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chazukekani · 4 years

Text

SPOILER ALERT

Here is the quick summary of the first 60 pages of Stormbringer that just revealed today.

Special thanks to Nika, Amir, and my discord server members for proof-reading!

— That is, the 169th possibility

— ‘You are late, my brother.’

Content

Prologue

Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers

Code 02: Dead people do not possess any form of emotion

Code 03: I want to observe Chuuya’s suffer as a human

Code 04: Grantors of disgrace, you need not wake me again

Epilogue

Afterthought

Harukawa Sango ‘Stormbringer’ Character Setting Gallery

Pre-prologue

Fate whispers to warriors,

‘You cannot go against the storm.’

Warriors whisper back

‘I am the storm.’

— Cao Zhi ‘Luo Shen Fu’

Prologue

It began in a forest at midnight. It was supposed to be a peaceful night, but suddenly a beam appeared in the forest. It’s a huge fire. The forest was on fire. People who lived in the village nearby ran to the forest to see what happened. It was a wrecked airplane that just fell from the sky. People used hammers to dig the airplane to see whether there are any survivors.

Suddenly, a man walked out from the airplane. He seemed fine, but the crowd was shocked.

‘Apologies for my courtesy. In accordance with civil society, I should introduce myself,’ said the man. He pulled out a badge on his chest. The badge was black and words on it were engraved with silver. One of the teenagers from the village read off the words on it

‘I am a detective from Europole (Europe Detective and Police Organisation), which I am an office equipment. Category number 98F78195, made by ability technician Dr. Wollstonecraft. The first ever humanoid computer that serves for worldwide police facilities. Code name is Adam, Adam Frankenstein. It is my pleasure to meet you. I should carry out my mission now, see you.’

Before Adam left, he asked ‘Do you know a person called Nakahara Chuuya?’

Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers

Chuuya couldn't see his dream. Everytime he woke up, he felt like he was in a swamp of mud. Today, Chuuya woke up in his apartment. Just like other’s morning routine, Chuuya took a shower, cleaned himself and left his home.

Chuuya was 16 years old. Since a year he had joined the mafia, Chuuya excelled in his job with the most outstanding performance, and was well recognised in the organisation.

However with all the money and status he got, Chuuya was not satisfied. The thing that he wanted the most was to know his past. Chuuya knew nothing about it. The earliest memory he had was being kidnapped to a military facility 8 years ago.

There was already a branded black car waiting for Chuuya outside his apartment with a group of men in suits and sunglasses. ‘Please go to the regular store,’ said Chuuya.

Chuuya was in charge of supervising the jewel/gemstone transaction within the Mafia and black market, which had been an important source of income for the mafia.

He arrived at the store. Before entering it, a gun was pointed on Chuuya’s head, while there was another gun pointed onto his chest. Bang! What a big sound. Yet there was no blood, but a bunch of colourful ribbons came off.

‘Congratulations to your 1st year since joining the mafia!’, said those men.

Today was the first anniversary for Chuuya joining the mafia, and his friends held a party for him. People who joined the party all belonged to the ‘young club’ of the mafia, which were all 25 years old or younger.

The party-planner was called ‘Piano Man’. He was called Piano Man not because of his black and white outfit, but his way of killing. He liked using the strings of piano keyboards and strangled people to death. Piano Man was very tall, his fingers were long and thin, and always put a smile on his face. He was by far the man who was closest to the position of the Port Mafia executive.

The second man who came to congratulate Chuuya was called Albatross, a man with golden hair. He was a teen that loved smiling and was very talkative. Albatross was in charge of the transportation aspect of the mafia, and was complimented as very efficient and speedy in completing the missions, and was currently living in the same neighbourhood as Chuuya in a high-ended area. He previously belonged to an organisation called ‘Wheelman’.

Albatross proposed a toasting, but Chuuya was not in a good mood. “Did you have a nightmare?” Albatross joked, but Chuuya turned furious after hearing the word ‘nightmare’. Everyone was horrified. ‘No I wasn’t!’ Chuuya shouted. When Chuuya was about to leave the shop, yet another man came in. He was holding a champagne glass, and on his other hand, he was holding a medical drip stand that had a drip injected into his arm. His name was Doc.

Different from other doctors in the gangster industry, Doc graduated in a Northern American university and was awarded with a Doctorate formally. Doctors were highly demanded within the mafia because members could not simply walk into regular hospitals with injuries that were caused by gunshots. Doctors in the PM were treated nicely and respected, thanks to the boss, Mori-san, who was also a former doctor. The reason why Doc became a doctor was because he wanted to get closer to God. ‘The more lives you save, the closer you get to God’ is the motto of Doc. The Bible once wrote that God saved two million lives, so Doc’s goal was to save a similar number of people, which was why he joined the Mafia.

Chuuya still wanted to leave.

“The first year was the toughest, so we need to celebrate that you got through it,’ a gentle voice said. It was a man who had an extraordinarily beautiful appearance. The first year of joining the Mafia was the so-called ‘Deadman Curve’, so a celebration is needed,” said Lippmann, the guy with a pretty face. The work of Lippmann was probably the most unique one out of all of them. He was in charge of the public relations of the Mafia, such as negotiating deals with enterprises, or having meetings with the government. It is more difficult to kill him than killing the Boss of the Mafia because Lippmann was also a famous actor, thus every single action he made would be reported by the media. Hence it was really difficult to get him.

Another man came in, and his name was Ice Man. Unlike Chuuya’s other friends, he was quiet, and wore a simple outfit. Ice Man did not show much emotion, and was low profile. His job was simple, to kill. He did not use an ability, guns or knives to kill. Instead, he used objects that were nearby to kill. Anything, regardless if it’s a pen, wine bottle or the wire of light bulbs could become a murdering tool, hence Ice Man could kill anywhere.

The gathering continued. Chuuya was gradually having a better mood, until Ice Man asked Chuuya ‘where were you born?’ Chuuya immediately grabbed Ice Man’s shirt, and there was such a tension among the guys. Piano Man then revealed that he knew why Chuuya was mad, because Mori told him about Chuuya’s past that he was just an artificial ability experiment that was created by the military. Hence Mori asked Piano Man to invite Chuuya into the younger’s club, in order to have a surveillance on Chuuya. Piano Man pointed out the reason why Chuuya was mad today because he was actually not able to dream. Suddenly, the tension was back. Everyone had their weapons already, but Piano Man took out a present for the 1st anniversary from his coat, and gave it to Chuuya.

It was a photograph, a picture of two people, and one of them was five year old Chuuya.

The picture was taken in an old village in the Western region, Piano Man said. The area was abandoned afterwards but Doc found this picture inside the medical record of the village. Lippmann then added that he had asked a woman to check all the military-related databases, in which she found out that the military once held a recruitment experiment in the Western region. Still, Chuuya’s friends were able to find the family tree of Chuuya, his school, his report card and his birth record. However, such an investigation must not be known to Mori because Mori thought that if Chuuya’s background remained a secret, Chuuya would not betray the Mafia.

Chuuya did not understand why his friends did this for him. Lippmann said because they were companions. He then proposed why not they name the younger’s club as ‘Flags’.

The Flags then went to a billiards bar. All of a sudden, apart from the six people playing the billiards, there was the seventh person who joined the game. He had long arms and legs, and of course very tall. Black hair with brown eyes, and was standing by the table seriously.

All of a sudden, Albatross used his Kulric knife and sliced on the seventh person's head, which produced an uncomfortable noise. Yet, that person escaped from the attack. A fight then broke out because the Flags thought this seventh person was an ability user, and suspected his intention for coming to the Mafia’s facility. However, Ice Man pointed out that this person was not an ability user, but the fight continued.

During the fight, Adam grabbed the legs of the table, and something grew from his hand. It was a small-scale dinosaur, that grew from Adam’s hands as if it were a plant. The battle was intense. Someone shouted Chuuya’s name out of nowhere, and Adam noticed something.

‘Chuuya-san’, Adam greeted Chuuya politely.

‘I am here to protect you,’ Adam replied. Adam introduced himself, and explained his mission. Adam was sent here to arrest an assassin called Paul Verlaine.

When Chuuya heard the name Verlaine, his facial expression changed.

‘Why do you know this name?’ asked Chuuya

‘Chuuya-san, you cannot defeat Verlaine on your own. That’s why I am here. Verlaine was not only an assassin. He is the king of assassins. He is your brother.’ said Adam.

The misconception was relieved, and the Flags, together with Adam, played billiards happily afterwards.

The story continues on 27th Feb

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs storm bringer #bungou stray dogs storm bringer #bsd storm bringer #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya

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stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

#129 days #Sapnap smau #sapnap x reader #smau #social media au #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #mcyt smau #sapnap series #sapnap fluff #mcyt x reader

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Text

Lay All Your Love On Me

Hey folks! I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for the past day or two, so I figured I’d go back to the first Coops fic idea I ever had. Endless thanks to the SW discord server for fleshing it out with me! You’re all incredible <3

Credit for Coops/ SW goes to @lumosinlove!

Sirius lived for nights like these. The lights along the rink cast a steady glow over the smooth, perfect ice and chased off the winter chill outside as he held Remus close, feeling his body heat radiate through their sweatshirts. The air was crisp, the basement was quiet, and he was utterly content.

“Cap?”

Sirius hummed and rested his chin on the top of Remus’ head, soaking in his warmth. He loved hearing that nickname from the rest of the team, but the lilt of Remus’ voice around it was something special. “Yeah, Re?”

“I wasn’t jealous before we met.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius laughed as Remus pinched him lightly on the ribs. He couldn’t really feel it beneath the thick fabric of his hoodie, but it was the thought that counted.

Remus sighed and leaned further into him. “Now every woman I see is a potential threat, you know?”

Sirius drew back just enough to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “I think we’ve established that women are really not an issue for me.” Remus hid his face in Sirius’ chest. “Wait, you’re worried about this, aren’t you? Sweetheart, you know I love you more than anything. You’re brilliant, funny, kind, strong…” You’re everything to me.

“And I’m possessive, it isn’t nice,” he mumbled into Sirius’ collarbone.

And, fuck, if that didn’t just crush Sirius’ heart into a million pieces. “No, you’re not possessive at all,” he said, rubbing his hands in slow circles on Remus’ back. He placed a quick kiss to his soft curls and let the sweet citrus smell envelop him. “You’re perfect.”

“You’ve heard me saying that smoking is my only vice.”

Smoking? Since when? “Remus, you’ve never touched a cigarette in your life. You almost cursed out a smoker on the bus the other day—”

“But now it isn’t true.”

“What?”

Remus pulled away, skating backwards slowly as a wicked grin overtook his face. Sirius’ heart sank. “Now everything is new.”

“No.”

“And all I’ve learned, has overturned, I beg of you!”

“Remus, I swear to god—”

“Don’t go wasting your emotion,” Sirius’ ridiculous boyfriend belted, quickly dodging out of reach as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned up the music. “Lay all your love on me!”

“I was worried about you!” Sirius protested.

“Love you too, babe!” Remus called before launching into the next verse and skating to the other side of the rink, where he sent Sirius a cocky smile over his shoulder. “I feel a kind of fear…when I don’t have you near…”

“Clearly not.”

“Unsatisfied—”

“Insatiable.”

“—I skip my pride—”

“Since when?”

“I beg you dear!” For all of Sirius’ complaining, he had to admit that Remus had one hell of a voice, and watching him dance over the ice was a sight he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Can you turn it down a little?” Sirius asked. Remus cupped his hand around his ear and turned the volume up another notch.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t hear you! Music’s too loud!” With a suggestive shimmy and a wink, he slid behind the goal in a smooth arc and leaned on the crossbar. “Don’t go wasting your devotion, lay all your love on me.”

Distracted by Remus’ playful grin and bright eyes, Sirius made the fatal mistake of taking a step towards him. Immediately, Remus skated in the opposite direction. “Really?”

Remus’ smile became sharp at the edges.

Sirius glided forward, feeling the trickle of competitive adrenaline drip into his veins as Remus pushed off, still singing along to that damn ABBA song. This was not the first time they had played this game, nor would it be the last—there was an art to catching Remus Lupin once he got on the ice and very few people had ever succeeded.

Sirius took a few long strides toward his boyfriend (who was still singing) and let him loop back around in a lazy spiral, doing his best to relax his muscles. Remus was far too fast to straight-up outskate; letting him tire himself out a bit would allow Sirius to swoop in when he least expected it.

The peppy music reverberated off the walls and Sirius felt a moment of pity for Regulus, who was probably locked in his room with his headphones plastered to his ears. C’est la vie, he thought as Remus bopped to the music. His loss.

