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oflgtfol · 1 year

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On the History of Planethood: A Brief Summary

Excerpt from How I Killed Pluto and Why It Had It Coming, Chapter 2: A Millennium of Planets by Mike Brown

The end of the twentieth century was not actually the first time that the word planet had become confusing. The word has existed for thousands of years, and its meaning has been continually updated to reflec tour continually shifting view of the cosmos. Over the millennia there have been a few major events leading to dramatic changs.

The original ancient Greek meaning of the word planet was simply "wanderer," or something that moved in the sky. When, as a teenager, I first noticed Jupiter and Saturn dancing among the stars, I was seeing the sky as it had been seen for millennia and noticing that there were things that were special, things that stuck out, things that moved in a different way. As the sky slowly revolves throughout the year, the stars stay in fixed patterns while the wanderers move separately and conspicuously through the constellations of the zodiac. The ancient Greeks and Romans knew seven wanderers in the sky: the five visible planets - Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, which are all easy to see if you know where and when to look - plus the moon and the sun, which both also move through the sky and were also considered planets in good standing.

In a pre-electric light, pre-urban world, people must have been much more intimately connected with the sky and the planets. Mercury and Venus, which are close to the sun and thus only show up low in the early-evening or early-morning sky, are these days frequently mistake for airplanes; even I sometimes mistake them. But before we became used to the idea of artificial lights in the sky, the recurring appearance of the evening or morning star would have been an obvious and spectacular event that would have been hard to miss. Mars, distinctly red in the sky, even to the naked eye, always stands out. It is no wonder that some of the earliest recorded scientific records of any sort are of the positions of the planets. Everyone would have known what a planet was back then. Planets mattered. And it is no wonder that all of our basic units of time are based on the sky: A year traced the time it took for the sun to go all the way around the sky to reappear at the same location again, while a month ("moon"-th) is about the amount of time it takes for the moon to circle the earth. The seven days of the week are even named after the seven original planets. Sunday, Mo[o]nday, and Satur[n]day are the most obvious, while Tuesday through Friday are more than a bit obscure. Tiw was an ancient Germanic god of war, as Mars was to the Romans, so Tuesday is actually Mars' day. Wednesday is Woden's day. Woden was the carrier of the dead - a Germanic grim reaper - fulfilling one of Mercury's less well known jobs. Thor was the Norse god of thunder, like Jupiter, and Friday is the day of Venus in the guise of the Norse Frigga, the goddess of married love.

Though planets were so deeply embedded into many aspects of everyday life, there is no recording of the public reaction to the first and most significant shock to the word planet. In the sixteenth century the idea began to spread that the sun, rather than the earth, was at the center of the universe and that the earth and the planets revolved around it. Suddenly, the wanderers were in disarray. Instead of the sun and the moon and the other planets revolving around the earth, five of them (the planets) went around one of them (the sun), while the seventh (the moon) went around the earth. The earth, like five of the wanderers, also went around the sun. Copernicus wrote down what is perhaps the most startling proposition of all time: "The motions which seem to us proper to the Sun do not arise from it, but from the Earth and our orb, with which we revolve around the sun like any other planet." We revolve around the sun like any other planet! The sun doesn't move; the earth does. The earth under our feet is like any other planet in the sky. The earth is a planet. What seems so obvious and ingrained in us today must have been profoundly disorienting. I've tried to put myself in the frame of mind of the time and tried to understand how shocking it would have been, but I've never come close. It is as hard for me to image an Earth-centered universe as it would have been for them to imagine anything else. Everybody thought they knew what a planet was, and suddenly, one appeared beneath their feet.

And what of the moon? At least Earth was special in that, of all the planets, it alone had another body going around it. But when Galileo first pointed his crude telescope at the sky in 1609, he discovered that Jupiter, too, had objects going around it (now called the Galilean satellites). Any reasonable pair of binoculars will show you the same thing. Find Jupiter, point the binoculars up (lean against a wall to steady your shaky hands), and you'll see the disk of Jupiter and maybe even some bands of wispy clouds on the disk. Perhaps you'll also see four tiny white dots strung in a line all to one side of Jupiter. The next night look again, and one of the tiny dots might be missing - hidden behind Jupiter - and one might have moved to the other side. The next night they will change again. The little moons are wandering around the wanderer. One of them even has volcanoes. I could tell you a lot about those volcanoes.

Even with Galileo's primitive telescope, he could tell that there were stars in the sky that were too faint for the eye to see. Did he or anyone else think about whether or not there were planets in the sky that were too faint for the eye to see? No one appears to have written about the possibility. Perhaps no one even thought about it. Though the planets had been rearranged and now were secondary to the sun, and the earth had been demoted from the center of the universe to the same status as the other planets, perhaps the possibility of additional planets circling the sun so faintly that we wouldn't know about them was simply beyond comprehension. Why would such invisible things have been put there in the first place?

It took almost two more centuries to stumble upon the answer. In 1781 the British astronomer William Herschel was charting faint stars that could be seen only through his new advanced telescope. He came to one star that looked bigger than the stars around it, which was strange, since all of the stars look simply like points of light and none appears bigger than another. When he looked again the next night, the unusual star had moved. He he found a new wanderer. But since it couldn't be a planet (obviously, since all of the planets were known, right?), what was it? Herschel assumed it was a comet near the earth. Within only a few months, however, he realized that the new object was in a circular orbit well beyond Saturn, where nothing else had ever been seen before. It was no comet, it was a planet. Herschel measured the size of the greenish disk he had found and realized that this new body had to be big - not quite as big as Jupiter or Saturn, but much bigger than any of the other planets in the solar system. The word planet quite naturally expanded to include this new body distantly circling the sun: the seventh planet had been found. Jupiter, the largest planet, was named after the king of the gods. Saturn, originally the most distant known planet, was named after the father of Jupiter. The new wanderer, even more distant than Saturn and unrecognized throughout history until the moment Herschel distinguished it from the stars around it, was - eventually, after sixty years of debate - named Uranus, for the most ancient of all gods. The element uranium, discovered only seven years later, was named in honor of the new planet.

Everybody had known there were only six planets until the moment the seventh was found, but once the prejudice against the idea of new planets was overcome, the idea that there could be other unseen planets was infectious, and as the techniques to build telescopes became more and more available, people began to systematically search the skies for new wanderers. Success came more quickly than expected. On the first day of 1801, Italian astronomer Giuseppe Piazzi - who, like Herschel, had been busy studying stars, not wanderers - discovered the new planet Ceres, the eighth planet, orbiting between Mars and Jupiter.

The eighth planet? Ceres? Most people today have never heard of "planet Ceres," but there was little question at the time that Ceres was indeed a planet. Within a few years it could be found in all astronomy textbooks, alongside Uranus and the others. In keeping with tradition, the element cerium, discovered two years later, was named for the new planet. Most people today have never heard of the element cerium, either, but it is used in the walls of most self-cleaning ovens.

Planet Ceres's problems began just a year after its discovery, when German astronomer Heinrich Olbers, investigating the new planet with his telescope, accidentally stumbled upon yet another unknown object wandering through the sky: the ninth planet, Pallas! Again, there was little question that Pallas was the ninth planet, and the element palladium was named for it in 1803.

Ceres and Pallas, though considered full-fledged planets, had a few puzzling properties. While all of the other planets were well spaced in their orbits around the sun, Ceres and Pallas were, in the cosmic scheme of things, right on top of each other between Mars and Jupiter. They were different from the other planets in other ways, too. The recently discovered Uranus was too faint to be seen without a telescope simply because it was so far past Saturn. With the aid of a telescope, though, the green outline of the disk of Uranus was apparent. But Ceres and Pallas were closer to us than Jupiter, closer than Saturn. They could not be seen without the aid of a telescope not because they were far away, but simply because they were so small compared to all of the other planets. They were so small, in fact, that even with the best telescopes of the day they just looked like little points of light. Herschel, the discoverer of Uranus - wanting to preserve the uniqueness of his own discovery I suspect - coined the term asteroid (“aster" is Greek for "star," as in astronomy, while "oid" means "like") to describe these new objects. To Herschel, Ceres and Pallas weren't like real planets with their visible disks; they appeared "starlike" instead.

Astronomers quickly found two more planets in this same region between Mars and Jupiter - the tenth planet, Juno, in 1804 and the eleventh planet, Vesta, in 1807 - and then, for almost forty years, nothing new came along. This was too many new planets for some people, chemists in particular. There are no elements named after Juno or Vesta. But still, forty years was long enough for the eleven-planet solar system to firmly emplace itself into the teachings of the day. In a secondary school text from 1837, the chapter between "The fourth planet, Mars” and "The ninth planet, Jupiter" is simply called "The fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth planets." The schoolkids who had learned about the eleven planets were probably unhappy with what was about to come.

I have never seen these fifth, sixth, seventh, or eighth planets, even though they are just as easy to see in my binoculars as the satellites of Jupiter, and I look at the satellites of Jupiter in my binoculars all the time. In fact, I love a solar tour with good binoculars. The rings of Saturn pop out, as does the redness of Mars, and sometimes even the little crescent-moon-shaped sliver of Venus that proved to Galileo that Venus orbits the sun. I can explore the craters and mountains and shadows on the moon for hours. I've carefully tracked down the position of Uranus and stared at it several nights in a row just to experience how Herschel might have felt about his discovery. But I've never even thought to look for any of these objects that were the most exciting astronomical discoveries of the early nineteenth century.

The reason I've never looked for these four individuals, I think, is that just as the four new small planets were becoming accepted as part of our understanding of the universe, a deluge of new objects started to be discovered. By 1851, fifteen more of the new asteroid planets were found, as well as one more large planet - Neptune. Neptune was even deemed large and important enough to name an element, neptunium, in its honor, but almost no one can recall the names of the other fifteen. It was a confusing time. What counted? What didn't? On the wall in my office at Caltech I have a collection of maps of the solar system dating from about 1850 to 1900. Each map labels the solar system differently A page from a sky atlas drawn in 1857 clearly shows Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta as "small planets," while dozens of other asteroids are generally shown in the "zone of asteroids" between Mars and Jupiter. A German map from a year earlier lists all of the known Asteroiden by date of discovery, with no references to their being planets at all. Even by 1896, the solar system map from the Rand McNally Atlas explicitly states that the solar system contains only the sun, planets, and comets asteroids are not mentioned at all - and that planets are either primary (what we would call planets today) or secondary (what we would call moons). In the margins of my Rand McNally map are drawings of how big the sun would look from the planets. At the top of the margin, the sun, seen from Mercury, is huge. At the bottom, the view from Neptune shows a tiny, distant disk. In the middle are the views from Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta, still tenuously holding on to their claims to be planets. The sun looks exactly the same from each of these four since they are all the same distance away.

By the turn of the century, though, somehow all of the confusion about what was and wasn't a planet had settled. I cannot find anything written or drawn in this period that doesn't separate the asteroids from the planets. What was their offense that they were cast down from the pantheon? In the end, their major sin seems to have been that there were too many of them all in the same place. The big planets go around the sun in orbits far from one another with no overlap, but the hundreds of known asteroids had crossing and overlapping orbits and were all one big jumble. How many is too many? When there were only four and the solar system appeared stable at eleven planets - which it did for forty years - no one (except the chemists, who couldn’t discover elements fast enough) seems to have complained. But the prospect of a never-ending parade of smaller and smaller planets all in essentially the same orbit around the sun was too much. There was no official vote or pronouncement, but by the early 1900s it became conventionally agreed that the solar system had only eight planets. Planet Ceres, which had held on for a century, along with all of its smaller neighbors, was demoted, with no outcry from the citizens of planet Earth.

By recognizing that Ceres and the swarm of other new bodies were fundamentally different from planets and should be classified differently, astronomers had - perhaps inadvertently, but certainly profoundly - changed the scientific meaning of the word planet. The word no longer simply meant anything that moved around the sun and wandered around the sky. Asteroids wandered, but they wandered in a swarm; they were the schools of minnows swimming among the pod of whales. Planets were the whales of the solar system.

As a kid I knew asteroids, too. On my poster on the wall they looked like tiny pebbles strewn in a vast band between Mars and Jupiter. They were the things - the meteors - that sometimes hit the moon and made those giant craters. I had seen shooting stars, which I knew were tiny fragments of these asteroids burning up in the earth’s atmosphere. Maybe I didn’t know their individual names or anything specific about them, and perhaps as individuals they were indistinguishable. But from what I knew by the time of my 1970s childhood, the difference between a planet and an asteroid was as obvious as the difference between a boulder and a handful of sand.

After the uncertainty and confusion about planets had been settled for a few decades and textbooks were clear that there were eight and only eight planets, the ninth was finally discovered. Clyde Tombaugh found Pluto by taking repeated pictures of the sky and comparing them to see if anything had changed. On February 18, 1930, he found a faint object that moved from one night to the next: a new wanderer! Unlike the myriad asteroids (hundreds were known by then), Pluto was not between Mars and Jupiter; it was well beyond Neptune, where a real ninth planet should be. Still, it was a bit odd. It was found to go around the sun in an elongated, rather than circular, orbit, and while all of the planets orbit the sun in a flat disk, Pluto was found to be tilted by almost twenty degrees away from the rest. Pluto also looked different. It was so small that you couldn’t tell it was a planet at all. In fact, it appeared starlike. Some astronomers didn’t want to call Pluto a planet. Shouldn’t it just be called an asteroid instead? By then, though, the word asteroid had lost its literal meaning of “starlike” and instead referred specifically to that belt of objects between Mars and Jupiter. Should it be called a comet? Comets can have elongated and tilted orbits like Pluto’s, but none had ever been seen so far away, and the word comet (from coma, Latin for “hair”) specifically refers to the fuzzy appearance of comets in the sky. Pluto was not fuzzy; it looked like a star, albeit one that moved. Though it looked and behaved like no other planet known, there was no other way to classify it, so it became accepted as the ninth planet, had the element plutonium named for it, and remained unchallenged for almost seventy years as the tiny lonely oddball at the edge of the solar system, the planet with the ice spires, the planet with the orbit so extreme that it couldn’t even fit on my poster on the wall, the incongruous period at the end of the solar system.

What I didn’t immediately grasp when Jane Luu joined me on the roof overlooking the San Francisco Bay at the Berkeley astronomy department in 1992 was that the discovery of the Kuiper belt gave Pluto a context. It took me and most other astronomers a few more years to realize that Pluto is neither lonely nor an oddball, but rather part of this vast new population called the Kuiper belt. Just as the explosion of asteroid discoveries 150 years earlier had forced astronomers to reconsider the status of Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta and change them from full-fledged planets to simply the largest of the collection of asteroids, the new discovery of the Kuiper belt would certainly force astronomers to reconsider the status of Pluto. It was becoming more and more clear that if the asteroids were the schools of minnows swimming among the pod of whales, then Pluto and the Kuiper belt objects were simply a previously overlooked collection of sardines swimming in a faraway sea. If Ceres was to be thought of as just the largest of the vast collection of asteroids and thus not a planet, why should Pluto not suffer the same fate? What, after all, was a planet?

#brot reads how i killed pluto #astro posting #this is so freaking epic it like combines the topics of two of my favorite papers re: the planethood debate #that ceres paper that detailed the asteroid debacle of the 1800s #and the moons are planets paper - albeit this excerpt only has one sentence alluding to that #when i saw 'planets were divided into primaries and secondaries' i was like YEAHHH. MOONS ARE PLANETS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

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sciencespies · 1 year

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Leonid meteor shower 2022: How to get the best chance of spotting a shooting star

https://sciencespies.com/space/leonid-meteor-shower-2022-how-to-get-the-best-chance-of-spotting-a-shooting-star/

Leonid meteor shower 2022: How to get the best chance of spotting a shooting star

The Leonids are underway and can be seen streaking across the night sky, clouds permitting. The Moon is waning, so interfering light from the Moon is becoming less as we approach the meteor shower’s peak.

So, what’s the best way to maximise your chances of spotting a Leonid? What causes the Leonid meteor shower? And, when exactly should you look up to see it?

If you’re keen to make the most of the longer (if somewhat, colder) evenings, make sure you check out our astronomy for beginners’ guide and our full Moon calendar. For a full roundup of this year’s meteor showers, we’ve got all the essentials listed in our meteor shower calendar.

When can you see the Leonid meteor shower 2022 in the UK?

The Leonid meteor shower began on the 6 November and will continue through to the 30 November. The shower peaks on 17-18 November, when we can expect to see around 10 to 15 meteors per hour.

The Leonids have a relatively short period of activity of around three weeks, just under half that of the Orionid meteor shower that’s just come to a finish.

The best time to look up and maximise your chances of spotting a Leonid is between midnight and the hours before dawn, when Earth is facing the incoming meteoroids.

Where to look

The radiant (the direction from which the meteors appear to originate) is in the large constellation Leo. Leo is located between the constellations Cancer and Virgo, and it’s easy to spot thanks to the distinctive backwards question mark comprising the face of the lion.

The view of the night sky at 2am, 18 November 2022, as seen from London © NASA/ESA/ESO/Space Telescope Science Institute/IAU Minor Planet Center/Fabien Chereau/ Noctua Software

The Leonid meteor shower is best seen from the northern hemisphere, although they are also visible from the southern hemisphere. However, as Ian Todd, content editor for BBC Sky at Night magazine explains, you don’t actually need to locate Leo in order to spot a Leonid:

“I always thought that to see the Leonid meteor shower, you should find the radiant and then slowly look away from it. Then, any meteor you see that appears to be moving away from Leo is a Leonid.

“But, if you just look two-thirds of the way up in the sky in any direction, and if you see something, follow the trail back. If the trail went into Leo, then you’ve seen a Leonid meteor.”

So don’t worry if your view of Leo is obstructed; the meteors will be visible across the night sky, cloud cover permitting. Looking away from the radiant will allow you to potentially see ‘longer’ meteors, as opposed to the shorter meteors you might spot nearer the radiant. This is due to an effect called ‘foreshortening’ – an optical illusion that causes a meteor’s train to look shorter because it is angled towards us.

Where do the Leonids come from?

The Leonids are a result of the Comet 55P/Tempel-Tuttle as it makes its journey around the Sun. As the Earth moves through the trail of dust and debris left behind by this comet, these particles interact with our atmosphere, producing a trail of excited atoms. This, in turn, produces the light we see as meteors or ‘shooting stars’.

In astronomical terms, Comet Tempel-Tuttle is a relatively small comet, with a nucleus of ‘just’ 3.6km. It has an orbital period of 33.22 years, so because it’s less than 200 years – that makes it a periodic comet. It last reached perihelion (the comet’s closest approach to the Sun) in 1998, and will return again in 2031.

Comet 55P/Tempel-Tuttle taken over multiple days in 1998, as observed by Francois Colas while the comet was moving away from Earth. Images processed by Jean Lecacheux

How many meteors will you be able to see?

In 2022, we are expecting to see around 10 to 15 meteors per hour, however light from a waning Moon (last quarter) may make viewing conditions difficult, though not impossible.

A rather exciting event happens approximately every 33 years. This is when debris from Comet Tempel-Tuttle produces a ‘meteor storm’, and hundreds (or thousands) of meteors can be seen streaking across the sky. The Leonids have been responsible for exceptional displays on previous occasions, the most recent being during the 1999-2001 meteor storm when viewers observed up to 3,000 meteors per hour! Sadly, in 2022 we are not due a meteor storm.

Numbers have fallen since the Millennium, and realistically in 2022, we’re more likely to see around 10 to 15 per hour. The strongest-ever meteor storm on record was in 1833 when stargazers were treated to a whopping 100,000 meteors per hour!

The Leonids are the fastest meteors ever recorded (around 70km per second), and often leave lingering trails. This year, the Leonids reach maximum activity on a waning Moon, in the last quarter of the lunar cycle. The Moon has around 43 per cent illumination on the 17 November, which drops to 33 per cent on the 18 November, so conditions are not ideal – but at least it’s not a full Moon.

More like this

Animation of Comet 55P/Tempel–Tuttle in orbit around Sun. Animation by Phoenix7777, HORIZONS System, JPL, NASA

Viewing tips

If you can, find an area away from light pollution. Night temperatures on the 17-18 November are expected to be cool, around 7 to 10°C with a light cloud and gentle breeze in London – but remember to check your local weather forecast. Even so, be sure to wrap up warm, as you’re probably not going to be moving around much.

