#i feel like i’m being too dependent on bean for comfort and like that’s fucking dumb

[voulezloux]

.

[evita-shelby]

Twelfth Night

Or during the Riley Clan's celebration of the Day of the Three Wise Kings at their new mansion, Tommy discovers Franz Kafka.

Mentions of accidental violence, and Tommy’s insecurities and also Kafka’s writing

1923

Tommy had been curious about the traditions Eva’s country had about the twelfth night.

He had introduced her to the English ones on her first time celebrating it by making sure she got the pea in the Twelfth so she could have the paper crown John’s children made for even if he got the clove instead of the bean. Tommy had also played a harmless little prank on her the following morning which resulted in her reacting with her fist right on the kisser.

They laughed about it then ---well he did to make her feel less guilty for punching him--- and laugh about it now as they take a holiday to America to see her family.

They’d bought a mansion in the country, the second largest home in all of fucking America to be exact and would be hosting the entire family now that they had a place more than large enough to accommodate them.

Arrow House as an estate was about twice the size in terms of land, and quite large too, but it looked like a modest row house in comparison to the 19th century castle the Rileys had acquired.

It was a status symbol as well as a home just as much as Arrow House was.

But strangely enough, the Rileys treated the cavernous hall as anyone would treat their home while Tommy still felt a stranger in the bed he and his wife had bought.

Children laugh and play with their parents and nannies, servants bustle about preparing for tonight with the members of the family helping out and while everyone treats him well, Tommy feels as if he stepped through the looking glass.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to check on you before dinner,” she said softly as he hid in the library reading Robert Frost. He’d read Kafka’s short stories and when that made his feeling of otherness worse, Tommy decided to turn to poetry and the whiskey in the crystal decanter.

“If you’d come minutes ago, I would’ve asked you if you’d love me if I turned into a cockroach.” He tries to shove his discomfort away and remembers Eva hardly ever saw her family and they’d be home by next week.

“Kafka is definitely worth learning German for, even if his work is rather dark.” The witch smiled as she joined him on the sofa. She smelled of pastries, even in her fine clothes she was found in the kitchen with the staff.

Hates being idle, a trait that seems to be as common as brown eyes in her family.

If she wasn’t helping about, she was taking care of Charlie and taking him to explore the nearby town or the unending grounds.

“So, would you?” he asks shifting to get comfortable with her, with the army of servants and relatives willing to take one year old Charlie off their hands, it was nice to have her all to himself for a while.

Even with so many roaming about, Tommy and Eva still had quite a lot of privacy.

“I’d find a way to turn you back, and in the meantime, I suppose I’d let you roam Arrow House and eat all the rotten food you want.” Eva answered as if she was powerful enough to undo even something as strange as Kafka’s metamorphosis. “Just imagine the stories of Thomas Shelby, the successful businessman and giant fucking cockroach.”

He laughs at her words and wished they could skip dinner, but formal gatherings came with the life he’s made for himself and Eva’s family was a good place to start.

“Anything I should know before your cockroach husband sits down to dinner with your family?” he asks hoping he is all caught up.

“No matter what I tried to stop it, the tiny Jesus figurine is in your slice of rosca. I’m afraid we’ll be hosting my darling family next year. Or have another baby, depending on who you ask.”

And sure enough, on January 1924 he hosts the Rileys at his home on the condition the tiny Jesus isn't on his slice of cake and convinces his wife to have a second child.

Rockwood Hall was the second largest home in America, remodeled and owned by JD Rockefeller until his death in 1922 and then demolished in the 1940s. It had over 204 rooms and spanned 1k acres. Surprisingly Arley Hall, which is used as Arrow House has 2k acres but the house is smaller.

Kafka’s The Sons ,a collection of short stories that features the Metamorphosis was published in german in 1915. Tommy in this fic can understand German as the translation to English wasn’t made until 1930.

[restlessreveries]

Been feeling a bit rough today so I’m gonna yell about things that makes me happy.

So, scrambled headcanons about introductions/reactions/futures of Sym living in the colony after the negotiated peace ending. Because the game doesn’t elaborate nearly enough on this and I feel robbed. 

(Yes I will assume a romantic Sym/Sol relationship here because I need the happy brain chemicals and that is a threat.)

Cal: Let’s start by kinda easing ourselves into this by starting with the character that I’ve got the least to say about. ‘Cause let’s face it, Cal and Sym would just get along. Probably be agriculture buddies. Sym’s got a lot to teach about Vertumna’s flora and fauna and Cal is there for it.

Anemore: Probably a rough start, let’s be fair. She did lose her brother to the Gardeners’ attacks so she’s probably not exactly eager to jump into a deep friendship. I reckon it takes some years even in the best of cases before she starts feeling at ease around this weird purple guy. 

Then kind of out of the blue to everyone else, she beans him in the head with a sportsball (maybe a little bit harder than needed) and calls for him to return the ball and get on the court ‘cause they’re a player short. She doesn’t go easy on him from there though, but it’s a start and maybe it helps a bit that she gets some lowkey revenge by destroying him at sportsball.

In endings where she and Vace stuck with one another for too long she probably appreciates his support in helping look after the kiddos and just, you know, being a friend who is emotionally invested and supportive which she’d kinda need after Vace.

... I kinda like to picture a bit of a lowkey Sym/Nemmie thing but let’s store that thought away...

Tangent: Oh boy, um... gods I don’t even know how this one would go. I reckon it’s a really slow and rough start though, especially depending on if Dys went through with becoming a Gardener and isn’t there anymore. And then we’ve got the guilt of her almost having engineered a plague... I’m not sure if they ever get close tbh, but she might appreciate his expertise in all things Vertumnan and maybe share some soft comforting moments down the line where he’s helping her actually see the beauty of all the weird stuff that’s out there on Vertumna in a way that gives her more of an understanding of Dys’s perspective. On that topic...

Dys: You know, I said Cal was gonna be the one I had the least input on, but... I mean, they know each other already. They’ve got a good functioning thing. I’m not sure how Dys would take to Sym taking a much more active interest in human life by moving in there and hanging out with a wider crowd. 

Maybe that other Sym/Dys/Sol path ends up elaborating a bit on this? But I don’t know... I kind of assume Dys goes the Gardener route eventually regardless.

Marz: She’s designing a new outfit for him within an hour of being properly introduced. I will stand and die by this line of thought. Honestly, I think she’d take fairly well to Sym, appreciating his attentiveness and questions as taking an interest in her life (which she always craves) even if she writes it off as just mantaining good relations with the Gardener’s representative because she’s into politics now, this is important. But yeah, she’s going to teach Sym about the finer more sophisticated points of humanity (or at least what she deems such).

... And I kinda like to headcanon that the kid she ends up having as a surrogate is for Sol and Sym to raise. “RAISE NONE OF YOUR OWN” GAME I SWEAR!. LET SYM BE A DAD! (obviously not genetically but you know what I mean)

Or you know what? People fuck about with their genetics so much in this game I bet they could add some Vertumnan DNA as an augment if nothing else. Tang can make it work. She owes me a solid favor anyway.

... Okay um, let’s get back on track.

Tammy: Bit of a rocky start since she’s kind of scared of everything Vertumnan. This lasts until about 4 seconds into the proper introduction when Sol mentions Tammy by name and Sym immediately starts going on about how much he loves her work and how splendid her craftsmanship is. Truly amazing, unmatched even. Tammy (and probably Cal) are confused as fuck until Sol, who is hysterially laughing, managed to share that they’ve been sneaking him Tammy’s baked goods for years now. +10 to Tammy’s confidence.

Also, you know, turns out Sym loves kids, him and Tammy will 500% bond over that. Even if she’s a little bit hesitant at first. But the kids just adores him too so hey, +1 babysitter too!

Rex: Once Rex is over the harsh realizarion that Sol beat him to getting with an alien I can only imagine that they get along well. It’s honestly kinda funny to imagine Sym being the one shamelessly flirted with and kind of unable to keep up with it. Wouldn’t surprise me terribly if they get casual with one another down the line in the case of an open to poly Sol.

Nomi: Gods above and below, I’m almost scared of the thought of these two hanging out together. You know they’d get along well. Sym might not match Nomi’s boundless energy, but I have no doubts he’d take well to their interests and have hour long discussions about anime and games. Sym trying to roleplay in that one game would be hilarious too, I bet he’d go actual ye olde english since he’s got recordings of human history.

Vace: ... I kind of like to imagine Vace coming face to face with Sym in a non-violent scenario and being faced with an intense existential crisis in that he finds Sym unmistakably hot and that he’s now got an alarmingly real interest in xenobiology that he just doesn’t know what to do with.

On a more realistic note, he’d probably be upsetti about a xeno living in the colony and tbh he can die mad about it.

Geranium & Fluorescent (aka dad and mom):  Kinda shook, understandably. I mean, their kid has been dating an alien for a while now. How do you deal with that? I don’t even know, it’d probably take a while for it to even sink in.

I will however share the thought of Geranium trying to sit Sym down to give him the shovel talk and Sym being all excited about it because he’s seen this scenario in literature and it’s gonna be so fun to actually experience.

Flulu checks on them an hour later and finds that the nerds have just devolved into fanboying about plants, both Vertumnan and Earthen(?). Facepalms and has to try to do it right herself, but let’s be honest, the moment is kinda ruined. Things run pretty smoothly from there on then though.

... and this is unrelated to any canonical thing but just, if you’ve read this far and didn’t skip the Marz section. I like to imagine that a Sol/Sym kid is named “Noctem” just so Sym gets to see Noctilucent’s reaction on finding out that a human kid got named after him (them?).

And much to Noctilucent’s frustration, it’s strangely difficult to hate the kid.

[dememetor]

HEY HEY HEY

I love your writing, can I please get jealous hcs for anyone? Please include suna thi he's my latest brainrot hAHA

hi, thanks for the request! and suna brainrot?? bitch me too the fuck. anyways, hope you enjoy~

(also sorry this is kinda late, i've rewritten iwaizumi and bokuto ones a million times)

Haikyuu boys when they're jealous

characters suna rintarou, kuroo tetsurou, iwaizumi hajime, bokuto koutarou, kenma kozume

warnings none but i'm probably gonna say fuck at some point

Suna Rintarou

he tries to be chill about it, he does

it hurts his ego to be this clingy but god

he can't help but to feel that sour sting of jealousy when he sees another guy approaching you

at first will only take a quick glance from afar, just to check if the guy is bothering you, and then promises himself to stay out of your business

well he doesn't

once he decides the guy has lost talking-to-y/n-alone privilege, he will nonchalantly make his way towards you, one hand in his pocket, other sneaking its way to your shoulder, resting his elbow and giving the poor boy a menacing look

he can be pretty intimidating too with that eyeliner and all

(but that look only works on people that don't know him well, he tried it on atsumu once and the latter just laughed in his face)

not the type to be openly jealous but when he sees someone blatantly flirting with you he will start to give you the Glance

blinks slowly (you know, like that one blonde haired guy gif) and looks at you through raised eyebrows as if to say hey babe, i love you and i trust you. what the fuck tho

and when the guy starts being borderline creepy he'll appear between you - and i mean literally will inject himself between you two and strike a conversation with you as if nothing weird happened

they usually get the hint, but this one guy tried to go around him, still rambling about whatever and suna literally turned on his heel and said "come again?" with such unrivaled coldness, his eyes exuding just sheer fucking spite

but like i said, unless the other guy is asking for it, he's not the type to start a direct confrontation

will take you by the hand and leave without much thought because he simply doesn't have the time for that shit

he might seem grumpy afterwards but a couple of soft kisses usually do the trick

soft kisses which are followed by a breathless make out session with you on his kitchen counter because he still wants you to know you're only his

Kuroo Tetsurou

this little bitch

never gets jealous

and i mean never

once pretended he was jealous just to make you feel better (??? his logic? unparalleled) but once you found out you beat his ass

loves it when you get jealous though (he thinks it's cute)

sometimes he does get insecure, but he shows it in an unusual way

like if you've been talking to someone, smiling at your phone for a while he'll just get up and randomly do a couple puhs-ups, start flexing his muscles and shit

all while you're looking at him like,,

"babe, what are you doing"

"oh i didn't think you'd notice me there. since you're on your damn phone all day"

"...are you my mom?"

nah he'll be fine (will steal your phone though)

also it's the funniest thing when he sees someone trying to flirt with you

he will literally walk over there, introduce himself (not mentioning he's your boyfriend) and act really interested in the conversation

he plays this game where he tries to see how long will it take the guy to realise you two are together (longest time: 24 minutes, record holder: yahaba shigeru)

whenever the guy asks you something he will interrupt you and answer for himself as if the guy were flirting with him

"so, like what do you do in your free time?"

"not mu-"

"oh i love taking long walks on the beach, especially during sunsets. i really think it is healthy for the mind and the soul, not to mention quite romantic too. don't you too love sunsets, kevin?"

at one point kevin will have had enough of it

"i was talking to y/n alone here"

"aw don't worry, you're not bothering me"

he is such a pain in the ass

why can't he just be normal

Iwaizumi Hajime

rational, mature, i love him

seriously, he is the bestest boy and he will treat you so well because he trusts you and respects your friendship with other guys as well

but on those rare occasions when he does get jealous,, oh boy

first of all, the PDA skyrockets, he has to have his arm around you at all times - around your shoulder? on your waist? in your backpocket? his hand's been there done that

not in any way possesive but will be really annoying unless you give him your full undivided attention that day

he lets himself be selfish a bit, after all he is your boyfriend he can have you all to himself for a day, right?

jealous sex with him? better prepare a wheelchair cause you want be able to walk straight tomorrow

sees a boy trying to flirt with you? tries not to make a scene but absolutely will throw the first punch if he needs to

one day he was having a particularly rough time at practice and all he wanted to do was lose himself in your arms and fall asleep to the feeling your fingertips tangled in his hair

and then he saw this?? guy? (the audacity!) laughing with you after telling some dumb joke and let me tell you - iwaizumi wasn't having any of it

he came up to you from behind, wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a small kiss on the crook of your neck

"when are we going home, love?"

and he gives him the calmest yet most fear inducing stare from behind you

and suddenly the pattern on poor boy's pants starts to look awful lot like piss stain

it is actually kinda hot how one single look from him can cause such a reaction

"he was just asking about english homework babe"

"yeah that's what they all say"

Bokuto Koutarou

gets jealous so so easily

it is actually fascinating

will get mad at otome games

"what does jumin han have that i don't???"

god forbid you pay attention to your pet more than him (btw you have a golden retriever and his name is bean)

you're sitting on the couch cuddling with your dog, scratching his ears, ruffling his fur and all that, and there he is, your clingy boyfriend, snuggling right next to you, demanding you play with his hair too

so dramatic

"you smiled at him... the way you used to smile at me..."

"bokuto, he's a dog"

the only guy he trusts 100% to be around you is akaashi, even kuroo is on thin ice

but him and akaashi are something else, one time you three had a sleepover and you felt like you were the third wheel

will act like a tough serious boyfriend in front of others, especially your other guy friends but in reality will look for affection immediately after

oh while we're at it - jealous bokuto kisses? are the best kisses

will also force you to wear one of his shirts for the rest of the day

my poor man is so touch starved so when he feels insecure or jealous he will look for comfort in things like holding your hand, nuzzling your neck or giving forehead kisses

but later that day, when you two are sitting on the couch cuddling he will quietly ask you something along the lines of "you still think i'm pretty, right?"

you can feel him all over you - his hands are creeping down your waist, he's pulling you in, deepening the kiss until all you can see, think and feel is him

he wants to show you exactly how much he wants you and what you were missing out on while you weren't paying attention to him

and it shocks you for a moment because you didn't realise just how much that one short moment of jealousy actually stayed with him

you have to reassure him he's the most beautiful boy you have ever met, and not only that, but also the funniest and the most caring person as well, and that you would never leave his side no matter what happened

and as much as he loves getting praised he always gets embarrassed, so he just smiles in return, but he is also happy to know you're there for him and you don't think he is too much

Kenma Kozume

it depends on his mood honestly

sometimes he doesn't mind it even if the other guy is flirting with you and sometimes will get pissy if you smile at the cashier

but when this boy gets really jealous oh my GOD

he is just like bokuto if not worse; he just hides it so well

one time you went grocery shopping with him and spent the entire time texting your friend who had just told you she was visiting your city

and he got so offended

you didn't even notice it until later that day when you came home and he suddenly refused to cuddle with you

silent treatment

lifts his nose and ignores you, only giving you dirty side glances from under the eye

such a massive sense of pride in those 170 cm even oikawa would be impressed

in my country there's a saying "it's in the smallest bottle that the poison lies" and honestly? yeah

at some point you realise why he's acting like that and you start teasing him

"i am not jealous i am just mildly irritated" is the only thing he deems necessary to say before going back to being unnecessarily pissed

he reminds you of an angry cat

it's kind of amusing seeing him like this but you were also getting real tired of his shit

don't even try bribing him (you tried buying him over with a ps5 but he just looked at you unimpressed, disgusted that you think so low of him)

the only thing he will accept is a sincere apology

if it's sincere or not is up to him to decide, obviously

which can lead to quite some bickering

will try to get you to beg but please have dignity, if you do it once he will make you do it every time

yeah generally a lttle shit but his kisses after making up are just as eager as yours so

[etheravie]

Vulnerability

Chapter 1: Marooned

       He winced internally at the look that he was given. "What was the first thing I said?"        "Um... that you don't borrow from bitties?"        The blonde's gaze fixated on the piebald in what looked to be judgement before again the borrower began walking to the door. Another strange surge of adrenaline thrummed through Ranboo's veins. "Wait!"        The borrower didn't turn around. He raised himself on his feet again and on his tip toes to attempt to peer out through the window placed atop the door. "Sorry, Boob Boy, but I can't chat. I've got things to do and places to be."        Ranboo sputtered. "That's not my name."        "I know, but it sounds close enough."        "Okay then... what's your name?"        The sentence seemed to take the other by surprise. "Why the fuck do you want to know mine?"        Ranboo looked away, feeling a heatwave of embarrassment flare more than the temperature. "Because it's... uh... unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours."        Another chortle came from the blonde. He turned briefly to Ranboo after opening the door, speaking, "That's a shit point, but it's Tommy."

