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1990jeevas · 3 years

Note

Plesse tell me about queerness in the get down!!

okay okay queerness in the get down let's fuckn goooo

disclaimer: I havent watched this show in full for like 5 months at least, probably gonna get something wrong and/or forget some more important bits. also this wasnt proof read I just word vomited

tws: period typical homophobia, abuse mention, f slur use, bury your gays trope, overdose mention, mention of a creepy possible age gap (the age gap hasnt been confirmed so that's why its possible), cops

going from least to most prominent queer characters, let's start with mylene cruz!

so, from the beginning of this show she has an established romantic relationship with ezekiel (although the status of their actual relationship changes frequently throughout the show) and though this was a relationship she was hesitant to pursue, it is clear that she does have romantic feelings for him and if not for them both having growing careers in very different music genres (zeke specifically working in a genre that she repeatedly labels as bad because she thinks they're ruining records + that it isnt real music because they're using someone elses piece and rapping over it, that's not really important here tho lol) they probably wouldve had a much healthier, smooth sailing romance. that being said theres a few things that happen in the show that, while not explicitly clear, or even really good coding at that—to the point where you wont catch if you really arent looking for it (and trust me, I always look for coding, hers was just so little that it flew over my head until I saw someone else mention it)—are still cool to think about!

so, for starters, I wanna mention the toy box performance, which was performed by mylene and regina, who are best friends. that's all cool and shit, and you dont really think much about it...until you hear about the fact that the show runners purposely colored a lot of the scenes in that performance with the bi colors. like. the writers after the show ended basically said "oh yeah there was plans to make her coding more explicit, but our shit got cancelled soooo" and then dropped the fact that she was gonna be bi (or at least implies bi) in the series, which puts a new twist on a few things.

now, besides the bi coloring in the background of the toy box performance (which was mostly on scenes with her and regina, which involved a lot of uh,, lowkey lewd dancing. with each other. in very revealing outfits. wooooo), there's her music! I dont tend to read too much into this one bc, like I said before, her coding is fucking light and the writers themselves said they didnt really get to do much with it, but I think some stuff with her music is interesting. specifically how her, yolanda and regina's song set me free blew up because dizzee, resident (lowkey enby coded) bicon, got their song played in a queer club. also that the song was majorly important to dizzee and started playing literally right as he kissed a boy for the first time and realized "oh shit I like boys that's bonkers". also that the song can be taken in a gay way since literally the entire thing is about becoming your true self, fully and unapologetically, which is what both dizzee and mylene's entire character arcs are about. dizzee (and a lot of other queer people, apparently), heard this song about being set free and it resonated with them so much that they got that shit most of its popularity.

speaking of dizzee and mylene, they parallel each other a lot in the way that their arcs are about them realizing who they are, coming into themselves and no longer just letting people treat them like shit in a sense (dizzee starting to tell people essentially that they can call him weird all they want, they can make fun of how he acts, what he likes, how he dresses, etc. but he likes how he is and quite literally saying "it's okay to be an alien" as he has consistently compared himself to one throughout the show vs mylene learning that if she wants to be a disco singer she needs to put her foot down, not let anyone, not even the love of her life, not even her abusive father, stop her from achieving her dreams, etc. and continuing to pursue her career with or without their support). one more little parallel that I think is interesting is during I think s2 towards the end of the show is when dizzee and thor are shown together having fun with each other, painting all over the building and each other and are basically just being happy and in love together and then they have these clips of them being interspersed with clips of mylene at a party where she is starting to realize that if she wants to get anywhere she needs to be her own main priority and that she needs to put her career and her dream, which is what makes her the happiest, above all else if she wants to succeed. idk I just think how the show made these two into a weird parallel, accidental or not, is neat. maybe not an explicitly queer parallel, but I think at least how her music and whatnot helped dizzee, the main queer character in this show, blossom, is important.

moving on we got shaolin fantastic also known as "oh no your internalized homophobia is showing-"

so, heres a quick list of...interesting shao facts:

Consistently referred to as fag/faggot (shaolin fanfaggot is my personal favorite); he gets really defensive about this despite nobody actually thinking he's queer, it's just people being assholes to be assholes, and he is the only character consistently referred to using a slur, especially a homophobic one, especially for a "straight" character. dizzee, a canonically queer character, is called a fag less than shaolin is even though dizzee actively goes to gay clubs, has a not so secret dude he "hangs out with" and wont let anyone properly meet, paints his nails, wears less than straight clothes even by the 70s standards and is just all around the definition of fucking queer (and I mean like in the weird way, not the gay way). in fact theres only like once I can remember him being called a fag and it had nothing to do with him actually being gay it was literally just like thrown out there the same way you would call someone a bitch.

Has only shown sexual interest in women, yet refuses to have deeper relationships with women in general (possibly because of trauma but who knows) but takes his relationships with his "brothers", specifically zeke, very seriously

Tells zeke and zeke ONLY his real name when zeke was planning to stop being his friend bc shao more or less got boo boo, a like 14 year old black kid, arrested for selling hard drugs; he was clearly scared and trying to do anything to keep zeke around, literally chasing him down the street and hounding him until he got zeke to stop and argue with him

Kept threatening to beat up zeke in the end but couldn't actually bring himself to do so, instead saying that zeke is "fucking lucky" before walking away

Let's zeke get away with things that nobody else can, in general just has a weird soft spot for ezekiel that he shows with nobody else

when shao found dizzee with thor in a vaguely compromising situation (like they were just shirtless covered in paint sleeping next to each other but shao had also seen everything they painted on the walls ((which some of it was sus)), it was clear they had painted on each others bodies and dizzee had been routinely disappearing with this guy for weeks now yet not producing nearly as much art, at least, as far as we audience members know) he didnt judge him but instead, waited for him to get cleaned up and then told him something along the lines of "theres a reason why im so secretive blah blah blah [not everyone needs to know everything about me]", which, in context, kinda implies that he might be a lil. a lil homiesexual. jus a lil.

whenever even the possibility of zeke leaving him comes up he absolutely loses it. he has literally cost ezekiel life changing opportunities because he thought zeke would just up and leave him for them. this could be abandonment issues bc he's a severely traumatized character, and that probably does contribute to it, but it also is just not a reaction he has to any of their other friends just randomly dipping in and out of his life soooooo

generally speaking, this mfer has got either bisexual with a big hard on for zeke coding or homosexual with terrible internalized homophobia and still a hard on for zeke coding. either fucking way, that nigga gay. he gay as hell. gay as fuck man. there wasn't really much to analyze here tbh bc the coding is just so fucking obvious if you look for it or you are/have been a gay person who's dealt with at least a little bit of internalized homophobia.

also, just a sidenote, idk how fucking old shao, but I'm praying hes like at max 19 bc I'm pretty sure zeke is a minor in this show and shao definetly is not so the whole him being heavily implied to have a crush on ezekiel thing is kinda. oof. not oof if zeke is like 17 but any younger than that? OOF.

edit: apparently the characters are only supposed to be a year apart in age but i had no clue about that before writing this post and since shaos age was never actually stated in the show i naturally assumed he was an adult since his actor Looks Like An Adult. this is definetly on me to a certain extent, but i also never saw anything about this when trying to find our their ages so 🤷‍♀️ maybe i just didnt look deep enough, sorry!

now moving on to the main event...marcus dizzee kipling :]

so, first things first, let's talk enby coding bc him being bisexual was already confirmed!

um, to start off, I just wanna say I dont think this enby coding was intentional or even really coding, it's just moreso me being a dizzee kin on main and knowing as a transmasc enby he has very transmasc enby vibes. for example:

cool, gender neutral nickname that everyone calls him

paints nails various different colors

the whole wardrobe is just a transmasc enby heaven...fishnet shirts, jean overalls, jackets and cuffed pants galore, the big colorful pins, etc

gender neutral hairstyle (when I had my fro it was very sexy and made it easy to transition between hyper masc and vaguely fem, which is pog)

comparing himself to/representing himself consistently with an alien character (though this is meant to represent his sexuality, it could also double as a gender thing too, not neccesarily bc of the whole nonbinary alien trope but bc an enby who likes aliens might heavily identify or compare themselves to whatever their idea of an alien is, whether that just be a genderless entity or a motherfucker with fly style and no need to be perceived as anything other Wacky As Hell)

moving on from there, let's talk about how his queerness is presented to us and how, while it may be a really good piece of representation, especially coming from netflix, it still lacks in A Lot of places.

so, let's start with good things!

i personally really like the get down's queer rep with dizzee bc it's (for the most part) nonsexualized and very very soft, about dizzee figuring himself out and realizing there is a place where he fits in, and about two teenagers in the 70s falling in love over their shared passion for street art. it also features an interracial couple where both boys challenge stereotypes both about queer men and men of color, which is epic poggers and very sexy. this piece of rep specifically is very important to me bc I am a queer black person and even tho interracial relationships are mostly normalized now, I've still had people give me shit for primarily dating white people in a town that is...primarily white lol

mm anyways, I can also appreciate how in the get down, dizzee being represented by rumi the alien is not a thing specifically related to gender (as it often is) and instead is about his sexuality and just in general weirdness and how it has led to him being alienated amongst his peers, poc or otherwise. him seeing himself as an alien is not about just his queerness, which is important, it is about him being a queer black man who talks different, acts different, dresses different and is "soft"—he isnt a walking black male stereotype and he wouldnt have been seen as masculine back in the 70s by any stretch of the imagination. this can be relatable to a wide spectrum of queer poc, from queer black men currently who still have to deal with this shit or to people like myself who are afab neurodivergent mixed race enbies that have always been signaled out as weird and alienated for it. dizzee is god rep bc while he has a small part in this show, his parts are very impactful, hard hitting and show queer poc of all ages that they arent alone and that it's okay to "weird", you just need to embrace it because somebody will love you for you, as thor did for dizzee.

that being said theres um. some minor problemas here,,,

namely:

dizzee and thors first kiss

the lack of development this pairing got

the way dizzee was confirmed bisexual off screen, he never said the words himself, just showed interest in both genders

the way dizzee and thor were never even confirmed boyfriends or just fwb so most of the fandom just calls them boyfriends bc Why Not

dizzee was implied fucking DEAD??? AT THE END OF THE SERIES?????? AND THOR WAS IMPLIED ARRESTED?????????????

now, these might have been things that wouldve been fine had the show been given it's full run but it wasnt which is why we are now left with probelms.

so, from the top, let's go over these: dizzee and thor's first (and only "on screen") kiss was one that was shown in a montage of other queer people making over and doing other vaguely romantic/sexual things, one of those things being a whole ass naked titty being mouthed at, but the actual kiss...was just not shown? like they really did just say "yes they kissed <3 you know this from the context clues of it being in a montage with kissing, hickey giving and titty sucking <3 but no we will not show it <3" LIKE HELLO? I SAW A NAKED BOOBIE BUT NOT TWO MEN KISS??? HUH????????

also, dizzee and thor were both fucking high as hell during this bit like this isnt a terrible thing but it's also like sometimes you do shit when you're high that you wouldnt do sober and they just never kissed again on screen so like?? like idk that's not that bad but it does kinda irk me since they deadass got no other on screen intimacy after that unless you including painting on eacher other or sleeping next to each other on a shitty mattress but not touching at all during it bc they were both at opposite ends of the mattress like half way off it

so yeah, that was trash. then we got lack of development, which kinda goes with the "dizzee being a bisexual but he never says it in canon" thing cause like...okay dizzee was already sort of a side character from the get go like he wasnt the mc by any means, but he became way more of a background character as things continued until we basically only saw him for performances or when he was with thor, yet they got no fucking development as a pairing other than "dizzee realize he gay, he like thor, he and thor spend time together and ig probably do some gay stuff but we dont really know bc we only ever see them do graffiti together now" like?? tf am I supposed to do with that shit. answer. quickly. and then theres dizzee not being confirmed bisexual, which is just a running problem with shows literally doing everything to say a character is bi except for having the character just...say they're bi? which would be so easy? like a good way dizzee and thor couldve had some development is by thor teaching dizzee things about the queer community that he didnt even know existed, thor couldve helped him understand what being bi meant and helped him label himself and whatnot but instead we got an off screen confirmation that the writers had bisexual in mind when writing him. which is garbagé.

the whole thor and dizzee never having a confirmed relationship status is also a development problem cause like literally nobody knows if they were just friends who made out, maybe fucked, who knows, or if they were dating bc dizzee does give a love confession but a love confession doesn't mean there is a relationship, especially since thor didn't say he was in love either (as far as I remember, I could be wrong, plus whether or not that really happened or was apart of dizzee literally overdosing during a performance is unclear so 🤪)

and now for the biggest issue...bury your gays trope.

during the season 2 finale, dizzee and thor are chased by cops after they are found doing graffiti, one of the cops is able to catch thor while the other chases dizzee into a train tunnel and there is a train seen headed straight for him before the show cuts to black on a train horn. the show writers claim that if they had gotten another season, dizzee wouldve been alive but since they didnt and since that's essentially super fan trivia knowledge, most people dont fucking know that and instead had to watch a black queer teenager chose death over being fucking arrested by a white cop. on top of that, thor didnt see any of that shit because he was caught and the cop started hauling him off while dizzee was still being chased so thor literally has no clue where his friend/possible boyfriend fucking is or that he's likely dead in a goddamn tunnel all alone, unless you count the fucking pig that chased him in there who wouldve died too. this shows rep was so fucking good as far as most shows go on not having major fucking problems, on not being toxic and over sexualized, etc, etc. and then they just. killed a black queer teenager for no fucking reason. like it was literally the last episode ever, it would add nothing to the plot, it would just devastate fans and devastate it fucking did. I dont cry easy but seeing a character I identified with, who I had hyperfixated on, die because he'd rather that than be arrested is terrible. it fucking sucked.

so yeah. that's my all too extensive thoughts/analysis on the get down's queerness. theres definitely stuff I missed, or misinterpreted, or looked too much into, etc, etc., but this was a fun thing to spend time writing sooo yeah!! thanks for the ask anon, sorry this was just a big rambley info dump, but hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it since it took like 3 hours at least 😭😭 feel free to ask clarifying questions lol

#shit self #asks #the get down #mylene cruz #shaolin fantastic #dizzee kipling #long post #analysis #info dump #idk if anon has seen tgd or is just being nice so i tried givinh background to things #kinz #bangerz #discourse

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 3 years

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I need a crack fic of Clyde hiding his last present *insert Justin Timberlake Dick in a Box playing*

A/N: I HAVE COMPLETED SO MANY CRACK THOTS IN MY HEAD TONIGHT IT’S SICK THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO HAS FUELED THIS FIRE! @xxcatrenxx I really hope you love the twist I put on this fic, thank you for allowing me to write it out... to completion 👀ENJOY BABE!

Warnings: mentions of children, all the Xmas feels because I have to with this big ol’ softy bear, a big ol’ dick in a box, slight teasing, ass slapping, Doggystyle, deep penetration from our good ol’ country boi, caught in the act of or slightly thereafter, stuffing, breeding kink, dirty talk because Clyde is the best dirty talker, unprotected sex, cum eating, smut smut and more smut, with a lot of Xmas fluff because I hate myself

“Now what do y’all say to yer mama fer lettin’ ya open these on Christmas Eve?” Clyde bellows out at the kids as they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at their Christmas themed PJ’s.

“Thank you, mama,” your five-year-old daughter and three-year-old son collectively turn and run to you perched on the couch, a Tom and Jerry in hand, enveloping them in the biggest hug you could possibly muster.

“Yer so welcome ma sweet babies,” wrapping them in the fuzzy blanket you had draped over yourself, and kissing them until they begged to be let go of, “mama loves ya so much,” laughing as they screamed in fake cries as they wiggled away from your affections.

“Now y’all go ahead an’ getcha jammies on an’ all that stuff,” he chuckled, watching you love and kiss on them as they tried to run away, “then ya can come give yer mama more kisses before Santa comes tonight,” they stopped dead in their tracks to beam at their dad who had said the magic word.

They leaped off the loveseat, bounding up the stairs with new jammies in hand to get their little teeth brushed, and go potty before slipping into dreamland. You moved to get up off the couch to go help with the marathon of getting them to settle in bed before having a strong hand push you right back down.

“Now, darlin’,” he tsked, the light from the Christmas tree glimmering in his eyes, “ya jus sit here an’ look perty while I get the babies all ready fer bed,” lowering down to steal a kiss from your lips, “you do enough round these parts, let me handle it fer one night,” kissing your forehead as he put the blanket back over your legs and lumbered upstairs to survey the damage from the kids.

You sighed, watching the fire burn in the large fireplace of your new home, the farmhouse feel enveloping you in the country Christmas you’d been dreaming of since you’d met your sweet husband. The large pine tree beside your couch, emanating a fresh scent coupled with the embers from the flames in the kindling, and the sweetness of your hot drink as you let out a relieved sigh.

Life was absolutely perfect. You had a home, two perfect children, a doting and affectionate husband, and the financial freedom the both of you had worked so hard for the past several years, not akin to the ‘cauliflower incident’ as you referred to it fondly.

Above your loud thoughts, a low hum rang through the stairs as you took a sip from your mug. The sound of Clyde’s honeyed voice, lulling your sweet babies to bed with a Christmas story as they questioned every single page he’d read.

