#but you’re pretty sure he's postponing a reckoning too

[esteemed-excellency]

I don't talk much about Hiram and the Commissioner but since I played motr I picture them as old friends who fell out of touch after a while. They still have a common goal, and even though he's helping her with the railway as she helped him find a home back in the day, their personalities are just too different now. But they both went through a lot.

Maybe they should meet more often again and have a nice talk.

[writingdumpsite]

That’s because she’s shy (g.w.)

Summary: George Weasley doesn’t think you fancy him and decides to prove his point. What he doesn’t see coming is your reaction.

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Reader

words: 3k

A/N: just something I wrote these last days inspired by some lines from one of my favourite films. yes, a couple of days ago I rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time and the scene where Darcy proposes to Lizzie hit as hard as usual.

   “Oh c’mon George! Can you please stop looking at her and listen to what I’m trying to tell you?” Fred groaned once he’s seen his twin brother staring at her, yet again. But George couldn’t help but stare at the entrance of the Great Hall. To be completely honest, he thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever met. She was talking to Hermione, too focused on her to sense his piercing eyes on her figure. Her soft features seemed even softer thanks to the light that invaded the Great Hall. Her eyes were shining while discussing animatedly with Hermione. George supposed it was something rather interesting. At some point – he couldn’t tell when, though – she has even started gesticulating.

A loud smack on the back of his head brought George back to reality. When he turned his head towards a smirking Fred he felt his cheeks reddening. Fred was not the only one smirking but Harry, Ron and Lee were there, too. The knowing looks were enough for George to be sure he wasn’t getting away with some lame excuse. But he stayed silent, not exactly knowing what to say to his friends. And now that he thought it through, what was he supposed to say? That he fancied Y/N? That seemed pretty obvious. Harry and Ron chuckled but decided not to torment him any further. Instead, they excused themselves and went to their next class.

  The silence made him feel uncomfortable but he didn't want to speak first. George sighed in relief when Lee finally decided to open his mouth. “Don’t you think it’s time to say something to that poor soul?” The boy shook his head “I don’t think she fancies me. I mean, we’ve known each other for years. All I've been doing for months now is flirt with her any chance I get.”

“Are you sure you’re flirting? Eye contact and light touches here and there aren’t enough sometimes” Lee nodded at Fred’s words. And deep down George knew his twin was right, that he should tell you instead of subtly flirting once or twice a week. It’s not that difficult. Once you find her alone, you take her somewhere more private and shoot your shot. The plan in his head, though simple, seemed rather effective.

  But she was so out of his league, even for the most famous prankster of the entire school. So smart, genuine and kind that nobody was worth her undivided attention. Her grades were stellar and the hobbies she had were unparalleled and far from George’s. She was an artist. In her free time, she was always doing something creative, like reading, playing an instrument or knitting. He knew that because he has been bothering Hermione to get to know pretty much anything he could on her .

  He didn't notice the girl turning her head towards the boys at the Gryffindor table. Y/N is quick to catch George's eyes and shoot him a gracious smile. Oh c’mon you idiot, do something. She’s flirting, she’s definitely flirting is all is repeating to himself. But before he could wave at her, she starts to approach the boys at the table, Hermione right behind her.

  “Hello boys” she greeted them with the same smile she shot George a minute ago. With that, the idea of her flirting with him faded together with his hope of being his type. Again.

He didn’t pay attention to the greetings she received and avoided the conversation she started with Fred and Lee. Until she said the word “cracker”. His eyes shot up to the girl in time to catch the remaining of the discourse. “My cousin sent me some crackers after I told him about the situation with the Umbridge. They’re nothing like yours, of course, but I reckon the pink toad knows nothing about how these muggle ones work.” The conversation went on for a couple of minutes. She told them how to use them and George found himself mesmerized by the girl’s knowledge on the topic. “I’m not a fan of crackers and I'm not going  to use them so if you ever needed them, let me know. I’ll be more than happy to get rid of them.”

She was out of sight when Fred cleared his throat and announced to his twin that if he didn’t ask her out soon, he would. George laughed at that but knew that he needed to end his agony. He spent all day pondering the options on the matter but they seemed so stupid the more he went through them.

It was at dinner that Ron suggested something interesting. “You could always try and make her jealous. You know, you could pretend to date some random girl and see her reaction”. At first, George thought it was a bad idea. He would have to convince someone to pretend to date him. But he also thought that, if the plan worked, Y/N would make a move on him, tell him that she's always fancied him. And they’d finally be together. But if that didn’t happen, if she didn’t show interest at all, that would hurt him even more. Yet, the more he considered the plan, the more he convinced himself that was the right thing to do. So the next day he asked his good friend Alicia to fake-date in front of Y/N next Monday at breakfast.

George needed to get a reaction from the girl. He wanted to know if what he felt for Y/N was unrequited ad he had to give up and forget her, or if she fancied him as well.

What he wasn’t aware of was that Y/N has fancied George for a while. Yet, if he looked for proof, he wouldn’t find any. She was pretty good at disguising her feelings as kind gestures, such as smiling or waving. She sometimes would try and speak to him alone, laugh at his jokes or ask questions if she was chatty that day. And that wasn’t flirting, was it? Plus, everyone knew she was always the quiet one who didn't mean to sound flirtatious. She was aware that she was shy and not good at showing affection to her loved ones. So, she never considered she was acting like a flirt. She was sure she was being rather subtle with her pining but she was wrong, of course. On that day, Hermione explained what she knew about flirting and dating. She resolved, what Y/N was doing was flirting, even if almost non-existent. After that, it didn’t take long for the bright witch to learn what Y/N felt for George Weasley. And that lead to hours of telling her to confess, to make a move, to make it crystal clear that she fancied the prankster. Otherwise, someone else would find a way to his heart.

The process lasted less than imagined. Only a couple of days of distracted expressions and head in the clouds. It also coincided with the weekend and Y/N was not planning on crying her eyes out because of a boy. So, she postponed the whole “profess-your-feelings-to-George” idea to Monday. She was sure that having time to let everything sink in would be good.

All weekend Y/N expected second thoughts or any other impediment to happen. But on Monday morning, there was nothing that could prevent her from her original plans. So, nervously, she got changed and mentally prepared herself to face George.

“So, are you going to do it?” asked Hermione as soon as Y/N met her in the Great Hall. “If it’s of any help, Ron and Harry told me George has been talking non-stop about you for weeks. I'm pretty sure he likes you.” Y/N smiled and tried to stay calm, but everything inside her was screaming. “I’m not sure I’m ready but I'm doing it anyway.” she stated. Then, she took a big breath a continued on a funnier note. “And if it goes wrong I’ll drown myself in the huge pile of homework we have to do”. Hermione laughed and then patted her shoulder to show her support. “I’ll be here in case you need me”. Y/N ’s face softened at her friend's words. After taking another big breath, she stepped into the crowded Great Hall.

Her eyes meticulously scanned all the faces in search of George but it seemed like he wasn’t there.That’s odd, he’s never late for breakfast she thought. Fred was already there, surrounded by everyone she could think of, except for the one she was looking for. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe some kind of guardian angel was trying to send the message that it was not a good day to profess her feelings.

She went back to reality when someone lightly bumped into her shoulder. Y/N ’s eyes, until that moment, fixed on the Gryffindor table, landed on the couple who passed her. They were holding hands and Y/N couldn’t help herself imagining what holding hands would be like with George. But she didn’t have the time to indulge too much in the thought because something ginger caught her eyes. The “something” turned out to be George’s hair.

All she wanted to do was to divert her gaze, forget what she was going to do that morning. But her eyes seemed glued to the scene unfolding in front of her and incapable of focusing on anything else. The couple was now standing mere feet away from her and George was leaning in, as if he wanted to kiss the girl. In the end it was a simple kiss on her forehead but the act itself was enough for her. Y/N felt her heart sinking and before she could do anything to prevent it, tears formed in her eyes. And the more she saw, the more she wanted to slap herself. How could she be so naïve and mistake some kind gestures for interest? George was being so nice to her because it was in his nature and because she hung with his little brother’s friends a lot. How could she not see it?

She was so focused on the scene in front of her. So much that she didn’t notice the tears starting to stream down her face or George’s head turning towards her. But she wasn’t going to show him any of her feelings, so she turned around and run out of the Great Hall as fast as she could. Her run came to an end when something – or rather, someone – pulled her robes and made her turn around. Hermione was now standing in front of her, a sad expression on her face, and Y/N knew that her friend knew. She still wanted to say something, anything to try and justify her run but couldn’t. Instead, she felt her cheeks turning even redder and new tears forming. She had no idea how it happened but a moment later, she felt Hermione's arm around her. And as her head fell on her shoulder, she started sobbing.

Where did it go wrong? Were they happy tears or sad tears? You idiot, obviously they were not happy tears. George couldn’t shake Y/N ’s tear-stained face out of his mind. He wasn’t expecting this reaction. He didn’t do anything completely wrong, either. He didn’t snog Alicia or proposed to her in front of Y/N , he simply kissed her forehead. That meant nothing, either for him or for Alicia. He did what he did to prove his point that Y/N didn’t fancy him. To get a reaction, to see what she felt. He was so sure she would understand that and make a move, it didn’t matter if good or bad.

“So, how did it go?” asked Ron when George took a seat next to him. Across from him, Fred and Lee stopped planning their next prank and turned their head to hear George. He was still studying Y/N ’s reaction, pondering words as not to sound more confused than he already was. “I didn't think I'd made her cry” blurted out the boy, pouring himself a goblet of juice. But before anyone could make any type of comments he added “I’m not sure if that was the reaction I was looking for, though”. “Well, now you’ll understand if she fancies you or not” stated calmly Ron “And decide whether what you’ve been doing for months was flirting or pining” added a smirking Fred.

“Excuse me?” Hermione’s voice snapped behind George. The boy went white as he realised Hermione has been there long enough to find out about the plan. One by one, the other boys decided it was best to return to their breakfasts. That left George to deal with the girl alone. He could see she was fuming so thought it best to stare at her, letting her rant about how stupid the whole idea was. “How could you do that to her? She’s a sobbing mess because you didn’t have the guts to confess your feelings. Among all the options you had, you chose to risk hurting her to not deal with your heart being broken. I wonder why she fancies you. Yes, she should have admitted her feelings for you as well, but she didn’t do something like this just to get a reaction.” The whole situation, Hermione lecturing him, made George feel like a young boy again. Always trying to defend himself when accused of something. But at that times, it never mattered whether it was his fault or not. This clearly wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked because she’s so out of my league. And I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in case she wasn’t interested.” he tried to resonate with Hermione, wording out loud the thoughts that have been floating in his mind for weeks. But the moment he spoke, he came to the conclusion that the whole plan was stupid. “Plus, it seemed like she was completely indifferent to me and my flirting” that was his last resort. Blaming her for not noticing all along only angered Hermione more. “That’s because she’s shy. Y/N hardly shows her true feelings for me. We’ve been friends for years now and I have seen her cry only once when she got bad news from home." An uncomfortable silence fell and George could see Hermione pondering her next words. "Also, if it is of any consolation,  a couple of day ago I found out she likes you.” George stayed silent, letting Hermione’s words sink in his brain. “I really fucked up” was all he admitted before getting up and running out of the Great Hall to find Y/N .

“There you are. Ron thought you might be here but I wasn’t sure I should listen to his suggestions this time.” George has been looking all day for the girl, but it seemed impossible. She always managed to find alternative ways to go to class to avoid him but they both knew she couldn’t hide forever. When she didn’t show up for dinner, Ron hinted at Y/N ’s favourite spot. And there they were, right outside one of the greenhouses.

Y/N didn’t have the strength to find an excuse to sneak away. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically after hiding from him all day. At this point, whatever he needed to tell her, she was ready. “What do you need?” she sounded tired and even a little unpolite but she didn’t care. She forced herself to look up at George’s face. Sparkling eyes and a loving smile looking at her. George  

“I’d like to apologize for how I behaved this morning. Alicia and I are not dating, we’re just friends. I actually asked her to help me. That scene this morning was supposed to get some kind of reaction out of you, I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” he stopped to catch his breath. He’d never admit it to anyone but he has been rehearsing this whole speech all day so that he wouldn’t make mistakes. Y/N smiled and nodded weakly, encouraging him to continue. “The thing is that I like you, a lot. And I've tried so hard to make it obvious but it didn’t work. I know I am out of your league. I mean, you’re gorgeous, kind, talented and smart, but I’d be honoured if you’d go out with me”. He couldn’t believe he said that. It was a piece of cake, why didn’t he do it sooner? Silence fell between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. George knew Y/N was thinking it through. He didn’t want to pressure her further and so turned around and mentally prayed that everything would turn out fine.  

“You know, it hurt. A lot. Today I wanted to tell you the very same thing you told me. But what hurt wasn’t the act itself but the fact that I thought I was late to tell you that I liked you.” George turned to face the girl, who was now smiling. “All day, I've wanted to slap myself because of that. It seemed like, the only time I decide to speak clearly about my feelings and overcome my shyness, I get there late. So, it’s me who’d be honoured to go out with you” her smile was wider now. And though it was dark outside, George saw her cheeks turn red. “Friday night it is then. It’s a date.” it was difficult to contain the happiness now. Before he could stop himself, he felt his arms wrap around Y/N’s figure in a tight hug. The girl grinned and reciprocated. “It’s a date, then” she confirmed and lost herself in George’s arms.

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: you finally have to close the deal with the devil and you meet with Hongjoong one last time before becoming a married woman. you also decide to postpone a honeymoon for another time.

word count: 2010+ , tags: angst

characters: ateez (ensemble), fem!reader

⤩ CHAPTER 2 ⤩

character list . prologue . one

Turns out Jongho had a thing for weeding out the imperfections, flaws in a woman. It was easy for him, arriving no later than 11 in the morning to join both you and San after your dress fitting to do your hair.

“I can fix the hair.” The city turned country gangster’s lips grimace at the dark bags under your drooping eyes. “The makeup.. you’ll have to do on your own, sweetheart.”

You clutch on the silver necklace he’s handed you before he put his hands on your head, the thought of blessing Seonghwa with an engagement gift beyond your intentional rights. You play with the small compass charm between your fingers and gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

So you look like complete shit: lack of sleep, lack of encouragement, lack of pride. This was you in your most pitiful state and the boys could only spare mercy in your absence of excitement. You’ve always dreamed about family and weddings— the trends in modern life you were never entitled to try. Seonghwa was already giving you parts of the world you’ve always wanted and you couldn’t hate him for that. The arrangement however was something you’ll have to hold against him.

“You look beautiful.” Yunho nods in your direction after Jongho fluffs at your curled hair. “Y/n, you do. Now stop frowning and making it worse.”

You let out an upheaval sigh. “Remind me again why I have to dress up for such a casual occasion.”

San scoffs from the side still nitpicking his sleek suit. “This is your wedding, y/n. Have some respect for yourself. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s a wedding with a man I don’t even want. And he said so himself this was more a partnership than ties of love.” You force yourself to retort in the nicest way possible. “Seonghwa has good intentions and that’s great. But my place in his heart is not something I earned and I’m far from pleased.”

“You rather woo Seonghwa? Then do it, at least, after your wedding.” Yunho charmingly places his chin over your shoulder to face you in the mirror. “This wedding is passed formalities but something he sought good for the both of you. He wants you to feel comfortable and that’s leeway enough to your heart. Accept it as it is and maybe you won’t get shot.”

You hear it so many times, you ponder over thought of maybe wanting to get shot at this point. Why was Seonghwa so prideful? What else was he hiding?

“The day he ever wants to shoot me is the day I end this partnership of his he claims is good for the both of us.”

The trio behind you pause in their movements and let your answer sink in. It’s not everyday they get to see a woman get ready to marry a man they assume to be their best friend. It certainly isn’t every day they get to see a woman as beautiful as you sit in front of them with a personality as fierce as their empty hearted boss. Although they’re intimidated, they feel a particular sense of relief knowing you’re fully aware of your circumstances. They didn’t sign up for meddling in an innocent life though you’re far from innocent.

“We have to meet some of our partners..” San clears his throat as you fumble with the jewelery in your hand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we leave you with your thoughts for a bit.”

“Not at all.” please.

They hum in response before setting out prompt, your thoughts a little more blind in your head than they think. You look in the mirror after they leave and think to yourself that you’re just a penny of satisfaction. The best way for you to accept all this is to breathe and let it go. It’s gotten you this far.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice echoes through the slit of the door. “If you haven’t tried killing yourself already.”

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas Day. “Hongjoong.”

His lips quirk at your tone of admiration. “You look beautiful, babe.”

Your own lips quiver and you’reholding back the years of tears. “Can you hug me please? Just this once?”

He sighs softly before coming over to take you into his arms. The homey embrace of someone you trusted— no someone who trusts you was enough to end some misery. The one thing Seonghwa could grant you that you’d thank him for was this. Hongjoong was far from what you deserve but he’s someone you wished you could have. Life served you another platter and you can’t just complain and ask for a refund.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, y/n, seeing you in a wedding gown would be the last thing I’d ever imagine.”

You roll your eyes at the city mobster before turning in your chair. “I’m surprised he let you imagine let alone show up today.”

Hongjoong presses his lips together and fumbles with his tie. “There’s a lot of things you’d be surprised by.”

You sniffle mostly to undermine all the overwhelming thoughts in your head. Hongjoong sees right through you though.

“I’m sure Seonghwa’s got good intentions. Despite the fact, obviously, I’m not all for the things he does—Beyond what he does, y/n, he’s a good guy.”

You scoff his way, looking elsewhere in your reflection afraid of his words.

“Are you here to patronize the enemy some more or walk me down the aisle?”

He chuckles wholeheartedly, coming over to plant a reassuring kiss on the top of your head. Where your father lacked, Hongjoong picked up. You can’t name a single man— no person on this planet who has made you whole enough as Hongjoong does and maybe why Seonghwa is threatened. Hongjoong is a force no one is reckoned to feel accustomed to. The city monster had ties everywhere. Feeling sorry for your father was one thing; feeling sorry for you was little of what the truth was.

“You are a gem.” He annunciations through a genuine smile. “Be it Seonghwa nor I aren’t lucky to have. You’re a blessing.”

