#set text properties for tables

[devilish-cherry]

nanami relationship headcanons ♡

ᨳ♡₊➳ nanami x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ my other works

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: this post is just me projecting my need for someone emotionally mature and capable through nanami. please clap. 🙂‍↕️

₊⊹. nanami unironically has reminders set for relationship milestones. not because he's forgetful, but because he's practical. he'll deadpan tell you, "it's our anniversary tomorrow. expect a dinner that's slightly nicer than usual, but please keep your expectations reasonable."

₊⊹. you bought him novelty socks once. he said they were "childish." he now wears them every friday. they have little croissants on them. he doesn't talk about it. but when you pointed it out, he just said, "i was low on clean socks. coincidence." lies.

₊⊹. you once complained about him texting like a customer service chatbot. now, you'll get messages like "Dinner at 7. 👍" and after questioning him, he'll calmly explain, "i thought the thumbs up would indicate enthusiasm."

₊⊹. he respects your weird little hobbies like it's a full-time religion. you told him you liked collecting novelty erasers and now he's like, "i found this one shaped like a sushi roll. seemed appropriate. it's from a limited set." you don't even know where he finds these.

₊⊹. you once texted nanami "u up?" at 10:42 p.m. he responded at 6:00 a.m. the next day with, "I was asleep. As all sane adults should be." you then received a forwarded link to a sleep hygiene article and a reminder to hydrate. the man loves you, but sleep comes first. always.

₊⊹. on a particularly rough day, you find him staring dramatically out the window, murmuring, "this world continues to test my patience." when you ask what's wrong, he answers solemnly, "they discontinued my preferred rye bread."

₊⊹. he might complain about meaningless small talk, yet he listens patiently and intently whenever you excitedly ramble about your latest hyperfixation. later, you catch him quietly googling random obscure facts just so he can casually drop information into future conversations. "did you know," he'll begin flatly at dinner, "the specific species of salamander you adore has regenerative capabilities?" this is peak romance for him.

₊⊹. nanami keeps a grocery list in his notes app. it is secretly 80% just things you casually mentioned once.

₊⊹. if you have long hair, you notice he starts wearing your hair ties on his wrist. he vehemently denies sentimentality, claiming instead that it's practical, in case of "unexpected wind conditions."

₊⊹. he never says he misses you outright but texts random things like, "The house seems unnecessarily spacious today." you translate these awkwardly formal messages as "i miss you." and tease him relentlessly for it.

₊⊹. nanami looks so intimidatingly polished at all times, people assume he's naturally graceful. in reality, you've seen him bang his shin on the coffee table at least twice a week. each time he just quietly, painfully mutters, "fantastic."

₊⊹. the first time you suggest watching a cheesy romantic drama together, he provided dry commentary on unrealistic plot developments, muttering things like, "yes, because sprinting in heels through an airport is totally practical." with such seriousness you almost choke on your popcorn laughing.

₊⊹. despite being cool and collected, he's hilariously competitive at random things. he's calm until someone mentions board games. monopoly nights at home become overly serious. he mutters under his breath about property taxes, income inequality, and irresponsible fiscal policies as you nervously remind him, "nanami, it's fake money." he glares softly, "principles aren't fictional."

₊⊹. if you oversleep and panic, he watches calmly as you sprint around. when you complain, he sips his coffee and deadpans, "it’s simple: wake up earlier, or master teleportation."

₊⊹. nanami calls you by your name 95% of the time. once he called you "dear" and gojo materialized from the drywall like a poltergeist to scream about it. nanami now refuses to say anything remotely affectionate within a five-mile radius of gojo.

₊⊹. he is 100% the boyfriend who texts "Can you talk?" and immediately stresses you out, only to call and calmly ask, "which type of cereal did you want again?"

₊⊹. despite being generally indifferent towards animals, nanami somehow attracts stray cats. you regularly catch him sternly lecturing a cat, saying flatly, "i’m not feeding you again," while simultaneously sliding food toward it discreetly.

₊⊹. he openly claims he doesn’t nap. he merely "rests his eyes aggressively" on weekends, fully clothed on the couch, for precisely forty five minutes exactly.

₊⊹. he secretly enjoys watching documentaries about marine life but insists he's doing "important retirement research."

₊⊹. even though he seems eternally composed, when you get sick, nanami panics silently. he googles symptoms discreetly, sighs, then calmly states, "according to the internet, you either have a mild cold or twenty four hours left to live. please let me know which one so i can adjust my schedule accordingly."

₊⊹. he hates pda in theory, claiming it’s "inappropriate and disruptive," yet has zero hesitation holding your hand tightly when crossing busy streets, rationalizing it as "accident prevention."

₊⊹. nanami tries his absolute hardest to hate all forms of modern slang and phrases. until one day he overhears you calling gojo "a walking red flag" and suddenly he's very supportive.

₊⊹. you catch him watching cooking competition shows with intense seriousness, critiquing plating skills and muttering, "no self-respecting chef serves food smeared randomly like abstract art. are we dining or painting?"

₊⊹. despite his stoic demeanor, you catch glimpses of softness: like the slightly awkward way he offers his coat when you're cold, muttering, "don’t make a fuss, just wear it." or how he carefully holds the umbrella slightly more over you in the rain, grumbling about your poor planning yet never failing to protect you from a single raindrop.

₊⊹. he walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic. holds doors for you even if it means awkwardly power-walking to get ahead. refills your water without being asked. the kind of love that’s low-volume but high-resolution.

[burningembers91]

Escape Plan - Hwang Jun-Ho x Fem!Reader

Tagging: @snixx2088 @bananaminn

Follow up piece to:

Sleeping with the Enemy The Gangster's Wife

Please note that this storyline will deal with situations depicting domestic violence.

Synopsis: Your life is danger, and Jun-Ho needs to act quickly. But with no backup and no plan, how far is he willing to go to save the woman he loves?

A/N: This fic deals directly with the aftermath of domestic violence, although I have kept details vague

Hwang Jun-Ho hadn’t slept for days. He hadn’t heard from you since you sent the text message, confirming his worst fears; your husband knew you were cheating. How much he knew was unclear, every phone call and text message going unanswered. He paced back and forth across his apartment, his hands running through his hair as his mind raced with the worse possible scenarios.

He never should have let it go this far, should never have given into his feelings. His inability to keep things professional had put you in danger. For all Jun-Ho knew, you were already dead. If any harm had come to you, he would never forgive himself. As much as he tried to tell himself that your relationship never should have happened, he knew he was powerless to stop it. The day he met you was the day he fell hopelessly in love with the most beautiful woman. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d wanted to. He prayed to a God he had never believed in, prayed that whatever entity protected the universe would extend their good graces to you.

Jun-Ho had no choice but to tell his boss, to explain that he’d fallen for the woman he was supposed to protect. It went down about as well as he’d expected, the chief’s yells reverberating off the walls of his office as he screamed in Jun-Ho’s face. He was suspended, stripped of his badge until further notice. He was given strict instructions that he should, under no circumstances, try and find you. Any attempt Jun-Ho made to interfere with the investigation would result in his arrest.

Jun-Ho had never been one to stick to the rules though. He knew you weren’t his colleague’s priority; your husband was. If Jun-Ho wanted to save you, he’d have to go in alone. He parked outside your house, crouched low down in the driver’s seat, watching the front gate for any comings and goings. Men came and went throughout the day, each bearing the dragon tattoo that represented your husband’s gang. Your home was a constant hive of activity, and yet there was no sign of you.

He kept watch on the house from dawn till dusk, his anger boiling with each passing moment. His boss had texted him, asking where he was, but Jun-Ho didn’t bother to reply. If his colleagues had any sense, they would been storming through your door to save you, and yet he seemed to be the only one concerned with your safety. He could feel a growing sense of unease churning in his stomach, his heart racing with each passing second. He couldn’t sit around any longer; he needed to take action.

He'd never been to your house before, had no idea of the layout, but he couldn’t allow himself to do nothing. A quick scale of the property alerted him to a brick wall to the rear of the house, one that was climbable, if a little tricky. He vaulted over, landing silently in the backyard. As he approached the house, he could see your husband sat round the dining table with his men, bottles of beer and baggies of drugs strewn across the oak table. His fists balled; his teeth gritted as he wondered how the man who’d sworn to love you could party after no doubt taking his rage out on you. How could he have so little regard for the life who the woman he’d married? Jun-Ho swore to himself that once he found you, he would make your husband pay. That man would live to regret the day he put his hands on you.

Your house was large, set over two floors, and he had no idea where to start. It would have to be a case of eliminating each room one at a time, but that was risky. With no other option, he climbed in through the downstairs bathroom window, sneaking out into the hallway. He could hear men laughing further down the hall, the floor thumping with the bass from speakers as music started to play. Carrying on down the hall, Jun-Ho made his way silently up the darkened stairs. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he checked each room, not daring to turn the lights on in case he alerted anyone to his position. Each room was empty, the dark silence torturing him. He was running out of options, running out of hope.

When he reached the last door on the right, he pushed it opened, spying your feet sticking out from behind the bed. His stomach dropped, bile rising in his throat as he hurried to you. You were silent and unmoving, but you were still breathing. Your beautiful face was covered in crusted blood, your eyes swollen from the punches your husband had rained down on you. Your dress was bloodstained, you soft whimpers tearing his heart in two. “I’ve got you,” Jun-Ho whispered, “it’s ok. You’re safe now.”

His thumb caressed your cheek, tears brimming in his eyes as took in your broken body. It was too dark to survey the damage properly, but he knew that the daylight would reveal the devastating truth. Jun-Ho needed to figure out a way to get you out without alerting anyone. You were too weak to walk, too weak to even stand and as he wrapped his arms around you. As he picked you up off the floor you stirred, opening your eyes. “You came,” you smiled, tears staining your cheeks. “Of course,” Jun-Ho smiled back, “I would never leave you. Just relax, ok? I’ll get you out of here.”

The journey back down the stairs towards the bathroom window he’d entered through was precarious. You were dead weight in his arms, and Jun-Ho would have nowhere to hide if he was spotted. By sheer luck, he made it back to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. he’d have to push you out of the window, the drop only a few feet, but it still broke him that he’d probably end up hurting you. “I need to lift you out of the window,” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks as he looked into your swollen eyes. “Do you think you can catch yourself?” You nodded, your resilience and strength putting even the strongest man to shame. “I love you,” he told you, hoisting you up onto the windowsill. You smiled weakly, pushing yourself off the side and landing with a thud on the grass below. Jumping down after you, Jun-Ho half dragged, half carried you to the car.

He knew you wouldn’t have long to get out of the city. Your husband would notice your absence soon enough, and his boss would no doubt catch wind of his unsanctioned rescue. He needed to get you far away from Seoul, somewhere you could rest, and he could plan your next steps. He drove through the night, keeping one hand clasped in yours as he swapped the highway for back country roads.

“I will never let go of you,” he whispered to your sleeping form, his fingers tightening around yours. He would keep you safe, give you the life you so desperately deserved. Jun-Ho knew things were far from over, he knew he’d be hunted by your husband and the police. But he would journey to hell and back to keep you safe. And if it was a fight your husband wanted, it was a fight he would get.

[milunalupin]

— partridge in a pear tree

harry potter x reader ★ 1.3k words

twelve days of nico-mas masterlist

The snow fell softly outside the cozy windows of Godric’s Hollow, blanketing the world in white. Harry stared at the fire crackling in the hearth, his mind drifting back to the moment he had worked up the courage to invite you over for the holidays. He could hardly believe you had said yes.

Harry cleared his throat as he walked up to where you were lounging on one of the sofas in the common room, marking something in the margins of a heavy tome with a quill. Your focus was so intense that you didn’t even notice him for a few seconds.

"Oh, hey, Harry! I was just going through the notes from the last class for our project. Have you found anything useful yet?”

Harry shook his head, suddenly feeling that familiar rush of nerves. Why was this so difficult? He had faced terrifying creatures, dangerous wizards, and even Potions with Snape, but asking you to come over for the holidays? That felt like an entirely different challenge.

“Actually,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was thinking... since the holidays are coming up... and we’re probably going to need some time to make real progress on this project…” His words tumbled out in a rushed heap, quickly getting distracted by the way the you cutely tilted your head with curiosity.

“I mean, if you’re not doing anything... you could, um, come over to my place. You know, just to work on the project. But also...” He swallowed. “It might be nice to take a break from the usual—just, I don’t know, have a quiet evening. Together.”

You blinked, clearly processing his words, and for a moment, Harry worried you might laugh at him or worse—turn him down flat.

But then you smiled. A smile that reached your eyes, making them shine, and Harry felt a strange warmth in his chest.

“Harry, you okay?” his mother, Lily, called from the kitchen, where she was preparing a feast fit for a family of wizards. James, with his trademark grin, was setting the table, glancing at Harry with a knowing look.

“Yeah, just… thinking about the project,” he replied, shifting in his seat and not so subtly wiping his clammy palms on his jeans. Truth was, he was thinking about you. His Herbology partner, who never failed to make him blush and whose eyes lit up when you talked about a new muggle invention you've learned about, or your favorite constellations—it sent pixies racing through his stomach.

Lily exchanged a quick glance with James, both trying to suppress their amusement. They had watched Harry grow up, but they had never seen him quite so nervous around anyone. Soon, the doorbell rang, and Harry’s heart raced. He shot up from his seat, smoothing down his sweater as if that would somehow make him less awkward. “I’ll get it!”

As he opened the door, the cold air rushed in, and there you stood, bundled in a puffy coat with a bright smile on your face. “Hi, Harry!” you greeted, cheeks flushed from the chill despite the thick burgundy scarf wrapped around your head.

“Hey! Come in!” He stepped aside, trying to appear casual, but his heart pounded.

You walked in, and the warmth of the house enveloped you. Harry took your coat and scarf, and you sighed as you took in the smell of fireplace and winter spices.

James greeted you cheerfully while Lily apologized for not being able to step away from the stove, but Harry felt his father's eyes on him, silently teasing. He pretended to ignore him, leading you to the living room, where a small table was set up with various herbology texts sprawled open.

“So, what do you think we should focus on for our project?” you asked, pulling up a chair.

“Um, I was thinking… maybe we could look at the properties of… um, Mandrakes?” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing. Why was it so hard to talk to you?

You smiled encouragingly. “That sounds great! I read something about their healing properties. It could be interesting to explore.”

As the two of you dove into the project, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Harry felt more at ease, especially when he caught you glancing at him with an approving look. It made his heart race again, but this time in a pleasant way.

Lily peeked into the room, her heart warmed by the sight. “Dinner’s almost ready!” she announced, glancing pointedly at Harry with a smirk.

“Thanks, Mum!” he replied quickly, not meeting your gaze.

As the evening progressed, the conversation flowed easily. You both discussed herbology, sharing laughs over some of the more bizarre plants in Professor Sprout’s class. Harry even began to relax, letting his playful side show.

“Dinner’s ready!” Lily called out, her voice warm and inviting.

The soft clink of plates and silverware filled the air as Harry and you settled down at the long wooden dining table. Lily had outdone herself with a spread of hearty dishes—roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, and a steaming roast chicken that filled the room with its mouthwatering aroma. James grinned from ear to ear, clearly pleased with how everything had turned out.

Harry gestured for you to sit first, his hands slightly clammy as he pulled out the chair for you. You flashed him a grateful smile, settling into the seat across from him. As he sat down, his gaze briefly flickered to his parents, who were exchanging amused glances from either end of the table.

“Everything smells amazing, Mrs. Potter,” you said, a touch of awe in your voice.

Lily waved her hand dismissively. “Call me Lily, dear. It’s no trouble at all. We’re just glad you could join us.”

James piped up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, Harry doesn’t invite just anyone over. We’re honored, really.”

After dinner, Lily suggested a game of Wizard’s Chess. James immediately jumped in, clearly excited to show off his skills. Harry invited you to join, and to his delight, you accepted.

You took a seat next to him, and as you played, Harry couldn’t help but steal glances at you. You were focused, tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you concentrated on the board. He felt a surge of admiration and… is this what falling in love is like? He'd have to ask his father later.

“Checkmate!” you exclaimed triumphantly, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you let me win."

“Not a chance! I just underestimated your strategy,” he countered, a playful spark in his eyes.

As the evening wound down, you both moved to the couch, cups of hot cocoa in hand and a tray of freshly baked pear tartlets—your favorite. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow around the room. The conversation turned softer, the laughter lingering in the air like a spell.

“I’m really glad I came,” you said, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.

“Me too,” Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt a rush of courage. “I’ve always enjoyed working with you. You make it fun.”

You smiled, a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I feel the same way. I like spending time with you, Harry.”

His heart raced again, this time not from awkwardness, but from the warmth blooming in his chest. “Maybe we can hang out some other time, too? After the holidays?”

“I’d love that,” you said, your eyes sparkling.

Just then, James peeked in, unable to hold back his amusement any longer. “Hey, lovebirds! How’s the project going?”

Harry’s face turned crimson, and he shot a glare at his father. You both burst into laughter, the tension breaking as James continued to tease. But as you sat there, Harry realized that he didn’t mind the teasing. Being next to you felt right, and he couldn’t wait to see where this budding connection might lead. The magic of the holidays was just beginning, and he hoped it would lead to something special.

— taglist ♥︎

@willowlovestheweasleys

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends��� barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

[deezbignutz]

More Redacted hc bc why tf not, yknow :))))) (this is also to make up for not doing Brachium and Christian but u don't need to know that-)

One time during their early stages of dating, Angel found out about henna from Baaabe and wanted to surprise David with it some cool squiggles and flowers knowing damn well he would have a strong reaction to it. He did in fact have a strong reaction to it, and so did Angel when they realised they were highly allergic to one of the ingredients used in henna and was immediately brought to the hospital by a very worried David.

Asher has a knack for finding the most unsettling and disturbing facts and sending them to Milo because he doesn't need to know about it at all and gets pissed when Asher texts him in the middle of something important. (Also, fun fact! Camel's piss is as thick as syrup and it was thought to have medicinal properties, so people back then mixed it with camel milk and drink it. It did not have medicinal properties and didn't taste very good)

Gavin has a taser that is bedazzled in pink gems with text written on the front saying "Get tased, b*tch". He bought it for himself some time ago in case some perv got a little too comfortable without his consent.

Damien has a bad habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he's frustrated or zoning out, and he has done it so much that it old cuts bleed on its own even when he isn't biting it. This has led Huxley to buying lip ointments and lip balms for him and placing them in Damien's and his bags whenever they go out, he also has them littered around his home whenever he comes over, in the pockets of his clothes in case they don't bring their bags when going out, and one more he brings everywhere for back up.

Once Freelancer got Caelum a lego set for him to fiddle with while they were doing their coursework. The next day when he finally finished it, they watched in horror as Caelum destroyed the set so he could build it all over again, since he didn't understanding that once you build it, it's done.