If the rain holds off, lie back in a reclining chair, hammock, or on a blanket, and let your eyes adjust to the darkness for around 10 to 20 minutes.

After a while, your eyes will become more accustomed to seeing meteor trails as they streak across the sky. Try not to look at other bright sources of light – such as your phone – during this time. If you do need to check something on your phone, use a red filter. This is because the rod cells in our eyes are not sensitive to red light, and therefore it doesn’t interrupt the accumulated night vision. Many astronomers use red light torches and filters for this reason.

About our expert, Iain Todd

Iain is the content editor for BBC Sky at Night magazine, writing regularly about meteor showers and stargazing events.

#Space

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

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Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844

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Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes.

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door.

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones.

Suffice to say, the twins were very different.

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb.

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle.

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips.

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist.

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression.

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”.

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4”

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!”

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work.

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton.

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen.

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler.

“That’s really good pat-”

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun.

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“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school”

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands.

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building.

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job.

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched.

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded.

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe.

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work”

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will.

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director.

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t look marginally like a cave.

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects.

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before.

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid”

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding.

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep.

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

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was.

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family.

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree.

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day.

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up.

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

204 notes · View notes

gloryofluv · 3 years

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Manor with Manners: The Brothers Reaction to Meeting Your Family

The Brothers decide to invite your family over for a party in the human world. Your two younger siblings follow you. Your parents are amused… and the reactions of the crew are mixed.

(For the sake of the headcanon, you have two GN siblings.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Escorting your parents and younger siblings inside the manor, you stop a moment. “So, as I told you, the exchange program was a bit odd. Because they were in the middle of nowhere, they all have… particular personalities.”

Your parents nod with smiles. “I’m positive it will be fine. After all, if they went through all this trouble, they must be worth it.”

“Yes, they’re all excellent beings. I know I’ve told you about them, but meeting them, well, they can be a bit much,” you laugh and breathe before walking them into the party…

Knew about the plan for a while. He was hesitant to allow the blending of families. Diavolo was insistent, so there they were… entertaining your family. He’s incredibly pessimistic that something might go wrong.

He actually speaks to your parents the most out of the brothers. Talks about the exchange vaguely enough to make it seem plausible. Charming. Definitely pulls plenty of talented tidbits from his metaphoric cap. Your mother finds him responsible and handsome. Your father… Well, he thinks he’s quite refined. However, something about him… (Yeah, pops, he’s a powerful demon) Both are pleased with him. Checkmark for approval!

Watching you play with your younger siblings is a damn treat for him. He’d only seen you with his siblings, and suddenly, you were more than a fragile human. You were a leader. Tries to hide his blush as you call him ‘Lulu.’ Has a tough time not giving up his pride and scooping you in his arms.

Your siblings tease you about ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g’ and mock you with noises when he kisses your cheek. Your blush and defensiveness reminded him so much of himself. Melted. Emotional. Completely gone for you. That was all it took for him to entirely give up the charade of distance and pull you aside, away from the fray, to kiss you and say how much he loves your beautiful heart.

Um. Scared of your parents. Really scared. Scared of Lucifer’s threats that you’ll never talk to them again if he messes it up too. Your mother is super nice, but your father scares the shit out of him. Poor bumbling demon. He doesn’t know where to start nor how to hold a conversation with either of your parents. Blushing mess.

Your siblings, now he’s got that! Cute little you with little children to make their minions! They’re young enough to coach, come on, it will be fun, right? Definitely likes being called ‘The Great Mammon’ by them. Chaotic and all about the games, quickly convinces your siblings into a game in the pool, then asks about you when you’re not around.

He adores you and later on would wrap his arms around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. No fumbling words or phrases. He would just smile a rare and genuine and pure smile. If you’re by his side, he’s the happiest demon alive and would do anything to make your family happy too.

Has a hard time even looking at your parents. It isn’t until your mother approaches him and compliments his sweater that he stares at her, a blushing mess. He then carefully explains why he chose the sweater, and your mother brings him over to your father. They’re gentle and ask about all his hobbies. He was shy, but they must have known that.

How he saw you with your siblings made him a little jealous. You would pick them up, laugh with them and play games. He wanted your attention. Your care. You. The envy began to fade when you invited him to play one of the human console games they brought. It was some party game! Oh! So much fun!

He was competitive but noticed you weren’t playing to win. You let your siblings and him win. Which caused the children to cheer and laugh. Oh! You were such a good sibling and honorable like Henry! His Henry.

He eventually shows your siblings TSL and his collection. He now gained two normie humans that were related to you as fans. They followed him around, asking questions about TSL, which actually made him feel so special!

Doesn’t outwardly approach your parents at first. He stations himself comfortably with a book at his side and watches the interactions. It is your father to approach him first, asking about the novel. Ah, a mystery lover? They hold a small conversation about human mystery and thriller authors, which Satan happily continues. Your mother comes over after a bit and asks him all about his passions. He’s a nerd, but they seem intrigued. Satan is great at masking charm, and your parents aren’t immune.

He enjoys watching you with your siblings. It’s a true insight into how you became so comfortable with him and his brothers. That steals his heart. He figuratively could rip it out and hand it to you. You were so good that he just needed it all the time in his life. Your siblings were wary of him until he began talking about cats.

Yep. Apparently, your siblings love cats too! Showing them all the pictures he had of cats was a highlight of his day. Hearing the gasps and sighs of the children as he showed off cute kittens in the Devildom. (Of course, you couldn’t tell it was the Devildom unless you’d been there). That was how he won over your siblings.

Expect secluded stolen kisses throughout the evening. He adores the person you are wholeheartedly, and seeing you with your family was a treat. A reminder that you had a choice on whether to love him and his brothers, and you do.

Doesn’t mind walking right up to your mother and giving compliments on her wardrobe and hair. Definitely slides in how she is aging well and how he knew how you got your good looks. Your father clearly finds him the most fascinating of his brothers. Not because of anything other than the mile-a-minute bubbly attitude. Your parents were both given excellent styling and self-care tips.

Cute little mini yous. Yep. He loves your siblings. He loves how you are with your siblings. Doesn’t want to run around, but if you want… fashion montages and a makeup party?? Oh, yes, completely! Keeps it PG around the little ones. Don't even mind that one of your siblings called him excitedly weird. (It’s a compliment, and he’ll take it!)

He actually doesn’t get all lovey-dovey with your family around. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he convinced Solomon to do a mock magic show for your siblings and was his assistant. Razzle dazzle in a sparkling dress? Oh, yes! However, you do owe him a kiss when they leave. After all, he did it for you!

You introduce him to your parents. Not because he didn’t want to meet them, but he was actually concerned. His worries consist of hunger, disappointing you, and hurting your family. (Sweet boi, just hug him, okay??) Your father shakes his hand and smiles while asking about his sports career. Your mother is just stunned at the sheer multitude of his form. He explains a little and smiles but mostly thanks them for having such a great child. Cue heart eyes and big smiles from your parents.

Your siblings are fascinated with the giant. They ask him tons of questions and actually begin bringing him food between them. They are enthralled with how much he could eat! Beel just smiles and lifts them up when they ask. They also ask him to lift heavier things, and it becomes a game. Soon he is lifting sofas and chairs with them sitting on them. Unfortunately, Lucifer tells him to stop.

He will do anything you want during the party. The most attentive to you as far as what you need to make your family happy. Your mother even slyly asks if you were thinking of dating him because he’s just the sweetest they’d ever met. He doesn’t kiss you or become overly affectionate, but he will be by your side for as long as you want him to be.

Not truly enthused about the whole family thing. Drank six cups of coffee before the party to attempt to stay awake. It’s your mother that approaches him at the window first. He’s looking out at the stars and explains such when she asks. She asks him about the constellations, and that’s when he opens up. Your father trails over and listens to him explain why certain constellations are visible at this time of the year.

It was a detailed conversation, and everything from his grades to his sleeping disorder comes up. (Sleeping disorder, which you explained to your parents obviously) He actually enjoys your parents' company but doesn’t try to put on charm or pazazz for them. They just like him for the interesting conversation and tell him so.

He does not like children. Not usually. However, that being said, he likes your siblings. They drag him outside to hear about the stars, and all of you lay in the grass after dinner. He’s nearly snoozing but points out different constellations and tells them the stories (PG and cleaned up) about each. It does help that all of you see a shooting star, and he tells them to wish really hard for something. Yep, they absolutely adore him.

Throughout the evening, he checks in with you and makes sure you're not stressed. He hugs you plenty, and when you’re sitting, he’ll lean against your shoulder and snooze. This demon is a Class A Clinger and won’t let you have a bad time or be upset by anything. Expect snuggles and cuddles when your family leaves.

#om! headcanons #obey me headcanons #om! hcs #om! fluff #obey me humor #obey me brothers #om! brothers #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! asmodeus #om! satan #om! leviathan #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #obey me fandom #obey me mc

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

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marchyslove · 3 years

Text

That Smile

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

It’s our one-year anniversary and I have no idea where he’s taking me. I see a blanket in the back seat, and I know it’s going to be something romantic because that’s how he is. He’s not one of those over-the-top romantics, but he has his moments.

We pull up to a big open park, not many people around but it’s dinner time so no surprise there. He got out, almost sprinted around the car to get the door for me.

*11 months earlier*

“So this is your place.” It’s exactly what you’d expect of someone like him, big, fancy, granite countertops, leather sectional, open spaces, a balcony with a hot tub and some couches. Rich people might not always look rich when you see them out on the street, but once you see where they live, there’s no denying they have money.

“It’s beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “thanks, I’m not around enough to make it look the way I’d want it to, but I was thinking in the summer I might move some stuff around… make it more home-y.”

I eyed the guitar in the corner, ‘cliché,’ I thought. So many douchebags have guitars on display with no idea how to play them. So I challenged him to it. “you play?” “Yea, I do.” “Are you good?” “I’ve got a couple songs up my sleeve,” he said with a chuckle.

I plopped myself on the couch and pretzeled my legs, staring at him eagerly, “well, by all means, I’d love to hear one.” He didn’t hesitate, walked over and picked up the guitar, he came back and sat right next to me.

“any requests?”

“you know any Clapton? Cliché I know, but I love his music.”

“not cliché at all, anything specific?”

“surprise me.”

In an instant I knew the song, my favorite. When I was younger my mom and I would always listen to 70’s and 80’s radio whenever we were in the car together. Softer, slower music, played later in the day. Then there was bedtime radio that started at 9 at night. It would always start with “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton.

He must’ve noticed the smile on my face, because he started smiling too. “You like this one?”

“Love,” I answered, almost too quickly.

His smile grew.

He had one of those smiles that could make flowers bloom, or make babies stop crying. It wasn’t perfect by any means, even a little crooked, but it made fireworks go off in my stomach.

“It’s a great song, and easy enough to learn cause it’s slower. Not too many different chords.”

“It’s one of my favorites. The lyrics are incredible.”

“Can you sing?”

“Not even a little bit, I’m so bad.” Trying to find something to change the subject I started glancing around the room. My eyes went to the balcony. I got up from the couch and went over to the door. I felt a presence behind me. “We can go out if you want.” So I opened the door and step outside.

The warm, summer breeze felt like a hug. I walked around a bit, glancing at the lights and down at the street below. “Careful,” he said as he took a cautious step towards me. I didn’t realize how much I had been leaning over the edge. “Heights never really scared me.” “Well that’s good, but still… careful.” “I always am.”

I looked up; outside the city the stars were a little more visible. “Beautiful,” I said under my breath. Again, I felt a presence behind me. “You big into astrology?” “Only enough to know my star sign, and that it apparently fits me well. Beyond that, I just like to look at the stars.” “Do you know the names of any of them? Or constellations?”

My confidence grew a little bit. My summers laying outside in the grass playing around with the app on my phone that labeled the stars if you point your camera at the sky were finally about to pay off.

“That one is Sirius. It’s the brightest of them all.” “That’s easy to remember. That’s one of the dippers right?,” he asked, pointing up. “The big dipper, the little dipper is right there, and over there is Ursa Major, its shaped like a bear.” “That means there’s an ursa minor, right?” “Very good work detective,” I teased jokingly, pinching his cheek. He gave a giggle and winked at me. My heart skipped a beat.

“So you know a decent amount about stars?” “I know where they are and how to find them, I don’t know much past that.” “Impressive,” he said as he kissed my cheek.

We walked for a little bit towards the center of the park. He carried the basket; I had the blanket. “I’ve never heard of this place.” “I had to do a bit of research to find it.” “Any reason you chose this park in particular?” “You’ll see.” There’s that smile, after a year I still get the same fireworks when I see it. I glance over at him, and he’s already looking at me. “What are you looking at?” “My girl,” he said with a wink.

He stopped walking abruptly. He looked up at the sky, then around the park. Looking back at the car he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He put down the basket and looked through his phone for something. “Are we stopping here?” “One sec, I have to check.” “What’s the difference between here and 5 feet away?” “You’ll see, but I have to make sure we’re in the right spot.” He put his phone back in his pocket, took 8 steps forward, turned back towards me and grinned, “here.” “Fair enough,” I walked over.

He laid out the blanket, put the basket on it. I hadn’t seen him pack the basket; I actually only saw it for the first time when he picked me up today.

He opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. I sat down and started pouring. “Shit, give me one second,” and before I realized what was happening, he was running back towards the car. I took this opportunity to sneak a peak in the basket. Chocolate covered strawberries, little triangle-cut sandwiches, a little bin of grapes, some crackers- “no peaking!,” he yelled as he made his way back to me. “Too late babe.”

He was carrying four pillows and dropped them when he came over. “What are these for?” “Comfort, we might have the blanket, but it won’t be comfortable without the pillows.” “Yea, I guess I could’ve put that together.” “I mean if you had an idea of doing more, the pillows will definitely help,” another wink.

He had all the makings of a douchebag, on the surface level. He has that superiorly confident look to him. The way he walks, he doesn’t think he’s better than anyone, but that’s the vibe you get from him if you judge him solely based on looks. If you saw him on the street you might think he was the biggest fuckboy on the planet, but then you talk to him.

He’s goofy, in the best way. He’s smart. You wouldn’t think it, but he’s better at quick mental math than anyone I’ve met, and he knows geography like he’s traveled the entire world himself. He likes to talk about anything and everything. On our first date we spent an hour talking about different birds we’d both seen, and our favorites. He likes loons because they sound funny, I like bluebirds because of their beautiful color. I didn’t have much interest in birds until that conversation. Now every time I see a bluebird I think of him. My family went on vacation last month and we rented a lake house. Every morning I’d hear the loon calling and think of that smile.

“Hey you, whatcha thinking about?,” he poked my cheek, I snapped out of my zoned out state, “you.” He turned away a little but I saw the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He had pulled everything out of the basket and tossed it to the side. “Grapes?,” he offered, holding one up in front of my mouth, I opened, and he placed it in my mouth gently, like it was fragile. The sun was starting to set, that’s when I realized there were no lights around. All we had was a tiny lantern he had pulled out of the basket. The view we had of the sunset was incredible, I hadn’t kept track of time on the drive here, so I really had no idea how far outside of the city we were. “How much research did you do exactly?” “Alright to be fair I asked a buddy if he knew any romantic spots and after I got him to quit joking about sex, he gave me a few. Then I googled them and found this place.” “It’s beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you.” “Oh hush-,” he interrupted me with a kiss.

We ate as the sun set, starting the strawberries just as the last bits of golden light dipped below the horizon. He turned on the lantern.

The glow lit up his face, he was really handsome. His skin looked so smooth and he had those long eyelashes that all guys have, it made me jealous. That smile, again. He kissed me, again. He shut the lantern off while we were kissing. He pulled the pillows over and put them behind us, he laid back and spread his arm out. I laid down and put my head on his arm.

He kissed the top of my head, “Sirius,” he pointed toward the star. “Glad you remembered,” I teased. Another wink. He pointed up again, “look.” As I glanced up, there was a light that shot across the sky. “A shooting star. I’ve never seen one,” he was staring in awe. “Make a wish.” “I don’t need to, I have you.” I rolled my eyes, “you are such a cheeseball.”

We laid there pointing out the different stars and constellations. “You’ve been studying,” I glanced up at him. “I wanted to impress you,” he stated, followed by another kiss. I’ve never seen the stars so bright and clear. “Is this why you were so stingy about the spot?” He looked down at me, “I needed to make sure the view was clear so we could see everything.” Like I said, he’s not a huge romantic, but he has his moments. We kept watching the stars in the most comfortable silence. Then, almost as if he let it slip out accidentally, he whispered, “I am so in love with you.” I waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he was quiet, a nervous quiet. “Ditto,” I giggled and glanced up at him. And, without fail, there it was again, that smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay be nice! It's my first work, and like I said- I don't consider myself to be much of a writer. I hope you guys like it, I kept thinking about the idea and wanted to give it a shot! I purposely left names and too-specific details out so people can think of whoever they'd like, and hey! feel free to add the person you thought of to the tags if you reblog, I love stuff like that! Maybe I'll write more if people like it enough :)

If you like it please give it a like and reblog, it would be much appreciated!

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

Text

Camping

Summary: Loki and you have been dating for a while. He has planned a suprise camping trip. Warnings: Smut Word count: 2.255 words A/N: Thanks so much for reading it. Decided to write Loki a little soft this time, since I was feeling romantic. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know :)

You heard a knock on the door. The clock showed that it was 12.00 p.m. right on time, as usual. Before opening the door, you looked in the mirror of your hallway. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, just a white summer dress with small straps, showing a bit of cleavage. Not too obvious, but in a classy way. You grabbed the doorknob and turned. Loki was standing in front of you with a bouquet of different flowers. When he saw you a big smile on his face appeared. He handed you the bouquet “you look lovely, darling” he said.

You took the flowers and let him into your apartment. You went to the kitchen to cut the flowers and put them in a vase. Before you did that you smelled them. They smelled wonderful, you felt butterflies swarm through your stomach at the thought that he had remembered that lavender was your favourite flower. “Thanks, do you want something to drink of get going?” you asked him. “Get going, it is a bit of a walk. If you don’t mind” “No of course not, lead the way” You walked outside and you locked up your apartment. When you turned around you saw Loki offering his arm, which you gladly took. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked. “Do I have to explain the definition of a surprise again to you?” he teased. Loki knew you didn’t like surprises, you were far too curious for that. When he told you, he had a surprise planned for your fourth date you asked so many questions, you were afraid he might leave. But he just laughed at every question you asked him, not giving any hint or sign what he had planned.

Loki laughed at your pouting face and pulled your arm a bit, to have you closed beside him. “Trust me, you’re going to like it” he whispered in your ear. The way his breath felt on your ear made your stomach jump from excitement. “Alright, fine” you fake pouted, giving you a perfect excuse to let your face rest against his upper arm. A thing Loki didn’t seem to mind at all. You walked in silence through the edge of town. That is when Loki led you to a barely visible trail in the woods. “You know the way, right?” you asked him. He gave you a smile “Of course but getting lost with you will be very enjoyable” You walked for about half an hour, making small talk on the way. You told Loki about your week and he told you what he had been up to in Asgard. You laughed hard when he told you that he let Thor think he was a snake for a whole week. And that he exchanged the flagon of beer to non-alcoholic, watching Thor and his friends act like idiots at the end of the night.

He stopped walking and pointed to the woods. “Five more minutes. I apologize, it’s not really a path but it’s manageable” You tried your best to get through it. “You know, my mother always told me not to go with strange men to the woods” “I think if they were as handsome as me, she would let you make an exception” he winked at you, making you blush. The trees started to thin out and you saw a giant lake. There was a blanket spread out with all sorts of food on it, grapes, cheese, jam, bread. Next to the blanket was a tent with the flap open. Inside stood a twin bed with a thick blanket and fluffy pillows. On the inside hung string lights, giving the whole tent a cosy look. Loki stood right behind you, wrapping you in his arms. “Surprise” he said. You were still in awe from the scenery. You turned around so you were face to face with each other. “Loki, this is absolutely amazing! But ehm.. I’m not really a camper and haven’t brought any other clothes” you said.

