#I know he tried to clarify it later but it was still a dumb comment to make

[mangobubbletea7]

Hey people who are mad at Tommy right now for his video, saying that he’s making light of the doxxing that your community experienced. I have some Amazing reassurance for you, straight from the Green Boy’s mouth back in April ‘22

Yeah, anyone else remember that little gem?

[harrysgloves]

Three to tango

story summary: You, Harry, and Florence have a good time in your makeup trailer.

warnings: Language // THIS IS P*RN WITH LIKE ZERO PLOT // Threesome // w|w // spitting // oral (female receiving) // i have no idea what a production company is so don't come for me.

a/n: Brushing off the metaphorical cobwebs and finally getting back into writing! Woo-hoo! Ending could have been better but... meh. Also, I'm posting from mobile. If it looks weird, blame Tumblr ✌😍

REQUESTED: by @iwannaholdyoutight- and @hazgoldenstyles

And also by all these people... sorry it took so long.. 😁

>>><<<

"Stop movin'." You grumbled for the millionth time that morning. Your focus on covering up all these damn tattoos that you loved had become one of the worst things you had to do almost every morning.

"It tickles." He whined as the makeup brush ran over the inside of his arm. He instantly flinched away from the brush the moment it glided against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Harry!" You groaned, your eyes closed in frustration when he shot you the most adorable puppy eyes.

"'M sorry, kitten." He cooed, his lower lip pouted out when you sighed loudly, grabby hands tried to enclose around your waist before you smacked them away.

"H, I gotta get this done or you're gonna miss set time." 

"Wanna kiss." Those big green eyes flashed up to you from his spot in your makeup chair and you knew there was no way you could say no.

"One kiss." You clarified, knowing damn well he'd use kissing you as a distraction from being tickled again. 

He nodded eagerly before leaning slightly up to your level. Your eyes narrowed, still not sure you could trust that he wasn't going to divert your attention but his lips. 

God, his fucking lips.

They looked so memorizing. The light sheen of chapstick he'd applied earlier was still lingering across the plush pink cushions. His tongue wetting them, taunting you to come closer, and it worked.

You were so naive to think he wouldn't do this.

You squeaked as his hands gripped the fleshy curve of your hips. His lips twitched up into a smile against your own when he pulled you forward onto his lap as quickly as he could. 

You knew you should have tried to protest a bit more. You should have attempted to keep him on track but when his thigh pressed against your clothed core, you knew you were done for. His tongue licked into your mouth as his hand got a firm grip on the round flesh of your ass.

"I see what you two do in here." That sweet voice floated through the thickening air in your makeup trailer as she opened the door. Your eyes lazily blinked open to see your smug boyfriend smile wide across his face. 

Whatever snarky come back that was sitting on the tip of your tongue was quickly choked down to the back of your throat when you looked up to see her wearing that. 

Who knew a robe could turn you on so much?

"Damn." Harry finally commented after your not so subtle shifting of your hips against his thigh. Now he completely understood why you'd suddenly gone silent. 

"Shut up." She mumbled under her breath. Her cheeks flamed red from your shameless stares. 

"You look great, baby." You smiled brightly, your hand extended out for her to take. "Mhm." Harry's quick agreement had both you and Flor rolling your eyes, but a small smile formed at the corner of her lips.

"Wait til you see what he's got to wear." She smiled brightly, her silky soft hand wrapped tightly in yours as she walked towards the both of you. 

"Better hurry up then," you practically jumped off Harry's lap, his lust filled eyes quickly turned fearfully as your eager hands reached for your set of brushes. "Hold him down for me."

"Gonna pay for this later, sweetheart." Harry grumbled as Florence's hand held down his arm. 

"Sort of counting on that, Harold. Now, be a good boy and hold still."

>>>

The rest of your day had been absolute torture. Your core ached, your underwear were beyond ruined, and you couldn't wait another minute for the both of them to finally be off set. 

Instead, the both of them casually took their time, leisurely hanging around to talk to other cast and crew while you were basically jumping out of your skin to get them back into the privacy of your trailer. 

After 30 minutes of them both shooting you sweet smiles and well disguised sultry eyes, you'd had enough. Your feet carried you as quickly across the lot to your haven, your fist clenched in your hand almost as tightly as your core.

You were dripping and the both of them knew you were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.

It started out innocent enough, Harry's tattoos needed to be touched-up about a million times with the edge of his suit rubbing away the makeup there. You had been practically drooling over the both of them all day but when he saw your legs tighten together, he could help but lay it on thick. His hand rested on the small of your back as he circled around you, nose pressed almost completely against your ear as he whispered a raspy thank you. 

Florence was just as bad and she wasn't ever the instigator out of the three of you. She couldn't help it when she heard a soft whimper leave your lips when she brushed a few hairs off your forehead when you were redoing her makeup after lunch. 

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, before those plush lips pressed tightly against your own. Her hand laced around your jaw to pull you tighter into her kiss. 

She pulled away from you before you were even close to being done. "Only fair that I get to makeout with you in this chair if Harry gets to do it all the time." 

You felt like you could combust from how turned on you were and you were done waiting for them to do something about it.

You practically slammed the door to your trailer behind you, making sure to lock it before laying yourself out across your couch that sat in the corner of your room.

If they weren't going to do something about it, you would. Your hands fumbled around with the pesky pants that covered your legs, until you were finally free enough to touch where you needed.

The sigh of relief, shuddering feeling that ran through your body from the contact you were craving only lasted a moment before you heard a metal key fumbling around with the locks on your door. 

"Couldn't wait for us?" Harry chuckled, his keys to your trailer thrown on your table top.

"You two were taking forever!" You glared at him through your open legs. 

"Told you she couldn't wait any longer." Florence giggled as she pushed her way past Harry. Her hands on her hips but a smile danced on the corner of her lips.

"Are you two going to help me here or?" You were cocky, impatient, and your fingers weren't anywhere near as good as theirs was.

"Might just watch." Harry shrugged with a smug smile as he plopped down on the end of the couch. The furniture was barely big enough for the three of you to sit normally. His hands moved your legs to lay over top of his own. Your eyes could have shot daggers through him as he loosened his tie, his legs spread wide enough that your hand bumped his thigh with every slow circle around your clit.

"Baby." You whined, your pleading eyes flashing towards Flor. Who was already wearing nothing but a smile, her robe abandoned on the floor, and if you weren't so insanely turned on you would have turned to stick your tongue out to Harry. Gloating that at least one of them was nice enough to help you.

Having sex with them always seemed to be frenzied, blurs of quick paced moments that seemed to fly by.

Her thighs rested on either side of you as Harry peeled away the drenched lacy fabric between your legs. 

Her tongue dominating your own as she pulled down your top enough to free your breast. Her hands pinching and kneading across them as your back arched further off the couch.

You could hear Harry mumbling out a slur of curses, followed by the sound of his zipper. Your legs were bumped up and down in time with his strokes along his swollen cock.

"Soaking my leg, kitten." He groaned at the sight of your cunt soaking the thin material of his brown suit.

"Thought you were just gonna watch." Florence chuckled, her perfectly pouty lips swollen from how hard she'd been kissing you. The edges of them barely touching your own as she talked to Harry.

"Was gonna but she's so fuckin' wet, Flor." His voice was deeper than usual, gravelly, slow, "Bet I could jus'...." 

Your jaw fell open, your back arched off the couch when his fingers filled you. A wild moan ripped from your lungs when he curled them just right.

You could already feel the cord tightening in your lower stomach. You had been so wound up all day long from looking at them you were practically ready to snap within seconds. 

"Awe, poor thing's already about to cum." Florence cooed, her hand around the back of your neck, teasing your jaw with the edge of her nose. 

You always loved hated how well they could read you. How their teasing words made your face burn and your pussy flood with need. 

When she was harshly shifted down further into your chest, her own sweet sounding moan falling from her lips, you couldn't help your own snide remark, "who's the one going to cum too quickly now?"

She probably would have snapped right back at you but she couldn't utter out anything more than whimpers. You knew the feeling, Harry's tongue had a way of doing that, making you both shut up and he had proudly used it on more than one occasion to get you two to stop bickering about dumb stuff. 

Your hand laced through her blonde locks, her lips attached to your neck whenever she could control her mouth long enough to kiss your sweet spots. Your nipples peaked at the contact of her breast against your own, Harry's hand still pumped lazily against your sweet spot, his thumb running tight circles around your clit, and while it wasn't enough, you weren't complaining. You weren't ever sure how he managed to focus on eating one of you out while fingering the other when you knew damn well he was about to combust himself.

You knew she was close when her breathing became erratic, her chest heaving against yours. Her whole body shaking as her orgasm washed across her, her panting barely broke when you felt his warm tongue slipping through your folds.

You moaned at the feeling, your hips instantly shifted downwards, craving every bit of contact you could get from him. 

You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers with every thick swipe of his tongue across your clit. Your eyes barely staying open when soft kisses were pressed lazily against your neck. 

Such a contrast to the harsh grasp of Harry's free hand digging into your one thigh. His gruts and groans were only muffled by the deafening sound of your soaking core.

Florence perked up her head from your chest, carefully turning herself completely around. Her legs on either side of your head as she draped herself across you to watch Harry at work.

Her sweet honey only inches from your face and fuck did you want a taste. You wet your lips, hands pushing her thighs down but she wouldn't budge.

Your huff of protest was quickly choked down when Harry's tongue ran tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna share?" That sweet voice asking that innocent question about broke you. Your walls clenched tightly trying to not get Harry to stop his fingers from slipping out of you, almost crying when they did anyway.

"Course, baby." 

You squeaked, your legs pushed backwards by your thighs, your body almost folded in half.

"Fuck, you got her soaking the couch." 

You were suddenly very appreciative about the fact neither one of them could see the embarrassment burning through your face. Your forehead pressed to Florence's leg as you whined, not wanting them to point how just how turned on you were.

You heard two simultaneous shushing sounds before your lower lips were pulled apart, the cool air licked across your slick, only making you whine louder.

When you heard and felt Harry's spilt against your core you thought you were done for. Lip tucked so tightly between your teeth you could taste the faintest hint of metallic against your tongue.

Then the softest kitten lick had you losing your mind, her tongue collecting all of his saliva on your clit before swirling around your entrance.

"Fuck," you cried, your nails digging crest moons into the flesh of Florence's thighs. "please, just fuck me already!"

"Don't think she can take anymore teasing Flor." Harry chuckled, yeah, chuckled, from between your thighs. 

"But I was having fun." She pouted, her tongue stopping its mesmerizing movements.

"Can 'ave fun with her after." Harry said as he started to shed the layers of his suit. 

"I'm literally right here!" You complained, your huff of annoyance jammed down your throat when Harry pulled up by your legs. Your face now exposed to his smirking, mischief filled eyes. 

"We know, baby," he cooed, almost too sweetly, something about the look behind his eyes made your pussy flutter but your mind anxious about how sore you'd be tomorrow. "Ass up for me."

You eagerly nodded your head, trying to roll over in your place before the tsking clicks of his tongue stopped your movements. 

"Like this." He said, pulling you off the couch. Your knees on the hard linoleum floor, your elbows resting on the seat of cushion in front of you. Giving Flor just enough space to sit pretty right in front of you.

Your arms instinctively circling around her thighs, pulling her core down to mouth. Her moans filled the small space around you. Vibrating off the walls with an echo. 

"Should 'ave done this in 'ere before." Harry mumbled more to himself than to either one of you as his tip teased your entrance. Your hips swayed instantly at the contact, slowly backing up the little bit you could to feel him slip inside of you.

He hissed, his fingers gripped the round flesh of your ass tightly before he surged forward, stuffing you to the brim with his cock.

"I ruin this pussy 'most everyday and you're still so fuckin' tight." He gritted out through his teeth, your walls clenched down around him at his words.

"Guess you're not fucking her good enough then." 

Your eyes widened in disbelief belief, disconnecting from her core so your mouth could gape in shock.

Did she hate you being able to walk?

"That so?" 

"'S what I said."

"Kitten," You squeaked when you were lifted by your shoulder, your back against Harry's chest. His hands snaked under your shirt just long enough to rip it off. "you can thank Flor tomorrow for why you won't be able to sit." 

"She'll probably be thanking me." The blonde rolled her eyes playfully teasing but enjoying the fact she was getting under his skin.

"Need me to stop, just tap my leg," his deep voice husked into your ear. Your hand tapping his leg, showing him you understood,  before you were hurled back in front of Florence's core by the back of your head. "good girl, now lick." 

You had Harry go hard on you before but when he sheathed himself fully inside of you in one go, you knew you were really going to be in for it. 

Your tongue tried to desperately get Flor off as fast as you could, your fingers slamming into her sweet spot, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You had a hard time knowing where to focus. Her addictive taste or his marksman worthy precision thrusts into your g-spot.

Your body felt like warm liquid was being pumped through your veins. Both of them gripping onto you at different ends, his hips grinding against your ass as he sat balls deep in your pussy. Her hips dragging against your mouth, fucking herself against your face. 

The sound of their collective moans slicked through the sticky, sex filled, air around you. Your mind lost in that space of non-thinking as your body moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Gonna cum all over my cock, sweetheart?" Your walls tightened around him as her fingers dug deeper into the back of your head. Her own cord snapping only moments before your own.

The white burning light washing through your body followed by the familiar gush of fullness in your lower tummy. 

"Holy shit," Florence breathed out, her arm dropped across her forehead. 

"Why haven't we done that here before?" Harry asked through short breaths.

"'S company property." You mumbled against the couch, your head buried into the soft material as your legs gave out to lay on the heaven-like cold floor below you. "We literally just said fuck you to New Line Cinema." 

You heard chuckling from either side of you, both of them still slightly out of breath.

"Hope we don't work with them again then." 

[taetaespeaches]

“Should I get this one tattooed for real?”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 3K

a/n: This is just Holly/reader drawing temporary tattoos on Jungkook and them being smitten with each other, as per usual. That’s literally it, that’s the plot. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :)) 

The ink against his soft, warm skin was mesmerizing, your attention abandoning your phone screen several minutes ago in favor of the designs etched across his arm. Jungkook wasn’t paying much attention as you traced over his tattoos lightly with your finger tip, as he was quite accustomed to your appreciative touch upon the artwork.  You adored them, and you were always excited about the possibility of him getting more.

It was a casual night, your dog sleeping on the floor across the living room next to her Cooky plush, Jungkook busy editing a video on his laptop, and you admiring the man; the way his eyes shined in the display light, his features concentrated as his orbs bounced across the screen.

Feeling your gaze on him, he shifted his attention to you, seated next to him, your hands still positioned on the tattoos. You watched fondly as his eyes widened, his tattoo-less hand quickly raising to pull the earbuds from his ears. Smiling softly at him, you looked back to his arm, your finger dragging along the shaded tiger flower on his forearm.

“This is my favorite,” you commented in a whisper, Jungkook’s eyes darting to his tattoo.

“Really? That one?” He asked curiously, not surprised but rather intrigued.

“It’s pretty,” you nodded. Glancing up at him, you met his sparkling orbs and you couldn’t help but smile upon making eye contact. “It looks delicate among the others.”

A light laugh left his lips as he smiled softly at you. “Thank you,” he accepted the compliment almost bashfully, his eyes looking down at the tattoo.

“Hang on, can I-” you started, waiting for your boyfriend to look up at you with his pretty doe eyes. “Can I draw on your arm?”

Those bambi eyes took on a youthful enthusiasm as he stared at you in surprise. “Yeah,” he whispered before an adorable smile overtook his features, making his eyes crinkle in the corners. The man quickly moved the laptop from his lap to sit atop the coffee table before straightening his back in preparation for your work.

Giggling at him, you hopped off the sofa, quickly making your way to your bag where you kept various drawing utensils. “These should come off in the shower,” you waved a pack of markers at him. Eagerly returning to the couch, you sat cross-legged in front of him, grabbing his wrist and tugging his arm toward you.

Jungkook chuckled at your excitement, his eyes taking you in with a keenness of his own, both for the design as well as simply feeding off your energy.

Securing the sweatshirt sleeve that threatened to slip down his forearm, you tucked it into itself along his elbow crease. “Ok, ready?” You asked excitedly, wiggling your shoulders a bit to show your enthusiasm. Giving you a silent nod, you grinned. “Ok, hold still,” you demanded with a small smile, Jungkook scoffing though he followed your orders.

At that point, the man didn’t have a ton of space on his lower arm, but the spot on top of his wrist was barren. Bringing your face close to his arm, you held the felt tip pen over his arm but didn’t start drawing yet as your mind drew a blank as to what to add to his existing art.

“What are you drawing?” Jungkook questioned you, a smile forming on your face.

“Patience,” you replied simply, your teasing tone evident.

“You haven’t even started though,” he complained through an obvious smile, you giggling knowingly. He was onto you. “You don’t know what you’re drawing, do you?” He called you out, causing you to look up at him with a playful glare.

“You can’t just demand art, Jeongguk,” you informed him, the man rolling his eyes though he laughed in amusement and fondness. “I just wanted to draw on you, I had zero plans beyond that,” you giggled, the man flashing you an utterly smitten beam.

“Just draw whatever is on your mind,” he told you through his grin. “I trust you.”

Feigning a gasp, you acted surprised at the comment. “You trust me?” You joked, your boyfriend sighing with a smile.

“I have since day one, Holly,” he told you sincerely, a small pout forming on your lips.

Trust. You and Jungkook had a remarkable amount of it, tracing all the way back to your first meeting. Giving the man your phone number, and trusting him to reach out; Jungkook trusting that your intentions were genuine. When you thought about it, you had never trusted anyone more than you trusted Jungkook. He was your best friend. You partner; in crime and in life.

As you touched the pen to his skin, Jungkook sat up a little straighter as he tried to look down at his wrist. “No peeking,” you warned knowingly through a smile, Jungkook scoffing in response.

“I’m intrigued,” he noted, the comment amusing you, your lips quirking into a small grin. As you focused on the way the ink soaked into Jungkook’s skin, his gaze was on you, smiling softly at your eyebrows that were pulled together in concentration.

When Jungkook’s finger entered your line of vision, you flinched slightly, locking your eyes on the digit as he pushed it against your face between your eyebrows.

“So serious,” he teased, his lips pursed.

Holding back your laugh, you glared at him before returning to your drawing. “Stop distracting me,” you told him lightheartedly, your ears being met with Jungkook’s adorable boyish giggle.

Surprisingly, however, the man did stop pestering you, silence enveloping the room as you worked on the simple line drawing. It was only a few minutes later when you popped your head up with a smirk.

“All done,” you told him, your voice low as you held his wrist up to his eye level.

You watched as he squinted at it, though his orbs soon widened, his beam overtaking his features. Appreciating the crinkles that surrounded the corner of his eyes, you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

“A pinky promise?” He asked, his eyes shining in that stunning way they often did.

“Trust,” you told him, Jungkook pouting slightly. “How do you like it?”

“I love it,” he complimented, leaning toward you, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. Bringing your hand to rest on the side of his face, you lingered in the meeting for a little longer. “I’m gonna get it tattooed for real,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to chuckle, resting your forehead against his cheek. “Do something bigger,” he told you, you cocking your head as you rotated his arm.

Humming, your eyes scanned over his arm, looking for a free spot to make another addition to his collection. “I need more canvas space,” you informed him, your eyes meeting his as you smirked, your hands finding the hem of his top. Giggling at the way his eyes widened, you began pushing the material up his abdomen. “I need your bicep,” you clarified when his opposite hand secured itself on your hip.

“You can have whatever you want,” he flirted making you bite your lip as you avoided his gaze, as well as his toned stomach and chest, shaking your head in hopes of hiding your amusement.

Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, you flung it onto the back of the sofa, smiling fondly at the way his long dark hair stood on end due to the static electricity. Patting his hair down, you cocked your head at him, flashing him a smile as you kept your hands positioned on the sides of his head. “Perfect,” you beamed, Jungkook leaning forward to easily catch your lips in a sweet kiss, your hands meeting the sides of his face affectionately.

As Jungkook attempted to deepen the kiss, you pulled back teasingly, wearing a proud smirk. “I have a tattoo to draw,” you spoke professionally to him, the man scoffing through his smile. “Right here,” you pointed to the inside of his bicep. “Hold your arm up,” you demanded as you adjusted your sitting position a bit to better access his arm. “Like this,” you shifted his arm upward so his bicep was at your eye level.

As you pressed the pen to his arm, he suddenly flexed, a snort leaving you instantly at his antics. “Stop,” you whined, dragging the word out through your laughter.

“Stop what?” He played dumb, still flexing his arm as he wore a cocky smirk. Pushing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he glanced to his muscles. “Oh that?”

“Oh my god,” you beamed, “you’re ridiculous.”

“Has a mind of its own,” he nodded to his bicep, causing you to roll your eyes as you poked his abdomen in protest.

“Well try to control it,” you playfully scolded. “It’s distracting,” you added with a small smirk as you began drawing, Jungkook eyeing you with a fondness only you could make him feel.

As you were busy at work, Jungkook was watching you carefully, his head resting on the back of the sofa. You could feel his stare on you but you tried your best to ignore him, though a smile began curving on your lips.

“How’s it going?” He asked through his own grin, a light breathy chuckle leaving your lips. “Enough canvas space for you?”

Lifting your head to look at him, you rolled your eyes before leaning toward the man, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “So much canvas space,” you whispered in a low, teasing voice. The man giggled adorably, a wider smile appearing on your face as you returned to the temporary tattoo.

With this design being just a bit more involved, it took you longer to draw. Jungkook had closed his eyes, simply enjoying your touch on his body. Before you started the drawing, you caught a glimpse of the video Jungkook was previously editing on his laptop, the screen displaying a shot of you with your dog, Amelie. You were Jungkook’s favorite subject, but you wondered if he knew how much you loved seeing him behind the camera, capturing what he loved.

Looking at the drawing that was coming close to being completed, you saw Jungkook in it; hands holding a camera. It was a sight you’d seen many times before, but it was always fascinating to watch him work as he directed his lens at everything he found beautiful.

Nearly finished with your addition to Jungkook’s growing collection of body art, you just wanted to add his hand tattoos onto the hands in your drawing. Grabbing his hand and bringing it to your face, you caught Jungkook out of the corner of your eyes as he peeled his orbs open, shooting you a quizzical look.

Smiling, you moved your fingers over the small letters, placing it all to memory, as if it wasn’t already there.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you with a small smile. You replied with a smirk and went back to your sketch, though Jungkook’s attention stayed with you as he watched you intently. A few seconds passed by before your boyfriend sighed, the sound turning into a groan of feigned frustration. Your eyes moved to meet his face, only to see him pouting at you. Quirking your eyebrows, you cocked your head at him.

“What?”

“Why are you so pretty?” He asked you suddenly, a scoff immediately leaving your lips.

“Oh my god,” you lightly shook your head. “This is done,” you nodded to his bicep, the man’s eyes eagerly darting to his arm to take in the creation.

“Holy shit,” he awed, grabbing his own arm to try to get a better look at it. “Holly, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a small smile.

“Is that me?” He asked suddenly, his eyes blown wide as he slowly shifted his focus to you. Nodding at him, you watched as a wide smile formed on his features, his eyes crinkling exceptionally, as they always did. “Can you take a photo?” He asked you suddenly, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, grabbing your phone and swiftly snapping a few shots of it.

“How did you even come up with this?” He asked you, and you felt yourself become bashful.

With your eyes holding his own, you shrugged, Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb swiping over your skin comfortingly. “I just love you behind the camera,” you admitted. “You’re beautiful when you capture the things you love.”

“You’re incredible,” he complimented sincerely. Leaning forward with a groan, you dropped your cheek to rest against his shoulder, Jungkook’s chest lightly rumbling with a chuckle as he took the opportunity to press a sweet kiss to the top of your head. His hand gently squeezed your thigh as your eyes raked in the sight of his bare chest and abdomen.

“Have you ever thought of a chest piece before?” You asked him, teasingly dragging your finger along his pectoral as you lifted your gaze to meet his own. The man brought his hands to yours, closing his fingers over your own before bringing it to his lips.  

“Show me what you have in mind,” he challenged you, mumbling the words against your knuckles before pressing light pecks to your digits. Raising your eyebrows at him, you accepted his challenge as you pulled your hand out of his hold, grabbing onto his shoulders. Swinging your leg over his lap, straddling the man, you smirked at him as his eyes raked over your frame, peering down at your legs that were caged over his thighs. “Oh?” He questioned.

“Don’t get excited,” you warned with a small smile. “I’m working,” you reminded him teasingly.

Grinning at you, he watched as you took the pen cap off once again and leaned forward, holding one hand against his chest to brace yourself as the other began dragging the tip of the pen across his gorgeous skin. As you drew on his chest, his hand was positioned on your thigh, giving you teasing squeezes every once in a while, just to get you to break your focus and smile.

As you made the finishing touches on your creation, you nodded to yourself before glancing up and meeting his gaze. Smirking, you couldn’t help the giggles that slipped from your lips. Tucking his chin into his neck, he peered down at his chest, a laugh instantly meeting your ears as he tossed his head back in utter amusement.

Looking at your name etched onto his chest, you ran your fingers over it teasingly. “What do you think of this one, baby?”

“Should I get this one tattooed for real?” He asked you jokingly.

Placing your hands against his mouth to shush him you giggled. “Stop it,” you warned, knowing he was about to buckle down on his threat to tattoo your name on his body.

Wrapping his hands around yours, he moved them from his face to rest against his abdomen between your bodies. “I’ll do it,” he insisted with wide eyes, you crumbling into laughter, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. “Don’t test me.”

“Do not,” you enunciated through a groan. Lifting your head and licking your finger, you brought it to his chest to smudge it away, though Jungkook quickly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Leave it there for tonight,” he smiled softly. “Just for tonight.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you whispered just as he leaned forward, bringing his lips closer to your own. Tilting back in response, just to tease him, he scoffed before wrapping his arms around your body quickly, tugging you to him so your body was flush with his own.

The man first pressed his lips to your neck, your resolve dissipating instantly as you titled your head to the side to allow him all the access he craved; that you craved.

“You should be my tattoo artist,” he mumbled against your neck, the breath from his words sending chills across your body.

“I don’t know how to tattoo,” you pointed out in a breathy tone, Jungkook’s arm moving from your waist to find your face. He cradled your jaw, directing you to look at him. “Should I learn?” You asked him with a small smile, the man nodding.

“You could do it,” he told you with a grin, though he spoke sincerely.

“I think you have too much faith in me,” you joked halfheartedly, your boyfriend instantly shaking his head in negation.

“I just trust you,” he reminded you, your eyes locked on one another’s as you silently relayed to each other how much you did indeed trust each other, and how much it meant to be able to pour so much trust into another person.

Bringing your hand to his face, you pushed his long soft locks off his forehead before inching forward just slightly. Jungkook wasted no time in attaching his lips to yours once again, deepening the action upon contact.

Within moments, he had moved you onto your back, his body positioned between your legs, his hand moving underneath your shirt as he explored your midriff. Losing yourself in him, you were startled when he suddenly yelped in your face, his attention snapping to the dog that stood next to the couch, licking his arm.

A massive grin overtook Jungkook’s face as he whined at the dog. “Amiiii,” he complained lightheartedly, your face imitating your boyfriend’s. You loved the nickname he had given the dog, shortening Amelie to Ami; a sweet nod to his fans. “You want to see my new tats?” he questioned the dog, you giggling as he pointed to the pinky promise design. “Look at what mom drew here,” he told the gentle pup as he ran his finger over the temporary addition to his collection, the furry creature tilting her head to the side as she listened to him speak with intrigue. “Pretty cool huh?” he continued.

And all you could do was sit beneath him and admire him. It never failed to amaze you how Jungkook could be sex on legs one moment, and a giggling smiling adorable angel the next. He was one of a kind. He was yours. And fuck, you really, really loved him.

[bippot]

Summary: Kevin's niece shakes up Jake's little peanut head, in the best way possible. For the first time in his life, he's nervous to even flirt with a girl cause, like, what if he fucks up? That would suck.

Despite how hard he tries, it takes Jake a while to get out of the dreaded friendzone because of overbearing Uncles, pigeons, drunken nights out and the famous Jake Martin reputation.

Tags: Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Himbo, Slow Burn, Co-workers, Friends to Lovers

The Crew, Jake Martin Masterlist - here

Chapter 3: Best Till Last

Yeah, neither Jake nor Y/N could look each other in the eye after the night they spent dreaming about each other. It was all about avoidance and finding reasons to avoid the other. But, when it happens more than once, it becomes less of a big deal. Within a couple of days, they were back whatever it was they had before.

A month later, she finally got settled enough to look for an apartment. Uncle Kevin still thought she should stay with him. He even offered to change his trophy room into a bedroom for her. She declined. He loved his trophy room, and robbing him of that seemed like a sin.

Originally, she had asked Catherine for recommendations on areas to live in. She had forgotten that her boss was loaded and in a completely different tax bracket. Beth gave the best advice when it came to affordable housing. Chuck was the worst. Most of his suggestions seemed illegal, or at least untrustworthy.

Idly talking to Y/N as she worked and he did not, Jake twirled the hot wheels car in his hand. He did this as often as he could get away with. He always started the conversation by asking about her work, but it would quickly devolve into whatever random topic popped into his head. Y/N didn't mind. She always appreciated his conversation.

Beth would always watch them, a small smirk gracing her features as she planned how to get them together.

"Jake, I agree that the green power ranger was the coolest," she informed him, wanting to carry on with their conversation but incapable of. She had something to do, after all.

"But? I know there's a but coming." He paused for a moment, realising what he said. Chuckling, he repeated, "There's a butt cumming," and she couldn't help but laugh. It was so stupid.

Packing her bag and looking at him apologetically, she got up and patted him on the shoulder, clarifying "But, I've got an apartment viewing in half an hour, and if I don't leave now, I'll be late." 

"If there was a pro driver out there who said he wanted to drive you to make sure you'd be on time - actually, you'd most likely be early, what would you say to that?" 

It was weird how she assumed that he didn't like her when they first met, because now he always tried to talk to her. Even if it was some dumb comment just to make her laugh. Maybe he was on an off day when she first introduced herself. Now, she made sure to stop by and 'annoy' here whenever he could. Yet, he still didn't try any of his moves on her, which disappointed her. But, she was fine with being his friend.

"Hmmm... I guess I'd say that 'Uncle Kev will notice that he's missing. And, he's supposed to be getting back into Catherine's good books, so maybe it's best - for his job - to stay here'," she explained, grateful that he offered.

Giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes, he suggested, "He can fake a tummy ache." He had done it so many times before. It would work. It always did since Kev would talk a big game about tough love, but it was all an act. He was a big softie. Each time Jake seemed even slightly uncomfortable, Kevin would tell him to 'walk it off' if they were in public, then pull him aside and carefully assess the issue. Usually, the solution was for him to go home early and rest.

How could she say no to those eyes? And that face? She gave in immediately. Plucking the toy from his hands, she smiled and informed him, "If you're not out in five minutes, I will leave without you."

He watched as she walked away, his eyes clearly looking at her ass, and she turned around to give him a sexy, confident wink. Jake almost turned to jelly the spot. He had never met a girl like her that could do that to him before. He usually did that to girls, not the other way around.

Waiting for two minutes then preparing himself to give a standout performance, he staggered into Kevin's office, groaning and holding his stomach. "Jesus fucking Christ. I don't even get paid enough for this shit," Kevin complained loudly at the sight of Jake's act. "Are you okay, Jakey?"

The driver fake retched, put his hand to his head, and rocked back and forth, lying, "I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, do you want me to get you water or something?" Kevin offered, putting his hand to Jake's head. "You're not too warm. Want me to get Beth?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied. He looked past Kevin, focusing on a spot on the wall and thought about Y/N in compromising positions so he'd get sweaty palms, and swayed.

Kevin instantly pushed him towards the exit. "Go home."

"No, no!" He protested, putting his hands up, putting them in contact with Kevin's. "I'm so cold. I got a paper cut. It's bleeding. I need your help."

"Go home, you idiot," Kev repeated, wiping his newly dampened hands on his trousers. It worked as he thought it would. It always did.

Leaning against the brick wall outside, Y/N watched through the pane of glass as Jake turned the corner from Beth in reception and dropped his whole sick facade. That dumb idiot Keyser Söze-ed his coworkers like a pro. As soon as she saw him fake his sickness, she couldn't help but laugh at him. He soon rushed to her and put his hand dramatically on his temple, then fell onto the wall and fake cried, "I'm so, so sick."

Teasingly, she reached out and stroked his cheek, cooing, "Aw, you poor baby."

Awkward laughter escaped his lips as she gave him back the hot wheels and pulled him along the pavement. He happily let her and asked, "Why are we walking? I did say I'd drive you."

"Good point." She stopped in place. "Show me to your car, Jacob."

Fuck. She didn't need to ask him twice. It seemed as if he had a skip in his step as he led her to his car, opening the door for her as soon as they got close enough. He walked ahead of her, fiddling with his keys, and she followed closely behind. After telling him the location, he replied with, "Oh, I know where that is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. A girl - a woman... a woman I once, uh, hung out with lived on that street somewhere."

"Hung out with?" She questioned, making it clear she knew what he meant by that and confused by why he used that phrasing. "What was her name?"

For the life of him, he tried to recall her name. "I can't remember. It's on the tip of my tongue. No, that's a lie. I don't know if I ever knew it." Oh, yeah, it was moments like this that she remembered that he was a notorious manwhore. A nice manwhore. A really sweet manwhore who always went out of his way to make her smile.

Her gaze flicked up and down him as he drove, taking in the sight. He was so relaxed behind the wheel, the way he always was. He looked at her as he drove, his eyes warm and inviting. She couldn't help but grin. "What's got you so happy?" he asked her.

"You," she replied, leaning in slightly. He smiled his cute, dimpled smile. God, she loved his dimples. "Most people would pay good money for this: Jake Martin, the pro racer, is being my chauffeur? I must be special."

"No payment? I was expecting you to buy me lunch at least," he joked, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Could that be classed as flirting? Had he finally managed to?

It's safe to say that they arrived faster than she had originally predicted with Jake's expert driving. She couldn't help but lean against the passenger's side window as she did whenever Kevin drove her anywhere. It was hard for Jake to focus. She looked so carefree with her hair blowing in the wind. Occasionally, she would feel his gaze and turn to face him. Oh shit, he'd been caught again. Every time, he'd clear his throat and divert his eyes.

"Now I'm 10 minutes early," she informed him, "Wanna carry on talking about the Power Rangers?"

"More than anything." And they did. They spoke for so long about how cool Tommy Oliver was that they ended up being 5 minutes late. This was the type of conversation that Jake loved to have. No other member of the team indulged him when he tried to speak about his other interests.

The estate agent, Claire, welcomed them and ushered them inside the apartment. It was a lot nicer than it had in the advert, but somehow was still a reasonable price. This is what we in sales call "a win-win scenario". "Oh, that's a nice touch," Y/N lied, running her fingers over the new wooden door. It had a gross gradient that kind of made the wood look slightly rotten. "Very... classy."

"I think it's ugly as fuck, but you'll be able to change it, right?" Jake whispered, getting close to her ear so the woman couldn't hear.

Claire noticed them conferring and pointed out, "If you're wondering whether this place is child safe, have no worries..." then went on a big spiel about how the office "Could be a nursery."

Puzzled, the pair shot each other a confused look. Nearing the end of the tour - the apartment was relatively small, so it took no time at all - the estate agent asked, "So, how long have you two been together?"

Oh. That's why. Y/N looked at Jake, who impulsively fibbed, "Seven years." He doesn't know what came over him. After successfully lying to Kevin, he couldn't stop.

"Seven years? Wow," Claire breathed, impressed.

Going along with it, Y/N grabbed Jake's hand and gave it a squeeze, playfully adding, "Yeah, seven years and he still hasn't proposed."

Thank god that she joined in. Jake let out a small sigh of relief. Now they were in this little white lie together. Shit, he wanted to kiss her for this. Just forget the estate agent and plant one straight on her lips. He could. That's what couples do and they currently are a 'couple'.

"I'm not sure that he ever will," Jake said with a straight face.

"Oh, he will. Trust me." She smiled sweetly at him, giving him a subtle nudge with her elbow and whispered loudly to Claire, "His mother told me."

"Anyway," The realtor interrupted and turned to continue with the final part of the tour. Y/N caught Jake's eye and hid her mischievous smile with their hands. She hadn't let go of yet, and he definitely wasn't planning to either.

Once they were at the end, Y/N turned to Jake and in the sweetest voice he'd ever heard her use, she quizzed, "So, baby, do you like it?"

He grinned from ear to ear and had to look away, so he pretended to be giving the apartment one last thorough look. "Yeah, uh, looks great to me," he managed to get out.

As soon as it was over, they made their way back to his car and let out the cackles that they had been holding in for the past 30 minutes. He was still holding Y/N's hand and swung it as they walked. "I can't believe you just did that," Y/N exclaimed with a chuckle as she leant against his car door.

"Yeah, I know," he replied. "I can barely believe I just did it." He gave her an incredulous look.

When they were out of sight, she slowly let go. The little fib was over. "Fuck. All that lying has made me hungry," he began. Maybe the way she went along with him so quickly proved there was a chance, so he asked, "Lunch?"

Instantly, her eyes lit up. "Yeah, I'm starving too."

They went to a small diner and ordered their food, talking and talking the entire time. Jake couldn't believe how comfortable he was. It had been so long since he'd been with a girl, just talking to her, just enjoying her company. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed that. On the surface, this felt like a typical lunch between friends, but something told him it wasn't. He didn't seem to tire of her or lose interest. She had even forgotten that she was supposed to clock back in. When the check came in, he insisted on paying because he was the one who started the fib. She tried to argue, but he was determined. The man always pays for the date, right? Not that they were on a date. Maybe if he did, it would become one. That's how it works, isn't it?

Laughing as the two of them left the diner, Jake had a big grin on his face. He looked like a boy who had just been handed the keys to a candy store. And he had been handed the keys to a candy store once. He ate so much that he vomited pink for the next two days. He was practically skipping. It felt so good to be with her, to be talking to her, to be enjoying her company. Y/N looked just as ecstatic. She texted her uncle since she didn't want to stop hanging out with him. 

Y/N: Viewing running over. Going to be back late.

Kevin: oh?

Kevin: Jake Martin's New Woman? Click here for the story.

Kevin had attached an article with a picture of them as they entered the restaurant. Fuck. They'd been caught skipping. Her phone vibrated with her uncle's response before she could type in reply, another text from Kevin came through.

Kevin: Lovebirds, you better get your asses back to work. Now.

After suspiciously scanning for the paparazzi - she saw one hiding in a bush and awkwardly waved towards him. Jake noticed too and stuck his thumb up - she turned her phone screen so he could see, showing Jake the news story and the text, which caused him to comically grimace. "Oops."

"Come on, let's get back before we get put in detention." Truly, it felt like getting detention again. As punishment, Jake was not to distract her at work for the whole week. They were only allowed to interact during lunch and if she needed to use him as content.

The moment they got back, Kevin ushered her into his office and whisper yelled, "You're dating Jake?"