You look into Hongjoong’s eyes with a type of everlasting loyalty you can’t define. “How can you be okay with Seonghwa having me? I was already yours..”

“Your father was mine and I let you have the benefit of the doubt.” His comment sharpens at the end.

“Losing him was nothing but means to end for you. Don’t act like it was more than that.” You try to rebuttal.

“It was something I didn’t like but it sure as hell made you happy. And so I heard.”

Hongjoong’s very casual. He likes to be hands on in a moment and is, trend wise, very different from your future husband. It’s not like you loved Hongjoong romantically or anything. It just felt wrong to need to love someone else that’s all.

“Walk down the aisle.” He whispers again against the crown of your ear, hand hovering over your bare shoulders with hesitance and grace. “I’ll always be right here when you need me the most.”

It’s some misdirection partly. Also partly your fault that you’ve gotten here. Now you’re walking down an aisle with Southside’s very own devil standing at the alter awaiting you. You don’t look back on purpose. That and Hongjoong’s grip right beside is not one on par with a fatherly gesture. Hongjoong probably wanted to wring Seonghwa for what it’s worth too.

“Past formalities?” Hongjoong mumbles when you two get one step closer to the end of your suicide mission.

“Definitely past that.”

“Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

Let the party commence.

There was little shared words between you, your new husband, and the pastor. With what seemed like false devotion and empty promises, the wedding reception began. You two sat together on a podium where it’s pretty obvious Seonghwa’s treated like royalty. You were right in his district and with first impressions comes clear boundaries to be made. He wanted you to know where he stands. You two sat together as husband and wife but complete strangers. It was awkward watching the sight of men come and go to prove that Seonghwa was nothing but a merciless mafia boss. The gifts weren’t even of your benefit either.

Hongjoong left early (something you’ll press against him some other day forward) and you were stuck thinking about when this cursed day was going to end. Somehow someway it did and you were in a car fraternizing with the enemy this time.

“— So you married me instead?”

The air gets thick. It almost gets so thick you think you’re getting some type of allergic reaction to his face in the confinement of his wide vehicle. Staring at him was no gut wrenching eye sore but it’s not something you were used to just yet. Seonghwa’s eyes matched the color of war— red with fury and relent. There was something there that his calm tone didn’t quite express to it’s fullest capability.

“You’d rather be dead?”

His coldness reflected on you. It’s probably your body’s natural mechanism of defense coming to play because you’re sure as hell you’re not gonna let some man control you for the rest of your life. No, you may not get that right to speak up and say something that might as well get you killed but you still aren’t gonna let him walk all over you.

“Are you gonna get out of your dress or did you want me to strip you out of it for you instead?”

His tone persists as he emerges from the bathroom to see you sitting on solemn. You glance up tiredly at the cheeky bastard who’s lips perk at your attention. You look away without a word at all before taking your dress off without further notice.

His throat clams up at the sight, unsure of how long his self constraint would last even for the night. The sight of your broadened narrow shoulders— bare and ready to taste— was something he was definitely not prepared for. His hands tremble as the damp towel between his fingers drops and you glance to look at him.

“Tempted?” You rasp in the most taunting voice you could fabricate. “Mind me, but you asked if I was going to get out of my dress, Seonghwa. I’m showing you that I can follow basic instructions, was that not what you asked of me? Of this partnership.”

He chokes on that, jaw clenched. “Pressing my buttons, honey, is not something I suggest you test.”

You hold your dress up back to your chest as you turn to face him. “I’m just letting you know what kind of wife you gambled to marry, my sweet husband.”

He nearly screams the moment you slam the bathroom door. Not realizing on both sides that either of you were ready to combust. You shower the anger, the resentment away and Seonghwa just lays back on his bed staring at the bathroom door.

He needs to stay away from you at any time possible. Until he learns to control himself at least. Living with a woman, a woman of his absurd dreams, was proving itself difficult. You weren’t just gonna give yourself up to him just like that either.

“Sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Is all he says before turning on his back when you shut the lights off.

You stare at it. Like the night before when he got in bed without even saying a word, feeling cold.

“J-Just me?” You ask propped still on your elbow in the dark.

“I have business to take care of in the city. You’ll have San and Yunho tomorrow.” His voice lulls deeper as he’s getting pulled to his exhaustion. “It’s training you have to endure just in case. Hongjoong informed me you never took part in your father’s extravaganza’s and I need to know my wife is safe while I leave.”

“You want me to learn how to fight?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

[padfootagain]

The King And You (X)

Part 10 : Dreaming Awake

 Here is another part for my Caspian series!!! Tons of fluff here again! Got inspired a little by the movie Kate & Leopold here again for the rooftop scene, although it's not exactly the same thing happening.

Anyway, it made me feel so soft… It also turned way longer than expected, I don't think I should apologize for that though. I hope you all like it!

Word Count: 4504

There was a robin singing outside, maybe it was serenading the new dawn. After all, the sky was as red as its bosom, perhaps it saw a little bit of itself in the burning firmament.

It was a merry tune that would have put a smile on Caspian's face any other day.

Not today though.

No, as we take a glimpse by the window, at Agatha's home, we don't find Caspian waking up with a smile on his lips thanks to the melody. Instead, he's sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in the palm of his hands. He didn't sleep during the night, his thoughts did a wonderful job at keeping him awake.

He kept on thinking about you. About your features, about your eyes, about your voice, about how you made him feel, about the realization that had struck him the previous day.

He loved you.

And not in a 'little infatuation' way. Not in a 'friendly' way. Not in a 'crush' way either. No. It was none of these. He had never felt this way before, and yet, he knew, somehow, what all the signs meant. The butterflies in his stomach, his sometimes-erratic-sometimes-pounding-sometimes-stopping heartbeat, his thoughts always wandering back to you, the ache in his chest growing stronger and stronger the longer he was away from you…

He was in love with you.

What should he do?

It was a question he already knew what to bring as an answer for, but he kept on torturing himself anyway, hoping that with enough work of his thoughts and his heart he might find another thing to say. But he couldn't find any other end to the two of you. Because he didn't even know if you felt anything close to what he felt, and he didn't have much hope, actually. Because you lived in this incredible, gigantic world, and he had to go home. He had an entire people depending on him, and he couldn't let them down. He knew, deep down, that no matter what would need to be done, no matter how much he would have to suffer, his people would always come first, it was the vow he had taken, the promise he had sworn to hold when he was crowned king, and he would rather die than break his word.

So really, there was nothing to torture himself about, right?

He would fly to London, find a way back to Narnia. He would leave, and you would stay. And of you he would keep only the memory of a woman he had loved so truly he didn't want to go home.

He heard Agatha climbing down the stairs, knew she was going to prepare breakfast. In a few minutes, he would have to go down himself too. You were to meet that day again. He didn't know what you had planned for him, and despite his troubled mind, a rush of excitement crossed his frame at the thought of exploring this strange world with you again.

He knew what he had to do. He knew how it would end. He had to shush these feelings of his and act as if none of them existed. The thought alone tightened his throat.

How could he act like he didn't love you though?

 ----------------------------

 Over the course of the next few days, the answer to that question appeared as obvious.

He couldn’t.

He couldn't possibly push away the thoughts you ignited in him. He thought that if he could bury his feelings deeply enough, then he would be able to function normally around you. But he couldn't.

His heart seemed to burst every time he saw you smile, he lost himself in your eyes as if they were a maze, your voice spoke in all his dreams. On the contrary, the more time passed by, the worse it became. Every symptom seemed to grow on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from spreading.

The alternative was to not see you at all, and hope it would break the spell, but he knew already it would not make his feelings for you disappear. And when he thought about how he would soon have to go back to Narnia, he was certain that he would forever regret it if he didn't spend as much time as he could with you now.

He had no doubt that you didn't feel the same, no doubt that there was no chance he would be more to you than a friend, no doubt that your lives were meant to be spent apart. But when he thought of the life he would live in Narnia, he reckoned that the only way he would go through it all was by remembering the time he had spent with you. You would be his guiding star although you had no idea what you meant to him. And he was okay with that.

There were but a few days left to spend in New York. Agatha and Roger had planned everything, and in their mind, you were travelling with them to London. You weren't sure it was a good idea though, and for now, you had not agreed to anything.

After all, it was a crazy idea. To fly halfway across the world to help a man you had met a couple of weeks before in the weirdest circumstances, and that was still without mentioning the whole Narnia theory.

And yet, a part of you wanted to go.

That was the thought you had come to realize as you looked at the cream on top of your coffee. Caspian was sitting across from you in the coffeeshop, his long hair falling before his eyes a little, framing his face, he was dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, his long black coat draped on the back of his chair.

It was cloudy outside, but the sun seemed to slowly pierce through the grey canopy. You were sitting close to the glass window of the coffeeshop, and Caspian watched the strangers passing by in the street. The busy city was shushed yet its sound still reached you in ghostly whispers.

He was telling you about a place called the Lone Islands he had travelled to, and his voice was soothing you more than any warm beverage ever could.

You enjoyed your time with him so much. The more time you spent together, the more you wanted to see him. You didn't understand everything he talked about, and you could read on his face that sometimes he didn't know what you meant, but it didn't matter. He didn't know what a 'software' was, but you felt more understood as a person than ever before. You weren't afraid to be yourself around him, and you hadn't realized that you hadn't been your own self in a long time.

He was talking about bells in an old hall when your phone started to vibrate.

You winced as you read Alex's name.

Caspian looked at the device that was set on the table.

"I think you should do something with… this," he nodded towards your phone.

"It can wait," you replied.

"Are you sure?"

Caspian by now had a rather good understanding of phones. He didn't understand how they worked, but was getting the hang on how to use them, and Agatha was very proud of her student.

"It's Alex," you rolled your eyes.

"Oh."

The king didn't know what to answer, suddenly uneasy. Of course, he knew who Alex was, because of his short but memorable meeting with him, and you had told him about your ex as well. How the two of you had been in love, and how you had drifted apart and were now standing in a weird in-between where you were pretty sure he wanted to win you over again, but was still being a douche.

Caspian couldn't refrain his jaw from clenching at the thought of Alex being with you.

The phone went quiet for a few seconds, but started vibrating again.

You cursed under your breath.

"He's not gonna drop it until I've answered," you sighed. "Give me a minute."

Caspian merely nodded and let you answer the phone, and you walked out of the coffeeshop to gain some privacy – or at least to be able to curse at your ex as much as you wanted to without Caspian seeing you.

"Y/N?"

"Hi, Alex. What do you want?"

"I love it when you're blatantly rude with me, honey."

"Alex…"

"Okay, okay. Look, I know we're kind of… on edge these days. But I wanted to know what you were going to do with Cassie's birthday party."

You frowned.

"It was cancelled. I saw her a few days ago to give her her present and everything."

"She's decided to postpone it instead, it's back on. And it's tomorrow night."

You heaved a sigh. Cassie was an old friend of yours, and you knew she would be mad if you didn't come. However, she wouldn't be able to deny that her decision was made on very short notice and you could probably get away with a cold couple of weeks if you pretended to be busy.

"I thought I would ask you what you wanted to do. I won't come if you don't want me to."

You frowned even harder. That didn't sound much like Alex after all…

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, we're not on the best of terms these days, but I don't want us to part as enemies. So if it can help, I'll drop it. Besides, I reckon you'd like to come with your new boyfriend, and maybe you don't want us to meet again. Last time wasn't very pleasant after all."

"It wasn't pleasant because you acted like a total twat," you replied in an acidic tone.

He decided to ignore your remark, which already sounded more like him.

"Are you going with him? Because I'm bringing someone too, actually."

Your lips formed an angry thin line across your features.

"Oh, really? What's her name?" you asked, trying hard not to let Alex know how you felt.

"Andrea."

"Great. Good for you!"

"So, are you coming? Can I go too? And do you go alone?"

You wanted to say no to all that, you truly did. But there remained the fact that it was your friend's birthday and you wanted her to be happy. And a part of you that you weren't particularly proud of also wanted to make Alex shut up and see who he had replaced you with.

So, instead of being wise, you dragged yourself into more trouble than you were in already.

"Sure, I'll come. And we're not children, so, as long as you keep your distance, I'm sure we can manage an evening without incident."

"And your new boyfriend?"

You should have said no. And you should have corrected Alex when he said that Caspian and you were together. But…

"Sure. He's coming too. Can you tell Cassie for me?"

"'Course. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See ya!"

You hung up before he could add anything, heaved a deep sigh and walked back inside.

You let yourself fall onto your chair again, Caspian giving you a questioning look. But his expression turned into an even more perplexed one as you leaned across the table and winced before your eyes turned almost-begging.

"Caspian, I need you to do me a huge favour…"

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

 The music was loud, and strange. There were so many people packed in the tiny space of your friend's studio, it was hard to move around. A lot of alcohol spiralled the room too. But people seemed happy, and laughed, and Caspian, even if he felt quite uncomfortable, did his best to hide it. He already knew that it was all a terrible idea, but when you had asked him for a favour… well, let's say that you could have asked him for the moon and he would have tried to bring it to you.

You had asked him to come to this party with him, and if Alex asked, to pretend to be your boyfriend. He was blushing at the mere thought, and chose to take a gulp of his drink to hide his crimson cheeks. How could he have let himself be dragged into this?

You appeared again through the crowd, stopping to joke with a friend before walking towards him once more, a new drink in your hand.

"Are you okay?" you asked him, and he hurried to smile.

"Of course."

"Thank you again for this."

"There's no need to thank me. After everything you've done for me, it's the least that I can do."

He didn't mention that, if it was true that he was grateful for your help, he hadn't said yes because he felt like he had a debt to pay, but simply because you were the one who had been asking, and he would have done anything for you.

"Want to dance?" you offered.

But Caspian took a look at your dancing friends, and he shook his head.

"I don't know how to dance that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know this dance. What is it called?"

You couldn't refrain a laugh.

"It's not any dance… you just… move how feel like moving."

Caspian frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there aren't any steps or anything of the kind. You just go on that dancefloor, and dance."

But Caspian shook his head again.

"I… I don't know. I… I don't want to embarrass you…"

But you brushed his silly remark away.

"Of course, I'm not embarrassed because of you. Come on, it'll be fun. Take it as a new experience from my world!"

He wanted to say no. But your smile could have lightened an entire night sky, and he found himself yielding, as always.

"Alright. Show me how."

You gave him the brightest of grins, putting down your drink on the nearby table. He was surprised when you took his hand to guide him in the middle of the room, his heart stumbling in his chest. Your skin was soft, warm, comforting. He stayed quiet, hoping you wouldn't notice your own gesture in fear of you changing your mind. You dived together in the heart of the dancing group, it felt even more packed with people in there, a pond of dancing bodies from which he could have felt himself drowning. But you were there, still holding his hand, a lifeline he held onto, not allowing you to lose him the crowd.

You turned to him again, and started to dance, easy, little moves with your feet and arms and shoulders, and he copied them with hesitation.

But when you grinned to him and nodded in approval, he figured he would have done anything to keep this smile on your lips, so he danced with more confidence, making you laugh.

"You're doing great!" you spoke above the loud music, and Caspian grinned as well.

You loved how his dark eyes sparkled when his smiles reached his gaze…

More people joined the fray, making the crowd more compact, and you took a step towards Caspian to make more room. You were standing so close, still dancing, staring at each other, and for some reason, your heart started to pounder.

Caspian's eyes looked fully black in this light, he had tied his hair in a bun to keep it out of his face, his short beard only magnified his jawline, and you caught yourself wondering if his lips were really as soft as they seemed to be.

You stopped noticing the people around you. Were you still dancing? Was there music playing? You weren't sure. It was as if the universe had shrunk, its boarders brought around your two forms.

What was happening to you?

A hand on your shoulder seemed to bring reality to its rightful expansion though.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You shook yourself out of your trance, noticing how Caspian was blushing, and turned to Alex with a polite smile on your lips.

"Hi, Alex."

You noticed the woman standing behind him.

"I guess you're Andrea," you shook her hand, as she nodded.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that. A lot of make-up on, and dangerously high heels, but she had a pleasant face.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"This is my boyfriend, Caspian," you introduced the King standing behind you.

And you didn't miss the way Andrea's eyes roamed Caspian's face.

The least to say was that you didn't like her looking at him like that. At all.

That was it, you didn't like her.

"Caspian," Alex shook hands with you 'boyfriend'. "How are you, mate?"

"Fine, thank you," Caspian answered in a tone colder than ice. "What about you?"

"I'm great! In good company, as you can see."

But Caspian was not fooled, and clearly saw the look Alex threw at you. He was trying to make you jealous. Caspian clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned ivory.

"So am I."

You didn't expect Caspian to drape his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to him, but you didn't mind when he did. You looked at his stare, turned irony and threatening, and you couldn’t help but like the fact that he was being protective. Besides, his embrace was gentle and warm, and you felt safe in his arms; somehow, safer than you had ever been.

You rested your hand on Caspian's chest, and you could have sworn that you felt his heart beat faster, but then, you were a little tipsy, that was probably why.

"I'd love to get a drink," you offered, and Caspian nodded, following your excuse to bid Alex and Andrea a nice evening.

You headed for the door instead.

There were a few people in the hallway, looking for a quiet haven to talk, but you knew a place much better than a corridor for that.

"Are you okay?" Caspian asked, his expression betraying his worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I need some air though. Come with me."

He didn't question where you were heading, he didn't need to. He trusted you too blindly for that.

Cassie lived on the last floor of the building, and had an easy access to the flat rooftop. It wasn't used, and was not a particularly nice place to hang out, but at least you would get the breath of fresh air that you needed.

Or at least, that was what you remembered. Because when you stepped out of the staircase and onto the roof, it was to discover a place alit with lightbulbs, candles and other colourful fairy lights. Above you the sky was cloudless, a velvety black canvas stained with flickering sparks. The moon shed its silvery light on the busy city, and the windows and streetlights made New York look like a field full of fireflies.

You wondered how this place could look like this: magical, beautiful.

Obviously, you have a very zealous narrator rooting for you, darling. You're welcome. It was a lot of hard work to make this place so romantic. But judging by the look on your face, I reckon it was worth it.

The cold of autumn bit your cheeks, and you finally put on your coat. Behind you, Caspian smiled.