“I know. I have different clothes for you in the tent. As for insects, I took care of that with a spell. And instead of an air mattress there is a bed, which may or may not be that small on purpose” he grinned at you. You giggled and he pulled you closer towards him. You put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him. Wanting to break the kiss you leaned back, but Loki followed your movement and kept kissing you. You lightly slapped his chest, he broke the kiss “what?” he asked with his most innocent voice. “I still need air!” you said while catching your breath. “Air is overrated!” he argued. “But I suppose we should eat, before the food goes bad”

The whole afternoon you spend with Loki eating, talking, and laughing. At the end of the day, you both decided to go for a swim. Loki even had a bikini for you, for which you were grateful. Until you put it on and saw it only covered the bare minimum. Sneaky guy. It didn’t take long for it to end in a water fight, which you lost of course. But since Loki had claimed a kiss as his prize, you didn’t mind that a bit. It was getting dark and start started to appear. You both dressed in your pyjamas and Loki made a fire. He spends the night talking about the stars and showing you different constellations. Giving you a perfect opportunity to get as close to him as you could and cuddle.

Loki stopped talking and you noticed he looked to be deep in thought. “Is something wrong?” you whispered. He sat up right and shuffled a little bit farther away from you. He looked into your eyes and his whole expression seemed serious, maybe even a little bit nervous. “Loki?” he flashed you a quick smile. “You know those little photo’s we took on our third date?” “Yeah those polaroids, what about them?” you wondered why he brought this up. “Well, last week I was training and apparently I had one of them in my pocket. It fell out and Thor saw, so I was forced to tell him about you. And since Odin and my mother are gone a few days next week, he keeps bothering me to meet you. So, I was wondering if you would go with me to Asgard next week?” You gasped “Asgard? Really?! Hell, yes I’ll go!” you exclaimed. Loki didn’t show any emotion at your over enthusiastic reaction. “Loki, what’s wrong?” you asked again. “Nothing, I just was wondering if I could introduce you as ehm… well we have a different word for it, but you call it girlfriend?”

You were a bit taken aback. Loki and you only recently started dating, but so far it has been amazing. It probably wasn’t a secret that you were madly in love with him, you never were a good secret keeper, or liar. But you were afraid to actually tell him that. The butterflies returned in your stomach and you didn’t have to think about your answer. “Yes you can” instead of the grin you expected you got a sceptic look. “Really?” you were surprised that he was showing his insecurity. He never had acted like this before. You leaned closer and gave him a light kiss on his lips “really” you said while looking in his eyes. That is when the expected grin showed, and Loki pulled you closer to kiss you. You slipped a hand under his shirt, stroking his abs higher to his chest. Loving the way his muscles tensed underneath your touch. Loki got hungrier with his kiss and his hand trailed from you neck down to your lower back. You knew where this was going and couldn’t wait for it.

You put your other hand on his thigh and started to trail upwards. Loki stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes. He was panting slightly and let his forehead lean against yours. “You sure?” he whispered. “Yes” you whispered back. The moment the word left your lips he picked you up, making you squeak in surprise. He laughed at your reaction and walked towards the tent. He gently laid you down on the small bed and crawled on top of you. You were kissing passionately, exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. It didn’t take long for you to take Loki’s shirt off. You moved around so you were on top of him, with your hands on his chest. You felt his heartbeat fast. You sat up right and took of your own shirt and bra. Loki let out a low growl and grabbed your shoulders to put your upper body down. In one smooth motion he flipped you around. Before you had processed what happened he had his tongue circling your nipple and his hand stroking and squeezing your other breast. When you moaned he stopped and start kissing your chest, upwards to your neck and ear. “That is my new favourite sound in the world. I think my new mission is to hear it as much as possible” he whispered to you. That promise gave you goosebumps, making Loki chuckle.

He slowly put your pants and panties down, his eyes never leaving you. There was a primal hunger in his eyes which was making you wetter by the second. Loki pushed your legs slightly apart and started the kiss the inside of our thighs. Your breath hitched and you felt yourself beginning to squirm underneath him. You felt him smile against your skin, guessing he like to make you squirm. He put your thighs against his shoulders and his hand around them, holding your hips. His tongue started to lick your clit. You couldn’t help but keep moaning at the pleasure he was giving you. He was alternating his pace, keeping you on edge. Every time you moaned a little less he would switch his pace. Your hands went to his hair, stroking and tugging while he kept going and going. When you were almost there he pushed two fingers deep inside of you. “That’s it, come for me” he said in a rough voice. You came undone moaning his name loudly. He kept drawing circles on your clit with his tongue, until you begged him to stop.

He stopped and stood up straight next to the bed. You saw a chance that you wouldn’t want to waste. You got up and kneeled before him. When Loki saw you kneeling before him he froze. You stroked the entire length of his cock. Seeing his mouth fell open a little bit. You took the tip of his cock in your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around it. When you looked up you saw Loki with closed eyes facing towards the ceiling. You slowly took his whole cock in your mouth, setting a slow pace. You almost missed the inaudible moan that Loki made. Spurring you on you started to quicken your pace. Loki started to stroke your hair and moan a few times. He then grabbed your hair and pulled a little. You let his cock slide out of your mouth and looked at him. He offered you a hand and helped you up. He laid you back down on the bed. “That was amazing, but I really want to make you mine” he said. He lined his cock with your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you. He felt you up nicely. It didn’t hurt, but you knew that you would definitely feel it in the morning. Loki quickened up his pace, reaching the right spot inside of you. When you started to moan he began to kiss your neck, biting it to leave a light mark. “Loki, I- I-..” you panted. “Yes, oh yes” Loki almost screamed. When your walls clenched around him and you orgasmed he followed quickly. You felt his cum filing you up. He collapsed on top of you.

When he caught his breath, he rolled of off you. He pulled you close, laying with your head on his chest. You both enjoyed laying naked against each other for a while. You followed the way his abs were formed with your fingertips, while he was stroking your back and playing with your hair. “How exactly did the photo fall out?” you asked, finally breaking the pleasant silence. “Don’t know, accident” he replied. “But if you didn’t want him to know, couldn’t you just lie to him. Since you are the God of Lies?” you asked him. You heard his heart rate speed up and he didn’t answer you. You crawled slightly higher and leaned upwards, so you were close to his face. “You want me to meet your brother don’t you?” it didn’t last long, but you swear you could see a slight blush on his cheeks. “Are you going to keep asking questions all night, because I know a far more enjoyable way to spend it” he finally replied. You let the subject go and kissed him. He suddenly stopped and took a deep breath “I did want you to meet him and him to meet you but didn’t know how else to ask” he admitted. You smirked at him “Alright, now how about you show me the enjoyable way to spend the night?” He grinned widely at you “wrong question, darling” he said while going in for a kiss and squeezing your ass.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x ofc #loki x you #loki x original female character #loki smut #sweet loki #Smut #shameless smut #loki fluff #fluff

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1plus1kiyoomi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 18: Heaven

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warnings: suggestive

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“Baby. Baby,” you call your husband, settling your body in between his legs, your head on his stomach. “Wake up!”

“What is it?” He speaks, eyes still closed.

“I want ice cream,” you say in a demanding tone, but your husband ignores you and goes back to sleep. “Babe, please. There’s a good ice cream shop in the night market!” You poke his cheek continuously, bugging him. Kita sighs and looks down at you, about to scold you. As he sees your pouty face and pleading eyes, he groans in defeat.

“What time is it?” Kita asks, rubbing the back of your head.

“2AM...” You respond timidly, preparing yourself for a scolding from Kita. Instead of getting mad at you, Kita chuckles.

“And you want ice cream?” Kita presses your cheeks with his fingers. You nod, puckering your lips and moving your body up so you can give him a quick kiss. “Okay.”

“Yehey!” Cheering, you jump out of bed and go to his closet. You take one random hoodie of his and put it on. Kita envelops his arms your waist, his head leaning on your shoulder. “We have to hurry babe! The ice cream parlor closes at 4AM!”

“Can you drive? I’m so sleepy?” He requests, and you willingly say yes. You carry him out of the bedroom, his weight slowing your walk. Rice wakes up from his sleep and glances at the two of you as if he’s judging you and then goes back to sleep.

“Even Rice is sleepy,” Kita whines so you stop walking.

“Then, let’s not go.” You shrug him off you and head back to your room. Kita sighs before pulling you back. “What? You said you didn’t want to go.”

“I never said that,” Kita defends himself, hugging you. Your furrowed eyebrows and puffed cheeks are giving off that you’re upset, and he doesn’t want you not to sleep in that mood just because he didn’t agree to buying ice cream with you.

“You did, but in subtext,” you argue and Kita lets out a laugh from your response. He pulls the hood of his jacket over you, pulling the strings until your nose, mouth and eyes are the only parts of your face visible. He peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle.

“You’re annoying but cute. Let’s get that ice cream you want,” he tells you, lifting your body in ease. He carries you like a sack, your hips on his shoulder. You poke his butt and he playfully smacks yours, so you let out a scandalous gasp. He puts you down and opens the truck door for you.

“I thought you wanted me to drive?”

“I changed my mind.” Kita starts the engine and drives off the night market. A few minutes in the drive and Kita wonders why you’ve become quiet. He takes a glance at your and sees you leaning on the window, eyes shut close. “I knew you were as sleepy.”

Since there aren’t much cars travelling, the road feels empty. Kita drives quickly but safely to the night market you mentioned. He gently wakes you up, teasing you. “Wake up. You’re the one who invited me to get ice cream at 2AM and you dare sleep.”

You get out of the car and head to the ice cream store. Even without a lot of people around, you are still diligently following Kita’s ‘No PDA’ rule so you are walking at least 2 feet away from him. He reaches his hand out to hold yours but you don’t notice it as you are staring ahead. “Move closer,” he orders.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, taking a step closer to his body. He takes your hand in his, and puts it in his pocket. Your head whips to face him, surprised. He has his usual nonchalant face so you blush. He’s holding your hand in public and even went out with you even if it’s already late. It’s a first. Kita’s spoils you too much, and you don’t mind at all. To be spoiled by Kita Shinsuke is a dream come true for you.

You arrive at the dessert place and order the ice cream you have been craving. After ordering the ice cream, which turned out to be a tub, you run back to his truck, not wanting it to melt. Kita is walking in his usual pace and just watches you waddle your way back to the vehicle. He snaps a picture of you, and smiles at the image.

“She looks adorable,” he says to himself. The fact that you are wearing only pajama pats and his hoodie makes Kita feel even happier. As cheesy as it may sound, it reminds him that you are his, and he’s yours. He finally arrives at the truck and finds out that you’re already eating.

“You want some?” You offer as he leans towards you to put your seatbelt on for you. He shakes his head and kisses your cheek before starting the engine. You are so focused on eating that you don’t notice that he isn’t driving back to your house but to the farm.

When you feel the car stop, you look up and finally see that you aren’t in your house. “Why are we at the farm?”

“The sunrise looks pretty here,” he reasons and gets out of the car. You get out as well, and head to the back of the truck, the tub of ice cream still in your hand. Kita is taking something out of the back seat so you stare at the dark space as you enjoy the sweet dessert.

“Isn’t it too early to for sunrises?” You tell him, checking the time on your phone which reads 3:30 AM. Kita shuts the door close and goes to where you’re standing, blankets on hand.

“Then let’s stargaze until the sun shows up,” Kita answers, bopping your nose. You can’t help but smile. He may not seem like it, but Kita is very romantic. The amount of saccharide he’s giving you through is action is more than the ice cream you are eating.

After he sets up the blankets on the back of the truck, you both lie down and stare up at the night sky. Your head is on his chest, body curled close to his. One of his arms is wrapped around you, the other supporting the back of his head.

“Do you know any constellations?” You ask him.

“No,” he replies and you laugh, confusing him.

“Then why are we stargazing?”

“To watch the stars?” Kita answers unsurely. “Isn’t that what stargazing means? To gaze at the stars?”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you shrug and watch the twinkling stars. “You know, it’s my first time seeing stars shine brightly like this. In the city, they don’t show up because of the abundant amount of lights.”

“Is this a science fact?” Kita pokes fun at you so you hit his chest playfully in irritation.

“That’s basic knowledge. Stop making fun of me,” you pout and Kita chuckles, pulling your body closer to his. There is silence before you speak up again. “Thank you for showing me that stars actually light up the sky.”

Kita looks down to you and see your eyes fixated on the heavenly bodies. Your eyes twinkle more than all the stars combined and he can stare at them all night long. Cross that. He can stare at your eyes all day for the rest of his everydays. Your eyes are the most beautiful stars he has ever seen. The only stars he wants to gaze until he can’t see anymore.

Your mouth is the moon and the sun, and your voice the light they produce. They guide him throughout the day and night. Your lips the sunny day he loves. Your kisses the rainy days he’s thankful for. Without you around, he’d be lost. He wouldn’t know where to go, and what he’d do.

Your face is the blue skies he looks up to everyday. Your cheeks are the sunrise he kisses good morning. Your forehead the sunset he kisses good night. He loves the different colors of the skies, but he’s obsessed with your face. Maybe that’s why he sees your face in cloudy skies and empty horizons.

Kita had never believed that the heavens existed. His grandmother once told him that heaven is the happiest place on Earth. His mind changed when he met you. Anywhere he goes as long as you’re there, makes him feel bliss that he has never experience. Maybe heaven isn’t a place, but if it is, then you are his happiest place. His heaven.

“A shooting star! Make a wish!” You say excitedly, shutting your eyes close to make a wish. Kita smiles before doing the same thing. “I wish for a son.”

“If you say your wishes out loud, then they don’t come true,” Kita tells you, but smiles because of your wish. You two have been trying for a baby for a while now, so hearing that you really want one and even wishing for one, makes him feel at ease. You’re both on the same boat and hopefully, you arrive at your destination soon.

“That’s not true!” You sit up, folding your arms close to your chest. You glare at Kita, lips in a pout once again. “What’s your wish?”

‘You are my wish.’

“I told you already. If I tell you it won’t come true,” he explains and you huff. It’s childish, but he can’t afford to lose you. He won’t risk anything.

“That’s unfair,” you turn away from him. He pulls you back down and pins your body on bed floor while he hovers on top of you. “What are you doing?” You ask him as he starts kissing your neck, sucking and licking on your skin. “Shinsuke, someone might come.”

“No one will. It’s a Sunday and it’s 4AM,” he says to assure you, so you let him continue what he’s doing. You want this as much as he does so who are you to push him away?

He pulls the blanket over your bodies then his hands travel under your shirt. His cold fingertips burning your already hot skin. “Shinsuke, how about the sunrise?” You manage to ask.

“We’ll be done before that.” He pulls your shirt up, his hand cupping one of your breasts. He lips graze over your ear, nibbling on your lobe before he whispers to you. “Let’s make your wish come true.”

The stars at sky aren’t the only stars you’ll see.

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Facts:

Farmers were the first to use the constellations. In some areas the changing of seasons was so subtle that the farmers depended on the stars to know when it was time to plant and when the time was right to harvest.

The Greeks are responsible for naming the constellations. Names came from their mythological heroes and legends. (It’s always them)

You can only see about 2,000 stars on a very dark night with the naked eye. You need to be in a monless night and with less light pollution.

Most stars travel the galaxy in clusters. But not all stars do that; our Sun, for example, moves through the galaxy without a stellar companion.

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #haikyuu kita #kita imagines #kita smau #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke smau

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forestwater87 · 3 years

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Chapter 15: Grand Gesture

Summary: GRAND GESTURE: He or she must be willing to put it all on the line now or risk losing the one thing they need to become whole-hearted. It’s life or death now.

CW: Smut in the last third of the chapter. Questionable quality.

Summer 2017

“Fuck!” Gwen felt her center of gravity shift as she leaned forward, overbalancing on the rickety chair she’d been using to reach the ceiling. It tipped perilously on two legs, then lost the fight with physics and sent her sprawling with a crash that shook the dozens of tiny papers taped around the room. She hit the ground with her hip and the side of her face, one of them making a disturbing crunch sound and both shooting bright white pain down her entire right side. “Shit!”

She was halfway to her feet, wondering if the crossed-eyes dizzy feeling was from lack of sleep, hitting her head, or marker fumes, when fingers closed around her upper arm and she was hauled upright. “Gwen! Goodness, are you okay?” David let go of her, his gaze roving around the room as he took a step back. “What happened in here?”

She looked around, taking a deep breath and noticing for the first time in hours the thick perfume of tacky glue and paint, as though David walking in had turned her senses back on. It was done, mostly. Well, no — it’d never really be done, but it was enough to prove her point.

She hoped.

While she was panicking, David had wandered over to the center of the room, ducking to avoid a string of origami animals dangling from the ceiling. “Is this for camp?”

“Yes — I mean, no, it’s from camp, and maybe we can reuse some of it but no, it’s . . . not really . . .” She’d planned this, during her mad crafting frenzy: how David would come home, wonder what she was doing, and she’d carefully tour him through everything — or maybe she’d let him get on with his morning routine while she added a few more things, made it just a bit closer to perfect.

But his presence had pulled her to a halt. She’d been like a shark all night, afraid to stop moving or she’d die, but now that he was here she felt drained, the giddy, terrified adrenaline that’d been keeping her going evaporating in an instant.

Though hey. At least she had a good reason to be tired, for once.

He frowned at her discarded supplies strewn carelessly around the room. “Are these from Art Camp?”

The question jolted her into action, and she stumbled forward jerkily, like the Tin Man without oil. “Yeah, but I already took it out of my paycheck, it’s fine. I’ll go shopping tomorrow for new stuff.” She wanted him to hear what she really meant, what she was trying to put together through exhausted babbling: that this was important, that it was worth sacrificing sleep and money for, that she loved him and she respected him and she wanted him to know that.

Finally, finally, he turned his attention to the walls. “Gwen, what is all this?”

“It’s you,” she blurted out, then winced and rested her forehead in her palm. “No, that’s not — it’s — some of the stuff you’ve taught me, look . . .” She took his hand, her nerves trembling at the brush of his fingers against her own, and pulled him toward the doorway. She’d made a messy semicircle around the room, right to left like a supermarket. Dropping his hand, she took a step back, steepling her fingers like she was praying and pressing them to her lips with another steadying breath.

She had one chance.

“Okay,” she began. “So . . .”

---

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of falling over, listing dangerously to the side as she led him across the room. There were feathers in her hair, and scraps of paper; she was speckled with color, marker and paint and even a smear of glitter glue on the tip of her nose, the pads of her fingers nearly black with a rainbow of ink that stained his hand as she held it. It was obvious she hadn’t slept, even more obvious that she desperately needed to.

But her eyes were bright even if the circles under them were dark, and she thrummed with an energy and animation David hadn’t seen all summer.

And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her, not when it finally felt like she’d returned to him.

“— song you taught me last year,” she said, and he felt a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been listening. She tapped the paper she’d stuck to the wall, the lyrics of his Camp Campbell song scrawled across it in uneven lines. “All the camp activities, remember? At least the most important ones.”

(It was really just the ones that fit best into the rhyme scheme, but he didn’t correct her as she moved on to a second piece of paper.)

“This is a list of all the facts about nature I’ve learned since I started here,” she continued, gesturing. This one was crammed so tightly with writing that he could barely read it, bullet points snaking in all directions and increasingly smaller handwriting as it moved down the page, until finally Gwen had started attaching sticky notes to the wall below and around the list. “I had to keep going back and adding things as I thought of them. I know I’m forgetting something, but I can’t —” She gestured around her head in a classic “scatterbrained” motion, chuckling weakly. “I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

Next: a bullseye, a pencil stuck point-first into the wall. “I couldn’t really shoot an arrow,” Gwen explained, “but remember that summer you taught me archery? I’m still pretty good at it — we went to a shooting range for Claire’s birthday last year and I was the only one who hit the target every time.”

Next: a messy drawing of a forest, a little stick figure kneeling next to a moss-covered rock. “That one time we got lost in the woods trying to find a good place for bug-catching, you got us out because you knew how to find north. You’d be pretty great in a zombie apocalypse.”