"Friends can get lunch together."

"No. Not with Jake." He glared at her. "Your reputation and standing with Catherine is on the line here, Y/N."

"Kevin, it's fine. We didn't do anything," she argued back. "You and Beth get lunch all the time." She knew how he felt about Beth. Comparing those couples was more astute than she first realised.

"Well, yes, that's different." He didn't have a rebuttal for this, so he added, "Beth isn't jumping from bed to bed."

"I'm pretty sure he fucks most of them in his own bed," she joked. He did not find it funny. Or if he did, he managed to keep a straight face. Shrugging, she made the point, "And, as much as you want to, you don't know what Beth does behind closed doors."

Again, he didn't have a counter-argument for that. Instead of trying to come up with one, he sent her back to work. She continued with her work as if nothing had happened. If anything, the dating rumours had increased their visibility, so, if she wanted to, she could claim that they did this for publicity. It would be a lie. But as the previous events prove, she was more than willing to do that. 

And, that is exactly what she did when Catherine stormed up to her and chastised, "Y/N, are you aware you have to make HR aware of relationships between co-workers?"

"You saw the photo. I can assure you that we just got lunch. Nothing more." It felt like a lie. It wasn't. She had told the truth, so why did it feel as if she was hiding something?

Catherine bit her lower lip as she thought and nodded in approval. "Okay, we somehow need to spin this. Jake -"

"I don't think we need to spin it," Y/N said, then further explained when Catherine looked trepidatious, "Bobby Spencer Racing has gone up three thousand followers in two hours and Jake's personal has gone up four thousand. People have paid attention."

"We could say that it's your first meeting and that we have no idea if it will become a thing, so if Jake is seen with anyone else - which we both know he will - it won't cause any further questions," Catherine said, her expression softening due to the light-hearted atmosphere. Y/N always seemed to listen to whatever she had to go over and then they worked together to come up with a solution. It was as if Y/N recognised that some of their colleagues often gave Catherine a hard time and tried her absolute best to be as open and understanding as possible. 

Being the boss is hard sometimes. Especially when you get the feeling that your employees don't like you.

Chapter 5: Three Ground Rules

[kcarreras]

Best Friends & Bad Ideas

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera Summary: Set about a week after the pogues arrive on the island, with flashbacks to a special childhood memory, a game of truth or dare, an almost kiss and a stick and poke tattoo…

They had only been on the island for about a week, but the Pogues had quickly fallen into a semi-normal routine.

Each morning, they’d wake up under the cover of their make-shift shelter, which JJ was very proud of - despite the holes in the roof and it’s tendency to blow over completely whenever the wind picked up.

The boys would usually get up first and head further inland from the beach to scavenge around for some fruit for breakfast, while the girls went for a dip in the ocean to clean up and cool off.

On this particular day, they were waist deep in the water in just their underwear, their clothes discarded in messy piles across the sandy shore, when Kie let out a shriek and started splashing her way back to land.

“Oh my god! Shit! What was that?!” she squealed, jumping around from foot to foot, now only ankle deep in the surf.

“Oh my god, Kie! What is it?!” Sarah called, rushing up to the shore behind her, Cleo close behind.

“Girl, what?!” Cleo chimed in when Kie didn’t answer, her back now facing Sarah with her knife drawn, eyes darting across the water around them.

“Something touched me! I felt it - on my back - can you check?” Kie said to Sarah, spinning around until her back was to the blonde.

“It was probably just a fish, no big deal,” Cleo said, still pacing around in the water, one hand splashing in front of her as she moved, the other gripping her blade readily in case anything appeared.

“Well it didn’t feel like just a fish,” Kie pouted, a little embarrassed by her own outburst. She had spent her whole life in the water and had encountered all sorts, so she wasn’t easily frightened or grossed out - she guessed her nerves were just still a little on edge from everything.

“Coast is clear, I don’t see nothing,” Cleo assured them, joining them in the shallower water and tossing the knife to land on top of her clothes.

Sarah’s hands were still skimming along Kie’s back, pushing her long, dark hair over her shoulder for a clearer view as she looked for any sign of the mystery sea creature on her friends skin.

“I think you’re good, I don’t see anyth-, wait a minute… Kiara Carrera! What the hell is that?” Sarah exclaimed excitedly, and Kie burled around in circles as if it would help her see her own back.

“What? What is it? Sarah! Get it off!” Kie squealed, her hands swiping at her own body in an attempt to get rid of whatever was apparently there.

“Is that… a tattoo?” Cleo asked from behind Sarah, pushing up on her tiptoes to see over Sarah’s shoulder.

“Shit,” Kie breathed, realisation washing over her as she let her head fall back in relief.

“What is it supposed to be? Is it a-” Sarah began, tilting her head, squinting her eyes and running her finger tips over the messy splotch of black and blue ink high on Kie’s ribcage, most of it concealed under the material of her bikini top - which is probably why Sarah had never noticed it before.

“Dolphin..?” Cleo suggested.

“Yes, now if you don’t mind…” Kie replied, swatting Sarah’s hand away.

“So where’d you get it?” Sarah asked as the three of them made their way out of the surf and onto the dry sand.

Kie stopped to pull her hair over her shoulder and wring the water out before asking, “What?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “The tattoo, obviously. Where’d you get it? I know for a fact there’s no one on the south side dealing out tattoos to underagers.”

“And how would you know what happens on the south side, Princess?” Kie responded teasingly with a smile, and Sarah shoved her gently as she passed her on her way to her pile of clothes, knocking Kie slightly off balance.

“Because I’ve been trying to get one since I was 15, and I couldn’t exactly ask anyone on my side of the island. Not without my dad -” ‘finding out’, she had been going to say, but she caught herself. “So where’d you get it?”

“If you must know, JJ gave it to me,” Kie replied, trying to sound nonchalant as she stepped back into her green trousers, fastening them at her waist and rolling them up around her ankles.

“Hmm,” Cleo hummed in approval. “Pretty boy’s got some skills, huh?” she said with a smile and a raise of her eyebrows in Kie’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah interjected, holding a hand up to Kie with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You’re telling me that you let JJ Maybank within 5 feet of you with a tattoo gun?” She was trying to sound outraged, but it came out more amused.

“No, actually. He doesn’t have a tattoo gun, he did it with a needle. That’s why the line work is so messy and the colour is all over the place.” Kie corrected, and she found herself running her fingers across it, a sense of affection filling her chest at the memory. She lifted her gaze from it after a few seconds to meet Sarah’s questioning look.

“Ok, well, that and he was high off his ass,” Kie said, and all three girls laughed.

“No shit,” Cleo said, sounding impressed as she shimmied back into her trousers.

“You must have been pretty wasted too, to agree to that,” Sarah continued to question, pulling on her trousers and dropping down to sit cross legged in the sand. Cleo and Kie followed suit a few seconds later, forming a little triangle.

“It was some time at the start of last year. I was just back from my stint at the Kook Academy,” Kie began, and Sarah gave her a soft yet sad smile at the reference to their time together. “Big John hadn’t been missing that long, and John B was still pretty out of it. JJ and I had gone over to the Chateau to check in on him, but he’d been drinking like, all day, so he was already wasted by the time we got there. He lasted maybe an hour before he passed out, but we didn’t wanna leave him. So JJ put him to bed, and then we went and hung out on the hammock.”

Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them with a captivated look on her face.  “The hammock, huh?” she asked coyly, but Cleo interrupted before Kie could respond.

“Hold up, who is this ‘Big John’?” she asked, looking back and forth between Sarah and Kie, confused.

“John B’s dad. It’s kind of a long story,” Kie replied.

“Shit, we really need to catch you up,” Sarah said, knocking her shoulder into Cleo’s affectionately.

“Anyway,” Kie continued. “We were drinking beer, and of course JJ had a stash, and we just decided to light up. We figured we’d pass the time by playing a game of truth or dare, which is never a good idea when JJ’s high, and the next thing I know he’s tattooing a dolphin on my ribs,” Kie finished with a shrug.

“That’s a pretty extreme dare for a chill night at the chateau,” Sarah commented, sensing there was more to the story than Kie was letting on.

“Well… that wasn’t exactly the dare. It was a forfeit for not completing a dare,” Kie clarified and Sarah’s interest peaked again.

“So what was the dare?” Cleo asked, clearly as invested in the story as Sarah, both leaning forward into Kie, who was starting to look a little flushed.

“It doesn’t matter, it was stupid.” Kie said, with a shake of her head as she tried to avert her gaze.

“Ki-eee,” Sarah sing-songed, flicking some sand at her. “Full disclosure, just us girls.”

Sarah stretched her arm out into the middle of the little triangle they had formed, her pinky extended. She looked to Cleo, gesturing for her to copy, which she did, then she looked at Kie pleadingly.

“Kie, we are literally stranded on a deserted island with nothing to do, and this might be the most interesting thing I’ve heard in days. C’mon,” Sarah pleaded.

Kie sighed, lifting her arm and the three of them linked pinkies awkwardly, shaking them with a laugh.

“Fine,” Kie sighed, and Sarah clapped - silently but excitedly.

“He dared me to kiss him,” Kie practically mumbled, her head falling forwards into her hands.

“I knew it!” Sarah screamed, jumping up to her feet.

Kie shot her a glare that should have struck her down dead. “That’s great, Sarah, really. Way to be subtle,” Kie reprimanded, reaching up to grab Sarah’s wrist and pulling her back down onto the sand with a thud. Her eyes darted around for any sign of the boys, but they seemed to be in the clear.

“Sorry!” Sarah apologised, still too loudly and Kie emphasised the glare, and Sarah clamped her hand over her mouth, before she spoke again in a lower tone. “Sorry, it’s just - I knew it. I knew he liked you like that.”

“Okay, first of all, no he doesn’t. Second of all, no he doesn’t.” Kie protested.

“Come on, Kiara. You’re not blind, and neither are the rest of us. Cleo, back me up here.” Sarah said, turning to Cleo.

“For sure. Pretty boy’s got it bad for you, girl.” Cleo confirmed.

Kie felt her heart quicken, a warmth rising in her cheeks and an unsettling feeling low in her stomach.

“This is so stupid. I’m not having this conversation,” Kie said after a few seconds, suddenly looking and sounding annoyed. She got to her feet, dusting the sand off and started to walk away from them.

“Kie, come on! It’s not a big deal!” Sarah called, getting to her feet.

“We’re gonna have to talk about it eventually, it might as well be now!” Sarah tried again, and Kie stilled, her back still facing the two other girls.

She let out a huff of air, cursing under her breath as she ran a hand through her hair and then turned around to face them.

“Look, there’s nothing to talk about. It was a long time ago. He was high, I was high, and it was dumb. It didn’t mean anything, okay?”

“So why didn’t you do it?” Sarah asked.

“What?” Kie asked, exasperated with a throw of her hands.

“If it was so meaningless, why didn’t you just kiss him?” Sarah pushed.

“Are you on crack, or have you just been sitting in the sun too long?” Kie scolded. “He’s one of my best friends,”

“It’s a simple question.” Sarah persisted.

“And it’s a simple answer. I didn’t want to, okay?” Kie all but snapped.

“Didn’t want to kiss him, like… at all? Or didn’t want to kiss him as part of a dare, when you were both high?”

Kie spluttered incoherently for a second.

“Both,” she finally settled on, hoping it was ambiguous enough.

“Bullshit.” Sarah stated, crossing her arms across her chest.

Cleo took a step back, looking on, fascinated and kind of amused by the whole thing, blade swinging absentmindedly from her fingertips as her eyes shifted from girl to girl as they spoke.

“Excuse me?” Kie countered.

“I said that’s bullshit, Kie. Let’s look at the facts objectively. JJ’s hot,” Sarah began, and both girls’ heads spun to shoot her a surprised look.

“I said objectively, relax.” Sarah clarified with a roll of her eyes, and Cleo nodded in agreement after a quick second of contemplation, which surprisingly to Kie caused a little flutter of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.

“As I was saying, you’re both… attractive people” Sarah carried on, choosing her words more carefully, “and you’ve been best friends forever. You drink together, get high together - you sleep on the pullout at the chateau together. He’s always checking you out, you’re always defending him - and don’t get me started on how you two are always pairing off for every little mission or adventure.”

Kie shrugged, feigning ignorance as to what Sarah’s point was.

“So?” Kie asked, mostly to fill the silence that crept in as Sarah looked at her expectantly.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never once thought about kissing him? That idea has never crossed your mind? Ever?” Sarah questioned, crossing her arms dramatically as if to emphasise her point, and Kie felt as though all the blood in her body had rushed to her head.

“No,” was all she could think to counter with, and it sounded so feeble coming out of her mouth that she didn’t even believe herself.

“I don’t believe you,” Sarah said, unsurprisingly.

“Look, it’s not as simple as ‘who wants to kiss who’, okay? There are rules - no pogue on pogue macking, for starters.”

“Okay, except no one has ever listened to that rule, ever.” Sarah replied.

“You know what, Sarah-” Kie began, a little irritated that her friend wouldn’t just let it go, but she was interrupted by the sound of the boys’ laughter as they emerged from the treeline further along the beach.

John B spotted them first, and triumphantly held up a handful of what looked like mangos into the air.

“You guys comin’ or what?” JJ called to them from behind John B, gesturing with his head for them to follow them back along to the camp.

“We are so not done talking about this,” Sarah whispered to Kie as she stepped past her and headed along the beach towards the boys. Cleo followed, winking at Kie with a knowing smile as she passed her.

Kie stood where she was for a second, her mind racing before she was brought back by his voice.

“Yo, Kie! You better get your ass over here or I’m gonna take your share,” he called to her jokingly, and she composed herself quickly before turning and heading towards him.

“You don’t even like mango, dumbass,” she laughed as she approached him and he tossed one in her direction, which she caught with ease, and he shot her an impressed look. “They make your throat itch.”

“Hey, I’m so hungry out here I’d eat you if I had too, Carrera,” he said jokingly, and she dug him in the ribs as they walked side by side up the beach behind the others.

“How the tables have turned, Maybank. A couple days ago you were thanking me for literally saving your life, and now you’re threatening to cook me over a campfire?”

“I’m just messin’. Besides, there’s not enough meat on your bones, I’d definitely start with John B first,” he said, shooting her a quick grin and she laughed as John B turned and launched a mango at JJ, hitting him right in the gut.

“I heard that, jackass!” John B hollered.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, bro,” JJ warned with a laugh, taking off up the beach after John B who was running as JJ lobbed fruit at him. Kie heard Pope mutter an exasperated “Here we go again,” somewhere in the background as she smiled after them.

***

As Kie lay on her side next to JJ that night under the shelter, eyes wandering across his features in the dark, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to the night he’d given her that stupid tattoo…

They had been lying head to toe in the hammock as it swung softly side to side, passing a joint back and forth, a beer each in their free hand. It was quiet out, just the gentle hum and buzz of cicadas and skeeters around them in the distance.

“My turn,” JJ proclaimed, taking the joint from her outstretched hand and drawing on it until his lungs burned pleasantly.

“Oh god,” Kie groaned, throwing her forearm across her eyes dramatically in preparation for whatever was about to come of his mouth.

“Hey, this was your bright idea,” he reminded her and she groaned, leaning forward to take the joint back from him.

“Yeah? Well clearly I forgot who I was playing with. I blame the weed and the beer,” she sighed, taking the final draw. Her eyes were closed as she held the hit, before slowly releasing the smoke and stubbing the rest out against the tree behind her. She let it drop to the ground, then poured some beer on it to make sure it was out, and JJ objected with a gentle kick of his foot into her side at the waste of good beer.

“What? I don’t wanna be responsible for a wildfire wiping out the whole of the south side. This is a protected habitat, y’know.” Kie defended, nudging him back.

He shrugged, “Fair enough. Now stop deflecting,” he said, and Kie raised a brow, impressed with his word choice. JJ smiled, winking at her in the dark, happy that he’d managed to impress her by a) knowing the word in the first place, and b) using it correctly in a sentence.

“My turn,” he repeated, and Kie sighed, gesturing with her hand for him to continue. He grinned wide and bright, eyes glassy from the weed, lips rosy from the beer. He sat up, and as he shifted on the hammock, Kie’s legs rearranged themselves until they rested across his lap.

“Hmm, let me think about this one,” he hummed, and Kie rested her head back against the hammock as his fingers began to drum gently across the bare skin of her leg as he concentrated.

She wasn’t sure if it was her buzz or his touch or - most likely - a combination of both, but her skin prickled with goosebumps as his fingers grazed her thigh, and he looked down at her.

“Are you cold?” he asked, misinterpreting her body’s reaction, but she went along with it, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands up and down them.

“Kinda,” she replied, and then it occurred to her that it was nearly 1am and she was sitting outside, bare foot, in a pair of denim shorts and a bikini top. JJ was wearing his usual dark tank, but with a well-worn plaid shirt hanging open over it. He tugged the shirt off, in a rather uncoordinated yet typical JJ fashion, and tossed it at her so it landed on her head, partially covering her face.

She laughed, sitting up as she pulled it off her head. She pulled her legs back to cross them in front of her, suddenly missing the contact of his skin on hers, as she put the shirt on. It was far too big for her petite frame, and one shoulder kept slipping down, but it was warm from his body heat and it smelt like him, so she pulled it closer to her and didn’t complain.

“Thanks, I think,” she said sarcastically, desperately trying to avoid her gaze landing on his strong-looking looking shoulders and arms which had previously been concealed by the shirt.

“Anything for you, Kie,” he said with a wink, but it sounded more sincere than he probably intended.

“Well in that case,” she drawled, leaning forward, and his expression shifted to something unreadable for second, until she reached up and swiped his red cap from his head and put it on with a laugh.

“Really? My favourite cap?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“You said, anything, right?” she teased, knowing how much he loved that stupid cap.

“I guess I better choose my words more carefully next time,” he replied, but he made no move to take it back. He just smiled at her affectionately, the sight of her in his clothes causing an all-too familiar swelling in his chest.

“Just, tilt it up a bit,” he said, pausing briefly before adding, “I can’t see your face.”

Kie felt her heart clench a little.

She did as he asked, tilting the cap back until he smiled wide and said, “Much better,”

She felt her cheeks begin to flush under the intensity of his gaze, and she cleared her throat softly before speaking.

“Right, c’mon, Jay. We don’t have all night. What’s my dare?” she asked, leaning over to place his cap back on his head backwards.

He sat up straighter, adjusting the cap, and they were practically face to face in the middle of the hammock, very little space between them. Her legs that were still crossed in front of her were pressing against the length of his leg bent in front of him, as he sat with the other hanging off the side of the hammock, his boot skimming the grass beneath.

Her head was buzzing from the proximity and she took a swig of her beer as an excuse to divert her gaze from his, and also to wet her mouth which now felt dry with anticipation.

She gulped it down, finishing the can and tossing it into the garbage bag beside the tree as she licked her lips, causing JJ’s eyes to drop to her mouth.

His hands found hers, which were resting in her lap but brushing his leg, and he began fidgeting with her bracelets. He noticed one, a thinly woven aqua-coloured bracelet tied loosely around her wrist, a small silver dolphin charm dangling from it, and he smiled.

“You kept this?” he asked, smiling and lifting his eyes from her wrist to her eyes, which were dark and glassy and kinda blown.

“Of course I did,” she replied, “I wanted a reminder of the day I beat you at everything.” Kie’s face broke into a wide, teasing smile and he scoffed, sitting back.

“Hey, not everything!” he protested, and Kie laughed.

****

One Summer, when they were 11 or 12, a travelling fairground came to Kildare and, of course, the Pogues had been first in line. They rode dodgems, shot hoops, messed around on the dance machines and sprayed targets with water guns to win prizes. JJ and Kie had always been the most competitive, even as kids, and so they had turned it into a tournament of sorts - no real prize, except eternal bragging rights. John B and Pope were quite happy just to play for fun. Kie had beaten JJ at every single game, winning prizes left and right and by the end of the day, she had streams of tokens and multiple oversized stuffed animals that they boys were helping her carry.

As they were leaving, JJ spotted a stall they hadn’t played yet, and dragged Kie over, challenging her to one last game. This time, he won - or rather, Kie let him win, but she’d never admit it - and she swore she had never seen him so excited as he jumped around on the spot, fists shooting up into the air as he hollered over to John B and Pope to inform them of his victory.

Despite her competitive streak, Kie couldn’t stop herself from letting him have the win - even as a kid she’d noticed how he didn’t smile or laugh quite as often as the others around them, so when he did it made her heart swell a little.

They ran off together to the counter to claim his prize and as they stood in line, Kie peered up at the counter containing the prizes. Her eyes landed on a bracelet, colourful and delicate with a tiny dolphin charm - at the time her favourite animal. She didn’t say anything, but JJ noticed her looking.

“What are you gonna get?” she asked excitedly, tugging on his sleeve and pointing out loads of things she thought he’d like.

He shrugged, eyes scanning the counter and she left him to it, wandering off nearby to watch the man at the food truck wrap up a massive swirl of bright pink candy floss.

A few minutes later, she heard JJ call her name and she went running after him.

“What’d you get?” she asked excitedly as she caught up to him, and he told her to close her eyes and put out her hand. She seemed confused, but complied anyway, and soon she felt something tie around her wrist. She heard him let out a deep breath as he stepped back from her, and she peeked an eye open, looking down to see the bracelet hanging around her wrist.

Her gaze shot up to him, smile wide and eyes bright, and without giving it a second thought, she stepped forward, pushing up onto her toes and kissing him on the cheek. He blushed a little, dropping his head and burying his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks, Jay. I love it,” she said, playing with it around her wrist and he nodded before they headed back to John B and Pope.

****

“I’m sorry, you’re right. You did win one,” she teased, waving her wrist in his direction, the charm tinkling softly against the others on her wrist.

“I can’t believe you still have that piece of crap,” he laughed, and she pulled her wrist back harshly.

“Hey! This ‘piece of crap’ happens to be one of my most prized possessions,” Kie said, twiddling with it.

“Why?” he asked, seemingly bewildered as he chugged the last of his can and lobbed it towards the garbage bag, just missing it.

“Because…” she began, and then realised she had to think carefully about her answer, the beer and weed making her a little too loose-lipped and uninhibited.

“You were just really sweet to me that day, and it’s a nice reminder.” Kie replied, but it still sounded a little heavier than she’d have liked, so she added: “Y’know, for days when you’re a real pain in my ass and I question why we’re still friends.”

“Ha ha,” he fake-laughed with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t remember ever noticing it before, that’s all.”

“I don’t wear it all the time, in case I lose it in the water or it gets ruined or whatever. But I felt like wearing it today.” Kie said with a shrug, and JJ nodded, an endearing look on his face.

“Plus, it’s a cute colour. Anyway, can we get back to this dare? I wanna get it over with,” Kie said, changing the subject.

Straight away JJ said, “I dare you to kiss me,” and Kie laughed, high and short, in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” she began, shaking her head as if she had water in her ears. “That sounded a lot like you just dared me to kiss you.”

“So what if I did?” he said, his eyes glassy and intense and his pupils blown. His hands were still tangled with hers in her lap, their faces close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her skin as he spoke. They both knew he’d never be forward enough to come out and say that when he was sober - clearly the mix of the weed and the booze had instilled a increased level of confidence in him.

Kie decided to play at him at his own game, a similar feeling of dangerous confidence simmering in her chest.

“You don’t think I’ll do it?” she asked, barely above a whisper, eyes locked on his.

“Oh, I know you won’t,” JJ replied, mirroring her tone, a smile gracing his eyes as well as his lips.

Her gaze went from his eyes to his mouth and her breath caught in her throat.

She found herself leaning into him subconsciously as her mind wondered what it would be like to kiss him - to do the one thing they hadn’t already done together.

Her hands found his forearms, which were resting on her thighs. She slid her hands up over the length of his strong arms, a nervous but excited pit building in stomach, and onto his shoulders. His hands grazed up her thighs gently to settle on her hips, taking hold and pulling her close as she used her grip on his shoulders to do the same. JJ’s head fell forward, resting his forehead against hers, hands travelling under his shirt she was wearing and onto the warm, bare skin of her back.

Her mouth was hovering over his now, her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes fell closed. Her fists knotted in the material of his tank, pulling herself up onto her knees and placing one either side of his hips. She felt him breathe in sharply against her mouth, and her head was spinning, her insides fluttering with an overwhelming sense of need. She felt him adjust the angle of his face against hers, his faint stubble scratching pleasantly against her skin, lips barely brushing as his fingers pressed into her waist.

But just as she was sure their lips were about to meet, she pulled back slightly, placing a finger over his lips, foreheads still touching.

“Forfeit,” she said.

It took a moment for JJ’s eyes to open, and she sat back, trying to catch her breath as a look of confusion, then surprise passed across JJ’s features. He let out a breathy chuckle, leaning back in the hammock to rest his head against it as he ran a hand through his dishevelled blonde hair, eyes closed briefly.

“I knew it,” he said, staring her down with an amused smile. “I knew you didn’t have it in you, Kie.”

“Don’t be an ass, Jay. If I hadn’t stopped it, you would have.” Kie replied, playfully kicking at him. “It was a dumb idea. We’re high as shit and we would have regretted it tomorrow.”

“I think you’re giving me entirely too much credit here.” JJ said with a humourless chuckle. “I wasn’t about to stop anything that was goin’ on there.”

Kie rolled her eyes, a flutter returning to her stomach.

“But you’re right,” he said with a defeated sigh, dragging his hands down his face until they came to rest on his chest. “It would’ve been fun while it lasted though.”

“JJ,” Kie reprimanded, kicking at him again, a little harder this time.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he surrendered, swinging himself out the hammock and onto his feet.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing with his head to the Chateau.

“Where?” Kie asked, getting to her feet rather ungracefully.

“Inside. I’m gonna give you a tattoo,” he said with his signature JJ grin.

“Immediately, no. Nuh-huh. No way,” she said, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“Oh c’mon, Kie. Rules are rules. You pass on the dare, I get to choose your forfeit, and this is what I chose.” he jeered, and Kie could confirm he was 100% still high, and relief set in that she hadn’t gone through with the dare - regardless of how much she had wanted to in the moment. The fact that she was even entertaining the idea of letting him tattoo her was evidence that she was also still too high to be making sound decisions.

“What kinda tattoo are we talking about here?” she asked, and JJ immediately went to speak, but she threw a hand up and clamped it firmly over his mouth. “And I swear to God if you say your face on my ass, I will drag you off this dock, into the water and drown you with my bare hands,” she said in an obnoxiously sweet tone that entirely did not match her threatening words. She gave a throw of her head in the direction of the dock as she dropped her hand from his mouth just to emphasise her point.

“Well clearly that’s not the first time you’ve thought about doing that.” JJ replied, sounding unnerved. “That’s a little concerning…”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. “And somehow I doubt it’ll be the last, either.”

The back and forth continued, until they agreed upon a dolphin - inspired by the bracelet - and settled on a spot, on her ribs, just below her boob. JJ was thrilled, but Kie only agreed because it was the only spot where people wouldn’t be able to easily see it, given that she spent so much time in bikinis.

They went inside to JJ’s “work station”, ie. John B’s coffee table, which Kie ensured had been thoroughly disinfected by dousing everything in straight vodka before letting him touch her.

It was painful, sure, but her lingering buzz helped to dull it, as did a few swigs from the vodka bottle. It felt like it took ages to finish, and although it was messy and far from perfect, JJ was so proud of it - “I personally think it has a lot of character”, he boasted - and she kinda loved it, even though she joked about being scarred for life.

When they woke up the next morning, hungover and feeling like shit on the pull out, it made for a welcome distraction from their “almost kiss” scenario, but equally Kie knew for her, it was also going to be a permanent reminder.

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII /  Part VIII  / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Peter was unreasonably nervous on the way to Tony’s house – he felt like a teenage virgin, even though he was far from that. The problem was he knew the older man probably had certain expectations for what was about to happen, it was impossible for him not to have, of course. He watched all of his videos, he followed his Just4Fans, he had seen his wildest, sexiest, naughtiest side, but the thing was, that didn’t really come natural to Peter.

What most people didn’t seem to realize was that porn sex was very different from real life sex. Most of the things that looked good didn’t necessarily feel good, because porn wasn’t about getting off, it was about getting the viewers off, at the cost of the actors’ own pleasure sometimes. In Peter’s experience, most of the times.

Tony was older, experienced, Peter supposed he knew all of that, but he also met him through porn, he had seen him have sex with several people several times, so who knew, maybe he thought Peter actually liked being choked half to death or slapped black and blue. Maybe he thought he liked it rough, no prep and no lube, and maybe he wouldn’t understand that if he cried and begged him to stop, he wasn’t trying to be kinky, he just–  

“Hey.” Peter jumped up in surprise when he heard the man’s voice to his left. Tony had both of his hands on the steering wheel, but his eyes were focused on him. There was a small frown between his brows and the younger man wondered if he had missed something. “I can still drive you home if you changed your mind, ok?”

“What?” Peter asked, a little too loudly, and the older man gave him a small smile.

“You just seem a little freaked out,” he clarified, and the boy blushed, dipping his chin down to stare at his lap. “There’s no pressure here, Peter. If I somehow made you feel like you have to do this, please –“

“Gods, no!” He cut him off, because that was the furthest thing from the truth, not even once did Tony make him feel like he had to do anything. “I’m sorry, it’s just – been a while since–” he started, but then he felt dumb, because he used to do that for a living and Tony knew it. “I mean, without cameras and stuff.” He mumbled, feeling his face burning in shame at the confession.

He was surprised when the older man’s hand came into view, grabbing one of his gently. Peter raised his eyes to look at him.

“Tell you what,” Tony started with that charming smile of his, squeezing his hand a little. “We’ll just have a few drinks and see where it goes. I’ll drive you home at any time you ask, just say the word.”

Peter sighed, feeling weirdly relieved by those words. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that, but it was still nice to hear. He could quit at any time. He was still in control of his body. He got to decide whatever happened next.

“Sounds nice,” he said, and Tony must have heard the honesty in his voice because his expression softened and the corners of his lips tilted up.

A few minutes later, Stark Tower popped into view as they turned a corner and the younger man noticed they were headed there, which confused him at first, but Tony explained he lived on the top floor of the tower. Peter was surprised to hear that, he always assumed he lived in some fancy building in Manhattan, but when he thought about it, it made sense. Tony living anywhere else could be a threat to his neighbors’ lives, what with his side job and all.  

“I used to live in Malibu.” Peter remembered that. He also remembered his mansion was destroyed in a terrorist attack back in 2010, after Tony basically gave the Mandarin his home address. “When I moved here, I decided to turn the top few floors of Stark Tower into my home. It was all for me at first, but later it became the Avengers headquarters. A few of them lived there for a while, like Steve, before we… You know.” Peter didn’t know, actually. He remembered Captain America and a few others became fugitives at some point, but he didn’t really know the story behind it. To be fair, he didn’t think the public at large knew the whole truth either. “Now it’s just me again.”

Peter didn’t comment on the fact that he skipped the part where he probably lived there with Pepper Potts. The boy didn’t lie when he said he didn’t know a lot about the older man’s life, but some things were hard to miss, like his marriage to the most powerful woman in the world. Peter remembered it was literally all over the news, meaning the divorce, just a little over a year earlier, was just as covered by the media as well.

He decided not to ask, though.

When they arrived at the tower, Tony got out of the car and went around it to open the door for him. He blushed at the small act of chivalry, but the older man didn’t even seem to realize it. He once again placed a hand on the small of his back as he led him to a metal door that slid open with a quiet hiss after both of their faces were scanned.

Tony nudged him inside what looked like an elevator; there were no buttons or anything, but it started moving up as soon as the doors closed behind them. The ride up to the top floor was filled with “fun facts” about the tower, for which Peter was grateful, he could tell the man was trying to put him at ease and he appreciated it.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal a fancy living room, though, he couldn’t help the nervous sigh that left his lips.

“Okay, I know I promised drinks, but I think we had enough at the restaurant, right?” Tony’s warm hand never left his back, and it had a soothing effect on him. Peter nodded, because they did share two bottles of wine during the meal, plus half a bottle of champagne for desert. He wasn’t wasted, but he was definitely not one hundred percent sober either, so maybe it was best to to keep it that way. “How about some coffee, then?”

“Sure, sounds good.” He smiled politely, as the older man led him into the living room.

It was huge, Peter was positive it could fit his whole apartment and there would still be a lot of room left over, but it was also very empty and minimalist. There was a couch and a few armchairs, they looked expensive, but not very comfortable. Other than that, there were paintings on the walls, a few decorative pieces, but nothing that stood to attention, except for the huge floor-to-ceiling glass wall, from which he could see almost all of New York City.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” Tony gestured to the couch, but as he walked away in the direction Peter assumed was the kitchen, he headed to the window, watching the view.

He took a deep breath, trying to get his heartbeat somewhat under control. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, what he wanted to happen, but most of all, he worried about the day after. About what would happen when he left the tower, when he left Tony behind. His brain told him that that whole night was a one time thing and that was it. But somewhere in his heart he hoped for… more.

He didn’t know what, though. He and Tony belonged to very different worlds, hoping for anything other than a one night stand seemed pointless.

“Here you go.” Tony walked back into the room, he had lost his jacket and tie, the top buttons of his shirt were open, exposing some of his chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Peter gulped, feeling a shiver run down his spine as he tried to focus on the coffee mugs in his hands, instead.

“Thanks.” He walked over to where the man was standing next to the couch, and accepted the drink, looking around the room, trying to find something that could distract him from his shaking hands. “Is that you?” He pointed at a barely visible black and white picture hanging on the wall of a hallway off to his right, leading away from the living room. Tony seemed surprised that Peter even noticed it, but he walked over there and waved for the younger man to follow.

“This is Dum-E, my first born, and this is me at sixteen,” Up close, Peter could see that it was a newspaper clipping and the headline read Tony Stark poses with the prize winning robot in his father’s workshop at Stark Industries. In the picture, he was crouching down next to a hydraulic arm robot, smiling proudly at the camera. Peter couldn’t help but notice that, of all the times he had probably made the newspapers, it seemed like that was the only one he chose to frame.

“You looked so cute,” he cooed, focusing on the kid in the picture. It wasn’t good quality, but he could tell Tony looked nerdy and maybe a little awkward. He wondered if he got picked on a lot in college. When he turned to look at the man’s face, he was smiling at him, amused. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.” Peter’s heart went so wild in his chest, he was worried the older man could hear it. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me, by the way, I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision.” Tony placed his mug on the console table next to them.  

“I hope it wasn’t too disappointing.” He chuckled nervously, leaning against the wall and holding his mug with both hands so the man wouldn’t notice how they were still shaking.

“Actually, it was way better than I imagined, kitten,” he assured him, moving to stand right in front of him, leaving Peter trapped between him and the wall.

“What did you imagine?” He took a sip of coffee, before placing his mug on the console table too, watching as Tony discreetly took a small step closer to him, so the tips of their shoes were almost touching.

“That you might turn out to be a kiss-ass who would try to impress me with a fake personality or something, but you can’t fake this.” He pinched his pink cheek, which made Peter blush even harder. “What did you imagine? About me, I mean.”

“It varied.” He said, to put it lightly. “But when we first started talking, I got almost everything right.” He bragged, because, to his credit, it was true.

“Yeah?” Tony’s eyes widened a little in surprise.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, eyes roaming the man’s face, remembering all the things he fantasized about over the past few months. “Your hair, your eyes… Your voice.” His voice was small when he finished, as Tony closed the space between them by leaning in closer, one hand resting beside his head on the wall.

“My voice?” He lifted a brow and tilted his head to the side, blinking in curiosity.

“Mm-hmm.” He agreed nervously, eyes flickering between the man’s eyes and his mouth.

“Did you think about it a lot?” Tony was almost whispering then, his voice sounded smooth and low, and they were so close Peter could feel his coffee scented breath on his face.

“All the time.” He admitted, blinking slowly, hypnotized. Tony looked at him for a few seconds, eyes searching his face for something. When he seemed satisfied, he placed his other hand on Peter’s hip, gently, barely there, caging the younger man’s body completely in his arms.

“What did you think about?” Tony’s eyelids were so low he might as well have his eyes closed, but Peter knew he was staring at his mouth, which made him lick his lips. His heart was going wild in his rib cage, his breath growing irregular, talking became such a difficult task he didn’t think he could answer the question if he tried. “What did you want me to say to you?”

“Uhm… I just… Nice things.” He breathed out, eyes fluttering closed as he felt the man’s warm breath in his ear.

“Nice things.” He whispered, and then Peter could feel not only his hand on his hip, but his whole arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He gasped. “Like how good you are to me, hmm? Want me to tell you how beautiful you sounded when you said my name for the first time? How bad I’ve been wanting to touch you, since the first time I saw you?” Peter whimpered and lost all the strength in his knees, but Tony had a firm grip on him, holding him up. “Can I take care of you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” As if the answer could be anything different from that when Tony’s arms were so warm around him and his breath warmed his neck and his smell enveloped him in a dream-like state. His eyes were already closed when Tony’s lips crashed into his and it was all Peter expected it to be.

Tony’s kiss was demanding, but gentle; anxious, but slow. His mouth moved against his like he had been waiting his whole life for that moment, his tongue sought passage through his lips and Peter obliged, meeting him halfway, and if there was any shred of doubt in his mind, it went right out the window at that second as Tony devoured him whole.

He felt his back slamming against a solid surface, even though he didn’t feel his feet moving. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t standing anymore, Tony had lifted him up and pushed him against the wall, catching him by surprise. He wrapped his legs around his waist, as he felt the man’s hands sliding from his hips down to his ass cheeks, where he squeezed tight.  

His fingers got lost in the locks of Tony’s thick hair and a shock traveled down his spine when he felt the older man’s cock pressed against his, hips rocking torturously slow. Peter let out a surprised cry and Tony swallowed it eagerly, sinking his fingers into his flesh, they were so hot Peter could swear he could feel them through the fabric of his too expensive dress pants.

“Tony...” The name slipped out of his mouth without he even realizing it, the sound got trapped between their lips, like a shared secret.

“Shhh,” Tony shushed him when he whimpered, overwhelmed with all the feelings – the heat of their bodies glued together, the intensity of their incessant kissing, the feel of Tony’s hardness pressing against his, his hands roaming his body like they owned him – it was almost too much, Peter thought it might drive him insane. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable.”

The older man let him down gently, but held him firmly by the hips as he did, which was a good thing, since it took him a minute to find balance again. He gave him a lopsided grin, grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the hallway.

He followed the older man to what he assumed was his bedroom – it was just as big as the living room, probably, there was a huge bed in the center, and one of the walls was entirely made of glass, just like in the living room, but it slowly grew darker and darker until it was a solid gray color, hiding them from the world outside and vice-versa. The room was dark, then, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

Tony let go of his hand and turned around to look at him, as he calmly undid a few more buttons of his shirt, eyes fixed on Peter’s face. He felt his cheeks burning again, which made the corners of the man’s mouth tilt up.

