#i love you like i love sitting in a cold aeroplane seat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ask-rp-devra · 4 years ago

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The night was short, the pair were able to sleep a good 8 hours before getting ready the next morning to set off towards the train station. The pair decided to come back through to pick up the Pokemon to bring back to the island before heading home, but for now they could stay behind with Devra’s mom, just for a little while longer. The only team members that went with them were coal, the little hybrid houndoomxarcanine pup, and Aliza, who had taken a shine to the ponyta gifted to Peach, they seemed to play well together, even Dreepy liked her. With bags gathered, goodbyes said, and tickets bought, the pair stepped onto the train, waving off Olivia who came to see her daughter go, and off they went, towards the new Galarian island, the Crown Tundra.

Devra settled into her seat, waving goodbye to her mom as Coal jumped up in the seat next to her. He was small enough to be on the train, but Aliza had to stay in her pokeball for the time being. She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I hope you slept alright. I always thought the guest room bed was too hard.”

“‘you saw me right? I was asleep in an aeroplane chair sitting up right, the bed was just fine. Much better than most of the places I sleep while away from the lab.” She recalled a few occasions being able to just about catch an hours rest while being trapped in a tree by aggressive Pokemon. “it was a warm, dry bed, with actual sheets and a roof over me haha. It was great.” She mindlessly petted Val, ordering a good coffee off the trolley that passed by, a sweet little wigglytuff in the train companies uniform asking for payment. She got her wallet out...or so she thought? Her hand reached into her bag, and hit something very cold and very smooth, reeling from the weird texture. Val sniggered to herself, shifting to the empty seat the bag sat on, to peer inside.

“I think we have a stow away.” Peach murmured, carefully opening the bag much wider than needed to get a good look. “‘Dreepy?” Inside was the little ghost type, she swore while waving to Devra’s mother at the station when they left, she had also spotted this Pokemon amongst others that had come to see the trainers off. He was wrapped up in one of Peach’s shirts, and seemed a little nervous about being caught in her stuff.

Devra looked over at Peach from her camera, having been looking th right some pictures. “Dreepy? He’s here? But I saw him with my mom. Here, I took a picture of the group when we left.” She held the camera so they could both look. “Oh....well. I thought he was in the picture.” She looked at the little Pokémon and sighed. “I guess he really wanted to come with you.”

“well, it’s fine with me, if he wants to come then I guess we’ve got a new team member.” She smiled a little at the Pokemon and let him and Val go and pick some snacks off the trolley before paying. She gave eyes at her steadfast fire type while Dreepy’s back was turned, asking without words for her to tone her usual disinterest down by like 20%, and she began chattering to the ghost Pokemon as she selected a strawberry filled dumpling thing in a wrapper. With the stern silence broken between the two, peach could relax a little, perhaps they two would be fine together for the trip.

“You’re right though, I swear I saw him on the platform too.” She glanced at the screen on the camera, seeing no signs of him. “‘how strange. You’re faster than you look hey bud?” Dreepy seemed quite proud of the compliment, and finally chose a chocolate-orange flavoured pastry twist before returning to the open bag to snack. “I’m buying, you and your team want anything?”

Devra nodded to Coal, who bounced over and happily started sniffing around until he found a pumpkin muffin. She then grabbed an apple cake and raspberry pastry for her other two team members before sitting back down. “I don’t need anything. Mom made sure I left full.” She laughed and opened Coal’s treat for him. “Tell Peach thank you young man.” The little pup barked happily as me bounced over to her for pets.

“she’s a good mom that one, I bet she’d enjoy a little holiday in johto, lots to see, I can hook you both up with some fun things to do for sure.” There was plenty of art galleries, heritage sites, and excellent restaurants throughout the region, not to mention live music, public gardens of great beauty, and a butt load of areas to sightsee in. Peach paid up and petted Coal, she was very glad to see him in capable hands, he took to Devra like a Ducklett to water, and she was confident he’d grow fast now he was out exploring with her. The Dreepy seemed to peep its eyes out at the hybrid Pokemon, still nibbling away on its snack.

Coal bounced back up next to Devra and started to munch on his treat. “I’m sure she’ll love the trip.” She looked out the window, watching the countryside roll by. “What’s the first thing you want to do once we get to the tundra?”

The professor sipped her hot drink, also enjoying the windows view. “hm, that’s a good question. I suppose I’d really like to find a place to stay, I’d normally not mind camping but I see the name ‘Crown TUNDRA’ and feel like I wouldn’t want to stay over night outside as much. What about you? You’ll be knees deep in herd Pokemon in no time I bet, anything else you’d want to check out?” The little Dreepy had snuck closer to the window to look out, still nibbling.

“Well, there is this big ruin building with a massive old dead tree that’s I’d love to see. But it’s at the top of one of the mountains here. So it might be tricky getting to.” She mindlessly pet Coal as she slowly started seeing snow. “And I think there’s a small town that we could ask about lodging at. Day trips to the tundra and back by dark?”

“‘oh I do love a tree, that sounds interesting, you could always try to find a Pokemon who could get you up that mountain a bit easier?” Peach had planned to do just that, the cold sneaking in, she could feel her bad knee aching ever so slightly already, and almost exactly after that thought crossed her mind, Val crept over to radiate heat, sitting in her lap, easing the dull pain.

“perhaps we can camp out some of the time, it’d be nice to see what happens at night, what Pokemon come out, just perhaps not in any heavy weather if it can be avoided. I did take a look online, the village there is usually pretty open to travellers, think I noticed a B&B or two with vacancies posted, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay.” By this point, the views had turned pure white, in the fields you could see grazing Pokemon, a herd of wooloo who almost blending in with the surroundings.

Devra spotter the wooloo right away, fawning over one of her favorite Pokémon. Coal picked up on his trainer’s excitement, his tail wagging happily as she told him what snow was like. “Oh I can’t wait to see Aliza’s face when she sees her first snow!”

“thats right, she’s not even seen a December yet, or a snowy route. Good thing you got your camera then isn’t it, I’m sure mom and pop would like to see her first experience with it, you know Cole hasn’t seen snow either before. Bet he’s real excited about now.” The pup must have felt something, seeing all this white for the first time. “‘what about you Dreepy, you seen snow before?” The little ghost type looked back, didn’t turn its body at all, but bent it’s neck fully back to look at the Professor upside down, giving no clear answer, which to her seemed like a big fat no, but perhaps he was a little shy about answering right away. “no matter, we’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

She giggled at the sight of the little dreepy. “He’s seen some light snow before. I caught him in the wild area. The weather there is always so weird. But he hasn’t seen this much before. This is going to be a big busy day.” She snapped a quiet picture of dreepy being cute, then one of Coal barking at the snow through the window.

The train began to turn a final corner, the tannoy alerting passengers to the upcoming station, the only stop on the journey coming up very soon.

“looks like we’re nearly there, ready to get going?” The trip had been only short, but outside it looked like a completely different region, so much snow and ice everywhere, nothing but pine trees. The woman grabbed her bags, not before waiting for the little Dreepy to return to the inside where it wrapped up in the spare clothes to keep warm. Val took to her shoulder as she usually did.

Devra nodded, standing up to gather her things. She then picked up Coal, holding his stout body in her arms to keep him from running of into the snow. “We’re ready. I’m so excited to see this area. I’ve read about it but they took forever to get it safe enough for more visitors.”

Safe enough wasn’t always entirely foolproof, and Peach was quietly happy she packed a first aid kit. She had heard some murmurs it was a little risky here, a lot of tough Pokemon roamed about.

“I hope you’re right, I’m sure the locals wouldn’t put people at risk.” The pair stepped off the train once the doors pinged open, the brisk cold air swept past, pulling them all out onto the platform. People came and went, and before long they became aware of the exits and where to head to next.

Devra took a slight lead of the two, following signs towards the little town. “Well, they did give all of us coming here a safety talk too. I just hope trainers actually listen. You gotta be smart about this place.” She then set Coal down and let the little guy run circles around the two humans. “I think I’ll wait to let Aliza our until we’re settled.”

With the pup thoroughly enjoying the snow, the trainers paused to check their phones, a map was needed for a moment, before they began to hear some loud ruckus just outside to the right of the station, sounded like a man and a young woman, peach didn’t even register it much, turning her back to the noise almost instinctually, trying to figure out which way to go. Val however was being nosey and sat on her shoulder judging the people making all the noise pretty hard from the look on her face.

“I think you’re right, we should find somewhere to stay before we really go out on a wild adventure.”

She nodded, looking at her own map on her Rotom phone, thanking the Pokémon inside for his help. “It looks like we head on that way.” She pointed to the road as it took a slight left turn. “Shouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk.”

“‘sounds good to me, wonder what Pokemon we might see on the way?” Pocketing the phone and hoisting her bag up a bit, Peach began to take a few steps, noticing the pair who were making such noise earlier, avoiding them entirely, they seemed to be having a dad-daughter tiff that was no ones business. Onward, to the first route of the Crown Tundra!

Devra took a glance at the arguing people and sighed, hoping the wouldn’t bother her or the Professor. Coal bounded ahead as they walked, but kept in his trainer’s sight. “It’s really pretty here. Just look at all the ice on these pine needles!” She crunched her way to a tree and found an angle to catch light in the ice.

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star-spangledstud · 4 years ago

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MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying.

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not.

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible.

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night.

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.”

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!”

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat.

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.”

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it.

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly.

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next.

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?”

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together.

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.”

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions.

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.”

“What’d you need help for?” he continues.

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer.

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down.

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night.

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening, you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist:

@foxyjwls007 @littlegasps @hurricane-abigail @idk123906

#Steve Rogers #marvel masterlist #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fic #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #cap #Marvel writing #marvel fic #marvel #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #jammywrites

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years ago

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Flight or Flight - Chapter 8

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: When Della discovers her childhood hero, Ripcord McQuack, will fly Scrooge's new aeroplane at an upcoming airshow, she weasels her way into a meeting with Scrooge and the aeroplane's lead designer, Birdie McQuack. But the McQuacks have a request: that Della set up a meeting with their son, Launchpad, who they've been in contact with but has actively avoided seeing them in person.

Chapter 1

***

Launchpad woke the following day to a comfy bed and light filtering in through pale blue curtains. It should've disorientated him; made him wonder where he was, not waking up on his sofa, in his hammock, or in the driver's seat of Mr McDee's town car. But, somehow, he remembered immediately where he was.

Launchpad got up, slipped on his boots, then headed into the small bathroom linked to the spare bedroom in his parents' apartment. His eyes were still a little red. He couldn't remember the last time he'd broken down so badly. He washed his face, then stared at himself hard in the mirror, hands resting on the vanity edge.

"Come on, LP. Your parents love you. You know that now." And, despite the pain that realisation had caused him, it was now accompanied by a tiny spark of warmth. He clung to it. "And they didn't always get things right. But they're trying now and… and you gotta give them a chance. A real one. Not just one to get it done and dusted and off the to-do list. You gotta try love them back. You've got a chance to be part of your family again. You gotta be there for them to and… you have what you wanted. You just gotta enjoy it.

"I can do this!" he pounded a fist on the vanity, and a little ceramic soap dish bounced off and smashed. "Aw, crap."

Launchpad slipped on his jacket and headed out to the kitchen. This place was, well, maybe not big, but like a rabbit warren. It was super nice, but he really liked the open space of his garage better.

"Don't put them on yet. They'll go cold."

"I don't want the dough to go all funny."

"You're funny."

"Hmph."

Launchpad followed the sound of his parents' voices and found the kitchen. Birdie and Ripcord were both behind the counter. Ripcord held a bowl of pancake batter, glaring at his wife, who stood between him and the stovetop. Birdie took out the spoon from the batter, then tapped it on the end of her husband's beak.

"Mom? Dad?" Launchpad found himself staring at his parents, not quite comprehending the exchange.

"Launchpad, you're up!" said Birdie.

"Hi…" He tried very hard to say good morning. But his father was looking at him with a dollop of batter on the end of his beak. "Dad? You're in the kitchen?"

Ripcord glanced either way. "Um, yeah? Kitchen is where the food is?"

Birdie pushed past her husband. She ushered Launchpad to the small breakfast table. "Come on, sweetheart, sit down."

Ripcord started heaping spoonfuls of batter into the frying pan. He chewed his lip as he concentrated, like getting the spoonfuls in took some sort of delicate manoeuver. Launchpad had never seen him use anything but a microwave.

"Sweetheart," said Birdie as she sat him down. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…"

"Your dad said you had a rough night last night. Sure you're okay?"

Launchpad smiled faintly. "I think so. Maybe just hungry."

Birdie rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised. But, we love you, okay? I know we weren't the best parents for you growing up, but we'll always be here for you."

"I know, Mom. Thanks. I… I love you guys too. And you know you were a good Mom. I just… well, I guess I know you had a lot of stuff going on. And I'm glad you're my Mom."

Birdie threw her arms around his neck, holding onto him for a long moment.

"Mom?"

"Thanks, sweetheart," she said with a sniff as she pulled away.

Ripcord came over with a plate of pancakes and put them on the table.

Launchpad broke into a grin. "Hey, you made them aeroplanes?!"

"He always makes them aeroplanes. You just need to use your imagination," smirked Birdie.

Ripcord scooped up a big fat one, which looked like a regular pancake, and plopped it into Birdie's plate. "This one's your fat plane."

"Hey!"

The pancakes tasted good. After they finished breakfast, Birdie stood to her feet. "Come on. You're supposed to open up the show with that windbag, and we'll be late. And I've still got to upload the tweaks I made yesterday."

"Your planes later in the show," Ripcord smiled good-naturedly. "Eh, make him wait. Traffic might make us a bit later anyway. We'd need to be there in fifteen minutes."

"Hey, I'm Mr McDee's driver. I could drive you," said Launchpad. "I know Duckburg traffic like the back of my head. I'll get you there in no time. And I have a drivers' license now!" He dug in his wallet and shoved the license in Birdie's face.

"Sweetheart, that's great." She snatched it off him. "Wait, how'd you get them to take such a good picture?"

"I practised. And I got them to take it a couple times. But I did have to flirt… come on, I'll drive. I'll get you there in time for the start."

***

Launchpad was proud to admit he was true to his word. He screeched into the airshow’s parking lot with a minute to spare. “I’ll have to park in the garage, but you guys go. I’ll catch up with you. Mom?”

Beside him in the passenger seat, Birdie carefully extricated her fingers from the death-grip she’d held around the armrest from all of twenty seconds into the trip. “We’re alive.”

Ripcord got out of the back and opened her door. “Damn kid, that was awesome. Where’d you learn to drive like that? I got to see you in a plane.”

“I’ll show you the Sunchaser…”

A car behind them honked.

“Come on,” Ripcord pulled Birdie out as she clung to his arm instead. “We’ll see you soon, son.”

Launchpad drove off to park the car, and a grin crossed his beak. He was doing this. It was fun! He was no longer scared. He would have a nice, uneventful day with his parents at an airshow. And he was going to enjoy it.

Nothing could ruin this.

***

"I am going to kill Scrooge."

Della stood in the Sunchaser's hanger, tapping her foot. The very deliberate ring of her robot leg on the concrete floor was making some of the nearby pilots nervous. Good. Of course, Scrooge would rent out the entire hanger, making it impossible to either do maintenance on the Sunchaser or get her out.

Della drew in a breath. Ah well. Maybe she should just give up, go outside, and enjoy the airshow. Not that the other pilots and the herd of tiny planes were moving anywhere fast.

"Are they letting us take the planes out yet, Brett? We're on in like twenty minutes." Across the hanger, Loopey was waving her arms as she spoke with another young pilot.

"Hey, it's like your dad says, Gasolini is a jerk, and he's in charge of the airshows, so if he says we got to stay in here…" Brett shrugged. "Besides, if it delays stuff, he'll be the one that gets booed. Didn't stop him from taking out that hunk of junk, though."

"Huh?"

"An old biplane, one of those pure mechanical relics."

Della wandered over to them. "So is this why everyone is still here boxing in my plane?"

Loopey must've recognised her because she gave her a smile. "Heck, I don't know. Whoever thought these many planes could fit in here is an idiot. At least we'd managed to shuffle them all out before."

"Oh, yeah, a money-hungry idiot," Della said with a roll of her eyes.

And then all the hanger doors slammed closed.

"Don't worry, everyone," said a voice over the hanger's loudspeakers. "You're not in any danger. It's just… well…youse aren't going to be the stars of the airshow today. There's been a change in the schedule."

Della stiffened. "That sounds like one of the Beagle Boys!"

"So just sit back, relax. You all get the morning off. We only want one pilot for this next bit… and orders are we don't want him weaselling out of it… so that means you lot get taken out of the mix. Just don't set anything on fire. We've blocked the fire exits too!"

"What the hell is going on?" said Loopey. Her fists tightened. "One pilot... does he mean Dad?"

"I don't know," said Della. "but this doesn't sound good. So what do you say we find a way out of here?

"Sounds like a plan."

"Um, that's not actually a plan," Brett pointed out. "But I'm in too."

***

By the time Birdie made it to her plane's hanger, she'd regained her composure. They'd really fallen short in a lot of areas with Launchpad. I mean, he'd left home. But maybe they should've taught him to drive. Obviously, he could, but, you know, it would have been preferable if he did it without spending so much time on the sidewalk.

Her plane was already powered up, humming softly. Ripcord needed to be on stage with that bastard Gasolini, apparently. Which meant someone else had to fly the plane out there for him. Birdie didn't trust anyone else, she had a pilot license, and she didn't want anyone to scratch her baby. At least, not until she handed it over to Scrooge and got paid.

"Hi, Ma'am."

Birdie's gaze shot up from her tablet, where she'd been going over some last-minute numbers. "Who are you?"

"The name's Bomber, ma'am. Scrooge McDuck hired me. Said you needed someone to put this beauty out for your husband to put through her paces."

Birdie's eyes narrowed. Damned McDuck had been pressuring her to get the plane finished. And now he was sticking his beak in and hiring pilots for her? Didn't he realise that if he just gave her her space, he'd have the best plane every hard-earned dollar could buy? And it wasn't like him to waste money when he should know he already had a perfectly capable pilot.

"I do have a pilot's license..." she grumbled.

Bomber shrugged his big broad shoulders. "Hey, I'm just doing my job. You're welcome to come aboard and keep an eye on me if you'd like."

Inviting her aboard her own plane! Still, she shouldn't be mad at the poor boy. She'd still tell Scrooge to just let her manage her own project.

"Thanks. I will." Birdie climbed up the plane's ramp, still poking her tablet. At least it'd give her a few extra minutes to make her tweaks.

Bomber moved past her, up towards the cockpit. The ramp slammed shut behind them. Birdie followed, more slowly, across the cargo area, watching her feet as she tried to read the tablet simultaneously.