· · ─────── ·🙜· ─────── · ·

       When he awoke into consciousness, the first thing he registered was his person being poked at. This wasn't anything out of the unusual; very normal, in fact, however somewhat disappointing. Being able to sleep in at his own accord instead of being the one woken up had its pros and cons. One of the latter was more than likely getting less sleep than usual, depending on how late they slept in that day. One of the pros being that he could be the one to awaken Techno.        "Come on, Ranboo. I know you're awake. I'm not going to poke you all mornin'."        "Then don't," the half-and-half huffed. He turned over and onto his side, inhaling the scent of the morning with bliss invading his senses before releasing a soft sigh. The bitty pulled up the duvet closer to his shoulders, bunching it up in his fists so it wouldn't be taken away. "Just a few more minutes."        "Bruuuh."        Ranboo said through a yawn, "Hey—you always wake me up. There's nothing wrong in sleeping in."        Slowly, he cracked his eyes open and pulled the blanket closer to him to help shield his vision. It was useless, however, as the giant shadow looming above his home refused to move. The lure of warmth and comfort was enough to not ask him to move so he could enjoy the sunlight.        It was his downfall. Techno, spotting this subtle action, had taken this as his cue to move so he was sitting to the right of the little house. The beams of light shot through the home's window and directly into the bitty's eyes. In reply, Ranboo shouted a protest that was muffled by the covers. He had turned to lie on his back, his eyes covered by the cotton-filled pillow. "My eyes!"        "Are you ready to wake up now? I'm hungry for some waffles," said Techno in a monotone voice that had yet to change. He began to run his fingers through his hair, straightening out the tangles and knots that had embedded themselves stubbornly within the long, pink strands. The motion cast a slight silhouette against the wall of the bitty's room.        Ranboo slowly turned to his side. An ice white arm freckled with that of the opposite color shielded his eyes to better help him adjust to the light. He pouted when Techno's face was spotted not too far away from the window, a grin planted on the bean's face. "Mornin'."        Ranboo's greeting of return was a strand of incoherent mumbling as he turned his head again to the pillow. One of his legs had draped over the edge of the little bed, and his socked foot kicked at Techno's finger when he sensed it near, eliciting a snicker from the pinkette who admitted defeat. "Alright, alright. I'll come back for you in twenty."        "M'kay..." the bitty mumbled. Another large yawn left his mouth, but not before Techno moved from his place. What little trickles of light had yet to make itself present burst into the room, blossoming and causing Ranboo to squint. Luckily, his vision was beginning to adjust. Slowly but surely.        The click of a door sounded once Ranboo managed to swing both of his legs across and over the edge of the bed. The room was encompassed in silence save for the white noise of the shower that the bitty had soon started for himself. Being greeted to liquid shards of ice had taken him by surprise, but after a quick adjustment, the gentle downpour began to instead spew warmer water that made the bitty feel ever more relaxed as he stepped in. He let the liquid wash away whatever worries had once plagued him, if any. Taking a warm shower wasn't the best thing to do when trying to wake up, however quick, but it was nothing that a quick splash of water to the face wouldn't fix when he brushed his teeth.        Thinking about it made him feel guilty. He wasn't oblivious to what blessings he was given—neither was he to the generosity that the beans bestowed upon him. And for what reason? Techno had told him, but anxiety kept him in silence from inquiring further. It was hard to drop when the knowledge that a type of his same kind wouldn't even dare to borrow from his resources—from their own kind. It wasn't insulting, but more so concerning. It was just the unspoken rule, so Ranboo had heard. But what rule did some beans have that made them more violent towards bitties and borrowers alike? What rule made the other beans so much more benevolent? Children simply didn't know better until they learned to be gentle.        The thought that beans could be as violent as them brought upon Ranboo a wave of shame as he stepped out of the shower. The steam held inside from the closed door let the warmth linger on his body briefly as he patted himself down, tugging on his clothes and smoothing out his hair to the best of his ability. Some few, remaining areas still held slight tangles to them, but they could be straightened out later. The warmth had sapped the energy from his body, again leaving him at the morning's mercy.        Some enthusiasm had returned when he opened the doorknob that now was slick with steam. He opened the bathroom door on the second try, and just looking at the blanket-strewn bed made him feel the need to collapse back into its embrace and let the fuzziness of sleep win him over. Perhaps a nap later would suffice, but sleeping on an empty stomach wasn't as preferable. Any further temptations were dismissed gently once the pinkette entered the room, adorning his own clothes for the day. It was somewhat strange to see him dressed more casual than usual, but judging by their jobs they attended to somewhere around five days a week, relaxation on days off couldn't be blamed.        Ranboo had begun to descend the stairs after spotting the bean. Exiting the front door left him to see Techno's awaiting hand. The ender shut the door with a nudge of his foot, wincing lightly with the noise. The warmth emanating from the giant's hand was almost as comfortable as being blanketed in bed. Almost, since the soothing chill of previously unoccupied had nearly faded completely. All of the bean's bodies were warm, now that he thought about it; unless the surrounding temperature said otherwise, at least. It was familiar but foreign. The heat didn't radiate in waves—it still left him partially exposed to the open air, but this was cured when Techno's fingers encompassed the bitty by curling in on him in a protective shell. He stood and began to make the trek downstairs. Ranboo sat down to let his back press against the taller's middle finger. The digits formed a canopy overhead. Not quite enough to filter out the light of the passing room, but enough to let the shadows shine their spotlight upon the little within the giant's hand.        "So... I'm your bed today," came the bean's comment. His voice was a low hum that intermixed with that of the appliances not too far away, located in the kitchen. Ranboo nodded simply. He knew they had reached their destination when the air shifted along with techno's hand in a gentle movement. The bitty didn't leave of his own accord, rather choosing to further press against the pinkette's palm.        "Mhm. You... you wouldn't let me sleep on you last night."        A sudden movement made the little start to roll off of Techno's hand. The heterochromic male let the motion carry him away, knowing well that the giant would rather take the plunge himself over Ranboo. How this was possible at such a large scale in comparison the bitty could only imagine, but he appreciated sentiment nonetheless.        He grunted with the impact. The tablecloth was frostbitten in comparison to the hand that once held him, and he couldn't hide his shivers. It would have been a brighter idea, in retrospect, to take a jacket until his body adjusted to the temperature, if not a blanket. Curse the morning fog.        Fingers prodded at his side. The bitty let himself fall further limp, relaxing at ease. The culprit successfully pushed Ranboo onto his back, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling. A curly-haired brunette shrouded his vision with a beaming smile.        "How's my little tampon wrapper today?"        "I dressed up that one time!" Ranboo exclaimed in exasperation. He covered his face with his hands to groan, refusing to acknowledge whatever expression was on Wilbur's face as he laughed. Ranboo retaliated by blindly reaching a hand out. His fingers tugged on the yellow, woolen cuff of Wilbur's sweater. He could feel the roll of the bean's eyes when he was picked up oddly and placed within the sleeve with his head resting atop the thicker hem. It was no duvet, but it was as soft as one. And as scratchy as a haystack. Both had been enough to warrant comment, much to the bean's chagrin and all else's chuckles.        "Today's a lazy day today, then, eh?" asked Wilbur. A smile tugged at his lips when he began to lightly brush the top of the bitty's head with his index finger, causing Ranboo to attempt to press closer to his wrist in a sleep-filled fugue.        Techno didn't pause to address him, however there was no malintent to his actions. "Yep," he replied simply. He lifted a hand to adjust his glasses before reaching to the refrigerator. Small, crystalline flakes of ice drifted to the floor. The rest clung stubbornly onto the needed ingredients with a vice grip, threatening to stick whatever dared to try to separate it. Techno was a brave soul. He continued, "He decides it. Not me."        "Oh, right. Leave the bitty to decide what day is going to be a chill and hangout one. You two, I swear."        Techno looked over his shoulder to Wilbur, earning a shit-eating grin from him. "Wil. Wil, the old man is still sleepin'. He's rubbing off on you."        "I heard that, you little shits."        "Go back to bed, grandpa. We'll bring your breakfast up once we've eaten."        Wilbur's grin grew wider when he laughed. If Techno heard Phil's approach, it wasn't acknowledged. The light, playful hit to the back of his head didn't phase him as he began to add the ingredients to the bowl that he had retrieved from the cupboards above the counters. "Good morning to you, too, Techno greeted as he turned on the waffle maker, fiddling with the controls only briefly. The gentle hum of the appliance helped to fill the void of silence when words couldn't.        Phil joined the brunette seated at the table whom had begun to again scroll through his phone with the thumb of his unoccupied hand. He raised his eyebrows in silent greeting. The blonde didn't need to look to know why. "Heya, mate."        "Good morning, Dadza. Hey—was that you earlier? At the fridge?"         Phil hummed in light confusion, looking up to the taller and pointedly ignoring the nicknames given to him. His eyes were widened some in light inquiry. Ranboo had lifted his head, caught by curiosity. The blonde answered, "No. What's up?"        Wilbur set his phone atop the table in exchange of covering his mouth in a hand, his brows furrowed in contemplation. "I heard the fridge beeping," he began. "You know—when you leave the door open for too long or don't have it fully closed. I thought heard the alarm go off a while ago."        Techno proposed with a light laugh at the same time he poured the batter into the machine, "You're sure it wasn't just a mouse that woke you up and you forgot that you were at the fridge for a few hours?"        Wilbur's eye twitched, wishing that he had something to throw other than his phone. "Yes. I was up a while before, and I heard the beeping. I don't think I heard anything else."        "...You don't know if-"        "I just woke up!" Wilbur defended. "And no, I didn't have my airpods in."        A blanket of quiet covered the surface of the dining area and the kitchen as thin as a fragile as the layers of dust in an abandoned home. It was only disturbed by the humming of a waffle maker; a monotonous hum that sounded soothing but could be anything but with the lack of melody.        "Just butter, please," said Ranboo quietly after clearing his throat. Despite his many previous protests, similarly to moving them in a physical manner, it was near impossible to sway them. Pulling "puppy eyes", so it was called, could only work so many times at certain ones. Letting the beans get their share of food first wasn't up for debate. It still tugged at his mind, but he wasn't not appreciative.        "You're a menace. What kind of person eats waffles only with butter?" Wilbur commented. Ranboo's chest fluttered with a comforting warmth even as he stepped out of that of Wilbur's sweater, leaving him to shiver a few times involuntarily. The brunette's finger nudged his head slightly harder for emphasis. Ranboo batted it away with a hand as he finally got to his feet once more, stretching his limbs. Despite his height for a little, Phil cooed. Wilbur laughed, no doubt at the blush that had to be dusting his cheeks as easily as his opposing colored freckles.        "Yeah? Well... what kind of- what kind of person eats their waffles with sticky syrup?" Ranboo retorted. He had walked across the table's surface and near the center, where a small tray was placed. On its surface were bitty-sized utilities not unlike that of the kind beans used. The bitty picked out a fork and a knife, bringing it back to his area. "It gets all over you and it sucks to wash off."        "You forget how small you are compared to us. You need a full on shower."        "You say that like it's hard to forget," Ranboo said with a smile. His grin grew when his bean approached later with a tiny plate of just four squares of a waffle. The piebald's mouth began to water with the haze of heat that he felt before it was even placed afore him. The scent was divine.        A quick thank you was said before the bitty dug into his meal. Picking up the knife first, he maneuvered it with ease to saw off the size he deemed fitting for the first portion. "Mate..." he heard Phil begin. Ranboo shook his head, not stopping his motion. The knife was nearly to the plate, making quick progress.        "I can get it. I almost have it," the half-and-half insisted. He cheered with triumph once the blade hit the glass with a scrape that he had learned to get used to. He lifted it again with ease, moving around and to the side to repeat the process and cut out his square.        Phil blinked. "Are you sure you don't want your own your size?"        "Mhm! You've already made this for me—I'm too small to take anything important away."         "In that case," said Wilbur. Ranboo watched with silent eyes as Wilbur picked up the fork the bitty had temporarily discarded. He held it with two fingers after some difficulty, and using it, he cut his own fill with some of the same struggle. Phil wheezed in quick laughter when Wilbur brought it up and to his mouth to take the bite, taking the piece off using the edge of the waffle to leave the fork itself untouched. Ranboo had yet to remove eye contact. Wilbur smiled at his judgmental gaze as he set the fork down to rest against the plate's edge. "What? I got hungry. Are the rest ready yet, Tech?"        Another bitty fork was thrown at him with striking precision. The handle hit its mark just at the side of his forehead, landing on the tabletop. "That's what you're eating with." Phil snorted.        "Oh, fuck you," Wilbur exclaimed. He threw the fork back towards the male. It bounced off of the counters edge, landing with a clatter on the floor. Techno looked back at him after retrieving the second stack of waffles that had emerged from the microwave, but in the process, stopped and looked at the floor. Phil looked up as Wilbur picked up his phone again, watching the pinkette with curiosity.        Techno continued to observe one of the floor tiles before striding over to one of the cabinets to retrieve a bottle of syrup. It was a simple motion, but Phil knew when his friend was trying to get away from something whilst staying silent. He had done it before when Ranboo was first taken in, which was a feat in and of itself. He wasn't the most delicate nor was he the best with conversation, and it was evident by the bitty that he, too, was able to recognize this. Phil was almost jealous of the relationship that Techno had with "his" bitty. The care to him wasn't unexpected, but it was certainly odd. Now it merely felt like home to have the ender addition to their household. Bitty or not.        "Tech?" Phil asked. Wilbur and Ranboo, too, had looked up.        "I thought I saw somethin'," was his reply. He began to drizzle the syrup atop the remaining waffles, reaching down and to the side to sift through the drawer of silverware after.        "Like what?" Phil hummed. Ranboo tried to smack Wilbur's hand away when he attempted to pick up the fork to steal another bite from the bitty's waffle. The only result was the little being lifted, holding onto the lifeline that was the handle, digging into the palms of his hand. Wilbur had placed a hand beneath Ranboo in case he couldn't hold on before he could be put down, grinning in the meantime at his victory. He ignored the scolding look Phil threw to him. Ranboo looked to him in plea, and though the brunette could see light concern for the bitty within his eyes, the blonde's own smile gave away his betrayal. Maybe beans couldn't be trusted in some aspects, thought Ranboo sarcastically as he was finally placed back down but not before sticking his tongue out at the brunette to then resume his meal.        "Don't tell me you're doing the thing," Wilbur said with a sigh, running his fingers through the waterfall of curls that cascaded across his left eye. He caught the raised eyebrow that was given to him as the pinkette approached, taking his seat only after he had placed the plates atop the table along with the silverware necessary. Phil voiced his thanks before beginning to collect his own portion. "You know—you're doing the fucking... what is it... the paranoid thing!"        "...Are you going to eat?" Techno asked.        "Yes, I'm going to fucking eat. Who do you take me for?"        Wilbur then begrudgingly took his own waffle, and whether this was from it simply being made by his brother's hands or from the cheap way only Wilbur knew. At the very least it was still decent. The scent was just as savory was it was the taste. The light steam that streamed upwards wafted a comfortable heat into the room. For a reason Ranboo still had yet to figure out, it was different from that of the outdoors. Even with a short-sleeved shirt he still was feeling its effects. The food was worth it. It was at times such as this that he longed to be as tall as the beans who surrounded him. Such a height wouldn't be one that he wished to climb without constant supervision.        "You sure it wasn't a bug or something? Spider, maybe?" Phil suggested. He had rested an arm on the table.        "Maybe. It was near the fridge against the counter—I didn't look," said Techno after swallowing. A tug to his wrist motioned for him to do so to see a little dollop of butter on Ranboo's leg; bigger to a bitty but miniscule to a bean. Ranboo saw something within the pinkette's eyes as he pointed to the paper towels with a sheepish smile. His thank you was muffled when he used it to clean himself as best possible before continuing to eat. Ignoring Techno gently cleaning him further while he ate his own waffles, too, was a task easier said than done. He simply felt his hair becoming frazzled again, which would undoubtedly be a pain yet again to comb through.        "Getting some bug spray is actually a good idea. Summer is almost in full swing. You know... I was thinking..." Phil trailed off suggestively, tapping at his chin in thought. Ranboo hunched.        "Yes!"        "What!?" exclaimed Wilbur and Techno at the same time. Phil chortled, coughing slightly. Techno seized his chance. "Phil. Phil, you can't be serious. Please no."        "Why not? I think it'll be fun. Just give it a try."        "Just because it was a coincidence that you got the flu one time doesn't mean it will happen again," assured Wilbur. Techno nudged the other with more force than necessary when the action was done to him with Wilbur's elbow.        "You're not scarin' me."        "Nothing scares you."        "Exactly."        "Come on, mate. You don't want to leave me alone with him," noted Phil with a smile. Wilbur guffawed whilst Techno let himself snort. This earned another laugh from Phil, and although quiet, from Ranboo as well.        "That's tempting, but we've got Ranboo now," Techno said.        There was concern and a thoughtfulness within their eyes, but it still felt as though daggers were being driven into Ranboo's soul like pins and needles—a constant pressure to make him move towards their side. There would be nothing but softness, but all that Ranboo could see was the sweet butter atop his square of waffle. It felt raw going down his throat from the lump that had begun to form within the span of seconds.        The outdoors was something that the bitty hadn't gotten to experience too much—not without the necessary precautions. Back at the shelter there was an outdoor area, but there had been transparent walls to protect them and a clear ceiling that made it seem as though the sky was their only roof. Rainy days beneath it had only ever pushed Ranboo away, for the drops always looked as though a single one would envelop him whole and whisk him away to whatever mercy the sky decided to bestow to him. The only true glimpses in the aftermath were entering or exiting vehicles or buildings, both bitty and bean (mostly buildings, though. Modes of transportation for Ranboo's kind were difficult to come by, much to the bean's surprise). The warmth from the sun cast upon his skin was a heavenly blanket that none strewn on his bed could compare to. The winds of the weather were pure bliss in contrast to that of the fans that always felt too forced even when pointed away from his person.        He knew what camping was and all it entailed, depending on the person's choice. Camping for bitties was unheard of, unless it some place other than on their bean or in their bed. It was something that he had only heard bits and pieces of within the shelter, and even then nothing was viable. Ranboo know that no harm would come unto him when he was within the watch of the three beans that commerced around him. But the thought still was daunting at being exposed to such a wide world naturally unaccustomed to his kind no matter what or who he hid with or within.        He hadn't noticed. "Ranboo—you're shaking."        Another unspoken observation was the side of one of Techno's fingers inconspicuously pressed against his lower back. The simple gesture was reality enough, and Ranboo shrugged his shoulders. The pinkette blinked, about to repeat this again before he was interrupted gently by the blonde beside him, "We could... leave him here. I hate to say it, but hear me-"        "Phil. You're suggesting we leave a bitty without any human interaction for longer than a night. I think your old man mind is starting to mess with you again. A nap should fix that," Techno said. Ranboo was the only one at the table who noticed the extra, subtle nudge against his back before the pinkette stood and walked to the kitchen. The vitiligo bitty did what he could to drown out the scraping of the chair.        Phil's eye twitched. "Techno, if you call me an old man again, I swear to-"        Though a smile was on his face, Wilbur sighed out, "I... man, I hate to do this. But I'm going to have to agree with Phil on this one. I'm no bitty expert, but I'm- I'm pretty sure a few nights won't hurt."        As Wilbur finished his last bite, Techno had turned to peer over his shoulder at him. Ranboo knew that look; where more was to be said but all remained silent behind what was spoken. "That's it. Besides; I got to stay and get work done."        Techno was a promise keeper. Not a lie teller when he didn't put true effort to it. And it was never done without reason for such thing. "Like what?" Wilbur interjected over the sound of the refrigerator door opening and shutting, the latter followed by the pinkette seating himself again—this time with a glass of orange juice in hand. Ranboo had finished his own portion of breakfast already, now idly moving what remained around his plate. Phil couldn't tell if it was from simply getting his fill or from a loss of appetite. There were few guesses why, but none were said when interjected by Wilbur, "'Taking care of Ranboo?' By just doing whatever in your room?"        "We don't do nothing," piped in Ranboo. Idly did he fiddle with the edge of the paper towel nearby him. He had used it again to better ensure the butter had been fully cleared from him. "We...um..."        It hurt to hear the truth of Wilbur's words, the smug aura radiating off of him in waves. "Case in point. Its been forever since the last time we went camping!"        Phil nodded his head with a small grin. "The last time we went camping was last summer."        Wilbur reiterated, "Exactly! You don't seriously want to wait another year; then we'll just be skipping every year after that and we won't be camping anymore just because we got a bitty."        He was sent a withering glare, and though he knew what deeper meaning his words mistakenly held, he didn't falter. "We're not leavin' Ranboo alone," Technoblade huffed with a firm voice.        "He's not a pet! He can stay home for a few days."        Techno's remained stoic. Only a true detective could crack the code that hid behind the firewall of his stature. "He's not a pet," he agreed, "but he can't stay alone. We can bring Ranboo, or we can stay. I can't miss my sellout timer."        Wilbur's mouth opened with something in his eyes the pinkette couldn't name. "You've missed it before!"        "Boys."        "Those couldn't be helped," defended Techno with a clipped tone. "This can. I don't think you realize that this isn't about me."        "No, I- I do! I'm not fighting against Ranboo, but what if he falls or something? You can keep him in your pocket, but anything can happen."        "Boys," Phil tried again.        Wilbur's posture had straightened, his hands clasped afore him atop the table. A professional manner Techno knew to be challenge. If this is a battle, a war would be waged. Techno hummed with a noise reminiscent to a grunt. "So let him stay with me so I can notice it. He isn't careless, Wilbur. He'll be fine."        "Prove it, then. Let him stay here for a few days and put him to the test. Then we'll see if-"        "Boys!"        The heads of the two males snapped towards Phil in a synced, silent motion. The speed of the action nearly made the blonde swear that he had heard the wind's whistle sounding from it.        In the hand of the blonde was a bitty that was not-so-subtly trying to cover his ears and block out the world around. Ranboo was hunched over, his back turned to the two and encased safely within the bars that were Phil's fingers curled slightly inwards, relaxed but steady. The bitty could not be blamed. The brother's postures were straight as though pulled taught by the strings of spiderwebs, continuing to fight and tug and pull to see who could lift the highest before one rose other the other; up and out of their chair to be the first to draw their weapon and aim it at the other's throat before retaliation could occur. The only weapon within the merged room, however, was words where one of the two was weakest. The other knew.        "Nobody has said yes or no," assured Phil, being the first to stand. The scraping of the chair against paneled wood was the tear that tore the paper, and yet still the silence stretched on. Tongues had been tied and the sweltering heat from the outdoors was strangling them from the inside out—nearly as much as the tension long strung taught and suspended atop their heads. The flame flickered when Techno followed suit to accept the little person passed into the palms of his awaiting hands. They were held still with flawless practice when he was given a pat on the back. A quiet voice said gently to him, "Go take him back and we'll all have a minute to chill out. We can talk about this later."        "You don't have to kick us out just so you can do the dishes," Techno huffed. Luckily, Phil picked up on his lighthearted tone despite the lack of a smile. The blonde fixed this with a smile of his own.        "I'll get it," Techno heard Wilbur say as he approached the stairway. More words were exchanged, the majority of which the pinkette could only make out as vague mumbles once upstairs. There was a wheeze of laughter that could only have come from Phil.        "Thanks..." mumbled the monochrome piebald, beginning to uncurl in the warmth of his bean's hands.        "So... about that. How's your morning been?"        Ranboo blinked before erupting in a small spurt of laughter. He wrapped his arms around the bean's index finger and said, "Good, I guess. Thanks for the waffles. And... you know."        "Don't get soft on me, Ranboo. You know I'm not good with this."        The piebald bitty grinned, looking up at the bean that had carried him carefully upstairs. Heaven knows it would take him a day if not longer had he made the attempt on his own. He needed to stand on the tips of his does and stretch his upper limbs as far as they could possibly go and them some for his fingertips to graze the edge of a stair step.        "Well... I don't want to ignore it," claimed Ranboo. The duo had reached the doorway, and Techno entered and nudged the door shut with his foot. With the little in hand he sat himself on the floor with his legs stretched out comfortably, his back rested against the footboard. Ranboo brushed away a strand of the bean's hair that threatened to get too close to him.        Technoblade shrugged. "Unless you want to stay here by yourself or come with us outside for a few days, I'm not leavin' 'ya. You're too great of a main character to lose. Even with plot armor."        "Just because I'm a bitty... I know, I know," breathed the smaller. He did what he could to savor the sweet warmth that enveloped his body for as long as he lie in the gentle hold of the giant's hand before making his way to Techno's wrist, where he then traipsed the familiar terrain. "Are you going to, though?" he pressed, wandering his way to the other male's ankle.        Techno barely registered the light weight. A terrifying thing that made his nerves sharp as a blade. He hummed in question.        "Go camping?"        "Ah," recognized Techno. He felt his heart skip a beat when the bitty nearly dropped a few inches and onto the floor when his freckled hand slipped from the cloth of his jeans. The rough texture allowed him to manage to grab a hold. Ranboo remained still for a few seconds more before continuing his way. "I dunno."        Ranboo deadpanned, and Techno couldn't help the amused puff of air that left him. "Really. I'll talk to them about it, but it's two against one if Wil wins Phil's side. What do you want to do?"        "Me?" the bitty repeated in surprise though there was no need. Choice was something he had the blessing of being presented his whole life. He knew he shouldn't take it for granted when another part of his kind—from his understanding—supposedly didn't get the pleasure of making decisions at their own leisure. When any wrong one would wind up with another borrower's body to be reclaimed by the ground once taken away by whatever person or thing decided to show them mercy in their last moments before all was lost.        "Uh... calm down. I dunno what kind of flashbacks you're havin', but you're not there. You're safe."        "Wow. You are horrible at this," said Ranboo. He doubled over in laughter when Techno sputtered. The sound muffled whatever faint noise emitted as he dropped to the ground, this time safely and on his feet. His home was a few feet away, and yet he couldn't find the courage to make the distance. His limbs felt firm, and the warmth from the food provided at the table spread smoothly across his stomach. The heat within the room was a blizzard, acting further as contrast to the comfortable cage of Techno's hand. Had he not known that the bean would most likely wander back down to speak to his brother and friend, Ranboo would have asked for him to stay longer. So instead the bitty shook his head in polite decline and took a few steps back to better look at the bean without needing to strain his neck to look up at him. "I'm not sad or anything. What kind of flashbacks do you think I have?"        Embarrassment dusted Techno's cheeks. To his favor, Ranboo didn't know what to look for to spot it. "I dunno. Some kind of memory, obviously. You haven't really told me anything about your life before the adoption center."        The piebald swallowed thickly. "I don't know... because there's really nothing interesting about me. A few memory issues, yeah. But... what do you want me to say? I've been a borrower this whole time?"        Techno snorted. "Isn't that, like- an insult to you guys? Or..."        "Technically, yeah. That, and calling a borrower a bitty."        "Oh. Oh, wait, you just gave me an idea. Do you know if there are any around here?"        "Borrowers? Um... no. I don't think so. If I haven't heard anything, it's because of your snoring."        "Alright. You're sleeping in the house tonight."        "But that'll make it two nights in a row! It was a joke!"        "That's what they always say," replied Techno with his own teasing tone. He nudged Ranboo's side with a finger towards the bitty-sized home, and he ducked towards it when it brushed the fabric to elicit a ticklish tingle. "You still haven't answered my question."        Ranboo had begun to walk towards his home within the bean's room before pausing, looking back sheepishly. "Oh... right. Um..." He paused, curling in on himself under the patient yet watchful eyes of the pinkette; his primary caretaker of the beans in the home. On one hand, being able to wander outdoors would be a blissful break from the monotone monotony of the days that stretched on all the same. A chance for something interesting—to see what he had yet to discover that the world had to offer him. But he could be crushed so easily. This would be avoidable to stay home, and yet being separated from Techno for more than a night... this had yet to occur, and the thought made his heart pulse more electricity over blood. How was he to decide what to do on the spot?        "Um... I'll think about it," he landed on. Techno nodded and stood, raising his hands high above his head to stretch. It looked like he was reaching the ceiling from where the little stood. Maybe the clouds and even the sun, had they been outside by now. The imagery of the latter was oddly awestriking.        The pinkette turned to the doorway. The thudding of his feet was a rumbling vibration Ranboo had long before learned how to deal with. If anything, the only feeling it brought now was a sense of safety and solace. Haven. "We aren't leavin', so you've got time. Don't fall down the stairs if you need me."        "You'll hear me first," was his reply. When the door shut, from beneath the crack at its bottom, he heard a slight chuckle.        Entering his own dwelling, the heat had now taken its hold of the home. Nothing was scorching, but now focusing on it, perhaps burying himself beneath blankets wouldn't be the most comfortable thing whilst being drenched in sweat. A swim would be pleasant, but the idea of water covering him from head to toe for longer than a quick but thorough shower... simply drifting atop the water on a float was more preferable. Ranboo didn't want to burden "his" bean with the request of said item. The denial of such concern would inevitably greet him, but the habit was difficult to sever. He was by no means a bratty bitty. Even he could agree that they were... disagreeable at most.        The piebald bitty looked about the room. It wasn't dissimilar to the one beyond; quite the opposite, however. With a similar layout, hues of purples, reds, and greens were strewn throughout the home for color accompanied by more natural colors consisting of blacks, whites, and graced occasionally by golds. It was not real gold, much to his dismay. He wouldn't complain, although he was no fool. He wasn't greedy.        Entering the living room, Ranboo stretched. In doing so he let himself fall backwards against the armrest, leaving him to be sprawled awkwardly atop the cushions. Aimlessly did his eyes stare onwards onto the ceiling, as though doing so would unveil the secrets of the world. He probably wouldn't do much with this information, with the exception of developing some things to better help bitties. Somehow. Creativity was neither a strength nor a weakness; it would be difficult, nevertheless, to do such a thing at his size without the properly scaled tools. How borrowers could create such things by simple improvision was beyond him. What skill did one need to be able to make rope out of spider silk? How much bravery did they need to walk atop the highest shelf in the house without a wink of fear? How could they fear the large, gentle beans that only wanted to care for them? Not everyone was kind—whether for bean, bitty, or borrower. Accidents could happen; he wasn't ignorant of the fact that he would be far above the clouds with a single slip through the grate of fingers. With a single step he could be returned to the ground. But the beans were aware. They knew where to look and how to accommodate his needs and his size. Not once did Ranboo hear them complain; if they did, it was about the quality of the bitty-sized item that they had purchased.        It was difficult to remember back. The farthest memory that Ranboo could scrounge was a curiosity of what being taken in would be like. His heterochromia and tall, mix-matched appearance brought upon curious looks, which was something he supposed couldn't be blamed. It wasn't every day that he saw someone similar in appearance to him. But it did get old. He had yet to lose hope, and yet within his heart, there was always a gentle thrum of envy when someone was picked. The majority of those around were picked up in pure glee and euphoria, greeting "their" new bean with as much joy as they did them. The friends they once had below would exchange farewells. Some parted in tears. Some promised to meet again. On rare occasion, the other would be adopted along. It was supposed to be joyous; Ranboo truly did feel euphoric for them. Being taken to a home to stay in for the rest of one's days in the company of someone of their own care and love and treat them as though they were any other bean was a fantasy Ranboo had always been wistful for. The hope that wedged its way into his heart always pummeled down into a sinking ignominy when he was passed or simply brushed over by onlooking eyes. For what or whom Ranboo still didn't know. It was hard to tell if the people passing truly did give him a chance or passed him by without a second thought.        And then stopped Techno. The others had passed him by, though the pinkette had paused. It was especially difficult to discern what he hid behind his eyes, but in them held something for Ranboo. Fondness, perhaps. Sympathy for the tallest bitty who tried so hard to shrink himself. So was his surprise when benevolence was bestowed and he was picked up with tender hands, allowed to step on at his own pace. Placing oneself in the palm of another was the largest leap a bitty could take; without the assistance of the beans, it was a death sentence to go back on one's own. Sometimes, however, wandering out into the unforgiving wilds was a better mercy than that of being crushed or left to spatter to the floor or whatever surface a bean deemed fitting for a death of someone so-        A thud from the second floor made Ranboo's heart leap into his throat. Rather than the sound of its beating leaving him, another muffled thud sounded from atop, winning the race. Ranboo swallowed his fears down, causing his stomach to roil in protest. Who knew what this stranger would do when he found out that he wasn't alone. Or did he already know? Had they assumed that Ranboo had fallen asleep? It wasn't often when he let himself stare off into space with nothing but his thoughts to occupy his mind until motivation struck to lure him into captivity of an activity to bide his time. Perhaps it had been but a bad time to do so. He did feel somewhat rejuvenated. Maybe, instead, it was but the adrenaline that was awakening his legs. An immovable force was pinning them to the comfort of relief at being off of his feet. The fabric felt as though it were swallowing him whole. He would be stuck in the sinkhole if he didn't move, and yet everything and nothing was keeping him paralyzed.        The silence was a roar in the home. The beans' conversation, too, had fallen to a hush. They must have moved their matters to the outdoor patio. Even without access to a window could Ranboo tell that it was a beautiful day. It would be a lie to say that he didn't want to experience it more from beyond the walls of safety. Maybe it wasn't quite worth that risk.        He released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. It did nothing in ridding the floatiness within his mind that had only increased tenfold. He almost wanted to believe that it was in his mind—but he was scared to wander upstairs. It could simply have been something falling. It wouldn't be the first time something strange happened at random. But if there was someone within his home, what defense did he have if they were hostile?        No such thing could be done. A sting of muttered curses were spilled like an overflowing cup from an unfamiliar figure, drifting down the stairway from where it began. Ranboo watched in a surprise stupor as a blonde boy trekked downstairs two steps at a time. Even so he was quiet as a mouse, with nothing but the shuffling of the backpack he wore stirring any sound. His movements were just enough to stir the dust particles that danced within the beams of light that streamed through his room. The flick of a switch wasn't needed to illuminate the room with incandescent light, for still could Ranboo take in the other's disheveled appearance.        Wide blue eyes looked back at Ranboo's heterochromic ones. Where he saw summer suffocating the home, he saw winter staring in the doorway. The piebald thought he spotted crystallized ice within the stranger's blonde hair, glittering in the sunlight that had yet to melt. This made it difficult to be exact. The grip the shorter male held on what Ranboo now saw was a needle was tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. He couldn't tell if the stranger was shaking from a cold front he couldn't see or from fear at what he could.        "Were you waiting for me?" blurted the boy with a voice gently laced with a British accent. The suddenness of the statement made Ranboo blink, forcing himself back into the present. There was a stranger—borrower? Bitty? What bitty was here without a bean?—in his home, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Even though Ranboo had lost the contest, they continued to stare. The silence was suffocating, but he feared his voice would emit but a feeble warble if he tried to respond.        The other began to walk to the side, shuffling his feet against the wood. "Oh-kay," he drew out, "I'm just gonna..."        A surge went through his body. "Wait!" Ranboo exclaimed, scrambling to get up. He was sure he was the only in the room to spot how he flinched when Ranboo stood. He wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. Did he ask first? If so, what? 'How did you get here?' 'Are you going to stab me?'        "Are you cold?"        "What?" said the other. His voice sounded restrained. "No—I'm not. What's it to you, bitty boy?"        "You're shaking," noted Ranboo, "and I might be wrong, but... it looks like you've got some ice in your hair. It's... it's kind of hot outside."        "Fuck," swore the shorter. He reached a hand up to tussle his curled hair. Miniscule shards fell to the floor and scattered into a million pieces upon impact. The wood's reprieve.        "There. Now, if you could ever-so-kindly act like we have never laid eyes on each other, that'd be very much appreciated. Goodbye!"        "W- Wait! How are you going to go anywhere without a bean? At least let me help you."        The blonde failed to hide a snicker. He had begun to walk past the bitty who bit his tongue at seeing the injury on the back of his bicep, but stopped with what was said. The shorter male turned, scrutinizing the taller. Ranboo watched his eyes, feeling oddly uneasy. "Who says I need a fuckin' bean?" he asked, taking Ranboo by surprise. Beams of confidence shot from the stranger's words, making that of the sun's envious. "I'm no pussy. I can move on my own."        Ranboo was afraid to guess. "Then how you did you get here?"        "How do you think?"        "Um... Techno snuck you in and I'm only now noticing?"        A wheeze of laughter made him jump a foot into the air. His solace was the similarity between his and Phil's laugh... if it was more boisterous and phlegm-ridden.        "Techno... T- Techno? Oh, man. You're- y- you're something, Boob Boy," sighed out the other once he caught his breath. He had lowered the hand that covered his mouth when coughing took over his laughing. "The only way that bitch will ever get his hands on me is if he gets through a million holes in his hand."        Ranboo lifted a hand to rub the arm of his other. He pointed to the makeshift weapon the other carried with a tilt of his head. "With that?"        The blonde nodded. "With this. Trust me. It gets the job done."        "That's... a sewing needle. I actually didn't know we had those."        "So? I've seen the beans draw blood with this. It works like a charm—I don't- I don't stab everything. I do it sparingly."        A step was taken backwards. Ranboo shifted his weight from side to side, gently biting his lip. Small, sharp objects that would be an annoyance to beans were lethal to bitties and borrowers alike if not handled with care. The equivalent of knives. Yet the blonde's grip on his own needle kept strong and true despite the somewhat slick material. The gloves that only partially left his fingers covered Ranboo could only conclude were used to assist in grip. ...How did this other get them without infiltrating a bitty store? How was it made? Simple curiosities like these and more began to pop like bubbles into the atmosphere of his mind, and it took everything in him not to bombard the blonde with questions about them. When would the next time be that he would get to meet a borrower, if at all?        "I'm not going to stab you if that's what you're thinking," came the borrower's voice, popping Ranboo's train of thought. The needle was now tucked into the side of the borrower's backpack. The weapon's tip was still pointed down, yet it still was in reach. It made sense, but despite the other's reassurance, the sight still made the bitty unsettled. He still caught its taunting gleam from the light in his peripheral vision no matter where he looked. "Not if you don't tell the beans about me."        A pang of pity struck Ranboo. That was to be expected. "Um... okay. I won't. But what were you doing upstairs? Did you borrow anything?"        The blonde blinked in what looked to be surprise before his nose scrunched up slightly in a disgusted manner. He sneered, "Ew—fuck no. Why would I want to borrow from a bitty?"        "Don't you borrow everything, though?" slowly asked Ranboo. The borrower rolled his eyes at the pure confusion instilled within it. "As long as it isn't noticed?"        "First of all, no, because you're too small to not notice anything. Secondly, we'd have to throw away our dignity to even think about that. What would- what... what would- what would other borrowers think of me if I did? I'm not some... some desperate piece of shit. I can borrow- borrow useful things."        It all felt like a punch to the gut. To the shorter, it all clicked from birth. To the taller, it was difficult to imagine such a thing. Each new word made the strands break, leaving him to piece it all together on his own. "But... wouldn't it... you know... be easier to borrow things your size? That way you won't have to worry about the beans."        He winced internally at the look that he was given. "What was the first thing I said?"        "Um... that you don't borrow from bitties?"        The blonde's gaze fixated on the piebald in what looked to be judgement before again the borrower began walking to the door. Another strange surge of adrenaline thrummed through Ranboo's veins. "Wait!"        The borrower didn't turn around. He raised himself on his feet again and on his tip toes to attempt to peer out through the window placed atop the door. "Sorry, Boob Boy, but I can't chat. I've got things to do and places to be."        Ranboo sputtered. "That's not my name."        "I know, but it sounds close enough."        "Okay then... what's your name?"        The sentence seemed to take the other by surprise. "Why the fuck do you want to know mine?"        Ranboo looked away, feeling a heatwave of embarrassment flare more than the temperature. "Because it's... uh... unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours."        Another chortle came from the blonde. He turned briefly to Ranboo after opening the door, speaking, "That's a shit point, but it's Tommy."        Ranboo did a double take. It was that easy? Why the hesitation? "O- oh. Um... nice to meet you. ...Am I ever going to see you again?"        Skepticism was present on Tommy's face, and he absentmindedly shuffled his feet whilst a hand adjusted the straps of his pack. "Heck if I know. Depends on if I get trapped when a bean is right outside your house and if it's the only place to hide. Why?"        Guilt hammered at the piebald's heart, making alarms ring loud enough for a sharp, stagnant ring to sound within his mind and exit his ears where only then did it fall silent. He didn't blame Tommy's confused glance when he seemingly winced at nothing, when he himself couldn't help but to at everything. If things went right, in the near future, he would be able to have some alone time with Techno to do as they pleased. By no means would it be a bad thing, since they had yet to have another recent day to themselves to simply hang out and have fun. And if it went wrong? He would soon be left alone with nothing but his own mind to keep him company. There were no doubts that the beans wouldn't leave him unprepared, but the thought of having none around was simply haunting and sent chills down Ranboo's spine. Searching his memory resulted in no recollection of ever being on his own without the accompaniment of another bitty or bean. How would he take care of himself if he somehow ran out of food? He wasn't a glutton—of course he took care of himself. So who would come to his aid if something broke? Who would he sleep on at night to protect and keep him warm? Who would he love?        Tommy seemed impatient and just as wary of him as he expect every other borrower to be of a bean. Not once was Ranboo able to ask a question about Tommy's kind. He didn't know whether to blame the blonde or himself for turning the topic prior to receiving a proper answer. But he had kept the poor blonde for long enough. With their size, there was no telling how long it would take him to reach whatever destination he needed to get to. Ranboo sent a silent prayer for him if it was downstairs.        His words threatened to choke him from the inside out, and regret churned in his stomach as he forced himself to say, "Nothing. Nevermind. Just... uh... be careful."        Tommy stared at him for what Ranboo knew to be just short of a minute, but the rapid pace pulsing in his chest made him feel as though time had frozen. When finally he did see the borrower blink, the emotion behind his eyes was indistinguishable. Foreign. Ranboo still couldn't place it when Tommy looked to relax ever so slightly as he gave the bitty and nodded. "Careful is one of my middle names. Don't get crushed."        "I won't," said Ranboo. But Tommy was already out of the door within the blink of an eye, and Ranboo only was able to catch a whirl of red, white, and gold all blurred together seamlessly. Again his feet rooted him to the ground when he thought about venturing outdoors for a step to watch the other carry on his way, for there was no telling what hidden entrances that were hidden within the home that he was oblivious to. He was aware of their existence, and yet not once had he been able to discover one such hidden passageway. Tommy had already opened one within his eyes, and it was appalling. Not only was there a hope, but a curiosity, too, for more things than one.        When next the beans returned indoors to converse once more (in a more chipper tone, nonetheless), Ranboo didn't feel as alone as he had before.