You chuckled at their wonder, asking where Rudolph was in Santa’s line up, how many cookies does he usually eat, and your daughter making sure to tell her daddy to turn the fire off before he and mama went to bed so Santa wouldn’t burn his bottom on the way down the chimney.

“Goodnight babies,” you heard him whisper, latching the doors to their rooms as he padded down the hallway.

You waited for him to appear on the stairs, wanting to cuddle up with him by the fire with your mugs of liquor before heading off to bed, but after a few minutes, were growing slightly worried as to what he was up to.

You released your legs to the slightly colder air, placing your mug on the coffee table as you padded upstairs, enclosing yourself in the sweater you had chosen for the evening.

“Babe?” you whispered, wondering if he was alright, seeing the dark hallway with no light in your master bedroom.

“Clyde, honey?” walking into the room to flip on the bedside light, jumping at the scene before you.

“Holy shit!” you cleared your throat, “what’s goin’ on here?” eyebrows raised as you saw your big bear perched on the ivory comforter of your California king bed, clad in nothing but a pretty big box wrapped around his pelvis.

“I don’t know Mrs. Logan,” he purred out, “why dontcha open it up ta see what’s inside… I think ya might like it just a lil’ bit,” winking as he watched you inch closer to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your hair behind your head, gathering your body onto the sheets as you reached for the bow covered box, unwrapping the pretty packaging as his hand snaked behind to grip you full ass perched on your feet.

“Oh honey,” you mewled, salivating at his large and in charge cock, bobbing at attention, practically springing out of its cage covered in precum and begging to be stuffed inside you, “I love it,” bringing your hands to stuff the oversized sweater in between your legs to curb the aching sensation in your netherregions.

“He loves ya so much baby girl,” gripping and kneading on your ass as you removed the rest of the contents from his body, “in fact, he may wanna stuff ya like a Christmas turkey tonight darlin’,” smacking the covered skin as you fell forward on his stomach.

“Would ya like that?” he mewled, gathering your fuzzy covering to push it, revealing your little blush pink panties underneath, “ta be stuffed with me again?” feeling the wetness that had soaked through them in the process.

“Y-yes babe,” you whined, pushing your cunt into his touch as you sucked hickeys on his belly, “please fill me up,” whining into the darkness of the bedroom.

“That’s all I want for Christmas big bear,” assuming the position, ass up, face down on the plush comforter as he scrambled his hulking body to position his cock at your entrance.

“Well big bear is gon’ stuff ya full again,” pushing down the sheer lace to your knees, “make ya all big an’ round again with ma baby,” slapping your ass as hard as humanly possible before sheathing his aching cock into your tight little hole.

“Fuck!” you cried out, prompting Clyde to grip the back of your head, pulling you up just enough to penetrate that perfect spot of yours, “now baby girl, ya know ya can’t yell like that,” he huffed in your ear, pushing himself to rearrange your guts in knots, “you’ll wake our precious babies up an’ then what?” snaking a hand to tease your clit as he left open kisses on the exposed shoulder of your sweater.

“I-I,” you stuttered as he sped up his motions on your mound, only to break away again and shove your face into the down comforter.

“B-babeeee,” whining as your pussy throbbed on his length, the sensation never failing to burn just a little at his girth, “I-I l-love bein’ full a you,” gasping on every push of his cock on your cervix.

“I love seein’ my perty baby all full a me,” mewling and grunting as he thrust deeper and deeper, balls clapping on your pussy as he drank in your moans, “ya carry my babies s-so damn well,” gripping the sweater that had fallen up your back, pulling you even more flush with him as he railed the fuck out of you.

The thought of being completely filled, sending a shockwave to your budding clit, a tingling in your spine egging on the flutters in your pussy walls.

“I-is ma baby almost ready?” he growled, setting an even more brutal pace as he released his flesh and blood hand on your hip, no doubt a bruise already blooming from his iron grip on it.

His thick, meaty fingers found their way back to your stiffened bud, the slightest touch sending you to the complete edge of your orgasm, “that’s it Y/N,” he whispered, sweat dripping from his inky locks as he encircled the peak in your sopping folds, “cum all over yer cock,” he uttered out, feeling the shockwaves clamp over his member as you cried out in complete bliss.

“God fuckin’ d-dammit!” screaming as he sped up to ride your wave out into his own, “C-Clyde baby please!” feeling his movements become more erratic as you slipped from your high.

“I-I’m,” he stammered out, pumping his cock a few more times into your glistening hole, “‘m fillin’ this p-pussy full,” growling like the bear he was as he released his swimmers into your gaping womb, the warmth wrapping your uterus in a hug it so badly desired.

“Jesus f-fuckin,” he moaned out, hands covering your ass as he stilled himself, shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm, “ya alright darlin’?’ patting your ass lightly, smoothing over the raised handprint he’d left.

“Ya,” you panted out, trying to still your breathing as you felt his softened cock slide out of you, the sound making you sigh in relief as the air hit your hole.

“Gah, yer so damn perty,” marveling at the mixture seeping out of your slit, “so fuckin’ wet,” scooping it up to stuff right back in, causing your pussy to clamp back down on his thick fingers.

“Gettin’ greedy, huh,” he chuckled, watching as your cunt ate up the spend, “ya know we’re gonna hafta do this more than once ta get it right,” removing it to lick up the rest in his mouth.

“I know babe,” setting yourself up to his blushing chest, rubbing his pecs as you leveled with his face, “remember we have two kids,” raising your pretty fingers to his face only to have him kiss the tips ever so lightly.

“I know baby doll,” he cooed, pushing strands of hair out of the way, leading your lips to meet his in a searing kiss on the bed.

“Daddy?” a shrill voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, the both of you freezing in horror as your pupils met, trying to ignore the call.

Clyde turned around slightly, to notice your daughter crowding the side of the entryway, “y-yes baby?” he whispered faintly, hoping the voice was a figment of his imagination, the color leaving his face as he noticed her sweet little face scrunched up in a questioning look.

“What were you an’ mama doin”?” she cocked her head to the side, inching into the light, teddy bear in hand, blinking her cute little eyes to adjust to the light.

“Uhm,” voice cracking as he cleared his throat to give her an answer, not daring to turn around as he was still fully nude, “mama an’ I well, uhm, well we were,” panicking to look back and you completely lost in silent laughter at his starstruck behavior.

You pat his chest, “I got this babe,” you tutted, pressing your index finger into his plush lips, and glancing over at your little girl, still waiting for an answer.

“Daddy an’ I were havin’ some alone time baby girl,” you spoke just loud enough for her to hear and hopefully simple enough to understand, “now dontcha think you should be in bed?” cocking an eyebrow “I don’t think Santa will come if he knows yer still awake,” crossing your arms as you stared her pretty little puppy dog eyes into the abyss they were.

“I jus’ wanted ta make sure daddy wasn’t hurtin’ ya, mama,” a tear rolling down her cheek as she started to back away into the dark hallway.

“Oh baby girl,” getting up from your spot to lower your sweater and pull your panties back up, “daddy wasn’t hurtin’ me at all, now were ya daddy?” looking to him as you pulled her into a hug.

“No honey,” he pandered, still facing away to shield her innocent eyes from his now completely limp member, “daddy wasn’t causin’ mama any kinda pain, I promise,” blushing and shying away at his little girl.

“See?” you pet her little head, “I promise we’re both okay baby,” kissing her forehead, “now let’s get back ta bed now,” leading her back into the hallway towards her room, and tucking her in bed.

“Mama?” she whispered as you back away towards the door.

“Yes, baby?” answering her back as you glanced back into the night lit room.

“Whatever y’all was doin’, I think you won the contest,” her face showing absolutely no signs of joking.

“Well,” stifling an all-out snort, “t-thank ya, baby,” shying into the hallway to take a deep breath, “I think mama won too,” smiling at her dozing off.

“Good night sweet girl, Merry Christmas,” whispering as you moved to leave the room.

“Merry Christmas mama,” her sweet voice echoed back as you found your way back to the bedroom, chuckling in the hallway as you shook your head.

This was for sure the merriest Christmas you’d ever experienced, and the most mortifying to boot.

And it all started with a dick in a wrapped box.

_____________

WELL, I HOPE WE ALL LEARNED A VALUABLE LESSON HERE... LOCK YOUR DOORS AND CLYDE IS FUCKIN’ DADDY WHO NEEDS A PRETTY LARGE BOX TO COVER THAT MANHOOD A HIS... 😉

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, BABE!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#clyde logan #clyde logan oneshot #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x female reader #clyde logan x you #tw: children #tw: breeding kink #tw: unprotected sex #clyde logan imagine #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #xmas ask #its a dick in a box #a horsecock in a box if you will

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awxward · 3 years

Text

Potential

gen // 3.7k words

I had the idea of Juza hugging Kumon and his mom, crying bc he was finally able to audition/get accepted into theatre, and then I wrote this.

read on a03

gift for @xxxbookaholic

Juza had told his mother and brother about his dreams of being an actor a lot. They supported him through it all. He went to auditions for the school plays and was turned down immediately. In his first year of middle school, he stopped going to auditions. What was the point if he was only going to be turned away in the end? Juza had long since given up hope on his dream, yet now, just a few years after he had given up he got to see his cousin on stage. Muku who had always been anxious and shy was standing boldly on stage and being a new person. Juza wished he could do that. To stand on stage and be someone that people would be afraid of or start fights with. He wanted a place to escape. After the play had ended, Juza got up to leave, he didn’t want to embarrass Muku by showing his face backstage, besides Mom was back home with Kumon who was sick with a fever and could probably use some help around the house. A small flyer caught his attention. He wasn’t sure why he grabbed it, he just knew he had to keep it away from his family. He had long since given up on his dream to stand on stage, he hadn’t auditioned in years, he hadn’t been to a theatre in years before tonight, and still, he found himself folding the paper into a small square and shoving it in his pocket.

Mankai Company is looking for actors for the new Autumn Troupe. Auditions are going to be held tomorrow, August 28, at 9 am in the Mankai Theatre.

When Juza got home he kept the paper in his pocket so it wouldn’t be found and put his jacket on his bed. All auditions ended the same for him. He knew he’d be turned away at the door. If he didn’t tell mom or Kumon, well it’d just keep them from feeling sad for him. He went to check on Kumon who was sleeping, and made his way back to his room to get ready for bed. He fell asleep to thoughts of standing on stage.

The next morning, Juza got ready quicker than normal. He didn’t want to be late to the auditions. Better to be early so nobody else could see him get turned away as soon as he walked in. He checked his jacket pocket and sighed in relief, the paper was still there so nobody knew. He checked on Kumon, who was still sleeping and feverish, before hugging his mother and telling her he’d be back a little bit later.

Juza would have been on time had it not been for the punk Banri following him and trying to pick fights with him every other minute. Now, because he had to spend so long trying to ditch Banri, he was late and would have to deal with the embarrassment of everybody seeing him turned away at the door.

He looked at the theatre sign. Maybe he could just walk away now and forget about all of this.

“Excuse me, are you here for the Autumn Troupe auditions?”

Juza turned around, very surprised at the sudden voice next to him. It was a shorter man with glasses and a really bad sense of style.

“Don’t be shy, come on in!”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Isuke Matsukawa, the manager at Mankai. The director is inside with the Summer Troupe and a couple others who just walked in. Would you like me to show you to the stage where the auditions are going to be?”

Juza was confused. This short man, Matsukawa, was offering to show him to the stage for auditions? Was he really not going to be turned away? Would he actually have a chance? For the first time since he saw the paper, he wished he had mentioned it to his mom and brother. They’d be so happy he’d get to actually audition.

“Thank you. That would be nice, sir.”

“You can drop the sir part, it makes me feel old. Anyway, follow me!”

Matsukawa led Juza into the theatre where he had been the night before, watching Muku shine on stage. Today he saw the summer troupe in casual clothes and two boys who were chatting with everybody there. In the middle of the group was the odd one, the only girl. She had long brown hair that went down to her waist and Juza thought her eyes looked like they were the same color as caramel.

“That’s Izumi Tachibana, the director. She’s doing the auditions today!”

Juza suddenly felt his heart drop. Girls tended to avoid him or run away from him and if she was doing the auditions, she probably wouldn’t take him seriously, if she even let him up on stage at all.

“Director” Matsukawa called out and Izumi looked up and smiled. “I found someone interested in auditioning!”

He led Juza down to the group, and suddenly he was standing next to Muku.

“Ju-”

Juza slightly shook his head. He didn’t want them to think any less of Muku because they were related. It’d be best if Muku didn’t talk to him casually.

“What’s your name?” Izumi asked as Matsukawa made his way outside.

“Juza Hyodo.”

“Hi, Juza, I’m Izumi Tachibana, the director of Mankai Company. The summer troupe is here helping with auditions!”

“I’m Muku Sakisaka.”

“Kazunari Miyoshi, my dude! Nice to meet you!”

“I’m Yuki Rurikawa. Yes, I wear dresses and yes, I am a boy. Hack, just because you’re a celebrity doesn’t mean you happen to be exempt from introductions!”

“I know that! And I’m not a hack! Tenma Sumeragi, Summer Troupe leader.”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii! I’m Misumi! Do you like tri-tri-triangles?”

This was a weird bunch of people. “Nice to meet you all and triangles are cool I guess?”

The purple haired one, Misumi smiled at him and shoved something in his hands. “Here’s a Mr. Triangle for you! He’ll give you good luck!”

“Misumi.” Izumi called out. “We’ve talked about this. You have to ask if it’s okay to give them a Mr. Triangle.”

“Because people may not like it being shoved at them and I need to wait for an answer?”

“Exactly! I’m glad you remember it, but you should apologize and ask if he wants to still hold it, okay?”

“Okaaaaaay.” Misumi turned away from Izumi back to him. “Sorry for shoving a Mr. Triangle at you. I should have asked if you wanted to hold him before giving him to you, because it’s rude to randomly shove things at people and I should have waited so you could answer. Do you still want to hold Mr. Triangle?”

Juza smiled at him. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll hold him. Thank you.”

Misumi smiled. “Yay! Juza likes the Mr. Triangle!”

“Alright boys, if you’re auditioning I want you to line up in front of the stage! Summer Troupe, you can sit down along the first row if you want.”

Juza made his way to the stage next to two others. A man with brown hair and a scar on his chin and a boy with red hair. They both smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I found another one interested!” Matsukawa burst in and Juza felt his heart drop as he stared at the face who was beside him, Banri Settsu.

“I didn’t say I was interested, asshat! I was looking for someone to fight!”

“What are you doing here?”

Banri noticed Juza standing there. “That’s my line, asshole.” He took a step forward and Juza followed suit. Red hair looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Brown hair had a look on his face that Juza couldn’t read.

“Well, this isn’t very peaceful.” Brown hair spoke up.

Suddenly Red hair’s face lit up. “I know you, Juza! You go to my school!”

Banri shot off another insult and Juza fired one back. They kept this going until a voice cut through.

“Will the both of you stop with the shouting! If you don’t wanna be here then leave. The only fights that should happen in theatre are stage fights!”

Juza and Banri both froze to see a blonde man standing in the doorway with a very serious look on his face. Juza stepped back beside red hair. Banri stood on his other side. Izumi’s face lit up. Juza noticed Muku looked scared. If he learned that the blonde man had somehow hurt Muku, he would fight him right here.

“Thank you for coming! I didn’t think you’d make it!”

“Wait, Sakyo was the other person you scouted for Autumn?”

Juza filed this information away. If Muku knew the man’s name was Sakyo and looked scared of him, something might have happened and Juza was ready to throw punches if he learned of any incidents.

“It’s the Yakuza.” Green hair said, Juza thought they said their name was Yuki, but he couldn’t remember.

And then his full line hit Juza as red hair spoke up. “Y-yakuza?”

“Now, now, looks can be deceiving.” Izumi spoke up. “Sakyo has watched over the theatre for years. He knows and loves this company more than anybody else here. I think he’s a necessary asset to us.”

“So he’s not just a scary debt collector?” Tenma asked.

“Can we stop with the idle talking and get on to acting? I have other things to do today.” Sakyo spoke up.

Izumi nodded and gestured for him to join the line and then passed lines to everybody. “When you boys go up on stage I want you to introduce yourself and tell us your experience with acting, then recite the lines I gave you.”

Brown hair went up first. “My name is Omi Fushimi, I’m a uni student at Yosei University, and I’m in the photography club. I’ve never acted before.”

Juza thought Omi did well. His voice was loud and clear, even if he didn’t know how to move. He finished and Izumi gestured for him to join Summer Troupe in the front row.

Red hair walked up. “My name is Taichi Nanao, and I’m a second year at O High! I’m a total newbie to this as well!”

For being a total newbie, Taichi did amazing. His voice was loud and clear, and his actions were a bit clumsy, but you could tell what he wanted to show.

Izumi pointed at Banri and he went up. “Banri Settsu, Hana High third year. Never been on a stage before.”

Juza hated to admit it, but Banri was good. He had good timing for pausing and expressed his emotions clearly, his voice was loud and clear. He was even better than Taichi had been.

“Are you sure you’ve never been on stage before?”

“Yeah, but it ain’t no problem for me.”

“Alright. Can you come join the others on the front row? Juza, you’re next.”

Juza was terrified. “I’m Juza Hyodo, a third year at O High. I’ve never acted before.”