He sat down on the bed behind him and before the younger man could wonder what he was supposed to do next, he felt Tony’s hands on his hips, pulling him closer, until Peter was standing between his spread legs and the man’s face was almost pressed against his chest.

“We can stop right here,” he said, looking up at him, and Peter had a sudden urge to run his hands through his hair, so he didn’t hold back. Tony closed his eyes and sighed, turning his head a little to kiss one of his palms. “Did you hear me, honey?” He asked, firmly, looking into his eyes, and he nodded.

“I don’t wanna stop.” He whispered back, cupping the older man’s face, leaning down for a kiss.

Tony groaned into the kiss, satisfied with Peter’s initiative. He reached for the back of the boy’s legs and pulled them until he got the message and straddled him. They both moaned softly when their bodies found each other again. It was amazing to Peter how much easier it was for him to feel comfortable when they were so close, when Tony’s hands were burning his skin and his tongue was claiming his mouth in the most possessive way.

Again, he barely felt when Tony maneuvered him, he just felt an incredibly soft surface against his back and realized he was lying down with the older man between his legs. He felt dizzy, a little out of his mind, like he was in a dream. The room was dark and so very quiet, the only thing he could hear was the sloppy sounds of their lips locked together – and he had to admit he was growing addicted to it, to his taste, to the way his kisses left barely any room for breathing and still he would rather suffocate than ask him to stop.

He whimpered when he felt the older man pull away. He opened his eyes only to meet his heated gaze staring down at him for a moment, before he sat back on his heels and finished unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing more skin as he went. Peter noticed the scars on his chest and for some crazy reason he wanted to touch them, kiss them better, even though he knew they probably didn’t even hurt anymore. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold himself back.

“Enjoying the view?” His eyes snapped back up to Tony’s face and the man was smirking down at him, as he slid the shirt off his arms and threw it carelessly to the floor.

“Can you blame me? It’s quite a view.” Peter felt bold enough to say, watching the smile grown on older man’s face, as he leaned down again, his arms caging the boy’s head when he placed his elbows on each side of his face. He brushed his nose along Peter’s cheek, until he reached his ear, biting down on the lobe as he blew hot, moist air against his skin. The boy shivered, closing his eyes, hands flying up to grab Tony’s naked shoulders as if he was afraid he would sink into the mattress if he didn’t hold on to something.

“You think you can just say stuff like that and get away with it?” The words were mumbled into his neck as he bit down with hunger, one hand sliding down his torso, reaching for his belt. Tony started undoing it as he kept whispering in his ear, “You wanna hear nice things, but you keep trying to drive daddy mad, how is that fair?”

“Oh God,” Peter gasped, when he felt the man’s hand slide down the front of his pants, under his underwear, wrapping around his cock without any warning. He started massaging it slowly, almost lazily, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Daddy, please...”

“Now that’s a good boy. So polite.” His lips came crashing down onto Peter’s as his hand tightened around his cock, jerking it at a faster pace. The boy wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, hands finding their way into his hair for the hundredth time that night – God, he loved his hair, so thick and soft in his fingers – and pulled him even closer to his face, deepening the kiss in an almost desperate way.

Peter kept trying to get Tony’s hand to move faster, thrusting his hips up every chance he got, but the older man ignored it completely, keeping his own, steady pace, as his mouth slid from Peter’s lips to his neck. The younger man threw his head back, exposing his throat, allowing Tony to have his way with him, there was nothing he wouldn’t give him right then and there, he was his.

“You smell fucking delicious, baby.” He inhaled deeply, nosing the exposed skin right above the collar of his shirt, then both of his hands started working on unbuttoning it and Peter whined at the loss of Tony’s touch on his cock. “It’s okay,” he whispered as he slid the shirt down his arms, throwing it to the side. “I’ll take good care of you, baby, I promise.” He leaned back down and kissed along Peter’s collarbones, before sucking one of his nipples into his mouth.

Peter was so fucking hard, just hearing those words almost sent him over the edge, it was ridiculous. It didn’t help that the older man’s tongue was abusing his nipple until it was hard and oversensitive, before he attacked the other one.

He slid his hands from the man’s shoulders, down his sides, reaching for his belt, but before he could do anything about it, Tony grabbed both of his wrists in one hand, catching him off guard, and held them above his head. Before Peter could say anything, his mind was distracted by those delicious lips assaulting his again, and the pressure of the older man’s hands around his wrists and his solid weight on top of him was enough to tame him into submission.

“Don’t move,” he demanded in a whisper, giving Peter one last peck on the lips before getting off of him. He bit his lower lip, trying to contain any sound of disappointment he might make, and shut his his eyes tightly. He kept his hands where Tony left them, above his head, like he could still feel the man’s fingers around them.

In seconds, Tony was back, Peter felt him positioning himself between his legs again, but didn’t open his eyes. He felt the older man’s hands on his hips, grabbing the waistband of his pants, slowly sliding to bring them down along with his underwear, leaving Peter naked and completely at his mercy. The feeling was inebriating.

When he didn’t do anything else for several seconds, the boy opened his eyes, breath hitching when he saw Tony in all his naked glory, kneeling between his legs, holding the base of his rock hard cock as he looked down at him with hunger in his eyes.

Before Peter could say or do anything, Tony leaned down and, without any warning, enveloped his cock in the wet warmth of his mouth, swallowing him down in one single motion. Peter cried out in pleasure, head spinning, eyes watering, legs spreading wider to give the older man more room to do whatever he wanted to him.

He bit the back of his hand when the man started sucking him, head bobbing up and down in a steady, slow pace, before drawing back with a pop, only for his lips and tongue to circle the tip of his cock, swallowing it down again right after, until Peter could feel the back of his throat. He couldn’t avoid the moan that slipped from his lips, as one of his hands flew to bury into Tony’s hair, but he didn’t dare to apply any pressure, he just pulled a little on the soft strands, trying to get himself under control.

When Tony set a quick pace with his mouth, Peter started pushing his hips just a tiny bit, keeping up with him, skin burning, hands gripping the sheets as if it could hold him back. He felt something cold and wet trying to make its way between his ass cheeks, making his eyes fly open, widening a little. He panted, knees falling further apart, allowing the older man better access. He felt one finger pushing in, calmly, gently, as the man kept sucking him off just as enthusiastically, Peter barely felt the burn on his lower back when the finger was completely sheathed inside him.

He was overwhelmed by the double stimulation, but he’d be damned if he was going to ask Tony to stop or slow down. He rocked his hips at Tony’s pace, obediently following the rise and fall of his head, thrusting up into his mouth and then down against his finger, taking anything and everything he could get.

He was already going insane when Tony held his hips down, as he slowly introduced another finger along with the first, the burning sensation taking the edge off a little, to Peter’s relief. He stayed still for a few seconds, feeling Tony scissoring his fingers, trying to open him up as best as he could, until both of them were buried deep inside him, pressing all the right places, pushing all his buttons at once, and he knew he couldn’t take that for much longer.

“Daddy, please, please... Please...” He pulled Tony’s hair until he reluctantly lifted his head, letting his cock go with a pop, eyes meeting Peter’s head on, dark as midnight.

“Please what, baby boy?” He asked, still fucking his fingers in and out of his hole, pain and pleasure mixing and making it impossible for him to rationalize anything.

“Please fuck me,” he begged, watching a slow smile appear on the older man’s face.  

Tony climbed on top of him and attacked his lips, to Peter’s delight, who wrapped his arms and legs around his larger body, pulling him closer, their heated skins flush together, the boy could feel every inch of him enveloped by Tony’s warmth, his scent, all of him.

When Tony pulled away, Peter quickly moved to turn his back to him and lay on his stomach, not sure if he would want him like that or on all fours, so he pushed his hips up, giving him the option to put him on his knees if he wanted to. It took Tony a few seconds to lay his weight on him again, his chest glued to his back in a delicious friction, hips aligned, his hard cock pressed against his ass, as he mouthed at his neck, sucking and biting.

“Will you turn around for me, baby?” He whispered in his ear, nudging him on the side. Peter blinked a few times, trying to look at him from over his shoulder, but the angle didn’t allow it. “I wanna see you.”

His breath hitched and he froze for a second, feeling both of Tony’s hands sliding down his sides. He put some space between them and nudged Peter again, but didn’t force him to turn, he let him choose. The younger man obeyed, after a few seconds of stunned silence. Tony rested his weight against him again, holding his gaze.

“Is this okay?” He whispered against his lips, waiting long enough for Peter to breathe out an almost soundless yes before devouring him. He closed his eyes and let himself go, gave himself over the other man, without a hint of fear, untroubled by the consequences of the day after.

He felt Tony’s hands, strong and rough, grabbing both of his thighs, lifting one of them to place his ankle on his shoulder, spreading him wide open. He felt the wet tip of his cock brushing against his hole, making it quiver in anticipation. Peter only had enough time to take a breath before feeling the older man start to press into him, but his moan was swallowed by Tony, who kissed him deeply as he forced his way into him, slowly and unrelenting, the burn was painful but so fucking good.  

“Tony, please,” he begged, he didn’t even know what for, when he felt the man bottoming out. He wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face in his shoulder, breathless, shaking all over. “Daddy...”

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, holding still for a few minutes. Peter appreciated the gesture – he did – but he really needed more, he needed Tony to move, he needed Tony.

He rocked his hips and immediately felt his already swollen lips attacked again by the older man’s as he pulled his cock out slowly, and then gently shoved it back in. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through the pain, but he didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want time, he felt full and satiated and he just wanted that feeling to last forever.

Tony started picking up the pace, fucking into him with short, shallow thrusts at first, and then long and deep ones as Peter’s muscles relaxed and started to give in to the intrusion and suck him in deeper. Tony must have felt it because he held him down by the hips and started fucking him like he meant it, and the younger man threw his head back, crying in relief and pleasure and delicious pain, only to have his throat attacked with kisses and bites, Tony’s beard scratching against his smooth skin, leaving burns that felt like claiming marks.

“Please, I’m gonna–“ Peter didn’t have to say anything, soon there was a hand wrapped firmly around his cock, pumping it at the same pace as Tony thrust into him, and it was too fucking much, Peter bit down on the man’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes tight as came with a blinding force, body shaking all over. Tony thrust a few more times, hard and deep, as he grunted, before he pushed one final time and fell on top of him with a sigh.

Peter panted, trying to catch his breath, what proved to be tricky with the larger man lying on top of him, but he made no effort to get him to move. On the contrary, he gathered the last of his strength to hold him by the shoulders, keeping him close for as long as he could.

He must have drifted off at some point, because he was startled awake by someone sitting by his side on the bed. When he opened his eyes, the older man smiled sheepishly down at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered, leaning down to peck his lips, before sitting up again. “I’m just gonna clean you up a little, ok?” Peter blinked a few times in confusion, until he looked down and noticed the older man had a wet towel in his hand, which he used to slowly clean his chest, belly, legs and between his butt cheeks.

The young man blushed a little, surprised by his actions, but said nothing, just watched as the Tony threw the towel to the floor and lay next to him, propping his head on a hand to look down at him.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked quietly, after a few seconds, not wanting to be an inconvenience, but Tony frowned.  

“Why, do you want to go?” He asked and Peter bit his lower lip, looking into the warm, brown eyes, trying to figure out the answer the engineer wanted to hear. He shook his head no and Tony smiled softly, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. Peter all but purred. “Then stay, kitten. I make great pancakes.”

“You don’t say.” He raised his eyebrows in honest surprise, because he didn’t think a billionaire genius would worry about mastering such a mundane task as making pancakes.

“I do say. You’ll see tomorrow morning,” he answered quietly, like a secret, as his hand traveled from Peter’s face to his hipbone, where his fingers made small circles that tickled his skin lightly. He let his head rest on the pillow next to Peter’s, their faces so close he could feel Tony’s breath on his lips.

“I saw you the other day.” Peter whispered, because it felt intimate, like they were keeping secrets from the world. Tony lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. “Well, Iron Man, I guess. Flying over Central Park.”

“Oh, yeah. I went to a meeting in the UN Security Council, but then I had to come back here in a hurry, or Pepper would kill me.” Tony had a contagious, cheeky smile, but Peter couldn’t help but notice a little sadness hiding in his eyes when he talked about his ex-wife. He wondered if Tony could see the same sadness earlier, when they were talking about Beck.

“Hmm. Trying to decide if that meeting was incredibly boring or incredibly cool.”

“Weirdly, it was both.” They laughed quietly and Tony slid closer, until their chests were almost touching. “Is this ok?” He asked and the younger man just nodded, before he arranged himself to rest his face on Tony’s chest, legs entwining in the process until they were both comfortable. They fit well together, Peter couldn’t help but think in secret.

He knew it was stupid to hope for anything other than what they’d just done, he knew it was pointless to want more, he did, he truly did. But when he closed his eyes, he imagined things were different. He imagined he had a different past and Tony had a different life, and things were simpler and easier.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, lulled by the gentle rise and fall of Tony’s chest.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (2)

Autumn Serenade

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

--

Many hours later, the door clicked closed, and Marinette sat up straight in attention. “Adrien?”

“No girl, just me,” said Alya. “Did you sleep at the table all night?”

Sunlight poured in the window. 

“I guess I did.” Marinette rubbed at her eye, smearing her mascara. “What time is it?” 

“Morning time. Almost 8. I’m surprised Sunshine isn’t still here. I have expected to catch you both cuddling on the couch together. Did you just…fall asleep at the table?” 

Marinette didn’t answer, her eyes welling up with tears. 

“Marinette?”

“He bailed on me. Ghosted me. Not even a text.” 

“He what!?” She shrieked. “Why that dumb little—“ Alya whipped out her phone, and called someone, putting them on speaker. 

“He didn’t answer me, Alya, don’t even try.” 

Instead, Nino’s voice spoke over the line. “What did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything! It was that Best Man of yours!” 

“Adrien? What did stuffed-with-fluff forget?”

“He forgot Marinette!” 

“Marinette? He ghosted her!?” 

“Yes! He never showed! And he’s not answering any calls, so you better get a good excuse from him! He better be dead or in the hospital, or I’ll put him there!” 

“Alya…” Marinette said weakly. “I’m sure he has a good excuse…” 

“I’ll call him,” Nino promised. “I’ll figure this all out. He’s a good boy, I know he wouldn’t just…not call.” 

“I want to believe that too,” Alya said with pain in her voice. 

Then, Marinette’s phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Nathalie.

“Oh, good morning.” 

“I’m calling to inform you that next week, you’ll be working from the office all week. Mr. Agreste is…feeling unwell.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know. By chance, is Adrien there?”

“No.” And without anything else, Nathalie hung up. 

“Rude,” Marinette muttered to herself. “Something smells fishy.” 

Nino called back a minute later. “I can’t get a hold of Adrien either. He’s not answering his phone.” 

Alya frowned, arms crossed. “Fishy indeed.” 

“Well, he can’t avoid me forever. I am Gabriel’s intern, so I’ll corner him sometime.” Then a horrible realization came over Marinette. “Oh god, he didn’t actually ask me out!” 

“What? Did you daydream this whole thing?!”

“No! He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, and he said he had something important he wanted to tell me! But he never clarified that it was a date! I kissed his cheek! What if he panicked!? Alya, this is my fault!” 

Nino laughed from the other end of the line. “Dude, this is so not your fault. It sounded like a date to me. He still owes you an explanation. Regardless of what type. Don’t blame yourself.” 

“Nino’s got it right, Marinette. You didn’t do anything wrong. When he stops being such a butthead, he’ll come groveling. I promise.” 

“Yeah, well, we can only hope.” 

Through the trees

Comes Autumn with her serenade

Melodies

The sweetest music ever played

Autumn kisses we knew

Are beautiful souvenirs

A whole week of silence was torture. Marinette continued to go to work, and put on her big girl pants and acted like everything was fine. Gabriel only communicated to her through emails, and she was unanimously thrust into the leadership role in his absence. 

It was frustrating, annoying, and stressful, since she was not prepared to become CEO overnight. By the end of the week, she had run herself ragged. Fueled by coffee and fear of failure, she wrapped up her last project for the evening, and went back to the apartment. 

There, blessedly, Alya and Nino greeted her with hugs and leftovers. 

“Rough day?”

“Rough week! Mr. Agreste has been basically AWOL, and I’m the one filling in! He doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts, and answers my emails an hour after the fact. I’m exhausted!”

“And Nathalie didn’t say anything to you?” 

“Nope, she’s sealed up tight. Apparently, Gabriel is sick. But I can’t get any news about Adrien. Honestly, I’m about one mental breakdown away from breaking down the gates and demanding answers.” 

Alya chuckled. “No need to be so drastic, Marinette. Maybe both of them got the flu, and Nathalie is forbidding them from doing anything but resting. You know how strict she is.” 

Marinette kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back on the couch. “I know, I know, and you’re probably right. It might be best if I come up with a plan in case this ever happens again. Specifically Gabriel getting sick, not Adrien being a coward.” 

“It’s weird though,” Said Nino. “Adrien’s always been overly considerate. Even after all this time, he still asks too many questions about social faux pas. For him to just ghost you, for a whole week even; it’s concerning.” 

Marinette had tried not to think like that. Adrien being awkward and scared was so much easier to stomach than something tragic befalling him. 

And yet, if it had, wouldn’t she know by now? 

She took out her phone, and called Nathalie, much to the curious gazes of Nino and Alya. 

“Hello Marinette.” The woman greeted, as stoic as ever. “I was under the impression that you were done for the night.” 

“I am. I just...haven’t heard from Adrien all week.” 

“With Gabriel ill, Adrien has been busy, much like you. It wouldn’t surprise me that social calls would fall to the wayside.” 

“I was just...worried. Is he there?” 

“Yes. He’s fine.” 

“Can I talk to him?” 

“He’s asleep. He’s had a hard week. You’ll see him Monday, as Mr. Agreste wants you working at the manor.” 

“Oh, okay then. I guess...thank you, Nathalie.” 

“You're welcome.” The call ended. 

“So he’s not dead in a ditch.” Marinette announced. “Nathalie said he’s asleep. And I’ll see him Monday.” 

Nino frowned, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was just...odd.

As I pause to recall

The leaves seem to fall like tears

Silver stars

Were clinging to an Autumn sky

Monday morning, Marinette went over to the mansion. She rang the bell, and the gates opened. She crossed the quiet drive, the gates shutting behind her, and approached the door. 

There was usually someone there to open it to greet her, whether it was Nathalie or the Gorilla. Not this time. 

Marinette took hold of the handle and opened it herself, for the first time ever. She didn’t think they would mind, if the gate opened. 

“Hello?” She called. “Nathalie?” 

The lights in the foyer were off. And despite the large windows beside her, dark shadows hung in the corners like cobwebs. 

The house felt empty. Cold, and dark. The manor had always been cold, of course. It was picture perfect, sterile and modern minimal. But today it felt worse. Noticeably worse. 

If this is what it felt like at night when she went home, it was no wonder Adrien hated it here. 

The doors to Gabriel’s office were closed, and she approached, knocking gently. 

“Come in.” Said Nathalie’s voice. 

She was at her desk, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” she greeted.

“G-good morning.” Marinette nodded. “I’m just letting you know I’m here. You usually greet me at the door so...” 

“You’ve been here long enough, I didn’t think such formalities were necessary.” 

“They aren’t! It’s fine, totally fine. Just...unexpected is all. Is Gabriel still ill?” 

“A bit. He may come down, but he may not. I will field all questions.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. She prepared to leave, but asked. “Is Adrien home?” 

“He’s working in his room. He’s very busy.” 

Marinette just nodded, and went to her own office down the hall.

It was a smaller room, used to belong to Emilie. Gabriel was very specific about how things were kept. The desk was Marinette’s, but everything else was Emilie’s. The bureau in the corner, the little settee, the curtains, it was all her design. Emilie had good taste, thankfully, and so the room was fine the way it was. 

Even with the light off, this room didn’t have that oppressive weight in it. 

She could relax, however slightly, and get to work. 

It was hard to concentrate on work when all she wanted to do was storm upstairs and demand answers from Adrien. At this point, she definitely felt like she deserved them. Date or not, she deserved a little closure as to what had happened, and why he had never followed up. 

In all likeliness, it would probably just be, “my phone died, and then I forgot to text you back.” 

But Nino’s comment about Adrien’s extreme consciousness really nagged at her. 

Before she knew it, it was time for her lunch break, and she took her sack lunch with her to Gabriel’s office. 

He still hadn’t come down, but Nathalie was there. 

“Nathalie? I’m taking my lunch now. Do you think I could visit Adrien?” 

The woman stopped her work and screwed up her lips, an expression Marinette had never seen on her before. She seemed to be thinking much too hard. 

“I will go see if he is able to handle company.” 

“Tell him I don’t want to bother him, and we don’t have to talk. I just want company.” 

Nathalie nodded, and stepped out of the room. Marinette followed across the foyer, before Nathalie harshly told her, “wait here.” 

She ascended the stairs to Adrien’s room. 

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

Marinette never had to wait. Since working in the same house, they had developed a pretty open door policy. He was allowed in her office anytime, and likewise, she was allowed in his room, though she usually knocked first. Young men and all. 

But this was the first time anything like this happened. Was Nathalie just paranoid about her getting sick too? Or her getting Adrien sick?

Was Adrien still ignoring her, and let Nathalie in on it? 

What had she done to warrant this reaction? 

Finally, Nathalie came out of the room. 

“Adrien can see you for a little bit. But he’s busy, so try not to distract him.” Her tone was stern, in a way that made Marinette instinctively curl into herself. A sternness like she was in trouble. 

Seriously, what did she do?!

She climbed the stairs, and approached the door, knocking slightly. “Adrien?” 

“Please come in,” his voice called back. 

When she entered, she noticed the lights were out. He sat in his computer chair, facing her completely, sitting rigidly, and smiling. 

It was the fakest smile she’d ever seen. 

She sighed. “Relax. I’m not mad.” 

He blinked. “You…aren’t?” 

“I mean, I’m a little confused. Why didn’t you show?” 

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I’m the one that’s confused. What are you talking about?” 

She scoffed. “Last week? We were going to have dinner? You never showed or called?” 

“Oh. I…forgot.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“I…was sick. And I fell asleep. Yes. What day?” 

“Friday night.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh yes. That is exactly what happened.” 

She sighed as she sank into his couch, and opened her lunch. “I understand. I really do, but next time, could you return my calls? I spent a whole week in silence from you.” 

“Nathalie confiscated my phone.” 

This made her chuckle. “Okay, that’s an ironclad excuse.” 

He smiled, again, so fake. 

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me.” 

“Well yeah, but on Friday. You asked me to dinner and said you wanted to tell me something.” 

He spun around in his chair to look at his computer. He scrolled through a document, and then turned back to her. “I don’t remember, I’m afraid. This past week has been…a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth.” 

“What were you sick with?” 

His eye twitched. “Uh, cancer.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“Too severe? Strep throat then. Pneumonia. Bronchitis.” 

“You could just say you don’t know instead of giving me a heart attack, you know.” 

“Apologies.” 

“Why are you talking like that?” 

“Talking how so?” 

“Like, really proper.” 

“Is it not how I usually talk?” 

“Not when we’re alone…” 

He screwed up his lips. “Hmm. My bad. Too many period dramas while I was sick, I suppose.” 

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, like when we binged Sherlock together, and we couldn’t stop talking with British accents?!”

He grinned. “Precisely. Just like that.” 

“Man, had I known you were sick, I would have brought you some soup and given you company.” 

“Nathalie wouldn’t have let you.” 

“I know. It just kills me to think that you were alone all week.” 

“It kills you?” He looked horrified. 

“Yeah…I know you get lonely…sorry, I’m prying again.” 

He shook his head. “Just…the phrasing caught me off guard.” 

Marinette noticed from the moment she walked in, he had only once glanced at his computer. She was being a distraction, just like Nathalie had asked her not to. 

“Well, I heard you were busy, so I’ll finish my lunch in my office. But, we’re good right?” 

“What?” 

“Like, you aren’t mad at me for anything? I didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“No, you did nothing wrong. We’re great friends.” 

“Good!” 

Something was wrong. 

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

She walked to him and kissed his temple, like he always appreciated, and she spared a glance at the computer screen. 

She only got a glimpse of the first line. 

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste.’

--

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

[hammerjarljurenhar]

Hello there, I noticed your total miss in tumblr, did you move to another site? Probably you won't even answer this... But anyway, what are your thoughts about svtfoe after 2 years? I'm asking you because you threw shit in the show since S3 and despite I liked the show, you were in the right. I've been reading some starco fans that try at all costs to depict the show as good, but in the long run, they don't even convince me, I know the show has a good handful of mistakes. That's why.... I would like to know your opinion only if you can. Thanks

Hello.... Sorry, I’m answering months later, I know I've been gone from tumblr for a long time, my last activity here was sharing stuff to a guy who I follow for a fanfic xD I moved on from the show, now I follow amphibia, so much better without the shipping shit, svtfoe was bad and it’s better to let it die forgotten as it is while we wait for a reboot that fixes the “movie” and onwards from that point (like avoid forcing marco in mewni with no good reason, or not make others retarded so that star can “shine” as the MC), and also I moved out to twitter (just search for me and you will find me there), but even there my activity has fallen for some reasons: 1. The most important: I'm working now, I mean like real life work, sadly I'm not that lucky that my edits get me food in the table like many other artists out there, not enough, so.... yeah. I have to work full time, and sometimes we get overtime (I'm in a comitee with JICA in my country). 2. 280 characters in twitter is too low for making any kind of explanation, rant and whatnot, that makes it hard for me to make anything like that in twitter, also they are even more crystal-like than here. I mean, they actually make a tantrum and twitter silences you for debating.... this will be a long explanation, but to clarify: >Some starcofag-kid from here (I know his account from tumblr, he made the exact same one in twitter) came to twitter only to throw shit at anyone who badmouths starco and svtfoe, I got in the middle of it because he specifically came to molest me in a tweet and he tempted me to insult his intelligence; Yes, he had some really retarded "arguments" to say he was in the right, and since he couldn't actually argue anything he changed his perspective and tried to get me banned for a drawing, I got a 12 hours forced-silence because of all that shit.... >I got curious of why or how he got this "preference" of a mute going on so fast (I mean I got muted by twitter in a matter of 1 hour), after making a quick search in his account , he had 2 other accounts which specifically liked any comment he did anywhere. I kept an online eye on his IP activity (watch the first account IP and watch the other 2 accounts when they go online), since he was still trying to molest other people in tweets it was easy and fast..... unsurprisingly these 2 accounts had the exact same IP address than his main account, which means he was changing accounts to his other 2 fake accounts to like whatever his main account said and to report anyone who actually beats him in a debate about the show. I hope my point is clear... I wouldn't be able to explain anything in twitter because of that dumb "280 characters max" shit. So, I might do it here. 3. I gave my point of view in a facebook page after the show was over, but I waited for some months before doing so, you know... to gave some time for dust to settle and so that people can actually think about the show and argue, funny enough thanks to that I found out that barely 1% of the audience actually liked and still likes the show. The vast majority of the audience has enough brain and common sense to see the show for what it is (a failure) and not try to cope and seethe in hopes to find a good thing about it to use as their flag in their "the show was good" campaign. But yeah... I have things to say about the shitshow that svtfoe was, and how shipping and the endgame were so lame that the audience, disney, and daron herself don't want to touch it again, not even with a 12 feet stick.... if you can give me some time, like a couple of days, since I'll make some research in my computer and put all the stuff together in a document, and then when it's done, post it here with images :3 Remember the only good time in the show was when star was depicted suffering, like the piece of shit she was, while Marco was happy with Jackie and Hekapoo, and the show itself is proof that starco was and is a mistake

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

You know what? I had typed up a super long answer, but there's no point and I have no interest in making you change your mind about Roger and his "activism" and Ratty's book, so I won't send it. I have something to say about stan behaviour, though, but I'll try to be brief. Basically, it seems a bit unfair that you think Roger's stans are basically deluded for admiring him, not because I think he should be admired (that's totally your call) but because stans gotta stan, you know? That's basically in their job description lmao I know it's not very nuanced, but whose stans are? When you have some of Brian's stans justifying, even praising his reverse racism complaints from a few years ago or that statement about BLM he made on IG, because they think everything that comes out of his mouth is pure gold (and he even apologised for the BLM thing and clarified what he meant, because he's a good human! But some stans still said he was pressured into apologising), when you have some of John's stans claim that his statement on homosexuality in that Japanese interview was actually progressive for the time, is it really that bad when some Roger stans project their own modern political views on him? Like, I've seen people gushing over Brian wearing a pride pin that was actually one of his common decency pin (that was pretty funny), so Roger's stans aren't really alone in this lmao. Again, this is typical stan behaviour. As long as it doesn't harm anyone I don't see a problem with it. I could say more, however I promised I wouldn't try to suggest you change your mind, and I also very much failed at being brief, so I'm going to stop here. Bye!

Listen, anon, I’m not sure if I’ve said anything to suggest that I approve of stans of the other band members misrepresenting their behavior or politics, especially when I’ve made posts calling this out with people projecting their politics onto Freddie, and I talked about Brian’s tone deaf comments and the stan reactions quite a lot at the time. My making one post about Roger stans doesn’t mean I think this is exclusive to them. I only made the post because I’ve never seen anyone else talk about this on here. Nowhere did I say stans are deluded for admiring him. That’s nothing but an exaggeration. I’m saying people are being dishonest about his politics. Big difference!

No, sorry, but people can be big fans of someone without being dishonest about their politics. “Stans gotta stan” is a poor excuse. Being a stan is a choice lol, it’s not a job. If people can’t cope with their faves not having their exact political views to the point where they project their own politics onto them, that’s their problem, and it’s immature. Brian stans can, indeed, be guilty of this too by acting like everything he says is the gospel of the Lord. I think he’s a good man who tries his best to be kind, but he fucks up from time to time due to just how much he’s in the public eye (compared to Roger) and his tendency to speak first, think later when he gets fired up about things. That’s a negative trait and I’m fine with admitting that. But Roger has said weird shit too (like saying some of the lyrics on a song on Outsider weren’t “very #metoo”? Whatever the fuck that means) but people don’t criticize him at all because they point to his generic political statements as a forever trump card. This also becomes a problem when, for example, Roger stans get up on a high horse like “our fave would never 💅☕️” when Brian says something dumb, because it tells me they’re not as invested in these social issues as they are in stanning. It goes the other way around too, with them ignoring or downplaying Brian’s actual HIV advocacy—which went beyond wearing a Pride pin, mind you—because he’s not their fave (sorry but Roger has literally never been an activist on anything; activism or even advocacy are more than making vague public statements over the years). Just to clarify real quick: I’m only comparing Roger and Brian specifically because, well, they’re the only ones still making public statements over the past 30 years lol.

Typical stan behavior often isn’t a good thing lol. There’s a reason why “stan” has such negative connotations and origins.

[xfandomwritingsx]

Being Human - James Vega/F!Shepard

Description: James and Shepard finally stop dancing around each other. AKA; a rewrite of the Citadel DLC.

Warnings/Labels: None really. Some super minor sexual stuff.

Approx. Word Count: 4,500

A/N: Look... this is at best a rough draft that I typed up and didn’t edit, but I will forever be bitter about how they made the Citadel play out with these two. And while I know it won't happen, I really wish they'd fix it in the remaster. I mean if you're going to remaster the games, that sounds like a damn good time to fix anything inappropriate and rape-y right?! I would love to do a whole slow burn of Shepard and Vega spanning from Earth to the end of the game, but if you know me, you know I'm SLOW AS MOLASSES to update and I'm not lying when I say it would take me years to finish. So instead... have a poorly written snippet. I tried to keep it as much in “canon character” as I could. 

Shepard stands on the balcony of her new apartment, mind gently jogging around the events of the last few days which bleeds into the events of the last few years. Resting her arms on the metal railing, she drops her head and sighs, trying to pull herself from the black hole that is her memory anymore. She wants to let it all go, just for a night.

“Hey, Lola,” James calls, pulling her back to the present. She looks up briefly wondering how long he’d been there before she sees the door closing behind him. How had she not heard it? “Nice place,” he comments, looking around the open layout. “Might not look so nice after that party you were talking about.” He walks further in, headed for the stairs to join her on the balcony.

“You wouldn’t trash my new apartment, would you James?” she jokes lightly, pushing herself upright off the railing.

“Me?” He spins a little, keeping his eyes on her as he continued to travel backwards to the stairs. “Nooo. Never,” he draws it out, the sarcasm a little thick. Shepard rolls her eyes at him, but he sees the little smile at the corner of her lips too.

James has always had that effect on her. No matter what dumb thing came out of his mouth, he managed to make her smile. It was something she’d craved over the last few months more than ever. While everyone else gave her pep talks that only managed to remind her how much the galaxy rested on her shoulders, James was more likely to tell her that her pants hugged her curves just right. He let her forget about being Commander Shepard even if for just a few moments.

He whistles as he approaches her side, looking out over the balcony with her.

“Nice view. But this place?” He shakes his head just slightly. “It’s just so... not what I’m used to.” He gives a small shrug, still looking out over the scenery and the lights outside the large windows.

“Which is?” Shepard prods. They don't talk about their pasts very often. Everyone already knew hers and James was never extremely open about his own. He puts his hands on the railing and leans into his arms a little.

“I grew up on the beach in the Pacific,” he shares. “So, you know; water, sand, real air.” She thinks there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“You miss it?” He doesn’t look at her this time and instead she watches as he loosens his grip on the rail a little bit and sighs.

“Yeah. And the people.” She catches the undertone, the longing that implies he’s thinking of someone specific when he says it.

“So, what’s her name?” she asks. She means it to be teasing, but there’s an unexpected pang in her gut that feels all too much like jealousy for her liking and it ruins the lighthearted joke in her voice. She shifts her weight a little and slips a hand into the pocket of her pants.

“No! No.” he clarifies through a bark of a laugh, easing her tension a little. “I stopped... fraternizing when I joined the military. The two don’t seem to go well together.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from being a shameless flirt.” It had taken a short amount of time after they’d first met on Earth for him to relax around her and once he did, the comments, the winks, the innuendos and double entendres never ceased. The only thing he never seemed to do, was be physical with his flirting. He’d never so much as run a hand down her arm or let his hands linger when they sparred. Though Shepard had found herself wishing he would recently.

“Yeah, well... that’s just my way. I don’t mean anything by it.” There’s something in the way that he still won’t look at her that makes her think maybe that’s not all true.

“Too bad.” She drops her tone a little and takes a step towards him. “I wasn’t complaining.” He cracks a smile and lets out another short laugh.

“Who’s the shameless flirt now?” He gives her a single glance and then looks back down to his hands on the railing.

“So you can give it, but you can’t take it?” The flirting had never been completely one sided, but it certainly came heavier from him and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get a little flustered when she returned it.

“No, it’s just...” He releases the railing and pushes away, adding a little distance between the two. “You’re my commander, por dios. I can never tell if you’re yanking my chain.” He looks at her, really looks at her this time and the mood shifts. The air gets thicker, heavier and it feels like an opportunity, one she doesn’t want to slip away again.

“And what if I’m not?” she asks, voice dipping down again. “Not just yanking your chain?” James swallows thickly and there’s a mumble of a noise from his lips, but he doesn’t give a response. Instead, she’s pleased to watch as his eyes travel down from her eyes to her lips, down her neck and through the valley between her breasts that he can see all too well in her black tank top. “Are you going to tell me you’ve never thought about it?”

“Uhhh… I mean you’re one hell of a woman and I’m still just flesh and blood, if you know what I mean.” She can see a bit of redness creep up his neck and Shepard wonders if the implication is just that his body reacts to her or if he’s actually done something about it when his body reacts.

“So am I, James. And you are one hell of a man yourself.” She slips in front of him, putting herself between himself and the railing, all but begging him to pin her there. He makes no move to do so however. Instead, his eyes drop down to their feet and Shepard feels like she’s sinking. “But you’re not interested.” She leans back into the railing, wanting to retreat. James snaps his eyes back to hers and his mouth flops for a few moments as if he’s going to say something, but after a minute of silence, Shepard gives up. She slinks away off to the side and as far away as she can get without feeling too awkward. “Well, now that you’ve shot me down, was there anything else you came here to talk about?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” he stutters, shaking his head. She feels a little bad to have put him on the spot, but she’s just as embarrassed as he is. “I wanted to show you something.”

He turns away from her and pulls his shirt over his head. It takes Shepard longer than she should admit to notice he’s not just showing off the well-toned muscles in his back and shoulders, but trying to show her the new and finished N7 tattoo. He looks at her over his shoulder.

“What do you think?”

“Looks good,” she says honestly. “You’ve earned it.” She sees him smile a little at her approval. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to lighten her tone. “Though I think it’s a little mean to flaunt yourself to the woman you just turned down.” He chuckles, taking her teasing easily.

“Here I was thought I was being nice giving you at least a little something,” he jokes back before turning to face her, shirt still in his hand. “Thought you liked the show.” She rolls her eyes, but even after him turning her down, the flirting still makes her feel better. “Anyways... Just wanted to show you that bad boy.” He slips his shirt back over his head and she resists the small urge to tell him to keep it off. “I gotta get back to the Normandy,” he says. “Esteban wants my help working on the shuttle.” Shepard shuffles her feet for a moment and then sticks out her hand towards him.

“Thanks for coming by, James.” She uses a formal voice, hoping the gesture and tone will clearly communicate a no hard feelings vibe. He reaches out and takes her hand. The handshake lasts for less than a second before he brings her hand up into a fist grab and pulls her closer. He locks her eyes with his and that tension rises again.

“Lola,” he whispers. “I’m not not interested.” She loosens her grip in his, going from firm comradery to something softer. “It’s just that… you’re Commander Shepard, you know?” He watches her shoulders fall and he knows instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

“I get it, James,” she says, attempting to hide her dejection. It’s the title, the legend that again stands in her way from being a regular woman. So much for him being the person who makes her forget it all. “Don’t worry about it.” She withdraws from him quickly and a little more coldly than she intended. He again opens his mouth, but doesn’t form words. “I’ll see you later,” she dismisses him and he nods. He moves to leave before trying once more to end on a friendly note.