Christian has a designer brand crescent cross body bag (it's not designer, he just likes saying it is because it's one of the only expensive things he owns), and because of this, Arden and Kelsey have lovingly named him an eshay (which is a stereotypically hypermasculine Australian man who are inclined to crime and violence, or basically just an annoying Aussie brat who's obsessed with masculinity/a chav) much to his chagrin.

Sweetheart has half empty cups and mugs scattered all over their room with most of the liquid in it drying up or turning into syrup from all the water evaporating. It hasn't gone so far as for mold to start appearing, but it's definitely getting there.

Porter has collected many little things that remind him of Treasure ever since he met them in that club, such as a surprisingly shiny penny from the ground, a cartoony key with a swirly heart on the end of it, a golden ring with hands on it that when worn looks like arms hugging your finger, and many other things that he keeps in his bedside table.

Darlin' and Sam write notes to each other and lay them around the house for each other to see when doing their normal routine. Like, Darlin' would be in the kitchen making their morning coffee and see a sticky note stuck on top of the coffee machine with some sappy shit like "Love you to bits, my Darlin'<3 P.S. Stop putting so many damn shots in your coffee, you're gonna get heart problems one of these days".

Hope y'all enjoy :)))))))

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :D)))))

[millenianthemums]

Chapter 6 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is up!!

Writing this one took me a while, and then the art also took a while… everything took a while. i always enjoy writing this once i get to it, though! hope you enjoy this one too.

PREVIOUS

INDEX

chapter text under cut:

It was hard for Mabel to really relax, knowing that Bill was lurking just below the floorboards. But by the time the sun was low and her family was gathered around the dinner table, she’d mostly put it out of her mind. It was hard to be miserable with them around.

“You think Soos will bring more empanadas when he’s here tomorrow?” Dipper asked, picking at the strangely opalescent casserole on his plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something about my cooking,” Ford said wryly.

“Whaaat? No! No, don’t be– that’s ridiculous,” Dipper said. “This is great! I mean, it’s a million times better than last time, this one didn’t even come to life and attack us–”

“Don’t jinx it,” Stan said.

“Hey, c’mon, guys,” Mabel piped up. “It’s the thought that counts, right? It’s really sweet that he tried. Besides, even Grunkle Ford can’t be perfect at everything.”

Ford chuckled. “Thank you, Mabel. As far as backhanded compliments go, that’s quite nice.”

“It’s true!” she said. “So what if you’re not a chef? You invent, like, six magical contraptions a week!”

“That’s a wild exaggeration,” Ford said with a grin. “It’s been at least a month since the last one. Although Fiddleford and I have made some real progress on our current project…”

“New project?” Dipper perked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know if the details will interest you that much–”

“Shaaare!” Mabel demanded. Dipper immediately joined in, both of them pumping their fists and shouting “Share! Share! Share!” until Ford laughed and gave in. They all knew he didn’t really need that much encouragement, but it was fun anyway.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you.” Ford waved his hands to set the scene, the way he always did when he started talking about science stuff. “So, we all know that unicorn tears have remarkable healing properties, right? But we also know that unicorns aren’t generous creatures, and trying to obtain some tears by force often creates more injuries than they could ever heal.”

Stan snorted. “And how many tries did it take for that lesson to set in?”

“Not the topic, Stanley. Anyway, our goal was to synthetically recreate the healing properties of the tears, eliminating the need to seek out the real thing. This has been in the works for a long time; in fact, our biggest breakthroughs came from studying the sample Mabel and her friends obtained last year…”

Dipper extended a fist to Mabel, and she proudly bumped it.

“...And I must say, we’ve had some very promising results with the latest prototypes! There have been some hiccups here and there– we really should have fireproofed the lab sooner– but I think in the next few weeks, we might even end up with something that could surpass the healing properties of unicorn tears!”

“Nice!” Mabel held out a fist to Ford. “Take that, you overrated horses!”

Ford laughed, accepting the fist bump. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s hoping you get it workin’ before we set out again. It’d make things way less stressful on the boat. Heck, the coast guard medics might even have time to forget our names!”

“Wait, you’re setting out again?” Dipper asked. “When?”

“End of the summer, same as you kids!” Stan said proudly. “First thing in September, we’re headed right back out there.”

Ford nodded. “We still have a lot more to investigate. I expect we’ll be very busy once Fall comes around, which is why I’m under strict orders to ‘take it easy’ while we’re here. Otherwise, the elixir would probably be finished by now–” Stan crossed his arms, and Ford quickly added “--but I completely understand the point of it. Rest is important, kids.”

“Darn right,” Stan grunted. “Far as I’m concerned, we’re both on vacation for the summer.”

Dipper tapped his fork on his chin. “So you won’t be studying Gravity Falls for a while?”

“C’mon, brobro,” Mabel chided. “Grunkle Ford’s willingly taking a break for once, let’s not remind him of all the extra stuff he could be doing!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dipper protested. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s a fair question,” Ford said. “There certainly are plenty of mysteries left unsolved around here. But I think Stanley and I have broadened our focus a bit too much to give special attention to Gravity Falls anymore. Just our brief stay in the Arctic Circle alone has raised so many fascinating questions, and we still have so many more places to investigate… there’s just not enough time to solve all the world’s mysteries, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, relax, Poindexter,” Stan cut in, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones working on this stuff. Something tells me Gravity Falls’ll be in good hands, even without us.” He gave Dipper a meaningful wink. Mabel couldn’t help but smile at the way her brother’s face lit up.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to seem subtle. “Can we talk after dinner? I was hoping to get some feedback on this project I’m working on…”

Mabel’s smile faded. “Is it about that dumb thesis contest?” She turned to the Grunkles and pointed accusingly at Dipper. “He won’t let me help with it! He wouldn’t shut up about how cool it would be to win and get a big smarty-pants paper published, and now that he’s allowed to start working on it he won’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about! I could have done like fifty illustrations by now if—”

“I told you, there’s nothing to share yet!” Dipper protested. “I’ve… kinda been putting it off. I’ve still got a week until the topic proposal’s due…”

“Then what do you need Stan and Ford’s ‘feedback’ on?”

Dipper tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh… it’s…”

“I could help,” she said, voice a little louder than she’d wanted. “Even if it’s something I’m bad at, I could help make it look cool. If you just told me a little bit about it…”

Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel, I promise I’ll share it with you soon, okay? I just… I want it to be a surprise.”

Mabel looked at him doubtfully over the rim of her water glass. She wanted to keep prying, but it was clear she was just making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want her help, he just didn’t know how to say it. She could tell.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt. It was fine, really. She had high-speed bike riding; Dipper was allowed to have things just for himself too. It was normal for twins to grow apart. She drained the rest of her glass and stared down at the tablecloth.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Stan spoke up. “Speaking of surprises. Hey Sixer, remember that thing we ran into off the coast of Greenland in March?”

Ford laughed. “How could I possibly forget? Now, kids, I don’t know about you, but nothing in my paleontology education gave me the impression that wooly mammoths were aquatic…”

Soon Mabel was too wrapped up in seafaring stories to be sad about anything.

——-

Bill must have fallen asleep at some point. He’d been lying there, in the basement, in the dark, with the Pines’ infernal voices ringing above him, but then something had happened. The voices changed. And suddenly he wasn’t in a basement anymore. He was lying on an exam table, and his arms were strapped down, and his eye wouldn’t close, and the air was thick with antiseptic. And there were voices all around him, moving around him, but he knew he couldn’t look, he just had to keep his eye focused on the stars overhead, just don’t look, just don’t look at them, just pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re among the stars and nothing’s happening, nothing hurts. So he didn’t look away, not even when the quiet voices he could hear through the pain changed again, became painfully familiar, he still didn’t look, even when they started screaming, even when their cries and pleading were drowned out by the sounds of flames, even when the heat waves twisted the air and the crunching, sizzling, tearing sounds and the smell of burning meat drowned out all his other senses he still didn’t look, he didn’t look down, he wouldn’t–

And then he was back in the basement. It was dark and still. The only sound was his own ragged breathing.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face with the blanket he’d been wrapped in. Dreams. He hadn’t been ready to deal with dreams. Other people’s dreams were a riot. Not his own.

He’d been distracted too quickly to dwell on the last one. He’d foolishly hoped that would be the last one for a while. But no, of course not. This world couldn’t allow him even a moment of peace. Every sleep was going to be like this.

In the dark, he staggered to the small bathroom in the back of the room. He ran the cold water in the sink and rinsed his mouth until he forgot the taste of the smoke. It was so vivid. So convincing. Even though none of it had made any sense, it felt real.

He stared numbly at the mirror. Their voices. He’d remembered them, of course. Despite all the worlds that had sprouted and withered between then and now, despite everything he’d tried, he’d never been able to stop remembering them. But he never thought he’d have to hear those voices again.

Someone knocked at the door.

His first thought was “thank god”. He’d been desperately hoping for anything else to think about. His second thought, as he heard the door unlock, was “that could be anybody”. So he stood just at the edge of the room and prepared to run for cover, until a small, high-pitched voice said “It’s me.”

Bill relaxed a little. Not a lot, but more than zero. He scrubbed his face dry and straightened his bowtie before she entered, trying to look as stoic as possible. She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she rushed in and slumped against the door to shut it. Both her hands were busy carrying an overloaded paper plate.

Trying her best to not let it fold under the weight of the food piled onto it, she glanced around for a surface to place it on. The curved lid of the wooden chest was considered, then quickly rejected when the plate started sliding. She winced before resorting to setting it down on the floor beside the beanbag. Finally, she retrieved a packet of plastic utensils from a takeout place and laid it beside the plate, trying to make it look presentable.

“We need to get a table or something in here,” she muttered as Bill drew closer to inspect the offering.

“YEAH, SOME APPLIANCES WOULD BE NICE TOO,” he joked. “I’M THINKIN’ A STUDIO APARTMENT KIND OF SETUP. WASHER AND DRYER OVER THERE, THAT CORNER’S THE KITCHEN… FULL-SIZE JACUZZI ON THAT SIDE, OBVIOUSLY…”

“I have six dollars,” Mabel piped up.

Bill laughed before he could stop himself. Encouraged, she went on: “I mean, there’s an empty fish tank and a car battery in the garage. We could make a hole in the side and stick a blowdryer in there for a jet. That’d be fine, right?”

He laughed again. “I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT, KID. IF WE SHUT OFF THE SPRINKLERS, WE COULD SET UP A FIRE PIT IN THE KITCHEN CORNER!”

“Perfect plan!” Mabel laughed along with him, but then seemed to think better of it. “But okay, hold on, we can start with the home renovations later. For now, you should eat.” She pointed to the plate. “It’s just some leftovers from tonight. Figured taking more snacks would look suspicious. But if it, uh… disagrees with you… then just let me know tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a glowing review. Looking dubiously at the alleged “food” on the plate, he didn’t see much reason to doubt it. Still, he tried to look grateful as he picked up a plastic fork. “WILL DO,” he said, trying not to look down.

“I’ll come back down tomorrow, before the others wake up,” she said, crossing back over to the door. “Including Grunkle Ford… ugh, that’s gonna suck. But once I’m back, we’ll figure out a plan, okay?”

Bill glanced around the room. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PLAN,” he said.

“C’mon, you can’t just stay in one tiny dark room all summer! This isn’t Guacamole or something.”

Bill snorted. “GUANTANAMO?”

“Whatever,” she said, flushing. “The point is we need to get you outside once in a while. You have scales, things with scales need sunlight or they get sick. And what’s the point of all this work if you get sick and die??”

She had a point there. Bill shifted uncomfortably, realizing he wasn’t totally sure if the sun thing would apply to him or not. “YEAH, FAIR ENOUGH. KEEP FORGETTING THIS…” he gestured to the body, “…THING NEEDS ‘VITAMINS’ AND SUCHLIKE.”

“Relatable, honestly. But there’s a bunch more stuff to plan out, too! We need to be able to contact each other in emergencies. And, like, a secret knock so you know when it’s me, and a code to communicate…” as she spoke, her hands started flapping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s like one of those spy games Dipper likes. We could make a guidebook with all this stuff! Like a, what, codex? For the code? We could make our own code! You can handle that part— I know that’s your thing, it’s literally your name… I get to do all the art, though. It can have a scrapbook vibe— I gotta find my craft scissors with the zig-zags—”

“KID.” Bill cut her off. “I KNOW IT’S IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO TAKE STUFF SERIOUSLY. IT’S A GOOD TRAIT! MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE BEARABLE. BUT THIS ISN’T SOME SILLY SUMMER CRAFT PROJECT. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH, GOT IT? CAN WE TRY TO ACT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT?”

She looked hurt. “Silly things are still important,” she muttered. “We could hide it in here. And even if someone finds it, it could be any goofy old thing I made! Dipper showed me how to do that invisible ink thing; I could act like the empty space is just unfinished parts! I dunno, I just… I thought it’d make this whole thing a little more fun.”

Bill squinted at her as she stared at the floor, arms crossed tight over her chest. Then he rolled his eye. Maybe he was being a choosing beggar here. This was Mabel Pines; of course she’d want to make some stupid game out of this. And the whole plan was to humor her. If this was what it took to keep her invested, he should probably just play along.

“OKAY, FINE. I’M IN,” he sighed. “WE CAN MAKE A BOOK OR WHATEVER.”

She lit up again. “Really?? Yes! Awesome! It’ll be so fun, I promise.” She paused and glanced at the dark window. “But we can start that later. I gotta go get at least a tiny bit of sleep first.”

Bill shrugged. “SURE. CAN’T KEEP THIS BODY ALIVE IF YOURS GIVES OUT.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she snorted. “And see you in the morning.” She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her.

Watching the door, he heard the heavy “clunk” of the lock clicking shut, then rapid footsteps bounding up the staircase. He sighed and pinched his forehead. That much youthful energy couldn’t be sustainable. She probably wouldn’t live past 20.

As he waited for the various noises and occupants of the house to settle, he wolfed down the food as fast as he could. The kid was right to be apologetic, but if he ate quickly, he didn’t taste it much. It was just fuel anyway.

When the plate was finally empty, he dropped it back to the floor and picked up the plastic fork. He rinsed it in the sink as well as he could, wiped it dry with the paper napkin that came with the set, then bent one of the tines away from the others. He leaned one side against the crack in the door, listening intently to the silence from above. There wasn’t a whisper of movement.

He stuck the tine of the fork into the lock.

It was more stubborn than your typical household lock, but Bill had bested much worse with much less. It only took a little finagling before he heard the “clunk” he was listening for. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. He stashed his impromptu lockpick in his hat, locked the door behind him, and crept up into the house.

—-

The place was as quiet and dark as he’d hoped for. He’d been right to judge by the footsteps above him that they’d all gone to bed. And thankfully, even without his usual glow, the stars outside were bright enough to see by. He crept along with his back against the wall, testing each floorboard before he stepped, scanning his surroundings.

The decor was about the same as he remembered, with a few notable changes. A lot of the ceiling and walls had been replaced; probably necessary after they turned it into a big stupid robot last year. And it seemed like someone else might have moved in. There were some new decorations that weren't anything close to the “style” he’d come to expect from the place. Lace doilies hung from the tops of chairs and sofas like dusty cobwebs, and handmade blankets and wall hangings were scattered all around. Shooting Star was crafty, sure, but these didn’t look like her handiwork. The colors were way too easy on the eye, and there wasn’t a crumb of glitter to be seen. If they were her doing, they were a big step down in quality.

But if they weren’t, it meant an extra person to deal with. Better keep his eye out.

He turned a corner and a massive shape blotted out the hallway ahead. He scrambled back, clenching his teeth tight beneath his eyelids to stop a yell from escaping.

Then his eye adjusted, and he had to stifle an irritated growl. It was just that stupid pig. He’d forgotten how huge it was now, and it looked a lot less pathetic from a low angle. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, directly in his path, staring down at him. Its eyes glittered in the moonlight like two tiny black teeth.

Bill glared up at it defiantly. Just let it try and make a move. He might not have magic, but he still had claws and teeth. A ripped throat wasn’t as flashy as immolation, but it was still perfectly fatal.

The pig returned his stare with no discernable expression. A few silent seconds crept by.

Then the pig gave a grumbly snort and laid its head on the ground. It flopped onto one side and closed its eyes with an indifferent sigh.

Bill hurried on, telling himself to thank his lucky stars instead of feeling indignant. Still, his ego stung a little. Not even livestock saw him as a threat anymore.

To his relief, he had no more surprise encounters as he cased the second floor. The layout of the rooms was about the same as before, which meant the sounds of walking from above his little home base would still be a reliable method of tracking the inhabitants. He steered well clear of all the bedrooms and kept his back to the wall, and the floorboards beneath him kept silent. He was out of practice with walking, sure, but nobody who grew up causing problems ever forgets how to sneak through a hallway.

Once he’d made mental notes of all the storage spaces that might have supplies he could use, he headed for the portal. On the way through the gift shop he snagged a small notepad and pen from behind the desk. Scanning over the portal wreckage, he made a list of the missing components and tools he’d need. In code, obviously; secret codes were literally his name, after all.

Once the darkness outside started to lift away, he cut his work short and headed back. He tore the used page from the notebook and placed it and the pen back where he’d found them, exchanging them for a single paperclip that he stashed in his hat with the paper. That was all he felt comfortable taking for now. It was much too early to start gathering supplies. Anything left out of place would definitely make the kid suspicious. For now, he’d just plan. Make sure everything went as smoothly as it possibly could. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get all the power tools and steel he’d need down to the basement without being noticed, but there was no point freaking out about it now. He’d figure out logistics later. He could pull this off. He was going to pull this off. He had no other choice.

By the time the first pink rays of light had breached the horizon, he was back in the cell. The paperclip made a perfectly serviceable lockpick to latch the door behind him. Like nothing ever happened.

He curled up in his nest of blankets, trying to hold his eye open. Hoping to ward off the dreams a little longer. But eventually his exhaustion won the battle. His eye slid shut.

Maybe the next dream would at least be over quick.

—-

Bill’s wish came true. As soon as he jolted awake, he regretted making it. It felt like he’d been yanked out of a tar pit by his eyelashes, but his brain stayed behind. His head, chest and eye socket all felt like they were stuffed with wet cotton, and his bones were shaking with this sudden painful chill. His thoughts were so slow and muffled that it took a second for him to even realize that someone was staring him right in the face. He lurched away and fell backwards off the beanbag.

Mabel poked her head over the beanbag and beamed down at where he lay on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “Morning!” she said in a bright half-whisper. “How’d you sleep?”

Bill glared up at her with silent disdain. After a moment, she seemed to take that as an answer. “Yeah, me too. Had a lot of stress dreams. Anyway, time to figure some stuff out.”