· · ─────── ·🙜· ─────── · ·

He felt worse. He tried to reason, "But you have all summer to go camping. A few more days won't hurt."

       "If you keep saying that, then by the time we do go, it'll already be over," said Phil. Ranboo wished he had his pencil to throw at him, but due to the lack of said item, all that he had to use as a projectile were his own vocals which took the form of censored "swears". A smile was on the bean's face as he moved about, and whether there was something more or less behind his eyes the bitty couldn't see. One would think this not to be the case, what with how giant the blonde was to someone at the size of him, but alas. "We're not leaving you with nothing, mate. Maybe you'll get lucky and the rain will drive us back."

       "Don't jinx it!" came an accented voice that made Phil's shoulders shake lightly in brief laughter. Picking sides was always a difficult decision, and while he preferred to stay in the middle, he couldn't help but to side with Phil when loneliness was tugging at Ranboo when the others had yet to leave.

       He frowned when a finger nudged his side. He would have leaned into the warmth, too, had it remained longer. Yet another thing being torn from him. "Do you have to?" whispered the bitty to his bean. His voice was low, barely recognizing that it was his own. He could only tell from the look he received.

       Techno laid his palm out to which Ranboo made haste in stepping onto. Just after did he rest to sit on his knees for better security when the hand holding him was moved upwards, and when it was pulled closer to Techno's chest, the half-and-half clung onto the cloth of the taller male's gilden shirt. He had an unspoken hope that doing so would prevent him from leaving. But there was only so much fabric that he could bunch in his fists. There was only so much strength he had with his size.

       The pinkette merely hummed in affirmation, which only further sealed Ranboo's fate. It hurt to keep himself from whimpering in protest. He had yet to move his legs, and as he was carried upstairs, his body wracked with trepidation and yet more paralization that bolted him into place like lighting to its rod. Maybe if he somehow managed to stick himself to Techno's hand so that not even his strength could detach him, he would be able to stay. It still was difficult to decide if it was better in the safety of this home with no bean than to be locked in danger with one.

       Muffled words below their feet were exchanged. Not long after a playful exclamation a laugh would follow. Ranboo knew that they were simply being themselves; they would never ignore how he felt. But acting so blissful and unaware when he was just above their heads, holding onto his bean for dear life...

       Ranboo's attempts were in vain when he reached out in an attempt to again latch onto Techno's retreating hand when he was plucked off of it from the collar of his shirt. Though the movement to set him as gently as a bean such as him possibly could on the ground was quick so as to not choke Ranboo, the oxygen was withheld from him for more reasons than one. The damp air that sneaked in through whatever cracks it could find was taunting. The ever so faint whistle laughed at him, calling his companion away.

       "Come on! Just a few more minutes-!" he exclaimed with a last desperation.

       At the same time, the bean before him was addressed by a bean from below. "Are you ready, Tech?"

       There would be no response to the latter, and though the pinkette had his reasons, this one Ranboo couldn't understand. The tip of a finger pet his hair for what may as well be for the last time. The thought nearly drove tears to his eyes, but no amount of wishing would magically make a dam appear. Techno said, "Sorry, Ranboo—they're not going to leave me alone unless I go. Neither of us can live that down."

       "I know," was all the heart that the piebald could muster. The weight still pressed atop him, and a sudden chill swept the room when Techno removed his finger and straightened as he stood. Ranboo had never feared the man despite their differences in size, but at that moment, he couldn't discern whether Techno was fearing the bitty below him or fearing for him. Yet another mystery.

       "At least it won't be more than a week. The rain is supposed to roll in any day now."

       "And you couldn't get them to...?"

       "Come on, Ranboo—you've been here long enough." The bitty shifted his weight, nodding slowly. The monotonous tone he spoke in had yet to change, but Techno's face betrayed what sound couldn't. "Just don't do anything Phil or Wilbur wouldn't like. If you order food, at least try to hide it here so they won't get onto you."

       "You won't be gone that long," said Ranboo. His voice was betwixt a tone of matching playfulness. He could only hope Techno caught onto the more serious undertone. "I can't eat it all in that time, anyway. But... hey. There are berries out there in the wild, right?"

       Techno raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't call it the wild, but yeah. There are some out there. I'm guessin' you want me to pick some for you."

       Suddenly bashful, Ranboo nodded. "Yeah. There probably isn't much of a difference, but... you know. Something from the wild would be pretty cool."

       "Yeah. And as a person with no knowledge on what berries are and aren't poisonous, I'll try. We'll both have to hope for luck."

       The piebald's eyes widened. Quickly he corrected, "Wait, wait! I thought you did!"

       It was then that he caught the playful glimmer within the bean's eye, earning a huff from the bitty. "I would not like to be poisoned."

       "Doesn't sound too fun to me, either. I'll keep it in mind."

       "Bye, Techno!" came a call from the corridor. Ranboo's eyes widened, adrenaline spiking and heart hammering a thousand times a second. The sudden urgency knocked him to the ground. The bean, too, seemed to sense this as he stood and brushed off what dirt from the carpeted floor had clung to his pants. Maybe to ensure that Ranboo wasn't going to cling on in the hopes to travel along, although it was as unlikely as it was for the duo downstairs to leave their companion. Almost.

       All at once Ranboo's throat felt too tight though he could breathe just fine. His steady breathing betrayed the panic that swelling in his lungs, threatening to burst. A whimper escaped him at the same time he whined, "Please?"

        "We already did a double check. You'll be fine," said Techno. It was then that he crouched down and placed his cell phone on the floor a short distance from the bitty-sized home the half-and-half occupied. He stood and straightened, his feet beginning to shuffle to the opened door that would seal the bitty's fate if it were to close. "So... see you."

       The breath the bitty drew in wavered, and to his luck it went unheard. "Have fun," he answered with a wave of his hand in further farewell. A last smile was flashed to him before the door swung slowly shut with a silent creak, shutting off any further sound that tried to penetrate the room with a soft click. Ranboo's own smile was too many seconds too late before the window of opportunity closed. How borrowers could muster the bravery to even attempt it Ranboo couldn't fathom.

       Venturing to the highest floor of the home did little to muffle the sound of the distant bickering of the beans. On the contrary, the sound of a vehicle's engine had never sounded more grating from so far away. A grater was being sliced right over his mind, shredding at him from within bit by bit until all that remained of his sanity was broken strips of what he used to be—impossible to put back together. The worst fact was that he had had every opportunity to do something; find a way to alter the vote, perhaps, or find a better point to convince them to allow him to join their journey. To find another possible plea to persuade Techno to stay. But the thought made him feel guilty. What kind of bitty would he be, asking his bean to miss out on a yearly experience for his own convenience—a familial one, at that! The danger was too great in the unknown outdoors. Even without a single wrong step, anything could appear from beneath the brush and pounce in an instant. There wasn't a thing Ranboo could thing of to counteract this in a positive light. Not even when disaster was watching from the shadows, waiting for him to be at his lowest when he was sure that he already was.

       "That was the most pathetic goodbye I've ever seen in my llife. Good riddance to that gangly fuck."

       "Tommy?" Ranboo asked aloud, the name slipping from his mouth without a second thought. A single tang of something tasting of bitter salt touched his tongue in the process, and wiping away the water from his mouth with the back of his hand, he realized how irritated his eyes felt. His chest heaved heavy though he tried to steady his heart. There was no need to make more of a fool of himself than he already was. He had no right to shed tears over simple separation when borrowers had surely endured worse by the hands or more malevolent beans.

       "That's Big Man Tommy to you, bitch."

       Ranboo could hear no venom to the voice, and so his grin was genuine. It faded into a dulled down smile as he wiped the rest of what tears threatened to delude him and hurried down the stairs.

       He heard the blonde before he saw him. The opening of the front door revealed a borrower carrying the same pack from yesterday. Whether it was the sunlight or his better well-being Ranboo couldn't tell, but the boy afore him appeared much more bright than he did the day before. Scattered strings of swears erupted from his mouth from where he stood over the giant device that was Techno's phone. His skin no longer held a sickened flush to it, but whether this blush was from this or embararssment Ranboo couldn't say. Tommy's hair was indeed still somewhat damp, but he didn't walk with a rigid, fearful stature. It was something that Ranboo knew all too much about. He could tell easily, despite the other's claims from yesterday.

       "I thought that you weren't going to come back," Ranboo commented, beginning to approach. He had only taken a few steps forward, when to his horror, he realized that Tommy had somehow managed to decipher the passcode to Techno's phone. The specifics of what Tommy was doing remained a mystery until further approached, but Ranboo didn't need to be face to face to the screen to know that what was displayed wasn't what's usually was when the power button is pushed.

       "I never said that," replied Tommy nonchalantly with a shrug to further convey his carelessness to the situation. If he did care, there wasn't much concern to the consequences. For further insult, as Ranboo jumped to reach the top of the phone, Tommy slung his pack off of his shoulders and tossed it to the corner of the device. It landed with a heavy thud that shook the Earth, making Ranboo flinch. He only had sight to judge its weight, but from observation alone, it seemed impossible for such a small thing to carry that much burden within. Part of him was surprised it didn't make the corner move and fling them or crack the screen. Techno wouldn't kill him for it, but at the same time, he would kill him for it.

       "I just said that it depends on if the bastard beans are here to fuck with my plans. And that was before I learned that they would be going away for a few days."

       Ranboo wanted to hate the monotony to his tone. It was oh so familiar to Techno's, and yet the teen carried just as much expression in his person as Wilbur did, if not more. Whether careless or clueless Ranboo didn't care, similarly to Tommy who seemed to spill every thought and movement without fear of judgement. Something unknown drowned Ranboo from the inside out with the thought, and yet he felt increasingly shallow as he stepped to the shorter's side atop the screen. Tommy stiffened in response, shuffling a foot away. Ranboo didn't try to close the gap, instead fixating his gaze on the screen they stood on and taking his own step away, too, as an offer of silent apology. The borrower gave no reaction for his own answer.