He went through his lines and when he was done he looked into the audience seats. Summer Troupe looked intrigued, Omi had a sad smile on his face, and Taichi gave him a thumbs up. Banri started laughing.

“You are the worst, Hyodo, I swear-”

“Banri, if you are going to bully Juza or anybody else you will not be allowed to join this company do you understand.” Izumi had a steely look on her face and Juza imagined that if she got really angry she’d be scarier than the Sakyo guy.

“I want to join the theatre, please.” Juza ignored Banri and bowed as low as he possibly could.

“Stand up, Juza. You can join.” Izumi smiled softly at him.

“Really?”

“Of course. Go sit in the front row.’

“How do you plan to improve Hyodo’s acting?”

“Izumi makes training regimens for each actor so they can work on the things they struggle with! They’re really fun and the others are always happy to join you if you want them too! They helped me be less anxious!” Muku spoke up. Summer troupe nodded.

“Yeah, Sakuya, the Spring Troupe leader, said that she’ll adjust the regimens as needed!” Tenma added on. “She does her research and thinks about what would be best for each actor to develop and grow, both on and off stage!”

“So he’s really going to join?” Banri seemed like he was trying to convince himself it was a joke.

“It’s better to have someone with little talent and lots of passion than someone with some talent and no passion. If you don’t like it, you can leave, the door is back there, boy.”

“What’d you just say to me, you old man?”

“Alright, both of you, stop it. Juza is joining and that’s final. Juza, you can come find a seat down here.”

Juza sat beside Misumi and pulled the Mr. Triangle out of his pocket. “Do you want your triangle back?”

Misumi smiled at him. “You can keep him! He’s going to bring you good luck!”

Juza smiled at him. “Thank you, Misumi.”

Sakyo walked on stage. “I’m Sakyo Furuichi. I work with the Ginsenkai Family. I acted as a kid, but I haven’t been on stage since.”

Though he said he hadn’t been on stage since he was young, Juza could tell he remembered the basics. His voice was clear and smooth, and his actions were clumsy like Taichi’s but he was able to cover up some of the clumsiness by changing his actions.

“Welcome, boys, to the Mankai Company Autumn Troupe! Now, for some smaller details now that you’ve joined. Mankai company has dorms that are available if you want to stay there. If you are a minor, I will need to call and talk to your parents to get their permission. If you don’t want to stay in the dorms, or you are unable to, you can still travel between the theatre and your house.”

The other four boys volunteered to stay in the dorms and after some phone calls Banri and Taichi were allowed to join Omi and Sakyo in the dorms.

Izumi turned to Juza. “Would you like to stay in the dorms? Moving day is next Saturday.”

“Can I talk to my family first and talk to you about it later?”

Izumi smiled. “Of course. Sakuya from Spring Troupe is usually here practicing, but the others come in often as well, so stop by here and someone can lead you to the dorms to talk to me, okay.”

Juza nodded. The boys all went their separate ways.

Juza felt like he was in a dream his entire walk home. For the first time in his life, he was able to audition and he got accepted in, even though he was so bad compared to everyone else. He opened the door. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back, Juza!” His mom poked her head around the corner. “Juza, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“His mom wiped her thumb across his face. “You’re crying. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I- actually, is Kumon awake?”

“Yeah, his fever went down a bit. He’s been waiting for you. Let me check you for injuries.”

“Mom, I’m not injured, I swear, but I need to talk to you and Kumon together, so I’ll bring him to the couch, okay.”

“If you insist you aren’t hurt, I’ll believe you, but if you are lying to me, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Understood.” Juza smiled and made his way to Kumon’s room. He knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, Kumon. Are you feeling better?”

Kumon beamed at him. “Yep! My fever went down a bit! Are you crying? Is everything okay? Did you get hurt? Does mom know?”

“Kumon, I’m not hurt.”

“Pinky promise?” Kumon held up a hand, pinky extended.

Juza linked their hands, “Pinky promise.” Kumon smiled. “Good.”

“I do need to talk to you and mom together. Are you feeling well enough to go to the couch?”

Kumon nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Juza stayed by his side as they made their way down the hall to the living room. Kumon sat on the couch and tried to catch his breath. Their mom walked in and handed Kumon a glass of water before sitting down next to him. Juza sat across from them on the other couch.

“I didn’t tell you where I was going today.”

“Yes, you did leave that detail out when you left.”

“I found a flyer last night. For auditions for a theatre troupe.”

Kumon looked up with wide eyes and his mom smiled at him gently. “Is that why you were crying? Did you get turned away again?”

“No, they let me audition.”

His mom and Kumon froze for a moment before smiling like crazy.

“What happened, Juza?” Kumon was vibrating in his spot.

“I got accepted into the theatre company.” Juza was aware that tears were falling down his face again, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as his brother and mother ran over to hug him.

“Which theatre company did you join?”

“Mankai Company.”

“I’ve heard of them somewhere.”

“Auntie and Uncle mentioned them. It’s Muku’s theatre troupe.”

“You’ll be acting with Muku!”

“No, Mankai is split into four sub-troupes based on the seasons. Muku is in the Summer Troupe. I am in the Autumn Troupe.”

“That’s amazing!”

“There’s more. They have dorms. The director wanted to know if I’d be interested in staying there. Moving day is next Saturday, and she’ll need your permission to allow me to stay there.”

His mom smiled at him. “Do you want to stay in the dorms?”

“I do. There are other actors there I can learn from and I want to stay close so I can get along with my troupe mates.”

“Then I give my permission.”

“I’ll visit often, I promise.”

“Juza, what’s in your pocket?”

Juza pulled out the Mr. Triangle. “When I first walked into the theatre one of the Summer Troupe boys, Misumi, shoved it in my hands. He said it was a Mr. Triangle for good luck. He also told me I could keep it.”

“That was very kind of him.”

“It must really have good luck in it! You get it and then you can audition for the first time and you get accepted into the same troupe as Muku!

Juza smiled. “I think you’re right, Kumon.”

“When can I talk to the director about you staying in the dorms?”

“She said that tomorrow there’ll be guys in the theatre who can take us to the dorms to talk to her.”

“I wanna go too.”

“If your fever is still there, you’ll be staying in bed. If it’s gone, you have baseball practice.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t worry Kumon. I’m sure you can stop by to visit the dorm sometime.”

“Okay.”

The next morning Juza wove through the streets with his mother until they were in front of the theatre. Juza opened the door.

“Citron, I don’t think that prop can be used as a sword1” A pink-haired boy was frantically trying to take a prop away from a man in a foreign looking outfit, who was laughing as he swung the prop around. The pink-haired boy looked up. “Oh, hello! I’m Sakuya, leader of the Spring Troupe! Can I help you?”

“I’m Juza Hyodo, this is my mom. I auditioned yesterday and needed to talk to my family about the dorms. I was told I could come here and someone would be able to bring me to the Director?”

“Nice to meet you, Juza! Nice to meet you, ma’am!” Sakuya smiled and jumped off the stage, the other one (Citron?) following close behind. “Just follow us!”

“Hi! I’m Citron!”

“Hello. Thank you.”

Sakuya and Citron led Juza and his mom down the road until they were in front of a large dorm building. Misumi was laying on the ground with a boy Juza didn’t recognize from auditions. Kazunari and Yuki saw Juza and made their way over.

“Hey! It’s Hyodle! What’s up, my dude? You here to talk to the director?” Kazunari was bouncing with energy.

“Hyodle?”

“Sorry, Friendly McExtrovert here gives everybody nicknames like that. I’m Yuki, in case you didn’t remember my name. There were a lot of names to remember yesterday.”

“We needed to talk to the director. Sakuya and Citron brought us here.” Juza looked around and realized the two had disappeared.

“They probably went back to the theatre. If they brought you here then they probably went back to clean up and lock up the theatre. They’ll be back soon.” Yuki turned and waved for them to follow.

Inside was chaotic. Several boys were running around. A couple of boys were arguing in the corner about something. Izumi stepped out from the hallway and all the boys froze.

“Please keep it down, I’m on the phone with Sakuya. He did well on his history test so he gets to choose what dinner is tonight.” She looked up and smiled at Juza and his mom. “I’ll be with you two in a moment, please, have a seat.”

Several boys finally noticed Juza and his mom standing awkwardly off to the side. Izumi stepped back into the room. “Would you two like to talk in the courtyard outside? Or maybe the kitchen?”

“The kitchen would be fine, dear.”

Juza and his mom followed Izumi back.

“Your name is Juza Hyodo, right?”

Juza nodded.

“Great! I wanted to make sure I remembered it properly.” She sent a smile to him and directed her attention to the side. “Are you his parent?”

“Yes, I’m his mother.”

“I’m assuming you’re here to talk with me about whatever decision you’ve made regarding the dorms.”

“You would be correct, dear. I wanted to let you know I’m giving permission for him to stay here.”

“That’s great! Saturday is move in day and we’ll decide roommates then too! Do either of you have questions about anything?”

“I have a few for you, dear.”

“Okay, ma’am. Juza, if you don’t have any questions you are more than welcome to go introduce yourself to the spring and summer troupes and explore the building.”

Juza nodded and got up.

This would be the start of a new Juza Hyodo.

#juza hyodo #kumon hyodo #a3!#my fic #autumn troupe

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theawaldrof · 2 years

Text

Below the cut is a glimpse into Thea’s Background. This helps to see where she comes from, a few of her favorite things, and a look into where she’s come from.

BASIC INFO

Full name (including first, middle, and last): Thea Eloise Waldrof

Nicknames: Honey bee (but only ever by her father)

Pronouns & gender: She/Her, cis-female

Date of birth: December 24 (38 years old)

Place of birth: Merrock, Maine

Current location: Merrock, Maine

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Height: 5′4.5″ (she takes that half an inch seriously)

Build/body type: She’s pretty slender in a sense. Spending so much time outside has made her pretty fit.

Hair color: Naturally brunette, but she is often found with lighter blonde highlights spread throughout.

Hair style: Most often seen down, usually with some sort of hat on top of her head. She is known to throw it in a ponytail from time to time or to give it some defined waves when she needs to dress it up.

Eye color: Hazel

Distinguishing facial features: A freckle on her right cheek.

Skin tone: Darker complected in the summer time, a little more on the lighter side in the winter.

Scars: A tiny scar on her right eyebrow from a tree branch related injury.

Birthmarks: An almost honeycomb shaped red spot on the back of her head just in her hair line.

Piercings: Just her ears

Tattoos: None yet, but she is working on getting one.

Physical handicaps: None

Fashion: See this link for a glimpse into her wardrobe.

PERSONALITY STUFF

One word to describe positively: Resilient

One word to describe negatively: Callous

Introverted or extroverted: Extroverted

Favorite (or overused) phrases: Seek what makes you happy.

Optimist or pessimist: Internally more of a pessimist, but she ends to be an optimist on the outside.

Describe their sense of humor: Her father always had a dry sense of humor, never really laughed much unless it was a rare occasion. While often times Thea is very similar in the sense if she’s in her own world she isn’t really paying attention, she does find a lot of humor in difficult situations; it’s kind of a coping mechanism.

How do they display affection?: It takes a lot for Thea to find herself being outwardly affectionate. She doesn’t mind small forms of public displays of affection such as hugs and kisses, but she would much rather do most acts in private.

How do they see themselves?: Thea sees herself as adventurous. Goal fulfilling, and a little stubborn. Often times she sees herself as a loner - not that she doesn’t want to be, she gets some of her best thoughts in when she’s alone.

How do they want to be seen by others?: She wants to be seen as approachable to put it in a nutshell. She remembers growing up and seeing her father have very little communication with the outside world, and she doesn’t want that for her.

What would they change about themselves and why?: She wants to be able to be more open about her feelings and thoughts. She doesn’t like feeling as if she’s alone and wants to have people to rely on whenever she can use the extra hand.

Are they competitive?: She can be. She’s been known to turn anything into a competition.

Do they rush to conclusions?: Yes and no. She doesn’t usually put much effort into changing her mind once she’s set on something. If she has a reason to even assume that something is wrong, chances are she will just go with it and never really put a thought into figuring out why or if she was even right. She doesn’t really want to put herself in a situation to be hurt by much so she just assumes to move on.

Do they take time out to think about actions and consequences?: Most of the time, yes. It took her ten years to leave her husband for a reason.

How do they react to praise?: She doesn’t really take compliments well. Well, she does, but she just kind of says thanks and moves on, not to make a big deal of something that isn’t really a big deal (even if it is! Nothing is a big deal to Thea really.)

To criticism?: She just kind of shrugs it off and tries to fix whatever the problem was.

What is their greatest fear?: Well, she’s currently living in it. She always said she never wanted to live in a world without her father, and that’s exactly what she’s experiencing now.

What are their biggest secrets?: Honestly, she doesn’t really talk much about her personal life at all, so in a sense her life is a bit of a secret. However, she’s never told anyone about why her and Patrick split up so I think that may be her biggest secret right now.

What is their philosophy of life?: If you don’t find happiness in whatever it is your passionate about is it really a passion? Might not be much of a philosophy to most but it’s always worked for Thea.

When was the last time they cried?: Last night when she tried once again to clean out her father’s stuff.

Do they cry openly/in front of others?: Never. She doesn’t even think she’s ever cried in front of her therapist. Maybe once at grief counseling, but she’s not really sure on that.

What haunts them?: She feels like she didn’t spend enough time with her dad through the years, and that haunts her.

What will they stand up for?: She’s always been an advocate for people that are less fortunate in any sense (in friends, money, etc.). She’s a huge advocate against animal cruelty too.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?: Outdoorsy. 100%

Night owl or morning lark?: Probably morning? Though she gets up when it’s still dark outside, so I feel like maybe she’s more of a morning person and goes to bed really early.

What sense do they most rely on?: Eyes, honestly, but her sense of smell is spectacular.

How do they treat others?: With kindness (Harry Styles anyone?) But seriously, she’s usually a sweetheart to everyone as long as she has a reason to be.

What quality do they most value in a friend?: Loyalty; someone proving they’re there for her in her most needed times means the most to her.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?: She thinks money makes people do stupid stuff, so that.

What are their views on religion?: She’s never really had an opinion on it. Her father was never religious. Never even talked about anything of the sort. She isn’t sure what she believes, but she’s open to almost anything.

What are their views on politics?: She’s impartial. She doesn’t believe there’s much she can do to change any of it solely on her own, so she just rides it out until she agrees with something.

What are their views on sex?: Honestly, Thea thinks sex is great! While she hasn’t had sex in awhile, she doesn’t feel like it always has to be with someone you care about. Sometimes sex is just sex and she gets that.

Under what circumstances would they be able to kill someone?: While she’s sure that there have been a few times she’d really wanted to kill someone in her lifetime, it would take a lot. Putting herself or her family in danger though.

Do they prefer routine or spontaneity?: She loves her routine, for sure, but here recently she has been more so one to do spontaneous things and actually enjoy it!

Describe their pet peeves: Spitting, being rude to anyone simply doing their job, doing good deeds just for show, to name a few.

When did they last lie and what’s their view of lying?:Thea doesn’t personally understand the point of lying; she’d rather you just be honest with her, but she’s been known to simply not tell the full truth which in some cases feels a lot like lying. The last time she told a lie was probably whenever someone asked her if she was okay after she fell off the huge rock climbing last week. Granted, she was fine, but she did end up having a huge gash on her leg later on.

When did they last make a promise and do they keep promises?: She last made a promise to her father whenever she told him she’d be okay without him. She doesn’t make promises often, but when she does she’s very serious about keeping them.

Are they more of a leader or a follower?: A leader. She does what she wants when she wants, no questions asked.

Do they like being around large groups of people? Why or why not?: She doesn’t care really. She’s used to it for her job, but she doesn’t think she could be around people all the time. She’s very independent and being around a large group of people makes her feel the need to be social 24/7.

What are their views on social media?: She doesn’t mind it. She got used to using it on a business aspect when she was in Florida, but, she doesn’t use it a ton right now for personal use.

Have they ever been bullied?: Not that she’s aware of no.

Have they ever been the bully?: Absolutely not.

FRIENDS & FAMILY

How big is their immediate family?: It’s just her. With her mom not around, and her dad being gone, she really just has mostly herself.

How about their extended family?: Her Uncle Jack. She’s sure her dad had some biological siblings here and there, but, she’s never met them.

Who is their family?: As far as she’s concerned, Jack is her family and always will be.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: Nope. Thea’s an only child to her knowledge.

Do they get along with the parents and siblings?: Her and her father got along great! They were inseparable when it came to how close they were.

Describe their parents: Franklin Waldrof was always a quiet man. Barely making conversation even at the market when he was required to speak. Rumors throughout the town were typically always that Franklin was a strange individual, often times people questioned if the man could be autistic, however, they barely ever took the time to get to know him. He was usually barely seen outside the lighthouse, especially once Thea was older and could get herself back and forth to school without her father’s help. While he was typically a home body, it was obvious just how much he cared about what was his by the look of his yard. Always immaculate and tidy, truly beaming with the pride Franklin had for what was his. Her mother is unknown, aside from the fact that she loved to dance.

Describe their attitude towards family: Thea knows those who are most important to her, and she adores her family more than anything. They were the ones that had her back when no one else did.

Describe their friend group as a whole: Thea doesn’t have many close friends, but, the ones she does have have always been loyal to her. She gets a long with almost everyone, it’s just a matter of the effort others put into being loyal to Thea.