She disappeared from view for a moment, then reappeared at his side with a fuzzy pink notebook and a chunky pink pen with a glittery pom-pom topper. She leafed through the book for a minute, then looked up at Bill. “You ok?”

“I’M DYING,” Bill croaked. It was barely hyperbole. That freezing, sinking pain just kept getting worse. Every second he kept his eye open, it felt like gravity increased tenfold.

Mabel hissed through her teeth. “Hold on a second.” She vanished from view again, then popped back in with a mason jar full of what looked like the fluid from inside a neon pink glowstick. She propped him upright and shoved it into his hands. “Drink this.”

Bill ought to have been at least a little suspicious of a drink presented so vaguely. But a billion years of drinking cocktails made from substances meant to power quantum reactions, combined with the weight of sheer exhaustion muffling all his thoughts, meant that he barely hesitated before lifting the jar to his eyelids and taking a gulp.

A second later, his eye shot wide open. “WHOA!” he shouted, blinking rapidly.

“Ooh, I might’ve put too many pop rocks in that batch,” Mabel said. She grabbed the jar and shook it, sending frozen fruit shapes and plastic dinosaurs clattering around in a glittery whirlpool. “Mixing it usually helps. Dipper keeps telling me to warn people before I give them this stuff—”

Bill grabbed the jar back. He took an approving glance at the crazy-looking drink— now that his brain was working, he could fully appreciate the vibe— and then knocked back another mouthful. A rush of energy buzzed through his brain, setting his neurons alight like christmas lights hooked up to a nuclear reactor. The dangerously sugary concoction stung the inside of his mouth like acid, but this was a fun kind of pain. “OH, THIS IS PHENOMENAL.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “You like it??”

“DO I?!” One more swig and the jar was empty, and Bill was actually bouncing in place a little. “I FEEL LIKE A WHOLE NEW TRIANGLE! WHAT IS THAT?!”

“It’s Mabel Juice!” she beamed. “My own personal secret recipe! It’s so secret, not even I know what the secret is! Seriously, I hardly ever write the ingredients down.”

Bill laughed. “WELL, COLOR ME IMPRESSED, KID! I HAVEN’T HAD A DRINK THAT GOOD SINCE THAT BATTERY ACID DAQUIRI I MIXED BACK IN THE ‘30s. AND THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN DISSOLVE MY STOMACH!”

Mabel’s smile dropped for a second, then returned. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said proudly. “I’ll bring more down later. I’ve got a million different brews you can try! The others don’t drink much of it, they always complain about how there’s ‘so much sugar’ and it ‘burns their mouths’ or whatever…”

“HEY, THEIR LOSS! I’LL TAKE IT OFF YOUR HANDS! EXTRA BURNING ON THE SIDE, IF YOU’VE GOT IT,” Bill offered. He had to hand it to the kid; she made pouring on the charm pretty easy. In a better world, he would’ve hired her as a barista in the Fearamid.

Mabel grinned, but then her face froze. From somewhere upstairs, the familiar sound of heavy, clomping footsteps rang through the ceiling.

Bill froze in place too, his eye locked on the ceiling. His teeth clenched tight behind his eye socket as he tried to repress his anger. Like a favorite song after you set it as your morning alarm, that sound made his blood boil on contact.

“Grunkle Ford’s up,” Mabel whispered. Bill glanced over to see her watching the ceiling too. “I thought he’d at least sleep ‘til five…”

“RISKY GAMBLE THERE,” Bill muttered. “FORD DOESN’T HAVE A SLEEP SCHEDULE, HE JUST WORKS ‘TIL HE KEELS OVER.”

“He’s working on it,” Mabel said defensively. Maybe Bill hadn’t kept all the derision out of his voice. He kept his mouth shut, just to be safe.

“Okay. Alright. This is fine.” The kid was clearly reassuring herself more than him. “He shouldn’t hear us down here. Nobody heard you screaming your head off the other day, they shouldn’t hear us just talking… we should be fine for now. As long as he doesn’t wander down here and happen to just randomly get close to this room. Or wander upstairs to his office and pass our bedroom and happen to look in and notice I’m not there. So as long as he stays on the exact floor he’s on now, we’ll be okay…”

“KID, RELAX. YOU SOUND LIKE PINETREE,” Bill laughed. “WITH HOW LOUD THOSE STEPS ARE, WE’LL HAVE A TON OF WARNING IF HE HEADS FOR ANY STAIRS. JUST CUT TO THE CHASE SO YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP FOR NOTHING.”

She shot another worried glance at the ceiling, then nodded. “Okay. Sure. The chase… hold on.” She grabbed her notepad and pen again, then started rooting around for something else in the backpack she’d brought. “The Chase, part one. Secret messages. Ooh, that’s good.” She opened the book and labeled the first page with that title. Bill bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that huge pink bubble letters weren’t the best choice for subtlety.

“Now,” she said, throwing the notebook down like a frazzled detective presenting her notes. “I would’ve loved to, like, build a two-way radio out of soda cans, or find a way to send smoke signals through the A/C system or something. But I think we should wait on that ‘til later. Right now, simplicity’s the name of the game.” With a victorious flourish, she revealed the thing she’d fished out of the bag. It took a second for Bill to parse what the battered old thing even was. A cell phone. An ancient, blocky brick of a flip-screen cell phone.

“YEESH!” he exclaimed as she shoved it into his hands. “WHAT ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND DIDJA DIG THIS THING OUT OF? IT’S OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAD!”

Mabel snorted. “Give me a break! It was the best one I could find in the closet where Grunkle Stan keeps all his burner phones.”

“WELL, I’D HATE TO SEE THE COMPETITION!” Bill remarked. “WHAT WAS THE WORST ONE, A CLAY TABLET? A BONE CARVED FLUTE TO CALL THE NEANDERTHAL TRIBE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN?”

Mabel hid a giggle behind the turtleneck of her sweater. All according to plan. Jokes were a great way of lowering a mark’s defenses, even if they didn’t land. And despite her best efforts, Shooting Star was a good audience.

He held down the power button and marvelled as the dusty, scuffed screen actually lit up. “WHAAAT! LOOK AT THIS LOGO! THIS COMPANY WENT UNDER IN 2002! THE CEO BURNED DOWN THE OFFICE TO HIDE TAX FRAUD AND MELTED HIS EYELIDS OFF!”

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh!! Why would you tell me that?”

“BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS! THE GUY WAS A TOTAL LOSER ANYWAY, HE WAS TOO UPTIGHT TO TAKE MY DEAL AND COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE A WEEK OF NIGHT TERRORS BEFORE HE CRACKED—”

“Anyway!” She cut him off. “This was the only phone I found in the closet that could send texts. We need to be able to keep in touch, so you can let me know if you’re hurt or need more supplies, and I can warn you if people upstairs can hear you practicing your evil laugh or something.”

“WHA— HEY! WHO EVEN— NOBODY NEEDS TO PRACTICE THEIR LAUGH, THAT’S JUST STUPID.” Bill hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. There was no way she actually knew about that, right?

She just rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Point is, that phone is yours. Nobody’ll recognize that number. My number’s in there already, you can text me in morse code if you need something.”

Bill looked up from the phone screen to squint at her. “MORSE? C’MON, KID.”

“What’s wrong with morse?”

“THAT’S THE MOST BASIC CODE IN EXISTENCE! YOU REALLY THINK ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE MORSE WHEN THEY SAW IT?” he said. “YOU THINK THEY’LL SEE YOU ANSWERING TEXTS IN MORSE FROM SOME RANDOM NUMBER AND HAVE ANY OTHER THOUGHT BESIDES ‘SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING’?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine, Mr. Code Snob. What should we use?”

“WE SHOULDN’T ‘USE’ ANYTHING. WE JUST KEEP THINGS VAGUE AND SIMPLE,” he said. “ANYTHING THAT EVEN LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE CODE WILL JUST GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. BESIDES, IN A HOUSE FULL OF CON ARTISTS AND MYSTERY DORKS, I DOUBT THERE’S ANY CODE WE COULD USE ON THIS THING THAT NONE OF THEM WILL RECOGNIZE. THESE TEXTS NEED TO BE AS BORING AND UN-MYSTERIOUS AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY BE. SO BORING THAT NOT EVEN PINETREE IN HIS SNOOPIEST MOOD WOULD GLANCE AT ‘EM TWICE.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “Spam!” she said after a minute. “Dipper and I get spam texts from random numbers all the time. We can make up a system where I know what you’re saying based on what you’re trying to sell me. Like a scam alphabet!”

Bill’s eye crinkled with his version of a grin. “NOW YOU’RE TALKING!”

Mabel grabbed her pen and started rattling off scams to list in her notebook. Stan had clearly taught her well, and between the both of them they soon had a massive list to work from. On the opposite page, they listed phrases to match with each scam. “NEED FOOD”, “NEED SUPPLIES”, “INJURY”, “FIRE”, “RACCOON GOT IN”, and so on. As soon as they had a workable “alphabet”, the kid insisted they start deciding on secret knocks. They’d just started to argue about whether “shave-and-a-haircut” was too uncreative, when suddenly Mabel stopped short and held out a hand. Before Bill could ask what was up, he realized what she’d heard. A voice from upstairs. A voice that was much too prepubescent to be Ford’s.

“Dipper’s up,” Mabel hissed. “Why is Dipper up? He never gets up this early on his own… Did he notice I was gone? Is he looking for me?? How am I gonna get back up without—”

“GEEZ, RELAX,” Bill said. “LOOK, THE STAIRCASE TO THE ATTIC IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM THIS ONE. JUST WAIT UNTIL HE’S IN THE KITCHEN…” he pointed to that corner of the house, from where Ford’s voice was now ringing through the ceiling, “AND YOU CAN SNEAK BACK UP WITHOUT BUMPING INTO HIM. JUST DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU LEAVING THE BASEMENT, AND WE’LL BE FINE.”

“I don’t like how much you know about our house.”

Bill pointed to his eye. “REMEMBER HOW HALF THE DECOR IN HERE USED TO BE MY EYES?”

“Yeah, duh. Doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.” She shuddered, and Bill tried not to laugh. At least the memory of his powers still inspired fear… but he didn’t want her knowing how happy that made him.

Mabel gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “I gotta go before he notices I’m not sleeping. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll sneak back down and we’ll sort out the other stuff on my checklist.”

“FAIR ENOUGH. BE SEEING YOU, KID.” He couldn’t resist putting a little extra emphasis on that word, pointing to his eye again with a smug, half-lidded smile. Shooting Star was his ally for now, sure. But she shouldn’t forget where things really stood. He was the one who was really in control here.

“And I’ll use the We Will Rock You knock.”

“UGH, COME ON!” Bill protested. “I’M TELLING YOU, SHAVE-AND-A-HAIRCUT IS THE GO-TO FOR A REASON, IT’S PRACTICAL—“

“See ya later!” She winked and vanished through the door. The lock clicked heavily into place.

Bill glared daggers at the door until the sound of footsteps had faded away. Then he took off his hat and rifled through the lining, taking a reassuring glance at his folded-up notes. And the paper clip fastening them in place. That dumb kid put way too much trust in that lock. Did she really not realize the danger she’d let into her house? Did she really not know what she was dealing with?

His eye was drawn in by a soft gleam from deep within the hat. He brushed some fabric aside and stared at the fragment of his dimension. It caught the dim light in the room and threw it back much brighter, twisted into colors that didn’t exist anymore. It hurt to look at it with this new eye. He let his gaze rest on it longer than he should have.

Then he tore his eye away and shoved the hat back on. No, she definitely didn’t know. The fact he was still here— still alive— was proof enough of that.

[delicateperspective]

harry wakes up alone.

which is normal, kind of — louis had mumbled something about going to tesco for milk and croissants before rolling out of bed in a hoodie and joggers and disappearing into the cold morning.

normal. fine.

except then, harry’s phone rings.

a number he doesn’t know.

“hello?”

“is this mr. styles?” says a very serious voice. northern. official. slightly muffled.

harry sits up. “...yes?”

“we’ve got louis tomlinson in custody. public indecency. urinated on church property.”

harry blinks. “what?”

“we’ll be holding him overnight. just thought you should know.”

harry’s heart drops. his soul leaves his body. he forgets how to breathe, let alone think critically.

“he—he peed on a what?”

“a church. very disrespectful.”

“he’s not even religious!”

“still illegal.”

“but he—he just went to tesco!”

“well. not anymore.”

click.

harry stares at the wall for a full ten seconds, then bursts into motion. he’s crying into the banana he grabbed for breakfast by minute three. he tries to call louis seven times. he googles “how to bail your boyfriend out of prison” and “can you get kicked out of uni for dating a criminal.” he starts packing a bag with snacks and a clean hoodie, just in case louis has to go to court in the morning.

the front door opens with a jangle.

harry’s standing in the middle of the living room, one boot half on, banana in one hand, phone in the other. his face is pale, eyes rimmed red. he's got louis’s spare hoodie clutched under his arm like it might save him.

and then louis walks in, holding a bag of croissants and a bottle of oat milk, looking annoyingly alive and unincarcerated.

“morning!” louis grins, kicking the door shut behind him. “did you miss me—?”

“LOUIS!” harry screams.

louis jumps so hard he nearly launches the croissants across the room. “jesus! what’s your problem—”

“you said you were going to tesco!”

“i did!”

harry throws a shoe at him. it bounces off louis’s thigh with a satisfying thwop.

“what the hell was that for?!”

“a policeman called me!” harry shouts. “he said you got arrested! for—for peeing on a church!”

louis wheezes. absolutely howls. nearly drops the oat milk. “oh my god. oh my god. it worked? i used the payphone outside the corner shop and everything!”

“you used a payphone? who are you? a 90s drug dealer?!”

“no,” louis cackles, “i’m a comedy genius.”

except—harry’s not laughing.

louis’s grin falters.

harry’s still just standing there, breathing hard, knuckles white around the banana, face pinched and pink. “i thought you’d been arrested, louis. i thought you pissed on a sacred building and got taken away in a police car. i was about to skip my lecture and go bail you out with forty-seven quid and a Tesco Clubcard.”

“babe—”

“i packed you a snack bag.” harry’s voice cracks. “i put in grapes. and a sudoku book. and the hoodie you like that smells like me.”

louis’s stomach drops.

“i—I didn’t think you’d fall for it,” he says, voice going quiet. “i thought you’d laugh. hang up. text me something snarky.”

“i sobbed into a banana.”

louis’s face crumples. “oh, Harry.”

“in the kitchen. like a Victorian widow. over a banana.”

“i’m the worst boyfriend in the history of time.”

“yes.”

“like, truly. i should be exiled.”

“maybe just banned from april fools.”

“reasonable.”

there’s a pause.

louis gently sets the croissants down on the coffee table. “look, i brought you almond. your favourite.”

harry eyes them. “...you don’t deserve almond.”

“i know.” louis drops to his knees. “but i am prepared to beg.”

“you should.”

“and grovel.”

“correct.”

“and,” louis adds, “i will now perform a spoken-word apology and clean the entire flat in nothing but your ‘i heart taylor swift’ boxer shorts.”

harry crosses his arms. “you’re trying to distract me with thighs and feminism.”

“is it working?”

“...maybe.”

louis smiles, cautious. “can i hug you?”

harry hesitates — then sighs, steps forward and buries his face in louis’s neck. “you owe me a hundred almond croissants and emotional stability.”

“i’ll give you two croissants right now and try my best.”

“deal.”

[rottenpumpkin13]

Is there a list of things AGSZC are prohibited from having in their possession?

Sephiroth: Prohibited from having access to sashimi on Shinra property. He has no self control. He'll order a plate of sashimi during a quiet dinner in the Shinra mess hall. Five minutes later, he'll go back in line for another plate. Then another. By the fifth plate, Angeal will lunge across the table to wrestle the plate of sashimi from Sephiroth's grasp. By the tenth, Genesis watches in abject horror as Sephiroth gracefully inhales entire slices of tuna like a malfunctioning office paper shredder.

Zack: Infomercials. His impulse purchases have included a bunch of crap that don't work. ChocoBoots (a pair of boots that make you run as fast as a chocobo), thirteen slap chops ("They save SO much time Angeal!") (he doesn't cook), 12 Snuggies modified into SOLDIER uniforms, a bedazzler, a roomba that sings, a CatGenie even though he doesn't have a cat, and most notably, 40 jackets with built-in cupholders that he swears would "revolutionize fashion." Kunsel now has parental controls on Zack's TV.

Genesis: Banned from possessing rubber bands due to a complete and utter lack of impulse control. The final straw occurred after he snapped a rubber band at Sephiroth, who didn't even flinch, tilted his head slightly to the side, and let it whiz past before calmly asking "Do you value your life?" What followed was Lazard entering the room just in time to witness Sephiroth stalking Genesis around the couch with unnerving patience, while Genesis hysterically bolted in circles, screaming fervent prayers, as though invoking the goddess to ward off a demonic entity.

Cloud: Banned from thermostat access because he's somehow perpetually humid and insists on setting every room to a crisp, subzero hellscape. One time, Zack invited him over for a sleepover. He woke up in the dead of night, teeth chattering, fingers an alarming shade of blue. He rolled over to see Cloud sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, fanning himself with a comic book like he was dying of heat in the middle of summer. Zack debated homicide.

Angeal: Banned from possessing post-it notes. He was accused of bullying after flooding the SOLDIER floor with increasingly passive-aggressive notes. HR had to intervene. Notable examples include "unhealthy" taped to Zack's soda can, "poor posture" on Genesis' back while he was reading in shrimp position, and "friendships require effort" on Sephiroth's office door after Sephiroth didn't answer his text.

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 5

Surprise visitor

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 4.5k Words

Chapters 4 | 5 | 6

Simon was sitting on the back porch, half laid with the flooring and the skeleton of the built-in seating when he heard the car pull up. It wasn’t unusual to hear cars on the street as of late. The true tourist season was just around the corner, but closer living locals were already coming in on the nicer days to get their properties set for the season. Or to drop their boats in the water and get them in their slips before the more coveted marinas were fully sold out.

But it was odd to hear the crunch of gravel in Celeste’s driveway as the vehicle came to a rolling stop and the car sat there idling. It wasn’t a delivery, too small of a car for that, and it definitely wasn’t Celeste either. He had seen her leave a few hours before for work, and it wasn’t nearly enough time for her shift to be done.

Curiosity peaked, Simon pushed up from the spot where he had been reading, stepping carefully over the exposed support beams to peer at the trees that split the property border. There he spotted a small SUV, brand new and shiny in the sun, and a woman sitting in the driver’s seat texting on her phone. He stayed where he was to watch what she was up to. Perhaps she was lost and had wandered to the wrong address for her rental. Or she was attempting to sell something. If that was the case, he would be promptly going inside and ignoring the knock on the door until she went away.