"Good morning, Mrs McQuack. I've tried to speak with you, but you've always fobbed me off. I'm a big fan of your work."

Birdie's eyes shot up at the sound of the familiar, nasally voice. "Mark Beaks!? What the hell are you doing on my plane?"

Mark Beaks sat in the chair at one of the consoles, leaning back, arms folded, for once, minus the ever-present phone. "Why, I'm here for a copy of your work. It is, technically, mine, after all. No, don't worry. You don't have to do a thing; I'll handle everything. All you've got to do is come along for the ride."

***

Ripcord stepped out onto the stage, feeling the familiar thrill as the crowd erupted in cheers. Of course, it wasn't the same thrill as actually flying the planes. The crowd would never know that feeling, never understand what it was he had always truly been chasing. But the cheers certainly didn't hurt to stroke his ego a bit.

"Good morning, everyone." That was as far as he got before he was drowned out.

There were more people today. The area in front of the stage that yesterday had been used as a runway was now crammed with people. Hopefully, that would not cause any issues. On one corner of the stage sat something roughly plane sized under a tarp. Gasolini hadn't told Ripcord what was under it.

Ripcord sighed and lowered the microphone, deciding it was best to let everyone settle down. Whether this was for him, or the plane, Birdie's work deserved to be seen. As much as she thought she was doing something nice for him by telling Scrooge he was the only one to fly her plane at the airshow, Ripcord welcomed the chance to give his wife's work the platform it deserved.

"Are you guys done yet?" he said as the volume finally died down.

Gasolini had told him to go out first, by himself, which was undoubtedly a publicity stunt. But, at least he'd been somewhat civil. Some of the small stunt planes were supposed to be up first, including Loopey's. They should've been overhead warming up now, but the sky was empty. That was weird. But Gasolini would hardly sabotage his own airshow simply to make Ripcord look silly for getting the schedule wrong.

"Now we're supposed to have some stunts up first, but…"

"I'm afraid I've been a little underhanded," Gasolini said as he stepped onto the stage. "There's been a change in plans."

"Huh?" Great. What the hell was he playing at.

"Oh, don't look so confused." Gasolini winked. "Ripcord here thinks that all he's got to do is talk and let everybody else do the stunts for the first part of today's show. But I've got a surprise for him. You, see, Ripcord was the best. But he wasn't able to do it alone. He had a partner. A plane that could pull the tightest loops. He was her best pilot, and after he left, she never flew to her full potential again. Instead, she sat in the corner gathering dust…

"Until today!" Gasolini strode over to the tarp and whipped it off, revealing the Joyrider. Out here, her new paint job glinted, highlights of gold sparkling in the sunlight.

Ripcord gulped at the lump in his throat. This is why Gasolini had her done up. This was why she was here. Suddenly, he found himself questioning the man. Sure, he'd made some snarky comments throughout the show, but maybe that was just supposed to be banter. After all, they'd hardly spoken in years. Perhaps, like he had, the man had changed. A large part of this display was for the crowd, for the show. But maybe, this was actually a make it up gift.

Gasolini's hand slapped into his shoulder, jarring him back to reality. "Look at this guy. He's absolutely speechless. We used to call this baby the Joyrider. Come on, McQuack, say something! Your public's waiting."

Even though he'd already seen the plane, Ripcord did not need to fake his response. "She's beautiful."

"Go on. Why don't you get up in the cockpit? Like old times, huh?"

"The cockpit…" Ripcord felt his guts twist up. "Hey, I'm a little bit too old for that, alright?" He hoped the waver in his voice simply sounded like he was overwhelmed at the plane's presence. He ran a hand over the wing, as he had the previous night. "I… I took her through so many loops…"

"And you can again," said Gasolini.

Ripcord sighed. Nope. Gasolini was playing mind games again. But he was done being scared of this man. He could put on a show too. "Oh, don't I wish. Why don't I tell you about, instead, that time I pulled a double loop in this beauty? For no reason other than it was fun. Come on, Gasolini, you remember that, dontcha? Remember yelling at me for messing up my times, even though I still won? You got any footage of that? Or any of the other stunts I pulled in the Joyrider? If you wanted the next generation to see what a real pilot could do in a bucket of bolts like this, you haven't set this up very well."

Gasolini did not reply. But he smiled, ever so slightly.

Then the whump of a pressure wave blasted its way across the stage and through the crowd. Birdie's plane was suddenly overhead, looming.

Ripcord lowered the microphone. "Alright, what the hell are you playing at?"

Gasolini shrugged, in a way Ripcord did not quite believe. "Hey, I'm as confused as you. We weren't going to bring the beast out for another hour."

The screen behind them came to life. Mark Beaks grinned down at them.

"Hello, everyone, Mark Beaks here! To introduce my new plane… well… the guts of it anyway. My programming runs her, you see. I'm going to throw away the shell… absolutely useless."

"What?" The angriest snarl Ripcord had ever heard escape his wife tore out from the speakers, making him go rigid. "You're throwing away my plane? The programming is not yours!"

Mark Beak's eyes widened as he flailed towards something off-screen. "Eep. Grab her. She's going to hit me… thank you." He turned to the screen. "Yeah. Unfortunately, I only own the programming, as it was stored on my Cloud. It's in the fine print, everyone. May I suggest you read it? But no, I don't own the actual plane. Boo. And that means as soon as I strip the programming, I'm dropping her in the bottom of the ocean. And, if this engineer stops screaming obscenities at me, I might be nice enough to let her bail with the pilot and me. Byeee." The aeroplane turned lazily away.

Birdie was on the plane. He had to get her off. His pilots… Loopey, Brett… he didn't know if they could keep up with that thing, but they could try. He grabbed Gasolini's arm. "Gasolini, the other pilots. Where are they? We have to get Birdie off and save her plane if we can."

"I agree…"

"Oh," said Mark Beaks, over the screen. "Did I mention we locked up all your pilots? So good luck following us." The channel shut off.

"Son of a…" Ripcord cut himself off, remembering belatedly he was on stage.

"Oh, dear. That's unfortunate. But hey, don't worry," said Gasolini, clapping a hand to Ripcord's shoulder. He raised his microphone, so his voice boomed out. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we've had a development. And no, this is not for show. This is serious. But… you interrupted me before Ripcord, with your prattle, typical, but listen to me for a minute. We don't need another pilot. We have you."

"I don't have a plane I can use."

"We have the Joyrider. I didn't just do up her paint job. She's fully functional, ready to fly like she used to."

"I can't fly her," Ripcord said thinly, his voice booming out far louder than he was comfortable with across the near-silent airfield. "Not with my, you know, bum leg."

"I made some modifications," said Gasolini. "I see no reason someone with a 'bum leg'," and as he said it, he made air quotes, "shouldn't be able to get her up in the air, even if they are a bit rusty. So come on, I'll even help you into the cockpit."

Ripcord gulped. His hand was cramping around the microphone. His body tensing up, useless.

"You know," Gasolini said, breaking into a wolfish grin. "Unless it isn't because of your leg. Unless it's really because you're afraid of stunt planes."

***

Launchpad's fists bunched at his sides. Why would his dad be scared? He couldn't fly because he'd been hurt in the crash. Launchpad had been there!

"Come on, McQuack. It's an easy choice. Your wife's plane is on the line. Maybe even her life. The Joyrider has been rebuilt for you, modifications and all. You can go up there, after her. Or you can bail like you did on me. Come on, what's it going to be? Are you going to get up there and fly, or are you a coward? Flight or…" he snorted. "Flight?"

"I… I can't…"

"Can't, or won't? "Gasolini pushed. "There's no reason you can't fly this plane, even if you had a bum leg. Which you don't."

There were a few gasps from the crowd.

"That's right, folks. Ripcord McQuack lied about not being able to fly a stunt plane anymore. I mean, you wouldn't want to admit you just decided to quit…"

"I didn't quit! I do want to fly! I love flying!" Ripcord barked out, voice strained, even over the microphone.

"As much as you love your wife? They're both up there. There's your plane… off you go!"

"I… I can't…"

Gasolini was the man who'd kept his dad away from him. And after listening to his father's story last night, Launchpad knew it was not simply that. Gasolini had made doing the thing he loved most a constant struggle. Now he was ripping him to shreds on stage? No. Way.

"What’s he doing?" Dewey whispered harshly.

"He's bullying my dad." Launchpad pushed forward through the crowd, but the people were packed tight around the stage. He grunted as he shouldered into someone's back.

The man shoved him back. "Watch it!"

"Hey!" And then Penny was there beside him. "Clear the way!" She thrust her spear - where the heck had that come from? - between those blocking the his path, prodding them aside. A few glared, but they quickly complied when they saw what she was using to make her request. Launchpad pushed his way to the stage.

"So, what's the problem?" Gasolini laughed. "There aren't any other pilots here to bail you out."

"I'm a pilot!" Launchpad leapt onto the stage and snatched the microphone from Gasolini.

"Wha… where's security…" Gasolini baulked. He waved a hand at the two bulky security guys standing near the stage. "Get over here."

Neither of the men moved a muscle, probably because Penny stood at their side, casually blocking their path with her spear.

"But that's beside the point. Because my dad is Ripcord McQuack!" Launchpad put a hand on his dad's shoulder, squeezing it hard. "And he's the best pilot there ever was!"

"Yeah!" A few people shouted their agreement from the crowd.

"Wait, Ripcord McQuack has a son?" yelled someone else.

Gasolini retrieved another microphone from the side of the stage. "Wait, this is your boy? The one who made you crash because he stole one of my planes? Ruined flying for you?"

Some of the strength returned to Ripcord's voice. "Leave him alone, Gasolini."

"Yeah," Launchpad admitted. "I did. Dad crashed his plane and got hurt because of me. But we've talked it over. We worked it out because that's what families do. And he may not be able to fly any other stunt plane, but… my dad's the best pilot ever." He turned to Ripcord and lowered the microphone and his voice. "Come on, Dad. Don't let him push you around. I know you can do this. If he's fixed the plane so your leg won't get in the way, you'll be fine, right? It's not like you haven't been flying at all. You'll pick this right back up. Even if you can't do it as fancy as you used to, that doesn't matter. All you got to do is get Mom."

"Yeah, go Ripcord!" Dewey yelled. "Ripcord! Ripcord! Ripcord!" Others quickly joined in.

"Dad, it'll be okay," said Launchpad. "We believe in you."

Ripcord's chest heaved as he looked into his son's eyes. Then he gritted his teeth and lowered his gaze. "Everyone… cut it out! I can't fly the damned plane."

His father's reprimand cut and Launchpad took a step back.

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I get what you're trying to do. And I appreciate it, you don't know how much but…" Ripcord drew in a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped. "But Gasolini's not wrong. There's nothing wrong with my leg."

The chant died.

Ripcord looked into Launchpad's eyes, speaking only to him. His microphone was lowered, but it still picked up his voice in the silence that followed. "I mean, it's never been quite the same. But I should have been able to operate a stunt plane from about four months or so after the crash. I just… I couldn't. Not stunt planes, anyway. Launchpad, every time I get in a tiny stunt plane cockpit, I just… I freeze up.

"All I can think of is barreling towards that fence. Knowing you and your mother's lives were in my hands… and by the time I realised what an idiot I was, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control what you guys did. And… and I froze and couldn't even control my own plane. And it was all because of my own stupidity.

"Now, when I get in a stunt plane, I can't even get them off the ground. Even if I just sit in one, I… I freeze up. I want to help your Mom. Like she's been there for me, more times than I can remember. But... I can't…" He gripped his son's arm, and Launchpad could feel the shake in his father's hand. "I'm sorry. I should have told you all this last night. I guess I was still worried you'd judge me. I'm sorry I lied to you."

"Dad," said Launchpad. "That's okay. I wouldn't have… it's okay to be scared. You don't have to hide it."

"This is even better," said Gasolini. "I thought you'd pulled a fast one on me. That you were blaming your leg to get away from your contract. But you… you actually can't fly them. Not because of your leg, but because you're scared. You really are a coward."

Ripcord squeezed his eyes shut hard and shuddered. "You know what," he said, barely loud enough for Launchpad to hear. "Fuck it. Yeah, Gasolini." He lifted the microphone, and it had no problem picking up his voice. "It's a bit more complicated than that, but yeah. I can't fly stunt planes anymore because when I get in them, I'm too scared to move. But I know what I can do. I know damned well how to teach someone to fly a plane.

"Hey, kid," He yelled out at the crowd, pointing at Dewey. "Is that my wife's doohickey you've got there?"

Dewey held up the two pairs of overcomplicated goggles in his hands. "Yes?"

"Good, bring them up here."

Dewey started to push his way through, then someone picked him up. The crowd passed him over their heads until he reached the front. "This is awesome!" said Dewey, as he was dumped on stage.

Ripcord grabbed the goggles and thrust a pair into Launchpad's hands. "Son, I messed up as your dad, and I'm sorry. But someone needs to go up there, get your Mom, and save that beauty she spent so much time working on. So, I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I'm going to teach you how to fly a stunt plane. I've trained dozens of pilots, and now, that's what I'm good at."

"Wait, you're going to teach… him?" Gasolini laughed. "Your kid who flunked pilot school? Who made you crash?"

"Shut up, Gasolini! I'm done letting you push me around. I've got a few things I've been meaning to say to the airshow board about the way you run things, and I think I've just worked up the courage to say them."

"Yeah, shut up!" someone in the crowd yelled, followed by boos.

Gasolini's grin faded as he looked over the crowd. "Hey! He's the one who lied to you. He didn't give up his career because of an injury. He lost his edge! He got scared!"

"Let him send his son after his wife."

"Yeah, shut up, he's trying to teach his kid!"

Gasolini stepped back. "What the hell is wrong with you people? He's a coward!"

And then Penny was on the stage flanked by the two security guards. "I think you're done here," she said.

Gasolini glared, more at the tip of her spear than Penny herself, and then spun on his heel and stalked off the stage.

Ripcord strapped the goggles onto Launchpad's head. "I'll be able to watch what you do through these. I'll tell you what to do."

It finally sunk through. "You're… going to teach me to fly the Joyrider?" Launchpad's heart leapt. And then plummeted. "But Mom's up there. What if I muck up?"

"I'll be right by your side. Figuratively. That's the best I can do. I promised I wouldn't bail on you, remember?"

"Okay, Dad. I got this." Launchpad climbed into the little biplane. It was small, but once in the cockpit, he felt snug. Ripcord gave the propeller a spin, and she started up.

Over the drone of the propeller, Launchpad heard shouting. Not like the ground crew, yelling abuse, like the last time he'd been in a plane this small all those years ago. But the crowd, led by Dewey, had started a cheer. "Launchpad! Launchpad! Launchpad!"

Launchpad grinned. So, this was why his father had loved airshows so much.

"Get up to speed and pull her up," said Ripcord, his voice coming crisp and clear through the headset on the goggles.

Launchpad did as instructed. And then he was in the air, tearing after his mother's plane.

***

Chapter 9

#launchpad #launchpad mcquack #disney ducks #disney duckverse #ducktales 2017 #dt17 launchpad #dt17 #fanfiction #fanfic #ducktales fanfiction #ripcord mcquack #birdie mcquack #dewey duck

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Ineffable Husbands Advent Calendar Challenge - “The Perfect Libation” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Crowley walks in on his husband enjoying a holiday drink that Aziraphale considers 'the greatest marvel of the modern age'. (1017 words)

Notes: This was written for the Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020 prompt 'Christmas drinks'. It was supposed to be up on the 18th. I apologize for its lateness <3

Read on AO3.

“Now, now. We fill this up with some nice hot milk,” Aziraphale dictates to himself as he prepares his treat, “and let the fun begin.”

“Are you having another one?” Crowley asks, strolling by Aziraphale's desk, narrowing his eyelids at the contents of his mug.

“I am,” Aziraphale responds stiffly. “You don’t get to judge.”

“’m not judgin'. Only this is your seventh one today.”

“It’s my fifth, my dear. Don't make me sound like a glutton.”

“I would never do that." Crowley pulls up a chair and joins him. He watches Aziraphale peer into his mug as if the object inside were performing something much more riveting, like Hamlet. "You know, I think you like watching them more than you like drinking them.”

“Hmph. After 6000 years, I thought you knew me better than that." Aziraphale picks up a spoon and starts to stir. "But they are entertaining."

"They seem to have caused quite the kerfuffle. I see them everywhere - in the shops, online. They're all over social media. I would have to say it's a testament to how incredibly bored the humans are, being on lockdown and all."

"Crowley, Crowley, Crowley," Aziraphale tsks. "We’ve been around to see humanity’s greatest achievements, genius innovations come to fruition - the automobile, the Polio vaccine, the aeroplane. But this ..." Aziraphale gestures to his mug with the pride of a mum showing off their child's first artistic endeavor "... may just be the greatest marvel of the modern age.”

"Really?" Crowley crosses his arms over his chest and reclines haphazardly in his chair, tilting back till it's balancing on a single leg. “The hot chocolate bomb is the greatest marvel of the modern age?”

“Absolutely. Leave it to humans to come up with such a compact and delightful treat!"

"Seeing as chimpanzees haven't developed a taste for cocoa, it would be up to the humans to shoulder the burden, wouldn't it?"

"Now you're making fun."

“The humans invented mulled wine, too. Remember?" Crowley points out with a grimace in silent acknowledgment of how many glasses of the stuff he's had to stomach over the centuries. "They heat it up, then they overload it with fruit and spices. Ghastly, it is! Simply ghastly!”

“Yes, well, they can’t all be winners, can they?" Aziraphale says, fanning away the steam. "The point is they tried.”

Crowley huffs. "That's sweet of you, innit?"

"What do you mean?"

"The humans mess up, and you're all Awww! How cute! They tried! But when I give something my all and muck up, it's 'Crowley! That's disgusting! Why does it smell like that!? Why does it have skin on it?' Yada-yada-yada."

"If you're referring to the apple cider incident of yesterday, your concoction had seeds in it! Stems! And fur! How on earth do you get fur in apple cider?"

"It happens when you have to wrestle some vile beastie to get the apples, don't it?"

"Not when you buy them from the market!"

"Not true!" Crowley defends, waggling a finger in Aziraphale's direction. "There are vicious old biddies at the market, and they love apples! They'll just as soon run you down for the last bag of Braeburns as look at you!"

Aziraphale stares, completely dumbfounded that his husband actually took those words in particular and strung them together in a single sentence. "Are you certain you don't want one?" he asks, calmly changing the subject.