Is there anything that stands out in their family's history?: Not particularly, no.

Do they have children? What are the circumstances surrounding them?: No, Thea doesn’t have any children.

Do they want children? Why?: She wouldn’t mind either way, truthfully. If she ever became a mom she knows the kind of parent she’d want to be, but she doesn’t feel like it’s necessary for life’s fulfillment.

Do they currently live with anyone?: Nope, she lives alone.

Do they have pets?: No, Thea doesn’t have any pets.

LIFE THINGS

Describe their home: Thea lives in her father’s old house, the house he bought after he sold the house he and Thea lived in growing up. It’s a tiny home to say the least, a small (but functioning) kitchen, tiny sitting space, a bathroom with a lofted bedroom. It wasn’t ideal for most, but Thea honestly loved how tiny and secluded it felt.

Are they a minimalist or is their house cluttered?: Very much a minimalist. She’s lived in fancy houses and houses fit for large families, and she’s lived in tiny homes. She doesn’t hate either, but living in a house with everything you need within the touch of your fingertips was enough to keep her on the minimalist side.

What are their eating habits?: She can put away some healthy food and she does on most days. Vegetables, fruits, meats, grains, all the right portions are typical. But she’s also known to be throw down some ice cream and other junk food when she wants it.

Are they allergic to anything?: She has a slight allergy to strawberries, in the sense that too many will give her a headache, but she eats them anyways.

What is the first thing they do in the morning?: This will be in a more detailed timeline, but, she typically showers first thing in the morning followed by breakfast.

What is the last thing they do at night?: She tries to journal/read/watch the stars before she goes to sleep.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?: She isn’t really one that has a set schedule for Sundays, but, she usually tries to get all of her shopping for household essentials on Sundays.

What do they do on a Friday night?: She typically tries to go out on Friday nights. Whether it be for dinner, out to the bar, or just to do something in town, she tries not to stay home.

Describe their workout routine: She doesn’t really do much as far as working out goes, but she will typically try to go on hikes and do as much as she can outdoors throughout the week. That’s typically her extent when it comes to physical activity for the week.

How good are they at taking care of themselves?: Thea is really into self care. Bubble baths, wine, and allowing time to do what’s important is something she’s passioante about.

What kind of car do they drive?: Thea has a white Jeep Wrangler that she bought whenever she moved to Florida for college.

Do they have any other modes of transportation?: She likes to walk or bicycle anyway that she can, but she typically just drives wherever.

THE PAST & THE FUTURE

What was your character like as a child?: Independent, self sufficient, but also really into nature.

As a teenager?: About the same, just a little less tom-boyish and more so into make up and stuff.

As a young adult?: Passion driven, very in touch with what she wanted, but also very in touch with those around her and their needs as well.

What is their earliest memory?: She remembers winning a gold fish at a school fundraiser and Franklin convincing her to put it in the pond in their backyard, because ‘a glass bowl was no place for a striving goldfish’

What is their best childhood memory?: When her father took her on her first ‘date.’ It was probably one of the most awkward dates that she’d ever been on seeing as how the night ended with him explaining puberty to Thea and giving her the details of how women’s bodies worked, however, she vividly remembers how much she enjoyed every other part of their date.

What is their worst childhood memory?: She never told him, but she remembers the first time she ever heard her father crying late at night when he thought she was sleeping. He did it often; most nights he spent crying over Thea’s mother leaving him.

What did they want to be when they grew up?: She didn’t know, but she knew she wanted to be outside.

Did they grow up rich or poor?: Neither really, just well off for the two of them.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?: Some may see it as neglected of affection, but she was nurtured in her eyes.

Were they popular growing up?: Yeah, for the most part.

What is their greatest achievement?: Getting a bachelor’s degree.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?: As silly as it sounds, divorcing her husband. Even though she was miserable and knew that she had no other option, leaving her husband and hurting him even despite how much he hurt her through the years pained her.

What is the best thing they did to someone they loved?: Allowing her father more time with her before he passed. He’d always talk about how much he missed her being down the hall, so she made sure in his last days - regardless of how sick he was - that she was able to be there for him.

What are their plans for the future?: Possibly remarry, start a family of her own. Just be content with her accomplishments.

What advice would they give their younger self?:

What smells remind them of their childhood?: Campfire, creek water, mowed grass.

LOVE & ROMANCE

What is your character’s sexuality?: She’s always identified with heterosexual, but she’s also more so the kind of person just build emotional connections and building romantic connections that way.

Do they believe in love at first sight?: No, not at all.

Are they in a relationship?: Nope, she’s single.

How do they behave in relationships?: They’re loyal. Pretty much a giver in every sense of the way.

Has your character ever been in love?: Yes, she has been.

Have they ever broken someone’s heart?: Probably, but she isn’t so sure about that.

Have they ever had their heart broken?: Yes.

What do they look for in a potential lover or partner?: Personality, shared interests, anything that just truly connects her to a person emotionally.

What are their views on marriage?: She’s been married before and while she should be unable to even think about it again, she’s honestly on board for possibly getting married again.

What is their idea of romance?: She feels that romance is a two way street. She believes that both parties of a relationship should be in charge of romantic gestures and keep things interesting.

What was their first relationship?: She dated a guy in high school, but it never really came to much of anything.

What was their last relationship?: Her ex-husband.

Best date they've ever been on?: She ended up going on a blind date right after her and her husband split that consisted of a lot of outdoors stuff. Hiking, dinner, a snack picnic under the stars. She loved it.

Worst date they've ever been on?: Honestly, probably one with her husband. She doesn’t remember much about a lot of them because a good portion of their dates were just things that her husband enjoyed.

When did you character last have sex?: Before she left her husband, over eight months ago.

Grand gestures or the little things?: Little things are similar to grand gestures in her opinion.

CONFLICTY GOODNESS

How do they respond to threat or dangerous situations?: Depending on the situation, she just kind of let adrenaline quick in and then reacts whenever she gets the chance to fully process what happens. Most of the time she cries about it, and sometimes if it’s severe enough she’ll have an episode where she just as to scream.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their words?: Definitely words. It takes a lot to get her there, but, she won’t get physical with anyone unless she has to.

What is your character’s kryptonite/weakness?: Being degraded. If you make her feel like she doesn’t belong in your world, she’ll mentally start to tear herself down.

How do they perceive strangers?: They’re guarded of anyone, really, but strangers to them are just someone else to make conversation with when needed. Most of the time they’re primarily the reason she stays in business at the museum.

Do they have phobias? Of what?: Nope, she doesn’t have any phobias.

What do they love to hate?: She loves the smell of rain, but, she doesn’t like getting wet from a light drizzle and then going into a cold store or house with air conditioner.

What is their weapon of choice in a split second?: A knife. Probably not the most damaging in danger, but, she’s pretty handy with them.

Where do they go when they’re angry?: She usually goes and makes herself a bubble bath, drinks a glass of wine and then tries to just write out how she’s feeling and how she’s going to bring it up, when she can.

Are they the strong, silent type, or tend to get emotional when angry?: Strong and silent for sure. Doesn’t really speak much at all in the moment when she’s angry.

Is there someone they turn to when upset?: Just her journal, and sometimes she isn’t even consistent about that.

WORK, SCHOOL, HOBBIES

Describe their current job: Museum tour guide and lighthouse keeper.

Do they like or dislike their job?: She doesn’t mind it. She actually quite enjoys it, even if it can be kind of tedious.

What other jobs have they held?: She worked with her marine biology degree when she lived in Florida.

Highest level of education: Bachelor’s Degree

Did they attend school?: Yes, in Miami, Florida

If so, what did they study?: Marine Biology

Describe their hobbies: She likes to journal, read, swimming, meal prepping, gardening, doing anything outside.

Have they ever turned their hobbies into work?: No

What is a hobby they would love to try out?: Knitting, and sewing.

HIT 'EM WITH THE FAVES

Color: Blue, any shade.

Food: Steak (medium rare) with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus.

Drink: Cucumber water (homemade), lemon water, Cream soda, southern cheer (Cheerwine mixed drink)

Dessert: Chocolate raspberry tart, cheesecake

Animal: Red panda, golden retriever

Person: Franklin Waldrof

Book: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

Movie: She doesn’t really have a favorite.

TV show: Any sort of home renovation shows on HGTV.

Cartoon: She’s always thought that the funnies section in the Sunday paper are hilarious.

Musical artist: She doesn’t have a favorite.

Song: My Girl

Vacation spot: Any sort of mountain vacation would be ideal.

Place in town: The lighthouse

Day of the Week: Saturday

Month: April

Season: Spring

Sport: Kayaking (does that classify as a sport?)

Room at home: Bedroom.

#merrockdevelopment #-- you can move mountains; about thea #development; feb 22

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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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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 10

3rd Person POV

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than Harry, Ron, and Hermione had thought. In the weeks that follow he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he had cracked it.

Every time they pass the third-floor corridor, Harry and Ron would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy is growling inside.

Whenever Harry passes Quirrell he gives him a small smile, and Ron started telling people off for his stutter.

Hermione and (Y/n) had more on their minds than the Sorcerer's Stone. Hermione had started drawing up study schedules and the two had been color-coding all their notes. Ron and Harry watch in amazement as (Y/n) launches into some complicated Potions thing at Hermione's request and the brunette begins jotting down notes.

Harry and wouldn't have minded, but Hermione kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snaps.

"That's not ages," (Y/n) pipes up, "that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminds her. "Anyway, what are you four studying for, you all ready know it all!"

"What are we studying for?" (Y/n) exclaims. "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into our second year? They're very important, we should have started studying a month ago."

"I don't know what's gotten into me," Hermione chimes in.

Unfortunately, the teachers seem to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione and (Y/n). They pile so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It is hard to relax with Hermione and (Y/n) next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron bursts out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library windows. It is the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky is a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there is a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who is looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he hears Ron says, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffles into view, hiding something behind his back. He looks very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he says, in a shifty voice that gets their interest at once. "An'what're you lot up ter?" He looks suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," says Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St —"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looks around quickly to see if anyone is listening."Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," says Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone, apart from Fluffy -"

"Don't rope me into this," (Y/n) says, not looking up from her potions notes.

"SHHH!" says Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, studens aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"

"See you later, then," says Harry.

Hagrid shuffles off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" says Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry wonders.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," says Ron, who'd had enough of working. He comes back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slams them down on the table. "Dragons!" he whispers. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," (Y/n) comments, still gazing down at her notes, Snape had told her that he was giving her a more advanced exam than everyone else's. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709."

"Everyone knows that," Ron agrees. "It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got of wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" asks Harry.

"Of course there are," says Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles have spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" wonders Hermione wonders aloud.

. . .

When they knock on the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they are surprised to see that ll the curtains are closed. Hagrid calls, "Who is it?" before he had let them in, and then shuts the door quickly behind them.

It is stifling hot inside, and (Y/n) rolls up the sleeves of her shirt and Fang jumps into her lap.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," says Harry, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "We were -"

"Not me, just to be clear," (Y/n) interjects and Hagrid glances gratefully at her.

"Wondering," Harry continues, "if you could tell us what's guarding eh Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowns at him. "O' course I can't," he says. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — Is'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might want to tell us," Hermione begins."But you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," she finishes in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitches and they can tell he is smiling."We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione continues. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swells at the last words and Harry and Ron beam at Hermione, (Y/n) scratching Fang behind the ears.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that . . . let's see . . . he borrowed Fluffy from me . . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments . . .Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticks them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asks.

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knows Ron and Hermione are thinking the same as he is. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" asks Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," says Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry mutters to the others, (Y/n) rolling her eyes. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," says Hagrid. (Y/n) notices him glance at the fire, and she looks at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" But she already knows what is. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, is a huge, black egg. She nudges Fang off her and crouches in front of the fire.

"Ah," says Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er . . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" (Y/n) asks, studying the black egg.

"It must've cost you a fortune," Ron pipes up, crouching beside (Y/n).

"Won it," answers Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" wonders Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," says Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the eggi n the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hagrid looks very pleased with himself, but Hermione doesn't look pleased at all. "Hagrid," she exclaims, "you live in a wooden house!" But Hagrid isn't listening. He is humming merrily as he stokes the fire.

. . .

So now they have something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he's hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighs, as evening after evening they struggle through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. And it was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brings Harry a note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Ron asks.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispers.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. (Y/n) turns to give him a glare and the blond scampers off, reminding (Y/n) of a little ferret.

Ron and Hermione argue all the way to Herbology and in the end, she agrees to run down Hagrid's with the other five during morning break. When the bell sounds from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them drop their trowels at once and hurry through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greet them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid ushers them inside.

The egg is lying on the table. There are deep cracks in it. Something is moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

The five draw their chairs up to the table and watch with bated breath.

All at once there is a scraping noise and the egg splits open. The baby dragon flops onto the table. It isn't exactly pretty, Harry thinks. It's spiny wings are huge compared to it's skinny jet body, it has a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezes, a couple of sparks flying out of it's snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmurs. He reaches out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snaps at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" exclaims Hagrid.

"Hagrid," says Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid is about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leaps to his feet and runs to the window.

"What's the matter?" (Y/n) asks.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

(Y/n) bolts to the door and looks out. Even at a distance there is no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

. . .

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the last week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and (Y/n) very nervous. They spend most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urges.

"I can't he'll die," Hagrid says. "He's too little."

They look at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week, smoke furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There are empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," says Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron mutters in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," says Hermione loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bites his lip. "I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turns to Ron."Charlie," he says.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agrees that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week drags by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry, and (Y/n) sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appears out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he says, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There is a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" (Y/n) says, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The six of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's till dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love, Charlie

They look at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," says Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloak's big enough to cover three of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other five agree with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) rush up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispers, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

The other three try to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," says Iliana gently, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sits bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he says in a hoarse voice. "Oh no — oh no —I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

The others didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

. . .

"It's too late to change the plan now," (Y/n) murmurs to the others. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl."

"This could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert," Harry adds. "We'll have to risk it, and we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They find Fang sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they go to tell Hagrid, who opens a window to talk to them.

(Y/n) crouches beside the large boarhound, scratching behind Fang's ears.

"I won't let you in," Hagrid puffs. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they tell him about Charlie's letter, his eyes fill with tears, although that might have just been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

The 'baby' bangs its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) walk back to the castle, feeling as though Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

. . .

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do.

It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd have to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against teh wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," says Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate comes ripping noises that sound to (Y/n) as though the teddy is having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobs, as Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione cover the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and step underneath it themselves."Mummy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew.Midnight ticks nearer as they heave Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another— even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry pants as they reach the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them makes them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrink into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other, ten feet away.

A lamp flares.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, has Malfoy by the ear. "Detention!" she shouts. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) are coming — they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seems the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air, did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able do breathe properly again. Hermione does a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," (Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister. "You know that's my thing."

Chuckling about Malfoy, they wait, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks come swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They show Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all help buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione shake hands with the others and thank them very much.

At last, Norbert was going . . . going . . . gone.

Harry and Hermione slip back down the spiral staircase and (Y/n) grabs the Invisibility Cloak. She darts down the stairs when she hears a noise coming from the end of the hall and throws the Cloak over Harry and Hermione.

As the figure steps out, Filch's have looms suddenly out of the darkness. "Well, well, well," he leers at (Y/n). "You are in trouble, aren't you.

Harry and Hermione watch in shock and horror as Filch grabs (Y/n)'s upper arm and begins dragging her down the corridor.

Word Count: 3574 words

#hermione granger x sister reader

12 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG: And I Love Her by The Beatles (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

“Are you kidding me?”

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away.

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see.

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note.

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that.

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it.

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers.

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound.

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.”

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.”

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward.

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.”

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath.

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes.

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass.

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!”

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience.

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.”

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.”

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.”

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag.

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.”

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark.

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum.

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.”

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out.

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!”

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest.

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car.

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.”

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library.

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly.

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face.

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists.

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.”

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already.

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument.

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.”

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen.

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid.

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.”

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him.

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.”

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well.

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them.

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.”

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked.

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.”

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.”

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.”

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them.

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.”

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky.

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks.

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two.

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once.

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin.

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye.

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be.

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them.

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all.

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.”

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late.

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.”

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.”

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.”

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender.

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?”

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck.

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road.

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis.

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us.

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth.

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.”

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows.

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up.

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.”

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him.

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point.

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!”

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.”

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.”

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!”

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together.

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song.

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!”

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.”

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh.

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.”

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.”

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.”

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.”

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too.

“Harry Edward, you will not!”

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.”

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.”

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind.

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future.

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there.

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist.

“I forgot to pack a razor.”

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.”

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair.

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.”

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one.

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush.

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.”

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth.

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.”

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.”

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.”

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water.

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag.

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands.

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.”

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.”

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips.

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes.

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.”

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do.

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed.

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.”

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top.

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.”

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty.

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek.

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.”

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore.

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all.

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here.

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness.

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.”

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair.

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees.

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.”

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault.

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.”

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head.

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin.

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.”

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair.

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach.

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine.

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents.

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be.

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me.

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face.

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment.

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.”

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!”

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses.

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me.

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on.

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms.

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3.

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.”

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head.

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk.

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos.

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.”

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens.

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.”

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him.

“Five.”

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now?

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.”