“This is gonna be a perfect place for a fiesta.”

~~~

For a guy who all but told her no, James is sure as shit staring at her an awful lot like he wants to rip her clothes off.

“Is constant staring customary to the human mating ritual?” Garrus teases him as he pours drinks on the other side of the bar. “Because if so, you’re doing a damn good job, Jimmy.” James grimaces and throws a peanut shell at the Turian.

“Shut it, Scars.”

“He’s still convinced regs are a problem to worry about,” Steve chimes in, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Regs? Really?” Garrus asks. “You realize breaking regulations is pretty much Shepard’s specialty, right?” He slides the drink towards James who just shakes his head at it and passes it to Steve. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re quite possibly facing the end of the galaxy here. Who’s kissing who isn’t something anyone’s worried about, even the brass.” James mumbles something and picks at the label on his nearly full beer bottle.

He can barely see Shepard at the kitchen entrance from his spot at the end of the bar and every time she moves, his neck cranes to follow her. He’d either purposely or accidentally kept her in view all night and has spent the better part of it kicking himself for not just throwing her against a wall earlier that day.

She catches his eye and he instantly looks away, back to his bottle. She chose to wear a dress of all things tonight. A god damned dress. A little black number that fit her better than it had any right to. The woman was trying to kill him.

“Boys,” he hears her greet them casually, having approached them at the bar while he was attempting to ignore her. “How are things going?” James doesn’t hear their response. He’s too preoccupied trying to keep his eyes off of her chest as she leans her hip against the edge of the bar. “You seem quiet, Vega,” she comments.

“Just enjoying the party.” He shrugs and takes a drink of his beer, thinking about how he could kill Garrus and Steve for the look they shoot each other.

“Steve,” Garrus interrupts. “Let me show you that data pad I mentioned earlier.” Garrus had, of course, mentioned no such data pad in their prior conversations, but Steve agreed eagerly and James really thought about strangling at least one of them when they left him alone with Shepard.

“We good?” she asks him so casually that he almost feels bad.

“Yeah, why?” He takes another drink of his beer and it quickly turns into a large gulp.

“You seem to be avoiding me,” She squints and forces a smile. “And also staring, which is odd. Just want to make sure we’re good.” She takes a sip of her own drink and shifts her eyes to the Turian alcohol bottle, investigating it curiously.

James chews on his tongue for a moment. She wants them to be good. Good means normal. Normal would mean telling her those squats she’s been doing have done wonders for her ass and that was dangerous tonight.

“It help if I tell you that you look damn fine in that dress?” He never was too good at avoiding danger.

“Maybe,” She shrugs and leans forward towards him just a little. “Probably help a little more if you called me Lola.” Damn if her voice didn’t sound husky and smooth. Despite his better judgement, he followed her lead and leaned in as well, lowering his voice if nothing more than to make sure eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear.

“Well, that dress is definitely giving me ideas… Lola.” A smile breaks on her lips and he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he sees her shiver just the slightest. He takes another long drink, but this time doesn’t take his eyes off her.

“You going to keep a girl guessing or are you going to share with the class?” She takes a step forward, getting close enough for him to notices she actually put on a light layer of perfume too. He chuckles, but curses internally.

“You’re making it real hard to remember why this is a bad idea,” he warns.

He starts listing the reasons in his head. Fraternization regs. She’s his commander. She’s fucking Commander Shepard and he’s just a nobody lieutenant who makes a shitty leader. She’s probably looking for some kind of easy fling. Distracting her like that would be selfish. It’d look bad. The rest of the crew might start to question her judgement. The list goes on and on.

“I never pegged you to be a guy who runs hot and cold,” she says, breaking his train of thought. “And yet today you’ve given more mixed signals than a broken comm transmission.”

“Sorry, Lola.” And he is, honestly. He’s a tangled-up mess of thoughts and emotions and even the little bit of alcohol he’s consumed tonight is making him think with his dick first.

“Want me to put on a wig? Change my name? Maybe lay on an accent?” He can tell by the wiggle in her eyebrows as much as the suggestion itself that she’s had a little too much to drink, but it twists his stomach in a bad way all the same. “I don’t have to be Commander Shepard for a night.” And now he feels guilty, so much so that his neck and his face turn red and he looks down again, embarrassed at himself. She gives a quick pat to his forearm. “Come find me if you change your mind.”

She grabs her drink and leaves to mingle with her other guests, leaving him alone to feel like an asshole. He could never find the right thing to say around Shepard. Not when it came to this. He wanted her and lately he had to admit it was more than just a sexual attraction. He wanted more than that, but the idea of being selfish enough to pursue Commander Shepard was intimidating. Maybe, he admits, he needs to stop separating her and realize that Commander Shepard and his Lola are one and the same. Maybe then he can stop being a dick.

“Fucking pendejo,” he whispers to himself before swiping up that Turian bottle.

~~~

She can feel the headache before she even opens her eyes. Had she really drank much last night? No, she’s sure she didn’t. She even remembers everything, including climbing into her bed after barely having the energy to change clothes.

She throws on her N7 sweatshirt and slowly treks her way to the kitchen, making sure to note all the remnants of the party, including some of her friends scattered amongst the apartment. It makes her smile.

She smells bacon as she rounds the corner and sees James at the stove already in the full throws of making breakfast. He beams a smile at her when he sees her in the doorway and flips the pan a little.

“Lola!” he greets. “Eggs?”

“You’re awful cheery,” she comments dryly, and a little bitterly, as she steps further into the kitchen. She rounds the island the stove is on and snags a piece of bacon from the plate there.

