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ventismacchiato · 2 years ago

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mr. oblivious

The entire staff at the new school you work at consistently attempt at getting you and another rather aloof teacher, Kuni, together after witnessing you interact quite often. The catch is that you both are married, and none of the staff have figured it out, yet.

scaramouche x g!n reader

established relationship, married, modern teacher au

2.7k words

a/n: sorry if it clogs up ur feed 😭 everytime i do the keep reading thing it crashes for me so, transferred from ao3 so if there’s any weird typos lmk

It took about three weeks at your new job for you to notice something was going on with your co-workers, and your students as well to top it off. It was as if they were all in on some inside joke you weren’t a part of, or perhaps the center of it. But that might just be your own insecurities about being the newest teacher at this school.

You had recently been laid off as a literature teacher after working at the same high school for a few years due to lack of budget to support the creative arts.

So, instead of educating high schoolers, you deemed it would be much better to teach a group of younger kids, much easier and stress free. After a couple of weeks you had gotten a job as the Art teacher at the very school your husband worked at thanks to his recommendation. Everyone there was very accepting of you and you felt right at home, for a while at least.

It was much different then being a literature professor for older kids, now you got to do finger painting for a living. And even though your English degree was collecting dust, (you shed a tear at this every night), you were actually enjoying your time teaching for once. Little children were much more bearable than high schoolers. There were no love triangles you had to deal with, kids giving handjobs under the desks, or getting paper planes thrown at you. The most drama that ever happened in your elementary classes was when Timmie wouldn’t share the red crayons with anyone.

Well, you were enjoying it. Past tense.

Ever since you ended up catching teachers and students halting their whispers when you walked by you’ve been rather uneasy.

You brought it up to Kuni during dinner one night and the other male merely shrugged, but that one was on you though. Kuni didn’t interact with any of his co-workers unless he absolutely had to. It was a surprise he was a favorite teacher among the students, unbeknownst to you it was because the children found the male handsome and his teaching style atrocious.

You were surprised to learn none of your co-workers had even held a coherent conversation with Kuni, despite him working there for much of his career. So when Venti, one of the school’s music teachers, let out a gasp at seeing Kuni sitting beside you in the staff room, he was taken aback. Kuni never went out of his way to make new friends, it seems he was content with the little to no socializing he did in college and called it a day.

“So, what’s your secret?” Venti sang, sidling up next to you as he poured himself a cup of coffee, “How’d you get the ever so stoic Kuni to talk to you for longer than a minute?”

“What are you on about?” you chuckled, taking a tentative sip of the hot beverage, you didn’t want to burn your tongue again, it had ruined your entire week last time, “I just talk?”

Venti and you quickly clicked upon your moving careers, there was something calming about the constant chitter chatter that left his mouth. Although, it was also a little annoying at times. Like right now.

“Last time I did that he just glared at me,” Venti dramatically sighed, “Maybe he has his eyes on you.”

“Ooh, are we talking about KuniYn?” Lisa grinned, the actual English teacher, walking into the staff room.

“What the hell is KuniYn?” you questioned, growing uncomfortable, why was everyone obsessing over you and Kuni? Was this their way of welcoming you?

“I’m going to exit this conversation now,” you mumbled, turning around when you bumped into the other half of said conversation.

And to your horror, a little splash of his coffee landed on the other male.

A collective gasp was heard from the staff room, preparing themselves for the ever so aloof male to lash out. Last time Bennett spilled his drink on Kuni the dark-haired male had the entire staff shaking in their seats.

“Careful,” Kuni mumbled, catching his arm on your shoulder to steady you before making his way past you to make himself a cup of coffee, not batting an eye as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it to lessen the soak.

“Fuck, sorry,” you immediately apologized, grabbing the napkin from Kuni and placing your mug down, “Do you want my jacket?”

“It’s fine,” Kuni assured, picking up your mug and handing it back to you before grabbing his own mug that was now full and leaving the room, but not before patting your waist fondly on his way out.

You made sure to pointedly ignore Venti and Lisa’s loud snickers as you hurriedly left the room.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Everyone’s intentions became clear when you overheard your own students conversing about you. The utter betrayal.

You were running a little late to your class that afternoon after a lively student had spilled glitter on you earlier that morning, you spent a good five minutes scrubbing it off your hands in the staff bathroom before making your way back to class. You had left your classroom door ajar in a hurry to leave, which made it easy for you to eavesdrop on your students when you heard Kuni’s name spoken for the nth time that day.

“I saw them eating lunch in Sir Kuni’s room the other day when I went to get my backpack!” Luo insisted, a lollipop hanging halfway out of her mouth as the group that had gathered around her table eagerly nodded along to her story, “I think they like-like each other!”

“Like-like?” Qiqi drawled out, tapping her chin, “That’s very serious.“

“We should make them be a couple!” Klee giggled, clapping her hands, “Teacher Y/n is very nice! Mister Kuni is too strict for them but it’s okay.”

So this was what your coworkers were giggling about, they thought that you and Kuni were pining for each other. Which wasn’t necessarily untrue, but had Kuni really not mentioned being married even once?

Truth be told, you never wore your ring to school, you didn’t want any paint or glitter to get stuck between the diamonds and have to pay to get it cleaned, but did Kuni really leave his ring at home too? Seems even Mathematics teachers were prone to disasters via children.

“Alright, back to your respected tables, please,” you greeted as you made your way back into class, ignoring the exuberant glances the children gave you. “Valentines is coming up this week, how about we make little cards for your friends?”

“Or boyfriends,” Klee giggled behind her hands as the class shrieked in laughter. You merely patted her on the head and sighed. Today was going to be quite the long day.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“—I say we send Y/n a Valentine in Kuni’s name, we all know he won’t do it himself!” Venti rebuked, pointing an accusatory finger at Hutao.

“Shouldn’t we give him the benefit of the doubt!” Hutao huffed in response, “They’re clearly into one another.”

“You got it all wrong, Y/n will make the first move and we should allow them to do so,” Xingqiu, the school’s librarian, drawled, tapping his finger on his chin. “I believe they will ask Kuni out on Valentine’s!”

“Are you guys chatting about me again?” you deadpanned, already backing out of the room, but your back ran into something, or rather someone.

“Clumsy as always,” Kuni murmured, placing a hand on your waist and gently pushing you out of the way, “What are you idiots looking at?” he questioned, glaring at Venti who was stifling a laugh.

“You never come in here, I should be interrogating you!” Xiangling defended, hands on her hips.

“Lunch,” Kuni dryly stated, reverting back to his one word answers, and handed a bag to you, “You said you were craving Chinese earlier.”

The familiar smell of fried rice wafted through the room as you peered inside the bag, “You remembered? Thank you.”

Kuni hummed, turning to leave the staff room and hermit himself in his classroom once again.

The moment he left all hell broke loose.

“SEE! I knew Kuni would make a move!”

“But it’s not Valentine’s yet! Y/n still has a chance!"

“We should just lock them up at this rate, this is getting frustrating.”

You clutched the bag tightly and walked out the room, ignoring the shouts questioning the nature of you and Kuni’s relationship that your coworkers shot behind you.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Kuni?” you called out, knocking on the door as you opened it, which took away the action’s purpose but you were impatient.

Said male looked up from where he was typing and gave you a glance before averting his eyes back, humming to show he was listening.

“Have you eaten yet?” you asked, shutting the door behind you as you pulled up one of the students’ chairs to sit beside Kuni, leaning back into it as Kuni gestured to his half finished take out box.

“Everyone thinks you and I have a crush on each other,” you blurted, leaning your chin on your palm as you watched Kuni work, watching how his nimble fingers came to a stop at your words.

“A crush?” Kuni repeated, turning to face you, “What? That’s childish.”

“They don’t know we’re married!” you huffed, “Did you not tell them? Where’s your ring?”

“It never came up,” Kuni mused, “Last time I wore my ring I took it off to help a teacher out and when I came back the brats were tossing it, so I started leaving it at home.”

“Oh, it seems they’ve never seen us with our rings,” you frowned, causing Kuni to spin on his chair to face you, an amused smile on his face.

“They just can’t believe I managed to make you mine,” Kuni shrugged, chuckling at the immediate shove you sent to his shoulder.

“Stop trying to be corny,” you smiled, reaching out to tug on his dress shirt and yank him closer.

Without a second of hesitation, your guys’ lips interlocked as if it were second nature. The familiarity behind Kuni’s every touch was still as refreshing as it was years ago when you both first met.

The moment was interrupted with a gasp from afar, and both of you pulled apart to see who had walked in on them, exhaling a sigh of relief to see it wasn’t one of the students. But perhaps this was worse.

Kazuha was staring with a flushed face before he realized he had come over for a specific reason and walked up to Kuni’s desk, dropping a file onto it which led Kuni to groan and sadly flip through it.

“So how long have you two been together?” Kazuha drawled, leaning forward as Kuni shot him a glare. Despite being one of the few people Kuni actually sort of talked to, it seems even Kazuha hadn’t known of their relationship status.

“Since graduating college, married now,” you answered, earning a smile from Kazuha as he nodded, turning to make his leave.

“I’m so winning this bet–”

“What bet? KAZUHA GET BACK HERE! WHAT BET?!”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Valentine’s day had finally decided to make an appearance, and the school would not let it pass by without a proper send off. The hallways were adorned with pink ribbons and little drawings the kids made, along with the occasional love is love poster and rainbow flag. There were streamers hanging on every doorway, and you couldn’t count how many kids you had to help untangle themselves after getting stuck.

At least it looked pretty.

“I tried to get them to sing Bad Romance, can you believe they’ve never heard of it?”

“Venti, they are children,” Kazuha mused, shaking his head as he unwrapped one of the many chocolates they had lying around for Valentines.

“As their other music teacher you should add it into the curriculum,” Venti huffed, perking up as you entered the room, “There they are!”

“Me?” you repeated, about to take a seat next to them when Xingqiu pointed to the large basket of flowers sitting on the table, “Looks like someone has an admirer,” you added, peering into the basket.

“It arrived this morning, the card says it’s addressed to you? But there’s no sender,” Xingqiu mused.

“Coward,” Lisa reprimanded, “How will I get my daily dose of drama if I don’t know who it’s from?”

“I can infer,” you laughed, tugging on the card, “Probably my husband,” you thought aloud as you read the writing, a smile growing on your face. You were so absorbed in the note that you didn’t notice the staff room grow quiet.

“Hold up, you’re married?!” Venti shrieked, getting up from his seat, “No way.”

“Is that unbelievable?” you frowned, holding up your left hand, “Been married for six years now.”

“Oh my god, we’ve been trying to set you up this entire time!” Xiangling cried out, covering her mouth, “This is so embarrassing! I didn’t know you had someone at home!”

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t know,” you sheepishly laughed, twirling one of the flowers from the basket between your fingers, “You guys have met him before.”

Kazuha snickered behind his chocolate bar as the other staff looked at him.

“So THAT’s why you made a bet saying Y/n married to someone, I thought you just had a gambling addiction,” Xiangling scoffed, hitting Kazuha on the shoulder as he cackled.

“Pay up,” Kazuha grinned as you shook your head.

“Can’t believe you all made a bet and tried to set me up,” you mumbled.

“Yikes, I told Kuni I would get him a date tonight with you offhandedly,” Lisa admitted, looking ashamed as the door to the staff door opened.

Kuni stepped in, but instead of letting him pass by unnoticed as usual you tugged on his sleeve, shooting him a soft smile.

“Thank you for the basket, Kuni,” you thanked, caressing the other male’s arm to show your affection. Neither of you were big on pda, it was a lot for you both to even hug in public. Mostly due to Kuni’s awkwardness with it, but he made up for it by showing affection behind closed doors.

Kuni merely hummed, awkwardly shuffling his feet, you felt a little bad about putting him on the spot but you wanted to show off your husband for once!

“Pause,” Venti stated, pointing between the two of them, “No fucking way.”

“I just lost so much money,” Lisa groaned, sucking her teeth and already pulling out her wallet as Kazuha gleefully counted his bills.

“I’m still processing,” Xingqiu murmured, staring between the two of them, “What, when, and where?”

“I don’t know what you mean by what, we started dating in senior year of highschool, and got married in the town Kuni grew up,” you answered, firmly grasping Kuni’s arm so as to not let him escape. He was already trying to run off.

“I owe Kazuha money?” Albedo questioned as he overheard the conversation walking into the staff room, “No way was his hypothesis correct.”

“Suck my dick,” Kazuha grinned, opening his palm as Albedo sighed and slapped a twenty on it, rolling his eyes as the other male gloated.

“You guys are so fucking annoying,” Kuni complained, but his threat didn’t look at all intimidating as you was pinching his cheek, “Do you really have nothing else to do then try to set me up? No wonder the education system is shit.”

“I’m surprised you even managed to score someone,” Venti giggled, dodging the box of candy Kuni picked up and tossed at him.

“I still have more game than all of you, where’s your partner?” Kuni countered.

“The audacity,” Albedo murmured as Venti huffed in response, the staff room bursting into laughter.

“Guess we need a new project,” Venti grieved, scanning the room till his eyes landed upon Kazuha, “I guess I’ll set you up with someone.”

“You’re gonna what?!” Kazuha exclaimed, his face aghast as the staff immediately started listing off potential candidates

You laughed as you watched Kazuha practically run away from Venti, who was interrogating him on which teachers he found the most attractive.

Your new co-workers were a bit crazy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#kai writes — 📝#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin scaramouche #teacher scaramouche #genshin teacher

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o-sunny-day · 2 months ago

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the soda machine is gushing out fluid at an alarming rate

“Should we…tell someone?”

“i kinda wanna see this ride out”

You ever take your sibling out to the gas station at 3AM? yeah thats what I thought would be fun to draw these guys doing…

(its a deltarune universe thing too so thats why Papyrus is shorter, they’re way younger here, like 12 and 18)

Its been a HOT minute since ive posted some undertale/skelebro art so thought id share (im so sorry if you originally followed me for undertale stuff, it’ll still happen, im just currently fighting another beast)

#papyrus wont have junk food but he’ll take a carmel apple #new headcanon #i got a whole narrative to this too that I dont have the emergy to draw rn HBDCHHD #but all thats important is…#hehehehe silly siblings doing silly sibling things….#undertale #undertale fanart #undertale doodle

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tinytennisskirt · 10 months ago

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Cottage Culture

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader, Art, and Patrick have been best friends since fourth grade. Older now, the three of them spend some time at reader’s cottage and it’s a few nights of buildup, a few nights of drinking, a few nights of misplaced tension until it all unfolds in Art’s favour.

Warnings: they all flirt with each other casually (it’s part of their dynamic), casual touch, mentions of sex, mentions of physical arousal, suggestions of masturbation, smoking, drinking, lots of fluff but also a lot of suggestive material… slowburn. unedited from my notes app.

They say trios never last, but yours managed to for years. You, Art, and Patrick had been close since grade four on and were still as strong as ever. Finally, after a month of planning, the three of you pulled up to your (now deceased) grandparent’s cottage that your parents maintained. It was mid-July and the heat was at its peak with hot days and warm nights with cool wind. The plan was to spend some time up here kayaking, swimming, playing pool, paddle boarding and fishing.

You each hauled a good amount of stuff from the car and began unpacking it. Everyone was tired from the drive, there were a few words spoken but hardly any altogether which was rare for the three of you, but once things were away there was less to worry about the next day and the three of you crashed on the couch.

Patrick sighed heavily as he sat down feet on the floor, arm draping over the armrest like a rag doll. “I’m out of my mind tired,” he yawned. “Since when does driving five hours count as a lullaby?”

“I think it might have been having so much fresh air with the open windows,” you said, sitting next to Patrick, body slightly turned. Patrick shoved your head and you only grinned, leaning back against him. Art followed suit, falling over the other arm rest, his head landing perfectly in your lap. He shut his eyes. You placed your hand right on his forehead and he smiled.

“He’s dead,” Patrick said. Art opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Patrick.

“Not dead, but dead tired,” he said. “I think it was the fresh air.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been so tired after driving up here and I know we all slept well last night.” You said, resting your hand on Art’s shoulder. He placed his hand overtop yours. “But at least we know we’ll be fine tomorrow. No way I’m not falling asleep in the next twenty minutes.” You sighed. “If I can get off this couch.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Art groaned.