"Ngk ... uh ..." Crowley's eyes bounce from the cooling mug of cocoa in front of Aziraphale to the delicately decorated orbs piled high on a platter in the center of the table. With their edible pearls, and dusting of fine, silver glitter, they look more like wedding favors than food. After what happened at their own wedding, Crowley isn't making that mistake again. "No, thank you, angel. I'm not that big a fan of sweet."

"You're just in luck then. These ..." Aziraphale gestures to a second platter of bombs, a much deeper color than the first "... are dark chocolate. They're quite a bit on the bitter side. That should suit you fine."

Crowley shakes his head, dismissing Aziraphale's offer. "I guess I just don't understand the appeal. You can throw together a cuppa cocoa quick and easy, can't you? Chocolate, milk, marshmallows - that's all it is. This seems like making a mountain out of a molehill to me."

"Oh, but it's terribly convenient! Everything you need for the perfect mug of cocoa, all rolled together in one elegantly decorated, plump package."

Crowley smirks, sitting upright with renewed interest. "Well, then. I guess I'll give it a go. I do enjoy plump packages, after all."

Aziraphale fixes Crowley with a side-long, suggestive stare as he drops a dark chocolate sphere into an empty mug and pours in hot milk. "Do you?"

"Of course." Crowley moves closer, pinches his husband on the bum where it hangs over his seat. Then he watches his snack unfurl: the glitter and the pearls drifting away, dissolving in a blink without leaving a trace behind, the dark chocolate succumbing to the heat of the milk and melting, releasing its cache of marshmallows, sending them bobbing to the surface. It doesn't even need a stir really. It all melds, comes together on its own.

Terribly convenient, like Aziraphale said.

"There you are, my dear," the angel says, sliding the mug Crowley's way. "Get started before it gets cold."

Crowley blows carefully across the top, then lifts the mug to his lips the same time Aziraphale does his own and takes a sip.

“Mmm." Aziraphale hums, eyelids fluttering shut, a smile crossing his face. "Heavenly."

Crowley smacks his lips. "They are tasty, aren't they?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Right." Crowley looks into his drink, searching past the marshmallows for an essential ingredient - one neither of them mentioned, but whose smell lingers heavily in the air. "It may be missing one thing. To make it a little more jolly?”

Aziraphale grins. “Some holiday spirit?”

“Perhaps.”

Aziraphale reaches down beside him without opening an eye and lifts an amber bottle of Baileys onto the table. "Ho-ho-ho."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands advent calendar challenge 2020 #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

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Reconciliation - Part 5 (Final)

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Genre: ex-lovers au / angst / romance / business au

Warnings: unprotected sex, mature content.

Reconciliation will be shared daily at 10am NZST.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

This was how you had originally imagined this trip. Waking up in Jaebum’s arms the following morning was sweeter than you could remember. And after spending a little too long in the shower cleaning up from last night, you both happily went into the breakfast buffet where you laughed and shared food. The light atmosphere continued throughout the day, as did the kisses, the hand-holding, and much later, the endless rides to Nirvana.

It was what you had hoped for all along. And with your trip closing tomorrow, you were satisfied that when you had first thought to come here, the things on your list had been checked off with today’s efforts.

However, those desires came from a time where you were happy to just follow Jaebum around. Since finding your independence, you had moments throughout the day and night where you were bothered, and a cold sense of dread would wash over you.

The dream had to end here, with the sand and sun.

You woke before Jaebum did the next morning and spent the time taking in every detail of the man you loved. Even with him showering you in all the affection that you had ever wished for, and knowing how deeply his own feelings ran for you, this time, it would be you who broke his heart first.

You wanted to memorise every inch of him, right down to his freckles and imperfections in case you never saw them up close like this again.

Eventually, the man holding you stirred out of his slumber, Jaebum blearily squinting at you and letting out a breath of relief. It pained you to think that he was counting his blessings to truly find you here at his side and no longer a dream as he had told you about.

“Why are you awake first?” he huskily asked, moving to catch your shoulders with his lips. He kissed your bare skin a couple of times before resting back onto his pillow. “I wanted to watch you instead.”

“Should’ve woken up earlier then,” you teased, taking his hand in yours and linking it together.

You felt the words you need to say at the back of your throat and you smiled, hoping that would ease your nerves.

Jaebum watched you and after frowning, he sat up a little. “You’re going to finally say it, aren’t you?”

“You knew?”

He nodded. “I kind of guessed. I mean, we fell back into one another as if the three months never passed us by. And I know that I’ve said some things that might lend you hope that it could improve between us.”

“It’s not even that I don’t want this, because I do. I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. You said that I was it for you. Well, I’m pretty sure it’s the same for me.”

“Then what is it?” he wondered, and you shifted so you could sit up as well. Once settled at his side, you began to play with his fingers, trying to find the right words. “You need time?”

“I need to find who I am. Things are scary but really good right now for me. I’m starting my new business and I’m looking forward to running it. And it’s not a being busy reason either, even though I know I’m going to be super busy.”

Jaebum nodded listlessly, and you could tell he was genuinely listening to you, though he face was devoid of emotion. He was simply closing himself off to help with the pain.

You pressed on. “I don’t want to fall back into you. I don’t want either of us to rely on the other the way we used to. I thought I only needed your validation and you felt you only needed me to comfort you. We’re both more than that.”

“So this is it for us? For good?” he breathed, and you blinked when you noticed how watery his eyes had become. “We leave the confessions, the feelings here in these sheets?”

“We’re ending it better this time around, don’t you think?” you bartered and Jaebum rubbed at his face. “I need to focus on myself. If I can’t even do that, then there’s no point in me trying to rediscover us.”

“I get it,” he answered, taking you in his arms right when you began to cry. “I don’t want to but I do. Just remember to find me when the time is right.”

“Maybe we’ll find each other when we least expect it, just like we did here.”

Time seemed to fly by once you were back to reality. You left the ground running and after a solid year of hard work, you could slowly reap the rewards. You were acknowledged as a bright, new CEO and your company was definitely catching heads from all around. By your second year of business, you could loosen off the steam you were moving with. Your products were making consistent sales and you had taken on your first overseas client.

Everything seemed to be working like a well-oiled machine.

Not only had you discovered your own style as a CEO, you excelled at it. You liked being able to support your team and motivate them to strive for bigger goals.

Much as you were doing with your personal life. You had taken up online courses alongside your job and although you were exhausted from time to time, you had developed a love for photography and passion for interior design. You already had future aspirations to branch out into design in the following year.

Right now though, you wanted to enjoy life at a slower speed and not watch it pass on by in the blink of an eye.

And there was no one else you would rather do that with than Jaebum.

It hadn’t been complete radio silence between you both. You had each compromised to emails, sending each other messages at least twice a month. You had learned through them that he had fostered some cats and was passionate about raising them, and his latest investor had backed him over the company you had once lost out to. He’d also started cooking lessons, opting to make it home in the evening to eat there instead of ordering to his office each night.

Neither of you talked of what more you wanted from each other and about relationships. You had on several occasions almost emailed him asking him if he was seeing anyone but each time you chided yourself for seeking out information that could lead to complicating things. And you really didn’t want to do that if you weren’t ready to commit.

Standing near the gate for your impending flight, you focused on snapping the sunset out the large windows that was casting brilliant light over the aeroplanes nearby, the land behind it looking magical just like the sky did. You were ready to feel the freedom that came with travelling and taste the delicious foods that your destination had in store for you. As you watched the sky change its colours right before you, it was hard to not get lost in the thought of your self-development. Standing here right now, you couldn’t be prouder of who you had become if you tried.

Still, the nagging voice that wanted to share your accomplishments with someone else pulled you back to reality and you gasped when you realised boarding had commenced. As you walked onto the plane, you tried not to get too excited about the impending trip and looked out for your seat number. You grinned when you found it and after pulling your bag strap over your head and putting your bag under your seat, you sat down, fussing with your seatbelt for a moment. The person travelling next to you was already seated and you sighed when you realised your belt was linked with theirs.

Tapping him on the shoulder, you waited until he turned to look at you, ignoring the way he stared at you. “Uh, my belt is trapped in yours somehow.”

“Y/N,” Jaebum breathed, sitting up properly as his eyes continued to remain wide. He didn’t react as you reached to undo the belt across him so you could get yours free, still staring at you until you waved a hand in front of his face.

“You okay?”

“I just… I’m not dreaming, right? The plane hasn’t taken off and crashed somewhere and this is the afterlife?” he blurted out and you gave him a look, aghast by his assumption.

“No, we’re very much so alive and we better stay that way!”

“Then, it’s happened again. Just like you said when we parted last time!” he continued, shaking his head with disbelief.

You tried not to laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, I was invited to go on this trip, were you too?”

“I guess you could say that,” you mused, amazed that he hadn’t clicked onto it yet.

“Wait,” he finally said, pointing at you. “How come you’re not amazed to see me?”

“Maybe because I was not about to wait until fate would have us cross paths again and booked this trip for us,” you announced and Jaebum slowly grinned.

“Really? You want to spend time with me?”

“Should I go spend it with someone else?” you offered and Jaebum disagreed almost immediately, taking your hand in his. You shifted closer, smiling at him as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand affectionately.

“You know, when this trip is over, I’m not going to agree about parting ways again,” he told you and you grinned, leaning in so you could kiss his lips.

“Fate might have been late in bringing us back together but I’m not going to let anything – or one – pull us apart again.”

_________________

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softlass27 · 4 years ago

Text

So today I got a little wistful thinking about travel – or the lack thereof these days – and since airports are one of my favourite types of places, this random little ficlet was born.

AO3 link here

Manchester Airport is hushed and near-empty in the early hours of the morning, only a few flights scheduled for this time.

“All checked in,” Robert comes over to where Aaron’s waiting with a yawn. “I don’t have to go through to departures for a while yet.”

His hair is flat against his forehead, and Aaron can’t resist pushing it up gently. “Wanna sit?”

Robert nods, grabbing the handle of his carry on suitcase and steering them to a row of seats near the window. They settle themselves down and Aaron passes Robert the tea he’d bought while he waited for Robert to check in.

“Ta.” Robert takes a sip. “Ugh, that’s a bad brew.”

Aaron hums and slurps a mouthful of his own drink – a strong black coffee to make sure he'll be awake enough for the drive home he’ll have to make soon.

They sit in sleepy silence, gazing out the window at planes taking off and landing on the runways, the lights blinking in the pitch-black sky.

Aaron’s gaze drifts to Robert. His cheek still has the indents that the car seatbelt had made while he’d slept during their journey to the airport. He reaches out to rub at them with his thumb and Robert tips his head into it, before taking hold of Aaron’s hand and pressing brief kiss to his palm.

“Where d’you think that one’s going, then?” He gestures to a plane taking off in front of them, too far away for them to make out the logo in the darkness.

“Bet it’s somewhere hot, lucky bastards,” Aaron grumbles, shuffling his head further down into the collar of his puffy jacket. The bitter cold of this early February morning is making him so utterly done with winter. “God, I’m so cold. And so tired.”

“Hey, I told you you didn’t have to drop me off. I could’ve gotten a taxi.”

“Don’t be daft.”

Robert gives this annoying little smile, like he knew that’s exactly what Aaron was going to say, and God, Aaron misses him. He hasn’t even gone yet, he’s still sitting right here next to him, and Aaron already misses him so much, because apparently he’s that kind of sap these days. It’s sad, really.

He leans into him and Robert doesn’t hesitate to pull him closer, wrapping a long arm around Aaron’s shoulders and tucking him in the crook of his neck.

They stay like that for the next twenty minutes or so, watching people in neon vests run around on the tarmac outside, hauling luggage and prepping runways. In that time, Robert manages to drift off to sleep again, soft snores ringing in Aaron’s ears. Aaron slides his arm in the opening of Robert’s expensive wool coat, the one he always wears when he’s hoping to impress whoever he’s meeting.

And Aaron knows he’s keen to impress these prospective French clients; if he secures this contract it’ll bring in a huge amount of profit to the haulage. Aaron had spent hours sitting up with Robert, going over his pitch and presentation over and over again until it was as perfect as they could get it. He’d even given Robert a few French phrases to impress them with… though he’d advised him to double-check the pronunciation online before trying them out. Aaron’s wasn’t exactly spot on.

He snuggles further into Robert, stroking his stomach through his jumper and soaking up the natural warmth his husband always seems to carry with him, whatever the weather. Takes in the feel of his body, the smell of his aftershave, the sound of his breathing. Makes the most of him while he can.

It’s just a few days, not even a week, but he’s not looking forward to facing an empty bed tonight. Maybe he’ll let Seb come in with him for a little sleepover, and get his cuddles from Robert’s tiny clone.

As the first rays of sunrise start to peak through the sky, Aaron checks the time on his phone and nudges Robert awake. All that gets him is a shake of Robert’s head as he buries his face into Aaron’s shoulder out of habit.

“Robert.”

“Ugh, nooo.”

“Rob, come on. You should probably start makin’ tracks, you’ve gotta get all those little 100ml bottles of yours through security. What is there, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, hand cream, spare hand cream – ”

Robert scowls and elbows him into shutting up, but he does open his eyes and sit up, scrubbing at his face with his hand. He looks impossibly soft, like he always does in the morning, and Aaron is hit by another wave of longing. Shit.

He goes to chuck away their styrofoam cups while Robert shuffles through his bag and checks he has his passport, before standing up to stretch his arms over his head. The loud groan he lets out as he does so is obscene, really, Aaron would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so into it.

They wander towards the entrance to the departures lounge, where a few other travellers are also making their way through, stopping to say goodbye to any loved ones who’ve accompanied them. Robert pulls them to one side so they’re not in anyone’s way, and pulls Aaron into a tight hug.

“See you on Friday,” he says into Aaron’s neck, pressing his mouth to the skin there.

Aaron shivers and nods. “Travel safe, and don’t drink too much champagne with those French blokes.”

“Without you?” Robert grins as he leans back enough to look Aaron in the eye. “Never.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you, I don’t like it.”

“Lies,” Robert chuckles. “Give Seb a massive hug from me when you get home, yeah?”

They’d left Seb with Victoria, who’d stayed over at theirs to get him up and ready for nursery that morning. Aaron would be back in plenty of time to pick him up at lunchtime.

“Course I will.”

“I’ll be heading to the hotel to freshen up and get changed before the first meeting, so I’ll have time to give you a ring.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll call you later tonight, try and catch Seb’s bedtime – ”

“I know, Rob,” Aaron’s laughing now. “C’mere.”

He pushes up on his tip toes to press a soft kiss to the side of Robert’s mouth, pulling away only to tilt his head and kiss him again, harder this time. Robert deepens it, parting Aaron’s lips with his tongue and bringing his hands up to cup Aaron’s jaw, thumbs stroking through stubble.

It’s a little more PDA than they’d normally indulge in, but fuck it, the airport is nearly dead, it’s not like there are many people around to see. They eventually part, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Aaron says, brushing his nose along Robert’s cheek.

“Love you, too.” Robert squeezes his waist.

“Bring me back some macarons.”

“Will do.”

“You should get going, then.”

“Mm-hm… ”

He doesn’t move, though, keeps holding onto Aaron and Aaron lets him. They stay like that for a little while longer, and Aaron wonders when he became such a soft lad.

“Okay.” He eventually takes a step back. “You need to go, otherwise you might actually miss your flight and we’ll have gotten up at arse o’clock for nothin’.”

Robert rolls his eyes but nods, grabbing his suitcase and showing his passport and boarding pass to the guard. He’s quickly allowed through, and Aaron watches as he makes his way down the long corridor towards the security checks. Just before he rounds the corner, he stops and turns to Aaron, tilting his head as he gives him a small wave.

Aaron takes a hand out of his pocket to wave back, and keeps his eyes on him until he’s out of sight. And then it’s just him, standing in the quiet airport, feeling a little bereft and wondering how bad the traffic will be on the drive home.

****

Seb begs to come along with him to pick Robert up on Friday afternoon. He’d already been slightly devastated that he couldn’t go to the airport to drop Robert off, obsessed as he is with aeroplanes these days. He also insists, for some reason, that they need to bring Robert a welcome home balloon. Where he’s gotten that idea, Aaron has no clue, but he can’t bring himself to say no.

So here he stands in the airport, one hand holding Seb’s smaller one, and the other grasping the string of a bright blue balloon. They’d killed some time by watching the hustle and bustle outside, Seb pointing with delight at every plane he saw on the runway, but as soon as Robert’s flight landed, they took their place in among the small crowd of people waiting at the arrival’s gate, Seb swinging his arm back and forth impatiently.

After about fifteen minutes, passengers finally begin to trickle out one by one and Seb’s immediately bouncing on his toes, craning his neck to get a better view.

Eventually Robert appears, coming up just behind a small group of students, eyes already darting around the crowd.

“Daddy!” And Seb’s off, dropping Aaron’s hand and dashing forwards as fast as little legs can carry him.

Aaron sees Robert’s eyes light up instantly, and he’s dropping his suitcase to scoop Seb up in his arms.

“Mate, I didn’t know you were picking me up!” He grips Seb tightly and presses his face to his neck to blow a raspberry there. “You miss me?”

“Loads.” Seb wraps his arms around Robert’s neck, squirming excitedly in his grip. Robert awkwardly leans down to pick up his suitcase and move them out of the path of a disgruntled-looking elderly couple, heading in Aaron’s direction with a smile.

“Hey you,” he says, giving him a light kiss.

“Hiya.” Aaron knows he’s grinning like an idiot.

“What’s with the balloon?”

“S’for you!” Seb explains, grasping Robert’s collar.

“It’s a welcome home balloon. Apparently.” Aaron smirks and holds it out. “His idea.”

“Blue. You like blue,” Seb adds.

“You’re right, blue is my favourite colour,” Robert says, letting Aaron take his suitcase so he can swap it for the balloon. “Thanks bud, I love it.”

“Home?” Aaron asks.

“God yes, I’m knackered. And starving. Can we get some chips or something from the Woolie?”

“Yes,” Seb replies before Aaron has a chance, as if it’s up to him.

“And then,” Robert adds, bouncing Seb lightly in his arm. “I can show you all the presents I got you.”

Seb grins toothily and snuggles down on Robert's shoulder.

“Got some stuff for you, too,” Robert murmurs to Aaron as they start walking in the direction of the exit.

“Did you get the – ”

“Yes, I got your macarons. Two boxes, because I'm a good husband.”

Aaron’s helpless to stop the warm feeling that spreads in his chest, the one that’s been missing since the last time he stood in this airport. Sure, they’ve texted and spoken every day, but it doesn’t compare to actually having Robert here by his side.

Nothing beats having him home.