Next: a sheet of black construction paper poked through with holes, hastily taped to the back window so light from the lamp outside shone through in little pinpricks. He leaned closer and realized that they were in the rough shape of the constellations visible above Lake Lilac. “I didn't know much about stars and shit outside of, like, horoscope stuff — I mean, in the city you can’t even see them — but you always pointed out which constellations and planets were out during the summer and now I know them all too.”

And on, and on. Scale models of the crafts and activities they’d done at Camp Campbell, nature facts, and on one wall she’d tacked up a typewritten letter to the Director of Admissions at Queen’s University Belfast. Skimming it quickly, it looked to David like an application.

“I was trying to get into their Environmental Science program. I wrote about Sleepy Peak Peak and Lake Lilac,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed. “I got in. And I mean, they’re not the best program out there, but they’re still in the top 300 worldwide so that’s pretty cool, I guess —”

“Belfast?” He leaned in closer, confirming that he’d read correctly. “Isn’t that in England?”

“Yeah.” She looked impressed, and he suppressed a weary smirk; yes, he did know a bit about the world outside of Camp Campbell. But she surprised him by adding, “I had to look that up, actually.” She shrugged. “Guess I should’ve just asked you, huh?

“Anyway, that was a couple years ago. I didn’t go, obviously,” she added, responding to his unspoken question. “International travel’s a bitch. I needed a scholarship, and my grades weren’t good enough. I think I only got in at all because of my letter.” She gestured at it, not quite meeting his eyes. “Which I never thanked you for. Or most of the stuff I’ve learned from you. I’ve been . . . kinda taking all that for granted. So, uh . . . thanks, David.”

He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that she didn’t need to thank him at all. That sharing these things with her had been the highlight of his life since they’d met, even if it hadn’t seemed like she cared about any of it. But there was a lump quivering dangerously in his throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

After a second she cleared her throat awkwardly and led him over to a row of stick figures hanging from the ceiling. “Some of these are from Yoga Camp,” she said, pointing at a few of the ones contorted into uncomfortable shapes, “but also all that other stuff you do. Like smile exercises —” and yes, one of the stick figures had a big pink smiley face, “— and breathing techniques and stuff. I use those sometimes when I’m having a panic attack. They really help, even if smile exercises still make me feel like a dumbass most of the time.”

The decorations started to get more abstract as they made their way around the room, simple crafts and trivia giving way to colorful scribbles and symbols, representing things he’d said to her about her relationship with her parents, her love life. “You have really good advice, you know that? You could be the next Dear Abby or something, seriously. I think that’s still running.”

(It was; he read it every morning with his pre-breakfast tea.)

“These get worse, sorry . . . I was getting tired.” Gwen jerked her chin up at a wobbly butterfly — or was it a bird? — dangling over their heads. “I use your advice about hummingbird-ing all the time. With writing, mostly, but sometimes at work or something, too.”

He gently reached up and touched the bird’s feet, watching it spin in a lazy circle. Technically the idea had been his mother’s, a way to avoid burnout by flitting from one project to another and adding just a little bit to each, instead of devoting all energy and resources to one thing and slogging through until it was done. The whole idea was part of his ethos of being a counselor — wasn’t Camp Campbell a place to get a little taste of everything, after all? He remembered explaining it to Gwen during her first week at camp, just over five years ago.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that she’d actually remembered.

He didn’t think she remembered any of this.

But the evidence was all around him — on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, dozens of examples, mementos of the tiny moments that meant everything to him. Immortalized, remembered, in increasingly sloppy handwriting and doodles.

In the corner was a bright red card that looked familiar. David moved over to it and laughed in recognition: it was one he’d sent her after her first or second summer at Camp Campbell, when he’d seen on Facebook that she was looking for work. He tugged it off the wall, careful not to damage the cheap cardstock, and smiled down at the deer wearing a plaid hunting cap, which he’d made out of tissue paper and markers (he’d gotten much better since then, thanks to a few years of Decoupage Camps).

‘Good luck on your job HUNT! I know you’ll slay the interview!’

“I’ve kept that for years to show my friends,” Gwen said, making him jump; he hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him, but she was close enough to nearly rest her head against his. “I felt like it really captured the kind of guy you were.”

Her breath prickled the side of his neck, and he distracted himself by opening the card — ‘oh deer, is this joke going on too long? I feel like it’s overkill!’ — noticing how worn the crease was, like she’d opened and closed it hundreds of times. “Does it?”

He felt her shake her head without having to face her, stray wisps of hair that’d escaped her ponytail tickling his cheek. “Not even close.”

Unable to resist, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and she took his arm, turning him around the rest of the way. He thought she was going to kiss him — she was close enough that he could see a smeary glue thumbprint on her cheek and what looked like half a smiley-face sticker in her hair — but she just took the card from him, setting it carefully on the couch before taking hold of both his hands. Her expression was grave, shining faint with hope, and between the craft debris and her naked earnestness, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

“There’s more,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward the far wall, “and I’ll let — I want you to look at it, but . . . I just had to tell you, I’ve been taking you for granted and it’s not right. I’ve been pretending I still think of you as this —” Pulling one of her hands away, she picked up the card again, her fingers shaking so the deer’s toothpick antlers clacked together, “— sweet, silly, kinda childish David, who belongs with someone sweet, and silly, and kinda childish. And I tried to be that and . . . I mean I sucked at it,” she said, breaking off with a weak laugh, dropping her eyes to their joined hands. “And it . . . kind of broke me. But I didn’t even think to ask if that was what you wanted, because I thought I knew what you needed, and that was — so, really fucked.” She looked back up at him, her eyes dancing with purple fire, her grip on his hand tightening. “And I — I don’t, you know so much that I don’t — I could fill the entire cabin with stuff I’ve learned from you, this doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

She paused, like she was waiting for him to interject, but David felt like he’d been turned to stone, paralyzed and unblinking while his brain whirled.

“But none of it matters if it doesn’t show . . . if you don’t know —” Her voice cracked, and she dropped his other hand, pressing a fist to her mouth. “— h-how amazing you are, how much you matter to this camp and to me and . . . and I didn’t know people could actually be happy 'til I met you. I mean, I guess I knew technically, but not that it was a real thing people actually were. But you figured it out. You’ve known what you wanted since you were a kid and then you got it and I’ve never done anything without second-guessing myself a million times but you just did it, and it meant making so many decisions about your life that could’ve turned out wrong but they didn’t because they were the right ones for you. And you knew it. You always have.” She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, crying in earnest now. “You’re a marvel, David. I should’ve said that every fucking day. And I know it’s probably too little, too late, but I’m sorry. For not telling you and — and for everything.

“And I . . .” She swallowed hard, taking a few heaving breaths before continuing, and he knew she was trying to hold onto her composure even as tears poured down her cheeks, “I don’t know what you wanna do. With — with us, I mean. But you’re right, I haven’t been a good girlfriend to you, and if you don’t want to . . . if you want me to leave right now or after the summer ends or if you just wanna be friends or whatever , that’s fine. A-and — if you do . . . y’know . . .” Her face crumpled, her shoulders curling in on themselves. “I love you so much,” she managed, her words harder to make out through damp, hiccuping breaths. “Whatever — whatever you want — I — I — I trust you.”

Understanding pierced his chest, a small pinhole that allowed light to pour, warm and white, into his heart.

“I trust you.”

David hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hear those words until that moment.

He stepped forward, plucking the card from her hand and tossing it onto the floor (he could make her another one, dozens if she wanted, hundreds) and tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Her cheeks were wet under his palms, her mouth salty and acidic with the taste of not-quite-morning breath, and each brush of his lips against hers was broken by her pulling back to drag in a sobbing gasp, her mouth moving clumsily like she was as close to fainting from exhaustion and emotion as she looked.

It was, without question, the best kiss of his life.

He broke away to press his forehead against hers, sliding his hands from her face to cup the back of her neck and closing his eyes. “I love you too, Gwen,” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the giddily-incredulous, teary laugh she gave in response. “And I think you need to go to bed.”

She leaned back, and the bleary confusion on her face was so precious he rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Huh? But what about . . .”

“I’ve got some stuff to think about,” he said, then gestured at the crafts she hadn’t shown him yet, “and look at. And after that . . . we should talk. But it won’t be a very good talk if you fall asleep,” he added with a laugh as her eyes drifted closed.

She opened them halfway, just enough to glare at him, but the effect would’ve been more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying slightly. “’m fine.” The adrenaline that’d been keeping her going was clearly wearing off fast, and David was a little worried she wouldn’t make it to bed, that he’d just find her unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “You didn’t sleep either,” she accused, pointing at him with a finger stained silvery with graphite.

Goodness, he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it. “I had a nap.” Not a long one, but he was used to not sleeping much. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“It’s already the morning,” she complained, but like a sleepy robot she turned and shuffled back toward the front of the cabin. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and shower and stuff. So I look less like a sludge goblin.”

“You do that, Gwen.” He waited until the bathroom door had clicked shut before turning back to the mess she’d made of their living room. It was almost hard to tell the difference between what was art and what was trash left over, there was so much of both; it looked like an explosion had hit a crafts store.

Gwen wasn’t someone who put a lot of effort into things she didn’t care about. It was one of the most frustrating things about having her as a coworker, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how unabashedly honest she was, how he could read her feelings just by looking at her work.

There was the soft sound of tape unsticking and one of the decorations sagged, a corner curling away from the wall and drooping down. He pushed it carefully back into place and fumbled for his phone, setting it to camera mode.

This was worth remembering.

---

Gwen was positive she’d never be able to fall asleep; how could she, when things were still so up in the air? But she wasn’t twenty anymore, and after the exhaustion and emotional turmoil of the last few hours — days, weeks; hell, if she was being honest it’d been years since she’d truly felt well-rested — and despite the anxiety buzzing inside her skull she was out in moments.

Soft fingers in her hair drew her back to earth, and when she opened her eyes David came into focus, crouching next to her bed so they were at eye level. He smiled as she blinked at him, warmth and sunshine he probably didn’t even know he was emitting. “Goooood morning, Gwen!” he chirped, his voice way too loud for how close they were, and she winced. “Sorry,” he added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she’d missed his morning bellow so much more than she could ever miss having non-punctured eardrums. She sat up, clumsily swiping at her face to double-check for drool or errant eye gunk. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He hopped onto the bed, making her and everything else on the mattress bounce. He was being so . . . normal, like all the drama last night had been a dream.

Fuck it. They had some hard, painful conversations coming; she could enjoy a little bit of normalcy while her brain booted back up. “Good,” she replied, yawning. “I mean, tired, but I’m always tired so —” Her blood chilled, and suddenly she was wide awake.

There went normal. All because she had to remind him of what an unloveable disaster she was.

But when she looked back up he didn’t seem annoyed. He leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out so they dangled off the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She scoffed before she could stop herself, and his gaze flicked up to hers, taking her breath away. (God, how she’d functioned for almost four years without feeling more than a flicker of attraction to this man was unfathomable.) “Really. I want to know what’s going on with you.” His hand landed on her knee, light as a bird but blazingly warm even through her blankets. “All I want is for you to let me in.”

A swell of emotion swept up from somewhere in her chest, causing her eyes to prick with tears for the thousandth time. She looked away and sniffed as discreetly as possible — which wasn’t very, she assumed, since he immediately reached over and handed her a tissue from the pack he kept stashed in his pockets. “I mean, if you want me to complain, I can do that,” she muttered, tamping down another flow of tears through willpower. “I can complain about fucking anything.”

David’s laugh made her turn back toward him, because it didn’t have a trace of sadness or pity or anything she’d expected. It was so purely, entirely delighted , more than even he could fake, and he was looking at her like she’d said something surprising and wonderful.

“You really like it,” she blurted out, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “That I’m like this. Whiny and —” she waved vaguely “— bitchy, and whatever.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head and her stomach plummeted. But as she took a breath to respond he shifted closer, gently cupping the back of her neck so he could tap his forehead against hers. “I love it, Gwen. I love everything about you.”

A laugh burbled out of her before she could stop it, and she pulled away to hide her face. “Oh my god. You bastard. You’re so cheesy.”

His fingers closed around her wrists, tugging her palms away from her face. “I love you,” he said, kissing the skin she’d covered with her hands — the tip of her nose, each cheek, her top and bottom lip, her eyebrows.

“I love you, too.” She could already tell that if he was going to keep saying that to her she’d spontaneously combust, because this was all too cute and romantic and lovely and she still didn’t fully understand how this was happening, why he didn’t hate her.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t question his decision, whatever it was. She owed him that much.

His smile faded slightly, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied automatically, and when that only made him sigh she added, “I said I was going to trust you,” hating the note of defensiveness in her voice, because of the two of them she didn’t have much grounds for righteous indignation.

“Then trust me with how you feel.” It should’ve sounded too much like a cliche, something she’d tease him for, but he was right and they both knew it.

She’d put him through hell by not telling him the truth, and they both knew that, too.

Gwen closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Things were — they seemed okay, didn’t they? Almost normal, but better, because all her ugliness was out there for him to see and he knew about it and he didn’t seem to mind. And wasn’t that something she’d never thought she’d ever actually find? “I don’t get it,” she admitted, her voice sounding small and stupid. “I keep feeling like . . . like I tricked you somehow. Like I didn’t explain well enough why you shouldn’t want me, because if you really got it you wouldn’t be here. Not because I think you’re stupid,” she added quickly, desperately, “because I don’t, really! But — but even smart people can be . . . I don’t know, manipulated?”

The confusion in her voice made her pause, sit back. Manipulated? That couldn’t be right, could it? She wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone, and she was pretty sure you couldn’t manipulate someone by accident.

Or maybe you could; she hadn’t always paid a ton of attention to her psych classes in college.

“I’m sorry,” she managed after a few deeply uncomfortable moments of silence. “I’m trying, I promise, but I understand if . . . you know. Whatever.” (She still hated saying it, especially now that it seemed like it might not happen. Breaking up with David was hard enough without having to say it.)

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and kissing her temple. “Thank you for telling me, Gwen.”

“You’re not mad?”

She felt him shake his head as she rested hers on his shoulder, scooting down to make up for their (lack of) height difference. “I wasn’t really mad when I came back this morning,” he said, “even before I saw everything you’d made. I had some time to cool down, and I . . . started thinking, I guess.”

Gwen wanted to look up at him, but she wanted to soak in his warmth more so she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smells of floral detergent and piney-woodsy cologne left over from the day before. “About what?” she asked, like there could possibly be more than one answer. Like maybe he’d been pondering the sociopolitics of Malaysia or something.

He let out a little huff of laughter, and she knew without looking that he’d glanced up at the ceiling in a slow blink (that he insisted was less rude than rolling his eyes outright, even though it was just as obvious). “You. Everything that’s happened this summer — and before it.” His shoulder shifted slightly under her cheek, a shrug aborted halfway through so she’d be comfortable. “Things started making more sense after everything we talked about tonight. Like the day we . . . well, when you told me about that gentleman you . . . almost took home.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was a douchebag,” she interrupted, immediately feeling like an asshole. But David chuckled and squeezed her closer, like he enjoyed her company even when she was being annoying (which he did; somehow he actually did) and she let herself relax against his side, believe that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“I’ve thought about the stuff you said a lot since that day. Mostly the parts that made me feel the worst.”

She flinched. “I’m so sorry —” she began, but he cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I have trouble with . . . rejection,” he continued, sounding embarrassed. Like that minor character flaw even came close to the millions of ways she was fucked up. “I — I guess you could call it ‘abandonment issues’? But at first, and for a while, all I could hear were the ways you didn’t . . . seem to want me around anymore.”

“But I did —”

“I know.” Another soft kiss, and she wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or himself. “I know that now. And I think, knowing that . . . it made what you said sound different.

“You were drunk — I know, you downplayed it, and it wouldn’t have excused . . . but your judgment was still impaired. And you didn’t kiss him. Thinking back, it didn’t even sound like you really wanted to. Did you?” She shook her head, not willing to look up at him because no matter how gently he tried to frame this she still felt like it was her fault. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking, how if this had happened a few years ago you would’ve told that story so much differently. If we were still just friends, maybe. You would’ve stormed into the cabin raging about how some jerk had ‘put his mitts all over you’ —”

Gwen couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, pushing away from him and resting her head in her hands. “That can’t be how you think I talk!”

“It was an edited version,” he admitted, flushing. His smile was wide enough to illuminate the room, catching and refracting the dreary dawn light. “Please come back?”

She snuggled into his outstretched arms, her heart panging at the plaintive note in his voice. She wrapped herself around him, legs entangled with his and arms squeezing his waist; she’d missed him just as much. “Your impression of me is really bad,” she said with an uncontrollable giggle that made her feel like she was fourteen.

“I’ll work on it.” For a moment he just held her, soaking in the relief of being together and being okay. (At least, that's what she was doing.) “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked after a minute or so. “It doesn’t . . . well, it just doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“I guess — yeah, maybe not, technically anyway. But you’d just visited and saw how terrible my life is, and I was having an even harder time being a less-shitty version of myself . . .” He made a soft noise, almost pained, and pulled her closer. “So when this asshole showed up and was, like, exactly the type of guy I usually go for, it felt like . . . I don’t know. Like the universe was telling me we didn’t belong together. That sounds stupid. Never mind.” She pressed her face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. “Pretend I said something that doesn’t make me sound like I write horoscopes for a living.”

“I like horoscopes!” he replied, because of course he did. After a moment he added, “Thank you for telling me. It . . . helps confirm some things I was thinking earlier, when I left. Because what you said, and what you’ve been saying for a long time . . . I’ve been hearing it the way that’d hurt me the most, but I think you meant it to make me hate you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Do you think I’m right?”

Gwen shrugged, feeling more than a little like one of his campers receiving an aggressively pacifist talking-to. “Yeah. I don’t . . . like myself all that much.”

“I’ve noticed.” And David pressed another kiss to the top of her head, like he was rewarding her for being honest. Or like he just couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t treated me very well lately, Gwen. And I was — am very unhappy about that. But I don’t think it holds a candle to how you treat yourself.”

She wriggled away enough to sit up and look at him, frowning. “So you’re, what? Willing to come back to a shitty relationship because you feel sorrier for me than for you?” she demanded, even though it would’ve been smarter to just not say anything and enjoy his pity while she still had it.

But again, she said she’d be honest. And the true Gwen was kind of a bitch.

His smile turned sad, and he carefully tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. “See, that’s what I mean. You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt.” When she frowned, not understanding, he took her hand and began playing with it, wiggling her fingers and twining them with his. “I understand better, now. How you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a kid, or — or stupid, or whatever. I know you don’t really think that,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. “There’s a whole cabin’s worth of proof in the living room that you don’t really think that. That’s why I wanna try again. Miscommunications, misunderstandings . . . those are fixable. And now that I know what’s been going through your head, I don’t think you’ve done anything I can’t forgive.”

Her eyes filled with tears — again, and she was going to die of dehydration if she didn’t get ahold of herself — but this time she couldn’t resent them too much, not when it felt like she was brimming over with hope that was eager to burst free. “What’re you saying, David?”

He shifted back, turning so he was sitting cross-legged facing her, and took both her hands in his. “I keep . . . trying to find a way to say it,” he admitted, looking down at their twined fingers and flushing pink, “because ‘do you want to be my girlfriend again?’ is maybe too middle-school, but ‘dating’ sounds too casual, and —”

Gwen pulled out of his grasp and closed the distance between them, straddling his lap and taking his chin in one hand. His face lifted toward her before his eyes did, darting from her chest to over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze. She wound her free arm around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. With the hand cupping his jaw she gently swiped her thumb across his lower lip, slightly chapped but still warm and softer than it looked, each breath skating across her skin feather-light and making her skin prickle. “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his, holding back a laugh — or maybe a sob, she wasn’t quite sure; the emotions roiling inside her were too much to separate between happy and sad. “Whatever you’re asking, yes, I want it.”

She felt his smile spread under her thumb before he brushed her hand away, tilting his head so he could kiss her. “Good,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d say that, but still — that’s a relief.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Her blood turned to ice, and she pulled away from him, stricken. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t she be anything but herself for five minutes? “I didn’t mean — !”

David smiled, far more fondly than she deserved. “I know, Gwen.”

