? ”  There’s that smile again ( not that it ever went away ). Devin feels their cheeks warm. Arthur sets down the opened jar and leans back on his heels, arms coming to rest on the bends of his knees. 

“ Something like that. ”  Sweet tooth? General hunger? A little bit of both. Devin props themself up on their tiptoes and reaches over the lip of the jar to tear off a piece of peach. They have little regard for the sweet juices that drip down their arms and chin, onto their clothes, as they take a few ( relatively ) big bites. Cheeks stuffed as they chew, they step away from the jar again and look up at Arthur. A jerk of their head directs the cowboy’s attention back to the jar. 

“ Offerin’ me some of my own peaches? Well, ain’t you a sweet one. ”  He winks, and Devin blushes, head ducked. Were they a mouse, sneaking into Arthur’s tent and breaking into his food, they aren’t sure that he would be so kind. Then again, the cowboy’s got quite the soft heart when it comes to small creatures. He chuckles, that low rumble shaking Devin’s bones, and fishes into the jar. The slice he pulls out is as tall as Devin, which he pops into his mouth all at once. That slice alone could feed them for a whole day, but it’s just a mouthful to him . . .. 

“ Somethin’ on my face, Miss Clarke? ”  He regards the borrower with a raised brow as he sucks the lingering sweetness from his fingers. They blink and quickly look away, realizing now that they’ve been staring ( again ). 

“ Just Devin, ”  they correct. It seems like they both have a habit to break.  “ Er––yeah. A little bit on your . . . ”  they gesture to the corner of their mouth, mirroring the location of a smudge on Arthur’s face. It’s easily taken care of with the swipe of a thumb. 

Devin finishes off their piece of peach, and opts to tear off another chunk. Arthur settles down on his cot with another slice for himself, taking it in a few bites this time. Once finished, he lies back with his hat covering his eyes, like he’s ready to nap for a little bit, but he doesn’t get very far along. A slight calamity rouses him, prompts him to peek out again to see the jar tipped over and the little borrower covered in more of the peach syrup. Devin stares up at him, looking a little frightened, like they think he might react poorly to the mess. 

“ I tried to close it, ”  they defend quickly, body tensing further as Arthur pushes himself up again. He leans forward, hunched over them, smile lopsided. He looks . . . amused. 

“ Sweet a’ you. Could’a just asked me to do it though, li’l miss. ”  The nickname has Devin blinking. So he’s . . . not mad. That’s good. They start to relax, but they stiffen back up when Arthur’s hands drift closer, righting the toppled jar and securing the lid and band back into place. 

“ You looked like you were about to sleep . . .. ”  The borrower shakes their arms, trying to rid their person of some of the spilled juices. 

“ Hey . . . ”  Arthur’s attention returns to Devin, his features gentle and kind. Devin swears they feel their heart skip a beat.  “ Don’t you ever worry about botherin’ me, you hear? Don’t care if it’s the middle of the night; if you want me to open a jar of peaches for you, you just let me know, alright? ” 

Devin can only nod, a little dumbfounded by such an offer. Arthur Morgan is not the first human they’ve met, but he’s by far the nicest, the most respectful, the most accepting. Every meeting affirms more that he is a friend. 

“ Y’need to wash off? ”  His words snap Devin out of their thoughts again, prompting them to look down at their soaked clothes. All of this syrup is bound to get sticky and smelly, neither of which are good for a borrower in a world of predators. 

“ Uhm . . . yeah . . .. ”  Though the nearest water is in the middle of the campsite, and no doubt in buckets far taller than Devin can reach. They can climb, sure, but it’s a risky move in the middle of the day . . .. 

“ Y’need help? ”  Arthur moves the resealed jar aside, stowing it for later access, then returns with his elbows propped on his knees. Such sudden movements might have made Devin flinch a few weeks ago, but now they just tense and hold their ground. ( Arthur is a friend. He means no harm. )  “ I can get you some soap n’ water, but, uh . . .. ”  he trails off and looks away. Devin could swear they see a bit of pink rising in his cheeks.  “ Do you have another change of clothes? Or . . .. ” 

Oh boy. Devin’s own cheeks go pink. 

“ Uh, i think––– ”  They quickly pull their collar and glance down,  “ –––yeah, it’s just my dress that’s dirty. My under clothes are fine. ”  Before the juices can soak through, though, Devin turns her back to Arthur and starts to shed that dress, pulling it off over her head. 

“ Alright . . .. ”  Arthur, in a move Devin finds rather endearing, looks away, staring blankly at the canvas wall of his tent while they disrobe. It only takes a moment for them to get their dirtied dress off, and face the gunslinger once more, now clad in their undershirt & long underwear. The dress is rolled up and tucked up under their arm. 

“ Okay! I, uh, I just need that soap and water now . . .. ”  They give Arthur a sheepish smile, trying hard not to blush any more. Oh, but they aren’t nearly as flustered as Arthur is; he’s still barely looking at them. 

“ Sure, sure. Do you, uh, want me to bring you some here, or do you wanna go to it, or I could wash your clothes, or . . .? ” 

Ah, their heart. This human is quite the gentleman, doing his best to try and make Devin feel comfortable. They can’t help but chuckle and shake their head. 

“ You’re very kind, but no, if you just bring it here, I can wash my own clothes. Thank you, Arthur. ” 

“ Sure. Be right back, then. ” He’s quick to hurry off. Devin could swear he’s trying to hide under his hat. When he returns, too, just a few minutes later, there’s still some lingering pink on his cheeks. ( Who knew a human could be . . . cute? ) 

With one coffee cup of plain water and another with soapy water, Devin takes to washing their garment, scrubbing and rubbing and wringing it with their hands, and then rinsing it off. A few more wrings to squeeze out some of the water, and then they hold it up, looking for stains. 

“ Okay. I just need to hang this–––oh. ”  They peek at Arthur over their dress, only now noticing that he seems to have dozed off like he’d planned to do prior to this incident. He hums a brief note; Devin has woken him up again. 

“ Oh, um––sorry, I––you can sleep. I can handle . . .. ”  Their voice quiets and trails off, eyes following the man’s rise from his bed to tower over them. He sure does look ready for a nap, but the sleepiness doesn’t mask the softness in his features. If anything, it almost seems to compliment it. 

His approaching hand pulls the borrower from their thoughts. They clutch their damp dress closer to their chest as that hand settles just before them, palm up. Arthur gives them a gentle, encouraging smile. 

“ Give it here. I’ll hang it up somewhere high so it can dry. I can hide it too so no one’ll catch a look n’ ask questions. ”  His fingers twitch a little, as if beckoning. Devin can’t help their hesitation; this is the closest either of them have been to touching each other. 

Arthur is a friend, they remind themself. 

With a deep breath, they lean forward and settle the dress down over his fingers. The sight is almost comical; it looks like it could dress his pinky, like a little finger puppet. Hell, it might still be too small. They step back, and he pulls the dress away to fasten it up in the overhangs of his tent, out of view from anyone on the outside. 

“ There. Shouldn’t take too long to dry, bein’ so small n’ all . . .. ”  He glances back down at them, lips tightening for a moment.  “ You gonna be okay in the meantime? You’re more n’ welcome to stick around in here. ” 

He must recognize that they’re about to say something about not wanting to disturb him. He raises a hand, cutting short any such protest before it can start. 

“ Now now, li’l miss Devin, don’t you worry about bein’ a bother. Told ya already: you ain’t nothin’ of the sort. ”  There he goes again with that smile . . .. They look down at their shoes, hands clasped behind their back. 

“ Uhm . . . I mean, I’ll need your help getting it down anyway, so . . .. ”  It’s not like they really have anywhere to be at the moment, or for a little while, either. They look back up at Arthur, just a bit bashful.  “ Promise I won’t bother you again for a while, though. You look like you’re needing that nap you’ve been trying to take. ” 

As if on cue, the man looks away and covers his mouth as he yawns. 

“ Yep. I wouldn’t mind some shut-eye. But don’t you worry about–––err . . .. ”  He pauses mid-sentence, eyeing Devin as they start to scale the side of his boot. His hands come down, nearing them, likely meaning to help them up, but they wave them back. 

“ I can do this. Don’t mind me. ”  They’ve been climbing things their whole life; what’s a boot and a pant leg? His bed, they reckon, is safer than the ground for now. Arthur’s hands still hover for a few moments longer, but a little extra waving wards them off. Once they’re up on the bed top, they notice Arthur visibly relax. At this point, they shouldn’t be too surprised that he seems to be concerned for their safety, but it does still stir up a feeling within them that they can’t quite place. ( Butterflies? That’s the human term, right? ) 

“ I’m good. Go on, take your nap. I can tend to myself. ”  The borrower waves their hands at him some more, to which he shakes his head and smirks. Yes, they can be cheeky too. Arthur moves slowly, carefully, settling himself down on his back for a third and ( hopefully ) final time. 

“ Now, like I said, li’l miss: don’t worry ‘bout wakin’ me up if ya need somethin’. Just shout or give my ear a tug or, I dunno. You ain’t botherin’ me none. ”  He turns his head to face Devin, now only about a foot away. Up so close, he can see their features better, their face full of freckles, but the gentleman in him ( albeit one that he refuses to acknowledge ) stops him from staring too much. Hat settled over his eyes, he takes a final deep breath, crosses his arms over his chest, and, within minutes, has dozed off. This time, Devin intends to let him rest. 

Devin moves up and around, navigating the bedroll until they come to the right side of Arthur’s head. The brim of his hat shades them and shields them from plain view here. The sound of his breathing is . . . oddly soothing, too. 

Perhaps they could take a little nap of their own while they wait for their dress to dry. 

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 18)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Length: ~6000 words

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/13715520/chapters/50183618

If it hadn’t been for those cracked ribs that made moving around more annoying than usual, Dipper might have been pacing the living room right now. As it was, he was seated in his grunkle’s TV chair with a stack of books and notebooks around him, chewing on the end of a battered ballpoint pen.

Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford should have been back hours ago, and yes, Stan had called Soos and said they’d be late, but that was also hours ago, and Soos hadn’t even thought to ask what had happened, and sure, Dipper could technically just pick up his phone and call right now and ask what took them so long, but if it was nothing grunkle Stan would just laugh at him and if it was something maybe no one would answer, or—

It was really, really hard not to think about Bill.

“You okay, dood?”

Dipper started, biting down on the pen, then winced from the jolt of pain from his ribs. He hadn’t even noticed Soos coming in.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He dropped the pen and tried to smile.

“Hmm.” Soos said. “That’s what you want me to believe.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I can’t think of anything more to do today. Still waiting for those cement guys to come fix the foundation tomorrow, but otherwise we’d be ready to open up the Mystery Shack again.” He paused. “Once Mr Pines has gotten things sorted out with his brother, I suppose.”

“Are you going home?” For some reason, the thought made Dipper uncomfortable. It was nice to at least have Soos tinkering around the house when grunkle Stan was away and Dipper himself couldn’t go anywhere.

“Nah. Think I’ll stay and wait for Mr Pines.”

“Oh, good. I mean, sure.”

Soos put a couple of books down on Dipper’s lap so he could sit on the dinosaur skull, then turned on the TV to some local news station. “So, tomorrow is the finale of Ducktective, huh?” he said conversationally.

“Yes!” Mabel shouted from the kitchen before Dipper could reply. “It’s finally time to find out who’s been outsmarting Ducktective all through the season! I think it’s that suspicious-looking cat – either that or it’s Ducktective’s own secret twin brother.”

“I have questions about the dog, though.”

“Look at this!” Mabel came rushing from the kitchen and twirled, showing off the duck portrait on her new sweater. “I finished my Ducktective sweater, and these hats, too. Now we can all be Ducktectives!”

Mabel, of course, would always be Mabel. Today she’d been so relentlessly enthusiastic that Dipper simply had to admire it. If she were worrying about anything, she definitely didn’t show it.