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand.

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span.

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms.

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases.

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across.

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed.

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features.

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time.

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was.

But it doesn’t.

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too.

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!”

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again.

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me.

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss.

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.”

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently.

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think.

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer.

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson.

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much.

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head.

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on.

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower.

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake.

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning.

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.”

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.”

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped.

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.”

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth.

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.”

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go.

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other.

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.”

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling.

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there.

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair.

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest.

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap.

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?”

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains.

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.”

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips.

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.”

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek.

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.”

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa.

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.”

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt.

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes.

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.”

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there.

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.”

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.”

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will.

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 14 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hey friends! Hope you like this one! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet agreed to a date with Sutan, and to her delight, he was just as charming as the night they’d met.

This Chapter: Chocolate cake is the only acceptable apology.

***

Courtney entered the conference room with an armful of drinks, helping Violet set up for the design meeting. She was stopped in her tracks when she realized that Violet was humming, very softly, under her breath, so surprised that she almost dropped the bottles, a gasp coming from her.

Violet looked up at the sound, her eyes sharp.

“What?”

“Uh...nothing. Is this enough Red Bull?” Courtney asked.

“Not even close. Alyssa insists that she needs--” Violet sighed before saying the words, “--go-go juice. You’ll want to get at least 3 more cans.”

“Okay!” Courtney scampered back to the kitchenette to grab the additional drinks, and when she returned, she saw that Violet’s usual neutral expression was a tiny, secret smile. Courtney put a hand on her hips, a grin spreading across her face.

“What?” Violet asked, looking up at her with an exasperated sigh.

Courtney leaned on the table, guessing, “You’re seeing someone.”

“What?” Violet blushed all the way to her ears. “That’s not any of your business-”

“Oh my god you are seeing someone!”

Violet had spent the last two days either texting Sutan or working. The man was endlessly fascinating, his reply to her texts keeping Violet glued to her personal phone in a way she had never tried before.

They had eaten lunch together yesterday, Violet hiding everything that could identify her as an assistant at the bottom of her handbag.

Conversation had flown freely, Sutan full of stories and Violet liked listening to him talk. He had given her a sweet goodbye kiss on the street that made her weak in the knees before his driver had taken her back to Galactica.

Dating Sutan felt perfect, except for the lingering hurt that overshadowed everything each time she saw Pearl.

“Courtney, we’re at work-” Violet almost looked panicked as she desperately gestured towards the wall that was shared with Fame’s office.

“Come on we both know that thing’s soundproof. Tell. Me. Everything! Who is it, do I know them?!”

“Please-”

“Is it someone I know? Oh my god...it’s Pearl. It’s Pearl, isn’t it?”

Courney recalled the way Pearl had been so obviously flirting, a strangely funny feeling in her stomach remembering how excited she’d felt while watching them.

“I’ve started seeing someone, but-”

“You have?! Omigod, that’s amazing! Have you had sex?”

Violet groaned, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “I’d never have sex with someone on the first date, that isn’t-”

“Is Pearl a good kisser?”

“Stop!” Violet didn’t even realize how loudly she had said the word until she had already done it. She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking completely mortified.

The both stood in complete silence for a moment before Violet turned to Courtney, hissing through gritted teeth.

“Don’t pretend like you know me, Courtney. I’m your superior. I don’t, my personal life isn’t any of your business and I- Just. Don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”

Courtney bit her lip, guilt washing over her. In her enthusiasm for some juicy gossip, she’d obviously hit a nerve.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.” She lined up a few cans of Dr. Pepper for Alaska before admitting, “My friends say that I’m an oversharer.”

“You don’t say,” Violet replied flatly, but there wasn’t any venom in her voice.

“Sometimes I forget that other people are more private. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Violet nodded, “Now give me some of that go-go juice.”

***

Violet was late. Not fashionably late, but actually late late.

Sutan had invited her over to his apartment for dinner, and while Violet had been a bit apprehensive at first, she couldn’t wait to see where Sutan lived. There was so much about him that was a mystery, and while Violet knew curiosity killed the cat, she needed to know.

She had cancelled dinner by text, and given Sutan a new ETA, but she had overshot that deadline by 20 minutes as well. Fame had held her back at work, her boss demanding that she stayed for the extra meeting with design, Trixie and Fame running through the pieces that had been sent up from tailoring.

She was really and truly royally fucked.

Violet groaned as she hoisted her totebag back up her shoulder, her handbag digging into her elbow, a white box balancing on her hand. She hadn’t meant to bring half of the office with her, but Fame had asked her last minute to take some fabric samples home to Trixie, and Violet would rather die than admit that she wasn’t going home, so here she was.

Sutan had texted her his apartment number, but Violet still paused for a moment. She so desperately wanted to check her makeup, to make sure that everything about her was perfectly presentable, but she had already made Sutan wait way too long, and she wasn’t sure if she could even get herself untangled without dropping everything.

Violet took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

At first, no one answered, Violet nearly panicking that she was on the wrong floor, but then, the door opened.

“Hello Violet.” Sutan was wearing a black fitted t-shirt and dark jeans, and Violet realised this was the first time she had seen him without a suit on. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You’re late.”

“I know.” Violet cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” If the earth opened and swallowed her up, it’d be less painful. “I got so caught up at work and I-”

Violet could feel her throat close up, panic scratching in her chest, but then, Sutan did something totally unexpected. He leaned forward, catching her lips in a kiss, and for a second, the entire world disappeared.

Sutan broke away, taking a step back as he pulled her into his apartment, and closed the door behind her.

“Sutan I-”

“We’re okay.” Sutan interrupted, and Violet felt a rush of relief go through her. “I mean, of course I don’t love you being almost 2 hours late-”

“I wasn’t 2 hours late-” Violet was 1 hour and 28 minutes late, which was an entirely different story.

“But we’re both professionals in a demanding industry. It’s August, Fashion Week claims it’s victims, I get it.”

“Thank you.” Violet blushed. “I promise I’m a lot better at work.”

“You work at Galactica,” Sutan smirked, “I’d expect nothing less.” He reached out, and Violet realized he was offering to help her with her bags. She shuffled her handbag down her arm, her tote following right behind, and Sutan took both. It wasn’t until he peeked into the tote bag, that Violet realized she had made a mistake.

“Are these fabric samples?”

“Umh-” Violet didn’t know what to say, her tongue tripping over itself. She didn’t want to lie, but if Sutan assumed? Was that all that bad? “It’s, umh, it’s for-”

“I know, I know.” Sutan smiled, closing the bag again. “Company secret, no one can know, collection isn’t out yet. I can’t help it, I’m a noisy bastard” He put the tote on a table, Violet’s handbag earning a place right next to it. “What’s in the box?”

“Oh.” Violet had completely forgotten the white box. “It’s cake, I brought dessert-” Violet held it out. “Since I didn’t make it in time for dinner.” She had ordered the cake right after she had sent off the text, a delivery boy dropping it off at the office while Fame was ranting away. “It’s chocolate.”

Chocolate was one of the few treats that could tempt Raja, so Violet hoped that the same would be true for her twin.

“An apology cake…”

“Know what? We’re more than okay.” Sutan smiled, taking the box while Violet took her jacket off. “Keep apologizing like this, and you can be late whenever you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sutan’s apartment reminded Violet so much of Raja’s office--strangely so. There was the same heavy oak furniture, the same rich colors and thick rugs. Violet didn’t know a lot about interior design, but it wasn’t at all what she was expecting from the man who dressed with such clean, simple lines.

“Sit down-” Sutan pointed towards a purple velvet couch as he placed the cake on the coffee table. “I’ll get us forks.”

***

Violet couldn’t pinpoint exactly how her and Sutan had ended up kissing, the piece of cake they had shared barely touched. Sutan’s hand was in her hair, his fingers ruining the carefully styled curls, but it didn’t matter as she got to rock against him, her core burning hot as she sat on his lap, her arms around his neck.

“Let’s get this off you.”

Violet nodded, and Sutan pulled back. If she was honest, she had picked her silk shirt for that reason, the tiny buttons just waiting to be popped open, but as she leaned back to make space, when she expected Sutan to go straight for her shirt and what she knew every man was after, he leaned forward, grabbing her shoe just as Violet moved her arms, and it was too late before she realized her mistake, the two of them fumbling to the floor with a thump.

“Fuck!”

“Violet! Are you okay?!” Sutan had grabbed her head immediately, his big hands holding her, his weight on top of her.

Oh god she was such an embarrassment, not even able to sit on a couch right.

“I’m fine- I’m- I’m fine…” Violet cracked an eye open, terrified of what she’d see on Sutan’s face.

“Thank god.” Violet didn’t understand, but as she opened her eyes fully, she saw Sutan smiling down at her, his entire face lit up, as if what had just happened didn’t mean anything. “I guess you could say-” His smile grew even wider. “That I just fell for you.”

He burst into laughter, and Violet felt herself laugh with him, his joke so utterly stupid and yet so absolutely perfect, all of the tension disappearing completely from the situation.

She knew she had to look a mess, her shoes still on her feet, her face without a doubt red, her makeup smeared, but somehow, somehow, with that laugh, that wonderful laugh, it didn’t really matter.

It felt like weight had just been lifted from her shoulders, as if she had been freed from a burden she didn’t even know that she was carrying. Violet felt joy in her chest, still laughing, everything bubbling out of her as she quickly pushed her shoes off with toes, hooking her ankles behind Sutan’s back, bringing him even closer to her.

***

Sitting back on his knees, Sutan got to take a look at Violet, the woman lying on his bed. He had carried her in from the living room, and Sutan was so very happy he had asked his housekeeper to be extra thorough with her cleaning, the sheets fresh and crisp.

Violet was a work of art. He had opened her shirt, a black lace bra teasing him with the promise of the delicious tits he had barely had time to see in the car. She had stepped out of her skirt and shoes herself, and Sutan had bitten back a groan when he saw her stockings, Violet of course the type of woman who wore a garter belt just because.

“Please-” Violet reached out, her fingers grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging up on the fabric. “Please?”

“Of course.” Sutan pulled his shirt over his head, and while most other men in their 40’s would probably worry about disappointing, Sutan knew he looked good, the gym regime his personal trainer refused to budge on keeping him in shape.

“Mmh...” Violet smiled, one of her fingers gliding over his stomach. “I like your tattoos.”

Sutan chuckled. He had gotten most of them in his teens and twenties, Raja’s skin a mirror of his own. They were slowly fading, black lines turning grey on tanned skin, but they were a part of him.

“Less flattery-” Sutan climbed back on top of Violet, leaning on his arm on the side of her head. “More kissing.”

Violet giggled and soon they were grinding together, their bodies pushing against each other. He could feel how she was aching, her pussy burning hot against his hip, and her panties had to be soaked through.

“What do you want?” Sutan kissed the corner of her mouth, peppering kisses on her.

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

Violet groaned, the frustrated sound causing Sutan to laugh.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Violet dug her nails into Sutan’s forearm, “Please.”

“My pleasure.” Sutan pulled back once again, fumbling with his belt buckle, when he saw that Violet was trying to wiggle out of her panties.

“Fuck…” Sutan stopped what he was doing, watching Violet before he grabbed her wrists and pulled her away. “Let me.”

He leaned down, slowly kissing his way down Violet’s chest and onto her stomach until he could take the fabric of her panties between his teeth, pulling them down, the scent of her filling his nose as he kissed his way up her thigh.

Violet became completely still underneath him, almost frozen in place, not a sound coming from her.

This wasn’t normally the reaction he received when he was about to eat a girl out, so Sutan stopped. When he looked up, Violet’s eyes were clenched shut, her teeth buried in her lip, the signs of pleasure from seconds ago no longer clear in her expression.

“Are you okay?” Sutan gently ran his hand over Violet’s stomach, now feeling with his hand just how tightly wound her muscles were.

“Yes-” Violet groaned, but the sound was so different. “I’m fine, keep going.”

“You don’t seem fine…” Sutan sat up on his elbow.

“Just get it done!” Violet snapped, which made Sutan pull away completely.

“Hey, hey...” He quickly crawled up the bed, laying next to Violet on his side, his head propped up on his arm, his other hand still on Violet’s stomach, the muscles there already a lot less tense. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to with me…”

Violet looked up at Sutan, the shame clearly visible in her face. “I’m sorry. I just don’t… that.” Violet vaguely gestured, “I don’t like it very much.”

Ah. It wasn’t often that Sutan met them, but there were girls who didn’t like being eaten out, and it seemed like Violet was one of them.

“Don’t ever apologize for that.” Sutan leaned down, gently kissing her until he could feel her relax.

“But I ruined the mood.” Violet bit her lip, and the gesture made Sutan’s cock jump slightly. He took her hand, putting it on top of his jeans, and he could see the blush return to her cheeks.

“You haven’t ruined anything, lovely eyes.”

Violet nodded, accepting the kiss Sutan gave her. Violet’s hand was still on his cock, her fingers slowly squeezing and he wasn’t even sure if she was aware that she was doing it, but as Sutan ran a hand over her stomach and down between her legs, he felt Violet gasp, the girl bucking against him as two fingers gently parted her folds, everything still wet and hot.

“Nothing is ruined.”

***

Violet was lying on Sutan’s chest. She was pleasantly sore and wonderfully relaxed, the sex some of the best she had ever had, not that she had a lot to compare it with. Sutan was endlessly better than her first boyfriend, but it somehow didn’t feel fair to hold Milk to the standard of a grown man when they had done it in dorm beds, their sex defined by exhaustion after long days of work or started by the simple need feel the other ones body, both of them terrified that they’d be discovered.

Violet hid a yawn, the fact that she was so comfortable actually a problem.

“Do you need the bathroom?” Sutan looked down, his hand slowly running up and down her bare back.

“No.” Violet sat up, her hair without a doubt a mess, but she didn’t miss how Sutan’s eyes instantly went to her breasts. “I have to go.”

“You have to go?” Sutan pushed himself up. He was smiling, but he also looked a little confused. “I’m not kicking you out?”

“I know.” Violet gave him a gentle peck, “But I have work tomorrow and I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

Violet didn’t want to know what time it was, didn’t want to even think about how hard it’d be to get up the following day, but she had done worse, and she’d survive this too.

“I’ll call you a cab.”

Violet kissed Sutan one last time before she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the hunt for her bra beginning.

“I can get one myself.”

“I insist.” Sutan got out of bed too, and if Violet took a second or two to look at him, that was her business. “It’s the least I can do.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au #smut #vitan #violet chachki #courtney act #raja gemini

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tanoraqui · 4 years

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*chinhands* so tell me about guinevere being gay and doing crimes in space

There are three rules that an e-space* Navigator lives by:

Know who you are

Know where you’re going

Know where home is (just in case)

*“espace”, more often; hyphens don’t survive casual parlance; it’s short for “extra-space” because scientists aren’t always good at naming things. just thank god for the one physicist who raised an early objection to “subspace”, even though in early models of layered reality, what came to be known as “espace” was, indeed, below our space.)

The third is easiest, because it’s drilled into every recruit from the second they’re brought to the Lighthouse - which is usually at an age so young they’ll forget having lived anywhere else before. There might be an official name for the headquarters of the Navigators’ Guild on paperwork somewhere, but inside the space station’s halls and outside it, on every ship and planet and empty space between stars in the galaxy, it’s the Lighthouse. There’s a general understanding of why: it’s where navigators call home, where they can look to for aid and succor when the seas turn rough, in this space and the other.

Most people don’t understand, though. Because most people are not navigators: they have never stayed awake while every other mind in the ship was sent very carefully and very deeply into sleep, while the ship passed across a crackling boundary between this reality and another. They have never held themselves together in a world where up was not quite down because neither of those terms applied, where colors were tastes were neither, where time and space were both only suggestions, and the map is a matter of focus in your mind.

You are lost as the default, in espace. Or, “lost” isn’t a term that applies, because all reference points are only in your mind, and if you don’t have your destination absolutely clear, you will be lost in the metaphorical sense as well as not quite the literal. So the politer, more bureaucratic line is that navigators (orphans, usually) are taken in so that their training can begin as early as possible, the truest truth is that it is so that when they begin their training, they will have somewhere to come back to. (Their very secretive training; it’s not, allegedly, sink or swim, but the Guild protects the secret of how it trains its navigators more closely than it guards anything.) So that no matter what, if they lose track of their destination - too unfamiliar, or even unwanted - they can always remember the Lighthouse. The bunkbeds and warm corridors of the dormitories; the creatively placed asteroid ring, more for agility practice in dart-fliers than anything else; the iconic long body of the station itself, modeled half-seriously after a lighthouse of old (symbols can matter in espace), floating amidst darkness and a starry background, the nearest planet several standard-orbits away for the sake of autonomy…the navigator’s last and truest port in a storm.

The earlier a young navigator-to-be can fix that in their heart, so surely that they’ll know the exact moment its closest, to fire the engines to make the jump back, the more likely they are to, indeed, return home.

The second has been touched on! Navigation in espace is a matter of focus and knowledge, intuition, sense of the shape of a world without shape and essence of a world - or rather, a very specific part of a world - in which its rarely manifest. Many navigators dabble in art of some kind - painting, sculpture, crochet, poetry - because it helps them capture what cannot otherwise be captured. Or maybe so much time in espace means they can’t help but see this world differently as well, and need an outlet…opinions differ. Among navigators. Person to person, you know?