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m trying, really I am.”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until she was upright, looking down at him again. “Please don’t try so hard to be what you think I want. Just be you.”

“Right.” She forced her shoulders to relax, tilting her head back and rolling her neck until it cracked. “I’m . . . gonna have a hard time with that. ‘Just me’ is kind of the worst.”

“I know you think that,” he said, pressing his half-open mouth to the hollow of her collarbone and making her shiver. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you don’t think it anymore.”

She managed a weak chuckle, leaning into his lips as he moved up her neck. “Good luck with that.”

His answering laugh rolled over her skin, warm and teasing. “Haven’t you heard, Gwen? I like projects.”

Jesus. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged him upright, taking a moment to appreciate his gasp that wasn’t just surprise. “I love you,” she said, loosening her grip and kissing his forehead, petting away the furrows her fingers left in his fluffy red hair.

His expression softened. “I love —” he began, and Gwen tightened her hold on his hair and pulled back, just so she could watch his eyes flutter shut and his breath catch, “— y-you too.”

Dragging her palm down the side of his neck, she settled her thumb on his throat, feeling his pulse flutter rapidly, and bent to kiss him again. She hadn’t necessarily meant to turn it into anything, just wanted to feel his lips against hers, but her fingers tightened involuntarily in his hair and he moaned, and it was a lit match dropped down her throat to a stomach full of gasoline, a whoosh of heat blazing to life in the pit of her belly. “David,” she breathed, not so much because she had anything to say but because she needed to say it, to roll the sound of his name around in her mouth, let it melt like chocolate on her tongue and infuse her whole body with sweetness.

“Gwen,” he said, and she thought he was doing the same thing, saying her name just because he could, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away, gentle but firm. “Gwen, wait, we should — talk about this —”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Sorry.” She sat back, her face warming. But as she settled her weight more firmly in his lap he jolted; and if she’d thought she was embarrassed it was nothing to the way his already-flushed cheeks flamed pink, spreading in blotches up to his hairline and the tips of his ears, down to disappear underneath his bandana. He stammered out an apology, avoiding her eyes even as his cock twitched, like bashfulness could disguise how hard he was against her. She quickly rose back up — the last thing she wanted was to make him feel ashamed, or pressured; everything between them was as tremulous and new as the first time — but realized almost instantly when David squeaked that this just shoved her chest in his face.

She hovered there for an awkward second, the two of them staring at each other in mortified horror. Then his whole expression wavered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before quickly flattening into a thin line, and the break in his composure took hers out too. She snorted, and they both burst out laughing. “I’ll just sit over here,” she said through giggles, rolling off his lap and settling on the other side of the bed with her feet curled under her so they were no longer touching. He made a small sad sound like a squeeze toy deflating, and Gwen rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg until her foot brushed his knee. “Here, hold my foot if you’re that lonely. It’s practically holding hands.”

His eyes widened, hands closing around her ankle and setting it on his thigh with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently tracing the outline of her foot with his fingertips. “That was very sweet, you know.”

God, she was blushing, wasn’t she? She had to be. “Yeah,” she agreed, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling as he kept playing with her foot like it was a toy doll. “Felt weird, too. I kinda wanted to insult you or something, just to balance it out.”

He smiled, wiggling her big toe like he was playing that little piggies game she used to do with her nieces when they were babies. “That’s my Gwen.” And he sounded pleased, almost proud, like she’d done something wonderful.

But that was David; even though sometimes he was completely oblivious, sometimes he noticed and appreciated the tiniest, most inconsequential things. That’s my David, she thought, her heart swelling like it was going to burst. “You wanted to talk about something?” she reminded him, waggling her toes to get his attention.

“Oh! Right.” He gently took her foot and set it on the bed next to him, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Sorry, I was getting distracted, and that was the whole point of you moving over there.” (He said it with a pout, like she’d gone to Spain instead of just out of arms’ reach.)

“I thought the whole point of me moving over here was so you could cool down, tiger,” she teased. But when he didn’t respond except to flush darker, his gaze firmly on a fraying edge of the pillowcase in his arms, something weird and hilarious clicked in her head. “Oh my god, are you into feet?”

“No!” He lifted his head to give her a tragically betrayed expression. “Not a weird amount!”

She grinned, poking his thigh with her outstretched foot. “What’s a weird amount?” she asked.

He shrugged, not quite able to maintain the kicked-puppy look when a smile kept trying to break through. “I don’t know. Watching people in heels step on fruit. I don’t like that sort of thing, I’ll have you know,” he added defensively, and for a second Gwen was sure he’d stick his tongue out at her.

“Sure, but you’re into them enough to know those videos exist.”

“I think I’d like to go back to you being nice to me,” he muttered, and she felt a stab of panic before he gently patted her ankle and met her gaze with a slight smile. Like he knew what she was thinking.

So she shoved past her nervousness and said, “But I thought you wanted me to be myself. And as myself, I can’t believe you never told me you were a foot guy!”

“I’m a you guy. And . . . you know. All of you. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah, but the feet are a thing, huh? At least a little bit.” When he didn’t answer she laughed, shaking her head. “So do you, like, want a footjob or something?”

“I really don’t.”

“How have we been dating this long and I didn’t know about this? What other freaky sex things are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said, hugging the pillow tighter. After a moment he looked away and added, “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“David.” She leaned forward, waiting for him to look at her and see in her expression just how ridiculous that was. “You can’t get weirder than I am. You know that.” When the color in his face receded just a little bit, and his eyes flicked back toward her hopefully, she sighed and attempted to dredge up one of the strangest kinks in her vast library. “I’d totally fuck Drogon.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From Game of Thrones? So would I- Iiiiiii mean, s-so would most people.”

“No, not Khal Drogo, Drogon. The dragon. Not like a humanized version, either — just full lizard.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little, almost a smirk, and Gwen felt distinctly, lovingly judged. “That does make me feel better. Thank you.”

“No problem. And tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get a pedicure, just for you.” She wiggled her toes at him, grinning. “I’m thinking something slutty, like hot pink.”

“Gwen!” He shoved her foot away, laughing. “I was trying to have a serious conversation before you started talking about — about slutty toes and dragons!”

She cracked up too, falling over onto her side and nearly toppling off the bed. “Slutty toes,” she repeated breathlessly, and it took a few minutes to recover; every time they tried to make eye contact they burst out laughing again.

“Okay, okay.” Gwen finally sat back up, trying in vain to smooth her hair out of its mass of tangled bedhead. “I’m sorry, you were trying to say something serious. What’s up?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, fingers knotting in her blankets until his knuckles were white. “It’s just . . . it was starting to seem like we were going to — um, you know. Be intimate.”

She resisted the urge to tease him for his word choice. “I was open to it, yeah.”

“M-me too! That’s why . . . well. Okay.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, and Gwen noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything,” she said, shifting closer so she could put her hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He nodded, patting her hand before brushing it away so she didn’t feel rejected, and once again she felt a rush of love so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. He could be so simply, effortlessly kind, without even thinking about it. “I do. At least, I think I do. I- I mean, I know I do, but it’s hard to . . .” He waved his hand around his head like his thoughts were scattering birds.

“The night before we . . . well. Ended things.” He flinched at his own words, and she felt the same pain flicker over the surface of her heart.

It’s okay, she reminded herself, wishing she could sweep him up in her arms and block out all the bad memories she’d put there. It still hurts, but we’re going to be okay.

Like he’d been thinking the same thing, David stretched out his hand to find hers, squeezing her fingers. “I said I didn’t want to,” he continued in a rush, “you know. Be together like that. And you . . . seemed to get mad — at me. And then the next day you broke up with me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath that had tears behind it, and she tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, opening his eyes and giving her a slightly-watery smile. “I’m okay. But I just need to know . . .”

“God, no,” she jumped in, taking up the thread of his question as it trailed off into nothingness. “David, no, it had nothing to do with — I freaked out, but I was already — I mean, I was gonna fall apart over anything, it didn’t have to be that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles because she wanted to respect his need for space but she had to touch him or she was going to die.

He swallowed, watching their joined hands for a moment before looking away. “You — that really hurt me, Gwen. I just needed to tell you that.”

All the anger he’d thrown at her in the past several hours, all the pain and frustration, and it was those small, matter-of-fact words that slashed her heart in two. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She hated apologizing — it always felt weak, or dangerous, or something. Like it was an opening for someone to hate her even more, like she was handing them a weapon to hold over her head for the rest of her life. (It was why she hated receiving them, too; she could be spiteful and vindictive as anyone, but it was uncomfortable watching someone flay themselves in front of her.)

But with David . . . it didn’t feel like she was giving him leverage when she told him she was sorry. She wasn’t scared he’d hold onto it and throw it back in her face someday. She wasn’t resentful of him, and she wasn’t worried about how he’d react.

She wasn’t anything but truly, genuinely sorry.

And he didn’t brush it aside, act like she had no reason to apologize the way she’d half-expected. Either she hadn’t been giving him enough credit, or he’d grown up while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a little of both. But whatever the cause, he just stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and nodded, a ghost of his smile returning for a second. “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her like she was — god, like he loved her. “Hearing it helps.”

She wasn’t sure if he needed more than that, but she wasn’t going to let a single doubt linger in his mind. “Seriously, David, you can — I won’t ever be mad at you for saying no, ever. For any reason, or no reason or . . . whatever. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay.”

“I — um, I had a reason.” He spoke fast, his eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Still, he pressed his lips together into a flat line and met her gaze, clearly nervous but just as clearly not intending to end the conversation until they’d said everything they needed to. He was so brave. “I should’ve mentioned it at the time, but I guess I was scared.”

Gwen snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I can relate to that.”

He rewarded her with a small, soft smile before continuing, “The thing is, everything had just been so gosh-darned strange between us, and it felt like you were avoiding me all the time — except when we were together like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe that was . . . all you were interested in me for.”

Her stomach sank. “And then when you said no, and I freaked . . .”

David nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed again. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking away. “It — it sure felt like you only wanted me for that one thing, all of a sudden, and when you couldn’t get it . . .”

“I dumped you,” she finished, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, David.”

“I was a little nervous to tell you to stop.” He pulled his hands from hers so he could fidget, twisting his long fingers together. “Earlier — just now. A minute ago. So we could talk. I — I know it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop thinking you might get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad,” she replied, her hands shaking with how badly she wanted to hug him. (And god, what a change from their normal paradigm, that she was the one who had to hold herself back from a hug.) “I mean, I was, but never at you. I was mad at me, for screwing things up. I — you’re right, I was avoiding you, or avoiding talking to you, I guess. Because I didn’t know how to talk to you, how to act so you wouldn’t find out that I’m . . .” Her throat closed, thick and gummy with tears, and she took a deep breath and swallowed them back. “Rotten,” she finished, which was a stupid, melodramatic word but it felt right; it described the way she still felt despite everything, squishy and overripe and putrid. “It was getting harder to hide, once we were together all the time. And when we were fucking —” She couldn’t tiptoe around the words like David, not when she could just say it and watch him flush red. Even her rotted heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled. “It felt like I didn’t have to try so hard. I couldn’t be amazing, but I could make you feel amazing. And if I could do that . . .” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her face clean. “I thought I was letting you know how much you mean to me,” she admitted, the realization coming right on the heels of the words. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t — add that to the list of things I suck at — but when you didn’t want to have sex, it . . . I took it really hard.”

Her face was turned away, so his hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It felt like I was rejecting the only thing you had to offer,” he guessed, his voice soft and sad but no longer on the verge of tears. “Gwen . . .”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head like she could rattle her self-pity out of her head. “That was just me being stupid, I know that. More importantly — seriously.” She looked back at him, at his beautiful open face, at the way he was watching her like she could possibly have something to say that mattered. “It’s never been about sex with you, David,” she said. Felt the encroaching tears yet again and decided to ignore them. If they came, they came; they weren’t going to stop her, because it was the most essential thing in the world that he knew, that he believed her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is really good —” He chuckled, blushing exactly the way she’d hoped he would, and it gave her a little glowing spark of strength, “— but it doesn’t even come close to being what I love most about you. None of that stuff —” She gestured toward her bedroom door, and the mess of crafts cluttering their common room. “— comes close. It’s — everything, a billion other things I don’t know how to explain or describe or show you but I love you, so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone and it scares me, and — I’m rambling. Sorry.” She shrank back, feeling like an idiot again. “I just wanted you to know that. It . . . we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever, and I’ll never be mad at you, or disappointed, or anything like that.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He was quiet for a minute, and she felt the tension ratcheting up in her shoulders with each long, spiraling second. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just say something, finish the damn thought before he gave her a heart attack, but that was her anxiety and regret talking, and she never wanted to take her own issues out on him ever again.

(She probably would, considering what a mess she was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on purpose.)

“You’re right, though.” David’s voice was a surprise, as was the soft laugh accompanying his words. He was sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he could see through it to the fading stars and brightening sky. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and he immediately looked down and away, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. “We are pretty darn great together.”

A massive weight dropped from Gwen’s chest, rolling away like a stone. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then, to test the waters: “I taught you well.”

It worked; he turned back toward her, his shyness replaced with half-serious indignation. “I like to think some of it was natural talent!”

“Ehh,” she teased, holding her hand out flat and seesawing it back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Pretty sure enthusiasm was doing most of the heavy lifting in the beginning there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disbelieving scoff. “Well, I never!”

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. What a dork. “Y’know, I should say we were insanely good. But I dunno, for all I know you’ve totally lost it.” Shaking her head mournfully, she quickly glanced over to make sure he wasn’t actually offended.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. “I haven’t lost anything!” he snapped, and — oh, the playful irritation in his voice made her stomach twist. Not in the awful sick way she’d been tied up in knots earlier, but with a flush of heat that took her breath away.

Managing a smirk, she laid back on her elbows, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in her chest as his gaze dropped to her stomach, to the narrow strip of skin where her camisole had ridden up. She waited until he dragged his eyes back up to her, dark and intense like the ocean in a storm, then grinned at him.

“Wanna bet?”

His face lit up — or, not quite. Because his smile was bright and warm as sunshine, but underneath the tenderness was a sharp competitive edge that he almost never turned on her. It was almost intimidating, but the shiver it sent down her spine had nothing to do with fear. “Always,” he replied.

Before she could respond he’d pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her just above her calves; a quick tug forward and Gwen was pulled flat on her back, dragged down the bed until her body was sprawled out beneath him. He let go of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bending down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, bending her knees so he was caged between her legs and arching her back to bring as much of her skin against his as possible. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so — her furnace, her own personal sun, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. When he abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing long, suckling kisses down her neck she pressed her lips together, biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

“You could’ve —” A gasp, too sudden for her to swallow it back, and she felt David’s satisfied smirk against the base of her throat as he bit down again. “— given me a concussion, you asshole.”

He hummed in assent, his lips skating up to her ear and his tongue lapping at the sensitive spot just behind it. “I know,” he said mildly, “but I didn’t.”

He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, and she couldn’t help the strangled noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Grabbing his hair again, she dragged his mouth back for another kiss, enjoying the shudder that rolled down his spine and made him tremble everywhere his body was touching hers. For a few dizzying minutes she held him there, barely allowing either of them to draw breath. His mouth was blood-hot, warmer than even her fevered skin, and she didn’t know exactly where she wanted it because she wanted it everywhere — against hers, his tongue lapping at the roof of her mouth and making her shiver; around one of her nipples, his teeth catching on the pebbled skin; sucking bruises into her inner thighs, closing around her clit, dipping inside her cunt, her asshole, along the sensitive strip of skin between the two. She wanted him to kiss her places that weren’t even close to erotic but she knew would burst into flame if he so much as brushed his lips over them: the bone jutting out from her ankle, the ticklish spot inside her elbow, wherever the fuck he wanted to press the gorgeous wet heat of his mouth she wanted to let him, because from the very first kiss he’d been good, better than he’d had any right to be but time and experience had worked their magic and now his mouth could ruin her; without even trying he could reduce her to twitching, shuddering goo.

“Take this off,” she gasped, not sure if she meant her clothes or his because she was wriggling out from under him and trying to remove both at the same time, her fingers clumsy and shaking with how badly she needed to touch him without any fabric in the way. She struggled to her knees, practically yanking her camisole off and throwing it across the room before hooking her fingers in his belt loops and dragging him close enough for her to undo the buckle. “Come on —”

“So I won?” He laughed breathlessly, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, smugness making him unfairly graceful like he was trying to show off.

“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, because who cared about some bet when he was kneeling half-naked in front of her? They’d had silly, jokey sex but that was not this, not when he was so beautiful she was having trouble looking directly at him, hair mussed and lips damp and swollen and pink blooming in blotches under the light constellations of freckles across his skin. He looked debauched, flushed and obscene even with half his clothes still on, and there wasn’t room in her brain for humor when all she could feel was clawing shaking need. She dropped onto all fours, leaning down to trace the hard outline of his cock with her tongue, and even through his shorts he was burning warm. He sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse spiking under her mouth, and Gwen couldn’t resist closing her lips around the shape of his erection, breathing in the salty-ammonia smell of precome and feeling her mouth water. “David,” she began, but there was no end to that sentence so she lifted her head slightly, bit the delicate ridge of his hipbone where it peeked out from the waist of his shorts, caught him as his hips stuttered forward. She kept him steady, one hand splayed across his lower back, as she rose to her knees without lifting her mouth from his skin: over the barely-there softness of his stomach (no werewolf six-pack here, despite his lean strength), tongue swirling among the faint red hair below his belly button, following the curve of his ribs, just barely brushing one nipple — he made a small, strung-out noise in the back of his throat, almost despairing as she moved on up to his neck — until she found his lips again, dragging him into a bruising, breathless kiss.

When she pulled away David’s smile was gone, drawn out of his mouth and leaving him panting. “Okay,” he murmured, soft and almost reverent, but before she could figure out what specifically was okay he hauled her forward like she weighed nothing, capturing her lips for a second before trailing down her throat, pausing at a sensitive place above her pulse point and biting down hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

Pain bloomed under his mouth, rippling out into shockwaves of cold-hot pleasure, and when he bit her again she couldn’t hold back a moan. “You’re gonna — leave a mark,” she gasped, gently shoving his head away and running her fingers over the damp skin. It was already tender, and judging by David’s expression, contrite and amused and darkly heated, it was going to be a hell of a hickey. “I can’t hide this!”

“I’m sorry!” he tried, but it wasn’t close to convincing when he couldn’t hide his grin. His eyes drifted down to the mark again and he licked his lips, expression growing dazed for a moment before he snapped back up to look at her face. “I can make you a bandana, if you want. Just until it fades.”

“Fucker.” Gwen laughed, not so much because it was funny but because it was him, and she loved him more than she could possibly stand. Tired of the overheated, confining clothes she was still wearing, she shimmied out of them, tossing her pajama shorts and half-soaked underwear without bothering to see where they landed. “Come here,” she said, pressing her legs together and shivering at the wet slide of her inner thighs and labia, a thousand nerve endings sparking to glistening life. “You can make it up to me.”

She swore she could almost see his mouth water, his gaze dropping between her legs as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said — and they’d never tried that before, but judging by the way his cock twitched and his eyes jumped sheepishly to hers, it was something he’d thought about a lot. Filing the information away for later, she held out her hand and pulled him closer when he took it, resting her forehead against his. It took just the slightest shift in the angle of her head to kiss him again so she did it without thinking, her hand sliding between their bodies to curl loosely around the outline of his erection.

He gasped shakily against her mouth, his hands fluttering up and down her waist like he couldn’t decide where to touch her. One of them dropped to her ass, a light, almost hesitant touch, and she rewarded it with a soft groan; he made a weak noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, kneading her ass before slipping lower, between her legs. The heel of his hand brushed teasingly against her clit as he pressed two fingers into her, and she mimicked his pace, gliding her palm down the length of his clothed cock and relishing the way his fingers twitched against her inner walls.