“Too much,” Patrick groaned just the same. You all shared a small chuckle, too tired to laugh. “Plus I can’t get up until you two do, I’m stuck here.”

“I’m never moving,” Art groaned. You smiled at his closed eyes, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

“That means I can’t move. Sorry Patty.” You shrugged. Patrick just groaned and covered his eyes and with a mighty push he unwedged himself from the couch arm and you tipped a little without someone to lean on.

“What? I’m strong,” Patrick said, flexing a little. You and open-eyed Art both grimaced at him, fighting a shared smile. “But that took the rest of my energy. I call dibs on the bedroom by the kitchen.” He said, walking away, you followed him with your head turning.

“Goodnight, Patrick!” Art called.

“Goodnight, Art!”

“Goodnight, Patrick!” You called back.

“Goodnight Y/N!” He yelled as he shut the door. There was a lot of yelling involved when these two were around. You sighed, tipping slowly so your head could rest on the arm rest opposite the one Art’s legs were draped over. You looked at him, his eyes shut again, his head still happily in your lap.

It was just you and him. They say a trio never works because there’s always a duo, but for the three of you, every duo had its purpose. From an outsiders perspective, Patrick and Art as a duo were best friends, pals, tennis freaks who shared their passion and worked together. Fire and Ice.

You and Patrick were something else. Some people would say something like you and Patrick had a love-hate relationship but it was all love and all hate all of the time. Little quips and jabs at each other, debating things all of the time.

And from an outsiders perspective there was no way Art wasn’t completely in love with you. There just wasn’t a chance that he wasn’t. Nobody ever looked at you and Art and thought first that you were only friends. You didn’t act like friends much. You were usually touching in some form but it was like that with Patrick too, but admittedly not as much.

You stayed still a while and you were pretty sure that Art had fallen asleep on your lap. “Art,” you whispered. Nothing. He was asleep. You wondered if you ever looked so peaceful when you slept. You felt terrible leaving him there but you were nifty in replacing your thighs for a pillow, not even making him stir in the slightest. You grabbed him a blanket, covered him up and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.” You whispered, heading to your room. You flopped down on the pillow and it was lights out.

Falling asleep at nine thirty had the perks of helping you wake up early. You woke up quietly, still in the clothes from the day before so you changed into your jean shorts and a big t-shirt, brushed your hair and did a little bit of makeup- cottage style because you didn’t need much out here.

The boys liked to sleep in, so you knew they’d be up a little after you, given the time they all fell asleep. You got up and walked past Art, still fast asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. You quietly started on breakfast, chopping peppers, cutting pre-sliced ham, cracking eggs into a pan. He was far enough away that it wasn’t too loud and he stirred on his own. You heard him get up and turned to face him.

He cracked his neck as he stood up and walked wordlessly over to you cooking your omelets. He yawned before he spoke, stretching his arms up into the air, a peek of the v in his waist and happy trail just barely showing. He dropped his arms to his side. “Good morning,” he said, yawning again. He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, trailing it over to your other shoulder as he opened the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Good morning,” you replied as he grabbed two cups and poured the juice into both. He slid one over to where you were cooking. “Thank youuuu.” You smiled. He kissed your shoulder and slid past again.

Patrick opened the door of his bedroom, “I smell food.” He said. It wasn’t like him to say good morning anyway. His eyes panned to the stove, then you.” Oh hey housewife.” Patrick said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the cup of orange juice Art had poured you. Art took a seat at the table just behind where you were cooking.

“Hey househusband,” you said, giving Patrick your spatula, swapping it out for the juice and taking a seat next to Art. “Oh you don’t like cooking? Too bad.” You said.

Patrick fake-sneered at you before smiling and finishing up the eggs. You looked at Art and clinked your cups of orange juice together. Art cleared his throat, “I think we should play scrabble and head down for a swim after breakfast. Thoughts?”

“What about snakes and ladders instead?” You pitched, Art’s eyes widened and he grinned a yes.

“Sounds good,” Patrick agreed. “Though you know I’ll kick both of your asses. I’m really good at snakes and ladders.”

Art chuckled, “You can’t be good at snakes and ladders, buddy. It’s a dice game.”

“What can I say?” Patrick said, swinging the spatula around. “I’m good with dice.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at Patrick. He stuck out his tongue right back at you and you turned, tongue still out to Art, who tried to nab it, but was too slow.

Breakfast was good, the morning into afternoon plans set. Patrick, of course, came last in snakes and ladders. You all went and changed into your swimsuits when things had digested. You brought a book and a towel down to the little beach of the cottage but you knew you wouldn’t be reading it. You took pride in being faster than the boys because you did get to sit in your coverup for about five minutes, just you and the water and the roar of boats on the lake. Your grandparents owned a boat but you’d take it out later, probably.

The boys didn’t just come down to the beach, they came rolling. Patrick shoved Art right into the shallows, splashing you and your coverup. Time to yourself was over, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an ass!” Art called from a few feet in. Shirt off, blonde curls soaked down. He slicked his hair back. “I’ll get you back for that, I swear to god.”

“From there?” Patrick laughed from the boat dock. “You’re going to get me from down there?”

“No, but I will,” you said, shoving Patrick into the water from behind. He fell from the dock and right into the shallows, splashing Art. You and Art couldn’t contain your laughter watching Patrick blow water from his nose.

“It burns,” he said, chuckling and wiping water from his eyes. You and Art kept laughing like you were mad. You, planning on jumping in, dropping your coverup on the dry deck and you kept laughing, but neither of the boys did. You didn’t notice, though.

They, however, noticed you. Being friends for so long, they knew what you looked like, but they were still boys. You in a bikini was a treasure neither of them could pass up on for themselves. If anyone asked yeah they’d deny it, but they both thought you were quite hot from time to time…. Art, more so.

Patrick nudged Art twice in the arm as they both, open-mouthed watched you walk to the end of the dock into the deeper area. Neither of them took their eyes off you, Patrick grabbing Art’s arm for some form of support like ‘you’re seeing this too’ for the new bikini moment.

Art was seeing it for sure. The bikini. You. He was seeing you for sure… You turned at the end of the dock and both boys had to pretend like they weren’t staring. “Are you coming?” You called. Both boys snapped into it and started swimming as you jumped in, splashing them both.

You surfaced and it turned into a full blown splash fight, all of you treading and swimming around trying to avoid each other swimming underwater. You went a little more shallow where you could all touch and it was worse then, gaining the ability to dodge better, stand and fall.

Wordlessly, Art and Patrick called a truce and both turned on you, Art holding you like a shield as Patrick used all the force of his arms to splash you. Art let go a little early so you wouldn’t feel how he was feeling about so much of your skin against his. He couldn’t help it- it was you

“Okay! Okay, please! Truce!” You yelled above the sound of churned water, spitting lake water from your mouth. You held your hands in front of you and wiped the water from your face, moving your wet hair from your face. Patrick obliged, his arms were tired. You started laughing, finally able to breathe, standing up in the water, your bikini in full view again, you in full view. “Oh my god, you’re ruthless.” You sighed, hands on your hips.

“Only what’s deserved for that stunt on the dock,” Patrick retorted, stepping forward and tapping you under your chin. He was in your face, you stuck your tongue out and got his nose. Patrick lunged for you but you leapt back into the water to escape, back toward Art who was quietly hyper-fixated on how your the sides of your bathing suit were only tied in a bow…

You swam around behind Art and wrapped your arms around his neck, wet skin on wet skin. “You have to save me,” you giggled in his ear and he was glad you were behind him instead of in front. Instead, Art just tilted himself backwards, dunking you under the water.

After an hour of swimming, you were all sitting in the wooden lawn chairs near the beach, surrounding the fire pit. Patrick and Art were engaged in some conversation about their last tennis game and you got to lay in the sun, eyes shut, body stretched out.

Patrick kept his voice low, “You see the bows on the side?”

Art’s eyes widened, “Yes! Yes I saw them.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you ever forget what she looks like?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I usually see her the same way I did when we were in grade four, but sometimes I wonder about it and you have to admit, she-“

“Looks great. Yeah.” Art agreed, glancing over at you sunbathing.

“How many boners do you have left, goddamn,” Patrick teased Art, shoving him a little from his chair. Art just laughed.

Come dinner, you changed out of your bathing suits and into comfier clothes. You sat around the fire and roasted hot dogs. Patrick ate an entire pack shamelessly and you and Art each had two. You debated zombie apocalypse survival tactics and you and Patrick were getting a bit heated and you both ended up standing up. Art just watched, leaned back in his chair. You were passionate.

You huffed when Patrick won the debate, not listening to your side of reason and you decided it was better to just sit on Art’s lap. He didn’t expect it, but it was somewhat normal. You had your legs sideways over the chair and you in your shorts was sitting on him. Naturally, one hand of his went against your back and the other rested on top of your thighs. He was praying to god you couldn’t feel the seventh boner of the day. “Realistically, don’t you think the apocalypse would die down? They’re rotting people, they’d probably decompose anyways. Your theory sucks.” You said, finalizing the argument.

Art nodded, shrugging. “I think she’s right.” He nodded.

“You’re dick-riding,” Patrick told Art. “Tell me it wouldn’t be cool to have a bunker anyway.”

“It would be cool to have a bunker,” Art reasoned with you, looking up at you from under you.

“It would be cool, but necessary? Probably not.” You said. “Plus it’s not about being cool, it’s about being alive.”

Patrick shook his head, “I think being cool and alive are both important.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. The crickets chirped and the sun set and you stayed out there until the mosquitos became too much. Patrick put the fire out and you all headed up for another few board games and rounds of crazy 8’s until you were yawning.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” You passed by Art, kissing him on the top of the head and by Patrick, roughing up his hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Art said, following you with his eyes as you slipped into the far bedroom. Patrick echoed the goodnight. Art put his head in his hands immediately. “She’s insane.”

“I was going to say-“ Patrick said, voice down. “That lap move was crazy. You in your swim trunks too, man that has to be hard.” He chuckled at the double entendre. “I would be too.”

“It was so bad,” Art groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just pretending she felt nothing.”

Patrick grinned and slapped him on the back, “I would too, buddy. I would too. Good luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Art said. Patrick stood up and turned a few of the lights out. “You heading to bed?”

Patrick grinned, his dimple crawling up his face. “Ehh… something like that.” He winked and said goodnight, shutting the door to his room. Art wondered if he should do the same, considering. He chose against and just went to bed… hard again.

You woke up first again. The morning was chilly and the clouds covered the morning sun. You had packed a sweater but it was thin and you still shivered in it as you made up the pancake batter. You swore Patrick slept in just to be off of cooking duty…

You shivered over the stove, but Art’s big Stanford sweater was draped over the back of the couch. God, you were so glad. You pulled off the thin one and put on the big sweater with your comfortable leggings. It was much better. Your hair was still messed and wavy from the lake water, but you’d managed to clip it up again before pouring the batter into the pan. Like clockwork, Art was up.

He did a double take when he saw what you were wearing. He didn’t mind, but he had to admit he liked that you were wearing it. It smelled like him, you noted. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hair a mess of blonde curls, perfect bedhead. You hated how boys could just wake up gorgeous, it wasn’t fair. “How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Like a baby,” you replied. “You?”

“I don’t even think I rolled over once,” he said, smiling. He started to set three plates on the table along with the cutlery. “My sweater?” He teased, tugging at it as he went by.

You grinned, “Yes I stole it, but it’s freezing this morning. I needed it.”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he shrugged. “Looks better on you than me.”

You played the pancakes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Keep it if you want, honestly. Lend it to me now and again, but you can have it.”

Patrick opened the door to his room, yawning. “This is why you’re my favourite,” you spoke up, eyeing him in his doorframe, loud enough so Patrick could hear. Art laughed watching Patrick’s expression change.

“I thought I was your favourite,” Patrick said, arms up in the air in mock-disbelief. “You just go around telling every guy that?”

You tossed Patrick a pancake like a frisbee which he caught. “Nice try. It’s only Art.”

“Is it?” Art said, grabbing the syrup. He looked you in the eyes, pretending to judge. “I’m okay with Patrick and I being sisterwives. We’ve been sisterwives before.”

“Y/N and I are the only sisterwives here,” Patrick said, mouth full of pancake. “Both married to you apparently. So are we day drinking today or what?” He sat at the table.

You laughed, extending your legs so your calfs rested on Art’s lap like a human footrest. You and Art chuckled, “I think that’s something for tomorrow.” Art said. “I want to take the boat out.”

“And you don’t want hard lemonade on a boat?” Patrick gasped, leaning in and putting both hands on the table. “Boring!”

“Okay, maybe,” you nodded. “But we have to have one night dedicated to being drunk that’s why I brought what I did.” You grinned. “Gotta save the supply.”

“Good plan,” Art agreed.

A day spent on the boat was fun. It was a lot of laughter and card games and maybe a hard lemonade or two. You wore a one-piece this time that had shorts built in so it was a little easier for Art and Patrick. Patrick wasn’t afraid of any seaweed and jumped right into a patch and Art found it cute how you could barely look down at the water in the seaweed patch. Seaweed grossed you out.

You and Art sat thigh to thigh almost the whole time aside from when you’d gotten up to twirl a bit to the music on the boat’s radio. He watched you in your bucket hat and sunglasses sway and spin and you were so gorgeous…

Sunset burned red in the sky and you headed back, having spent the whole day either in the shade or the sun on the boat. You were tired, more tired than either of the boys, you leaned against Art in the driver’s bench of the boat as he steered the boat back to the dock. He was acutely aware of your eyelashes as when you blinked with your face smushed against his arm he could just feel it. It was sweet. Patrick anchored the boat and Art scooped you up no problem from where you sat.

“I’m not that tired,” you complained, but you secretly liked it. Patrick smacked you in the foot that was raised in the air from the way Art had you. “Hey, stop it!” You called. Patrick stole you right out of Art’s arms and your tiredness faded for a moment as you fought him- Patrick nearly fell in the water. “God you’re such a freak!” You called out as Patrick hopped up the steps to the cottage. “Art, help!” You called out.

Art just grinned and followed. Patrick did set you down and you went and showered the day off in the shitty little cottage bathroom. You came back out after your shower in just your shorts and Art’s sweater. He could tell you didn’t have a bra on. It was cute.

He took his turn to shower, leaving Patrick with the cold water shamelessly. He complained, but it was funny. You and Art laid on the couch, this time your head rested on his leg. Art gently traced the brighter bits in your hair, just the pieces that shined a little extra while wet, with a gentle finger. You were tired. Art pulled your hair back from out of your face, “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” All your dancing and swimming and boating and sun just about wiped you out. This time, Patrick in the shower, nothing stopped Art from picking you up and taking you to the room you’d claimed. He awkwardly but surprisingly was able to move the blankets back with his foot and he set you down gently on the sheets, making sure your pillow was under your head. You were hardly awake, the way you were so completely and utterly exhausted. He moved your hair from your face just once more and pulled the blanket over you, but as he got up from the edge of your bed you stopped him.

“Just one more minute,” you said. It didn’t make much sense, one more minute of what? But how could he say no?

He left when you were fully asleep and intended on going to bed himself but Patrick challenged him to a game of cards and he obliged. Patrick grabbed Art’s knee. “You’re looking at her way too much, man.”

“Uh huh and you don’t? I see you stare just as much as I do,” Art smirked, playing his good cards. “She’s pretty, it’s hard to see past that.”

“A little too pretty. I wish I brought a porno just so I can remember that she’s not actually all that.” He didn’t mean it in a mean way, he meant it as in you weren’t the only girl in the world. He said it, but it was part of the loving insults he liked to throw out.

“Mmm,” Art nodded. “We should head into town tomorrow for some cigarettes.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, squeezing Art’s knee and grinning wide. “I need that and a few shots at the local bar and the sight of a woman. ’m sure Y/N would like a few hours to sunbathe.”

Art grinned too, “Yeah, I think so.”