Anyway, because of this quirk of interstellar travel, most planets have, gloriously from a worldbuilding perspectively, entirely in-canon motivation to have highly specific unique traits. The easier a planet or station is to remember, itself and only itself, the less likely ships are to be lost on the way to it. So there’s a planet in Alpha Centauri renowned for its deserts, and its annual global competition, bringing thousands of would-be bakers, confectioners, and more each year. There’s a space station circling Rigel where every citizen proudly gets a new tattoo each year, and so does the station itself, vast stenciled artworks commissioned by the ruling council and drawn by artists in space suits. There’s old Red Mars itself, now more a tourist trap than anything but still just as proudly rust-colored, the closest any interstellar ship is allowed to the nature reserve of Earth.

So, know where you’re going, because going back to the Lighthouse gets you safe, but it doesn’t get you paid. The Guild cares for its navigators, it really truly does…on average. But there are bureaucrats and business managers in there, too, and they know they’re sitting on the galaxy’s most valuable monopoly.

And first: know who you are. Nothing in espace is real the way it is in standard space, including the self. Don’t worry about the crew or the passengers, or even the materiality of the ship itself - the ship AI will keep track of them, as well as of time as it should be passing. Nothing determinedly holds to numerical time like a digital mind. They’ll keep track of the navigator’s physicality as well - that’s what the biotagging chip is for. But most navigators do some sort of dance, martial art, or other exercise as well, to give themselves a better sense of, well, themselves - it’s always good to have a backup. Any passengers and crew are so unconscious that they may as well be inanimate, which is why an AI can keep track of them jus fine - the navigator, of course, is awake for the whole voyage.

So, the woman who in another life might be named Guinevere…

Her first name is Djinn, because a lot of navigator orphans are named after mythical creatures or heroes, from one culture or another, that can fly. A lot others are named after mythical heroes or creatures known for sight. The people in charge of children at the Lighthouse are a bunch of nerds, really, or they were once, and tradition stuck.

Her last name is probably Navigator, because being named after your profession is as old as civilization, and there are fewer things its easy to be proud of than being an official Guild-licensed navigator. You get to choose a surname when you get your license, and like many before her, Djinn chose that.

Once a navigator has their license, they’re more or less loosed unto the galaxy, if they want to be. You’re welcome to work as an independent contractor, so long as you still pay your percentage back to the guild of every navigating fee, and don’t undercharge the Guild minimum.

Djinn elected not to do that, actually. She wanted to travel, of course, to fly, to spend as much time as possible in hte giddy twistedness of espace. But she didn’t want to manage her own business, and she didn’t mind the Guild taking a little higher percentage to have jobs lined up for her. And she was good, oh, she was good, so it wasn’t long before she was flying precious cargos and even passenger ships - small ones, to start, and not particularly pricey (not used by the affluent, that is, who would pay more for a more experienced navigator, with more successful trips under their belt). But still, a very promising career, and she was comfortable.

She always has a sketchbook, luxurious paper so she can save or destroy the drawings as she wants, rather than wipe them clean from a laminate. Physical rather than digital, because she’s drawing this world, she says, so it has to have real mass - but she almost only ever uses pale colors. Bright things, she saves for paint, when she has time and space and money for an easel, and that art is twisting and bright and incomprehensible to everyone but a fellow navigator - and even then, most understand what she means, but now how she’s representing it. No one really experiences espace the same way.

She’s short of stature and of hair, skin probably #C26604-ish? and walks with a dreaminess in her eyes and the confidence of someone who knows she’s weird - as most navigators do. Also, definitely practices some science fiction equivalent of judo. Has slightly more energy than she needs at any given moment, and when she decides to move fast, will do so. Physically, emotionally, and in terms of decision-making - will put off decisions if they’re unpleasant, but will make them quickly if they’re not, and commit 100%. Stubborn or determined, however you want to phrase it; holds grudges…but if pushed to reconsider something, will do so, and will willingly change her mind. Often in the 100% opposite direction from before.

(It’s hazardous to go into espace unsure of what you want in life.)

Also, she’s not actually a licensed navigator anymore, by Guild rule. See, I said she was good, right? Really good? So, most navigators have a seat on the bridge - they don’t really need to be there, but it feels right - and that’s where they stay for the duration of the espace journey. Easier to focus if you don’t need to move, don’t need to think about anything but where to go and when (”when” maintained by the ship’s clocks) exactly to make the jump back to get there. There are probably IV tubes and catheters and everything, because it can be a several subjective hours sometimes, and better safe than sorry.

But Djinn was good, oh, she was really good, and she didn’t need that stuff. She didn’t want that stuff. Always a little more energy than necessary for the moment, remember? So her knee jiggled, and that was fine. She stood and stretched, and that was fine. She paced the bridge, alone save for the AI, and thought about the swirling patterns on the outer skin of that one station, or the best donut she’d ever tasted on that one planet (she always wanted to be more of a sweet tooth than she actually was.)

None of this was per regulation, but it was the sort of thing that got comfortably ignored by the Guild, if you admitted it - and you were encouraged to, for your own safety as a navigator and that of your ship, and in the interest of more data gained about espace travel. And then not reported on to whoever’d chartered the navigator, so long as the nav was back in their seat by the end and got the ship to its destination just fine, because what the layperson didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

But, well…

It doesn’t get much harder to hold yourself and everything under your care together as they are the longer you’re in espace - additionally, but not multiplicatively, much less exponentially. Time and space still function in a way, so trips between this planet and that are known to have a certain average amount of time, but it’s flexible. If a navigator can confidently know themselves through, and the ship AI has a confident grasp on everything else, there’s no reason she shouldn’t pause in her destination-seeking, or at least not focus quite so hard, and just…wander the ship for a while. See the sights (that aren’t quite, here.) Enjoy the upsideways-tasting sensations.

So, Djinn met an AI with whom she really got along, did a couple trips in a row on that ship specifically, and then talked them into covering for her while she stole stuff from the passengers. More for fun than anything, honestly. But she got…well, she got caught, mostly, more than she got anything particularly valuable (probably?). (She got away with it like a dozen times, first, though.) And stealing from passengers while traveling through espace, while nearly unprecedented, is illegal by the laws of every place of origin she flew from…which is what applies on-ship until the destination is reached, by interstellar law.

More importantly, it was against Guild rules. They claimed precedent, because the Navigators’ Guild looks after its own, so Djinn wasn’t imprisoned anywhere. But her license was revoked for 7 years.

We meet her sometime in year 4, maybe 5 of that probably, I think on the equivalent of Jackson’s Whole.

#uhhhh #my fic #original fic #science fiction #arthurian legend #astria et al #hermionehair goylebrain

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devil-in-those-eyes · 5 years

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Sweetheart Part1-Ben Hardy

It’s here!! So this is the Ben story I have been cooking up in my head for a while now! I wasn't going to upload it until I had like four parts pre-written but I couldn't not share it with you guys! LEt me know thoughts, I really hope you guys like it!

Y/N

“Mum, have you lost your mind?” You asked, slightly bewildered at her.

Your mum turned around to face you, lifting her eyebrows at you. It was looking at a mirror, except add twenty-some years and shorter hair and there you were. She narrowed her eyes in at you, “I really think the states are screwing with you, love. You should come home more often.”

“Mum,” you groaned, tipping your head back and telling her she had just crossed a line with something she promised not to speak about.

“It’s just for ten days, Y/N, Matty wanted to bring along Ben and Ben is basically family.” Your mum explained, giving a soft shrug of her shoulders as you stood in the foyer of your childhood home. This house was about to be exploding with people and a certain someone you were less than excited to see. “Not only is it our birthdays but also mine and your fathers wedding anniversary.”

“So he couldn’t stay at a hotel?” you hissed quietly, glancing over our shoulder to make sure Matt or Ben wasn’t around. “Don’t his parents live a block away?”

“They moved when Ben went away to college,” your mum explained, her eyebrows lifting again. “You’d know this if you hadn’t nearly disappeared all together.”

“It isn’t like I cut ties with you, Val, dad and Matty, mum.” You pointed out with a glare. “I just choose to not care for him.”

Your mum rolled her eyes, “You’re being ridiculous.”

You went to argue further, press her to kick out your older brother’s best friend, but she shrugged again with a smile. “It’ll be like old times; having my babies in the same room again. Plus Ben.”

You nearly snarled at her mentioning him. She ignored the scowl on your face and smiled over your shoulder, “Lovie, can you ask Ben to grab Y/N’s luggage?”

“I can grab my own luggage,” you muttered to her but turned around to see your older brother walking through the front door. He looked so much like your father, same colored hair, same big round eyes with the same little smile, one that he was giving you right now.

“There’s my girl,” he grinned and stepped towards you, opening his arms up wide and wrapping them around you. He kissed your head, “How was your flight?”

You grimaced, “Long.”

Matt showed the same grimace but your mum cut in, “Matt, dad wants you in the kitchen. He’s messed with the grill again.”

Matt rolled his eyes and muttered, ‘Jesus Christ’ as he brushed past you and followed your mum through the kitchen. You smiled to yourself and walked outside. It was warm out and within that evening you could smell the rain that lingered in the air from the afternoon shower they had. It made you smile because you found yourself missing the rain showers here and there. As you traveled down to the rental car, a wind picked up and raced through your limbs, making you shiver as you reached the boot of the car.

“How much luggage do you have, bloody hell, Y/N.” Ben grumbled unhappily as he pulled out the rather large suitcase you had stuffed into the back of the car.

“I can grab it if you’re going to whine like a little girl.” You told him, digging your hands out of your heavy sweater and reaching past him but he denied you.

“I’ve got it.” He mumbled and you pulled back, rolling your eyes. For the next couple seconds you watched as he finally pulled your suitcase out of the back of the car and then reached for your duffle bag, your stomach swirling with a heavy dislike for this man.

You had known Ben almost your whole life, all because he became your brother’s best friend. They went from being friends in the early stages of school to being absolutely inseparable all through the years growing up. And because you were the youngest, and loved Matt, you wanted to be just like him but slowly you realized that Ben was a tool. Over the course of one summer, he went from being Matt’s best friend and your friend to something entirely different so you distanced yourself from him but because Ben was so close with your brother it meant distancing yourself from Matt as well.

When Ben straightened up and placed the suitcase on the ground, he huffed and looked at you with his bright green eyes. He shoved his fingers through his blonde hair at the top of his head and gave you a once over, dragging his eyes down the length of your body and taking you in. It had been nearly six years since your last interaction with Ben, and you would have been fine with going another six. Six years had done well on Ben, he was taller than you remembered and filled out with muscle, his face seemed thinner and his lips plumper. But he was still the same Ben that made you want to lock yourself in your room for a whole year.

“Been a long time, sweetheart.” His words were low and grumbled, coming from deep inside his chest and it only made your cheeks flare, just like they had done when you were younger. The very tiny, less than meaningful nickname brought back memories that filled your head with a shiver up your spine.

Fuck.. Just like that, sweetheart.

You’re dripping… Tell me you’re wet for me, sweetheart.

Made just for me, only me, sweetheart.

“Should’ve stayed that way.” You said, clenching your jaw and shaking his moans out from your head. You took your suitcase and duffle bag from him and headed towards your front door.

Ben rushed to walk beside you, knocking your hand out of the way and taking your heavy suitcase from you, ignoring your wordless attempts of telling him to leave you alone. “Matty said you moved from Pennsylvania to New York… Big move.”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at a conversation, staying silent as you walked through the house. You dropped your duffle bag onto the floor by the stairs and said, “You can just put it in my room.” Then didn’t bother looking at him over your shoulder as you headed into the kitchen to find your mom. Asking her a question before Ben got the chance to try and keep your attention, “Mum, when is Val getting in?”

You found your mum in the kitchen, your brother and dad dealing with the cold and putting the food on the grill. Your mum smiled your way, “Tomorrow morning.”

When time for supper rolled around you had been able to nurse two glasses of white wine, courtesy of your dad coming up to you and putting them in your hand, so when it was time to sit down in front of your brother and Ben’s bright green eyes, you felt somewhat relaxed. As you all settled into your seats, dishing out the food, it almost seemed like normal times before six summers ago, back when Ben and you still got along, back when you and your brother were close. Your dad cracked jokes with your mum, your brother sat there giving you a smile as he laughed, but every time you looked at Ben you just remembered that one night that changed it all. So you avoided his eyes and tried to suppress the memories when you both joined in on conversations, but it was hard and it surprised you at how easily it affected you. It happened so long ago and you thought this time apart would allow you to look at it as a simple mistake between two people, but it was one made behind your brother’s back and Ben changed after that night, and not in the best way. He turned into a tool, a total dick and it only made you feel worthless because at the time you thought it meant more.

“So, sis,” Matt grabbed your attention, “when you moving back home?”

Your eyes shot to your mum’s, ready to accuse her for putting your brother up to it, but all she did was lift her hands and played innocent. You looked back at Matt and he smiled sadly, “Jus miss you, is all.”

You were the youngest of three and your two siblings still lived in England. You were the only one that took leaving the nest as in leaving the country all together, six years ago you just needed a fresh start, away from the secret and mistake. While Ben did go off to UNI, to start perusing an acting career, you still saw more of him than you’d like and it had gotten harder and harder to be around him. You shrugged, “It’s different.”

“Don’t you miss your family?” he asked, “I mean, this is the first time you’ve been home in forever.”

Guilt rippled through you and you began picking through your food. Moving to Pennsylvania was hard at first, you still got home sick and had started considering coming home for good, but you hated these conversations because they didn’t get it.

“So, Ben, how has life been after Bohemian Rhapsody?” your dad asked and you breathed a sigh of relief because the attention was taken off of you.

Ben cleared his throat. You picked up your glass of wine, finally able to look him in the eyes as he began talking about what he had been up too since the biopic was released. “Busy, lots of traveling.”

“Benny, here, was in a fashion show in Milan.” Matt said, smirking over at his best friend.

But you knew this because your childhood best friend sent the screenshots of his Instagram pictures to you. You loved her, still called once a week, but she was a bitch and liked to remind you of what happened between you two. At this point it was a running joke between the two of you.

“Good for you, honey,” your mum smiled at him. “I’m glad you could join us for our celebrations.”

Ben smiled warmly at your mum, “Matt told me and I cleared my schedule.”

You rolled your eyes and felt a soft kick to your shin. It came from your dad’s end of the table, so you turned your eyes and found him silently scolding you and you felt like you were sixteen again, not twenty-five. You forced a smile through clenched teeth and picked up your glass of wine, devouring it so you could get through the dinner. You hoped your parents liquor cabinet was fully stocked, just so you could get through the next ten days of two birthdays and a wedding anniversary.

By the time dinner finished, you had only eaten half of your dinner before helping your mum clean up and when she gave you the OK you retreated up to your old room and saw that nothing had changed. Your walls were still the same light grey, bedsheets were still the same soft lavender. The pictures of you and your childhood friends hung on the walls and littered your dresser, a TV mounted above it and faced your bed. You couldn’t wait to sink inside that big fluffy bed that you had started to miss more and more over the years.

“I haven’t been in here in… forever.”

You turned your head to find Ben standing in your doorway, hands pushed into the front pockets of his black jeans and resting his shoulder against the doorframe. His eyes took in your room and he smiled softly, “Shit, brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” you breathed nonchalantly, rolling your suitcase from beside the door to its spot in front of the dresser.

“Remember that night I helped you sneak out of your room?” Ben asked and you looked at him to see him walking further into your room. He wore a playful and boyish grin, “you begged me for weeks to help you, just so you and Y/BFF/N could go get wasted.”

You did remember that night. It was a good night with Ben being your driver but it was also the same summer that changed it all. Ben must have seen your annoyance in his eyes because his shoulders slouched and he sighed, “Sweetheart,”

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off.

“Why?” His eyes narrowed in at you as he took a step towards you with a smirk on his plump lips. “Because it brings back too many memories for you? Does it make you think about what we did that night?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes drank in your parted lips and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. “Don’t you worry, because it brings it all back for me as well.”

“Ben!” Matt called out as he traveled down the hall, making Ben step away from you just before your brother found Ben in your bedroom and stuck his head in. “Mate, everyone’s meeting up at the pub, lets go.”

“Yeah, alright.” Ben replied and headed for the door, giving you one last look over his shoulder before walking out, leaving you breathless.

AGAIN please give me thoughts because part of me is like this is totally a shot in the dark but oh well

TAGLIST: @luvborhap @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @quirkydeaky

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #peter beale #peter beale imagine #eastenders #x-men #warren worthington iii #joe mazzello #joe mazello imagine #joe mazello x reader #gwilym lee #gwilym x reader #gwilym!brian

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morkhan · 5 years

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Will Byers is Gay: The Evidence So Far

With the release of Stranger Things 3, there has been a lot of discussion kicked up about the character of Will Byers and his sexuality (or lack thereof). I've seen a lot of takes about what "it's not my fault you don't like girls" was intended to mean, many of which seem to take it in isolation, so I wanted to make a post putting it into what I think is its proper context; not an isolated incident, but the latest carriage in veritable train of queer themed language and imagery that has followed Will Byers since episode one of season one, and before that. You ready? Alright, let's go.