He fingered her like that, slow and steady, for — she didn’t know how long. Lost track of the strokes that sent warmly buzzing tendrils up her spine, lost count of the breaths gasped raggedly between their lips, of the kisses that melted into one another until she wasn’t entirely sure where she was, she was hyper aware of the heartbeat pounding in her clit and every too-gentle drag of his hand but numb to literally everything else that wasn’t right here, wasn’t David —

“Fuck,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering sigh. She turned her head and lapped at his throat, sucking his skin into her mouth and biting down hard enough to make his fingers jolt inside her, pressing against her g-spot for one delicious moment. “God, I -- please, David, just make me come, please --”

Another shiver, another twitch of his fingers that took her breath away. “Okay,” he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. He pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. “Lay down, all right?”

Yes, yes, whatever he was thinking was 100% all right with her. She almost kneed him as she scrambled into position, but her embarrassed giggle evaporated as he lowered himself onto his elbows, scooching her up the bed like she weighed nothing and settling between her legs. Alarm cut through her arousal, her mind immediately trying to calculate the last time she’d showered, let alone shaved --

His eyes flicked up to hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know,” he replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “I promise, I really want to.”

Oh, god. She covered her face to muffle a squeak, flopping onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

David hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating up the inside of her thigh. “Only with some things. Other times you surprise me quite a bit.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the top of her mound, his tongue dipping into the V formed by her lips and just brushing her clit — a teasing touch, his mouth moving away even as she lifted her hips instinctively. “I’m surprising?”

“You are,” he said, the camp-counselor cheer in his voice making what he was doing feel even more obscene. He traced the line of her cunt with his mouth before gently fingering her open. “The first time you did this, for example. That surprised me quite a bit!”

“This?” She knew exactly what he meant — her stomach still dipped and swooped at the memory of kneeling on the floor of his shower, the heady rush of confidence and vulnerability she’d felt looking up at him with his cock at her lips — but she tilted her head back with a sigh and breathed, “Pretty sure I’ve never eaten you out before. Not that I wouldn’t be into that, just saying.”

He gasped and spluttered, pulling back to wipe his mouth and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, then coughed, tapping his chest with his other hand. “Excuse —?!”

When he lowered his head to cough again and take an unsteady breath, Gwen sat up on her elbows, not sure if she should be amused, worried, or mortified. “Oh my god, please tell me you did not just choke on cunt juice!”

David gave her a disgusted look, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “There had to be another way to word that,” he said, as primly as he could while still struggling to catch his breath. “But — um, you didn’t…w-was a joke, or…?”

“I meant it,” she admitted, “but I get it if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured either way —”

“No — I want to.” He looked startled by his own words, and immediately dropped his gaze, smoothing his palms down her thighs like he could disguise how his fingers trembled. “Sometime. If — if you do.”

Gwen let the awkward silence linger for another moment, not quite sure how to move forward. “Good. That’s…something to put on the to-do list.”

“Y-yes. Okay.” He did meet her eyes then, brightening. “See, you did it again!”

She frowned. “Did what?”

“Surprised me.” He leaned over her body to tug her into a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back to breathe he cupped the back of her neck, holding her close and brushing his nose against hers. “You’re an adventure every day, Gwen,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m a real goddamn roller coaster,” she grumbled, shifting her hips upward in a blind search for his touch. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking ride me already.”

David laughed softly against her mouth before turning his attention to her jaw, throat, collarbone — a damp, shivery brush of his tongue against her skin moving down her body. “Well goodness, Gwen, now I’m confused.” She both hated and loved the smug, teasing tone he got whenever her composure cracked. “I could make love to you,” he continued, nipping the skin just below her bellybutton and making her jump, “but I thought you wanted me to do this first.”

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, catching her with an arm behind her back as she arched toward the maddening wet heat of his mouth. Lowering her hips back to the bed with infuriating tenderness, he paused, resting his cheek on her inner thigh and looking up the length of her body. When she met his eyes he smiled, pausing to press a chaste kiss to her leg before returning her gaze.

“What do you want, Gwen?” And he asked it untauntingly. Seriously. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to tell him what to do, and like he’d do it without question.

His sincerity was going to be the death of her, she decided with a groan, burying her hands in her hair and shielding her face from his view with her arms. “Fuck. I don’t know. Everything.”

When it came to David, she always wanted everything.

“That’s a real swell coincidence, then!” He traced the seam where her hip and leg met, then dipped down, dragging his fingertips through the wetness smearing her thighs before swiping them up to circle her clitoris. “Because ‘everything’ is exactly what I’d like to give you.”

She barely had time to absorb the statement before his mouth was on her again, sliding the hood back with his lips before swirling his tongue beneath it and around the exposed clit. It was almost too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful and if he stopped she might actually die; she knotted her fingers in the flimsy sheets to keep from pushing his face harder against her, vaguely aware that she was mumbling nonsensical pleas, an incoherent litany of “oh god yes please fuck don’t stop” —

He didn’t. Without lifting his mouth he braced one hand under her knee and pushed it toward her chest, bending her leg and using two fingers of his other hand to enter her. It took him a second but when he found her g-spot he pressed up hard, stroking with the same rapid pace of his flicking tongue. It was more pressure than she was used to, strangely achy but pleasurably so, and it was impossible not to writhe under his touch as the need to come coiled tighter, dragged her higher, kept her suspended on the brink for a frustrating, dizzying, electrifying moment that stretched like a rubber band…

Then it snapped — a dam breaking, a wave cresting and finally letting gravity take over — and she curled forward with a sob of relief, pleasure rippling through her limbs and turning her bones to liquid, trembling through the aftershocks.

The shift from overwhelmingly perfect to just plain overwhelming was a split second. “Nngh, stop, stop —” She pawed weakly at his head, just barely smacking the edge of his fringe with her fingertips, but he lifted his mouth from her with a look of concern. “You’re fine,” she added quickly, struggling to catch her breath and shivering from the buzz of overstimulation, “s’just too much.”

David nodded, relieved, and sat back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Wow,” he murmured, eyes wide and awed. “Wowzers. Gwen, have you ever done that before?”

She sat up, frowning. “Come like a train? Like every time we — whoa.”

The sheets between her legs were wet. Not damp, wet like she’d spilled a glass of water (and cooling rapidly, she realized with a grimace, shifting to avoid the blotchy patch). Presumably the same wetness dripping down David’s chin.

“Oh my god.” She groaned, hiding her face in her hands like if she couldn’t see it, it would disappear. Or feel it slicking her inner thighs. “And uh, not really,” she finally muttered, a belated answer to his question. “Once or twice, but you’ve really gotta work over the g-spot to make it happ --” She glanced up just in time to catch his expression, a flash of recognition mixed with pleased sheepishness. “Which you were.” David quickly looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and flushing pink. “On purpose?”

“I -- I’d read about it, that’s all!” he said, meeting her gaze defensively. “I knew it was, well . . . a thing. That some wom- people can do. And I was -- I’ve seen -- I was curious!” Gwen tried to stifle a laugh and failed, turning it into a choking snort, and he blushed even darker. “I know I should’ve just asked, but I couldn’t figure out how to say . . .”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but when it became clear he had no intention of doing so, she injected as much demented cheer into her voice as possible and chirped, “‘Golly gee, Gwen, could I try making you squirt sometime?’”

Her imitation of his voice was passable -- she’d spent enough years making fun of him to get good at it -- and though he turned his head away she was positive he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t know if that counts as bad language or not.”

“Oh no. It’d be so shocking if I said one of the no-no words.”

He chuckled, trying and failing to disguise it as a sigh, and climbed out of bed, tugging the rest of his clothes off. (As he picked up his shirt and wiped his face clean, Gwen quickly bent forward and sniffed the damp spot on the mattress. A little like saline, mostly like nothing. Good to know.)

“So how often do you trawl the internet for sex tips?” she asked, grinning. “Or -- god, tell me you’re not checking out books from the library.”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified at the thought. “And . . . sometimes. More often, after we started dating. I . . .” He paused, looking like he was reconsidering the rest of that sentence, and joined her on the bed to lean back against the headboard. “The time you visited, when I -- used my mouth on you for the first time.” (And what was it about his delicate tiptoeing that made it sound so much more filthy than if he’d said it outright?) “I thought -- or, well, I hoped . . . anyway, I did a little reading. Online, obviously. Just in case.”

So that was how he’d been so goddamn good right off the fucking bat. Always prepared, her boy scout. “Well, I appreciate it,” she said, and sat up, throwing one leg over his lap and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Can I please fuck you now, Mr. Greenwood?”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, his cock twitching up against her; the tip of his head slipped between her outer folds, making them both gasp. “C-condom,” he breathed, his voice raspy and uneven, and she scrambled off his lap before she could give in to the voice in the back of her head insisting they didn’t need to stop and get anything, he was right there , if she’d angled her hips right he could’ve been inside her already --

Her fingers were shaking as she retrieved the foil packet and brought it over, letting him take it with relief. (There was no way she wouldn’t have ripped it, with the way her whole body was trembling like the room had dropped ten degrees.) She watched him roll the latex down his cock, unable to tear her eyes away from how beautifully flushed it was, precome beading at the tip and slicking the inside of the condom.

God, she needed him inside her. Immediately.

David caught her with a breathless laugh as she vaulted back up onto the bed, curling his fingers around her hips and holding her steady. “Careful,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes, fumbling blindly between her legs to line him up. “Have I- hhha --” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut with a sigh as the head of his cock pressed into her, “t- told you how beautiful you are?”

Gwen frowned. It was kind of hard to focus on the question when her body was fluttering and pulsing as it adjusted to the welcome intrusion. “A lot?” she guessed, sinking down the last few inches too fast and bottoming out with an electric shock of pain and pleasure. “Fuck.”

“No. Not like that.” He slid one arm between their bodies, parting her folds to see the way she stretched around him. “I -- think you’re so pretty,” he managed, gently tracing her inner labia with his fingertips. “I like your colors. And how we -- um, contrast.”

No one had ever told her that her cunt was pretty before. It was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David would do. And he was right; his cock looked so pale against her, where she faded from shocking pink into a dark purplish-brown that lightened as it blended into her normal skin tone. There was something about it that reminded her of a sunset -- which was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David made her think.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pressing her forehead against his and raising up a few inches, “and I love you so much.”

“I — love you too.” Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving.

“David? Everything okay?” God, he wasn’t having some kind of terrible flashback, was he? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and a wide, sunny smile spread across his face like spilled honey. “This is just like the first time.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it hit her: this was like the night they’d first had sex, from the position to the location to the dizzying, giddy strangeness of it.

God, he was perfect.

“Sort of.” She pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head to the side so she could reach his neck; he whimpered and twitched twice, each pulse against her inner walls taking her breath away. “Except I know you way better now.” She punctuated the statement by licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat, then sucked a mark right beside his Adam’s apple, where it’d be safely hidden by his bandana. “All your weak points.”

“I—” He swallowed, tilting his head obediently as she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up to his ear, “d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just hummed; that wasn’t worth dignifying with a real response, and the vibrations against his damp skin made him shiver. Instead she toyed with him: tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, nipping at his earlobe with just a hint of teeth, exploring the delicate area around his ear and neck she knew so well, had staked her claim to a hundred times before.

David’s breathing quickened, roughened, and she had to tighten her grip on his hair to keep him from squirming. Her hips weren’t moving but his were, minute jolts she was positive he couldn’t control. “Gwen,” he gasped, “please, I -- hhit's too much, I can’t --”

“Could you come like this?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice level. She could feel his pulse pounding in his cock and in his throat, under her lips; her clit throbbed in response, a metronome perfectly attuned to him. “Without me even moving? Or just . . .” She squeezed her internal muscles, clenching around him in a quick staccato pattern, and lapped her tongue against his neck in time.

“Nnno. Or -- yes?” His fingers tightened around her hips, a helpless spasm. “I don’t know. It’d . . . be torture.”

His voice was so low, wrecked, and Gwen’s stomach went into a dizzying, delicious free-fall. “Good,” she said before she could stop herself, think it through and reject it as sounding weird and freaky. David successfully pulled back from her, his eyes wide and blown out with arousal, and he looked so beautiful she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I want to torture you sometime. Nothing you’re not okay with -- and not now, but . . .”

“Yes,” he breathed, and the word was barely out of his mouth before his hand curled around the back of her neck and he was dragging her mouth to his, a kiss made of teeth and desperation with words gasped out against her lips: “yes, god, whatever you want Gwen please I love you --” His other hand slid to cup the curve of her thigh, urge her up onto her knees so he could fuck her properly, pull her back down to set a rhythm that bordered on frantic.

She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she braced her palms against the headboard for better leverage to ride him faster, harder. “Told you,” she teased, biting his lower lip hard enough to drag a breathy whine from him. “Weak.”

That made him moan, drawn-out and broken, and he slipped one hand between their bodies; curling it into a loose fist, he splayed his index and middle fingers just enough for her clit to glide between them, adding an extra jolt of friction every time she moved her hips. Gwen gasped, clutching at his back with one hand as her second orgasm coiled tighter at the base of her spine.

She bit his shoulder because she could, because she had to, because he’d like it and because it was that or scream loud enough to wake the entire camp. “Fuck, god, David --”

He shuddered and buried his face in her hair, his breath hot with a stream of pleasured mumbles beginning and ending in her name --

Gwen didn’t know which of them came first. It didn’t matter, really, because they dragged each other over the edge. His cock was almost painfully hard, unyielding as iron as her muscles tightened and fluttered around it, and the sudden snap upward of his hips as he came nearly knocked her breathless.

She was going to be sore tomorrow. Or . . . later today. She turned her head and mouthed at David’s neck, relishing the sweet-salt taste of his sweat, and let him hold her up as they caught their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered belatedly. David huffed a weak laugh into her hair, stroking her back with a touch that was light and ticklish. “But we’re sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t wanna deal with the wet spot.”

Yeah, she was going to be sore, and exhausted, and facing a hell of a cleanup both in her bedroom and outside of it.

David groaned and gently pushed her upright, sliding out from under her and taking her hand, like she was a camper who needed to be ushered back to bed. “Phone,” she bleated, weakly reaching for it as they walked past, and he paused to pick it up for her, and in that second she loved him even more, more than she’d ever thought possible.

Worth it.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david #this ending is too awkward to put in the main tags but fuck it #i spent weeks working on this okay #maybe even months #i am exhausted and cannot look at this anymore #hope y'all like your smut interspersed with pages upon pages of talking #because that's what you're getting #the only reason this isn't a total disaster is raenbows and don't anyone forget it #forestwriting

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

unless you take your army back

Hello and welcome to the sequel to my work i will make the sky collapse! You honestly do not have to read the first one to understand this one--the first was a Crutchie-centric whump-focused refuge story, and this one is about his recovery and Jack coming to terms with what happened (and maybe some,,, sprace).

So yeah! This is chapter one! Content warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter :) This is a queued post, so as soon as I have time to post it on AO3 I’ll update this with the link.

cw: blood, brief description of injury

On the same day they won the strike, there were a good dozen kids clamoring to be a newsie, appearing out of nowhere with the sole purpose of bothering Jack. He didn’t really want to care--they could be a newsie all they wanted--but the problem was they all needed a start-up fund. They all wanted Jack to foot the cost of their first papes and first week of room and board, and though he had just gotten a job offer and an improved living overall, he just didn’t have the time or money to train so many penniless kids. So he sent them to Spot Conlon, of course.

It was pretty clear that these kids all came from the Refuge, which had just been shut down by the governor. Jack had never been happier than he was when he saw the cop drag Snyder away in chains. The nagging question that was slowly coming to the front of his mind, though, was where was Crutchie?

Katherine had been here for the short celebration, but had seemed distracted and had left almost immediately, without giving Jack a chance to ask after his brother. He wanted to go look for the kid, comb through the Refuge and the streets surrounding it, but Davey had regretfully told him he couldn’t leave. He was the union leader, and a nice official union it was at that. He actually couldn’t even sell right now, he had to return to Pulitzer’s office and continue working on a bunch of paperwork registering the union or something. Pulitzer had told him that they would be working together occasionally due to his new position as leader of the Newsboys Union, which apparently meant that whenever there was a problem on either of their ends they had to include the other in their solving of the problem. It made sense to Jack, what he didn’t get was why he had to read a billion papers telling him it made sense.

Katherine did not ride with him and Mr. Pulitzer in the carriage back to his office, and she didn’t come and see him when he left late in the afternoon, but maybe she was just at work. There was a lot to report, after all. Jack wished it didn’t hurt. There was no way it was intentional, they all had a lot going on right now. It wasn't like he'd gone looking for her, after all. He'd see her tomorrow, cross paths on the way to work.

What with all the stressful arrangements and intense discussions, Jack was more tired than he usually was by the time he entered the lodging house. In later days, he wished that he had spoken to Mush, waiting anxiously outside. He wished that he had not gone with Pulitzer to his office, and instead sought out Katherine straightaway. Most of all, he wished that he had gone personally to the Refuge, made sure to set those kids free himself.

He didn’t do any of those things, though. Instead, he walked home from Pulitzer’s office, nodded to Mush, and went straight inside.

Katherine was there, which was odd, but certainly not unwelcome. According to Race, she had spent time with them without him, just celebrating with them and getting to know them all. That was fine, but most girls didn’t seek out a bunch of street rat teenage boys as preferred company.

Not only was Katherine there, but half of the newsies were seemingly just waiting by the door, dropping what they’d been doing and standing to stare at him. Sure, Jack was something of a celebrity now--and he had betrayed them more than once, which could be the reason also--but they looked almost guilty.

“Jack,” Katherine started, and Jack saw that sorry look on her face and his heart dropped. What could this be about? He’d been with Pulitzer all day, so it wasn’t like the old man had turned on them. Where was Crutchie? Was he--he couldn’t be. Right? No.

“Jack,” she said again, and now she was crying. Jack wanted to kiss the tears off her face, tell her she never needed to cry again, but he couldn’t. He had to know--his stomach was roiling, threatening to toss up whatever bite he’d eaten earlier. Something had happened, and it--it couldn’t be--

“It’s Crutchie,” Katherine said, and Jack had a brief moment of huh, so that’s how swoonin’ feels before he was on his knees. He can’t have died. Crutchie was--well, Crutchie. He was just as capable as any newsie, could sell papes twice as well as half of them, and was stronger than anyone Jack knew--certainly far stronger than himself. But if Snyder--if the Refuge--if--

“He’s alive,” Katherine hurried to say, kneeling on the floor beside him, and Jack let out a choked laugh, only just realizing he was crying.

“Ya couldn’ta said that sooner?” he asked weakly, and Katherine sniffled, trying to regain composure.

“He’s alive,” she repeated, “but he isn’t doing well at all. He wanted to see you, but I think he’s still asleep.”

In seconds, Jack was back on his feet, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling her towards the bunkroom. “I gotta see ‘im.”

He ignored her cries of “Jack, wait, you have to know--” and took the stairs two at a time, yanking open the door as soon as it was in front of him. The room was dead silent for once, and only one bed was occupied (despite the fact that he’d told Romeo to rest up today after the strike). Over by the open window on the far wall, a figure was laying in the only bed without a top bunk (the one that belonged to Jack, seeing as he was in charge).

Jack could barely hold back a retch as he came closer, seeing the matted hair crusted in blood, but sticking straight up, same as always. Crutchie was sleeping almost peacefully on the bed, the blankets tucked around him messily, as if one of the boys had tried his very best to arrange it like a mother would. His face was swollen and cut up, almost unrecognizable as his brother, though his neck was what caught Jack’s attention. A brownish-purple bruise in the vague shape of a gripped hand was found there, where the fingers had dug in marked by little round black bruises, a sick imitation of a constellation crossing his brother’s throat.

Jack’s fists curled into tight balls as he stared down at Crutchie, seeing red. The rest of his body was hidden by the covers, excepting a stiff arm that was tightly wrapped in gauze. The collar of his undershirt was the only part of his clothes visible, and it was stained brown and torn.

There were two sides of Jack warring for dominance. One screamed at him to storm down to the county jail right this moment and give Snyder everything he deserved. The other side tried to pull him to the floor, weeping at Crutchie’s bedside. Jack fought both, not wanting to seem weak in front of Katherine, who was watching him with that soft-concerned look on her face that he had already come to know too well. He needed to get alone, needed space, needed a moment to cope with what he’d just been confronted with so that he could best help Crutchie later.