And the next day rolled around just the same. The boys explained their plan and you were more than on board with a few hours to yourself. They headed out and you went down to the beach to sit under your umbrella and read.

Patrick grabbed Art’s leg in the car as they pulled up to the local bar. “I don’t even care who I see, I just need to remind myself there are other women in the world.” Patrick jogged in and Art decided to wander to the nearby convenience to pick up some cigarettes. He grabbed those and some red liquorice, knowing it’s one of your favourites. He also grabbed some more matches and a lighter just in case, paying for it all and walking back to the car. Patrick stood outside it, looking a little sulked.

“Not a single woman in there. I give up. Had two shots though,” he grinned. Art held up the cigarettes and Patrick brightened right up. They shared one and got back in the car for the trip back.

You went swimming again, so you showered in your bikini and were walking around in it when the boys came back. Your coverup draped and tied around your waist. You had a plum in one hand, your book in the other and you were visible at the side of the house where the boys had parked the car. The two of them were coming out of the car when they both laid eyes on you at the same time, both instinctively putting their arms out to stop each other in their tracks. Patrick’s arm across Art’s chest and Art’s arm across Patrick’s.

Their arms dropped simutaneously. “Fuck.” Patrick said.

Art nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

You didn’t notice them until they walked in, Art holding the new lighter, cigarettes and some red liquorice. You grinned. “That was fast. You were gone, what? Two hours?”

Both boys were a little dazed. You put your book down, wiping your lower lip of the juice from the plum, but it was on your chin, dropped onto your chest. They both just watched you, mouthes a little open. You looked down, confused. Immediately both boys went separate ways.

You shrugged, tossing the pit of your plum out the window and into the garden.

Dinner was nice, by the fire again. You’d broken out the hard lemonades again and vodka and orange soda. Unfortunately for Art and Patrick, you’d stayed in your bikini and skirt-like cover up. It was hard to not be.

Patrick shook his head, “At what age did you guys start finding girls attractive?” He questioned, raising his can in question.

“Twelve,” you replied faster than Art did. Art and Patrick raised their eyebrows.

“Uh… Twelve, yeah,” Art agreed, taking a sip of his drink, eyes on you. You just smiled.

You finished your drink, “I think that’s around when Patrick taught you that neat little lesson.” You teased, reaching over and rubbing Art’s shoulder.

His head fell into his empty hand, “Please, no. Not that.” He groaned, but he was smiling.

“Teach a man to fish,” Patrick said, trailing off and cracking you another can, exchanging it for your empty one. “You can never say I’m good for nothing on that one, Art.”

“Okay, well who was doing it first?” Art questioned Patrick, tossing a stick he’d been fidgeting with.

“Me, I just knew from an early age,” he grinned. “I’m curious though, when did that happen for you?” He asked you, shifting a little in his seat and grinning directly at Art, who shifted just the same.

You bit your lip thinking, “I think around thirteen, maybe. The shower head.” You grinned. Art hid his face. “I was a little bit creative.”

“Does that even count?” Patrick said. “If you’re not putting in the work yourself.”

“I think so,” you replied. “That followed soon enough after.”

Art adjusted himself again. Patrick was watching him squirm, teasing indirectly. He knew the effect this conversation would have on him. You brought it up anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

“First kiss at sixteen,” you sighed. “Was not fun.”

Art turned to you, “I thought it was fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Bella James. Then I kissed a guy for the first time about a few months later.”

“I forgot about that,” Patrick said, huge smirk on his face. “I still have that photo of you and Bella somewhere in my room.”

“Shut up, you do not,” you gasped, grabbing the arm of the lawn chair. “Art-“

“He’s seen it,” Patrick nodded.

“It’s true.” Art cringed. “Hot, though.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah,” Art smiled over at you. You rolled your eyes at both of them, standing up. “Where are you going?”

You shook your head, “To get my watermelon vodka.” You stated. “I need something stronger.”

Both boys watched you go up the steps to the cottage, shamelessly. The second you were inside, Patrick moved from his chair over to Art. “That was too good.”

“It was not,” Art groaned. “She’s too much.”

“It’s not just me, then,” Patrick said, leaning into Art, crouched next to him in the chair. “I should have picked up a magazine when we were out earlier.”

You returned down the steps and Patrick returned to his chair. You’d changed back into Art’s sweater and a skort. You had a shot on your way down the steps and sat right back in Art’s lap like the day before.

Patrick laughed out loud and clapped but Art death stared him into silence. You three drank until it was hard not to laugh at simple things and Patrick and you got back into another debate about which flavour of sour patch kid is best. Art sided with you because nothing beat the blue one.

You were standing up, thank god Art could fix where his dick was in his boxers while you yelled at Patrick over the orange sour patch kids. Art just leaned onto his hand, watching you, watching Patrick. It was the stupidest thing.

Patrick got in your face as per usual and you stared right back. His intimidation would never work on you. “Orange tastes like ass,” Patrick said, voice lowered now.

“And you’d know, bottom-feeder,” you chuckled with a smirk, getting closer to Patrick’s face. Art grinned. You were so perfect.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking down at you with the heat of the debate in his expression. “At least I actually get ass and don’t just have one.”

You laughed, “That’s supposed to offend me? That’s a compliment, Patrick. A good attempt, though.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nobody said it was nice.”

“Art will testify,” you said, nodding back at Art. His eyes widened. “Tell Patrick it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Art obliged.

You turned back to Patrick, “See?”

“You made him say it,” Patrick shrugged, tapping the side of his own nose. “If he meant it he’d say it for himself.”

“I hear what you say about me behind closed doors, Patrick, and I think you do think it’s nice.” You taunted him. Patrick’s smirk only grew bigger and he tapped you under the chin again. Art sat up. Heard them? That wasn’t good…

Patrick, half-lidded, looked at you like a meal. Art, who was adjusted well enough, got a handle on your hips and pulled you back away from him and back onto his lap. You thought nothing of it, just getting comfortable back on Art’s lap like it was the simplest thing on earth. Your arm around him you played with the curls at the back of his head. The debate was over, it had gone a little too far.

Patrick, hard, sat back in his chair and mumbled, “I still think orange is the worst out of all of them.”

“Dead wrong,” you mumbled as well.

Art huffed, his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing up and down your skin. You looked him in the eyes, a bit of a pout to your lips. Art wondered if you’d heard what he had said about you, wishing maybe he’d phrased things better, wondering if they bothered you. He stared back, looking at how the flickering flames danced across your face.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much.” Rare words from Patrick, but it was a debate you both lost this time and maybe it was a little discouraging. Patrick was a big drinker so of course he stumbled up those steps. “See you guys tomorrow.” He said.

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Goodnight,” you spoke, attention back on Art. You and Patrick were a few drinks deeper than Art, it’s why the debate was a little much. You looked back at Art, your hand still playing with his curls, twirling them, pushing his hair behind his ear. One of his hands rested on the back of your arm, thumb still rubbing over your soft skin and the other hand resting on your knee, doing the very same. “You’re quiet.” You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair gently.

“You’re drunk,” Art replied with a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“Mhm, what about?” You asked, eyes still locked on his. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bright and matching his small, sweet smile.

He looked at you, over you, softly. “Just you.” He replied.

“What about me?” You prodded, hand still gently twirling his curls.

“You’re pretty,” Art told you. You grinned and pressed one hand over half of your face shyly. “And I think I like you a lot more than I knew... Or would admit.” He admit slowly, but he grinned.

You grinned right back, but you shook your head a little, “I hate that I’ll forget this. You have to tell me again tomorrow so I remember.”

He laughed, “I will, I will.” He didn't want to- he didn't know if he could. And he looked at your perfect lips in the orange glow. He could have kissed you, but he would have hated for you to forget it. Your lips pulled with that same smile and Art patted your leg twice. For now, I think we should get you some water.”

“Do you really think my ass is nice?” You asked him, climbing off of his lap. “Just since we’re on the topic, I mean.” Art nodded and it seemed to be the right answer. He put out the fire and helped you upstairs. After a glass of water, you thanked him at the door of your bedroom. “Goodnight, Art.” You said. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went perfectly around your torso and he squeezed you tight. You kissed his cheek to say a final goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Art told you. He went to bed after that.

Art and Patrick had a moment alone the next day. They knew you were out of earshot for sure this time, watching you down by the beach, pulling out the kayaks.

“I’d have her babies,” Patrick said, looking at you. “Please tell me something good happened after I came up here and passed out.”

Art couldn’t tell Patrick what he’d said last night. “Mmm no. We only talked a minute and came back up here. You guys need to chill out on the debate stuff, that’s all I know.”

“Oh you wish you were in on all that. She’s in my face, Art, you saw it. It’s so easy to rile her up, you should try it.”

Art shrugged, “Maybe, yeah, but come on, she said she heard what you said about her behind closed doors. We can’t be objectifying her just because she’s the only girl around.” He said.

Patrick twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, I thought she liked it.”

“Maybe, but I mean… can’t be too safe.” Art shrugged again. “I just don’t want her uncomfortable. Not with us.”

“She couldn’t be, come on. It’s us. She’s used to it by now I’m sure.”

“Just ease up,” Art said. “Make sure she’s far out of earshot otherwise.” They were both men, they knew how they acted when a woman was hot, but Art was a little too worried.

The day passed and it was good. More swimming, more eating. Patrick ate four burgers, buns and all like it was nothing. You had an afternoon nap on the couch, Art falling asleep with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your legs. Patrick chuckled to himself as he passed it- it was a sight for sure.

Dinner was simple, then it was over. Art wondered if you remembered what he’d said. He guessed not, taking your drunken word that you hadn’t remembered. You were in the kitchen talking to Patrick about your watermelon vodka and he was leaned against the marble, face close to yours. Maybe it bothered Art how close he was to you. It wasn’t anything new, Patrick liked to lean into whoever he was talking to.

Art had to remind himself you hadn’t said anything to him last night after he said what he said. He usually watched you and Patrick talk because it was funny, but this time something in Art’s chest tightened.

Maybe it was the fact you were the only girl around, he thought. It wasn’t though. Art has liked you for years upon years without admitting it to anyone, hardly to himself. You were just best friends, that’s how things were. Yeah, he thought about kissing you. Yeah, he wondered what you’d look like under him. But he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t the fact you were the only girl but rather the fact you were the only girl. If that made any sense.

Art walked over, standing beside you. You instinctively put your arm around his waist and leaned against him like a pole and it brought some ease to Art’s moment of jealousy as he draped his arm around your shoulder. Patrick and Art locked eyes and with a furrow of his brow, Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So are we drinking again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, handing him the bottle. “Art?”

“Sure, yeah,” Art nodded, looking at you. He liked the way your hand rested on the opposite side of him, around his torso. “Let’s not start debates tonight though, mkay?”

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “What was last night’s?”

“Sour patch kids,” Patrick said, opening the vodka and taking a swig. He passed the bottle to Art, who did the same. “That’s so good, what.”

Art nodded, “That is good.” He passed you the bottle, but you only had a sip. You weren’t looking to not remember the night again. Plus waking up in the morning was hard enough. “Not drinking?”

“Not much,” you nodded.

“That’s okay,” Art nodded back.

The night went forward and the boys were getting drunk and you only the slightest bit tipsy. Part of you knew that both of them drunk meant babysitting so they didn’t try and reach for the boat keys and die.

You sat on the coach the drunk boys had dragged outside and only the back porch of the cottage- you stopped them from bringing it down the stairs. Patrick sat next to you pulling you in and messing up your hair. “Hey- come on,” you laughed. It was impossible to mess up a boy’s hair, especially when it was curly. “That’s not fair.”

“Alls fair in love and war,” Patrick replied.

You laughed harder, “Where did you hear that?” It was so weird to hear from Patrick’s mouth. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird?” Patrick said, letting you go but keeping you close. His hand fell to your thigh. “If anyone here is weird it’s you.”

“Uh huh?” You smiled. “Me? Not you who decides to bring a couch outside? Not you who ate an entire pack of hot dogs after saying you weren’t hungry?” You smiled and twisted into sitting on your knees, facing him.

Art came back from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, opening them to see you and Patrick the way you were. He was drunk, more so than the night before and that was a bit much. Patrick did the thing he’d done forever, tapping you under your chin, but your faces were so close…

“You have so many freckles,” you observed. “You can hardly see them if you don’t look.”

“You’re really ugly up close,” Patrick retorted and you hit him upside the head playfully. Art stood by the screen doorway. “Okay, I’m sorry! You’re really pretty!”

“Oh you think I’m pretty?” You questioned as if it was something to challenge. Patrick, half-lidded tapped under your chin again. Art felt sick. If there was something to be jealous about it’s that you would probably remember Patrick calling you pretty, not Art.

“Maybe,” Patrick leaned closer and he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t, not yet. Art swallowed hard. Your faces were inches from each other’s. Even through the alcohol Art felt the twinges in his chest and stomach.

“Patrick,” you started, slowly backing away. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe to that too,” he shrugged. You backed away more. Art couldn’t do it, he opened the door and stepped out back onto the porch. You turned your head and grinned at his reproach. Art didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the vodka and took what looked like a painful two gulps.

“Oh-“ you started, but Art wiped his lip and sat back down on the couch next to you and you rearranged the way you sat immediately to be closer to Art. Art didn’t even look at Patrick, instead, he just pulled you onto his lap. This time, it wasn’t of your own volition. You didn’t think anything of it. Patrick just used the extra space on the couch for his feet.

The conversation was fine. Civil with a lot of laughter, Art could get into it but the extra vodka he’d had was being pumped around his bloodstream without a doubt. Instead of his hand resting on your upper knee, it rested on your thigh and his thumb grazed back and forth like it did the night before. He was lucky to have a moment to adjust himself because even with the amount of alcohol he’d had, his body still held enough attraction. You were smiling, so beautiful, Art thought.

Patrick knew he’d fucked up but the alcohol helped to make him not worry about it too much. You pat Art on the cheek, “You and Patrick have kissed, right?” You asked out of the blue. The two looked at each other.

“Uh- hm- yeah,” Art said, clearing his throat, looking at Patrick.

You smiled, finishing a can of point five alcohol. “Okay so I have a question. Would you guys call each other a good kisser?”

Art and Patrick shared another look and you just giggled. They both didn’t know what to say- Patrick shrugged and Art opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Both boys went through a few stages in a matter of seconds and Patrick let out a strangled sort of, “Yes?”

“Yes?” You gasped, turning to look at Art.

“Sure?” Art shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really… remember. It was two years ago.” He slightly slurred.

Patrick agreed. “It was a while back.” You giggled again, Patrick shrugged. “I mean, you’ve kissed Art for fun, you’d know if he is or not.”

You gasped a little, “Oh that’s right! The spin the bottle in senior year, I totally forgot about that!” You turned back to Patrick, “It was only a peck, though. Just a quick kiss.”

Art hadn’t forgotten it. Today he was thinking that would be the only time he got to kiss you. He stared at your lips now, their colour perfect, so soft, he was a little dazed. You and Patrick talked about how you only joked about being sisterwives, but it was more true than you remembered. Art just stared, his hands moving over your hips and wrapping around your waist, looking up at you. God, you were so perfect and he was very drunk.

He felt oddly at ease with how you’d been with Patrick earlier. You’d refused him, backing away when he got closer and Art could be happy with that. You didn’t mind Art’s hands around your waist. At first it was positioned like a hug around the waist but now it was just hands, his grip. The curve of your waist was so perfect, you were so perfectly structured. His finger slid across the hem of your shirt and touched a sliver of your skin and you were so soft, too soft. Art, sweet, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he felt, fixed your shirt so that he couldn’t feel your skin anymore. You bent from where you sat and kissed the top of his head.

There was a shared cigarette amongst friends and you got up from Art’s lap and trailed your hand across his cheek as you went inside to get your sweater on. His sweater. It was the first moment Art and Patrick were alone since the morning.

“You like her,” Patrick said, taking a drag off the near-end of the cigarette and handing it over to Art. Art, dazed, drunk, nic-buzzed, just nodded. “Thought so.”

Art inhaled, exhaling the smoke and passing it back, “Might just.” He said, a bit slurred, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m so fucked, hm?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Patrick chuckled, leaning forward and ruffling Art’s hair. Art flushed a bit, turning just the slightest bit pink. It was a sort of unspoken apology for getting so close to you, is what that action meant.