       Tommy bent to press a hand to the home screen, needing to strain somewhat for the force to register. Once this was accomplished, his eyes began to scan the contents of the phone. His nose scrunched up some before he swiped again, taking another peer at the icons. Another swipe. A short few moments passed when Tommy turned his head to glare at the bitty whom took another step back. He nearly fell backwards as Tommy spoke, "Aren't you going to show me how this works?"

       "I didn't know I was supposed to," answered Ranboo. Before he realized it he was moving towards the male again, this time making sure he didn't accidentally creep too close. Lowering himself into a crouch, the piebald bitty looked over the icons then back to Tommy. He asked tentatively, "What are you looking for?"

       The blonde blinked, looking to the screen again. His eyes didn't move for a short while before he looked back to taller little. "I don't know. Just—you know. Show me how you work this thing."

       A retort appeared into his mind, and Ranboo wanted to scold himself for it. So he settled for biting his tongue and looking to the window as though the stars would answer his prayers. The only one that could was higher above than any cloud in the sky. But Tommy would most likely continue to pester him until he gave his answer, which would be annoying at most. The half-and-half didn't have anything else to do for the day, but dealing with purposeful nuicanses didn't seem appealing. So Ranboo could only hope that what he did next would be the correct answer as he replied, "But... you're a borrower. You said that one of the things you do is watch things."

       The corners of the blonde's mouth tugged up into a smile. "Your memory really is shit; I didn't say that. I don't watch. I scout. Big difference, Big Man."

       "What are the differences?"

       "Watching is seeing and doing nothing. Scouting is- is- er... it's essentially watching, but the difference is, instead of doing nothing, you take notes. You know—pay attention. You don't actually take notes, though—graphite is tough as fuck to get, for one. Only pussies take actual notes."

       "I could give you some graphite."

       "Notes are for- what?"

       "I could give you some graphite," repeated Ranboo. He had navigated to the recent tabs section, peering at what all had been opened. Music had been the most recent. The letters were small, but by the miniscule pictures on the screen, he was sure that Techno's playlist was already pulled up. Of course. "I write all the time."

       Tommy scoffed. "I know that, but if you give me graphite, then how are you supposed to get more?"

       "I can ask Techno," Ranboo said slowly, speaking as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Pencils barely cost anything. I'm sure he won't mind."

       "But then if you do that he'll know that you gave it to me."

       Ranboo straightened, towering over the blonde beside him. When he looked to the other and realized this he hunched slightly without a second thought, humming afterwards. "I think I'm on my last one, anyway. I can always just make up the excuse that I lost it or something. It's not the first time that its happened."

       The borrower's mouth hung open momentarily before he caught it and silently clicked it shut. Ranboo was unable to pinpoint where his pinpricks now were staring at. The next response took him by surprise. "Alright. What's the catch?"

       Ranboo said honestly, "There isn't one. From bitty to borrower. It isn't borrowing if I purposely give it to you."

       "It isn't, but it's still a pity gift. I can borrow my own."

       "Without the beans noticing? I could always-"

       He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence before the point of a needle was thrust to his face—mere inches away from a pierce that would leave him at a loss for words. He couldn't avert his gaze from the metal even if he tried. The light that reflected off of what surface he could see glinted as easily as gold—a mirror of what lie in the sky outside. Together the two breathed in silence yet held the still with anticipation; both of them daring the other to make the first move. Ranboo felt like he was being placed in the palm of Techno's hand all over again. Someone so large yet so strangely similar to him could easily kill him with a simple mistake. But there was no mistaking the tip of the makeshift sword that could make him blind with a single jab, whether with or without purpose. Or worse, and he didn't want to tempt fate. He didn't have a death wish.

       Ranboo released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, but it felt as though he were gulping in air instead. Even when he said, "I won't tell. Swear it."

       Tommy raised an eyebrow. "How can I trust you?" he sneered with a sudden distaste that made Ranboo shrink in on himself. "You're a bitty. Just 'cause they trust you doesn't mean that I will, too."

       Again silence enveloped the room, though the wire was less strained. Still the line had been drawn far too quickly, though Tommy's defensiveness couldn't be blamed. It was difficult to see from their persepective—whether their reasoning was from simple speculation or from true experience. If it was the latter, he would rather not risk being impaled by a sewing tool. What experience he did have with it he wasn't too fond of. But borrowers had their reasons, as did bitties and beans. They were all human. For all he knew Tommy could be breaking some kind of borrower code; he had already refused to borrow from the piebald. Tommy had already claimed his reason, but if that was the case, he could have left long ago. Heck, he didn't have to stand where he was now! Tommy was free to borrow anything from the household for as long as the beans remained at bay and there was no way for Ranboo to stop him.

       Together they stayed silent. Apart they spoke.

       "We could have a truce," Ranboo proposed. Tommy blinked, and the bitty caught the weapon lowering. Still he kept his breathing shallow when he explained, "I can't tell on you when they're not even here."

       Tommy hesitated. "Bullshit. I've seen you talk into this thing," he countered. His foot tapped on the screen that had now gone black for emphasis, uttering another swear.

       The bitty raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. "I won't even be able to reach them if they're out there—Techno said that he would call from Phil or Wilbur's phone to let me know that they're on their way back whenever they are. I'm alone."

       It was then that a borrower went rigid at the same time that the needle lowered, the tip now pointing to the ground. Ranboo realized this, but still he was as careful and in tune with every fibre of his being like an old piano. For a reason he didn't know, Tommy appeared wounded though no blood could be found on his body. Ranboo could see no sweat on the male's skin caused by the summer's heat, leaving him to only guess that slushed ice was flowing through his veins. The bitty couldn't help but to feel as though he were treading on thin glass, and that his mere existence was making it crack to shatter with the slightest bit of added weight that he couldn't help.

       "Is that why you want a truce?"

       It was spoken so softly that Ranboo almost missed it. He reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Tommy didn't react when he began, "Well... kind of, yeah. I've never really been alone without a bean for more than a night. It... it sucks, man. It sucks already. I guess I just want someone to be around and... uh... distract me; keep me from thinking about it. Just... talking like we have been, I guess, if this all counts as talking."

       He watched Tommy's eyes scrutinize his person, looking up and down. He was a lion sizing up his prey. "You want... you want me to just fuck around with you until your beans come back so you won't tell on me when they do. That's kind of a fucked up deal, Boob Boy."

       "That's not my name," Ranboo grumbled. He looked away with a flush of shame he prayed would only pass off as the sun's heat beginning to affect the lighter side of his skin. "But... kind of, yeah. It isn't a bribe, though. It's a truce."

       Tommy leaned against the sewing pin. "You can call it a deal and I still wouldn't be convinced."

       "Please? Come on—I don't want to be alone. They aren't gone every day like this; like they said. It'll probably only be for a few nights. You don't have to spend them with me. I just want someone to talk to."

       Something Ranboo couldn't see held Tommy back from further speaking his mind. He appeared to be looking to both sides of him, from one shoulder to to the next. Observing a transparent scale that was struggling to stay still enough for him to best weigh the consequences of what awaited him at each choice.

       Ranboo held his breath and reached a hand out to the blonde. It shook when he tried to hold it still. The borrower stared at the freckled skin before meeting Ranboo's eyes to which the latter blinked, trying not to take a step back and retract his hand. He was decently sure that Tommy wasn't going to stab him, but nothing was impossible. Especially not the chances that still stayed. But, really, he was beginning to debate on offering the borrower his whole house in exchange for some company. It wouldn't be anything relatively close to that of a bean's, nevertheless Techno's, but speaking to someone else was better than talking only to oneself.

       The hand that took his own was felt oddly smooth. Ranboo could feel some few, occasional rough patches from callouses on the palm of his hand. One he spotted betwixt the side and the top of his index finger. It was good to know that Tommy seemed to take care of himself, at least. "Deal. But if I'm late for you to drag me around, don't go telling on me. It's still hard sometimes to get from place to place. If you do, I'll- I'll stab a bitch. Probably you."

       "Thank you," Ranboo breathed. The weight still felt heavy on his shoulders; looming overhead like a tree to the forest floor. Waiting for him to become unsuspecting for its branches and all to make him collapse in one fell swoop. He wasn't the strongest bitty of the bunch, nor was he the weakest, but having an extra set of shoulders for him to lean on and to commune with wasn't something that he was going to take for granted. Tommy wasn't the most ideal companion, behavior and mannerisms considering, but Ranboo wasn't going to turn away an angel in disguise. Not if the blonde boy could be his saving grace within the span of a few days time. "I won't tell. Promise."

       "You better. Now tell me how to work this thing or I'm pushing you off. Damn thing shut off."

       "You don't know how to turn it on?"

       "I do! Of course I do—I just... agh. I know there's a way to without pushing the button. I don't think it'll work. Can't you just go down and..."

       The blue-eyed boy blinked as the screen suddenly lit up from beneath him. Ranboo watched as he appared to be momentarily paralyzed, looking beneath him in all directions as though his words alone had given him the answer. He was proven wrong when he looked over to the heterochromic other that had lowered again into a crouch. A hand remained on the screen. He said with a shrug, "All you have to do is tap it twice. It works as long as you're touching it with your skin."

       Tommy walked towards the top of the phone and glanced over the icons displayed before turning to the larger squares. "How the fuck can a screen be sensitive to skin?"

       Ranboo shrugged. "I don't know—I don't make them. I'm pretty sure I've seen it turn on without skin touching it, though. Like with clothes or something. When skin is beneath it."

       The borrower muttered something along the lines of weird motherfuckers before using a hand to swipe the screen. Though the image in the background remained the same the icons changed to reveal more. The more simplistic images within the white buttons carried similar colors and shapes, but the borrower had seen enough to know that they all had different functions and locations within the trickster device. What exactly he had yet to discern. The next screen held yet the same, however less boxes were present. Tommy's eyes only lingered at the imagery of the backdrop before shaking his head head.

       "Are you looking for something?" questioned the bitty.

       Tommy grunted. "I dunno—it's not every day that I get access to a bean's phone. What do you do?"

       "I usually just play games on his phone or talk to Billzo."

       "Who the fuck is that?"

       Ranboo caught himself smiling. "Another bitty. We've gone to teach other's houses sometimes."

       He felt eyes watching him though he remained still. He reached out a hand to sift through the phone's contents, looking at the icons before selecting one. He questioned casually, "How long have you been living here?"

       "What's it to you, bitch?" sneered the borrower.

       Ranboo shrugged. He leaned back to stretch his arms some before relaxing again. The heat of the day relaxed what muscles remained tense, giving him a sense of gratefulness. He was neither fond of cold nor heat, but that didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to be freezing or set on fire. He didn't need to be a bean to know that they, too, didn't like such things.

       "Well, if you've never seen him, then you had to have come here after then. I... can't remember the last time that he did come over here. I have it written down somewhere."

       Tommy took a sideways step. He bent his knees, resting the palms of his hands on them as he squinted at the screen. Seeing this as his cue and noticing that the game had finished its loading, Ranboo began to play by autopilot. Ones such as these didn't require much effort, and though his favorite was horror—sue him for getting scared; they can be cool!—there wasn't much that mobile games had to offer for the category that caught his attention. He certainly wasn't going to rid of it. Not since the day he caught Techno playing it. The bitty still had yet to decide on whether or not to pester the bean about this.

       "The last time that I heard you left the house was a few months ago," Tommy said. "I think so, anyway. Heck if I know."

       The piebald's heartbeat felt like it stopped more than once within the span of a second. He had to swallow down the adrenaline that tried to overtake his mind, and in doing so, it made his limbs feel like jelly. The colors dancing across the screen could only distract him so much from what threatened to make him spiral.

       "Wh... what? No. N- no, it... it can't have been that long since Billzo came over—I'm sure of it," insisted Ranboo to himself with a shake of his head. "I swear that it was just a couple of weeks ago. Right?"

       "I don't know, man!" replied Tommy. He spoke slowly, doubtful of to whom Ranboo was speaking to. It wasn't any new behavior, but now speaking to him face to face, the blonde wasn't sure what to think.

       He said quieter, "I said I could be wrong. I can't tell the time."

       Silence encompassed the room like a string around their necks. Amist this phantom noise Ranboo removed his hands to scoot back. To his favor Tommy caught on to the invitation and took it with glee, and with the eagerness of a child on Christmas day, dropped to his knees to tap fervently on the screen. His patience only wore thin when he realized that rushing in such a game as this was futile, and so with an obvious reluctance, slowed his pace.

       Ranboo drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs as he watched. Thoughts pulsed through his mind like blood through a water pump whist watching the blonde indulge in such a simple game. A little feeling in the back of his mind told him that this wouldn't be the first time he would catch the borrower snooping around where he shouldn't, but from what Ranboo had garnered, this had been a common occurrence. But then, if so, how had he not been caught before? Surely yesterday's events couldn't have been the only time that Tommy had gotten caught between a rock and a hard place. If it was, and if he hadn't been a bitty, would the blonde have reacted any differently? If it meant staying alive without a sewing needle skewering him through the heart, then he would take it. Having his things borrowed wasn't as big of a deal, for he was happy with his life; he was happy with the trust that seemed to come as second nature to him for the beans that so loved him. By no means did he plan to take this for granted—nor did he think he would ever. But the fact that Tommy had remained undetected by all of them, including the piebald himself was a spectacle. How had Tommy done it? Was it sheer luck or stupendous skill? Questions such as these and more Ranboo suddenly found difficult to ask although an alliance had been formed. The air still felt too tight, and the summer's heat wasn't doing anything to sever it.

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I couldn't decide if I liked this section to be separated into two or to keep it at one, but I ultimately opted for the latter, 'cause the next chapter's word count makes this one look like a cake walk. This is has been super fun so far; I've never really put this much focus into one particular AU and added this much depth, so hopefully you'll enjoy what I have in store!

· · ─────── ·🙜· ─────── · ·

This DSMP Bitty/Borrower AU belongs to me. Any similarities between this work and/or this AU and another are purely coincidental; everything written here comes from my own mind, and any inspirations taken will be listed within the notes of the corresponding chapter. Please contact me if there is an issue that can be resolved relating to this.

Chapters will be added approximately every two weeks until completion.

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader

Part 4/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

content warning. age gap, mention of sex, mild breeding kink if you squint, afab reader, profanity, slight angst, unrequited love, nobara being a supportive friend, mentions of domestic toji

This is part four of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.5k words

What can I say, I live to please. Besides..." "You ain't seen nothin' yet." 4:03 am is what the clock read by the time you had settled into your bed for some much needed, actual sleep. Toji had thoroughly fucked you over nearly every surface in your house that night, leaving no part of you untouched. By the third round, you had nearly lost all feeling in your legs and angry bruises were spotting the surface of your neck, thighs, and hips, the occasional hickey littering your chest. That didn't seem to stop the two of you from going another two rounds after that. What surprised you even more than his stamina, was the fact that he lay beside you in your bed, arm lazily draped over you as he slept silently. In all honesty, you had expected him to leave the moment he was done with you, recalling him saying at some point that this was just him throwing you a line, a simple no-feelings-attached fling to get your mind off the mistake you'd made the night before. For the most part, it worked, but some part of you felt disgusted with yourself for what transpired. When you woke up in the morning, Toji was gone. He had the courtesy to at least plug your phone in and place it on your bedside table, as well as lock your front door. How did he do that? Not seeing your phone for more than twenty-four hours meant you had a lot of messages and calls to catch up with, your chest squeezing slightly seeing that the most recent one had been a missed call and text at 2:47 am. It was from Megumi. By that point in the night, you were sure Toji had you bent over the railing on your balcony, but it was all hazy by this point. That same part of you that felt guilty for what, or rather who, you'd been doing all night is the part of you that texted Nobara first. Incoming call... "Nobara Kugisaki" "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, BITCH?!" Nobara screeched into the line, causing you to hold the phone at an arms length away as she hurled several choice insults at you. "We thought you were dead, no one's been in contact with you since you and Megumi left the bar," She chastised once she managed to calm down. "I know, I'm sorry. Some shit happened and... promise to keep a secret?" You whispered into the line, as if someone might be listening. You trusted Nobara with your life, Yuuji too but that boy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. So you entrusted your drunken mistake with your mutual best friend to her, and her only. "I was wondering when he was gonna make a move," She sounded so nonchalant, as if everyone but you had expected this. "He's had a thing for you ever since our last year of high school. You didn’t know?" Her words made your stomach churn. Megumi had been secretly pining for years, and you went and fucked his dad. "That still doesn't explain where you've been since you got home, did you go into a coma?" "I was... busy." Nobara gasped, your name falling from her lips in shock. "No shit. Rebound, who was it?" You both loved and loathed that she could see through you so easily. You two couldn't keep anything from each other. How could you tell her this without making it sound as bad as it actually was? "He brought my phone over, and I was just in a really bad place emotionally..." The line was silent. "It was his dad. It was Toji." Unsurprisingly to you, Nobara was more intrigued than disgusted, considering anyone and everyone that went to the Fushiguro household thirsted for Megumi's hot, ripped dad. Although she had a lack of interest in men, she asked the obligatory spill the beans, what was it like? It took nearly ten minutes of just you talking to explain everything that happened, in as little detail as possible. "So that man banged you on every piece of furniture you own and turned you into his personal cum-stuffed twinkie?" Don't make it sound so crude. "More or less, yeah." "I don't see whats wrong with that. Just don't let Megumi know, he already hates his dad." You hadn't planned on it. Nobara and you caught up for another minute or two while you got changed, hanging up when she had to leave for her extra curricular classes. Now left with your thoughts, you sighed, wandering into your kitchen aimlessly. You cursed every couple steps because holy shit your legs hurt. Deciding it was too straining to stand, you sat at your kitchen island, your head in one hand as the other held your phone, your conversation with Megumi opened. [10:20pm]Gumi: I'm sorry.

[10:22pm]Gumi: There were better times to tell you how I feel, this is my fault.

[11:09pm]Gumi: You're the most important person in my life. Just know that no matter how you feel, I'll always be here.

[2:47am Missed call]

[2:47am]Gumi: I'll give you your space. Take care of yourself, please.

Shaky fingers hovered over the keyboard of your phone, nausea building up in your gut. You were about to put your phone down, leave it for later, before the three dots popped up, letting you know he was typing. He must've seen your read receipts.

[. . .]

[9:56am]Gumi: Thank god you're safe

[9:57am]Gumi: Can I call?

The call notification popped up before you could even send the message you'd typed out.

Incoming call... "Gumi Bear"

Your thumb hovered over answer, hesitating for just a moment before answering and bringing the phone up to your ear. You could hear the concern in his voice when he whispered your name into the receiver, a guilty knot twisting in your gut. "You don't have to say anything, I was just worried about you." There was a click on the other end, followed by some rustling. "You left so quickly, I was gonna come bring your phone but... it was probably best that I gave you some space. When my dad didn't come home I assumed it's 'cause he couldn't find you." A long sigh came from him, but your brows furrowed. Toji still wasn't home? The sound of your balcony door sliding open made you jump out of your skin, having to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent from screaming right into the receiver. From the phone you could hear Megumi calling your name, hearing the sudden commotion, completely unaware of the brief staring contest you had with the tall man stopped mid-step into your house, cigarettes and lighter in one of his hands, the balcony handle in the other. Both your eyes were wide, seeming to surprise each other. Had he been out there this entire time? "H...Hey, sorry, I... a spider, I saw a huge spider and it scared me." Mentally face-palming at your sorry excuse for your outburst. Toji seemed to find it entertaining as well, chuckling to himself as he slid the door closed. Megumi was silent for a moment, but ultimately accepted the explanation. He continued, promising he'd only take a minute of your time. You couldn't hear anything he was saying over the pounding of your heart as it leapt in your throat, watching Toji slide his shoes off and stride over to the kitchen, the flat of his palm brushing the small of your back as he passed by. "Let's just forget this happened, we can start over. Okay?" His voice dropped in tone, obviously hurt by the decision. "I think... I'd like that, yeah." There was a brief silence. "Okay, well," Megumi breathed in deeply, "That's all I wanted to say. I'll let you go. Text me if you need anything." A noise of affirmation came from your throat, the line going dead soon after. Small hands placed the phone face down on the countertop, hands overlapping on top of your phone as you stared up at Toji through your lashes. He didn't ask who called. The rest of your morning was spent with Toji, not much was said. It wasn't awkward, it was a surprisingly comfortable silence, for the most part. He'd made coffee and toast, his capabilities of displaying qualities of domesticity surprising you to say the least. The kitchen clock read 1:02 pm when he said he'd be leaving and you walked him to the door. As the two of you stood in the doorway, you found yourself unable to piece together the right words swimming in your head. Toji seemed patient, smirking with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets as he faced you, back to the apartment hallway. "Well, um..." All night, and you decide to be awkward now?! "Thanks for everything, I guess?" You extended a hand, offering it to Toji for a handshake. The action made him snort, one hand coming out of the pocket of his soft cotton pants and placing it in the dip of your waist. Firmly, he tugged you closer to him, leaving a searing kiss on your lips. It was as fiery as it was short. He left you dumbfounded when he parted not a second later, waving as he walked down the hall. "Let's do this again soon."

[little-diva-gurl]

You are the best drug I consume Part. 4

Elliot x reader

Warnings: horny thoughts, some sad shit, drugs, hint of OCD

Word Count: about 1.1K

"I love you. Bye."

Jules' face made my heart break a bit, honestly I’ve never really been heartbroken over tiny things, but I’ve never been in a real relationship. Guys were dicks, because the majority of the male race thought with their dicks. I guess the tinier the dick, the more chances they were assholes probably because their dicks were small. When we walked in the girls bathroom I saw BB, Kat, and Maddy at the sinks so I let Jules go to the stalls so she could cry. I whipped out my pen and took a hit needing the buzz to get rid of all this shitty feeling.

“Hey, Y/N. How’s life been?” BB asked while blowing out a huge ass cloud of smoke. BB was fucking legit and that’s what I liked about her.

“It’s been good. Getting high and seeing friends is always a highlight of my day. Drama isn’t my forte, so if there’s shit happening let me know so I'll beat a bitch up. Text me, Facetime me, etc.” I said making them laugh.

My weakness for people I love and know is that I’m people pleaser, might be sexually or emotionally, physically. I would go to the depths of hell to make my friends and family happy, fuck.

I don’t like depending on people, because then thoughts would race in my head making me think the worse. I don’t ask for help, but Jules needed the comfort especially if this whole relationship thing with Rue was new. Just need to guide her on the right steps like a ballroom dance.

When the bell rang I walked Jules to her class, so that she knew she wasn’t alone. I gave her a quick hug, and I knew she needed it when she squeezed me a bit. Damn, this girl is tall next to my 5’2 ass.

Rushing to my class wasn’t something I did, since I said I had good grades, so my teachers hardly bat an eye when I come into class a bit late. What came to another shock was that Elliot was in this class too. Well, this will be an interesting school year.

As soon as school was over Elliot invited me to his house to smoke, and who was I to decline free weed? Walking into his room made me slightly itch since it was a bit messy, and I'm a bit of a clean freak.

“Listen, before I even sit on your bed, either clean a bit or I’ll be a maid but the pay can be weed. Sounds like a deal?” I told him as he pulled out his guitar strumming a bit of chords.

Shit, no wonder he knew how to use fingers. Talented fingers.

“Go right ahead.” Elliot said not looking at me when playing a bit of tunes

With that I got to work, putting his clothes into a laundry basket, picking up trash and putting it in a bin, angling his bean bags, and straightening his sheets. When I felt like I was done the room looked exceptional. I hopped on his bed with a gentle sigh listening to the strums of the guitar, and letting comfort take me and shutting my eyes.

“Oh, shit. It looks livable now, maybe I should keep you here as a maid.”