Jack calmly left the room, replying something along the lines of fine, just need a minute when Katherine asked tentatively if he was okay. Then he walked slowly down the steps and through the main room, where all of the newsies watched him silently. He nodded vaguely in their direction. Luckily, none of them asked any questions. If they had, Jack wasn’t sure that he would’ve been able to hold back the sobs.

Finally he was outside, and here he could run. Run he did, all the way around the side of the building and up the fire escape, running and running until all that existed was the clang! of his feet against the metal and the wind rushing past his ears. Then he was climbing the ladder to the very top, where only a week ago he and Crutchie had woken, excited to start striking for real.

Jack had woken early that morning, and had taken the time to sketch out the New York skyline against the starry night sky. It was a frequent subject of his, but that morning he had filled in himself and Crutchie, sitting on the roof closest to the perspective, curled up and reaching toward the stars.

When Crutchie had gotten up, they had made mundane small talk, both trying to hide nervousness that showed too plainly. They eventually stopped talking around it, laughing and joking about it directly, before deciding--no, vowing--to not let the other come to serious harm or danger. Then they had gone downstairs, ready to wake the other boys and get on with the revolution.

The last promise--maybe the last one ever--that Jack had made to Crutchie, and he’d broken it not even hours later. On the rooftop now, Jack kicked the low wall angrily, then again and again. What was wrong with him? How could he focus so intently on these--these mundanities, paperwork and politeness and whatall, while Crutchie was suffering so? How had he not been here for him, when he arguably needed Jack more than anyone else at the moment?

He kicked the wall one more time, then threw himself to the floor. What kind of leader was he? He’d betrayed everyone, almost left Crutchie; then when he’d gotten his head on the right way, he hadn’t done anything to make sure the kid was all right!

“Jack?”

Katherine. She would come up here, tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want that. It was his fault, and he couldn’t have anyone denying it or he might just explode.

“Leave me alone,” he called back, barely keeping his voice from breaking. Silence, then a sigh and the sound of soft footsteps going down the fire escape. Good.

Jack drew his hands across his face, taking in a shuddering breath. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t dream about leaving anymore, that would just make things worse. He had to be here for Crutchie, and the other boys. Prove that he wasn’t a scab.

He hadn’t eaten any supper, but he didn’t really care. It was dark enough that he shouldn’t have a problem resting. Add it to the tired ache in his bones and he’d be out in no time. He’d get up when everyone else went to bed, then he’d stay up the rest of the night with Crutchie, be there in case he had nightmares or woke up. He had to be there for him. He had to.

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Link

I do believe we’ve gone too long without a good antagonist, so it’s time I introduced two in one go.

Also there is a joke there that I wrote before I even started writing the fic itself and I’m sure y’all will immediately recognize which one that is

“Amitola.”

Ilia blinked awake. It was a cold morning in their little camp, and her body was still sore from last night’s sparring session. She wished for nothing more than to stay inside her bedroll just a little longer, but a feeling of unease kept her from resting once more.

She recognized the voice, she certainly recognized the name, but there was no possible way she had actually heard that. That must have been a dream or perhaps she had simply misheard something in her half asleep state.

That didn’t matter, the sun had risen, and there was no doubt her dutiful knights were already awake and waiting for her to join them. So she quickly placed her usual glamour upon herself, donned one of her fine dresses, and stepped out of her tent.

“Good morning, my fair lady,” Weiss greeted cheerfully.

She sat by the campfire, preparing their breakfast as Belladonna watched her in amusement. She clearly didn’t expect the Schnee to know how to cook.

“Morning, Schnee,” Ilia replied, “what has gotten you in such a pleasant mood?”

“It was you, of course,” she explained, “last night has brought me such great joy.”

Ilia should not have expected the Schnee to know how to mind her wording, if the black knight’s grin was anything to go by.

“Is it safe to ask what has happened in this camp while I was gone?” Belladonna asked.

“I cannot say,” Ilia replied, unamused, “is it safe to ask why you’ve been gone all night?”

Weiss looked between the two of them in confusion, “is it safe to ask what you two are on about?”

“Oh, no, it certainly is not,” Belladonna chuckled.

“Then I believe a change of subject is in order,” Weiss declared, trying her best to evade whatever it was her companions were talking about, “Lady Rose and Lady Polendina have invited me over for target practice today. If my lady would allow it, I’d like us to make our way to their camp as soon as we’re done with this meal.”

“I…” Ilia wasn’t sure how to answer her. Her dream had left her unnerved, and spending time with the lovebirds would do nothing to ease her worries.

“I find myself indisposed today,” she settled on.

Weiss was visibly disappointed, but was quick to hide it behind the mask of a dutiful knight, “then I shall let them know we won’t make it today.”

“No, wait!” Ilia interrupted, not because she cared about the Schnee’s feelings, but because she did not want to spend all day in the company of a moping human, “just go if you want to. Don’t let me keep you.”

Weiss’s eyes went wide, clearly taken aback by this response, “are you certain, Lady Ilia?”

She scoffed in annoyance, “I wouldn’t have said so if I weren’t.”

At that the knight-to-be smiled at her in a way that certainly did not set her heart a flutter, and most definitely did not ease her worries like she were some fretting damsel. In fact, the only thing that got any reaction out of Ilia was when the Schnee decided to go on a tedious ramble, going on about how she would not forget such an act of kindness.

“Yes, yes, I’m a goddess amongst mortals,” she interrupted, “now shouldn’t you be making us breakfast?”

“Of course!” She agreed, promptly returning to the task at hand.

The resulting meal was surprisingly not deadly. In fact, as loath to admit it as Ilia was, it was in fact quite good.

“That was quite the astounding meal, Lady Weiss,” Belladonna praised, “I did not expect an atlesian noble to know how to cook.”

“Do not inflate her ego any further,” Ilia chided, “just be grateful the Schnee did not poison us.”

At least an attempt would have made her unease feel more warranted.

“You both flatter me,” Weiss replied. Though her smile was proud, it was closer to that of a farmer being recognized for their hard work, than that of a lord listing off their titles. It was charming in a way.

Not that Ilia would ever say that out loud.

“Great, you’ve made the Schnee happy, what a way to spoil my meal,” Ilia complained, though neither of them bought it, “shouldn’t you be on your way? Wouldn’t want to keep the lovebirds waiting.”

“You’re right, of course,” Weiss surrendered, getting up as she spoke, “I only request that you do not miss me in my absence.”

“Never has a request been so easy to fulfill,” Ilia replied, rolling her eyes, “now be gone.”

With that Weiss left them. Though Ilia assumed she’d get a moment of peace, it was clear Belladonna had other plans, for she kept looking at Ilia with the most insufferable of expressions plastered across her face. She knew what that look meant, she knew the conversation that would follow, and she most certainly did not want to partake in it.

“Not a word, Belladonna,” she threatened. It was a futile endeavor, all that did was work a smirk into that unbearable face of hers.

“You and ‘the Schnee’ seem very close,” she commented, to her own amusement and to Ilia’s great pain.

“I do not appreciate the implication in your tone, seelie,” Ilia complained.

“You have yet to tell me what has gotten Lady Weiss in such a cheerful mood,” Belladonna insisted.

“We sparred,” she replied, “nothing more to it than that.”

“Funny, that’s just what me and Yang did last night as well,” Belladonna commented.

“I still cannot comprehend what you see in that human,” Ilia shook her head.

“She eats for ten men and could take down just as many with her bare hands, and yet she could name every constellation in the sky and every flower in these fields,” she explained, her voice was sweet, but tasted like bitter jealousy to Ilia’s ear, “she fights like a mad woman, but speaks like a poet, and I have yet to decide what attracts me most.”

It was harder than it should have been, to accept Belladonna’s happiness, to be happy for her as well. Even now, so many years later, a part of Ilia still wished that her friend would speak of her in that way, that they could be more than just friends.

But she had accepted that this was not meant to be, and if the chieftain made Belladonna happy, then she should be happy for her as well.

“I take that to mean that you wish for her to speak poetry between your thighs,” Ilia joked. It was somewhat forced, but she tried.

“I cannot say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” Belladonna replied, “though for now I’m content with our walks and our sparring sessions.”

“Do you plan on telling her what you are?” Ilia asked. Jealousy aside, that had been her primary concern when it came to that human.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” she assured her, though that only served to confuse poor Ilia, “I believe she has figured us out already.”

“She has what!?” Ilia demanded.

“She has been slowly wearing less and less iron around me,” Belladonna explained, “yesterday I caught her taking off her bracelets before coming to greet me.”

“How could she even know!?”

“I’m not certain,” she replied, “regardless, it was very sweet of her.”

“How so? Iron doesn’t seem to have any effect on you,” Ilia asked, though there was a near accusatory tone to her words, “she might as well be removing that cloak of hers for all it matters.”

“It isn’t for any practical reasons really. it’s simply that she cares enough about my comfort to do so,” she replied, “hasn’t your human done the same for you?”

Her human?

Though the thought itself wasn’t entirely unpleasant - it had been far too long since poor Ilia had anyone to call hers - the fact that it was aimed at the Schnee of all people soured it for her. Certainly Belladonna knew she had better taste in women.

“Please, never refer to her in that way ever again,” she complained, pinching the bridge of her nose, “and besides she has put away the armor for her own comfort, not for mine.”

“Clearly,” Belladonna replied, amused, “of course our favorite knight wanabee has abandoned her signifiers of knighthood of her own volition, and only for her own benefit.”

“You’re a fool if you believe the Schnee cares for anyone other than herself,” Ilia bit back.

“And you’re a fool not to see how devoted she is to you,” Belladonna countered.

“I did not ask for devotion!” She shouted, “I did not ask to be her damned quest!”

With that shout came silence.

Neither of the fae had much to say from that point on. Though she did not enjoy having what had almost been a pleasant conversation sour so quickly, she also did not regret her outburst in any way. The simple idea of Ilia ever being with the Schnee in any way was both impossible and insulting, and the both of them just had to accept that.

“Amitola,” whispered the winds of the forest, like they had in the depths of her dream.

Ilia looked around frantically. There was no one around besides her and Belladonna. None who could know that name, or even what it meant. She turned back to her fellow fae, but she hadn’t reacted at all, still just sulking as she stared into the dwindling embers of their campfire.

“I should be going,” Belladonna said, seemingly unaware of anything wrong, “I’ve been neglectful of my duties to my order. I should rectify that.”

“Yes, of course,” Ilia replied, masking concern with bitterness, “return to your beloved humans.”

“Ami… Ilia,” she called, “you know I still care for you and for our kind.”

“Of course you do,” she almost hissed, shrouding her own unease with familiar venom, “now be gone already.”

Belladonna sighed, “as you wish.”

In little time she had suited up and set off to serve humanity once again, leaving Ilia alone to deal with the voices in the wind. She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was the doing of her people’s magic, and she recognized their summons when she heard them. What had worried her was that very few people knew that name, and fewer still had the means to travel this far north.

“Amitola,” the name echoed again, not spoken with a voice, but made to be from the wind itself.

This time Ilia answered its summons.

She ventured into the woods by herself, stripping her body of her glamour as she travelled further and further, far away from nobles and knights, from their pointless titles and empty oaths. Until once more she stood within the domain of the fae.

The forest was quieter here, a little pocket of peace set aside for her and her host.

“Amitola,” twin voices called in unison. That name, her name, was loaded with disappointment and contempt.

“Fennec,” Amitola greeted, lowering her head, “Corsac.”

From the shadows among the trees emerged the large gestalt form of the fae twins. A singular body of orange and white fur, caught somewhere between the shape of a man and a fox. It looked down on her with its four eyes, gleaming in the light that came through the branches.

“It has been too long, sister Amitola” Fennec spoke, and his voice felt like wind.

“We didn’t think we’d find you among the humans,” Corsac followed, and his breath smelled like embers.

“It makes one wonder why you left so suddenly,” the twins commented.

It was an unsettling sight to behold.

“I do not seek to join them, if that is what you’re insinuating,” Amitola returned. She was no traitor like Belladonna, and she would not be treated like one, “I seek to infiltrate them.”

“Of course,” Corsac agreed, “but what is it you have to gain from this?”

“I--”

“Don’t tell us you forgot to plan ahead, little sister,” Fennec added.

“I did plan ahead!” Amitola insisted, “I wished to…I wished to see the human world. I wanted to know the things they’ve built from our suffering. The festival felt like the best opportunity I’d get.”

“So then, did you come here only to bolster your hatred of their kind?” One asked.

“Or did you only wish to don a dress and play pretend?” The other followed.

As they spoke they circled her like a predator, their words following much the same. They had not yet betrayed violence in their intent, but it still unnerved her to be treated like prey.

Though words failed to come to her defence, her rage at being interrogated like this still burned bright, and it took the form of the same glare that had many times targeted her companions over the past few days.

The twins laughed.

“Do not worry, little Amitola,” Fennec reassured her, condescension weighing heavy on her name, “your goals may be shallow.”

“But your skill can still be put to use,” Corsac noted, “after all, you have acquired not only the perfect disguise.”

“But also their trust,” they spoke together once more, wind and fire amplified by one another, “and you will put it to good use.”

The shared body of the twins stood before her, larger, more fearsome than any singular being could ever dream to be. Under their gaze it was easy for rage to die down, and for fear and guilt to take over.

“You will do this for us, won’t you, Amitola?”

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #bumbleby #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #blake belladonna #medieval au #fanfic

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themeowsticvigilante · 3 years

Text

Orpheum's Tales: Music of the Night

[featuring the Shaymin crew from @shaymincafe ]

A morning breeze sweeps along the quiet forest of Floarama Town, Orpehum's usual abode when he is alone by himself. After all, the town was special to him, a second home. This town is where his constellation appears first every night.

The bard plucked a few strings from his lute, a morning routine he so regularly performed. A good note would be a blessed day but a bad one would be a tragedy … an omen even. Fortunately, the Victini deity would smile upon him as the lute produced a perfect note.

He sighed a breath of fresh air, relief overcoming him as the day would proceed as normal, for him at the least. Donning his trusty bard hat, off he went to meet someone, another Shaymin as he was taking flight towards the rendezvous.

The gentle breeze made the journey quite refreshing, after all … no one would knowingly dwell into turbulent weather, especially a deity like him. As he took flight, he was in the form of a wisp, vibrant green with wings similar to a Yanma for he wouldn't just reveal himself to mortals just like that.

Moments passed before he could finally see the rendezvous from afar, vaguely sensing someone waving towards him. Realizing it was a familiar face, he immediately went in and landed in front of her, giving her a bow as soon as he returned to his Shaymin form.

"Orpheum! Glad you could make it!" A Shaymin in a vibrant pink hue gleefully greeted the bard with a smile.

"Good morning, Rosemary. I too am glad to be here." He nodded to himself, his face a vibrant glee, and looking around the place. "So this is your ... what was the word … Cafè? Sorry, I have been too accustomed to the word tavern."

"Yes, it is! Shaymin Cafè~ not the most subtle name we can think of but it does attract quite the crowd." She giggles and motions for him to follow her. "Come! Let's introduce you to the others"

"Right now, you say?" He looked a bit nervous, his audience usually consisted of only one but to a few 'mon of his kind? He isn't used to that kind of stage but he internally reigned in his thoughts and smiled. "Sure! I am excited."

~~~

The doors to the cafè opened, immediately getting the attention of everyone inside. Rosemary was the one to enter with Orpheum following close behind, his lute perched on his back as an archer would their quiver. There was silence as the rest of the Shaymin staff immediately averted their attention towards Orpheum.

"Everyone, meet Orpheum! Better give him a warm welcome because he is a special Shaymin~" Rosemary broke the silence as she winked at them and gave him an introductory pat on the back.

"Greetings! Greetings!" He gave them a bow and a huge grin trying not to break the otherwise momentum that Rosemary had set. "Orpheum the Blossoming Bard, at your service!"

One of the Shaymin finally took interest, narrowing her eyes as she approached Orpheum. She circled around the bard as if to do a thorough inspection. "A bard, aye? … sing a song for us why don't cha." Shiso, the purple one, commanded as she crossed her arms and looked at him intently.

"A song? Yes yes of course! I actually have a short one I made en route here … it's supposed to be about this cafe." Orpheum's ears perked up, immediately getting his lute and clearing his throat a bit. "I hope all of you enjoy~!"

"Go ahead. We'd love to hear it!" Rosemary smiles, eagerly waiting to play his song as the rest of the staff.

"Okay here goes …" He plucked a few notes and began to slowly gain momentum as he started to sing the piece he created.

Come one, come all!

There is a place for all!

Come one, come all!

Everyone is welcome, big or small!

Smiles, smiles are all abound~!

With happy thoughts all around!

We are always ready to serve you.

For we treat you as family too!

Come one, come all! The cafè is open!

A place to bring family or a friend!

Come one, come all! It's a party!

When you join us at the Shaymin Cafè!

He gave a bow after he sang as he always did with every performance he made. Just before he did, he can already hear applause from the group, one even cheering gleefully.

"Woooh! Great song, dude!" Chicory, the blue one blurted out, eagerly waiting to request an encore.

"Impressive. Looks like you're an a-okay then." Shiso shrugs smirking as she hugged Pumpkin, the orange one next to her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Pumpkin here seems to like it too." She looks over at Pumpkin with a nod of approval.

"Simply wonderful, Orpheum! Bravo!" Rosemary cheered gleefully, enjoying the performance wholeheartedly like the rest of the staff.

"Thanks, everyone! My heart is filled with joy knowing all of you enjoyed my song." He says, visibly blushing at his newfound audience. "It isn't new that I get applause but it always is overwhelming for me."

Rosemary stood up from her seat, looking like she was about to say something important. "Alright, everyone! Cafè is opening in half an hour, be sure to make this ready for the customers like you always do!"

The staff immediately started tidying up the cafè, with Rosemary on her way to put the specials on display outside and putting the open sign but not before she looked back at Orpheum with a reassuring smile.

"Welcome to the Shaymin Cafè"

He smiled for a bit while looking a bit conflicted on something as if pondering upon a certain thought that's been on his mind. He followed Rosemary and called out to her. "Rosemary!"

The pink Shaymin immediately turned to face him, looking confused at his sudden urgency and wanting to know what was up. "Yes, Orpheum? You need anything?"

"I was just thinking if I can take a stroll for a moment? Perhaps, more than a few moments to be precise?"

"Sure but … is everything alright? You maybe need some tea to help calm yourself down?"

"No no, please save it for your patrons. I may need some time for myself, worry not … I'll be back before you know it~" He gave her a reassuring smile as a small gust of wind blew around him.

"Okay if you say so. Guess I'll see you around." With Rosemary's wave, Orpheum immediately turned into a wisp and rode along with the wind, letting it carry him towards someplace else.

~~~

It was now nightfall, as the cafè was still bustling with patrons but no sign of Orpheum anywhere. Admittedly, Rosemary was getting concerned for him but she kept that to herself while she worked the tables and managed the patrons like the rest of her staff.

"Psst hey, Rosemary. Where's that hotshot Shaymin you were talking about?" Vetle was there as always, raising an eyebrow as he asked Rosemary about the supposed 'guest' she was advertising just outside of the shop. "I'm just waiting here."

"He'll be here soon, Vetle. Don't you worry." Her smile was hiding that concern still bubbling inside of her as she silently scanned the room for at least a teal-colored wisp. "Just sit back and rela- huh?"

She felt a gentle breeze going through her fur as she turned around, trying to spot someone from the crowd of patrons in the various tables laid around but there was still no sign of Orpheum. She can only do nothing but hum her worries away only, why does it feel like her hums had a rhythm to them? As if there was something or someone playing?

It seemed like she wasn't the only one that would notice it as a small crowd would soon form as almost everyone was turning their heads toward what seemed like someone plucking the strings of a lute effortlessly. Rosemary went towards the crowd of patrons and staff alike to see what was going and that's when she saw them.

A stranger was there playing a teal-colored lute with black-gloved paws as the crowd watched on in awe, daring not to say anything during the performance. They wore a black Venetian mask that covered the upper part of their face, while their body was adorned in a turquoise long coat laced with lacey green accents along with teal pants and black boots.

The stranger was just sitting by themselves on one of the tables and somehow inconspicuously slipped out of sight and started playing as if to make a dynamic entrance of sorts. Either that or the people were too busy minding their business to notice a well-dressed musician enter the shop and take a seat.