And really, Dipper hadn’t had a bad day himself. It had even been nice to spend some time indoors for a change. And completely regardless of any bad dreams or worries about demonic possession, he’d gotten a promise from the actual author of the Journals to play DDD with him later—just thinking about it made him giddy. Except that was assuming Stan and Ford would come back okay. And that he wouldn’t go back on the promise because he was— Well, Ford being too skittish and paranoid and tired to play games wasn’t totally unrealistic. Especially if something had happened.

Dipper realized to his own dismay that he was already chewing on another pen.

At first, when he’d thought grunkle Stan and uncle Ford would be back soon-ish, he’d spent a lot of time making DDD characters. First he made fantasy versions of himself and Ford, then he kept going with other people too just because he could. After adding Mabel, Stan, Soos, Wendy, Grenda and Candy, and even Li’l Gideon for good measure, he went on to make up game stats for Gravity Falls gnomes, and finally, with some input from Mabel, unicorns. Then, while Mabel biked down to town to buy more craft supplies and snacks, he’d spent some time catching up on the mystery novels he’d brought from home but hadn’t had time to read before. He’d wanted to take a look at uncle Ford’s other two journals, but Mabel told him Ford had put all three of them away in a locked cabinet, so that was out. He’d have to ask Ford about it once they came back. Which they still hadn’t.

“Can I be Ducktective?” Soos asked, bringing Dipper back to the present.

Mabel promptly put one of the hats on Soos’ head. “Of course you can! Dipper, you want one too?”

Dipper shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow.” He was not in a Ducktective mood.

“Okay.” Mabel pushed a book aside and squeezed herself down on the chair next to Dipper. “But stop worrying, bro-bro.” She might have been reading his mind. “Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford are fine. Grunkle Stan can punch out bears, zombies, gremloblins…” She counted on her fingers.

Dipper grimaced. “I know, but...”

Mabel pressed her shoulder against Dipper’s in lieu of a hug. “It’ll be fine,” she said, softer.

“Hey, doods,” Soos interrupted, pointing at the TV. “I think someone died.”

Both twins tensed for a moment, focusing on the screen.

No, of course it wasn’t about Stan.

“Heh.” Dipper released the breath he’d caught in his throat. “That old mayor… Yeah.”

“Mayor Befufflefumpter was an old and esteemed man,” Soos said solemnly, removing his Ducktective hat in respect.

“He did look kinda dying back at the Northwest party,” Mabel said with a small grin that turned into a grimace. “I mean, more than the rest of us.”

Dipper nodded. “And that was… was that just three days ago?”

“Yeah. Feels like longer.” Mabel frowned. “But at least grunkle Stan isn’t that old! I think.”

“No, he’s got to be—”

Dipper completely forgot what he was about to say when the front door to their left flew open with a bang.

For a moment, Stanford was silhouetted against the low-hanging sun, coat billowing around him and clutching Stan’s duffelbag his arms. The next moment he was gone down the hallway without a word, slamming the door shut behind him again.

No one moved for several moments.

“Where’s Mr Pines?” Soos asked slowly.

Dipper shivered. Uncle Ford, alone, rushing by without a word and without— This was too familiar. Too much like the worst case scenarios he’d been trying not to think about. He licked his lips. “Did anyone see if uncle Ford was…?” The words got stuck in his throat.

“I couldn’t see,” Mabel said quietly. Soos shook his head, too. And if they hadn’t seen his eyes either, then Dipper had to assume the worst.

His hand found Mabel’s, holding it tight. “We need to find out.” He forced himself to slip out of the chair, not sure if he was pulling Mabel along or she was pulling him.

“I’ll protect you!” Soos promised, getting in front of them. “But, uh, where did he go?”

“Maybe to the museum?” Mabel suggested, warily starting to move down the hallway Ford had disappeared into.

Dipper nodded. That was as good a guess as any. He could also have gone to Stan’s workshop, or to the bathroom, or—well, to Ford’s warded study. But if it was Bill, he wouldn’t be able to enter that room, and if it wasn’t Bill, why would he have come alone and ran off without showing his eyes? It was up to the three of them to find him and stop him from whatever he was doing and find out what had happened to—

A new sound behind them made them all jump. Dipper’s heart had already been trying to beat its way out of his chest, and now it seemed to stop completely. Somehow he’d turned around, instinctively clinging to Mabel, and with Soos’ arm lodged between them and the new threat, when he realized what the sound had been. The front door had opened again, less violently this time, and someone else was standing in the doorframe.

“Grunkle Stan!” He and Mabel both ducked under Soos’ arm and threw themselves at him.

“Whoa,” Stan said, awkwardly returning the hug. “Kids, take it easy, I’m—”

“Mr Pines!” Soos threw his arms up. “You’re okay!”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Stan pushed the twins away a bit from himself, then cleared his throat. “Did Ford— I mean, he did get in here, didn’t he? Where did he go?”

Dipper and Mabel pointed down the hall. “He ran past without even looking at us!” Mabel said.

“And we couldn’t see his eyes,” Dipper added.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired. “Of course. He couldn’t have—” He chuckled slightly. “That’s why you look so spooked?”

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, then spoke at the same time.

“You’re saying he’s not—”

“Does that mean he’s—”

“Why did you—”

Stan waved them to silence. The way he seemed more exasperated than alarmed about this was strangely reassuring. “That was Ford, kids.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper’s shoulders might be relaxing a bit, but he still couldn’t help having some doubts.

“Uh-huh.” Stan finally entered the house and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he scratched the side of his head. “He was pretty distracted – probably didn’t even realize he was scaring you. I bet he went straight for the barrier.”

Dipper could still feel his heart beating too fast, but Stan wouldn’t lie about that. Probably. And if Ford was inside the barrier, then all would be fine.

“See?” Mabel said, maybe to Dipper and maybe to herself. “Everything’s fine.” She started to smile, but then she stopped and stared at Stan. “Wait. Grunkle Stan, you’re bleeding.”

Dipper took a closer look at Stan, and Mabel was right. There was a large matted red-brown stain in his grey hair, like he’d hit his head a while ago. Besides, he realized, Stan’s hawaii shirt was torn at the shoulder and there were several ugly, new-looking bruises on his exposed arms and legs. It looked like he’d been fighting, and without having seen the other guy Dipper wasn’t sure if he’d won or not. Unless the other guy was Ford, and then—

Stan hmphed and picked up his fez from the coat hanger, putting it on his head and hiding the blood. “I knew nothing good could come from leaving the fez at home.”

Mabel took Stan’s arm – putting a hand over a large red bruise – and cradled it. “Did you get into a fight?” she asked. “With uncle Ford? Is that—Is that why you didn’t come back together?”

“What? No, sweetie, we—” Stan stopped with a sigh. “Heck, that’s what it looks like, isn’t it? No, really, Ford is not possessed and we didn’t fight. We actually got along pretty great.” He smiled tiredly.

“But something happened.” Dipper crossed his arms.

Stan shrugged. “Yeah. Most importantly, the demon didn’t destroy the world, the rift is sealed in a superglued briefcase and—” He flashed a grin “—Ford and I still make a pretty good team.” He pulled his arm back from Mabel. “Come on, let’s go see how he’s doing.”

 * * *

Ford locked the door behind him on sheer panicked fumes, the need to hide the rift away overriding all other concerns. There were too many unlocked doors in this house. The front door was unlocked – he didn’t even have the key to the front door. Was it ever locked or could anyone just go inside? What was Stanley thinking?

The liquor cabinet was the only additional lockable space in the room. He had to take the journals out to make the sealed briefcase fit inside, and after relocking the cabinet he ended up sitting on the floor before it, clutching three hand-bound volumes of his own hubris close to his stinging chest.

Trying to breathe. Trying to think.

The light from the stained-glass window above the couch taunted him. He’d boarded that window up – 30 years ago – for a reason. It wasn’t safe.

Someone pulled at the door, and Ford flinched. But it was locked, and no one entered.

“Stanford?”

“Stanley.” Ford let his forehead fall forward against the books he was holding. There were goosebumps running up and down his arms, but at least his voice wasn’t shaking. “Did he follow you?”

“Who?” Dipper’s voice interrupted, and Ford realized with a start that Stanley wasn’t alone. There was a family there, and it wasn’t that he minded their presence necessarily, but their very existence reminded him again of how little control he had of anything. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his family. As much as he’d managed to slip back into some kind of comfort zone with Stanley – he wasn’t even sure the 60-year-old man could count as his twin. Nevertheless, the threat to the world was still his responsibility.

“He didn’t follow,” Stanley said. “And if he had, it would have been because he was concerned that you took off like a loon, not because he would actually rob us.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dan hadn’t tried anything, no, but— “He was in contact with Bill!”

“For one dream. He was gonna laugh it off! And then you practically screamed at him that something suspicious is going on!”

Ford snapped his jaws shut at Stanley’s exasperated tone. There was some sense in his brother’s point of view, but only if Dan really had been harmless. But if Ford was right, his reaction had been the only reasonable one. “You can’t know that he would have laughed it off. And even if he would, Bill might contact him again. Or anyone else. Do you understand what that means?”

“Yeah.” Stanley’s voice softened. “Can I—Can we come in?”

Ford stiffened automatically. “Why?”

Because—” Stanley seemed to hesitate. “Please,” he said finally.

Ford couldn’t help a weak smile at that. “You used to hate that word.”

“Still do. But, you know. Could you open the door? Please.”

If Stanley was doing Bill’s bidding, he this would be exactly the kind of manipulation that—

No.

No, Stanley wouldn’t. And Ford knew that perfectly well, especially after everything that had happened today. There was no good reason not to open the door. It was just Stanley and his family. They’d probably go away if he told them to, but that would leave him alone to stew in his own thoughts again, and—did he want that?

He’d been so used to being alone. But everything was different now. He was safe from Bill’s reach in this room. The children had fought for him. And Stanley was—Stanley was back at his side, despite everything, and today they’d been a team again.

He should let them in.

Ford shook his head, squeezed the journals one last time before hiding them under the pile of blankets on the floor next to the couch, then going to open the door.

Stanley was leaning against the doorframe on the other side. He was wearing their father’s fez again, but his expression was one their father would never wear. “Thanks,” he said.

Behind him were Mabel, Dipper and Soos, looking at him with varying degrees of relief. Ford could see all of their eyes, all of them human, though of course that didn’t have to mean anything when Bill could manipulate without possessing. Still. They wouldn’t.

His old twin went past him with a pat on his arm and went to sit on the couch, followed by the others. Ford remained standing, even when Stanley beckoned for him to sit down. No. He needed to explain himself, first.

“Listen, Stanley,” he said, closing the door behind them. “All I’m saying is that you can’t be sure that he was harmless. It would have been easy for him, and he obviously didn’t understand the stakes. You’re not a mind reader – you don’t know how tempted he was to try!”

“True,” Stanley admitted with a small shrug.

“And even if there was no harm done, we shouldn’t have risked accepting that ride.” He gestured with both hands for emphasis. “Anyone could be manipulated by Bill, enough to—”

“Enough to break and enter into an old tourist trap for no reason?” Stanley shook his head. “Because most people wouldn’t. And—” He leaned forward, “—if someone does, we’ll deal with it.”

“But we don’t—”

“Anyway, you scared the kids half to death when you rushed through the door just now,” Stanley interrupted, straightening his back. “They were convinced you were Bill until I showed up.”

Ford blinked, thrown by the sudden information. “Oh.” He’d been focused on getting the rift out of danger – had there been people in the living room? Had they seen him? “I didn’t mean to—I mean—That’s unfortunate.”

“It’s fine, uncle Ford,” Dipper said. He was, indeed, looking rather warily at Ford, but he also had a wry look like he was ashamed of being scared. Like there was no reason to be afraid, when in fact there was every reason.

“No, I—” Ford ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to do better.” It could have been Bill. He needed to make sure it was clear that it wasn’t, next time. Alternatively, just stay in this room. That would be the safer option.

“Hey,” Mabel said. “Can you tell us now what happened to you guys today?”

“Well.” Stanley glanced her, then at Ford. “We ran into Manly Dan on the way back. Turns out he’d just had some kinda dream about Ford’s demon friend.”

Ford flinched. “Don’t call him that.”

“What? Manly Dan?”