“This sucks,” Art mumbled. He admit it, somewhat, out in the open for the first time. Art closed his eyes and the world spun around him and he flopped backward on the couch. Your hands are what woke him- he’d passed right out, so tired.

You pat him on the cheek, “Hey, let’s get you some water and to bed.” You said. Patrick helped Art to his feet and he leaned against him walking into the house. “That was a lot of vodka.” You said, giving him water. You held it with him just in case he dropped it. You made him drink the whole cup.

“Mmmhhm,” Art smiled. You were so pretty, so sweet, so caring. “You know you’re a remarkably beautiful woman.” He said, slurring. He said it very matter-of-factly. You chuckled at his choice of words.

“Thank you, lovely,” you smiled, helping him to bed.

“Goodnight drunk Art,” He heard Patrick like an echo. Patrick left the room. He didn’t say goodnight back. He was focused on the lovely part.

Art took his shirt off, throwing it across the room and immediately fell limp on his pillow again, you’d stayed. You put your hand on his chest and he grabbed it. The last thing he remembered was saying, “I’m so fucked.” Before it was suddenly morning.

Art groaned and rolled out of bed, not even caring that he rolled onto the carpet on the floor. He just picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, leaving the bedroom. No headache, just super groggy.

He opened the bedroom door and you and Patrick were sitting opposite sides of the coffee table, different couches. It had been moved back at some point. Art was a little relieved to see how far apart you were. He remembered most of last night, to his dismay. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, getting up. “How are you feeling?”

Art was so glad he had hit or miss hangovers. “Gross, but fine.” He replied. You walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot, making it exactly how he liked it. You put it in his hands, “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Of course,” you smiled back. You both went to sit on the couch and the conversation about the day included plans of swimming and going back out on the boat once Art was feeling better.

The day was good, warm. The same as any. Art felt better about noon. You were on the boat yelling lyrics to an Avril Lavigne song and Patrick was unabashedly singing along. Art felt so much better, clapping when you shoved Patrick right off the boat at the chorus. You raised your hands above your head triumphantly and jumped a few times.

Art, of course, helped Patrick get back onto the boat, only to get pulled into the water. You couldn’t stop laughing but it was only a matter of time before both boys manage to wrangle you into the water with them, Patrick throwing seaweed at you as you screamed. You clung onto Art in the water as if he was a stable point. Your eyes met, eyelashes wet and you fought your smile as best you could.

Dinner was hot dogs again by the fire and it was followed by s’mores. All day you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of the way Art had held your waist last night. You knew he was out of it, he called you ‘remarkably beautiful’, but in every moment you had to yourself you were trying to relive the feeling, almost like the ghost of his hands were still there. You thought about when his hand slipped under the bottom of your shirt and touched your bare skin…

Patrick snapped in your face. “Earth to Y/N. I’m beat, I’m heading up to bed early tonight if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You said. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Night guys!” Patrick went upstairs and turned the lights out. That left you and Art down by the fire alone.

You stood up, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Another night in Art’s sweater and your shorts. “You coming?” You asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

You shrugged, “With me.” And you smiled just a little, walking down the dock. The moon reflecting off the lake was the brightest light around. It was warm, yellow, nearly. Warm July moonlight, chopping itself up in the gentle waves. Art followed you, why wouldn’t he? “I don’t think I want to go back to the city after this.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the dock. Art sat next to you.

“Me neither,” he chuckled, moving some hair from your face. “Patrick might go stir crazy, though, so if you planned on keeping us with you, don’t.”

You grinned, letting him tuck the hair behind your ear in the soft wind. He stayed focused on every move of your features, the way your eyelashes moved when you looked up, then down, then back at him. “You think you’d miss tennis?”

“I probably would eventually,” he said. “But this week, no. I don’t miss it. It’s good to be away from training and practicing and all the pressure and just be with friends.”

You nodded, “I understand. It’s been good to get away from things. Reminds me of when we would spend the summers in the forest, before tennis, before work, before school. All that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think Patrick misses that a lot. He lives in the past a lot, thinking about when things were ‘better’. I mean he doesn’t do much aside from tennis at all so I get it, but he’s very hung up on it. Misses it.”

“You don’t miss it?”

He met your eyes, “I do miss it. But like in a fond way, not in the way where I wish I was still there.” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy thinking about how I looked when we were running around those forests.”

“Braces and buzzcut,” you smiled. “I remember.”

“You shouldn’t,” Art laughed. “How could I forget about the three tank tops you layered on top of each other?”

“Fashion statement versus buzzcut…” you hummed, teasing, leaning your head into his shoulder and rocking back. “I miss it.”

He looked at you with everything he thought about you resting on his tongue. You, here, moonlit in the night, so perfect. He smiled, only the simplest, most fond things filled his mind. You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew. “What’s on your mind?” You asked.

Art took a moment to answer. He was too sober to tell you, you were too sober to tell. It was you, just as it was the other night. You on his mind- his best friend, one of his closest friends, keeper of his boyish secrets, one of two people in this world who could read his mind. He wondered if you could read his mind right now as his heart beat hard in his chest over the question. You could, but he kept wondering.

You took his sweater off and underneath was only your bikini top. You stood up from where you sat and rid yourself of your shorts as well. Art was confused until you jumped into the water. Gracefully, easily. It was dark aside from the moon and nearby fire and for a second or two you were gone, but you resurfaced, hair wet. “You coming?” You asked again, the other question postponed. Art smiled and took off his shirt, already in his trunks, and jumped in after you.

You were in the middle, so you were both just up to your waists. You cupped water in your hands and poured it right over his head. You were so cute… he slicked his hair back and grinned his crooked grin. It was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Mhm?” Art said, wiping water from his eyes. “That’s how it is?”

“Mhm,” you replied. It was only a matter of seconds before he grabbed you and took the both of you underwater. You came up laughing and wiping your eyes. “Really?”!you said, lunging forward at him in the water- the intention was to do the same to him, but you really just wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped, dead in your tracks.

The pause was only seconds, a full action became a full stop, his eyes met yours, and not even a second later, your lips met. You kissed him, he kissed you, mutually, with the same force. Your hands moving from around his neck to his jaw and his hands on your waist. You’d kissed before but it was nothing like this, it couldn’t have been. This kiss was years in the making, subconsciously wished for, teased, thought about late night, thought about in quiet moments… and not just by Art.

His hands slid over your wet skin, over your back as your fingertips met the roots of his wet hair. He pulled you closer, his hands at the crook of your waist. From an outsiders perspective it was always supposed to end this way- and from an outsiders perspective, some would say it wasn’t just a kiss without any way to explain exactly just what it was, because they weren’t you. And they weren’t Art.

And they couldn’t ever be able to understand just how it felt when it was just you, just Art, alone in the shallows with a kiss that was strong and heavy with the weight of years and compiled collections of casual touches.

He hummed into it and you both smiled with every breath between. It was perfect, it was magic, it was sweet. The air warm, the water cool. God, you were perfect, you were so perfect and it was all Art could think about as your hands moved down and his moved up, taking his turn to cup your face between his hands and kiss you harder than before as your hand slid down his chest, across his bare stomach. You giggled at the way he kissed you harder and it made him smile but neither of you stopped for a moment, neither of you missed a beat. He pushed your wet hair behind your ear when you eventually pulled away, keeping his face close, just hovering.

Lips wet, sweet breath, a mutual sigh, that lead to a shared laugh. Art, hands still on either side of your face, kissed you again, just because he could. You kissed him back just the same and he pulled away gently once more. This time you kissed him again, like it was a newfound addiction. He chuckled and pulled you closer once more and the kiss went on a while longer, not hungry, not desperate, just easy. Waited for.

Eventually it did end and you decided to get out of the water, it was with knowing smiles that you collected your clothes and dried off again. You pulled a towel off the clothesline, drying your hair, “I have to admit I’ve wanted that for longer than you know,” you admit, fighting your lips from pulling upward.

Art, with the largest crooked grin on his face, moved closer and grabbed his own towel from earlier. “Really?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. Art was reduced to a boy the way you looked at him, your lips pink from the kissing, semi-wet hair still just blowing in the wind. Gentle. He dried his own hair and threw the towel back on the line. “How long?” He pulled you in by the crook of your waist again, batting away the fact that he as a grown man had butterflies. You just smirked.

“Too long,” you said, slipping out of his grasp and running up the steps. You spent a moment apart to get changed properly and quietly, as to not wake Patrick. He met you on the couch again, unable to stop thinking about you in any capacity. You, fully clothed, comfortable, tired, lack of makeup, hair still damp, were the most beautiful person he had ever seen and he just wanted to stare at you the way he always had, but this time knowing.

He chuckled as you leaned against him without words, draping an arm around you as you settled in against him. No more words were needed, there was not much more to say. You ended up talking until you both somehow fell asleep.

Patrick woke up before you, having gone to bed first and seeing you laying on Art’s chest, both his arms around you, one of your legs draped over his lower half, he knew.

It was the difference in distance that told him- when one of you fell asleep there was always enough respect to have levels. He got himself a cup of orange juice, came back and he knew, chuckling to himself. They say trios don’t last, but it wasn’t the end of it when you and Art got together after that trip. Just meant you and Patrick were even closer sisterwives and he was fine with that. Art was fine with that. You were fine with that.

From an outsider's perspective, they would have said nothing changed.

- tinytennisskirt masterlist

#art donaldson #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #challengers movie #challengers fluff #tinytennisskirt

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bowlofsoob · 2 years ago

Text

mr. oblivious

The entire staff at the new school you work at consistently attempt at getting you and another rather aloof teacher, Choi Soobin, together after witnessing you interact quite often. The catch is that you both are married, and none of the staff have figured it out, yet.

choi soobin x gender neutral reader

established relationship, married, teachers au

wc: 2.7k words

You had recently been laid off as a literature teacher after working at the same high school for a few years due to lack of budget to support the creative arts.

It was much different then being a literature professor for older kids, now you got to do finger painting for a living. And even though your English degree was collecting dust, (you shed a tear at this every night), you were actually enjoying your time teaching for once. Little children were much more bearable than high schoolers. There were no love triangles you had to deal with, kids giving handjobs under the desks, or getting paper planes thrown at you. The most drama that ever happened in your elementary classes was when Haerin wouldn’t share the red crayons with anyone.

Well, you were enjoying it. Past tense.

Ever since you ended up catching teachers and students halting their whispers when you walked by you’ve been rather uneasy.

You brought it up to Soobin during dinner one night and the other male merely shrugged, but that one was on you though. Soobin didn’t interact with any of his co-workers unless he absolutely had to. It was a surprise he was a favorite teacher among the students, unbeknownst to you it was because the children found the male handsome and his teaching style atrocious.

You were surprised to learn none of your co-workers had even held a coherent conversation with Soobin, despite him working there for much of his career. So when Beomgyu, one of the school’s music teachers, let out a gasp at seeing Soobin sitting beside you in the staff room, he was taken aback. Soobin never went out of his way to make new friends, it seems he was content with the little to no socializing he did in college and called it a day.

“So, what’s your secret?” Beomgyu sang, sidling up next to you as he poured himself a cup of coffee, “How’d you get the ever so quiet Soobin to talk to you for longer than a minute?”

“What are you on about?” you chuckled, taking a tentative sip of the hot beverage, you didn’t want to burn your tongue again, it had ruined your entire week last time, “I just talk?”

Beomgyu and you quickly clicked upon your moving careers, there was something calming about the constant chitter chatter that left his mouth. Although, it was also a little annoying at times. Like right now.

“Last time I did that he just glared at me,” Beomgyu dramatically sighed, “Maybe he has his eyes on you.”

“Ooh, are we talking about SoobinYn?” Hueningkai grinned, the actual English teacher, walking into the staff room.

“What the hell is SoobinYn?” you questioned, growing uncomfortable, why was everyone obsessing over you and Soobin? Was this their way of welcoming you?

“I’m going to exit this conversation now,” you mumbled, turning around when you bumped into the other half of said conversation.

And to your horror, a little splash of your coffee landed on the other.

A collective gasp was heard from the staff room, preparing themselves for the ever so aloof male to lash out. Last time Yeonjun spilled his drink on Soobin the dark-haired male had the entire staff shaking in their seats.

“Careful,” Soobin mumbled, catching his arm on your shoulder to steady you before making his way past you to make himself a cup of coffee, not batting an eye as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it to lessen the soak.

“Fuck, sorry,” you immediately apologized, grabbing the napkin from Soobin and placing your mug down, “Do you want my jacket?”

“It’s fine,” Soobin assured, picking up your mug and handing it back to you before grabbing his own mug that was now full and leaving the room, but not before patting your waist fondly on his way out.

You made sure to pointedly ignore Beomgyu and Hueningkai’s loud snickers as you hurriedly left the room.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Everyone’s intentions became clear when you overheard your own students conversing about you. The utter betrayal.

“I saw them eating lunch in Sir Soobin’s room the other day when I went to get my backpack!” Hyein insisted, a lollipop hanging halfway out of her mouth as the group that had gathered around her table eagerly nodded along to her story, “I think they like-like each other!”

“Like-like?” Haerin drawled out, tapping her chin, “That’s very serious.“

“We should make them be a couple!” Sunoo giggled, clapping his hands, “Teacher Y/n is very nice! Mister Soobin is not good enough for them but it’s okay.”

So this was what your coworkers were giggling about, they thought that you and Soobin were pining for each other. Which wasn’t necessarily untrue, but had Soobin really not mentioned being married even once?

Truth be told, you never wore your ring to school, you didn’t want any paint or glitter to get stuck between the diamonds and have to pay to get it cleaned, but did Soobin really leave his ring at home too? Seems even Mathematics teachers were prone to disasters via children.

“Or boyfriends,” Sunoo giggled behind his hands as the class shrieked in laughter. You merely patted him on the head and sighed. Today was going to be quite the long day.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“—I say we send Y/n a Valentine in Soobin’s name, we all know he won’t do it himself!” Beomgyu rebuked, pointing an accusatory finger at Yeonjun.

“Shouldn’t we give him the benefit of the doubt!” Yeonjun huffed in response, “They’re clearly into one another.”

“You got it all wrong, Y/n will make the first move and we should allow them to do so,” Taehyun, the school’s gym teacher, drawled, tapping his finger on his chin. “I believe they will ask Soobin out on Valentine’s!”

“Are you guys chatting about me again?” you deadpanned, already backing out of the room, but your back ran into something, or rather someone.

“Clumsy as always,” Soobin murmured, placing a hand on your waist and gently pushing you out of the way, “What are you idiots looking at?” he questioned, glaring at Beomgyu who was stifling a laugh.

“You never come in here, I should be interrogating you!” Yeonjun defended, hands on his hips.

“Lunch,” Soobin dryly stated, reverting back to his one word answers, and handed a bag to you, “You said you were craving Chinese earlier.”

The familiar smell of fried rice wafted through the room as you peered inside the bag, “You remembered? Thank you.”

Soobin hummed, turning to leave the staff room and hermit himself in his classroom once again.

The moment he left all hell broke loose.

“SEE! I knew Soobin would make a move!”

“But it’s not Valentine’s yet! Y/n still has a chance!"

“We should just lock them up at this rate, this is getting frustrating.”

You clutched the bag tightly and walked out the room, ignoring the shouts questioning the nature of you and Soobin’s relationship that your coworkers shot behind you.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Soobin?” you called out, knocking on the door as you opened it, which took away the action’s purpose but you were impatient.

Said male looked up from where he was typing and gave you a glance before averting his eyes back, humming to show he was listening.

“Have you eaten yet?” you asked, shutting the door behind you as you pulled up one of the students’ chairs to sit beside Soobin, leaning back into it as Soobin gestured to his half finished take out box.

“Everyone thinks you and I have a crush on each other,” you blurted, leaning your chin on your palm as you watched Soobin work, watching how his nimble fingers came to a stop at your words.

“A crush?” Soobin repeated, turning to face you, “What? That’s childish.”