“Been a while since you knocked that many back?” he teases, watching the way her eyes squint uncomfortably. “Breakfast will help.” He shovels some of the fresh eggs onto a plate and passes it her way. She takes them gratefully and reaches for the salt. James’ hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her reach. “You really gonna do me like that?” he scolds playfully. “Add salt before you even try them? That’s my abuela’s recipe. It doesn't need more salt.” She cracks a smile, but doesn’t move her hand away just yet, the warmth of his hand feeling too comforting to pull away from. There’s a gentle swipe of his thumb over her pulse before he lets go on his own. He empties the rest of the eggs on a communal plate before clearing his throat. “Hey, let me know when you have some time,” he says. It sounds surprisingly awkward. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

~~~

Never being one to put things off, Shepard returned to her room as soon as she’d finished eating and made the rounds to make sure everyone was awake or, at the very least, breathing.

I’m in my room. Got some time. She sends the message before even making it through the door. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to respond.

Be up in a minute.

She makes herself busy with her omni-tool while she waits. She feels a bit like a fool, practically throwing herself at him a second time only to be left alone again last night. She wouldn’t blame him if he came to talk to her about how uncomfortable she had made him.

She’s left the door open for him, but he still gives it a gentle knock to get her attention when he arrives.

“Nice room,” he comments, sticking his head over the threshold and looking around. “Bit different than the Normandy. Less fish.” He cracks a smile at her and the simple gesture puts her at ease a little. He can’t be pissed at her if he’s still making jokes, right?

“You’re just jealous you don’t have fish in your room.” She isn’t about to admit that she actually misses the blue glow and gentle whir of the filter when she falls asleep. Not right now at least.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should trade rooms sometime.”

Or maybe we could share mine. Shepard physically bites her tongue to stop herself from saying it aloud. Still unsure of exactly where they stand and just how awkward she made things for him, it is not the time to let the flirtations rise up that quickly.

He takes her brief silence to enter the room and close the door behind him. That makes her a little nervous, but not nearly as much as when he says, “So... we should talk about last night.”

“I owe you an apology, Lieutenant,” she says instantly, nearly cutting him off. The way she snaps back to professionalism with a straight back, pushed down shoulders, and a commanding tone makes him pause for a moment, his eyes widening just a fraction. “I was inappropriate with you and should not have taken advantage of my rank.” It takes an extra moment for her apology to sink in and his brow furrows as he sorts it through his brain.

“What? No!” he huffs and takes two large, hurried steps her way. She must not have held her surprise well enough because he suddenly stops again. “Lola,” he sighs. “I didn’t come here to... register a complaint.” His face crunches up as though he doesn’t like the way the word taste. “I came to apologize to you,” he says firmly. “And hopefully not fuck up my words this time.”

The intensity in his eyes and the way he’s not shying away from her makes Shepard feel like she’s a young girl again. Any and all experience she has with men and relationships seems to just melt away and suddenly she’s got butterflies and a blush. There’s a nervous heat in her stomach that makes it hard to regain her composure.

“Okay,” she says slowly, not completely sure of where he’s going, but hoping to every God in the galaxy that he’s not turning her down again.

“I can’t hook up with you.” The butterflies die and the excited heat turns to an anger.

“I promise you don’t have to reject me again for me to understand.” She says it harshly, bitterly even. She barely manages to contain throwing her arms in the air when she turns away from him, moving towards the desk in the corner as if she has something better to do. She hears him mutter under his breath and while her Spanish is terrible, the inflection makes it sound like a string of curses.

“Shepard!” He follows her footsteps and when she spins to sit in the desk chair, his arm is extended as though he reached out for her just a moment too late. “I can’t hook up with you,” he emphasizes. “I can’t do just one night and that’s what would have happened last night. Would have been a drunken hook up that one of us or both of us would have brushed off in the morning. I don’t want that.” Her anger starts to dissolve and her spine loses some of its rigidness as she slinks back into her chair.

“What do you want then?” she asks, voice softer and quieter now. She’s afraid of the answer. He chews on his tongue and grinds his jaw and she wonders if maybe he’s afraid too.

“You,” he finally says.

“You sure about that?” She can’t help but scoff. “I am Commander Shepard, after all.”

“Yeah, you are.” His sigh this time seems more like a pained groan. Shepard watches carefully as he turns and sits himself on her unmade bed. “Which is why it feels completely selfish and impossible to ask you to commit to anything more, let alone to an insignificant lieutenant like me.”

“Commit?” She suddenly feels lighter again.

“When I go for something, I go all in,” he tells her. “That would include you...this...us.” He waves his hand out awkwardly and avoids her eyes as though he’s nervous. She bites down on her lip to swallow down the smile. She knows it’s not exactly fair to enjoy his nervousness, but at least it’s not just her. She slowly pushes herself up from her chair.

“You’re not insignificant,” she assures him.

“I’m not some hero of the galaxy,” he admits. He doesn’t say it with a self-conscious, but rather states it just as a simple fact. “I haven’t been with you since the beginning like most of these guys.”

“You know that’s one of the things I like about you James?” He looks up at her curiously. “Sure, you’ve heard the stories, but we didn't meet on the ship in the midst of wars. We met on Earth.” She rounds the desk slowly, walking closer to where he sits still using caution in case he backs out. “You didn’t just get to know Commander Shepard. You got to know Jane, to know me. You treat me like I’m human.”

“You are human, Lola.” He’s not looking away from her now and it gives her a little burst of confidence.

“Yeah. What was it you said? Just flesh and blood?” There’s a tease of a smirk on her lips as she comes to stand in front of him, legs stopping just short of slipping between the gap of his spread knees. He chuckles and the weight of everything starts to lift.

“You sure about this, Lola?” He reaches out and curls his hand around her hip. It's the first time he’s ever really touched her and it makes her heart skip just a little. She leans into his touch, pushing her hip into his palm and leans forward to put her hands on his shoulders. He feels solid beneath her and she can’t resist the need to squeeze just a little, to feel the muscles at the end of her fingers.

“I’ve thought about it in great detail.” He cocks an eyebrow at her and tugs her in-between his legs. He watches her with an unbridled desire in his eyes and for the first time in a long time, she feels real excitement. She traces one hand up the side of his neck so she can run his fingers along his jaw. “That party shouldn’t be the last bit of happiness we get to indulge in.”

He moves quickly; his hand on the back of her neck before she knew he moved it, using barely any strength to pull her down to him. She follows him easily, all too eager to kiss him heatedly. Months of suppressed desires pour out into each other and for the first few moments, they merely hold onto each other and soak in the relief of letting go. And then James’ hands start moving, pulling her closer and sliding over the curve of her ass. Shepard is compliant and carefully climbs into his lap, one knee on either side of his hips on her bed. He bites gently at her bottom lip before using a hand on her jaw to tilt her head back, allowing him to kiss down her neck.

Eyes closed and succumbing to the pleasure he’s offering, Shepard is unprepared for when James moves again. He rolls to the side and pushes her onto her back on the bed. She lets out an actual squeak of surprise and James chuckles, still pressing kisses to her skin. With her legs still around his waist, his hips grind almost unconsciously and she doesn’t hold back her moan.

James peels himself away from her slowly, leaving a cold trail of air where his body had been on top of her. She opens her eyes and glares at him, but the smirk still on his face and the bulge she manages to catch a glimpse of through his pants, make sure no fear of rejection rises back in her.

“And where are you going?” she asks, attempting and failing to use her Commander tone. She tries again after clearing her throat and pushing herself up on her elbows. “You’re not leaving this room for a while.” James laughs and flashes her a smile as he keeps walking to the door.

“Is that an order?” he teases, pressing the lock for the door and waiting until it flashes red before turning back to her.

“You bet your ass it is.” She smiles back at him. She could have locked the door from right here with her omni-tool and he knew it. He was just being a teasing bastard. “You’re not leaving her until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs again before coming back to her.

[buckysbabygorl]

Rumours (Pt. 1)

Summary: Y/N and Bucky are all anyone has been talking about. They’re both sick of the ridiculous rumours, but is there some truth to it?

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: 3.7K

Part 2

“All the time, Pepper. I’m telling you they flirt all the time. It’s becoming annoying at this point — I mean, of course I support it but if you ask them about it they’re “just friends”. Just friends my ass, they’re gonna get together. I just hope it’s soon so I don’t lose my bet with Sam.”

Pepper laughed at Nat’s rant. 

When she asked Nat to lunch, Pepper expected some nice girl talk. Maybe some discussion about missions but certainly not drama; especially not from the world’s most dangerous assassin.

“Well why don’t you tell them that?” Pepper asked, “Clearly they’re oblivious. Y/N and Bucky may be Avengers, but that doesn’t mean they’re superheros of love.” She commented.

Nat rolled her eyes at Pepper’s cheesiness. “Ew, no puns please.”

“Besides,” Nat shook her head as she leaned back in her chair, “What would I say? ‘Hey you’re both in love with each other, hurry up and admit it so I can get my fifty bucks’?”

Pepper giggled as she stabbed her salad, “Well, maybe not like that, but a little push wouldn’t hurt.”

Nat gave her a small nod, “You’re probably right, but I’m not one to mettle.”

“Oh no, of course not.” Pepper couldn’t hide the sarcasm lacing her tone, which made her the receiver of a glare from the red headed agent.

“I’m just saying-” she started, biting into her snack as Pepper waited patiently for her to finish. “—They’d totally fuck.”

This was not heard properly through a mouthful of muffin: evident as shock coated Pepper’s face.

“Wait, what did you say?” Pepper’s eyes lit up as she whispered, “They’ve slept together?!”

Nat choked on a chocolate chip. She tried to shake her head, correcting Pepper’s major mishearing.

“Wait what? N-”

“Nat!”

She didn’t get far as she was interrupted. The women turned as the voice echoed in the cafeteria. They watched as Sam approached them, who was clearly looking for the assassin present.

“Tony’s asking for you.” Sam explained, “Something about suit testing?”

Sam smiled as he turned to her company, “Hi Pepper.”

“Hi Sam.”

Nat stood quickly, not one for being late.

“Right, I almost forgot.”

As she started walking off, she turned and saluted goodbye to Pepper.

“Sorry, duty calls. Thanks for lunch, remind me to catch up with you later.”

Pepper smiled and waved goodbye. As the two Avengers departed, Pepper directed her attention back to what little food she had left. Little had they known, an onlooker had become very interested in their discussion.

Y/N and Barnes? How could she possibly ignore such hot gossip?

The receptionist from the table over leaned to Pepper from her seat. “Not to be nosy… but did I hear that right?” She asked.

“Hear what right, sweetie?” Pepper responded.

The young woman looked around to see who was listening, clarifying when she realized no one had heard.

“Sergeant Barnes and Agent L/N, are they really a couple?”

Now, Pepper was a professional woman. A COMPOSED, professional woman. She worked the hard 25/8 and was married to the most infuriating (but delightful) man of all time. She considered herself to have many virtues, many personality traits to be proud of. But the tendency to gossip? Maybe that could be her one vice.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘couple’,” Pepper confessed, “but certainly from what I’ve heard, there’s something there.”

“Oh my gosh,” the woman said, scooting her chair closer to Pepper, “I’ve seen it too. They always sit together at lunch; they never train without each other; all the joking around and flirting at meetings—but I had no idea they were sleeping together!”

Pepper smirked, “Don’t forget, their living quarters are on the same floor!”

The young woman gasped before she was rudely interrupted by her wrist watch. An alarm blared, alerting her their gossip would have to halt for now.

“Ugh, break’s over. But thanks for the talk Mrs. Potts, I swear the secret is safe with me!”

Pepper chuckled as she directed her attention back to her salad. As the young woman left the tables and headed towards the elevator, she pulled out her phone. Dialing quickly, she made a call.

“Hey, Monica? You’re not going to believe this—”

~

Bucky sat in Tony’s lab, anxiously waiting for this fix to be over. It was already 1:43, her lunch was usually over at 2. Was he gonna make it? He wasn’t gonna make it—

“You know, your fidgeting is actually making it harder for me to finish. So maybe if you could sit still for 5 seconds, I’d let you out in time to see your girlfriend.”

Bucky scowled at Stark’s remark.

“I question your capabilities if you can’t handle a little fidgeting.”

Bucky rolled out his free shoulder; his back cramping from his position on the table.

“And I don’t have a girlfriend,” he defended, “I’m just hungry.”

“Whatever,” Stark grumbled, “Y/N is busy with Barton anyways for target practice, she’ll probably go for lunch the same time you do.”

“Never said I was meeting Y/N,” Bucky grumbled.

“You didn’t need to, I’m not an idiot.”

Tony set his tool down, taking the small panel from the tray beside him and placing it back into its proper position on the soldiers arms.

“And even if I was,” he continued, “I’m not blind.”

The soldier huffed in annoyance but said nothing. This wasn’t the first time he had heard this spiel. Y/N and Bucky constantly had to defend their relationship to everyone in the compound. It started back when Y/N and Bucky both joined the team. Bucky was slowly gaining Tony’s trust, and Y/N had been promoted from desk jockey to field agent. They bonded over being newbies in an already-set hierarchy, and from that blossomed talk of a ‘spark’ that apparently everyone had noticed but Y/N.

Us, Bucky corrected himself, everyone but us.

“We’re just friends. I’ve told you countless times.”

Tony smirked as he adhered the panel back to the prosthetic. “That’s not what I’ve heard. Cat’s outta the bag on that one Barnes.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he looked down at Tony.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tony looked up at him. The man was not one for subtlety; his face blatantly showing Barnes he didn’t believe him for a second.

“Come on. You can’t be the only one that hasn’t heard.”

Bucky shook his head. This couldn’t have been different from the normal; nothing had developed in his and Y/N’s relationship, nothing he was aware of anyway. Was this some inside joke he wasn’t in on?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stark wiped away the debris from the panel, giving a once over to see if he had missed something.

“Everyone’s been talking about your little sex-capades with our lovely Y/N. Apparently you’ve been having quite the time together. And on company property! Could make serious money off of those security tapes.”

Though Tony meant it as a joke, Bucky didn’t find it very funny. If anyone had been talking shit about Y/N; he was going to snap.

“Stark you better not be joking about this, I swear to God.”

Tony looked up from the prosthetic.

“As funny as I am, this I’m not joking about. You and L/N have been a pretty hot topic. If you haven’t heard anything yet, you’re bound to hear the worst of it soon.”

“The worst of it?! Like what?”

“Okay easy kid, you’re denting my table.”

Bucky looked down at the table beneath him, realizing he’d been gripping the edge with his metal arm. He released it, leaving a deep hand print in the steel.

Tony sighed at the damage, but ignored it for the moment.

“If you want details, go talk to Sam. That’s who I heard it from.”

Bucky frowned, “Sam? He started this?”

“God no,” Tony laughed as he ran a hand over the dented table. That was gonna be a bitch to get out.

“He’s too dumb to be that creative, I think he heard it from some agents. Maybe the receptionist Gwen? I’m not sure, I’m not one to gossip.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and hopped off the lab table. Tony called after him as he left but his mind was too focused to internalize it. He needed to find Sam, or at least someone who could actually give him answers about what the hell was going on.

~

“Damn it!” Y/N yelled.

Another shot too far to the left, she was never going to get it right. Clint chuckled from the sidelines as she set up another arrow.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough for today. You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

Y/N grumbled, setting her bow and arrow holster in Clint’s outstretched palm.

“I just want to get this down, I keep messing up.” 

“For your first session, I’d say you killed it. Besides, you’re not going to be perfect your first few times. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Clint patted her shoulder in comfort, knowing how the wheels were turning in her brain. She was a perfectionist; you had to be in this line of work. But Clint knew this skill came with time; even Nat couldn’t perfect a shot in one day. Not that Clint would ever tell anyone, of course. Nat would kill him. 

“Thanks Clint. I appreciate your help.” Y/N started to pack up her things and leave, “you wanna go for lunch? Buck should have a table for us by now.”

Clint smiled to himself, of course Bucky would have a table.

Clueless dork.

“I’ll have to pass, I’m working with Bruce today. He thinks he’s perfected new hearing-aids for me. I’m actually really excited.”

She smiled at his words; it had been a long time coming for Clint to get some half decent help with this. She knew how much it meant to him.

“Clint, that’s great! No worries about lunch then, I’ll catch you later?”

Clint nodded at her fleeting figure, turning his attention back to his own training. Y/N started to text Bucky as she exited the range before she collided into another body. Looking up, she realized it was her favorite little Avenger.

“Oh, hey Pete. Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Peter beamed brightly at her, eager for some social interaction.

“Hey Y/N, is Mr. Stark in there? I’ve been meaning to talk to him about my new suit, web-shooters aren’t working and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

Y/N smiled at him as he blabbed on about build up in the formula; she always loved hearing about Peter’s and Tony’s father-son relationship. Like a kid asking for help on a science project, it was adorable and pure.

“No, he’s not in there.” She said, “I think he’s in the lab with Bucky. I’ll walk you down.”

“Oh okay, thanks Y/N.”

It wasn’t long after they began their walk down the hallway that Peter piped up again.

“Oh, and by the way. I’m really happy to hear about you and Sergeant Barnes! You always seemed like a good match. Though he’s always seemed really grumpy to me, but if that’s what you’re in to--”

Y/N let out a laugh that stopped Peter’s rambling.

“Sorry to burst your bubble kid, but Bucky and I are just friends.”

Peter was confused, obvious given his puppy dog expression.

“But—that’s not what Agent Hill was saying.”

Hill? Talking about her and Bucky? Doubtful.

Y/N stopped in her tracks; lifting her arm up in front of Peter to stop his as well.

“Pete, what exactly did Hill tell you?”

She could see the gears turning in his head.

“Well,” he started, “Agent Hill said that she had been talking to Agent Brackston, and she said that he had heard from Mrs. Jane in analytics that-”

“--Cut to the point kid.”

Peter nodded, he was taking too long.

“Well apparently everyone has said you two are together now, officially. Because you’ve been um—been intimate.” 

Peter’s voice trailed of at the last word, choosing silence as the safer option… considering the look on Y/N’s face. Not exactly angry, but terrifying enough to put fear in any walking man.

Y/N was at a loss for words. Where was all of this coming from?

She placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, a slight hardness in her eye, her touch firm.

“Pete, you’re my favorite. And because you’re my favorite, you are going to tell me everything you know.”

She smiled at Peter, Peter gulped.

“Now, let’s walk.”

~

Sam sat perched in his barstool of the lounge.

“What to do,” he thought aloud, “what to do?”

Should he tell Bucky first, or Y/N first?

Sam loved to get a rise out of people, all in good fun of course. He had to think of who would evoke the more entertaining reaction?

Y/N could either get overly flustered or overly aggressive. Bucky, he knows, will be overly aggressive straight away. But was it worth the freakout he’ll deliver?

Sam heard footsteps rapidly pacing down the corridor; apparently the decision had been made for him.

“Sam.”

Sam smirked as he turned in his stool.

“Barnes!” Sam greeted.

Bucky was furious, his trail blazing behind him.

“Start talking.”

Sam feigned innocence, a hand placed over his heart in concern.

“About what pal?”

Bucky nearly growled.

“You know damn well what about. The hell do you get off spreading lies about Y/N and I?’

Sam shook his head, “I haven't been spreading shit. I only told Stark, if he tells anyone that damage is his doing.”

Bucky scoffed, “Damn it Wilson, take this seriously. This is embarrassing. I have no idea what’s going on: you could at least be decent enough to tell me what’s been said.”

Sam sighed at his friend’s begging. That stopped being fun faster than he thought it would. Sam meant all his talk to Stark in good fun, but when he sees this upsetting the tin-can as much as it does, he nearly felt guilty.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what’s been said. Do you want the grapevine? Or the details?”

“Details first. Grapevine after, so I know who to kill.”

~

Y/N was fuming. For the past half hour she had been storming through the compound, everyone’s eyes had been on her no matter where she went. Where the hell was Bucky?

Nothing had ever changed. It was always the usual. People extrapolated the normal shit; the missions, the talking, the training. Hell, they’d dance together at Stark’s galas and maybe something new was said about the two. But it had never been like this. The conclusion she had come to, was that regardless of this whole stupid rumor runaround, it must’ve come from either her or Bucky; because how else would the narrative have changed. It sure as hell wasn’t her that said something; so now she was on the hunt for the winter soldier.

Y/N couldn’t press the buttons fast enough as she stormed into the elevator. Felicia said the last she saw of Sam was when he was heading to the lounge. And if Sam was there, so was Bucky.

She felt her anger pent up in her fists, mad heat radiating off her so hot she would have melted the elevator shaft. 

As the elevator arrived at her level she had to restrain herself from barrelling through the doors.

“BARNES! WILSON!”

~

“Oh no, someone’s not happy.” Sam joked. Bucky groaned internally, after what he’d just been told he could not face Y/N. This was so much worse than he thought it was.

“Think I can escape?” He asked.

Sam shook his head, “Not unless you’ve suddenly acquired super-speed.”

Y/N stomped to the boys, grabbing Bucky’s arm and pulling him towards the adjoining hallway.

“We need to talk. Now.”

Bucky was much stronger than Y/N, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not when she was as angry as she was. He hadn’t seen her this pissed since he went on a raid without his cevlar vest. 

She released him, poking a finger into his chest with a stern look. “Start talking.” 

Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Okay so, from what I’ve heard—”

“—I don’t give a damn what you heard. What did you say?”

“What?” He blurted.

“What did you say!? You clearly told someone something that made them think we were together.”

“Seriously? You think I would do that?!”

“No! Of course not! But I haven’t told anyone anything, and nothing has ever changed in the way people have talked about us since today. I didn’t say anything to anyone. So you must’ve Buck. So think about it! What the hell have you said to someone today?!”

Bucky groaned as he leaned his head back, “Y/N, I haven’t seen anyone all day except you this morning, and then Stark for my arm. And he is the one that told me what’s been going on, so that doesn’t make any sense.”

Y/N was taken aback, “But Peter said that Hill said that--”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the grapevine. It doesn’t matter anymore, things have already gotten so out of hand.”

Y/N’s head ducked in embarrassment; she so eagerly jumped on this bandwagon of gossip, going so far as to accuse her best friend. Some friend she was...

Bucky saw the change in her face, reaching out to place his hands on her shoulders. He was pissed but he didn’t need to take that out on her. It was just some stupid misunderstanding. “I promise I didn’t say anything to anyone. I know you wouldn’t either. It’s just some stupid game of telephone.”

Y/N smiled, he knew exactly how to bring her back when she got in her head. She rested a hand on top of his, running her thumb over his knuckles. Rough and calloused from years of violence; but gentle. Always gentle.

“So you didn’t say anything?”

He released her arms, at ease that she wasn’t upset anymore. “No, of course not.”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall facing him. She tried to calm herself. She let her head rest, thinking how things could have gotten so out of hand. 

“People have always thought we’re together. This can’t be any worse than it’s been before. Right?”

Her fear came back when Bucky didn’t respond.

“Right, Buck?”

She saw him tense up as he tried to look anywhere but her.

“Barnes. It’s not that bad—right?” She was practically begging him to lie to her.

Bucky grimaced, he didn’t like when she used his last name. “Honestly Y/N, it’s pretty bad.”

“Oh god,” she cried, “what have you heard?”

He cringed at the question; he didn’t want to have to say it. Especially when it was about... them... like that. “Don’t make me tell you. Please don’t make me tell you.” He turned away from her, embarrassed they were even having this conversation.

“Barnes, tell me right now.”

He felt himself giving in; with those big eyes pleading him he knew he couldn’t keep it from her. “They’re telling stories about us that haven’t happened. It’s not just rumours of this or that, it’s like- it’s like ‘people have walked in on us’ kind of thing.”

“What?! You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” He was just as annoyed as she was, and he was ashamed to be talking to any dame like this. Let alone Y/N.

Bucky mirrored Y/N’s position; leaning back on the other hall wall.

“What are the stories?” She asked.

“Sorry?” He must have misheard her, surely she’s not actually asking for detail. 

“I said, what are the stories? We’re adults. We can talk about it—”

“—Y/N come on, I don’t want to talk about this. It’s weir-”

“Buck please, it’s me.” She pleaded, “Can you please just do this for me?”

He looked over her features, eyes begging for honesty and lip in a subtle pout. He hated himself for it; but Bucky couldn’t say no to her.

“Alright, well…” he started, “Sam told me that one of them—”

A groan interrupted him, “—there’s more than one?”

Bucky looked at her, defeated. “Doll, you know I would’ve stopped them if I could’ve.”

“I know, I know—I’m sorry.” She muttered, “Continue.”

He cracked his knuckles; a nervous tick he’d developed over this years. “There’s one about us... in Tony’s lab. Someone said they’d walked in on us, trying to see what my arm could ‘really do’.” 

“Oh god—”

“Yeah, I’d had you hoisted up with my metal arm while I was, you know—“

Y/N gestured for him to elaborate. He sighed, “—you know, fingering you with the other.”

Her eyes shot open as she looked to the ground. Like she said, they were adults, they could talk about it. Talk about having sex in the third person, somewhat. He continued the story; and she was listening, of course. But she could also picture it... Her hands over his shoulders as he held her up, head rolled back as she moaned his name.

She cleared her throat, ridding the thoughts from her mind. “Okay, well that’s not that bad.”

Bucky nodded, eager to minimize the awkwardness. “Yeah, could be worse.”

“What are the others?”

“Y/N don’t, I-”

“Oh stop, we’ve gotten this far just tell me the rest.”

“Fine.” He ran his hand over his stubble, trying to remember the details… not that he could truly forget them. “Sam also said there’s one about us in the gym. I had you bent over the bench press, spanking you as I fucked you—” Bucky stopped himself for a moment, surprised at how vulgar his language had gotten. “—fucked you from behind. Saying stuff like, “you like that baby, am I fucking you good?””

Y/N choked out a laugh, “oh.”

Now that was an image, Bucky gripping her hips tightly. Hands roaming over her backside, whispering the dirtiest things in her ear.

She looked down to the ground, feeling the heat in her face worsen. “Crazy, the uh—imagination of everyone huh?”

This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. Could this, possibly, be turning her on? He took in her stance; the fidgeting, the avoiding eye contact, the red in her cheeks. He could practically hear her heart pounding from the other side of the hallway. Or was that his own?

Poke the bear Buck, he thought. There’s only one way to find out…

He didn’t need her encouragement to begin the next story, “Apparently the new recruits have walked in on us in the showers. We were both soaking wet, fucking hard. I had your legs wrapped around my waist and my hands were pinning your arms above your head. You were screaming like crazy, begging me for more. They said I nearly tore the tile off the wall from how hard we were going.”

Buck’s dripping wet body pressed against hers, as he rut his hips at a relentless pace. Her moans echoed in the shower as she raked her nails across his back. He felt the deep scratches trailing down his skin and deep groan escaping his chest, as he quickly grabbed her wrists to pin them above her, never losing his pace. “Keep it up doll, and you’ll get punished for that.”

She was lost, thinking unspeakable things of the man only 5 feet away from her.

Bucky knew now, he could feel the tension building up in both of them. His breath quickened, excitement felt electric in his skin. Are you picturing it now, he thought.

Bucky stepped closer to her, “Another is that a receptionist walked in on us after a meeting, I’d picked you right up as soon as everyone walked out, couldn’t keep my hands off you for more than a second. I’d torn off your blouse and marked the hell out of you, just completely covering you in bruises. Didn’t even stop when she walked in, they said.”

“Oh god, Bucky” she moaned as he worked away at her collarbones. His hands were harsh on her waist as she pulled at his brown locks. His stubble scraped over her skin as he bit and sucked the soft skin of her chest. “Careful baby,” he whispered, “don’t want someone to hear…”

Y/N snapped back to reality, realizing how close Bucky had gotten. His tongue trailed along his bottom lip, pulling the lip gently between his teeth as he watched her. Those pretty lips, he thinks. Those eyes.

“Imagine that? Being so caught up in each other we don’t even stop…”

Y/N’s heart was racing, her breath catching in her throat as the low rumble in his voice only further pulled her in.

“Even now, people probably think I’ve just pulled you away... because I can’t keep my hands off you for a goddamn second.”

She felt the heat in his hands as they hovered over her hips, gingerly placing them before he pulled her to him. He was trying to be careful, so damn careful as to not to break the moment. 

“I could just… pin you against this wall, effortlessly. Take you slow, just so I can get a damn good look at you. So I could feel you. Really feel you.”

The look in his eyes could only be described as sinful, she had never seen him this intense. It wasn’t a story anymore, he was telling her exactly what he wanted to do.

She slowly wrapped her hands around his biceps, biting her lip gently.

He could see the lust in her eyes; pupils blown wide as he’d captured all of her attention. There was a hitch in her breath as his lips ghosted over hers, the close contact sending shivers through his own body. Bucky nearly moaned, the sight of her was boarderline erotic. You’ll be the end of me, he thought, as his forehead rested against hers.

“You really think that’s what they’re saying?” Her voice low and sultry, “or is that what you want?”

Bucky bowed his head, lips directly by her ear, “what do you think?”

His teeth bit at the lobe of her ear, and he felt her nails dig into his skin. He was done playing now—

“BARNES!”

The two jumped, and turned towards the voice.

Sam was coming down the hallway, ending a call as he tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Steve’s looking for you, somehow you two have turned this whole place upside down with all the rumour—”

Sam stopped abruptly. As he took in the scene in front of him, he couldn’t stifle his smile.

“Am I—uh—interrupting something?”

Y/N and Bucky looked back to each other, separating themselves quickly. They struggled to explain themselves, avoiding eye contact with each other.

“No Sam, you’re not.” Y/N stammered. Her eyes rallied between the two boys, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck as she wrestled for an excuse.

“Um, I’ve gotta go find Nat. Just gonna—uh—talk to her about some things.”

Y/N hustled past Sam, hoping to act more composed than she felt.

Once she was out of sight, Bucky turned to scowl at Sam.

“Are you kidding me Sam?”

Sam howled with laughter, hand over his chest as he bent forward.

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You idiot! You have the worst damn timing!”

Sam continued to laugh, struggling to speak through the tears.

“I’m sorry, I have the worst timing? You decided to make a move, while trying to convince everyone you’re NOT fucking?”

Sam continued his beltering down the hall, Bucky trailing close behind.

The soldier huffed again, mumbling “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you” as he followed.

Part 2

[crossroadsfossil]

A Necklace of Bruises

Summary: Dabi doesn’t like to share his things, and for better or for worse, he had been thinking of Hawks as his. Hawks only knew how to give parts of himself away. Why would he think Hawks would be any different with him? Hawks had already shown he would flirt at the drop of a hat. Dabi isn’t dumb enough to try and stake a claim to soothe his jealousy. He knows how it’s going to end. Best to cut it off before he grew attached.

Dabi doesn’t like to share his things, but he hates not having an explanation even more. Now is as good a time as any to get them.

Tags: Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks,League of Villains (My Hero Academia),Horrible communication skills, Mother Nature forcing these two to talk, Hawks is an idiot, implied unwanted advances, Hawks dealing with people who don’t respect boundaries, it’s not Dabi disrespecting boundaries, Miscommunication, mentioned nonconsensual touching, and then swift application of a restraining order, and offered murder

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31426142

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

For an organization that allegedly hated heroes, they collectively watched far too many interviews and television specials about them.

For example, they were watching one right now.

Toga was squealing in his ear and using him as a perch to lean on as she tried to get closer to the screen. Why she didn’t just sit down between him and Shigaraki, he didn’t know but he was sick of her tiny little hands digging into his shoulder.

“Turn up the sound! I can’t hear!” Toga said, trying to get a better view of the laptop on Shigaraki’s lap.

Yeah. They ‘hated’ heroes.

He really had no room to talk- He had been sleeping with one.

“Look, it’s Hawksie!” Toga squealed in his ear. Again. Hawks had appeared on the screen, all smooth smiles and easy charm as he chatted up the reporter. His coat was zipped up to his chin, not unusual with the hero but Dabi had already seen what Hawks was hiding.

He slid out from under Toga’s hand, taking satisfaction the affronted yelp she made as she fell face-first into the seat he had vacated.

“You’re not going to stay and watch?” Shigaraki asked. Dabi shrugged, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“Why would I do that? I’ve got better things to do than watch the peacock strut around and flirt with the reporters.”

He gave Twice a wave as he exited the base, looking up at the fading daylight and wondering if he wanted to stop by the convenience store for dinner or not.

Watching Hawks was a waste of time and would only annoy him even more, especially now that he could tell that the ‘masks’ he thought the hero wore weren’t really masks. It wasn’t that Hawks flirted with other people because it was expected of him. No, Hawk flirted because he was a flirt, no matter what he had told Dabi. Hawks was many things and a liar was one of them. Dabi wasn’t going to waste his energy being jealous of someone who wasn’t worth it. He knew where he stood when they started sleeping together, and he should have kept it as the fling that it was.

He was a villain and Hawks was… Hawks. There might be a decent man underneath all the airbrushing, but he had still been raised and trained by the current system, with their skewed ideas of normal and twisted relationship metrics. He was a ‘hero’ through and through. Dabi could try and explain, but it wasn’t worth the effort. At best, he just didn’t know any different.

At worst, he did, and he simply didn’t care.

He kicked at a can in his path with more force than he had intended. It rattled down the alleyway as something overhead threw a shadow after it. He sighed.

This is not what he needed right now.

“Hey, firecracker.” Hawks said as he landed. Dabi paused, turning to give Hawks a once-over even as the hair along the back of his neck stood on end.

“What do you want?”

Hawks blinked at him; Dabi could see the momentary flash of hurt in his eyes before it was quickly covered up by one of Hawks’ fake, easy-going magazine-cover smiles.

“Your delightful company, of course.” Hawks said. He strolled over to Dabi, tugging off his gloves before shoving them in his pockets. Dabi resumed his trek down the alleyway. They walked in silence, although Hawks was walking a bit faster to try and keep up with Dabi. Dabi wasn’t inclined to slow down for him.

When Hawks’ knuckles brushed against the back of his hand, he shoved them back into his pockets. He’d been fairly clear at the beginning that he didn’t share and no amount of flirtation and sweetness would get Hawks back into Dabi’s good graces.

“I’m heading home,” Dabi stated finally. “Next meeting is Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll meet you there.” Hawks chirped.

“My apartment, birdie. Not yours.” Dabi clarified. Hawks looked confused as he continued walking, his footsteps echoing as he approached the end of the alley. He turned, a slow grin creeping over his face. Hawks’ confusion faded into a tentatively optimistic smile, like he thought Dabi was teasing him. Dabi pointedly looked at Hawks’ neck, where his coat was still zipped up to his chin.

“I’ll see you when the hickeys on your neck are gone.”

The last he saw of Hawks that night was the utterly devastated expression. Good. Now the birdie knew how he felt.

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

Hawks didn’t stop flirting with Dabi and he didn’t stop flirting with other people either.

Aside from the moment in the alley, it didn’t seem like Dabi’s words had hurt the bird too much. He was a little disappointed, but not surprised. Hawks probably didn’t care, or if he did it was only to the extent that his bedpartner of the last few months was finished with him. Hawks might have had other partners who would put up with it, but Dabi wasn’t and would never be someone who could.

It was probably for the best- Dabi had learned early enough that he could bank the embers of whatever he had started to feel for the bird.

They had their fun. Dabi had gotten his petty jab in, no matter how short-lived it was and they had both walked out of that alley nursing their own hurts.

They could still work together- Dabi could be civil and professional, although it seemed to be a confusing concept for the rest of the league. He didn’t get why they were so confused. Hawks clearly was a better team player than he was a lover.

Ever since that night, the League had been paying close attention to both Dabi and Hawks and it was frustrating. He wasn’t sure what they were looking for. It was a personal matter. Nothing they needed to involve themselves in.

“The hero’s laying it on thick today,” Shigaraki commented. There was another interview playing on his phone. He tilted the screen towards Spinner so he could get a better view. Spinner’s face scrunched up in distaste. Dabi didn’t catch what Spinner said to Shigaraki, but it had their boss’ eyebrows shooting up. Dabi turned off the stove, trying to listen in on the conversation, although he was only able to catch every other word.

“He’s… Look at… wings… something happened…him and... Can’t you read the body language?... Overcompensating…Looks hurt.”

Spinner suddenly stopped, and Dabi looked over. He wasn’t the only one in the league listening in on the conversation. Spinner’s expression darkened into a thunderous scowl.

“What are all of you looking at? Fuck off. I’m talking to Shigaraki.”

“You’re talking loudly! Not at all!” Twice shouted. Toga sat up straighter from where she was sitting.

“Yeah! Share with the league! What are you looking at? Is it Hawksie?”

“I’m looking at a video segment of ‘none of your fucking business’.”Spinner spat, getting up from his seat. “Dabi, you done with lunch yet?”

Dabi gestured to the pan of fried vegetables. He had been dipping up the rice, egg and salted fish for the rest of the league. Spinner stomped over, grabbing a bown and scooping some of the pans’ contents into it before disappearing into the back. Shigaraki sighed and muttered about a ‘terrible side-quest’.

Whatever. It wasn’t Dabi’s problem.

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

“Fuck.” Dabi said. Hawks echoed his statement then followed it with a sneeze. They were standing under scaffolding, although Dabi was pressed against the building it was in front of, doing his best to stay out of the rain. Hawks was standing at the edge of the overhang and he wondered why Hawks didn’t come further in. Hawks hadn’t been shy about being around Dabi before, no matter their differences.

He got his answer a moment later as Hawks spread his trembling wings. What initially looked like a shiver transformed; Hawks gave a full-body shake, sending water flying everywhere, including at Dabi, despite Dabi being several meters away. At least Hawks had the good sense to look embarrassed as Dabi swore.

“Sorry-” He started and Dabi flipped him off.

“Just come out from the rain before you get soaked. There’s room.” Hawks hesitated, and Dabi strode over and pulled Hawks out of the rain.

He lit a fire and held it in his palms, holding it between them. Predictably, Hawks let out a soft warble and removed his gloves, holding his hands up to the flames. Dabi rolled his eyes. He knew how sensitive to the weather the bird was. He’d listened to the complaints about soggy feathers often enough he practically had it memorized.

“Thanks.” Hawks whispered. Dabi shrugged, leaning against a nearby wall. He watched as his flames flickered and danced in the darkness. A flash of lightning lit their little hiding place, a roll of thunder following quickly after and reverberating through his bones, the sort of rumble that let you know it was going to be a long and fierce storm.

The lightning also gave him a better look at Hawks’ face. The flames kept skewing the shadows, but the bright flash had illuminated Hawks. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and for once, there wasn’t a plastic smile on his face. The closest thing Dabi could compare the look Hawks was wearing to was sorrow or perhaps longing, and maybe something else that Dabi didn’t quite recognize.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Dabi snapped, the flames in his hands jumping. Hawks’ expression flashed to one of surprise tinged with guilt.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He said, pasting that damned plastic smile back on. The same smile that Spinner had been commenting on consistently since that day in the base. That had been almost three weeks ago, and while Spinner griping about things usually didn’t bother Dabi, whatever Spinner was going on about had unsettled the rest of the league. It had been three weeks of the league watching both Dabi and Hawks like, well, hawks.

It wasn’t like their usual nosiness either. When he and Hawks had been fucking regularly, there had been no shortage of prying questions and playful teasing. Now, it seemed like they were trying to puzzle something out.

It wasn’t like there was much to puzzle out. Hawks had cheated on him and he had cut it off. This shit happened. Hell, it happened all the time to people, and there wasn’t any deeper meaning to it. Sometimes people were just incompatible. The league, however, were hell-bent on finding some secret meaning, to find someone at fault. Dabi was fed up with it- it was so simple and they were making it far more complicated than it needed to be.

“Right. Well, this ‘nothing’ has the rest of the league on edge. I think we need to at least talk about it, unless you feel like going out in that-” He gestured to the storm around them. Hawks looked out at the rain, wincing as it started to come down harder.

“Maybe the rest of the league needs to mind their own business.” Hawks grumbled. Dabi snorted in agreement. They certainly fucking should, but they hadn’t. Dabi waited for Hawks to continue. Instead, Hawks tucked his hands under his armpits, leaning away from the fire. Away from Dabi. Dabi extinguished his flames, stepping into Hawks’ space. The hero bristled at the invasion, wings puffing up and curling around him. Dabi reached up and tugged on a primary, lest the bird use them as a shield to try and avoid this conversation. Hawks let out an affronted chirp.

“Talk birdie.”

“It’s nothing we need to talk about. The situation is fine. You’re justifiably mad at me and-”

“Oh really? Justifiably? Does birdie realize how he fucked up?” Dabi pressed, delighted at Hawks’ discomfort. Hawks glared at him, looking up through his brows and lashes and looking both incredibly adorable and hilariously pissed.

“Yes. I’m not an idiot, nor a bird brain, no matter how you and the league like to tease. I don’t know what there is to talk about. You’re mad and you don’t forgive people.

“How about you try and explain?”

Hawks’ scowl darkened. “No.”

Dabi tugged on the primary again. Hard. “Wrong answer.”

“You…” The rest of Hawks’ mumbled words were lost to the storm. Dabi went to tug on the primary again but Hawks caught his wrist and cleared his throat.

“I said… You’re… cute when you’re pissy.”

Dabi stared at him.

“I’m...what?”

There was a flash of lightning again. Even with Hawks trying to bury his face in the collar of his jacket, Dabi could see the deep flush starting to spread over Hawks’ face.

“Cute. It’s cute when you’re irritated. I flirted because it was harmless flirting and you have an adorable pout.”

Dabi continued staring at him.

Hawks was intentionally flirting with people because he knew it annoyed the hell out of Dabi? What. The. Fuck.

“I know I haven’t said this yet, but I’m sorry. It was a dick thing to do.” Hawks said, avoiding his gaze. His next words were almost rushed out, with Hawks not taking a breath between sentences.

“I’m sorry I was flirting with other people but you got so irritated but I knew you weren’t actually angry. You looked cute and the sex was fantastic afterward, and the possessiveness was hot and the cuddling was nice. Did I mention the aggressive cuddling was also cute? You have a pout that’s near-lethal and just... I’m sorry.”

Hawks let go of Dabi’s wrist, moving to tuck his hands back under his armpits. It was Dabi’s turn to catch Hawks’ hands. He ignored the way Hawks tensed, wrapping his hands around the tiny birdlike wrists.

Everything Hawks said wasn’t making sense.

Except… It did. It made sense in a really, idiotic ‘Hawks’ sort of way. If the league saw and knew about this, knew about Hawks’ dumb reasoning, then it was no wonder they were confused.

He wouldn’t know what to do about this either. He didn’t know how to handle this at all.

“What the fuck.” He stated.

His family would be so proud of his eloquence and stunning intellect.

“Yeah. Fuck.” Hawks replied. His shoulders were creeping up towards his ears and his wings were puffed up to twice their size. Dabi couldn’t tell if Hawks was embarrassed or ashamed or angry.

“The fuck was up with the hickeys though?” Dabi pressed, giving Hawks’ wrists a squeeze before sliding his grip up to run his thumbs over Hawks’ knuckles. Hawks gave Dabi’s hands a squeeze back. It was reassuring, in a way.

“I… had a little too much to drink at a party and I was flirting like usual because, hey, it’s what's expected. Someone decided that meant makeouts and it wasn’t quite able to… extricate myself before they started attacking my neck.” Hawks shuddered at the memory and Dabi’s mind blanked out as he tried to process what Hawks said.

The blankness was slowly replaced by a steady trickle of anger.

“Who?” He hissed. He knew his hands were heating up and tried to get it under control. When it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to, he dropped his grip. Hawks let out a wounded chirp and tried to grab Dabi’s hands, only to hiss as he realized how hot they were.

“Stupid fucking bird-” Dabi grumbled, lighting one palm and grabbing the hero’s hands to inspect them. They were a little red, but not burned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Your hands or this asshole who doesn’t know boundaries?”

Hawks rolled his eyes and it was like before. Something deep in his chest glowed at the familiarity and ease.

“Both. You didn’t hurt me and I’ve already got a restraining order for the asshole. No murder. They’re kinda fucked socially now.”

Dabi barked out a laugh. Yeah, he could see how that could look terrible. It wasn’t enough in his opinion, but it was funny. He would find out who it was though. In case he needed to blow off some steam one night. Nothing like a little human combustion to ease ones’ nerves.

“No, Dabi.” Hawks teased, tone playful. He wondered if Hawks had acquired a mind-reading quirk. Then again, maybe it was just the fact that Hawks knew him well.

“Yes, Dabi.” Dabi replied, leaning in to press his forehead against Hawks’. Hawks took a sharp breath in and then let it out slowly, his eyes falling shut. He seemed to relax into the gesture, almost like he was basking in the return of affection. He probably was. Dabi certainly was doing his own basking.

“There are different ways of pissing me off, birdy.” He said softly. Hawks let out an inquisitive chirp. “For example, eating my fucking mochi is a pretty good way.”

“Does it get angry kisses?”

“If it means I get to taste my fucking mochi, yes.”

“Sweet. That doesn’t mean you’ll do the pout though.”

“It does if you do it in front of the others. I don’t put on a show for free, pretty bird.”

Hawks laughed, finally opening his eyes and looking up at Dabi. Dabi could finally place the emotion he kept seeing in Hawks’ eyes.

Burning affection and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of love.

[georgescatcafe]

but i keep my hands (’til you come into the water)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: barista george, fluff, humor, flirting, friendship, communication, getting together word count: 22,064 summary: George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

Or, the one where George is a barista, Dream is Sapnap's best friend, and Sapnap just feels a lot.

+ao3

;;

The first attempt is a disaster. Sapnap should’ve expected it, the object of his desires completely different from who he usually chases after. For one thing, it’s a guy, for another, he’s got his arms crossed, fingers digging harshly into his arms, brows furrowed, lips downturned in a frown. Usually, when someone catches Sapnap’s interest, they paint a more pleasant picture.

Yeah. Not this one.

“I’m working,” he snaps. “I get it, but I really don’t like being flirted with at work.”

“You’re so upfront,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his lips, though he’s certain his ears are turning red as more people turn to look at him where he leans against the counter, probably about to be completely eviscerated by this barista. “I like that.”

He’s not eviscerated. His fate is even worse.

He gets ignored.

“Julia,” George calls, placing down the drink handed to him.

Sapnap steps out of the way as a petite girl with blonde hair takes the drink from the other, delicate fingers curling around the cup, golden-tipped fingers contrasting against the pink of her drink. Sapnap finds himself fighting against the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, remembering something about Dream saying that’s an obvious display of insecurity. And Sapnap isn’t insecure.

He just doesn’t like the way George smiled at the girl as she walked away.

“It’s called customer service, idiot,” Dream tells him later, the two of them having agreed to meet at the library so Dream doesn’t have to smell the coffee that wafts a good way out past the entrance of the Starbucks Sapnap frequents. Sapnap rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip of his vanilla frap, not fully convinced.

“It’s just,” he finally says, drink set carefully down on the table, “it’s like… why did he smile at her like that, when you could barely hear her ‘thank you,’ yet he doesn’t even look at me?”

“Maybe because he told you to leave him alone and you didn’t?” Dream suggests, taking Sapnap’s cup and drawing a smiley face in the condensation. He presents it to the other, only for Sapnap to groan and rub it away. He’s not exactly in the mood for cutesy shit. He says as much.

Dream looks unimpressed. “I’m just saying,” he draws another smiley on the opposite side of the cup, “try respecting his boundaries next time.”

“But I only know him as the barista from Starbucks,” Sapnap whines. “How am I supposed to flirt with him if I only see him when he’s working?”

“Break,” Dream replies, easy.

“Ah.”

Dream sets down Sapnap’s cup, the new smiley still there. “Yeah,” he says, “ah.”

;;

Dream had also advised him to maybe read the barista’s nametag and find out his name, so that’s the first thing Sapnap does when he walks in on Wednesday, eyes going directly to the little plaque on the barista’s apron. GEORGE. Sapnap bites his lip. He can work with that.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you be interested in trying any of our—oh.” Sapnap looks up from the nametag to see George’s eyes on him, face devoid of any emotion other than perhaps vague disappointment.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

George’s lips press together, and it’s not a frown, so Sapnap takes it as a smile.

“One venti vanilla frap please.”

“Name?”

“Come on,” Sapnap says. “You so remember my name.”

George hums, brows furrowing as he enters the order into the computer. “You’re right. Something like… ‘nuisance’?”

Sapnap frowns.

“My bad,” George says. “It was ‘annoyance,’ wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha,” Sapnap replies, crossing his arms. “It’s—”

“Sapnap, I know.” George taps the screen and Sapnap tries not to flush at the sight of his wrists. It’s not like they were hidden. It’s not like George is some Victorian lady. Jeez. Embarrassing. And then—

“‘I know’?” he quotes. “So you remembered my name.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” George replies, “since you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he tries, “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were.”

“I’m just determined.”

“Determined?” George repeats, unamused. Sapnap nods. George gives him a long look up and down (and it’s not checking him out, not even close, but Sapnap pretends that’s the case, straightening up and hoping the lighting makes him look good) before sighing and motioning to the person next in line.