“ ‘cause everything is new,” Remus sang, winking as he rounded the opposite goal. “And everything is you.”

Sirius was so caught up in watching the light shine off caramel hair that he didn’t see Remus darting in until it was too late. With a sharp smack to his rear, Remus spun away once again. “Hey!” Sirius yelped.

“Gotcha!” Remus laughed. Sirius narrowed his eyes; time’s up, he thought, digging his skates in. He sped after Remus, who took off around the edge of the rink at full speed and glanced back every few seconds just to make sure Sirius was still following. He dodged left, then right; Sirius nearly caught him as he came around the corner. “Oh, so close!”

Sirius couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he braked hard and turned, giving one last push with all his strength toward the center of the small rink. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, pulling him off the ice and into his arms. “Gotcha,” he mimicked, planting a loud kiss to his cheek.

“You’re getting better at that,” Remus panted around his wide grin. “What was it the first time, twenty minutes? Coach would be so happy to see that.”

“Coach is seeing it,” He set Remus down again and kept his hands on his hips as Remus turned to face him. “He can’t figure out why I’m getting faster.”

His frozen nose tingled as Remus placed a kiss to it. His cheeks were flushed from exertion and the edges of his eyes crinkled when he cocked his head to the head. “You’re welcome.”

“Does it have to be ABBA every time?”

“Yes.” Remus began skating backwards as the next song kicked in, already humming the intro as he kept his fingers twined with Sirius’. “Dance with me?”

“As long as you don’t run off again.”

“No promises.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #regulus black #sweater weather #coops #wolfstar #lumosinlove #fanfic #my fic

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fandom-space-princess · 3 years

Text

The Game of Us

Rating: T (gen, no warnings)

Chapter 5: Michael

“Well, First of Heaven?” Death raises his eyebrows, mouth twisting into a subtle smile. “Still your Father’s creature?”

Read below the cut, or on AO3

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

Death awaits him at the surface.

“It seems my confidence in your powers of persuasion was justified.” From his perch on the wall beyond the entrance to the temple, the Horseman appraises Michael as he ascends the stairs and regains level ground. “The lightbearer has a long path ahead of him still, if he’s to find what he seeks. But that’s his business.”

He stands, leaning his weight atop a cane tipped with tarnished silver. Michael can see him clearly, now, the form he has taken solid and familiar as a well-worn glove. Tall and gaunt, attired chin to heel in the sable vestments of an undertaker. He beckons, and Michael falls into step at his side.

“And, perhaps, yours as well,” he amends. “What will you do, viceroy, with no title and no sovereign to serve? I suspect you will find the capacity in which Heaven requires you quite unlike what you have come to expect.” Michael is silent, but his companion doesn’t appear to expect an answer in any case.

As suddenly as it had begun, their path ends. They find themselves in the center of a garden.

The flora here is the same rich black as every other feature of this landscape, and yet as Michael studies it, it seems to hold more. Colors that creep into the ultraviolet, hues without names in any human tongue. The surroundings no longer reflect light back to him, he realizes. His form has shifted again; he no longer wears his brother’s face.

He wonders what he looks like now.

As if sensing his thoughts (and perhaps he can, Michael muses), Death inclines his head and smiles. “It is time. You have a decision to make. And I believe you’ll find that you know how to make it.”

In the center of the garden two springs of water await. A dais has been built up around them, and Michael steps up onto the platform to peer down into the depths.

To his left, murky water swirls ponderous and thick. The surface swallows greedily such light as there is, and beyond a muddy outline he casts no reflection in it. Were I to touch it, he thinks, would it pull me in too?

“Ameles potamos,” the quiet voice from behind him supplies. A steady hand rests on his shoulder. “Lethe. The wellspring of unmindfulness, river of forgetting. That is an option, lad, should you truly wish it. You may leave the sting of betrayal behind you, the bloodshed you’ve seen. Go on as you always have. However...” His posture shifts minutely, frame adjusting to face the pool’s twin. “... there’s always the alternative.”

Michael twists to face the other pool.

Oh. I remember.

Lucifer’s form, his first form, had been the embodiment of dawn, diamond-bright and burning. Plants bloomed as he passed, when the Earth was new; his brother had shone as brilliantly as the sun. But that was Lucifer’s identity. Examining his reflection now, relief and a kind of unfamiliar contentment take root and blossom in Michael’s grace.

Here at the end of the path, he no longer needs to define himself by Lucifer, or by Chuck, or even by Adam.

Michael’s reflection stares back at him out of the only face that has ever been his, and his alone. Eyes the deep honey-gold of sunlight in amber. Forehead high, cheekbones broad and fine. A face made for both the solemnity of duty, and the easy laughter of quiet joy. His own first shape: the form he had taken to walk with Lucifer among the first humans, dusk to his brother’s dawn. Adam and Eve reaching out to him, curious, taking his own strong brown hands in theirs, so much closer to them in likeness—if not in spirit—than his shining twin.

A gleam of grey catches his eye, and he sighs in recognition. There you are.

Nestled into his hair is a circlet of steel, polished and flashing like a beacon in the pool. He reaches up to touch it, running the tips of his fingers over it delicately.

“Your other choice,” Death interjects, shaking him loose from his ruminations. “The river of memory, sacred Mnemosyne. Keep your pain, and what it has taught you. Remember, hurt, learn. And become someone new.”

Michael glances back, once, at the hypnotic roil of Lethe. He closes his eyes. Reaches into that clawing, bleeding place inside himself that he knows will never truly be unbroken. His Father, his family, the Cage; abandonment, absolution, fear and destitution and reclamation and loss. All of this tangles inside his grace, a shard-edged ache. He reaches for it, and he grasps it as tightly as he can. Hefts the weight of it. Allows himself to feel it all.

Then he exhales. Opens his eyes.

“Well, First of Heaven?” Death raises his eyebrows, mouth twisting into a subtle smile. “Still your Father’s creature?”

The archangel Michael smiles back. Raises his hands to his head, pulls the crown he wears free of twining umber curls. Sets it at his feet. It glimmers for a moment, steely against the blackness, then dissolves away into nothing.

“No,” he says softly, kneeling at the edge of the sparkling clear waters of memory. “I don’t think I am.”

“What, then?”

He dips one hand into the water, and brings it to his face.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

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

Epilogue:

Saturday marks the fourth day in a row of wind and frigid rain. Sodden earth clings to Adam’s feet, trails in muddy footprints past the entryway to his apartment. He shakes off his boots beside the front door. Flicks away the crinkling orange leaves that stick to the hem of his pants. The trees had turned early this year, a riot of red and ochre like a sunrise outside the exterior door to his apartment complex each morning for weeks now. But the last of the leaves are rapidly coming down under the weight of the constant drizzle, and he brushes them away with fingers numb at the tips.

He hasn’t been properly warm in days. Or—if he’s being honest with himself—since last November.

Shrugging off his jacket over the back of a chair, he heads for the bathroom.

He’s in the midst of rinsing his hair, idling in the steam in an attempt to will warmth and feeling back into his hands, when the building shudders around him.

An earthquake? In Minnesota?

He lurches forward, flails at the handle to turn the water off. The shaking builds rapidly, and he drops to the ground and braces himself against the wall. Then there is a resounding crack like breaking glass, loud enough that he slaps his hands over his ears, wincing. Whatever it is seems to have been the apex of the disturbance. The shaking abruptly ceases, and in the quiet that follows he can hear dogs barking and car alarms blaring up and down the length of the block.

He winds a towel around his waist, and opens the door to the bathroom. Strides out into his living room, intending to investigate the source of the disturbance, and pulls up short. Sprawled out across his floor is a man Adam has never seen before.

The stranger raises his head, and meets his eyes.

“Adam,” he rasps. His eyelids flutter. Adam takes one halting step toward him, two—

—then Michael slumps back, unconscious, and Adam is alone with his questions.

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

(Chapter notes:

If you're still here, I love you. Thank you for reading. <3

This fic was created and published as part of tumblr's SPN Archangel Week 2021 event. You have no idea how happy it makes me that, even now, there are so many people who care as much about these characters and their stories as I do. Special thanks to the people in the Archangels discord server, who are uniformly lovely, and inspire me every day.

As the epilogue indicates, there is at least one sequel to this story (Michael and Adam, my beloveds). I was hoping to have that ready for this week as well, but life happened. I'm hoping to get to it next week, so check back in a bit for that.)

#and thus concludes our journey :)#spnarchangelweek #day 4 michael #michael spn #gabriel spn #raphael spn #lucifer spn #death spn #my fanfic #spn #supernatural

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parismemes · 4 years

Text

THINGS I’VE SAID ON DISCORD (OCTOBER EDITION) AS SENTENCE STARTERS.

“tell me everythng.” “HEHEHEHEHEHEHE” “i have read every single one of them and do not intend to stop” “i on principle only like songs that go hard” “I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOING TO BE THAT SAD WHAT THE FUCK” “heehoo. water boy.” “why i always sleep through this shit i hate it here” “gacha games count as gambling” “im also there. im laughing” “u r doing so much math and im just like hehe money” “what the fuck what the fuck NOOO what the fuck im dfgjhhfjgdhjfgkjdkghjd” “what a traumatic backstory” “I CAN SEE YOU READING MY MESSAGES IM GONAN GET FINESSED OUT THE FUCKIN WINDOW“ “THAT’S not good!” “if hes a fraid of dogs that sounds like a him problem” “i honestly deserve recognition for the absolute shit i just pulled off” “YES FUCK YEAH YEAH YEAH HELL YEAH FUCK YEAH HELL FUCKIN YEAH WOOOOOOOOO YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!” “why the fuck would you want that” “yeah hes my only one true love” “by a few i of course mean like 600″ “no one fucking appreciate me” “thank you ___ for being the only person who appreciate me” “i reveal it in pieces and make you put it together like a puzzle” “im smart and never regret it“ “see, i just dont think thats right” “i will continue dangling it in front of your face like a scientist dangling bait in front of a fish (who is also in a maze)” “hes actually like an absolute fucking nerd a complete fool a fucking dumbass” “sorry your message glitched and i cannot read. anyway back to my leverage over you which is forcing you into a corner,” “it's not extortion because i don't know what extortion means” “why do they talk like exes. its because they are exes” “TIME SENSITIVE QUESTION PLEASE RESPOND” “he's a content creator he'll be fine” “what does this mean? but yes” “NICE NICE NNICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE” “for future record ___ just used the word poggers” “look at all these fuckin blondes” “its only been like a week and a half at most” “hes doing it out of affection” “ISNT THIS THE FUNNIEST SHIT YOUVE EVER SEEN” “you are terrible and also the worst” “i was going to send it at midnight but i got distracted trying to figure out the most barebones way to say happy birthday without sounding weird” “do you think i get punished more or less if i do sins” “i dont think the sins count as extra points if you commit them on the way to hell” “run over pedestrians” “i am slowly descending into insanity today, as a hobby” “you are a shit boy. a little shit boy go eat boxes“ “it's ok. we can figure it out later” “i didnt notice at first but it is in fact All The Fuck Over” “ITS BEEN OVER 12 HOURS” “hey guys just turns out we might have a ✨ gas leak ✨” “im sure if we put our braincells together we can figure SOMETHING out” “curious georg” “thank god. i could and would have argued this for several hours” “i think the worst thing ive heard today is someone calling the movie enchanted a reverse isekai” “i should not and will not stop” “i was RIGHT AHHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA” “that wasnt a question you read it wrong” “i have no idea who this is but that wont stop me” “THIS MAN REALLY SAID HEAD EMPTY WHAT IS MONEY” “sometimes i say things and its best to just pretend you know what i mean” “WOT THIS” “I DONT WANT PEE ON MY BED“ “tired of all these stupid fuckin plants” “could you even really consider jelly filled donuts donuts?” “actually everything is real” “if you eat cereal for dinner, you're not having fucking breakfast” “i think my in real life superpower is that i have freakishly fast metabolism” “i dont care if you are evil you are MY TYPE” “you dirty criminal” “is a dessert item a dessert if it isn't eaten after dinner? discuss” “ok im done for the Right Now” “found a concerning orb. in the sky.” “HOW DID YOU KILL THEM” “why do i do this to myself why do i keep doing this” “the only simp here is me” “I No Longer Wish To Know!“ “DID THEY JUST END AN ENTIRE SPECIES” “WE ARE DETERMINED” “this is also really funny by virtue of the fact that these people are all fucking british” “they throw rocks at me and say we want the himbo” “THE CONTEXT IS IMPORTANT HERE” “its something that i SPECIFICALLY am passionate about” “hanburnger?” “thats just what living with siblings is like” “howd she get there? fuckin beats me dude idk” “i remember everything i am like a shark with an abnormally good memory” “i am sorry that you are predictable” “Hey Guys, Just Checkiing In To Make Sure You Got My Joke, Just Making Sure, I Just Wanted To Check In And See If You Got The Joke, Because I Was Afraid You Wouldnt Get It, So Im Just Checking In,” “i marked your worm” “what are you gonna do. unsend whatever you send me? i am Shaking in my fuzzy socks rn” “you Know i hate the idea of being wrong” “You Did Not Need To Stroke His Ego” “i am too stupid to live and if i was not vaccinated my genes would have no chance of being passed on because i would be dead” “~the oldest anarchy server in minecraft history~” “am i shaking because of adrenaline or rage.... who can tell” “I HAVE SO MUCH ADRENALINE IN ME BUT ITS 1 AM IN THE MORNING” “jokes on u i fucking HATE ___ i think hes the worst” “JUST IMPULSE MADE BROWNIES AT 9 PM HEYOOOO” “cry about it more bitch boy maybe piss your pants while ur at it” “im getting so casually toxic back to toxic gamer boys” “itll be fiiiiiine” “we are all stupid mice who take turns being the piper” “queen of bargains is me i am the queen of bargaining and scoring deals” “its not TECHNICALLY a direct threat but also yes it is” “i see a demon i go possess me then bitch boy u wont” “AAAA THE FUCKIN VIIIIBES” “IM NOT GOING TO STOP BEING MAD ABOUT IT”

#sentence starters #rp memes #ask memes #rp meme #ask meme #the first one i did of this did really well....