After a while, the stranger seemed to stop playing presumably because they were done with their tune and had a mysterious smile as he got up from his seat and bowed to the newly formed audience.

"Greetings, greetings! I am Favonius, Bard of the Blossoms! I'm sure you have been waiting for more than a moment for me but now … I shall now begin~"

It took a few seconds for Rosemary to realize what she should be doing but she immediately got up to the front of the store and called the attention of the patrons.

"Yes! Please settle down, everyone, and sit tight. Service will still continue while the performance is going on. Hope you all enjoy~"

Immediately as everyone did settle into their seats, all eyes were on Favonius as a mix of expressions gathered within the audience. Most were of course intrigued by his presence after all, if that initial introduction was what's to come what more could he show for a full performance? Favonius smiled as soon as they were now eagerly waiting for him in silence and with a single strum of his lute, he now started to a tune to which he would sing.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

Our hearts flutter each night and day.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

Beckoning to us the hallowed way.

When the night is cold and barren still,

With dark hearts of ill will.

Something within us will start to burn,

Igniting for what we really yearn.

We have triumphed, every one of us,

Our trials never left us in the dust.

Our stories, written in our memory,

As it was always meant to be.

Bless the light, as the torch ignites,

To our journeys and fights.

From within our grasp to far off lands,

Making every victory grand.

Even when fear looms and doubts arise,

Triumph comes at a well-fought price.

Even when we ourselves have faltered,

Sacrifices will be honored.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

May the light bring us the way.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

To brave the night and seize the day.

The room filled with praise from the audience as Favonius made a solemn bow, holding his hat to his side right after strumming the last tune to his song. He definitely felt satisfied knowing he would make everyone's night.

"Thank you, my fabled patrons. Thank you! I hope you all enjoyed the show for tonight but for now, farewell and have a good night."

Favonius immediately exited the stage and disappeared into the cafè exit giving everyone a swift wave and flew off towards somewhere else. A few patrons were able to witness Favonius exit but all they saw outside was a wisp that sort of disappeared into the wind.

~~~

Soon enough it was time for the cafè to close while the patrons were still talking about the performance earlier on their way out the exit. Rosemary and the other Shaymins were just cleaning up after such an eventful night as they too were talking about the performance but more importantly, Favonius themselves.

"Man, that thing earlier was pretty unexpected! Even my boyfriend agreed it felt almost like a dream …" Chicory exclaimed while he was sweeping the floors looking towards Vetle, a teal-colored Shaymin leaning against a wall. "But still, that was pretty cool! How did you even contact them, Rosemary?"

Rosemary was just as confused as Chicory when she was asked that, she was by herself and looking towards the windows when she was snapped out of her pondering. "Huh? Oh … you know, I have some connections." Rosemary smiled nervously knowing that she had no idea where he came from.

"Hmm …? You don't look so sure … was he just a stranger? Because it's not usual for you to just invite someone willy-nilly like that …" Chicory raised his eyebrow, stopping what he was doing as he was really eager to know.

"Umm you see … I …" Just as she was about to say something, a gust of wind blew into the inside of the cafè, the very same gust of wind that alerted them to a familiar presence but no tune was to be heard. This time, there came a knock on the cafè door followed by a greeting.

"Greetings, fellow Shaymins. May I come in? I hope I am not interrupting closing hours …"

"Not at all, Favonius. Please come in!" Rosemary breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to at least ask them about what happened, and crossed her arms. “Take a seat … you have some explaining to do.”

“Ohh … my apologies for the commotion earlier, madam~” He bows his head and removes his mask revealing who was behind it all this time. “I … tend to be nervous in front of a large crowd.”

“O-Orpheum!?! All this time, you were Favonius? Wh-why didn’t you told me …?” Rosemary was utterly shocked at the revelation, so was Chicory and the rest of the Shaymin present. “Wh-why did have to hide like that ...? Explain yourself.”

“W-well you see, I’m not really adept at showing my face to a large audience … and your establishment attracts such a crowd. I’m afraid I must don an outfit to appear mysterious. Otherwise, they will eventually know that I’m a deity…” Orpheum stammered in his words, really hoping that his act wasn’t a grievous fault.

“Wait am I hearing this correct? You’re a god!?!” Chicory was barely listening to Orpheum’s whole explanation and instead focused on the part where he mentioned he was a deity. “Are you kidding me!?!”

Chicory’s excitableness did make Orpheum at least for at least a little bit as he smiled. “Yes, I’m a deity. Perhaps it is time to let all of you know. Rosemary was the only one who knew.” He looked over at Rosemary as she gave him a reassuring okay gesture. “But if I did show my true face to a large crowd, there would be consequences. I hope all of you understand why I did that earlier …”

Rosemary would then put a hand on his shoulder and smile. “Of course it’s fine! Let’s just let be our little secret. Right, guys? Especially you, Vetle. Don’t you go around and spill the beans.”

“Yes! Me and my boyfriend here are 100% in it for this little secret! Right, Vetle?” Chicory piped in as Vetle gave a shrug, presumably as a way of approval. “Yeah yeah, whatever. I won’t tell if it means I get the front row seats.” Vetle added with a smirk on his face.

“Me and my girlfriend also agree. Your secret’s safe with us.” Pumpkin also added to the conversation as Shiso gave a nod. “Don’t you worry a thing.”

“See, Orpheum? You’ll be just fine. After all, Shaymin’s gotta stick together.” Rosemary then smiled, Orpheum shedding a tear and let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, everyone … truly this has been an eventful day. But I am grateful for every one of your understanding. But alas, I must take my leave for now. Have a good night. It has been a pleasure meeting all of you.” With that, the Shaymin bard exited the café but not without giving a wave from his hat and letting the wind carry him back towards the forest.

#pokemon story #fan writing #orpheum the shaymin bard #shaymincafe #hey folks! have some fan writing for now while I finish writing the next story post

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

the constellation of cup noodles ↠ bang chan

genre: idol!au, angst, fluff pairing: bang chan x non-idol!gender-neutral reader word count: 3.3k warnings: angst, suggestive, a bit of swearing request: yes

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You weren’t used to being at work this late, since tonight was your first night working the night shift. It was 9:33 pm when the door to the convenience store opened, the bell jingling obnoxiously. Looking up from the book you were reading, you saw someone in dressed in all black with a black face-mask covering their nose and mouth, and a baseball cap pulled down over their eyes. They made a beeline for the mild instant noodles on the back shelves. After a few minutes, they came up to the counter with not just one pack of noodles but a whole case of thirty.

“Good evening,” they said politely. “Is it possible to buy the whole case?”

You were a bit taken aback—people never wanted to get quite that much of the instant noodle goodness. “Um, sure!” you said. “There’s no reason why not. Is that it?”

“Great,” the customer said, and held out a card for you to run. “Um, here you go.”

You took the card, trying to ignore how pretty their voice was. You had the feeling they might be famous in some way, as they kept their mask and hat on and didn’t try to make much smalltalk. Sometimes you got idols in the shop, and this person fit the general stereotype of a person trying to be inconspicuous but being more conspicuous in trying. Making a point not to look at the name on the card, you rang up the crate of noodles and handed it back to the customer with their receipt.

“Have a good evening and come again!” you said as they made their way out of the shop. Then, you realized you should actually be a good person and rushed out from behind the counter. “Wait! Let me get the door for you!”

The customer waited, holding the crate of instant noodles with surprising ease, then walked down the two steps down to the sidewalk. “Thanks, Y/N,” they said, surprising you with the use of your name. “Have a good night.” With you totally not staring after them, they walked away, turning their head up to the sky to see if there were any stars visible that night.

A week later, it was raining harder than if you had stood under a waterfall. Person after person had come into the shop that day to buy an umbrella, most of them business people but some students, too. Around 9:30 pm, the bell jingled and you fought the urge to knock it from its hook. You heard a grateful sigh as someone came in out of the rain. Peaking around the counter, you saw someone wearing all black and a black face-mask pull down their hood and take off a baseball cap. They shook out their slightly damp, black hair and ran their fingers through it, shaking their head, as they made their way to the instant noodles. You wondered, idly, if this was the same person who’d come in the week before.

When they came up to the counter carrying a whole crate of noodles, you knew it was the same person.

“Hey, Y/N, right? You were working last week when I came in,” the customer said. It was evident to you now that they were a young man around your age—you could hear a foreign accent dancing around the edges of his speech, but it wasn’t noticeable enough for you to tell what it was.

“Yeah, I remember you, too,” you said, studying his face. “If you don’t mind me asking, why the mask and hat all the time?”

Even with the mask on, you could tell the young man was smiling a little nervously, to the point it almost looked like a grimace. “Well, I don’t really want to be recognized,” he said, voice low, and unhooked the mask from around one of his ears. “But I guess I’ll make an exception—you seem chill.”

You had to school your expression so that it wasn’t obvious that you immediately found him attractive. Wildly attractive. He had wonderfully sparkling eyes and a mouth that clearly smiled often.

“A- Are you an idol?” you said and mentally kicked yourself. Of course he was an idol.

The young man in front of you laughed lightly and nodded. “Yeah. My name’s Bang Chan and I’m with JYPE.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N . . . as you know already,” you could feel yourself blushing.

“Nice to meet you, too, Y/N. Um, could you ring this up, please?” Chan asked, smiling ruefully.

“Oh, yeah—sorry!” You rang up the noodles, then said, “Could I ask a question?”

“Sure—as long as it’s not too personal.”

“Why are you buying thirty packs of instant noodles every Saturday?” you asked, not caring that it was a slightly silly question. You gave Chan his card and receipt.

Chan laughed, the sound bright and delighted. “It’s for my members, who like to eat way too many,” he patted the crate of noodles, “of these. I mean, I do, too, but it’s mainly for them.”

You were about to say something, but Chan continued. “Um, I’ve got to get back, and it looks like the rain’s letting up a little. I’ll see you around, Y/N!” he said, and flashed a small smile at you.

Still not believing that you’d just met one of the handsomest people you’d ever seen, and actually had a coherent conversation with him, you stared after Chan as he left the shop. The rain had, indeed, let up a bit, but he still jogged through the puddles on the sidewalk, crate of instant noodles in hand.

After he’d come in around 9:30 pm on three Saturdays in a row, you thought it might be becoming a pattern or already was one before you’d changed your shift. So, when Chan came in to get the noodles, starting toward the back shelves, you called, “I’ve already got it up here!”

Chan turned and came toward you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N, hey, what’s up? Thanks, by the way.”

“Have you had a good week?” you asked, smiling back.

“Eh, I’ve been busy, but at least I’ve gotten enough sleep.” Chan ran a hand through his hair—he seemed to do that a lot around you.

“Hey, that’s good! Make sure to drink enough water, too.” As you said it, you realized you were probably telling someone who drank more water than you to do so, but so what! He should!

Chan laughed lightly. “So, how was your week, then? Anything interesting happen in here?”

“Nope, not really. Honestly, you coming in is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened,” you said, trying not to sound like you were flirting with every fiber of your being. (You were, in fact).

“Well, it’s a small but genuine highlight of my week, too, Y/N,” Chan said. He leaned on the counter.

You felt yourself blush a little, and looked down at the register. “Oh, I still need to ring you up,” you said, trying to ignore Chan’s eyes on you. No way. No. Way. An idol from JYPE flirting with you? That just didn’t happen . . . did it?

“Um, Y/N?” Chan said a little hesitantly. “You alright?”

You realized that you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts, despite having said you needed to ring him up. “Oh my god, sorry. Yes, okay, thanks.” Taking the card, you quickly completed the transaction and gave him the receipt. “They just changed the policy, so could you sign the store copy, please?” you said, feeling bad for asking him to do one more thing.

“Sure!” Chan said and signed, taking slightly longer than you’d have guessed.

As he picked up the instant noodles and made to leave, he said, “Can you check that I gave you the right copy back? I’ve been known to take the wrong one.” He smiled ruefully.

You looked down at the receipt and saw “Store Copy” printed at the top, but your attention was drawn to the bottom where he’d scrawled his signature. Below the line, he’d written a phone number. You looked back up to see him still standing in front of you and you raised your eyebrows, as if to say, What? Chan just grinned and winked, then headed out the door. Yet again, you found yourself staring after him.

As soon as your shift ended, you typed the number into your phone and sent: “Hi, this is Y/N. I hope this is the right number.”

You got a response back immediately: “Hey, Y/N! You definitely got the right number 😊 I’d keep texting right now, but I’ve gotta go to bed right now bc I’ve already been up too late hoping you’d message 😅 I hope you have a peaceful sleep and lovely dreams. Goodnight! —Chan💕”

You squealed. What else would you do? You squealed with absolute glee over the fact that you were definitely flirting and texting a) someone, b) someone extremely attractive who somehow thought you were, too, and c) an idol! How the hell had this happened?

As you got ready for bed, you would occasionally look at the message, just to make sure it was real and you hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Nope, still there and cute as ever. You went to sleep with a smile on your face and did, indeed, have lovely dreams.

↠↞

For weeks, you'd been counting down the days and then hours until Chan had to leave to go on tour, and now that it was the night before he was leaving, you had no idea what to do. While you were happy for him and the others to get back to touring, and prouder than he could ever imagine, you couldn't help but feeling lost. You chided yourself—Chan hadn't even left yet and you already felt like a baby bird pushed too early from the nest. After deliberating over idea after idea for what to do for his last night with you until two months from now, you’d decided that just staying in was the best choice.

You brought Chan through the entrance to your apartment complex to the rooftop garden where you’d set out a meal on a small area of grass, looking out over the city to the mountains. You’d made or bought all his favorite dishes, and even nestled candles in two jars to provide a little light as darkness descended. The late summer air was cool in the evening, which, you thought gleefully, would be perfect for cuddling.

As Chan saw the spread, he turned to you, a bright smile on his face. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course!” you said, leaning against him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Oh, my sweet dove,” Chan said, wonderingly and kissed your cheek, turning to fold you into his embrace. You twined your arms around his neck to properly kiss him, relishing his warmth and solidness. After a moment, Chan looked over your shoulder, sniffing curiously.

“Is that—” he began.

“It’s all your favorites, babe,” you said, keeping an arm around Chan’s waist. There was no way in hell you were letting go of him until the morning when he would have to leave. Together, you sat on the blanket you’d spread on the grass.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Chan said, wonder in his voice. “I still can’t believe I’m dating you.” He leaned his head against yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, smiling. “I can’t believe it either.”

You distinctly remembered the weeks before Chan had received the “OK” from his company to date you—it had incensed you that your love life would now be dictated by the whims of some entertainment company. And when he’d said he was going to ask if he could officially date you, you were on edge for the long weeks until you got the best news of your life. Some mornings, you still pinched yourself to see if this reality was real. Sighing, you brought your thoughts back to the present where your boyfriend was clearly just itching to dig into the food spread before you.

“Channie, you should eat,” you said, running your hand up and down his side encouragingly.

“You have to, as well, though,” he said, concern coloring his voice.

You chuckled. “Get yours first, babe.”

Chan clapped his hands together excitedly, wriggling like an happy corgi. He took some of everything you’d prepared, making happy little noises as soon as he began to eat. You filled a plate, too, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sunset. The last rays of the sun lanced through clouds that were being driven away by a light breeze—you might even be able to see some stars later.

As you finished your food, your thoughts turned again to the fact that Chan would be gone for two whole months. You set your plate down and rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying not to feel too down. Chan’s arm went around you, pulling you closer and you snuggled into his side.

Chan, ever sensitive to your moods, murmured in your ear. “I’ll only be gone for two months, dove. And then, I’ll fly right back to you.” He carefully pulled you into his lap and you nuzzled his neck, which must have tickled him because he let out a soft chuckle. “We can message all the time and even video chat, if I have strong enough WiFi. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But Chan, you’re going overseas. On tour. I- I just want you to be safe,” you replied, fighting the catch in your voice.

Just admitting that you were worried for him made you feel even more like your world would start to crumble in less than twenty-four hours. It wasn’t that you were unhealthily codependent—far from it, since you were in school and he was an idol with a busy schedule. You couldn’t be codependent. But, there was still comfort in knowing that he’d be there to hold you when you couldn’t deal with the stress of classes anymore and you’d be there when his job became too demanding or when unknown fans sent wholly unnecessary hate. After almost a year of dating, you were used to having him in the country, at least.

“I’ll be with the others,” Chan reassured you. “And the company always makes sure we fly and travel well—don’t worry. My dove, my dear one, please don’t worry too much for me? Save some worry for me to have for you.”

“Baby—” you began, but Chan stopped you by bringing his mouth to yours. His lips were slightly chapped as usual, but you didn’t care. The kiss tasted of resignation, sadness, worry, and, of course, love. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of Chan’s body against yours, the way his hands found their way into the back pockets of your jeans, the softness of his kisses. More than anything, you were going to miss this: casual, simple affection that was never hurried nor heated, but just what was needed in the moment. You’d miss waking up beside him and rolling over to curl into his side, or being the big spoon when he just needed to be held and comforted. You’d miss going on walks in the park along the river, eating street food late at night, and— Dear god, you’d miss the sex. You really weren’t sure how you were going to stand it.

You drew back after long moments of languid kissing in which you’d still managed to slip your hands up under Chan’s shirt, and looked at your boyfriend. Tears pricked your eyes, and you hastily wiped them away. He would be back—that much was certain. The look in Chan’s eyes told you that he knew was, in truth, just as distraught to leave you for so long.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” you whispered, holding his face in your hands and kissing him over and over again.

“Dove, you know I can’t. I wish I could, but then I’d never leave. It’s- It’s our world tour—I have to go. Fuck, I’m gonna miss you, Y/N.” Chan’s voice finally broke as he said your name and he held you to his chest as tightly as he could, burying his face in your neck.

You clung to him and he to you, whispering that you loved each other as the stars began to appear overhead. His lips found yours again, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to stop kissing, stop holding him unless someone pulled you away. Once you were both thoroughly breathless from wonton kissing, you looked up at the sky, which had turned a deep, velvety blue.

“Channie,” you said, threading your fingers through his hair over and over again as you sat together. He was tracing swirls onto the back of your hand, fingers light on your skin. “Look at the sky.”

He looked up, and sighed. The breeze had blown away the clouds and even some of the smog, revealing the first pinpricks of stars above you. Chan pulled you down on the blanket beside him so you could lay and look up at the stars. You simply watched them seemingly fade into existence as the last vestiges of light left the sky, true dark folding you in its embrace like a cloak made of shadow. Once there were enough stars out, Chan began to point out constellations.

“See? There’s Orion with his belt of three stars. Oh! And there’s Andromeda—it’s almost a double-u shape.” Chan pointed them all out to you, even though he’d taught them all to you before. “And that,” he said confidently, “is the Constellation of the Cup Noodle. Note the single noodle trailing down its side.”

You gently elbowed him, giggling. “You made that up!”

“No, really!” Chan protested, reaching for your hand to hold. “There’s the round top and see those stars on either side? Those are the container itself. And then that line of stars down there,” he pointed, “is the one noodle hanging over the side!”

“You get sillier every day, babe,” you laughed, and rolled over so that you were partially on top of Chan. “If you say it’s the Constellation of the Cup Noodle, then I guess it is.”

“You know you love it, dove,” Chan said, rubbing your back and leaning his head forward to kiss your nose. “Hell, it’s cold now. Let’s go back to your bedroom and warm up, shall we?” He said, and even in the dark, you could see him wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bringing your linked hands to your lips, you kissed along Chan’s palm and then to the tip of each of his fingers. “Mmmm,” you mused, “you’ll have to put these pretty fingers to good use, then, won’t you?” You sucked his index finger a little, giving him the most innocent doe eyes you could.

Chan’s soft laugh shook both of you. “Oh, dove, how you’re tempting me. You’ll have to wait until we get back inside.” He moved to sit up and you found yourself laying in his lap. “Although, I think I could arrange a little preview, if you think you can be quiet . . .”

You nodded eagerly, and clamped your lips shut just as Chan brought his lips back to yours and his hand snaked under the waistband of your pants. It was lucky that he was kissing you, you thought. Otherwise, the whole city might have heard you in what was only the first of many times that night.

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