Sapnap is ready to continue speaking, but then he remembers the main point of Dream’s advice and instead just rolls his eyes, finding an empty table near the window. 

Better? a text from Dream reads.

Duh, his name is George

George

Yes, George , Sapnap glances up at the barista, who’s now taking the order of a guy definitely taller than Sapnap, and judging by the size of his arms, probably stronger too, and when he walks away, George’s eyes definitely follow him, lips curled into a smile not like the one he wore when the blondie left, but rather… oh, come on. Dude what the hell

What

Sapnap doesn’t take a picture, but he does try his best to describe the other customer to Dream. George was like..drooling over him what the hell!

I doubt it

When Sapnap looks up again, George is most definitely not wiping any drool away from his mouth, instead wearing a polite smile as he takes an older woman’s order. It’s as if Sapnap made up the smile he wore watching that guy walk away.

Ok, he concedes, maybe not drooling, but he definitely like… I dont think Im his type :(

As if u ever gave up that easily, Dream’s reply is fast, and Sapnap smiles as the thinking dots appear. You’re fine, just be yourself and respect his boundaries. I know you, you’re a great guy Sap you’ve got this

He’s right. About… everything. Sapnap slips his phone into his pocket right before he hears his name called. It’s not George calling out the drinks today, whoever was missing the other day now returned to their normal shift. Sapnap accepts the drink with an easy thank you and is about to walk away before he’s struck with an idea.

“Um, excuse me,” he calls to the woman who’s already started to head back to the espresso machine. She turns around and makes her way back over to the counter anyway, brows raised, anticipating Sapnap’s question.

Sapnap leans in some, unsure if he wants George to hear what he’s about to ask or not.

“Um, George,” he starts, and, oh, that’s not a good look. He presses on anyway. “When is… do you know his breaktime?”

“I do,” the woman replies, and Sapnap is ready to be pleasantly surprised, the amount of information this employee is ready to give more than expected, but then she continues, “but legally I’m not allowed to share it with you, and even if I could, I don’t think I would.”

Sapnap tries his best to swallow his disappointment. He’s not sure how he ended up so dumb with hope anyway. “Right,” he says. “Sorry for asking.”

“I suggest not doing it again,” she replies easily, but before she walks away she gives him a soft smile, “but it’s fine.”

Sapnap returns her smile, even as he feels an itch at the base of his neck, only growing as heat spreads under his skin. He’s quick to make his way back to the table, fingers wrapped tight around his frap.

He tries his best not to watch George, appearing as disinterested as he can, up until the other switches places with another employee, now going around cleaning up tables. Sapnap’s been people watching, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at George, but that fails when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, a napkin falling to the floor, just in reach of Sapnap’s foot. Stretching the tiniest bit, Sapnap catches the napkin under his shoe, pulling it over to him so he can pick it up and throw it away himself. He almost makes a comment to George about his cleaning skills, always one to tease, no matter who it is he’s teasing, but then the napkin flops over the back of his hand and he sees ink on paper.

Mon-Th 8am-4pm break @ 10 lunch @ 12 break @ 2

Sapnap has no idea when George wrote that, if it was while he was still taking orders or if he wrote it while Sapnap kept his eyes out the window, but when he looks up, he finds the barista already watching him, now back behind the till, cheeks pink even as he holds Sapnap’s gaze. Sapnap smiles, waving the napkin in an I got it! gesture. George doesn’t smile back, just looks down at the register, then up at the customer that walks in a second later.

That’s fine. Sapnap shoves the napkin into his pocket. This is progress.

 When he’s about to leave, hand pressed against the glass door, he turns. George is looking down, but Sapnap can see the tips of his ears, the slope of his nose. Pink. Bright, pretty pink.

He smiles. Definitely progress.

;;

“So you want me to flirt with you, then?” Sapnap asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the table George sits at, the barista looking at something on his phone.

“No, not really,” George replies, not looking up from the device.

Sapnap sits in the seat across from him. “But I can flirt with you now, right?” he asks. “Since you’re not technically working right now?”

“I’m being paid for this,” George says. “It’s ten minutes. Money is going into my bank account, right now.” He finally looks up at the other, eyes wide in emphasis. “That means I’m working.”

“Boo,” Sapnap immediately snaps. “You just don’t want to admit that you want me.”

George makes a face.

“Want me flirting with you,” Sapnap clarifies, though he wouldn’t mind George wanting him. (He even hopes for that, honestly.) “You want me to flirt with you.”

“Quit making assumptions, you weirdo.”

Sapnap laughs. “You sound like my friend.”

“Oh, really?” George asks. “Maybe we’d get along then.”

“Me and you?” 

George gives him a dry look. “No, you idiot, me and your friend.”

“Well, you’re not going to meet him,” Sapnap replies.

“What, is he better looking than you?” George asks. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hey!” Sapnap cries indignantly. “What does that mean?” George merely raises a brow. “And no , he’s not. I just… he doesn’t like coffee.”

“And that means he can’t come inside?” George asks.

“He gets, like, really nauseous if he smells it,” Sapnap explains “After I come here, I usually end up meeting him at, like, the library or something.”

“Oh, are you guys students?” At this, George sits up, leaning forward slightly over the table. Sapnap wonders if he’d be allowed to copy the other’s posture, or if it’d make George lean away. He decides not to risk it.

“I am,” he says. “My friend isn’t.”

“H’m,” George says.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “H’m.”

He smiles at the smile that spreads on George’s lips, even as the other looks away, tucking his chin into his collar in an attempt to hide it further. “Stop it,” George says, muffled as he speaks into fabric. “Stop that.”

“I’m just looking at you,” Sapnap replies.

George glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I know,” he says. “Stop it.”

Though he doesn’t want to, he does. “So are you a student too?” he asks.

“Alum,” he replies. “Graduated last year.”

“Ooh,” Sapnap says. “Teach me all that you know.”

“You don’t even know what I majored in,” George replies. “What if we took, like, completely different classes?”

“Unimportant,” Sapnap says. “I was just trying to find an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I—,” George is cut off by a persistent beeping. The two look down at the phone on the table. “Oh,” George turns off the timer. “Back to work.”

“I thought you said you’re still technically working?” Sapnap asks, knowing the grin he’s wearing is infuriating.

George’s eyes narrow as he looks at Sapnap before he shakes his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one who talked to me for ten minutes,” Sapnap replies easily.

George doesn’t reply, instead just shaking his head once more, heading back to the counter, where he grabs his apron and goes to tie it around his (oh God, small) waist. Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, before he gets up from his chair. The place is relatively empty for ten in the morning. “It’s compsci,” he says as George finally comes to stand at the register. “I’m a compsci major.” George looks up at him from across the room, startled. “In case you were, you know, actually wondering.” He can feel his confidence drain out of him the longer the other continues to stare blankly at him. “Um, yeah.” He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and he’s about to walk out when George replies:

“Wait, Sapnap,” he turns around to see George watching him, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “if you actually do want help ever, uh, I can do that. For you.”

Sapnap wants to reply, wants to say thank you or maybe even you, me, library tomorrow at six?, but instead he stays silent, and the moment passes, George inserting something into the computer, Sapnap clearly dismissed.

;;

“I fucked up,” he says immediately to Dream, sinking into his seat at the small diner on the corner of Mulberry and 11th, convenient for its equidistance from his dorm and Dream’s apartment.

“You really could’ve gotten a date, and instead you just stood there,” Dream says, a vague echo of Sapnap’s retelling.

“You’re making fun of me right now,” Sapnap whines.

“No,” Dream says. Sapnap looks up at him from between his fingers. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Sapnap groans, pushing his face further into his hands.

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Dream tries. “Come on, man, no moping at Sally’s. You’re literally eating cheesecake pancakes right now. You can’t mope.”

“I’m not moping,” Sapnap immediately replies. “I’m mourning.” He pulls his hands away from his face, instead pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Mourning the relationship that never was.”

“Is this what you’re like when you actually have to work for a relationship?” Dream asks. He steals a strawberry off of Sapnap’s plate. “I don’t know if I like this dude.”

“George?” Sapnap asks.

“No,” Dream says, stealing another strawberry, “you.”

“Considering you’re still here, I think you like him well enough.” Sapnap lifts a brow as Dream goes to sneak another strawberry, blocking the other’s fork with his own. Metal clinks against metal.  Dream accepts defeat, going back to his waffles.

“We all have our ups and downs,” Dream finally declares. “That was a bad day—”

“But it was going so well!”

“Okay, then things got thrown off with the alarm—”

“Timer.”

“—going off,” Dream eats another bite of waffles, “so basically: don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Sapnap says, just to be contradictory.

Dream knows what he’s doing, so instead of replying, he just finishes off the first of his waffles. Sapnap glares down at his own meal before spearing a piece of pancake.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Dream says.

Shit.

;;

He resigns himself to waiting until Monday to see George again, only to find himself stopping short when walking to his dorm from the library, spotting a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that line the commons.

“George?” he calls, before he can decide if interacting outside of the four walls of the Starbucks they’re so used to is a good idea.

George looks up, slipping his phone in his pocket, eyes obviously wide even when hidden behind a pair of—

“Are those clout goggles?” Sapnap asks, biting back a laugh.

George crosses his arms, stretching his legs out (though they don’t reach particularly far, Sapnap affectionately notes) and leaning back on the bench. “Maybe,” he replies.

Sapnap stops holding back his laughter, letting it spill out freely as George’s face goes through a range of expressions, from a frown to a smile to a grimace to something of a cross between all three.

“If you’re done,” he says when Sapnap’s laughter has turned more into sporadic giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap immediately replies, though it’s clear the words mean nothing. He’s certain if he could see George’s eyes clearly through his lenses, the other would be rolling them. “It’s cute,” he almost says, but something stops him, the words turning into, “It’s fine. They suit you.”

One of George’s hands comes up to adjust the glasses, the twist of his lips finally turning into a smile. “Really?” he asks, hand pulling away from the frames to instead rest his fingers lightly against the plastic, but Sapnap isn’t paying attention to the glasses at all, eyes instead locked on the delicate bones of George’s wrist.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. George’s hand falls back to his lap. “So,” Sapnap says, now that the immediate distraction is gone, coming back into himself, “what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you were wanting to see my face again.”

“Um.” George looks away, at a tree that Sapnap knows is behind him, at the ground, the railing of the bench, at an acorn that lay a few feet away. Sapnap tries not to let the hope grow in him, even though the silence only continues to stretch on.

The hope finally breaks loose, and he asks it: “Did you really come here just to see me?”

“Not… entirely,” George replies. Sapnap gives him a disbelieving look, and George is quick to defend himself. “No, really!” he says. “I live in the area, and this… it’s nice, isn’t it?” He motions to the commons. “It’s, like, cool outside now, and the sun isn’t, like, really hot or anything. It’s nice.”

“But you said ‘not entirely,’” Sapnap says, “so that means I was part of the reason?”

“I didn’t expect to see you,” George sighs. “But if—if—I did see you, I wouldn’t be opposed to, like, hanging out or, um, something.”

“Okay,” Sapnap says easily, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Now that he’s beside George, he can see his eyes better underneath his glasses, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares. “So what do you want to do?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug. 

Sapnap sighs. They sit in a tense silence, Sapnap itching to say something, George… Sapnap isn’t sure what he’s thinking. Although they’re sitting side by side, sometimes their shoes would brush against each other, edge of sole against edge of sole, and George would jump like he’s been shocked, bringing Sapnap’s eyes back to him every time. Finally, Sapnap gives another sigh and says, “I spy… with my little eye… something… blue.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees George tense. And then.

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Sapnap answers, popping the ‘p’. “Try again.”

George hums quietly, head moving the tiniest bit as he surveys the area. “There,” he says, pointing, “those flowers.”

“Got it,” Sapnap smiles, “your turn.”

George looks around, a single finger tapping on his jean-clad thigh. Sapnap refuses to follow the movement. “I spy,” George begins, “with my little eye something that starts with P.”

Sapnap looks around, searching for whatever George could have chosen. Then a bark rings through the air, and his head snaps around to look at the dog darting across the commons to get to a girl kneeled in the grass. “That puppy,” Sapnap replies, smug.

“Yup.” George nods, glancing over at Sapnap as he picks out something.

“I spy with my little eye,” he starts, angling himself more towards George, “something green.”

George falters. “Grass?” he tries, a slight smile on his face.

Sapnap laughs. “No,” and then out of a rush of courage he’s not sure from where, he reaches up to pluck the leaf out of George’s hair, holding it up between the two of them.

George scoffs. “That’s not even fair. I can’t see that. And was that in my hair this entire time?”

Sapnap shakes his head, flicking it away from them, the leaf dancing idly in the air before twirling to the ground. “Nah. It must have happened sometime last round.”

“Ah.” George finally takes off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head. “Well, still not fair. I can’t even see green.”

“What?” Sapnap doesn’t mean for it to come out as a laugh, but it does. “What do you mean you can’t see green?”

“I’m colorblind, asshole,” George doesn’t shove him, but his hand does lift and make a weak motion towards him. “When you started with a color, I figured this wouldn’t last long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sapnap asks, hand coming down on the bench next to him so he can lean towards George.

“You said blue; it was fine,” George replies. “Besides,” he gives a shrug, “I just said the letter the word starts with. If I did it every time, maybe you would too.”

“Weird,” Sapnap says, the word coming out on a whistle.

“Not as weird as you,” George easily fires back.

Sapnap rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, settling back on the bench once more. They sit in a companionable silence for another second before he remembers.

“Hey, uh,” George looks over at him, and wow, have his eyes always been that deep, wide and round and shining like honey in the bright sun, “my friend and I, the one that doesn’t like coffee, we’re meeting up for dinner. Would you… maybe want to come? Just so you can meet him. You know. We hang out a lot. And stuff.”

George seems to consider it before he nods. “If your friend is fine with it, why not?”

Sapnap sends Dream a quick text to ask, though he knows the other will say yes. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” he asks, even though he and Dream were just going to meet at, like, a McDonald’s.

“Not that I know of,” George replies.

“Awesome,” Sapnap says.

“Yup,” George agrees.

And… it’s awkward again.

“Got any other plans?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“Not really,” George says. “Fridays are usually pretty uneventful.”

“No one asking you to any parties?”

At that, George gives a quiet laugh. “Not really a partying type of person.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks, eyes wide. “I never would’ve guessed.”

George looks over at him, brows high, before he realizes it was sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”

“I’m not the one who agreed to spend more time with me.” 

George doesn’t reply, but when Sapnap glances at him, he’s got a small smile on his lips, cheeks pink and not, Sapnap is pretty sure, because of the sun.

;;

Sapnap thinks he should be jealous. He’s, like, really sure he’s supposed to be jealous.

Dream and George meet and hit it off immediately, falling into an easy banter that Sapnap watches like a tennis match, a constant smile on George’s face, laughter spilling out past his lips like a waterfall. 

They get along like a house on fire or whatever the phrase is, and Sapnap is left to breathe in the smoke. Yet he’s not choking and he’s not jealous.

Because every time George says something that sends Dream into a fit of laughter, he’ll glance over at Sapnap, eyes bright and smile wide, as if to check that he has Sapnap’s attention too, that he has Sapnap laughing right along with them.

Sapnap wonders if Dream notices, if he catches these moments between them, but if he does, he never comments on it, instead continuing to talk to George like they’ve known each other for thirty years and not thirty minutes.

By the time they finish their food, George and Dream have exchanged numbers and are planning another time to hang out.

“It sucks about the coffee thing,” George says to Dream, head tilted back so they can make eye contact. It’s endearing, but Sapnap does feel a slight pain in his chest when he realizes their one inch difference in height means he doesn’t get the same experience. 

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, “honestly it’s just, like, really inconvenient because I don’t like coffee in the first place, but you’re telling me I can’t even be near it?” George gives a sympathetic smile, and Dream backtracks. “If you ever want, I’m sure I can stomach it for, like, a minute or two, but—”

“It’s fine,” George cuts him off. “I can meet you wherever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks, looking apologetic.

“It’s fine,” George repeats. “So next Tuesday? When I get off work?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Same here.” George gives him a smile. “It’ll be fun kicking your ass.”

“Oh, right, like you’re going to win,” Dream scoffs. “Right.”

“You’ll see,” George crosses his arms, “just wait.”

“Whatever.” Dream gives a laugh before shouldering his backpack. “Alright,” he says to both George and Sapnap this time. “I’m going to head out. Patches is probably wondering why she hasn’t been fed yet.”

George laughs as Sapnap lifts his hand in an easy wave.

Dream waves back then heads out, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

George turns to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap says, “what’d you think?”

“He’s nice,” George replies, and then, “thanks for, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course, dude,” Sapnap says because what else do you call the guy you like, other than dude? He blinks. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

George gives a hesitant smile. “Maybe.”

“You’re not, like, intruding on anything,” Sapnap immediately goes to reassure. “We do this, like, all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I didn’t think I was.” George collects his trash, “but thanks for putting the idea in my head.”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” Sapnap follows his lead as they throw out the wrappers from the burgers. “Anyway,” he opens the door for George, who ducks his head in silent thanks, before following after him, “what about me?”

“What about you?” George asks.

“Your number,” Sapnap answers, “I want it.”

“You think I give it out just like that?” George’s brows are raised in disbelief as Sapnap scoffs.

“You did it for Dream, and he didn’t even ask!”

“Okay, and?”

“You’re so mean to me, George,” Sapnap whines, crossing his arms. “See if I ever talk to you again.”

“Oh because that’s just the worst possible outcome for me,” George laughs.

“What the hell?” Sapnap uncrosses his arms to instead fling them out at his sides. “I thought we had fun today! We played I spy!”

“Yes,” George says, “because that is the exact definition of fun.”

“Well,” Sapnap crosses his arms again, “ I had fun. Sorry that you didn’t.”

In his performance, he had closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, his heart is quick to skip a beat upon seeing the soft smile on George’s face as he looks at him. His eyes are no longer turned to gold by the sun, but instead are dark like the coffee he serves, and Sapnap only finds himself looking away from them to instead drop his gaze to the other’s lips. They’re a soft pink, and they’re full, and Sapnap finds himself wondering what they’d feel like on his own.

“It’s,” and then a slew of numbers that Sapnap doesn’t catch. He finally meets George’s eyes again.

“What was it?” he asks, pulling out his phone. George rolls his eyes, giving a quiet laugh, before repeating his numbers as Sapnap rushes to add him to his contacts. When he’s done, he sends a quick text to George (Hiiii :D) to which George doesn’t answer but does make a show of blocking the number (then immediately unblocking it).

“Anyway,” Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, Dream’s advice be damned, and gives a slight whistle, “walk you home?”

George shifts his weight, readjusting his jacket, before nodding. “Alright.”

Sapnap smiles. George starts walking.

;;

George’s apartment is nice. Not too far from the Starbucks he works at (not too far from Sapnap’s dorm) and it’s in a quieter part of the city. The two of them stand in silence on the front step.

“So,” George says.

“So,” Sapnap agrees.

A second. Two seconds.

George makes a small noise that has Sapnap ready to ask if he’s alright when George’s hand suddenly smacks against his cheek. Sapnap immediately reaches up to cradle the reddening skin. “Did you just slap me?” He thinks the slight crack in his voice is warranted.

George’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “No. Oh my God. I wasn’t… it was a,” and then he makes a motion, like he’s pressing a kiss to his fingers, then lifting them as if he were to press that kiss to—

“You couldn’t have just kissed me like a normal person?” Sapnap is trying not to sound accusatory or angry because he’s not, but what the hell.

“It’s—I didn’t—look, fuck, I’m sorry.” George wraps his fingers around Sapnap’s arm to tug his hand away from his cheek. “Here, look, shit, I—,” and then he’s got his lips on Sapnap’s cheek and any pain Sapnap’s feeling is gone. George’s lips are warm against his skin, and when he pulls away, his eyes are still shut, fluttering open only once he’s back within his own space. Sapnap stares at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” George says.

“It was kind of cute,” Sapnap tries, heart pounding in his chest. “But only kind of.”

“Whatever,” George says, “I’ll see you Monday, Sapnap.”

“Will you kiss me then too?” Sapnap asks.

George shakes his head, shoving past Sapnap to get to his front door, pulling out his key and unlocking it. “Goodnight, Sapnap,” he says.

“Goodnight, George,” Sapnap replies.

George turns around, looking at him from right inside the door. Sapnap stares back. George opens his mouth, as if he plans to say something, but only ends up closing it again, shaking his head and turning to go further inside, shutting the door behind him.

Sapnap stands there on the front step for another second before shaking his head, the ghost of a response to whatever George left unsaid, deciding to take the long way home.

;;

Monday comes quickly, and after class Sapnap finds himself making his way to Starbucks, just in time for George’s lunch break. He wonders if thirty minutes is enough for him to take George somewhere, nothing fancy, just something quick, but then he’s inside and George is sitting at a table on the far wall, lunchbox open in front of him.

“Boo,” Sapnap says, sliding into the seat across from him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” George says.

“I can see that.”

He watches as George peels away layers of cling wrap around his sandwich.

“So how was class?” George asks, right before he takes a bite.

“Ugh,” Sapnap crosses his arms and rests his head atop them, closing his eyes, “I don’t know why I do it sometimes.”

“What, go to school?” Based on what he hears, Sapnap assumes George has peeled away more cling wrap.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Deep down you enjoy it,” George says, “and it’s for your future.”

“You went to school,” Sapnap starts, “and now you work at Starbucks.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said on Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything Friday,” George says.

“You’re right,” Sapnap sits back up, “you didn’t say anything because you were too busy kissing me.”

“Yeah because a kiss on the cheek totally equals making out on the couch,” George snorts as he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right.”

Sapnap grins. “Duh.” When George just rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips, Sapnap is quick to steal one. “Anyway, we have a quiz Friday that I am not looking forward to.”

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to quizzes,” George slaps his hand away when it swoops in for another chip, “are you ready for it?”

“Define ‘ready,’” Sapnap replies. At George’s unimpressed look, Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, as ready as I can be.”

“That’s better than ‘not at all,’” George sighs. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Obviously.” Sapnap smiles when George allows him another chip. “So what about you? How’s your morning gone?”

“It’s gone,” George says. And then he pauses. “I got a girl’s number.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, because that’s all he can think to say.

“She, like, wrote it on the receipt, I guess when Sarah was talking to me, and when she left, she just… left it on the counter.” Sarah, as it turns out, is the woman who told Sapnap she’s not allowed to disclose George’s break times. Sapnap still feels prickles of irritation under his skin as George continues: “I threw it out.”

The prickles suddenly stop.

“You threw it out?”

George nods, nonchalant, popping another chip in his mouth and even offering the rest in the bag to Sapnap with a raised brow. Sapnap just shakes his head, ears still ringing from George’s words.

“Why?” he asks.

“Not interested,” George says, finishing off his chips. “Besides,” he says, getting up to toss the bag in the trash, “no flirting while I’m at work.” Sapnap hands him the cling wrap sitting on the table. George smiles as he grabs his lunchbox. “See you later, Sapnap.”

“What if I wanted to order something?” Sapnap calls as George gets himself situated behind the counter.

“You drink too much sugar,” George replies, putting on his customer service face as a middle-aged man walks in. “Welcome to Starbucks, would you…,” Sapnap lets the rest of the greeting fade into background noise as he watches George’s mouth move, his fingers dancing across the computer as the man places his order. After another second, he gives a stretch, then rises, giving George a smile and a wave as he heads out the door.

He comes back that afternoon only to be greeted by George’s furrowed brows and a cold drink shoved into his hands. “On the house,” George tells him as Sapnap stares down at the vanilla frap, the condensation that had gathered on the cup wetting his hands.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” George replies, pushing through the glass doors and holding one open for Sapnap. “So where to?”

Sapnap thinks. He hadn’t really thought of anything for them to do, mostly just wanting to see George again. Then he remembers neon lights and crummy carpet with space patterns on it, rockets and stars and moons. With the next step he takes, he moves the tiniest fraction closer to George. The backs of their hands brush together. Sapnap lets this happen a couple more times, and then—he takes George’s hand.

George just holds on tight.

Sapnap smiles. “I have somewhere.”

;;

They hold hands the entire way, and Sapnap tries not to let it get to him. George’s fingers are thinner than his, and not long after he had started to lead them in the direction of the arcade did George’s fingers slot their way between his. His palm is warm, pressed flat against Sapnap’s own, and every once in awhile Sapnap will say something that makes George laugh and his hand will come up as if to cover his mouth, the action aborted halfway to its destination when Sapnap’s arm goes taut, George letting their hands fall back between them. He still looks over at Sapnap though, eyes glittering, squinted, cheeks rosy.

It’s maybe the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen.

;;

Correction. George smiling (still, because George always looks nice smiling) colored by the neon lights is the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen. He’s almost tempted to take a picture of just George, just for him to have, him to cherish, but he knows George will hate it, George will watch him like a hawk over his shoulder as he deletes it, not letting up until he deletes it, and the effort isn’t worth it. Seeing George so displeased isn’t worth it.

So instead he crowds into George’s space, demanding a selfie, “to send to Dream! To make him jealous!”

Like that’s anywhere close to the truth. But he does send the selfie to Dream, who does reply with a >:(, and Sapnap laughs and shows George, who laughs then wanders over to the skee ball, and then that’s when Sapnap goes and changes the picture to his homescreen (because a lockscreen is too risky, because he knows George will definitely see it).

He lets George win at skee ball. And air hockey. And… this game isn’t even competitive, what the hell, but he lets George win at that too. (And okay, maybe sometimes George wins because he’s better, but it’s not like Sapnap would ever admit to that.)

When they leave, George is still giggly, fingers intertwined with Sapnap’s once again, but less passive, more with a purpose, more I’m holding your hand because I really want to hold your hand, because I like how your fingers feel between mine, because I like the way our skin touches, you’re here and so am I. It’s so deliberate, and Sapnap is dizzy from it.

They get dinner at a seedy, shitty pizza place, though the pizza is anything but, and then it’s back to Sapnap walking George home.

“You really don’t have to,” George says. “Your dorm is, like, right there,” he makes a general motion to the upcoming intersection.

“But I want to,” Sapnap says.

George sighs, but doesn’t say anything, even as they walk past the entrance of the university.

When they reach his apartment, Sapnap fakes nonchalance. “So,” he says, “are you going to make it a big deal?”

George crosses his arms.

Sapnap puts up his hands in front of him. “Just a question.” He smiles. “So are you?”

“You’re so annoying,” and then warm lips are on his cheek as fingers tangle into his shirt. “I hate you,” George says when he leans back. Sapnap looks down at where George still has a grip on his shirt, but when he meets George’s eyes again, the other doesn’t let go. Sapnap wants to take his face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips right then and there.

George’s gaze dropping down—to his lips, there’s no doubt about it, George is looking at his lips—is almost enough to make him do so.

But that would scare George away. He knows it would. So he leans back on his heels, smile on his lips. “Hate you too.” The soft lilt of his voice belies his words. He doesn’t mind. 

George’s eyes flit back up to Sapnap’s. Sapnap’s smile widens. George drops his hand from Sapnap’s shirt. “Thank you for today,” George finally says. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Sapnap reaches out, taking George’s hand in his own, finding that he quite missed the other’s touch, even if it’d only been a few seconds. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “we will.”

They stand there in silence, Sapnap holding George’s hand. George clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, Sapnap.”

Sapnap gives the other’s hand a squeeze. “Goodnight, George.” He drops George’s hand, their fingers dragging together until they’re not.

When their fingers finally part, George takes a breath then turns to unlock his door and head inside. Right before he shuts the door, Sapnap is treated to the sight of an eye turned liquid gold from the streetlights, a rich, amber color that leaves Sapnap tasting coffee and honey. “Goodnight, George,” he says one last time, and then, the door shuts and it’s just Sapnap out in the cold. He gives a smile to the closed door, then turns and starts the walk to his dorm.

;;

Sapnap ends up with what feels like fifty new assignments on Tuesday, and he knows Dream and George are meeting up after George’s shift ends, so he decides to forgo his usual trip to Starbucks and instead heads back to his dorm after shooting George a quick Have fun with dream :) text. 

When he reaches his room, his phone chimes in his pocket.

thanks, i’m gonna kick his ass

Sapnap huffs out a laugh before unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk then collapsing into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before replying to the text.

Of course u will <3

Immediately, he gets a text back, and he thinks more about that than what the text actually says (gross, don’t ever send me a <3 ever again).

Just to be antagonistic, Sapnap grins and sends: Good luck baby xoxo mwah mwah mwah <3

Another instant reply: you’re so disgusting. talk to you later sapnap

Sapnap’s grin stays as he sets his phone down and pulls out the assignment he’s decided to tackle first. Sure, George may be annoyed by every text he sends, but he’s still replying right away, still replying at all—he totally doesn’t mean it. George totally loves texting him, he’s sure of it. Sapnap gets out his laptop and goes to Blackboard as he thinks about George on Monday, the way he’d sometimes lean into Sapnap, the clean scent of his laundry detergent settling into Sapnap’s heart and the occasional press of his cheek against Sapnap’s leaving a permanent warmth under his skin.

He goes through his assignments in a daze, Java getting mixed with java and graphs getting interrupted by George. Only the sound of his phone going off—a call from Dream—breaks him out of it, little numbers and letters dancing behind his eyes as he blinks and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“George and I are getting something to eat, do you want us to bring anything to your dorm?”

“You don’t have to,” Sapnap replies, even as his stomach rumbles and roars at him to eat.

“You’re right,” Dream agrees, “but I’m not doing this for myself.”

Sapnap blinks. “George,” he says, and Dream gives a quiet hum. “Where’re you guys getting food from?”

“Taco Bell, maybe,” Dream replies. “There’s one on the way to your dorm.”

“Across the street, yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “Then can I get a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with two soft chicken tacos, a steak quesadilla, cinnamon twists, and a Baja Blast?”

Dream repeats it back to him with an, “alright,” at the end, and Sapnap tells him he’ll pay him back when they get to his dorm. “Sounds good,” Dream replies. “See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Sapnap agrees, then the call disconnects, and Sapnap is left in a messy as hell room with George on his way. “Shit,” Sapnap says, looking at the weeks-old laundry spilling out of his wardrobe and the assortment of half-drunk Gatorades and water bottles littering the shelf above his desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He grabs his trash can from where it sits at the foot of the bed, lifting it to the edge of the shelf and just pushing all the bottles into it, some of them falling past the edge and hitting the floor. He groans as he bends over to grab them and put them into the trash properly. When that’s done, he knows he’s not going to be able to run a full two and some loads of laundry before Dream and George get to his dorm, so he deems the laundry a lost cause and shoves it as best he can back into the wardrobe, his hamper buried under weeks of unwashed clothes. Oh well. At least his room doesn’t smell.

Sapnap freezes. Does it?

He shakes his head. No. It doesn’t. It’s fine. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. And George is a guy; he probably lived in the dorms, he knows the horrors of a bunch of dudes crowded in one building. It’s fine.

A knock on the door makes him look up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bedsheets, wondering if remaking his bed (he had put it together haphazardly that morning, more for a sense of productivity than any need for cleanliness, the sheets wrinkled and pillows slouched awkwardly) would be worth it. He supposes the interruption is answer enough. Leaving the bed as is, he unlocks the door, swinging it open to see George standing there holding three paper bags, two drinks under his left arm.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

“Hi,” George replies, angling himself to allow Sapnap to take a bag from him. “These drinks are really cold.”

“Here,” Sapnap grabs the green one, immediately lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Almost as refreshing as seeing you.”

George stares at him before making his way into Sapnap’s room, setting the two bags down then taking out a napkin and setting his drink on it. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right,” Sapnap agrees, making George’s eyes widen as he looks over at him. “I’m hilarious.”

George’s parted lips fall into an unamused line. He scoffs, turning back to the bags and pulling out various Taco Bell items. “Here,” he says, handing Sapnap his quesadilla and cinnamon twists, “they threw some of our things in the same bag. Everything in the one you’re holding is yours, though.”

“Nice.” Sapnap sets down the bag to take the food, immediately getting started on his quesadilla.

“And Dream was going to come, but then he got a call from someone and said he had to go. He might’ve taken the hot sauce…?” He looks over at Sapnap with a raised brow, who glances into his bag.

“Nah. There’s sauce in here.”

“Cool,” George replies. “But yeah, it’s… it’s just us now, I guess.”

Sapnap glances over at him. George is staring down into his bag, fingers crumpling the paper. When George turns to look at him, Sapnap doesn’t turn away. George holds his gaze for a second before his ears turn a warm pink, and he ducks his head, reaching into his bag to pull out a Quesarito. 

“Uh,” Sapnap says, and then reaches across George to grab his wallet from the desk and pull out a ten. “For the food.” He holds it out to George.

George takes it, their fingers brushing and Sapnap’s pulse sent racing. 

“Thanks,” George says, “but Dream paid.”

Sapnap plucks the cash from George’s fingers. “Never mind then.”

George laughs, “rude,” before unwrapping his Quesarito and taking a bite. “So how are your classes going?”

Sapnap groans making a motion to the stack of assignments half-covered by an empty Taco Bell bag. “Terribly. I’m doing… fine. It’s just… so much work.”

“The worst,” George agrees, taking another bite. “Studying for the quiz?”

“What are you, my dad?” Sapnap asks, but at an unimpressed look from George, he sighs and leans back against his bed. “Yes.”

“Good,” George says, and then he says, “I kicked Dream’s ass by the way.”

“Like I said you would,” Sapnap replies, and when George looks at him from under dark lashes, he thinks about how easy it would be to lean forward and press a kiss to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose, Sapnap hesitates for the shortest second before his gaze drops lower—it’d be so easy to lean forward and press a kiss to George’s lips. When he meets George’s eyes again, they’re dark, and in the faint light, Sapnap can see his pupils blown wide. He swallows. George watches the movement.

Sapnap takes a breath. “I—”

And then George is on him, their mouths pressed hot against each other. Sapnap moves back, resting on the bed, as he tilts his head, angles it so that he can kiss George properly. It’s once he does this, once he brings a hand up to hold the back of George’s head, that George pulls away with a small breath. “This was a—”

“If you say ‘bad idea,’ you owe me ten bucks,” Sapnap says before he can finish.

George, flushed, glances up at him and huffs a small laugh. “Lapse in better judgement, then.”

“No take-backs,” Sapnap says, his left hand, which had settled on the curve of George’s hip, sliding up to hold the nape of George’s neck. “Okay?”

George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels it warm against his lips, a phantom of their kiss. “Okay.”

Sapnap smiles. “Good. So what’s wrong?” He wouldn’t normally talk it out, the other party throwing out their worries and Sapnap immediately going back in for the kill, lips on theirs and them preferably in the bed by now, but it’s okay if it’s George—if this takes longer than it normally would, that’s okay, and—George gives him a hesitant smile back—if the end result is more than a tumble in the sheets, that’s even better. (Not that that was ever the desired result, but for a time, Sapnap could’ve been content with just that. Not anymore, though. Not now.)

“I’ve never dated anyone,” George admits, “not seriously.”

“Like, you’re some type of player or…?” Sapnap lifts a brow as George sends him a look. He drops his hand to pull himself back and up onto his bed then pats the space next to him in a silent offering to George. George looks from his hand to his face then back a couple times before sighing and climbing onto the bed next to him. When George places his hands down at his side, his and Sapnap’s pinkies brush together. George takes another breath.

“I mean, I dated a girl in high school, if you could call it that,” George says. “More like I knew she had a crush on me and was doing what I was supposed to.” He makes a face and Sapnap wonders if it would be bad of him to curl their pinkies together, to take even more than that. Good or bad, he leaves his hands as they are, letting George continue. “It didn’t mean anything, and it was a high school relationship. Those are hardly legitimate.” He gives a slight eye roll. “So yeah, this is… kind of new to me.”

“That’s okay,” Sapnap says immediately. “I’ve never had a real relationship either.” 

It’s not the consolation Sapnap had planned for it to be. Sapnap wouldn’t say he sleeps around, or slept around, he’s not some kind of manwhore or anything, but the fact still stands that he’s definitely had more than one partner and most of those relationships did reach at least third base before he even hit the ball. That, in contrast to George’s high school hand-holding, is definitely a strike against him.

Sapnap shakes his head, dissipating the baseball metaphors beginning to sprawl in his mind. “But it’s something I want with you,” he amends. “I really like you, George. Like… I really like you.” He’s not sure if the second thing is what does it for George, but either way, he still takes Sapnap’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and resting their connected hands in his lap. Sapnap leans over just enough to have their shoulders touching.

“You really do annoy me sometimes, you know?” George asks, thumb rubbing smooth circles into Sapnap’s skin. “It’s like you go out of your way to do it, too. You can’t just… dial it back a bit. It’s really all or nothing with you.”

“I’m not known for doing things in halves, yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

George glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Except for relationships,” he says. His voice is rough.

The smile that had started to grow on Sapnap’s face drops. “Yeah. Except for those.”

“I really like you too,” George finally admits, “and if you’re willing to try,” he squeezes Sapnap’s hand then looks over and meets his eyes, “I am too.”

;;

The soft atmosphere had broken not long after that, Sapnap’s stomach rumbling and George bursting into lilted giggles, nerves and hesitance coloring his every move after that. But when Sapnap offered to walk him home, George agreed, and they held hands the entire way, and when they reached George’s door, George scrunched his face up then grabbed Sapnap by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

“For someone who’s never been in an actual relationship,” Sapnap had said, “your kisses are pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” George had said and then slammed the door in Sapnap’s face.

Sapnap didn’t mind, though; nah, he grinned the entire way home.

;;

The rest of the week flies by in a vanilla frap-flavored, headache-filled haze. George is certain the headaches are from all the sugar Sapnap intakes, but Sapnap is certain it’s from all the homework his professors assign and studying George pushes him to do.

“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t in the picture,” George tells him as he wipes down the table next to Sapnap’s. Sapnap has a lab report open on his laptop, his notes spread all out on the table before him. Half of the keyboard is covered by the paper, rendered unusable. 

Sapnap doesn’t have a good argument for that, but he also wants to keep George nearby. He leans back in his chair. “I’d have a headache with no remedy,” he says.

“Remedy, huh?” George asks, standing straight and arching a brow.

“Seeing your face is the only medicine I need,” Sapnap says, and then he throws in a, “pretty boy,” just because he wants to see what it’ll make George do.

Apparently, it makes his expression fall off his face and heat rise in its place, cheeks and ears glowing a bright pink even as he stutters out irritated (and empty) phrases, eventually giving the table a final furious once-over then disappearing into the kitchen to get rid of the dirtied rag. So basically, the words did the opposite of what he wanted, but in the end, Sapnap finds himself unable to consider it anything other than a win, mind now running through other opportunities to pull out the pet names.

George appears only when he’s about to leave, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek that’s really more an accidental brushing of lips against skin, but it’s enough for Sapnap, and he leaves the other with a smile and a promise to tell him how the quiz goes at dinner.

;;

Come dinner, Sapnap is halfway through explaining how he’s pretty sure he failed the quiz when George sits up in his seat and asks, “Is this a date?”

Sapnap freezes, mouth open and mid-word. “Do you want it to be a date?”

George huffs. “This isn’t really the wining and dining I expected, but—”

“I’m nineteen,” Sapnap tells him.

George sighs. “It was just an expression,” he says. “And I was going to say it’s fine. Everything here leaves something to be desired, but it’s fine.”

“Everything?” Sapnap asks, eyes widening coyly as he looks at the other.

“Everything,” George confirms. “Especially my date.”

Sapnap exaggerates a sad face and George rolls his eyes, throwing a fry at him, but he’s got a smile on his face, so Sapnap drops the act and grins back. “You’re so cute,” he tells the other, and George immediately seems to grow smaller, shoulders curving inwards, face angled down, his smile facing the floor instead of Sapnap, who observes this all with a quiet gaze.

“Shut up,” George says, the words on the end of a laugh.

“It’s true,” Sapnap replies. “I love looking at you. Even when you look dumb.”

“Excuse you,” George immediately snaps, finally looking back at Sapnap, “I never look dumb.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, “you’re right. I meant when you look stupid.”

“What the hell?” George guffaws. “You’re actually so annoying. Shut up.”

“So you want me to shut up when I compliment you, and you want me to shut up when I insult you—what’s the truth?”

George looks at him, unimpressed. “The only conclusion is that I like you best when you say nothing at all.”

Sapnap scoffs. “Rude.”

“And yet.” George lifts a brow.

Sapnap gives a quiet exhale. “And yet,” he agrees.

;;

Dream stretches his legs out in front of him while Sapnap twists himself around to lean against Dream, back pressed against shoulder.

“How’s it going with George?” Dream asks, flicking through the channels on the TV, Sapnap watching the short frames he gets while taking nothing in.

“I think we’re a thing,” Sapnap replies, settling even further into Dream when he finally decides on a channel. It’s an old comedy from the 80’s, one Sapnap thinks his dad might’ve shown him when he was younger. Vaguely, he recalls falling asleep halfway through. He’ll try not to do that this time.

He feels Dream shift as he looks down at the younger. Sapnap can sense his eyes on the top of his head. “You think?” Dream asks, the words coming out slowly, as if he’s tasting every letter.

“We kissed,” Sapnap explains, “and we both talked about how we feel, and we went on a date, and he’s kissed me again since that first one. On the lips,” he adds hastily, just so Dream understands the severity of the situation.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Dream concludes.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Sapnap confirms.

Dream hums as a fanfare starts up in the movie. Sapnap takes a handful of popcorn from the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

“I think we’re taking it slow,” Sapnap continues. “Neither of us are good at relationships.”

“What do you mean?” Dream turns slightly, and Sapnap slips down his arm some. “You’re not good at relationships?”

“You know how it was,” Sapnap answers, “is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Sapnap shrugs, scooting back up against Dream as he does so. “I’d think so. Someone like George would think so.”

“Where does that leave me?” Dream asks.

Sapnap doesn’t answer, eyes back on the TV screen. Dream huffs, but doesn’t push for one either. 

“It’s fine,” he finally says. “Whatever works best for you guys.”

Sapnap nods, and they don’t talk about George or Sapnap and George or relationships for the rest of the movie.

;;

This is new. Sapnap’s heart pounds heavy in his chest as George sits perched on his lap, hands flying across Sapnap’s keyboard as he types a command into the chatbox. Dream’s voice crackles through his speakers: “George! What the hell?”

“Oops,” George says, glancing back to share a conspiratorial look with Sapnap, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did,” Dream argues, his character finding George’s—who's really just using Sapnap’s character, but it’s whatever—and George running, even as Dream hits him over and over, beginning to take hearts. “You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

George leans back against Sapnap’s chest, letting Dream kill him. “Fine,” he sighs, “we can do it your way. Whatever.” Sapnap smiles at the way his accent colors his words. George sends him a curious glance; Sapnap noses at the edge of his hairline in answer. George makes a small noise before leaning forward to get back into the game. Sapnap shifts, adjusting George on his lap so he can have some circulation in his thighs again. It’s not that George is heavy, no, George is fairly light, but George is bony, and for all Sapnap likes him and would in fact like to slip his hand in the other’s back pocket as they walk together, that doesn’t change the reality of George having a bony ass and it pressing into Sapnap’s lap.

When he’s got him where he wants, Sapnap curves himself over George, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. George feels warm all over, and when Sapnap tilts his head to take in the other’s profile, he sees it as a soft pink. Though George can’t really afford a free hand when PvPing Dream, he still lifts a hand to shove Sapnap’s head away.

Sapnap huffs and hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder. And then he gets the most terrible (wonderful) idea and angles his head so his nose is pressed into George’s neck and he’s starting to run kisses across the skin there. George breathes out a titter and lifts his shoulder to try and push Sapnap away. Sapnap grins and starts to climb his lips up the slender column of George’s neck. George gives a full-on giggle at this. “Stop,” he says, hand coming up to shove at Sapnap again, the lapse giving Dream a chance to hit George with his axe. “Sapnap,” George says when his kisses turn a bit rougher.

“What are you guys—,” and then George gives another breathless laugh and Dream makes a disgusted noise. “Seriously?” he asks. “In the middle of my Minecraft PvP?”

“Sorry,” George gasps, shoving at Sapnap with an urgency now, brows knitting and lips losing their smile for a frown instead. Sapnap gives one final nip to George’s neck before relenting, letting George stand from his lap and glare down at him. It holds for another second before George turns back to the computer. “I’ll be back on in a bit, is that okay?”

Dream makes a noise of confirmation then ends the call. George turns back to Sapnap. 

“Too far?” Sapnap asks.

George scrutinizes him, eyes narrowed, before he sits back down on Sapnap’s lap, this time angled towards him. When Sapnap puts his hands on his hips, George makes a face. Sapnap drops his hands. “I know I kissed you first,” George finally says, not quite meeting Sapnap’s eyes. “So I should be okay with all this.” He finally manages to make eye contact, holding it as he speaks. “But I’m not.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” Sapnap tells him, but at George’s look, he sucks in a breath. “You did.”

“I was—I didn’t seem like I meant it,” George says. “I know. And, um, I guess I didn’t. Not really, not at first, but—”

“I still should’ve.” Sapnap lifts a hand, looking from it to George’s eyes then back. George gives a nod, and Sapnap sets his hand on George’s side, fingers resting in the spaces between George’s ribs. He feels George’s chest expand and contract with every breath he takes.

“We could,” George ducks his head, “have a sign, or a word, or something, and if one of us does it, the other stops,” he meets Sapnap’s eyes again, “would that work?”

Sapnap’s brows raise, jaw dropping slightly. “George…,” he says, “did you just suggest we employ a safeword?” 

George splutters. “No? I mean—I guess, but not like that! Just… yes or no?”

“Butterscotch,” Sapnap says.

“What?” George makes a face.

“When it’s too much,” Sapnap explains, “just say you want butterscotch.”

“It sounds like a euphemism.” The word drips distasteful from George’s tongue.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “But that’s what makes it good !” He slides his fingers from George’s side around to his back, watching George’s face all the while. When George doesn’t stop him—physically or with butterscotch—Sapnap brings his other arm around George, holding him. “People will think we’re going to fuck or something, but actually we’re doing the opposite!”

“That or they’ll think we’re sugar addicts,” George scoffs, making Sapnap laugh.

“One of those,” Sapnap agrees. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

George looks at him, disappointment clear on his features. Sapnap smiles. George’s facade breaks; he smiles back. “It’s dumb,” he says.

“You always look dumb,” Sapnap replies. “No one will think anything.”

George sighs. Sapnap feels the movement against his chest, beneath his fingertips. “Fine,” George finally concedes. “Butterscotch.”

Sapnap smiles back then leans forward till their noses touch and their breath intermingles as George inhales then says, “If there’s ever been a better time to say the opposite of butterscotch, it’d be now.” Sapnap kisses him. George’s eyes slip shut, hands coming up to tangle slender fingers into the ends of Sapnap’s hair, and returns the kiss.

Eventually, George calls Dream again and the two of them start up their game again, George back to his perch at the edge of Sapnap’s lap, and this time Sapnap doesn’t kiss him, but George lets him run his fingers up and down his sides, and Sapnap delights in the little shivers and shudders George does every time. George and Dream end the day on a tie, the last win one of Dream’s. George’s consolation is a kiss pressed to his temple, but then George says that’s not enough and decides Dream and Sapnap owe him dinner.