#my writing #robron #robron fic #idk i'm feeling soft

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babysizedfics · 4 years ago

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Oo, you mentioned soft foods are Virge's thing, and I was wondering if, when he's right down at the super tiny end of his headspace, he would take well to things like applesauce and stuff like that..Things that aren't baby-food, but have the same sort of texture, cause I know he drinks from bottles already... And I wonder how far Logan and Patton would go with the babying/baby furniture for him (and, the same vein, would Roman, when he's smoller, have a booster seat on his chair so he can reach)

Vee absolutely 100% loves applesauce because it's sweet and light and cold and smooth so it's like perfect for his sensory issues and also for his Babyness (yes im projecting shush)

also he would never admit it when he'a big but he really loves when patton feeds him with the lil baby plastic spoons 😌 he isn't a big fan of 'here comes the aeroplane' because it puts too much attention on the action of eating, but he likes when patton is just givin him lil spoonfulls of applesauce while they watch cartoons and is cooing abt what a good boy he is and 'is the applesauce sweet baby? Aw, well you're even sweeter!'

I think now that vee has regressed even tinier he wouldn't even like having a plastic spoon in his mouth, i'm thinking while he's in such a young headspace he really will only feed from a bottle - most of the time i imagine he's not in this headspace for long periods of time so it's okay for him to just have milk or water in the bottle until he feels more like a toddler when he can eat, but probably at some point logan had to invest in some liquid meal supplements for when virgil is unexpectedly tiny for a few hours

with baby furniture i'm not sure! they definitely have things like baby plates and cutlery and sippy cups etc. but i don't imagine them having booster seats or anything just because they're still their regular sizes

also thinking about roman who is already 3 inches taller than patton in this series sitting in a booster seat makes me giggle a bit

i thought for a bit abt them investing in one of those little barriers that you secure to the side of your bed so that if virgil goes to bed while extra tiny he doesnt fall out, but i think when virgil is Extra Baby he would probably sleep in the same bed as one (or both) of his CGs

#food tw #tw food #little/big concepts #agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #asks #anon #agedre roman

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blissedoutphil · 5 years ago

Text

Dan the Personal Assistant Part 10

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

4209 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan, blowjob, riding, bath sex

I really meant to be more productive with writing in lockdown but all I got was writer’s block and suddenly 2 months have passed?? sigh. Finally the new chapter’s here after rewriting it countless times omg I’m just as happy as you are.

~Part 9~

~Part 11~

or read on ao3!

Since then, they started having sex more often, until it became something normal for them. Natural even. Dan still initiated more than Phil, and he understood whenever Phil had to turn him down to actually do work.

Dan dared to feel happy. He was content with this arrangement, even if he was technically still just a personal whore. It was definitely better than when Phil was adamant about having a fine line drawn between them. Nothing wrong had happened yet, which Dan was relieved about and he was confident that nothing bad could happen with this arrangement. Phil had probably been paranoid about nothing.

It went on for weeks, but Dan never got bored or tired of being pounded by Phil on any random surface in the office, quick fucks that were rough and hard and left him feeling like his insides were rearranged. He loved even more the lesser moments where Phil would go sweet and slow, take care of him in a way that he can pretend that they’re more than just in a “professional” relationship. But he was careful not to dwell too much and let his mind overthink any of Phil’s actions, especially the ones that seemed more loving than usual. Repress those feelings and all will go well.

But no matter what Dan told himself, of course he still felt like there was something missing. He started longing for more. Leaving the office to an empty home always felt lonely, falling asleep alone in bed wasn’t as good as falling asleep in the office with Phil tucking him into the couch. He actually felt sad whenever work ended and looked forward to weekdays instead of weekends, which would’ve sounded crazy to him just a year ago.

He knew one way to stop feeling lonely on Sundays; the idea had always been on the back of his mind. He’d been resilient enough not to follow through though as he felt like it wasn’t a good idea. But one particular weekend felt rough, and even though he knew he was going to meet his boss the next day, he felt like he really couldn’t go through that Sunday without him.

So against better judgement, he found himself standing outside the snug coffee shop. He could already see Phil at his usual corner busy with his laptop, from peering into the window.

What are you trying to do, Dan? he sighed.

But his feet dragged him into the shop anyway. He pretended that he really was there for another coffee, after all it was always a place he had wished to frequent before he had the means to do so.

He ordered the caramel macchiato again, and intentionally walked near Phil’s table.

“Oh, hey boss,” he said as he bumped into the empty chair at Phil’s table, feigning surprise.

“Dan!” Phil was certainly caught off guard to see his boy there.

“Working again?” Dan tried to make small talk, stalling his time there without seeming too obvious or desperate to stay.

“Yeah. Caramel macchiato again?” Phil chuckled.

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, with Dan wanting to ask if he could stay but not sure how to.

“You can join me if you’d like, no need to be shy y’know,” Phil smiled knowingly.

Dan didn’t know if he liked or hated how readable he was, but he accepted the offer. It was like Phil knew just how bad he needed to see him today. And maybe Phil wanted to see him just as much too, he mused.

“You should try their latte next time,” Phil suggested.

--------

So there was a next time. And a next time after that. And as weeks passed, Dan found himself falling into yet another routine. Throwing caution to the wind, he always ended up at the cafe, staring into the window for about ten minutes debating in his head whether it’d be a good idea before eventually giving in and going in anyway. Phil never seemed to mind, he seemed excited almost whenever Dan appeared. And Dan only took that as a sign to return again the next week.

Dan was still going through the menu as recommended by Phil. He took his cup of cold brew and headed to his seat. He didn’t really know what time Phil always arrived, he didn’t even ask beforehand if Phil would be coming or if he could spend the day with him, he just shows up. Looking back, it was funny how he used to be worried if Phil would want him there or not, now he just knew without Phil needing to say anything.

He never followed Phil home for dinner again like the first time, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. They were both content to spend their Sunday afternoons in companionable silence and do nothing more that could potentially disrupt their current arrangement. Or perhaps neither of them dared to take the next step. But they seemed comfortable for now.

That was until.

“Dan.”

Dan looked up from his cup.

“I have to go on a business trip on Tuesday.”

“Oh,” Dan said, not really sure how to answer.

“Yeah, it’s quite a last minute thing. The new partner needed me over at their headquarters. I’ll be gone for a week.”

Hearing that made Dan already start to miss Phil, which didn’t make sense since he was still sitting right in front of him.

“Where you headed to?”

“New York.”

“So... I won’t be going to work next week?”

“Oh don’t think you’re off the hook from work that easily,” Phil said cheekily, and Dan quirked his eyebrow in curiosity. Was he supposed to serve the other staff in the office or something?

“You’re coming with me, mister.”

Dan gaped, “Really?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” Phil shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’re letting me choose?” Dan asked, still somewhat in shock.

“Of course, why would I force you into things,” Phil looked a little offended.

“I mean- I’m just. I’ve never even been out of the UK, why would I choose to stay here?!”

Phil laughed, the corners of his eyes scrunching up in the way that was downright adorable.

“I gotta warn you, some of the other staff would also be there. I’ll arrange a different flight for us, we can get there before the rest. You might have to hide in the hotel room like you do in our office if you don’t wanna see them.”

Dan was fine with that, he still would rather not cross paths with anyone else in the office. Over time, Dan realised that Phil had become more possessive over him and felt the same way too. Unlike Phil’s previous assistant, Dan did not want to get acquainted with anyone else, and Phil did not have any interest in sharing anymore either.

Dan couldn’t stop grinning the rest of the day. What is his life.

-------

The flight was long but comfortable as Phil had booked them business seats, and Dan spent a lot of time like a little child looking out the aeroplane window in amazement.

He squashed all thoughts about how this could be anything more than a business trip with his boss. Who most probably brought him along just for the sexual relief. But when Phil slept with his head leaned on his shoulder, he couldn’t help but entertain thoughts about how maybe Phil wanted more than that too.

They settled into their hotel room quickly, both tired from the long flight. Phil didn’t skimp on the room either, getting one on a high floor overlooking Central Park, with a living room in the suite. Dan thought it was too much for a week’s stay, he’d be fine lounging on the king sized bed all day, but Phil insisted to have a room as comfortable as possible for Dan while he’d be out working.

Dan was feeling like he was harbouring on being a sugar baby, but he didn’t voice that out. He’d planned on giving Phil a blowjob or something as a form of thanks for this trip, but they were both so tired that they fell asleep instead.

------

Dan woke up a couple of hours later, stretching out his long limbs. He’d never slept in such a comfortable bed before. He froze when his foot brushed against another, then he turned to see that Phil was asleep next to him. His heart pounded a bit faster, realising that this was the first time they’d slept together. They’d been too tired to even think properly, they’d even fallen asleep without changing or at least washing up a little.

He quietly got out of bed and to the bathroom to have a quick shower. The bathroom was lavish, with an inviting tub that he couldn’t wait to use. When he was done, he walked out to see that Phil was already up and waiting his turn to use the shower.

Dan was quite surprised at how comfortable it all felt. He didn’t feel awkward at all sharing the room with his boss, but he guessed that it was probably because he’d spent so long sharing the office room with him anyway. He found it funny almost; the man who was so adamant in setting up boundaries between them months ago was almost gone.

He explored the room a bit more properly now that he wasn’t tired. The first thing he realised was that there was only one bed. He didn’t know if it was excitement or nerves that he felt as he thought about sharing the bed with Phil for a week. And did Phil get a room with just one bed on purpose?

“Had a good rest?” Phil asked as he stepped out of the shower.

“Mhmm,” Dan smiled from where he was knelt unpacking his luggage. Not that he brought many clothes, if the rules in office were to apply here as well. Already he was just in his boxers, feeling comfortable enough.

It was already dark out, but jetlag caused them both to be wide awake. Phil made a quick order for room service, and they both lounged in the living room sofa in front of the tv while waiting for their food.

Except Dan had no intention of watching tv.

“Thank you for bringing me along on this trip, Sir,” he said, voice sultry.

He slid off the sofa and sank to his knees between Phil’s legs, not caring about subtleties.

Phil chuckled and spread his legs, “I mean I gotta admit it was for selfish reasons but I guess it is a win-win.”

Dan’s fingers traced along the waistline of Phil’s sweatpants, which Dan thought he looked absolutely hot in, even when compared to the usual business attire he was used to seeing his boss in. There was a dent forming in Phil’s pants where it was obvious he was growing hard already. He tugged Phil’s pants down, surprised to find that Phil was going commando.

He got Phil’s cock in his mouth in no time. They’d done this enough times that it felt like second nature to Dan already. He was so used to the feel of Phil in his mouth, the taste of him and his scent flooding his nose. He was used to the sounds Phil makes, knowing what each meant for Phil. He prided himself in his job, no matter how unusual it may be to outsiders.

He was so used to it that it didn’t even feel like a job anymore.

Phil’s hand had snaked through his curls, tugging gently as a sign for him to speed up. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on Phil’s cock, moving off only to suck on his balls before moving back to get Phil’s whole length in his mouth.

Phil moaned. He was so glad that Dan agreed to follow him on this trip. He was certain that he’d have a lot of pent up energy, not to mention feeling lonely, if he was here alone and away from Dan for a whole week.

He canted his hips up a little, pushing himself into Dan more. It was a quickie, a little sloppy but he could feel and see how much Dan was putting himself into it. He loves that about Dan, he never half-asses the things he does. He always made sure to put in extra effort to give him pleasure, and Phil appreciated that.

Phil held Dan’s head in place as he felt himself getting closer, even though he knew Dan wouldn’t move away anyway. Soon, he was coming in Dan’s mouth, shivering in pleasure as he felt Dan swallow around him.

He looked down to see Dan finally pop off his dick, lips swollen red and pupils dilated. He could see that Dan was also aroused, his own boxers looking way too tight now.

Just as he was about to suggest returning the favour, their doorbell rang. Dan scrambled to get up while Phil did so too. Phil quickly redressed and went to the door, letting room service in.

“Well I was about to get you off too but... now that the food is here, let’s dig in first,” Phil smirked, trying not to laugh at Dan's adorable pout.

Dan stifled a grumble as he tried to eat while still horny. At least the denial reminded him that nothing’s really changed except their location.

-----------

Phil was even busier with work than usual, leaving their room really early the next day and fighting off his jetlag to attend countless meetings throughout the day. He even had to attend a business dinner with his partners and staff, and felt guilty for leaving Dan all alone til the late hours of the night.

Of course he didn’t confine Dan to their room like Rapunzel’s stepmom. As he unlocked their door and stepped inside after a long day, he found that he was rather looking forward to hearing about Dan’s day than anything else Dan could do with his mouth.

Dan had had a really relaxing day, having gone for a swim in the hotel pool before heading out to explore Central Park.

“I found a cafe that might possibly be better than our coffee shop back home,” Dan was gleaming as he told Phil about his day.

“No way,” Phil said in mock offence, “you dare say that our cafe is defeated?”

Dan giggled, nodding his head.

“Well you’d better bring me there on my off day. I won’t believe it til I see it for myself, boy. If I even get an off day, that is,” Phil sighed, feeling tired.

It was already past 1am, and he had another early start tomorrow. Business trips aren’t as fun as people make them out to be, and he was so glad that he had company this time.

-------

The next few days went by the same, with Phil leaving early and coming back late to listen to Dan’s day before hitting the sack. Dan felt bad for not doing what he was there to do, but Phil seemed way too busy to even think about sex. One night, he was still writing emails past midnight, and had even told Dan to go to bed first.

On Saturday, Dan came back earlier after doing a bit of shopping. Phil still had meetings to attend, but he’d said that he was able to finish work before dinner.

So Dan had a plan to help his boss relax after a tiring few days. He’d bought some bath bombs and scented candles on his shopping spree. He lit candles all around the room, and prepared a bath.

Phil opened the door and was immediately greeted with a soothing scent. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the sunset glow and leaving the room to be lit only by the several scented candles scattered around.

He could feel tension slowly leave his shoulders as he walked further into the room. He found Dan on their bed, in nothing but a bathrobe.

“What’s all this?” he asked softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

After Dan set up everything, he was afraid that it all looked a tad too romantic and his boss might get the wrong idea. But his worries melted away as Phil stood before him looking really appreciative of his work.

“My job is to help you relax, isn’t it, Sir?” Dan said as he stood up and closed the space between them, “and I’ve been quite shit at that recently. Gotta make up for it somehow.”

“Nonsense, Dan,” Phil argued, his hands landing on Dan’s waist, “you help me relax every night with stories of your day. But this sure is a treat.”

Phil leaned in and kissed Dan, feeling Dan practically melt into his touch. Dan broke the kiss sooner than Phil would’ve liked to, to loosen Phil’s tie. Once the tie was off, he tugged at Phil’s blazer til it was off too.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you, Sir,” Dan murmured as he unbuttoned Phil’s shirt.

“I like the sound of that,” Phil replied as he was practically pushed towards the bathroom.

The lavender aroma hit Phil the moment he opened the bathroom door. He turned around when he realised Dan had stepped back.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?” he raised an eyebrow.

Dan looked like he hadn’t expected that request.

“Oh, I thought you’d like some alone time,” he spoke timidly.

“I’m pretty sure your company would help me relax more,” Phil stated as he walked into the bathroom, not bothering to see if Dan would follow him in.

Because of course Dan would follow him in.

Phil was already stepping into the tub when Dan shut the door behind him. Candles were also scattered around the bathroom, giving a soft glow.

“Tub’s big enough for both of us,” Phil stated, looking at Dan expectantly.

Dan felt nervous suddenly, but in the good way where the butterflies in his tummy were drunk. Was that a good way? He wasn’t sure. He felt Phil practically undress him with his eyes before he even got to shrug his robe off.

“I-I brought wine,” he announced shyly, taking the bottle and glasses that he’d hidden in one of the cabinets.

He poured two glasses for them and placed them at the corner of the tub before quickly slipping in opposite Phil, letting the lavender aroma fill his senses.

“So how was your day?” Phil asked as he took his glass.

Dan relaxed into the tub as he went on about his adventures trying to find the perfect bath bomb, how he got mistaken for being one of the salesperson at Yankee Candle and almost got yelled at by a customer even though they were the one mistaking him for a worker.

Much like the previous days, they both enjoyed just sitting in each other’s company listening to stories about their day. Dan loved how everything was feeling so natural between them.

Phil could feel his stress float away with every sip of wine and every funny anecdote his boy told animatedly. The water was still warm and smelled so calming. He stretched his legs, grazing against Dan’s thighs as he did so.

He didn’t miss the tiny pause from Dan when his foot touched his thigh.

“Thank you for your effort, I appreciate all this,” Phil sighed happily.

Dan smiled, glad that his surprise worked.

“I only have one problem.”

Dan’s smile faded, immediately wracking his brain for all possibilities of what could be wrong.

“You are sat way too far away right now,” Phil stated matter-of-factly.

Dan chuckled, shaking his head slightly in relief. He turned around in the tub carefully to move into Phil’s waiting arms. Phil hummed happily as he pulled Dan closer to him, til Dan’s back was pressed against his chest.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Dan leaning against Phil and Phil tracing little circles on Dan’s chest and tummy as they let the scented bubbly water soak them. Dan closed his eyes and in this quiet moment, he dared to pretend that they were more than what they really were. It was a dangerous game to play, but he’d found himself playing pretend more and more these days.

Soon, Phil’s mouth found his way to Dan’s damp neck. Dan tilted his head to give him more access. Phil left sloppy open mouthed kisses, tasting soap on his lips. His hands had settled on Dan’s nipples, beginning to tug on them.

Dan whimpered, feeling himself get hard. He rested his hands on Phil’s knees so that he wouldn’t lose control and touch himself.

“I believe I still owe you an orgasm from our first day here,” Phil whispered hotly against Dan’s neck.

Dan had almost forgotten that he still hadn’t gotten relief, but his cock twitched at the reminder. He moaned as Phil bit on his neck and began sucking a hickey.

One hand snaked away from Dan’s nipple and slid further down til it was ghosting around Dan’s hard cock resting against his lower stomach. Dan let out a strangled whine and gripped Phil’s knees harder.

Phil began stroking Dan slowly, touch ever so light, while still playing with Dan’s nipple and decorating his neck with more hickeys. Dan moaned, his head tilting back to rest against Phil’s shoulder. Phil took the opportunity to kiss along Dan’s jaw.

Dan could feel Phil’s erection against his ass.

“H-hold on,” he stuttered, struggling to stop Phil’s ministrations.

Phil stopped, confused, his hand still loosely wrapped around Dan’s dick. Dan held onto the edge of the tub to give himself leverage. He sat up for a moment and reached below to grab Phil’s cock.

Phil moaned at Dan’s touch, and his eyes widened at the realisation of what Dan was about to do. Before he could say anything, Dan had sunk down onto his dick.

“God,” Phil moaned heavily.

Dan began riding him slowly, careful not to move too much lest water spills out of the tub.

“Did you even stretch?” Phil asked.