Stanley was being flippant, playing stupid, and that was so achingly familiar that Ford had a weird urge to grab the old man before him and give him a noogie. He didn’t. Instead he said, back straight and both hands behind his back, “Bill is not my friend.”

“I know that, Poindexter.”

“But,” Dipper said, “Manly Dan didn’t attack you, right?” His eyes went from Stanley’s obvious bruises to Ford’s tattered clothing and badly hidden bandages.

“Nah, that was something else. Had a run-in with some local weirdness.” To Ford’s great relief, Stanley seemed ready to leave it at that, though the children didn’t appreciate it as much.

“Hey! You promised no more secrets!”

Stanley looked at Ford, raising his eyebrows as if asking permission.

Ford took a deep breath. “Not now,” he said. “Perhaps later.” Perhaps when his mind wasn’t reeling quite so much. Seating himself carefully on Stanley’s other side, he changed the subject to the most important facts. “In any case, I sealed the rift in a sturdier container that will make it more difficult to break. It still exists, and is still a danger if stolen, but it’s—safer than before.”

He swallowed down another unhelpful measure of fear. “But the fact remains that Bill wants it. And you would do well to remember that he could appear in anyone’s dream, trying to deceive or tempt.” He paused, looking at the Dipper, Mabel and Soos. “Have any of you had any strange dreams, or—”

“It’s been my policy since preschool never to listen to the advice of a triangle,” Soos said solemnly. Ford glared at him. This was no joking matter, and it was especially concerning that the young man seemed completely sincere.

Dipper grimaced. “I have bad dreams about Bill all the time,” he admitted, looking very small. Ford lifted a hand to console him, but put it down again. He had no idea how to even start. The boy might even have mundane nightmares about Bill, some of which were now Ford’s fault.

“We all know about Bill.” Mabel said confidently, putting an arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “We’re not going to listen to him, especially not in a dream.”

“Yes.” Ford found himself relaxing slightly. “I know you won’t.” He did know that – and the fact that he was sure about it made it slightly easier to breathe. “But it’s not just you. You see, even if Dan Corduroy didn’t decide to rob us, Bill could—Bill could appear in anyone’s dreams. And if he decides to work on tricking someone—” He stopped, unable to bring himself to say ‘like he worked on me’.

The kids looked reasonably worried at that, but Stanley crossed his arms. “Yeah,” he said. “But hey. It still has to be someone willing to do a robbery, and I’m the closest this town’s got to a professional burglar.” Ford raised his eyebrows at that, making Stanley grin. “And even thirty years ago,” he continued, “I would’ve been kinda put off by the idea of stealing an unopenable briefcase just because some triangular guy in a dream told me to.”

Ford nodded slowly. “That might be true, but—” He hesitated. It might be true for Stanley, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t have said the same for himself. “Someone else may welcome the challenge. Or be convinced that the briefcase contains something they desperately need. Or—I don’t know—have a particular grudge against you and your Mystery Hut!”

“Mystery Shack,” Stanley corrected, completely missing the point. He added, “If it happens, we’ll handle it. I promise you that.”

“There’d be no need to handle it if you’d used the—” Ford mumbled between his teeth, but Stanley heard and interrupted him.

“Don’t.” The word hung in the air for a moment until Ford relented with a sigh, leaning back and turning his eyes to the ceiling.

Stanley gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Just—” Ford took a deep breath. “Just be careful. We don’t know who Bill might try to manipulate.”

“Yes, young-Mr-Pines, Sir!” Soos said with a clumsy salute, still looking completely serious. Ford tried not to scowl. The young man whose relationship to Stanley still hadn’t been properly explained to him seemed simple, but might easily be the weakest link in their defenses.

Dipper chose this moment to square his shoulders and straighten his back. “Uncle Ford!” he said. “Do you want to play Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons with me?”

Ford blinked as he switched gears, as he admitted to himself that yes, he wanted to. The very mention of the game made the corners of his mouth want to curl into a smile, and after a moment he gave in to it. He’d been looking forward to it. He was still alive, still somewhat sane, and—this place was as safe as it was going to be. There was still danger, and playing a game was selfish and irresponsible in the face of that, but—

But he wanted more than anything to allow himself to get lost in a harmless, nostalgic fantasy world with neat statistical values. And he could. “I would love to.”

Stanley whistled. “There’s hope for you yet, ya big nerd,” he said fondly.

Dipper made a little excited jump in the couch, marred by small wince and touching his ribs, but his smile didn’t falter. “I’ll go get the books!” He hurriedly left the room, returning quickly with a set of rulebooks, character sheets, graph paper, DM screens, dice and other game pieces that he set down in Ford’s lap.

“Look, here, I made a bunch of characters that are kind of based on us, and some monsters here, and I’ve been thinking about what kind of dungeon we should play, and I was hoping you could be the DM, but—”

Ford flipped through the core rulebook while listening to Dipper’s thoughts about the game. Dipper might be a child, but he certainly knew his way around Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons. There was something so normal about his excitement, about the idea of running a dungeon for him, something that felt like a breeze of fresh air across Ford’s murky mind.

It was okay. Bill could not and would not reach him right now.

Soos departed for wherever it was he lived before long, and Stanley said something about food and disappeared for the kitchen. Mabel was on her way to leave the room, too, but Dipper just looked silently at her – and then she stayed, settling by the desk and starting to draw some kind of bird on a piece of paper.

Something clenched inside Ford when he realized that Dipper’s rulebook didn’t actually have the same rules he knew. Even DDD was different from his game. He pushed the stinging feeling away – he could handle this – this was what he had to work with if he wanted to play with Dipper. The new rules mostly made sense and were in some ways actually more efficient than the ones Ford knew. In fact, if he’d stopped to think about it, using his mind for something as completely frivolous as memorizing new game mechanics was like a palate cleanser. An easy and thoroughly accomplishable task, for once. He was still tired, and hurt, but all of that was shuffled off to the back of his mind as he started to focus on the fantasy.

Dipper assured him that he knew the rule book well enough that Ford could always ask him about the specifics, so it took no more than ten or fifteen minutes for Ford to feel confident enough to run a basic dungeon. The boy had been making characters, so he already had a halfling ranger ready for himself, and an elven wizard NPC that he’d made for Ford. In fact, he had made a whole stack of character sheets, but one PC and one NPC for support was enough to run a simple adventure. This would be a test run.

Stanley interrupted them with “food for the nerds” – some macaroni and cheese for the children and another canned soup for Ford – but after eating, they were ready to start. Ford sat down straight-backed on the floor, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recall how to set a scene. The traditional taverna. Rowdy NPCs imparting information. A kidnapped princess and directions to the evil mage’s lair.

Ford had expected himself to be rusty at first, but somehow, the game flowed.

Dipper was a bright player, using his character’s abilities to the best effect, and always willing to be thorough in his exploration. He did indeed have a good grasp of the minutiae of the rules, but he avoided exploiting them in ways that didn’t make sense. It was a joy to see him think and fight his way past the monsters and traps, and Ford could keep his wizard NPC mostly to support spells, discussion of worldbuilding details, and kindly mentor advise.

When Dipper at one point was stumped by a trap, his sister unexpectedly appeared from the sidelines and pointed out a solution Ford hadn’t even thought about.

“I didn’t think you wanted to play!” Dipper said, surprised.

“Nah, I’m not playing, just helping you out!” she said. “By the way,” she added, “You should try to use that magic mirror you found upside down. See what happens!”

Clever. Judging by Dipper’s frown that variation wasn’t in the rulebook, but Ford could see how it would make a difference. And even more interestingly – in order to have made such an observation, she must have been following the game rather closely for a while.

Dipper didn’t seem to mind his sister’s input as they went on. On the contrary, they made a good team. If DDD had even existed when Stanford and Stanley were their age, Ford could easily imagine Stanley refusing to play but then jumping in like this – a painful thought in all its warmth. The game had been published only after Stanley had been gone. And he seriously doubted—well, the present-day Stanley would surely not even consider it.

In any case, Mabel was creative, and Ford saw no reason why she shouldn’t be a player.

The short dungeon he’d set out to run for Dipper was almost over, but Ford felt inspired to continue, so he turned to the girl and asked her if she wanted to be the princess.

“Wasn’t the princess kidnapped?”

“She might have already escaped. If you want to play her, that is.”

“Well…” She frowned. “I don’t want to do any math homework! I’m just here to help Dipper’s character out of trouble. Or into trouble!”

“Then do that as your own character,” Ford encouraged her. “I’m sure Dipper can handle all your dice rolls and calculations”

“Yes, of course!” Dipper agreed. “Come on, Mabel! I have a character here for you and everything!” He pulled out a halfling bard from the pile of character sheets. “I didn’t know she was a princess, but I suppose—”

Mabel pursed her mouth. “Can I have purple hair and gemstones in my eyes?”

“Uh.” That sounded painful. “You can, if you want to.”

“Okay!”

Ford told her that the princess had been able to escape on her own, but she’d overheard the evil mage talking about his plans to lure adventurers into a trap and use their brains for a nefarious potion to give himself the power to conquer the world. She was now running through the dungeon when she stumbled upon Dipper’s character.

Mabel obviously had the ability to get massively in character if she wanted to. She told the story of the mage’s evil plan in a lot more detail than Ford had, gesturing wildly for emphasis. “This means we gotta stop that evil wizard guy and save all the people he’s already captured!” She physically pulled at Dipper’s vest. “Come on, we have to hurry before he eats their brains!”

Ford improvised a second dungeon on top of the first one, this one being the mage’s actual castle. The enemies here were stronger and the layout more convoluted, but with Mabel as an active player, the adventurer party was also stronger and more unpredictable.

The first time he made a zombie come lumbering towards them, Dipper immediately took on a fighting stance, but Mabel looked excited.

“I’m a princess bard, right? So I’ll sing at it! If it doesn’t work, you two will have to sing with me!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. He’d seen real life zombies defeated by song, but in the context of the game, he’d never heard of it. “Are there any zombie-defeating bard songs in this version of the game?” he asked Dipper. “Or should we—”

“We’ll make one up,” Dipper decided. “What do you call it, Mabel?”

“The Song of Triple Rainbow Light,” she replied with a zombie-killing grin.

Ford and Dipper quickly agreed on some spell stats and added it to her character sheet while Mabel described colorfully how it looked and sounded. Rolling the die, the song didn’t defeat the zombie on its own, but it weakened it enough that Dipper could vanquish it the next round. The kids hi-fived.

“Way easier than real zombies,” Dipper said, but before Ford could think to ask him about it, Mabel pulled their adventuring party along, wanting to know what was ahead.

What was ahead was the literal dungeon, a row of prison cells. The first one was ominously empty.

Ford looked up for a moment, and Stanley unexpectedly met his eyes from the couch. How long had he been sitting there? A small shiver ran over Ford as he realized that he was so caught up in the game that he hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. And if he didn’t notice what was going on around him, how could he be ready if—

“Hey, Ford?” Stanley said.

“Yes?”

“Think there’s any other prisoners in any of those cells?”

Ford blinked. Had Stanley been paying attention? “Well, the players haven’t checked yet, so—” He’d been thinking about adding a cleric to the party before the confrontation with the evil mage, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Stanley’s eyes flicked to the side. “No reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Only. Maybe there’s some big strong fighter type who ended up in wizard jail through no fault of his own and would be willing to help a couple of kids out with the monster punching business. And gathering pretend treasure. Hypothetically.”

Ford stared at him.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper squeaked. “Are you going to join us?”

“Yeah, well, can’t let you pipsqueaks have all the fun without me, can I?” He grimaced. “And you can stop staring, Sixer. This doesn’t mean I’m a nerd, just that I’m willing to try it out. Ok?”

Ford might possibly have been literally beaming. “Of course,” he said weakly. There was something suspiciously like real happiness surging through him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Dipper, you had a fighter character based on Stanley ready, didn’t you?”