"It's a lovely place," he whispered, his breath shaping crazy forms in the cold.

"It wasn't like that the last I came."

You could still hear the music from the party downstairs, and knew your friend would be in trouble with her neighbours the next morning. The thought made you smile.

You walked closer to the edge, watching the illuminated city splayed at your feet. And Caspian stood by your side, watching the silver of the stars get lost in your eyes, the golden lights around the roof get caught in your hair. You were surrounded with lights, and yet in his eyes you shone brighter than them all.

"It'll soon be cold enough for snow," you let out, not really thinking about what you were saying. "I wish it could snow before you have to go. New York is pretty covered in white."

Caspian's heart started aching, but he chose to push the thought away. This moment was too nice. Too perfect. A part of him wanted to ask you if you were okay after meeting Alex, but he changed his mind. He didn't want to talk about Alex. He didn't want to talk about leaving. For now, you were here, almost like a dream, and he didn't want to wake up to reality just yet.

"Would you like to dance?"

You looked at him with a surprised frown.

"I thought you couldn't dance."

"I did not know the steps for your dance. I can dance though. You taught me how you dance in your world, let me teach you how we dance in mine."

He offered you his open hand, and you let out a laugh.

"Why not?"

The tune coming from the party was perfect to jump around but far from the best for Caspian's dance. It didn't matter, he still took your hand in his, and placed his other hand on the small of your back.

"It's easy, just let me guide you. When I advance, you walk back, and vice versa."

"I'm going to step on your feet."

"It's okay."

You had a first try, and you indeed stepped on his feet. He chuckled in response.

"Let me guide you. Don't look at your feet, just look at me. Trust me."

Under the dimly lit sky, you couldn’t see where his irises began and his pupils ended. He was holding you at a respectful distance, but closely enough to make the hold intimate. You were not pressed to him, but found yourself wishing for all the space between your bodies to disappear.

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think them.

"I do trust you."

He gave you the warmest of smiles before trying to guide you again, and this time, all went well.

However, the music at the party did not fit the kind of dance Caspian had in mind. And Cassie didn't understand how Shall We Dance appeared magically on her playlist, but she was too busy to skip the song, and left Marni Nixon's voice fill the air. Maybe it had to do, here again, with a zealous narrator…

All that mattered was that the music was perfect for a waltz, and Caspian started to guide you across the roof with expert movements.

It didn't feel like dancing. It felt like flying. Hovering among the stars. When the rhythm got a little too fast, Caspian made sure his movements were still slow enough to keep you close, even if it meant not following the tune properly. You laughed as he made you spin, catching you again perfectly in his arms. It felt… surreal. You missed a few steps, but none of you cared, you stood close to each other, twirling across space, bathed in sweet lights, and you could not remember any other time in your life that felt both as simple and perfect as this one. It was like dreaming while wide awake.

Eventually, the song died out, and you were giggling like an idiot in Caspian's arms. And if the song disappeared, you didn't want to walk away from his tender embrace.

So, another song appeared on Cassie's playlist, and this time around, when Julie Andrews's voice started to gently sing Something Good, she was resolved to skip the soft tune. Mysteriously enough, she couldn't find a way to lock into her computer though. How strange?

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Caspian tentatively started to guide you into a gentle dance again, and found no resistance. It wasn't a waltz this time, or at least, it wasn't fast. It wasn't a funny movement, it was intimate. Dangerously intimate.

Your eyes never left his, and you marvelled at how the yellowish lights around you appeared in his eyes, painting the brown, almost black irises with gold. You didn't notice how the space between the two of you shrank until you were almost brushing chest against chest. When he let his hand slip off your back and took a step to the side, you were afraid he would go away. But he merely placed your hands palm against palm and gently pushed to make you dance in a circle, like you had seen in these old period movies. You had always thought that it was such a cliché, how intense they made this simple dance feel. Now that you were experiencing it though, you didn't want to laugh. On the contrary, you seemed to have forgotten how to breathe altogether.

You knew your hands were supposed to be open, simply resting against each other, and even that gesture seemed too much, compared to the movies. When Caspian closed his fingers around yours though, you were certain that your heart had stopped beating altogether.

When did you stop moving, you weren't sure. The music was still playing, but your feet seemed glued to the ground. You noticed how laboured Caspian's breathing was, and it had nothing to do with the dancing.

Slowly, your joined hands were lowered, the last barrier between your faces disappearing.

Before you could make another thought, you were leaning to press your lips to his, and he did the same.

The sensation sent electricity throughout your entire frame, butterflies made too shy a term to describe what was going on in your stomach. It felt like an explosion. Like you were burning. Like your heart was expanding, ready to burst. Like you were turned into flames. You felt more alive than you had ever been before.

And most of all, it felt right. It felt like kissing him was exactly what you were meant to be doing.

Your free hand slowly rose to find the back of his neck, and his hand came to gently cup your face, his thumb stroking delicate patterns across your cheek.

When your lips moved with his, Caspian was certain to have found Aslan's land. That was what heaven ought to be like…

When you eventually broke away, both of you out of breath, both of your hearts about to combust - or implode, none of you were certain - the song was still playing, delicate notes carried by the autumn wind.

You mustered the strength to open your eyes again after a long while spent forehead against forehead, leaning against Caspian's hand on your cheek. And when your eyes met his again, the realization struck you like a punch in the gut.

You couldn't describe how you knew. You just… were absolutely certain that this was the truth, the explanation to everything you felt when you where around him, why this moment now, on the roof, was unparalleled.

You finally realized why he made you feel this way.

Oh.

Oh no…

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

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[mertronus]

Secret Mission - Chapter 6

Two more chapters after this!  Thank you so much for the love thus far.  Makes sharing my first fanfic with you all that much more fun and less nerve-wracking!

Read it on AO3 or FFN

****

Ginny ran down the hall of the Ministry to find Harry pacing outside of the Auror Department.  "Harry!  Where's Ron?  What's happening?  Bill and the others say he was fighting?"

Harry nodded, putting his arms around his frantic fiancee.  "He got in a fight at the Leaky with Cormac McLaggen."

"McLaggen?  What did he want with Ron?"

Harry shrugged.  "I haven't talked to Ron yet, but someone at the Leaky said it seemed to be over a...a girl."  He made a confused face.

"A girl?"  Ginny asked astonished.  "Ron?  Fighting over a girl?  That doesn't make any sense!"  Harry nodded his agreement.  "Well, can we see him?  Are they releasing him?"

Harry took a deep breath.  "They're holding him until Monday Gin."

"MONDAY?!" She shrieked.  "For a fight?!"

"He pulled his wand and used brute force on a civilian wizard.  As an auror that's a pretty high offense.  If McLaggen presses charges...."  Ginny groaned.  "Percy is trying to see if anyone is still around who can help."

"What an IDIOT!  The night before my WEDDING?  Fighting in a BAR?  Mum is going to flip!"

"Does she know yet?"

"Bill and Charlie went to the Burrow after they found us girls to tell them."

Just then McDaniels opened the door.  "Potter, I can get you in to speak to Weasley now."

"Can my fiancee, his sister, come too?  If not his mum will likely come burst down the door."

McDaniels looked around nervously then nodded.  "Be quick."

Harry led Ginny in to the back of the department to the cells.  McDaniels magically opened the cell door and Harry found Ron sitting on the bench with his head in his bloody and swollen hands.  

"Gin, did you grab the -"

"Dittany, yes."  She fished out the vial from her bag and handed it to Harry.  He approached Ron, who hadn't even looked up at the pair when they walked in.

"Give me your hands Ron."  Wordlessly, Ron held out his hands for Harry and looked away.  His face was red and swollen but his jaw set.  Harry spoke softly as he applied the dittany to Ron's bruised and bloody hands.  "Percy and I are working on getting you out of here.  Just be patient and keep your cool.  Percy says not to talk to anyone about what happened unless one of us is with you."  Ron nodded his understanding.  Harry wanted to ask him about what happened but figured it was not the time.  "They're saying they'll be keeping you until Monday, but we'll be back in the morning to see what we can do to get you out.  We'll stay here all day if we need to mate."

"I'll talk to mum about postponing -"

"No."  Ron finally spoke up.  "Don't postpone."  He looked up at Harry then at Ginny.  "Get married tomorrow.  Don't wait for me.  There's plans underway for my team to return to France on Monday...I just found out while Robards came in and ripped me.  If they keep me until then, even if I'm released, I'll be leaving.  Don't wait.  Get married tomorrow."  He sat back on the bench, his hands now free and looked down.

Harry glanced at Ginny and they had a short, silent conversation.  Finally he nodded.  "Okay mate.  I'm still going to come in the morning and try to get you out of here though."

" 'Preciate it," Ron mumbled.

"If you need anything, I can go to your room and get whatever you need.  Or pack you up and check you out..."

"Check us out," he whispered.  "I don't want her staying there alone overnight.  It's not safe."

Ginny threw Harry a puzzled look.  "Us?"  She said.  "You don't want who there alone Ron?"

Ron kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke.  "We're in Room 14.  She'll be stubborn and say she can take care of herself.  Don't take no for an answer.  Tell her I said...no that I demanded, for her to go with you.  Take her to the Burrow and Harry, let Robards and Ledwig know where she'll be.  Let her know she'll need to be ready to possibly leave Monday with the team - with or without me I guess."

Harry tried to understand.  "Is she...a part of the team?  She was on the mission with you?  An auror?"

Ron nodded.  "She works for the French Ministry.  Brilliant witch.  Has been with us since day one."  He looked up at Ginny.  "Take care of her Gin.  She'll be worried and upset."

"Ron...are you seeing her?"  Ginny asked softly.  "What's her name."

Ron didn't answer her right away, instead he turned to his best mate.  "Harry, do you have your wand?"  Harry nodded and Ron held up his left hand.  Without needing an explanation, Harry mumbled a quick "Revelio" pointing at Ron's hand and a wedding band came into view.  Ginny gasped.  "Her name is Hermione Granger...Weasley," Ron finally said.  He took a deep breath.  "She's my wife."

----

Two hours, it's been two hours!  He said he'd be right up!  

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be furious or concerned.  She had already peeked downstairs twice, but all was quiet and there was no sign of Ron.  She even attempted to send a Patronus, probably the one spell she always struggled with, but her emotional state seemed to stand in her way of conjuring her little otter.

Besides, she thought, what if he got called in with the aurors?  Sending a Patronus could be harmful anyway...  

But, if she was being completely honest, she had an ominous feeling.  Something was wrong.

And here she was, stuck with no way to contact his family.  She could try Ledwig or even Robards but she didn't want to get them involved if he was just drunk somewhere with his brothers avoiding what he was supposed to be doing.

If I don't hear from him by midnight - 

Just then there was a knock on the door.  Hermione gripped her wand in her hand and opened the door, half expecting a drunk Ron to be standing in the door with a sheepish grin and a slurred "I lost my key".

Instead, she found a gorgeous young woman with long red hair and freckles.  Behind her stood a man with messy black hair and glasses.  Both smiled tentatively when she opened the door.

"Hermione?"  The man asked.  "Are you Hermione Granger?"

She nodded and took in the sight of the both of them when realization hit her.  "You're...you're Ron's sister.  And his best friend.  Aren't you?"  

The woman smiled.  "We are.  I'm Ginny Weasley," she held out her hand and Hermione shook it.  "This is my fiancee Harry Potter.  May we?"  Ginny gestured into the room.

As Hermione held the door open for them she asked, almost afraid for the answer, "Is Ron okay?  Where is he?"

Harry shared a glance with Ginny.  "Hermione why don't you have a seat."

"Merlin...what's happened?  Is he okay?"  Panic set in and showed clearly across her face.  Ginny took her hands and sat her on the bed with her.

"He's okay.  He's not hurt or anything.  But there was an incident tonight.  He was in a bit of a scuffle downstairs."

"A what?" Hermione gasped,  "With who?"

"A man we went to school with,"  Harry answered as he took a seat in a chair near the two of them.  "Named-"

"Not that McLaggen bloke?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  "So...you er met McLaggen then?"

Hermione nodded.  "He was making very aggressive advances towards me when Ron showed up earlier tonight."

"Ah,"  Ginny said looking at Harry.  "That explains it then."  She turned back to Hermione.  "It seems that a little bit later, I'm assuming after you came back upstairs, they exchanged some words."

"By the way Ron laid into him I'd reckon McLaggen came back to Ron and likely made some crude comments about you."  Harry chuckled.  "That's my guess anyway.  I've seen Ron angry loads of times...but never quite like tonight."  He could see the question forming on Hermione's lips and continued.  "Aurors were called by another patron tonight, and they arrested Ron."  Hermione gasped again.  "He's being held at the Ministry at least until Monday when he'll face a trial in the morning."

"On what charges?!" Hermione demanded.

"Pulling his wand on and using brute force on a civilian wizard."

Hermione nodded in understanding.  She worked in the Magical Law Enforcement office in the French Ministry long enough to know that aurors were held to high standards.  They were expected to protect the wizarding population...not attack them.

Hermione took a deep breath.  "Did...did you speak with him?"  Harry nodded.  "Did he tell you?"

"That you're my sister-in-law?" Ginny asked as a sweet smile spread across her face.  "He told us."  Harry was smiling at Hermione too and she exhaled.

"So, you're not mad at him?"

"Oh I'm completely hacked off," Ginny said but still with a smile on her face.  "But I'm also completely thrilled!"

Harry stood up and took Hermione's other hand.  "We both are, Hermione.  Truly.  And I think it's time we bring you home to the rest of the family."  Hermione opened her mouth but Harry continued.  "Ron said you'd protest, but he pretty much demanded that we check you out of here and take you back to the burrow.  Tonight."

"I don't want to impose on-"

"And I don't want to piss Ron off after seeing what he's truly capable of.  You're coming with us Hermione."  Harry's smile never wavered, though his tone was stern.  Hermione nodded, actually feeling relieved that she would not have to stay here alone.  "Gin, why don't you help her get packed.  I'll go downstairs and get you checked out, make sure everything is taken care of."

Hermione stood at this.  "Oh, no you don't have to do that.  I can settle our bill."

"Call it a belated wedding present," he waved her off as he head for the door.

Hermione stood staring at the closed door, her hand subconsciously on her belly.  Her husband was arrested.  She was about to meet his family, without him.  She sighed.  Ginny cleared her throat and Hermione jumped.  She forgot for just a moment that her sister-in-law was behind her.

"Does Ron know?"

"Know?"  Hermione dropped her hand abruptly and spun around tucking a curl behind her ear nervously.  "Kn-know what exactly?"

Ginny stood up and faced Hermione still smiling.  "Hermione, I may have about a thousand brothers, but thanks to their many wives as well as girlfriends of my own, I have now been around enough women to know when they have a secret growing inside them.  Unless it's just a bit of gas..."  She leaned in and whispered, "I know the effects the food here can have."

Hermione was silent for a moment as she surveyed the girl in front of her.  She decided she trusted her wholeheartedly.  "He doesn't know."  She placed her hand back on her stomach and smiled.  "I just found out today actually."

Ginny nodded.  "Well, I'll leave that news for you to share.  Let's get you packed and out of here, yeah?"  Hermione nodded.  Though worried deeply about her husband, she knew she was ready to finally meet Ron's family - her family.

[galadrieljones]

that he may hold me by the hand: chapter 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 2: We don’t have to talk.

Arthur showed up to Strawberry a couple of days early. He played a bunch of blackjack in the speakeasy and won the pot so many times he began to piss people off. He knew how to cheat and calculate cards. He never made for sleight of hand anymore, though he used to. He chewed on coccaine gum at the speakeasy counter on the night before he was set to meet Albert and struck up conversation with a widow who boarded in an apartment in town. Her name was Wanda Eugene, and she had once been married to a rustler named Cody and claimed to have lived in Texas for most of her life.

“I ain’t met a lot of women married to rustlers no more,” said Arthur.

“Well, he’s dead,” said Wanda. “So.”

They were drinking whiskey. “You miss Texas?”

“Most days.”

“What’s keeping you from going back?”

She had wide, tired eyes, but she was mild-looking. Pretty in a plain sort of way. She was probably about Arthur’s age with a tight braid down her back and wearing blue jeans. She said that she could not go back to Texas. She said that every time she even thought about going back, she was met with nightmares of the way her late husband had died. “Shot by a Ranger,” she said. “Three times in the back. They thought he was somebody else. Fucking two-bit assholes.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Arthur.

“Jesus was not there that day, I can assure you. I hate lawmen. I wish they’d all die.”

She openly asked him to spend the night with her then. She said he seemed big and rough, and she missed that sort of man. She was sick of the soft-handed. Arthur found himself oddly flattered. “I ain’t much for temptation, Mrs. Eugene. If I was, you might just be it.”

“Is that a No then?”

“It is.”

She sighed. “Good grief. I’m just so goddam lonely. I’m starting to forget what it is to feel.” She finished her whiskey and ordered another from the bartender who was missing a front tooth. “One for my friend here, too,” she said.

Arthur knew the feeling of which she spoke. He missed the human body. He often wished he still got the inclination to sleep with strangers. And when it came to working girls, he had lost his interest. He felt beyond their wiles, as he could tell that they were all so deadened to touch, they hardly noticed their own needs, and this was not what he wanted. He just wanted something warm, something that would react to him. For a moment, he reconsidered her offer, but ultimately, he just smiled.

“You got a wife, I bet,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he lied. It was easier to lie.

The next day, Arthur woke up late with a headache. He had some oatmeal in the lounge. The proprietor of the hotel in Strawberry was annoying. He spoke regularly of the town as if it were the center of the universe. Arthur wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and take a vacation. But he didn’t.

He waited and read the newspaper. The front page went on about Valentine and all that had gone down there. SHOOTOUT IN VALENTINE. A whole lot of shit. Arthur sighed, folded the paper in half and set it away. He wore his hat and sat in a chair by the window and smoked, thinking of anything else. People went in and out of the door. He didn’t see Wanda again.

Albert arrived about half-past noon, looking dead beat and like hadn’t slept in days.

“Mr. Mason,” said Arthur, rising to meet him.

Albert sneezed and refused a hand shake.

“What’s going on?” said Arthur. “You sick?”

“I am,” said Albert, blowing his nose into a handkerchief. “I caught a terrible cold a few days back. Truth be told, I thought it would have subsided by now.”