“Candles and wine and this bath weren’t the only things I prepared,” Dan admitted sheepishly.

“God,” Phil repeated, and regained his grip on Dan’s cock.

Dan was moving too slow for Phil’s liking, so he urged his boy to speed up. His strokes on Dan��s cock matched Dan’s speed, which encouraged Dan to move faster.

Some water eventually did splash out of the tub, but Dan didn’t care anymore. He could feel himself breaking out a sweat despite being in a bath. He clenched around Phil every time Phil squeezed his shaft.

They moved in a rhythm for a bit, the purple water swirling and foam floating around them. Dan could feel his orgasm building up soon enough, and he rocked his hips faster, lifting up with more urgency and sinking onto Phil’s lap harder.

Phil was also jerking him off quicker. His lips were glued to Dan’s neck, his other hand still playing with Dan’s nipples. Dan was overwhelmed with sensations from all over his body, and he loved how Phil could reduce him to a moaning mess just like that.

“Close, Sir,” Dan uttered, hanging his head as he continued riding Phil.

“After me,” Phil grunted and sped up his movement’s on Dan’s throbbing cock.

Water splashed around them as Dan rode Phil with earnest, helping Phil chase his orgasm. Within a few more moments, Dan felt Phil shudder behind him, groaning as he came.

As Dan felt himself get filled with warm fluid, he also finally let go. Phil pumped him throughout his orgasm, and he clenched around Phil as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. When he was finally done coming, he slumped against Phil.

Phil was kissing the bruises he’d formed on Dan’s neck, not bothered to lift Dan off of him.

“Coming underwater feels the same as peeing underwater,” Dan uttered, brain too fuzzy to think before speaking.

He could feel his boss’s laugh vibrate through his body as much as he heard it.

“Up you get,” Phil hit Dan’s ass, “the water’s gross now that you’ve come in it.”

They got out of the tub and drained it, and Phil pulled Dan into the shower to quickly rinse both of them off.

Dan felt about ready to sleep, but they had not eaten, so he called room service for them. They ate on the bed together, making plans for the next day as it was Sunday so Phil had the day off.

After eating, they got comfortable under the blankets, and Dan didn’t want to think about how easily Phil pulled him closer, how easily he snuggled into Phil’s chest, how easily they spooned each other until their breaths evened out and they dozed into peaceful slumber.

Dan didn’t want to think about how easy it was to get used to yet another routine. He did not want to think about how this routine would get snatched away from him once this trip ends, and things at home would feel like a step back. He didn’t want to think about any of it, so for now he just pretended that it will always be this way.

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

~Part 9~

~Part 11~

I’ve gotten stuck and rewritten new ideas so many times that idek if I like this anymore, it’s been so long since the fic started that idek if it even flows smoothly but I hope it does, and what matters is that you like the updates, so thank you for still being here for this fic <3

#dan the personal assistant #My fic #phan #Phanfic #Smut #phan smut

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tsc-updates · 5 years ago

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Modern TID - Part 5

Part 4 - Part 6

They kept texting regularly and seeing each other in class before thier date on Wednesday. This time, Tessa tried not to think about it too much. They had a class together before their lunch date, so she tried to look as if it was a normal day. As if her stomach wasn’t doing backflips every five minutes, and her legs weren’t crumbling with every step and her heart wasn’t racing to the point of cardiac arrest.

She arrived at class fifteen minutes earlier in hopes she could see him. When someone tried to sit next to her she almost pushed them off the seat. At last, he arrived in class, and the world stopped around them. Her stomach started flipping, her legs stilled, and her heart began beating normally. She felt completely at ease.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He said while sitting next to her.

“Good morning, flatterer.” She smiled.

It was one of the hardest classes Tessa ever had to go through. It wasn’t just the feeling of him sitting next to her, it wasn’t just that every time their hands accidentally touched there was a shock throughout her entire body, it was mostly the fact that Will kept sliding notes to her the entire two hours.

“You look cute when you’re focused”

“Hey, you. Yes, you. I like you :)”

“I’m bananas for you” “Roses are red. Violets are blue. I don’t like flowers. But I do like you.” Even though she was loving them, she knew they had to pay more attention so when he slid one saying “I like you a latte” with a terrible drawing of what was supposedly a coffee cup, she turned it around and write “Pay attention” underlined three times. A few minutes later he slid another note.

“I can’t pay attention when you’re this close to me”

Her heart jumped a beat. She could feel his eyes on her. She blushed and couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

When class ended, they left together, in the direction of the same café they had been to on thier date-but-technically-not-a-date lunch on the day they met. While they were walking his hand slid down and took hers. She didn’t move away. Instead, she interlocked thier fingers and squeezed his hand in reassurance. Their hands remained locked together throughout the entirety of lunch.

“I know this movie theatre that only shows old movies. Never shows new movies that just came out. Only movies from ten years ago and prior.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “And today they’re showing ‘Four Weddings And A Funeral’. It’s one of my favorite movies so I was wondering if you’d like to come and see it?” His cheeks were slightly pink with shyness.

She smiled sweetly. “I would love to.” She took a sip of her nearly finished iced tea. “What’s it about?”

Will widened his eyes in startlement. “You’ve never seen it?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

He waved his hands. “That settles it then.” He leaned closer to her. “You’re gonna love it.”

She leaned even closer. “You haven’t told me what it’s about yet.”

“I can’t tell you.” He leaned back in his seat.

She crossed her arms. “Why not?”

“Because if I start talking about the movie I’ll never shut up.” He smirked. “Like you with Charles Dickens.”

She pointed her finger at him. “Hey, that man is a literary God.”

He raised his hands. “Alright, alright! Don’t shoot!” She started laughing and soon enough he was laughing with her.

The movie theatre was considerably close. But even if it wasn’t, she still would’ve chosen to walk there. Strolling through London with Will by her side, their hands intertwined, was the best feeling she’d had in months.

There was a showing about to start so they raced inside. They sat in the back because Will insisted it was the best seats in the room. “I didn’t ask if you wanted anything. Popcorn? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I hate when people eat in the movies. I came here to watch something, not to hear fifty people munching for 2 hours.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Thank goodness. I hate it too. Those people should just watch movies at home where the only people they can annoy is themselves.”

The couple sitting in front of them turned around with two big bags of popcorn in their hands. Annoyed, they got up and moved to different seats. Will and Tessa shared a look and immediately burts into laughter. “Did you know?” She asked.

“I had no idea.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

The movie started and they hushed into silence. Will had been right, this was a great movie. She could tell why he loved it so much. When the character Gareth started clutching his arm and fell on the drinks table, Tessa heard herself gasp, and tears prickled her eyes. She had wondered at the beginnig of the film who the funeral was for, and as the story went on she found herself bonding with this particular character. Watching him die of a heart attack gave her a sick feeling.

At the funeral, when Matthew started giving his speech, Tessa heard a sob from next to her. She turned to Will and saw him crying. “I’m sorry.” He said. “This part gets to me every time.” He took a deep breath, and like Tessa usually did with books she’d read time and time again, he lowly recited the speech at the same time as the movie.

“This is actually what I want to say: Stop all the clocks. Cut off the telephone. Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos, and with muffled drum, bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come. Let the aeroplanes circle mourning overhead, scribbling on the sky the message: He is dead. Put big bows on the white necks of the public doves. Let traffic policeman wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West. My working week and my Sunday rest. My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. I thought that love would last forever. I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now. Put out every one. Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

He took a breath, to regain his strenght. He was shaking, and there were tears on his face. She didn’t speak. Waited for him to say something. At last, he did. “One day, I will recite this very poem at a funeral.”

She wanted to ask who’s. But she didn’t. “Hopefully you won’t have to fir a very long time.”

He sighed. “Much sooner than we all hoped.” He gave a bitter laugh. “You must be regretting the decision to come with me. You must be waiting for the movie to end so you can hop off and leave.”

She leaned closer to him. Kissed him on the cheek, and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t turn, didn’t say anything. Just held her hand throughout the rest of the movie.

They walked back to her apartment in comfortable silence. She pulled him up the front steps with her. “Does this means I have to say goodnight? Because iI really don’t want to.” Will smiled up to her.

She looked at the time on her phone. “Technically not goodnight since it’s only 6pm.” She grinned.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He went up to the smae step as her, making her have to look up at him. “Maybe we could have fun again this Friday?”

Date number three? Uh oh, we’re inching closer to ‘Status Update: In a relationship’.” She laughed.

“Would that be so bad?” He asked, a serious look on his face.

She shook her head. “Not at all. But be warned, I come with an idiotic borderline psychotic brother.”

“I come with a house of nut jobs and identity issues.” He shrugged. “It’s a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.” She laughed but he turned serious once again. “I have a question.”

“Go ahead.” “Can I kiss you?” His cheeks were tinted rosy, and his blue eys were staring at her intently.

She pretended to think about it, even though she knew what answer she wanted to give him. She stood on her tiptoes to get closer to him. He tilted his head and leaned down, but just before he could kiss her she stopped him. “Not yet.” She pulled away and smiled up at him.

His eyes were wide and his mouth agape. He smiled nonetheless. “I’ll see you on Friday then.”

She laughed and walked inside. Her happiness was short-lived. Walking inside her apartment, there was her brother and his friends. She made a beeline for her room, her brother paying no attention to her this time. One of his friends unfortunately did. “You look nice.” He was leaning on the wall next to her door. She didn’t know his name, and she didn’t care to find out what it was. “Big date?”

“Just studying.” She tried to get into her bedroom but he blocked her path.

“Those clothes look good on you.” His breath smelled of alcohol and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Her blood ran cold when he stepped closer to her. “I bet they’d look better off.” She felt his hands on her hips.

Suddenly he was pushed off her and into a wall. She was frozen into place. From the corner of her eyes, she could see her brother keeping him locked at the wall with his arm. “If you ever touch my sister again, I will kill you.” He threw him to the floor and the guy stayed there, almost unmoving. Her brother whispered in her ear. “Go into your bedroom and don’t come out.”

She did as she was told. She was too afraid to protest. She heard fight noises from the other side of the door. She wanted everything to disappear, to go away. She got under her covers, with the same clothes she had gone with. Her phone rang with a message tone. She pulled it out of her pocket to see a message from Will. “I’m missing you already.” She smiled despite everything happening outside.

She realized something. That even though he snapped at her, and it felt like he wished she was gone, her brother still protected her from the evil monsters that lurked in the shadows. And that Will, though having just met him, could make her smile no matter how hard things were and how miserable she felt.

Will was the Prince Charming of her fairytale. All that was left was to find out if Nate would be part of the angelic cavalry, or part of the venomous demons.

#will herondale #tessa gray #nate gray #wessa #the infernal devices #tid #the shadowhunters chronicles #tsc

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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years ago

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‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #27

In hindsight, given what was happening, I shouldn’t have answered my phone to the unknown number.

The week after we returned from New York was a whirlwind. Harry and I spent our first day back holed up together at his house, snoozing through jet lag and doing our laundry from the trip. I went straight back to rehearsals the day after that, fighting off a tickle in my throat I was adamant wasn’t going to turn into any kind of seasonal head-cold. Harry spent two days in his UK management office, sorting out all the paperwork and legal aspects of him working on his March EP in London with Rodger’s studio before he was straight to work writing and recording.

At some point, I would be joining him in the studio because, as Rod from his management company had alluded to in New York, Harry was hoping to include the song that I helped him with his new releases. He wanted to give me full writer's credit which I was instantly opposed to, but Harry was adamant that without being able to credit my contribution he wouldn't release the song. It was a beautiful song and as much as I was uncomfortable being included, it felt like daylight robbery to have it die because of me.

Alongside that, my dad arrived in town, and in-between my own rehearsals I managed to sneak into his and sit in on him working with the London Symphony. I spent most nights having dinner with him near his hotel and then getting the tube back to my own house because Harry was either out or had already crashed for the night and I didn’t have the heart to disturb his sleep patterns.

Between all this, it was increasingly becoming harder to ignore the chatter that seemed to be following me. I was more and more finding myself ignoring message notification on my phone, avoiding surfing any news sites, and I’d disabled what felt like every possible setting on my social media accounts. Friends from Blackpool and Cambridge were reaching out about Gavin and what he was saying, and more than a few of them were asking questions about Harry. I felt like I was the gatekeeper to some ridiculous secret everyone wanted details on, and what was making me feel sick about it was that, at this stage, the assumption in the gossip mill was simply that I knew Harry. Nobody had run far enough with the whole idea to predict I might be anything other than friends with the famous pop star.

I spent the whole week looking forward to the weekend. Friday night and Saturday were booked doing nothing in particular with Harry. Saturday evening would be spent with Harry, Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned watching my Dad conduct the London Symphony Orchestra. And Sunday was reserved for spending at Harry’s dealing with whatever hangover resulted from the night before.

So really, answering an unknown caller on Friday just as I was about to text Harry I was on my way and walk into the tube was a stupid move. It was almost certainly going to be someone that I definitely did not want to talk to; still, there was some part of my brain who thought perhaps it was someone from the orchestra whose number I hadn’t saved yet or a call about an appointment I forgot I made.

“Nina, as I live and breathe,” Gavin’s voice was smooth and precise in my ear, “You really did block me number, huh.”

I stopped walking and turned on my heel, trying to escape but having nowhere to go. I briefly considered hanging up out of sheer panic, but I didn’t like the precedence that set. Before I could figure out what the hell to do, he continued speaking. Holding my trumpet case in one hand and the phone in the other, I ducked into a shop alcove and stared blankly at the passing people in disbelief.

“You’re a tricky woman to get a hold of these days,” He crooned, “Shacking up with a pop star has changed you.”

"Gavin," I said, my voice shaking in a way I couldn't control, "What can I help you with?"

"Straight into assuming I need something from you," Gavin said with a tut, "I was calling to congratulate you. I underestimated you, which isn't something I care to admit."

I tried to give my voice a chipper edge, "That's big of you."

"What I can't figure out though is what he gets out of it," Gavin asked, sounding pleased with himself, "Styles doesn't strike me as needing numbers in the symphonic community."

"You don't know the first thing about Harry," I snapped quickly, immediately regretting it.

"Clearly," Gavin agreed eerily quickly, I'd played right into his hands, "Although no, that's probably not entirely fair to say. On paper, you're a catch. He'd have to have an ego on him, lesser men have fallen into the same trap."

"Gavin," I breathed out, losing my patience with his bating me. My heart was racing, and I turned back into the tube just so I could find somewhere to sit. "Why are you calling?"

"Just checking in," He said defensively, "Been getting loads of questions about you and wanted to speak to the legend herself. Couldn't believe Leon when he saw you at New Years, I was sorry to miss it."

"You're getting questions because you practically begged for the attention," I whispered quickly, suddenly surrounded by other people waiting for the train to pull up.

"Hey," He sneered down the phone, "I can share whatever the fuck I want online, hear me? It's not like Harry fucking Styles is going to sacrifice his perfect little media identity to correct the record for your sorry arse. Not that I technically said anything he needs to get his knickers in a twist about."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," Gavin all but spat, "What on earth could you possibly have that I would want? It's pathetic to see really, you sucking off The Man to land that interview. Seems I was right, classical music can only get you so far ... You've had to get yourself a famous boyfriend to get anywhere."

"I was in the orchestra before Harry—"

"—Keep telling yourself that, love," He laughed.

"Gavin, just leave me alone, okay? Just ... Don't say shit online about Harry or me. You got the career you wanted, just back off mine, okay?"

"You owe me," He barked, "What on earth makes you think you can tell me how this is going to go?"

Dozens of other conversations with the same tone started layering over in my head, memories from years ago that had taken a long time to write over suddenly crashed through my mind and seized me up inside. He was just the same as always, and having been away from Gavin for so long supplied the harsh reality it—of what he had always been like—that much more jarring. I stopped speaking, which always resulted in Gavin's poison gaining momentum. I found a seat on the tube and pushed myself as far against the glass as I could, adrenalin was making my legs weak, and my eyes star.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my girlfriend go fucking crazy and fall off the deep end?" He continued.

"I'm not crazy," I said weakly, feeling my eyes heat and my throat constrict.

He laughed sarcastically, "Love, you went full One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, we all know it. Jesus Christ, the questions I got when you fucked off. Humiliating is an understatement, I—."

With shaking hands, I held my phone out in front of my face, hearing him continuing to speak but not understanding the words correctly. I pressed the hang-up button and hurrying to go into my call log and block the number. After my phone was safely on aeroplane mode, I slipped it under my thigh and looked out the window at the black tunnel passing by, my own reflection staring back at me.

I looked crazy.

+++

I loved the London underground.

On weekend nights everyone is dressed up and smells terrific, the carriages are dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights, and there’s an air of something intrinsically seductive and winsome. Business people coming home have the relieved look of people who have earned their weekend breaks, and people on their way out have a joyous look of the pending release.

It can be so relaxing, and it's the only place in the world I have ever enjoyed the company of strangers. Because they're non-threatening, and I know they’re not expecting anything from me. I can be invisible, hiding behind anonymity and the simple fact that everyone has somewhere to be, people to meet and life to live.

I distracted myself with these thoughts as I sat on the train, swinging between digesting the call with Gavin and pretending it didn't happen by watching the people of London around me. I hadn't been paying attention to the train I got on and ended up heading in the opposite direction I usually did. I stumbled out of the carriage at some point and changed direction back into the city.

But when the Baker St underground came, I didn’t get off like I should have.

I needed to get on the Hammersmith and City line, but when Baker St came and disappeared again, and I was still firmly planted in my spot in the carriage. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured I could get off at Edgeware Rd, the next stop, and then go back.

But I didn’t.

I completely froze.

The station spun by, and the train breathed with passengers going off and new ones getting on.

Four stops came and went that way. I sat clasping my phone in my lap and trying everything I could to calm my thudding heart enough to allow me to get out at the next stop. I had to get off, I had to call Harry.

Or Max. Or Rodger. My dad. Anyone.

But I was sat on a train on the other side of London to them all. I told Harry I would let him know when my rehearsals finished for the day to see if he was still working with Rodger or if he was already heading home. If he was still with Rodger, we had plans to get dinner nearby before heading to North London where his home was. If Harry was already on his way home, I was going to get the tube to him.

An announcement came over the carriage speakers saying that the next stop, Shepherd’s Bush Market, was the last of the line and all passengers needed to disembark.

Ten minutes later, I found myself standing outside the station, trying to create an idea in my head of what was around this area. It was nearing seven o’clock by this stage, and the only thing I knew would be open was London Westfield, just a short walk away.

I put my phone into my blazer pocket, trying to forget I owned it at all, and followed the crowd into the shopping centre, my instrument case heavy at my side.

Most of the shops were shut, or closing, but the centre stayed open late for the cinema and restaurants dotted throughout.