Adding Stanley to the party made it easier for the adventurers to take on multiple enemies at once, which was good, because Stanley tended to favor a brute force solution to every situation, being loud and boisterous and more than a little bit reckless. Sometimes it didn’t work, but Ford was rather certain he chose to play this way on purpose. At one point he ended up in a trap and made the kids laugh with his daring playing-with-death slapstick antics.

It was fun.

It took all of his focus away from everything else to the point where he didn’t even remember to question it, and it was fun.

The final confrontation with the evil mage became tense – a few unfortunate dice rolls disabled Mabel’s and Ford’s characters and severely wounded Dipper’s – and Ford was already thinking of ways to salvage this in case it ended in a TPK. At that point Stanley announced that he’d put his character’s every point into an insanely risky move that would involve channeling power that he really wasn’t made to channel. The chances of succes would be abysmal, but if successful, Ford conceded it might be their only chance to take the mage down once and for all before the whole party was vanquished.

Afterwards, Ford suspected Stanley might have cheated on the die roll. It didn’t matter. He saw it roll, and he saw it land on a perfect natural 38, saving the day and the game, and all he could do was laugh.

It was hours past midnight when they stopped playing, but for once Ford was just comfortably tired rather than exhausted. The kids were yawning but happy. Stanley decided without objections from anyone to bring a few raggedy old mattresses and bedclothes down and let all of them sleep right here in Ford’s room.

Ford fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes, and slept until noon. If he dreamt, he had no memories of it.

[arcanaheadcanons]

Carmen Meets Muriel

over my vacation, when i wasn’t on the internet because the place i was at had very sketchy free internet that probably would have given my laptop an std, i wrote a li’l oneshot fic. it was one my ideas for a carmen comic but it would have taken too much effort to draw soooo it’s written now. idk what tumblr’s post limit is but i doubt i’ll go over it (seriously it’s less than 2k) so i’m gonna paste it under the cut and we’ll see what happens.

word count: 1899

description: muriel has to talk to carmen (character concept here) and he’s not very happy about it

The sun had disappeared under the horizon and darkness was washing the last orange stains from the sky when Muriel, cursing himself for even being there, approached the shop. He had one final errand left in the day, and it was crucial: he had run out of angelica. The herb, a thick stalk with umbels of little white flowers, was sometimes used for medicines and sometimes used in spells for protection. In Muriel’s case, it was a necessary component in the wards he had placed around the forest, which were in need of replacing. As angelica favored a colder climate than sunny Vesuvia, he had to rely on the magic shop’s supply. Asra was always more than happy to lend him a hand free of charge, but the magician was currently unconscious in a magic circle on Muriel’s floor while his spirit roamed the realm of the Arcana. Which meant that, if Muriel was going to an Asra-less shop, he would have to deal with…

…his apprentice.

Muriel winced as he heard a muffled, off-key sea shanty coming from the upper floor. To his knowledge, Carmen had never set foot on a boat. However, as she kept sneaking off to the south end of town ever since her incident, it made sense that she had picked up a thing or two from the local color; the “local color” being every seedy bar in the city. He knocked on the door and almost hoped she didn’t hear him. The singing stopped.

“Closed!” she half-shouted, her voice coming from the back of the shop this time. She must have moved closer to the stairs to allow the sound to carry.

It would have been so much easier for both of them if he could just leave – if he could go back home and let her think he was just another customer who hadn’t noticed the porch light was out. But he didn’t have the option. He imagined the wards he had placed breaking, Lucio’s ghost being allowed full strength, and Asra, unguarded, out cold in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and knocked on the door a second time.

“Ohhhhmygodddddddddddddddddd whyyyy.”

A string of irritated muttering started up and ended just as quickly as it was replaced by the sound of someone falling down a flight of stairs.

Muriel froze, concerned and unsure of what to do about that, but soon enough the door opened and Carmen, slightly frazzled, looked out into the space she typically expected a person’s face to be. That space was located squarely in the middle of his chest.

She slowly corrected her gaze to meet his, almost having to crane her neck to do so. “Well, damn,” she said. Muriel had seen her mouth those words during other chance meetings of theirs, but this was the first time she said them aloud. He didn’t like this. His face was getting hot. He had to explain himself, finish his errand, and leave as soon as possible.

“I’m–”

“Muriel, right?”

What.

Carmen opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. I’ll uh, make tea? Or something?”

What. Why. How. What was going on. Muriel entered the shop and watched as she sifted through the jars of herbs on the shelves in search of tea. He noticed as he looked away that the front of the shop was the only area that hadn’t gone to complete disarray. Everything from the base of the stairs to the back was covered in a mishmash of belongings. Trinkets and clothing were heaped into piles with no immediately apparent category, flanked by an unsettling amount of empty alcohol bottles.

“Sorry about the mess.” Carmen resurfaced from the shop’s stock with a short, squat jar full of the blooming tea that Asra made. “I was. Well. Y’know. Looking. Through stuff.” She began her quest to the stairs, carefully stepping around the stacks with amazing precision for someone who was having balance issues. “This is what happens when I’m left unsupervised. Be right back.”

As Carmen went to the upstairs kitchen and started a new batch of worrying clanking sounds that aren’t typically associated with the tea making process, Muriel wandered over to the jars and picked out the angelica. He counted out the necessary number of stalks, placed them in one of the pouches tied to his belts, and returned the jar to the shelf. He strongly considered leaving the shop then and there, but there was a question gnawing at his guts and it couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. While he waited for Carmen’s return, he busied himself with reorganizing the jars that she had disturbed.

Fifteen minutes later she came back down the stairs with a large soup mug filled with green tea and a larger bottle that, judging by the scent, contained brandy. As she gave to mug to Muriel, he noticed that she must have spent the extra time and effort looking for a cup that fit his hands. The emotional impact of her thoughtfulness was interrupted when she ripped the cork out of the brandy with her teeth, spat it into a corner, and took a deep swig.

Once she came up for air, he decided to confront what had been bothering him. “How do you know about me?”

She lowered the bottle and stared at him in mild confusion. “Was I… not supposed to?”

Muriel didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently the look on his face spoke for him.

“Oh. Oh, whoops. Sorry about that. I, uh…”

He continued to stay silent so that she could elaborate.

Carmen set the brandy on the shop counter and turned towards the piles. “The old me kept some notes on you,” she started. She reached out to one of the piles and a notebook shot into her hand. “Because of the whole Forget-Me thing. She made sure to jot something down every time you met before the spell kicked in.”

She offered the notebook to him, and he set down his yet-untouched tea to flip through it. It was a small, flimsy thing, and he had some difficulty picking the pages apart. Sure enough, there were several notes on his appearance and habits, the entries of which were no more than a few words long, and they were dated some years ago. Back when her hair was short, and her smile was wide, and wildflowers grew in her footsteps. When Carmen continued talking, he remembered the dull-eyed stranger she had become and snapped back to reality.

“So yeah, with hints like ‘about seven feet tall’ and ‘GREEN EYES’ written in capitals, it wasn’t too hard to recognize you,” she said. She studied him intently. “You know, I didn’t know what she meant by using capital letters, but I get it now. Your eyes are really green, like–” Stopping herself, Carmen winced and looked away, blinking hard as if she were trying to wake up from a dream. “Sorry. I’m losing my mental filter. What were you here for again? Asra’s out of town if you were looking for him.”

“I know,” Muriel said. He dug through his belongings until he found a pouch full of myrrh and tossed it to her.

“Oh! Um… thanks?” Carmen opened and closed the bag. “What is this for?”

“To ward off the spell.”

She looked even more confused than before. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know about you?”

“You already do, and I don’t want to have this conversation again.” He turned to leave. At this point, he had far exceeded his limit on social activity. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Huh? But you didn’t even have any– aaaaand he’s gone.” Carmen’s words faded as he shut the door behind him.

 It was well into the night when Muriel returned home. The journey was long enough already, but the added detour he took to replace all the wards by the roadsides added a considerable amount of time. He would have to rest a little before replacing the rest of them. The hut was a welcome sight after the day’s adventure. Though cramped, it was a safe haven from the rest of the world; a place so deep in the woods that it was rarely stumbled upon by strangers. He examined his house’s ward – a bundle of sticks hanging from one of the great tree roots that engulfed the structure – and decided that it was strong enough to leave as it was. Then he opened the door.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. The runes in the magic circle on the floor were thankfully undisturbed, and Asra was still sleeping at its center under a thick blanket, which Muriel had given him when he had to extinguish the hearth on his way out. In the corner, Inanna stirred from her makeshift bed and trotted over to him.

“I’m home,” he said redundantly.

The wolf acknowledged this by placing her head firmly under his hand for scratches. Muriel gave her a standard head-pat and asked her to wait while he restarted the fire in the hearth. When he returned, he pulled up a chair and complied with her request. With his free hand, he began removing pouches from his belts and putting them on the table with the intention of reequipping the ones he’d need before he next left the hut. His task was stopped when he took a pouch he couldn’t recall the contents of and Inanna abruptly leaned out of his grasp to smell it.

Curious, Muriel opened the pouch and pulled out the little notebook that Carmen had handed him earlier that day. He must have absent-mindedly pocketed it. He had no idea when, how, or even if he’d be able to return it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to. It was bad to take someone else’s property, but now that Carmen had some myrrh, she wouldn’t need to read about him to know who he was. He idly opened it to a page somewhere in the middle.

“Doesn’t like to talk. – May 11”

“Shame, he has a nice voice. – May 27”

“Wears a big tattered cloak with a hood. – June 9”

“Likes snow. – July 30”

“WHY DID NONE OF YOU WARN ME HE’S SO HANDSOME – November 3”

Face burning, he closed the book. Inanna, sensing that he was done with it, moved closer and gently took the notebook in her teeth. He released his grip and she retreated to her bed with it.

“You miss her, huh?”

Inanna nibbled on the notebook a little before putting her head down and sighing gruffly.

Muriel looked at Asra and watched his chest rise and fall to confirm that he was still breathing normally. The magician and he had been closer than siblings ever since they were young, and Muriel could feel the emotional weight of the past three years on his shoulders. Even though Asra raised her from the dead, Carmen – their Carmen – would never come back. It had been a bittersweet victory, embittered even further when they realized how truly unhappy she was without her memory. Tonight was not the first time that Muriel had found her seeking refuge from the bottom of a bottle, and it wouldn’t be the last.

When Inanna turned her attention back to the notebook, so did Muriel.

“Yeah… we miss her too.”

[vanchlo]

Birdy (Green Eyes / 2)

Read the first part, Green Eyes, here! :-) 

Blurb Synopsis: After finally meeting the mysterious Mr. Styles you subbed for, you take a job at the same school, right across the hall from him. You’re unsure how much longer you can hide your feelings for him as you’ve grown to become best friends. 

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and a little sad.

Warnings: None

Word Count: Nearly 8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Blackbird by The Beatles (click to listen)

*

Your desk was covered in Twix wrappers, multicolored gel pens, and empty cans of Coke. The new school year hadn’t even begun, and your desk already looked like a tornado had come by. Not to mention the fact that school started in almost three weeks and you hardly had any classroom books. You kept telling yourself it’s a high school English classroom, not a third-grade classroom. There’s a library down the hall for a reason, but the classroom barren of books drove you nuts. Your desk wasn’t shy to books though, as favorites of Harry had found a home on the dark wood. 

Leaves of Grass. 

Catcher in the Rye. 

The Sun Also Rises. 

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

Walking into your classroom on this sunny morning, the thought makes the smile on your face grow wider. Finally, you can say that you have your own classroom. The sight of the week-old books leaves the smile there on your lips. A laugh dances off of them at the sight of the Roald Dahl book, bringing you back to the memory when you found it there one morning. 

You had asked Harry why he included it in the occasional stack of books he loaned to you. He said it’s required reading, because so few people know the movies are based on a book. You’re just wondering when he’s going to slip The Outsiders or Stuart Little under your door next. 

The rows of ancient cream desks stare back at you, and you wonder just how you’re going to command a classroom in a few days. Well, seven of them to be exact. Then you try to remind yourself, for the twentieth time, that you’ve done this before. It won’t be so hard, then. Perhaps you’ll even have some past students, and that should help. Right? 