“They don’t know we’re married!” you huffed, “Did you not tell them? Where’s your ring?”

“It never came up,” Soobin mused, “Last time I wore my ring I took it off to help a teacher out and when I came back the kids were tossing it, so I started leaving it at home.”

“Oh, it seems they’ve never seen us with our rings,” you frowned, causing Soobin to spin on his chair to face you, an amused smile on his face.

“They just can’t believe I managed to make you mine,” Soobin shrugged, chuckling at the immediate shove you sent to his shoulder.

“Stop trying to be corny,” you smiled, reaching out to tug on his dress shirt and yank him closer.

Without a second of hesitation, your guys’ lips interlocked as if it were second nature. The familiarity behind Soobin’s every touch was still as refreshing as it was years ago when you both first met.

Hueningkai was staring with a flushed face before he realized he had come over for a specific reason and walked up to Soobin’s desk, dropping a file onto it which led Soobin to groan and sadly flip through it.

“So how long have you two been together?” Hueningkai drawled, leaning forward as Soobin shot him a glare. Despite being one of the few people Soobin actually sort of talked to, it seems even Hueningkai hadn’t known of their relationship status.

“Since graduating college, married now,” you answered, earning a smile from Hueningkai as he nodded, turning to make his leave.

“I’m so winning this bet–”

“What bet? HUENINGKAI GET BACK HERE! WHAT BET?!”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

At least it looked pretty.

“I tried to get them to sing Bad Romance, can you believe they’ve never heard of it?”

“Beomgyu, they are children,” Hueningkai mused, shaking his head as he unwrapped one of the many chocolates they had lying around for Valentines.

“As their English teacher you should add it into the curriculum to analyze or something,” Beomgyu huffed, perking up as you entered the room, “There they are!”

“Me?” you repeated, about to take a seat next to them when Hueningkai pointed to the large basket of flowers sitting on the table, “Looks like someone has an admirer,” you added, peering into the basket.

“It arrived this morning, the card says it’s addressed to you? But there’s no sender,” Beomgyu mused.

“Coward,” Yeonjun reprimanded, “How will I get my daily dose of drama if I don’t know who it’s from?”

“Hold up, you’re married?!” Beomgyu shrieked, getting up from his seat, “No way.”

“Is that unbelievable?” you frowned, holding up your left hand, “Been married for six years now.”

“Oh my god, we’ve been trying to set you up this entire time!” Yeonjun cried out, covering his mouth, “This is so embarrassing! I didn’t know you had someone at home!”

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t know,” you sheepishly laughed, twirling one of the flowers from the basket between your fingers, “You guys have met him before.”

Hueningkai snickered behind his chocolate bar as the other staff looked at him.

“So THAT’s why you made a bet saying Y/n was married to someone, I thought you just had a gambling addiction,” Yeonjun scoffed, hitting Hueningkai on the shoulder as he cackled.

“Pay up,” Hueningkai grinned as you shook your head.

“Can’t believe you all made a bet and tried to set me up,” you mumbled.

“Yikes, I told Soobin I would get him a date tonight with you offhandedly,” Beomgyu admitted, looking ashamed as the door to the staff door opened.

Soobin stepped in, but instead of letting him pass by unnoticed as usual you tugged on his sleeve, shooting him a soft smile.

“Thank you for the basket, Soobin,” you thanked, caressing the other male’s arm to show your affection. Neither of you were big on PDA, it was a lot for you both to even hug in public. Mostly due to Soobin’s awkwardness with it, but he made up for it by showing affection behind closed doors.

Soobin merely hummed, awkwardly shuffling his feet. You felt a little bad about putting him on the spot, but you wanted to show off your husband for once!

“Pause,” Beomgyu stated, pointing between the two of them, “No fucking way.”

“I just lost so much money,” Yeonjun groaned, sucking his teeth and already pulling out his wallet as Hueningkai gleefully counted his bills.

“I’m still processing,” Beomgyu murmured, staring between the two of them, “What, when, and where?”

“I don’t know what you mean by what, we started dating in senior year of highschool, and got married in the town Soobin grew up in,” you answered, firmly grasping Soobin’s arm so as to not let him escape. He was already trying to run off.

“I owe Hueningkai money?” Taehyun questioned as he overheard the conversation walking into the staff room, “No way was his hypothesis correct.”

“Suck my dick,” Hueningkai grinned, opening his palm as Taehyun sighed and slapped a twenty on it, rolling his eyes as the other male gloated.

“You guys are so fucking annoying,” Soobin complained, but his threat didn’t look at all intimidating as you were pinching his cheek, “Do you really have nothing else to do then try to set me up? No wonder the education system is shit.”

“I’m surprised you even managed to score someone,” Beomgyu giggled, dodging the box of candy Soobin picked up and tossed at him.

“I still have more game than all of you, where’s your partner?” Soobin countered.

“The audacity,” Taehyun murmured as Beomgyu huffed in response, the staff room bursting into laughter.

“Guess we need a new project,” Beomgyu grieved, scanning the room till his eyes landed upon Hueningkai, “I guess I’ll set you up with someone.”

“You’re gonna what?!” Hueningkai exclaimed, his face aghast as the staff immediately started listing off potential candidates

You laughed as you watched Hueningkai practically run away from Beomgyu, who was interrogating him on which teachers he found the most attractive.

Your new co-workers were a bit crazy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#txt smau #txt x reader #soobin x reader #soobin x gender neutral reader #soobin x yn #soobin x y/n #soobin x gn reader #soobin x male reader #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #soobin smau #choi soobin smau

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ravi-617 · 1 month ago

Text

It's been a hot minute since I last posted any new art, and I...still have none to share at the moment, but I DO have an INPRNT page now!!!

I currently have listed some of my V for Vendetta and Beetlebabes artwork, as well as Lisa Frankenstein, Nosferatu, and MyLaurie!! So if you're interested in grabbing a print or poster, please check them out HERE!!

I'll be listing more art soon. INPRNT is also having a site-wide sale right now, so you can get prints at a discount ;^)

Also, if you get a print, please post it here or on Bluesky and @ me! I'd love to see!

Also, for the handful of Rosario + Vampire fans who follow me or who just so happen to see this, I AM still planning on getting those keychains up for sale. I have them in stock and packaged, I just need to finish setting up my store. So do keep an eye out!!

#my art #PLEASE RB!!!#nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #orlok x ellen #ellok #lilacfang #mylaurie #michael x laurie #beetlebabes #betelyds #lisa frankenstein #v for vendetta #v x evey #vevey #lisa x creature

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exnoiafork · 7 months ago

Note

hi hii!! saw your requests were open so i was wondering if you could do dom and/or valk x reader who is a bodyguard for them? thanks!! /nf

love your works 💕

Valk x bodyguard reader :3

reader’s background!

- reader is 23-26 years old

- you trained ever since you were 16, because you were interested in martial arts class and all :P

- your gear is also related to combat (ex: dagger, some version of gloves or sum)

- for this phighting x reader thing, I’ll do gloves with retractable knives on them.. whatever they’re called

DISCLAIMER: may be ooc

- you started training since 16 years old, because you were really interested in martial arts.

- you met? Saw? Valk back when he was hiring bodyguards, back then when he started to get popular/rich, along with Dom.

- you thought you had a decent chance of getting in, especially since you’ve been training for a hot minute.

- for some reason, YOU were the only one who signed up. literally, it was only you 😭 you guess that it was really lucky and surprising , The Flipside is a really popular band and they give really good pay.

- eventually, you started bodyguarding them .

- you and those two guys, specifically Valk, started getting close together platonically .

- especially because you were his bodyguard and was always at his side , obviously . so you two started talking a lot

- You also bodyguard Dom, but you two prefer sharing quiet moments together.

anyway

You were bodyguarding Valk as usual , while Dom was sleeping at home because he needs more energy than usual. Your gloves’ knives, although retracted, were always ready for a confrontation.

Even though you were a bodyguard , you actually act like a fairly normal person.

For some reason.. somehow, someone tried to grab Valk. I don’t know how .

And then.. you start phighting them. Protecting Valk, obviously. That’s literally your job sooo.. yeah..

Your blades un-retracted and you beat ‘em up, kind of a pushover guy. You called the police to get an ambulance, not for you.

“Oh to the deities above!!- Y/N, are you okay?!”

Valk rushed over to you, but you weren’t harmed at all.

“Don’t worry, Valk. I got ‘em easy, pretty much a pushover.”

You pet his head.. hehe.. short guy!

“I- I’ll make sure to give you a little more money this time!-“

S;T: @sebastianandpainterkisser4

#pls don’t flop #exnoiafork req.#phighting!#phighting #phighting x reader #valk x reader #valk x reader phighting

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zephfair · 11 days ago

Text

Pynch meet-cute as pet owners, rated G

This was inspired by the glorious art of @catbishonen and dedicated to their incredible talent. Thank you for sharing your gorgeous Pynch art! You are amazing!

Pynch meet-cute, pet owners fic, as in they both have pets, rated G except for swearing and Hennessy's jokes, nothing but FLUFFY FLUFF

And big thanks to @kidspawn for the encouragement! Thank you for supporting my fluff! 💖

Adam had never expected to be in a position like this, waking up groggy, struggling to breathe under the immense weight pinning him flat, a horrible hot reek wafting over his face, and—when he made the mistake of groaning and trying to turn his head away from the stench—a warm tongue licking up over his entire face—mouth to nose to forehead.

He made a gargling noise of horror that he didn’t know could come out of him. “Dammit, Baby, don’t!”

But the noise and reprimand only seemed to enliven Baby who squirmed on top of him, wheezing the remaining air out of Adam’s lungs, and set to licking Adam’s face in a flurry of slobbering love.

“Euurgh,” Adam’s response wasn’t any more fluent as he tried to push the adoring dog off him so he could breathe and enjoy a waking moment of non-stinking air.

“You aren’t supposed to be on the bed,” he chided, but it wasn’t very impressive since he was trying to crawl out of the bed while Baby draped over his back and licked his ear.

Adam finally won the battle and got to his feet, panting. Baby jumped off the bed and crowded up against him, also panting.

“You’ve got to stop waking me up like this. I can’t handle it,” Adam told the dog, one traitorous hand already rubbing the big pointy ears. Baby dropped to sit on his feet and pant up at him in adoration. “At least you waited until only five minutes before my alarm.” Adam reached over and turned it off then used both hands to ruffle Baby’s face and ears. “You need to go out? Go out?”

Baby let out one low woof and led the way downstairs to the back door, long legs twisting themselves in his hurry. Adam obligingly unlocked the dog flap and let Baby tumble down the deck steps to the small fenced-in back yard. He yawned as he leaned against the door frame and watched the dog attend to his business quickly then set off to sniff every single thing in the tiny yard as though it had all been changed in the eight hours since he’d last been ourside.

Baby was not what Adam had expected when he’d gone to the humane society to adopt a dog. Adam hadn’t actually ever planned for a pet. He had fulfilled one of his greatest desires by purchasing the small house in the suburbs that was a short drive from work. Although he had plans for moving to the city and a bigger job next, he’d bought the house as an investment, knowing he could always use it as a rental when he moved away.

But once he was moved in and all the painting and little home improvement projects he’d wanted to do were done, he found out his nights and weekends were a little bit lonely. He made himself have a semblance of a social life, but when he curled up on the couch after a long day, he realized it would be nice to have someone to curl up with.

And it seemed easiest to pick that someone with four legs and fur rather than go through the labor intensive dating process.

So, he found himself at the humane society on a weekend, the din of barking dogs ringing in his ear. Adam had thought that although a cat would be less work in the long run, he’d always had a soft spot for the mutts that lingered in the trailer park he’d grown up in, seemingly owned by no one but still looking for a friendly hand.

Plus, he had some notion that having a dog would be good for home security, someone to watch the house during the day and be alert at night, providing some extra reassurance.

As the volunteer led him down the rows of cages, Adam quickly decided he did not want a toy breed, or something smaller than his knees, or something that was as large as a pony. Neither did he want something that required loads of runs and energy nor something that would just lie around and nap all day.

There was quite a selection of medium-sized dogs and Adam quietly looked down at each while the volunteer happily rattled off their information. There was one that looked somewhat like a well-loved stuffed animal with tufts of brownish hair sticking out, and it looked back with large liquid brown eyes...and okay, maybe Adam was more interested in having a dog than he’d admitted even to himself.

Then they turned a corner and Adam first saw the ears. That was his first impression of the dog—big pointy ears that stood upright and pointed in his direction. As he came around the front of the cage, he saw the striking blue eyes, highly unusual in a brown and black dog, and the lolling pink tongue. When he stepped forward, the tail began a wag that shook the dog’s entire body.

It was bigger than Adam had initially wanted, and thin, lean but not starved, and seemed to be mostly long legs, ears, and those striking blue eyes.

When the dog let out a low boof and opened its mouth to pant and smile, Adam thought he might be in love.

He knelt down outside the cage, and the dog stuck its nose through the grate to bump into his hand.

“Ah, this boy, he was returned last month. He’d been raised here and finally adopted a month ago, but he, uh, wasn’t a good fit for that family.”

Warning bells went off in Adam’s brain, and he reluctantly pulled his hand away. “Why wasn’t he a good fit? Behavioral problems?”

The volunteer looked shifty as she looked over her clipboard, clearly buying for time. “Well, the parents claimed that he wasn’t as affectionate as they wanted.”

“Not affectionate, this guy?” Adam stood up and brushed off his jeans. The dog boofed again and followed his every movement.

“I’m going to be frank with you,” the volunteer said, finally meeting his eyes. “We warned the family that he might not be used to being around other dogs and we’ve never had him around cats so we recommended a situation where he was the only dog with only older children. They agreed, but then found out that he was … well, they said he sort of grew attached to the father but he didn’t take to the rest of the family.”

Adam stared down at the dog who was sitting, looking pointedly back at him, tail still swishing along the floor. “Was he aggressive? Unfriendly?”

The volunteer shrugged. “They said ‘indifferent.’ It obviously wasn’t a good match. We’ve had dogs before that we call ‘one-person’ dogs, that take a shine to one human only. But this dog has never shown aggression to humans. And he’s never had a reaction to another visitor like he has with you.”

Adam didn’t try hard to resist. “You said I could take a dog outside for a walk, to try out? Not like a test drive, but well—”

The volunteer came to his rescue. “Absolutely! Let me grab a lead and you can walk him in our yard!”

Then Adam realized the very important question he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “What’s his name?”

Again the volunteer stopped to consult her clipboard which was ridiculous until she looked back at Adam and said, “The family named him Babycakes, and unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get him to answer to anything other than Baby.”

“Baby,” Adam repeated, his tone incredulous, but Baby didn’t seem to care because he boofed again at Adam and began to wag/shake in ecstasy when the volunteer clipped the lead to his collar.

Adam was expecting to either be pulled around the yard like a cart or to have to pull the dog behind him, so he was amazed when Baby walked along beside him, stopping frequently to sniff at dandelions or look around at the wide open field, his big ears flapping in the slight breeze. Adam stopped once and said firmly, “Sit,” just to try it, and Baby sat immediately.

Adam rewarded him with a fuzzle of his ears, and the dog bopped his head up into the movement, his mouth opening again in a grin.

That was when Adam knew he’d been chosen. But, “The name Baby is ridiculous. We’re definitely changing that,” he informed the dog.

Like many of Adam’s plans, that was doomed to failure. So was his strict budget when he shopped at the pet store before picking up Baby on his adoption day. He’d never known there were so many products one could buy for a dog. It was crazy, it was ridiculous, it was … obvious that Baby might prefer a harness to collar and require three different types of toys for tug of war. And of course he had to buy a multitude of treats because he had no idea which flavor Baby would prefer.

Baby had settled into the house much easier than Adam had dared to hope. He followed Adam that whole first day, curling up periodically in a sunny corner in whatever room Adam just happened to be in. And then just so happening to move into the next room after Adam did.

Adam had read a few, well, quite a few, different articles on bringing a pet home and training. He introduced Baby to his food and water corner in the kitchen, walked him on the lead through a tour of the back yard even though it was fenced, and showed him how the dog flap worked.