Season Zero: the Montauk Files

Before Stranger Things became Stranger Things, it was called Montauk. Like many would-be show makers, the Duffer Bros put together a "show bible" describing the premise, setting, tone, and characters of the show they intended to make. Like many shows, a lot of these ideas changed or were lost on their way to the screen, but it's always worth looking into their original concepts. Here is their description of Will Byers in the Montauk show bible:

Obviously, the major whammy there is in the first line "sexual identity issues." But there are some other interesting notes, like his "colorful clothes" that you might want to keep a lookout for on your next rewatch. Now, onto...

Season 1

The thing to pay attention to regarding Will in season 1 is in the language used to refer to him when he is not present (which he isn't for most of the season).

Episode 1: the subject of bullying comes up right away in the conversation between Joyce and Hopper. "The kids, they're mean. They laugh at him, laugh at his clothes, call him names." "What's wrong with his clothes?" "I don't know!" This harkens back to the Montauk show bible, but it's arguable, since it's never made clear what about his clothes draws ire.

She also mentions that he is "sensitive," "not like most," and that his dad said he was "queer" and called him a "fag." Hopper asks "is he?" to which she replies "He's missing is what he is!"

Episode 3: Troy says he's not missing, he's dead. "Probably killed by some other queer."

Episode 4: Troy, again "Will's in fairyland, flying around with all the other little fairies, all happy and gay."

Sensitive, queer, fag, fairy, and gay are all used to describe Will in season 1, but perhaps more notable is the fact that they aren't used to describe anyone else. If the show were truly period accurate, let's be real; the whole party would've been called queers on a pretty regular basis, because "queer" doubled as a generic insult back then. But in season 1, these words are only ever used in relation to Will, with one exception; in episode 6, Steve says to Will's brother, "I used to think you were queer." So it's not even an active accusation in that moment; it's used in the negative.

Hell, Troy walked up to Lucas mockingly proposing to Mike and proclaiming his love for him, and he still didn't call them queers. That language is reserved for Will.

Now granted, most of these are used as insults by characters who don't like Will, but still; as a writer, if you want your audience to remember something, repetition is an excellent way to embed it in their minds. There's a reason for the specificity of language surrounding Will, and a reason that language keeps coming up over and over and over again.

Season 2

Season 2 retires much of the homophobic language used to insult Will, replacing it with "Zombie Boy." The only homophobic language used in season 2 is the word "faggot," used by Billy's father to refer to Billy, who expresses a clear interest in women (and an arguable interest in one particular man, but that's the subject of another post).

Still, there is an arguable bit of queer theming in Will's conversation with Jonathan regarding the benefits of being a "freak" and how normal people never accomplish anything. Jonathan even invokes bisexual icon David Bowie to make Will feel better about his "freakishness."

The clearest piece of queer theming for Will in season 2 comes in episode 8, in this beautiful speech from Joyce to Possessed Will:

"When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons, do you remember that? It was 120 colors. And all your friends got you Star Wars toys, but all you wanted to do was draw with all your new colors. And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie. It was YOUR spaceship; a RAINBOW Ship, that's what you called it. And you, you must have used every color in the box. I took that with me to Melvald's, and I put it up. I told everyone who came in, 'My son drew this.' And you were so embarrassed, but I was so proud. I was so, so proud."

This is one of the most powerful memories of her son that Joyce has, an image so strong and distinct that she uses it to invoke his true identity against the monster that is slowly subsuming him. She notes very specifically that it's not something he copied, but something that came entirely from Will himself, an image that she felt represented him so perfectly that she took it with her to work and proudly touted it as his to everyone she knew. The Rainbow Ship is Joyce's picture of her son's very heart, and surely I don't need to explain to you how powerful a piece of queer imagery the rainbow is.

Some subtextual stuff; in episode 9, when the girl asks Will to dance, he stammers "I... I don't..." and only goes to dance with her when Mike literally pushes him towards her.

During the final montage, the scene cuts to different characters in time with appropriate lines from the song: "every move you make" cuts to Mike and El (as he is teaching her to dance), "every vow you break" cuts to Nancy dancing with Dustin (as she technically cheated on Steve with Jonathan), "I'll be watching you" cuts to Lucas dancing with Max (as she has playfully called him 'stalker' all season). What line cuts to Will? "Every smile you fake," specifically on the word fake, while Will dances with a girl wearing this expression:

That is not a real smile, that is not a comfortable boy, and that is not an accident; Noah Schnapp is one of the best actors in the entire show, and of the young boys, he is the one the Duffers trust most to do dramatic heavy lifting.

Do you want it to be a little more explicit? Okay, here is that scene in the script:

I mean, that pretty much speaks for itself. It's less explicit in the actual show, but it's still there, you know?

Season 3

And now, the biggest and most explicit thing to date; The Scene. I mean, you could discuss the obvious subtext in the simple fact that Will is the only male main character who has yet to find a girlfriend or express any interest in girls whatsoever, but that pales in comparison to The Scene.

The setup for The Scene is pretty simple; after declaring "a day free of girls" in order to get his friends to run the D&D campaign he's probably spent a significant amount of time creating, his friends have blown him off to continue bemoaning their girl troubles, so Will has decided to leave. Mike, realizing too late that he has genuinely upset his friend, chases after him to try and get him to come back.

A back-and-forth argument ensues, where Will accuses Mike of ruining the party and abandoning his friends in favor of girls, and Mike, in the heat of the moment, responds with "It's not my fault you don't like girls!" After which, everything stops. There is a full second of silence, and a close up on Noah Schnapp's face so you can take in his reaction.

There is a lot to unpack here. Now, acting is up to interpretation to a degree, but to me, that expression conveys two primary emotions; shock, and betrayal. That face says "how could you?" Because here's the thing; regardless of what Mike does or doesn't know about Will's sexuality, Mike knows for a fact that Will has been called a queer all his life by everyone from his school bullies to his own fucking dirtbag father. By invoking even the specter of that, Mike has crossed a fucking line, and he knows it. And we know he knows it, because he immediately backtracks and tries to mitigate the damage. But it's too late. The damage has been done.

I also think there is a tinge of fear in that image. Just a moment of soul raking panic that pretty much every closeted queer person knows intimately. It's very brief. But I think it's there, if you look.

This scene sends Will into an emotional tailspin that culminates in him tearing down the literal last bastion of his childhood in a fit of sorrow and rage. His innocence has been destroyed. He cannot regain what he has lost, and he can never go back to the way things were before. This is the emotional climax of his arc for season three. It's a powerful one-- shame it comes in the third of eight episodes, but that's neither here nor there.

And that's pretty much it for now. Any one of these things taken in isolation could be very easily dismissed, but here's the thing; they aren't isolated incidents. They are part of a clear and consistent pattern, one that goes all the way back to the show's inception, before even one minute of footage was filmed. And this pattern points to one very obvious conclusion; the Duffer Brothers have always intended, and continue to intend, for Will Byers to be gay.

Now, for the obvious question; why haven't they made it explicit yet?

The answer is as unfortunate as it is obvious; I don't know.

It's entirely possible that there is some external force that the Duffers have to answer to that is preventing them from actively pursuing this particular storyline. This happens all the time in Hollywood, and it could be anything from Netflix to Noah Schnapp's parents to Noah Schnapp himself just being uncomfortable with it. Many are the creators who dream Big Gay Dreams only to run into the horrors of our Forced Hetero Reality. If the Duffers ultimately submit to these pressures, I hope you won't be too hard on them. This shit is harder than you think to get to the screen sometimes.

But it's also possible that they just aren't ready for it yet. That they have been saving this for a future storyline, that they just want their characters (and the actors) to get a little older before they pursue this particular storyline explicitly, but they've been busily laying groundwork for it so that anyone paying attention will know it's coming.

I don't know. Only time will tell for sure.

For now, I can tell you this; I see a great deal of evidence that the Duffers still intend for Will to be gay, and precisely zero that they have changed their minds.

I hope that holds true.

#stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #stranger things spoilers

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siempre-pedro · 5 years

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The Devil Takes His Daughter to Work

Michael Langdon x Reader Office!AU

Summary: It’s Bring Your Child to Work day at the Cooperative! Unfortunately, it doesn’t go well for his 5-year-old daughter.

A/N: Another small story in this series! Enjoy. There is an open taglist for the series!

The elevator dinged and the sounds that came into the office weren’t like the ones Michael was used to hearing. There were children and laughter, Michael gulped hard remembering that he was the one that did all of this. Shit.

“Daddy what’s wrong?” a small voice asks from his side.

“Nothing Angel, ready to see what Daddy does all day?” he questions, squeezing the 5-year-olds hand and offering up a smile. She smiles back up at him and they walk out of the elevator, the usual stares of dread from his employees were today focused on their kids as they showed them their cubicles.

“If I could get everyone's attention?” Michael asks loudly, placing his hands behind his back, his trademark smile appearing on his lips. Heads turn and children were told to hush from their parents. Some fearful parents placed a gentle hand over their childs lips “As you all know its Bring Your Child to Work Day. The Cooperative, for this first time, will be taking part. Our work day will be cut in half and there has been entertainment for the children set up by my assistant.” Michael coughs and lowers his eyebrows “I expect nothing but the best, or we all know the outcome.”

Mallory taps Michael on the shoulder and turns the boss’ attention to the clipboard she was holding. Cornelia lets go of her dads hand and looks at other kids her age coloring in one of the conference rooms. Her head perks up and tugs on Michael’s jacket sleeve “Daddy, I want to go play,” she demands.

“Go, Darling,” he coos, he kneels down and straightens out her fluffy white dress. “Have fun with the other kids, I have to get to a quick meeting.” His daughter rolls her eyes, whenever he says he has a quick meeting it means he’ll take all day and forget their play date.

“Promise?” she sighs. Michael chuckles at her glare, it reminded him of her mothers. She did the same thing when he would have to stay late at the office to get things done. His ring-clad hand rises and pushes back her blonde bangs.

“I promise,” he repeats and kisses her forehead. She smiles and stands on her tippy toes in her purple jelly shoes to kiss back on his forehead.

The small girl hurries off and stands in front of the glass door, she pries open the door with a small grunt. She stumbles inside and smiles at the kids who were giving her odd looks before returning to their coloring books. She started to get nervous, she didn’t know any of them.

In the corner was a small black girl lying on her stomach and flipping through the colorless pages. Perfect! Cornelia trotted over and sat on her knees in front of the girl “Hi!” she greeted cheerfully. The girl looks up with wide brown eyes and smiles just as wide.

“Hi. I’m Bethany,” the girl says.

“I’m Cornelia Langdon.” She had a habit of saying her full name, her parents snicker to themselves when she introduces herself to new people. A formal one they say. Bethany’s face fell and she quickly stood up, her light up shoes flickering. She’d heard her mom complain every day when she came home from work about someone called Langdon.

“My mommy told me not to play with you. Your dad’s mean, my mommy calls him the devil,” Bethany quickly walked away from the shocked child. She hung her head low in thought, Michael wasn’t mean, he was so nice.

Her head turns and see’s Bethany whisper to the kids at the high table. They all laugh and watch her sit sadly in the corner by herself. Cornelia grumbles and stands up, she put on a brave face and walks over to the table and climbs up in the black roller chair.

“Can I have a purple?” she asks, pointing to the faraway crayon box.

A boy a few years older than her scowled “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like you.”

“Me either,” another girl chimes in.

Cornelia’s lower lip trembles and her cheeks heat up from embarrassment “Go cry to your dad, Crybaby,” a boy taunts. Tears spill from her eyes, she pushes back the chair and runs off, trying desperately to open the door.

Her goal was to find Michael’s office, in the daze of her emotion, she forgot where it was. She peered around the corner and sniffled as she quickly walked down one of the isles. The blonde girl let out another loud sob and wiped her eyes that looked exactly like her mothers.

One of the office doors swung open and a man with icy blonde hair worriedly looked out into the hall “Oh my God!” he gasps as he sees the girl. He runs up and pulls her into a hug “What happened to you?” he asks as he cradles her.

“I can’t find my daddy,” she answers into his leg.

The man pulls away and looks at her messy hair, he instantly recognized her. She had the same color hair of her fathers “I’m Mr. Gallant,” he introduces kindly.

“Cornelia Langdon,” she tells him weakly, looking up at him with sad eyes. Gallant isn’t shocked, she looked exactly like her parents, and who could miss the head of blonde curls. Her hair! He silently scoffs at the state of it, disheveled and full of knots, this simply wouldn’t do.

“Your hair is a mess! We need to fix you up before we go find your dad,” he takes her by the hand and leads her into his office, pulling out one of the office chairs for her. Cornelia climbs in the chair and places her hands in her lap. Gallant gives her a colorful box of tissues and grabs his emergency hair kit from his desk.

He grabs one of his many combs and gently combs out the knots in the childs hair “Now tell me,” he sighs like he’s talking to one of his clients, “what happened to you?”

Cornelia’s eyes tear up again and her cheeks become warm with embarrassment. Gallant frowns and pats her head to assure her “T-the other kids were being mean...and laughing at me.” Gallant rolls his eyes and huffs.

“Kids are so cruel.”

“They think my daddy is mean,” she whispers bitterly.

Gallant paused for a moment while he dug through his kit for a hair tie. The kids weren’t wrong. Michael was mean, he didn’t care about feelings or had a thoughtful bone in his hot body. Gallant closed the box, but that statement wasn’t all true either. There was a shift in Michael’s behavior when Cornelia was born, he showed slightly more compassion and tried to be fair...but he was still the devil. “He isn’t mean...just stern.”

“What does stern mean?” she questions, wincing when he starts pulling on her hair.

“He’s serious when he’s at work,” he explained, taking a step back to admire the elaborate braid. Patting himself on the back, he helps her out of the chair and leads her on the hunt to find Michael’s office.

“No!” Michael shouts through the phone. He bangs his fist on the table “Don’t take the fucking deal.” He clenches the phone while the man on the other line yells back “I will tear your life apart do you hear me? You will never work in this Goddamn country ever again!”

“Mr. Langdon!” A nervous voice calls out.

Michael looks up and notices Gallant in the doorway with Cornelia cradling his leg. The man hangs up and puts on a quick smile “Angel? That’s wrong?”

“Why were you yelling?” She whimpers. Michael looks at Gallant with a warning scowl. The icy blonde man shakes his head in response. “The other kids were making her upset...the sad you were mean.”

Michael’s face fell, his sad expression matched his daughters. He quickly gets up from his desk and walks to her, getting onto his knees and holding his arms out for her. She was hesitant but slowly walked over and hugged him back, relief washing over her “I’m not mean Sweetheart, I’m ju-”

“Stern. Mr. Gallant told me,” Cornelia finishes, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” Michael mouths to Gallant.

Gallant smiles and nods, not knowing the right words. He exits the room quietly and shuts the door behind him to give them some alone time. “Are you the devil?” Cornelia asks softly.

Michael shakes his head and rubs her back “No Angel, I promise.” His daughter hums in response, taking his words to heart. She nuzzles against him and hugs him tightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Darling,” Michael answers kindly as he picks up the child and carries her to his desk. “How about I call mommy and you go home a little early?” he offers.

The child frowns and shakes her head “No! I want to help.” Michael laughs and places her in his lap giving her a pen.

“Well then Ms. Langdon, we have a lot of paperwork to do.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x you #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon au #michael langdon oneshot #michael langdon fluff #dad!michael langdon #cody fern #ahs #ahs apocolypse #american horror story

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fmsdraws · 5 years

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Metal in the Underground AU: General Info

... So, I’ve had this AU in my mind for about two years now, and I felt the urge to post about it now that I have made a new sprite for it’s Frisk. And since I don’t really plan to make a sprite comic about it, I figured I’d dump the ideas I had here. So you’ll find the information below the cut.

What’s this AU about? Well, it revolves around a simple question....

What if Frisk was a robot?

That’s right, Metal in the Underground takes a different to most AUs by merely changing the protagonist, and letting the rest of the characters untouched. However, due to the now apparent artificial nature or Frisk, the characters have different reactions, and the way the story unfolds is somewhat different from Undertale’s.

The info you’ll find here is...

-General Backstory -Frisk bio -Changes in the story -Changes in mechanics

But, I’m sure you’re wondering...

Why is Frisk a robot?

In the year 211X, technology has advanced in a considerable manner, so much so that household robots, and robots in general, are a commonality in this world. Frisk was one of these household units, who lived with a loving family, until their useful life eventually ran its course, and were shipped back to their manufacturer to be dismantled, and their parts reused for future models.

However, a group of scientists was looking for a robot to work with that they could modify for a project they were tasked to do. Since Frisk was the most recent one to arrive, and the one in the best state, they were picked.

What is this “project”?

Several humans had fallen into Mt. Ebott throughout the years, because of this, many protests had arisen from the town living nearby. The gobverment decided to dispatch a team of scientists to develop a robot that was capable enough to at least find whatever happened. Just enough so that the press would stop bothering, anyways. But they also put the team in a tight budget, hence the use of discarded robots.

What was done to Frisk?

When Frisk was brought to the lab, they managed to upgrade them rather well, they got rid of their memories but kept their experiences untouched due to an oversight (they’d know how to deal with something, they just don’t know why), they upgraded their battery life for obvious reasons. They also made their movements more fluid than the standard for their line, making them able to climb out if push came to shove.

However, they made some rather... questionable choices. Namely, the removal of Frisk’s voice capabilities in favor of a system that would allow the scientists to speak through them should the robot find one of the humans.