“Both of us?” Sapnap asks as Dream groans on the other line.

George nods.

“Why me?” Sapnap makes the best pleading face he can. 

George is made of stone. “Friend of the enemy.”

“Boo,” Sapnap says, “hiss.”

“Hey!” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George glances over at it, unamused.

“I think we should try that one place, what was it called? It’s on Main and Delaware.”

Dream makes a noise. Sapnap thinks it might be one of fear. “If it’s the place I’m thinking… that’s really expensive.”

“But you can pay for it, can’t you, Dream?” George asks. “I know you can.”

Dream doesn’t reply. All three of them know he can.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you,” George continues. “Which is why Sapnap owes me dinner too.”

Sapnap is about to whine when his brain catches onto an idea and his eyes narrow. “Is this payback for the date?”

“H’m?” The tilt of George’s head is innocent in a way only the guise of innocence can be. Sapnap’s eyes squint even more, vision practically gone. “Of course not.”

Sapnap doesn’t believe him.

;;

Despite George’s teasing earlier that week, he ends up ordering the cheapest things on the menu, though Sapnap (feeling guilty about the date thing, oops) points out other, more expensive, things for George to try.

“Sapnap,” George finally says, “it’s fine. If it bothers you that much, we can split a dessert or something.” Across the table, they meet eyes and at the contact, a small smile appears on George’s face. Sapnap’s breath catches.

Dream is seated next to George, this date of course anything but traditional, but, like at the McDonald’s, Sapnap finds he doesn’t care, their closeness completely platonic—if anything, he’s comforted by it, in a sense, his two favorite people getting along as easy as they do. Sapnap’s utterly sold on it.

He and George catch eyes again as Dream peoplewatches casually, cheek resting on his palm. Sapnap’s own palm is open on the table in front of him, bored of messing with his unused cutlery. He smiles as George eyes the hand, eyes dark and inscrutable, before a hand covers his own. Sapnap curls his fingers around the other’s. They sit in this calm silence until their server brings them their food.

Sapnap’s tempted to keep George’s hand in his as he eats, but it’s his right hand and George’s left, so he lets go, turning to his food instead. George does the same, and Sapnap thinks that’s it, but then he feels a foot brush his, and when he glances up, it’s to see George already watching him, cheeks flushed. Sapnap hooks their ankles together. George’s gaze goes back to his plate.

When it comes time for dessert, George does agree on splitting with Sapnap, Dream getting his own thing, some chocolate mousse pie, and George and Sapnap getting a crème brûlée, George eager to tap the top with his spoon when the waiter brings it out to them, steaming and pretty.

Every once in awhile, their spoons clink against each other, and they exchange quick glances, Sapnap swears his aren’t heated, but the pounding in his heart suggests otherwise—he never knows with George, whether there’s something behind them or not, his eyes dark, endless, Sapnap wonders if he’ll ever be able to properly read him. If Dream is ever uncomfortable, he never gives any indication of it.

Dream and Sapnap do pay, and George looks green and guilty after, even when Dream did everything he could to keep George from seeing the check, leaning away and even cupping a hand over the receipt to prevent curious eyes from wandering.

The three of them walk out together, Sapnap’s pockets feeling considerably lighter, but the meal worth it, and when he reaches over, George lets him clasp their hands together easily, fingers intertwining like this happens everyday. Dream walks on his other side, hands in his pockets (Sapnap stops himself from making a smart remark), eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them. The sun has long since set, and a chill has started under Sapnap’s skin, shaken only by the solid warmth of George’s hand in his. Still, when a breeze ruffles their hair, Sapnap has to suppress a shiver. 

They reach George’s apartment first, and he goes with an easy goodbye to Dream and a short hug around Sapnap’s middle. When he pulls away, he turns his head and his lips brush Sapnap’s cheek in something like a kiss. Sapnap watches him up until the door finally shuts and they hear the click of the lock. 

They’ll reach his dorm before they reach Dream’s place. When Sapnap looks over, Dream is still staring straight ahead.

“I could’ve paid it all myself,” Dream says. “You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

“You could’ve told me to pay it all myself.” Dream turns his head, eyes on Sapnap. His gaze is sharp. “George wouldn’t have minded.”

Sapnap looks to the ground. “Yeah.”

Dream goes back to looking ahead. They walk in silence for another minute. “He’s happy,” he finally says. Sapnap’s eyes dart to the other. Dream isn’t looking back. “He really likes you.”

“I really like him,” Sapnap says.

“Monday—the other week,” Dream gives a slight laugh, “George said he really liked that, too. He had a bad day—,” Sapnap remembers the drink shoved in his hands, the dark expression on George’s face, “—and then you were there, and you were happy and happy to see him, and suddenly the bad parts of the day didn’t really matter.”

“I just want to see him smile,” Sapnap says, and then he amends the statement, “I want to see him happy. If it’s because of me, that’s even better, but really, he just…,” he shrugs, makes a noise in his throat. “I care about him.”

“So do I,” Dream says. “And I care about you. And I can tell that you guys make each other happy. And that’s all you want for each other.” He glances over, showing the other a soft smile. “And that’s all I want for you both.”

“You haven’t even known George for that long,” Sapnap says, because he’s socially incompetent or something.

“George is easy to love,” Dream replies.

Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s true. He is.

;;

It’s another one of Sapnap and Dream’s biweekly movie nights, but this time George is there, head resting in Sapnap’s lap, feet in Dream’s. He fits perfectly along the couch, though he’s turned on his side, blanket tugged tight over him as he watches Jurassic Park. They settled on that after some brief bickering, mostly between George and Sapnap, Dream content to watch whatever, while George wanted a comedy and Sapnap didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t a comedy because, “Dream and I watched a comedy last time!”

“I wasn’t here last time!” George argues. “So it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does ,” Sapnap does not whine, though they all know the pitch in his voice makes it close to one. “We should watch something else.”

In the end, it was Dream who decided, having closed his eyes then picked a movie off the shelf randomly. Once Dream was sat back down on the couch, George had huffed and flopped over onto his side to watch it, ignoring Sapnap’s cheering but not turning away from the hand the younger had placed atop his head, fingers running through the short strands.

Now, an hour and a half later, George makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling into Sapnap’s thigh, and Sapnap’s heart clenches in his chest.

Dream had dozed off a few minutes ago, chin in his palm, and now his elbow has started to slide off the arm of the couch. Sapnap bends over, running his nose along the curve of George’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he whispers. “Want to call it a night?”

George turns his head, nose bumping into Sapnap’s when Sapnap doesn’t sit up quick enough. Their eyes lock, dark blue on dark brown, and George stares up at him for a second before he glances to Dream at the other end of the couch, one hand curled around George’s ankles. “‘Kay,” George says, voice rough. Sapnap finally leans back the rest of the way, and George sits up, pointing his sock-clad toes and stretching out his right arm, the limb having been pressed to the couch beneath him. When he takes his feet from Dream’s lap, dropping them to the floor, Dream’s elbow finally slips from the couch, and he jerks awake, eyes blinking rapidly until they finally settle blearily on the TV.

Sapnap leans over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “George and I are gonna head out,” he tells him. “We’re all pretty tired.”

Dream looks over at him, movements sluggish, before he nods. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Sapnap replies.

Dream nods again before making a small noise and pushing himself up from the couch. The movie still plays on the television, but none of them pay it any mind. Dream picks up their empty bowl of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen.

George sighs, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Ready for the walk home?” He’s talking about their respective homes, Sapnap knows—George’s apartment and Sapnap’s dorm—but it feels so much like they’re a duo, a pair, home coming from George’s lips like they live together, that it makes Sapnap’s breath catch in his chest. Breathlessness and a clenching heart—maybe Sapnap should seek medical help.

At his lack of reply, George looks back at him. The blue light colors his skin something pretty. Maybe Sapnap’s just had an overdose of George. He doesn’t think he minds. “I’ll walk you home,” he says. And then he thinks about the placement of their houses. He backtracks. “Or… if you wanted, you could just stay at mine?”

George, growing steadily more alert as time goes on, stares at him. “You want me to go home with you,” he says. It is in no way a question.

“I mean, if you want,” Sapnap answers anyway.

“We might as well have spent the night here,” George tells him.

Sapnap glances back at Dream, only to find the other missing from the kitchen. A look at the dark hallway and the slim line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door lets him know where the other is, however. He turns back to George. “We can ask Dream,” he says. “Do you want to?”

George gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe your place would be better. We don’t know what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“We don’t,” Sapnap agrees, although they’re both aware Dream doesn’t have any plans.

“And we don’t want to overstay our welcome,” George continues.

“We don’t,” Sapnap repeats.

George sucks in a breath, holds it. “My place is farther,” he finally says on the exhale, “ but my bed is bigger.”

That’s true. Sapnap has a room to himself, but he’s still only got a twin. It can barely fit him sometimes.

“I’m willing to make the walk if you are,” he decides.

;;

George is willing to make the walk. Dream had come out of the bathroom not long after, wiping his hands dry on his sleep pants, then waving them out with a tired smile. Sapnap had taken George’s hand the minute the door had shut behind them, the two of them alone on the sidewalk, Sapnap tugging George even closer, using their connected hands to his advantage.

They make their way to George’s apartment slowly, despite their initial reluctance to walk. Sapnap wonders if it’s a delay of the inevitable or an enjoyment of the other’s company. (They can enjoy each others’ company within four walls, not outside where the unforgiving autumn cold that’s finally settled seeps into their bones.) George takes a breath.

“I don’t,” he starts, then makes a noise. “I don’t want anything to happen, Sapnap.”

When they pass under a streetlight, Sapnap sees George’s cheeks glow red. George glances over at him.

“You know that, right?”

Sapnap has a list of things he could say. I never even thought about that, is one. Why not? is another. “Yeah,” is what he goes with. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes George’s hand. George squeezes back.

“I just…,” George tilts his head back, looking to the sky, and Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the graceful column of his throat, “I really like you, Sapnap.” He goes back to looking ahead, but Sapnap keeps his eyes on him. “And it’s almost been a month since… since,” with his free hand, he makes a vague motion at where their other hands are locked together, “this. Whatever this is. So I just… in case you, I don’t know, expected anything.”

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. Again, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

George smiles at him. Sapnap smiles back.

;;

When they reach George’s apartment, George unlocks the door and Sapnap follows him silently inside, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplates what he’s about to say next. Eventually, he gives up on elegance:

“You said this.” George looks over at him from where he’s locked the door. Sapnap leans against the kitchen counter. “Whatever this is.” He makes a gesture between the two of them, something indicative of the blurry relationship they have.

“I don’t know what to call it,” George says.

“I know,” Sapnap replies. “I don't know what to call it either.”

George glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he looks back to Sapnap. “What do you want to call it?”

Sapnap raises his brows. “What do you want to call it?”

George gives a sigh. “Are we having this talk now?”

“When else will we have it?” Sapnap crosses his arms as George shuts off the main lights, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“I don’t know,” George replies. “In the morning?” He’s nothing but a shadow as he crosses in front of Sapnap. Sapnap refrains from reaching out to grab a wrist, pull him to his chest, demand an answer now. It doesn’t matter that much.

But it’d be nice to have some answers. And George had been right before. It’s been almost a month since that kiss in Sapnap’s dorm, lips greasy with Taco Bell yet the kiss still nice, in that way kissing someone you really, really like is. In kissing someone you could grow to love—maybe already love, deep, deep down—is.

“I just like knowing,” Sapnap finally says. “What’s wrong with that?”

A light flicks on, and when Sapnap takes a couple steps away from the counter, he realizes it’s the light for George’s bedroom. He stands out of place in the doorway before George takes notice and makes his way over to the other. 

Sapnap gives him a tight smile once they’re face to face. George studies him for a second before sighing. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pivots, going over to a set of drawers and tugging the middle one open. T-shirts and lounge pants are folded loosely inside. “I like knowing too.” He glances over his shoulder at Sapnap. “Do you think any of these will fit?”

George buys most of his clothes oversized. Just something Sapnap’s noticed about the other. “There’s a chance,” he replies. George tosses a few different pairs at him. Sapnap changes in the bathroom.

The first pair he tries doesn’t fit at all. He gives a small laugh to himself before grabbing the second. They fit better. The third look hot, flannel and dark, even for the weather, so he leaves them folded and tries his best to fold the other pair before dutifully marching back to George’s side to have him tuck them back into his drawer.

“We’ve been on a date before,” Sapnap says, “and a half. A date and a half. You could say we’re dating?”

“We’re about to literally sleep together,” George replies, and although his cheeks are flaming, the heat radiating off them in waves, his expression remains neutral, completely unamused. “I think we’re a bit past that.”

“So…,” Sapnap tries his luck, though he’s starting to think it less luck, and more a careful maneuver on George’s part, “you could say we’re boyfriends?”

“A bit gradeschoolish,” George replies.

Sapnap blinks at him.

George stares back before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “You’re so dumb. Yes, you could say we’re boyfriends.”

Immediately, the blank look drops off Sapnap’s face, and he grins, even as George turns on a lamp and brushes past him to turn off the bedroom light, completely ignoring him. Sapnap watches him disappear out the door and round the corner into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running, then rummaging, then water running again, and then George’s head pops into the bedroom and he says, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush.”

Sapnap brushes his teeth and watches George’s shadow every time its reflection appears in the mirror. He holds back a sudsy laugh when he realizes the taste of George’s toothpaste is familiar. He rinses and spits then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer since the start of the semester. Since he’s met George. When he tugs his fingers through the ends, they get caught on knots. He does his best to untangle them without a brush. He gives up less than a minute in.

When he gets back into George’s room, George is already in bed, looking at something on his phone. Sapnap bites back a giddy smile, crawling into bed next to him, immediately pressing a kiss to his temple then sliding down the bed and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

George sets his phone down on the bedside table before looking down at him. “You’re very affectionate,” he says.

“So I’ve been told,” Sapnap replies.

George stares at him for another handful of seconds. Sapnap stares back. George blinks, then stretches to turn off the lamp. They’re left in the dark once again.

Sapnap is forced to lift his arm when George gets properly under the covers, the sheets tugged up to his chin. He’s flat on his back, and when Sapnap sets his arm back down, this time across his chest, he can feel the tension in him. George takes in a breath, and when he lets it out, Sapnap feels it shudder.

“George,” Sapnap says, and then, a leap of faith, “baby.”

George turns his head. Beneath Sapnap’s arm, his heart pounds.

“C’mere,” Sapnap says. A second. Two seconds. George rolls onto his side. Now, they watch each other, face to face. Sapnap can’t pick up any details on George’s, the room too dark, the most he can figure out being the slope of George’s nose, the occasional movement of his eyes. The window is behind George. Sapnap wonders if George can see him more clearly. 

Sapnap gets his arm further round George, pulling him close. When George lets out a breath, Sapnap feels it warm through his shirt. When George blinks, Sapnap feels the feathery kisses his lashes leave on his skin.

“You’re really warm,” Sapnap says.

From beneath the covers, George’s fingers twist and tangle in his shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A car passes by outside. George gives a small sigh. Sapnap brushes the pads of his fingers across the back of George’s neck.

“You can,” the words get muffled into Sapnap’s chest.

“What?” Sapnap asks.

George tilts his head back. “Your shirt,” he says. “You can take it off if you want.”

It’s Sapnap’s heart’s turn to pound.

George goes back to lying on his back. And then he rolls onto his side, but this time, he faces the window. Sapnap studies the curve of his shoulder. Then he sits up. And he pulls off his shirt.

He doesn’t really know what to do with it. Dropping it on the floor seems messy, but folding it and putting it on the bedside table just feels weird. No matter what, he’s not getting out of bed. He glances over and has to fight back the urge to jump. George has rolled back over, now staring at him.

Sapnap drops his shirt on the floor. George scoffs before rolling back over.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Sapnap immediately defends himself. He gets back under the covers. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” George replies.

Sapnap moves closer. “Stop,” George says.

Sapnap places a hand on George’s shoulder. It’s warm under his palm.

“Sapnap,” George says.

“George,” Sapnap replies. He runs his hand from George’s shoulder down to his chest. Again, he can feel his heartbeat. He pulls the other closer, so George’s back is pressed to his chest.

“No,” George says. “I’m not… spooning with you.” The word is spat with venom.

Sapnap sighs, nose tickled by the other’s hair. “Night, babe.”

“Sapnap.” George’s fingers curl around Sapnap’s wrist. They make no move to pull his hand away. He makes no move to push him away.

He still hasn’t said butterscotch. Sapnap is pretty sure he’s not going to say butterscotch. George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels him relax against his chest. Another car passes by. Sapnap hears it outside. Sees the change in lighting from behind his eyelids.

George lets out a quiet breath. “Whatever,” he finally says, more to himself than to Sapnap. “Night, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hums and delights in the shiver it sends through George. When he falls asleep, it’s to the steady sound of George breathing and the light movements of George tracing shapes on the back of his hand. Sapnap wonders what exactly it is he’s drawing. Wonders if he’s drawing anything in particular at all.

;;

When Sapnap wakes, George is still asleep. They’ve changed positions sometime in the night, both of them apparently being the type to spread out (and it had felt nice, Sapnap notes, not just to wake up next to George, but to wake up in a bed that he can actually stretch out in), so now George, Sapnap sees after sitting up all the way, has a foot just off the edge of the bed, the bump of it clear under the blanket, an arm flung back towards Sapnap, the other close to his head, fingers brushing the hair near his ear. The leg closer to Sapnap is tangled with Sapnap’s own. Sapnap’s not sure which of them is the cause for that.

There’s not much to do yet. It’s a Saturday, and while Dream didn’t have plans, he didn’t have any either. George might, but Sapnap is pretty sure that’s unlikely. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, head bouncing lightly against the pillow. George makes a soft sound from next to him. Sapnap takes his hand. He tries not to think the curl that appears at the corner of George’s lips is because of him.

George sleeps for another hour, Sapnap drifting in and out of wakefulness next to him. The final time Sapnap wakes, he knows he won’t be falling back asleep, but it doesn’t matter, because George huffs then slowly blinks open his eyes, staring blankly at the wall before looking over at Sapnap.

“G’morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Sapnap replies.

“Breakfast?” George asks.

“I’m down.”

Neither of them move.

George gives a soft laugh. Sapnap smiles at the sound.

“I might have eggs in the fridge,” George says. He looks over at the other. “I have apple juice.”

Still, neither of them move. Sapnap grins as George sighs and presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.

“There’s a diner on 3rd and Ashmore,” Sapnap tells him. “Want to try there?”

“Sounds good,” George replies.

They sit there for another second before George swings his legs off the bed and Sapnap leans over to pick his t-shirt off the floor.

“I might have a sweater you can wear,” George says. “You can put it on over your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap asks.

George tosses him a sweatshirt. It’s a pale grey, crewneck. Sapnap tugs it on over his head. It’s a little tight. George sighs, grabbing Sapnap’s jacket off the chair he had set it on the night before. “Never mind. It’s fine. Not like anyone saw you last night anyway.”

“Scared they’ll think you’re sleeping around?” Sapnap teases. George sends him an unamused look, taking the sweatshirt back when Sapnap hands it to him. “George the neighborhood whore?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?” George asks, and while Sapnap is choking on his words, George sends him a playful look, hanging the sweatshirt back up in his closet.

Sapnap gets a grip on himself and gives him a smile back. “That’s not a no.”

“Yes,” George tells him, “because I’m just such a whore. Always sleeping around.”

Sapnap stands, going over to George, backing him up into the bedroom door. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, “if that were the case. I know it’s not, but even if it were, I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” George replies. Sapnap wonders if George thinks that was the case with him. “I,” they had tentatively locked eyes, George’s occasionally glowing amber when caught by the morning light slipping through the blinds, but now, George looks away, at some distant point past Sapnap, “like you as you are. If that’s how you were, it wouldn’t matter. I like you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sapnap asks, breath caught in his throat. At George’s concerned look, Sapnap waves a hand. “Morning breath, I—you—you seem like you’d care about that.”

George presses a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s lips. Sapnap lifts a hand and runs his fingers along George’s chin, gets pricked by the short, short stubble there, then tilts his head and kisses George proper on the lips. George kisses back.

When they separate, George keeps his eyes closed. Sapnap bumps their noses together.

“In the future,” George says, “I’ll care about that.”

Sapnap really wants to say I love you.

“I’m sure you will,” he says instead.

;;

For breakfast, Sapnap has steak and eggs. George has French toast. To drink, he has apple juice. Sapnap stares into his own black coffee.

“Very nice,” George tells him. “Very stereotypical.”

“Are you really judging my food choices right now?” Sapnap asks.

George lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his juice as he raises a single brow. Sapnap tries to be defiant, firm in his choices, but his eyes are continually drawn to George’s throat, the pale skin there. His gaze is only broken by George setting the glass back down. Sapnap swallows. He can’t say if George’s eyes following the movement is deliberate.

He looks back up. George has moved on, cutting into his toast, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “How’s yours?”

Sapnap cuts into his steak. It’s good.

They eat, and their legs once again tangle, this time under a table instead of blankets.

;;

Despite what they had all told each other the day before, George and Sapnap end up not seeing Dream again.

“Sorry,” he tells them over a Discord call, George and Sapnap both at George’s computer, Sapnap having dragged the chair in the corner of George’s bedroom over to the desk. “Someone kind of high profile asked me to code something for them. I wasn’t going to turn it down. It was a good offer.”

“We didn’t expect you to turn it down,” George replies. “We don’t want you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, man,” Sapnap agrees. “That’s great. Secure that bag.”

“Secure that bag?” George echoes. “Seriously?”

“Let’s get this bread,” Sapnap says solemnly. “Make his pockets hurt.”

“I already did,” George replies.

“Still,” Dream cuts in easily, making George and Sapnap immediately stop, heads turning once again to the computer, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday or Tuesday maybe.”

“You want a rematch?” George asks him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve completely obliterated you.”

“Whatever,” Dream laughs. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” George and Sapnap agree. And then the call ends. And then it’s just them.

Part of Sapnap feels like he’s overstaying his welcome. Part of him wants to overstay his welcome, wants to stay forever. Part of him feels like George would say something if he were. If not get out , then butterscotch or something. But George has stayed silent, content to have Sapnap by his side.

At that thought, Sapnap leans over, a hand coming to rest on George’s thigh. George shifts, and Sapnap’s hand falls. That was the movement’s intention. Sapnap readjusts, placing his hand on the edge of George’s chair. George returns to his previous position. Sapnap leaves his hand where it is.

George takes a breath then leans back, head rolling on his neck to look over at Sapnap. “Got any work to do?”

“Nope,” Sapnap replies, popping the p. George hums, eyes slipping shut.

“Got any plans at all?”

“Nope,” Sapnap repeats. “No obligations, nowhere I need to be. I can go home if you want me to, though.”

“You don’t need to,” George replies. And then he glances behind to the bed. “I might take a nap.”

“You want me to say something,” Sapnap says, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

George looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I want you,” he says, “to do whatever you think you should be doing right now.” 

And with that, he rises from his chair, tugs off his tennis shoes, and falls onto the bed.

“In jeans?” Sapnap asks him, crossing his arms as best as he can at the angle he’s at.

George grunts. Sapnap sighs, taking the pair of sweatpants George had left on the dresser and dropping them on the bed next to George.

“You want any water or anything?” he asks.

George keeps his eyes closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before heading to the bathroom.

He really has no idea what George wants from him. 

Really, going into the bathroom was just him stalling, more for George’s benefit than his—he’s completely certain he’ll reenter George’s bedroom to see the other wearing the sweatpants he had set next to him—but he does use it as a moment to wonder just what he’s supposed to be doing.

When he goes back into George’s room, the other is lying the way he had been when he left, but, just as Sapnap thought, he’s now wearing sweatpants, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Sapnap takes a seat next to him, then lets out a breath and lets himself relax back onto the bed. George’s arm falls from his eyes. Together, they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can we just stay like this?” George finally asks.

Sapnap looks over at him.

George remains looking at the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap.” George’s fingers brush his. Sapnap fights the urge to take them. “It’s a lot for me.” George finally turns his head and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

Sapnap holds his breath. George’s fingers run up his arm, tickle quick over his shoulder, finally scratch through the slight beard he has. “Sorry,” Sapnap says.

George takes a breath, then shifts, turning himself onto his side. “Not your fault. It’s just new. A lot of this is,” he gives a quiet exhale, “new.” His fingers still press against Sapnap’s skin. They’re warm. Sapnap swears when they fall away, his skin will be stained red.

“I like it,” George finally says. “New is good.”

“That’s good,” Sapnap says.

“It is,” George agrees. “I like this a lot.”

“In the future, you’ll care?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs, gentle, soft. “I already do.”

;;

The rest of the weekend passed slowly, time molasses. Sapnap hadn’t spent the night again, the two of them finally napping, then Sapnap slipping out when they next woke, delivering a kiss to George’s lips then tugging his jacket over his shoulders and heading out into the October cold. He’d taken his time on the walk home, an opposite of Friday night—reluctance to leave, each step heavier than the last. By the time he gets to his dorm, he swears his feet are stone.

Wearily, he eyes his desk. Atop it lay various assignments, all at different degrees of completion. Most aren’t due till Friday or the next week entirely—he’d meant it when he told George he’s got nothing he needs to be doing—but with nothing to take his immediate attention anymore, he finds himself wondering if now would be a good time to complete it all.

He gets through an assignment and a half before he finds his thoughts wandering. Some of them go towards eating; he and George had slept through lunch, and now it’s practically dinnertime, and Sapnap is hungry. But most of them go towards George, towards a thought he’d had that morning.

I love you.

He rolls the thought around in his mind. Reshapes it.

I love you, George.

A beat.

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap. It’s a lot for me.”

Sapnap groans, head coming to rest in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he pushes his hair back. An I love you now would be too soon. They’ve just declared themselves boyfriends, and now Sapnap is thinking about I love yous.

It is a lot. For anyone. Sapnap is the odd one out here. He knows it’s a problem, but he just doesn’t know any other way to be.

;;

meeting dream today, gonna try and kick his ass. wish me luck?

Sapnap smiles down at the text that lights up his phone. Kick his ass babe, gl but u got this

thanks

Sapnap slips his phone back into his pocket. It vibrates. Sapnap pulls it out once more.

It’s probably the bare minimum. There’s no words involved. But it stops Sapnap short, leaving him staring down at his screen with wide eyes. He wonders if he’s pink. His skin feels warm. 

<3

It means something. It’s George. It has to mean something.

;;

“I brought Taco Bell,” George announces when Sapnap swings the door open.

George pushes past him easily, setting the bags at an empty spot on Sapnap’s desk while Dream brings up the rear, shirt wet with condensation from their drinks.

“It only felt right,” George tells him as Dream gives him his Baja Blast.

“I’m here this time, though,” Dream says, pulling out a burrito from one of the bags George sat down. “Please don’t make any jumps in your relationship while I’m still in the room, thanks.”

George glares at him then takes a menacing bite of his Quesarito.

Sapnap turns to Dream with wide eyes. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“It won’t be,” George says.

“I didn’t realize you’re so sentimental, George,” Dream finally speaks up after a few minutes of them just eating their food.

“I’m not,” George replies.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dream sends him an unamused look, but George just gives him one right back.

“Really,” he says. “I’m not.” He glances at Sapnap. Dream catches it. “I’m not really doing this for myself, anyway.”

Sapnap flushes, staring down at his gordita. Dream looks between them, blinks, exhales. Sapnap thinks he’s going to say something ridiculous. All he says is, “Couples,” and that’s that.

George catches his eye, smiles, and it’s like they’re sharing a secret. Sapnap likes it.

He loves it.

;;

With a new week comes the panic of midterms. Sapnap had thought he’d been overwhelmed before, but now he’s drowning, completely slipping under murky waters.

George pulls him out with a heated chocolate croissant and a pat on the head.

Sapnap smiles at him as he walks away.

Dream sits on a chair next to him, flipping through one of the New Yorker s left on the little table in front of them. Sapnap blinks at his laptop before setting it aside and stretching. “You’re so lucky, man,” he tells Dream, who gives a noncommittal hum and turns a page. “I mean it. Midterms are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “Tests are annoying.”

“They’re dumb,” Sapnap says, conviction coloring his words. “Memorization is dumb.”

“Just a couple more years of this,” Dream replies.

Sapnap sighs, picking up the chocolate croissant and taking a bite. “Just a couple more years.”

After a few more minutes, Dream heaves a sigh. “It’s getting to me,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sapnap replies, like he can in some way change the strength of the coffee.

“It’s fine,” Dream dismisses, then he stands, dropping the magazine back onto the table. “See you later.”

Sapnap sends him a smile as he waves at George, who’s moved back behind the counter.

“See you!” George calls as the door slides shut behind Dream.

“That was pretty long, I think,” Sapnap says when George makes his way over a few minutes later, now on break, taking up Dream’s empty chair. “We’d been here almost an hour.”

“That is long,” George agrees. “How long are you staying?”

“You get off at four?” Sapnap asks, and George nods. “Want to get dinner with Dream and I after?”

“Of course.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back.

;;

Despite all of his manic studying—or perhaps because of it—midterms the next week pass by relatively quickly, him coming out of his last class Friday tired but content. He doesn’t really think he got an A, but he’s sure his mark will be pretty damn close. 

A few hours and a billion failed Minecraft speedruns later, Sapnap gets a message from Dream.

I know movie nights r every other week, but u just finished midterms. Wanna come over?

Sapnap’s at the other’s house before he even thinks about it. “Uh, yes, I want to come over,” he tells Dream when the other opens the door. “What are we watching?” 

“Whatever you want,” Dream replies. “You’re the one who’s got nothing to worry about anymore.”

Sapnap grins, plucking a movie off the shelf. “Here,” he hands it to Dream. “Popcorn?”

“You know it,” Dream replies, getting the movie set up.

When the popcorn is done, Dream is on the couch, remote in hand. “Good?”

Sapnap nods, setting the bowl between them.

The movie passes by quickly, and they move onto the next one—it turns into a right marathon by the time the sun has set, and eventually, the bowl of popcorn is empty, and they’re leaning against one another in the center of the couch.

At a lull in the movie, a quiet moment between the two main characters, Sapnap speaks:

“I think I’m in love with George.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. Sapnap feels him shift against him. Their shoulders press together. “He’s easy to love,” Dream echoes his words from weeks before.

“Easy to scare,” Sapnap replies.

More movement.

“Is there ever a right time to say I love you?” Dream asks. “If you love them, let them know.”

“He told me that I’m a lot,” Sapnap tells him. “That I’m a lot for him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say it like that,” Dream says. Sapnap gives a half-hearted shrug. Dream sits up, angling himself to better face Sapnap. Sapnap imitates his pose. Like this, he can only see half of Dream’s face, one side lit up by the TV screen, the other cast in shadow. “It’s been a month,” Dream continues, “and a half. I think George is the type of guy where, if he feels like you’re too much, if he doesn’t like you, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to sit there, miserable, waiting for you to pull the plug.”

Dream is right because of course he is, but Sapnap still shifts, uncomfortable. “I just… I am a lot. We don’t spend all the time together, but I’m so much more affectionate than he is, and it’s like… I already love him, and—and—we have a safeword, Dream. Like this is some BDSM thing. But it’s not for that, it’s for how much I fucking hold his hand.”

“But isn't that proof?” Dream asks. “That’s communication. Compromise. He wants this to work, Sap. He wants to be with you. Wants you.” He smiles, hand reaching between them to hold Sapnap’s shoulder. “He wants the guy that’s pushy and loud and in your face, the guy that drinks too many vanilla fraps and gets competitive over everything and likes to cuddle. He wouldn’t have decided to go out with you—hell, I don’t even think he’d have kissed you—if that isn’t who he wanted.” He leans back, hand stroking warm down Sapnap’s arm, and the minute it falls back into his lap, Sapnap leans forward to throw his arms around the other.

“I love you,” Sapnap says, turning his face to press his nose into Dream’s neck. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Though his arms are pinned awkwardly to his sides, Dream still manages to reach and get his hands on Sapnap’s waist where he squeezes the other in a poor imitation of a hug. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t my best friend,” he replies. “I love you too.” 

When Sapnap pulls away, Dream smiles. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying I love you to, though.”

Sapnap sleeps on Dream’s couch that night and dreams of the different ways telling George he loves him could go.

He’s pleased to note that most of the scenarios end positively.

;;

Saturday he spends the night at George’s again. He lies in bed, quiet, with George next to him, one of the older’s hands holding his phone, the other affectionately brushing through Sapnap’s hair. Sapnap gives a quiet sigh before rolling over and touching his nose to George’s hip. George hums and twirls a lock of Sapnap’s hair around a thin finger.

“You okay?” George asks.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into the other's side. “Tired.”

“Fall break is coming up,” George consoles him, “and midterms are over.”

Sapnap nods, arm stretching out and over George’s waist. His fingers brush along George’s side, featherlight. George flinches away from it with a giggle. Sapnap tilts his head, eyes opening and gaze flitting to George’s face. It’s a bad angle, but he can still make out the smile there.

He loves George, he knows that now. He’s in love with George.

And George wants him. Wants the him that touches too much and feels too much and loves more than he should. George wants that. George has that. And he likes it.

Sapnap sighs, sinking back into George’s side. George plugs his phone in then turns off the lamp. Before he gets fully under the covers, Sapnap feels his fingers run through his hair one more time before a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Sapnap,” George whispers.

Sapnap squeezes George as best as he can, delivers warm kisses to the parts of George he can reach. “Night, baby.”

George hums, touching the tips of their noses together (with the action, Sapnap swears he did some kind of witchcraft to steal his breath), before rolling over, back to Sapnap’s front. Sapnap bites back a smile. He wonders if George would call this spooning. Because that’s what it is.

He buries his nose in the soft hair at the nape of George’s neck. It’d be easy to say it now. Let the words slip out and if George questions him on it, he can blame it on sleep. A slip of the tongue.

But he doesn’t want it to be a mistake, even if that’s a lie to save his own face. He wants the words to be deliberate, the meaning of them felt by George wholly.

He sighs, and George shivers with it. Sapnap makes a small noise of apology.

“What’re you thinking about?” George finally asks.

Sapnap takes in a breath. He’s not sure what to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” George says.

“I want to,” Sapnap replies.

George exhales, the sound loud, before rolling back over. When he’s facing Sapnap, a hand comes up to hold Sapnap’s cheek.

“I think you’re more affectionate than you realize,” Sapnap tells him.

“I think you just make me affectionate,” George replies.

Sapnap stares at him. George stares back before he lifts his hand, fingertips remaining against Sapnap’s skin. He runs them over his cheek, then across his lower lip. And then they go back to his cheek, and George is moving to slot their lips together.

When they separate, Sapnap smiles. He’s pretty sure George smiles back. He presses one more kiss to George’s lips.

He could say it now. George’s fingers begin to tangle into the ends of Sapnap’s hair. His mouth is hot underneath Sapnap’s own. Their breath intermingles. Under the sheets, their legs have tangled together. The two of them are practically completely intertwined.

Against his lips, Sapnap feels George smile.

He says it.

The words hang heavy in the minimal space between them. Sapnap’s heart is equally heavy in his chest as he anticipates George’s reaction. He wants to ramble—apologize, take them back, clarify, tell him that he loves him but he isn’t in love with him (but he is)—but he doesn’t. The words are what they are. He means them.

Though his face seems to now be void of the smile he wore, George doesn’t move away, and they remain tangled together. George rubs his thumb over the curve of Sapnap’s cheek.

He feels George’s breath. George kisses him softly. And then he replies: “I can’t say it yet, Sapnap.” His other hand finds Sapnap’s own. Holds it. “I feel it. I’m, like, certain I do. But I can’t say it yet. Not like that.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, nods. “I get it. That’s fine. I love you, though. I just… wanted you to know.”

At that, George laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.” A beat. And then, “The minute I can say it myself, I’ll tell you.”

Sapnap smiles. “I’m holding you to that.”

George rolls back over. Instead of waiting for Sapnap to curl around him, he backs up, pulls Sapnap’s arm over him. Readjusts so it’s even harder to separate their legs. “Goodnight, Sapnap.” He means it this time.

Sapnap closes his eyes, relaxes. The words are out there now. And George accepts them. No take-backs.

“Goodnight.”

;;

Neither bring it up later. It happened—Sapnap definitely told him—but the words stay only in the air between them, felt but never heard. They go on a walk, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company, and at the local cafe (an actual cafe, not the Starbucks George works at), they split a hot chocolate topped with a mountain of whipped cream that ages them a hundred years only for those years to be wiped away with a thumb. At one point, George has some stuck to the corner of his lips, and Sapnap can’t help but lean forward to lick it away. Of course, George shrieks and shoves him back, flustered and grossed out, but his lips are upturned.

“Sweet,” Sapnap tells him.

“You’re so annoying,” George replies.

“You’re cute,” Sapnap shoots back.

George flushes and takes the mug from Sapnap’s hands, lifting it to his lips so he can hide the smile on his lips. It only works so well. Sapnap lets the moment go, though.

“Normally that’d be butterscotch,” George tells him as they exit the cafe. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s so disgusting.”

Sapnap laces their fingers together. George huffs.

“The only reason you got away with it is because I didn’t expect it.” George kicks a pebble lying in his path. “So annoying.”

Sapnap doesn’t bring it up, but he does say it again.

George stutters out a laugh. Sapnap feels George’s hand squeeze his. It’s enough.

;;

The weeks pass by quickly after that, and soon Sapnap finds himself Friday night sitting between George and Dream while an early 2000s sci-fi movie plays on the TV. They weren’t supposed to have movie night this week either, but come tomorrow morning Sapnap is supposed to head down south for Thanksgiving with his family, so this is their last hurrah together.

They’re a bit like dominoes, actually, Dream sitting normally on the couch, Sapnap’s back resting pressed against his side, and George leaning on Sapnap. Idly, he plays with Sapnap’s fingers. To add to George’s amusement, Sapnap flexes and stretches his fingers. Meanwhile, Dream tugs on his hair.

“It’s probably best you head home soon,” Dream says. “Not to kick you out, but it’s a long drive tomorrow.”

“How many hours away is Houston anyway?” George asks, voice muffled with the way his cheek is squished against Sapnap’s chest.

“Too many,” Sapnap says. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dream tells him. 

George makes an affirmative noise.

“But it’s only for a week,” Sapnap says. “And then I’ll be back up here.”

“You don’t normally focus on that,” Dream tells him, more for George’s sake than his. Sapnap flushes, glancing down at George, who stares back with inquisitive eyes. “But I guess now you have something to come back to. Someone.”

“I like spending time with you.”

Dream scoffs. “Like distance ever mattered when it comes to us.”

“Huh?” George pushes himself up and Sapnap sends Dream a dirty look.

“I like cuddling with the homies well enough, but affection from you is way different from affection from George.” He pulls George back down on top of him. “Affection from you is like… a jacket. Nice to have, really nice, but not a necessity. George is a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Dream guffaws. “I hope I’m not just a jacket to you guys, but a friend too.”

“You’re my friend, Dream,” George tells him.

“I love you, George!” Dream immediately replies, and George hides a laugh in Sapnap’s chest.

The movie ends not long after that, and soon Sapnap is heading home.

“I can walk myself home just fine,” George tells him when they reach the intersection that Sapnap is supposed to turn at.

“But I like walking you home,” Sapnap replies.

“But you need to rest,” George tells him, smile on his face. He brushes a strand of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes. “I can help you pack your car in the morning?”

“Do you want to?”

George just continues to smile.

“Why are you like this?” Sapnap asks, and then he leans forward and George lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck. They kiss, and when they separate, Sapnap squeezes George’s waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well,” George replies.

“I’ll try.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back. George’s hand slips from his neck, and Sapnap’s hand falls from his waist. George starts to walk away. “Goodnight!” Sapnap calls after him. “Love you!”

“Goodnight, Sapnap!” George calls back.

;;

George greets him with a kiss and a coffee and bagel pressed into his hands. “For the road,” he says, and Sapnap thanks him, setting the things aside and drawing George into a deeper kiss than the chaste one he was given. “For the road?”

Sapnap grins. “For me. A week away from you. You know I need my kissies.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” George says. “Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sapnap laughs before tugging his backpack over his shoulders. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he leads George to the parking lot, where he lifts his suitcase and sets it into the trunk. “Seriously, though,” he says, “this’ll be fun.”

“An experiment,” George replies. “A week apart. How will we fare?”

Sapnap grins, and George smiles back.

“Remember me while I’m away,” Sapnap tells him. “Don’t go falling for the first pretty face you see.”

“Of course not,” George says solemnly, and Sapnap laughs. George studies him for a second before once again kissing him. “Three’s a lucky number.”

“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t,” George replies.

Another kiss. George makes a small noise.

“Four,” Sapnap says. “Actually, I think that’s unlucky in China. I read that somewhere.”

One more.

“How’s five?” George asks.

“Eh,” Sapnap says. “Even numbers are better.”

“Seven is lucky.”

“Eight?”

“Pushing it.”

Sapnap leans away from where he’d come to pin George against the door. George straightens up, readjusts his shirt. Sapnap runs a hand through his hair. George tracks the movement with his eyes. Sapnap’s hand falls back to his side.

“Thanks,” he says.

George huffs a small laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before pulling him into a hug. “I really will miss you,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re getting on the server with Dream and I if you’re not too tired tonight, right?” George asks.

“Duh.”

George nods. Sapnap feels it against his neck.

“I’ll miss you too,” George finally says.

Sapnap holds him tighter.

;;

Despite the drama of him leaving, Thanksgiving passes by without much fuss. 

They voice call a fair amount and when Sapnap gets to Houston he does hop on the SMP for a bit, a couple hours later passing out mid-call. When he wakes, the lights are all shut off and his blinds are closed.

He’s grateful.

Dream FaceTimes him on Thanksgiving, showing Sapnap his and George’s… creative feast.

“I still can’t believe you guys are having it together,” Sapnap tells the two, completely ignoring the football game on TV to focus entirely on them.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Dream asks him. “George’s family is in England, and it’s not like they celebrate, and I’m not going to Florida this year. Why not?”

That’s fair. 

“Still,” Sapnap says anyway. “And did you just call every nearby restaurant?”

“It’s an assortment,” George says.

“But it’s good,” Dream continues. “Besides, it’s more about the leftovers than the meal.”

Also fair, and Sapnap finds himself with an array of Tupperware from his family’s Thanksgiving in his backseat as he drives back to school. When he’s back inside his dorm, staring at his minifridge, he realizes they won’t all fit in the small space.

“Can I use your fridge?”

“Welcome back, Sapnap,” George replies. “How was your break?”

“I’m offering you free food,” Sapnap says.

“And I’m asking how your break was.”

Sapnap makes a face. “Good. I’m happy to be back. Now, can I please use your fridge?”

A pause. “You only love me for my house,” George finally says. “That’s so wrong of you.”

It’s the first time George has ever brought up Sapnap’s love for him, even as a joke. Sapnap takes a breath. “I do love you for your house,” he replies, teasing before turning serious, “but I also love you for a lot of other reasons. You’re very lovable, you know.”

George is quiet for a second before Sapnap hears movement. “When are you coming over here?”

Sapnap gets an Uber, knowing parking near George’s apartment is risky at best. “Ten minutes?” he says when his phone tells him his driver will be there soon.

“Okay.” Sapnap listens as George putters around. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” George replies immediately, and then, “you’ll see.”

“M'kay,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” George says, and then ends the call.

Sapnap looks down into his plastic bag of remaining Tupperware. His phone pings—the driver’s outside.

;;

“Are you ready to eat leftovers for months?” Sapnap asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “Or at least as long as they last.”

George opens the first bag, pulling out a medium-sized container stuffed full of mashed potatoes. Immediately, he finds a place in his fridge to tuck it into. He does this with the rest of the containers, Sapnap taking them out and setting them on the empty counter space for George to pick up and put away. When they’re done, George comes to lean next to Sapnap.

“We survived,” he says.

“I knew we would,” Sapnap replies.

They’re on each other in an instant.

“I’m not usually into this,” George says hotly into his mouth.

“I know,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” George continues.

“Do you need to know?” Sapnap asks.

George moans at the nip Sapnap gives to his lower lip.

“No,” George replies. “No.” Sapnap runs a burning trail of bites soothed by his tongue down George’s neck. “Sapnap.”

Against his skin, Sapnap smiles.

George gasps when Sapnap moves to press George into the couch instead, the cushions definitely comfier than the linoleum counter. “I missed you so much,” Sapnap says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You—Sapnap, yes—too.” George gets his fingers twisted and tangled into his hair, drags him up roughly. Sapnap bites back a groan at the sting and George pulls him into a bruising kiss. “Shit. I missed you.”

Sapnap lets himself be pulled down over George’s body, more than happy to press him further into the couch.

;;

George doesn’t let Sapnap skip his first class on Monday.

“School is important,” he tells him, zipping up his jacket like some mother hen. Sapnap makes a face when his hands brush imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs. “Leaving for a week again?”

Sapnap gives him a dry look.

George smiles, soft. “I’m going to work. You’ll see me in, like, four… five hours at most. Is that really the end of the world?”

Sapnap grabs his hands from where they’d come to rest on his chest, pulling George in closer. “I just like spending time with you.”

“I love spending time with you too,” George says, “and you don’t see me clinging to you.”

“You think this is clingy?” Sapnap raises a brow in a silent challenge, and George tries to back up, but Sapnap just gives another tug to his hands before pulling him into a hug and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You wish I were clingy! You want me to be more clingy, actually.”

“I do not,” George replies, words warm against Sapnap’s ear. Sapnap holds back a shiver as George wriggles in his arms. “You’re… I like you like this.”

Sapnap holds him closer. George lets him.

He pulls away after a moment, the day finally catching up to them. “Class,” George tells Sapnap.

“Work,” Sapnap tells George.

They reach the Starbucks and George squeezes his hand. “See you,” he says.

“Love you,” Sapnap replies. And then George is disappearing into the cafe, the words dissipating in the growing space between them.

;;

The rest of the week passes by slowly, each day slouching into the next. Sapnap looks over at George, whose lips are wrapped pretty around a cake pop. He’s been quiet, more so than usual, and it sets Sapnap on edge, each word coming out of him more hesitant than the last.

Come Saturday, and he finds himself confronting the other.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” is immediately shot back, and Sapnap rushes forward, George bringing a hand up between them to push him away. “I’m not. I’m just….”

“I’m too much,” Sapnap says, filling in the words himself.

George is adamant. “No! You’re—you’re—you’re you, and I—Sapnap, I really—,” he makes a small noise and Sapnap tries to get closer again, but George’s hand comes back up and he mutters a quick butterscotch. 

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks. “I did something.”

“You—no,” George shoves past Sapnap to get a glass and fill it up with tap water. He takes a quick drink before pouring the rest down the drain. “You love me so much,” he finally says.

“You’re lovable,” Sapnap replies. “Everything about you, George. It’s just—you’re so easy to love.”

“That’s what Dream had said,” George tells him, and Sapnap swallows at the lump that’s built in his throat like sediment, little bits and pieces added to the pile till it cuts off Sapnap’s airways and he’s left floundering, gasping for air. George gives a quiet laugh. “I thought,” he swallows, takes a breath in contrast to Sapnap’s struggle, “it was too soon. I’m not good at this, Sapnap.”