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Text

Outnumbered: Offer Redeemable In Bed

Our Discord server was popping tonight and this idea came about. Special thanks to @queenlovett for the title help!

Heads up! This is Rated Explicit.

You can also read on AO3 if you prefer!

***

The boys were so excited when they got off the bus the Friday before Mother's Day. They ran to Wanda, small bits of paper clutched in their marker stained hands. Tommy shoved his at Wanda first, quickly followed by Billy's crinkled papers.

"It's a gift for you," Billy explained. "A coupon book."

Wanda smiled down at the two tiny booklets in her hands, opening one to see what was inside.

One Free Hug, the first coupon said. The rest of the booklets were filled with various chores and acts of service that were redeemable with the small pieces of paper that were tied together with a white piece of yarn.

"These are beautiful, boys," Wanda said, clutching her tiny booklets close to her chest. "But shouldn't these have been for Sunday?"

"We didn't want to wait all that time," Tommy groused, making it sound like Sunday wasn't just two days away.

"Tommy would have lost his by then," Billy teased, earning a dirty look from his twin.

"Okay," Wanda said quickly, putting a hard stop to any impending fights. "Go on in the house and wash those dirty hands. I'll get your snacks ready."

"Good Morning, Darling." Vision pressed a kiss to Wanda's shoulder, the warmth of his lips leaving a special kind of heat after he pulled away. "Happy Mother's Day."

"Morning," Wanda replied, her voice gruff with sleep. "Are the kids up?"

"Not yet," Vision answered, slipping out of bed. In all his nakedness, his morning arousal was very apparent. "I've got something for you."

"I can see that," Wanda teased, eyes trained on Vision's erection.

"Not that," he laughed, turning away from Wanda only to give her a full and perfect view of his ass.

"This works too," Wanda purred, rolling to Vision's side of the bed so she was close enough to place a light swat on his right ass cheek.

"You're awfully lively this morning," Vision observed with a smile, pulling something small from his bedside drawer and hiding it in his large hand.

"What do you have there?" Wanda asked, grabbing for the offending hand.

"Scoot over and I'll show you," Vision answered, waiting for Wanda to move from his side of the bed before hopping back in and pulling the covers over his still very present erection. "You know the coupon booklets the boys made you? Well, I had one made. For us."

Wanda's face scrunched in confusion as Vision handed her a small, neatly bound booklet not unlike the one the twins made for her. She opened it, seeing that each page had been generically printed with "One Free:" and underneath, in Vision's familiar, heavy print were the acts of service. One the first page: "Cunnilingus."

She quickly flipped through the book to find what else Vision had written in the dirty coupon book. There she found from a tame "Massage" all the way to the riskier "Use the strap-on on me."

"When did you have time to do this?" Wanda asked, going back to that first page and staring at the word, cunnilingus.

"Yesterday," Vision replied proudly. "The print shop helped me put it together. They even gave me a good deal, they made three others just like it, so you'll have these for awhile."

Wanda laughed, knowing her husband couldn't pass up what he called good deals but quickly changed gears back to the booklet in her hand. Before she could stop herself she plucked the first coupon - the cunnilingus coupon - from the book and handed it to Vision.

"I'd like to redeem this coupon, please."

Vision looked down at which one she picked and a small smile played at the corners of his lips. With a nod he set the coupon down on his bedside table and turned back around, taking Wanda's face in his hands.

"Whatever you wish, my love," he said, pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. "Lie back and let me take care of you."

Wanda quietly complied, moving out of her husband's warm grip and settling into the center of the bed, the ends of each of their pillows safely nestled under her head and neck.

Vision straddled her body, holding himself up with his strong arms planted on either side of her body. He peppered kisses to Wanda's neck, lightly sucking her pulse point as he made his way down her body. He moved to her chest, kissing her collarbone and down to the space between her breasts.

Wanda lifted her head from the pillows. She loved to watch Vision work her body into ecstasy. His mouth hovered over her left breast, hot breath warming her already hard nipple before he close his lips around it. He sucked on her nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub and pulling away just long enough to blow on the wet spot, the cooling sensation brought goosebumps to Wanda's skin and she moaned in response.

There had been times when Vision had almost brought Wanda to orgasm just by playing with, sucking and licking her nipples. That was no different that morning as Vision repeated the same assault on her right nipple. Her head fell back and she tried to keep her voice low to keep the children from waking, but Vision's mouth was too much, she had to stop him.

"Vis," she murmured. Vision lifted his head to look at her. "You know I love when you do that, but at risk of waking the kids before you even get to redeem my coupon, you have to stop."

"Yes, dear," Vision replied, moving his head back down to drop wet kisses down Wanda's stomach, over her belly button and his special attention that he always gave to her stretch marks at the bottom of her belly. He kissed them tenderly, tracing the line with the tip of two fingers.

"Beautiful," he muttered under his breath, his breath tickling Wanda's stomach.

Finally, he was between her legs. The kisses didn't stop, he pressed his lips to Wanda's inner thigh and upward, stopping when he reached the mound of soft curls between her legs. He looked up at Wanda, a grin on his lips and hunger in his eyes before those same two fingers that traced her stretch marks moved between her lips and spread them, giving Vision easy access to her clit.

"Oh, Vis," Wanda moaned as Vision's tongue flicked out and gently lapped at her sensitive nerve. She opened her legs wider, allowing Vision to slide his tongue down her slit and wrap his mouth around her center. She cried out his name as he darted his tongue in and out of her, licking her wetness.

Vision moved his mouth back up to Wanda's clit, taking it between his lips and lightly sucking it as Wanda grabbed at the sheets with one hand and snatched a pillow from her side of the bed to place over her face as she continued to moan loud enough to wake the children.

The pillow muffled her moans enough, but to Vision's delight didn't mute them completely. He loved to hear her moan. His name on her lips as she came was like a song she sang just for him. There was nothing like it and he worked at her clit, finding her center with his fingers and sliding them inside. His mouth and fingers worked together, teasing her clit and rubbing her g-spot.

Wanda slammed her hand down on the bed as she arched her back and closed her legs around Vision's head. She swirled her hips and Vision stilled his hands, letting her fuck his fingers for a short while before curling them back up and thrusting them in and out of her.

It wouldn't be long before she came undone, completely lost her senses underneath her ludicrously capable husband. And he played with her with his tongue and fingers, waiting for the moment he felt her gush for him.

Wanda kept Vision's head held between her thighs and grabbed at the sheets again, needing just a little bit more to push her over the edge.

"Suck harder," her muffled command leaked from the pillow's stuffing. "Make me come."

Vision obeyed, sucking on her clit a little harder, just enough help her rather than hurt her. And then she came undone, her body seizing up, overcome with pleasure her entire core was pulsing. Vision stayed between her legs, happily lapping the extra wetness now present and he stayed there until Wanda's orgasm finally subsided and she collapsed against the bed, her legs going slack and finally releasing Vision's head from their grip.

Vision sat up, licking his lips to make sure he tasted all of Wanda before wiping his face with his hand.

"Was the coupon redeemed adequately?" Vision asked, lying down next to his panting wife.

"Yes," Wanda gasped, her chest still heaving as she caught her breath.

"Mommy!" The sound of Florence's small voice infiltrated the room.

"Shit," Wanda muttered. "I don't know if I can walk yet."

"I've got it, darling," Vision said jumping up from the bed and throwing on his pajama pants and a white t-shirt before disappearing into the bathroom to wash his hands. "Stay there and get dressed when you can. I'll be in with the kids in a little while. We've got something planned for you."

"Thank you," Wanda smiled, her breathing still slightly ragged.

"Happy Mother's Day, Wanda."

#scarletvision #scarletvision fic #wandavision #wandavision fic #wanda x vision #wanda maximoff #the vision #fanfiction #outnumbered au drabble #i write shit

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

art is (not) dead / analogical

inspired by an idea brainstormed in a discord server i’m in.

art critic logan!!!!! give him art rights! immediately!!!!

[masterlist]

---

Logan adjusted his glasses, eyes focused on the abstract painting in front of him. When it came to artwork in that style, he either appreciated it or it confused him, and this piece fell into the latter category. It was a white canvas with cloud-like shapes in various shades of purple, gray, and black. Logan wanted to understand what the artist was trying to convey, but he only felt perplexed. As he stepped up to read the information about the piece, a man stood to his left.

“Priced a bit high,” Logan muttered, gripping his pen a little tighter. He scribbled down the title, price, and artist of the piece, then straightened back up. He spun on his heel, and the man who was standing there was looking at him, frowning. Logan observed the badge on his black coat, denoting him as an artist. The name… “Oh, this is your piece,” Logan said, recalling the name he had just written down.

“Is there something wrong with my art…” the man, named Virgil Storm, narrowed his eyes onto Logan’s badge, explaining that he was the critic at the show, “...Mr. Crofters?” Logan sighed, glancing back to the large art piece.

“I do not understand why you have titled it ‘anxiety’,” Logan explained, “and the colors don’t… bring any certain emotion.” Virgil rolled his eyes, inhaling sharply. He was used to this by now, critics claiming they knew what art needed to be, but he was sick of it. The art represented how he felt, no matter how abstract it was.

“Look, you don’t need to understand art for it to be worth something,” Virgil explained, gesturing to all of the art surrounding them. “It means something to the artist. But you wouldn’t understand that, you just like critiquing and judging the things that people put countless hours into, hmm?” Logan frowned at this, and felt a pang of unease. “Yes, Mr. Crofters. I’ve heard of you and your… critiquing. You caused Roman Prince, one of the greatest artists in the area, to have a mental breakdown because you didn’t ‘understand’ the piece that he dedicated to his brother.”

“Look, Storm. This is what I studied. I know art-”

“You know what you like, and I don’t care if you think my art is overpriced. You couldn’t create something with half as much heart or emotion, I’m sure,” Virgil started to step away, but Logan stepped in front of him, eyes dark.

“I can paint,” Logan informed him. He thought he was no good, though, which is why he became a critic. He hadn’t painted in years.

“Oh? Prove it, then,” Virgil fished a business card out of his pocket. “The address for my studio is there. Come by tomorrow and prove to me that you can do art.”

Logan stared at the brick building, the wide windows startling him. He considered turning back, going home, because why did he need to prove himself to a cocky artist like Virgil Storm? Except he didn’t turn back, he gripped the paints that he had dug out of his closet a little tighter in his hand and stepped to the door, knocking only once. If Virgil didn’t hear him, then he could say it wasn’t his fault-

Of course, Logan was not that lucky. The door swung open, revealing Virgil with a stained button-up lavender shirt, paint-splattered black pants, his long hair pulled into a bun. “Ah, the critic,” Virgil smirked, stepping aside to let Logan inside. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show after my painting sold for higher than the listed price.”