“That ain’t no good.”

“No sir. However, it is good to see you.” He straightened up and removed his hat. He smiled, his kind eyes. He didn’t look so bad upon further inspection. A little puffy maybe.

“It’s good to see you, too,” said Arthur. He took Albert’s bag, told him to take a seat. “You know, we can postpone our journey, if you wanna rest up a bit.”

“No, no,” said Albert. “I’d prefer not to. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“As have I, but I don’t want you to get any sicker.”

“You are a true gentleman, Arthur. But I assure you, I’ll be fine.”

They left about an hour later, packed up their horses and rode northwest. Albert sneezed most of the way but kept up. He was a better rider than Arthur had realized. It was easy to underestimate him. He made a mental note not to do that anymore.

They followed the river. When they got to the heart of Big Valley, Albert slowed his horse and shouted for Arthur to hold up a second. They were in the middle of a huge, purple field of lavender. The breeze was coming through, rustling the plants. There was a flock of sheep nearby, and a young man shepherd on horseback. Whitetail everywhere. “My lord,” said Albert. He got off of his horse, took a few steps and looked around. “Do you see all this?”

“Yes, sir,” said Arthur. He leaned forward to pat Amelia on the main. “It sure is majestic. I knew you’d like it.”

“Like it?” said Albert. “It’s magnificent.” He looked at Arthur, serious, no longer sneezing, just full of reverence. “Thank you for taking me here. I’ve already forgotten why we’ve come, but I am quite certain I never want to leave. It is truly Arcadia.”

Arthur smiled, very pleased. He dusted his hands together and hopped right off his horse. “To find the bear, we gotta go out to the edges of the valley,” he said. “It’s a little more dangerous out there. Kind of barbed territory. There’s cougar and boar. It ain’t friendly. But here, here I reckon we’re pretty safe.”

“If you say so,” said Albert. “I’d like to get a few shots of all this, if you don’t mind. The fields. They smell so darn good. I wish I could capture that in a photo.”

“Only way to do that is in writing, I expect.”

“Absolutely,” said Albert. Then, “Do you write, Arthur?”

The question took Arthur by surprise. He glanced up to the sky. A couple of sparrows took off, whipping up out of the foliage. “Sometimes,” he said. He hooked his hands over his belt in a casual fashion. “I have been known to write a little.”

Albert smiled. “I should like to read it someday, your writing.”

“Oh, no,” said Arthur. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a journal,” said Arthur. “It’s just ramblings. Sketches here and there. It ain’t really intended for an audience.”

“You’re an artist?”

He blushed. “Well, I—”

“Say no more,” said Albert, still effusive but seeming to catch his drift. “I’ll quit prying.”

“That’s okay.”

Albert assembled his camera, his tripod. He took many pictures of the fields. He took pictures of the sheep and the shepherd, the little dog with two different colored eyes that herded the sheep. Arthur watched. He ate a can of strawberries with a little tin spoon, smoked four cigarettes. He and Albert talked of stuff he would later forget about, idle things. Arthur managed to get a few sketches in—one of the dog, one of Albert photographing the dog. They fed the horses and before long, the sun was losing steam and the light growing long and lost across the valley. The bubbling streams filled with herbivores, coming to drink. Albert put away his camera with the loss of the light, and with this, it was too late to go looking for bear. They decided to make camp.

They washed their faces in the creek, set up a couple tents. Arthur caught a fish for their dinner while Albert sat by the fire, rolling cigarettes. He had a particular talent for this. His tobacco product was very neat and looked expensive.

Arthur cleaned and cooked the fish. After dinner, he poured some whiskey into a flask, and night fell. They sat, warming themselves by the fire. Albert gave him one of the cigarettes, struck a match, lit it, and then lit his own. Albert’s cold seemed to be clearing with the fresh air, but now it was getting chilly, and he had grown tired. Arthur rolled some more cigarettes. His were looser than Albert’s, not quite as meticulously sealed.

They sat and smoked for a while, existing. Arthur had a flask of whiskey, which they began to pass. At some point, Albert cleared his throat and sat up to speak. “So, Arthur.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How has everything been going, since I saw you last?”

Arthur glanced at him. He plucked a big old piece of grass from the earth, the cigarette hitched to the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said. “Just fine.”

“Are you still living in the Heartlands?”

“No,” he said, shredding that piece of grass between his fingers.

“Oh?” said Albert. “Where have you moved?”

“Further south,” said Arthur, laying the pieces of grass side by side. “Near a big old lake.”

“Flat Iron Lake?”

“That might be the one.”

“Good fishing, or so I hear.”

“That, it is.”

The fire crackled and sparked. It was like molten lava. Albert smoked and blew the smoke and flicked the ashes to the earth. He could tell that Arthur didn’t really want to talk about it. His head was a little stuffy. He blinked, took a drag.

“How you feeling?” said Arthur. “Your cold.”

“Better,” said Albert. “A little tired, but no worse for the wear.”

Arthur picked up a pebble then, tossed it into the fire. Albert took a drink from the flask and watched as Arthur picked up another pebble, held it in his palm, and then he absentmindedly closed it in his fist. He turned his fist over, sort of shook it, and when he opened his hand again, the pebble was gone. It was a marvelous surprise.

Albert laughed and set the flask down between them. “You know magic?”

Arthur seemed to have surprised himself. “A little,” he said, smiling. “I learned sleight of hand when I was kid, for cheating cards. My dad taught me, before he died. And I know a magician, too. He’s taught me a couple of things here and there. We’ve traded tricks over the years.”

“Your father, what did he do?”

“Rob banks mostly.”

“I see.”

“Anyway,” said Arthur.

“I must say,” said Albert. “I’m impressed. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Arthur turned red—like a fast, hot streak in which he seemed to vibrate, but only for a moment. “You flatter me.”

“Maybe you can show me how to do that. It’s a great parlor trick.”

“Do you hang out in many parlors, Albert?”

Albert found this to be funny. He laughed. “Oh, no. Not anymore. Perhaps a long time ago. Back in Pennsylvania, when I was a teenager. But I’ve done with all that.”

"All what.”

“The social circus. What have you.”

“Ah.”

“My interest in photography came about precisely so that I could have an excuse to get out of the house. I suppose that it took, though I am quite dreadful. Still, I try. I enjoy it a great deal.”

“You’re not dreadful, Albert. Quit talking about yourself that way.”

Albert knew that he was right. He was gratified. He took another drink from the flask, passed it. Arthur was a big man beside him. He’d never really sat next to him before. He was taller than Albert, though not a great deal—just enough, and his width, his wingspan, it could intimidate. Albert was not intimidated. He looked down, finished his cigarette, tossed it into the fire. The air was cold, and he shifted toward Arthur a little, almost absentmindedly.

“Hey,” said Arthur after a little while, swigging from the flask.

Albert jumped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just gonna ask, how did that meeting go with the gallery owner?”

“Oh,” said Albert, scratching at his beard a little. “It went well. Thank you for asking. I have another meeting in a few weeks. I’ve promised more material. From the Big Valley, of course.”

“That’s real good, I expect?”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

Arthur stared at him. He seemed a little sad, but it was way in the back somewhere. He took a drink of his whiskey and then looked back at the fire. “Good.”

“Arthur,” said Albert.

“Yep.”

“Thank you for taking me here,” he said. Arthur looked back, genuine. “I’m very fond of the terrain.” Albert took a deep breath. “I’m fond of you. I’m glad you’re with me.”

Arthur looked down at his hands. “Yeah, me, too,” he said, then he looked up and smiled, warm. He had little scars on his face. They were like little pieces taken away, or dents. Here and there. His hands were big and worn. Albert watched as he reached into his front pocket, took out a couple more cigarettes. He held one out for Albert. Albert took it. Their fingers touched. Something kicked up between them, but it was momentary.

“I think I’ll save this.” Albert smiled. “For now, I should be off to sleep. I’m still under the weather. I’d like to be fresh for tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” said Arthur, lighting the cigarette. “I’m gonna keep watch, just for a little while. There’s cougars around here. Sometimes they’re drawn to the smell of a campfire.”

Albert stood up, dusted off his pants. “It’s chilly,” he said. “Don’t stay up too late, and be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me. You get some sleep now, Mr. Mason.”

“Goodnight, Arthur,” said Albert.

“Goodnight.”

Back in his tent, Albert removed his boots and his hat. He scrubbed his scalp a little. He smoothed his beard, looked down at his fingers where he held the cigarette. Then he tucked it into the band of his hat. He lay back and closed his eyes. He could smell the smoke from Arthur’s cigarette, coming in through the tent flaps. Arthur’s tobacco was fresh and cut with a little bit of sweetness. He couldn’t tell what, but he could tell that Arthur had dried and treated it himself. It was not store-bought. Albert felt disoriented all of a sudden, like he was coming apart a little. He turned onto his side to go to sleep.

Meanwhile, Arthur fell asleep next to the fire, hardened into the dirt as a root. He hadn’t meant to drift, but the night was peaceful, and he’d got woozy from the booze and it made his eyes droop. He rarely dreamed in those days. It was almost as if he was too locked down, too unwilling to look behind the curtain of his own subconscious, for fear of what he might find there. But that night, he had a dream. It was a very simple dream. He dreamed that a pretty buck had come down into the valley while he slept. The sky was a cold and lonely mountain, far away, and he was beneath it, waiting. The buck had twelve points. It entered the moonlight, emerging from a shallow den of trees on the edge of the lavender field. He wanted badly to sketch it, but he knew that he was sleeping, and it would be gone by the time he woke. He dreamed that the buck came over to sniff around the campfire. It sniffed around his face. Its cold nose was on his ear. He tried to make sense of the feeling. He awoke.

What he awoke to was nothing so peaceful. He felt that cold touch on his ear, but it was no buck. It was the mouth of a gun, pressing on his face. It was nudging him into consciousness.

“It’s him,” said a voice.

Arthur opened his eyes. It was dawn. He saw a young man—maybe twenty-four or twenty-five years old—a ruffian with missing teeth in the front wearing a long black coat. He looked serious. He was holding a shotgun to Arthur’s head.

Arthur felt the adrenaline, sucking into his chest and yanking him from the dream. Like being plunged into ice cold water, and it near on made him nauseous. He eased his hands over his head, turned onto his back. “Easy,” he said. “Easy, boy.”

“Shoot him,” said another voice.

“Colm said bring him to Hanging Dog alive,” said the boy.

Arthur was suddenly terrified. He glanced to the tent. He saw that it had been roughed up. Then he saw the other guy—he had Albert by the throat with a pistol to the head, and Albert looked white with fear and a little queasy. He was ragged, unnatural with his hands up like that. It triggered something in Arthur. He initially made to lunge, but he caught a boot to the gut for that, sending him to his side curled up like a goddam snail. The sound he’d made was ugly. He felt bludgeoned with regret, as he knew what he was going to have to do. “You’re making a mistake,” he said.

“You’re coming with us,” said the boy. “You go quiet, and we’ll let your friend here live.”

“Yeah, I don’t really believe you.”

“Arthur?” said Albert. “Arthur, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Arthur. “Try not to talk too much, Mr. Mason.”

“If you say so.”

“Get up,” said the boy, nudging Arthur with the gun.

“You nudge me with that gun one more time, boy, things ain’t gonna pan out too smooth for you in the end.”

“Get up.” He nudged him again, this time too hard.

It went by in an instant after that. Arthur was fast when he wanted to be, ruthless. He grabbed the barrel of the gun with both hands, shoved it up, hard, cracking straight into the kid’s dumbass face. It sort of exploded on impact, his nose neatly broken as he stumbled backward, allowing Arthur to usurp the weapon and shove the boy into the dirt and shoot him dead. Arthur then pointed the gun at the second man, the one who had Albert. He was a young man as well, even younger by the looks of it, and Arthur felt terrible inside, like he was looking in a mirror. “Let him go, or I do you up, too,” he said.

The boy sent Albert forward to his hands and knees with little hesitation. Then he stared at Arthur in abject horror for a moment before picking up and running as fast as he could in the other direction. Arthur lowered the gun, let him go. He went to Albert who coughed and beat his fists into the dirt a couple times. He seemed to have got the wind knocked out of him. Arthur hauled him to his feet and steadied him hard. “You okay?” he said, dusting off his vest. “Albert? Talk to me.”

Albert was out of breath, his shirt untucked but he did have his boots on. “Good heavens,” he said. He lurched forward a little with his hands on his knees. “Is that man dead?”

Arthur patted him on the back. “I’m afraid he is. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Better him than me.”

“They ambush you in your tent or something?”

“No,” said Albert, popping up now, wiping his face with the yellow handkerchief from his pocket. “I went down to the creek, to get some water. They ambushed me there.” He sneezed.

“You went down to the creek alone?”

“I thought I could handle a few whitetail,” he said. “Those men showed up, asked me who you were. I wouldn’t tell them, so the one grabbed me, dragged me back here, and then the next thing you know, you’re shooting people, and my entire life is flashing before my eyes.” He sneezed again.

Arthur straightened up and sighed. “Bless you.”

“Thank you,” said Albert. He took a deep breath. “Boy I’ve got some luck, don’t I.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Arthur. “But we do need to get the hell out of here.”

“I couldn’t agree more. You know, I think the shots I got yesterday, of the lavender fields and the herd of sheep, those are better than anything I’ve gotten so far? No black bear, but bears be damned. I’m through with predators.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I am.” He turned to Arthur then, slowly, finally catching his breath. “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Of course. I wasn’t gonna let them kill you,” said Arthur. “And I sure as hell wasn’t going with them.”

“Did you know who they were?”

“Not really,” said Arthur, scratching his head. He looked around, making sure nobody else was coming up the horizon. “I mean—I know there’s rough stuff around these parts. I should’ve been more careful. I thought we was safe.”

“With you, I am always safe,” said Albert. “I just wish I were a little more aware of my surroundings. It’s always been a problem for me. As you well know. When I was a boy, my father used to shout at me to get my head out of the clouds. Told me to quit chasing the damned butterflies. That was before the cholera got him, of course.”

Arthur threw the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, studied Albert. “Cholera, huh?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, don’t be too down on yourself. You held your own back there.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You didn’t give in to those men. That’s very brave.”

Albert smiled in spite of himself. Then, he stumbled forward, just a little. Arthur caught him by the shoulders. “My word,” said Albert. “I guess I’m still a little dizzy.”

“Just try to breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth.”

“You’re kind, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “I ain’t kind, Mr. Mason.”

“Well, to me, you are kind.” Albert smiled and took a deep breath. He seemed to blink many times as if to acclimate his vision. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s please go.”

They packed up their camp, stowed the bedrolls and the tents and all of their earthly goods upon their horses. Arthur let Albert hang onto the canteen. They then mounted up and began riding back toward Strawberry at a pleasant trot. Arthur did not think about how that man he had killed back there, the man trying to abduct him, was an O'Driscoll. He tossed Albert an apple and then shined one up for himself.

“What are your plans now?” said Arthur as they came around the curve. The rocks, the terrain in these parts was beautiful, but treacherous. “You heading back right away?”

“I thought I’d stay the night at the hotel,” said Albert. “Take the train back to St. Denis in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” said Arthur. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”

“Oh?”

“Sure,” he said, biting into that apple. “Where I’m camped, on Flat Iron Lake, it ain’t far from Rhodes.”

“Rhodes?” said Albert. “My, what a dreadful little town.”

“You’re telling me.”

“You know I stopped through there once,” said Albert, “just looking for a drink at the parlor house they've got. Four different men asked me where I stood on the War of Northern Aggression. Of course, they were all neanderthals, and far be it from me to correct them on the fact that it’s 1899. I thought I’d keep my front teeth.”

Arthur laughed out loud at this, tossed the apple core to the weeds. “You still make me laugh, Mr. Mason, the way you talk sometimes.”

“Well,” said Albert, a little bashful for this. He trotted up alongside him. “I certainly do try.”

[thesoundofnat]

Keep A Place For Me

Poe/Finn

Summary: Poe and Finn are forced to share a bed, and Poe finds it increasingly hard to be chill about it.

A/N: It took me a ridiculously long time to finish this.

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 2 705

Poe should’ve expected this to happen at one point or another. Even though their crew was smaller than it had ever been, they eventually found themselves on a ship so small that barely half of them fit, and Poe was suddenly faced with two options. Be selfish and get a room for himself, or be generous and share it with someone. It really wasn’t a choice, in the end.

The process of picking a roommate wasn’t really a choice either. “We’ll be sharing a room,” he told Finn, who only nodded, and that was that.

But it wasn’t really that, for Poe’s heart had been freaking out ever since.

It was silly. He knew that. Just because they would be forced into some sort of intimacy it didn’t mean that it meant more than that, and he could surely pretend to be casual for the remaining time they would spend here.

Right?

“How long do you think we’ll be using this ship?” he asked Leia, careful to have pulled her aside first. He didn’t want anyone else to know how uneasy this whole situation was making him, whether they would understand why or not. They’d lost enough as it was, and him showing anything but vigor would be bad.

Leia caught his gaze, and Poe could tell she was thinking. “I’m not sure. Finding another ship seems pretty unlikely.”

Poe nodded, not sure how he felt about it. “We’ll make the best of it.”

The corners of Leia’s lips twitched upward. “You seem a bit worried.”

“It’s just been a stressful time. Barely being able to be on your own might lead to tension.”

“That’s true,” Leia admitted. “But everyone knows what’s at stake. If issues start appearing I’m sure they can figure it out.”

“You’re right.”

“Poe?”

“Yes?”

“I wouldn’t worry about Finn. The two of you have a way of communicating without really saying much. I’m sure it will be fine.”

Poe nodded, red-faced for no reason, and left.

He avoided going to their room that night, but knew once everyone else had finished up their daily duties and gone to bed that he couldn’t postpone it any longer. Not sure if he wanted Finn to already be asleep or not, Poe entered their minimal bedroom.

Finn was sitting on the bed, looking almost small even though the size of the room technically made him look bigger. He seemed lost.

Poe’s heart shattered a little bit. “You okay?”

Finn flew off the bed. “There you are! I didn’t know how you want to do this, so I waited up.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Poe replied, closing the door behind him. “But seriously, are you okay?”