But then the woman climbed out of the car, tucking her phone away, and went to the trunk to dig out a suitcase—two suitcases, a large backpack, and a tote bag that was threatening to bust with how overstuffed it was. Clearly, she had the wrong address for the rental. Still, Simon watched quietly as she dragged her things over the gravel to the backdoor instead of the front. Interesting.

Digging out his own phone, he sent a quick text to Johnny asking him to swing by the café to see if Celeste was still working. He had gone into town with Kyle, taking pity on the guy who was moping around the house. Simon looked pointedly the other way when Kyle climbed on the back of Johnny’s bike and slipped his good arm around his waist. Not for jealousy of the closeness, Simon had watched the two of them together much closer than that, but because he knew it was reckless.

If Johnny slipped, if there was a wobble, the chance of injury to both of them was high. But Simon also knew Kyle was so close to snapping at being handled like a child he kept his mouth shut. Johnny was an excellent driver, and it was just to town. He had to trust him. But John would definitely not hear anything about this trip.

We’ll swing by there next. Everything good?  Fine. Just has a visitor at her place. Don’t know who it is. Don’t want her coming home if it’s unwelcomed.  Softie  Piss off

The woman had ditched her bags by the rickety patio table set, and Simon had to step off the deck and walk toward the lake a bit to get a better look at what she was doing. She was picking up rocks in the landscaping by the door and flipping them over before sighing and picking up another. She was looking for a key Simon quickly realized. After a few more tries, she found what she was looking for, pulled the small tab on the fake rock back, and tilted it over to find no key inside.

When she dropped the plastic rock back into the dirt, she stood up, wiped her hands on her pants, and looked around as if to see if anyone saw her. Simon was careful to stay shrouded in the shade of the trees, and she didn’t spot him as she stepped into the garden and moved to push on a window that didn’t budge. Whoever this person was, she was determined to get inside the place, and Simon was about to find out why.

Simon kept his footsteps light and quiet, which was a feat that he was unusually skilled at despite his size. He sidestepped all the fallen branches under the trees and shuffled through the dead leaves that no one had cleaned up after last season before going around the back of Celeste’s garage. The woman had no idea he was even there as she shoved herself between a bush and the house and tried pressing on another window. Well, she may not have known, but the little orange cat locked in on him and stared unabashedly before pawing at the glass where the woman huffed up at him.

“Goddamn it, Celeste, since when did you become the epitome of house safety?” The woman complained as she twisted and attempted to get out of the bush. Her hair was tangled up in the branches and Simon stared at her with his arms crossed over his chest as he saw her flail about trying to get out. He was a few feet away from the backstep watching her, and when she finally saw him and shrieked, he didn’t flinch.

“Who the fuck,” the woman startled as she nearly fell over, crushing the bush under her as she lost her footing.

Simon didn’t bother to help her as he watched her, though his lips quirked up under his mask as he watched an embarrassed expression break over her face. She clearly had not been anticipating an audience, and a man that was nearly twice her size had scared the shit out of her. Perhaps that would teach her to not break into people’s houses.

“Who are you?” The woman asked once she got herself free and stumbled back onto the back steps so she felt like she had the higher ground. She was still shorter than him, even at this angle, but he had to give it to her that despite the startle and huge eyes, she was standing her ground. Most would have run. “And why are you on this property?” She added on before wiping away a leaf that was brushing the side of her face, ruining some of her bravado.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Simon answered as he sized her up. “Since you are the one breaking and entering into someone’s house,” he replied, “or attempting to anyway. Doesn’t seem to be working out that well.”

“I’m a friend,” the woman answered after a second, narrowing her eyes at him. “She must have forgotten her own keys at some point because the spare she keeps out here is missing,” she explained, pointing to the fake rock. “So again. Who are you?”

“Her neighbor,” Simon said simply. “Saw you rummaging around and thought I’d see what you were up to. The bush seemed to keep you occupied enough though. Clearly, she doesn’t need an alarm system if these are the type of burglars around here.”

“I’m not a burglar. Would a robber know where someone kept their spare key,” she hesitated, clearly realizing that, yes, someone breaking in would potentially know where a key was. She changed tactics quickly. “You’re lucky I didn’t attack you,” the woman snapped as she smoothed her hair a bit. “How do you know I don’t have a knife or something?”

“I’d say you’re the lucky one in that situation,” Simon replied flatly. This short woman would hardly be a challenge, and he knew she was all bluster because there wasn’t anything remotely intimidating about her. Physically anyway.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out to take a look and saw a message from Johnny stating Celeste was still at the café. Then, another question about sweets that Simon ignored as he shoved the phone away again. “If you’re a friend, why are you here locked out when she’s at work? You’d think she would have left the door unlocked for you or the key.” He looked at the fake rock and made a mental note to promptly get rid of that. There were better ways to hide keys and secure a house.

“She didn’t know I was coming; I wanted to surprise her…I live pretty far away,” the woman answered, pointing toward all the luggage. “I wanted to try to get in, clean up, and surprise her when she got home. But it looks like I’ll be sitting out here until she gets off shift in,” she paused and looked at her watch with a huff, “four hours.”

“Give me proof you know her, and I’ll let you in,” Simon answered as he uncrossed his arms to not seem as intimidating. Though the woman hardly seemed like she would fall for intimidation tactics. After the initial startle, she didn’t back down from Simon’s stare, nor did she fumble in her words or actions. She was willing to stand toe to toe with him, a rarity.

“Proof? How about you give me some proof,” the woman snapped. “How do I know you’re not some creepy stalker or something?”

“I’m Simon,” Simon said after a second, “I live next door with Johnny, Kyle, and John. Moved in a few weeks back. I’m sure Celeste has mentioned something to you if you are that close of friends. John and Johnny managed to piss her off already.”

“Mmm,” the woman muttered under her breath as she narrowed her eyes. “Fine, yes, she has. Hasn’t said much about you aside from the fact you wear a skull mask.” She looked pointedly at the mask that was across his as if to indicate ‘exactly that’. She held her ground for a moment, testing him before sighing and digging out her phone. “What proof do you want?”

“Give me her number. I’ll see if it matches,” Simon bluffed. Celeste had never given any of them her number. As she rattled it off without having to even look at her phone, Simon typed it in his and hit save before looking up at her. “Anything else?”

“Fucks sake, this the inquisition?” She asked before huffing and tapping into an app and holding up her phone to show him. It was pictures of the two of them together. She swiped through them quickly to show how many she had before raising an eyebrow as if to ask if she passed the test.

“Fine,” Simon relented before gesturing for her to step aside. If this woman was a problem it wouldn’t be that hard to dispatch her. And he was more than curious to see exactly what Celeste got up to inside of her house. She barely spent any time in it, so he had a faint idea of what it was.

“You have a key?” The woman asked as Simon dug out his wallet and flipped it open before pulling out a card.

“Not exactly,” Simon said as he grabbed the small brass doorhandle and yanked the door up and to the side before shoving the card in the gap. It took two more shoves and a bit of wriggling before the latch popped and the door opened. “No deadbolt on the door,” he offered as the door swung open, and the woman stared at him slack-jawed.

“Solidifies you are a creepy stalker,” the woman answered giving him an up and down glance before moving to shove him aside. “I’ll be getting her a deadbolt, chain, perhaps a baseball bat, and alarm system before I leave,” she rattled off, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I won’t tell you the ten different ways I could get around those without breaking a sweat then. Let you sleep better at night.” He smirked behind the mask as she glared at him, her mouth falling open a little bit at his brashness. “Military,” Simon replied in explanation as he held out the card between two fingers for her to take. It was his military ID, conveniently missing his picture. “You learn a few things,” he smirked as she snatched up the card and read it over before shoving it back at him.

“Sure. Well thanks for letting me in, you can go now,” she said dismissively as she attempted to block the door.

“Still not sure you aren’t up to something,” Simon answered as he followed her into the kitchen, crowding her space. “What’s your name?” As if he’d know if that was a friend of Celeste’s or not, he had barely spoken to the woman.

“Listen. I’ve just gotten off a four-hour flight, one wrong train stop, a two hour drive and fought with a car rental place for that horrendous thing out front. If I was coming all the way out here to cause issues, I clearly am a shitty criminal with low ambitions.” When Simon raised his eyebrow at her for the unanswered question, she rolled her eyes. “Alice. I’ve known Celeste since we were kids. We have cheesy matching tattoos, I was in her wedding, and if you look hard enough I’m sure you can find our old yearbooks somewhere when we had braces and pigtails. We done?”

“Alice,” Simon answered with a nod as he leaned against the kitchen counter as Samson winded around his legs. The little thing had taken to hounding Simon when he was outside for scraps, and when no one was looking, he had slipped him bits of chicken and steak. Apparently he now thought Simon walked around with food in his pockets.

“Simon,” Alice shot back pointedly. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” She asked as she looked down at Samson, who was brushing up against the hulking man's black jeans. When he didn’t answer, she huffed and twisted to continue her inspection. “This place is ten times worse than I expected, I’ve got my work cut out for me. Here I was hoping I could soak in the gigantic garden tub for a bit.”

Simon glanced around the kitchen for the fourth time, eyes lingering on the doorway to the living room beyond before going back to Alice. It wasn’t in bad shape. Dated. Perhaps a bit dusty atop the fridge and cabinets where Celeste wouldn’t be able to see or get to without a stepstool, but it wasn’t awful. Some plates in the sink, plants that needed watering but otherwise it seemed to be in relatively good shape. Stark but Simon wasn’t one for decorations either.

“You seeing something I’m not?” Simon asked as Alice pulled open the fridge, peered in then scoffed. It was barren inside as well.

“She’s lived here for a few months now,” Alice answered as she shut the fridge, moved to the kitchen pantry, and pulled open the door. “And it looks just as empty as when she sent me pictures from the day she moved in.”

“If that’s a sign of an issue, then I’d hate for you to see our home,” Simon replied as she started inspecting boxes of food and putting them on the kitchen table.

“She’s never been one to live like this. I bet all her things are still in boxes because she,” Alice paused with a sigh. “You know what? Not your business. So,” she stated as she opened the trash with her foot to throw away expired food. “Either you can go back to whatever it was you were doing, or give me hand hauling in my luggage and tell me where the nearest grocery is.”

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

Tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day Celeste had been dreading would be upon her.

It was on constant repeat in her mind. One more day and it will have been a year since he had left. A full year without him. She was a full year older while he was perpetually frozen at thirty-seven. She’d keep aging. Keep moving on, keep living, and eventually surpass his age while he’d still be that same man. The one that had bemoaned the stray white hairs that had started cropping up in his beard and questioned if his hairline had receded. Fuck. She’d never see him grey. Never see that bald spot she promised to rub for good luck as she teased him. And he’d never see the small streaks of grey that had started in her own hair.

Fisting her shaking hands to keep them under control, Celeste stared at her reflection in the bakery case to get herself together. She couldn’t start crying behind the counter in front of all these people; customers, her boss, and coworkers. She couldn’t take the stares but most of all she couldn’t take the questions. Some of them had figured out who she was, of course; they knew her husband’s family from having grown up here, but most treated her like a mystery, and she wanted to keep it that way. It hurt to see her old friends and family without him at her side and to see their pity. But it hurt even more to try and explain it to strangers and hear the condolences that were a year too late. A year. Fuck, no, she needed to get out of that spiral.

“What else do you need help with, Carl?” Celeste asked as the man appeared from where he had gone for yet another smoke break.

“Ah,” the older man replied as he glanced around the area. “Just refill the napkins and the coffee stand? It’ll just be me here tomorrow with you off,” he stated, his voice sounding a bit put out.

“Mmm, it’s mostly me here even when you are here,” Celeste muttered to herself, though she nodded and headed out to the floor to start checking the napkin holders on all the tables.

She worked on refilling everything, from the napkins to the sugar packets, the straws, cup lids, and any other small thing she could think of. It would keep her busy for the last bit of her shift and be one less thing for her to do when she got back to work. The rest of her coworkers did pretty much the bare minimum, only refilling when things were empty, and that would end up with her having to do it all anyway.

The busy work helped keep her mind occupied, when she was idle that was when the thoughts would creep in. That fact alone had almost made her not take the next few days off but after a very long phone call, where Alice had threatened to call out for her, Celeste had put in for it. She wasn’t sure what she would do all day though. Perhaps just try to sleep through them, stare at the water for hours, and avoid every single phone call and text. She knew his parents were going to the gravesite but that wasn’t something she had been ready for. It was going to be hard enough to face them for dinner.

As she fought to shove a pack of napkins into a container, the rumble of a bike caught her and half the café's attention as it pulled into the parking lot.

Bikes in town were normal in the warm months, but at the moment, they weren’t. The only ones Celeste knew of were her neighbors and sure enough it was them, though they had only brought one bike and were riding together. They lingered on the bike talking, and Celeste peered up a few times from her work to find both of them with their visors up, staring at her. Surely not. She was far from the window and not worth the attention, but as she made eye contact, one waved.

“Know them?” A customer asked as she walked over causing Celeste to jump a bit as she returned the wave halfheartedly.

“Oh, I mean…I guess? Not really well, though; they’re my neighbors,” she confessed with a small shrug. “We see each other around.”

“They moved into that broken down place?” The woman asked a bit shocked. Of course the woman knew where she lived, which wasn’t weird at all. “Flippers I bet, looking to make quick money.”

“Perhaps,” Celeste said as she watched the one with the injured arm, Kyle, as she came to learn against her attempts not to learn about any of them, climbed off the back of the bike first. “They travel a lot for work, could be their vacation spot.” Why did she know that? Perhaps because of the constant rotation of cars and the only person that seemed to stay no matter what was Kyle.

“As long as they are quiet,” the woman sniffed before handing Celeste her plates for her to take, ignoring that she was busy with other work. “Those bikes are horrendous.”

Celeste didn’t answer as she took the dishes to the kitchen and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left. Surely she could ride them out hiding in the back. Take her time getting her things together, linger washing her hands, and make a show of double checking her time. She was too tired to get into anything else and was honestly afraid if she found something to do it would keep her past her shift. Then Carl would try to rope her in to cover yet another smoke break that could range from fifteen to thirty minutes.

Right at the four o’clock mark Celeste punched out and flitted right for the door. She avoided eye contact with anyone working and tugged her jacket tight around her shoulders, the spring air still a bit chilly. She knew she needed to stop at the store for food, her last bit of deli meat gone with dinner the night before, but the idea of going shopping was daunting. Maybe there was some cereal in the pantry she could eat and then shop tomorrow to get out of the house. If she even had the stomach to keep anything down.

While she started up her car she spotted Johnny and Kyle walking out of the small convenience store next to the café. They were chatting and she watched as Johnny snatched Kyle’s bag away to carry it before stuffing it in the bike bags and handing him his helmet. Despite neither of them was nearly as large as Simon, Celeste found herself fascinated at the fact they both fit on the motorcycle. Both were tall, Johnny stockier compared to Kyle’s more lithe form yet they made it work. Johnny slipped on first and Kyle behind him, adjusting a few times for his arm before he reached around to grab Johnny’s waist. It was an intimate enough position to sit like that, but as Johnny grabbed Kyle’s knee to tug him closer and didn’t let go, Celeste raised an eyebrow. Perhaps they were more than just joint investors in the house. Not that it mattered to her she told herself as she threw her car into drive to pull out of her spot.

She didn’t want to know anything about them, didn’t want to get friendly with them or allow them to know her. She vowed to keep her circle small after everything that happened. Death brought out the worst in people, and she truly learned who her friends were. The less people she had around her, the less heartbreak she’d have to deal with down the road.  Yet as she waited at the light, she watched them pull up behind her in the rearview mirror, and when Johnny gave her a polite nod, she returned it with a half-smile.

You home yet?

Celeste jumped as her car read out her text message and she sighed before answering. Alice had been checking in constantly. Despite the long distance between them physically, she never let that stop her from reaching out. She called, texted, video chatted and any other form of communication she could figure out to keep Celeste engaged. As of late Celeste hadn’t really been keeping up her side of friendship, not initiating conversations and letting messages go unanswered for a day or two at a time. But Alice didn’t begrudge her and still continued to stay ever present. The one real friend she really had left.

On my way mom. I left work on time for once.  Good. I’m starved.

“Shit,” Celeste muttered. She had forgotten they were supposed to have a video dinner date and movie night. Alice was going to chew her a new one for eating cereal out of the box. She was already on her for looking exhausted all the time and suspicious as to why.

The drive home was uneventful, though she kept glancing up as Johnny and Kyle followed behind. It was odd to have anyone around on the ride home, the cottage so far out of downtown. They kept a respectful distance, but she smirked a bit as she spotted Kyle pressed tight to Johnny’s back and let his other arm extend out in the wind. She noticed Johnny sped up a bit to toy with him and laughed a bit to herself as Kyle abruptly wrapped his arm back around Johnny and held tight.

She was so engaged in watching them, eyes darting between the road and the mirror, the SUV in her driveway startled her. Celeste had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting it and she rocked in her seat before glancing at her cottage. She didn’t recognize the car, running through the mental list of her former in-law's vehicles. Surely they wouldn’t surprise her with a visit, not like this. As she narrowed her eyes at the lights that were on inside her phone dinged again.

Dinner’s getting cold. Get in here.

And as Celeste pondered just what that meant she saw the front door open and her friend’s silhouette in the doorway. Alice was there. She had surprised her with a trip, a feat in itself because she was horrible at keeping any type of secret from Celeste. Her friend had dropped everything, made the trek out to the middle of nowhere, to make sure that she wasn’t alone. Knowing that Celeste would struggle through it in silence and wasn’t about to let her do that.

Alice had been at her side in less than twelve hours a year ago after the accident. She had been the only person who actually knew how to take care of her and had taken charge when Celeste was catatonic on the couch. Had curled her up in the guest bedroom and slept with her in the tiny rickety bed so she wouldn’t be alone because Celeste hadn’t slept on her own in almost fifteen years. And after a solid year of misery she was still there, fighting off the ghosts and trying to help Celeste find joy and life again.  

[newtkive]

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 3 - infamous minecraft night

summary: the usual minecraft night ensues, and newt comes to a realization.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

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note: the first meme is minho i swear. anyways first written chapter yaaaay !!

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The only sounds coming from Newt’s apartment were the whirring of his pc and the shuffle of his friend situating himself on the living room couch. Newt was stationed in the corner of the small apartment, typing away at his computer, head down and floppy blond hair over his forehead.

“Dude, chill. You’re going to give yourself carpal tunnel from typing that fast.” Minho said from his spot on the sofa. His hands were behind his head, feet on the coffee table and shooting a judgmental look Newt’s way.

The older looked over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I told you to stop putting your nasty feet on my table.” He retorted.