Logan glanced around at the bottom floor of the lofted building; it was covered with full, half-full, and blank canvases and plants, and he could see that on the second level there was a full bedroom. There were two easels set up, one with what Logan assumed was Virgil’s current work in progress, the other with a blank canvas. He glanced down at his own clothes; his polo shirt and tie and slacks, and wondered if he should have worn something that he didn’t mind getting paint on.

“Need an apron?” Virgil asked, strolling over to the easels. He pulled an apron from behind one of them, paint splatters and charcoal stains coating most of the fabric. “You can use this one,” he tossed it at Logan, who nearly dropped his paints in the process. Virgil lifted a paintbrush from his easel, and Logan noted the bright colors he was using with the current piece; yellows, pinks, and teals in a pattern that almost resembled a sunset.

“Thanks,” Logan set his paints down on the bottom of the easel and slipped the apron over his head, then got out his brush. He glanced over at Virgil, who seemed to be deep in thought, lips pursed as he splattered some orange onto the canvas. Logan began with black paint, outlining a figure, and the two painted in silence for a while, until Virgil set his paintbrush down and stretched his arms up, his shirt riding up to reveal a pierced belly button. Logan blinked, then returned his focus to the silhouette he was painting.

“Want anything to drink? I’ve got about twenty types of tea, but there’s also wine…” He ran a hand through his hair to fix it back up into a bun, not realizing that there was yellow paint on his fingers, and Logan bit back a grin when the paint streaked Virgil’s dark hair.

“Um, tea’s fine. Whatever kind you’re having,” Logan responded. He had loosened his tie earlier and his glasses were situated on the top of his head, and he felt more relaxed than he had in years; painting was something he enjoyed so much, but with his work schedule and the discouragement he faced from those around him… he had stepped away from the thing that he was so passionate about.

Logan refocused on his painting; it was a silhouette of a man standing outside, and he had decided that he would paint the night sky around the frame of the man’s likeness. After a few minutes, he felt Virgil standing next to him, and noted that the artist had placed a mug of tea on the table between the easels.

“Wow,” Virgil breathed out, his eyes focused on the painting. “Your silhouette work is incredible,” he murmured, and Logan glanced at him, wondering if he was being mocked, but the expression on Virgil’s face only showed admiration.

“Oh. Um. Thank you,” Logan grabbed the mug of tea, holding it up to his lips to distract from the blush that had coated his cheeks. The aroma of roses and jasmine wafted into his nose, and he felt a bit calmer. No one had ever complimented his art; he didn’t know how to react to Virgil’s kind words.

Luckily, he didn’t need to say anything more, as Virgil stepped away and back to his easel.

By the time they had both finished their paintings, the sun had gone down and Virgil had flipped on the lights of the loft, revealing several sets of fairy lights in the windows. It was almost… magical, Logan thought, and as he pulled the apron back over his head, hanging it off of the easel, he wondered if he’d be allowed to come back and paint another time.

Virgil stood beside him, hand on his chin, looking at Logan’s painting closely. Perhaps unconsciously, Logan had given the silhouetted man a bun and a paintbrush, and he wondered if Virgil would notice.

“Well, it looks like I owe you an apology, Mr. Art Critic,” Virgil finally said, turning to glance at Logan. “You can paint, and you’re good. You should enter in the next show.”

“It’s really not… that good,” Logan muttered, closing the case with his paints. “It’s been a long time since I painted. I don’t think I’ve touched a paintbrush since college.”

“Why is that?” Virgil asked, eyes focused on the way that Logan’s face was turning a pale pink.

“I was… discouraged often. My parents didn’t think that painting was a worthwhile endeavor, but I didn’t want to step away from the world of art,” Logan’s eyes followed Virgil, who sat down on a plastic-covered couch, then beckoned the critic over. He sat down next to him, and Virgil pulled his legs under him, his elbow on the edge of the couch and his chin in the palm of his hand.

“You realize that’s what you’ve become, don’t you?” Virgil asked incredulously. Logan raised his eyebrows, frowning. “Roman hasn’t painted in weeks. If I wasn’t familiar with my own self-doubt, your words could have stopped me, too. Art isn’t meant to be judged, it’s meant to be appreciated and encouraged, and you should be aware of that, if that’s what you went through.”

“I… I’m sorry.” Logan didn’t say anything else, he wanted to run and never come back, but he felt like he could trust being around Virgil. “Do you… have Roman’s phone number? I would like to apologize to him.” Virgil nodded, but made no other movements, except to flutter his eyes shut. “I should go.”

“Do you want to take your painting with you?” Virgil asked, glancing over at the easels. Logan glanced, too, and shook his head.

“No. You can keep it,” he wanted to ask Virgil if he could come back the following day to paint some more, but he didn’t want to impose. Or be annoying. Logan often found that people didn’t want to spend time with him, so he began to favor being alone. “It was nice to paint again, if only for a bit.”

“You’re not going to get back into it?” Virgil’s hand was on his forearm, and Logan sucked in a deep breath, then shook his head.

“I have no reason to,” he explained, wanting to pull his arm away. Virgil grimaced at this.

“Yes you do. You love it. You’re good at it. Don’t give up on it again,” Virgil’s voice was nearly pleading, and Logan looked away from the man, because the emotions were too strong, and he couldn’t bear to feel them. He didn’t want to feel anything. “Logan.”

“I can’t. I don’t have an easel or canvases or…” Logan trailed off, and Virgil squeezed his arm gently. “I can’t get back into it. It’s not… serious enough. I want to be taken seriously. I need to be.”

“Why?” Virgil’s voice was calling him back, his long fingers warm against Logan’s skin, and the critic resisted the urge to run again. “Why do you need to be taken seriously? Because of your parents? Logan, your skills speak for themselves. You can be taken seriously as an artist.”

“Does your family take you seriously?” Logan asked, and Virgil’s eyes opened. He chewed on his lower lip, then sighed before responding.

“I haven’t spoken to my family since I was seventeen. There was a lot more than just my art that they didn’t accept me for,” Virgil’s voice was low, and Logan just nodded, understanding. “You can come back to paint whenever you want, Logan.”

And so he did. The following morning, he showed up at Virgil’s loft, bagels and coffee in hand. Instead of his normal professional attire, he was wearing an old pair of jeans and a NASA t-shirt that had bleach stains. The door was open when he approached it, so he peeked in to see Virgil already at his easel, a new painting in the works, dressed in the same outfit as the day before.

“Um, good morning, Virgil,” Logan said, announcing his presence. “I brought some bagels and coffee,” he said, stepping over to set the food and drinks on the kitchen counters.

“Thank goodness, I’m going to need caffeine. I didn’t finish the painting from yesterday until three in the morning,” Virgil groaned, stepping away from the easel temporarily to grab the coffee Logan had brought for him. “You’re my hero.” Logan turned bright red at this, looking down at his feet. “Oh. I talked to Roman. He actually started painting again. Let me get my phone to show you the picture,” Virgil stepped away, and Logan had to hold back again. Standing close to the other man was intoxicating, but he craved it. Even though he had only known the painter for two days, he was entranced, and had never felt the need to gravitate around another person in that way.

When Virgil stepped back over to him, phone showing a picture of a painting of a throne. Logan smiled faintly at it, remembering Roman’s penchant for theatricality and royalty. And then Logan realized just how close he was standing to Virgil. The artist seemed to notice, as well, because he stepped away, clearing his throat. Without saying anything, the two went to their easels, and painted in silence for some time.

Virgil had given his canvas a thorough once-over with black paint, and allowed it to dry before starting to add colors on top of it; dark blues and purples were swirled on. Logan found himself pause what he was doing to watch the way that Virgil arched his wrist in a precise way to allow for different points of pressure from the brush. He wondered if Virgil had studied art, and glanced around the room to see if he could locate any degrees. None were visible, though, and he didn’t want to ask and break the comfortable silence they had entered.

They painted in that space of tranquility for a few hours, until Logan heard his stomach grumble. Virgil chuckled a bit at this, setting his brush down and stepping back from his own easel. “I’ll order us some lunch, is Chinese takeout alright?”

“Sounds delicious. Kung Pao Chicken, please,” Logan responded, setting his brush down to look at his painting as a whole. It was a silhouette again, but this time there were two figures, and it looked like they were dancing. He hadn’t done the background yet, but he wanted to do something similar to the galaxy he had painted the day before. He heard Virgil finish making the order for takeout, and then felt his presence next to him.

“Are they dancing?” Virgil asked, letting his hair out of its bun. Logan ignored the way that his dark hair framed his pale face, and instead just nodded. “You must be familiar with dancing, I can almost see the movement in them.”

“I’m not much of a dancer, but my cousin Patton is,” he explained, remembering the times when, as teenagers, he and Patton would learn different styles of dance, even ballroom dancing. A smile crossed his features, and he barely noticed that music started playing from a speaker. Then he felt arms on his, pulling him into Virgil’s arms so they could move to the music. “Virgil, I-”

“Shh, just dance with me,” Virgil’s voice was calm, and Logan leaned into the touch, his head resting on the other man’s shoulder, Virgil’s hands settling on his waist. They moved around the empty space of the room until the doorbell rang, and Logan felt as if he had been pulled out of a dream. The two ate their takeout in silence, though the quiet was not as pleasant as it had been prior; there was now this tension spread out in front of them, and neither of them knew what to do with that.

By the time they had both finished eating and returned to their easels, Logan knew that he was visibly rigid, but his hands shook with every movement. He could barely press his paintbrush against the canvas without needing to pull away for fear of making one wrong move. Of course, it was the fact that he was afraid of all of his past wrong moves and the fear that if he made a false choice now, the progress he had made and the confidence he had built up with his painting again would fade away.

Virgil could practically feel the unease dripping from Logan’s body, so he left his painting to dry (at this point, all he wanted to do was add some white borders to the swirls), and stepped over to Logan, taking the brush from his hand. “You want to talk about it?” Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes, but nodded, and the two moved to sit on the couch, Virgil leaning close into the cushions, watching Logan with those dark eyes of his.

“I want to learn how to be okay with the things that I tried to push back,” he finally said, and Virgil knew it wasn’t just the painting he was talking about. “But… I don’t know where to start.”

“You already have started, Logan. You’re painting again, and you need to keep painting, no matter how hard it is or how conflicted you feel,” Virgil’s voice was soft as he scooted a little closer to the critic, and his fingers pulled Logan’s face to look at him. “As for the other things… take your time. Be open. It’s… hard. But… I think that everyone deserves a second chance, and I’m happy to help you on your journey.”

Logan stepped into the building and walked up to the table with badges, scanning the rows until he found the one he was looking for: Logan Crofters, Artist, Dancing Under the Stars. A faint smile crossed his face as he pinned it to his jacket, and then he wandered to where he knew the canvas was hung.

On his way there, he passed Roman, whose throne painting was hung proudly as the center of the show, and they shook hands, exchanged friendly greetings, and made promises to see each other at the after party. Then Logan went to stand by his painting, the lights from up above illuminating the silhouettes in a way that no natural light could.

Logan felt a presence to his left, and glanced over to see Virgil beaming brightly. His sunset painting was on display a few exhibits over. Their hands linked together, Virgil’s thumb brushing comfortably over the back of Logan’s hand, and Logan leaned up to press a kiss to Virgil’s cheek.

“I put in my notices,” he informed Virgil, who nodded, still smiling. “No more critiquing. No more boring apartment.” He hadn’t been spending much time in his apartment over the past several months, anyways. Each morning he’d find himself waking up in Virgil’s warm embrace, the fairy lights of the loft illuminating their way, and each afternoon they’d paint side by side like they had at the start, except now when they needed a break, they’d fall into each other’s arms, cascading across the room, lips brushing together like paintbrushes on a canvas.

#amanda writes sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #analogical #ts analogical #romantic analogical #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts sanders sides #sanders sides #art critic logan #painter virgil

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

Among These Pages

Summary: After a painful breakup, you move to a new town and you’re instantly attracted to a small bookshop near your new residence. The new owner has definitely caught your eye.

Warnings: Smut and mild cursing

A/N: So this idea originated from a Discord chat (again) in an Arthur specific server. Needless to say this one was fun to write.

The hot sun beat down amongst the worn cement and faded asphalt of this little town you now called home. Bright and sunny, though a little bit too hot for your taste. You quickened your pace to seek the shade of a tree, careful to keep out of the paths of others.

Having slight relief from the blistering sun, you squinted around for another view of your surroundings. A small, quaint village bustling with its inhabitants. The streets were lined with independent shops, restaurants and cafes. The buildings and walkways were splashed with brightly colored plants and paint, immediately setting a cheerful vibe in the atmosphere.