Opening my eyes to look at the bleach blonde shithead, who was smiling at me with a cheeky smile. Huffing, I laugh a bit while sitting up on the bed to face him,

“I can’t help it, I was raised cleaning after myself, so now that I’m comfortable with you I just can’t not clean.” I tell him while looking down playing with my stiletto nails hoping he doesn’t judge me.

“Hey, quit with the awkward silence, I’m trying to serenade you.” Elliot said making me laugh and look up at him.

He kept trying to play love, cheesy songs like Taylor Swift making me laugh whenever he’d start singing a bit. While time passed it felt like a few seconds went by, because hanging out with Elliot is fucking amazing.

Time wasn’t even a concept when being high and being with him, but Rue arrived with a cheery little smile on her face. I pulled some weed from my pocket and began crushing it with my little emergency crusher.

While rolling my blunt with precise rolling skills, because I’m a fucking legend at rolling blunts. Lighting that sucker up, and hitting it gave me a clear head, handing it to Elliot who gladly took it, while Rue walked to Elliot’s vinyl player playing some music. The blunt was passed to her while she was dancing to the music. It wasn’t until Elliot pulled something out from under his bed that caught my attention.

He also had a little tray placing it on his bed, and had a bag of pills with a card on it. Oh, shit. I was witnessing some hardcore drug shit. Crushing up one of the pills with his credit card and putting it into lines, and then pulling out a dollar bill rolling it up. Elliot sniffed up the line while I was watching this with wide eyes. Rue passed me the blunt still dancing which snapped me out of spacing out.

My high was streaming through my body, wrapping itself around me like a warm blanket burrito that I never want to get rid of. My buzz kind of euphoria was short lived when I saw out of the corner of my eye Rue taking the rolled bill and snorting a line too.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Rue, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I sneered while Elliot took the blunt from me and put it between his lips while grabbing his guitar and playing with the music.

“You shouldn’t be shocked, especially with what happened at the New Years party.” She shrugged making me huff.

“How would Jules react if she saw this shit? Especially when you both just got together.” I said while having a stern look on my face and turning to Elliot who was minding his business but felt my glare.

“She won’t react, because she won’t find out.”

[lilallama]

You know that prank in TikTok (it’s kind of old now) where people casually say “I think you could’ve been nicer to me today” ? How would cooking club react individually if y/n said that to them?

He was walking you home from school in silence. He thought of it as comfortable, while you were waiting for the right moment to try that trend you saw on Tiktok. You pulled out your phone and unbeknownst to your friend, took a video.

"I think you could've been nicer to me today."

Hoseok

As soon as Hoseok processed what you had just said, he looked confused. "What do you mean?" After thinking for a moment while you had to hold in your laughter, he stopped in his tracks.

"Was it because I didn't buy you pizza? When you said you were hungry for Pizza during lunch break? I can order you some now, if you want." He was completely serious but didn't seem too stressed about it. "No, no. I'm a little disappointed. I thought you would've known about the trend."

"What kind of 'trend' is that?"

Seokjin

He stopped dead in his tracks and dramatically faced you. His hand over his mouth he gasped. "Prince/Princess... hiw could you say that? I try to make you feel like a Prince/Princess every single day! To see you not realising that..." O- and he's crying. Drama Queen.

"Hey- Jinnie, I'm sorry. It was just meant to be a funny trend! I just wanted to see your reaction, you drama llama." He sniffed before completely changing his facial expression.

"Oh! Well why didn't you say so? Silly Y/n, do you know how much that hurt me-"

Yoongi

He felt his heart drop as you said that. Yoongi knows he can be very quiet and awkward, some people misinterpret it as him being rude. Originally he had hoped you wouldn't see it that way, but you seemingly did. "Oh..." His voice was quiet, and a bit shaky. "I'm sorry. I'll do better tomorrow, Y/n. I promise."

You couldn't anymore. "Awe! I could just chomp you right up!" He was beyond confused. "Don't worry, you precious bean. You're always super nice to me. It was just a tiktok trend I wanyed to try."

"Oh-oh! Well... that's embarrassing."

Namjoon

Namjoon tried his best to not let his true emotions show. What you said worried him. Has he not been a good enough friend? Would you now not consider him a suitable partner? Has he failed you? Oh, that thought hurt. "I'm very sorry. How can I make it up to you, dear? If you want anything, I can get it for you." You pondered for a moment if you should use this oppurtunity and play along, get that new [Insert Desired Item] you wanted, or not. But you didn't want bad karma so..

"I was just kidding, Joon. Haven't you been on Tiktok lately?" The look he gave you explained everything. "Never mind. But you can still get me some [Insert Desired Item] if you want." That somehow cheered him up.

"Oh, of course! Anything for you"

Jimin

Actually, forget what I said earlier. He wasn't quiet, not at all. He was spitting random shit like a waterfall during rain fall. You managed to quickly squeeze that sentence in when he stoped for a second to catch some air. "Anyway, like I sai- wait what?" He was shocked and confused for a second. Slowly he looked up, his lip started quivering and his eyes watered. Oh fuck.

"I- I- I-" he then started bawling his eyes out and threw himself at you. "I'M SORRY! Y/NIE I DIDN'T MEAN TO! IT WAS JEONGYEON'S FAULT, I SWEAR!" "Jimin- JIMIN! I was just kidding!" He slowly looked up. "So you're not mad at me?" "Depends on what was allegedly Jeongyeon's fault. But not right now."

"Oh... well it wasn't that important anyway hahah-"

Taehyung

...You fucked up. That's all I can say.

Jeongguk

"...Wait. Like actually or are you doing that trend you told me about?" You groaned. "Damn it! Why did I- wait I didn't tell you about it.

Awkward silence.

"Anyway-"

[fickleminder]

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

.

.

.

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

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.

.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

.

.

.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

.

.

.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

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.

.

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

.

.

.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

.

.

.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

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.

.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

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.

.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

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.

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

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.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

[magalidragon]

Hello! How about 14 in your recent "love in the eyes" universe? Have an amazing day!

Oooh a new universe! 🙌🏻 I tried to make this smutty but it turned out a bit sweet lol. I love these beans! 🥰 Moodboard to come!

14. “Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned this.”

Love in a pandemic was interesting, to say the least. It was the whole "are you tested" but in a completely different way. Regardless, the answer was "yes" on both accounts, for the both of them, which was how Dany found herself spending the very limited amount of time she had off from twenty-hour shifts at a rural hospital dealing with massive outbreaks and super-spreader events in an area that already had limited healthcare to begin with, hanging out in her extended stay studio not resting up for the next shift, but eagerly awaiting a 'date' of takeout food on rotation of the only three local restaurants that had switched to takeout, and watching movies with one very attractive Westeros Military Captain, who also had limited amounts of time off.

They only had time off three times, where their schedules could align, and honestly she was so exhausted when she finished, she just wanted to sleep for hours. Jon was in the same boat, so-to-speak, until one afternoon her phone rang, after she had just discharged several elderly patients who had come off the tube, their tests negative, and excited to say that they had survived a pandemic, along with all the other chaos that went on Beyond the Wall.

So she was in a really good mood, answering excitedly. "Jon!"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"Depends, what do you have in mind?" She caught sight of one of the Northern nurses, Kari, who rolled her eyes at her and smirked, knowing full well she was on the phone with 'The Handsome Crow', as the 'wildings' up North referred to Jon's regiment.

"I'm thinking of a place with no masks."

"Oooh, talk dirty to me," she teased.

He laughed. "I'll pick you up at your place. Leave hte dragon behind, aye?"

She mocked his accent back to him, gruff and rolling. "Aye, aye Captain!"

That had been hours ago. Shift ended, she rushed to the studio extended stay, showered, brushed her teeth, quickly shaved her legs, shimmied into the only matching pair of panties and bras she brought with her-- and the panties were also not her comfy cotton briefs she wore under her scrubs but the only truly 'sexy' pair-- a red bikini set-- even if the bra was also cotton and not lacy silk and satin. It would have to do, and honestly, she was probably reading too much into the sudden date that was different.

But no, she did not.

Because while dating in a pandemic was weird-- flirting without even seeing his face had been surreal-- it was still dating and some rules still continued to apply. Like the fact they'd been on three dates, had even fallen asleep on her bed together, but all he'd done was chastely kiss her goodnight when he woke up-- to her disappointment-- it was still three dates in, which meant naked time was now officially on the table.

And she had been itching to see his face that entire five hour flight to find out if the rest of it was as attractive as his soulful gray eyes, his messy curly hair, and the strong body she could see hiding not so much under his drab black fatigues. How right she had been and also how wrong. The moment he pulled off his mask, she felt every nerve ending light off like fireworks, his jaw chiseled, covered in dark scruff, and his lips full and pink, shyly smiling over a set of white teeth that were adorably crooked in the front. It all fit, every bit of him, and she hoped that she had been the same delightful surprise to him too.

Jon picked her up on time-- quite punctual, he was a military man after all-- drove her from the hotel on their first outing and even as she asked him where they were going ,he said it was a surprise and ended up taking her pretty far out to Hardhome, where he surprised her with a dinner at a dockside restaurant, just the two of them, a favor that his friend Tormund had called in for him.

It was wonderful to actually eat out for once, like a proper human being, and then he surprised her further by indicating that maybe if she were so inclined... "Would you...do you want to go back...I got a hotel room," he blurted out.

"You mean not the dingy studio with the brick mattress and scratchy sheets and comforter of unknown origins?" she demanded.

"Um...it's an inn...supposed to be nice."

She'd kissed him immediately, sighing. "Take me there Jon Snow, I beg of you."

They'd sped through the mostly deserted town to the inn, barely got within the door of what she quickly surmised was a quaint log-cabin decor style with flannel sheets and a roaring fireplace, and...yowza.

Their first kiss had been sweet, on their second "date", when he left her to return back to the makeshift barracks he had been staying in near the hospital. They had been nervous about it, shifting on feet as she didn't want him to go quite yet, but he had a curfew. "Need to set an example, I'm the boss," he sighed, clearly annoyed by it.

"Well alright then...talk to you tomorrow?" She asked him hopefully, and he nodded, and then smiled, shifting and moving in towards her, and she grinned, accepting his kiss gently. It had been tentative, both of them a little nervous, and sure-- they were both anticipating getting sick most likely, since they were in and around everyone with the virus-- except she figured she would risk it.

It had begun soft, lips gentle, rather close mouthed. Then it became something else, his hand cupping her head and she grabbed at his shirt, opening her mouth under his, moaning when his tongue prodded for entry and she gave willingly, tasting the beer they’d had and his mint toothpaste and the barest hint of synthetic nicotine. She needed him, groaning and grappling as he stroked his hands over her face. So hot, she thought, not realizing how that felt until he was holding her upright by just her jaw.

Wanting nothing more to invite him back in, she reluctantly had said goodbye, her lips tingling, and his smile dopey when they parted. She waved, watched him leave, and counted down the seconds like a silly schoolgirl with her first crush until she could see him again.

And when she did, they'd kissed some more, like those dumb schoolkids they'd become, barely paying attention to the movie that had been playing, or their dinners growing cold on the table, but it hadn't gone beyond that; they were both exhausted, and to be honest, she wanted to wash her hair and maybe look a litlt enicer than the old college t-shirt and pink flannel pants she had on.

So now, well, now....sigh.

"Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned that," she panted, staring up at the ceiling, catching her breath, her body shivering from aftershocks. She pressed her palm to her forehead, not at all surprised to find that she wasn't just hot because of her dragonblood, but because she was freaking sweating, like she'd run a marathon.

Beside her, he was in the same pose, laughter rumbling from his chest. "Do you really want to know?"

Since that might mean bringing up the other women who had been on the opposite end of those sinful lips, she shook her head, laughing as well. "Oh fuck no, but gods Jon Snow, who knew you had that talented set of lips underneath your mask? If I'd have known, I'd have jumped you on the plane."

A sly smile pulled over his teeth, those same pouty, now kiss-stung lips flushed from his exertions. "If I recall you did sort of proposition me?"

A tiny blush formed on her cheekbones, not that he noticed, as flushed as she already was. She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand, her other dancing over his smooth chest, where he grabbed it and brought her knuckles to his lips to kiss, their fingers threading together. "Well, I had to test a theory. I am a woman of science."

"What theory?"

"That you were into me." She lowered her lips to brush over his, grinning. It was his eyes; Doreah always told her that love came in the eyes. His had fallen more than once from hers to...other areas. Plus there was the pupil dilation, the intensity there, and the bit of sadness on the edges. It made her desperate to know more. "And turns out, you were."

He smirked, brushing his mouth over hers again, murmuring, "Hard to tell, those pesky masks."

"We figured it out." She settled her head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm draping over hers, knuckles idly running on her upper arm. She closed her eyes, savoring. It had been awhile, she was tingling and sore. It felt wonderful. The good exhaustion that she knew would lead to a good sleep.

Not that she wanted to sleep just yet.

Her finger pulled out of his grasp, tracing his mouth, whispering. "When do you have to be back at the barracks, Jon Snow?"

"Hmm....weekend pass, would you believe it?"

"Coincidentally, I have a day off."

"Whatever shall we do?"

She giggled, nuzzling her nose to his, whispering. "I have a few ideas. Most of which involve that mouth."

He snapped his teeth, wolfish, and pressed his palm to her cheek, pushing to cup her head, her braids tangling around his fingers. She kissed him, smiling so wide their teeth clacked, and devolved her into more giggles, as silly as that schoolgirl he made her feel like she happened to be. It was the happiest she'd been in a long time, that was for sure. He snorted, laughing when she blew a raspberry to his mouth instead of kissing him, and devolved into his own laughter, which she got the impression was quite a rarity with him.

They tusseled a bit, both trying to one-up the other, laughing and giggling, and soon her legs and arms were flying up, brain losing all control over herself as he tickled her and blew raspberries to her belly and chest. "Jon!" she squealed, pushing weakly on his arms. He had her pinned to the bed, and was merciless.

"Never," he replied, in response to her demands for him to stop, and she didn't fight him, both of them kissing again, and this time it wasn't so funny, the kisses becoming deeper, intense. He broke away from her lips and trailed off, her neck arching on the pillow, sighing, and hands falling into his riotous curls again.

She hummed, approving, and shook her head slightly. "Jon?"

"Hmm?"

He tilted his head up to peer at her, eyes black as coal. She traced her finger along his hairline, smiling gently. They'd known each other two weeks, but she was quite certain of how she felt. She nibbled her bottom lip, whispering. "This probably...probably isn't the right time but..." She took a deep breath; just say it Dany. Worst comes to worst, he runs away, and then what? Means it wasn't meant to be. She never took this type of leap, gun shy from previously failed relationships. She closed her eyes, about to speak, when his thumb pressed on her chin, tilting her face to his.

Eyes flickering, she saw he had risen up to lay beside her, intensely focused, and was guiding her face to his, thumb stroking her jaw. "What?" he whispered.

Love comes in the eyes, she thought, and whispered, "I think I love you."

There, she said it. Maybe it was the hormones, the heightened emotions of the time, the idea that tomorrow could be her last, for all she knew. They were working so hard and that was usually all she had, but now there was something bigger.

And to her surprise, he smiled, eyes crinkling, and it was the same look he gave her on the plane, when she first wondered who this cute guy happened to be, and what was his story. He whispered, in return, "I think I love you too."

Dany giggled, accepting his kiss, entwining her arms around his neck, and made a mental note to tell her brothers that the North might not be so bad after all.

Smutty One Liners

[shootybangbang]

[Talking Bird] 17: In which beans are ruined

[Ao3 Link]

At the mention of Trelawney, Arthur dimly recalls a scrap of half-remembered conversation from last year, when he’d idled with the man in a Lemoyne saloon while waiting for a mark to arrive. The first flicker of your existence, passing him by unknown. Like the brief touch of a licked finger through candle flame: deceptively benign, with just a whisper of the burn to follow.

Somewhere between his first and second glass of whiskey sours, Trelawney had mentioned the burgeoning demand for opium in Chinatown. A former contact of his had recently left the high stakes poker circuit to get in on the profit, and he’d lamented the loss.

“It’s a shame,” he’d said, absently swirling the ice cubes in his emptied glass and regarding the swirling wood grain of the countertop with a pensive, faraway look. And for once, the sentiment had sounded genuine. Knowing him, the man was grieving a lost business opportunity more than anything else, but it’d been a long time since Arthur had heard him even bother to feign emotion for a stranger. “She’s not suited for smuggling in the least. Can’t say I can see this ending well.”

Less Trelawney’s gift for prophecy and more stating the obvious, now that he knows exactly who he’d been talking about. Prickly disposition, clueless when it comes to violence, and far too trusting of strangers. The cavalier attitude of someone who’d never been exposed to serious conflict and who, having since been exposed, lacks even the conviction necessary to put a bullet in the man holding her hostage.

And far too delicate besides.

When you’d pulled the blanket down your shoulders to untie your braid, Arthur had tilted his head back just enough to catch an eyeful of your backside. A pretty thing to put to paper: the wet swathe of hair draped over your shoulder, the faint shadow of your spine a dark curve flickering with the shifting of firelight. Soft, dappled lines wrapped in the body of someone who’s caused him nothing but grief in the past weeks.

The view had confirmed something he’d already been suspecting: your lack of threat to anything larger than a rat terrier.

Judging by your physique, you’d probably struggle to lift anything more than fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty, on a good day. A veritably pathetic amount of muscle tone with none of the etchings that rough living leaves behind.

Some foreign high society girl fallen on hard times, he guessed. But oddly, none of the clumsy caution people of that strata have when confronted with any sort of real work. You’d fallen into the rhythm of whittling bark off the cottonwood branches too comfortably for someone unacquainted with physical labor, handled the knife with a deftness that comes only from rote repetition.

“I knew Trelawney had connections to some gang out west, but I never thought…” You shake your head slowly, dazed by the absurdity of this new development. “Did he know? When I sold them those bonds, did he realize they were yours? And why—”

“Nah, he wouldn’t have known. I, uh… wasn’t too keen on tellin’ folk I got robbed by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed huff. “Told ‘em the whole thing was a bust.”

Looking back, he may as well have told them the truth. The lie hadn’t done much to salvage his pride, and had prompted weeks of jibes at his own expense. Snide little asides from Micah, overt ridicule from Bill, and the painful ordeal of Sean.

“Gettin’ sloppy in your old age,” he’d quipped. “I’ll tell you what you need, Morgan. You need to let someone else hold the reins for a change. Someone quick on the uptake, someone young and hot-blooded and—”

“Get back to me when you’re done complimentin’ yourself,” Arthur had replied, already walking away.

“Wait, Morgan — take me with you next time you ride out! I’ll scout somethin’ out, and we can…”

Sean had been insistent as a mosquito and twice as annoying, but ultimately bearable so long as he had a beer in his hand or a pillow over his head. His own head, though he’d been sorely tempted otherwise.

No, what had really driven him to leave camp had been Dutch.

Dutch and his put-upon fatherly air, all stern mouthed disapproval and downward sloping shoulders. His pointed observations of Jack’s tattered jacket, well on its way to becoming a patchwork Ship of Theseus. Pearson’s dwindling supply of seasonings, so scarce that the stews have become bland to the point of near inedibility. The stocks of medicine running low, bandages boiled so many times that their fibers have since frayed to a cobwebbed consistency.

“I know you’re doing your best, son,” Dutch had sighed, casting a weary eye over his threadbare kingdom. “God knows you’re the only man I can depend on to get anything done around here. But folks are… well. Folks are struggling.”

Arthur’s eyes had slid momentarily towards Dutch’s tent, resting on the golden gleam of the gramophone and the crisp cotton sheets laid across the bed. An unbroken sea of white, with not a stitch out of place. And not twenty feet away, Hosea’s shabby lean-to, the older man’s bedroll bearing the same disjointed array of colors as the rest of the camp’s accoutrements.

Dutch always did have a taste for the finer things in life. A level of refinement proportionate to the depth of his ambition, which in earlier days had been tempered by kinder, simpler ideals. Feed those that need feeding. Shoot those that need shooting. Robin Hood-esque, with a western (and occasionally lethal) twist. Evelyn Miller had been a fixture even then, but in those halcyon years Dutch had not yet twisted the author’s words to the tottering worldview that he’s since constructed.

The gang’s nascent success had bred standards and attracted new followers. A ragtag flock all too eager to nourish their leader’s growing, malignant appetite for grandeur.

“Just one last score, and we’ll be clear of all this… this manmade rot.” Dutch said, gesturing in the direction of Blackwater. “But for now, we’ve got to play their game. Get our hands dirty for the time being so we can wash ourselves clean of all this when we’ve finally got the means.”

Arthur had departed under the pretense of retrieving the missing bonds (impossible) or locating some cache of similar value (near impossible), but in truth he’d done so primarily for the preservation of his own sanity. More and more these days, he’s been seeing cracks in the foundation of the man who’d given him this life, dragged him out of the gutter and set him with a previously unwavering sense of purpose. And it feels treacherous — traitorous, even — to take any of it into question.

But as always, the open road and the unabiding sky of the prairie settled him into a different mindset altogether. The cycles of flora and fauna in untouched wilderness exist completely separate from the artifices of men, with the legacies of countless tiny lives encapsulated in the fine grit of the dust to which all things return. And in that certainty comes an overwhelming comfort. Everything else seems trifling in the wake of the vast perpetuity of nature.

A few days spent wandering would do him good, he’d decided. Spend some time away from all the trappings of civilization, then rob some poor sap on the side of the road so as not to return empty-handed.

And then you’d ruined his plans entirely by literally walking into him as he’d been passing through Strawberry.

“Well,” you say, offering up a small, nervous smile. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Guess we take a visit to Trelawney’s,” he replies, already dreading the inevitable embarrassment of explaining the whole sorry situation to the man. “And if it turns out you’re tellin’ the truth, I’ll give you a ride from Rhodes to St Denis.”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Rhodes?”

“Yeah, Rhodes. Trelawney’s got a caravan there on the outskirts of town. You didn’t know?”

“You can’t take me to Rhodes,” you say automatically, as if stating the obvious. “I mean… look at me.”

“You’re a woman?” he asks stupidly.

“I’m an Oriental, you moron. And Rhodes is a fucking… it’s a fucking Raider town.”

“You’d be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

You shake your head and set your mouth into a grim, flat line. “That’s worse. They might think we’re together. And they don’t take kindly to miscegenation.”

Your words have to them the quality of a veil being drawn back, exposing a corner of this country’s ugliness he’s not often been privy to. A familiar knot of guilt tugs at his innards, accompanied by the unpleasant, impotent sensation that surfaces each time he catches the ungracious stares of the crowd when walking into town with Tilly by his side. Each time he hears the practiced courtesy in a shopkeep’s voice drop away when the man turns away from him to address Charles. Each time he watches Lenny reread for the thousandth time the letter from his dead father, the creases in its paper worn so deep that it would have long since fallen apart were it not for the boy’s careful, reverent handling.

“You know those big plantation houses just south of Rhodes? They hire Chinese sometimes to work the fields. Cheaper than sharecropping, apparently.” The look on your face is drawn and bitter. The bite in your voice suggests something personal, the sting of an injury not yet healed. “One of the boys got involved with a white housemaid. He’d saved up for train tickets to Philadelphia, and they were… he was going to marry her there. Wanted an August wedding. The number eight’s lucky for us, you see. So August 8th, 1898… he thought it was all very romantic. Used to make this stupid joke that he wished he’d met her ten years earlier. Raiders strung him up in an oak tree a couple weeks before they were set to leave.”

Arthur’s tongue lies silent and heavy in his mouth.

You take in a deep breath that rattles with the failing determination of someone struggling not to break their composure, then look to him with a desperation so absolute that it seems almost indecent to witness. “Why don’t you just leave me here? Keep me tied up if you have to. Come back for me when you’re done with Trelawney.”