Sapnap moves to speak, but George continues, setting the glass in the sink before his fingers curl into the countertop, knuckles turning white from his grip. He takes another breath. “I love you,” he says, all in one breath. “It shouldn’t have happened so fast. I’m… I’m terrified, Sapnap.”

When Sapnap takes a hesitant step closer, George lets him. He lifts a hand and brushes back some of George’s hair before running his knuckles over George’s cheek, down to his neck. He curls his fingers around the back, brushes them through the short hair there. Under his palm, George is tense.

George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.” 

And then he shrugs off Sapnap's hand, moves around him, disappears into his bedroom. Sapnap hears the door click. He stands alone in the kitchen, his only source of light the one over the stove. He thinks it might be dimmer than usual. He waits. George doesn’t come back out. Sapnap wonders if he’s been broken up with. George still doesn’t come back out.

Sapnap looks at the empty plastic bags on the counter. He gathers them in his hands. George can keep his leftovers. He never really wanted them anyway.

;;

“I think George broke up with me,” Sapnap accepts the apple slice Dream hands him, and at the sight of the fruit, it’s like the dam he tried to build surrounding thoughts of George breaks and all those pent up feelings come pouring out, “yesterday. He told me he loved me. And then he left me.” His grandma had made some apple cobbler. It sits on the second shelf of George’s fridge. George’s favorite fruit is apples. 

Sapnap takes a bite out of the slice. Dream sits next to him on the couch, setting the tray of assorted fruit on the coffee table. “Did he actually say that?” Dream asks. “That he’s breaking up with you.”

“He left,” Sapnap repeats. “He said, ‘I love you. You’re too much for me.’ Then he just… walked into his room, shut the door, and that was it.”

“Talk to him again,” Dream says. “He told you he loved you. I don’t think that’s nothing for George.”

Sapnap sighs. It’s not. Dream smiles at him, and Sapnap leans over, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Dream tells him. “Communication is always key.”

As always, he’s right.

;;

He doesn’t want to have any major conversations at Starbucks, but he feels if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it at all. There hasn’t been any word between him and George since that conversation in the kitchen, but Sapnap doesn’t let that deter him, instead pressing on determinedly as he walks inside and sees George’s usual station devoid of, well, George.

“Called in sick today,” Sarah tells him as she finishes putting whipped cream on someone’s drink. “Thought he’d have told you.”

Sapnap blinks. “Uh,” he says, and then, “think he fell back asleep before he could. Thanks.” Sarah waves nonchalantly, but Sapnap is out the door before he can see it.

The walk to George’s has him tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, the chill settling deep within him, unshakeable now, especially without George’s easy warmth by his side. He’s never been more grateful to see the steps leading up to the older’s apartment than he is at this moment.

And then he has to wait, much the same way he did Saturday, wait for George to see his text, call him back, answer his knock.

He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

The lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Sapnap swears his fingertips are turning blue.

“George,” he says immediately, just to have said something , and then the door is opening wider and Sapnap is rushing into the apartment, getting himself fully inside before George can reconsider.

In the sink, he spies empty Tupperware containers.

George stands next to the couch. Sapnap swallows.

“George,” he says again. “I missed you.”

“It was only a day, Sapnap,” George replies. His voice is quiet.

“You said I love you to me,” Sapnap says. George stays silent. Sapnap falters, continues: “I love you too, and I know I’m a lot, but George,” he comes closer—George lets him—he places a hand on George’s waist—George lets him, “I’ll… you once told me I can’t dial it down, or whatever, and this is me telling you that for you, I’d dial it down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t, but I want to try. For you. You said you’d try for me. You need to know I’d do the same for you.”

George laughs, but it’s an empty, hollow sound, just air shoved past his lips. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sapnap asks. “You said it happened so fast. What happened so fast?”

George mutters something. Sapnap moves closer. George pushes him back. “Falling in love, dumbass. I was in love with you before I even realized it was love I was feeling.” He keeps his hand in front of him, a visible barrier between him and Sapnap. “Am feeling.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sapnap asks. “What are you so afraid of?”

George doesn’t reply.

“It’s only as complicated as you let it be,” Sapnap says. “I’m—we’re—we’re in love with each other, George.” His voice is firm. George finally meets his eyes. Dark and inscrutable as ever. Sapnap is in love with him. “Isn’t that enough? Just for right now, tell me it isn’t enough.”

George moves, a mirror image of the him in Sapnap’s dorm on Tuesday months ago, bringing their lips together and kissing Sapnap with purpose. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkle. “I can’t. I can’t tell you it isn’t enough. But I won’t say it’s not either.”

“I love you,” Sapnap says, reflex. He presses a kiss to George’s lips, presses one to his cheeks, his chin, nose, forehead. “I love everything about you.”

“You too,” George says. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t need to know,” Sapnap replies. “Just love me. Be in love with me.”

George’s fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pull him closer. Their noses touch and Sapnap feels every single one of George’s breaths on his lips. They’re heavy. So are his own. When George speaks, he may as well be putting the words directly into Sapnap’s mouth, the two of them working as one. “I love you,” he says, and so does Sapnap. “I love you and being with you and being in love with you.”

“It won’t be perfect,” Sapnap says. (So does George.)

“But it doesn’t need to be.” George seals their lips together. He’s right. Neither of them need it to be perfect. Nor, Sapnap thinks, as George wraps an arm around his neck, draws him closer, holds him tighter, do either of them want it to be.

[casualotptrash]

Fixes to the Persona Series

Oh boy I hope you all are ready to talk about this for the hundredth time!

My recent tirade about the FES vs Portable discussion started to make me think about what I think could be done in the next coming installments of the series to make it either feel a bit more fresh or just as an overall improvement. Now, I know many of the things I’m about to say have been said time and time again, but...this is my post so I’m going to give my opinion on this :)

Enjoy and feel free to vent with me about your biggest gripes with the series, because I’m always ready for a salt-fest.

(This post will pretty much have any spoilers about Persona 3, 4, and 5 (including Royal) so beware if you haven’t finished those)

To clarify right off the bat, anything I don’t mention in here as something I would fix I either don’t think it is a problem or I just happened to forget it.

1. Player Gender Options

(Royal Spoilers)

Starting off with a great one, I think that an improvement to the series would be to allow an option between a male and a female MC. I don’t think this choice would affect the story in Persona 3 or 4 very much (and we’ve seen that with Persona 3), but I have imagined and seen so many fanfics about how it would actually be a really interesting twist for Persona 5. For most of the story it probably wouldn’t matter too much, but it could impact the first palace so much. The first palace/story arc is already one of the best arcs in the game, so imagine if the player could relate to Ann and Shiho on an even deeper level? To be clear, I’m not saying the player has to be sexually assaulted or something, but I imagine Kamoshida would at least treat the player more like Ann rather than just a delinquent nuisance.

Also, and this just came to mind, but picture this: in the third semester Maruki actualizes things that he thinks will make others happy. Obviously, Joker and Akechi are against this. In the game itself there are a lot of clues to point that Joker does care about Akechi, and does want to see him again, but in the end they both agree that they need to fight for the real world that they worked for, not for a fake reality. If Joker was a female, they could still go the route of doing this (especially if romancing Akechi was an option? Or they just hint at them having feelings but Akechi doesn’t want to commit because he’s a self-loathing boi who needs to work on himself first).

Alternatively...what about a badass narrative of a girl, in a powerful position as the leader of the Phantom Thieves, fighting against a man who believes he knows what’s best for her and tries to appease her by just bringing back Akechi? Kinda like a “Yeah fuck what you did, you just need Akechi/a man and he’ll make you happy” type of thing. Obviously this would all be subtle, because I do think Maruki has good intentions, but he also blames himself for all of the hard things Rumi has gone through and may internalize that as women needing a “strong man” to protect them. Of course this might seem too preachy for people, but I thought it was an interesting idea to run with and that some people could relate to the whole “Woman trying to think and do things for themselves? Nah just sit in your little fake world and be happy, thanks.”

(Sidenote, Sae would be such a good role model...after her change of heart of course. You crush it girl.)

However, I do understand that this could be a lot of extra work, especially when the game is so long and tedious. That’s why I would also be fine with the strategy of “switching off” per say. By that I mean if Persona 5 has a male MC, then Persona 6 would have a female MC, and if a 7th game was made (in 2040 or whatever) then it could go back to a male. This would eliminate the issue of having to record all the voice lines twice or any other extra work that would come with having to make both genders an option. Honestly I know this option doesn’t matter too much to people, they just want an MC who is either a self-insert or actually a character (more on that later), but I do think it would be a very nice inclusion especially for the female fans of the game. It kind of sucks that three of the most popular games in the series all have male protags, and the female protag who was introduced often gets shafted for very dumb reasons. (Oh no, you have the option to romance a kid that most people don’t even choose or like, that means she’s a p*do! :I I know this comment is normally a joke but seriously it’s not funny).

2. Setting of the game (not transfer but also maybe involve the other games?)

(Spoilers for the Arena games and Persona 5/Royal)

So there are two main points to this suggestion: where the game takes place and how it relates to the other games.

As we all know, the three latest entries in the mainline Persona series have all followed a certain trend. They are all high schoolers, who transfer to a town, and know basically no one there. This formula has been repeated for the last three games, and while they are still great games, I think this trend needs to change. Any amount of switching this up would be better than nothing in my opinion. For example, the MC could be a new college student who goes to a new place for college (if they wanted the MC to move somewhere), and there meets the party members who are a mix of people who also don’t know the area (new to the college) and those who do know the area/some people there. This would appease people who have been really wanting an MC to not be a high schooler, while also giving the feel of meeting new people and seeing a new place.

On the other hand, the next game could take place in the MC’s home town, where plot stuff happens and they connect more to the people they already knew (aka party members) to solve the plot stuff. They could be in high school or college, either I think would work, but it would appease people who don’t just want to be a transfer student each time and also have some connection to the characters prior to the game. However, this would be difficult to do given the current “flow” that the games have, that is that the MC doesn’t know anything and has to ask a million questions. It would be very strange to go up to someone you have known most of your life and ask them a basic question, which is why that style of storytelling(?) would not fit well with this and other methods would need to be used.

Now, for the second point, I understand that they don’t make strong connections to the other games because they want each game to be able to be played as a stand-alone, and not to hold people back by forcing them to play the other games to understand this. Makes sense, but usually what happens is that people play one game in the series and then try another game, if they really like the one they started with. After playing through the ones they want to, and if they like them, then there is an appreciation for the series as a whole. Of course Atlus sneaks in little references here and there, like having the P4 gang go to Iwatodai or some TV news announcements on P5 that allude to Adachi and other characters, but those cant always cut it. One of the biggest letdowns I would come to know is the fact that the Shadow Operatives are not mentioned at all, outside of those small references, in P5.

Persona 5 literally has the PT’s broadcasting all of their heists, and includes major government officials like Shido. There are also the mental shutdowns/psychotic breakdowns, which also have people confused, along with how the PT’s steal hearts in the first place. I don’t know about you all, but this seems like the perfect opportunity to get the Shadow Operatives involved. This is like...literally what they were made for? Investigating persona/shadow activity and such, and we already know that the PT’s deeds reached at least Hawaii so it would be strange for the SO’s to have not heard anything. There are headcanons that they were blocked by Shido or something, which is pretty interesting to think about/develop, but it was only thought up to make an excuse for why they aren’t there. Persona 5 introduced a lot of people to the story, so yeah some people would probably be very confused about who the SO’s are and stuff, but it could payoff in the long run for long-time fans and those who play the other games after.

Depending on the story of P6, I don’t think it would be a bad idea to start including casts from the other games into newer ones...especially when each game introduces 8-9 new characters per game, and those games usually get made into spin-offs that include the characters made in the previous games! Counting only the characters introduced in the previous games (3-5), Persona Q2 has 33 characters (11 P3, 10 P5, 10 P4, and 2 P3P, this includes the velvet room assistants for each respective game). That’s a ton! Sure, having new characters each time is part of the fun, but I believe there is definitely a way to split them up. I don’t think it would be too much of an issue to have a smaller party member group (you can only have 4 fight at a time anyway), that way there is still the enjoyment of seeing new characters, while also filling up some of those spots with preexisting ones.

3. Characterization

This kind of piggybacks off of the second point, but personally I think they need to stop with the self-insert protags. First, like I mentioned earlier, it kind of messes up the “flow” of the game since they have to pretend that the character doesn’t know anything because the player doesn’t know anything (yet). For example, how many times did the option to say “Probation?” or “Expelled?” or something like that come up as a dialogue choice in P5? Too often, in my opinion. I assume anyone over the age of 15 would probably know what those things mean, but in case anyone doesn’t they have to make it an option to say.

Adding onto this, it also seems like people start to like the characters a whole lot more when spinoffs or movies/animations come out that really expand on the character, because in those games/mediums the player is taken out of the self-insert role. I would say out of the three games, the Persona 3 protags have the most characterization in game through their dialogue. I haven’t watched the movies, but I heard it fleshes the MC out a lot more. In Persona 4...well, I see what they’re going for but I also feel like Yu has the personality of a cardboard box. The animations definitely helped out this one, as did Arena, and I’ve seen other people agree that they liked Yu a lot more after playing/watching those things.

As for Persona 5, I think they tried to give Joker some characterization (and oddly enough “Joker” has a lot more to him than Akira/Ren, but he still fell more on the side of self-insert. P5 the animation is...of questionable quality, but I think Xander did a good job in the Dub (which is the one I watched) in trying to make him feel more like a human being. I haven’t played Strikers, but I assume it goes more on the route of P5 because you’re still controlling Joker. Oddly enough, I feel like the dancing game gave him the most characterization? Call me crazy, but his dance moves and voice lines just ooze of his suave, friendly, and supportive attitude. I wish that they took whatever those voice lines embodied and just put them into the game, because I would like Joker a lot more than I already do (which, to be clear, I do still like him a lot).

Although this doesn’t have much to do with the characterization, it would also be nice if Atlus could just put the “canon name” in the game while also still having the option to choose your own name. Again, this might add a little more work but maybe if someone chose the “canon” option then their name could be spoken in voice lines, but if they don’t then the names would be left out (except for text) like usual. Honestly this is mostly up to personal preference because I like some of the “not canon” names more so I would want to use those if I could, but I also don’t like having the characters just randomly cut off in the end of sentences when they’re saying your name. Just kind of breaks immersion, which is probably why I really like Joker because at least they say “Joker” quite a bit.

(Little rant, but why do the PT’s get like two group names? At first Morgana defaults to “The Phantom Thieves of Hearts” but then when you get to choose the name of your team, that name is what shows up instead. However, everyone still calls you the “Phantom Thieves” and the gang refers to themselves as that too! I get naming the group is kind of cool, but I would have preferred if they were just called The Phantom Thieves (of Hearts) and that way their name could be spoken in dialogue too.)

4. Choices matter...please? (romance and regular dialogue)

This might be easy or difficult to implement, I’m not so sure because I’m not a game developer, but I really wish choices mattered more in this game. I feel like most of these suggestions (especially later on down the list) are just little things that could be added to the game that would really amp it up, and this is one of them.

When I talk about choices mattering, I do not mean that dialogue should be so open that there are branching paths and that your choices affect the story. What I mean is that you could choose two different options and not get the same exact answer. I get that this isn’t always the case, but when it is it feels very strange. In this same vein of things, please stop with the illusion of choice because everyone sees right through it. I didn’t really see this as much in P3, and I still need to finish P4, but it was definitely apparent with P5. I felt that so many times in the game there were two options that were just “Option A” or “Synonym for Option A” as the choices.

Along the same lines, I think it would be great if romance choices were actually acknowledged. Again, there is a little of this in P3 and P4 where some party members comment on your relation to the other party members (Ex. Junpei saying to take care of Fuuka if you date, Yukari stating that Akihiko probably wouldn’t want FeMC going on a group date if they’re dating, and Yosuke coming to assumptions about who Yu spends the summer festival with), but they are very few and far between. I also saw no evidence of this at all in P5, which was pretty disappointing. In fact, in Persona 5 Royal if you are dating Ann and go on the Christmas Date with her, she makes some comment about not wanting the others to find out about them. Like...girl, considering someone can finish Ann’s social link as early as June or so on NG+ I’m pretty sure your friend group would notice if you’ve been dating for 6 months?? I know that romance is definitely not the focus of the game, but if you’re going to include it why is it shoved into the farthest corner and never touched?

Don’t get me wrong, it is cute to see the romances in the game play out and such, but on the same hand I can see how much better it could be. In reality it kind of sucks to romance someone in the Persona games because no one acknowledges it, and you only get like 3-4 small scenes in each game to spend with them (beach in P5, festival in all, Christmas in all, valentines except for 3, White Day in P5R). Just imagine if you could take a walk in Kyoto with whoever you romanced, or were able to take your partner to the Jazz Jin in P5R and they would get like special date dialogue or something? Very very small additions, but it would go a long way in making the romances feel a bit more connected.

5. LGBT Romances

I went into this in some detail in Part 3 of my FES vs Portable debate post, so I to save your eyes from reading more I’ll just quickly say that Atlus definitely needs to add in more LGBT romance options because it’s ridiculous at this point. The fact that you can’t romance any guy (because all of the MC’s are male, this is not including the FeMC stuff because that’s not typical in the Persona series) but can have a whole harem (despite what they may do to you) is just ridiculous. They’d rather let you date a fully-fledged adult than someone of the same gender.

Also they’re cowards for scrapping the Yosuke romance and that’s that :)

6. Fixing Social Links

Link to the stand-alone post about this section.

I literally was going to include this in this post, but this section alone (which I knew was going to be the biggest) was almost as large (a few hundred words off) than everything prior to this point put together. I’ll make a separate post with just this section soon, but this criticism of mine can basically be boiled down into the fact that the main growth of a character should happen outside of their social link in order to avoid tonal whiplash in the story, and that this will fix the problem of some characters feeling “one-note” if you do not do their social links/confidants. Essentially, go back to the P3 method.

However, something that needs to be fixed for all of the games is that you shouldn’t only get social link points for saying what the person wants to hear. I get the train of thought that if you say what they want to hear they will like you more, but that’s not how real friendships work? Obviously you shouldn’t be saying something that offends them and think it will raise your points, but sometimes people just need to hear things?

I can think of three standout examples: Nozomi in P3 (Gourmet King), Mishima in P5, and Shinya in P5. Nozomi’s link is a hot mess in of itself, but it was very frustrating to at one point just be like “Hey can you chill?” when he’s trying to induct you into a scam/cult or whatever, and it reverses the social link. Like ok buddy fuck you too, I was just trying to say no and that you need to stop scamming people?? For Mishima in P5 (I’ll go more in depth on him in a later post), it’s just kind of strange that you can clearly see him starting to obsess about the PT’s but you can’t really tell him he needs to stop until the social link demands it. Even then, the only way to get points is pretty much to go “Wow Mishima, you’re the best! You’re the reason we exist! We love you!!!” and it just feels kind of wrong. Shinya’s is very much along the same line as that, except you basically have to do something even worse and encourage him to keep being a bully? Thankfully P5 doesn’t reverse confidants, but I probably would have done so with Shinya because I kept telling him he shouldn’t bully others until I realized how to get points with him. It just feels wrong to encourage such behavior until the character suddenly realizes they’ve been acting wrong. No shit, I’ve been trying to say that.

I think social links need quite the fix to them, but this is definitely one of them. Strong, real relationships are not just built upon telling the other person what they want to hear.

7. Have Characters Hang Out

This is mostly a suggestion based off of P5′s downfall in this aspect. I think that P3 and P4 did a good job at showing the characters hang out in other aspects, or hang out separately outside of the MC. P4 had a lot of good group hangouts, but not many scenes without the MC. P3 had the opposite where members kind of hung out together a bit, but also showed or mentioned them hanging out without the MC. However, P5 didn’t have much for the group hangouts and also I can’t really recall a single scene of the party members hanging out outside of the MC.

Along with all of the problems I mentioned earlier with the cardboard cut-out personalities, I feel that this contributed to P5′s group feeling a bit less cohesive. Obviously when they all hung out they acted like a real group of friends, but it’s hard to see it as legitimate when 95% of their hangouts are just meetings for the Phantom Thief stuff. The only times they hang out outside of the PT stuff is the TV station, the fireworks festival, helping Futaba + the beach trip, and the culture festival. Like I said, I can’t recall them hanging out together outside of being with the MC/PT business, although I could have missed some stray text message if one was mentioned.

In this aspect, P5 feels like a small step down from P3 and a huge step down from P4. I think some of the events in P4 are a bit unnecessarily long, but at least they go through the effort of showing that the group is also a real friend group, not just people trying to solve the murder. Strikers may be a step up from P5, but I haven’t played it yet so I can’t judge that.

Also bring back school trips to prior locations of Persona games. Imagine P5 group going to Inaba and it turns out this is the small country town that Joker came from? And they sprinkle in references to P4? *chefs kiss*.

8. Remove/Change Certain Tropes

(Spoilers for the babe hunts, stupid ass hot springs scenes, and Ryuji abuse after certain palace)

By that spoiler tag, you can probably tell that this is the category I’m most passionate about. I can deal with social links feeling a bit disconnected. I can deal with the MC being a self-insert. What I cant deal with anymore? These. Dumb. Ass. Scenes.

Let me explain (insert Sojiro voice here)

Every game has three main tropes. One, the babe hunt scenes. Two, the hot springs scenes. Three, one character being dunked on by everyone else. I’ll go through each, scream about my feelings about them, and why they need to change.

First, the babe hunt scenes. I don’t have much of a problem with this trope to be honest, I just think it could be done better in some games. I actually think the one in P3 was quite funny, because the group treated it like an “operation” which added a bit to humor. Truth be told, I was just a bit disappointed in P3P FeMC route when you didn’t have your own version of the “babe hunt” thing. I know Yukari and Mitsuru aren’t the types to go hunt for boys, but perhaps the MC could have suggested it as a fun idea. In P4, this scene happens in Okina and largely remains the same as the P3 formula, but I think it lacks just a bit of the humor that the P3 one had. Lastly, in P5 this scene happens during the beach trip but compared to the others it’s pretty...lackluster?

It shows a montage of Joker, Ryuji, and Yusuke talking to girls but no actual dialogue goes on. After talking to three or so, Yusuke disappears and this is when Joker and Ryuji meet the two “flamboyant” men again. This time, the men either chase them down or call after them (?) depending on if you’re playing Vanilla or Royal. I don’t like how they use these men in the first place, but on top of that it kind of takes the “babe hunt” out of “babe hunt” if you don’t actually...hunt for babes? Like no actual dialogue is spoken when trying to convince the girls, which was most of the fun in the other scenes. You don’t even have free reign to walk around at the beach, and the scene is formatted in a more cutscene type of way.  It just makes P5′s babe hunt fall flat in many ways, and overall I finished the scene with a strong “meh.” The only good things about this was watching Makoto and Ann defend themselves and Yusuke with the lobsters.

Now for the hot springs scenes....hoo boy.

Simply put, in my opinion, these scenes suck ass in almost all of the games. P3 is the least egregious in my opinion, for a couple reasons. First is that it shows that Junpei and Ryoji were kind of trying to peep on the girls, and Akihiko and MC were just dragged into it. They have some funny dialogue, and in FES and Portable they even included the option to try and evade the girls. I found the little evade minigame to be really fun, even though every time I can’t help but fail because I want to say “It was a cat!” I find it interesting that there is the option for the men to get off scott-free, and that their dialogue after the trip is over changes slightly because of this.

On the FeMC side, I also find it fun that you have the reverse of the minigame and actually seek out the boys. My only letdown with this entire scene is if the boys are caught. I get it, it’s supposed to be funny with Mitsuru executing them and such, but as a reasonable person with a brain it seems really dumb to me that Mitsuru would just punish all of them when it’s just Ryoji and Junpei’s fault? This is nothing against Mitsuru, but her actions just seem so...exaggerated for some reason? Like Mitsuru is usually smart, and even if she is embarrassed I don’t get why she would punish innocent party members. A huge disappointment for me was that the FeMC isn’t able to stop Mitsuru from doing this either. Not even a choice to try and encourage Mitsuru or discourage her (so both options would be available). You just kinda sit there and watch, even after Akihiko say “It was a misunderstanding!” or something. For me it was especially strange because MC was dating Akihiko at that point, so why wouldn’t I try to hear him out? Just struck me as kind of dumb.

If I thought that was dumb, P4 and P5 were out to really make me roll my eyes and sigh in disappointment. Unlike P3, which has most of the scene being pretty good besides the very end where Mitsuru punishes the boys, the P4 and P5 scenes are all bad. This is not the first time anyone has said it, and won’t be the last, but they aren’t funny scenes in the slightest.

In P4, it’s actually the girl’s fault that they’re in the hot springs when the boys walk in. They stayed over their allotted time and into the time when boys are supposed to be in there. So what do they do? Get flustered, yell at them, and throw buckets at the group. Oh, and they don’t listen to the boy’s protests at all. Really.

Who thought this was a good idea?? The girls even realize after that they were in the wrong, say they should apologize, but I don’t think they ever show a scene of them apologizing after. This whole scene, like the hot springs ones in general, are just exaggerated (ie. throwing masses of buckets) to be funny, but they really fail in my opinion. It just serves to make the player kinda angry (since they’re usually on the receiving end) and make the girls look wildly unrealistic and dumb. I have never really thought that needless physical abuse is funny, so these scenes are just the bane of my existence apparently.

There actually isn’t a hot springs scene in P5, but they did add one in Strikers.

If they wanted to still do these scenes, maybe they could switch from making it “just beat up the boys” into something else. For example, the girls could try to peep, or walk in on the boys. Equality y’all, sometimes girls can do those things too (but still don’t beat them up. Just don’t beat anyone up). If none of that happens, or maybe that’s how the scene ends, the rest of the scene could just be a chill, relaxing scene between those involved. Essentially, how the scenes go before the whole “lets beat up the boys” thing comes in.

Lastly, on basically the same vein as why I don’t like the hot springs scenes, I’m starting to get real sick of the “let’s shit on this one character” trope. In Persona 3, I don’t think it’s that bad because they kind of do it with Junpei but they also give him a lot of character development, and eventually the sort of hostile shitting on him turns into just gentle teasing.

For P4 I still don’t think it is too bad, because Yosuke is kind of the one being shit on but he also does the same to the other people in the group? I suppose the only thing that really sticks out to me is how Teddie abuses Yosuke’s wallet (making him buy/pay for a lot of stuff with his hard earned cash), but I also don’t like Teddie at all in the first place so I may be biased about him. Oh well, he still shouldn’t do those things and I don’t really find it funny but to each their own.

However...this problem walks and rocks the fucking runway in Persona 5. Namely, this happens with Ryuji. The most obvious aggressor in this is Morgana, because him and Ryuji butt heads so often, but the other thieves kind of do it as well. Obviously they don’t do this all the time, but it’s extremely frustrating when they do. Morgana getting into arguments with Ryuji at the drop of a hat get old very quick, and the other thieves poking a bit of fun about how dumb Ryuji can be is also not that riveting. Despite all of that, the scene that highlights all of this is the scene after Shido’s palace collapse.

You all knew this was coming, but I couldn’t resist talking about it. The scene is so tone deaf in so many ways that it takes away all of the emotional impact that they were trying to build. Even the first time I watched this scene, in which I didn’t think they would kill off Ryuji, I could still sympathize with the group being concerned about him. Then when he shows up they...just beat him up and leave him unconscious next to a pole while they walk away? Wow.

On all subsequent playthroughs I just skip this scene, but I truly cannot understand why that was the angle they went for. Were they trying to insert some humor right after an emotional scene? That can be done in certain cases, but....why??? It’s so unbelievable it’s almost laughable. It’s not even like the bath scene where the the girls think the guys are trying to peep on them. It’s simply because he survived which I assume is what they wanted!

“Oh no you made us thought you were dead (even though he didn’t because he couldn’t control any of this), we’re going to beat you up!” Now you just make the characters look like irrational idiots.

Seriously Atlus, stop doing this. In most cases it just serves to make the player kind of frustrated, and in this case it it literally takes all of the emotional weight out of the scene and makes me think worse of the entire female cast. Please. Stop.

Well that’s the end of that. I don’t think I said anything too revolutionary, although my opinions about the social links and characterization might get me some flak. I just want the characters to be more than one personality trait... This was a really long post again, so kudos to whoever made it to this point!

Next time, on Dragon Ball Z Casual’s pointless posts: something Persona related :)

[nightwingmyboi]

I have a massive amount of questions and hopefully you can answer them all. I wont ask all at once but first question. Dick and Tarantula. I know kinda what happens but like... All the titans took her side? Who were the titans and how did they react?

Alright, always happy to help out. Feel free to fire away! To start...I believe you’re thinking about Mirage, not Tarantula. 

Everything with Tarantula occurred in Bludhaven when Dick wasn’t currently working with the Titans. Dick hasn’t ever talked about what happened with Tarantula to anyone, so it’s likely that the Titans have no idea that anything ever happened...the only people who would have an inkling of what went down would probably be Bruce (who after the fact yelled at Dick to stop being suicidal and never looked into the matter further) and Barbara (who broke up with Dick...after seeing Tarantula force herself on him and knee him in the groin...okay). Yeah that’s a whole other issue :/ 

But I’ll explain the situation with Mirage instead. To set the scene: Dick was on the “New Titans” team, which included: Starfire, Beastboy/Changeling, Red Star, Donna Troy, and Pantha. Mirage came from an evil alternate future timeline, and in that timeline she was romantically involved with a version of Dick Grayson, later known as “Deathwing.” Because of this, she is obsessed with Dick and is convinced that they belong together. She’s come back with the rest of the “Team Titans” to the past to kill Donna Troy in order to stop her son from ruling over the world as a dictator. For some reason, she accomplishes this plan...by kidnapping Starfire, replacing her, and tricking Dick into having sex. Yeah, the plot is convoluted as hell. No time to unpack all that! 

Deathstroke (1991) #14

The team discovers that there is an imposter when Kory manages to break free of her imprisonment and escape. Dick realizes that he was manipulated into having sex with a stranger. Instead of Kory and Dick being able to talk about it alone, Pantha spills the beans in front of the whole team (sans Donna) and fuels the fire with several horrible, crude comments. 

The New Titans (1988) #90

“Details! From ten to one--how did she score compared to this one?”

Though Mirage had them all fooled, Pantha says that, seeing as Dick slept with her, he definitely should have been able to realize that she was phony. No one on the team comes to Dick’s defense or tries to shift the blame from Dick’s shoulders. Kory’s a bit pissed as well. She’s had a pretty bad couple of days. She wants an explanation from Dick, but Pantha can’t freaking shut up for five seconds so that he can give her one. 

Also, note the comments about how Dick’s hair has changed? And about “Starfire’s” new costume? I’m going to quickly side track to explain just how terrible Mirage is. 

The New Titans #88

So, while she was disguised as Kory, Mirage pushed Dick into changing his costume and cutting his hair into a mullet. Dick didn’t want to, especially because his discowing costume had huge sentimental value seeing as he’d modeled the look after his dead parent’s circus outfits, but “Kory” kept pestering him. He trusted his girlfriend, so Dick eventually agreed to follow what he thought was her lead. 

I can’t get over how horrible that is...that Dick’s rapist tried to own Dick’s body to the extent that manipulating him into having sex wasn’t enough, that she abused his trust to change his appearance to suit her needs too, specifically altering him in ways he wasn’t comfortable with. It’s disgusting, I don’t know why it’s so often glossed over, and it really gives a whole new reason to hate “Mulletwing.” And Nightwing’s not the only one whose bodily autonomy is completely thrown out the window.

The New Titans #93

When Mirage was disguised as Kory, she went around and did a bunch of porno, nude photoshoots. I don’t think I have to explain how awful it is that Kory’s appearance was used like this without her consent, especially in such a public way (people were literally stopping her in the streets to talk about it and she was invited onto a news show). Kory is rightfully pissed. Mirage also changes Starfire’s costume as well, to have big cut-outs on the sides. 

Mirage is absolutely horrible. Cannot say that enough.  

Back on the plot: Dick and Kory still have a lot to talk out, but they are on a mission to save Donna, so both of them put their feelings aside for now to help their friend. Later, while Starfire is busy chasing Donna in space, Nightwing runs into Mirage, and she reveals that she was the imposter. 

Team Titans #2

DICK YOU SLUT! So tell me, who was better? Huh? Huh? Huh? 

Mirage laughs about raping Nightwing with zero remorse. Pantha calls Dick a slut and once again asks who is better. Also like last time, the rest of the team (sans Donna) is standing right there...and doesn’t care or help him out at all. 

Dick is forced to put his feelings aside once again to deal with the threat to Earth. This means working with Mirage to the point where she is just...part of the team for some reason? My reaction is pretty in line with Kory’s here: 

Despite Kory’s protest, Dick focuses on the mission, and says that they need the manpower and the knowledge of the future that the Team Titans (including Mirage) have in order to defeat Donna and her son (long story, just ignore the plot honestly). But really, they need Mirage...so that she can cause unnecessary, contrived drama between Dick and Kory. 

I’m just going to say it: Kory and Dick are both pretty wildly out of character. Putting aside how stupid and cliché this plot is in the first place, Dick lets Mirage get away with way too much crap, when he’s always been very up front about dealing with bullshit in the past. One of the absolute worst things about having Mirage stick around (and at one point literally go on vacation with the Titans) is how she just keeps acting like her and Dick are together. It’s gross and Dick needed and usually would have put his freaking foot down about it. They also have Kory flipping from acknowledging that Mirage tricked Dick and is at fault for what happened: 

Team Titans #2

The New Titans (1988) #90

To having her think that Dick genuinely...loved Mirage and would rather be with her? And blaming Dick for being tricked? Even though Dick and Kory are both victims here? 

The New Titans (1988) #90

The New Titans (1988) #97

Starfire has an incredibly high EQ. She and Dick have always been very communicative. To see her completely unwilling to hear him out (and blame him for being raped) is shocking. She acts like an immature teenager, changing her mind all the time and then storming off to go party with random guys in clubs for the next couple days. She has zero of her previously demonstrated emotional maturity and trust. Meanwhile, just as Dick loses his girlfriend, he also loses his apartment, and, to top it all off, Roy swings by to tell Dick that the government is going to shut down the Titans because of all the property damage that happened in their last fight. Nightwing literally can never catch a break. 

The New Titans (1988) #99

Eventually, the two do make up...and Dick immediately proposes to Kory out of nowhere. She accepts, despite being pissed moments before. They have a wedding the next issue, but it is interrupted by villains from the alternate timeline, including an evil Raven and Deathwing. Afterwards, Dick and Kory’s relationship is never quite the same. 

Seeing Dick and Starfire’s relationship sour, when it was built up over so many years of comics (and with neither of them truly being at fault for the split), is freaking depressing. And Mirage never does get punished really...I’m pretty sure she’s even part of the honor guard that escorts Superman’s body to his tomb when he dies, which is dumb as hell. But that’s how it all went down. 

Just to clarify, since you specifically asked how the team reacted, I kept saying “(sans Donna)” because while most of this was going on Donna was a) giving birth or b) going crazy with power. Later, Donna is shown to know about what happened with Mirage, but she doesn’t really give it much thought. She does comment that Dick is acting strangely and she’s concerned about him, but she also doesn’t seem to connect the obvious dots that Dick is acting off...because he’s still shaken about being raped and tricked. Roy also appears later on to lead the Titans. Mirage is a member of that group, and Roy isn’t really shown to have any strong feelings about it. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t say that the Titans “took Mirage’s side” as you describe. Pretty sure none of them liked Mirage. But, they didn’t stand up for Dick, certainly. There was a lot of victim blaming. Dick’s rape wasn’t given the narrative weight that it deserved, probably due to the time period the comic was made. His teammates mostly didn’t care enough to take sides, used him being raped as a joke, or blamed him for being tricked. 

The whole story arc is convoluted, the characterizations are terrible, and overall it just sucks that this was written. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 105

I’ve managed to get slightly ahead on these, so: A belated thank you to @littleshydragon, @dark-chocolat-cupcake, @overusedblur, and @allegrochicken for all the love I have seen blowing up my notes recently (I’m queuing this on Aug 25, even if it won’t post until Sept 8). 

Also, to the 30 new followers who I have somehow acquired: Welcome!  Ask box is always open, and I don’t get nearly enough of them.  I love to interact with y’all, so don’t be afraid to ask me every little question you think of as you read.  Anon is on if you feel you need that.

Other than that, thanks for this chapter goes out to @baelpenrose for beta reading.  Also @quantumizedinsanity, @charlylimph-blog, @wildforestferret, @creakingcryptid, for the characters you gave me to play with in chapters like this.

Later that same ‘day’, I was forcefully reminded of Noah’s observation regarding human communication.  Things were generally calm, and an impromptu family meal-snack-thing was happening in my quarters. Antoine had been over to visit, as he seemed to be making up for lost time caused by infiltrating Jokul’s accidental cult.  Zach and Hannah were over, as well, so when dinner time rolled around, I just threw together some small po-boy sandwiches and banh mi for us to snack on while we kept visiting, rather than making a full meal.

Hey, I was allowed lazy days, too.

As it happened sometimes, conversation turned to things we either did or didn’t miss from Before.  Tonight was very firmly in the ‘do not miss’ category.

“Plagues started by dumb experiments,” Maverick pointed out, smirking.

Catching on, Conor swatted him playfully. “I said I was sorry about that! And Else is an alright person, turns out.”

Snorting, Hannah covered her face with one hand. “Tell that to Nixe.”

“Her new tail is gorgeous,” I gushed. “If I got reparations like that, I’d at least consider forgiving someone.”

“For almost killing you?”

“It was an accident,” I brushed the comment off, reminded of explaining that gesture to Noah. “Besides, there are a lot of other things I genuinely don’t miss.”

“Aunt Flo,” Hannah intoned seriously.

“Tyche and I already did that one, so it’s not admissible,” I admonished. “But spoiled food? Do not miss.”

Zach shuddered. “Hell, that’s not even from Before. I don’t miss that at all.”

Antoine lifted his coffee in a mock-toast. “To all the people we lost to antibiotics.” After a few confused looks banded around the room, I laughed and waved at him to clarify. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he sighed. “Bread mold. This is why people died in the After of antibiotic allergies: they didn’t know it was derived from bread mold.”

“Dude, that’s dark,” Zach whispered.

Clearing his throat, Conor soldiered on. “I never lived through one, but wildfires were pretty bad, yeah?”

Nodding seriously, Maverick - who had lived on the western coast of NorthAm - added “Yeah, fuck THOSE things. Australia had it worse, but still.”

Raising her hand and waving it, Hannah started making eager noises to ask for her turn.  “Absolutely idiotic job requirements, am I right?” Nods abounded, and she took the opportunity to vent the spleen I hadn’t even guessed her to possess. “The number of jobs I didn’t get because I didn’t have a degree were absurd. I don’t even know why they even required them, for some!  I’m sure most of you had that happen.”

I kept my silence, but Conor was right behind her. “A Master’s in Engineering, to be a foreman.  You’re babysitting a bunch of knuckleheads pounding rebar and pouring concrete!  And they’ve had a decade of learning to do it right, I would’ve just been there to make sure it was compliant. And they wanted a Master’s for that!”

Hannah took a sip of her drink and nodded eagerly. “That’s what I’m talking about! There was a job I qualified for that was basically a glorified secretary… They wanted a four-year degree and paid peanuts. Absurd.  But I was unemployed for way more of my life than I should have been, because I didn’t have that piece of paper.”

Idly, Zach stared at his drink.  Like me, he had one of said-degrees, so this was something of a conversation we couldn’t really take part in. “I wonder how many Councillors we would have if those kind of requirements were put in place here.” Arching an eyebrow, he glanced up at me and inclined his head knowingly.

“Well,” I exhaled. “It depends. If they asked for a Master’s degree of any kind, I wouldn’t be a Councillor.” A thought struck me. “Hey - “

“No, Sophia, you cannot recommend that as a way to retire from the Council,” Antoine scolded with a laugh. “You would be grandfathered in with everyone else.”

The laughter broke the serious tone that had descended, and led to everyone speculating jovially, starting with Conor. “Well, we know Grey would still be a Councillor in that case - they admitted they had a PhD when Else was still getting sorted, rather than an MD.”

“Pretty sure Eino has a Master’s, at least,” Zach pointed.

Maverick shook his head, firmly disagreeing. “Doctorate in Education. I saw it on his wall. Don’t sell that one short.”

“So that’s two.” Hannah leaned forward eagerly. “Conor, what about Huynh?”

“Masters in Engineering,” he confirmed ruefully. “But he’s no PhD.”

“Pranav,” Zach interjected. “Post grad in robotics. Even worked on some of the Padrugoi mission stuff, early on.”

A respectful murmur filled the room, accompanied by appropriately impressed nods. Maverick had to actually shake the starstruck look out of his eyes before he could speak. “So that’s three PhDs, one Master’s, and a Bachelor’s on the Council. Not bad, honestly.”

Antoine cleared his throat politely. “Grey actually has two doctorates, if I am recalling correctly.”

I shook my head firmly. “Three. Biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.”

With a low whistle, Conor shook his head. “So, we have a clear leader as far as ‘most degrees on the Council’. Would Eino or Pranav be second, though?”

An argument erupted, and when it looked like Zach was about to say something, I shook my head. I knew the same thing he was about to point out, as a by-blow of fixing some of Derek’s more… enthusiastic shenanigans,  but I wanted to see if anyone would figure it out or even question it.  A solid half-hour later, Tyche arrived and scooped up a mini-sandwich before she even registered the conversation/argument taking place.

Whirling to face me, she pointed at the rest of the room and glared at me disdainfully. “Seriously? How long has this been going on?”

“Forty five minutes?” I admitted sheepishly. “Maybe an hour if you include the ‘what we don’t miss’ portion of the conversation.  But ‘degrees on the Council’ has been at least forty five minutes.”

“And you said fuck all?”

I shrugged. “I know it’s not me who has the most or even second most.  I have the least formal education of any Councillor.”

Tyche pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. “Okay, everyone. What do you know so far?”

Without hesitation, Maverick rattled it off. “Grey has three doctorates, Eino has one and  a Master’s, it turns out. Pranav has one doctorate and a Bachelor’s. Huynh has a Master’s, and Sophia has a Bachelor’s.”

“And the Councillor you have left out?” she interrogated wearily, while Zach and I tried to restrain our laughter.

“Xiomara?” he asked, face scrunched in confusion. “She was career military, but I don’t know if she has any degrees. Maybe a Bachelor’s?”

Tyche shook her head, glaring again when I started gasping for breath. “Wrong. And you know what? Soph knew this, so I’m going to make her tell all of you. Like she should have. From the beginning.”

“Hey!” I cried, still giggling. “I was giving them a whole other 5 minutes before I broke the news. I just wanted to see if they would even question their reasoning.”  Antoine’s eyes got wide, sending me into another giggling fit. “None of you even mentioned the idea of Xiomara having any degree,” I gasped, almost in hysterics. “Mav was in the military, so I get that he just assumed she was busy as fuck, but… et tu, everyone?”

Hannah’s head turned slowly to stare down Zach. In self defense, he held up both hands with one pointing at me. “She told me not to say anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did!”

Carefully, Conor slowly asked the question that was on everyone else’s minds. “Sophie? What’s so funny?”

Tears were pouring down my face at this point - not because I thought the situation was funny, because it wasn’t. Not really.  I was hysterical because I was so caught off guard that we still brought something like this with us. “I don’t know the real reason why nobody considered Xiomara, and I’m scared to ask at this point. I’m hoping it’s because she looks tough as hell and like the kind of person who would beat up highly educated people rather than be one.” Wiping a tear from my face, I glanced at Tyche. Her jaw was tight, clearly thinking the same things I was. “But the fact that she is the only other woman on the Council, that hurts, honestly.”

I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. “The fact is, Xiomara has five degrees. Five. Along with her military career. Tyche and I have to know this, since we handle staffing.” Counting on my fingers, I started ticking them off. “Two doctorates, one in international law and one in experimental economics - as in, yes, the calorie economy was her idea. A Master’s in military history, along with two Bachelor’s degrees: one in experimental chemistry and one in nuclear physics.” Shaking my head, I glanced at the shocked and guilty expressions in the room. “It isn’t three PhDs, but damn, y’all. The woman has five degrees!”

“How did she do that, and a military career, so young?” Maverick asked, his tone nothing but awed.

Antoine looked confused at the question. “My friend, how old do you think Xiomara is?”

He shrugged. “Sophie’s age? So, thirtyish?”

Conor poked him. “Mav. You know how old Sophie is.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Fine. So maybe forty? The whole healing stuff messes with me, I’ll be honest.”

Smiling, I cut him some slack. “Xiomara is just over ten years older than me,” I clarified.

Hannah’s eyes widened, and Zach looked like he had been punched in the gut. “So hot-scary-lady is fifty?” After Tyche and I nodded, he shook his head. “That’s still super-impressive for fifty. For seventy, even!” Zach shook his head. “Grey, I could understand. They seem like the type to just live for education, you know? But, Xio? I’ve known for a year and I still get dizzy thinking about it.”

“It does explain why she’s so intimidating,” Conor pointed out. When I opened my mouth to scold him, he held up one hand. “No! No. Doctorates have to be argued and defended, right? Plus one of those is in law. And she balanced a military career on top of all that. If I accomplished all that, people would look at me with respect and expect me to be a direct, take-no-prisoners kind of person.” He glanced at Antoine, who winced and nodded in confirmation. 

“She isn’t though,” I complained. “She’s a leader.”

“Definitely not ruthless, but she is intimidating to the general population,” Hannah pointed out gently. “That’s part of what Jokul was talking about, right? The Ark, as a whole, doesn’t get to see her get excited over her favorite foods, or pictures of baby pandas, or…. Cherries? Is it cherries she’s crazy for?”

“Pomegranate,” I corrected, begrudgingly.

“Pomegranate,” Hannah asserted. “They don’t get to see that. They get to see ‘hot-scary-lady who lays down the law’. Not ‘Xiomara who gets googly eyed when Parvati Fletcher wears that one violet shirt’.”

“Or hates plantains,” Tyche pointed out. “Which never made sense to me, because fried plantains are basically dessert with dinner.”

I started to giggle a bit. “It makes even less sense when you’ve seen her order coffee.” Tyche groaned, but more confused looks bounded about the room. Full out laughing, I explained. “She… she puts… maybe three ounces of coffee? Not espresso, just regular coffee… with what looks like a gallon - “ I snorted so hard it hurt my nose, but couldn’t stop. “Of milk! And sugar! Oh gods, she must put a cup of sugar in her coffee, I swear!”

Hannah and Zach exchanged glances, as did Conor and Maverick. Within seconds, the entire room erupted in laughter. “That?” Conor gasped. “That is hilarious….”

“I...I always thought… she took her coffee blacker than sin….” Zach wheezed. “And baby pandas?”

Sobering suddenly, I straightened and glared at the entire room. “OI!” I shouted. “Baby pandas are fucking cute, and if you don’t think so, you aren’t human, and I will ask Noah to do genetic testing to prove that.”

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