Minho rolled his eyes, dramatically stomping his feet back on the ground. Another look was shot his way, curtesy of Newt before he turned back around, focusing again on his screen. “We getting on Minecraft or what, man?” Minho sighed, putting his laptop on his lap.

“Uh, yeah, go ahead and get on. I just finished my work and I’m gonna join the call.” Newt mumbled, taking hold of his mouse to click off of the library website he was editing, and switch to the Discord app. It took a second for him to find ‘The Glade’ group, noticing three active members in the voice chat to the left side of the main chat. He suddenly saw the chat moving as an alert popped up, showing that a familiar name was typing.

y/n: yooo newt get on!!

y/n: i see you online. get on call! we need a voice of reason

Newt’s dark eyes flew across the screen, a small smile gracing his lips as he read what you said. Behind him, Newt could hear Minho scoffing. The sound must have sobered the blond up, since his smile fell and he coughed to snap himself out of it.

“Dude, how come she asked you to join? I’m online too!” Minho grumbled like a spoiled kid.

Newt smirked, sending him a look again from over his shoulder. “Because she needs a voice of reason, or so she says. You’d only serve to make things worse in whatever is going on in that call.” The older snickered, and a harsh glare came from his friend. Newt swore he heard Minho mutter a few curses under his breath as he turned back around, but he let it go.

Clearing his throat, Newt clicked on the voice chat and prepared himself. An onslaught of voices immediately filled his ears, a mix of halfhearted arguing and giggles from Alby, Gally, and yourself. As usual, dark eyes instantly found the small square that housed the image of you and Newt couldn’t control the smile that lit up his face.

“Newt!” You beamed right back at him, waving through the screen.

“Y/n!” The blond reciprocated the wave and felt his cheeks heat up as you giggled a bit.

A few groans lit up the call belonging to Alby and Gally. The two had a similar set up going on; sitting in front of their fancy gaming computers while adorning a headset, a bit distracted as they played Minecraft.

“You could say hey to us too, Newt.” Alby sassed, with a broad grin and raised brows.

“Yeah, but you guys probably caused whatever problem is going on." Newt chuckled. This elicited a furious nod from you in the corner, and Alby immediately began wagging his finger in the camera with a series of 'no, no, no's.

"Sure, go see what Y/n did to my house." Gally remarked the bottom left corner of the screen and rolled his eyes.

"I only blew half of it up because you destroyed my shed!" You gasped at Gally. Newt's smile grew at their antics.

"You mean my shed that you've been squatting in!" Gally shouted back at her. There was a hint of an amused smile on his face despite the obvious irritation about the TNT blowing his hard work up. Newt figured it would have been a bigger deal if it was anyone else's property, but Gally was an absolute beast at Minecraft; he could fix any damage within mere minutes.

Before you could retort, the sound of another person joining the call cut you off. A vertical screen stretched to fit the layout, and a blurry image of a familiar brunette was shown.

"Heyyyy, guys!" Thomas sing-songed out, holding his phone up in the air like a stereotypical dad. He was clearly walking along the snow covered streets, wired headphones in as he adjusted his beanie. The crew let out a chorus of 'hey man's and 'hey Tommy's'.

"Where the hell are you?" Newt asked, laughter laced in his voice, head tilted to the side to decipher where his friend was going.

"Uhhh, I'm on my way home," Thomas started, looking around as snow began to fall a bit, almost seeming unsure of his own words, "I think, at least."

"You think?" Newt echoed, amused.

"You're like one of those kids who need a leash on their backpacks." You said, grinning at your best friend as he trudged along the almost barren stone street of New York.

Thomas shrugged, a little laugh bubbling out. "I guess. I kinda got lost, I thought this old lady was following me so I faked her out and went a weird direction. Now I'm in a fancy neighborhood." He explained.

Alby, Newt, yourself, and even Minho from behind Newt let out a loud laugh.

"Dumbass." Gally snickered, grinning for once on the call.

"Tommy, you're nuts." You mumbled, hand moving rapidly along with your mouse as you tried to fix your shed, eyes glancing back and forth between the screens.

"Who was that? Is Min there?" Alby questioned, squinting at Newt's image on the screen.

Newt scooted his rolling chair to the side to reveal Minho's slouched over form on the couch. The man's smile comically fell as he was revealed, almost like he had an upset image to keep up (he did). "Wow, you know my laugh anywhere. You're obsessed with me." It was Minho's turn to sass out, as usual.

Alby rolled his eyes and Tommy grinned at the sight of their friend. "Minho! Hey, buddy!" The latter waved enthusiastically as he trudged the quickly darkening streets. Minho simply flashed a middle finger, making him pout.

"Join the call, Min. You should get on Minecraft too." You piped up, eyes looking away from your phone camera and glued to your laptop.

"No, fuck you guys. I'm mad at you." Minho all but shouted, arms crossed and leaning back on the couch.

Newt scooted more into the frame again, shaking his head. "He's pissed still, as you can tell."

"You're the one who removed him." Alby said, clearly annoyed.

"But you guys are the ones who didn't add me back!" Minho shouted again, glaring at the screen from his spot.

"I added you back!" Alby corrected him.

"Oh, please." Minho didn't know how to reply, so he just scoffed at the man. He was right after all, and Min didn't like being wrong.

Newt shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He shrunk the screen a bit to pull up Minecraft, eager to see what kind of damage was done to everyone's homes.

They had build up a cute little town: dark oak houses, each unique to every person who built them, all leading up to a giant cherry blossom mansion that Gally resided in. The shed beside the mansion housed any stray horses found—each horse assigned to a different person—and your own little blue bed. You refused to live in your own home after everyone made fun of the dirt house you and Tommy built together. Unlike you, Tommy stood his ground and stayed inside of it. You chose to spite everyone who made fun of you and move into the public stables, inconveniencing them.

Newt crossed his arms and patiently waited for his game to load as he tuned back into the conversation. You had convinced Minho to play with all of you if you gave him your hard earned diamond—emphasis on the singularity of the use of diamond. You often had a hard time mining without dying, so you took pride in your jewel.

"Oh, c'mon. That just means you'll steal more of my shit." Newt said, pretending to sound exasperated.

At the sound of his British accent rolling through your speakers like honey, your eyes immediately darted back to the screen to see Newt's smirk. A blush emerged on your cheeks and you bashfully smiled. "No, I won't! I swear." You said, a bit embarrassed.

Newt didn't mind you borrowing his things, and he had an inkling that you knew that. "Sure, I bet that'll last for an hour." He chuckled.

Internally, Newt was giddy at your interaction like a school girl. Now he was internally embarrassed. At the perfect time, his game screen loaded and he began playing the game to distract himself.

"Guys, promise me you'll tell me if there's someone behind me." Thomas piped up while trekking through the streets. Everyone monotonously agreed, not fully paying attention.

"Guys, c'mon!" Thomas whined incessantly, sounding like a little kid. You giggled and assured him you'd keep an eye out, and he seemed to calm down at those words.

With that, the group gaming really started up. It was weird without Thomas being online and his little character not moving around, but his constant talking filled the void.

On the other side of the screen you were reeling at the sight of Newt. He was focused on the game, lip between his teeth, brows taut, and messy, thick, blond hair splayed over his forehead like a golden crown. Brown eyes constantly flickering around the screen but somehow finding their home on you in the end—or at least you hoped.

Newt was thinking similar things about you. Eyes catching your form every time you moved your hair to the other shoulder, or ran your hand through it. He tried not to be obvious and strayed away from glancing over at every movement, but it was hard. If he caught your gaze, he would waggle his brows a bit, and you would dissolve into that cute little smile that lit up his stomach in butterflies. Thankfully, no one noticed your interactions—or at least that's what both of you told yourselves.

By the time Thomas got to his own apartment, and those affected rebuilt their in-game homes, things were slowing down and tiredness overcame most of you. Even Minho's shit talk from behind Newt had almost came to a halt. The first one out was Gally, claiming he had work tomorrow. Next was you.

“G’night, you guys. I have a 9 am Zoom class tomorrow, I gotta be up early.” You grumbled. A hand came up to lazily rub at your eyes as you carried your phone to your room, and Newt resisted the urge to say something along the lines of 'goodnight sweetheart' (which he didn't know why that popped up in his brain).

The group of guys chorused a goodnight to you, all waving. Newt stared at your image, your sweet smile that would stick in his mind long after you hung up. The sound of you leaving echoed in his brain as he stared at the spot where you once were. That is, until Alby's video replaced where yours once was and he scowled.

"What's with the stink face?" Thomas gawked at his friend from where he laid on his bed, phone sat up next to him on the pillow. His friends sudden smile turning into a stoic expression startled him.

"His girlfriend left, that's what." Minho said, walking up behind Newt. Min placed his hands on Newt's shoulders, and the blond shot him a dirty look, shaking his hands off.

"Shut up. The fuck does that mean?" Newt grumbled. Everyone seemed to notice how bothered Newt sounded, which only made smirks grow wider. Everyone but Tommy, who was just about half asleep by now.

"Ahhh," Minho started and tapped Newt's bicep, "just as we all thought." Minho left it at that and stood up straighter, hands on his hips. Newt looked up at him entirely confused.

"Do you guys talk outside of the groupchat?" Alby asked.

"We talkin' about Y/n?" Thomas slurred out.

"Yes, dumbass." Minho leaned down so Thomas could see his annoyed face, but his eyes were closed.

"Uhhhh, not too much, no." Newt shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

Minho gave him an 'are you actually stupid?' type of look, arms crossing as he gazed down at his best friend. "'Why does it matta?'" He mocked his accent, "It matters cause it'll show her you like her!" Arms flew up in the air, as if the answer was obvious.

All Newt could manage to do was look to the side, tongue to his cheek as he ignored the blossoming blush thanks to the topic.

"Min is right, dude! You should talk to her more." Alby's words seemed more encouraging than Minho's. Maybe it was due to the fact that all Minho ever expressed was sarcasm and disdain, but Newt just didn't find him as earnest as Alby at the moment.

"They're right," Thomas piped up, lazy smile on his face. "She's super easy to talk to."

"What?" They all bellowed out in unison.

"You talk to her?" Newt was flabbergasted at this new revelation.

"Uh, duh. She's my best friend. So what?" Thomas scrunched up his brows, eyes cracking open.

Newt just scoffed and shook his head. He wasn't jealous, just.. at a loss for words. "Alright, on that note, goodnight." Newt punctuated his goodbye with a press to the 'end call' button.

The black screen faced both boys, and Newt quickly stood, beelining for his kitchen to make some tea.

"Dude, you call me dramatic." Minho grumbled. Newt just gave him the umpteenth pointed look of the night from his spot next to the sink. As soon as the blond turned around to put the kettle on, filling it up for two, Minho let his knowing smile show.

"You stayin' the night?" The older one called from the kitchen. He decided to ignore whatever that humiliating topic was prior.

Minho plopped down on the couch, head in the pillow, and fishing for the television remote. "You know it." He said. It wasn't odd for Minho to spend the night, as the couch was honestly dedicated to man at this point. Newt liked the company anyways.

The best friends fell into a rhythm of one finding a Netflix show and the other preparing two mugs of tea (Minho usually detested it, claiming it was too British for him, but he surprisingly learned to like it. He would never admit it, but he actually found himself making some tea when he was at home).

Newt had the previous short conversation replaying in his mind over and over as he zoned out while waiting for the water to boil. Did he really like Y/n like that? Yeah, she was gorgeous, and he always found himself looking for her approval and reactions, but he didn't want to be that guy who liked the only girl in the friend group. Although, he knew the situation wasn't really like that.

As Newt brought over the steaming hot mugs and sat on the opposite couch from his friend, waiting for whatever action movie was pulled up to play, he decided talking to Y/n more wasn't such a bad idea.

[sugarushwriting]

“don’t blame me, love made me crazy.”

“looks like an angel while sleeping.”

just a little jay drabble/oneshot. different than my usual writing.

not proof read.

trigger warnings:

obsession: the state of being obsessed with someone or something.

stalking: stalkers use a variety of tactics, including (but not limited to): unwanted contact including phone calls, texts, and contact via social media, unwanted gifts, showing up/approaching an individual or their family/friends, monitoring, surveillance, property damage, and threats.

voyeurism: voyeuristic behavior is when someone derives sexual gratification from secretly watching others undress or engage in sexual activities. voyeurs are also known as "peeping toms"

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

every where you were, jay was there too.

a coffee shop, main library on campus. any cafeteria or food center on campus. anywhere and almost everywhere.

it didn’t matter how many different options were available, you both always ended up at the same place at the same time.

yet you both only had 3 classes together on campus.

philosophy intro to logic, abnormal psychology and interpersonal communications.

“will you be okay?” you friend asked with extreme concern.

“yes, i will be okay, ryunjin.” you reassured.

she was worried because for your abnormal psychology class you were partnered with jay for project.

“maybe yall should study him, because he’s definitely abnormal.” ryunjin whispered.

you playfully swatted her arm. “jay told me to meet him on the fourth floor.”

“why the top floor? so no one can hear you scream?”

“it’s the quiet floor and that’s where he reserved a study room for us.” you said. “please stop being like that!” you huffed.

ryunjin rolled her eyes but went to the second floor where her other friends were as you rode up the elevator to the fourth floor.

you were the one to actually suggest the fourth floor and jay reserved a room for you both based on that suggestion.

getting off the elevator, you found the study room off to the corner with ease, seeing jay set out needed materials on the table.

when he saw you enter he smiled. “oh hey!”

you smiled and waved. “hey jay. ready to get this project knocked out?”

he laughed, “absolutely, but it should be fun. abnormal psychology is one of my favorite subjects.”

“mine too.” you smiled.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

almost an hour later, you both decided on the topic of how personality disorders impact intrapersonal relationships.

you had actually suggested the topic on obsessive sexual fascinations like fetishism, voyeruism, and exhibitionsim, however, jay wasn’t too sure that would even get approved by the professor.

“why not?” you had asked. “is it not a part of abnormal psychology and human behavior?”

“it is but—,”

“you’re not comfortable, it’s okay.” you teased.

ryunjin would probably say it’s because it would mean studying his pattern of behaviors and people don’t like when they get caught.

during the next hour you both jotted down some ideas and found a few psychology papers and articles you all could use.

“we would also need to make sure we find examples.” jay said. “like in movies, shows, plays, things like that.”

“sounds like an easy task! we could use the movies like scream, when a stranger calls, or even—,”

jay chuckled. “and how do these movies relate to our topic?”

“are you kidding,” you laughed with a chuckle, “those people were cray cray. they had to have some kind of personality disorder. sure i can find out with some research.”

“when’s the next time you’re available to work on the project?” jay asked as you both started packing your belongings.

“i am pretty open. i don’t do much but hang around friends or stick to myself.” you shrugged. “how about tomorrow?”

“that’s fine. but i think we’ll have to find a new spot, if i remember correctly the library study rooms are booked up.”

“that’s okay, since we need somewhere private, maybe mine or your apartments?” you suggested, putting your bag over your shoulder.

jay nodded. “either is fine.” he smiled.

“we can do my place! i have plenty of snacks.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“are you insane?” ryunjin scolded you. “that guy is is messed up in the head, you know he’s stalking you, yet you invite him to your place? what are you, crazy yourself?”

it was the next day, and you were telling ryunjin your plans with jay to work on the project at your place while you both stopped by a coffee shop earlier in the morning.

“he asked for my address.” you stated.

“of course he did! he can’t get caught.” ryunjin narrowed her eyes at you. you rolled yours, and walked out the coffee shop, her right behind you.

“you know i am just looking out for you, right?” ryunjin sighed. “i mean, you’ve told me how you been finding flowers at your doorstep, and jay would randomly pop up where you are, almost everywhere, you were.”

“i could be overreacting.”

ryunjin scoffed. “oh now you say you’re overreacting? babe, a stalker is a stalker.”

“i actually never said he was a stalker.” you defending, back tracking.

“you legit told me, ‘ryunjin, jay from my class is stalking me!’”

“i don’t recall.” you shrugged it off.

you did recall.

you remember telling ryunjin how flowers were showing up at your door step, the same flowers from a flower shop jay worked at over the summer.

you remember telling ryunjin how anytime you were at the mall, you saw jay there and he would be staring at you wide-eyed, then quickly walk away.

same at any coffee shop, cafeterias on campus and so forth.

you remember telling ryunjin how you always felt someone was watching you as you undressed.

later that evening you prepared a variety of snacks for jay, and spread out all materials that would be needed for the project.

he had texted you and stated he would be at your place by 7:00 pm.

it was 7:05 pm and you got worried, negative thoughts clouding your mind. was he hurt? did he forget? did he stand you up?

at 7:10 pm a knock came to your door, and you giddily got up from your spot on the floor in front of the coffee table and took big strides to open the door.

you opened seeing jay with a smile. “sorry i’m a bit late. uh, something popped up.”

“oh no, is everything okay?” you asked with concern.

jay seemed frazzled and out of sorts than how he usually presents himself or how you see him.

jay shook his head, “i’m good. just probably all in my head.”

“great, let’s get to work!”

you invited jay in your apartment, showing him were you set up the coffee table for working on the project.

“wow you really do have a lot of snacks!” he chuckled. he picked up a few, “and many are my favorite?” this came out more as a question and surprise, his eyebrows raising cutely.

“really? they’re my favorite too!” you giggled. “should we get started? i have a few personality disorders we can explore.”

“sure! what are some you have in mind?”

“well i was researching,” you began, and took a seat on the floor and jay did the same. “some personality disorders that can affect relationships and communication include antisocial personality disorder, borderline personality disorders, histrionic personality disorders and narcissistic personality disorders.” you listed with a smile. “but those are just cluster b that i think have the highest affects.”

“you seem to know a lot about personality disorders?” jay chuckled.

“i should, it’s an interest of mine. like i mentioned, abnormal psychology is one of my favorite subjects. i would love to work with populations most wouldn’t.”

“like who?” jay asked as you piped his interest.

“serial killers, stalkers, criminals, people like them.”

jay nearly choked on his own spit. “why is that?”

you smirked and your hand landed on his shoulder. he looked at your hand nervously, “i just think most are misunderstood.” you smiled widely. “i also just believe the way they think is so interesting and unbelievable.”

jay watched you talk about your passion with not only interest but something more. maybe he was looking at you strangely? looking at you with concern?

“well, this project should be breeze then.” he laughed nervously. he was more than ready to leave.

as you all continued to work on the project at a good pace, you and jay couldn’t help but still glances at one another.

two and half hours later, jay stood with a stretch, “it’s getting late, i should go.” he stated. “thank you for the snacks.”

he started packing up his things, as you began cleaning up a little. once his backpack strap was over his shoulder, he looked into your kitchen seeing a vase of flowers, a tag that clearly showed it was from the flower shop he worked at over the summer.

jay got nervous and fearful. he quickly adverted his gaze before you caught him looking. but unknown to him, you saw him out of the corner of your eye looking at the flowers, but you decided to keep quiet about it.