I walked through numbly, my eyes flitting around all the different exhibits and stores. Most of them were familiar, but there was a level of comfort in the fact there were only a handful of other people I was sharing the space with. I liked being able to hear my heels click on the shiny floors, and the way the music playing through the speakers could be easily deciphered.

I recognised the Ed Sheeran song currently playing, but it was hearing another melody cut over it that halted me in my spot, and I wondered how it had been able to sneak up on me.

‘Romanza’ by Chopin.

A song more familiar to me than any pop song, one that had been familiar for years in a style that was as easy as breathing for me to inhabit.

My steps automatically quickened, and I found myself darting my gaze around, trying to follow the sound. I turned a final corner and hit what Rodger liked to refer to as the ‘Paris End’ of Westfield, where all the high end and designer stores were. The lighting up here was softer, the stores were guarded and underneath an impressive crystal chandelier was a black Bösendorfer grand piano.

There were armchairs arranged in a circle to the side of the piano, and I slowly slipped myself into one, putting my case down and not taking my eyes of the young man playing exquisitely for the whole shopping centre to hear. The acoustics were amazing.

With a small nod and a smile, he acknowledged my arrival but went back to his former state; eyes

closed, back swaying back and forward, and a blissfully serene look on his face. I was jealous of him.

The calmness of the piece eventually overtook me as well, and I rested my head back comfortably and shut my eyes to really hear what was being played. My heartbeat slowed, and the noise in my head disappeared. The scratchiness of my trousers and the damage my simple, black boots had done my feet disintegrated with it.

All that existed was a beautiful piano concerto being played, and my witnessing it.

Halfway through Debussy’s ‘Reflects Dan L’eau’ when I snapped back into the present by the bungle of three completely wrong notes, all in quick succession to each other. My eyes fluttered open and the way the shiny, reflective roof of the shopping centre took several moments to clear from my blurry eyes told me they had been shut for quite a while.

“Thought you’d drifted off, Miss,” he called out through a smile, slowing his playing and speaking over the piano. Something in the glint in his eye told me he knew messing up the notes would be the fastest way of catching my attention. His eyes fell on the instrument case at my feet.

“No,” I mumbled, sitting up straighter and watching as he nodded politely and then went back to concentrate on his playing, “I was just listening ...” I added quietly to myself.

The fact that he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in why I was there, or why I didn’t appear to be making any move to leave pleased me. He simply went back to his playing, and I didn’t see him look my way again.

7:48pm, my phone screen read and when I turned aeroplane mode off the screen lit up with two missed calls from Harry and a string of texts, along with a missed call from Max.

5:12 Hiya, we're wrapping up now, I can swing by Southbank and pick you up for half-past? x

5:25 Sorry, make that 6. Traffic is shocking.

5:38 You're usually finished by now, everything okay?

6:10 Have I completely forgotten something I shouldn't have? Were you going to see your dad?

6:38 Babe, you're worrying me. Call me back x

He was worried, and I felt sick for it. Watching Harry's regular interactions with me and how he was going about a typical Friday night barely felt real. I didn’t know what I felt about what Gavin had said to me, but I knew that as soon as I pinpointed one emotion, the avalanche of all the rest would ensue. And following that would be an overriding sense of panic.

Panic was coming already though, seeping through the gaps and crevasses, damaging the wall blocking out what I was feeling. Because worrying about fear only brought it on faster, making it stronger. It was that double-edged sword of knowing something was coming but then inadvertently making it occur sooner.

I leant forward with my elbows on my knees and my head resting in my hands, putting all my attention on placing my feet in their black heels as close together and perfectly aligned as I could. My phone screen lit up on my lap, and my eyes were drawn to it before I could make myself ignore it.

Everything in me was screaming to call him but because I didn’t know what I would say to him I hesitated. All my mind could make my body focus on was the music swirling around me. It felt like a small miracle to have found it immediately after my conversation with Gavin, to have ended up on this armchair, under a crystal chandelier in the great hall of London Westfield listening to the greats; to Chopin, and Rachmaninoff, and Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. They were being played by a stranger I had never seen before and would never see again but for the last hour everything he had been telling me—everything he was saying through the notes his fingers were commanding—made sense to me. For the last hour, this had been my language, and he was the only other person in the world speaking it.

I looked back down to my phone on my lap. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to. My chest hollowed, blood rushed to my feet, but my thumb was swiping across the glass surface despite the pooling dread.

Harry answered immediately.

“Hey, I've been worried, what's going on?” He urged in a hushed but desperate tone.

“I’m sorry, I'm okay,” I traced the line of my trousers with my thumbnail nervously. I wondered if Harry was at home or not.

I heard him take a deep breath, “You’re okay?” There were a few beats of silence, “Where are you,

Nina?”

“London Westfield,” I said softly.

“London ...” He paused, his voice almost sounding received for a moment like he could conjure a reason why I might have gone there, “Why are you out there?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered pathetically, but it was true. The line was silent for a few painful minutes.

"I'm confused."

"Can I come over?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Of course," he said quickly, "What's wrong, though? Has something happened?"

"I'm not crazy," I told Harry.

"You're not," Harry said carefully, I clamped my eyes shut knowing I was putting him in a shitty position, "What's happened? I'll come and pick you up."

“Harry, you don't need to—”

“—I'm already in the car," He told me, "Now, tell me what's wrong."

I let out a frustrated sigh and tears slip out despite my telling myself not to, "It's stupid."

"Not if you're this upset by it."

"I spoke to Gavin."

"You spoke to ... What? How? Where was he?"

"Not in person," I corrected Harry, I could hear the sound of his car in the background, "He called on an unknown number, and I was stupid enough to answer. I know I shouldn't have—

“—Nina, what did he say?” Harry said evenly, but the directness of the question hit me square in the chest.

"I don't want to think about it."

"I'm fifteen minutes away. Please tell me, I don't want this fucker getting between us."

Slowly, I recounted the phone conversation to Harry, who quietly listened without interrupting. It was more upsetting the second time around, I found myself unable to believe it happened. To think I had let myself be treated that way at any point was shameful and by the time I finished telling Harry, I very much wished I hadn't started.

"I'm sorry," Harry said through a sigh, "You're not crazy, and you don't owe him a thing. Did he threaten you at all?"

I thought back over it all, "No, but I don't think hanging upon him was a good idea. He'll say more online now."

"And he'll only look like a bigger dickhead," Harry grumbled, "Hanging up was the right thing to do, you don't have to listen to his shit anymore, Nina. I've just parked, where are you?"

I told Harry my location as best I could, not having to wait very long for him to appear in my line of vision behind the piano player. He spotted me almost immediately as well, his face pulled into a frowned, worried one that I felt guilty for creating. Still, there was a lifting inside my chest at seeing him. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he was in comfortable clothes. I stayed seated until he was a few steps away, and my name fell from his lips, then I was up on my feet and pressed against his chest within moments.

Harry's arms wound around my back, and he rested his chin on the top of my head, "You are amazing and beautiful and talented and so loved, Nina. What he says doesn't count anymore. We're going to get you a new phone number, and if he starts spurting any more shit online, we'll take things further."

"I feel so stupid," I said quietly. "How did I let Gavin into my life in the first place?"

Harry cupped my face in his hands and bent down to be at my eye level, "We're not torturing ourselves with those kinds of thoughts, Nina. We're going back to celebrating that article because I won't have you shrinking yourself because of anyone else, myself included."

I looked at him for a few moments, seeing nothing but sincerity and belief there.

"I should have called you earlier." A smile teased his lips, "Yeah, but you called me, so that's a win."

"I'm sorry."

Harry placed a soft kiss against my lips, "Not necessary. You hungry? I'll buy you chicken nuggets on the way home."

+++

Royal Festival Hall was completely sold out.

My dad organised incredible floor seats for the six of us. Harry and I met Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned at a restaurant nearby for dinner beforehand, so by the time, we arrived for the performance we were all well into enjoying each other's company.

As we followed an usher down the aisle to be shown our seats, Harry shuffled up behind me and took my hand in his, "Did I say yet how stunning you are?"

"Yes," I kept my eyes ahead but tilted my mouth his way so I could say it quietly, "You did."

"Phew," He said dramatically, squeezing my fingers. "Just checking."

By some incredible force of nature, Harry managed to pull me from the rut I was sure I was destined for before it happened. We spent the night before, at his house, I had a bath, and we watched 101 Dalmatians afterwards, Harry gently prodding me every so often to measure where I was at. I cried a few more times, Gavin's harsh words ringing in my ears even when I woke up the next morning.

Harry dragged me out of the house early, he went for a run while I walked through the Heath loosely following him. He ran literal laps around me and despite all his best attempts, he wasn't able to convince me to join him for anything more rigorous.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, and it was time to start getting ready for dinner with my flatmates and Gemma and Ned, I felt reassured and nearly entirely back to normal. The ugliness still existed somewhere, but Harry managed to drag me into the present and firmly plant me there. Nothing Gavin had said to me changed Harry or me.

I took a quick photo of the stage from our seats and sent it through to my family group chat. Harry leaned over from his seat next to me and briefly dropped his head on my shoulder. He watched my screen as I sent my brother a rude emoji and then sent my dad a good luck text. I was beside myself with excitement at the prospect of watching him lead this calibre of an orchestra.

"Open your girls chat," Harry rumbled right by my ear. Without thinking I did as I was told, fingers hovering over the screen, waiting to see what Harry would say to me to type. "Tell them to keep the first weekend of February free, I'd like them to come down for my birthday if they'd like to."

"Harry," I turned my head to look at him, "Really?"

"Yeah," He nodded earnestly, "I haven't really planned anything yet, but I'll do something. I'd like them there."

"Not just for my sake?"

"Not just for your sake," Harry reassured, "They're your people, and so they mean a lot to me as well."

Ladies, Harry's birthday is in a few weeks, and he'd love it if you could make it?

"Tell them there'll be free accommodation, food and alcohol," He nudged me, nodding at the iMessage I just sent. "I'll pay for them to fly down if that's easier. They can stay at mine."

"You don't have to do that, Harry, they'll come down on the train."

Harry dropped his palm onto my thigh, "I don't want to put them out. And it's not cheap getting down here, I know."

All expenses covered, so he says. The first weekend in Feb. He's offering tours of his linen cupboard as well. x

Harry laughed as he read over my shoulder, "Good one."

"Thanks," I replied brightly, locking the phone after checking it was on silent and dropping it into Harry's suit pocket between us. "And thank you for inviting them ... You and them getting on is a big deal to me."

"I know."

"I've had to unpack a lot of shame after Gavin, and I've always been wary of what they might think of me seeing someone else, whether they’d trust me again," I told him.

Harry squeezed my thigh, "I'm happy you have them. They're mad about you."

"Mad is right," I rolled my eyes, "You may come to regret inviting them. Once there's an open bar, not a lot can stop Bel and Georgie."

He wriggled his eyebrows at me, "Sounds brilliant."

Just as I was about to reply the house lights dropped and a hush came over the concert hall. Before the announcements started I curled my hand around to the other side of Harry's face and directed it towards me, he had just enough time to blink down at me in the dark before I pulled him closer for a kiss.

"Thank you," I said, pressing my lips against his again, "You're magic."

He gave me a dopey smile and then took my hand in his, resting it on his thigh gently. I stole it back from him briefly a few moments later to join the applause for my dad walking out onto the stage. The suite was Haydn’s ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’ by Sir Simon Rattle, and I knew it was one of his favourites. That was the benefit of being the level my father was, he could walk into the London Symphony Orchestra and tell them what to play.

The orchestra was led through a warm-up, bubbling my chest and had me wriggling in my seat in excitement. Then, my dad turned to face the audience and stepped up to the microphone.

“Good evening,” He said, “My name is Richard Lawrence, and I’m so delighted to be here on holiday with you from my home at the Chamber Orchestra of Europe,” He smiled as the room swelled into applause again, “Thank you. We have a fun one for you tonight, I know! An orchestra having fun what a scandal!” The players chuckled behind him, “We’re bringing you a selection from Franz Joseph Haydn’s best movements, compiled by my good friend Sir Simon Rattle. This is ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’.”

He turned back to his orchestra and raised his arms, waiting for the applause to come to a close before he dramatically dropped his hands and picked them up again, bringing the opening notes of the suite with him.

It wasn’t a suite that I didn’t have committed to memory, so sitting and listening on almost new ears was transformative. The players were fantastic, which I already had insight into having sat in on a few rehearsals throughout the work. Soloists propped the whole body up, and I shivered my way through parts. My dad was right, though, it was a fun suite.

“This is so cool,” Harry whispered into my ear halfway through. I turned to face him, and in the dim light, he watched the tears streaming down my face, Harry’s lips curved up and he scrunched his nose at me. He took my hand in his and turned back to keep watching.

By the end of the performance, I was on my feet applauding dad with hands in the air, and my makeup all cried off. I got a wink and a wave from my dad who searched us out in the audience at final bows. Arrangements were already made about where we needed to go afterwards to meet him, given that there were so many musicians in the greenrooms going backstage was tricky, I was given instructions as to how to get into the conductor's studio.

After giving my name at a fire exit, an assistant led us through greenrooms to a back suite that sat under the stage.

"This is incredible," Harry said, stepping in behind me and taking in the room, "This is definitely one of the best green rooms I've ever been in."

"It's pretty swish," My dad said happily from the other side of the room, his suit jacket draped over the small sofa, "I suppose if I pretended it might feel quite rock and roll."

"You were amazing, dad," I told him, rushing over for a hug, "Your players were incredible, and you kept them together, magnificently."

"Thank you, my sweet," He smiled, graciously accepting repeated congratulations from everyone else. I introduced him to Gemma and Ned, who both thanked him profusely for their tickets. "Now, what are you all up to now?" Dad asked us all, "I'm getting taken out by a few of the board, and I'm sure I could bring a posse such as yourselves?"

"We need to head off, unfortunately," Gemma spoke up first, "Ned is on night shift tomorrow."

Similarly, Rodger and Max both had either early work commitments or a big day ahead of them so didn't want a late night.

"We'll come," Harry offered readily, looking down at me, "Right?"

"If it's really not an issue?" I asked.

"It's absolutely not, my dear," My dad said, "And I dare say taking you both along will impress them enough to have me easily in work for the next decade. If you can just give me fifteen minutes to change and go see my players, I'll meet you in the Foyer."

The group said their farewells and Harry, and I joined them, we stood in the foyer for a while chatting. Gemma gave me a hug with the promise of catching up during the week without the boys. Then, it was just Harry, and I left waiting in a near-empty foyer.

"I stand by my comments months ago about loving seeing you cry over music," Harry told me once we were alone, resting his elbows on the cocktail table we were sitting at, "It's magic. I adore it."

I grinned, "My crying my way through our first date does make for a good story."

"I'm disappointed not to have made you cry myself with my Christmas gig," Harry smirked at me, "I have a right mind to be offended."

"Get an orchestra behind you and I just might," I returned quickly.

+++

Four days later, Harry was standing at the front desk chatting to a receptionist when I arrived at the recording studio. She spotted me immediately, and Harry followed where her attention left him for, an instant smile appearing on his face.

“Hello!” He called out to me, pushing off where he had been comfortably leaning against the desk to take a couple of steps towards me.

“Hi,” I gushed, trumpet case under my arm and a heavy backpack from rehearsals slipping off my arm.

“Let me take that,” Harry took the bag from my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug with his other arm, “Hi,” He kissed my head, and the leant back to look at me, “You get here okay?” I’d been here before to see Rodger, but instead of pointing that out, I smiled and nodded.

“I’ve got your pass,” Harry said, whipping a lanyard out of his pocket and adorning my neck with it before he took my hand and started walking, “Thanks, Jen!” He called back over his shoulder as we left the entrance.

Harry was bringing me in to work on the song that I contributed to all those months ago. I really didn’t know what more I was expected to do, from what Harry told me about his last week or so writing it was the lyrics of the song that he was working on the most. Numerous times I’d told him I didn’t need credit, but he was adamant.

“In here,” Harry directed me to a door, and he dropped my hand to prop it open for me, “After you.”

I walked in and immediately froze, there had to be at least ten or twelve people in the room. Harry nudged me in gently, making a quip about not lurking in doorways. He walked into the left where there was a large sitting area, the studio directly in front.

“Babes,” Rodger was to the right in front of the sound desk, I recognised the tech working with him who also gave me a nod.

“Hey,” I said, siding up to Rodger but throwing a tentative look back over my shoulder where Harry was in the middle of the bulk of the people in the room. “I’m—

A warm hand slipping into mine from behind, “Neens, I want you to meet some people.”

“We’ll start soon,” Rodger told me kindly, watching as I was pulled away.

Three people were working on laptops at a small free-standing table, another two on phones sat on one of the sofas, and then three men standing. They were wearing remnants of business suits they had obviously unassembled as the day went on; cuffs were folded up, ties and jackets had been shed, and collars were undone. I wondered if Harry could feel my hands shaking from the one he was holding onto, but if he did, he didn’t let on. I tried to wear a pleasant smile, but there was a sinking feeling that I was about to find myself well out of my depth.

Harry introduced me to his manager, the head of his record label and his business manager.

I felt sick.

Harry happily went on about how excited he was for today, and how this song was probably his favourite of the bunch they were working on for release. He interrupted to add more detail to my deliberately modest answer about what my schedule was like working in a professional orchestra. I hadn’t wanted to seem like I was showing off about myself in front of these arguably more impressive people, but Harry seemed giddy on the whole exchange happening. They were all lovely to me, I expected nothing less from people had chosen to work so closely with, but still, I was intimidated beyond belief and blind-sighted by them all being there at all.

“Excuse me,” I eventually managed to be courageous enough to say, “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll—

—I know where it is, Harry,” I squeezed his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

I hurried out the room, and a little way down the hall before stopping at a small bench pushed up against the wall. I sat down slowly and rested my head back against the wall. I completely missed the sound of someone following me until I felt the cushion of the seat expand as Rodger sat down too.

“Really had your skates on getting out there,” He said evenly, “Everything okay?”

I pointed back to the studio a few metres away, “The head of his fucking label is in that room.”

Rodger’s expression softened, “He’s not here to intimidate you, Nina. They’re checking in on how recording is going and Harry wanted them to meet you.”

“Who the hell even has a business manager, Rodger?” I added quickly.

Rodger smiled, “Someone who’s in Harry’s position who cares about his career and the careers of the people who work for him.”

“I really don’t know why I’m here,” I hissed at Rodger. “All I did was change the key and alter a melody, and now I’m supposed to what? Pull a pop song out of my arse in front of a room full of people?”