You’ve barely gotten a few steps into your classroom, because of the thoughts muddling your mind. Sighing, you slip off your bag to leave on your chair. One that some days you don’t even sit in, because your legs are walking miles around your classroom, setting up. Thumbtacks are scattered across the expanse of your desk, reminding you of the unfinished walls. Before you can think about the posters sitting in the corner, a flash of pink catches your eye. Furrowing your brow, your eyes flit back to the flash of color. 

It’s a hot pink Post-It note with messy handwriting in black ink. 

Should I get us burgers or subs for the meeting we have today? 

PS: You’re officially a teacher now with your own pad of Post-Its ;) 

You’re sure that the insane happiness painting your face would look more at home on that of a teenager. Nonetheless, you can’t get rid of it, and you wouldn’t want to. This rings even more true when you see the note is stuck to a copy of Matilda. A warmth blossoms in your chest as you pick it up, running your thumb along the weathered edges. Ones you haven’t touched in ages, it seems. Within seconds you’re stepping into the hallway, thoughts knitting together in your mind. They’re from the love you have deep down for this story, a favorite book, and movie of yours as a child. The elation budding in your mind stops when you find his door closed, just as you had minutes ago. Unable to hide your disappointment, a pout tugs at your lips as you turn around. 

“Ya gotta verdict already? Dat was quick,” a voice drawls from behind you. Your pout is a thing of the past, and a grin is making its way to replace it. Spinning around, your summery dress follows your twirling body. 

A couple paces away, Harry stands at the top step of the staircase. His trademark brown leather backpack is slung over one shoulder. A black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt hugs his upper half, a black and blue flannel covering his arms. His old skool Vans echo down the hallway as he walks towards you. 

“Well, I’ve already read it,” you inform him, observing his content smile turn into a confused one. “A couple of times actually. Once when I was 8, then some other times through the years.”

“Ah, so I got lucky and happened upon a lifetime favourite, have I?” he smirks, only a few steps away now. 

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, your growing hair tickling your chin before you move it away. “When are you going to tell me what your favorite book is?”

“When ya finally guess it right,” he quips, stopping in front of you. A dimple falls into his left cheek as he shows off his sparkling teeth. Okay, sir, it is too early in the morning to be looking this attractive. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop being so chipper when it’s only nine in the morning,” you tell him firmly, but it’s all for show. Poking his chest, your finger just hits pure muscle. Swoon. 

“Then maybe wake up, already, birdy,” he chirps, the Raybans in his hair moving when his head goes from side to side. Chuckling, he grabs hold of your finger and tries to bite it, but you pull away in time. The mention of the recent pet name slows you down, but you haven’t gotten bitten yet. “Ya betta not fall asleep in today’s meetin’ like ya did last week.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. His amused giggle greets your ears as he unclips his ring of keys from his blue jeans. 

“Yes ya did, ya don’t getta lie t’ me, love,” he responds in between laughs, seemingly finding this more amusing than it really is. 

“Oh, so John can fall asleep at meetings, but I can’t?” you ask, your voice raising with laughter and faux annoyance. 

You watch Harry pluck his sunglasses from his head as you walk into his dark classroom. The streams of sunlight speckle desks and pictures donning his walls. As you flick on the light, the smell of oranges wafts over you again. The red bowl sat upon his desk filled with the citrus makes you feel at home, albeit his mere presence does that without fail. 

“No, ya can’t. Sorry, love. I don’t make tha rules ‘round here.”

“Lame,” you sigh, paging through the book mindlessly as you fall into his new chair. He finally splurged and bought a comfy leather one that you steal every chance you can get. 

“Want a Bit-O-Honey, honey?” Harry offers, pulling your eyes away from the familiar pictures. Grinning, you take the wrapped candy from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the pet name. You find it hard to forget as you half look through the book and half watch him peel off his flannel. A sight, indeed. 

“Wait, how’d you put this in my room if the door was locked? The other books you sneaked in when I stepped out,” you ask suddenly, working on the piece of hard candy in your mouth. 

“I tol’ Marty tha janitor I forgot sumthin’ in yer room.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice even though his back is to you. A broad one at that. When he turns just the slightest to peek at you, you find crinkles around his glimmering eyes. 

“Harry!” you scoff, your jaw falling to your chest, although not quite. 

“Oh stop it, ya know ya like it.”

Groaning, you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance, but it doesn’t last very long. 

“I don’t like all of these meetings,” you complain, throwing your head back onto the headrest. You flip to a page that makes you smile at the sight of cartoon Matilda. 

“Get used t’ it, ‘s one o’ tha big differences between bein’ a sub an’ a salaried teacher. Shoulda just stayed a sub then,” he jokes, driving you to pick up a Bit-O-Honey and throw it at his head. Turning away from the things he’s unloading from his backpack, he whines. “Heeey! Watch dat arm o’ yers, ‘s a scary one. Maybe ya should be teachin’ gym class instead.”

“Sports are ew,” you reply, ducking when he throws it back at you. “Harry Styles, you stop it!” you manage in between giggles, finally closing the book. 

“Oh ya, and what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it in t’ose heels, huh?” he teases, his hands leaving the pockets of his oversized backpack. “Ya gonna fly over t’ me, li’l birdy?” 

Huffing, you set down the book on his neat desk. Placing his hands on his hips, he turns to you and sticks out his tongue. 

“Oh, that’s it! You’re going to get it!” you threaten, standing from the chair as his laughter fills the room. 

“‘m soooo scared, boohoo,” he teases with a fake sob, his fists mimicking wiping tears from his cheeks. Snickering, he returns to his backpack. “Go hang up yer posters in yer room and leave me be fer once.” 

“You’re no fun,” you proclaim with a final whimper. Grabbing the book, you come up from behind him, softly hitting him with it on the shoulder. 

“I warned you,” he retorts. Before you know it, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you over to stand in front of him. 

“Warned me about what?” you jest, a giggle wedging its way into your sentence as you drop the book onto a desk. You know that you’re getting on his nerves now. It’s the only time you’ve heard his teacher voice come out, but hey, you’re not complaining. 

His thick eyebrows above those eyes raise, wrinkling his forehead tan from your days at the beach the last few months. Harry pushing you off a rope swing into the water, him bitching about doing all of the paddling during your canoe trip, not so accidentally drenching your back with water from his paddle, and head dunking competitions while swimming. The tan looks far better on him, you think, as you admire the sun-kissed freckles peppering his face. 

“I told ya one time dat yer good at pushin’ me buttons, and here ya are doin’ it. I know I shoulda neva told ya dat,” he mutters, the curls atop his head dancing as his head rocks back and forth. The nervous laughter bubbling inside of you finds its escape, and you know that you’ve done it now. “But I guess ya jus’ don’t listen, do ya, bird?” 

You can’t stop yourself, and there you are poking his dimple with your finger. This time, you squeal when it finds its way between his nibbling teeth. His name leaves your lips in a near shout which only grows worse as his fingers dance along your ribs. 

“Stop, stop!” you cry out, but with no avail. His other arm comes around your middle to trap you with your back against a desk, despite your squirming. His other fingers dig into your sides before finding the soft flesh of your tummy. 

“Stop bloody screamin’, yer gonna make e’rybody think ‘m murderin’ ya or sumthin’,” he titters. You almost give in at the sight of his crinkly eyes and the smile stretching across his face. 

“And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I might jus’ hafta find a way t’ shut ya up, my li’l bird,” he coos from above you, a brunette brow raising. 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, really,” he hums, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your side now. 

His bubblegum lips relax, falling into a knowing smirk. The laughs disappear from the both of you as his fingers still, resting on your side. The seconds tick by as your heart hammers in your chest, because his face is closer than it was a second ago. You gulp, suddenly finding the gold flecks in his eyes you didn’t know were there. Or the smattering of tiny freckles along his nose. That all becomes a thought of the past when his lips become the only thing you can think about as they near you. “Shall I?” Harry says in a breathy whisper, and you’re nodding even before his last syllable hits the air. 

Your skin feels hot and prickly all over as your eyes fall closed, waiting for what happens next. The very thing you’ve dreamed of since that day you dropped the books in front of him. When he took off his shirt at the beach, revealing his toned chest covered in black tattoos. The charisma and kindness he carried at your very first meeting after you were hired, the beginning of you two being joined at the hip. 

His lips are soft when he presses them against yours, and warm. He surrounds your lips with his slowly, as excitement rushes through you. A woodsy smell engulfs you when your nose brushes against his prickly cheek. His lips feel like velvet against yours with the slightest taste of Carmex chapstick. You’re sure he can feel the smile hiding on yours as his top lip fits between yours like a puzzle piece. His thin beard you’ve never seen him without tickles at your skin as your lips mold together. You can still feel the tingle on your lips after he’s pulled away. As well as the one that spreads across your body when those green eyes look into yours. 

“See, I was right. It did get you t’ shuddup,” he mumbles, the blissed-out smirk on his face covering every inch of his skin. You’ve seen his nervous smiles and everything in between, but you’re certain you’ve never seen that smile before. Not that your face is any better, because right now it’s a competition between whose smile is bigger. It might just be a tie, and you wish there could be a tie-breaker. 

“You should do that more often,” you smile, an uneasy laugh bringing an end to your risky words. 

“I think ‘d be happy with dat.”

You try to tell yourself you’re glad his hands didn’t stray to your face, because he would’ve felt the heat of your tomato likened cheeks. There’s no use, because you want them there, but on your sides, as they are is better than nothing. It fills your stomach with multitudes of butterflies just to have your hands on each other. 

His hands draw shapes into your back when you wrap him in a hug. The fresh smell of his citrus body wash fills your nose, your skin touching the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ya gonna get all soft on me now, are ya?” he whispers above you, his cheek against the side of your head. 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can muster as you find yourself dragging the tips of your fingers along his side. 

Raising your head to peek up at him, his eyes drop to you. “Good, I like ya dat way,” he murmurs, running his thumb along the roundness of your cheek. His tongue peeks out of his lips, held between his teeth. “Verdict?” he almost laughs, causing the butterflies inside of you to stir. 

“I don’t know. I think I might need um, another sample,” you smirk, watching a corner of his mouth meet his cheek. 

“Tha’s fair,” he agrees before dipping to plant another kiss to your lips. His lips are even more decadent a second time, and you quickly realize how addicting this could become. You realize it’s the only addiction you’d be okay with having as the tip of his nose caresses your cheek. 

Your lips part with a soft smack, much too soon for your liking. “We should prolly get back t’ work,” Harry snickers, his breath against your face sweet from the caramel candy. 

“Yeah,” you agree aloud, much to your dismay. “I’d give it an A, by the way.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, quirking his eyebrows in response. 

“A long overdue one.”

“‘d say yer right there,” he echos, pinching your cheek between his fingers. Giggling, you pull away as your laughs mix with each other’s. 

“Hey, Harry!” a voice calls, sounding far away. 

You separate quickly, like two magnets repelling each other. It saddens you, but when a colleague steps into Harry’s classroom a moment later, you’re met with relief as you grab the book off the desk. 

“Hi, Trent. Ya ready t’ see who falls asleep first in t’day’s meetin’?” he quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly leaning against a desk. 

“My money’s on John, for sure,” Trent jokes, pressing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh hi, Y/N,” he says, greeting you. You wave with a small ‘hi’ as you stand at the edge of the classroom near the windows uneasily. 

“I dunno, my money feels pretty good on her,” Harry teases, pointing a finger at you before winking. 

“Whatever. I better go take my nap now that you reminded me,” you return, sauntering out of the room and into the hall. 

Out of his presence, the butterflies take flight inside of you. A warmth fills your body all over when you reach the safety of your classroom. Closing the door, you fall against it with happiness jumping from the smile on your lips. Squealing with your hands held to your chest, you soon sigh at the thought of his lips. His lips soon being on yours again, and again, and again. 

Exhaling, you step down from the chair and stare at your hard work. Nodding in approval, you straighten the skirt of your patterned mustard dress. The happy face of Anne Frank looks back at you from the enlarged poster of her autobiography. Dragging your feet over to your desk, you plop onto your brown spinny chair, ignoring your heels forgotten on the floor. You bask in the new ambiance of your classroom, feeling the pleasure from the new posters donning your walls. 