In the short span of time that he’s known you, you’ve made enough of an impression to warrant several conclusive classifications. A haughty, pampered little thing. An ineffective liar. A self-destructive fool — but not stupid. Definitely not stupid.

The sheer idiocy of your suggestion indicates a fear so deep that it’s completely severed you from your senses. Just a frightened little bird caught in a trap, scratching and clawing for the narrowest possible opening for escape.

“You’re tellin’ me to tie up a woman and leave her in the middle of nowhere? May as well just hand-deliver you to the wolves. No,” he says firmly, trying to shake off the unwanted pang of sympathy. Dutch had been right about one thing — the gang did need money, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity for it slip away out of misguided compassion for a woman who’d literally robbed him as he’d bled out. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Soon as we near Rhodes, I’ll tie you to Boadicea the same way I did when we left Strawberry.”

You blink and utter a disbelieving, “Excuse me, what?”

“Reckon they’ll treat us both a hell of a lot nicer if they think you’re a bounty. Gives me plenty excuse for keepin’ you in one piece, too.”

Your face ventures on a quick journey through the five stages of grief. The grief in question being for the loss of your dignity. The blank look shifts to a glare. You open your mouth to spit out something no doubt acerbic and very rude, but a flash of uncertainty crosses your face and you quickly bite your tongue. Then you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally open them again, there is a defeated resignation in them that attests to a lost mental argument.

“You better ride slow if you don’t want a repeat of this morning,” you say wearily.

Arthur shrugs. “Can’t throw up if you got nothin’ in your stomach. We’ll just skip feeding you breakfast tomorrow.”

To his relief, the atmosphere lightens to blessed, familiar hostility. You tell him to go fuck himself. That you’ll literally fight him for the apples you know he has tucked away in his saddlebags. That maybe you’ll throw up anyway purely out of spite. That he’s a miserable piece of shit who you wish—

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the outcrop for a fraction of a second, painting everything beneath it into harsh shades of white and black. It strikes as sudden and violent as a fiery whip crack, leaving behind it the bittersweet scent of burnt grass and a curl of grey smoke like a departing ghost. Its near-simultaneous clap of thunder drowns out your last sentence with an ear splitting boom so encompassing that the vibration of it seems to rattle down to the bone. The silence that follows has in it the anticipatory hush of the void prior to Genesis. You shatter it with a quiet but appropriately placed, “Jesus Christ.”

The land outside is hedged low in the horizon, and the vastness of its sky swallows all else. It crowns as its dominating feature the movement of its anvil-shaped clouds. They shift leaden and portentous, translucent bellied and lit up by the jagged tongues of lightning darting throughout quick and sporadic as pale dragonflies. Roiling violet like the murky blood of some vast organism, pulsing membranous over the prairie with a fury of near biblical proportions. And below, the buttes with their strange eroded shapes like scattered islands in a black sea of grass. In the torrential dark, their silhouettes flash ivory with every strike of lightning only to sink back into the hushed umbra of night.

There is a muted look of awe on your face, as if witnessing for the first time the true scale of a storm. Something that before now had been glimpsed only through the gaps between high-shuttered buildings. Tempests caught in concrete snares and, not unlike the men that build them, diminished until they are but a feeble whisper of their former selves.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur. “I never knew rain could be like this.”

With a jolt of displeasure, he finds that the soft expression on your face renders you unexpectedly pretty in the fire’s flickering light, the amber reflection of it bright as copper in your eyes. A gentle chiaroscuro, the smooth line of your cheek and shadowed hollow of your throat the anchor points to which his eye is drawn.

You shuffle a little closer to the outlook’s rain-veiled edge. The roughspun blanket, still drawn tightly around your shoulders, shifts. Arthur quickly averts his eyes, but even so is met with a sliver of bare skin that runs neck to navel. The subtle outline of a breast, the mild fishbone curve of a rib.

And all at once he’s unbearably, disastrously hard, filled with a painful but directionless longing — not just for intimacy, but for the simple reassurance of another body pressed close, skin to skin and breath to breath. A kind of tenderness he’s been deprived of for so long that the memory of it brings not warmth but the brittle cold of hoarfrost. Absence like a thick pane of ice, the things he’s lost visible just underneath.

From the periphery of his line of sight, you’re but an indistinct blur in the vague shape of a woman. How appropriate then, that you should be the focus of this formless arousal. And how infuriatingly pathetic. He hadn’t lied when he’d said you weren’t his type, and yet here he is, his cock stiffer than it’s been in months at just the suggestion of a woman’s naked body.

In desperate search of both distraction and something to obscure himself with, Arthur pulls back the front flap of his satchel and fishes out your blue notebook. He glances briefly in your direction, already anticipating your angry shout of indignation — but you’re far too occupied with watching the progression of the storm to so much as glance in his direction.

The notebook’s contents are far more legible than he’d initially assumed. Most of the foreign characters seem to be either names or places, which makes it possible for him to pick out the main thread of most sentences.

Its first half consists of what looks like a ledger. Neatly organized columns with foreign characters and numbers that he hasn’t the slightest idea how to parse. When he flips past it, a slip of paper scrawled with the same strange, flowing text flutters from the pages and alights delicately into his lap. Arthur picks it up, and as he examines it, it occurs to him that he has no idea how to orient it.

Prior to this, he’d only ever seen Chinese characters painted on the roadside food stalls accompanying railroad workers on their long trek westwards. A strange, complex syllabary. He’d once read somewhere that each word of the language had its own unique character. A sort of pictograph that, when studied, relays its meaning to those who knew how to read it.

He scrutinizes the slip of paper in his hand, but finds himself unable to pick out even the vaguest of resemblances. The corner of the paper bears a square seal of red ink, inset with an intricate consortium of straight lines. Curiosity spent for the moment, Arthur slots the document back in place.

The rest of the notebook looks to be an odd mixture of field observations and long, ornate paragraphs about various landscapes. A few pressed wildflowers, field observations of city flora and fauna, crudely drawn animals reminiscent of the scattered petroglyphs he’s found carved in long-abandoned settlements. An earmarked passage describing the wetlands bordering St Denis, full of strikethroughs and hastily added phrases squeezed into the margins. Another describing what sounds like Cotorra Springs.

“The amber fields are dotted with sprigs of larkspurs and wild flax like blue-violet stars,” Arthur reads aloud.

You turn to face him so quickly that your wet hair arcs through the air like an ink-stained brush, scattering water droplets that sizzle and hiss when they fall into the fire. Wild-eyed as a spooked horse, but frozen into a horrified silence as he licks his finger and traces the rest of the line across the page, continuing, “And even further north, viridian-blue pools from which rise plumes of white smoke, the water still and clear as glass. Hills of black obsidian —”

You scramble towards him and, while clutching the blanket around your shoulders shut with one hand, slap the notebook out of his grip with the other. It lands perilously close to the fire, but you snatch it up without giving a second thought to the nearness of the flames.

“That’s private,” you hiss, hugging the notebook to your chest the way one might accidentally smother an infant.

“Thought it was fair turnaround, seein’ as you never extended that same courtesy to me,” he retorts.

The memory of that miserable morning after surfaces in him like a bloated corpse too persistent to stay hidden. His billfold emptied, ill-gotten gains vanished, and his journal speckled with smeared, bloodied thumbprints from beginning to end. Above a sketch of a mountain wildflower he’d drawn a question mark next to, the word “crocus ?” written in an angular, jagged scrawl.

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to die!” you argue back. “Figured you probably had your next of kin listed somewhere in there!”

Next of kin. The phrase pierces through like a stitch popped out of place, and Arthur nearly flinches. It’s an unintentional blow on your part, but nevertheless he deflects the only way he knows how. When bitten, bite back.

“Oh that’s real charitable, comin’ from the dope-peddler,” he jeers. “You save this compassion for everyone you fuck over, or just me?”

A clear and unguarded expression of hurt crosses your features. The same you’d worn when he’d had to pry his shotgun out of your hands. Forlorn, helpless as a wounded prey animal. But it passes quickly into a cold disdain, your head raised high again and your eyes hard as flint.

“Do you know,” you say quietly, lip curling with contempt. “I seriously considered cutting your throat when I finally realized who you were. I should have.”

Then you blink, forehead wrinkling as you sniff at the air. You glance at the fire, where his forgotten can of beans is beginning to burn.

Arthur curses. He hastily swipes one of his discarded riding gloves from the grass and pulls it on, then grabs the can and blows on its contents, fanning away its delicate wisp of black smoke.

You retreat to the far inner corner of the outcrop and frantically page through the notebook until you find the red-sealed paper sheafed inside. With a sigh of relief, you slump against the rough granite wall, the tense set of your shoulders loosening as though some secret string stretched taut through the frame of your body had suddenly been cut loose.

A sullen silence permeates the shelter, punctuated only by the grating scratch of metal as he scrapes burnt food off the edges of the can with a spoon.

“You forgot to mention that the whole place smells like shit,” Arthur says finally. He keeps his eyes on the can, attention focused squarely on the arduous task of excavating beans.

“What?”

“Cotorra Springs. Smells like week-old shit. Especially around the pools.”

The rustle of blankets. From the corner of his eye, he watches you tentatively scoot closer. “You’ve been there?” you ask. Your voice is still deeply reproachful, but touched with genuine curiosity.

“You haven’t?”

“No. I’ve just seen pictures. And notes from people who have.”

“Huh,” he says. He scrapes another carbonized mouthful from the can. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you wrote about it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Sure.

The corner of your mouth quirks upwards in a reluctant smile that unfolds like the breaking light of a clouded dawn. “Well, that’s… that’s good to know.”

“You writin’ a book or something?” he asks.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” The smile wilts slightly, and you drop your gaze down to the notebook on your lap. “No. Just a favor for an old friend’s husband. The man fancies himself an explorer, but can barely string a sentence together. He’s paying me to pretty up his notes for him. Half of which I think are made up. There’s some bullshit in there about an enormous rainbow colored pond full of boiling water.”

Arthur laughs. “Naw, that bit’s true. I’ve seen it. It’s a hell of a thing.”

You seem skeptical. He doesn’t blame you. Even after having walked the rust-banded edge of that craterous spring himself, his memory of it still carries with it the preternatural awe of a place half-dreamed. He tells you about the slow gradation of color leading inwards from the rim. Ochre to cadmium, to turquoise, to a deep cerulean with the unreal brilliance of a painted ocean. Steam hanging like a pungent fog. Entire stretches of ground covered in a thick, boiling mud, bubbling ominous as something out of Dante’s Inferno. A constant gurgling of earth and water, as if he were treading upon some living thing in the midst of an infernal digestion.

Halfway through his description, you flip the notebook to a clean page and ask him for a pencil, then begin scribbling down his words with an unceasing, determined hand. This bemuses him. That anyone might find his drivel meaningful enough to commit to paper is a new experience altogether. It’s an odd feeling, but not at all an unpleasant one.

That is, until you begin peppering his narrative with so many questions that it takes the better part of an hour to accommodate them.

What kind of plants grew there?

“Bunch of disgusting slippery shit around the edge. Algae or something. Other than that, can’t think of a single thing that’d lay roots in boiling water and sulfur.”

Did the mud boil like roiling water, or was it more the viscosity of a slow simmering stew?

“More like wet cement, really.”

Were there animals?

“No. Nothing there for ‘em.”

Birds?

“Didn’t see any.”

Insects?

“A shit ton of gnats, but not much else.”

How wide were the prismatic bands around the crater? What was the geology like? Did the surrounding forest taper off gradually in the vicinity of the spring, or was the loss of vegetation sudden and absolute as a drawn border?

“Give me your notebook.” he says, having finally reached the point of exasperation. “Easier if I just draw it for you.”

To his faint surprise, you hand it over without hesitation. He sketches out what he’s able to recall, all the while acutely aware of the madness of the situation. Fucking illustrating an account of his own wanderings for the woman who robbed him while they both sit in varying states of undress. Scribbling out a messy landscape in the same notebook whose contents he’d derided just a little while ago. Focusing all his attention on Cotorra Springs so as to ward away the unfortunate possibility of another inopportune erection.

The mediocre drawing he finally manages to scratch out would have disappointed him under any other occasion. Instead, he feels a warm flood of relief at its conclusion. If this doesn’t shut you up, then nothing will.

Nothing will, it seems. To his immense chagrin, the drawing sparks another round of questions. After silently admiring his work just long enough to spark hope of your satiety, you ask him about the species of the trees. Had he explored the nearby forest? Were there flowers? What season had he visited in? Was the acrid smell of sulfur present even here?

“Look,” Arthur says wearily. “You clearly come from money. Why don’t you just hire someone out to take you sometime?”

You snort at the suggestion. The corner of your mouth lifts upwards into something that’s only nominally a smile, and more the type of grimace that accompanies an old wound. “The only two men I’d trust enough to take me out into the middle of nowhere are dead. And with the money I owe, I can’t… I can’t just… you know what?” you say abruptly. “It’s getting late and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

And with that, you tug the blanket tight around your shoulders and huddle against the ground like a felled shrimp. You lay with your back to him, the words left unsaid hanging over you both like an unripe fruit of a question.

Arthur fetches his bedroll and unfurls it close to the fire. A battered pillow emerges from the worn tarp as he spreads it flat. After a moment of contemplation, he picks up the pillow and tosses it in your direction. It hits you square on the head.

Immediately, you sit up and snarl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with — oh.” You pick up the pillow and grasp it tight, as if at any moment he might change his mind and demand it back. Your small “thank you” is puzzled and uncertain.

“I’m gonna put out the fire,” he says. “You try to slit my throat in the dark, I’ll wring your neck.”

But the threat comes out empty and toothless, and judging by the renewed sarcasm in your voice when you tell him you’ll keep it in mind, you seem fully aware of it.

Arthur douses the flames by kicking dirt over the embers, which glow dim and vermillion for minutes afterwards, fading slow to dull, crumbling ash when the heat finally bleeds out of them. The pleasant smell of smoke lingers inside the shelter for a good while longer, but even that dissipates eventually, leaving just petrichor and the crisp, clean scent of early autumn rain.

The worst of the storm has shifted westwards. Water drips in a steady stream from the outer edge of the overhang, churning the ground below to a soup of mud. The cloud cover is still dense, but it’s thinned enough that moonlight gleams through the feathery underbelly in a pale and spattered mottle. With it, he can make out the dim outline of your body, the rise and fall of your chest in a slow, steady rhythm he sorely doubts you’d have the patience to feign.

He lies awake there in the dark for a long while, shuffling through a jumble of discordant emotion. It’s as if the pieces of several sets of puzzles have been mixed together and jammed into an incomprehensible mess, so hopelessly and thoroughly muddled that he can no longer tell where one thing starts and another ends. He sorts his way through it until the rain weakens to a grey drizzle and the drip of rainwater turns from the unbroken stream of a faucet to a series of droplets beating out an abstruse morse code against the ground.

In the end, he’s only able to definitively place a single solid sentiment. Pity.

———

Couple notes:

Arthur's understanding of Chinese is incorrect, but aligns with the assumptions a lot of Western scholars during that time period had regarding it. There was a big tendency to treat it like Japanese, which despite using some of the same characters, uses a completely different structure.

Cotorra Springs seems to be based off Yellowstone. The big boiling rainbow spring is actually real: it's called the Grand Prismatic Spring and seriously does look like something out of a fever dream. Yellowstone also does smell like sulfur in some places, but it’s not so much like week old shit as it is the potent fart of someone who’s eaten far too many deviled eggs.

No algae grows in the spring. It's actually cyanobacteria, but there's no reason Arthur would know this. It does look pretty gross up close.

[justasimplesinner]

Hey, I’ve just spent my day admiring your blog... and seeing as requests are open I was wondering what you thought about the dork squad having a much younger, super caring fem s/o. Would it change anything in how they act with them publicly, intimately? Idk it’s vague so please go wild! I’m so down for anything you write!

i'm gonna make this more gender neutral so everyone can enjoy darl, hope you dont mind! gays and theys deserve to read some fanfiction too!

and yet again, gonna need to skip jervis

Jonathan with a very caring s/o hcs:

he is... not used to being taken care of. hell, he's not even used to taking care of himself. and quite honestly, you're the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. not that he'd ever admit it tho smh

you're just always so... gentle. and you pay so much attention to him and his needs. you never push. you always know when, where and how to soothe him. you always bring him food and coffee and insist on making him drink water. you massage his shoulders whenever he's been working for too long. it feels... weird. surreal. he will probably never get used to it

sometimes, he gets really flustered by you. here you are, a little ray of fucking sunshine, making sure he has a scarf and a warm hat on him, fixing it all for him, styling, patting his cheek like you were his parent. you have to fucking stand on your toes to even reach his neck properly, and yet he feels so small with you. and the amount of respect he harbors for you is immeasurable

Jon has never felt the need to ever explain himself to someone, never felt shame at getting caught redhanded in doing something illegal or whatever the fuck, but all it takes is a single look from you and he's spilling the beans, even looking bashful while doing it. you just have that effect on him

he is not going to lie, he does get self-conscious because of the age gap. he's an old cynic, you're young and so full of love, and not only does your relationship sometimes look like the parent-child dynamic in the most unexpected ways (i mean cmon, the rogues were shocked to see how you've tamed him), but sometimes it's just... hard to keep up. and it gets annoying, always being stared at - for a very different reason this time - whenever he walks hand in hand with you, and the whispers really get to him sometimes. even he can't comprehend what the hell are you doing with an old fuck like him

honestly? the first few times it happened, he had ceased showing you any and all affection in public completely. he didn't hold your arm/hand/waist, he walked a small distance away from you, he used the same cold tone he used for everyone else. it wasn't just because he himself was embarassed (and he hasn't given a shit for public opinion in years), but he was afraid that the whispers might get to you. maybe even... make you realize how you're wasting your life with him. he will need some reassurance from you to even consider showing your relationship to the public. he doesn't give a shit that people are going to point fingers at him, he gives a shit that they will do so at you and he'd hate it if you started developing some insecurities because of that or started considering... leaving him. he knows you probably should but he... so doesn't fucking want you to. it might be selfish, but he so doesn't want to fucking let you go. ever.

Edward with a very caring s/o hcs:

this man is just one big fucking baby, you two will get along very well. you complete each other. ying yang and shit. and he honestly needs you in his life. he needs someone to take care of him, he needs someone to love him like you do. it might not seem so at first glance, but he is practically unable to do that himself. he will never take care of himself like you care for him, he will never love himself like you love him

when you just came into his life and started cooking him decent meals, spoiling him with affection, listening to him, just overall taking care of him, he felt the need to cling to you like his life depended on it. you had him hooked immediately

but there's also this little thing...s. like... parental issues... trust issues... y'know, the usual. it's just... you felt so much like a parent sometimes, and he's used to parents aka the people that were supposed to love him abusing their power over him and belittling him. so, accepting the fact that he loved you and you might love him was a very long and tiring process. and then one time you just hugged him to you after supplying him with the best soup he's ever fucking had, he just curled into a ball in your arms, telling you that he loved you and... asking you not to hate him because of that. it was the most fucking heartbreaking thing because it actually felt like holding a hurt, abused and neglected child in your arms

has called you 'Mom' on more than one occassion, regardless of your gender (he'd never call you Dad. it feels like an insult to him) and got very embarassed because of it. honestly, he often gets hella embarassed whenever you do something for him, like fix his collar or pat his cheek. but every time he sees you like, folding his clothes maybe, just doing normal, domestic things and taking care of him, he's got this dopey smile on his red face as he all but stares at you with love-filled eyes

it does feel... weird sometimes. he feels kind of... creepy. you're younger than him, and yet you're the mother-hen, you're the mature one (though he won't admit that, ever) and it almost makes him feel incompetent. because he literally needs you to take care of him since he so often can't even do that himself. he doesn't blame you at all, of course. at first he did, and he threw a huge tantrum over it, many insults were directed at you but your god-like patience made you just suffer through it, comfort him and have a serious talk about the whole thing

and don't even get me started on the stares/whispers directed at you two in public. they really fucking get to him and they make him feel so self-conscious, and are making him doubt your whole relationship. but most of all, he's fucking terrified you will leave him because of that. because of what the people are saying. because he's older and has problems with keeping up sometimes. but every last one of his doubts is swept away whenever you just slide your hand into his or hug him around the waist. fuck it, you kiss him in public, you hug him in public, you call him 'darling' in public - you're not ashamed of your love for him at all, so why would he doubt you? he still does tho, he's so just fucking insecure this man

[alittlebitgoofy]

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter six (taywhora)

here we are, the final chapter. it's time these girls get their feelings together, it's weird having finished this fic I devoted a lot of time, planning and energy to but all things come to an end, I've got another big taywhora fic in the works so enjoy!!

thanks to @goodemornting for betaing :)) ao3 link

A’whora felt a weight atop her as she awoke.

It was warm, an arm wrapped around her waist comfortably tight. Her tired brain tried to piece together the prior night as she melted under the warmth. Her brain felt like mush, the pleasure of being under another person keeping her too busy to think too hard about it.

But she hadn’t talked to any girls last night, she’d mostly spent time with Tayce. Sure, they’d gotten a bit drunk, but surely she would remember chatting someone up and getting them in her bed.

Wait. Getting drunk with tayce. Her roommate Tayce... Oh. 

Shit. Oh god. Well, It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to—

But it was so soon. She was Tayce’s first experience with a woman. She’d offered to, gleeful at the opportunity while cautious about not wanting to take advantage of her. She didn’t take advantage of her, they were two consenting adult roommates who happened to hook up. It came back to her quickly, now. How Tayce had kissed her. The way Tayce had cuddled up to her after, a warm mix of giddy and tired. Maybe this wasn’t so bad? She’d only be able to tell when Tayce woke up. A’whora finally glanced at her phone to check the time. 9 A.M. The fatigue in her body reminded her she had only gotten to sleep around 3, letting Tayce’s soft breathing lull her back to sleep. She’d deal with all this after a little more rest. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it for just a bit longer.  Tayce’s reaction was a lot less calm. She felt someone’s presence next to her as she stirred awake, failing to remember a thing before she opened her eyes to see A’whora with her arms wrapped around her waist. It was warm, almost suffocatingly so. The realisation that any movement would likely wake the blonde up dawned on her. Either Tayce would carefully wriggle out of her arms and risk waking her up or stew in the position and wait until A’whora woke up. Either way, they’d have to address this, and she didn’t know if she was ready to. Part of her was freaking out, how could they have gotten into this position? Would she regret it? This was her best friend, who she spent the better parts of all her days with. Tayce knew that if A’whora went cold on her again, she wouldn’t be able to cope for long.

But A’whora was next to her, asleep but still cuddled up with her. She would probably just make a dirty comment and shrug it off, right?. Though her mind screamed in what could happen the other half of her senses melted into the embrace of her companion. Her mind couldn’t help but stop racing while being engulfed in her companion’s embrace. A’whora had shown so much affection the previous night it was hard not to.  “Tayce?” A’whora’s eyes cracked open blearily, tilting her head in tired confusion. A dopey smile grew on her face as she noticed the position they were in. She looked beyond silly like that, but it still made Tayce’s heart skip a beat. “Morning to you, too.” 