He was maybe a little heavy handed on the treats, but Baby was being so good, no barking, no scratching and even standing by the back door until Adam let him out to pee in the yard. Adam knew he was blessed that Baby was house-trained but it would be even better when Baby could just let himself outside.

Baby sat at attention a few feet behind him while Adam cooked dinner, and then snuffled loudly under the table while Adam ate, slipping Baby a couple pieces of plain chicken that he ate delicately from Adam’s fingers.

Adam turned on TV for a little while and sat on the couch, waiting to see what Baby would do. He just curled up in a ball under the lamp, head turned in Adam’s direction, and napped.

When it was time for bed, in order to create a sustainable routine, Adam took him out in the yard. But again, Baby seemed to understand that the dark was time for sleep because he didn’t waste as much time peeing and followed Adam back inside.

Their first disagreement came over the bed. Baby had to investigate every nook and corner of the bedroom while Adam brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. Adam walked over to the huge dog bed he’d splurged on, hunkered down and patted it, calling for Baby.

Baby walked over, nose to the floor, sniffing as he went. He obligingly walked into the bed and circled and circled then circled again. Then stood there staring at Adam.

“Good boy,” Adam said, standing up and going to pull down his bedspread. Baby immediately appeared and leaned against his leg.

“Oh hi,” Adam said. “Your bed’s over there.”

Baby just leaned harder and Adam sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be a battle, and he wasn’t wrong.

Adam tried ignoring the dog and got into bed, plumping pillows behind him so he could read for a while. Baby, who obviously didn’t know what the word “ignore” meant, stood at the bed, head resting on the mattress by Adam’s hip and panted loudly, an occasional whine coming out when he exhaled.

Adam finally got up, rubbed his ears and took him back to the dog bed. He squatted and smoothed his hand over the special memory foam mattress, made encouraging noses, looked back to Baby … and got licked on the nose.

He sputtered and sat down hard on his ass. Baby took that as encouragement to crowd onto his lap, at least, as much of his head, legs and chest as he could, while Adam pleaded with him.

“You’re a good boy,” Adam gasped. “But you are not a lapdog.”

He pushed and wrestled with Baby who was in ecstasies of love at the attention. Adam knelt and patted the bed again. “C’mon boy, this is a better mattress than I’ve ever had. It’ll feel so much better than the floor.”

He smiled when Baby walked into the bed again and turned. Looked at Adam. Turned again. And finally plopped down with a sigh.

Adam rubbed his head and ears and praised him lavishly. Baby’s tail continued its metronome beat of loving devotion.

Adam hurried back to bed, turned out the light and lay down before Baby could change his mind. Although he’d worried about whether the noise of a dog would keep him awake, Adam was pleased that his lifetime of exhaustion allowed his usual deep sleep to continue, and although he had a weird dream about dating a woman wearing a fur coat and felt extra warm all night, he slept just fine.

Until he stretched the next morning and froze, wondering just who the hell was spooning him. It only took one deep breath and the smell gave it away.

Adam groaned out, “Baby,” which woke the dog and started the day’s wriggles of delight.

No matter how he tried, Adam just couldn’t break Baby of the habit of sleeping in his bed, no matter how they started the night.

It was only one of the challenges of having a dog that Adam was soon to learn. Baby followed him throughout the house, but once Adam moved the unused bad to the living room, Baby did agree to use it to rest while Adam puttered throughout the downstairs.

Adam had already decided to allow him on his couch, so when he settled in to watch TV, Baby happily joined him. But Adam did eventually win the war and insist that Baby snuggled against him, not on him.

Baby finally took to the door flap Adam had installed so he could let himself in and out throughout the day. However, Adam started locking it at night when Baby showed no need for it, and Adam watched enough YouTube videos showing unexpected wildlife visits.

Baby wasn’t fussy at all about eating, and would eat anything, including any food Adam dropped on the floor that wasn’t retrieved within one split second. And Adam was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t dig or destroy his belongings inside. While Baby would sniff every square inch of the back yard and bark at squirrel and bird invasions, he didn’t damage anything in Adam’s sparse yard either.

Adam knew that Baby would require more exercise than his own sole leisurely investigations of the back yard. As soon as he pulled out one of the leashes he’d bought—Adam had examined each type and finally settled on three—Baby went into paroxysms of joy.

Adam could barely get the new harness on him because Baby insisted on dancing and licking any part of Adam he could reach.

But once outside, he settled happily at Adam’s side and walked along, head and tail erect, looking from side to side in the neighborhood. Adam felt his shoulders begin to relax at the amazingly good behavior.

He tightened again when a woman walking a floofy white dog came into view, and shortened the lead on Baby. But Baby had already seen them, and charged for an instant with the loudest bark Adam had yet heard from him. Adam hauled him back and Baby obliged, crowding into Adam’s legs and growling lowly, a ridge of fur on his spine starting to rise.

By that time, the lady and dog were drawing near and Adam tried to smile at her, but it definitely felt inadequate. The little dog would’ve come closer, despite Baby’s now constant growl, but the owner said sharply, “Control your dog.”

“Yes ma’am,” was all Adam could say because what did she think he was trying to do, one hand tight on Baby’s harness and the other snugged up on the leash.

But he didn’t think he’d have to worry about Baby leaping away because he was wedged as close as he could get to Adam. That continued every time they so much as glimpsed another dog.

At first Adam worried that Baby was territorial around everyone, but he breezed right past human strangers walking or jogging without a care. It seemed like he was experiencing something Adam had read about called resource guarding, only it was Adam that was the resource and Baby was attempting to guard him against all other canines.

That nixed Adam’s plans to drive them to a fenced-in dog park for the moment until he could get some professional training. Baby didn’t seem to mind and loved walking the neighborhood sidewalks pressed close against Adam.

They spent the day finding out that Baby also loved playing with a ball and frisbee even though he hadn’t learned fetch, but he loved chasing them then running around with them in his mouth until Adam all but tackled him.

Adam figured they’d both sleep well that night, and he certainly did, although he woke up Monday morning spooning Baby and cursed under his breath when Baby’s giant head craned back in joy and hit his chin.

Then came the moment he’d been most dreading—leaving for work. Baby didn’t know what was to come, but Adam lavished him with praise and watched him snarf down his morning bowl of food while he sipped his own coffee. He even gave him a handful of treats then walked Baby into the living room.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” Adam vowed. Baby panted and tried to kiss his face. “I can’t stop in at lunch, but I’ll be home on time. Please be good. Ah, Baby, I know you’ll be good,” he crooned.

Baby followed him to the front door, still wriggling in excitement, but Adam had to stop him. “I can’t take you with me, sweet thing. But I’ll be home soon. You take a nap. Go outside and chase those robins.”

Baby’s head tilted and he wagged his tail again, but he still tried to squeeze out the door with Adam. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be back,” Adam babbled as he turned himself to get outside and shut the door behind him.

He could hear Baby start to whine the saddest, most mournful sound he’d ever heard. Adam had his key back in the lock when he caught himself. He had to be strong. Baby would have to get used to being home alone. Adam couldn’t afford doggy daycare and after their experience the day before, he didn’t think it would suit Baby anyway.

He had to tough it out. He had to go to work. He could not take time off just because he’d adopted a dog. He could not stay home.

But he could rearrange his schedule to go home at lunch.

As soon as he slotted the key in the lock, he heard a thump and the skitter of toenails across the hardwood then Baby leaped at him when he finally opened the door.

There as a millisecond of fear that Baby was attacking him, thinking him an intruder, but instead of going for his throat, Baby was whining and kissing him.

Adam laughed gratefully. “I guess you’re not going to make much of a watchdog, eh Baby?”

He tried to pet him and move him so Adam could get the rest of his body inside. They spent a blissful half hour together, Baby looking up at him adoringly while Adam ate a quick sandwich.

He could do this temporarily. It would save money eating at home. It was only twenty minutes round-trip. Just until Baby settled in.

The whining began when Adam headed back to the door, and he hardened his heart and made his promises that he’d be straight home after work.

Thankfully, Baby started to adapt and while Adam still came home once in a while for lunch, Baby seemed okay alone all day. Adam researched dog boredom and bought some more toys that Baby could work at for puzzles and treats while he was gone.

However, Baby usually left them until Adam was home, seeming to crave Adam’s attention and praise more than the treats.

Adam soon found he loved coming home to someone who worshiped him, who looked at him like he hung the moon and stars—although in Baby’s case it was more like doled out treats and walks. They’d eat dinner, go for a brisk walk, then home to play some ball before settling in to watch TV or read.

Adam hadn’t made the time to get out socially and make friends except for talking to a few co-workers. One of them, an assistant named Blue, was quick to zoom in on his nerves that first week and his unexpected lunch trips home.

“You hiding a new girlfriend or boyfriend?” she asked bluntly.

“No,” he said quickly then he sighed and relented when she showed no sign of removing herself. “Here,” he offered his phone gallery. And accepted all the cooing and compliments Blue made over Baby.

But he balked at first when she invited herself over to meet him in person. “Pshaw,” she said, joining him on Friday afternoon. “I walked dogs for half the town in high school. Dogs love me.”

Adam tried to explain how Baby acted on walks and admitted he’d never had anyone over the house to see how Baby would react. “You’re going to have to seek out professional training,” she advised. “Definitely sounds like he has some issue with letting other dogs around you. And you know that could be dangerous.”

It didn’t dissuade Blue. She had Adam enter the house first and was witness to the raptures of love Baby showed him.

When she stepped in, Baby got behind Adam’s legs, and he laughed. “He’s so confident outside.”

Blue squatted down, not that it made much difference, Adam thought, and regarded Baby calmly. He growled a little nervously, so she sat down on the floor. “Hey, Baby, I have some treats here. If you’re a brave boy, can you come get it? It’s the good cheese.”

She held her palm out and Baby warily poked his head out from behind Adam then his body slowly followed.

“I love cheese too,” Blue confided in her sweet, soft voice. “If you want it, just come over here.”

Adam felt Baby’s tail wag cautiously then he tried to ooze over to Blue and carefully took the cheese cube from her hand. She didn’t move, and he swallowed the cheese and sniffed her hand. Then he glanced up at Adam who reassured with, “C’mon Baby, Blue’s a friend.”

Although Baby kept looking back at Adam, he did allow Blue to pet him and ruffle his ears, and he graciously accepted more cheese. They slowly made friends, Adam was pleased to say, although any time Adam sat down, Baby was quick to jump up and crowd into him, always pressing between him and Blue on the couch.

“Someone’s definitely jealous,” Blue teased, but then she offered another piece of chicken or cheese and Baby eventually rested his head on her lap.

Adam secretly thought Baby put up with her because he thought she was some kind of squeaky toy, small and capable of high-pitched noises.

One evening when Adam was busy in the kitchen, Blue sat alone on the couch until Baby joined her and climbed on her lap, efficiently smothering Blue, pretending his damnedest to be a lapdog, and Blue sank deeper into the couch thrilled at the love Baby was showing for once.

Adam made sure he took a lot of pictures.

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

Ronan snaked out an arm and batted at his phone alarm to make it shut up. Then he spit out the fur on his lip and reached up to sink his fingertips into the soft fluffy ball curled on his head.

“Dammit, you’re going to give me fucking furballs too. You shed like a rug,” he mumbled.

A muted grumble responsed then a rough tongue rasped on his shaved scalp as if in apology. Only after a few licks, the throat connected to the tongue coughed alarmingly.

“Oh no you little shit, no more yacking furballs on my damn pillow!” Only the threat of that indignity could get Ronan out of bed so quickly.

The cat that usually slept as his nightcap horked once but didn’t spit up. She did get stand partway up and then stretch, long and slinky, in a way that Ronan envied because he was sure it’d cure his spine pain if he could stretch like that.

“God, you have me trained too well,” he said and scratched her around the ears. She tolerated that for a moment, tiny head pushing up into his big hand, then she began to ooze away so his hand petted strongly down her back the entire way to her tail. He scratched right above her tail and she raised her butt appreciatively.

Then she jumped off the bed and sashayed out of the room.

“Why did I have to fall in love with such a diva?” Ronan called after her. He showered and went back to his room to get dressed when he heard the distinctive noise of her food bowl being rolled across the kitchen.

“What are you even doing up, anyway?” he asked when he followed her into the kitchen. “We’re usually asleep for another good three-four hours, you know. You shouldn’t be hungry yet.”

Opal just sat beside the cupboard where he kept her food, sitting straight upright, tail curled primly around her feet.

“I know you can’t read a clock, but you’re a cat. You should have some internal clock shit that tells you we work afternoons and evenings. We’re not used to getting up at the asscrack of,” Ronan glanced at the microwave clock. “Eight-thirty a.m.”

Opal opened her mouth and let out a deceptively polite meow.

“We only get up this early for Mass,” Ronan reminded her. “This experiment of Hennessy’s to open at nine in the fuckin’ morning is ridiculous. And going to fail.”

Opal meowed again, a little louder.

“I don’t like it, so you shouldn’t be all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and hungry at this godawful hour,” Ronan finished his lecture to his thoroughly unimpressed audience.

The audience who suddenly jumped up on the counter and sauntered toward Ronan’s favorite coffee mug that sat ready beside his Keurig.

“Oh no no no, you don’t, you little fucker,” Ronan raced over and grabbed the mug right as a furry paw reached out to bat at it.

“You’ve broken enough of my glasses, you don’t get to destroy my mug too.” He set it on top the microwave and waggled a finger at her.

As he expected, her paw shot out and hit his finger and they engaged in a brief yet fearsome battle.

Then he laughed and picked her up, sneaking a kiss to the top of her little head as she struggled against all the indignities of her life and tried to escape from his embrace. Ronan kissed her again then dropped her beside where the food bowl should be.

He retrieved it from across the kitchen and got out one of her cans of food. Opal twined between his calves and began to purr when she saw he was obeying her wishes. She then appeared to forget all about him when she began to eat.

“Spoiled rotten,” Ronan told her as he filled her water bowl then prepared his own Pop-Tart and coffee quickly.

With one last look at the clock, he grabbed his wallet and phone. “Gotta go. Be good today, for once. Don’t do anything I would do.”

Opal continued to ignore his existence so he left for the tattoo shop. He was a little disgruntled about the new hours he’d have to work for a few weeks, although he did understand the reasoning behind it. Hennessy’s newest girlfriend was apparently helping her actually create a business plan, and thought they were losing business by not offering longer hours.

He and Hennessy had tried to explain that there wasn’t a lot of demand for tattoos and piercings at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday, but Hennessy was still trying to impress so she’d agreed to try it for two weeks and see if walk-in business did improve. Of course, she wasn’t the one who had to get out of their comfortable bed in the middle of the damn night. No, she left that pleasure for Ronan who she pointed out had no one in his bed, and of course, he would still be responsible for his booked clients which were spread across evenings.

Ronan didn’t like it, but Hennessy had also ignored his empty threats of quitting, so he figured he’d suck it up for two weeks, show that their numbers didn’t improve at all, then take a couple weeks off to make up for it and let the two lovebirds fight in peace.

“You’re just jealous,” Hennessy informed him. “The only pussy you have in your life doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

“Wait, did Ronan get a cat?” Noah turned from his client.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “You know that. I adopted her a couple months ago.”

“Aw, you never invited me over to meet her!” Noah pouted.

“Lynch’s pussy is the best thing about him,” Hennessy said. “And I’m not talking about his damn cat.”

“Disgusting,” Ronan said and Hennessy smirked.

That exchange was probably why she made him open the shop all alone.

True to his fears, Ronan spent the entire morning scrolling through social media and downloading stupid games. He didn’t have a single walk-in until Noah joined him for an appointment at 2.

“You look tired, dude,” he said.

Ronan flipped him off.

His finger was still up when Hennessy breezed in. “That for me? Thanks, but no thanks Lynch.”

Ronan answered with his other middle finger.

“Was business brisk?”

“Business was non-existent.”

“Well, wait until we get the word out,” Hennessy said vaguely as her first appointment arrived.

It definitely made the afternoon go a lot faster when they were busy, Ronan realized. The little shop filled up by the end of the night with clients as well as Hennessy’s friends, her twin Jordan, her girlfriend Carmen, and various other hangers-on who liked to hang out there and go for drinks after.