Finn shrugged. “Things just get overwhelming at night time. It’s nothing.”

“Too much time to think, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Poe could relate, though he reckoned Finn and his demons had it worse than him and his ghosts. Ghosts were transparent. Demons were solid.

Poe looked at the bed. It wasn’t a single bed, thank Nova, but he would be a fool to think they wouldn’t somehow be touching while sharing it. Finn seemed calm about it all, so he tried to imitate his cool.

“What side do you want?”

“Either one is fine.”

“Are you the type to get up often in the middle of the night? Bathroom breaks and whatnot?”

“No. Or, well, I don’t know. The Order wouldn’t let us.”

Poe bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s settled then. I can sleep closest to the wall.” He didn’t add so that Finn could finally have the freedom of movement, but he reckoned they both knew he meant it.

Poe was the type to barely move once he fell into a deep sleep, so he wasn’t worried about being trapped between Finn and the wall, but he encountered a small problem as they settled down on the mattress. He couldn’t fall asleep. Like, at all.

As Finn’s breathing evened out, became heavier and steadier and more relaxed, Poe felt as if he was suffocating. Suddenly the sheets felt uncomfortable against his skin, the covers too warm, the wall too cold, Finn too present. His heart too confused. Mind too loud. Everything too much.

And he couldn’t leave. Couldn’t just roll out of bed and take a walk, because if he did he would either wake Finn up or wake someone else up, as the ship was that small. He was trapped.

So he lied there, as still as he could, until sleep finally found him. It wasn’t a peaceful slumber.

***

The second night was no better. In fact, the second was worse.

It seemed as if Poe, who had spent the past few days in a distracted haze that made the world blurrier, had finally realized that he’d shared a bed with Finn, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What had been a confused and hyperaware first night had turned into a nerve racking and even more hyperaware second night, though this time Poe was aware of different things.

He was aware of Finn’s body touching his as his friend relaxed more and more and didn’t have the energy to keep entirely to himself. He was aware of how easy it would be to scoot a couple of inches closer and let them merge into one. How easy it would be to reach out and touch and blame the darkness. He was aware of how much Finn must have trusted him to agree to be this vulnerable around him.

But mostly he was aware of his own heart which would. not. slow. down. As Finn all but melted into the mattress, Poe nearly turned into stone - a rigid mess of jitters and blood pumping so much more noisily in his veins. He could barely hear Finn breathing from how loud his body was being. He was almost afraid of waking his friend up.

Saying that he didn’t get much sleep that night either would be an understatement.

***

“You look exhausted.” Leia didn’t beat around the bush when she approached the table where he was taking his first meal of the day.

“I am exhausted,” he replied, seeing no need to lie when the truth was so very visible on his own face. “I’m having trouble sleeping.”

Leia sat down beside him. “How come?”

“Do you want some sort of improvised lie or the embarrassing truth?”

“As tempted as I am to hear this improvised lie I would prefer honesty.”

Poe bit his lip. “It’s because of Finn.”

“I see.”

“Not that he’s being particularly annoying to share a bed with or anything. In fact, he passes out almost immediately.”

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Because of his presence.” It wasn’t a question.

Poe stared at his breakfast, willing himself to not blush. “Yes.”

“I feel like this won’t get better unless you talk to him about it.”

“Oh, no. No way.”

“Poe.”

“I can’t. Not now. Not because of this.”

“Then when?”

“Just… not now.”

Leia gave him that look that made him want to run away and hide, but she relented and changed the subject. Poe had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they had this conversation, however.

The third night was pretty much the same as the second, only this time it took longer for Finn to fall asleep, and thus Poe was paranoid that he would hear his frantic heart. Instead, Finn pointed out his lack of sleep.

“I have a feeling you haven’t been sleeping much. You seem exhausted.”

“Leia said that too. Is it that obvious?”

“If I’m the reason I can switch rooms immediately.”

“Oh, no, no, you’re not,” Poe assured him, rolling over on the bed to face him. “I just get into these periods sometimes. It’ll pass.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

Poe could see Finn’s frown in the dark, but he didn’t know what to do to smooth it out until his friend was completely relaxed again, so he just rolled over onto his back again and stared at the ceiling. The longer he stared the more things he saw that weren’t there, and in the end he had to close his eyes and will the shapes away, but all he could think about was them.

Only because he wasn’t allowing himself to think of Finn’s bare arm pressing against his own.

Maybe he needed better coping mechanisms.

“So why aren’t you sleeping tonight?” Poe asked after fifteen minutes of a loaded silence that made it obvious neither of them was any close to drifting off.

“I don’t know.”

“Is anything bothering you?”

“No, it’s just-” Finn cut himself off, and Poe could feel him rolling over in the dark. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have I?”

“Ever since we started sharing a room, yes.”

“I haven’t meant to.” He really hadn’t. If he’d been doing it it had been inadvertently.

“I was just wondering where we stand.”

Oh shit.

“You’re my friend,” Poe said without preamble. “That hasn’t changed, and I’m sorry if I’ve been acting strangely. It’s just been a very strange couple of weeks.”

“Please don’t avoid me, Poe. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“Hey.” Poe rolled over onto his side and reached out blindly to touch Finn’s arm. “I won’t, okay? I have this thing where I isolate myself when I’m stressed, but it’s never anything personal. But now that you’ve pointed it out I’ll try to stop.”

“You always ask me if something’s bothering me. Asking me to talk. Do you need to talk?” His breath hit Poe straight in the face.

Poe licked his lips. “Maybe. Not now. I don’t have my thoughts in order to be able to say anything coherent anyway.”

He felt Finn nod eagerly. “That makes sense. But once you’re ready I’m here, okay?”

“Okay.”

They rolled over again, their arms touching, eyes still struggling to see something in the dark. Poe felt lighter.

“Hey, Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it, Poe.”

It still took Poe forever to fall asleep, but once he did he slept soundly through the entire night.

***

“I’m finding it increasingly hard to keep my feelings to myself, it seems.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, at least my subconscious is making bad decisions without my permission.”

Leia was visibly amused. “Do tell.”

“Apparently I’ve been avoiding Finn without even realizing it, and Finn’s been walking around this entire time wondering what’s changed.”

“Uh oh.”

“I told him I isolate myself when I’m stressed, which isn’t a lie, but I’m now terrified of him realizing I’ve only isolated myself from him because he’s the reason of my perpetual freakout.” He honestly saw no point in not being upright with Leia anymore. She seemed to know everything anyway.

“I stand by my initial piece of advice.”

“Which was?”

“Talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“And thus you are destined to forever be freaking out.”

Poe pointed at her. “You need to stop being so logical.”

“One of us has to be.”

So maybe they’d just narrowly missed colliding with the First Order and were riding on a high that only a near death experience left. Poe found that it always made him feel bolder, which thankfully Leia didn’t mind.

“One of us has to be what?” Finn asked, suddenly appearing seemingly out of thin air and sitting down beside Poe.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m glad you’re okay, buddy.”

Finn grinned. “It takes more than that to wipe me off the map.”

“I bet. You’d be a fool to think I won’t be worrying the entire time though.” Maybe speaking to Finn while on this high was a bad idea, but Poe didn’t find it in him to leave.

“I worry about you, too, but I never once doubted you’d fly us out of there.”

“Trust is important,” Leia said, reminding them both of her presence. “It might be the most important quality in a team.”

“We’re a good team,” Finn said with a grin. “Don’t you think?”

“The two of you? The best team.”

Poe hated how easily he blushed around those two - being around them at the same time was like a death wish. “I think he meant all of us, General.”

“I think I meant both,” Finn said, and something about him seemed different. He almost seemed shy.

“Well,” Leia started, standing up. “Both statements are true. If you’ll excuse me.”

She didn’t offer any explanation as to where she was suddenly off to, and neither of them asked. Instead, Poe turned his body to fully face Finn, hoping to Nova that his flush had calmed down. “So.”

“So.”

“You all right? I mean, I know it all got pretty hectic all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine. Glad we got rid of them. You?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Is it?”

“Of course, Poe.”

Poe obviously couldn’t do small talk. At. All.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s go get dinner. Those bastards made us miss lunch.”

Finn laughed and followed. It actually felt great to have him around. Maybe he needed to rethink this coping mechanism of his.

***

“Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

They sat up, Poe barely able to see the outline of his friend beside him. He’d always found a comfort in the dark, but he wished he could see Finn’s expression.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Oh, Finn.”

“Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t. I just wish I could help.” A beat, and, “Can I help?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t think that would help.”

Leia had said that they could communicate without words, but he couldn’t see how that would make this easier. What does one do when words aren’t enough?

“What are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”

Finn allowed himself to be pulled into Poe’s arms, and for a few seconds he just sat there and let Poe hold him. And then he was hugging him back, clinging to him tightly as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did, in a way. He’d once confided in Poe that he hadn’t gotten an ounce of physical affection in his life, and ever since then Poe had tried to explain to him that it was okay if he wanted to touch him or vice versa. It was only now that he realized that Finn needed to actually be shown that it was okay.

They stayed like that for several minutes, not a single inch of space between their chests. Poe could feel Finn’s heart, could feel his breathing. Could feel him relax more and more in his arms until Poe was practically holding him up.

He let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Poe’s heart ached from how small his voice had sounded. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything.”

“You’re everything.”

In any other setting Poe would never had said that out loud, but he couldn’t lie. Not right now.

Finn pulled away. “If you only knew how wrong you are.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re everything, Poe. You.” And he kissed him. Leaned in easily for his second kiss ever and let his lips collide with Poe’s. Poe only hesitated for a second before kissing him back hungrily.

Now he really wished he could see him, but it was as if his hands tried their best to compensate the lack of light. Cupping Finn’s face, feeling his jaw and neck. Journeying down to trace his arms, back. And in turn, Finn was imitating him. Poe could barely pull him close enough.

“Wow,” Finn breathed out once they finally parted for air. “I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been wanting to do that since before Rose kissed me, but I just wasn’t aware that that was what I wanted.”

Poe laughed, high on so many emotions. “Me too. Since before Rose kissed you.”

“Maybe we need to learn how to communicate better,” Finn said with a grin.

“That could be useful.” Poe leaned in again, kissing him tenderly this time. “We should sleep,” he mumbled into Finn’s lips.

Finn hummed. “In a bit.”

Poe refused to ever sleep alone again after that, and fortunately no one forced him to.

[hueseok]

( 02. ) A LOVER’S KISS.

a friends with benefits relationship never ends on a good note. unless, both parties are not dumb fucks who find themselves falling for each other along the way of their agreement, of course.

and in yours and jeongguk’s case, you should have known better than to think the two of you would be an exception to the so-called curse of being friends with benefits with someone you already hold dear to you, since not even five months since it was agreed upon—the line between being only friends and being a little like lovers only continue to get hazier and hazier.

━ jeongguk x reader ━ 3.3k words. ━ 18+ ━ smut | angst | fluff | friends with benefits au | idiots to lovers au | college au | yearning? pining? | ft. swimmer!jeongguk, editor-in-chief!reader (small appearances from swimmer!jimin & associate editor!taehyung) ━ warning/s: swearing | mature themes | explicit sexual content | one moment of being called ‘cockslut’ lmao | blowjob | female masturbation | finger sucking | breast fondling + sucking | riding | penetrative + protected sex

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 02. the one with the mood booster !

jeongguk welcomed you to his apartment.

no, to be precise—jeongguk just opened his door wide when you knocked, his expression gloomy and his gaze already set on you. you could tell that he was not in the mood for any games or light bantering, and that the reason for that was because of the result of the match he participated in earlier and the fact that you didn’t go to support him despite agreeing prior that you would.

“i finished third,” he said with a dry tone, controlling his annoyance as your mouth twitched and you walked forward, going to one of the chairs by his small dining table to place your bag there while he closed the door. “and i didn’t see you there. the whole gang was present—but you weren’t.”

“i needed to talk with my layout team, finalizing the appearance of the upcoming issue. i didn’t want to postpone it because long exams are going to be done next week,” you reasoned. “plus, i already told you all of that through the group chat last night and i sent you a private message one too, you just didn’t reply.”

“yeah, i know. maybe me not replying meant i wasn’t happy about it, ____.”

you blocked his way just as he was trudging back to his bed, your arms encircling around his torso and your chin pressing against his chest. he was supposed to ignore that—because he was trying to be angry and make a point that he wasn’t as weak as you reckoned him to be—but as he took his next breath, inhaling and getting a whiff of the air, the perfume you wore that you knew he liked entered his nostrils and he looked down, raising an eyebrow.

it was the expensive one, gifted by your mother as a christmas present when she discovered your liking for scents that smelled like the said perfume, an indescribable faint musky and leathery yet comforting fragrance that jeongguk never reckoned he would ever like until he smelled it on you. since it was on the pricey side, you only sprayed it on your body on special occasions and on events you just wanted to impress someone—which brought jeongguk to stare at you in suspicion at the reminder of the latter reason.

“you’re wearing it.”

you smiled. “wearing what?”

he took another deep inhale, indulging himself with the aroma, even leaning right next to your ear to smell it from there. “you smell good,” he said and you chuckled, playing with the hem of his shirt from behind. “is this… is this supposed to be an apology?”

“it can be. depends on whether you’ll let me apologize.”

jeongguk couldn’t help but smirk. “well, what do you plan on doing to apologize?”

“i’m not sure. does a massage sound good?”

jeongguk felt your palms move down to his ass and his smirk transformed into a grin, rolling his eyes before he took them off and he continued to go to his bed—much to your disappointment, may you add, since you were pretty sure he was going to melt right there if you went for his bum. he never admitted it out loud, but you were almost positive that he had a thing for his partner touching his ass and him touching their ass too.

“guk,” you almost whined and he laughed halfheartedly, “you’re not seriously mad, are you?”

“i am. a little.”

“because i didn’t go?”

“because you promised you’d go and yet you didn’t.”

“but i already set expectations low and told you yesterday that i suddenly can’t.” you took a seat at the edge of his mattress, watching him position himself into a more comfortable one at his side of the bed. “i wouldn’t have bailed if it wasn’t an emergency.”

jeongguk huffed, back leaning on the headboard.

he was staring at you now, the scent of your perfume still lingering in the air, his eyes trailing down from your face to your neck—right to the tight top you had on and the skirt you were also sporting. that was another thing that made him worked up than usual; you rarely wore skirts or dresses, not because you didn’t like them or anything (in fact you confessed to him once that you think you looked the prettiest in them, a declaration he agreed on), but because it was such a hassle for you who was always running around the campus, going to your classes and fulfilling your duty as the editor-in-chief of the official university publication, you just didn’t bother as often as you preferred.

“come here,” he said and you smiled, immediately crawling towards him and gauging his reaction as you straddled his waist. getting no opposing response, you did as you hoped with a larger smile, dragging yourself as close as possible.

“you’ll let me make it up to you?” you asked, hands holding onto his shoulders.

“i’m too tired to fuck, just so you know.”

you snickered, looking at jeongguk grin again in amusement because of how you took in his words, his own palms planting themselves on your waist. “don’t worry, i can do all the work. it can be both my peace offering and your mood booster.”

“mood booster?”

“yeah, for things not going the way you wanted,” you said before kissing his throat, jeongguk sighing, his arms embracing your whole waist and pulling you even closer to his body.

he didn’t know when he started considering it as true—but he thinks that ever since you and him fucked the night before one of his matches and you cheered for him the day it was held after, jeongguk began identifying you as one of his lucky charms (along with his coach spilling water behind his head for good luck, that is). of course, he’d never say that out loud though, for you’d call him out or reckon it was only bluff due to him almost always winning his matches even when you weren’t his fuck buddy or your presence wasn’t even in the arena. however, jeongguk just couldn’t persuade himself to think otherwise when his wins would always be guaranteed if you at least attended his tournaments and he’d do the mandatory wink towards you right as he wore his swimming goggles, your face the first one he’d be looking for after checking the scoreboard.

“shirt off, babe.” you lifted the hem of his shirt and jeongguk complied, staring at you languidly kissing down his chest after, his breathing becoming uneven as you placed open mouthed kisses along his pecs, your lips capturing a nipple before you began palming him above his boxer shorts.

jeongguk caressed your hair in approval, feeling your tongue glide around the bud and moving to its twin, the tip of the muscle toying with it, teeth playfully gnashing it, and you eventually slid down lower once he was half hard to tug his shorts off. he raised his ass and you took off his bottoms completely, soon getting in a good position between his legs and sucking his balls, a hand moving up and down his shaft.

“why didn’t you tie your hair?” he asked nonchalantly with a grunt like you haven’t started giving him a blowjob, moaning silently when you started taking him whole.

you looked up. “you like me better like this, don’t you?”

“i do.” he reached forward and gathered all of your hair, cursing under his breath at the same time you thickly spat on his dick for more lubrication, jerking him off and pleased to see his length hardening with each second that passed. “you always look so pretty with my cock inside your mouth. my pretty little cockslut.”

you moaned. you moved your lips all over his shaft and sucked him totally again, the tip of his hardening manhood hitting your throat. you allowed him to stay there, gagging on him for a few seconds, something that caused jeongguk to groan and keep you there longer than you planned but still you didn’t complain, only waiting until he was satisfied and it was him who was hauling your head back. seeing saliva drool down your mouth, he cursed, bringing his dick past your lips once more where you welcomed him and bobbed your head in a consistent manner.

“god, ____,” he gritted his teeth, “you’re going to make me nut fast.”

you pulled away, gasping, and catching your breath. “would you want to nut fast?”

he shook his head. “i want to come with your pussy milking it.”

“right now?” your pussy clenched around nothing, your insides squirming.

he licked his lips, thinking about it. “are you wet enough?”

“i, uh, i think i’m wet enough.”

“fuck, that’s kind of insulting, baby.” jeongguk chuckled, watching you return to your ministrations. “you should be dripping just by sucking me off.”

you rolled your eyes and paused for the fourth time. “it literally only has been 10 minutes, guk. you know it takes time for me sometimes.”

“it doesn’t when i eat you out. or when i’m touching you.”

“yeah, as tempting as either of those is—” you gradually perched half of your body up— “i promised to do all the work. so, why don’t you just get my fingers wet and i’ll get myself ready for you, hm?”