Tayce shook her head at the laugh A’whora let out. She was clearly aware of everything that had happened, just plainly unaffected by it. Tayce envied the ease she took this with, her brain and heart conflicting with every action she made. “We fucked, huh?” “Yeah, we did,” Tayce spluttered at the forwardness, feeling her cheeks heat up. Of course A’whora would have no problem talking about the sex she’d had with her roommate the night prior. The blonde didn’t seem phased by her reaction, pulling her arms tighter around her body and bringing herself into Tayce’s side. “You’re warm.” Her words were followed by a content sigh, A’whora looking blissful as Tayce returned the affection, her arms looping around the smaller woman to pull her in tight as she could. “You’re such a softie.” Tayce tried to sound jokingly insulting, but any power to her words fizzled out as soon as she felt A’whora’s head on her chest. She melted into speaking loving words, holding the girl that caused her so much heartache like nothing had happened, as if it was second nature. They stayed locked together, the outside world not a concern in the embrace of one another. Though Tayce eventually shifted, her stomach roared with a ferocity that sent A’whora spiralling into a fit of hiccuping laughter. “Do you want beans on toast?” A’whora settled down enough to speak, a smirk still playing at her lips at the interruption of their moment. 

“Depends how you make them.” “Like you taught me. The ketchup, the cheese, the salt and the pepper and the butter.” The blonde laughed; Tayce was so specific about how she made her beans on toast. There was a method to it, she’d taught it to A’whora the instant they moved in together and made her come to love the breakfast almost as much as she did. “You’ve learnt well.” Tayce patted her on the back like a proud parent, before sliding herself out of the bed to follow A’whora into their kitchen. She missed the warmth of it. But the idea of food was more than enough to coax her out. --- There was something heart-warmingly domestic about making your roommate breakfast, the meaning changed dramatically with whatever was going on between her and Tayce, but A’whora tried to keep her thoughts up.Tayce was still around, she hadn’t freaked out and ran so it could be worse.

Tayce was too busy entrapped in her thoughts to spare the blonde much more than a sideways glance. Her thoughts were buzzing even as she was trying to silence them. It was a mix of things, fear for whatever this could mean or couldn’t mean but also comfort, she’d been with someone she trusted with her life and she’d not made it awkward. A’whora’s affectionate side was a welcomed addition, the way she’d cuddled up to Tayce left her feeling lighter than ever. The way her eyes crinkled as she laughed at whatever dumb comment Tayce has made was euphoric.

God damn, she was in deep. 

She somehow managed to look attractive, sat there with her hair messy in one of Tayce's baggy shirts she’d flung to attempt to cover herself, preoccupied with shoving beans in her mouth after she’d served them both breakfast. Tayce tried to focus on eating her own, though her eyes never quite left the blonde. Something about her was magnetic. She couldn’t help but look at her and feel her heart squeeze with how much she adored her. 

“You just gonna stare at me or are you gonna eat? Your food is getting cold!” A’whora pouted slightly at the lack of attention Tayce was giving her food. God, Tayce wanted to kiss that pout off her. 

“Hmm? You should be taking it as a compliment, I never normally put someone above my beans.” “Wow, she thinks I'm better than beans on toast. How romantic.”  A’whora scoffed, she knew that it was some kind of warped compliment, something Tayce didn’t want to actually say but imply through something humorous to shelter the realisation of the true meanings of her words. Though she did get it, Tayce held her highly, over most people even. It made her hopeful, maybe they stood a chance if she cared that deeply?  They ate with a few more quips, the atmosphere too easy for what they’d done the night prior. A’whora was thankful for the lack of awkwardness though her roommate was the other end of the spectrum. She had far too many thoughts and had to spill them to someone, maybe it would be good to give Bimini a call? 

God, this was a lot to deal with.

--- 

“Bim? I need help, asap.” Tayce rushed out as her friend answered the phone, more than ready to spill everything to someone. She felt like A’whora, unable to keep any secrets without telling at least one person. Oh god, A’whora was going to tell someone. “You two didn’t get into a fight again, did you?” Bimini asked cautiously, not ready to deal with that trainwreck again. At least Tayce was more likely to admit her own fault but trying to reason with her would take too much energy.  “No! The, uh, opposite actually.” The hesitation in her voice was way too obvious, the vulnerability threw Tayce through a loop. At least she knew Bimini wouldn’t bring it up to anyone. “You two fucked? Finally.” Bimini laughed down the line, it felt like inevitably they’d hook up especially after Tayce came out. The way they looked at each other? Nothing platonic about that, in Bimini’s humble opinion “Yeah, what the fuck do I do?” Tayce sighed, putting her phone to the side as she put her head in her hands. Why was this so complicated? All these feelings, it was so much to deal with. “Have you two talked about it? How’s she acting?” “She’s been pretty good, nothing odd, I guess. We haven’t talked about it really, just acknowledged it happened and then she made breakfast.” “Wait, she made you breakfast?” Bimini paused, Tayce could hear the cogs whirring in their brain. Tayce narrowed her eyes, trying and failing to figure out what she meant. 

“Does that... mean something?” She hesitated. Surely it couldn’t be that important. Making breakfast for someone wasn’t that deep. “She’s showing you how much she loves you!” “It’s not that deep, I was just hungry,” Tayce laughed, the idea was absolutely ludicrous. She’d just acted on Tayce’s stomach growling, like any sane human being would.

“It’s A’whora, her love language is gifts and acts of service, y’know. She adores you and does things for you to show it, you know she does.” Bimini followed up, knowing Tayce was silently admitting defeat when she didn’t answer. As much as she didn’t believe it, it made sense. She’d offered to buy food when she messed up, often doing things if Tayce was tired. She’d always chalked it up to A’whora being a bit dramatic, but it made a little too much sense to just be a coincidence anymore. “God, what… what the fuck do I even do in this situation?” Tayce sighed, groaning at the amount of things this could all mean and how she should approach it. Who could even make sense of these things? It was a nightmare. “I’d say talk to her but you avoided that last time.” “I can’t just tell her, what if it makes things awkward?” Tayce spoke softly, unsure of what could happen and too afraid to take a huge step. All she wanted was A’whora but she couldn’t risk losing her after what had happened last time.

Bimini paused, hearing Tayce so hesitant was strange. 

“This is why it took you 22 years to consider you were into women, isn’t it? You’re useless with girls.” Asttina chimed in, jumping out of nowhere to surprise both Tayce and Bimini. “Asttina! She’s going through a lot to cut her some slack.” “She needs to hear the truth, you need to talk to her or this is just going to become more of a mess.” Asttina sighed, Tayce didn’t want to admit she was right but she knew. They’d talked it out last time and it went smoothly, A’whora wouldn’t just turn cold on her if they were having a discussion. Her shoulders slumped in a small bit of relief, hoping that it wouldn’t be so scary, perhaps.

She could end up with the person that she wanted, the one no one could ever compare to. 

Maybe that was worth the risk? “Alright, you have a point. I’ll talk to her. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already fucked, there’s not more to it.” --- A’whora knew something was up with Tayce.

She was too in her head about anything to do with feelings, especially in the wake of her recent realisations and just attempting to converse with A’whora. The way they had acted last night would set her right off. She needed a second opinion, though she suspected Tayce was calling Bimini or Asttina out of panic again. The duty thus fell to Ellie, she knew how to keep her friend's mouth shut.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” “I fucked Tayce.” A’whora got straight to the point. Ellie spluttered a laugh, her cackles crackling through the phone speaker. 

“You two shagged? Fucking finally, we’ve all been waiting.” A’whora huffed, unimpressed by the reminder of the constant jabs about sexual tension between her and her roommate. It wasn’t like she was unaware of everything, but it was mostly her profound ability to repress her feelings and Tayce being so affectionate, at least she thought it was before all of this. “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone,” She paused,  “Especially not Lawrence.” “Why not? She’ll hear about it anyway, God knows you can’t keep secrets for shit.” Ellie huffed back. The pair of them were horrible at keeping things from people, Ellie almost always ended up spilling things to Lawrence  when she had the chance. “Not the point, how did this happen?”

“We were tipsy and everyone else had partnered off, you were too busy making out with Lawrence, and Bim and Asttina were uncomfortably close to going at it. We went home and things escalated and she... ended up in my bed naked.”

“Do you make a habit of hooking up with your friends?” “No, only the tall ones. Which is exactly why you won’t tell Lawrence. She doesn’t need to know about what we did that time—“ 

“No one needs to know.” Ellie interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away.She knew bringing it up would be the best way to buy Ellie’s silence. They’d never told anyone about that night and planned to keep it that way, alcohol did a lot to a person and almost shagging your friend is one of them. 

“Anyway, she’s a bit.. off now, I guess. Not bad or anything but she just seemed to be processing everything very slowly. How do you deal with that?” A’whora questioned, exasperated. Tayce was always a bit of an enigma, it made navigating everything needlessly difficult but she didn’t blame her. It was a lot to deal with realising your own sexuality and coming to terms with it, she had every reason to be shaken at anything happening between them. “You deal with it by not crushing on the most emotionally unavailable person you know.” A’whora wanted to get defensive— Tayce wasn’t emotionally unavailable, she was just.. complex. She wasn’t one to be super outward with things, she liked to keep to herself when something was bothering her and not make a big deal of it. Though it served no help to the current predicament, only to show how whipped she was for Tayce. 

“No, you torture your friends seeing you pine for years when it’s clear that you both love each other.” “I know you mean me and Loz but that’s you and Tayce, hen.” Ellie laughed, anyone with eyes could see they were a little closer than most friends. It was cute at first but neither of them acted on anything and one of them not realising her feelings until recently made it painful to watch. “She’s not in love with me!” The blonde huffed,  “I would’ve known by now if she was.”

“She’s in love with you you’re just too dumb to see it.” Even Ellie saw it, the way Tayce looked and acted around A’whora was way more loving and tender than she’d ever been with any of her friends. It was like she was the only person to exist, everything in the world that Tayce loved rolled into one person.

It would have been cute if it wasn’t so painful to watch her not realise her own feelings. “Like you were with Lawrence?” “Yes but I have a girlfriend, now go get your welsh hound.”

---

“Aurora?” Tayce poked her head round the door to her room, visibly nervous. 

Oh god. Real name, Tayce looked awkward, shit was about to hit the fan. 

“Come in, what’s bothering you.” Tayce settled next to the blonde on her bed, her nerves were clear as day from her body language. The way her eyes darted to anything other than A’whora, her finger restlessly tapping her leg. She looked uncomfortable, though there was a determination pushing her though it. The way she sat up so straight like she had something to do, no matter how much it ate her up inside.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s not bothering me, I just want to talk.”There was the usual denial, Tayce knew it wouldn’t fool A’whora, it rarely did and she couldn’t fake it at the minute, not with everything on her mind “I know what you mean but saying it like that is very unnerving” A’whora laughed nervously, she wasn’t the anxious one but the way Tayce was acting made her hesitate. “It’s okay, I'm not going to kill you.” Tayce eased the tension with a joke, delighting in how A’whora smiled at the joke, wide enough for her dimples to show.  “Alright come on talk to me then.” “I think i’m in love with you” Tayce blurted, mouth moving too fast for her mind to catch up. 

Oh.

Oh. 

That was. Sudden, Tayce felt frozen, A’whora’s eyes trained on her. What did she do? No lead up, just said it. It wasn’t that hard but she shouldn’t have said it. The shock was written all over her face, it made Tayces stomach twist, a sinking feeling engulfing her as the worst case scenario seemed to come to life. 

“You’re in love with me?” A’whora echoed, her voice soft with some emotion Tayce couldn’t catch on to, something meant to be comforting, hopefully.

She couldn’t reply, any words caught in her throat, fizzled out by the time she opened her mouth. What was she meant to say? She just said the scariest words she could’ve ever thought of saying. Her heart ached for her best friend in a way she never considered possible until a few weeks ago. 

“Tayce…” A’whora trailed off, Tayce’s stomach churning more by the second. 

She couldn’t make eye contact fearing what she might see on her face. She felt movement, A’whora coming closer to her. Was she trying to console her? Then she felt her face gently lifted up to meet A’whora’s eyes. Something shifted in her expression as she saw Tayce’s meekness, soft smile lighting up her features in a way that made Tayce’s heart flutter. She didn’t hold back, pulling her into a passionate kiss. 

Tayce regained herself, kissing back as she felt A’whora melt into her. She felt more confident, taking the lead, her hand running through the blonde hair as her roommate moved closer, taking place in her lap. 

They broke apart, a goofy grin growing on A’whora’s face as she stared at Tayce, eyes shining in wonder. 

“I’ve been in love with you for years.” she murmured, feeling euphoric after the progression of events. Tayce cocked her head in puzzlement. 

“Years?” “Years. How could I not? You’re gorgeous and the most positive energy I've ever met. Nothing is ever boring with you, there’s always something going on or that you can make interesting. There’s something magnetic about you, I can't leave you alone. We clicked so well, no one ever got me as well as you did and I think about how lucky I am we even became friends, Tayce.” “You’re such a hound.” Tayce laughed, visibly taken aback. She didn’t know how to react, that was a lot to process all at once but it made her feel on top of the world. The euphoria rushed through her, a grin growing larger on her face by the minute.

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” A’whora knew what she was trying to communicate, her face saying it all, she looked happier than she’d ever seen, apart from the time she’d bought her a personalised tin of baked beans, that was one of the few times Tayce had cried in front of her. 

“It is, you’re a hound but you’re my hound.” The brunette wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into her lap to cuddle into her back.  “Oh? Your hound? Sounds decent, I'll take it.” The wamrht in A’whora’s tone contrasted from her words, turning around to pull Tayce into another kiss. She knew this was going to be complicated, nothing was ever easy between the two of them but with enough communication it would work, they cared too much about each other to not try.  Maybe this whole mess had been worth it, cuddled in Tayce’s arms like nothing else mattered, just the two of them against the world like it always had been.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Chromatic

Classical Pianist Katsuki Bakugou has a favorite coffee shop on the short walk from his studio back to his apartment. It's small, 24 hours, and has a stage that's always free for musicians to use. And it's run by you, a would be musician who's a better baker and coffee maker-that he can't stop coming back to see.

@nanamisbento & @hanji-is-life both made a world of difference in making me feel confident enough to write this as a full drabble, so thank y'all <3 y'all are sweethearts and I love this au so muchhhh

~light angst, slow burn, black!queer!reader, musician au~

"Cross my heart hope to die, I ain't got no love to give," you plucked at the guitar strings lazily your eyes focused on nothing but the strings and trying not to cry- and if felt like your alto voice was fighting through gravel. Huskier than normal, verging on tenor like you always dreamed about, and you were too fucking sad to enjoy it.

You missed your friend, you missed talking to him. Teasing him, making him laugh. And worse, you knew the home he went back to wasn't the healthiest. You knew all too well how a house could be so much worse than the stress of school.

"Baby boy so goddamn fine, swear you give me a peace of mind," and it was true. Just being near him, talking about poetry, anything, made you feel so calm. Fuck you missed him.

"Swear you make this young girl go crazy," If some tears fell onto your fretboard at least it was late enough that no one would come in until the morning rush.

"Now how could a man like you want somebody, so incredibly immature, insecure just like me?" Because he was just as insecure as you. It's why you two would talk on the phone for hours on end, about all your fears and worries, as much as your happiness. He was the friend you could talk about the lowest lows with because neither of you were afraid or unfamiliar with rock bottom- mentally, emotionally.

You slipped the strap of your electric guitar over your head and put it back on the rack (you left it out for musicians of all kinds to play when they felt inspired by your shop's vibes) and wiped your aching eyes. You didn't see or hear Bakugou slip back out the side door he'd came in through.

~

He'd first started coming in April, when the Washington rain was too torrential not to seek cover. He'd walked in soaking wet and spitting curses as he shut the door behind him. Ash blond hair and garnet eyes plus a jawline you'd cut yourself on meant you were half way infatuated before he even ordered.

"Black coffee with extra raw sugar, and whatever bread you have that's not sweet." It was a rumbling bass of a voice and damnit now you were officially in love- but then you noticed a case that you guessed carried an electric keyboard by the shape at his feet and in your excitement (that distracted you from his stunningly pretty face enough you could talk to him without tripping over your words like you were sure you were going to when you first came to take his order) you grinned at him so genuinely he forgot he was pissed.

"Sure thing, but just so you know- we have a permanent open mic set up here. You can play whatever instruments of mine you'd like to use, or you could set up your keyboard. It's great to see more musicians in here." You meant it, he could see in the way you seemed to light up like fireworks just talking about it.

"..Maybe next time." He tried to say hell no I'm never coming back to this tiny ass shop, do you know the size of the stages I usually play?!

But how could he regret his grumbled words when you clutched your small notepad to your chest and asked him in a rush (with a sparkle in your big doe brown eyes that didn't match your shaved head or heavy silver rings and earrings but was adorable nonetheless) "You mean it? You'd play here?"

It wasn't the same eagerness of ochestral directors prepared to embarrass themselves for a chance for The Katsuki Bakugou, classical pianist prodigy, to play with their ensembles. It was just a person who loved music and ran a tiny well cared for shop that was full of second hand furniture and mismatch cutlery and china, that was excited at the thought of music being played at all.

"Why not? I could play some of my own compositions for once instead of another goddamn Bach piece." You must have been imagining the blush on his cheeks because it was gone in seconds, and he was glaring at you with only the slightest of smiles taking the sting out of his words. "But am I going to get that coffee before I catch a cold from the fucking rain currently soaking my fucking clothes?"

Now it was your turn to feel heat burning in your cheeks as you sheepishly saluted "Right, coffee," and ran back to your bar to start his order. You found some fresh plain yeast rolls on the top shelf of your display case and an old towel in your supply closet. And if you didn't think about how much of a dork you made of yourself in front of your hottest customer to date your hands didn't shake when you put together his coffee in the largest cup you could find.

"Least sweet bread I have, black coffee with a fuck ton of raw sugar.." You winked to (hopefully) let the blond know you were kidding, "and a towel to make sure you'll survive long enough to play for me sometime."

He snorted and snatched the towel from your hands, starting to rub it vigorously over his hair with a blatant lack of fucks for how fluffy and wild it made it hair, but it seemed to you that there was humor in his voice as he sighed, "That depends on how good your shitty coffee is."

~

He started coming in on the regular after that. Sometimes dressed in a suit, that he was all but ripping off until he could roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and unbutton the collar so he could breathe. (The first time you saw the bare column of his throat and the obvious strength of his chest meeting the delicate structure of his collar bones, you had to blame lifting heavy bags of coffee beans for your breathlessness.)

Sometimes he came from the opposite direction, dressed in jeans and old tshirts when it finally started warming up. He brought in his keyboard on those days and played a range of compositions you knew were his without him having to tell you. His left hand was more comfortable in the lower octaves of his keyboard when it was his own work, and there was more grief mixed in the bombastic anger that fueled the more staccato and forte phrases that had everyone in the small shop falling quiet to listen. Because it wasn't just hammering at the keys, it was complex harmonies of thirds and major sevenths that haunted the air even as he was moving on to the next phrase that was more of a murmur of echoing themes that passed back from hand to hand.

But your favorite times to see him was during your night shifts, when the shop was mostly deserted except for your quieter night owl regulars. Then he'd play pieces that were.. lullabies. Soft melodies and less minor chords than his daylight pieces. He'd take breaks in between pieces to come talk to you at the bar, ask your opinion on his playing- the genuine way he listened to your comments and compliments making your heart melt more than his good looks could have done alone.

And some nights, especially when it rains, he's telling you about the superficial nature of the classical music world and how sometimes he wishes he'd never gone into orchestral piano and just stayed in his old tiny but cozy apartment.

"Maybe we would've met anyway, and you'd still have this place and I'd come play for scraps on the weekends." And damn the wistfulness hits him hard, you can see it in the way his eyes soften for the first time in knowing him.

"I wouldn't let you play for scraps, it's tiny but it's my place. And your music would only add to the atmosphere. You'd get full employee wages and free coffee on the house." You're wistful too, and maybe it's the rain but you'd love for this dream to be real. Even for a moment.

~

You were sure you'd actually walk into being head over heels in love if he did one more sweet thing for you with his signature grumble and glare. But it was weird, ever since a few weeks back he'd stopped coming by as often. Looked at you strange when you teased him like you were both used to, and played pieces with more anger and sorrow than you'd ever heard from him before.

It was turning into the longest you hadn't seen him by the end of the week, so you were fucking furious when he strolled in one night.

Obviously coming from one of his bigger performances with the coattails and tuxedo tie, but no smile to show for it. Not even smugness in his eyes from a performance well done. He looked a little like shit actually, dark circles under his eyes and something indescribably sad in his garnet gaze that sought you out as soon as he walked in. It was the only thing that stopped you from completely ignoring his order when he came to the bar.

But you couldn't stop the obvious way your jaw was clenched while you worked, the hurt in your eyes when you set his coffee down in front of him.

He said your name, low and questioning, confusion growing on his perfect stupid face and that's when you couldn't take it anymore. He looked like shit, but you felt it. Losing one friend in a year was more than enough heart break for you. Having a friend, who you were already half in love with, start ghosting you on top of that? You weren't strong enough to take the highroad.

"Don't you fucking dare look at me like you don't understand. I don't understand why you decided our friendship doesn't mean shit to you anymore. If you were going to fucking ghost me I would've preferred if you'd done so before I started waiting for you to come by." You were glad no one was in the shop but the two of you when you realized somewhere along the line of yelling at him you started crying. Kat was looking at you with his mouth open in shock, and you didn't want to wait around to drag out your embarrassment.

But you were surprised when he came after. Calling your name again, moving quickly to get around the counter to follow you.

"Wait. Wait." His hand grabbed your wrist, the first time he touched you with no pretenses or excuses. The strength and gentleness of his hold only making it harder to stop your tears.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." You almost wished he'd go back to his more brash daylight self, you can't handle how quiet and gentle he gets in the early morning hours. Your heart was too soft on him already- even in your anger, you didn't resist when he pulled you close and cupped your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"You were crying that night too, when you were playing. I'd never heard you sing before." His fingers were on your lips, silencing you before you could even ask what the hell he was talking about. It was too much. Being unable to escape the way his eyes watched you, the way his voice got quiet- confessional.

"Let me finish. I heard you sing, and I saw you cry, and the thought of you crying for another man made me so angry I thought I'd die from how much I hated him. Whoever he was. So I stopped coming by as often. I didn't know that would hurt you.. I didn't think you would care if you were still heartbroken over some asshole." It was starting to make sense, starting to make you hope that maybe.. maybe he felt the same way you did.

"I get heartbroken over friends you know. Just friends." Your words are slightly muffled by his fingers, but its worth it to see the hope flare to life in his eyes.

How had you both missed it? All these months of longing.

"But the way you broke my heart by just not coming by? When I didn't even know what was wrong? That's worse than anything I've ever felt before-"

Your first kiss with Katsuki was salty from your tears, but it was okay.

He wanted your tears, your lips, you to be his and only his.

~

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 7]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; Oral(both receiving), fingering, using panties as a gag hhrhdkj, minor cockwarming, this one slightly do be based on wonwoo gaming on that program like 2?? days ago, so gamer!wonwoo makes an appearance!!! heheh dis is for the ones with a kink for wonwoo’s hands cuz baby, me too. LMAO 🥴🥴🥴💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x

“So… How’s your dick appointment treating you?”

Minghao thinks he’s slick when he brings it up, eyes darting across the book in front of him instead of looking directly at you when he asks. “I mean doesn’t he live here? Why don’t you ask him.” You point to the stairs across the frat house’s living room without even looking.

Minghao had invited you over for a ‘study session’ even though you could tell in an instant that the only reason why he’d invited you over was just to interrogate you about Wonwoo.

“Oh please, as if Wonwoo’s gonna say anything. When he’s not here studying, he’s gaming. Not much of a talker when it comes to that kinda stuff.”

You shut your book, placing it next to you on the sofa as you turn to look at Minghao on the opposite loveseat. “And what do you expect to get out of me? You want a play by play?” Minghao laughs, glancing at you for a second before casually turning the page of his book. “Not necessarily. Kinda just curious how the two of you even got into this position. If you know what I mean.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively just as you toss a pillow at his head.