After spending the first day moving in and unpacking, you decided to take a break and explore your new residence. You’ve only really experienced it through your car windows, and stopped in one of the cafes once or twice. However, you now wanted the full experience. Though with how sweltering it was, you were probably better off driving.

You fanned yourself for a moment and cast your attention down the length of the block. More food, smoothies, coffee, ice cream, except you weren’t all that hungry at the moment.

However, another sign caught your eye. Though too far to see, your curiosity spiked and you walked forward. As you drew in closer shapes began to appear, along with letters. Morgan Books, painted in gold lettering in a distinctly Western styled font. Underneath was a stack of books with one opened on top. A bookshop. Being from where you were, you were used to the large corporate bookstores. You hadn’t come across an independently owned one in years.

Checking this place out was a perfect excuse to get out of the sun for a bit. You increased your pace until you were standing at the store front. The building like the others surrounding had a somewhat rustic appearance, part of the charm that attracted you to living here. The windows were dusty and the inside was fairly dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of shelves. You approached the entrance and pulled open the door, ringing a bell overhead. You stepped across the threshold to be greeted by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

You sighed in relief and looked around. The shop itself was fairly small, or at least appeared that way as it was full of multiple bookcases, all of which were stacked floor to ceiling with books. The floorboards creaked elsewhere, and you turned to see someone appear from around one of the shelves.

A man, tall and broad-framed. He offered a quick smile. “Hey there, welcome!”

“Hello.” You greeted him politely.

He stepped closer, allowing a better view of his face. You couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked. “Need help findin’ anything?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, just exploring, really. I saw this place and I wondered what sort of treasures lurked within.” You lightly joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll find plenty here. Got new n’ used, so feel free to look ‘round.”

You nodded in response, and turned your attention toward the endless amount of books. You scanned the shelves, following along with the signs marked on top of which cases held which topics. You found that he had a little bit of everything; from encyclopedias to New Age books, to computer guides (from the early 2000’s) to conspiracy theories. You had to giggle to yourself upon reading some of the synopses for a collection of the more esoteric pieces.

Time soon became lost to you with more exploration. All the while the man who greeted you earlier moved through the shop occasionally. After a while it felt like you’d been here for ages. When you checked your phone, you’d realized nearly a half hour passed since first walking into this place. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t anticipated spending that much time here.

As you were putting your phone away and moved toward the front of the shop, the man sat at his register and caught your attention.

“So, find any treasures?” he casually asked.

You paused to turn to him. “Guess I did, you have a…uh, an interesting collection.” You responded, tilting your head back toward some of the shelves.

He nodded in agreement, offering you a half-smile. “You’d be surprised what people come in askin’ for, or what people come in to sell.”

“Well if I needed a how-to book on Windows 2000, I’ll know where to stop by.” You said with a giggle.

He shook his head and smiled even more. “See? Those books have been on them shelves for years. Ain’t sure why I still keep ‘em ‘round.”

“Antiquity value perhaps?” you joked.

He gave a small, hearty laugh. “’Spose so. Guess I should get rid of ‘em, they belong in a museum at this point.”

His laughter made you smile. “Anyway, I should be heading back home and unpack some more…”

His expression changed to curiosity. “You jus’ move here?” when you nodded, he asked, “Where from?”

“Couple hours north,” you answered. “Needed a change of scenery, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “You’ll be glad ya moved here. This lil’ town has its charms, folks here are nice too.”

“I’m glad, believe me,” you sighed. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad to have found this bookstore too, it adds to the charm.”

He grinned at you. A cute, slightly lopsided grin that somehow made your heart flutter. “Glad you think so.”

---

The next two days was spent unpacking the rest of your house, keeping yourself focused on it to have everything organized before the first day of your new job. It was Sunday, and by noon you’d finally unwrapped the last of your décor and placed it accordingly in your living room. You smiled to yourself as your eyes panned across the room, proud of how much you’d accomplished in just three days. Sure, you didn’t have too many possessions, yet it was a relief to tackle the largest of chores.

Though you hadn’t expected to finish this soon. With only half the day gone, you wondered what else to do. You supposed you could explore more, and that little shop on the corner popped up in your mind, along with the image of the handsome owner…

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by again.

After a quick lunch break and heading outside, it was only fifteen minutes of walking before you reached your destination. It wasn’t as hot out today which you were thankful for. You strode up to the door and pulled it open, the bell once again alerting your incoming presence.

As soon as you stepped in, your eyes darted to the shopkeeper who sat behind the register. He peered up at your entrance.

“Hey, welcome back!” he greeted with enthusiasm.

You blinked in surprise. “You remember me?”

“’Course, when ya live in a small town, you tend to remember faces,” He explained. “Y’back to find more treasures?”

You smiled. “In a way, I finished unpacking earlier than expected so I thought I’d come back into town for a bit.”

“So you’re all settled in then?” he asked.

“For the most part. I start my new job tomorrow, so I’d figure I use my free time productively by…looking for more old computer manuals.”

He chuckled at that. “Now that ya mentioned it, I think I better do some inventory o’ the place. Might as well get rid of the useless stuff,” He spoke while standing up. “I won’t get in your way.”

You nodded, sidestepping as he rounded from around the counter to move past you. As he passed by, a short whiff of his cologne wafted through your nostrils. He smelled good, and you briefly turned your head to take a look as he walked away. He was certainly broad, almost too broad to fit in this little shop. Yet he moved between the bookcases with ease.

He turned a corner, obscuring himself from your vision. You turned your attention back to the books, looking for the topics that would particularly spark your interest.

It’d fallen quiet, aside from the creak of floorboards and sliding of books across wood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pass back and forth with a few in his hands, carrying them towards the back. You’d sneak another glance or two without him looking, appreciating his physique.

After a little while, you found yourself poring over a book on the religion of Wicca. It was something that piqued your interest in your earlier life, though never had a chance to really learn about it. You’d only just began to skim through it, although the content was interesting enough that you started to read.

A loud crash emanated elsewhere in the shop, causing you to jump in surprise. The shopkeeper hissed out a curse, prompting you to peer around in search of the source.

“You okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh of annoyance. “Jus’ one o’ these shelves fell apart.”

You listened to the sounds of him attempting to clean up the mess, and followed it through the narrow aisles until you found him. He was bent over, attempting to collect the disheveled books spilled at his feet.

“Here, let me help.” You said, automatically starting forward.

“No, you don’t have to –” he began, glancing up at you.

“There’s a lot here.” You stated, gathering a few into your arms.

He didn’t argue further, and together the two of you managed to collect them all. He nodded in thanks and headed toward the back once again, with you on his heels. He led you to an open door to reveal a small back room. From over his shoulder you spotted a chair and desk, and a pile of books placed haphazardly on top of it. He placed his armful on an empty space and gestured for you to do the same. Once you emptied your arms and exited the back room, you turned to him.

“Thank you.”

You nodded to him. “You’re welcome…” you glanced around the shop again, and an idea struck your mind. “Need any more help?”

“Nah, jus’ ‘bout halfway done I think.” He answered, placing his hands on his hips.

“I could help with that though,” you pointed out, though surprised at yourself for even offering. “Kinda curious what else you got that’s ancient and obsolete.”

“Oh there’s plenty…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck while he peered around as a thoughtful look painted his face. “Tell ya what, if ya find anything interestin’ that need to be off the shelves, I’ll let ya keep it for free.”

Bewilderment crossed your mind. “Wouldn’t you be losing money then?”

“A couple of ‘em won’t hurt business,” he said. “Better n’ throwin’ ‘em out or puttin’ em in storage, ya know?”

You didn’t want to decline his offer since he had a good point, yet you still felt bad regardless. “Alright, fair enough.”

And so you set to help him. All the while you two held a casual conversation. You learned his name was Arthur, and that he owned this place for a few years. Other than running this store he lived on a small ranch on the edge of town. You shared a little bit about yourself, including your career and a couple of shared interests you had with him.

Surprisingly enough, you’d pulled out many more old texts than you anticipated. Some were so worn and dog-eared that there was no resale value, and Arthur told you to just throw them away. Throwing away books? You instead convinced him to give them away, and he found an empty box and labeled it “Free Books”. You skimmed through them briefly to see if they caught your eye, yet none did and they ended up in the box.

After a little over an hour passed before the both of you picked the place clean. You dusted your hands off after placing the last few in the box. Arthur picked it up and carried it outside, placing it on the sidewalk. We walked back in and said, “Hope that gives ‘em some good use.”

“Hey, people will take anything free,” you pointed out. “Maybe even pull in more revenue for you.”

“Well here’s hopin’,” he sighed, briefly glancing toward the floor before meeting your gaze with a small smile. “Thanks for the help again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome Arthur, I actually had fun helping you.” You answered with a grin.

He chuckled softly. “Fun, eh?”

You nodded. “Sure, you’re a nice guy and fun to talk to.” You answered.

You weren’t sure, but his face reddened a touch as he ducked his head. He laughed again, shy and…cute. “Thank you, though I ain’t that much of an interestin’ person.”

“Nah, I beg to differ,” you argued lightly. “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back. I like it here, and if you’d need any more help…”

“You’ve been more than helpful Y/N,” he answered, waving his hand as if trying to flit away your words. He then paused, realization crossing his face. “Actually…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” you pressed.

“Well,” he released a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, business ain’t as good as I’d hoped. I’ve been tryin’ to think of new advertisin’ strategies, pull in more customers. Problem is I ain’t too good at it.”

“So…you’re asking me to help you advertise? Or create one for you?” you questioned.

“I know it ain’t fair to ask,” Arthur answered quickly, his face shadowed with a look of guilt. “We hardly know each other and you jus’ moved here –”

“I’ll do it.” You softly interrupted.

He blinked, staring at you in surprise. “Whuh?”

“I said I’ll do it,” you repeated, smiling at him. “Luckily for you, I took a few advertising arts classes in college.”

The surprise remained on his face. “Uh –” he huffed, and cleared his throat. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’ –”

“I’m not, Arthur,” you assured him. “You were gonna ask for a reason right? I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t used my art skills in years. Might as well put them to use again.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You affirmed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll give me something fun to do after work.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He finally nodded and spoke, “Alright, as long as I ain’t troublin’ you with it.”

“No trouble at all,” you replied with another smile. “I’ll come up with something good, I promise.”

His smile matched yours. “Then I look forward to it.”

---

The next few weeks kept you busy. After settling in at your new job and coming home to sit at your computer to design flyers didn’t leave you much time for other activities. Still you stopped by the bookshop to plan with Arthur and discuss strategies, or suggested many ideas that he seemed to like. You laid out a few thumbnails of different designs for him to pick and choose, narrowing it down to two that he really liked.

You stopped by every day to update the progress, even when you didn’t have to. Admittedly you were enjoying his company, and you had a feeling he liked yours as well. After moving to a town where you knew no one and were far from your family and old friends, you were just fine with considering Arthur as one. As time passed on he’d become friendlier and more open to you, offering you a drink or snack even when you’d come by for a few minutes.

Sometimes you’d stay longer just as an excuse to be close to someone other than your new coworkers, and to admire how nice he looked. He always dressed in either button-up shirts or a nice T-shirt and Wrangler jeans like a cowboy, the fabric accentuating his broad frame in all the right ways. His sandy hair was trimmed neatly, and he kept his face somewhat clean shaven, although something about having stubble lined across his sharp jaw set a spark within you.

A relationship was the furthest thing on your list at the moment, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire how attractive he was.

Soon after you produced a finished product, and quite proud of the result after not having designed anything since your college days. It was a weekend which meant you were free, and upon printing out a nice colored version, you headed to the bookshop almost instantly.

Arthur loved it, as you had hoped. He paid for multiple copies to be printed and distributed around the town, and you spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles and handing them out in some of the shops. You thankfully had gotten a positive response from most of those you’ve spoken with, which gave you hope. You wondered how Arthur was doing on his end.

After a few hours you’d met back up at the shop, tired and arms empty, but Arthur looked as pleased as you did. You settled down in the back room while he handed you a water bottle from his mini fridge. You took it gratefully and gulped a swig, sighing in relief.

“I think we did good.” you said as he settled across from you.

He nodded in response, followed by taking a drink from his own bottle. “I think so too, lotsa people seem interested.”

“I would figure more people would come in here often.” You said thoughtfully.

“You’d think, but this place is more of a tourist trap than anything,” Arthur responded. “Can’t complain, but I understand. Ya get used to one place, it gets borin’ after a while.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the beginning of a new era for this place.” You enthusiastically gestured to the surroundings with a flourish.