Ronan cashed out his last client and stretched, thinking of Opal’s flexibility and getting jealous again.

“Ready to go home to your princess?” Noah asked.

“Ready for bed. Early mornings suck.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Hennessy said. “Got you a little something for volunteering to work our morning shift.”

“Volunteering my ass,” Ronan sneered, but he unrolled the black T-shirt she handed him. Then he swore.

The shirt had a white profile of a cat’s body and the words “I love pussy.” The entire group burst out laughing. Ronan swatted at Hennessy, but she and her wide grin got out of the way in time.

“I do think we’ll adjust the schedule for next week,” she said as Ronan was getting ready to leave. “If you open at nine, you can leave at five. And don’t worry if you have an appointment scheduled for later. We’ll call them and change it. You shouldn’t be here twelve hours a day.”

Ronan was glad, but he bitched about it anyway because he got irritated when Hennessy ran a joke into the ground. When he got home, his princess actually met him at the door, first threading around his ankles, making it difficult to walk without tripping, then jumping up onto the couch and watching him while he stumbled around.

“Is your majesty ready to dine?” he asked sarcastically from the kitchen. Then swore when Opal turned up right beside him. “I still think I should make you wear a bell, you fucking furry ninja.”

He shook out her dry food and she went through the nightly tradition of turning up her nose at it and watching him get ready for bed.

“I don’t know why you continue this farce. We all know how it’s going to end,” he called down the hall. Opal was silent in response.

Ronan finally fell into bed then cursed, got back up to find his phone, and set the alarm for eight fuckin’ a.m. again. He turned off the light, dropped onto the bed and tried to smother himself in his pillow.

Just as he dozed off, he heard the undeniable crunch-crunch-crunch of Opal eating her dinner.

He hated the new schedule, but Gansey hated it even more. “When can I stop over and show you these artifacts? They are quite simply fantastic.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Ronan mumbled as he half-listened while brushing his teeth. It was entirely too early for his best friend’s eager scholarly interests.

“What about Saturday night? Do you have plans for after work?”

“Yeah. Go to bed. Like I’ve been doing all week.”

Gansey sighed. “I forgot about Mass. What about Sunday afternoon? Or are you going out with Matty?”

“I got no plans except maybe to curl up with my best girl and nap.”

“Then I’ll be over Sunday and I’ll bring lunch. If you can stay awake.”

Ronan had to laugh because Gansey had conveniently not acknowledged the comment about Opal. Their entire relationship was the most constant source of amusement in Ronan’s life.

When Gansey visited, Opal ignored Gansey thoroughly in the way that only cats could. Gansey didn’t love cats, but he’d tried to win Opal’s affections out of loyalty to Ronan. So of course Opal was completely apathetic to him regardless of treats, fluffy feathers on strings, or jingly balls. She would stay in the room in sphinx mode, somewhere, just so when Gansey walked past, she could snake out an arm and paw at his leg or swipe at his head.

When he sat down, she just happened to appear nearby, watching. And waiting. It unnerved Gansey which amused Ronan to no end.

“You know, Lynch, cats are very closely linked to witches and demons in folk lore,” Gansey told him once after Opal had perched on her cat tree then batted his glasses nearly off when he walked past. “There are also numerous tales of cats sucking the breath out of infants.”

“Old wives’ tales,” Ronan scoffed. “She only tries to suffocate me when she sleeps with her ass on my face, but she knows if she murders me that I’ve got the thumbs to open the food cans, don’t I?”

He made a kissy face at Opal, who yawned with a nearly demonic fervor of unhinged jaw and toothy opened mouth, and Gansey shuddered.

“Anyway, it’s all transactional with this one,” Ronan said.

The only time Opal purposefully went near Gansey was when he appeared in impeccably tailored black slacks and she decided right then was the time she absolutely had to rub hard against his legs, twining in and out, purring loudly as she happily deposited her light-colored hair all over his slacks. When he sat, she even jumped up on his lap to his great and frozen shock, kneaded his leg, shook herself out thoroughly, and jumped back off, purring like a happy motor the entire time.

Gansey looked down at the coating of fur he’d been gifted and said, “Why did you get a cat with dust-colored hair when all you wear is black?”

Ronan picked Opal up and rubbed her against his cheek which she accepted for a moment. “She’s not dusty, she’s fawn. Aren’t you, lovely?”

When he tried to kiss her, she stuck out a strong paw and held his lips at bay. It was the usual response to his caresses, but Ronan didn’t give up.

Opal came to him when she wanted, sneaking next to him when he stretched out on the couch. She would start at the end of the couch by his feet then gradually slide closer until she was snuggled against his chest. Then she’d start to purr with such a loud rumble that Ronan’s chest vibrated. That was when she’d allow him to gently stroke her and mutter compliments.

The Sunday visit with Gansey was duly accomplished. Ronan showed the appropriate snark over Gansey’s finds, Gansey and Opal exchanged stiff and formal greetings then watched each other suspiciously, and Gansey left with Ronan’s promise to get together as soon as his other week in hell mornings was over.

Monday was Ronan’s day off so he lazed around, did some laundry, wiped some counters and watched some TV. Opal slept in various sunbeams until Ronan settled on the couch and she began her slow creep into his warmth.

Then things started to get weird.

When he got home Tuesday hours earlier than usual, there was no sign of Opal. He called her name and went to the kitchen to put down the takeout he’d gotten. It was nice but strange to be home so much earlier than usual. Once he prepared a plate, he turned around carefully, expecting to see Opal at his feet, but she wasn’t there.

He called her again and walked through the downstairs but still didn’t see her. He didn’t worry because sometimes she didn’t meet him immediately upon arriving home. He was chewing his way through his meal when he heard a little mrrrp-mrrrp noise coming down the stairs and getting ever closer.

“Hey you, where’ve you been? Too good to come see me? Gimme a kiss.” Opal ignored his request, as usual, but deigned to brush against his legs as she passed between the couch and the coffee table.

He reached down to let her run against his fingertips then pulled them up with a swear. There was fresh cut grass trimmings in her fur. He swore again, put down his plate and followed her to her water bowl in the kitchen. Once she finished drinking thirstily, he picked her up, against her twisting struggles, and brushed more grass out of her fur.

“How the fuck did you get grass all over you?” He looked her in the stormy blue eyes as he asked then cursed himself because she couldn’t answer. “Did you get outside? How the fuck?”

He put her down and went upstairs. He went from room to room looking at the windows. He knew everything was secure on the first floor because he did have some sense of safety and he’d worried about Opal getting free and running off.

But the house was old, and some of the upstairs windows didn’t fit the best, letting in drafts in the winter and hot air in the summer. The one in the spare bathroom especially… Ronan glared at the window which had indeed been pulled open just far enough for a body the size of Opal to slip through.

He sighed then closed the window with a definite slam. It didn’t shut completely, but the sill was more warped than he’d realized.

That was the problem with buying an old fixer-upper then running out of patience and energy before everything was fixed up. It’d probably worked itself open over time, and it would only take once for Opal’s curiosity and skillful paws to work it open enough for her to escape.

Fuck Ronan’s life, though. He came home the next evening in the middle of a spring thunderstorm and called plaintively for Opal. When she didn’t appear, and she wasn’t visible in the living room, he headed up the stairs two at a time.

Opal sat on the bathroom floor, head twisted around, licking her back.

“Oh God, you’re soaked. How the fuck did you get out again?” Ronan grabbed a handtowel and tried to help dry her off. She hissed and swatted at him, but he dodged her claws as best he could. When he was done, her fur stuck up like a punk rocker’s and she spit irritably as she started grooming herself again.

Ronan slammed his hand against the window, closing it as tightly as he could against the swollen frame. “And I’m nailing this closed so you don’t get out again.”

Opal just licked her back harder and pretended she couldn’t hear him.

“I can’t believe the little fucker got out. Twice. At least. She could’ve gotten hurt,” Ronan grumbled the next day.

“But she always came back. That means she loves you,” Noah said.

“Fuck. That means she loves her food. And treats.”

“And that catnip mouse I gave you for her? Does she like it?”

Ronan sighed. “Yeah, she does love that mouse.”

“I ordered some organic high-grade stuff for her,” Noah waggled his eyebrows. “I think she’ll really like it.”

“You can’t keep buying drugs for my cat. You’re the reason she’s spoiled and acting out.”

Noah laughed. As Hennessy went past with her next client, she said “What’s this I hear about you being upset about a wet pussy? Don’t know what to do with one, Lynch?”

Ronan rolled his eyes as her client chuckled at his expense. Noah just shoved at him affectionately.

Noah insisted on coming home with him to finally meet Opal. Ronan was relieved that she was asleep on the couch and not out wandering somewhere.

Noah knelt beside the couch immediately and whispered compliments to her until she raised her head and flicked her ears.

“I think she likes you,” Ronan said.

“How do you know?”

“Because she hasn’t tried to claw your eyes out.”

Noah frowned at him then rooted in his pockets. He presented another catnip mouse to her, on both palms, like a suitor presenting an engagement ring.

Opal finally sat up and sniffed the gift. She meowed and pawed at the mouse until Noah lay it on the couch. He also put a baggie of green herb on the coffeetable and whispered loudly, “Don’t tell your Dad.”

Opal petted at his face without extending her claws, which was practically a declaration of undying affection. Then she rolled over, holding the mouse in her front paws.

“I have to do it,” Noah gasped.

“Don’t. It’s a trap.”

“I have to, Ronan,” Noah murmured. He reached out and gently petted her belly. “Oh, it’s the softest thing ever.”

Opal dropped the mouse and held Noah’s arms in her paws. She let the petting continue for a long moment. Then she brought up her back paws with a series of vicious kicks as her teeth descended on Noah’s hand.

“Aw, look at her! She’s trying to kill me!” Noah was way too thrilled about the abuse, but Ronan stepped in to break it up.

Opal was strangely attached to Noah, though, and watched him flit through the house. Noah promised he’d return soon and keep up her supply of whatever herbs she wanted.

Ronan sat down with her later and petted her while she sat in a loaf on the couch. “I’m proud of you, not escaping today,” he said.

Opal did not deign to respond. It was common for most of their conversations. Ronan talked, and Opal pretended not to listen. But Ronan knew that deep down, she did care about him. And seek him out for ear fuzzles and butt scratches.

That’s why he couldn’t stand seeing her mope about not getting out the window. But neither was he going to risk it and let her roam out in the big world where there were cars and dogs and God only knew what other dangers. He vowed to start work the next weekend on a catio so she could sit in the sun and grass while safely screened in.

“Gonna make you a little paradise,” he promised. She looked up at him and mrowed morosely.

She was still sulking Saturday night when he got home, and he lay awake for a long time waiting for the crunch of her food. But when he woke in the morning, the tiny uneaten pellets were scattered wide and far across the kitchen floor.

And his mug lay in pieces along with it.

Ronan swore and went to find sandals to protect his feet while he cleaned up the mess. Opal took the opportunity to start knocking the kibble around the floor, skittering after it, chasing it under the fridge and the stove and …

“Dammit, Opal! Quit it! Let me get the sharp shit up—ouch!” Ronan dropped the piece of mug that had cut his finger and hurried to pick up the rest before Opal could get hurt. But she managed to get around it while spreading the mess from the food.

“I give up,” Ronan groaned and dumped her food into the bowl that had mysteriously made it to the foot of the stairs. Opal sat in its rightful place and sneered; if cats could show disdain, she had it perfected.

“You little shit,” Ronan said, bowing sarcastically as he placed the food before her. He had just enough time to finish cleaning up the kitchen and eat his Pop-Tart cold before rushing out to church.

He stopped for groceries after church, so he was distracted as he opened the front door while carrying way too many bags at once. He saw a flash of fur, felt a light brush against his leg, and as he turned cursing, Opal was out the front door.

Ronan dropped the bags and dashed after her. But she was wily and ornery and faster than he realized.

She streaked down the sidewalk to the end of block then cut across the street. Ronan ran after her, praying that no traffic was coming as they both darted across the road.

He lost her for a second when he had to dodge between parked cars while she went underneath, but he glimpsed her tail disappearing around the side of a house. Praying now that no one would call the cops on him, he cut through a front yard, hurried through the side yard then through two back yards with the sight of Opal trotting happily along.

She crossed another street with Ronan grinding his teeth, but, thank Christ, there was still no traffic. He followed her around another block, huffing a little, breathing hard, regretting that he’d ever given up going to the gym.

He was closing in when Opal stopped at a nice white vinyl fence that enclosed a yard. He panted for a second and got ready to pounce, just as her butt wiggled and she leaped, landing softly on the top of the fence.

She took a moment to look down at him then disappeared down on the other side.

“There’d better not be some crazy ass gun lover living here,” Ronan hoped, swore, and swung himself up and over the fence.

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

The first time Adam dusted some soft, tawny fur off the coffeetable, he didn’t think much of it. It was nearly the color of Baby’s belly hair, and although Baby was short-haired, Adam was learning that pet hair got everywhere.

Looking back, the first clue was actually the evening Adam got home and Baby was slow to greet him. His mood was a little off and he refused to go out the dog flap until Adam opened the door and accompanied him into the yard. When Baby ran around then bounded back to Adam, tongue flapping and more himself, Adam rubbed his face and looked closer. There were three tiny lines on his nose beaded with dried blood.

“Sweet boy, what happened? How’d you hurt yourself?” Baby only winced a little bit when Adam softly ran his thumb over his nose.

Baby just butted his head into his belly and leaned heavily into him. Adam kissed his head. “Let’s get that cleaned up.”

Once Adam took a soapy washcloth to the quivering nose, after holding the scrabbling Baby in a tight grip, the lines practically disappeared. “I’m no doctor, but I think you’ll make it, Baby.” Baby showed his appreciation with lavish kisses to Adam’s own nose before he could push him away.

Adam started to clue in when the amount of hair continued, especially noticeable on his dark throw pillows and all over his dark green fleece he left over the back of the couch one day.

“Are you shedding, buddy? Or are you— oh God, you’re not bringing bunnies or something in here, are you?” Now that he thought about it, Adam began to fear there was another creature coming in the house, even as he rigorously checked Baby’s belly to make sure there wasn’t a bald spot.

But search as he might, there wasn’t any other sign of animal infestation. Baby acted normally although he began to show a different relationship with food. Adam was surprised that instead of inhaling his breakfast and sucking up all his pre-work treats, Baby left a few kibble in his bowl and Adam caught him carrying a couple biscuits every morning to hide them in his bed.

He made a mental note to ask the trainer about it, just as soon as he had the spare cash and the time to schedule a training session.

“There’s something going on,” he fretted to Blue one day in the break room.

“What’s wrong? Baby’s not sick, is he?”

Adam shook his head. “No, he seems fine. But some days when I get home, he’s out back roaming around the yard. He used to always greet me right at the front door.”

“In other words, he’s settling in and getting used to you.”

“But that doesn’t explain the stray hairs.”

“Do you think another dog’s coming in? Because it can’t be a squirrel or rabbit. You know Baby would tear the house apart if that was the case.”

“I know,” Adam said. “I just can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“Why don’t you set up a camera? Like a nanny cam? Then you’d be able to know exactly what he gets up to when you’re gone,” Blue said. “You can put it in the living room corner facing his bed and still catch the dog flap in the back door.”

“Blue,” Adam said, “you are a genius.”

“I know,” she replied.

Adam ordered a camera immediately and set it up on a Tuesday night. Baby sniffed everything but lost interest when it didn’t squeak or smell like food.

“I’m sorry to be spying on you,” Adam said when he stepped off the step stool. “I just have to find out what’s going on. If it’s something that’s a danger to you, well, then it’s gotta stop. It’s just so weird that nothing happens on the weekends when I’m home.”

Baby just wagged his tail and grinned up at him.

“Thanks for being so forgiving,” Adam said wryly and gave him a treat that Baby swallowed happily in one gulp.

Adam began to check the app footage as soon as he got to work. Baby was curled up in his bed in the living room, looking like the perfect angel that never did anything wrong, just like Adam knew he would.