“What does that even mean?”

“I mean, think about it! You used to never come to our parties and suddenly you’re in cahoots with Wonwoo? And for the record, I don’t think any of the other guys here saw it coming from him either. I mean sure the guy’s probably had hookups but… How long have the two of you even been messing around?” 

“Um, I guess a few weeks? I--I don’t remember.”

“Interesting… How’s his dick game?”

“Minghao.”

The male shrugs, standing and stretching. “Hey, can’t blame me for being curious. You should’ve seen Mingyu the other day. He basically sat Wonwoo down like it was an interrogation. Single lamp and all.”

“Yeah and it was annoying.”

Wonwoo’s deep voice cuts across the room; you and Minghao turning to face him as you immediately notice his very different haircut. There was a certain boyish charm about his new shorter and darker locks that had you staring a little longer than you intended. Fuck, he looked even hotter.

“I mean, you could’ve just spilled the beans, man. Cut and dry.”

Wonwoo smirks, shooting you a wink before he adjusts the bag on his shoulder.

“Where’s the fun in that.”

You hear the door click shut behind you as you take in the current room Wonwoo had walked you to. It was a smaller office room, with a long desk and two computer setups against the wall.

“Really? A gaming room? I can’t believe you guys have one of these.”

“Seungcheol paid for most of the stuff in here so I can’t complain.” The two of you set your things down, taking a seat in the two computer chairs. “Can I ask why you wanted to talk to me, Wonwoo?”

“Yeah, I think we need to talk about us.” Uh oh.

“Sure, you go first.”

He adjusts his glasses, crossing his legs as he relaxes into the chair. “I mean, it’s nothing bad. Although I guess it’d depend on how you see it. I just want to know if we’re on the same page.”

“Okay…” You gulp, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Are you looking for a relationship? With me.” Oh.

“N-no? I… I never thought about it, to be honest.” Wonwoo nods quietly, hands interlocking in his lap. “Okay, because I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not really interested in relationships, they’re not really for me. And whatever this thing we have going on is the longest I’ve held interest in anyone but I can’t sit here and tell you there’s any romantic feelings on my end.” You take in his words, mentally agreeing. “Is that okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah totally. Sorry, I was just thinking. But yeah, I’m not looking for a relationship either so I get you.” He scoots his chair closer to you, leaning in until he’s only inches away from your face. “Don’t get me wrong, I think we get along very well. I think you’re beautiful and quite interesting. I’d even consider us friends if asked. I’m just not a relationship kinda guy and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or get hurt.” There’s a certain tenderness to Wonwoo’s voice that lets you know he’s being completely genuine and giving you an out if you were starting to feel anything different.

“And if I’m being completely honest, I went to talk to my professor about that excavation trip. He said he’d reconsider a spot for me next semester and I didn’t mention it to you before but it’d be a whole semester abroad. So that’d be about three or four months away from here.” Damn.

“Do you think you’ll go?” You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering what you’d do without Wonwoo. Sure, neither of you were interested in a relationship, but he’d become a constant in your life that you actually liked.

“Probably? I mean I wanted to, so if he can make space for me, I’d most likely go. It’s a long time to be abroad but I think it’d be a good experience for me. I’ll find out in a couple weeks though.” You nod understandingly, letting him know that you hope he got the spot. “Me too. I just came back from talking to him and now I’m beat. Honestly, I just wanna game for a bit.” He laughs, running a hand through his short locks.

“Should I leave you alone then? Cute hair, by the way. It suits you.”

“Nah, you can chill here if you want. I know you were studying or whatever with Minghao. And thanks.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence; Wonwoo booting up one of the computers and putting on his headset as you pull out the book you were reading earlier. After a few minutes, the sounds from his game and keyboard clacking are all you can hear. Once in a while, Wonwoo makes a comment towards another online player and you take your eyes off your book to watch him, admiring the focus clear on his face as he launches into a new match. Your eyes travel down his arms until they set on his hands; delicate yet masculine at the same time as they flex and glide all over the keyboard. You weren’t sure if you ever properly admired them but now that your focus was on them, all you could think of was Wonwoo’s hands all over you.

Wonwoo breaks into a bit of a smirk, noticing the way you stare. He silences his mic for a second, never completely taking his eyes off of the screen.

“I can see you, you know. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Nothin’ just… thinking about your hands is all.” “Oh? Why’s that.”

“They look… nice. And big.” Wonwoo hums, turning his mic back on as he refocuses on the game. You can’t even read the words on the page anymore now that you’re thinking about Wonwoo though. Looking around, you take notice that there’s just enough space underneath the table in front of him, a cheeky smile on your face as you quietly put your book away.

In the midst of Wonwoo’s match, he doesn’t notice you standing or even when you get on your knees on the floor. It’s only when he feels you crawling underneath the table that he silences his mic again.

“Want to explain what the fuck you’re doing, princess?”

“Nothin~ ‘m just playing. Focus on your game.”

“You’re treading very dangerous territory, y’know.” You giggle quietly, nuzzling against his thigh as your hands massage him through the material of his pants.

“Let’s play a game. How about you get me hard and I’ll reward you.”

“Okay~” He gets back to his game just as you palm him through his pants, his legs tensing up almost immediately. You know that you can’t just touch him over his pants, so you reach for the waistband, undoing the button and zipper as best as you can. Wonwoo helps you out a bit, spreading his legs wide and shimmying a little closer towards the edge of his seat so that you could reach him better.

“Fuck, keep an eye to your right, there’s a player behind the pillar.”

You almost forget his mic is on as you tug his pants down slightly, sitting up on your knees to the best of your ability to lick at his cock through his underwear. He inhales sharply at your soft and teasing touches; cock already throbbing at the feeling. You brace your hands on his thighs, licking and sucking through the material until you feel him getting harder under your touch.

After a few minutes of your torturous teasing, you start on the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down just enough to pull his half hard cock out. You run a hand down his shaft, the pad of your thumb running along the vein on the underside as Wonwoo curses out loud. Whether it’s because of you or his game, you don’t know. But you lean in, tracing the same vein with your tongue from the base to the head of his cock, sucking on the tip until Wonwoo curses again. Sometimes Wonwoo could be so easy too. You repeat this a few more times, running your tongue from the base to the head of his cock, alternating from soft and hard touches.

You hear furious clacking on the keyboard a few moments later and Wonwoo’s headset being placed on the table as you use your hand on him instead. His chair slides back a little, your grip on him loosening as he gives you a pointed stare from above.

“Are you trying to get me off?”

“Well--”

“Get out from under there. And take your skirt off, underwear too. I want you on the other chair with your legs spread.”

You crawl out from under the table noting that his computer screen is on the game’s home screen instead. You take off the requested items as you slide your already sticky panties down your legs, tossing them on top of your discarded skirt on the other end of the table. Sitting down, you spread your legs on the opposite computer chair, watching as Wonwoo gets on his knees this time. “You have two choices. My fingers or my mouth, sweetheart?”

“Fingers, please.”

Wonwoo brings his index and middle finger to his lips and you exhale shakily watching his tongue run across the digits, pulling them into his mouth as he wets them. The act is much more sensual than you expect, but part of it comes from the fact that now Wonwoo knows you seem to fixate on his hands. So he makes a show of it; letting you watch as he wets his fingers generously.

There’s a smug look on his face when he knows he’s got you hooked, popping his wet fingers from his mouth as he brings them down onto your skin, trailing them across the skin of your thigh. “Your sudden fascination with my hands is interesting, I have to say.” You whimper when he runs them down your folds, collecting the wetness on them before positioning a single one at your entrance. “P-please, Wonwoo…” He takes mercy, slowly inching his finger inside as you moan and clench around it.

Wonwoo starts a slow pace, pumping the digit inside of you and wrapping his free hand around his own cock. You mewl when he curls his finger into your g-spot, hips slightly lifting off the chair as you try to meet his thrusts. “Wonwoo…”

“I know, sweetheart.” He easily adds another finger, pumping and scissoring them inside of you. You brace your hands on the armrests of the chair, riding his fingers as you chase your pleasure. Wonwoo lets go of his cock, instead gripping your thigh as he places one over his shoulder; throwing you a quick look before he delves in, tongue immediately on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!”

Your nails dig into the armrests, teeth clenching at the sudden feeling of his tongue on your skin. He laps at your clit slowly, matching the pace of his slow fingers. He laughs against your skin, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. Wonwoo knew how easily he could get you to cum, but he wasn’t ready for you to get there just yet.

And when he sucks your clit into his mouth, he can feel your walls tightening around his digits, so he pulls away, licking his lips.

“How about we play a different game now?” He thrusts his fingers particularly hard, curling them into your g-spot as you whimper. “W-what kinda game?” Wonwoo slips his fingers from inside of you, bringing the wet fingers to his mouth as he licks them clean.

He gets up from the floor, picking up your panties from the other end of the table as he walks back over to the other computer chair.

“This game is called ‘you’re going to fuck yourself on my cock and not make a noise while I play a match’.”

Wonwoo settles back into his chair, hand on his cock. The panties he’d picked up are set next to his keyboard and you bite your bottom lip. “Well? Do you want to play? If you make a noise, I’m going to have to use these to keep you quiet.” Nodding, he gives you enough space to climb onto his lap, your back against his chest as you sink down slowly on his cock. You moan noisily once he’s fully sheathed inside your warmth, knowing Wonwoo’s mic wasn’t on yet.

“Hope that was worth it, princess.” He reaches around you, turning his mic on but leaving the headset on the table directly in front of you instead of putting it on. He turns the volume all the way up so he can still hear what’s going on in the game as he loads up a new round; one hand on the mouse and one on the keyboard as you start to grind and rotate your hips on top of him. You brace your hands on the armrests of the chair, biting your lip to try and keep yourself quiet. Wonwoo could be such a devil.

And you do quite well for a while, quiet shaky breaths the only small noises you make. Wonwoo has to be on his third match by now since you sat down on his cock, shockingly calm as ever.

In the middle of a loading screen, Wonwoo reaches around, finger on your clit as he rubs harsh circles around it quickly. You immediately break into a loud moan, thighs clamping shut around his hand as your upper body lurches forward.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

“Yeah, it sounded like someone was hurt?”

The voices are muffled through the headset but you catch it, body breaking out into a bit of a cold sweat. Wonwoo leans in close, head nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he whispers. “Quiet now, princess. Don’t wanna get caught do you?”

“B-but, y-you--” And just as soon as his hand was on you, he takes it off, placing it back on the computer mouse as he launches into another game match.

You can feel your orgasm building, your small noises turning into bigger and slightly louder ones quickly. There’s a momentary panic that floods you for a second before you say ‘screw it’, chasing your pleasure instead as you whine out loud. 

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

“Seriously, what is that?”

Wonwoo takes his hand off of the keyboard quick as lightning, grabbing the pair of panties before he curtly whispers “open” against the shell of your ear. You part your lips just as he brings the material up to your mouth, shoving it in as he gets back to his game. He kisses your ear, nosing at the column of your neck before quietly whispering to you again. “I want to play another round after this, so you’re going to keep it quiet until then, am I understood?” You nod vigorously, tilting your head back until it rests on his broad shoulder.

Eventually you get tired, sitting quietly on his cock as you catch your breath. There’s a warmness that floods you, feeling full of his cock as you sit on his lap. This was comfortable anyway. You clench around him once or twice, waiting for him to finish his game so he can focus all his energy on you instead.

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, watching as his character runs around on screen in the game. And it only takes a few minutes before the match is over, Wonwoo’s team winning as he leaves it on the winning results page.

“The mic is still on, but I think you deserve to cum now, huh?” You nod against his shoulder as he moves to stand up, forcing your body over the table as your head hovers directly over the mic. You can hear him chuckle quietly behind you before he starts fucking you properly from behind, his hands on your waist. You try your best to keep quiet now that the mic is directly underneath you, muffled moans spilling from your lips when he slams into you.

“Touch your clit for me. Make yourself cum.” You can barely catch Wonwoo’s whispers, reaching a hand down between your legs as you roll the nub between your fingertips; only urging more muffled noises to spill from your mouth.

“Hey, is someone hurt? There’s like weird noises coming from someone’s mic.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing it all throughout our matches. What the fuck is it?”

“It’s really freaking me out, it just sounds like someone’s breathing into it.”

You figure the quicker you cum, the quicker Wonwoo will turn the fucking mic off, so you chase your orgasm; the pads of your fingers rubbing quick circles on your clit. And Wonwoo can feel you tightening around him, his own thrusts erratic as he chases his own pleasure. 

The tension snaps and you feel you orgasm washing over you; muffled screams of Wonwoo’s name on your lips. You can vaguely pick up on more people screaming and talking through the headset but you don’t even care anymore, pushing the material out of your mouth as you moan out loud. 

“Yooooo, hey, what the fuck?”

“What is going on!?”

Wonwoo’s grip on you tightens as he feels himself cumming, pulling out as he cums on your ass; the warm substance coating your skin. 

The noises from the headset become annoying to Wonwoo, so he leans over, muting the mic finally as you sigh contentedly.

“Oops, looks like I made a mess. Guess I should clean you up?” 

Wonwoo drops to his knees behind you once more, fully intent on making you cum at least one more time.

After the two of you get cleaned up, he walks you to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water while he searches the fridge for something to snack on. Wonwoo makes an off-hand comment about how sex always makes him really hungry. You agree.

Jeonghan, one of the older students in the frat house walks in, leaning up against the kitchen island as he looks you up and down.

“You know Seungcheol’s gonna be pissed you fucked in his gaming room, right?” You choke on your drink, placing the glass down as you wipe at the water dribbling down your chin. “No offense, but the walls aren’t exactly soundproof. You can try to keep quiet all you want but the computer chair creaking in there isn’t really normal, if you ask me.” The said male turns to face Jeonghan, a bowl of blueberries in his hand.

“Okay and? We never told him when you fucked that random sorority girl in his bedroom and then made her leave through the window. And then you barfed on his $300 rug and blamed it on Seokmin who was drunk enough to believe he really did it.” Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets at Wonwoo’s short retelling of Jeonghan’s apparently big fuck up. What the fuck!?

Jeonghan appears mildly flustered, pretending to check his nails as he stands there awkwardly.

“Okay. That’s fair.”

[sugarbooger513]

Holding On (Chapter One)

I love writing OCs so much. This is the beginning to a fun JJK fic I had some ideas for. It will include spoilers and end up straying from the canon story. Please beware of that. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do <3

Mara belongs to @katgalle

Warnings: soft Gojo, mentions of guns, Gojo being... well, Gojo.

How long had it been exactly? Nine, maybe ten years? Nova blinks slowly before closing her eyes. It hadn't exactly hit her that she was back where she grew up. Maybe Tokyo hasn't changed much.

Sadly, she had changed a lot from that day.

She can still remember the laughter they would share. The simplest things would send them both into fits of hysteria. She hasn't looked at stupid cat videos the same since her second year of high school.

"Nova? Are you asleep?" "If you thought I was asleep," Nova sighs softly, "why would you ask?" When she peeks her eyes open, Mara smiles sweetly. "Ah, just thought I would be a bit polite. How are you feeling about moving back?" Nova's nose scrunches slightly. "It hasn't hit me yet."

Nova knows that Mara can read her better than she lets on. It's the curse of being twins.

"What about you? We've been in Osaka quite a while now." "Well, I can't say I'll miss it. I don't care where we go. It's just nice still being beside you." Nova can't help but smile softly. Truly, Mara has been there when she had no obligation to be.

When Nova's phone rings, she answers it with a sigh. "We should be pulling into the stop within the next ten minutes or so, Aunt Cammie." "Oh, good! I can't wait to see you two again!"

That's one of two reasons Nova can think it's a good thing to move back home. Aunt Cammie gave up her entire life to move to Japan in order to raise the twins. She could have allowed them to go into foster care, but she didn't. She could have forced them to move back to America with her and leave behind everything they ever knew, but she didn't.

Shortly before the twins went into high school, both of their parents were killed by a special grade curse. The worst part was that their mother wasn't even a Jujutsu sorcerer. She just happened to be around their father when it attacked.

"We'll see you in a few. Love you." "Love you too, sweet pea." When she lowers her phone, Mara places a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder. "She's been texting me non stop since we got on the bus." "Yeah, I kinda figured she would. She's excited to have us home."

"You called it home, Nova." "I'm trying to get over what happened. I really am. It just hurts." Mara leans over, resting her head comfortably on her twin's shoulder. "You're allowed to grieve as long as you need to, sis."

They stay quiet for the rest of the bus ride, casually leaning against one another. When it finally comes to a stop, the first thing they see from the window is their Aunt's flaming red hair, which both of them somehow inherited.

Mara races off the bus, grabbing her suitcases on the way, while Nova takes her time making sure everything was taken off the bus. Before walking off, she leaves the driver a tip.

"Nova!" Aunt Cammie engulfs her niece in a tight hug full of love. Nova drops her bags so she can return it. "I missed you girls so much. It's been so long." "I now, Aunt Cammie, but we're here now." She places both of her hands on Nova's face to stare lovingly into the eyes that match her dear sister's.

"You both still look so much like your mother." "Somehow we got your fiery hair though." Mara giggles and makes a point by swishing her flaming red hair around. Aunt Cammie gives both girls a kiss on the cheek before she starts helping them load her car.

"Your rooms are set up just like they used to be, right next to each other. I put some new sheets and blankets on the beds, new carpets are in the rooms, and- " "Aunt Cammie," Nova stops her aunt's ranting, "we still plan on getting out own place. For Christ's sake, we're twenty-seven."

Cammie's smile makes both girls feel a bit lighter. "I know, baby. I don't expect you two to stay long, but I want you to know that you will always have a home with me. I don't care what age you are."

Mara spends the entire ride singing her head off with Aunt Cammie in the front. Nova's phone starts exploding with texts from her second reason for coming back.

'I can't believe you're back! We have to catch up ASAP! Coffee later?' 'I didn't take you as a coffee person, but that sounds amazing.' 'Really, I'm not. The shit makes me feel like some old geezer, but I remember how you would get some every morning before school. Is your sister going to hang out with us?' 'Maybe? It'll depend on how well she can compose herself. I'm not sure how much she knows about you now.'

"We're home! Nova, what are you doing?" "Just texting a friend. He wants to hang out today, so we're making plans." Aunt Cammie grins like the she-devil she can be. "Really? I'm so glad!"

Mara had already made her way out of the car to start unpacking, so Nova does her best to catch up, but the twin is just too excited to be back home and races ahead of her into the house. "Well," Cammie rubs the back of her neck, "that probably isn't good." "What did you do?"

"Uhh, well, your friend had texted me this morning and asked if he could hide out here so he could greet you as soon as you got back.." Nova's eyes widen in shock. "It.. wouldn't happen to be the friend from high school, would it?" Cammie laughs a bit awkwardly. "The white haired boy.. that Mara always had that massive crush on..?" Nova drops her bags and races into the house without another thought.

Once she makes it inside, she sees Mara staring, slightly confused as the tall man towers beside her. "Why are you in my aunt's house, dude?" "Huh, you aren't running from me? Does that mean you're over that high school crush?" To Nova's own surprise, Mara only tilts her head. "Who are you again?"

The sound of that question is enough to make Nova let out a snort of laughter. The sound catches Gojo's attention, and he smiles brightly. "There's the woman I wanted to see." Gojo slips past Mara with a soft pat on the head.

Nova doesn't really expect Gojo to hug her, but he puts his infinity down just to wrap his long arms around her. Her head rests just below his shoulders. "Gojo," she laughs and places her arms around his lanky body, "I've missed you so much." "I've missed you, too. I see you haven't gotten any taller." "And I see you've grown even more, fucking string bean." He lets out a small chuckle as he pulls away from her.

"Sorry about the surprise. I just wanted to see you." "No, I appreciate it a lot. It's nice knowing you still care." Gojo's gorgeous blue eyes seem to sparkle behind his sunglasses. "Of course I do. Keeping in touch for nine years would make most people bored out of their minds, but I'm not like any other person."

Despite him trying to be cocky, he has a point. Anyone else she went to school with stopped talking to her less than a year after she moved. While they didn't talk daily, Gojo always sent her random texts throughout the week.

"I know, Gojo. Trust me," she walks forward and lays her head back on him, "I know. I'm so glad to have you back." His long fingers rake through her red curls effortlessly. "I'm right here, Nova. I'll be here as long as you need me to be."

"I didn't get to say good morning to you, Satoru! It's nice to see you again." Gojo chuckles and gives aunt Cammie a quick hug. "I should visit more often, work just keeps me away." "Well," she smacks his arm softly, "I hope Nova will entice you to come over more." "Of course, Aunt Cammie."

"Nova, love," Gojo leans to whisper in her ear, "tell Mara to put the gun away." "Mara! You know Gojo!" Mara scoffs slightly. "Can't believe I didn't recognize him. Sorry, I don't well to men showing up form nowhere." "Technically," Gojo turns to face her, "you showed up here. I've been here for at least an hour." "I still have a gun out. DO you want to continue this argument?"

He smirks, suddenly leaning down close enough that Nova can see his lips brush against her ear. Mara's eyes widen in shock as he chuckles. "Go ahead, sweetie. I want you to do it."

Nova can't help but let a small fit of laughter escape her, which earns her the look of all death looks. "Anyways," Gojo leans back up and turns to walk out the door, "I'm gonna pull my car around. I owe you a coffee date. Don't keep me waiting, baby."

Once he shuts the front door behind him, Nova sighs softly. "One of these days I'm going to- Holy shit, Mara! Your face is so fucking red!" Mara hides her now tomato colored face in her hands with a small squeal.

"I know it is! Damn it, I thought I was over his dumb ass!" Nova rubs the back of her neck. "Well, you didn't run from him this time." "Oh, I wanted to. I really wanted to, but instead I summoned my fucking glock!"

Aunt Cammie takes over calming Mara down while Nova rushes off with a bag to change. Opening her old bedroom door hits her with a wave of nostalgia. It really is how she left it.

On the bed is a basket filled with all kinds of goodies from Aunt Cammie. She even remembered that Nova's favorite animal is a buffalo, and included a cute stuffed one.

However, when she starts digging through the basket, she notices a few pictures that she printed off.

The first is one of Aunt Cammie, Mara, and herself. It had to have been long before the girls' parents passed away. Actually, if she remembers correctly, it's form the first time they met Aunt Cammie on a trip to America. They were no older than four.

The second picture is one of the girls getting accepted to Jujutsu Tech. Aunt Cammie must have taken the picture because the girls were busy being hugged to near death by their parents.

The third one is form her graduation. Gojo had graduated the year before she did, and he made it to her graduation when he wasn't sure he would be able to. In this picture, he has his arms around her and his face buried in her red curls. Truly, he was the only non family member she ever went to after her second year.

The last one has a note attached to it. She places it aside to stare at the picture. It had to be from her first year of high school. She was sitting on a pier, and next to her was a boy. His raven colored hair was pulled into a man bun. Behind their backs, his hand was on top of hers, almost enclosing the entire thing.

Thinking of that day brings tears to her eyes. She places it on her bedside table to grab the letter.

Nova baby,

I doubt this picture will bring you a real smile, but when I saw it in your box of memories I had to pull it out. No matter what life looks like now for him, or even for you, the two of you shared something special. Despite him only being a stepping stone in your life, he helped shape you into the strong woman you are today. Don't think about who he became because that isn't the same boy you found your happiness in. Think of the boy who made it a point to buy you flowers once a week before school, the boy who always asked me permission to take you to dinner, the boy who you and Gojo spent hours with daily. Think of the boy who loved everything about you. I love you babygirl, and I know that your journey in life has just begun.

Aunt Cammie