Arthur smiled at you, chuckling as he took another drink of water. He didn’t speak, however your eyes met his. You’d never noticed before how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were. From a distance they appeared blue, yet you could detect hints of bright green surrounding his pupils. You wanted to view them even closer. Somehow you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

The entrance bell however sounded, pulling your attention and his toward the front of the store. The telltale signs of potential customers. Arthur glanced out in surprise, and immediately stood up to greet the newcomers. You stayed in the back room while he dealt with the customers, listening to their voices with a smile on your face. Who would have thought it would work that quickly?

You left shortly after, catching Arthur’s eye briefly as you walked by him helping out a young couple that wandered in. A gaze that lingered a second longer than you intended, however you felt it was best to leave him to deal with his shop at the moment.

—-

Two weeks passed and you hadn’t stopped by Arthur’s shop, mainly because each time you passed by, the building seemed to be teeming with customers. You felt more than happy, and proud of yourself that you helped a business owner earn more revenue after a dull streak.

You did find yourself missing his company. Each day he hung in your mind like a cloud. You certainly liked him enough to call him a friend, yet those gorgeous eyes of his would meet you in your dreams.

That following Saturday evening, you received a text from him.

Hey, would you mind stopping by?

He was vague yet direct. Perhaps he was going to ask you another favor? Either way you were excited to see him again, and to inquire how everything was going. You headed over just minutes after responding to his text, hoping your eagerness didn’t overflow into your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the closed sign hanging in the window, which explained the lack of people this time. It was just past 7 pm, and you walked up the door and knocked. Movement shadowed behind the glass and Arthur’s silhouette appeared just a moment later, meeting your gaze between the glass and smiling wide. He opened the door.

“Hey there, come on in.” He stepped back and gestured.

You walked in and turned to face him. “So, I’ve noticed business has gotten better recently.”

“All thanks to you,” he responded, the grin on his face only growing wider. He then lifted his hand to reveal he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “I wanna thank ya.”

You blinked at the alcohol, surprised by this but you didn’t have any objections. You smiled and nodded in approval. “You don’t have to thank me Arthur, but I’m not about to turn down a good drink.”

He chuckled heartily. “Sure I do, the booze is jus’ a bonus. C’mon.” He waved toward the back room and strode for it, and you were right behind him. Once he stepped inside he grabbed a couple of plastic cups, and filled the both of them with a few cubes of ice. He then poured in the whiskey before topping them off with some soda. He handed a cup to you, and then held up his own.

“To you, for your design and advertisin’ skills.” He said, although rather awkwardly. You figured he wasn’t good at that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind. Bringing your cup to tap against his, you smiled again and took the first sip simultaneously with him. The sweet soda tinged with the smokey bitterness of the alcohol was a pleasant mixture against your tastebuds.

It was quiet for a moment, and Arthur took another sip before drawing in a deep breath. He focused on you. “Drink’s good?” He asked.

You nodded, taking another sip of your own. “Very. Haven’t had a chance to have a good drink since I moved here. Had to resort to a few gas station beers.”

He snorted softly, a small smile of amusement appearing on his face. “Gotta introduce you to the good bar in town sometime.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? There’s a bar here?”

“‘Course, every small town has a bar,” he pointed out. “It ain’t on any of these main roads though, it’s closer to the outskirts. I imagine ya probably didn’t explore that much.”

“Can’t say I have,” you said thoughtfully. “But I’ll take up the offer of you showing me.”

“Jus’ name a time, ya won’t be disappointed.” He confidently replied.

You finished your first drink after a little while and Arthur poured you a second to which you were not opposed to. The effects were taking hold of you before you knew it. Your lips were looser with each sip you took, and you found Arthur was the same way. The two of you spoke about random topics, anything ranging between favorite colors to what you cooked yesterday. Things that were otherwise too boring to discuss, yet somehow with Arthur they seemed more interesting.

A little while later, the conversation became deeper. Arthur spoke some about his earlier life and what kind of environment he was raised in, and how his teenage years were spent bitterly. You shared the reason why you moved: you were previously living with your significant other, only to find your shared bed occupied by two bodies when you arrived home early one day when you weren’t feeling well. The reveal absolutely crushed you, which led into an emotional spiral and you looking for a new place to live the next day.

It’d been a little over a month since then. Your mind was still heavy on the breakup until you stopped by here the first time. Arthur and his charming little shop seemed to absorb any lingering sadness you had. Seemed like both yesterday and ages ago.

Regardless of the story, the pair of you were chortling in good spirits. You ranted about all the negatives about your old partner, releasing the leftover bitterness you’ve suppressed and turned it into humor. It only heightened your mood more, and with each drink it only increased.

After a few more minutes it quieted down again, though the smiles remained on your faces. You since became immune to the sting of whiskey, immensely enjoying the flavors and the inebriation that accompanied it.

Arthur reached over and poured himself another helping. His sigh caught your attention. He stared down into his cup, fixated with a thoughtful expression.

“I gotta say, I’m glad you wandered in here that day.” He murmured, peering at you with a sidelong look.

“Yeah?” you chirped.

He nodded slowly, taking a swig of his drink before focusing onto you with a serious gaze. “I’ll be honest, I was thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ up.”

You were taken aback by this statement. “Why?”

“You saw for yourself. Hardly any business. Shelves lined with books decades old,” he snorted without humor. “Truth is openin’ this place ain’t even my idea.”

“Then whose was it?” you pressed tilting your head in curiosity.

“My fiancée’s,” he smiled bitterly, gently swirling his drink. “Eh, ex-fiancée. Had the grand idea to run a business together. Picked out this place herself. N’ like a fool I fell for it.”

Ex-fiancée. Your heart raced upon learning this new information, and you wondered what happened between them. Would it be too prying to ask? “So…what changed?”

Arthur shrugged. “She found someone else more interestin’. Said we had too many differences in our lives to really enjoy each other…” he trailed off to take another sip, his eyes shifting to gaze in the distance.

Your heart broke for him. Rather than wallowing in those feelings, you instead asked another question. “But why hold on to this place if it was her idea?”

His gaze pulled back to you. “Guess for a while I was hangin’ on to the dream that she’d come back n’ pick up where we left off. Obviously that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?”

You frowned at this. Hell, you understood that pipe dream all too well. There was a brief time where you wished your ex would come after you like in the movies in some dramatic fashion, pouring out apologies and begging you to come back. Wishful thinking.

You noted his hand was resting against the table. In a quick movement you reached over and placed your hand comfortingly on his forearm, and offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not stupid at all. You loved her and you held on to the one thing that you knew she loved too.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to your hand. “For too long,” he sighed. “After a while I knew there was no chance. Still I continued, kept this place open for my own sake. Came here every mornin’ with a rock in my stomach, least until recently.” He explained, his voice softening towards the end. He peered over to you again.

Your heart raced once again. The way he was looking at you… it was obvious as to why he mentioned that last bit. Hell, you knew for a while. He wasn’t subtle about trying to steal glances your way these past few weeks. As attractive as he was, you were denying yourself of your own feelings out of protection. It felt too soon after your last relationship, although it seemed Arthur had been single for a while. You were afraid you’d change your mind. “And why is that?” you asked, wanting to play dumb to hide your initial hesitation.

His arm moved – at first you thought he was pulling away, until his hand met yours. Palm to palm, skin rough but warm. His fingers entwined with yours and you automatically did the same. “I think you know,” he murmured.

His thumb smoothed against the back of your hand. Your eyes bore into his. Such a gorgeous light blue, glistening in the lamplight of this tiny room. Despite the table in between the two of you, it was hardly an obstacle to view him in better focus. Upon closer inspection, you could detect pools of green surrounding his pupils, reminding you of tropical beaches.

His lips were parted, wafting his gentle breath against your face. Scented with alcohol and the sweetness of soda, he seemed to be growing closer.

You closed the space immediately, the booze flowing in your system offering a boost of confidence. His mouth was surprisingly soft against yours, and within seconds he returned the favor. Your free hands joined, mirroring their counterparts with ease. He pulled you closer with no effort.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly to stare at you with a soft expression. He released your hand to cup your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch with a smile.

“You don’t have to hold on to those thoughts anymore.” you sighed to him.

His smile mirrored yours. “Neither do you.”

---

It was nothing but pure bliss following that night. You’d fallen into a routine to spend some time with him every day, even when you had work. Arthur was such a sweet lover and was not hesitant to hold you whenever he had a chance. His arm around your waist, or pulling you into his lap. You helped around the bookshop more, even when he told you that you didn’t have to. Yet you insisted, and redecorated some of it to give a new energy while keeping its rustic look. It certainly attracted even more customers.

He took you to the bar as promised, and it quickly became a regular spot for casual dates. It was just as charming as he explained, accompanied with lovely patrons and entertainment. You were soon completely comfortable with this small town, completely integrated into its community thanks to Arthur. People often recognized your face from the bookshop, and the praise following was something he was elated to hear about.

A couple of months have passed, and you swore Arthur’s smile grew bigger each and every day. He looked forward to running the business again, and left those bitter thoughts of his ex behind with the help of you.

One particularly slow weekend day, you were spending time in the shop as usual. It was late afternoon and the last customer left an hour ago, thus creating a quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Closing time would be in less than an hour, and you just assumed no one else would be wandering in.

While Arthur manned the register, albeit with boredom, you began to observe some of the newer inventory. The shelves were thankfully lined with more recent texts to fill in the gaps of what you’d sorted through previously. Once again you found yourself coming across the book of Wicca again, the same one you were skimming through just months earlier. You were surprised no one purchased it with the heavy amount of traffic that passed through.

The book served as a better distraction than you realized. You pored over it, so focused on the information that you didn’t notice the presence that loomed over you until gentle hands found your waist.

“You can keep that if ya want.”

You blinked in surprise, turning your head to look at him. “No, I’d feel weird about it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s still your store, I just can’t take it.” You pointed out.

He shook his head and quietly laughed. “Ah, it’s alright sweetheart. I know you were interested in that. ‘Sides, it’s been sittin’ here for months, n’ I can always order more if people want ‘em. Pretty sure it’s here for ya.”

“I still feel like I should pay…or something.” You murmured, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Now I don’t wanna hear none o’ that,” Arthur lightly chided you, despite wrapping his arms around your waist. “I never did properly thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

You turned around in his grip, giving him a playful smirk. “As if all this affection wasn’t repayment enough?”

“’Course not,” he snickered, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Think I got quite a while ‘fore I’m even,” he reached over and plucked the book from its spot, and pressed it into your hand. “Until then, take this.”

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the spine, and you sighed again. He was adamant about you keeping this book, and there was no use arguing with him. No point in denying a free gift anyway. “Alright, I’ll keep it.”

He smiled in response. “Don’t ever think y’gotta pay for somethin’ in here. If ya like it, then help yourself.”

“You tell that to all the girls?” you asked.

“Only to the ones I like.” He replied with a wink.

You giggled, stepping back to lightly slap his chest with the book. “Alright you, I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, drawing you back in for a hug and another kiss. “See ya tomorrow, darlin’.”

Breaking from the embrace, you headed toward the exit. Somehow you hadn’t noticed how much darker it got outside until you saw the iron-gray storm clouds through the door. You opened it just as a loud thunder clap rumbled through the air, vibrating the floor beneath you. A split second later, rain began to fall.

Well shoot, you walked here today.

Arthur’s low hum sounded behind you. He stepped up beside you to observe the weather. “Guess you ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Guess not.” You agreed. You weren’t opposed to staying longer, however you were hungry and some leftover pizza at home was calling your name. Hopefully this storm would be quick.

Arthur seemed to have read your mind. “Got some snacks in the back, c’mon.” He said, reaching your free hand and leading you through to the back room.

The two of you settled at the table with a shared small helping of cut fruit. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to curb your appetite for the time being. It was quiet aside from the raging storm, which settled to an even calmer atmosphere. You popped a grape into your mouth, peering over at Arthur as he munched on an apple slice.

His eyes met yours. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?” he asked jokingly.

You snickered, scooting closer. “Yeah, a whole lot of handsome.”

He snorted and shook his head with a dejected smile. You learned early on that his self-esteem was low, even though he hid it fairly well. Any comments toward his physical appearance was usually deflected.

“It’s true, you know.” You insisted. “You ever see how some girls stare at you when they’re here?”

“Nah, only ever got eyes for you, darlin’.” He answered.

“It’s pretty obvious,” you continued. “They’re not so subtle with their googly eyes, even when they try to be.”

Arthur laughed again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Guess I’m blind to it.”

“You must be, if you can’t tell how sexy you are…” you stood up briefly to slide into his lap. Your hands cradled his face. “Probably the most attractive man in this town.”

His cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink, ducking his head slightly to avert your gaze. “You’re jus’ bein’ sweet.”

“I’m being truthful,” You corrected, slipping your hand beneath his chin to tilt his face back up. Once he was looking at you again, your hands moved to his shoulders, down his arms and to finally take his hands. “I could stare at you all day, you know.”

He chuckled in response, entwining his fingers with yours. “I could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Ah, but this is about you…” you spoke softly, pulling his hands up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “From your gorgeous eyes to your sexy jawline to your absolutely stunning body. And the way you dress? It’s like you do it on purpose just to make me feel all hot and bothered.”

“I don –”

You gently shushed him by planting your lips on his. Tasting faintly of fruit, your tongue swiped out to steal the flavor from his lips. You pulled back to see the flustered expression on his face, his mouth betraying a slight smile tugging at the corners.

He released your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer on his lap. “Guess I can’t complain if you like it all.” He murmured.

“And then some.” You added, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He drew you in for a second kiss, softer and sweeter than the previous. He held you close to him, his body warm and solid against you. Seconds ticked by as it gradually grew deeper and more fervent. His tongue slowly invaded your mouth which you happily accepted. His large hands smoothed up and down your back, both soothing and igniting your body. A soft moan slipped from your mouth, unintentional yet you didn’t regret it.

This caught his attention. He paused and parted the kiss, confusion plain in his expression. His eyes however betrayed his thoughts, aquatic pools shining brightly in the lamplight. He wanted more and was held back by his hesitation. It seems like you would have to take the lead.

You offered a soft nod to him, a silent acquisition of permission for his unmentioned desire. Removing your hands from around his neck, you reached down and peeled your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Arthur’s eyes widened, staring without shame at your chest, only reflecting the hunger in its prominence. He moved then to attach his mouth to the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lovingly. Your head tilted to allow him more access, quietly encouraging him to explore more of your body.

He did just that. His calloused palms roamed the expanse of your back. His fingers trailed with feather-light precision up your spine. You shuddered in his grip, arching your back and pressing against him even more. He rumbled softly in appreciation while his other hand found the zipper of your jeans. You anticipated feeling him venture further, only for him to grip your ass. He stood up, catching you off-guard and you expelled a yelp. His journey with you was short as he brought you back down, resting your back on the table before him. You locked eyes with him as he smiled down at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. He dragged his fingers down your midline to the hem of your pants, gripping them to tug them straight off.

You were now down to your underclothing while he was still fully dressed. He was certainly moving fast. “You’re gorgeous too…” he muttered, his gaze scanning you up and down with great interest. He rested his hands on your hips, standing in between your legs. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, moving his lips in a steady line following his trail from earlier. Looping his fingers through your underwear, he pulled them down just as his face reached just below your navel.

He tossed your panties with your other discarded clothing. As exposed as you were, you didn’t feel embarrassed. Your yearning for him was driving you wild. He kissed your mound before taking his spot in the center, and a split second later the wet presence of his tongue appeared along your slit, searching for his target until he honed in on it.

Good lord, who knew he was so good at oral?

You covered your mouth while he worked his magic against you, moaning quite loudly through your fingers. He held your trembling legs tightly against his shoulders, occasionally peering up at you for validation. Your other hand carded through his soft hair, allowing your touch to encourage him further.

He toyed with your entrance, exploring your inner walls. It wasn’t long until he hit that spot, a toe-curling and edge-gripping sensation that had you squealing his name. You were thankful this place was empty for once. He rubbed your inner thigh, offering his own encouragement. Your climax was arriving almost too quickly for you to comprehend. “A-Arthur,” you gasped. “God –“

You could barely utter another word as your pleasure washed over you like a powerful tidal wave, snapping your legs tightly to him while he lapped at you, drawing it out until you were writhing and whimpering from overstimulation. He broke free from your grasp with ease, standing back up to stare down at you.

As your breath evened out, you sat up slowly. “Where did that come from?” you asked.

He chuckled, offering you that crooked smile you loved so much. “I do have some tricks up m’ sleeves.”

You giggled with him, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He leaned into your embrace, joining his lips to yours for a short kiss. You brought yourself to your feet and pressed closer to him, highly aware of what rested against your thigh. Sliding your arms off, you knelt down. “I got tricks of my own too.”

Before he could speak, you palmed him through his jeans. He took a deep breath, easing out a quiet moan to you. You nimbly unzipped his confinements, reaching in to fish out his already hardened manhood. He was larger than you anticipated, but not enough to intimidate you. You wrapped your hand around, finding him thick in circumference. To describe him as well-endowed would only serve him some justice. Your fingers couldn’t touch.

You peered up at him. He was staring at you with curiosity, the rosy tint in his cheeks only increasing. There was still a hesitant energy to him, enough to not push you further.. You offered him a slow rub, memorizing every inch in your hand from root to tip. He released a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

A soft smile crossed your lips, and you brought yourself forward to kiss his hot skin. You parted your lips to slowly engulf him, keeping your eyes locked to his. Your tongue slid languidly along his silky flesh, drawing along the thick vein that lay on the underside. Soon you had a set rhythm, bobbing your head in an undulating movement. He moaned deeply, breaking his gaze to tilt his head back. His fingers tangled within your hair, a gentle hold that prompted you to take more of him.

The sounds he made were glorious. Guttural groaning with your name, pet names, wrapped with his pleasure. His palm pressed against the back of your head. As gentle as he was, you sensed an urgency behind it. And so you dove further, swallowing him whole with some effort.

“Oh –” he huffed, his hips shuddering with a small buck. “Shit, darlin’. S-sorry.”

You uttered a soft hum and rubbed his thigh soothingly in response. Pulling your mouth back, you deep throated him again. He swore out loud a second time and gripped a nearby chair. You repeated a third time, raising your hand to fondle his balls through his jeans. His breathing became erratic the longer you pleased him, taking him whole with long swallows and a wiggle of your tongue. He gripped your hair hard, though he broke any direct contact with your head, too lost in his ecstasy to aid your movement.

Though hardly any time passed when he spoke your name. “Sweetheart, ain’t g-gonna last.” He gasped out.

You stopped immediately, pulling your mouth off him with a pop of your lips on the tip, swiping off a small pearl of precum that formed. You sat back quietly on your knees as his breathing regulated, and he was able to straighten up and focus on you again. “God damn, your mouth…ain’t no other like it.” He sighed.

You smiled smugly and stood up, closing the space between you with a swagger. Your arms slung around his neck again while you gave him a sultry look. “Didn’t want to be done yet.”

Arthur caught on immediately, pulling you in closer with an iron grip. He ground against you, his rough jeans on your soft skin felt wonderful. His erection rested between your thighs, just inches of where you wanted it to be. “Didn’t think so.” He growled, setting a shudder through you.

With one swoop he propped you back onto the table. His lips hungrily latched to yours while his hands explored every inch of your bare body. His fingers found your center with easy, relaxed strokes. Your moans silenced in his open mouth. You could only hold on while he pleasured you with his hands, though your patience for all of him was wearing thin. His shirt balled up in your hands, fingernails digging deep into the fabric and against his skin.

You pulled back to gasp out. “Arthur, please!” you panted. “I need to feel you.”

He paused his ministrations, bringing his gaze to you. A sweet smile touched his lips and he moved to grip your hips, shuffling slightly to align himself to you. His hips rocked forward, allowing himself to poke between your folds. He invaded you slowly, inch by inch and spreading your inner walls. You hid a wince, underestimating his thickness. He watched your face intently as if to note any discomfort. Soon he was completely joined with you.

He caressed your cheek, asking a silent question of your comfort. You nodded to him and kissed his palm, then trapped his thumb between your lips to suckle on it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the faint surprise on his face, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

His hand left your face to take place once again on your hip. He brought himself back and forward in one smooth motion. The discomfort dissolved almost instantly as your body accepted him, soon replaced with waves of pleasure. You moaned loudly, gratefully, hanging on him while he rocked you to the very core.

He murmured a breathless swear, gripping you tightly while he continuously thrust into you. You were enveloped by your own ecstasy, whispering his name into the air. Lost in your pleasure, you almost didn’t feel him lift you from the table. He held you without effort, driving himself even deeper. His grunts and groans vibrated deep in his belly, vibrating against you.

“Sweetheart, ya feel so nice.” He crooned.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. You could only muster up a long moan the more he fucked you, the further he reached and the harder he rocked. He paused briefly to move from the little room out into the main area. You felt him press you against a bookshelf. The books housed in it shuddered and some fell.

“A-Arthur?” you panted in question.

“Scientology books, no one reads ‘em anyway.” He quickly answered.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, a hearty giggle that switched to a squeal once he pounded into you again. The bookcase creaked behind you, tapping against the wall. The small aware part of your brain wanted to be careful, that is until Arthur shifted to snake his hand between you, his fingers once again toying with your clit.

You stifled another squeal, keeping yourself from becoming any louder than you already were in case any passerby somehow heard you, despite the storm still raging outside. Arthur seemed to have other plans, ramming himself so hard that you could only shout his name. His mouth latched to your neck again, not hesitant to mark and abuse your flesh. He growled with a nearly animalistic tone, echoing deeply throughout the shop.

Your second was on a quick ascent, peaking and surging through your center and radiating through your muscles. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him. He grunted, unleashing a shuddering breath.

“Jesus, gonna finish soon.” He huffed to you, and caught your lips for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He held you again with both hands. His pace hastened and his hips became erratic, unshamefully moaning against your tongue.

Every one of your senses was overwhelmed in the most wonderful ways. Your taste and smell were overwhelmed with his essence, your nerves tingling as you came down from your high. Nails dug into his flesh, spurring him to finish even sooner.

The clear ringing of a bell pierced your otherwise distracted attention. The bell indicating the store’s door opening, followed by faint footsteps. It brought you back to reality quickly. Ripping your mouth from his, you tried to gasp out his name, only to have him nearly slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, nearly there sweetheart. Jus’ be quiet.” He grunted quietly.

Part of you was nervous about the idea of being caught by someone, yet another side seemed to enjoy the thrill. You barely managed a nod while he somehow quietly fucked you, keeping you pressed against the bookshelf and undulating rolling his hips. You locked eyes with him, hyperaware of the creak of the floorboards that sounded as if they were growing closer. Your heart raced despite the endless amount of pleasure racking through your body.

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t finish in time, until he pulled out of you and stifled a low groan. Hot trails of his spend painted your bare stomach. His entire body shuddered and he eased your legs to the floor, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before ushering you to the back room.

Your legs felt like jello, but you managed to scurry back into the room, ducking from view of the shop while Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and hastily adjusted his appearance before disappearing from your line of sight. You heard him greet the newcomers, his voice cheerful and not a hint of what just happened a moment before.

You swiftly and silently closed the door, cleaned yourself up, and redressed. A few quiet minutes passed by before Arthur opened the door back up. He smiled at you and let out a sigh of relief. “They didn’t catch us,” he announced.

“I thought it was closing time,” you said.

“Close, had ten til,” he rolled his eyes. “Usually how it goes…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course…” You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite the fatigue that took hold of your body, you felt energized from the whole ordeal. “You sent them on their way?”

Arthur took a hold of your waist, pulling you flush against his torso. “Once they found what they were lookin’ for, though they did hear us a lil’…I had to tell ‘em I was rearrangin’ some o’ the shelves.”

You snickered. “Gotta say, it was a little bit of a thrill feeling like we were gonna get caught. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around or something.”

Arthur snorted and grinned at you with a sly smirk. “Yeah?”

“Sure, but let’s wait until after closing time. Don’t wanna scare off the customers.” you amended.

He nodded, his face twitching thoughtfully. “Next time, I think my house is more suitable,” he laughed. “More comfortable than a bookcase.”

“Oh I’d hope,” you replied, arching your back and feigning a look of pain. “Pretty sure that threw out my back.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though quickly realized you were joking and shook his head. That same adorable crooked smile returned to his face. “How ‘bout I massage ya to make it up?”

“How about we do that at my house?” you proposed with a cheeky wink.

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #modern!Arthur Morgan #modern au

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hebescus · 4 years

Text

some things stay forever somehow

eyyy it’s the 4th day!

this was actually a scrap, i sent the rough version of it in the 7K discord server and they liked it??? so i just decided to fuck it, i’m taking this seriously so here we are. Enjoy this unecessarily oddly detailed lil piece.

@alistairwrites here’s my lil piece i hope you enjoy it!