“that big, huh?”

you laughed and shoved your fingers in his mouth, jeongguk chuckling but nonetheless following.

he coated them with his dribble while you let go of his dick for a quick second to take your panties off—which was much harder than you thought it was when you were only using one hand and balancing yourself to not fall sideways at the same time—that jeongguk had to interfere to assist you and laugh with you along the way. it was a good thing that it wasn’t long before it was a success and you were completely bare below except for the skirt you still had on, your wet fingers ultimately rubbing your entrance and spreading your own slick and jeongguk’s saliva before pummeling them inside.

you moaned against his dick that you went back to sucking, slowly fingering yourself as you did so. he praised you in whispers while you dipped your head up and down, jeongguk trying to sneak a peek at you touching yourself but the material of your skirt got in the way for him to be able to do that. he only relied on the image of your arm moving tucked between your legs, your mouth taking his whole cock, gagging loudly, gasping every instance you let go, and diving right down with no desire to stop.

“holy shit,” he heaved, guiding your head now, “so fucking good—you’re so fucking good to me, babe.”

tears were forming around your eyes, your cunt getting wetter with each thrust of your fingers and fondle with your clit. deciding that you were ready after the sensation of a building orgasm hits you in the bottom of your stomach, you pulled back and asked jeongguk to get a condom, in which he was fast to grab, unwrapping it himself and putting it on his cock while you sat up and inched towards him. you straddled his waist, spat in your palm, ran it along his shaft, and at last sunk down on his dick, mewling at the burning sensation it gave.

you flickered your gaze to jeongguk to catch him drawing your skirt up, staring at how your pussy inch by inch swallowed him whole. “so fucking sexy,” he muttered, gesturing for you to move once you were settled, “you’ll ride me until i come?”

you nodded, latching your hands on his shoulders to support yourself as you began to rock your hips. he took your other hand that you used to touch yourself and sucked it like earlier, moaning lowly, eyes barely opened. you think he looked absolutely hot, absolutely lost in what you were doing to him and what he was doing to you, an absolute sex god for all you know. you leaned forward then, kissing his throat, careful not to leave any lovebites despite wanting to as that was another rule in this agreement of yours—no hickeys in any part of the body—and whined, your grip tightening.

the mattress was beginning to creak, your noises only being louder the more you quickened your pace, and it was only then that you realized you didn’t turn the television on like you should have, therefore filling the room with only your sinful moans and grunts because of the act you two were committing.

jeongguk pushed you off from his neck gently and set your hand back on where you put it, concentrating on other matters and dragging the hem of your top upwards, hastily taking them off of you before hauling your bra down your breast, squeezing both of them together harshly that caused you to cry in pleasure, more so as he placed openmouthed kisses on them, your nipples pebbling against his touch.

“baby,” you moaned, your fingers running through his hair, “i’m supposed—you’re not supposed to do anything.”

jeongguk dared to chuckle. “you think i don’t enjoy sucking your tits?”

“fuck,” you rutted towards him faster, “i can’t hold it for long.”

he didn’t answer immediately, indeed enjoying sucking your tits, moaning against them and engulfing them with such delight it was turning you on further. you told him in the past that you liked it when your partner was verbal in sex, and in the next instance you both slept together, jeongguk made sure to be verbal like you said, making sure that he was sending a clear message that he was so into fucking you as well and that you were making him feel so good.

for what seemed like forever, jeongguk finally released the bud as he felt your pussy clenching, drawing a low snarl from him. “close?”

you mewled. “so close.”

“should i take over?”

“no, no, no,” you whimpered, “let me do it, babe.”

you asked him to lie down completely and he slid lower on the bed, holding your hips as he did. you clutched down on his chest and bounced on his cock; you threw your head back, a chant of ‘oh my god’ escaping your mouth, your tits jumping with you, and jeongguk gazed at you in amazement before grabbing your ass from behind, slapping them and conjuring another loud moan from you.

“just like that, babe—fuck—i fucking love that tight pussy,” he said, slow and heavy breaths coming from him.

you fell forward to change the angle a bit and without warning, jeongguk immediately propped his feet up, not stopping himself in his desire to fuck you himself and thrust his cock despite saying he was too tired to fuck a few minutes ago. he pulled your ass cheeks, his thighs slapping wildly with yours, and you cried out in pleasure, kissing his throat and murmuring his name over and over again against his ear.

“play with your clit,” he ordered and you reached for your bundle of nerves, moving your fingers rapidly from side to side as he rammed into you senseless—and with an abrupt high pitched moan, your walls convulsing and patches of white blurring your vision, you came all over his cock, milking him like requested. “fucking hell, ____,” jeongguk growled, drilling you in a rougher manner while you clenched tighter around him, chasing his own high.

thankfully he wasn’t that far off behind you, because you were getting overstimulated by the harsh pummels of his cock and everything was starting to hurt, though not saying a word and waiting until jeongguk came as well, you sighed when he finally blew his load in the condom inside you, taking the measure of pulling out quickly regardless but keeping you on top of him still, his head dropping backwards on his pillow in exhaustion.

you pant, the rapid beat of your pulse felt in your temples, and jeongguk caressed your head affectionately, kissing your head until he tiredly rolled you to his side, weakly taking off the rubber and throwing it to the bin.

after a few seconds of silence, you had the nerve to tease, your harsh breathing accompanied with his loud ones heard within the apartment. “you weren’t supposed to take over,”

he glanced at you. “you were being too slow.”

“hey,” you scoffed, hitting his chest. “i was really fucking trying, okay?”

“i know, i was kidding, babe.” he laughed, pushing an elbow up a bit to look down at you from where he was. “i appreciate the effort. you always give me a good time, anyways.” he flicked away the loose strands of hair from your face and kissed your cheek tenderly again.

you smiled. “now that’s nicer to hear.”

he hummed, three more lazy kisses before he pulled his head back. “but now you’ve really worn me out.”

“is that supposed to be my fault?”

“yep.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” you sarcastically apologized.

jeongguk grinned and continued gazing at you with that dangerous expression on his features. it was dangerous because it always gave you a completely different message, a different kind of vibe, an expression that you thought should only be reserved for people you genuinely liked or loved. you never attempted to call him out for it however, despite how slightly wrong it felt, afraid that when you do, he’d stop doing it and the chance to see it again would be impossible from the moment you point it out.

“you know,” you kicked off all of the sudden, jeongguk raising his eyebrows in question, “i did see you swim today. taehyung filmed a video of it and sent it to the gc.”

“so, you saw me lose then?”

“you weren’t that bad, guk.” you rolled your eyes at his annoying answer. “you were amazing as usual. fast, agile, any adjective there is to describe a wonderful swimmer. your opponents were just… a few milliseconds ahead of you.”

he sighed and flopped back down on the bed. “two of them were exactly. i’m just glad i get to compete in the next round. i should have done better. coach was really mad at me, telling me that i was slacking and that's why i finished late.”

“you can do better for the next tournament.”

“yeah, but it would have been nice to do well on this one first.” jeongguk yawned, turning to you again. “you really should have gone there yourself. maybe i would have won if you did.” he was surprised to admit that now openly, but it seemed like the right thing to say in this kind of conversation.

as expected, you laughed at him. “bullshit.”

he joined you in your laughter, ears getting red but you didn’t notice it because of the dark lighting of the room. “okay. can you at least pretend that it does so i’d feel more confident if you were there?”

“but i don’t know if i’ll always be there.”

“then promise me you will be,” he said as soon as you finished talking. “starting from now on, promise me you’ll attend my matches all the time because you know it can help me win.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “that’s stupid, guk.”

“mind over matter. if you’re there—it’ll convince me that i’ll win that day which will lead me to unconsciously do my best and in fact win.”

“you always do your best.”

“i’ll do my bestest with you there.”

you laughed once more, gazing at him. “sure, okay, whatever, i promise. i’ll try attending your tournaments every time if it makes you feel better about it.”

“great.” he grinned.

the both of you returned your focus on the ceiling above, your hearts unknowingly slowing down at the same rate. you were blinking confusingly at the roof while jeongguk remained grinning, the tip of his pinky going over to your laid hand between you two, the pad of the mentioned finger rubbing along the surface of your hand.

with a close of his tired eyes, he reached for it further and intertwined it with his.

note. i love them :( and i can’t wait for you guys to see them progress with me !! oh and also, just wanted to give an idea of what kind of jk we’re getting here—for this drabble series, we’re getting the jk before he got the tattoos bECAUSE I WANT YALL TO THINK OF THAT VIDEO JK POSTED WAY BACK OF HIM SWIMMING IN THE HOTEL POOL AND GIVING US THAT HOT VIEW OF HIS BACK WHEN YOU READ THIS DRABBLE SERIES !!!!!!

i’d put a link here of the vid in case you don’t know what i’m screaming about but i’m afraid that my tags won’t work for this post so ahdkabdka i hope you know what i mean

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

taglist: @fan-ati--c @marknee @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @jiminisnotavirgin @joondala @afangirllikeme-blog @jxxvk @this-is-seriousbusinesz @swga-ficrecs @apollukee @bloopkook @jaerisdiction @thisartemisnevermisses @koolvrr @wearenot7withu @brilliantmoon7 @naturules @betysotelo18 @jinyoungie0922 @codeinebelle @minimoni7 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @moonchild1 @taeshuworld @daydreambrliever @lilyflowerguk @rjsmochii @namjeonii @drownforryou @sugapiie @emeriroth (striked means tumblr won’t let me tag them!)

[cheelchan]

a little above the surface, ch. 3 (M)

→ summary: “As far as you were concerned, ex-violinists and highly-acclaimed rock stars weren’t supposed to mix, especially when a certain purple-haired rock star was supposed to just remain in your past.” → genre/au: angst, romance, rockstar!au,  → pairing: rockstar!namjoon | ex-violinist!reader → rating: M → previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 

The song starts with an adagio tempo. It's a sad melody that grasps the heartstrings of anyone's heart, a beautiful, painful tune that one cannot help listen to during rainy days. However, as the song approaches the chorus, the beat slowly speeds up until it becomes a moderato.

At this point, it is clear that the song is no longer a sad ballad, but a rock song that makes one wonder if it's a lively song, or one that’s just trying to mask its sad tone.

The bridge clearly shows the conflict between the singer and his emotions. The melody and counterpoints splay the very dilemma the composer runs on about in the previous verses. Here, the melody line is painted with the eccentric, but compatible tunes of the rock beat and the ballad intro.

The song was clearly a masterpiece. As expected of Namjoon, you surmised as you read through the music sheet for the umpteenth time that day. A part of you didn't want to practice, especially when you taught from 8-5 everyday as a high school teacher, but your sense of responsibility just didn't want to give up, even if it was just Namjoon.

The guy was clearly a force to reckon with. He was an enigma in the world of rock nowadays, especially with how his compositions always tried to defied what was defined by the industry. But, that was why everyone loved his music. Primarily, because they didn't sound the same. Artists nowadays often produced music that sounded the same as their last hit single. They kept overusing the same tune over and over again, adding small beats, while hoping that the public wouldn't notice it. (You did, of course.) Namjoon, on the other hand, always created something different. He wasn't afraid to linger along the edges of his genre, even preferring to make something that wasn't typically rock.

You sighed as you decided to take the music sheet and practice with your violin. You've been doing scales over and over again for the past few days. Fortunately, your sound clearly improved, but it wasn't just there yet. You were still actually far from it. But, at least, you sounded like you were back in first year high school.

twelve years ago; second year high school

You panted against the wall as he continued thrusting inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. He continued sucking the sensitive portions of your body, as if knowing where they were was second nature to him. Except it wasn't because it was actually acquired knowledge from the number of times the two of you had hooked up, had sex, fucked each other's brains out.

"Namjoon, more!" You cried out loud as he continued ramming his cock into you, his movements becoming more frantic as you felt your climax slowly approaching. You moaned out loud as you felt him smirk against your neck.

"I can't hear you, princess. Who's making you scream this time?" He growled as he continued his movements, his grip on your waist tightening. A bruise was definitely going to form the next day, but it didn't matter when he's fucking you this hard.

"Namjoon. It's you, Namjoon!" You whimpered, giving in to his demand. You hated it whenever he called you princess, especially because it made you out to be someone so well-off in life when it was the opposite. But, he always fucked you really hard if you caved in to whatever he wanted.

"My princess is really feeling it well today. You're especially wet today, aren't you, sweetheart?" He teased you, a predatory look on his face as you felt his finger rubbing on your clit, making you approach your climax faster than you had expected.

"Only for you, Namjoon. Only for you!" You found your mouth barred from any restraints. You felt his thrusts getting harder and faster as the coil inside you stretched, your orgasm bursting through your entire self. You moaned his name out loud as you reached your climax, while his movements were getting less controlled as you tightened around his cock. It wasn't soon after that he found his climax, as well, your name growled against your ear.

The two of you panted against each other as he slowly removed his cock from inside you, making you cry from the loss of his cock inside you. He chuckled as he took off the condom, tying it before he tossed it to the trash can. "My dearest princess is becoming a minx and I am to blame for it. What a wonderful sight.” He grinned at the last part as you rolled your eyes, while he unwrapped your legs from his waist. He slowly placed you down on your knees as you slowly dressed yourself up.

"Is the stress from being in the first violin section getting to you?" He asked as you placed on your skirt.

"I eat stress for breakfast, Kim Namjoon," you replied as he laughed.

"Oh god, I love how you're so feisty. I've always known there was this side of you," he chuckled.

"Kim Namjoon, there's such a thing as being in control of your emotions. That's what I'm doing. So, please get rid of whatever notion you've had of me for the past few months," you replied as you buttoned up your shirt.

He sighed, shaking his head. "But, you see, princess, I like you more this way. Unrestrained, more natural, liberated," he said as you tossed his shirt to him. He quickly wore it, especially since people might catch you. Even if it was already late at night and classes were long over, having sex in school still had its risks.

"But, if you must know, then yes, it's the orchestra," you decided to tell him as he punched his fist into the air, as if it were a victory for him to guess why you were stressed in the first place.

"First violin section is too hard for you?" He asked as you kept silent, letting him aware that he hit the right spot yet again. Why did it seem like he knew you too much?

“So, what about the first violin section? Is there some part that's placed you in a limbo?" He asked as you nodded, taking out a music sheet and pointing to a portion that you've encircled quite a number of times out of frustration. You wondered how you were going to explain to him your problem about shifting into different positions after every three sixteenth notes.

"Scales. Do your scales. It's always the basics. Do it in all the positions that you know," he said as he turned to you with a sleazy smile. "If you want, we can even do it in the 69 position," he smirked as you rolled your eyes, taking note of the former suggestion he gave you on doing it on the seven different hand positions. The second was obviously useless, though it was something you didn’t mind trying next time.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Namjoon," you said as you slipped on your winter jacket.

Later that night, you tried to follow through with his suggestion. It didn't take you more than a week to finally work out the bars you had a hard time on.

present

He, unfortunately, wasn't able to wait for an entire week as you saw him lingering by the faculty room just as you came in from your last class for the day. Your training sessions with Seola for the week were postponed since the high school was going to have its mid-semester examinations in a week.

"I was just entertaining Kim Namjoon here, while you were still in class. I invited him over because we were talking over the phone when we talked about his song and I remembered about your part in it. How's the practice going on so far?" The school principal smiled as you placed your belongings on your desk first before turning to them. Invited Namjoon? More like, Namjoon implanted the idea inside her head in the first place. You had a feeling that he might have done that while he was talking to her over the phone. It was always wise to remember how high his IQ level was.

"I've been practicing a lot recently. It's just kind of difficult since I'm teaching and I have to tutor Seola. But, I think it's coming out good. It's just not there yet," you decided to come clean as you saw the disappointment flash before his eyes. You frowned, feeling a bit hurt from it, but he wasn't to blame.

It was your fault for becoming inadequate.

"Dear, it's okay. Kim Namjoon, here, told me that you had a month before the two of you would be recording. So, you don't have to worry," she smiled, grasping your hands together to reassure you. You forced a smile back as you saw Namjoon's eye twitch.

Of course, he would notice that.

"Why don't you show him around the campus first? I have a feeling that he hasn't gone around here for quite sometime," your principal requested, but you had a feeling that it was more of an order.

You nodded, giving in to her as Namjoon walked to your side, an amused smile on his face. The two of you exited the faculty room but then, you were caught off guard as he grabbed you by your wrist and began dragging you to a direction that was very familiar to the both of you — the music room.

"What do you mean that you aren't there yet?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's still ‘high school me’. I haven't reached ‘college graduate me’. I'm pretty sure you want it perfect, so, I'm still working my way through it. It's not there just yet," you tried to explain, but he only sighed when he heard your explanation. He was probably disappointed and worried that you wouldn’t be able to do it in a month or so. You knew that his perfectionist personality was a constant ever since the two of you were still in high school. Clearly, that hasn’t changed.

"Well, at least, I know high school you ended up in the first violin section orchestra fast," he murmured, probably trying to patronize you, but he should know better than that. It was always hard to convince you when you had already made up your mind.

He took in the appearance of the music room, staring at every single detail of the music room, even when the two of you had always ended up in this room. "It's so weird that we always end up in this room," he said as you raised an eyebrow.

"More like you always want to end up in this room," you replied in a snarky tone.

He turned to you with a smirk. "This was our own motel, princess," he reminded you as you groaned at the nickname. He definitely knew that you've always hated it whenever he called you that name. At the same time, why was it easy for him to bring it up so easily? The two of you had broken up a long time ago. “The risk of getting caught only made the sex better."

You snorted at his petty excuse. "Only because we were both too poor to afford an actual room in a motel. You don't have to sugarcoat it," you said as you sat on the piano stool.

"But, I can definitely afford one now. A motel?" He shook his head. "I can give you a suite in Hilton and I wouldn't bat an eyelash."

You rolled your eyes. "Does that line work to every woman you propose having sex with?"

"Oh, princess. You'd be surprised. I would usually just say 'I'm Monster' and they'll willingly offer themselves to me," he prided in himself as you heaved out a sigh.

"Egoistic.”

You knew that there was a huge chance it was true, after all, who wouldn't? He already stole the hearts of the girls in your school back in high school. What more now that he was a world-renowned rockstar? Still, you couldn't help teasing him.