The Diary of Anne Frank. 

Ross from F.R.I.E.N.D.S saying ‘you’re means y-o-u  a-r-e.’ 

The quote, ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not’ - Tyrion Lannister.

A funny grammar poster that makes you feel like an even bigger English nerd. 

Frowning, the last poster in the corner sits there begging to be shown off, but you need help with it. After the events of earlier, you’re nervous to approach Harry. A sweet kind of nervousness, but nonetheless it’s there. Huffing, you grab the edge of the desk to pull you closer. Pressing play, the Queen song crawls from your laptop’s speakers, slowly filling the room. Clicking through your open windows, you finally find the unit plan you’ve been working on. 

Voices carry down the hallway outside your door, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Squinting, as if it will help your hearing, you then tilt your head to look out your half-opened door. Jackson from the nearby history wing walks by, laughing at something somebody said. 

“Dis betta not be a bloody heavy desk, Jack,” somebody responds, amusement laced in their voice. 

“Hey, I know that voice,” you softly whisper to yourself, your lips curling at its sound. 

“You’re the one who agreed to help me! You can’t get out of helping me bring it in now, Harry!”

You hear the melodic sound of his laugh, perhaps one of your favorite sounds. The butterflies return when you let yourself think about getting to hear it as much as you’d like in these walls. 5 days a week for 9 months out of the year- well, something like that. 

A couple seconds later, Harry zooms past your door saying, “Get t’ work!” in a mocking deep voice, winking. 

“You!” you shout back, giggling to yourself with hot cheeks. You attempt to return your attention to the document open on your screen. It’s difficult, you find, because the thing consuming your mind is how nice Harry’s bum looked in those jeans. 

*

Chatter pecks at your ears as you swivel in your chair, watching your new colleagues converse around the table. Your new boss laughs with somebody standing at the room’s front by the projector screen. Reaching forward, you pluck another carrot from your plate to nibble on nervously. Once again, you pull out your phone to busy yourself, only making you feel guiltier for not mingling. You’ve already said at least a ‘hi’ to everyone in this room already, and you have the rest of your career to get to know them, you tell yourself. Bouncing your leg, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. Impatience spreads like a hot wave throughout your limbs, bringing your eyes yet again to the back door to the conference room. When is he going to get here, you guess fervently, counting down the minutes until the meeting starts. 

A thud! surprises you when a white paper bag lands on the table in front of you. 

“Hmm, I didn’t know ya were a jumpa,” a voice snickers, its owner soon coming into view in front of you. Harry. “Why ya lookin’ like a lost puppy, bird?” he coos, pushing out his bottom lip as he pulls out the chair to your right.

“I’m not,” you retort, continuing to scroll through Instagram, stopping when you see a picture of a Goldendoodle puppy. 

“Yes, ya do. What, were ya wonderin’ what’d ya do if I didn’t show? Can’t have ya missin’ yer security blanket now,” he teases, poking you in the ribs with a glint in his eye. 

“Stop,” you giggle, placing your phone face down on the table. Sitting up and eyeing the food, you pinch his thigh for good measure. 

“Hey, watch those fingas, missy. They keep gettin’ ya into trouble lately,” he warns, tsking as his head goes from side to side. Opening the bag, he pulls out a familiar wrapped burger to hand to you. 

“Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

“Shhhh, ya can pay next time. Sound good?” Harry hums, flitting his eyes to you with an eyebrow raise.

You give him his answer with a nod before taking a bite of the cheeseburger. Your boss starts to tell everybody to find a seat so they can begin the meeting. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry sets a packet of fries in front of you. Shooting him a smile, he returns it as he feeds one between his happy lips. Chairs squeak and whine as they’re moved and sat in around the long table. Somebody nudges your foot, and to no surprise, you find it’s Harry. He holds out a covered paper cup, a red straw poking from the top. A ‘thank you’ is held in your smile and he just nods, slipping off his sunglasses to set down. Your attention is stolen by his fingers raking through his curls to put them back in place. 

A thought pops into your head unwarranted, and consumes your attention as the principal speaks. I wonder if this means now I get to run my fingers through those curls, you ponder as you grab a fry. At the most inconvenient time possible, your mind starts to dig around. Doubts soon fill your thoughts, along with questions about what this will be with him. You try to push them away and lock them in a box, but they’ve done their job. Any smile left on your lips is gone now, and you continue to eat your burger quietly. 

“Ya eat jus’ like a bird with t’ose li’l bites,” Harry whispers, scooting closer to the table to retrieve the packets of ketchup from the bag. 

Turning to look at him, he holds a glowing smile in his eyes for you.  His shoe knocks into yours and he leaves it sitting on top of yours. Take that, stupid brain, you announce to your thoughts as you affectionately bump your knee against Harry’s. 

Reverting your thoughts to the towering figure speaking at the front of the room, a smile buds on your lips at the feeling of Harry rubbing his knee against yours. 

*

Rubbing your hands across your eyes, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. Tapping the board with your electronic marker that’s a pen, highlighter, and an eraser in one, you drag it in zig zags. The scribbles on the board disappear in a flash. Suddenly, it falls from your hands when you feel a pair of arms surround your waist. 

“Hiya, bird,” a voice says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Their warm breath tickles the nape of your neck, and so does the collar of their shirt. Spinning around, you find Harry standing there, a pout forming on his face. The adorable Starry Night tie you bought for him hangs loosely over his cornflower blue button-down. “What, why won’t ya lemme hug you?”

“Harry, anybody could walk in,” you insist, prying his arms from your waist. Bending down, you pick up the pen and place it back in its holder with a click. 

“All tha students are gone by now, babe. ‘s half past 3, and any dat are around are at practice. Tha last place they’d wanna be ‘s back t’ a classroom afta their first day o’ school,” he murmurs, wedging his way back into your good graces as he pulls you back into his arms. “I wanted t’ see how me birdy’s first day went. Sooooo, wha’s tha verdict?”

“It was good. A little overwhelming, though,” you hum in return, letting your head fall backward to fit against his cheek. 

“It ‘s fer e’rybody, love, so don’t worry. It’ll get betta, jus’ hang in there. Tha first month ‘s nothin’, that’s tha honeymoon period befo’ e’rythin’ goes wild.” His lips brush against your cheek with every word, the feeling of his ticklish stubble something you’re not yet used to. 

“Harry!” you scoff, turning your head to find his hairy cheeks creased with a devilish smile behind you. 

“‘m kiddin’, well not really, but hey, ya got me t’ help ya through it all. Don’t fret, love,” he tries to assure you, brushing the back of his fingers along your side. “What was yer favourite part o’ yer day, hmm?”

“Seeing some familiar students from when I used to sub. It was nice to catch up with them and hear stories,” you reveal, looking down as you cover his hands settled on your tummy with your own. 

“Mmm, that’s good. Familiar faces are always nice,” Harry mumbles, the point of his nose dragging along the expanse of your cheek. “Did I tell ya yet ya look really pretty in yer new dress?”

“Yes, you did. About three times, but thank you again.”

“Welcome, bird. I hope no teenage boys are crushin’ on ya now,” he jests, planting a loud kiss on your temple. The remnants of his minty piece of gum cover your face in a silent cloud as he laughs at his own joke. 

“Yuck! Oh and like there aren’t dozens of girls fawning over you in your classes?” you chuckle, bringing a whine to his lips when you squirm in his arms. “Put that lip away.”

“Or what? Hmm, what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it? Ya can kiss it away like all tha girls in me classes wanna do, if ya want,” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you turn around. Lifting a hand from his arm, it lifts to brush back the brown ringlets falling onto his forehead. 

“You’re gross sometimes. It makes me wonder how I can kiss that potty mouth.”

“Well ya do, and ya sure seem t’ like it,” he winks, dramatically licking his lips with a loud slurp. 

“Stop!” you exclaim, collapsing into laughter, your head returning to his chest. His hands clasp over your back, his thumb brushing your skin through the jade dress you wear. You’re grateful for your face hidden away in his chest for when you feel his lips pepper kisses from your temple to your neck. He leaves your skin tingling from his magical touch, and his growing curls leave a trail down your neck. 

“I think dis year’s gonna be a good one,” he coos against your ear, letting his smooth nose brush against its lobe. “I got tha reason right here.” 

“Can we do this though?” The words jump from your lips without a chance to catch them and shove them back in their safety. 

“Do what, love? Kiss? ‘Course, ya jus’ take yer lips and my lips, and put ‘em togetha’ like dis,” he wisecracks, lifting your head to show you the humor painting his face. Puckering his flushed lips, he closes the space between you to press a peck to your waiting lips. Pulling away, he quirks an eyebrow at you in silent questioning. 

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” you continue, your words falling short of the thoughts buzzing around in your skull. 

“Then what’d ya mean?” 

“Can we, I don’t know . . ,” you begin, but you lose your footing. Leaving his arms regrettably, you almost lose your footing quite literally when he tries to hold on. A sound leaves his lips at your departure, but you try to ignore it. That’s easier said than done, you realize as you fight with yourself, wondering if you should say that word or not. “Date . . as colleagues?” 

They they are, free to the wind. It feels like coming home and your heavy book bag leaving your shoulders, although this time it’s far less trivial. The similarity doesn’t ease your anxious mind as you stop in front of your desk, fingering at the note that greeted you this morning. A pink Post-It note smattered with his sometimes unreadable handwriting, resting on top of a box of novels he gifted to you for your classroom. 

To my favorite teacher - I know you’ve been dreading this day for months, and looking forward to it, too. You’re going to do great. They’re going to love you. You’re not going to mess anything up. You got this, bird. Remember that. Take it easy on yourself. Remember, you have to take care of yourself, so then you can take care of them. You’ll learn from each other too. Just keep remembering pizza at the beach with me tonight to celebrate your first day. 

Harry xoxooxoxoxo 

“‘Course we can, as long as it doesn’t bleed into our work life. What d’ya mean?” Harry says, trying to inject lightheartedness into his words. You both can hear the failed effect they have, and they only make his words sound sadder. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to like, get in trouble, or something. I just started this job.”

“Oh,” is all he mumbles. Mumbled or not, you hear the finality in his one word. As well as all that it says with that single syllable. 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you find the confirmation you needed knitting together his features. “Harry,” you say, turning the rest of your body to face him. He takes a step back, and now you know you’ve done it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how’d ya mean it?” he retorts, coolness playing in his voice. He knows he’s done it, too. “Hmmm, bird? Ya only care ‘bout dat part o’ it - if we get caught and what people would think? Only wanna keep me a secret?” His words bite as he spits them into the air. They hit your face with a sting, but nothing compares to how he threw your nickname into the mud. The nickname you love, that happened all because of the first meal you shared together. 

“Harry, don’t. You know that’s not what I meant- Y-you’re being ridiculous,” you press, stepping forward. It’s like one step forward and two steps back, because he continues to walk away from you. Quickly, your hands grow shaky as the feeling consumes the rest of your body. 

“No, I know what ya meant. Or ‘s there mo’ ya want t’ say? Want t’ say dat ‘Oh, ‘s too risky, so maybe we shouldn’t do dis anymo’, even tho’ it makes us happy,’” Harry persists, his right hand lifting in question, before it falls with a slap to his thigh. 

“We never even said what this was,” you try to say, but before you get any further, you know you’re just making it worse. You know that he’ll read into your words incorrectly and assume the worst, despite your true meaning. At the realization, your heart pounds harder in your chest. The look on his face like you just slapped him tells you all you need to know. “Harry, wait.”

“No, yer right. We neva said what dis was, but apparently ‘s nuthin’ worth labelin’ or takin’ risks fer,” he grumbles. His head falls with a spiteful smile, but when it lifts again something shatters in your chest. With wet eyes, he continues in a croaky voice, “Then why’d ya take tha job knowin’ I was mad ‘bout ya?” 