When he got up for a coffee refill, he took the phone with him, wanting to show Blue. They stood in the break room, watching Baby nap in peace.

“Keep me updated,” Blue ordered as she went back to her desk.

Adam assured her then his words dried up when he glanced down at his phone. There was no advanced warning when a cat pushed right through the dog flap, strutting in, tail up, like it owned the place.

“Oh my god,” Adam breathed, riveted by the drama he could only observe. “Get outta there.”

When Baby lifted his head and sniffed, Adam yelped. “No! Oh god, Baby, leave it alone!”

Then Baby began to stir as the cat sauntered into the living room. Adam gurgled, throat tight from anxiety.

“What is going on with you?” Blue stuck her head back in the break room. “I can hear you from—”

“There’s a cat in the house and Baby’s going to eat it!” Adam hissed in horror.

Blue hurried to his side and they watched the brief stand-off as cat and dog stared at each other. Then Baby got to his feet and the cat turned and ran out the flap, Baby scurrying right behind.

“Oh shit, I gotta get home!”

“Just calm down a minute,” Blue said. “Didn’t you upgrade to the camera with sound?”

“Don’t judge me right now!”

They watched the bare interior of Adam’s house for a few moments while Adam argued he needed to leave for home and Blue pointed out that whatever was going to happen would already have happened before he got there.

She elbowed him sharply. “Look!”

Baby entered through the dog flap, and Adam was relieved to not see any obvious signs of carnage on him. But then the cat walked in.

“Holy shit!” Adam said.

Both animals disappeared from view into the kitchen and Adam groaned. Baby reappeared as he licked his lips and chin in the way he always did after he’d taken a big, thirsty drink of water. He stood in the middle of the living room until the cat joined him, also licking its lips with a tiny tongue.

Adam watched horrified as the cat went straight to Baby’s bed and jumped in, nosing around the edges.

Even Blue squealed when Baby stuck his big head in and poked his snout beside the cat. Blue sighed in relief when the cat pulled out one of the treats that Baby had started stashing there.

“Aw, do you think he’s been saving them for the cat? Maybe they’re friends!”

Adam swore softly. “I’ve gotta get home and get that cat out! We don’t know how Baby will react!”

“Adam, I don’t think you have to worry,” Blue said.

Sure enough, Baby watched while the cat ate the treat then jumped back out of the bed. Baby nuzzled it once, and the cat just kept walking. It jumped up onto Adam’s couch, and Baby immediately joined it, curling up close. Once Baby had settled, the cat climbed onto Baby’s back and lay down.

Adam held his breath, but slowly exhaled once Baby didn’t react. It looked like they were both ready for a nap.

“This is better than any TV special,” Blue said. “It looks like Baby does have a friend.”

Adam shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. But Blue was right about the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it in real time. He’d just be powerless and watch then come up with a plan to keep any other animals out of his house, away from Baby.

Adam went back to his desk after Blue forced him to promise to get her if there was more action. So they watched together when he saw the animals wake up, both stretching fully and sniffing each other. Baby pulled out one of his stuffed toys and placed it before the cat. The cat pawed at it while Baby wriggled and dropped into play mode, his hind end up, front feet spread. He panted and Adam could clearly imagine the eager heavy breathing he did when they were ready to play.

The cat batted the toy around and Baby pounced. Then the cat pounced on Baby and Baby rolled over, belly up, letting the cat roam on his belly.

“I can’t handle this,” Adam said shakily, just sure that one instant of rough horseplay would end in disaster for the cat.

“I know! They’re so cute together!” Blue said.

“Not what I meant,” Adam muttered.

Eventually the two got to their feet, and Baby led the way out the flap again, and out of their view.

“I’m going home for lunch.”

“No, you’re not,” Blue insisted. “Don’t be a helicopter parent. Let your son spend time having fun with his friends.”

If Blue hadn’t known him, the look he gave her would have been withering.

Adam’s fears abated just a little when the two spent the afternoon back in the living room, taking turns napping in the bed and on the couch. When the cat rubbed the side of its face all over Baby’s snout and head and there was no teeth or trouble, Adam breathed a sigh of relief. And when the cat licked at Baby’s ear like it was trying to bathe him, Adam thought that maybe, just maybe, Blue was right.

He walked to his car still glued to his phone. “They still loving on each other?” Blue asked.

“They’re moving again,” he said.

Sure enough, the cat got up from Baby’s head and stretched. It jumped down from the couch lightly and looked back up at Baby. He stood up, shook vigorously, and jumped to the floor. They walked to the door flap and exited.

Adam and Blue stood beside Blue’s car, still transfixed until Baby re-entered the house, all alone.

“Bless them, leaving in time so Dad doesn’t catch them,” Blue said.

“Well, my son is going to get an earful when I get home,” Adam said sarcastically. “And I’ve got to figure out how to secure that damn flap.”

Baby greeted him at the door with all the love and affection he normally did. Adam looked all around the downstairs and couldn’t see anything out of place. The cat hadn’t left any obvious clues except for the light hair on the couch.

Adam squatted down to be eye level with Baby. “You’re not exactly in trouble, but we are going to have a talk about this, young man,” he said sternly.

Baby tilted his head, wagged his tail, and licked Adam’s chin.

Adam started researching automatic electronic doggy doors that night. He debated whether he should keep the flap locked all day, but worried that would confuse Baby and he might have accidents in the house.

But watch as they might, neither he or Blue saw anything on the camera Thursday or Friday. Baby seemed lost and restless as he paced around the house and went in and out numerous times.

“Looking for his buddy,” Blue said sadly. “I hope nothing bad happened to it.”

Adam couldn’t help but feel relieved even though Baby acted sad and less energetic than usual when Adam was home. He took Baby for a longer walk on Saturday to try and tire him out.

Baby followed Adam through the house on Sunday morning as he did some general cleaning. Adam knew that Baby seemed to cling to him on the weekends whenever he was home, and he wondered if he also got lonely while Adam was at work. Was that why he’d made friends with the stray cat somehow? Was it keeping Baby from being lonely and sad?

He was scrubbing the kitchen sink when he glanced out the window and saw it. The cat. Sitting on the top of his fence.

“Oh shit,” he said. As if he read Adam’s mind, Baby’s head jerked up.

The cat jumped down into the yard. Adam was torn between watching it, seeing Baby move toward the back door, and then staring in horror as a large man swung himself up and over the fence.

“Oh hell no,” he said, pushing Baby out of the way so he could open the door. But Baby squirmed past him and bolted across the deck and down the steps as Adam shouted for him.

The cat was strutting toward them when the stranger lunged at her, yelling, “Fuck no!”

Then everything happened at once. Baby jumped, Adam screamed, the man grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and swung it up into the air. He was swearing, Adam was swearing, and the cat was squawling in a way that—although he’d never owned a cat—Adam was sure was also swearing. Baby was jumping up into the man’s broad chest, paws scrabbling on his chest as he whined.

Just as the man pushed Baby down, Adam caught at his arm. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch my dog!”

“Don’t let your fuckin’ dog touch my cat!” the stranger yelled, still holding the cat in the air above his head, out of the reach of Baby.

Adam grabbed Baby’s collar and used all his strength to pull him back. “Sit, Baby. Sit!” Baby sat, reluctantly, and his hind quarters quivered with the effort of obedience.

“Now what the hell are you doing?!” Adam turned on the stranger.

The man eyed them both angrily but he’d brought the cat down to his chest and was trying to cradle it. The cat was angrily insisting to be put down, and Adam almost winced in sympathy at the bloody scratches appearing on the arms of the man’s shirt.

“Get your damn dog away from my cat,” the man said.

“Your damn cat is trespassing,” Adam said and later on winced at how ridiculous he sounded. “Baby, sit,” he warned the dog who was still wriggling and whining at the cat.

The man snorted. “Call the police on her,” he said. “Can you let us out a gate or something? I can’t climb over holding her.”

“There’s no gate out here,” Adam sighed. “You’ll have to come through.”

“That’s a shitty ass design,” the man said.

“Then climb, asshole.”

The man sighed and swore as the cat renewed its struggles to get free. “Look, I’m—”

With a surge of strength, the cat squirmed free and launched itself from the man’s arms. He swore, reaching for it, but the cat landed lightly then was a tawny streak shooting across the lawn, up the steps, across the deck and through the dog flap. Baby followed close behind.

The man’s swearing redoubled and he shook off Adam’s hand when he grabbed at him. But Adam caught him again on the steps. “I think it’s OK,” Adam said hurriedly.

“Fuck you! Your dog’s going to rip her to shreds!” The man threw off his hand and savagely tore the door open.

“She’s been here before,” he called out and it froze the man for a second.

“What the actual fuck?”

By that time, they were both in the kitchen. Baby was placidly taking a drink at his bowl; the cat was nowhere in sight.

“Opal!” the stranger yelled. “Opal, get your furry little ass out here right now!”

“Look,” Adam said and pointed. The cat was in Baby’s bed, going through the same motions it had before. As the man stalked over, the cat found a treat and pulled it out to eat.

Baby followed them and squeezed past the man to join the cat in the bed. Adam said, “Just give it a second.”

The man hovered nervously, but the animals ignored him. The cat continued to sniff for treats while Baby turned in a circle then plopped down with an audible sigh. The cat arranged itself on top of him and began to purr, its paws starting to flex.

“Holy shit,” the man said. Then he turned to Adam, “How the fuck did you know this?”

“I just found out Wednesday,” Adam admitted. “I think your cat’s been visiting my dog during the day for a few weeks.”

“No fucking way,” the man ran a hand over his face and sighed. “That does make sense though. I just found out my cat’s been getting out of the house. I don’t know for how long.”

“It didn’t show up Thursday or Friday.”

“No, I finally fixed the window the little shit’s been using.”

Adam looked down at the two animals already drifting off to sleep, the cat’s purrs still rumbling. Then he looked at the man and his bloody arms. Although he was tall and big and had a shaved head, the man was dressed in tailored navy slacks and a white button down, its sleeves getting ruined by blood.

“Do you want to wash your wounds?” Adam offered. “And some peroxide would be a good idea.”

The man side-eyed him. “I still don’t trust leaving them alone.”

“It looks like your cat can take care of itself. But you, on the other hand…”

“Bullshit,” the man said but he followed Adam to the kitchen, with a long look back at the pet bed.

Adam gestured to the kitchen sink then hurried up to the bathroom to get his first aid kit. When he returned, the man had his shirt sleeves rolled up and was using dish detergent to wash his forearms as he swore.

Adam handed over the peroxide and some cotton gauze, but the man just grabbed the bottle and squirted it all over his arms, making him hiss and swear again. “That’s one way of doing it,” Adam said as he privately admired the green snakescale tattoo that covered one of the man’s arms.

“Saves time,” he grunted. He took the box of bandaids that Adam handed over.

“Peroxide’ll get blood out of your shirt too,” Adam said.

“If the little shit didn’t actually rip the shirt along with my skin.”

“Your cat is something else.”

“Yeah, she is,” the man said, fond pride tinging his voice.

“I’m Adam. Parrish.”

The man turned then and looked him over. “Ronan Lynch. And Opal. The cat from hell.”

“My dog is Baby, no I didn’t name him,” Adam always said the last clause in a rush every time he had to introduce the dog by name.

Ronan snorted. “He’s big, but he’s friendly?”

Adam nodded. “To me and my friend. He doesn’t like other dogs. I didn’t see him around cats before I adopted him.”

“You said this little illicit relationship has been going on for a while?”

“Apparently,” Adam got out his phone and found the app footage he’d saved. He started it and handed it to Ronan.

Ronan watched, lips quirking occasionally as if he wanted to smile. Adam took the opportunity to admire his sharp cheekbones, his piercing light eyes and his strong lips. His body was nice to look at too.

“So this is where she’s been coming? She’s been sulking and grumpy since I nailed the window shut. I thought I just stopped her random wanderings, or maybe she had a second family somewhere feeding her, but I never thought she had a friend that she was hanging out with.”

“I think she’s been helping Baby adjust to being alone all day. He’s much more settled now when I have to leave for work,” Adam said.

“Let me guess: you get home around five?”

“Usually around twenty after,” Adam agreed.

Ronan nodded. “I was getting home this week a little after five and that’s the only reason I caught her. I’m usually not home until ten or so.”

“Oh. What do you do?”

Ronan talked about his tattooing, and Adam said a little about his job. That led to some talk about the neighborhood and where the best Chinese takeout was. Adam noticed that Ronan’s looks at him were longer and his glances moved from Adam’s mouth to chest to hands.

“Shit, my groceries,” Ronan groaned. “Fuck, my front door is still open.”

He told Adam how they’d come to be in his back yard, and Adam laughed out loud imagining the chase. Even Ronan grinned wryly.

“Now my ice cream is melting and my TV is probably getting stolen.”

“Hope not,” Adam said. He glanced in at the sleeping pets. “Do you want to let Opal here while you go take care of things?”

Ronan peeked around him. “I guess I could, if you don’t care. But I don’t want her roaming home alone. I couldn’t handle it if she got hit by a car.”

Adam nodded. “I understand.” He locked the pet flap. “I’ll keep them inside.”

“Did you eat lunch yet?” Ronan blurted.

“No, I just kind of graze on Sundays,” Adam admitted.

“I could bring something over, when I take Opal home.”

Adam didn’t want to appear too eager, but, why not. “Sure, okay. I guess maybe we could talk about some kind of play dates for those two, as well. Seems like they make each other happy.”

Now Ronan’s look was definitely hotter and heavier. “Maybe we should see about that.”

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

“My cat’s a fuckin’ cheater,” Ronan complained from the doorway.

“Your cat is a pleasure and a delight,” Adam murmured.

“Just like her owner.”

“In spite of, I was going to say.” He turned another page of his book and leaned his head into the purring ball of fur perched on his shoulder. Opal nuzzled above his ear and purred louder as she peered down at his book.

“Well, your doggo and I have had a very good time too, building that catio, and I hope that makes you jealous,” Ronan taunted.

Adam shrugged. “Your cat likes me because I’m quiet when I read. My dog apparently likes loud and boisterous, coming from the ruckus that was going on outside.”

“Yeah, well, he keeps interrupting my building for wrestling and tug of war. Who am I to argue with that?”

In the weeks since they’d met, as parents of the kids as Blue liked to say, Adam had let Opal—and Ronan by extension—into their lives. Baby certainly approved of the changes. He took to Ronan right away and constantly brought him toys and ropes and the leash, wanting exercise and play and attention. Ronan wrestled and ran and rubbed him roughly which Baby loved right back.

Opal had surprised both of the men by expressing an appreciation for Adam. As soon as he sat down, she sat beside him or stepped delicately into his lap if he was settled. She sometimes followed him as if curious what he was doing, quietly observing.

After keeping them separated another week and seeing how destructive Opal became and how depressed and moping Baby was, they tried a compromise. Adam would drop off Baby at Ronan’s house on Mondays and Tuesdays. Ronan would take Opal to Adam’s the other three days, with the understanding that the pet flap only opened now for the electronic gizmo on Baby’s collar.

Opal learned to cooperate and get in her crate without a fight for the short drive to Adam’s. They were working on getting her used to a harness and leash so she could join them for the neighborhood walks that Baby adored.

Ronan’s catio was growing more elaborate so they’d be able to let both of the pets in the screened-in enclosure safely, without worrying about escape.

And Adam was learning a lot more about Ronan Lynch, especially what Adam had to do to get him to purr just as smugly as his cat.

“You know,” Adam said, “when I was looking for a pet, I thought I’d find one just like me, so we’d get along. Instead—”

“Instead, you ended up with my cat who actually does share a lot of your personality,” Ronan leaned down to growl in his ear and kiss his cheek. Opal grumbled and swatted a paw at him. They laughed until Baby pushed past Ronan, laid down beside Adam and messily kissed his other cheek.

“Whereas, my dog and my boyfriend resemble each other,” Adam laughed then harder when Ronan threw himself onto Adam as well and they all had to wrestle for breathing space.

Maybe he didn’t get exactly what he’d expected but this was definitely something even better.

#trc #the raven cycle #pynch #pynch fic #trc fic #adam parrish #ronan lynch #my fic #fluff

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