“You fixed a dying song, Nina,” Rodger didn’t blink at my freak out, “The song is yours as far as Harry is concerned, it would be locked on a hard drive somewhere without you. Just because it feels like breathing to you doesn’t mean it’s not miraculous to the rest of us. I could never have done what you did, and neither could Harry. The song wasn’t going to exist and so if it’s going to it’s only right that you oversee it.”

“I don’t even remember what I did.”

“Liar,” Rodger shot back, “You could play it perfectly with your eyes closed, even if you haven’t thought of it since that day. Don’t bullshit me about forgetting a song, you couldn’t if you tried.”

“I’m just a trumpet player from Blackpool,” I said softly, “What am I doing here?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” He replied, “I understand Harry’s team being here is daunting, but we’re gonna go back in there, you’re going to sit in front of the piano and look super cute in the headphones, and it’ll just be you and me at the desk, got it?”

I shut my eyes and nodded, “Don’t let me look bad.”

“That would be impossible,” Rodger stood up, and when I opened my eyes, he was holding a hand down for me. "C'mon."

I let him pull me to my feet and accepted the hug he held his arms out for, "I need to do a nervous wee."

"Off you go then," Rodger chuckled, "I'll get started setting things up in there."

After using the bathroom, I spent a few moments inspecting myself in the bathroom mirror, and I decided I didn’t look half as frazzled as I felt. An excited but sickening churning in my stomach was somehow disconnected from the thoughts in my head telling me making music with Harry was going to be a good thing, probably even a great thing.

So, taking stumbled steps and breathing in almost too deeply, I fisted my hands and placed one leg in front of the other. By the time I was down the corridor and at the door to the studio, I was breathing evenly, and my stomach felt more settled than it had all day.

I walked straight in, and as I passed Rodger at the sound desk I pointed in at the piano, he nodded without removing his headphones and waved me to go in.

The studio air was fresh, but the unmistakable smell of instruments filled my lungs. I stretched my fingers out as I approached the grand piano over to one side and sat down at the stool, pushing it in further so I could reach the peddles comfortably.

"Hear me?" Rodger asked through the set when I put the headphones over my head.

I held up a thumb his way.

"Brill," He said, "Take a few to get settled, and I'll corral the troops out here."

I stared at the keys for a brief moment before placing my fingers across them, fanning through a quiet set of scales and experimenting with how sensitive the keys were when I built the volume. The sound was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the baby grand at my parent's house. I closed my eyes and played around with a few melodies, humming where I thought a voice might sit above them.

"Rodger," I said, waiting for him to look up through the glass window, "Can I open the cover?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll come help, it's heavy."

He shuffled into the room a moment later, flipping a few clasps around the piano and then counting down so we could lift it in time.

"Thanks," I sat back down and played a series of major seventh chords to test out how the sound changed.

"What are you thinking? We going to get into piano bashing?" Rodger asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching my hands.

"Not quite that extreme," I frowned and leaned forward to reach for the treble strings in front of me, "I think harmonic upper partials would give a raspy, ghosty sound that fits though, right? Like having violins without having to deal with violin players."

Rodger laughed at my dig, and I grinned at him, playing the melody from Harry's song while gently touching the overtone positions on the strings of the corresponding keys. A completely different sound filled the studio.

"That sounds sick," Harry appeared next to Rodger and peered into the piano cavity to see what my hands were doing. "Are you allowed to do that?"

"You are if you're Nina," Rodger hit Harry affectionately on the shoulder and then walked away citing a need to finish setting something up.

I stopped my experimenting and sat back on the piano seat, watching Harry watch me.

"Songs about pianos," He signalled softly.

I smiled at him and quickly found the opening chords of the first song that came into my head, "The piano is not firewood yet, they try to remember but still they forget that the heart beats in threes, just like a waltz and nothing can stop you from dancing."

When I paused and raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge, Harry arched his back to belt out his offering, "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday!"

"Stop! Wait," I laughed, ghosting the piano keys to find where I needed to start, "Let me play you an intro."

I played the intro to the iconic Billy Joel song once through and nodded Harry in when he needed to sing, he was smiling the whole time and miming having a harmonica up to his mouth. I stopped after the chorus and pulled my hands away from the key, wondering if this was how his time with Rodger usually went. I didn't like the thought I could be inserting myself as a silly distraction.

"Nerves flushed out?" Harry asked, showing more astuteness to where my head was at than I had given him credit for.

"Tell me where you're at with the song," I prompted him quietly, shuffling to one side of my seat and opening a space for him to join me.

"Well," Harry started, his thigh nestling warmly against mine, "I've completely rewritten the second verse and bridge—

—Tell me about it in terms of the music," I nudged my elbow into his side, "I don't do lyrics."

"Oh," He parroted, and then laughed at himself, "Right. Of course, well ... I'd like it to sound ... Hopeful?"

"So, we'll do a build," I suggested. "You're a guitar man, so I guess you'd—

—I think I want to just have the piano?"

"Just piano?" I questioned.

"Maybe not just piano," Harry swallowed slowly, "But just not be guitar-heavy. I'd like to include some ... Other instruments, I think."

"Other instruments?" I asked, amused by how hesitant he was with the term, his cheeks reddened when he realised I was mildly teasing him for his apprehension. "You don't have to do that because I'm here."

"Play it where we left it last time," Harry nodded at my hands, he cleared his throat and hummed for half a second before singing along with what I had started playing.

He sang in his chest voice, low and sweet with chilling resonance. It was truly beautiful, and I smiled at the way each line of the lyrics played perfectly into the next. Harry closed his eyes as I played into a pre-chorus of sorts, barely reaching to effortlessly switch up to his head voice for the end of each line. I watched him, so I knew when to extend the phrase or move to match his pitch, but Harry kept his eyes closed while he sang.

It wasn't until he fumbled over two lines in a row that he stopped and gave me a bashful smile, "I don't think what I rewrote fits. Let me go get my notebook and—Hey!"

I looked up toward the window to see who had earned Harry's light whine. There was a line of people at the window watching Harry and me at the piano. His manager gave Harry two thumbs up, but Harry flipped them all the bird as he joined them in the room to collect what he needed to continue.

"That sounded great," Rodger walked over to me and then launched into a whole bunch of the technical aspects of what we were about to start doing. A lot of it made sense, and I had been exposed to before, but I had questions about specific parts that he was patient in answering.

When Harry came back, he settled himself off to my left, where the recording mic was set up. He left the room again and returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, placing it on the floor between us without saying a word. I watched him take a sip and then stepped up to the mic and slip on his own set of headphones.

"Okay, Nina," Rodger said to us through the glass again, "I've got the automatic transcription program on you, so we'll be getting the melodies down in real-time. I know," He assured me before I could protest, "You'll be able to manually edit things after. On the dark side, we're more about the recording than having a perfect transcription, yeah?"

"I didn't say a thing," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Harry, mate," Rodger addressed him, "Let's go right through once, doesn't matter if we miss bits. Just give Nina the chance to play it out, and by the second take she'll be set."

"That's annoyingly impressive," Harry told him, adjusting where his headphones sat, "Is there a support group you can recommend?"

"I can hear you both."

"I'll get Max to put you on the mailing list," Rodger promised Harry, setting up a click track to guide our timing but then turning it right down so I could only just hear it.

Harry continued to banter with Rodger as the sound was tested, "Good, I'm going to need maximum support," he spoke into the microphone. "Test, this is a test. I am testing the microphone."

Rodger gave Harry a thumbs up and told me to play something on the piano so he could alter the levels on the boom mics positioned over the open cover. To spite them both, I started tapping out the basic tune of Ode to Joy, not looking at either of them as I did so.

I heard Rodger laugh through the headset, and Harry clapped beside me, "Genius at work."

While they both still were laughing, I switched to Mozart's Sonata No. 17, which shut them up very quickly. I looked over at Harry and gave him a smug smile as I played without hesitation or missing a note. He tried to hold my gaze, but his eyes zeroed in on my hands and were transfixed by their movements. I stopped playing abruptly, and he playfully narrowed his eyes at me.

"Yes?" I asked him sweetly.

"Put him in his place, he's a shit, Nina," Another voice spoke up.

Harry and I looked up to find his manager at the glass with a headset on, "You've never spoken wearing that before!"

"I've never felt the need to," was the reply to Harry's exclamation. "You usually behave yourself."

+++

Two and a half hours later, we had a song.

"It's beautiful," I wound my arms around Harry's waist where he had me tucked under his arm. My fingers played with the cords of our headphones where we stood together, listening to a rough cut of just Harry's isolated vocals.

"Give me a second," Rodger said, distracted by trying to layer the piano and backing vocals over Harry's track."Everyone ready?"

Most of Harry's team left throughout the afternoon, the people on phones and laptops had gone as well as the label head. Harry's manager, business manager and a videographer remained. His manager stood and came over to the desk, but the other two stayed seated on the sofa.

"Okay," Rodger decided he was sorted, clicking on his screen back to the start and pressing play.

Harry tugged the ends of my hair, ghosting his fingers up and down my neck as the opening notes filled our ears. We stood together behind Rodger sitting at the sound desk, the song playing out where we had grown used to hearing sections cut up and altered what felt like a hundred times over.

In the end, Harry hadn't entirely stayed true to his 'piano only' idea, I had managed to convince him to add in some strings which were computerised for now but would be live recorded down the track. We also ended up with bass drums to help with the build to the bridge. Throughout the afternoon, the piano part had been stripped back because I refused to let Harry's gorgeous lyrics drown in a sea of complicated notes and melodies.

The end result was a haunting but euphoric song that took Harry out of his comfort zone and showcased the raspiness and dimension of his voice. It was hopeful like he hoped earlier it would be, but it also gave voice to a vulnerable side of him. It wasn't a song with a strong personal narrative, he had written on the universal truth of life and love and the simplicity behind humanity that we rarely pay mind to.

The song ended, and Rodger slowly turned back to us, his face immediately lit up, "Look at you both!"

"What?" I sniffed, bringing the sleeve of my jumper up to my face, I craned my neck to look at Harry who had his hand covering his mouth.

When he looked down at me, Harry's eyes were wet, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. We both took in each other's faces and then started laughing. I hadn't seen Harry have such an emotional reaction to music, but I knew exactly what he was thinking about mine.

"I see tears, I've done it!" Harry did a little fist punch with his free arm.

"Excuse me," I cried out, "I cry all the damn time if anything I'm the one who's 'done it'. Look at you, you're a mess!"

"It's catching," Harry replied simply, leaning down to press one kiss on my cheek, "Thank you," he said to just me.

"The song is gorgeous," I told him.

"It sure is," He confirmed with an edge of wonder in his voice.

FEEDBACK MAKES ME NOT REGRET WRITING 8K WORDS FOR YOU

#fic: someday someday #hina #harry styles fic #1dff #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fan fiction

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johnny-and-dora · 6 years ago

Text

tell me you can’t bear a room that i’m not in

“I came to see what was taking so long - did you tidy up in here?” He’s wearing her blanket like a superhero cape and he’s got that stupid little smirk on his face and strictly platonic thoughts are few and far between.

or, the one where amy decides showing up unannounced at her flu-ridden best friend's/totally platonic co-worker's apartment to take care of him is a totally platonic activity to do. (late s2 pining)

for the wonderful erica @startofamoment <3

Amy can’t help it. She’s worried.

She’s been trying her best to fill in her paperwork with her usual diligence, even making rare use of her favourite fountain pen in the hopes it would set her back on track – but, frustratingly, her head is completely somewhere else today. No matter how hard she tries, the unsolved arson case sitting in front of her can’t captivate her attention like the unbearable abnormality of the desk opposite her can.

She glances at Jake’s empty seat and feels a twinge of nerves flutter in her stomach.

Amy’s been worrying about him a lot, lately. She’s barely seen him in these last few weeks, and between him getting his heart broken, being kidnapped and then being run over by a car (in that order), she’s had more than a lot to be worried about.

That being said, she also knows that she’s being irrational. Not everyone has an aversion to using up their sick days like she does – it would probably take a direct order from a superior officer to send her home even if she was on her deathbed. She’s immune to diseases most people haven’t even heard of, and she has a stronger immune system than everyone she knows.

But Jake’s not “everyone”. She goes through the facts she knows like she’s trying to solve a case - He loves his job as much, maybe even more than she does, and he hobbled into work with three cracked ribs and three broken toes a few weeks ago like it was nothing. He’s as ridiculously stubborn as she is so he usually needs to be forced to go home. He never takes time off.

The point is, his absence is just weird, and not because there’s no one around to make fun of her or throw paper aeroplanes at her or send her that stupid video of a screaming sheep. She hasn’t seen him in a while now, and she’s worried. She’s allowed to be worried.

It’s a normal thing for a friend to be worried about another friend and their wellbeing. Completely platonically. As a friend.

Amy frowns.

“Is something the matter, Santiago?”

“Captain!” She says, practically jumping out of her seat to greet him. Holt’s face is, as usual, unreadable, though she could swear she detects a hint of concern. That or he just won a radio contest.

“No, Sir. Everything is tip-top. Ship-shape. A-Okay.” As usual, her mouth keeps going without her brain’s approval - she inwardly curses herself, glad that Jake isn’t actually around if only because he can’t see her embarrassing herself in front of the Captain again.

“I was just wondering, do you know where Jake…Detective Peralta is today?” - She asks, trying to sound as professional and nonchalant as possible – “We’re meant to be working the Mulligan arson together, and I…” Amy trails off, not sure how that sentence was supposed to end. Luckily Holt just nods slightly, which she assumes is her cue to stop letting words fall aimlessly out of her mouth.

“Detective Peralta called in sick this morning. I am sure he will be joining us again tomorrow. I assume you can continue your work in his absence?”

“Great. I mean, yes. Good. Thank you, Captain.” She sits back down as he returns to his office, sighing deeply, dismissing her anxieties the best she can. Her beloved paperwork is a welcome distraction, especially as she can actually fill it in without distraction from her desk partner for once.

Somewhat inevitably, though, the worry still lingers that he might actually be on his deathbed or something. She glances at her phone, wondering whether she should make sure he’s okay.

She dismisses the thought after a quiet moment of deliberation – smiling slightly despite herself, feeling her face flush a little. He can never know how worried she gets about him sometimes – Jake’s unbearable enough without any more ego boosts. She’d never hear the end of it.

Amy gets on with her work – but she’s still worried, and she’s still trying to deal with how much she misses him and how weird she should feel about that.

As if on cue, it can only be a few minutes later when her phone buzzes, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Maybe he can hear her thoughts.

God, she really hopes he can’t read her thoughts.

From: Jake Peralta, 11:24am [photo attached] i think i might actually be dying. bet ur gonna miss this beautiful face when i’m tragically struck down in the prime of life

Amy smiles at the photo of him - hair adorably chaotic and floofy, wrapped in a pitiful thin grey blanket, looking both very sorry for himself and slightly like ET. Something flutters in her chest again, but she doesn’t think it’s worry.

She bites her lip, sternly chiding herself for the feelings she doesn’t want suddenly weighing heavy in her gut, guilt and dread saturating the seemingly inevitable rush of endorphins she gets whenever he does something cute (which, recently, has been frustratingly frequently).

It’s not going to happen. Dating a cop ended pretty disastrously for her the last time, and she & Teddy didn’t have a share a desk. They’d be putting their professional relationship – even worse, their friendship – at risk, and it’s just not a risk she’s willing to take, especially as she can take Sophia as shiny, irritatingly beautiful proof that whatever feelings Jake had for her are now in the past.

Whatever might have happened between them has to stay as just that – a hypothetical. Some kind of alternate reality Amy finds herself wondering into far too regularly for the logical part of her brain’s liking.

They’re in such a good place right now. The last thing she wants is for that – or anything, really – to change. Even if she does stupid things like worry about him when he misses one day of work and laugh at his stupid jokes and smile whenever she sees his stupid face, like right now. She’s had these feelings before and they always go away after a little while.

To: Jake Peralta, 11:27am You look rough, pineapples. It’s weird without you here. It’s almost like work is actually getting done.

From: Jake Peralta, 11:28am rude santiago i feel like a corpse that someone murdered, reanimated n then murdered again my body is a temple how could it betray me like this??!

She exhales a little laugh, and, by instinct, tucks her hair behind her ears.

Of course, those feelings also have a tendency to come back, which makes her wonder if they ever really went away in the first place.

***

Amy exhales, knocks firmly on his door, and starts to wonder how - of all the places she could and should be on a Thursday night after a long shift - she ended up here.

It just sort of happens – the day slowly passes without any real incident, except the funky smells that permeate the bullpen after Charles’s failed attempts at a normal human lunch. She gets nowhere looking at old bank statements and scanning CCTV footage trying to track down this perp, and continues to glance at his empty seat every once in a while, wondering what kind of joke he’d crack.

It’s weird to think that last year he spent six months not sitting in that seat and now one day of absence feels almost as jarring. Apparently, it’s so jarring that it’s enough for her to make an unannounced house call, because she’s still worried about him and she still misses him and, if nothing else, he at least deserves a better quality blanket than that grey thin rag, for god’s sake. He deserves to be taken care of.

Of course, she’d spent twenty minutes at home trying to talk herself out of it whilst simultaneously raiding her cupboards for the thickest blanket she owns and putting her stovetop kettle on to boil. She’d spent the whole time driving to his apartment sternly muttering to herself that this was a bad idea - and now she’d spent a good five minutes just standing outside his door before knocking, trying to think of what to say.

She’d like the record to show that when it comes to Jake Peralta, she can average a total of about thirty-five minutes of self-restraint. Maybe it’s a good thing that she hasn’t seen him in a while.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, however, as a clearly sleep deprived Jake opens the door and stares at her like he’s not convinced she’s actually real. It’s kind of adorable.

He’s a few shades paler that usual, his hair is a gloriously disastrous mess, and his grey t-shirt and sweatpants are a museum of stains of all different shapes and sizes - but he’s alive, and healthy enough, and visual conformation of those two facts takes a world of weight off her shoulders. He’s also genuinely surprised to see her judging from that cute dopey expression on his face.

The logical part of her instantly switches off like she’s blown her rational fuse. She also, somehow, seems to forget how to talk.

“…Ames? What are you-“

“I, um, brought tea. And an actual blanket. I thought…you might be cold.” She interrupts, hyperaware of the heat creeping up her body, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. Amy feels a sudden overwhelming urge to just throw the teapot she’s been cradling down at his feet and run for it, but she holds her ground.

“You…you brought tea?”

“It’s my abeula’s recipe – it’s really calming. I thought it might help.” There’s a pause, agonisingly long enough to make her certain that this was a mistake. “I can, um, go if you don’t-“

“No! No. It’s okay, come in.” Jake finally smiles, and she relaxes, stepping in to his apartment. It’s messier than usual, plaid scattered everywhere, various bowls and plates and cups in places where bowls and plates and cups shouldn’t be – but she lets it go, for now.