Your lips wobble with his name dangling from them. When you try to walk over to him, you’re only two steps in when he holds a hand up. “No, don’t. ‘m glad ya told me early on. ‘m happy I didn’t already start fallin’ fer ya or anythin’. That’d be real shitty, wouldn’t it?” he wheezes, a strange smile tugging at his lips dealing failed sarcasm. Sniffling, a tear falls down his tanned skin and he brushes it away. With a shake of his head, he turns to walk out of the door. You know that you shouldn’t, but you let him, because you know you have to. 

Collapsing at your desk, your head falls into your hands. Tears splash into your palms as your chest shakes, wondering just how you turned the best first day into the worst first day. 

*

You know that a note won’t be there, but you continue to wish as your heels clack down the halls of lockers. You know that you’ll see his face no matter how hard you try to avoid him, and that it’ll hurt more than you thought it would. Although you prepared yourself, unlocking the door to your classroom and finding no notes from him hurts more than you suspected. The hurt only stings worse when you pass each other in the halls with your students trailing behind, eyes falling away instantly. The spark in the air is lost when he huffs, passing you on the way to the vending machine in the lounge, leaving as soon as he came. Although the hurt grew as the attacks came and went, nothing could prepare you for the absence of his notes that week. That was an eventuality you had dreaded thinking of since the day you found the first one, back in his classroom. 

You tried at the very least, albeit an understatement. Notes dropped into his mailbox went unanswered, as well as texts and phone calls. Even the bag of Bit O Honeys failed at their messages of apology. A few times you thought about trudging into his classroom after the bell rang, and hashing it out. Each time you mustered just enough courage to do so, a staff meeting got in the way. Or, within 5 minutes of the bell, his door was locked and he was gone. Speaking of staff meetings, you suffered even worse at those. No longer was he your security blanket at your side, because he no longer saved you a seat. Slowly, the young and pretty visual arts teacher grew to get on your nerves as you watched her be a little too nice to him. He didn’t entertain her taunts and turn to you with a smirk to rub it in your face. No, he was a good guy, and you had to go and ruin it, or what was becoming of it. 

He ignored you - at staff meetings, in the copy room, in the staff lounge, in the halls, when both of your classes were in the library - basically everywhere and anywhere. It was an understatement to say you suffered because of it. You had to buddy up with Jen, the poetry teacher. She took the brunt of your questions, whether technology-related or English related. You became fast friends, but unlike the easiness with Harry, you quickly felt you were a nuisance. That was something he never made you feel like, well, until now that is. 

You made the mistake of getting your hopes up when you found a bag of Bit O Honeys in your mailbox one morning. That is until the white note on it told you in his writing to stop plugging his box with them. Instead, you tossed them on the counter in the staff lounge to share, never wanting to see those yellow and red wrappers again. Quickly, what you thought had become your dream job morphed into a nightmare. His face filled your thoughts day after day, and it especially distracted you when your mind chose the tear-stricken memory. It bled into your lectures and although it stung less when you saw him, without fail every day, it was messing with your mind. It didn’t help when you were beginning a unit on Romeo and Juliet and a student joked you could play Juliet and Mr. Styles could play Romeo, quite literally. 

*

You had been staying after school every day to finish lesson plans, grade tests, reflect on teaching, and plan for the next day. The October chill that arrived this week only made you want to stay in your cozy classroom with the Autumn decorations you hung up. Soon, it would be Halloween and costumes would fill the halls. The thought pours memories into your mind, but a particular one sours the enjoyment for you. The memory of planning a matching costume with Harry. Jay and Daisy from The Great Gatbsy, like the English teacher nerds you are. Were. 

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you reach for your water bottle. A groan finds its way past your lips when you pick it up, only to find it's empty. Standing with it in your hands, you cross the room to your door. After a few steps into the hallway, your movements freeze at the sight of his open door. Biting back any hesitations, your hand shakes when it presses against the wood. 

Something thrilling washes over you when you find his head bent over his desk. His left hand covered with varying rings props his head up as he marks the page with his favorite red pen. A Micron pen, but only you would know that. Pausing, he fiddles with the tan braces strapping his shoulders clad in a handsome white and gray checkered button-down. Words stick together inside of your mouth, and when you hear the click of your shoe, regret surges inside of you. 

“I made a mistake,” you say, testing the waters, although you know they’re stormy. Clearing your throat, you hope the subsequent ones will come out louder and stronger, before he can stop you. Your galloping heart jumps when he lifts his head to look at you, a question painting his face. “I fucked up, and I could never say how sorry I am. I said the wrong things, and I didn’t mean them that way- that’s not the point . . . I miss you, Harry. You’re all I think about, even when I’m thinking of other things, or when I’m teaching. That’s how I know it’s bad, because even though it’s only been a month, it still hurts like it was yesterday,” your voice screeches to a halt. You take one step at a time as he watches you. 

A curl tickles his bearded cheek, making you want to tuck it back into place, but you can’t. A crumb from a chip sits on his chin, making you want to brush it away, but you know you can’t. And neither can you whisk away the worry lines forming around his eyes. 

“I need you, not just to help me figure out how to use a projector or what a conjunction is again. But I need to tell you about the good parts of my day, and even the bad parts. Because even though we haven’t talked for like a month, my mind still goes to you when something good happens, or even bad. Even my students tease that we should be together, so that says something,” you try your hand at joking, but he turns his attention back to his desk. “Harry, please. I’m sorry,” you plead with him, tears catching the last of your words. 

“Sorry doesn’t jus’ make it all go away, bird,” he returns cooly. His head lifts ever so slightly, only to fall. As if he changed his mind a few seconds into a decision.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you Bit-O-Honeys for the rest of your life, grade your papers, check your mailbox, or buy the next meals for a month. Anything.” The apologies run off of your lips, but he doesn’t say anything, nor do his actions. An exhale whooshes over your pursed lips as your nails dig into your clenched palms. Defeat covers your body as you turn to leave. 

“None o’ dat takes away what ya said,” he announces painfully, the new fabric of his chair squeaking with his movements. 

“I know,” you say automatically, a battle waging its way inside of you of whether to look at him. As if his words laced with hurt didn’t already leave you breathless. “So tell me what I have to do.”

“I can’t do dat, bird. Ya should know,” he sighs, clucking his tongue in disbelief. 

Your eyes fall shut and your jaw clenches in anger, but the sweet smell of oranges brings you back to the moment. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like it wasn’t worth being with you, because it was, and I realized that even more after . . what happened. I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was dedicated enough, but I want to be a- I want to show you that I can be, and I want to be that to you. I’m sorry that I care too much about what other people think, because I only care what you think. It’s ripped me apart lately knowing that you hate me, and how you can’t even be around me, and . . ,” your string of words breaks off, stolen away by your onset of tears. They rumble through your chest with tremors, and the embarrassment brings your hands to your face streaked with them. 

The howling of the wind hugs the windows, masking any other sounds. If there were, you can’t hear them, but you do feel something. His fingers wrapping around yours, pulling your hands away from your face. 

“Ya gonna stop now befo’ ya make me cry too?” he hums, one corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With raised eyebrows, they pose the question to you. Nodding fast with hiccups stealing your words, he kneads your hands between his own. “Are ya gonna shuddup or am I gonna hafta make you?” Harry softly laughs. 

“You’re going to have to make me,” you return, stumbling over your sobbed words. 

“Good, was hopin’ ya’d say dat.”

Smirking playfully, he steps forward to cup your face in his hands. The callused tips of his fingers make quick work of the tears staining your face, as well as his lips. “Don’t cry, and don’t ever say dat I hate you,” he coos in between pecks to your wet skin singing with his kisses. “Don’t want me pretty birdy t’ cry no mo’.”

“Your bird doesn’t want to cry and be sad, and miss you anymore,” you whimper, trying to hold it all in, but it comes pouring out. 

“Baby bird,” he pouts sadly, his rose lips round and extended. His brow presses into a sad line as the same emotion carries his words. “Lemme make it all betta.”

Nodding, you hiccup again as you cover his hands with yours. His subsequent smile warms your insides cold and aching from the long days without him. His lips bring a respite when they touch yours, ending the harsh drought. Kissing him back, you revel in the feeling of his unkempt scratchy beard against your face. Just one more thing you missed. Severing the kiss, you mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ against his chapped lips. 

“Shhh, ‘s okay, love. I know ya are,” he tells you before bringing his lips back against yours. They move together slowly, welcoming the return of the other. 

Your mouth falls to envelope his bottom lip in between yours, his facial hair feathery against your mouth. Hungrily, you kiss him and savor his familiar taste and smell. Fingers drifting to his hair, they return home to his buttery curls. His lips pull away only to plant another kiss against your mouth. Too soon, he breaks the kiss with a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“My goodness, lemme breathe, love.”

“Sorry . . I missed you.”

“Ya sure did, bird. Think I missed ya a li’l more, though,” Harry chuckles as your hands fall from his locks. His thumb steals the last hint of a tear from under your eye. The amusement creasing his features disappears swiftly. “‘m sorry too, y’know. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have put meself over yer job. It wasn’t fair o’ me t’ do dat. D’ya think I can have those Bit-O-Honeys back, or were ya serious ‘bout buyin’ me a lifetime supply?”

Groaning, you playfully shove at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms. “I guess I was serious.”

“Hmm, ya don’t sound too serious ‘bout it, bird. But that’s okay, I got all tha honey I need right here,” he replies, planting a kiss atop your head nuzzled into his neck, swaying you back and forth. Nodding, you finally let yourself relax for the first time in weeks at the greeting of his sweet smell. One that feels like home to you. “Wait, yer students said we should be togetha? That’s funny, cuz so did mine.” 

[verai-marcel]

Life Level Up (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Neighbor AU, Part 2 of 3, 18+)

Tags, Summary, & Notes are in Part 1.

AO3 link is here, baby girl.

Word Count: 1764

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

Chapter 2: Low Honor

You stared at your calendar, wondering how three months had gone by without you noticing. 

To be fair, you definitely noticed that time was passing, just not how much of it. After all, you had thought that Arthur’s thirst for you would’ve died down a bit, but most days, Arthur would be pulling you aside and groping you, touching you, trying to get his hands on you in any way possible.

You eventually had to lay down some rules, especially since you worked from home two days a week and he came back two hours before your shift ended. You would stay in the bedroom and work there while he stayed out in the living room. He used to be allowed to come in and hang out with you, but after one too many handsy moments, you had banished him and locked him out of the bedroom.

There had been some arguments, naturally. You expected a few rocky discussions about finances, but when you explained to him why he should open up a bank account with you for living expenses, he finally agreed, even though he had dragged his feet the first couple months about doing it. You were still trying to pay him back for half the expenses the first month because he had insisted on paying them for you, citing that he had asked you to come live with him. He was oddly selfish in a giving way. Although you pride yourself on being an independent woman, needing no one to help pay for you, part of you was tickled pink by the fact that Arthur was willing to pay for a whole month’s worth of expenses because he felt like he was responsible for you moving in with him. The other part of you was truly annoyed by his stubborn male behavior, making you wonder why he was so old-fashioned sometimes.

So time passed as it got closer to your birthday. Suddenly it was a week away, and you realized that you had no plans, and Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything. You didn’t expect him to remember that it was your birthday; after all, you had only told him the date once and he had immediately taken you out for dinner on a whim. He wasn’t exactly the planning type, you’ve realized, so if you wanted something done, you’d have to do it yourself.

But at this point in your life, all you really wanted was a nice dinner and a good back rub.

***

On Friday, the day before your birthday, you opened the bedroom door, done with your work for the day, and was surprised by the smell of fried chicken. With your headphones on, you had not heard the sounds of Arthur leaving to pick up food. Speed walking to the kitchen, you saw Arthur taking out boxes of Korean-style fried chicken. Your mouth watered.

“Hungry? Got you yer favorite, the soy garlic. And those franken tots.”

You squealed with delight. Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his broad back. 

“I love you,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Arthur replied with a chuckle. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

**

The two of you hadn’t sat down and watched a good horror film in a long time. The two of you sat in the living room, eating delicious food, watching the movie, enjoying this delightful date night in. This movie was a little predictable though, so about halfway through, you were already wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, sitting on his lap, your eyes starting to droop.