"But talented.” He smirked to himself, knowing that you couldn't refute that.

You shook your head, breaking into laughter as you teased him, "I got better grades than you in high school, Kim Namjoon."

"Only because I let you," he retorted back as you rolled your eyes, knowing that he had a lot of pride that he wouldn't let anyone beat him in compositions. At the same time, a part of you also knew that the time when you actually won over him was because he often disregarded the rules.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Namjoon. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” you murmured.

Changing the topic, he directed a grin towards you. “But, you know, I’m glad that you’re practicing again. I feel like you’re going back to the old you.”

You raised an eyebrow over what he said. “Why? Is the present me so bad now?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it bad, but the past you was more sparkling. The old you had more passion, more alive. This current you, it’s just trying to function, instead of trying to live what she’s meant to be.”

A ringtone broke the atmosphere as Namjoon excused himself from the room for a moment. You blinked your eyes, wondering if what he said was true.

Have you truly forgotten what it was like to live?

Ever since you got into an accident, you fell like you’ve lost your way, your reason to live and to survive. It was as if you couldn’t find the light anymore since you’ve broken your arm and damaged some nerves in the process. You didn’t even want to get into rehabilitation because you knew it was useless. You weren’t going to go back to your prime, back when you had graduated college.

The door opened, showing a Namjoon, who seemed apologetic for some reason.

“Hey, I gotta go now. My manager just called me a while ago. I’m not sure when I’ll see you again, but, for all it’s worth, I trust in you,” he said, his eyes showing how sincere he was with what he just told you — that he actually trusts in you, no matter what.

You gave a slight nod in response. Realizing that you weren’t going to say anything, he just left the room, having the need to rush to wherever he was called to. You turned away from the door, reverting your eyes to the window to stare at your own reflection.

It was the face of a woman who had been worn out by the years that have passed her by, her passion for life all used up by how reality pulled her apart piece by piece until she was now left with nothing but an empty husk of what she had been once.

This was now the current you.

eleven years ago; summer break before third year high school

"What are you writing?" You asked him as you basked in the afterglow of sex. The two of you were in his apartment since it was summer break. However, that didn't mean that your friends-with-benefit relationship ended.

"I just heard some random melody playing in my head," he replied, not bothering to look down to you. He sat up on his side of his bed, writing a few notes on the music sheet he had with a pencil. You looked at his figure, taking in the form of his face — from his sharp-looking eyes to his thick lips and the moles on his cheek and by his chin. His thick eyebrows were furrowed, though, as he was fully-concentrated on writing a composition, even if you were on a break. You tried to comprehend what he meant by a random melody appearing inside his head, but you knew that it was because he was a genius that he could easily think of whatever melody that played inside his head and write it down, only to make a full composition out of it.

It was one of the things you actually loved about him. His prowess in writing music and transforming random melodies inside his head to actual masterpieces. In fact, you knew that he would've placed higher than you if only he followed the rules and standards.

"Am I handsome?"

"What?" You asked him, quite unsure why he had asked you that all of a sudden.

"You're staring at me. Have you memorized every detail of my face already?" He asked, finally taking his eyes away from the composition, turning to you with a smirk on his face.

You snorted. "Egoistic."

"But, talented," he grinned to himself as you raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Namjoon. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

You turned away from him, but he had placed down his pen and paper on the side of his bed, wrapping his arms around you, right below your chest. Your heart was beating so fast from how intimate the two of you were and you had hoped that he wouldn’t realize the speed rate that your heart was going at.

After all, he didn’t feel the same way, right?

But, he proved you wrong.

“I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow as you turned your head towards him. “Is this your way of saying that you want me to give you a blowjob?” You asked as he laughed and shook his head.

“Sweetheart, we both know you would give me one without me needing you to,” he chuckled heartily as you rolled your eyes.

“I thought you didn’t believe in love?”

This time, it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Okay, fine. Even if I think that love doesn’t exist, but I trust in you. If there’s one thing I’m going to put my faith in, it’s always going to be you,” he confessed as you felt your heart skip a beat from what he said.

You turned your body around, facing him this time. You stared at his face, his eyes full of passion and love (or whatever it was, you were still young to recognize it), and you knew that it was definitely this.

“I trust in you, too.”

“One more bottle of soju please!” You called out as you finished your first bottle for the night. You felt like tonight was a perfect night to drink. After all, you had a reason to drink.

“Why are the fuzzy feelings returning?” You asked to nobody as you stared at the empty shot glass in front of you.

A new bottle of soju was placed in front of you by the old lady who owned the restaurant. You gave her a small smile in gratitude as she left you to your own devices, needing to attend to her other customers.

“I trust in you.”

He trusted you? How could he say that he trusted you? You didn’t deserve his trust. He had shared to you his world when the two of you were young, but you decided to leave him.

You had betrayed him.

And because of that, you knew that you didn’t deserve him anymore. Why was he returning back to you when he was someone that deserved more than the current you who was all pathetic and worn out?

After all, it wasn’t just once that you had betrayed him, you had to betray him twice.

You left him once when you were in high school and you left him the second time when you were in college.

Was he out there to exact revenge on you? Was he out there to make you feel the same pain that you had given him from all those years?

“I trust in you.”

You stared at the television that showed his face. It was the late evening news, but you were already too drunk to realize that at this point.

“Do you really trust me?” You asked to nobody until you felt your senses darkening, the night ending with you all passed out alone on the table.

[alwayskaysanova]

Can I Be Him?

Fandom: Merlin Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: T Word Count: 2,158 Summary: A Christmas celebration at Camelot might be the push Arthur needs to finally be honest about his feelings for Merlin.

Merlin Holidays 2017 gift for the awesome @yesimafan (ao3 - daroh)! Big thanks to the mods on lj for hosting this exchange and once again making everything amazing <33

{ao3} {ff.net}

Arthur smiled as Gwaine regaled yet another tale of the Knights various deeds throughout this past year. Every retelling added even more embellishments and Arthur struggled not to laugh as his deeds seemed to get even more ridiculous as the story went on.

As Arthur recalled there had been some sort of mythical beast, and it had definitely been slayed, but by who was still fiercely debated. Everyone seemed to think that it was Arthur who had killed it but as he distinctly remembered being knocked out before he'd even had a chance to strike the creature, he doubted that very much.

Half the deeds attributed to Arthur these days were events he could never properly recall. Merlin assured him he really had defeated all manner of monsters and often joked that all those blows to his head were catching up to him.

Another round of raucous laughter broke through Arthur's musings and he was jolted back to the present.

He watched as Gwaine bowed, nodded his head towards Arthur, and winked at several ladies, before swaggering back to the knights table.

Arthur's gaze switched to Merlin who was shaking his head, a wry grin on his lips, as he made his way towards Gwaine to fill up his drink once more.

Arthur watched the exchange with a slight pang. Merlin had always been very free with his expressions and was often quite touchy with people and he seemed to be especially tactile when it came to Gwaine.

It didn't help that Gwaine was very obviously interested in Merlin beyond friendship and if Arthur wasn't pretty sure it was just friendship on Merlin's side he was sure he'd be a lot more uneasy whenever they were together.

That brought Arthur back to a decision he'd made over a week ago.

In the year's since his father had died and Arthur had ascended to the throne a lot of things had changed from how he'd imagined they'd become.

He'd thought that once he was King he would marry Gwen but that had fallen apart almost as soon as Lancelot had returned. Arthur hadn't, and still didn't, begrudge them their happiness. It had been clear to all that their love was something nobody, not even a King, could come between, and Arthur hadn't really wanted to.

He thinks, looking back, that his feelings for Gwen were partly to do with his feelings towards Merlin.

He had loved her, but he didn't think he'd ever been in love with her.

It had been Merlin since they'd met and it had taken Arthur a long time to come to terms with that.

Arthur stood and the hall quietened as he made one last speech and bid everyone goodnight.

He'd enjoyed feasts a lot more when he'd been younger but lately they seemed to take more out of him. They were fast becoming the only part of his life other than diplomatic occasions that felt like an act.

He'd slowly let go of the formal atmosphere around his knights and it had never really been there with Merlin. Of course, the knights still addressed him properly and observed all the correct deference (something Merlin could stand to brush up on), but he was a lot more relaxed now than he used to be.

He caught Merlin's eyes as he began to leave the hall and they exchanged a small nod as understanding passed between them. It still surprised Arthur that they seemed to know each other so thoroughly despite never setting out to do so.

He made his way through the corridors towards his chamber. He'd have a few minutes before Merlin joined him.

Opening the door to his room, Arthur began to undress, shedding his formal attire in exchange for a simple tunic and breeches. He moved towards the table and sat down in the chair nearest the gently crackling fire.

Around ten minutes later Arthur heard the door opening behind him and relaxed further into his chair as the familiar sounds of Merlin's footsteps entered the room.

A jug and two cups were placed on the table and Merlin began pouring them both a drink.

Arthur loved these moments. When it was just them, alone, no kingdom to save and no interruptions. Moments when he was just Arthur and didn't have to pretend to be anything else.

"Reckon we'll have to postpone the next feast for another few weeks at least," Merlin grinned, "Pretty sure Gwaine's going to run Camelot's ale stocks dry by the time he's finished tonight."

Arthur huffed in amusement, shooting Merlin an accusing glare. "And who is it that keeps supplying him with the ale in the first place?"

"It's not my place to tell a knight of Camelot how much to drink." He shot back, taking his own drink and sliding into place on the opposite side of the table, still grinning.

"Forgive me, Merlin, I was under the impression that you seem to enjoy telling your superiors what to do or does your particular brand of disapproval only extend to your King?" Arthur leaned forward, falling into their usual banter.

"My King is a special case." Merlin replied, "Wouldn't want him to think I treat him the same as everyone else."

Arthur rather thought they'd deviated from the topic somewhere in that sentence but instead of brushing it off as he normally would he met Merlin's gaze and played along. "Oh?"

"Yeah, might get jealous." Merlin laughed and dropped his gaze. Arthur saw the beginnings of a blush colour his cheeks and delighted in it.

He decided to push a little further.

"I would."

Merlin's eyes shot back to his and he fumbled with his cup slightly, letting out a strangled breath and laughing weakly.

They continued to look at each other for a few seconds before Arthur cleared his throat and gestured towards his bed.

Merlin's eyes popped wide and Arthur almost laughed out loud but managed to stifle it into a cough. He very much hoped Merlin would end up on his bed at some point tonight, or rather in it, but there was something he wanted to give him first.

"I have a gift for you." Arthur watched Merlin's eyes widen even further and again fought the urge to burst into laughter. He really wanted to know just how far into the gutter Merlin's mind had fallen.

"It's wrapped up, next to one of my pillows."

Merlin blinked and shook his head, finally seeming to pull himself together enough to stand up and make his way towards where Arthur was pointing.

"Arthur…" Merlin sighed and Arthur shivered.

Merlin had always had a way of speaking his name with so much more than just the letters. It felt intimate, like a secret and a declaration and a confession all at once. So much emotion that Arthur almost couldn't stand it.

"You really didn't have to." Merlin brought the package back to the table and sat down again.

"I wanted to." Arthur tried to catch his eyes again but Merlin seemed fascinated with the package so Arthur tried to lighten the mood. "Besides, you've been slightly less irritating lately so I thought you deserved a reward."

Merlin scoffed, rolling his eyes and finally looking up. "I'll be sure to rectify that as soon as possible, Sire."

Arthur ignored the sarcasm and nudged Merlin's foot under the table. "Open it."

Merlin took a deep breath and began tearing at the paper.

Arthur's heart was pounding and he forced himself to relax. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Arthur to give him and there was no way Merlin would be able to guess at the hidden meaning behind the gift but Arthur still felt as though he might collapse if he hadn't already been sitting down.

A deep red scarf was slowly uncovered and Arthur held his breath as he waited for Merlin's reaction.

Arthur had made sure it was of the finest quality. It was originally supposed to be blue as Arthur knew Merlin had a particular liking for that colour but an admittedly large streak of possessiveness had overcome him and he'd decided to get him a red one instead. Camelot red. Arthur's red.

He wasn't quite ready to admit that though.

Arthur cleared his throat and spoke. "There's more but it wasn't going to be ready in time. I thought you needed a few new clothes since it's winter now and I know you lost quite a few things when that Chimera tore up our tent last month," Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, the silence making him nervous, "and honestly I can't have my manservant walking around barely clothed…," Arthur felt his face heating and rushed to correct himself, "I mean, if you caught the flu Gaius would have my head and the knights wouldn't be too pleased either…" he trailed off, trying to read Merlin's expression.

"Thank you." Merlin smiled warmly, taking pity on Arthur's stammering.

"You're welcome." Arthur replied, relieved as the tension dissipated.

"I just have one question." Merlin said, a smile playing around his lips that Arthur knew from experience meant trouble.

"What?" Arthur almost squeaked, covering it at the last second and managing to force it out calmly.

"Why red?" Merlin was smirking now and Arthur wondered, not for the first time, if Merlin could genuinely read his thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Arthur hedged.

"Well, red is your colour," he continued and Arthur swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "I know that you know that I like blue and I also know that if this was just about appearances then there wouldn't be a scarf because there isn't a scarf with any of the formal robes so," Merlin stared, an emotion Arthur recognized but was almost too scared to name blazing from his face, "why red?"

Arthur swallowed again and tried to make his voice sound even. "Because red is my colour and I…you're…" Arthur faltered, eyes flitting frantically between Merlin's and the scarf between them.

"I'm…?" Merlin prompted.

Arthur summoned up the little courage he had left and finally laid his cards on the table.

"Mine." He said simply, as if it explained everything. As if it even came close to describing all that Merlin meant to him.

Merlin seemed to be looking for something as his eyes scanned Arthur's face and Arthur prayed to all the gods he could think of that Merlin found whatever he was looking for because he didn't think he could actually explain to Merlin just what that word meant to him.

Merlin stood up and Arthur's eyes tracked him as he made his way around the table and stopped in front of him, dropping to his knees.

Arthur couldn't look away as Merlin hesitantly leaned forward, settling between Arthur's legs, and brought both of his hands up to rest on either side of Arthur's neck.

Arthur felt himself slouch down and lean into his touch, closing his eyes as their foreheads bumped gently together. They breathed each other in and just basked in the moment.

It was strange to Arthur that they'd spent so long dancing around this, because he knew now that Merlin felt everything Arthur did.

Their position right now was so very different yet felt so familiar. It was intimate and innocent all at once.

Arthur felt Merlin pull back slightly and forced his eyes to reopen, momentarily breathless as he saw the fond happiness practically glowing all over Merlin's face.

"Yours."

Arthur laughed, almost giddy with relief and joy, before pulling Merlin back and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

The kiss was hesitant at first as they learned each other but soon became heated. Merlin's hands moved from Arthur's neck to his hair, tugging and scratching as Arthur groaned at the shivers that they sent down his back.

Merlin moved from the floor to Arthur's lap and Arthur decided he'd have to pass a law preventing Merlin from ever leaving it again.

They rocked against each other and Arthur slowly started to lose his grip on whatever control he had left. He pulled his lips from Merlin's and panted, trying to clear his head enough to think.

Merlin placed wet, messy kisses to Arthur's neck and after a few minutes Arthur finally found his voice.

"Need…bed…" He gasped, apparently his brain was too far gone to form complete sentences.

Merlin laughed and pulled back. "Your wish is my command, Sire."

Arthur groaned at the loss of his kisses, "Now you start listening!"

"It's all about the motivation, Arthur."

"I'll remember that."

"The only thing you'll be remembering for the next few hours is going to be my name." Merlin almost growled, giving him a hot and very dirty kiss.

Arthur hardened at the show of possessiveness and kissed back with his own promises of what was to come.

[imforrestgumping-blog]

conversations with a mirrored me

We seriously don’t need to make this a lengthy conversation?

- Yeah yeah but listen what’s the point of trying to attach a time frame when you’ve waited your whole life to have a conversation with yourself. Yourself?! I mean isn’t that at some point of every thinker’s mind a sort of mission? In the figurative…

I think it is. And well you’re here. And I’m here and somehow you thought it was an artist idea to put it out there. Figure that I didn’t say it was good or bad idea. 

- Pssht but you perpetually know how to bring a brother down Fam. But listen, do you think we think in the same voice? I can sort of figure out our thinking voice but you know that thing you do when you try character something but some fraction of your brain always has it covered and you are waiting to get that answer but you somehow get lost in solving it yourself and you end up like a dumbass because you somehow get it twisted? 

What?! Nah fam. That’s just you. I mean sure I do think about what voice I think in. Like I think it changes with your emotion. But you can sort of recognize that overtone of you, the echo. The subconscious echo. Or am I bullshitting you? Because I think for real, they’ll always be a constant trait of you in everything you do. For everyone one of us. Like how the moon will be the moon even in daylight when it’s not needed. And that’s how unexplained shit like eclipses appear. Because rationally speaking the moon isn’t suppose to be there. But science messes up the beauty of it through justification. 

- Ag guy it’s as though you were birthed by science. You’re fuck curious. Always trying to make sense of shit that sometimes needs no logic. Till today I have not meet anyone who wants to know some of shit you want to know. What do you think about this writing project you’re doing? 

I think it’s expressive. One dimensionally though. And I dig how I’m able to recognize the parts of my brain I channeled and how it’ll always remain reflective of shit people will never truly know. Sort of reminds me of Frank’s music; it’s tapping into his conscious but you can never know how. And of course I’m no Frank bro but I rate it’s pretty cool I can see his art in my art. Or at least I’d like to convince you and me so. Are you convinced man? 

- Sure I think anyone who knows you, especially me. That’s cool right? Feels good actually saying that. But its dope how much of an inspiration he is. It’s like seeing Gambino inspire himself on Atlanta. That’s an epic series. Too bad Season 2 had to be postponed. But there’s Game of Thrones to look forward to. 

Yeah but July…

- Hey, I think it’s worth the wait. And each episode will be like an hour and a half. More movie like if you ask me. Not that you should be complaining. But talk to me about this project of ours. 