“so, i’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked hopeful.

jay’s voice shook with nerves, “um, i’ll text you. i forgot i have something planned with my friends tomorrow.” he smiled politely, but quickly bid goodbye and left your apartment.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

jay laid in bed after showering wide awake for a while. his nerves had gotten the better of him.

you had showered and put on some comfy clothes to enjoy your favorite show after jay left.

jay soon fell asleep, and one thing about jay was he was a heavy sleeper. almost nothing could wake him up so easily. his friends would tease him about it, but it was just who he was.

you weren’t a heavy sleeper on the other hand. which is why to every small noise you would awake, or had almost a third sense of being over cautionary fearful someone was always watching.

the flowers in the trash looked at you almost mockingly, and you closed your fist so tight, your nails were sure to dig into your knuckles.

such an angel while sleeping. so peaceful.

yes jay was. you smiled lovingly looking down at him as you watched him from his doorway as he slept soundly. you stepped quietly closer to him to get as close as possible, when you took out your polaroid camera.

after watching your favorite show which starred jay, him getting undressed and redressed, you were hot and bothered and couldn’t wait until you could finally make your move.

but it would take time. he wouldn’t understand you, or your habits, or how your brain worked.

you could see he was judging you earlier about the way you spoke about your passion.

but he would come around. he had to.

you knew he got stumbled by the flowers in your apartment. if he questioned, you would’ve just waved it off as a coincidence you got it for yourself, or maybe tell him you had a secret admirer to see if he would get jealous.

would he? you had a feeling he would be the jealous and possessive type of what belongs to him.

you sure were. possessive, jealous, of any girl that he talked to. he didn’t know better, but those women should! you thought, they couldn’t compare to you anyway.

when it came to your tactics, you had to be careful. you didn’t want to scare him off too soon. so this project was a great way to wiggle yourself into his bubble.

you fantasized so much about your future with jay. it blurred the line between fact and fictitious, and you were so deep into the obsession, you didn’t understand or even see the line anymore.

you didn’t want to blackmail him—not yet. the flowers were enough for now.

your love for jay made you crazy.

no one could blame you. that’s just how love was, right?

“don’t blame me.” you whispered to jay as you ran your fingers lightly through his hair with a smile.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[tilebytiles]

till you tell me to leave - a.t.

summary: alex would probably let you stay at his house for the rest of your life, right? word count: 3k warnings: making out so a little suggestive, major fluff otherwise a/n: this was SUPPOSED to be a short little drabble but quickly turned into a whole self-indulgent thing bc cowboy!al is very special to me. smiles cutely cowboy!al masterlist

the first time you went to alex’s farm, you were immediately reluctant to leave. you were situated on twilight’s saddle, ambling along behind alex and lizzie and barely past the front gates that he’d just opened before already trying to cook up some lame, half-assed excuse for your parents so you could stay another day. or two. or maybe for the rest of your life. he had a lot of land to his name; the fence around his property stretched on for a while, and the path that led to his house was a bit of a long one, although not unbearably so. to your immediate right was a little pond and — were those fucking ducks?

“you alright?” he asked, his low chuckle snapping you out of your momentary mystification. you gripped the reins and nudged twilight around so you could face him, watching as he pushed the gates shut. you did, admittedly, watch the way his arm muscles flexed in the sunlight for just a little too long to be considered normal.

“you have ducks,” you said, as if that explained everything.

“that i do.” lizzie’s reins in hand, he approached you and your steed, peering up at you from beneath the rim of his hat. if you didn’t know any better, you would have reached over and snatched it from his head to put it on your own. unfortunately, you did know better, and your relationship with alex was nowhere near the level that you felt was appropriate for riding a cowboy.

the dirt shifted and was kicked up beneath his boots and your horses’ hooves as the two of you made your way down the path to his house. the silence that settled in the air was comfortable, although you did still try to search for things to say. finding none, you opted to look around the property some more, now that you weren’t so distracted by the ducks. the area immediately surrounding his house and, consequently, the farm had been cleared of trees, although there were trees closer to the perimeter, making the fence almost imperceptible. you could hear birds chirping in the distance, and one of the ducks quacked. scattered throughout the grass were flowers of different kinds. the sun was out, but it wasn’t uncomfortably hot; just bright. you felt like you’d stepped into a scene out of a fairytale, not your boyfriend’s farm.

ah. boyfriend. that term still felt weird to use.

although he’d given you his phone number and texted you regularly (you remembered the smile he’d given you when he said “i’m not good with phones, but f’you, i’ll try”), your relationship with him hadn’t been solidified until the last time he’d dropped by your house for a quick visit. it wasn’t intentional — neither of you had planned to bring it up to your parents, but when you’d sat down for dinner, your father chewed his food and eyed alex for several seconds before saying, “you want my blessin’, boy?”

alex nearly choked on his water. he coughed a few times and set his glass down, spluttering, “what?”

“hon, what did i tell you about scarin’ him like that?” your mother scolded, lightly swatting at your father’s arm.

his resolve was stronger than steel, though. “you think i’m blind?” he pointed his knife accusatorially at alex. “i’ve seen the way you look at my daughter. i might be old, but i’m no fool. i’ve seen it all, boy.” he lowered his knife to carve another piece out of his steak. “you’re pinin’ after her the same way i pined after m’wife.”

you dropped your fork and buried your face into your hands. “papa, please,” you groaned.

“your … wife.” alex’s foot nudged yours beneath the table, a silent plea for your help. you all but kicked him, making him hiss under his breath. he was on his own.

"don't pay him any mind," the wife in question said, waving her hand dismissively at her husband's words. "he's jus' grumpy 'cause i didn't let him have his nightly beer."

"right." alex didn't seem to buy her reassurances — he might've looked a little more panicked, actually — but he certainly wasn't about to dwell on it. he glanced over at you then, setting his fork down. "marriage wouldn't be ... so bad."

"alex!" you hissed, kicking his foot again. he winced. you glared at your father. "no more marriage talk. i’m not even twenty-one yet."

later that night, as alex laid beside you, arm draped over your waist and fingers drawing lazy circles against your back, his expression grew contemplative. "i meant what i said earlier, y'know."

you opened your eyes. you'd almost fallen asleep. "what do you mean?"

"about marriage. i think i’d like t' marry ya someday."

you were sure he could make out your blush in the darkness. "well ..." you let out a small huff. "that's not for a while."

"no, i s'pose not." silence, then, "can i at least call you mine?"

and that was that.

alex’s home was quaint; not too big and not too small, it was constructed of wood and had a porch with stairs that led up to it. on the porch were two rocking chairs, as well as a table with a lantern. one of the chairs had a blanket draped over its back; you wondered how much time he spent out there. with his help, you hopped off of twilight and followed him up the steps to the front door. late nights were etched into the wood that surrounded you, and when he saw you eyeing a small stain beside one of the rocking chairs, he said, “nick spilled his whiskey there. was never able to get rid of that damn stain.”

his keys jingled as he pushed one into the knob and unlocking the door, swinging it open. he turned to you with a soft smile, the kind that made your heart flutter every time. “go ahead and make yourself at home, alright? i’ll take the horses ‘round back an’ bring your stuff in for ya.”

“okay.” he freed his keys from the doorknob and stuffed them back into his pocket, then turned to retrieve the horses, but not without giving you a quick peck on the forehead first. affection had become easier between you two over time, as natural as breathing. every touch, every soft utterance, felt like hot chocolate on a bleak winter’s day. the affection he held for you — you weren’t sure yet if it was love, and frankly, the L word was a scary one — never failed to set off fireworks in your head, momentarily putting your neuron pathways on halt as every cell rejoiced.

the walls of the home were painted a creamy white — briefly, you wondered if he’d built the home himself, but while alex was a lot of things, he was most definitely not a carpenter. the floor was comprised of wooden planks that were polished and shiny, and the sight of it reminded you of sliding around your house in socks as a kid. the door that led to the backyard was situated beside a large brick fireplace. in the living room, different photographs sat framed on the walls, some of landscapes and others of alex and his friends. he had a couple of guitars hanging by the fireplace, and they made you wonder how serious of a hobby playing was for him. did he know any other instruments? could he sing? you’d have to ask him at some point. there was a sofa and an armchair, and a giant rug sprawled out in the center of the room. there were bookshelves, too, and they were filled to the brim with novels, biographies, and the like. they hosted random trinkets, too. there was even a potted plant in the corner.

you made sure to slip off your shoes and leave them by the door before venturing any further. despite appearing quite rustic on the outside (and on the inside, to some degree), the interior had clear modern touches. one of these was the partially open floor plan, with a wall that spanned from floor to ceiling but not wall to wall and served as a barrier between the kitchen and the living room — it had a window installed in it, offering a glimpse of the kitchen. behind the wall sat the dining table; it was a paler wood than you’d seen so far, as were the chairs. the kitchen walls were painted the same cream color, and there were a couple of photos here, too, including some held up by magnets on the fridge. the sink and dish rack were both clear of dishes — alex must have cleaned up before he left to get you. the ceiling fan overhead had a light bulb in its center, protected by a small glass dome. the microwave sat above the oven, and there was a door that led into the pantry.

wandering back into the living room, you headed for the stairs next. there was a closet built underneath the stairs that didn’t house much, likely due to its size. you quickly ascended the staircase, which opened up into a hall on the second floor. both sides had two doors, and there was another door at the end of the hall. opening the first door on the right revealed another closet; the second door led to what you assumed to be a guest bedroom. the first door on the left was the master bedroom (where alex slept), and the second was the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom. the door at the end of the hall led to a bigger closet than the one downstairs.

the room you were most interested in was alex’s. it wasn’t as decorated as the living room, which surprised you. one of the only photos you saw sat idly on the nightstand, right beside the bedside lamp. there was a book on the nightstand, too; you guessed he was in the middle of reading it. the window provided a nice view of the front of the property, and you peeked through the blinds to see if you could spot alex below. he was nowhere to be found, though. his bed was neatly made, and you wondered if that was a regular habit of his or if he’d only done it for you. his closet was full of jeans and button-down shirts — typical for a cowboy, you thought. he had a fair number of shoes, too.

“if you wanted to wear my clothes, you coulda just asked.” you jumped and whipped around, spotting alex in the doorway. he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, and cocked an eyebrow at you. he was smirking, too. you wanted to punch him.

you refrained, though, and smiled sheepishly. “i was just looking.”

“well, the offer stands as long as you’re here,” he said, approaching you. he stood beside you and peered into his closet, as if it, too, was his first time seeing his own wardrobe. “i think you’d look real cute in one o’ my shirts.”

you flushed and looked away. “i’d probably look kind of weird. they’d be too big on me.”

he snorted. “yeah? that’s why you’d look cute, doll.”

deciding you needed to end this conversation before you combusted, you quickly asked, “where’d you put my stuff?”

“in the other bedroom.” he jerked his head back towards the hallway. “figured we can jus’ move it in here later an’ get you properly unpacked.”

“you want me to stay in here with you?”

he threw an arm around your shoulders and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “what kind of prick would i be if i left my girl to sleep on her own?”

his girl — you liked how it sounded coming from him.

•••••

“alex, that’s cheating!”

“it is not! y/n, i swear on m’life, i’m not tryin’ to cheat!”

the two of you were sat in the middle of the living room floor, engaged in an intense game of uno. you hadn’t even planned to play at first, but after having dinner about an hour ago, you’d found the pack of cards on one of the shelves (one of his friends had left it after a visit). your first round, which was a practice round, was comically short-lived (“i’m rusty,” he’d said after losing in less than ten minutes). the game you were currently locked in had lasted about half an hour and showed no signs of stopping soon; each time one of you approached victory, the other took it away.

“i have to be able to see all of your cards,” you huffed. “it’s cheating.”

alex sighed, rolled his eyes and made a dramatic show of fanning his cards out further, revealing the card that had been hidden behind another. “i wasn’t trying t’ do it on purpose,” he grumbled. “why does it even matter?”

you put down a yellow 7. “because it’s the rules, alex.”

his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he set down a draw four card. “blue. i didn’t expect you to get so worked up over this, y’know.”

“the aggression is a staple of uno.” you drew four cards and swore under your breath when none of them were blue.

he planted his hand down on the floor behind him and leaned back, eyeing you over his cards. “it’s not like you.” a beat of silence, then he said, “i like it.” he dropped a blue 5.

that made you pause. “you like it?”

he hummed in response, his gaze dropping to your cards as you mulled over what to put down next. “you’re attractive when you’re frustrated.”

ah. that was what he meant. you set down a green 5, hiding behind your hand as heat rushed to your cheeks. “you’re just saying that.”

“yeah? just to get under your skin and tick ya off?”

“yeah.”

he sighed and plucked a green 6 from his hand, dropping it into the discard pile. “my mama didn’t raise a liar, so i’ll say it again: you’re hot when you’re mad, sugar.”

you looked up at him, only to find him staring right back at you. you both remained silent for a few seconds, although you were the first to speak up. “um ...” you looked away again before setting down a green draw two. "thank you." i think, you muttered internally.

he cracked a grin and set his cards down beside him, then motioned you over. “c’mere.”

you set your own cards down and maneuvered over the discard pile, being careful to not knock or scatter any cards. once you were within reach, one of his hands went to your waist and the other to the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. your home quickly became his lap as you straddled him, and your hands found purchase in his hair in a desperate bid to maintain as much contact between the two of you as possible. although you had kissed like this before, it had only been very occasionally, and the way he pressed himself to you made you feel warm all over.

his teeth grazed your lower lip before his tongue plunged into your mouth, rehearsing its usual dance with yours. a quiet groan crawled out of his throat, muffled by your lips on his, and the hand that had been at your nape moved down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. you yelped and broke the kiss, practically panting as you stared down at him. a faint string of saliva remained as the only tether between your mouths, although it quickly snapped. you were sure your face was redder than a firetruck, and you dipped your head down to hide it in his neck. his chest rumbled beneath you as he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you tucked against him. "so shy all of a sudden," he teased.

you rolled your eyes and nipped at his neck. "shut up."

"i don't think you want me to."

you chose not to satisfy him and turned your head, looking down at his cards on the floor. you squinted. "you had a yellow 4 this entire time?"

he hummed. "that i did."

"you cheated!"

"y/n, you didn't even notice!"

after you (rightfully) called him out, the two of you decided to wrap it up for the night and head to bed. although your belongings had since been moved into his room, you opted to steal some of his clothes for the night instead. you were right — his shirts were too big on you. his shorts were, too, and they sat low on your hips. he thought you were absolutely adorable, though, and couldn't help but take pictures with his phone when he thought you weren't looking.

as you settled down for the night, he turned to lay on his side, staring at you amidst the darkness of his bedroom. "you should come over more often," he mumbled, almost as if he was talking to himself.

you turned to face him; there was hardly any space between you now. "i was kind of hoping you'd say that," you quietly admitted.

even in the darkness, you could make out his smile, soft and lazy and reserved for only you. "maybe i should kidnap ya. keep you here forever."

"i don't think my parents would like that."

he scoffed. "if i kidnapped you, i wouldn't give a damn 'bout your parents, sweetheart. wouldn't even bother with a ransom, i’d just keep ya all for m'self."

you giggled softly. "i don't know how much i’d complain if you did that, y'know."

he cocked an eyebrow. "you wanna be kidnapped?"

"that's not what i mean, alex, and you know it."

you both grew quiet after that, and you could feel sleep tugging at you, begging you to succumb to its siren song. you were a breath away from doing just that when he spoke up again. "i really oughta marry you someday, y/n."

you really hoped he would.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt60 [END]

First: Link Prev: Link Superheros Need Magicians Part 1: Link

----------

“Any word on how the others are doing?” Marvin asked Chase as they stood in the kitchen. Anti was digging away in the fridge and popped back out with an apple in his mouth, two cans of soda in one hand, and one in his other. He handed Chase one can, tossed one to Marvin, and leaned against the counter, taking a large bite of the apple. It had only been a few hours since they finally caught Night; Jackie had fallen asleep, and Marvin slipped out to see if there were any updates. 

“JJ said he, Mare, Phantom, and Mad are still checking on people to make sure no one remembers the fight.” Chase cracked open the soda and took a sip. “Sounds like the property damage has been fixed already.” 

“What’s fuckface up to?” Anti asked. 

“Last time Edward texted, he said Night was asleep. Gave him a cast, x-rayed his body, and said his healing is just short of how Jackie’s is.” Chase said. 

“That would explain how he survived Jackie.” Marvin chewed his lip. 

“You should probably get some more rest, Marvin.” Chase’s comment got Marvin to raise a brow at him. “You’ve been through a lot today as well. Henrik’s at the Manor for now to help with Night, but it sounds like he’s stable. He’ll get sent back soon and will give you hell if he sees you walking around already.” 

“I’ll text you if anything juicy gets brought up,” Anti said. 

“Alright.” Marvin didn’t feel like arguing. He did want to go back and see how Jackie was doing. “Go make sure the others aren’t running themselves ragged as well.” 

“Can do.” Anti did a salute that got a playful eye roll from Marvin as he left the kitchen and went back to Jackie’s room. 

“Jackie?” Marvin opened the door and found Jackie still sprawled out on the bed, softly snoring. He smiled as he sat his drink down on the bedside table and brushed Jackie’s hair out of his face. “You’re not allowed to get that pissed again,” Marvin said mostly to himself before stepping aside to pick up the book he was about halfway finished with. He sat on the bed as well and chuckled when Jackie mumbled and flipped over to his stomach, putting himself between Marvin’s legs, arms wrapped around his waist, and head resting on his stomach. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Jackie nuzzled against Marvin. “Say it again.” 

“Say it again?” Marvin echoed, and he chuckled again when he realized what Jackie meant. “I love you.” He watched as that gave Jackie the biggest grin and made him hum happily. “Such a dork.”

“Your dork.”

“My dork.” 

x~x~x

“Have you guys figured out when you’re making up your date?” Marvin asked from one of the living room chairs. Jackie was in the chair next to him, hugging a knee to his chest while playing a game on his phone.

“No.” Anti huffed as he sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand and clicking through random shows and movies. 

“Have you asked him about it?” Marvin watched Anti drop his arm and whine. “That’s a no.” 

“Dark’s the one that got it all set up and stuff, I don’t want to sound all gross by asking about it.” 

“Gross?”

“Clingy or something. I don’t know.” 

“It’s not clingy to help reschedule a date. If Dark thinks that, then I’ll have a lovely discussion with him about it.” 

“You’ll give him another lecture?” 

“His ears will be bleeding by the time I’m done with him,” Marvin smirked. 