“Tired, baby girl?”

“Yeah, a bit.” To be honest, the movie was boring you somewhat.

He leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and shut the TV off. 

“We gotta put the food away,” you mumbled.

“Later,” Arthur said as he effortlessly picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. Laying you down, he started taking off your clothes.

“Arthur?”

“Shh, lemme take care o’ ya.”

You let him take off all of your clothes, his hands running all along your skin. As you woke back up, you realized with both anticipation and slight horror where this was going.

“Wait, wait, I haven’t shaved in a couple of days!” you griped.

“I don’t care about that,” he said with a soft laugh as he skimmed his fingers along your thighs. “Unless you do.”

You nodded. “Gimme ten minutes.”

Arthur sighed, but he gave you a patient smile. “Alright, ten minutes.”

Rushing towards the bathroom, you quickly showered, shaved, and lotioned up, not wanting your skin to get dry. You came back out, smelling of citrus and wildflowers, naked and feeling much more sexy than you did eight minutes ago.

Arthur had completely stripped his clothes off, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, his cock in his hand. He was stroking himself slowly as he watched you walk in, his eyes intense, his smile darkening with lust.

“C’mere. I gotchu somethin'.”

You walked over to him as he reached beneath the sheets to pull out a flimsy scrap of fabric. He tossed it to you casually. Finding the straps and holding it up, you realized it was a sheer lace babydoll dress that would barely reach your thighs. It was a beautiful sky blue color, with a darker blue ribbon tied into a bow at the back that would go around under your breasts. Looking up at Arthur with his smug grin, you cocked your hip and held up the lingerie between your thumb and finger. 

"Is this more for you than me?"

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout?" he asked, feigning innocence. "That would never fit me."

You laughed. With a big smile on your face you pulled on the babydoll dress. Noticing that Arthur had closed his eyes, you made sure you had it on properly before you called out to him. 

"Ready, Arthur."

His eyes opened, and you swear his cock twitched at the sight of you. His mouth slightly open, he could only stare hungrily at you for a few moments as his brain tried to form words. Finally he just crooked his finger, fully expecting you to obey. 

You sashayed over to him, crawling onto the bed, making your hips sway as you made your way onto his lap. Swirling your hips in circles, only occasionally dipping your body down to slide your wet slit against the tip of his cock, you kept teasing him, touching your breasts and moaning as he watched, keeping his hands on your thighs until finally he could take no more. Grabbing your hips, he positioned you directly above his dick and pulled you down, making you take his entire length in one powerful stroke.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped.

He slapped your ass. “Ride me, doll.”

You started to ride him, but your slow, deliberate movements weren’t enough for him. You knew you were getting him riled up, so when he finally grabbed you and rolled you onto your back, you grinned.

“Think this is funny?” Arthur growled before he grabbed you by the ankles and started fucking you hard. Spreading your legs, he grinned back at you. “Look at’chu, my pretty li’l whore. Like my cock, don’tcha?”

You could only moan as he used you thoroughly, angling his hips every few thrusts to make sure you felt him from all directions. Twisting your body to the side, he kissed your leg as he continued to ram into you, reaching down to shift the light fabric aside to grab a breast. He squeezed, watching with satisfaction when you gasped. 

“Aren’t you done yet?” you taunted.

“Shut yer mouth,” he retorted, turning you over onto your stomach. His hand wrapped around your neck as he rutted into you from behind. “My slut doesn’t get to talk back to me.”

“I’ll say what I want, when I want,” you said, though it sounded more breathy and less threatening. You loved it when he got like this, using you as his fuck toy, just like he did the first time. You let out a soft grunt when his body came down and crushed yours into the mattress.

“Yer goin’ to be screamin’ my name,” he growled into your ear. “Goin’ to breed you, my li’l whore. Fill you with so much cum, it’ll be drippin’ from you all night.”

“Fuck, Arthur, oh god, Arthur!” you gasped as you came from just his dirty threats, your body spasming underneath him as he pulsed inside of you, his promise to you fulfilled as he pushed his cock as deep into you as possible, his hips smashing into yours. 

“Goddamn,” he moaned. “Fuckin’ take it, baby girl.” His hips jerked forward a few more times before he stilled, his breath heavy in your ear. “Good lord, yer so good.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, Arthur’s weight on top of you a pleasant feeling, like a weighted security blanket. All too soon, however, he rolled off of you. You kissed his forehead before you started to get up to clean yourself off, but he pulled you back by your waist.

“Hold on a second.”

You watched as he turned over and reached towards his nightstand. You heard him pulling open the drawer, rustle around and then close the drawer before rolling back to face you. He held up a small black velvet box.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled.

“Just a present,” he said, handing you the box. “For yer birthday.”

You opened it; inside was a pink gold ring with a brilliant red gemstone. Your eyes started to water, it was so beautiful.

Arthur shifted closer to you, holding your hands in his. “Now this is just a gift, I don’t want to force ya into anything you ain’t ready for.” He took a deep breath. “But if yer ready, let’s get married.”

Unable to help yourself, you broke out laughing. Of course it’d be like this; he wasn’t one for dramatic romantic gestures. Arthur was down to earth, uncomplicated, and direct. When he gave you a confused look at your laughter, you leaned over to kiss his cute nose.

“I’m ready, Arthur. If it’s with you, I’m ready for anything.”

He smiled, took the ring out of the box, and slipped it onto your finger. “You’ve made me so damn happy, I think I’m ready for another round.”

Tossing the box over his shoulder, he rolled over on top of you and started rolling his hips, ready to give you more of his unending love.

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

Epilogue here.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 207

A couple of episodes back, Videl asked Gohan to teach her how to fly.    Today, she’s come to collect on that lesson.   

The problem is that Gohan flies by manipulating the ki in his body to propel himself in midair, but Videl doesn’t even know what ki is.    So Goten blows up a rock to demonstrate what they’re talking about, but Videl has never encountered such a thing before.  

And Videl gets pretty frustrated over this, probably because Gohan and Goten take it for granted.  

This episode has always fascinated me, because it’s the first time that DBZ really goes into how the super powers work.   In Dragon Ball, Goku starts out about the same level as Videl.    Maybe a step behind, even.    But he learns superhuman abilities so gradually over time that it’s hard to tell where the line is between regular martial artists and gonzo-powered martial artists.    Flight didn’t really become a thing until Tien showed up, and sustained flight over long distances wasn’t really a thing until the Saiyans Saga.  

In DBZ, Gohan didn’t even learn ki from anyone.    He just zapped some wood in one episode to start a fire.    That was around the time Piccolo abandoned him to fend for himself for six months.    I assume Piccolo taught him how to fly later on, but I found it curious how Gohan managed to master ki control on his own.   Yeah, he was a prodigy, but still.    

So it’s kind of interesting to see him trying to explain it to someone else.    in Dragon Ball, this sort of knowledge had to be discovered by traveling the world and proving your worth to some obscure master.    Gohan seems to think that everyone knows about ki, and Videl just calls it something else.   I suppose this is because Gohan’s lived his whole life surrounded by people who know about it.  

Gohan sends Goten off to play while he gives Videl a demonstration.    He doesn’t really explain how he’s making a li’l energy ball in his hands, except for vague instructions like “clear your mind”, and the repeated assurance that all living things have ki energy.   

But it’s not so easy for Videl to replicate his ability, an this really seems to bother her.    I’m not sure why, unless it’s because she’s used to being pretty good at martial arts, and she doesn’t like running into a technique like this where she knows nothing about it.   

They break for lunch, and Videl praises Chi-Chi’s cooking as much better than what her cook makes back home.   Chi-Chi realizes Videl’s rich, so she asks how many rooms they have in her house.  

Videl isn’t even sure, so she guesses fifty, and Chi-Chi immediately starts to take a liking to her.    She asks Gohan when they plan on getting married.

And Gohan does a spit take, only his mouth is full of rice and he spits it all over Goten.   

Later, Videl finally gets the hang of Gohan’s lesson, and she looks so happy when she pulls it off.   Gohan’s impressed that she managed it so fast, but she still has to learn to control her ki in order to fly.  

Meanwhile, Goku’s training in Otherworld.   The South Kai shows up to talk smack, and to introduce his latest acquisition, Papoi, a warrior from the South Galaxy who recently died.   

King Kai suggests that Papoi enter the 25th Budokai, but I don’t see how he can.   Goku’s been given permission to return for one day, and maybe Papoi is entitled to the same privelige, but why would he want to blow it on this?   He could fight Goku whenever he wants on the Grand Kai Planet.    Anyway, King Kai show off by having Goku switch from two-ton weights to ten-ton weights.    The five-fold increase is difficult for Goku until he turns Super Saiyan, which is why this episode is often cited by battleboard nerds trying to calculate power level charts or mathematically prove that Goku could beat Superman.   In any event, South Kai and Papoi suddenly decide they have other plans for that day.

Back on Earth, Gohan checks in on his students to find they kind of suck at this.   Goten just keeps jumping up and down, while Videl looks like she’s trying to launch herself into the air through sheer force of will.

But Goten can actually understand Gohan’s instructions, so he figures it out first.    Unfortunately, he only manages to get into the air, and when he tries to go fast he ends up crashing into the ground.     Goten wishes Videl would leave so they could train more seriously, but Gohan can’t send her away until she can fly, so he’s gotta wait.  

Videl insists on staying until she gets it down, but fortunately she’s a quick study.    By the end of the day she manages to float a few inches off the ground, which really impresses Gohan, since he never dreamed she’d get this far on her first day.

Of course, Goten picked it up much more quickly, but Gohan explains that he understood ki already. 

So Videl decides to leave, but she insists on returning tomorrow.    Gohan tries to talk her into practicing alone, but she won’t hear of it.  

So then Gohan suggests that Videl cut her hair.    She blushes and asks if he prefers girls with short hair, and he backs off and says all this stuff about how short hair is better in a fight, since it can’t get in your face and it’s harder for an opponent to grab it.   

Then Videl gets upset and flies off in a huff.    In her aircraft, I mean.   She isn’t good enough at flying to fly home under her own power. 

Meanwhile, Trunks turns Super Saiyan while training with Vegeta in the gravity room at Capsule Corp.    Vegeta had no idea he could do this, but Trunks wants to train harder, because he heard from Goten that he and Gohan plan to enter the Budokai next month.  

So Vegeta decides to test Trunks’ power with some sparring.   Trunks doesn’t get it at first, but Vegeta offers to take him to the amusement park if Trunks can land a single blow.    Also, Vegeta’s been hitting the steroids pretty hard lately.   Dude looks like a He-Man doll. 

Trunks gives it a shot, and he actually does manage to hit his dad once...

...And Vegeta instinctively hits back.     He’s visibly worried at first...

But he’s okay, albeit a bit upset that Vegeta didn’t warn him he would be fighting back.   Nothing a trip to the amusement park can’t fix.

Before they go, Vegeta asks how Trunks stacks up compared to Goten, and Trunks says he’s a little stronger, mostly because he’s a year older and Goten can’t fly.  

Now, episode 2 of Dragon Ball Super establishes that Vegeta didn’t take Trunks to the park until after the end of the Buu arc, but I consider this to be bullshit.   I prefer to think that he took him immediately after this episode, because he said he would, after all.   

Back at Gohan’s house, Videl returns the next day, as promised...

With a really short haircut.  Okay, so I know there are fans who prefer the original pigtails look, and I get it.    It’s a cute design.    But for me, nothing  can top this short hair look, because this episode provides a story to explain it.   Gohan told her to cut her hair, and then the next time we see her, she has shorter hair.    And neither of them are willing to admit why this has happened, but we know, don’t we, folks?

This here is chemistry.    If I off-handedly suggested some lady make some aesthetic change, and then she actually went and did it... well, I’d probably react a lot like Gohan, to be honest.    That’s a lot of pressure, to have that kind of influence over someone’s look.     Then again, you gotta figure this is exactly why Videl did it.   Not because he suggested it, but because she knew it would drive him wild if she went through with it.   The pigtails just can’t compare to that.