—

The wind blew through his hair, the warm ambience and the crackling fire sound relaxing him as he absentmindedly leaned to his cousin’s side. Varian always loved campfires, there’s something oddly familiar about their warmth, it felt like he just belonged there, in front of the crackling fire. Campfires always gave him this odd feeling of longing, yearning, but fulfilled at the same time. And he always craves that feeling.

That’s why he was really excited when Eugene–his cousin–asked him to join a small camping event together. He knew nobody but Eugene and Rapunzel–his girlfriend. It was a college event after all, and he was still in senior high school. Plus, socializing wasn’t the reason why he came, so he didn’t bring himself to care.

So far, the first night was nice. Eugene and Rapunzel introduced him to a few of their friends and he actually really liked them. He cried laughing by Lance’s story, he had a great time discussing things with Cassandra’s critical and smart opinions, and more. Well, they were obviously different from Nuru or Yong who were his age but he had a great time with them.

“You seemed really intrigued with campfires, kid. Care to share something?” He snapped out of his daydream to find Lance sat on the ground next to him, he didn’t even realize Eugene left a minute ago. He smiled, warmth crept on his body thinking about all the feelings he felt.

“I don’t know…it just felt like I belonged here. I always want to come back, I feel satisfied to be here. But at the same time I…I long for something, there’s like something’s missing but I don’t- ah, I don’t know Lance,” he rambled. Lance gave him a nod as if a sign that he wanted Varian to continue. “I love the warmth, the noises, the ambience…I never felt better when I’m here, It’s confusing, really, I don’t even know why,”

“Hmmm, I see,” Lance answered. His eyes fixated on the burning woods a thinking expression. “I know this might be craaazy for you, but someone from my orphanage once said that if you feel some kind of familiar, longing, addicted feelings about certain something or situations, that means you have a special experience with them in your past life,”

“That sounds like a kids bedtime story if you ask me,” Varian shrugged but he immediately felt bad for being a little bit ignorant, so he corrected his words, “I mean, that’s real sweet, but-”

“Well, I’m not finished yet! They even said that you met someone that makes you feel more connected to the situation, and the longing feeling just gone, that means they were connected to that situation in the past and was important to you,” he continued. “They even called it soulmate, if you even believe in one,” Lance raised his eyebrow, a confusing look between agree or disagree with that statement. And Varian…well, he just cringed. Hard.

“Yep, I don’t like how that sounds,” Varian laughed. “But that’s just my personal opinion, I don’t really believe in that kinda stuff,” Lance hadn’t given him any clue whether he actually agreed with that statement or not, after all.

“Ah, it’s fine, really. A science based guy like you must like something logical, right?” Varian nodded and gave him a small smile before he continued. “I mean, that’s just a little thing you gotta plant in your head because who knows? Maybe it’s real, we just haven’t found out just yet,” he said with an unreadable soft expression. Eugene was not wrong when he said Lance was their dad friend. After that, someone called Lance for help and then he was alone again with his thoughts and the campfire.

“Shit- hey!” Varian’s silence was distubed by a squeal from behind him. He looked back and saw a man being strangled by a wild raccoon who looked like he was trying to steal a fish kabob from the man’s hand. He couldn’t see them clearly–thanks to the night lighting–but he could make out what’s going on. “Ey! Get off me!”

“Uh hey! You…alright?” Varian wasn’t really into the idea of talking to people that’s not introduced by Eugene or Rapunzel, but the man seemed like he needed a little help.

“Can’t you see?! This little- ugh, creature trying to steal my last kabob!” He answered while trying to balance his food and fight the raccoon off. Varian chuckled at that sight, reconsidered his childhood dream of wanting a pet raccoon.

“I think you should just give it to him,” Varian laughed.

“Are you crazy?! This is my las-” Varian cut him off by holding up a plate full of kabobs that Rapunzel gave him earlier.

“Not a big fan of fishies so…you want some?” The man grinned, quickly dropped his kabob to the ground and let the raccoon eat it as he practically ran towards the other boy.

“Oh God, yes, this is like- very good, thank you-” the man said as he snatched the plate out of Varian’s hand, immediately chewing the vegetables and sat next to the blue eyed boy.

Varian took a proper look at him as he ate. He didn’t look much older than him, he had a strong jawline and sharp looks on his face, circular glasses hung on his nose, blond hair neatly tied above his undercut, and…he looked kinda attractive for some reason? Or maybe he just liked the way that faded green sports jacket clung on his white printed tee and ripped blue jeans that complimented his long legs- and why the hell you care so much about that, Varian?

“Listen, I know I’m hot, but staring at people who’re eating is rude,” the man said with furrowed eyebrows, still chewing his food. Varian would think it’s kinda cute if he didn’t just call him rude.

“Is it though? I’m sorry then, I never saw anyone being attacked by a raccoon for a freaking kabob before,” he shrugged playfully. The older just laughed, Varian nearly thought he got a special connection with kabobs because God damn, he inhaled it.

“Well, I’ve never seen you before, hairstripe. Are you new or something?” The man asked, already on his last skewer. Varian was confused by the nickname for a bit before he realized that it’s probably from the blue streak. He dyed it two years ago and still refused to change it.

“No serious business, I just love camping- Well, actually, I’m just joining my cousin, Eugene. You know him?” he shrugged, but then he realized he haven’t introduce hims-

“Yes, of course. That means you’re…uh, what is it- ah! yes, Varitas?”

“Actually, it’s Varian,” Varian tried to not roll his eyes and let out a chuckle instead.

“Ohh, yeah, Varian- I’m sorry. Flynn talked about you a bunch of times,”

“Flynn?”

“Yeah, that’s…kind of an inside joke nickname we gave him,” he answered, placing the empty plate on the ground. “Well, nice to meet you, freckles. I’m Hugo, your cousin’s partner in crime,"

—

The first night went very well. They kept talking to each other until it was late. Late enough that everyone who’s playing games with them at some point went back to their tents, someone even gave the leftover kabobs–luckily for Varian, it was chicken–before she headed off to her tent. The raccoon came back, Hugo reluctantly shared some vegetables with them while Varian laughed and randomly decided to name them Ruddiger, which ironically is Varian’s middle name.

That night, Varian learned that Hugo was only a year older than him. He was a freshman, the youngest person in Eugene’s circle–they knew each other from being in the same basketball club. He also learned that Hugo majored in science, just like he wanted to be. He loved camping for the campfires just like Varian. Although, he learned much more about the older from his observation. He loves calling people with nicknames, he had this unique trait such as naming most of his stuff, he would snuggle on his jacket when the wind got chilly, he would scrunch his nose when he disagreed about something, and he was really smart. He didn’t know why he paid that much attention to the little details, but for now, all he can say is that he was indeed interested in this guy.

—

The second night rushed in. They were exhausted from all of the fun activities they did in the day with some friends. They went swimming, played a bunch of sports, they even had a little acoustic session at sunset. But at the end of the day, they would sit there in front of the campfire, Varian with his comfortable beanie and Hugo with his warm jacket.

"Today was really fun, don’t you think?” Varian asked softly. His thought ran around the events that happened that day. It gave his stomach some funny feelings. It started when Hugo gave him his shirt after swimming–no one told Varian to bring any backup clothes. He swore he saw a pink tint on his cheeks and a really soft little smile on his lips before a friend turned his attention away from the younger. Then their hand would brush against each other while trekking, occasionally interlocked them together on a steep path. He also still remembers when Hugo hugged his head and yelled at his friend for accidentally hitting Varian’s head with a volleyball. He somehow couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his fingers on his hair.

And then the little acoustic session. Oh God, he didn’t know what to feel about that. He was challenged by Cass to sing because she knew he didn’t like to sing in public. He didn’t care that much at first, but once the first line came out of his lips, Varian just lost his ability to speak. Who knew that the kabob guy he met last night had an extremely angelic voice. It was a really romantic song and the fact that Hugo kept staring at him the whole time just made his heart stop. He is in fact no head over heels for the guy he just met last night, right?

“Yeah it is. I don’t feel like going home tomorrow,” he frowned. “I just want to be here…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and the warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s nice to have a campfire company like you, hairstripe,”

Varian’s stomach went weird again and his freckled cheeks went slightly pink. But immediately fought it off with a little ‘thank you’ and changed the topic and had a whole new, endless conversation again.

One thing that he realized is that the more they talked, the warmer he got. He could feel this odd yet familiar kind of comfort and connection that somehow he only got when Hugo was around and he only knew him for one day.

It was nearly three in the morning when one of Hugo’s friend came out of his tent, scolding them for being out so late and just initiated to extinguish the fire- for some unknown grumpy reason.

But that didn’t stop them from talking about a random meme on Varian’s phone that got them laughing a little too loudly. Varian then started to ramble about this funny childhood story that was connected to the meme, when a rush of cold wind made his body shivers. He tried to fight it off by keeping on talking, but Hugo noticed that.

“You cold, hummingbird?” Hugo asked, starting to take off his jacket.

“A little, but it’s fine,” however, his body couldn’t lie as he tugges his short sleeves begging for some warmth.

“And you think I would believe that?” The older chuckled, shoved his jacket to the other’s chest.

“How about you-” he was cut by Hugo’s facepalm as he T posed and showed every side of his hoodie.

“I have layers, bean,” the blond said smugly while his hand slightly fixed the younger’s beanie. Varian smiled and put the jacket on. It was the second clothing that Hugo borrowed him but this one is definitely better than the shirt. It smelled like…Hugo. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he enjoyed it,

Maybe a little too much.

—

He decided that he didn’t want to be away from that blond boy. It was only two days but he swore he really really liked him. Yes, he finally admitted it. The second that jacket was clung on his body, he knew all the feelings just crashed together. And he was scared, because right now everything was packed and they were all ready to go home. He stared at the older’s back who’s laughing with his friends and carrying supplies to a car. He really didn’t want him to go.

Varian tugged the green jacket closer to his body, trying to memorize every warmth before he gave it back. He took a deep breath and walked towards Hugo.

“Uh, Hugh,” he called nervously.

“Oh, hey there, hairstripe. Need help with something?”

“Umm, no, I just want to say thank you…for these past two days, I really, really enjoyed it. It’s been nice to know you,” he smiled softly as his fingers started to unzip the jacket and take off the jacket. “And I guess you left your-”

“No, please keep it,” Hugo cut him off, his hand gripped the left pocket of the jacket and halted the younger’s move. “Olivia looks good on you,” Oh, did he mention that his favorite jacket was named 'Olivia’? Because Varian thought it was adorable.

He was about to thank him when the older stepped closer and pecked his lips softly, leaving him absolutely breathless and flustered.

“See you later, goggles,” Hugo smiled, walking away from Varian and approached his friends. He had so many thoughts but the last nickname was kind of confusing. He called him sweet cheeks, blue, hairstripe, freckles, shortstack, bean, hummingbird, but where did goggles come from? It was weirdly…familiar. It was the same weird feelings with the sudden connection he got with that boy.

He stayed silent on the road. Thinking about that handsome prick who stole his heart just like that, thinking about his lips on his own and how it should be longer than just a single peck, thinking about their connections, his weird last nickname…his head just screamed 'Hugo, Hugo, Hugo’ and he loved it. He loved every single thought about him.

Once he got home, he quickly greeted his dad and changed his clothes. He was about to hang the jacket to the back of his door when a piece of paper fell from the left pocket.

'xxx-xxx-xxxx,

Would you mind for another talk, sweet cheeks?

Love, Hugh’

He smiled at the paper like he never smiled before then he jumped around his room and quickly grabbed his phone. One thing he realized when he was typing the number; the second he laid his eyes on Hugo, the longing feeling of the campfire just gone, replaced by a satisfied, fulfilled warmth and connection that made the campfire felt better and better when he was around.

Guess Lance’s little story wasn’t a bedtime fairytale anymore.

—

The air was cold, but the fire warmed their body as they leaned on each other’s side. Nuru and Yong were fast asleep in their tents, tired from the long day of journey plus the challenging trial.

“Hugh,” the younger called, intertwining his hand with Hugo’s, today’s event brought their feelings together and they could never be more grateful. “If you can keep a moment forever with you. What would it be?”

“Forever?”

“Yeah, forever,”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” the older answered with such sweetness in his voice. “It would be now,”

“Uh…what do you mean by 'now’?” Hugo laughed at his lover’s obliviousness.

“To be here with you…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and its warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s really lucky of me to have a company like you, hairstripe,” he answered softly.

“That’s…what I want to be kept forever too, even if we have another life I want this kind of moment to stay,” he slightly cringed at his sudden sappiness but he was too in love to care. “I love you,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss the older.

“I love you too, goggles”

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