Where was I. Umm.. Yeah I was saying bro. I think it’s pretty cool how as I re-read the shit is wrote I could also pick out the elements that are consistent in my scripting. It’s an entirely different experience on its own and how I let flow of my conscious. I mean they’d be times where writing in the weirdest of places would feel normal. I still reckon I’ll be nervous when I put it together and it’s ready for publishing, if I can call it that. Sure there’s always that underlying fear of hate critique you know. I think, I think I wrote a love story. I know what’s like to fall in love and I think what I did here was create a love story. With what I don’t know but it feels good looking back unto what I’m making here and going through so many feels. Its dope. It’s explosive. And I get to fiddle with a reader’s emotions. That connection I hope to create is something beyond what I can control. And isn’t that love? Isn’t that wanting more for someone more than they want for themselves? 

Why we’re both here trying to let them read and feel something? 

Love hey. Speaking about women and cuddles, do you remember that Ab-soul interview you read where he spoke about how women are everything? The good, the bad, the root of all? And how a real OG knows that most wars have been fought over women? That piece was something you’ve never been able to forget. Especially because you made her read it. 

- Yah neh, her. Do you miss her bruh?

Fuck yeah I miss her. I mean, I miss her it sort of irritates me man. I hope she gets to read this too. She barely understood what writing meant to me but when she wrapped her mind around it, she eventually encouraged me to write. And I think I’ve been able to channel more of her into me than when we were together. Okay maybe I just miss her. She was misunderstood and I think she’ll remain that way for a very long time. So will I of course but I appreciate how that’ll always be the connection we had - lost and in love. A beautiful mess. It’s the part where we began misunderstanding one another that will forever hurt to the core... What else are we supposed to be speaking about? 

- Wow, that’s an ancient load, a very expansive question I’ve been meaning to ask us. Questions likes do you think we’re attractive, why didn’t we began writing earlier, confidence levels, a ton of questions about the world, your teenage life and the life prior this life. I mean there’s so much to actually ask that I don’t even have a starting point. Why you prefer certain metaphors and a stream of conscious, dirty realism, Coldplay, your depth understanding of a being like Lil Wayne or Allister Crowley. I mean dude, I can only manage to attempt an holistic answer to that question but it steams down to one complex principle and I think it’s how you want to understand yourself beyond the idea of a mirror, writing or introspection after most, if not all, events. So what do we speak about, yeah that’s a lifetime worthy conversation mate because growth, that shit happens every single day and it’s how most of us have this imbalance of piling up questions for God when we forget one simple ideology; it’s in us… So what do we speak about, for now we speak about letting them know only a fraction then we write about the rest and hopefully they pick that up whilst we grow. 

You’ve been too attached to this Boys Don’t Cry magazine, and that interview with Lil B about the sexiness of money. Let me do the honours, do you think money is sexy?

- Of course man. I think it’s dirty. But the sexy sort of dirty. Like a female. A bad bad. That’s sexy. The kind that deserves an entire species title in her honour. Because it has this destructive thing about her. And isn’t that sort of power just darn attractive. Hey, we can dwell on the chemistry of how it fits into this world and actually how physically dirty it is to touch it but money, money is sexy Fam. Sexy doesn’t always have to be good though. Or relevant. And you know how you actually feel about money. That’s my point. 

I agree with you. It makes you do some pretty messed up things, like how a mentally explosive female would make you do things that test your self-control without many words. Money is like the dangerous sort of female and all of us are the testosterone filled boys. There are just as many songs about that one girl as they are about money. Ask Abel. 

- Growth. That words sums up everything we need to speak about, I think?

Funny you mentioned that, I was just thinking about how I’ll release something new if this one reaches anything over ten souls. In the right way of course. So here I am debating with myself how I need to grow. We both know that entails more music, more hers, more travel and more of new. More situations in life, more milieus, addressing more world problems and a growth of conscious. And because I’ve started writing some crazy material since I relapsed. Not too dark, not too much personal me but something I deem fit for the world to grow. And hopefully I’ll get there. I mean, I started it right? With a different vocal chord in my brain back then but like I said to dad, “I can do more writing out there than in four corners” who knows maybe I’ll meet a team that’s all arty and shit and prepared to make things happen in the right way. Yeah well.. that’s the segment of growth I’ll comment on. A musician, a writer, a photographer. Choose one.

- Well the rapping scene is too fast and misguided for me, I think I’d script fire lyrics though. Although we did play the guitar at a stage for another genre. The photography scene is too literal for me. And I’d position myself more to the writing prospect but my feeling is it that it’s too narrow. Let’s talk music bro. 

Music man? Do you want us to be here till our death? There’s so much to say about music. But let me summarize this; there’s a song for your every emotion and I feel so sorry for people who haven’t urged themselves to step out of their comfort zones with their music taste. But music is.. Music man. Music is infinity and whether it’s someone like Lil Wayne, some Soundcloud singer, a trap artist, a live session, a Little Dragon concert, Amy Winehouse tribute or even a random cover of White Ferrari. Music is simply and complexly infinite bro. 

- We’re not done right? 

Of course not. 

- Fam? Bro? Anima? Anima…

END OF EPISODE ONE

[wolfgrowlwrites]

Daniel in the Den

Part 1 | Ao3 | Buy me a Ko-fi?

Also I ask that you reblog this post if you like it ‘cause Tumblr’s hiding any post with links from the tags.

Lionpaw gaps as he looks around the island taking in the sheer number of cats around him, most if not all larger than him.

Stormfur and Brightheart are nearby keeping an eye on him and Jaypaw but let them just take in the gathering island. Lionpaw leaves his tail on his brother’s shoulders as he moves around, in a crowd his large it can be easy for small sounds to get drowned out and he figures if Jaypaw doesn’t like it he can toss his tail off.

But his brother stands there with his ears flicking madly as he listens all the while he makes no move to chase Lionpaw away from him. Hollypaw stood beside him, her mouth hanging open and green eyes wide with shock.

“Sure something huh?” Stormfur asks with a soft purr, “need me to start pointing out cats?”

“Could you?” Lionpaw wants to know who everyone is.

“Jaypaw!” Brightheart calls to him, “come with me would you?”

Jaypaw shrugs and heads after her, while Leafpool stops beside Hollypaw, “come on I’ll go introduce you to the other medicine cats.”

Stormfur lets him say goodbye to his siblings before looking over the crowd, “let’s see, who is here tonight.” He scans the crowd a moment before crouching down, “climb on my shoulders.”

Lionpaw doesn’t hesitate, scrambling up on his broad shoulders to let him lift him up to see, “whoa!” There were so many cats here, “I can see everything!”

Stormfur let out a rumbling laugh, “I bet you can. Alright, see that black tom over there, clearly WindClan?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s Crowfeather, the one who came with us on the great journey.” Stormfur lets him look a moment, Lionpaw thinks he looked harsh, even from this distance, though the brown apprentice next to him was pretty, “and over there, where Leafpool is, that’s Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat.”

“She’s pretty,” Lionpaw remarks and Stormfur laughs again.

“She’s your aunt you know, if you want to say hi I can introduce you.” He looks around, Lionpaw laughing as he was sort of tossed with Stormfur’s head movement, “there’s Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy.”

“Who is she talking to?”

“Tallpoppy, she’s a ShadowClan queen, and Dawnflower from RiverClan.” Stormfur answers easily, Lionpaw tries to remember all the names.

“Where’s Russetfur?”

“She’s the red she-cat sitting under the Great Oak with your father.”

Lionpaw looks around, “and where’s Mistyfoot?” He should at least know the deputies of each Clan.

“I’m wondering that myself,” Stormfur stands up which jostles him but Lionpaw stays on his shoulders easily enough.

“I’m right here Stormfur, you were rather easy to pick out of the crowd this gathering.”

Stormfur turns his head and Lionpaw comes almost face to face with a sleek silver she-cat. Beside her is a tortoiseshell she-cat and a pair of mottled grey apprentices.

“Mistyfoot, Mosspelt,” Stormfur purrs, “this is Lionpaw, my apprentice.”

Mistyfoot and Mosspelt’s eyes light up and Lionpaw wonders for a moment if there’s more to that then he knows. He slips down of Stormfur’s back to greet them properly, “hello!”

Mistyfoot touches nose with him, “you have Sandstorm’s eyes,” she remarks with fond purr, “is your training going well?”

Lionpaw dips his head in thanks and as a yes, “Stormfur’s teaching me a lot, he’s a great mentor.”

“I always knew he would be,” Mosspelt replies and Lionpaw watches his mentor duck his head in embarrassment, “he always had the patience.” She turns to Lionpaw, “these our Mistyfoot and my apprentices, Pebblepaw and Dapplepaw.”

“Hello!” Pebblepaw’s reply is bright and chipper and Lionpaw is struck by how friendly the tom seems to be. Dapplepaw is more subdued but no less kind when she greets him.

“Hi,” he shuffles his paws a little and Pebblepaw flicks his tail for him to come closer.

“Ah don’t let my size put you off, I’m old for an apprentice I just haven’t been made a warrior ‘cause Mosspelt likes me too much.”

“You haven’t been made a warrior because you can’t stop getting into trouble,” Mosspelt’s voice is firm but fond, “I hope Lionpaw isn’t any trouble.”

Stormfur laughs at that, “he’s got spirit but he’s not trouble.” Lionpaw gives his mentor a grateful look and is startled by the fondness in Stormfur’s gaze, “I couldn’t ask for a better apprentice.”

“I’m glad Firestar gave him to you,” Mistyfoot replies and Lionpaw nods in agreement.

Dapplepaw laughs and pokes him, “it’s good to get along with your mentor huh?”

“Do you and Mistyfoot not get along?” he asks curiously, his attention pulls away from the older cats to the other apprentices.

“Oh we do, she’s strict but she means well.” Dapplepaw glances at Pebblepaw, “’course I might be made a warrior before this one.”

Pebblepaw sticks his tongue out, “I’ll get to be a warrior someday, Leopardstar can only postpone it for so long.”

Dapplepaw leans over to Lionpaw, “you’ll be a warrior first I reckon, the way he gets into trouble.”

“Oh now she’s challenged me, mark my words Lionpaw I’ll be a warrior by next gathering.”

“Ha!” Dapplepaw scoffs and then pauses, “sorry, we haven’t let you talk much have we?”

Lionpaw shrugs his shoulders, “it’s alright, I’m still kind of overwhelmed.”

Dapplepaw and Pebblepaw nod sympathetically and Lionpaw’s grateful they understand.

“Oh hey, Brightheart’s here!” Pebblepaw sits up and Lionpaw turns to spot his Clanmate about a two foxlengths away where she’s speaking with Leafpool and Mothwing while Hollypaw, Jaypaw and its Willowpaw right? Mothwing’s apprentice are chatting.

“I haven’t seen her at a gathering before,” Dapplepaw mused, and looked at Pouncepaw, “how did you see her?”

“I think she was here for Whitewing’s first gathering as a warrior,” Pebblepaw replies.

“Is there a problem?” Lionpaw asks and they both start slightly and look guilty.

“No, we’re just surprised,” Dapplepaw assures him, “it’s good to see her though.”

“Dapplepaw thinks she’s one of the bravest Warriors in the Clans,” Pebblepaw shrugs, “I mean of ThunderClan cats she’s brave but of your Clanmates, oh you could not catch enough fish to get me to fight Brambleclaw or Dustpelt.”

“She’s here with Jaypaw, my brother, her apprentice.” Lionpaw nods to him and the older apprentices get quiet to listen to him, “he’s the blue one kind of sulking. The black she-cat’s my sister Hollypaw.”

“Well she and Willowpaw have hit it off,” Pebblepaw raises his voice, “hey Jaypaw, come on over!”

Lionpaw sees his brother start and freezes. Jaypaw can’t see he’s with Pebblepaw nor does he know who just called his name but he won’t thank Lionpaw for telling them he’s blind.

Brightheart, thankfully, nudges him their way. Jaypaw pads on over with his head cocked and manages to dodge Mistyfoot and Mosspelt.

“So you’re Brightheart’s apprentice,” Pebblepaw greets him, “Lionpaw was telling us about you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dapplepaw shoved Pebblepaw, “I’m Dapplepaw and the loudmouth over here is Pebblepaw.”

“Hey Jaypaw,” Lionpaw says to let his brother know where he’s sitting. Jaypaw nods to him, ears flattened slightly.

“Thanks. It’s quieter over her.” Lionpaw blinks sympathetically while Jaypaw sits down.

“You’re big for an apprentice aren’t you?” he asks, blunt as ever and Pebblepaw laughs.

“Oh I like this one, I think we scared your poor brother mute with our chattering.”

“You did not!” Lionpaw defends himself hotly, “I just couldn’t get a word in!”

Dapplepaw laughs and Pebblepaw flicks his whiskers. Jaypaw twitches his ears and Lionpaw’s glad to see he looks like he’s enjoying himself more.

“I mean I know Berrypaw and his littermates are getting big but-“

“See I’m not the oldest apprentice!” Pebblepaw cuts in but Dapplepaw whacks him with her paw.

“You’re older than them and Jaypaw was talking.”

Jaypaw turns towards Lionpaw who shrugs slightly.

“Oh believe me, he’s the Clan fool but we love him anyway,” Dapplepaw shoves Pebblepaw, “now shut up. How has your training been going? Are you enjoying your first gathering?”

“It’s been good, hunting’s hard but I think I’m getting it.”

“Jaypaw you’re better at hunting than I am.”

“That’s because you’ve got huge paws and step heavy and everything hears you.”

Pebblepaw and Dapplepaw laugh and Lionpaw flattens his ears.

“He’s getting better, there’s no need to be mean to your brother Jaypaw,” Stormfur defends him and Lionpaw’s glad to have the focus shift. “Mistyfoot, Mosspelt, that’s Jaypaw. He’s Lionpaw’s brother and Brightheart’s apprentice.”

Jaypaw nods to them, Lionpaw can see them realize what he doesn’t think Dapplepaw and Pebblepaw have. The shadows Jaypaw’s sitting in kind of hide his eyes and they’re smaller than the RiverClan apprentices so as long as they’re looking up it could be hard to tell that Jaypaw’s blind.

He sees Jaypaw bristle but Stormfur continues, “Brightheart and I are very proud they’re shaping up to be an excellent pair of apprentices.”

Mistyfoot watches him a moment longer and then nods, “that’s good to hear. It’s always nice to hear ThunderClan is doing well.”

Jaypaw nods once and they turn back to the others.

“Yeah so Stormfur thinks I’m the best apprentice so training’s been great.” Lionpaw shakes his head, “he’s really patient and that’s good ‘cause Jaypaw’s right I do step too hard.”

“So does Berrypaw in your defense,” Jaypaw points out idly.

“Berrypaw does everything too loud.”

“You’re telling me.”

Dapplepaw is studying Jaypaw now and Lionpaw realizes with a start that Pebblepaw’s known the entire time that Jaypaw’s blind by the way he gently nudges his companion and nods.

“ShadowClan must hate you,” he comments and Lionpaw’s confused before he realizes the comment isn’t directed at him.

“Why’s that?” Jaypaw angles his ears and Pebblepaw huffs.

“You seem like you hear everything. ShadowClan’s all about stealth I bet they’ll never get the drop on you. That’ll really twist their tails.”

“Maybe you’d hear something if you closed your mouth once in a while,” Dapplepaw teases which Pebblepaw just shrugs off.

“I just wanted to say that ‘cause StarClan knows I’d love to see them knocked down a branch or two,” Pebblepaw’s eyes light up and Jaypaw seems confused but not upset by the tom’s odd compliment.

“’course Lionpaw looks like he could just shove some of them over,” Dapplepaw pokes his shoulder, “what are they feeding you over in ThunderClan?”

“Any ShadowClan apprentice we can catch,” Jaypaw quips and that sends Pebblepaw into a fit of laughter.

“Oh please come to the next gathering, usually it’s just me and Dapplepaw over here, you two are fantastic.”

Lionpaw looks to Dapplepaw and says, “probably just so he can brag about his new warrior name.”

“No no I mean it,” Pebblepaw moves over to make room for them, “plus you have a great view of the Great Oak from here.”

“Thanks.” Jaypaw states flatly and Dapplepaw looks embarrassed but Pebblepaw laughs.

“See, I like him.”

A loud call brings silence to the gathering and pulls their attention to the Great Oak.

Pebblepaw crouches down to talk to Jaypaw quietly, “the one speaking is Blackstar. He’s big but a bit smaller than Brambleclaw and has a narrower body. He just has longer legs.”

Jaypaw nods thoughtfully, Lionpaw looks to see that now that Pebblepaw’s mentioned it Blackstar does have kind of long legs.

He can also see that Mistyfoot and Stormfur have tensed. Mistyfoot murmurs a soft word to Mosspelt and Stormfur before slipping away to the foot of the tree. Stormfur moves over to join them, with Mosspelt on his other side gently pressing against him. Lionpaw looks up at Stormfur and gently nudges him.

Stormfur looks down at him and Lionpaw watches his mentor pull himself to his full height, eyes trained on Blackstar as he continues to speak. Lionpaw isn’t paying much attention to what he says though he hears Jaypaw hiss and ThunderClan grumble at his remarks. He’s just struck by how afraid Stormfur looks of the ShadowClan leader.

“He can’t touch you Stormfur,” Mosspelt assures him gently. “Not at the Gathering and never again.” The tortoiseshell gives a nasty look at him the kind Lionpaw’s seen leveled by Daisy and Ferncloud at anyone who speaks badly about Jaypaw and understands a bit better now.

Pebblepaw and Dapplepaw are talking with Jaypaw softly, Lionpaw hears him comment, “I think Blackstar’s confused about what side of the border his warriors have been hunting on if he thinks that’s prey rich.”

Lionpaw tries to pay attention and it’s easier once Blackstar’s done and Stormfur relaxes but he’s distracted by Jaypaw and Pebblepaw’s muttering, it seems the friendly RiverClan tom has earned his brother’s respect and Dapplepaw seemed well on her way to earning it as well.

Jaypaw’s head snaps up first and the other three apprentices follow his sightless gaze to the edge of the island. The cats near the tree bridge snarl and hiss and a wave of alarm sweeps through the Gathering. Stormfur immediately places himself between the apprentices and the tree bridge in a fighting crouch. Lionpaw rears onto his back legs to peer over Stormfur and see what was going on. He has his answer a heartbeat later when Firestar speaks.

“Stop!” he orders, “Graystripe?”