The robot didn’t have memories, anyway. It wouldn’t be able to deal with conflictive situations on their own, right?

How did they end up Underground?

Use your imagination.

In reality, the robot was told to climb down the hole into the mountain instead of, I don’t know, making them go down safely via ropes or something. The robot lost communication with the scientists as soon as they entered due to the barrier, the wall they were hanging from collapsed, and they promptly fell into the underground.

Thankfully, they landed on a bed of flowers, somewhat cushioning the damage. But still leaving the poor robot stunned for a good while...

What is Frisk like?

(Note: the eyes do not represent a chara possesion, it is just the color that was set to by their previous owners, and the scientists liked it a lot.)

Name: Frisk (ooc nickname: Mitu) Height: 5′5

Having household been their job in their past “life”, and having retained those experiences, Frisk has a tendency to cling onto people they deem as friendly, and prefer to keep whatever indoors space they’re in tidy and clean. Their lineage of robots also has some special features that in Frisk have remained unchanged. Said features are...

-Alarm clock -Bluetooth sound stereo (hence their headphone-like ears) -Snapshot ability -They can also be patted on the head to get an instant smile from them, which also serves to turn off their alarm.

In general, their line searches affection from their owners. MitU however cannot really connect with monsters due to the fact that they’re, well, monsters. They have a hard time recognizing monsters as people, since they don’t match with their facial scan systems. They can recognize some similarities, such as toriel looking like a goat, but someone like sans they’re lost in even figuring out what he is.

They’re also somewhat aquaphobic, since they aren’t waterproof. So areas like waterfall are horrendous to go through for them. They can also remain operative even after taking somewhat concerning damage, and even repair themselves provided they’re given the tools (they are not).

All in all, MitU is a kind robot when it comes to humans, they are loyal as a puppy and such. But when it comes to monsters, their morale can be ... bent, depending on their actions during either Genocide or Pacifist routes. (Note: while a genocide route is just about as likely as a pacifist route, a theoretical genocide route is not canon to the AU.)

What changes from the original Undertale story?

For starters, Chara is not present in the story. This is due to the lack of a SOUL on Frisk’s part, meaning they cannot understand certain monsters (Froggits, for example), and they have to guide themselves based on visual aid. They also provide some flavor text themselves. The lack of a SOUL also means that they cannot interact with SAVE files at all, but don’t worry, Flowey the Flower comes to the Rescue!

Mainly for personal amusement, Flowey wants to help Frisk get as far into the underground as possible, and see how they tackle the sheninegans that the underground is filled with. Often times, he’ll give them advice after reloading for anything up ahead. Frisk cannot remember reloads, anyway...

This doesn’t mean that flowey becomes an active partner, he only pops up from time to time to give Frisk advice.

Since Frisk is strictly mute, and has not been taught sign language, they can hardly communicate with Monsters. They try to get their ideas across as clear as possible via pointing and acting, but no one really knows what they’re trying to say. they’re trying their best pls don’t pick on them ;-; As a result, some monsters have different behaviours towards them.

For instance, Toriel (who is well aware of Frisk being a robot) decides to take the robot with her while she buys her groceries in fear that the robot might not have the best reaction to an encounter. She cooks snail pie, since Frisk can’t have CB pie. They can still take a slice with them for later use, though.

I envisioned that Toriel has no real reason to stop MitU from leaving, they don’t have a SOUL, anyways, so their death would not mean anything in the long run.

In Snowdin, Frisk tries to play along with Papyrus’ sheninegans to sans’ request. And they succeed for the most part. Sans has seen enough anime to be aware of the fact MitU is a robot, but Papyrus still 100% thinks they’re a human.... Up until he figures it out by himself.

Waterfall goes generally the same, save for the fact that after Frisk falls from the bridge, they’re yet again knocked out cold, and Undyne comes to the dump to... pick them up and bring them to Alphys lab to repair them.

You see, Alphys, like her Undertale counterpart, looks over MitU ever since they step in Snowdin Forest. And she could tell that after the fall they took, they wouldn’t be able to get up. So she called up Undyne to explain the situation, and thus, saved Frisk from eventually being dragged away by the water.

When Frisk is returned back to life, Alphys explains that she rescued them herself, and that there is little to no time to waste. She has to return them to the surface! She also mentions that she modified MitU a bit to suit Hotland’s very unforgiving conditions, plus added a jetpack that comes out of their back.

MitU also gets to meet Mettaton himself, and they naively agree to do shows with him despite the risk that said shows entail.

And, honestly? Those were basically all the real changes that there are in the main run. Omega Flowey does flow differently due to Frisk lacking a SOUL, but the beats are the same. The Dates don’t vary that much, neither the amalgamates.

In the true pacifist Asriel fight, MitU is able to fully utilize their ACTing skills that they had gained all those years ago with their old family to calm Asriel down. However, in the end, they are destroyed by the final blast that Asriel shoots as his last attack.

And it is their death that reminds Asriel of the pain he had gone through when Chara passed away while trying to make their plan go through. So he’s quick to undo his wrongs, bring Frisk back, break the barrier, return the souls, and leave to never be seen again.

Frisk then gets to live with the monsters in the surface from then on. While their scientists do try to take the robot back, to check what they recorded Toriel’s deadly glare guarantees that Frisk shall clean their new home and have fun while doing so for a long while...

What changes in terms of mechanics? (no pun intended)

Frisk has a battery life, as explained earlier, so they need to recharge at several points in the story. It’s indicated via the heart in their chest, which may I add, is also their on/off switch. Their battery drains in turn of how much exploration you make. Note that MitU can and will run out of power in the overworld and in the midst of a fight if you’re not careful.

The UI is different as well, this was basically a mock up I made a year ago, but it gets the idea across. Their HP is replaced with a damage meter, which the more it grows, the more glitches appear on the UI and on the screen. The battery should be obvious enough.

And Frisk can also climb up some walls provided they’re colored properly, which can lead to some goodies, or allow them to solve puzzles.

And that would be all of the info I had made. What do you guys think? While I do love the concept of this AU, there was just no driving force to work on anything like a comic for me, plus, I currently work on my other AUs, so my time is already tight as is.

If anyone has any more questions they’d like answered, I’ll be sure to answer them.

As an addendum: I must ask that people do not RP Mitu!Frisk, steal the few art pieces done for this post, or steal this AU in any shape or form without permission.

If anyone desires to RP interactions with MitU, I RP them in the Omega Timeline server, along with other characters. It is a highly reccomendable server in my book for any UT fan that likes to RP.

I will also ask that people don’t make a AU wiki entry on this AU, as I may do that myself provided the time is right.

#undertale #undertale au #metal in the underground #frisk #chara #toriel #sans #papyrus #undyne #alphys #asgore

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regdaran · 4 years

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Revenant~Noir Chapter 1

Revenant~Noir Part 1

(Marinette)

It had been months, months since the akuma attacked. Months since she saw her best friend and love of her life die to try and save her. She had barely left her house since then. The akuma disappeared as soon as it came. Alya had called everyday, tying to keep her from completely closing in on herself. It hurt, it still hurts, but she was still Ladybug. That, and Alya (With Tikki's help) had finally convinced her to go out on a patrol. It hadn't taken much, not after she was told about how Nino was nearly put in the hospital by some new threat. Something that shattered his 'Shelter' with a single attack. As much as Marinette still wanted to lay down and sob, an entire month of that had done nothing but put everyone left in danger. So here she was staking out an abandoned metro station in the middle of the night, in hopes of finding this black clad shadow. This new villain that rushed through alleyways and streets to brutalize random citizens and then vanish as quickly as they appeared. "What do we know about you?" Ladybug asked herself. First, she had to consider how they only ever seemed to strike at night, and all of the attacks were at or near entrances to La Petite Ceinture and the Catacombs. A cold shiver went up Marinettes spine. The last time she had to deal with the catacombs involved a newly awakened caster, and a small army of skeletons. Not pleasant memories. In-fact, she wouldn't have made it out of the tunnels if not for... "Chat..." She whispered under her breath.

There was movement. The shaking of a bush near the station entrance.

Ladybugs head shot up at the sound. While she couldn't hear as well as Rena Rouge, her miraculous still enhanced her hearing a fair bit.

There it was again, movement by a walking path that leads into the stations tunnel.

"Hey, are sure we should be hanging out here tonight?" said a the young voice of a boy. They entered a space in front of the station. "Dude, chill out. A few people come by here. Its remote enough that the cops can show up quickly, and if we need to we can make an escape in the tunnels." This was said by an older boy, about 17 maybe 18. Now that she could see the pair, she could definitely rule them out as the suspects to her mystery villain. The kid was in baggy shorts and a baggier hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. The older one had jeans and a tee shirt on, he also had had a headband on and the sound of a chain bouncing against itself. His clothes weren't what drew her attention, the switch knife he kept opening and closing in increasingly complicated ways was the focus of her gaze. "That's not what I meant and you know it! Dude the others all got hit around places like this, dude... Jackie is still in the I.C.U." The boy stopped just outside the entrance to the underground part of the station. "I know, but don't worry about it. Ever since that akuma attack a month ago, tourists have been flooding the city. Lots of cash filled pockets and purses that need cleaning out. Even better, no one has seen Ladybug out an' about since Chat Noir died! It's our time to shine!" The older one said, evading the topic the younger one was trying to bring up.

"Okay." Ladybug said to herself. She understood that she had been gone for awhile, but where muggers and street thieves really capitalizing on it this much.

"Now all we gotta do is wait, and even if Ladybug was done crying over her precious 'Chat Noir' I doubt she would even come by this part of the city." The older one said, the emphasis he placed on Chats name made her blood boil. Just as she was about to jump down and relieve some of her frustrations, the younger boy screamed and scrambled toward the older one. "What! What the hell is wrong with you?!" The younger one just cowered and hid behind the older one, pointing a trembling hand toward the underground entrance he had been at moments before. "Fine! ill go and 'take care' of whatever spooked you so bad." He started walking toward the entrance and made to go down the steps. Then he left the ambient light behind and went into the darkness.

Ladybug heard him fish around in his pockets the chains on his belt making ample sounds. A flashlight clicked on and light seemed to seep out of the station. He had left the line of sight of both the boy and Ladybug at this point. "I swear to GOD! If this is just another big rat or stray dog, I'm actually going to-" Another scream ripped through the night. Where as the previous one was filled with fear and panic, this was full of terror and pain. It was a throaty thing that cut off abruptly. Then the light went out.

Ladybug wasted no time in getting down from her vantage point and started running past the now fleeing kid and through the entrance of the station and into the abandoned tunnel. She could hear footsteps echoing through out the tunnel but she couldn't tell where they were coming from started to look around, but it was too damn dark, she brought her yoyo up and activated its light. At the bend of one of the tunnels a shadow left her sight, carrying a limp teenager. Again, she was running. She really wished that who or what ever this thing was had chosen a lair that was more yoyo friendly. As it was, she was having to sprint after a barely visible figure that seemed to out pacing her by simply walking. It was 30 minutes before she realized she was lost in the catacombs. Not the abandoned metro that she entered but the catacombs... Sconces along regular intervals lit up the cavern walls. Crap. Why didn't she notice the change in location when she was following it? She had gone through what she had assumed was a collapsed tunnel, maybe it was really a breach into the crypts.

She opened up her yoyo, and tried to bring up her map. Which isn't working... great. What about calling Carapace? no signal. How did she not have any signal? Her carrier was magic, literal magic. She was going to have to talk to Tikki about this later. For now, she had to either find the shadow or find her way out. Both presented challenges, however if this was the same thing that nearly put Nino in the hospital after only a brief fight, she would rather not fight it in an enclosed space. All she could see where rows and rows of bones and remains, it took her an hour before she found something she remembered. Which was a section of the wall that looked like the remains in it had exploded outward. One of the places that the freshly minted necromancer, from several months ago, had raised one of his 'Skeletal guards'. The entire team was still stumped on how they reanimated remains got weapons and armor.

"Tell me!" A familiar yet cold voice commanded. "I don't know! I don't know! Please let me go, I won't tell no body your here. Please!" The teenager said voice cracking in more than one place. Ladybug became flush with the wall. Where was that coming from? "Tell me who she is. Now." The first voice demanded of the teenage. There was another crater in the wall, where an undead was summoned. A hallow in the stone work left by the energies the necromancer was wielding. Oh crap... she new exactly where she was. Near the center of the Catacombs, where the necromancer had created a literal hole in the wall. He had used his new workforce to carve out a new section in the catacomb walls. Ladybug had seen it exactly once, when she had been lured into a trap and then subsequently rescued by the rest of the team. She turned her head around the corner and saw 3 things which chilled her to the bone. 3 Things that would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

A rotting pile of filth, meat, and bones. Which, from the shredded remnants of robes, must have been the necromancer. Why was he dead, from the checks they all did, he had left Paris.

The teenager from earlier, now being held up by his throat, and pressed against the wall. The skin of his neck was pale and the veins were a dark unhealthy color. As though oil was being pumped through those arteries.

And a man in black leather with a long tail like belt trailing behind him, black and green ring prominently on his finger. Mask hugging his pale face. His hair was a dull blonde like filthy sunlight. He was holding up a teenage kid with one hand, while positioning the other hand in a threatening manner over the head of his young victim.

It couldn't be. It was impossible... "Chat?" Marinette said before she could stop herself. HE TURNED. Quickly, he drop the kid and stared at her. "You." he said. His tone quiet and hushed. Now that he was no longer lined up in a profile view. She could see his chest. She could see the hole in his upper torso, right where a heart would be. Ladybug fell back onto her rear. What was going on? Had she hit her head? Maybe Volpina was back, and it was an Illusion. Yes! that's right. This was an illusion! She would ju- He screamed. An ear shattering yowl. Then, he started running. He was halfway down the longest hallway in the catacombs before she snapped back to herself and once again ran after him. "Don't follow me!" He yelled at her, voice cracking apart near the end. "Chat! Come back! Please!" Marinette called after him. She knew exactly where this tunnel would lead if he just kept running!

A few more minutes and more yelled warnings later. Ladybug was standing in front of the only exit the dead end had. 'Chat Noir' was panicking and trying his best to dig through the stone and bones. "Chat Noir." She said. Trying to be as calm as possible considering the circumstances. Which where that her partner was either an illusion and she was about to fall into a trap, or that he had come back from the dead and started beating random citizens. She was slowly stepping closer towards him. He looked at her wide eyed. The slits of his iris's where like needles in a sea of emeralds. His ears where pressed flat against his head. He wasn't breathing, but he did take a breath now if only to say "STOP! Stay away from me! For the love of all that is holy or unholy please stay back!" Ladybug was both confused and concerned by his words. She needed him to explain what the hell was going on. "Adrien I-" He clutched his head in his hands. "Stop please! Ahh! Don't say that name. Please don't say his name!" Now she was just concerned. All thoughts of her own confusion where replaced by worry for her partners mind. What had dying done to him. besides the obvious. She was close enough to touch him easily now. He was curled up on himself, and shaking. he kept muttering "No please... don't do it. Not her! Anyone but her..." She reached out to hug him. Then she was blind. In the blink of an eye her had changed from a cowering mess, to a storm of claws and teeth. His empowered hand reached for her throat, but jerked into her shoulder at the last minute. Tthe sound her suit made when it broke was like hearing church glass shatter, and then the pain. She was on the ground, right hand clutching her now broken and nearly mangled left shoulder. She looked up, magical darkness being replaced with tunnel vision, in time to see his eyes, just pale green embers, flare and burn in their sockets. She felt something inside her click, and she was out.

When she woke up, she was untransformed, she felt like death. She tried to sit up, only to find that she could barely move. "Tikki? Are you there? Please tell me your here." A flash of pink light from her side. Oh hey, her arm didn't feel like scrambled eggs. Then Tikki flew in front of Marinettes face. A troubled, and slightly angry look on her face. "Marinette! Oh, I'm so glad you woke up! I thought you were going to die! There was so much blood." Now that is was mentioned Marinette could feel the puddle she was laying in... These cloths would need to be burned... "How did he do that? Why did he do that!? Are you ok? Oh what am I saying of course your not! Can you move?" The gale force speed of Tikki's questions finally subsided, giving Marinette time to actually answer some of them. "I'm not sure about how well I can move right now. How... How am I alive at the moment. I was bleeding so much." Tikki gave her 'The Look'. The one that meant 'I saw that you did not answer all of my questions. We WILL talk about that later.' Tikki then settled onto Marinettes shoulder, the one that should be just a mass of hamburger. She felt like she was going to be sick. "I am the Kwami of healing, remember? Lets get you back home. Then We can 'ALL' talk about this." Tikki said, as she pulled multiple macaroons out of Marinettes bag. "Ill gwide ou frough the cag-" Marinette gave Tikki a look. Who then sheepishly swallowed and gave an innocent smile. "I'll guide you through the catacombs Then we can zip back home. You should call Rena, and Carapace." Tikki informed Marinette.

Ladybug walked shakily outside the Catacombs.

She spent twice as long as she needed to get home. She did, after all, have to find someway to tell her remaining best friends that Chat Noir... That Adrien... was now undead, and that he was haunting the streets of Paris.

Notes:

#miraculous ladybug #Fanfic #Undead #Chat Noir #Ladybug #wtf am i thinking #please dont attack me #please don't repost #Eventual Marichat

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