“Must have summoned him,” Anti said when he took out his buzzing phone. “Hey, Darky.” He answered the call as he got up and left the room.

“Tell him not to be a coward!” Marvin called after him. He chuckled at himself and then looked at Jackie, seeing how he was now just staring at his phone. “You okay?” 

“Hm? Oh…yeah.” Jackie lowered his phone and rested his cheek on his knee. “Could you say it again?” 

“I love you.” Marvin leaned over and poked Jackie’s forehead, getting both of them to chuckle. Jackie caught Marvin’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Oh, you flirt. Did Illinois teach you that?”

“No…maybe.” 

x~x~x

“Why do we even have pillows if you keep using my stomach?” Marvin teased, hands playing with Jackie’s hair as the two of them lay in his bed. 

“Extra support.” Jackie’s answer was muffled by Marvin’s stomach. 

“Whatever you say.” Marvin clicked his tongue and was now fully messing with Jackie’s hair, fluffing it out. 

“Hey!” Jackie laughed with his protest and pushed himself up. “You’re making me look like a green hedgehog.” 

“A cute green hedgehog.” Marvin chuckled and started fixing Jackie’s hair. He hummed when he noticed that Jackie had paused and looked at him. 

“I love you.” Jackie suddenly said. Marvin smiled and placed his hands on Jackie’s face before pulling him into a kiss. Jackie tried to say something else, but Marvin flipped them over so he was on his back, and Marvin straddled his hips. “I-I-uh-I-” Any thought Jackie had before flew out the window as Marvin casually slipped off his shirt and tossed it aside.

“I love you too, bug.” Marvin winked before giving Jackie another kiss. 

x~x~x

Marvin adjusted the collar of his turtleneck when he assumed no one else was looking at him. He knew Jackie was watching and had to resist the urge to tease him about how embarrassed he looked since he was the reason why Marvin was covering his neck in the first place.

“Any guesses why we’re doing a meeting?” Marvin asked Illinois.

“No idea. Dark just told all of us to get ready.” 

“The only thought I have is that it’s gotta have something to do with Host,” Yancy said. “Haven’t been seeing him ever since we brought Night in. Mad’s been around a lot more, too. They must got something going on.” 

“How is…uh…how is Night?” Jackie asked. 

“He kind of just sulks in his room. Don’t really talk to no one but Host and Edward.” Yancy shrugged.

“They took his cast off today; he’s healed,” Illinois added. 

“Okay.” Jackie shrank in on himself a bit, giving Marvin a soft smile when he took his hand. 

“Everyone to the meeting room,” Dark announced from the doorway. “They’re ready for us.” 

“I think Yancy was right,” Marvin said as he and the rest of the Egos filed into the meeting room. He looked around the space. Night was missing, but he had a chair at the now larger table. Yet that one chair in the corner was still there. With how the Manor adapted, there was no way it was just a spare. 

“Thank you all for joining us at such short notice.” Host said as everyone found their seats. Mad wasn't sitting and instead was standing next to Host and hugging a stack of papers to his chest. Marvin also noticed that Wilford didn’t summon his usual array of treats and snacks on the table. Wilford was in his seat and looking down at his lap, his face showing he either knew or could feel that something was wrong. 

That was not a good sign. 

JJ sat next to Wilford and leaned against him, likely saying something to him in his head, judging by how Wilford would occasionally nod. 

“I would like to start by apologizing for my inability to properly read my original vision.” Host held a hand up when some protests were voiced to get them to stop. “I was under the misguided assumption that I was no longer an aspect of going out and retrieving newly arrived Egos since I have not done so since the very beginning and even then, that was an abnormal case compared to how we work nowadays.” 

“Wait, does that mean you were supposed to get Night?” Bing asked. 

“It does. Much of this hassle would have never happened had I read that correctly. I knew something was wrong, but I could not place exactly what. Jackie, Marvin, I am sorry for the harm I caused.” Host turned his head toward the two.

“You didn’t do anything, Host,” Marvin said. “You didn’t hurt us or force Night to do the shit he did.” 

“We have learned several times what happens when we go against the vision, and if we hadn’t, then none of that would have happened.”

“And me and Jackie might not be dating.” 

“I’m sure that-”

“Shit happened, things went weird and messy, but we’re all here now and okay. We got Night, everything is settled, and now we can just move on.” 

“Well…about that.” Mad finally spoke. “There’s some more-uh-news to be shared.” 

“There is another.” Host stated in that voice, and everyone broke out into overlapping comments. “There is another.” He repeated and that managed to get everyone to quiet down enough. “And the one who has to get him is not with us right now.” 

“There’s no way we can get Night to agree to bring someone here,” Chase stated.

“It’s not Night.” Host’s face was aimed at Dark and Marvin saw that Wilford’s face twisted like he was in pain. “It’s time for him to come home, Dark.” 

“We don’t know where he is,” Dark stated, his own face flat and emotionless. 

“Who?” Anti asked. 

“It has to do with that one door, doesn’t it?” Marvin could see how most of the Ipliers were beginning to look uncomfortable. 

“It does.” Host answered. “And I can tell you exactly where he is now with this vision and where to send him to get the newest one. I do not know who this new one is, but we cannot risk going against the vision again. There is already going to be a lot of risk. We don’t need to add that.”

“What other risk is there?” Henrik asked. “The way you are saying that tells me there is even more.” With that comment, all eyes went to Mad; he was up there for a reason, and he hadn’t shared yet. 

“I…I had a theory a while ago about the rift in reality that brings us here, and the fact another Ego is coming in so soon already made me want to look into it even more.” Mad placed his papers down and started shuffling through them. Marvin looked at Jackie and saw how his eyes were wide, and he looked ready to throw up. “I thought it was a temporary thing or a once-in-a-blue-moon moment, but we’ve looked more into it, and the…the rift is growing.” 

“It’s growing?” Dark’s voice showed he wanted more explanation. 

“Y-Yes. It’s…It’s getting bigger, changing. I need to look more into it to see if it’s just a shift that needs time to adjust or if it’s something that will continue to grow until…until it can’t anymore.” Mad took a deep breath. “But at the moment the focus is the fact that the rift has changed and will cause problems any day now.”

“What kind of problem?” Mare asked. Marvin was surprised that Mare didn’t already know. Mad really had kept it all a secret from everyone. 

“There’s going to be more than just Egos appearing. I don’t think it’s going to be supernatural beings that we are aware of. It’s not going to be vampires or werewolves or stuff like that. I think it’s going to be monstrous amalgamations. Distorted and corrupted mashings of things that the average human would know but maybe larger. I can’t say exactly yet and might not be able to until they start arriving.” Mad’s explanation was met with silence. Everyone just stared and tried to process what they had been told.

Eventually, Marvin spoke.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

[deny-the-issue]

Autumnal Reaping

Chapter One: At First Glance

Masterlist

Next chapter ->

Overall Summary: While researching a topic you hold close to heart, you meet Emmrich Volkarin in a chance encounter. He introduces both romance and academic opportunities into your stagnant life as an unknown, sinister shadow lurks from beyond the Fade.

This story is set after the events of the game where Rook does not romance Emmrich. There will be end-game spoilers, although they are not discussed in detail.

Thank you to my wonderful friend for beta reading, @juniper-sunny <3 I'm sitting on the finished second chapter already, and I cannot wait to post! I'll probably set it free in a day or two, but the next updates will be every 1-2 weeks after that.

Like this -> post to join the tag list for this story!

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[MDNI] [Emmrich x you] [Emmrich x Reader] [no y/n] [fluff] [angst] [fat!reader] [reader has boobs and vulva] [eventual smut] [eventual romance] [non-binary pronouns] [angst with a happy ending]

The Mourn Watch is a respectable order within Nevarra, and it is an honor to be a watcher. Yet, to be a part of a respected order and to be respected are two concepts leagues apart, and the latter is far out of your reach. There are worse lives you could be living, certainly, but if you could roll the dice and be someone else–you’d do it in a heartbeat.

A better life is but a blink away, always residing in the back of your mind. While you toil away at your day job, a daring adventure plays out in a daydream, saving you from the monotony of daily life.

Wake, clean, study, repeat.

To clean up after the real masterminds of this place is a privilege to those unable to contribute in other meaningful ways–as Matron Thistle is fond of saying. You could recite the jab in your sleep, and the ensuing spite fuels your day to day grind. It works, you suppose, but this amount of ill will can’t be good for your fragile mental health.

Studying is the only part of your day that is entirely yours. A refuge and a hobby, you research the nature of the Fade, venturing into metaphysics more often than not. There are many theories surrounding the Fade’s properties, but so much is unknown. 

It fascinates you to ponder the different possibilities of what's out there. Looking not only for answers to humanity’s greatest questions, but of other worlds and dimensions. 

Maladaptive daydreaming with your nose in a book is how you spend most evenings, nestled away deep in the catacombs. People never tread these quiet, hallowed halls, and for that, you are thankful. Most people your age have moved far beyond your current status, and your fellow janitors are a rotating door of freshmen having drawn the short stick for work duty. 

Friends are impossible to come by for you, these days. Not that it’s ever been easy for you. Solitude is a solace, allowing you to be yourself unapologetically.

This cozy, abandoned corner you’ve come to call yours has a stone table in the middle of the small room. Its walls are lined with urns containing remains of the unidentified dead, instilling the stagnant air with a chilling sadness. 

The stone walls and floors match that of the rest of the Necropolis, gray bathed in green veilfire. Sand collects in little piles and thin lines along the edges of the room, ever present in these parts. Sweeping wouldn’t do much good–you know from experience. The sand falls from the Fade, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. 

There is comfort among the forgotten–a kind of kinship, even. The wisps in this area have taken a liking to you as well, their shimmering cyan forms with tendrils stemming from a center point gives them the appearance of an etheric dandelion.  

Two of them float and bob around weightlessly to the same beat as your hips, swaying to an unheard rhythm. Too antsy to sit, you stand as you read with your back to the open hallway. Humming and singing errant lyrics absentmindedly, you tear through a text on an obscure theory of the Fade recorded hundreds of years ago. 

Despite life’s general malaise, it was a good day. Matron Thistle ate something that disagreed with her and you had an amazing day without her nagging your every move. You’re so relaxed from the quiet day of work, you could kiss those skeletons on cooking duty. 

A man clears his throat, announcing his presence behind you. You freeze as if you’ve been caught, and turn around slowly. 

“Ah, hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man clasps his hands together. “It’s rare to find another person among these forsaken souls.”

How long has he been standing there?!

With a perfectly cordial tone, his carefully modulated voice complements his fine clothes and jewelry, giving him a distinguished air enhanced by his crows feet and gray hair. Going from his grave-gold, he is a prominent member of the Mourn Watch, and you adjust your behavior accordingly. 

“Sorry, I can go.” Your book closes with a heavy thud and you hastily grab your bag off the floor. 

“No, please. These halls could do with a bit of warmth.” He smiles, pointing to the wisps with his gloved hand. “They’re quite fond of you.”

“Oh-uh, yeah. They keep me company while I read.” Your fingers trace the intricate grooves of the book cover nervously.

“Personal or academic study? If I may ask.” Interested or nosy, you have the handsome man’s full attention.

The wisps investigate him and you relax a little. They are excellent judges of character, or at least you choose to believe so. The man greets the wisps with the same respectful manner he used with you, and the gesture softens your guard. 

“Personal.” The man’s silence pushes you to say more. “It’s about the possible multi-dimensional properties of the Fade.”

“How interesting! What drew you to that line of inquiry?”

“Uh-just, you know…” you clear your throat and try to string some coherent words together. “I like the thought of other worlds out there. From subtle differences to global changes–the possibilities are endless.”

“Ah, yes! Fascinating to think about, isn’t it? I spent some time in my youth researching multi-world theory. An under-appreciated topic, unfortunately. I can count on one hand the number of sources,” he sighs wistfully.  “I apologize for putting you on the spot. All topics of the Fade interest me, deeply. Learning about its mysteries is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

With an agenda all their own, the wisps leave the two strangers alone, their ethereal laughter fading quickly. And with them, the little peace of mind you obtained vanishes. 

“What-uh, brings you down here?” you ask, shuffling nervously.

“Ah, well. There is a rumor of a haunting in this area. Have you seen any wandering, restless spirits?”

After a moment of thought, you shrug and shake your head. “Not that I know of.”

“Ah, good. Are you down here often?”

“Mhm. Almost every night.” Your answer seems to satisfy his curiosity.

Anxiety worms through your stomach because you revealed more than you’re comfortable. His kindness is too disarming–or is it because you haven’t stopped blushing this whole time? Are you imagining the connection you feel?

Probably. 

“My rounds should be made with ease, then. Thank you for the riveting conversation. I apologize for interrupting your private study, and I hope you have a pleasant evening.” With a little bow, he makes his exit gracefully.

You manage an awkward, “It’s ok! You too.” Waving nervously after him. 

Why the fuck did you wave. That’s not something you do normally. Place a hot old man in front of you and your brain leaps into the void. 

Looking back at the closed book that held your attention in a vice only moments ago, obscenities leak from your mouth. You didn’t mark your page, and you lack the motivation to find it again. Sighing heavily, you gather your things and head back to your living quarters for the night. 

The jingle of your keys as you unlock the door is outmatched by the growl of your stomach. 

Wishing you could ignore it but knowing you can’t, you drop your things off in your room and follow your nose to the kitchens. The cafeteria is closed this time of night but the kitchens are always open to those who need a snack. 

The sleepless skeleton cooks greet you with excited hisses, bringing a smile to your exhausted face. 

The warm yellow light of the fire is a welcome change from the green-tinted surroundings. Dried garlic and herbs hang from the walls, pots and pans litter the counter tops, and a wooden table rests off to the side with three mismatched chairs. 

You’ve developed a rapport with the regular cooks, teaching them how to add more flavor in little ways. A skeleton with a bow tie brings you a bowl of soup before you can even ask. 

“Oh, thank you, Francis. You’re too kind.” You notice the droplets of orange oil floating at the top of your corn chowder. “You even added chili crisp! You’re the best.”

Happily slurping away with not an ounce of grace, you barely hear the footsteps approaching. 

You place the bowl on the table with a heavy thunk, rake a napkin across your mouth, and turn to face the visitor. 

“Hello again!” he greets. 

It’s the same man from before, but this time he has a skeleton at his side. They are wearing an acolyte’s robe and goggles, which tickles something at the back of your mind. 

You’ve gone twenty years without seeing him in the Necropolis and now here he is, twice in one day. What are the odds?

“Oh, hey! Find any hauntings?” you ask. 

“No restless spirits tonight. Though, I doubt there ever was one.”

“Oh?”

“Several people have reported ghostly singing echoing through those halls,” he pauses, choosing his next words carefully. 

The pieces begin to fall into place through the silence, and embarrassment tints your every move. Eyes cast down, you fidget with your hands, waiting for judgement. 

“You have a lovely voice,” he finishes with a kind smile.

“What?—oh, uh. Thank you,” you smile out of reflex. 

His words are slow to process. Lovely? You count your blessings that you were singing something pretty and not screeching like a banshee. It’s surprising this hasn’t happened sooner, now that you think about it. 

“Manfred!” The skeleton hisses, pointing a boney finger at its chest. 

“You’re right, Manfred! Where are my manners? I never properly introduced ourselves. I am professor Emmrich Volkarin, and this is my pupil, Manfred.” Emmrich steps forward, offering his ungloved hand. 

Your name sounds dingy in comparison with no title or accomplishments to go along with it. But it’s hard to dwell on such things when his hand is warm in yours, skin weathered and soft. 

Emmrich Volkarin. Emmrich Volkarin… 

“Wait—not the Professor Emmrich Volkarin that took a sabbatical to save the world?!”

He laughs, lighthearted and breathy. “The very same.”

You relinquish his hand, cringing. Handshakes aren’t supposed to last that long, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually. 

“What were you singing before? If I may ask,” he inquires.

Caught off-guard once again, you look at him blankly. You should have known he would have questions. 

“Just something that came to mind,” you offer, shrugging.

Please be enough. Don’t make me explain.

Emmrich hums thoughtfully. You’ve disappointed enough people to know the look of disbelief when you see it, but he doesn’t push the topic. Something else catches his attention off to your side.

“Is the soup too spicy for your liking?” he asks. 

“Oh no–It’s delicious! I’ve added chili crisp to my food so much the cooks have caught on–they’re so thoughtful,” you blurt out, all too excited to talk about your newfound way of adding flavor to the normally-dull daily soup.

“Ah–so you’re the mysterious mentor! The Watcher overseeing the kitchens was quite perplexed at the altered menu,” Emmrich reveals.

“...altered menu? Wait–they made it this way for everyone?!” 

Emmrich nods, “I appreciate a little spice now and then, but a Matron admitted herself to the infirmary early this morning.”

“Not Matron Thistle?!”

“You know her?”

Flabbergasted, you look at Francis. Bow tie quaking, he backs out of the room slowly at first, and then skitters away. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, unbidden. You cover your mouth, but you can’t hide the shit-eating grin splitting your face as you devolve into a fit of giggles. 

You’re the reason she was out today?! This puts the cherry on top of your rarely acquired good day. 

All at once, awareness smacks you in the face. You’re laughing at someone's misery in front of an esteemed Watcher. 

Unable to hide the amusement still plain on your face, you place a hand on his forearm, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell her it was me! She already hates me! I promise I didn’t tell the cooks to add it to everyone's food!”

Francis, you betrayed me!

He chuckles, placing a hand over yours. “I assure you—your secret is safe with me.”

The contact makes your heart race. Your eyes flick down to his lips then back up to his enchanting eyes. It was only a millisecond, but you’re worried he noticed.

“You’re sweet,” your mouth moves before your mind. “I mean—thank you!” Shaking off the slip of the tongue. 

Stop it. Why am I flirting??? Who even am I right now. 

With a sassy tilt of his head, Emmrich doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s not my favorite Watcher, either.” 

You share a lighthearted smile and bite your lip. 

Shit. He’s so charming!

He pulls away and you miss the warmth of his hand as the moment ends, wishing for more.

Emmrich hesitates, mulling over something silently before asking, “Would you be interested in having tea with me sometime? It would be my pleasure to get to know you.”

“Me?! I’m not that interesting,” you pause, redirecting your thoughts. “I’d love to!” 

“There is more to you than meets the eye, dear.” Softly chastising, he takes a moment to admire your bashful look. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy—it is not my place to pry. However, I hope you feel comfortable enough to trust me, in time. How does Tea in the Garden sound? Let’s say–noon?”

“Tomorrow?” You ask with a dumbfounded expression. 

Not only does he want to date you, but so soon as well? What does he see in you?

Emmrich nods, “Unless you’re busy, of course. We can always reschedule for another day.”

You typically get an hour for lunch, so you’re eager to agree. If it goes over, you won’t have the strength to end it early. 

But….

What Matron Thistle doesn’t know can’t harm her. 

“Tomorrow’s perfect!” you blurt out excitedly. 

“Yes!” Manfred hisses, his excitement palpable in his raised arms. 

Emmrich’s eyes brighten, shimmering in the dim room. “Wonderful! I’m looking forward to it. Now, please, continue your meal. I am sorry to interrupt you yet again.”

“You can interrupt me anytime.” The words stumble out of your mouth easily, but lose volume by the end as your confidence wanes.

Emmrich takes your hand in his, dipping gracefully to kiss it. “Goodnight, dear.”

“G-goodnight!” you stutter, mind utterly broken from the small token of affection. 

“G’night!” Manfred waves, and you return his gesture with a small laugh.

“Goodnight, Manfred.”

After they leave you collapse back into a chair, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

You want him in ways you thought had dried-up long ago. But the water has been set free, careening through the familiar, desiccated paths it left behind. It’s nice to feel desire again, after all this time. But it feels laced with danger–hoping for something you’ve never truly had with a man you barely know.

It’s just a matter of time before he sees in you what everyone else does. Nothing. No prospects, no friends–not anymore, anyway. 

The one friend you had was sent away for causing too many fights, finally earning a prolonged stay in the most dangerous part of the Necropolis. You haven’t heard from her in six months, and count yourself left behind. 

Even through the doubts, you smile as you finish your meal. A warm blush settles across your face that not even walking back through cold halls can extinguish. 

A soft noise pulls you from your reverie. You come to a halt, the ruffle of your clothes fading to silence as you listen. 

The hair on the back of your neck raises, and you start to panic. Eyes darting around the empty, seemingly endless hall for a threat with fisted hands.  

“Mreow!” A black cat emerges from a dark corner, its green eyes matching the surrounding lamps. 

Heart pounding in your chest, you let out a breath of relief, feeling quite silly now. 

“Hi there!!! You’re so pretty!” you coo, all too excited to see a new furry friend. 

The cat rubs up against your leg, doubling back in between them like a figure eight. Its fur glistens in the dark, thick and healthy looking, and its figure is lean and muscular, befitting an outdoor cat. 

“Ooh, thank you! You’re so cute. Can I pet you??” You lean down, offering your hand.

The cat sniffs you for only a moment before rubbing its cheek against your fingers. Cautiously, you scratch behind its ears and your heart melts as it chases your touch, raising its head into your palm, eyes closed.

“Such a trusting lil guy, huh? Do you wanna come home with me?” 

As soon as you think the cat distribution system finally got to you, the cat perks up as if it heard something, and then scampers away. 

Maybe another time. 

Sighing heavily, you return to your room alone with a mind swimming with possibilities and failures. 

You need to get some sleep.

You have a date tomorrow, after all. 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, threatening your peaceful rest before a busy day. Lazily humming a relaxing tune, you let your mind wander, never staying on any specific thought, and the day fades away to a fitful slumber, plagued by dreams. 

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allison 🍁 - CABIN IN THE LAKE

Allison had always believed herself to be resilient. After all, she had survived the harsh critiques of acting school, the cutthroat nature of Hollywood, and the slow burn of a career that had once seemed unstoppable. But the discovery of her husband’s affair had cut deeper than she thought possible. It wasn’t just the betrayal—it was the humiliation of it, the sharp realization that the life she had built was not as solid as she had believed. The texts she had found on his phone had been her undoing, filled with flirtation and promises exchanged with a woman she had never met.

She hadn’t confronted him right away. Instead, she let the knowledge fester, watching him from across the dinner table as though he were a stranger. Their interactions became strained, and soon even the pretense of civility crumbled. She had tried to throw herself into her work, but acting no longer provided the solace it once had. The roles weren’t coming like they used to, and her attempts at directing had fizzled out before they truly began. She felt trapped in every sense of the word—trapped in her marriage, trapped in a house that no longer felt like home, trapped in a life that had become unrecognizable.

One night, after too much wine and too little sleep, she opened her laptop and started searching for places to escape. She didn’t know what she was looking for—just something far away, something that didn’t remind her of everything she was trying to forget. The listing for the B&B caught her eye almost immediately. It was a rustic cabin tucked deep in the woods and perched near the edge of a lake. The photos were idyllic, showing a cozy interior with mismatched furniture and a porch that looked perfect for watching sunsets. The description promised peace and solitude, and that was all she needed to hit "book now."

Allison packed her bags the next morning. She didn’t tell her husband where she was going or how long she would be gone. There was no dramatic goodbye, no confrontation—just her car, a hastily stuffed suitcase, and the open road ahead of her. The drive out of the city felt like shedding a skin. The buildings gave way to rolling hills, and soon she was winding through dense forests, the sunlight filtering through the trees in golden patches.

By the time she arrived, the air smelled of pine and damp earth, and the cabin looked even more charming than the photos had suggested. It was nestled in a clearing, the wooden exterior weathered but inviting, with flower boxes under the windows and a small dock that stretched out into the lake. As Allison stepped out of her car, she felt a strange sense of relief, as though she had been holding her breath and only now remembered how to exhale.

You were on the porch when she arrived, wiping your hands on a towel. You had a quiet, unassuming presence, but there was a warmth to your smile that immediately set her at ease. You introduced yourself as the owner of the B&B, explaining that you had taken over the property a few years ago and turned it into a retreat for travelers. Allison noticed the way your voice softened when you spoke, the way you seemed to choose your words carefully, as though each one mattered.

She followed you inside as you showed her around. The cabin was as cozy as she’d hoped—wood-paneled walls, a stone fireplace, and shelves lined with books and knickknacks. The bedroom was small but comfortable, with a quilted bedspread and a window that looked out over the lake. As you pointed out the quirks of the place—the temperamental coffee maker, the way the porch light flickered sometimes—Allison found herself watching you more than the cabin.

That first night, Allison barely slept. The quiet of the woods was almost unnerving, so different from the constant hum of the city. She lay in bed listening to the creak of the floorboards and the occasional rustle of leaves outside. But by morning, she felt lighter, as though the silence had done something to her that sleep could not.

She spent her first day exploring the area, walking along the lake and taking in the sheer vastness of the woods. It felt like another world, one where her problems didn’t seem so immediate. When she returned to the cabin, she opened her laptop for the first time in weeks. The blank screen stared back at her, daunting and full of possibility.

The words didn’t come easily at first. She typed and deleted, typed and deleted, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. But as the hours passed, something began to shift. The sentences started to flow, halting and awkward but there nonetheless. She wrote until the sun dipped below the horizon, and by the time she closed her laptop, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: accomplishment.

You stopped by later that evening, bringing fresh towels and asking if she needed anything. Allison expected the usual small talk, but your questions felt genuine, your presence unhurried. When you asked how she was settling in, she found herself telling you more than she intended—that she had come here to write, that she hadn’t written anything in years, that she wasn’t sure she still could.

You listened without interrupting, nodding in quiet understanding. There was no judgment in your gaze, no pity—just an openness that made Allison feel like she didn’t have to pretend.

Over the next few days, a routine emerged. Allison spent her mornings writing and her afternoons wandering the woods or sitting by the lake. In the evenings, she often found herself on the porch with you, sharing a bottle of wine or a plate of food you had made.

Your conversations ranged from lighthearted to deeply personal, and Allison found herself looking forward to them more than she expected. You had a way of grounding her, of making her feel present in a way she hadn’t in years. She noticed the little things about you—the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were thinking, the way your laughter came quietly at first but grew louder when you let your guard down.

---

Allison managed to rest well in the days that followed. For the first time in what felt like years, her shoulders lost the permanent tension they had carried, and her sleep deepened, no longer haunted by fragmented thoughts of betrayal. The air of the woods seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, and the lake’s quiet lapping against the dock felt like nature’s heartbeat, soothing her frayed edges. She started her mornings early, the golden light pouring through the cabin’s windows and illuminating her laptop as she opened it to face the blank page once again.

The story began to pour out of her, piece by jagged piece, like shards of glass being put back together to form a window. The script she started wasn’t like the others she had written in her past life—when ambition and the need to be recognized had driven every word. This one felt personal, raw. It wasn’t about Hollywood, awards, or redemption. It was about a woman finding herself again, amidst the chaos of her own brokenness. She didn’t try to overthink it. She let the words lead her, and soon, the framework of a new movie took shape. It wasn’t much, not yet, but it was enough to remind her of who she was beneath all the doubt.

You, Y/N, had become an unexpected constant in her days. It had started with small gestures—dropping off freshly baked bread one evening, inviting her to watch the sunset with you another. Soon, her evenings were no longer spent alone. The two of you began to share meals, cook together, and even fall into a rhythm of lazy companionship. You introduced her to your favorite movies—ones you thought were obscure and beautifully tragic—and she countered with old classics that made you laugh at how dated they felt.

One evening, after a particularly long writing session, you knocked on her door holding a bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses. “I figured you could use a break,” you said, your voice carrying that easy warmth Allison had come to associate with you. She didn’t argue. The two of you sat on the porch, the stars above brighter than she’d seen in years, and talked until the bottle was empty. The conversation meandered like the trails through the woods, touching on childhood memories, dreams left behind, and the quiet fears neither of you had ever said aloud to anyone else.

Swimming became another ritual. The lake was cool and clear, its waters refreshing on the sticky, humid afternoons. You coaxed her into the water one day, teasing her reluctance until she finally gave in. Her laughter echoed over the surface as she splashed you in retaliation, your playful banter becoming a soundtrack to the summer days. Sometimes, you floated in companionable silence, the sunlight dancing on the ripples, as if the lake itself held secrets only the two of you could share.

On one particularly lazy evening, you brought over an old record player and introduced her to a stash of vinyl you had hidden in the cabin’s storage. “You don’t strike me as a Fleetwood Mac kind of girl,” she teased as the opening notes of Landslide drifted into the room.

“Shows how much you know,” you shot back, grinning.

The two of you danced like fools around the cabin, the music carrying you both out of your heads and into the moment. Later, lying on the floor with empty wine bottles scattered around, she turned to you, her eyes heavy-lidded but clear. “I think you’ve saved me,” she murmured.

You laughed, brushing it off with a wave of your hand, but the look in her eyes lingered, heavy with sincerity.

There were nights when you got high together, passing a joint back and forth while sitting on the dock. The two of you would talk about everything and nothing, your words sometimes profound and other times nonsensical. She told you about the dreams she used to have of being someone great—how she had wanted to be more than just a struggling actress or a forgotten filmmaker. You listened intently, your gaze fixed on her as though you were capturing every word for safekeeping.

And then there were the nights when the wine or whiskey flowed a little too freely, and inhibitions slipped away like the mist over the lake. One such night, after a long dinner filled with laughter and teasing, the two of you found yourselves back on the dock. The moon hung low over the water, casting a silver path across the surface.

Allison turned to you, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her hair a little wild from the evening breeze. “You ever feel like you don’t know who you are anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“Every day,” you admitted.

She smiled at that, a small, crooked thing that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You make it look easy,” she said.

“And you make it look complicated,” you countered, earning a laugh from her that was both genuine and sad.

The air between you shifted then, heavy with something unspoken. She reached out, her hand brushing against yours, and the contact felt electric, like a spark catching dry kindling. Without thinking, she leaned in, and you didn’t pull away. The kiss started softly, hesitantly, but it quickly deepened, the taste of wine and longing mingling between you.

When she finally pulled back, her breath was unsteady. “What are we doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your forehead resting against hers. “But maybe we don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

The night stretched on, the lake bearing silent witness to whatever was unfolding between you. For the first time in a long time, Allison didn’t feel lost. She felt present, alive, and entirely in the moment.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

35 - Norris Meets the Bunkhouse

Part 36

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Please leave comments of your thoughts or any suggestions ❤️

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @whatelsecouldgowrong @lover-of-books-and-tea

Faith’s pov

Once my aunt Beth and uncle Rip had left the room and my mom had came out of the kitchen with biscuits everything seemed to settle down.  Cutting a piece of my steak I put it into my mouth, eyeing my boyfriend from the corner of my eye. 

Cooper was pushing some of his potatoes around with his fork while my grandpa asked my mother a question.  “Alissa, is everything set up for the branding tomorrow?” 

“Yes.  Alana and my mother seem to have everything under control there.  Your ranch hands Will just have to work with ours since we now combined our two properties.  Meaning more cattle and more that need branding.” 

Cooper swallowed a bite of food looking around the table.  “What’s the branding?” 

“Since we’re a cattle ranch we have to mark our cattle with our brand symbol.  That way if any of them get out of the fence and wander off someone can know who to return them back to.” My mother explained simply to the son of an oil manager. 

Cooper stabbed another piece of food with his fork.  “Would you like some more help with that tomorrow.  I may be a slow learner but I can offer help.” 

“Absolutely.  That would be amazing, Cooper.” My mother grins at the gesture. 

My father interrupted the lighthearted conversation between the four of us.  “What are your intentions with my daughter?” 

“Daddy, be nice.” I whispered under my breath. 

My father stabbed his knife into part of his steak glaring at Coope from across the table where he looked like he might launch himself across the table.  “I am being nice and making conversation.  Now back to my question, what are your intentions?” 

“Mr. Dutton, I would treat your daughter in the room way.  I haven’t even ever kissed a girl before until I met her.” Cooper admitted with a deep red appearing on his cheeks. 

Daddy death glared at him still.  “What about your family life?  Do you have any criminals or any past records we should know about?” 

“Kayce!” My mother scolded her husband. 

My father sat down with his fork and knife rather angrily.  “It’s a reasonable question, Alissa!” 

“I can answer it, Mrs. Dutton.” Cooper responded back taking a deep breath thinking about how to word his family correctly.  “We’ll I guess I should say my parents are divorced and don’t have a good relationship like you two do.  Um - I have a younger sister named Ainsley but we don’t get along too well.  I don’t have any criminal record and neither does my family.” 

My phone vibrates on the table flashing Ryan’s name up on the screen.  “Are you coming over to play cards tonight since you’re back home?” 

“Who’s texting you at dinner?”  Mama asked me hearing my phone go off. 

I turned the phone over replying to her.  “Ryan.  He wants to play cards.” 

“Who’s Ryan?” Cooper questions. 

Getting up from my wooden chair I waved to him to follow me saying goodbye to my family.  “He works in our bunkhouse.  Come on, I’ll introduce you to them.  Goodnight mama, daddy.” Her grandfather waved bye to us as we made our way to the bunkhouse. 

Cooper and I walked into the bunkhouse building hearing the gang watching someone ride a buffalo through a green field.  Normally they would be playing cards and drinking beer.  Moving around the couch I plopped down by Ryan and Cooper sat down on the armrest of the couch.  “What are we watching exactly?” 

“I feel like he just looks like some kind of sexy Jesus on the buffalo.  Ridin’ into the sunset.” Teeter spoke, causing Cooper to give me a weird look. 

“What did she just say?” 

Colby, her boyfriend, responded back to him. “Nobody ever knows what she’s saying.” 

“How is that guy staying on it?” Cooper asked the group. 

Lloyd, the oldest ranch hand on our ranch answered his question while sitting at the dining table.  “Cause they can’t buck.” 

“Really?” Cooper looked over his shoulder. 

Ryan nudged me with his elbow.  “Are we sure this kids really from Texas?  Or did he just have you buy him that hat that’s from Texas Tech?” 

“His father works in Texas, Ryan.” 

Lloyd explained about the buffalo video to my boyfriend.  “They can’t buck, they can’t rear up, but they can’t roll over on your ass.” 

“Hey we outta ride a buffalo out there in that field.” Teeter suggested. 

Leaning forward on the couch I looked at Tetter who was sitting on the tile floor in front of us.  “Where at?” 

“Out by the corral near the edge of the fence line.” 

Liyod got up from his chair at the table.  “Who feels like ridin’ a buffalo?” 

“Uh. Not me.” Ryan replied. 

Cooper paused in thought.  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“I’ll ride one.” I jumped up to stand and Teeter raised her and we high fives. 

“There’s my girl.” 

Cooper whipped his head around in concern watching me go over to the fridge that was full of beer, taking one out and cracking it opened.  “Faith, you’re 18.” 

“And you’re 22.” I pointed the bottle at him, taking a long drink from it. 

He shifted around on the couch, fear written all over his face.  “It means you can’t drink.  You can smoke but no alcohol.” 

“I’ll be fine, Cooper.  As long as my parents don’t find out we’ll be fine.” I quickly finished my beer grabbing another running out the door shouting.  “Let’s go ride a buffalo!” 

We all saddled some horses with me and Cooper riding on the same one together.  Cooper slid off the saddle standing beside the horse, stumbling to regain his balance when I asked Liyod.  “So how do you do this, Lloyd?” 

“You can’t rope’em around the neck, you'll crush their larynx so you gotta rope them by the horns.  And then you pull them to a stop and hop on and off you go.” 

Cooper shifts his gaze back over to me.  “Faith, this doesn’t look like a good idea.” 

“Don’t worry, Norris.  These past felons wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.” I kicked my horse in the belly catching up with Liyod who was roping the buffalo for me.  

Cooper shouted over the cheering from Teeter and Colby.  “Felons! Wait what - Faith!” 

Dismounting from my horse I climbed on the buffalo’s back one second bed Lioyd’s lasso around its horn snapped causing the buffalo to start running trying to throw me off.   “Woo! Cooper!” The buffalo ran in circles until it took a sharp turn charging directly at Cooper where I thought he would run hi, down.  

“Ahh!” My boyfriend screamed when a rope dropped around his waist by Ryan who yanked him towards his horse.  I slid off the buffalo letting the animal run for a little bit before he simply walked back into the open field. 

Liyod jumped off his horse helping me up from the dusty grass ground.  “That a girl.  Are you okay, little Dutton?” 

“That was freaking awesome!” Throwing my hands up in the air I cheered up into the night sky with the familiar stars above us.  Walking over to my boyfriend who was lifting the rope off of his body and over his head.  “You ain’t hurt are you?” 

Ryan explained taking his rope from his hand.  “I did my best to get him out of the fucking way.” 

“Thanks Ryan. So how are you, Cooper?” 

He removed his ball cap ruffling his hair.  “I thought I was about to get run over by a buffalo.  I can’t - you hang out with these guys every night.” 

“Pretty much.  I think the only thing we do that doesn’t physically hurt anybody is playing cards and talking trash.” 

“We can play tomorrow night if y’all will be around then.” Colby responded sitting on his horse. 

Cooper chuckled, placing his hat back on his head smiling at me.  I knew he was out of his element but I knew he would have fun in some situation if I had any say about it.  “I’m going to become a cowboy before I leave here aren’t I?” 

“More than likely, you bet your boots yes.” I smirked at my boyfriend tipping my light brown hat at him.  “Welcome to the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Mr. Norris.”