He stands a little awkwardly, a little self-consciously, as if he’s waiting for her to judge him on how he or his apartment looks - but she just smiles, diligently busying herself with making space to set the teapot down carefully on his coffee table. He’s uncharacteristically quiet until she looks up at him and clocks the way his hands seem to practically shake with nervous energy.

“Did you come here just to…take care of me?” He says it with this cute kind of half disbelief, half amusement, and she almost blushes. It’s the hesitation that gets her, the way he can’t quite believe it that moves to unearth her from the solid platonic ground she’s firmly rooted herself in.

This was definitely a mistake.

“Maybe.” Amy says, trying not to sound as self-conscious and/or as ridiculously obviously obsessed with him as she feels. “Do you want the blanket or not?”

There’s a beat of uncertainty before he nods - she takes her neatly folded blanket out of her bag and throws it at him.

“It’s my warmest one. If you spill anything on it, I will murder you.” Jake stares at the blanket, sniffs slightly, and stares back at her again before breaking out into a real, proper actual genuine smile that may as well set her on fire.

“Am I hallucinating you?” His voice is groggy, a little deeper than usual, she’s noticed. It makes her laugh.

“Nope. Lucky for you. Do you have mugs?” He gestures to the kitchen and she nods, weaving between his massage chairs, using all her willpower not to look back over her shoulder to see if he’s still watching her.

Jake’s kitchen is just about as chaotic as the rest of his day to day life seems to be – she throws open almost every cupboard she can find looking for what she needs. When that fails, she instinctively starts tidying things away, putting plates where she thinks his plates should go and putting his ridiculously large collection of empty orange soda cans in a separate bag for recycling. It’s a nice challenge, and she gets so into it that she barely notices him come in.

“I’m doing you a favour.” She says, defensive; he just shrugs, opening a cupboard Amy didn’t even know existed and grabbing two mugs – one with a very large print of Charles’s beaming face that she recognises as an old Secret Santa gift, and a handmade one that looks like his mom’s ceramic work.

She takes them gladly, walking back to the coffee table while he follows her, clearly curious in a way that she loves. Amy pulls the tea cozy off and pours the tea out, softly exhaling, highly conscious of the quiet intense look he’s giving her that she can’t quite read.

There’s still this underlying awkwardness that undercuts everything she does, like they’re both not really sure why she’s doing it. It’s a familiar awkwardness – it’s been fizzling, on and off, between them since the Maple Inn - it hangs in the air, a question unspoken and unanswered by both of them.

Neither dare acknowledge the tension, the infinite potential of more that so often permeates their interactions, made worse by shameless flirting and the ease in which they work together – and they do, work so well together, and that’s what makes it so hard to not at least give it a shot.

But they won’t, or at least Amy won’t. Because now would probably be the least romantic time for a first kiss possible, and because if it didn’t work, the loss of what they already have might just split her heart in two.

So she doesn’t acknowledge the way he’s staring at her like he’s trying to solve her, and interprets it another way. Any other way is something she’s woefully unprepared to talk about.

“If you say anything mean about my tea cozy you’re not getting any tea.” Amy glares at him pointedly and he holds up his hands in mock surrender. It’s normal and easy and familiar and she can breathe again as some of the tension dissipates.

“I don’t even know what a tea cozy is. Did you handknit that?”

“Maybe. Yes - I like knitting. I have actual interests outside of work.”

“Hey, I have cool other interests!”

“Die Hard doesn’t count.” She shakes her head – he’s about to challenge her but he’s interrupted by a abrupt coughing fit that goes on for slightly too long. She feels her own chest constrict with anxiety as he winces.

“Are you really dying?” She says, careful to be softer than she’s been since she got here - It’s hard not to be defensive when she feels like she’s defending her entire heart from just beating out of her chest. He sits down on the couch and smiles, if a little weakly.

“Nah. It’s just flu, but my ribs are still sore from my epic incredible car chase, so, y’know. I’m in agonising pain every time I breathe, I’m a martyr, it’s no biggie.” She rolls her eyes but her concern still aches in the pit of her stomach, and she thinks he can tell.

He gestures for her to hand him a mug and they take one in unison. Jake raises his like he’s proposing a toast.

“To health or whatever, and to Amy’s old lady tea.”

They clink the mugs together and both take a sip – it’s warm, comfortingly so, and does wonders to calm nerves that she’s not even sure why she has in the first place. She cautiously glances at him for approval and the small content smile on his face is more than enough. Amy wants to do everything she can to earn that smile forever.

The two of them exchange quiet small talk in-between sips, like the few updates she has on the arson case in his absence and how bored he’s been holed up in his apartment for the past two days like he’s carrying some kind of zombie plague, like what’s happening on that crime drama Amy got him into and how they think Holt & Wuntch’s rivalry might escalate.

It’s so wonderfully normal, after a while - Amy curled up in a motionless massage chair laughing into her tea while Jake lies underneath her blanket on his couch, recounting old crazy stories from his beat cop days amid a few minor coughing fits. They fit together – it fits, her coming around unannounced just because she missed him and she wanted to check if he was okay, like it’s a totally normally thing for a platonic co-worker to do.

He finishes the story with a grand flourish, grinning as she laughs, his hands collapsing back down to rest on his stomach – but when there’s a lull in their conversation for the first time that night, he just looks at her. It’s warm, and a little intense but not in a way she minds, and in a way she’s half-conscious she’s probably returning. It’s almost happy and sad at the same time, if that’s even a thing, and it takes all the willpower she has not to just completely and utterly melt.

“You’re staring again.” She says, never breaking eye contact for a second. He shrugs.

“So are you.”

It’s almost enough to undo her completely. Almost.

“I should, um, go. You need to get some rest.” She says, biting her lip, eyes quickly darting down to her feet so she doesn’t have to see how his face falls. They stand in tandem, Amy quickly gathering her things.

“Right. Yeah. Can I…”

“You can keep the blanket.” Amy smiles, waves a hand when he tries to protest – “Jake, I’ve got loads, it’s fine. You need it more than I do.” And, just like that, just for the sweet way he looks at her, it’s worth it. Tension and awkwardness, mistake or not - it’s all worth it.

“Thanks, Ames. For everything – for the miracle old lady tea, and the blanket, and just…being you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The ache is only intensified when the door closes and she feels like sliding on to the ground and never moving again. But it dulls by the elevator - and, by the time she gets home, it’s only relief that lingers as she puts her teapot in the correct place in her perfectly neat and organised kitchen, a small smile never leaving her face. It definitely wasn’t a mistake.

Amy doesn’t know what’s in their future. She doesn’t know whether the tension between them will eventually fizzle completely or keep mounting and mounting up until it’s a unbearable weight that makes the air so thick they’ll both choke. Maybe she’ll continue to affirm that it’s just not worth the risk, and maybe, just maybe, some chain of events she has no control over will lead to them giving it a try, if there’s anything to try at all.

The thought of having no control over their future is almost enough to give her an aneurysm – but, behind all the anxiety, behind all the uncertainty and the awkwardness and the bad ideas, there’s a tiny, shining, glimmer of hope.

Whatever ends up happening between them – Amy’s not so worried anymore.

#b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #my writing #shut up sian #PINING AMY RISE #hope you enjoyed this 3k of pain and shameless flirting #i had a lot of fun writing this thank you erica <3

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 6 years ago

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Chapter 11 of Can’t Find My Way Home is up!!! A few more chapters of this left! Read the entire fic at Ao3!

Chapter 11

Baz

It’s going too fast. Every minute is passing too quickly. I can’t even let myself savor it.

Well, I’m savoring the sensation of Simon in my arms. The warm weight of him resting against me. The scent of him. Like bacon and freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Something I’d gladly eat.

Neither of us bothered to sleep on this leg of the trip. I think we both sense our time together is drawing to a close. There’s no point wasting it napping.

Not when we can be cuddling and surreptitiously snogging instead. It’s mostly forehead kisses and brushing my lips through his curls when he buries his face in my neck this time.

It’s not any less romantic or passionate. It’s just softer, slower, a cherishing of every memory I’m making with him so I can revisit them all later, when he’s not by my side anymore.

I’ve not asked him to come home with me yet. I keep meaning to, and then I just can’t find the words.

It should be easy. “Would you like to come home with me for Christmas, Simon?”really shouldn’t be that hard to articulate. I’m being a coward.

We’re making our final descent to London now and I’m making sure Simon is adequately distracted. I’m careful not to leave a mark on his neck. If I’m bringing him home to meet my parents I can’t quite have him show up looking like the victim of a vampire attack, now can I?

The plane taxis to the gate but neither of us rush to stand up. I’m holding Simon’s hand and he’s gazing at me, blue eyes warm and comforting, but there’s something wistful there too.

I should ask him now. I’m just about to speak when he looks away and gives a small laugh. “We should probably get off the plane, we’re practically the only ones left.” Simon’s hand slips out of mine to unbuckle his belt, then he stands, shouldering his pack. “Come on, then, Baz. You’re going to make it for Christmas dinner with your family after all.”

It’s the perfect opening so I trample down my apprehension and just blurt it out, none of the artfully worded invitations I had rehearsed in my head coming to me now.

“Come with me.”

Simon tilts his head, eyebrows coming together in question. I stand up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and take his hand in mine again. “Come home with me, I mean. For Christmas.” I swallow. “Please?”

His eyes widen. It would be comical, how astonished he looks, if I wasn’t wracked with apprehension about his answer. I tighten my grip on his hand, my words having left me for good it seems. Why should it be so surprising that I want to keep him with me?

“It’s your family, Baz. I . . . I shouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He’s just saying that. I know he’s just saying that. I couldn’t have been imagining that spark of interest just now.

I move closer to him. We’re jammed together in the narrow aisle, the flight attendant at the far end of the aeroplane giving us a quizzical look. The cleaning crew has already boarded at the front. I don’t care. They can sod off. This is more important.

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I want you there.” I close my eyes and drop my head. I have no shame left in me. I’ve confessed so many secrets to him today, what’s one more? “I may have already told my stepmother I was bringing someone home.”

I love the way Simon laughs. The way his nose scrunches up when he does, the deep-throated rumble of it. I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing it.

“You daft git. You decided to wait until practically the last minute to ask me?”

“Well, I could have waited until we reached the ground transport area but I thought that would be pushing it a bit.”

He drops my hand in favor of cupping my face with both of his. He’s so close I can feel his breath ghost over my lips. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no? Can’t disappoint your stepmum now, can I?”

The smile on his face dazzles me. The warmth of his gaze envelops me and all my trepidation melts away. “No, not when she’s already made up the spare room and all.”

He laughs again, then reaches down to grip my hand once more to tug me down the aisle to the exit.

Heathrow is deserted. The Christmas decorations sparkle and gleam around us as we walk through the terminal hand in hand to reach the bus transport. “There’s no easy way to get home from here, not without a car.” I give Simon a side-long look. “This adventure of ours wouldn’t be quite complete without some time on buses and trains, don’t you think?”

“The company’s tolerable so I suppose I’ll survive it somehow.” He’s grinning at me.

It takes a few minutes to find the bus to Woking. Once we make our way there we’ll catch the train to Alton. Father’s offered to collect us from there.

It’s quite decent of him. I’d offered to hire a taxi from the station but he wouldn’t hear of it. “You’ve suffered enough of the vagaries of public transport, Basilton. I’m sure you’ll both be exhausted. I’ll just meet you at the station, shall I? Text me when you get to Woking. That will give me a chance to get to Alton in time.”

We board the bus and Simon insists on taking the window seat. “You get cold too easily, let me sit there.” He slides in and I follow, dropping my satchel at our feet and leaning my head back with a sigh. He nudges my shoulder. “Almost there, Baz. Almost there.”

We spend the ride talking about my family. Simon’s met Father, Daphne and Fiona, thanks to our shared accommodations at school, but this will be the first time he meets my siblings.

“Four? You can’t be serious? You’ve got four siblings?”

I tick them off on my fingers. “Mordelia, Acantha, Ophelia, and Magnus. Be warned. Mordelia is full of snark and attitude. She’s twelve going on twenty-five. Jaded and bitter for her age.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Simon says smugly.

I bump his shoulder. “Hush. I’m giving you useful information here. Don’t interrupt with slanderous commentary.” I press my knee against his and then leave it there. I like the sensation of our legs touching. “Ophelia and Acantha are twins and they adore confusing people. Knowing them, they’ll have chosen to wear matching outfits just so they can bewilder you. The giveaway will be Acantha tucking her hair behind her left ear. Watch for that and you’ll confound them.”

“And your brother?”

“Stop interrupting, you nightmare. I’m getting to him. Magnus will either hide behind me for the entirety of the evening and then demand you tell him bedtime stories or he’ll cling to you from the start and you’ll be pressed into service giving him piggy-back rides down the halls after dinner.” I take his hand again. “Far better you than me. I’m sure he’s heavier than he was in the summer.”

“They sound brilliant.”

I roll my eyes. “How could I forget--you actually enjoyinteracting with children.”

He laughs again. “From the sound of it, so do you. Not that you’d ever let on, though, you numpty.”

His face grows more serious a moment later. “Baz. I’ve just realized. I’m sure your family does the whole posh thing, dressing up for Christmas dinner. Not to sound like a whiny fourteen-year-old girl, but I haven’t got a thing to wear.” He gestures at his duffel bag.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they aren’t expecting us to dress up, considering the time we’ve had getting here in the first place.”

He nods and gives me a meaningful look. “I’d not say no to a shower, mind you. It feels like we left Ebb’s ages ago.”

It doesn’t to me.

To me, this day has been progressing as if someone clicked the fast forward button and hasn’t let up.

I glance at my watch. There should be time for us to clean up, once we get home. “I think we can manage that.” I drum my fingers on the armrest, as I mentally run through the contents of my wardrobe. “I’m sure you can borrow something of mine to wear. For dinner.” I doubt any of my suits will fit him but I’m sure to have a jumper or two that might work.

His eyebrows go up. “I doubt I’ll fit any of your posh togs. You’ve at least three inches on me and I’ve likely got a stone on you.”

I eye him up and down, arch one eyebrow and smirk. “That you do.”

“Oh, shut up.” He’s flushed all the way to the tips of his ears now. I love it.

I drop my head on his shoulder and lean into him. “Solid. I like that.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

He laughs again and rests his head on mine.

I’m not worried about what he wears to dinner. My family will love Simon, even if he wears a hoodie and trackies to the meal.

I love him.

Fuck.

It’s true. I’ve never actually managed to fall out of love, not after all these years. If anything, these past few days have made me fall even morein love with him.

I’m so fucked.

And that’s when the realization strikes. Daphne and Father know I’m bringing Simon, my former roommate, home. They assume I’m bringing a friendhome for Christmas. Because that’s what I said when I called.

But I’m not really, am I? I’m bringing the boy I love home to meet the family but I’m not quite prepared to make that declaration before the Christmas pudding is served.

Which means all this touching, holding hands, kissing—what do I do about that? I don’t particularly want to stop but it’s not quite the thing to engage in these types of public displays of affection around my family.

I don’t know what to do. I could say something to Simon, I suppose, but that’s rubbish, isn’t it? It would hurt his feelings, I’ve no doubt about that.

I could somehow explain to Father and Daphne but that’s an excruciating thought in itself. Not just the explaining, but the chance that they’d be frightfully and embarrassingly chuffed about the whole thing.

I’m not sure I could tolerate that.

Christ, is Fiona going to be there tonight?

Under no circumstances am I going to tolerate Fiona making suggestive commentary about Simon in his presence. Or asking if I’m getting laid, God forbid.

Right. I should say something to Simon.

But what?

We agreed we’re going to try to make a go of this, long-distance. The boyfriend thing.

I can’t just tell him we need to stop the snogging. I don’t want to stop. Blast it. Why couldn’t I be normal, like everyone else, and have actually had a previous boyfriend I brought home? Why do I have to be so fucking awkward?

I’ve tied myself in knots mentally so of course Simon notices. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“What? Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You looked pinched. Like you took a bite out of a lemon.” I hadn’t even realized I’d sat up, hunching forward in concentration. “Baz. What is it?”

I chew on my bottom lip. I’ve got no idea what to say. I’ve been tongue-tied more often than not the last few days. It’s mortifying.

Simon rubs his hand along my forearm. “Hey. Is it about your parents? And us? I mean, I completely understand. They’ve only met me a few times and it was usually while I was staring daggers at you. I’m sure it’s been awkward enough explaining how we ended up as travel companions. Let alone other developments.” He gives me a shy smile. “We’re just figuring this out ourselves, Baz. There’s no need to complicate things by trying to explain it to anyone else quite yet, is there?”

I don’t know how he does it. Simon Snow is a mind reader. Either that or I’m frightfully transparent, which is an appalling prospect to consider.

I slump back against the seat. “But I don’t want to stop this.”I wave my arm between us and nearly wince at the whinging tone of my voice. Christ, I’m pathetic.

“We don’t have to stop this.” He emphasizes the word like I did. “But we can certainly be a bit more circumspect about it.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Surely there’s some secret passageway or dimly lit wine cellar in that mansion of yours that we can duck into for a good snog, yeah?”

“I’ll have you know my father’s wine cellar is state of the art. Nothing dim about it.”

“You’re impossible, Baz Pitch.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. You were always my impossible dream, Simon. I’m still a bit overwhelmed by the reality of it all.”

“You take the lead, then. I’ll go along with whatever feels comfortable. I’m just spending the night. There’s no need to give a detailed accounting of our . . .” he pauses.

“Relationship,” I interject. I tug him closer. “That’s what we’re calling it.” Suddenly everything falls into place in my head. I want this. More than I’ve wanted anything, my whole life. It’s not about what anyone thinks or how I explain it. Or even needing to explain it.

It’s Simon. And the chance to have not just this moment but all the moments ahead.

Simon

I’m glad Baz and I talked a bit. Spending Christmas with him is so much better than spending it alone in my dodgy little flat. I’m a bit nervous about his family, I’ll not deny that.

His siblings sound nice. I can manage kids. They don’t intimidate me and I know I get on with them. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Grimm I’m worried about. They’ve always been polite, the few times I’ve met them at school but it’s not quite the same thing nodding hello to your son’s roommate as it is meeting his boyfriend.

I am his boyfriend. It seems both odd and so entirely right to think of myself that way.

Christ, I wonder if his Aunt Fiona is going to be there? She intimidates me. Completely. I don’t think I’d dare even hold Baz’s hand in front of her. She wouldn’t be one to politely ignore it.

I think of asking him but I let it go. I’ll find out when I get there. No use getting myself all worked up before then. I just won’t think about it right now.

The train ride is shorter than I expected. I can feel my anxiety ratcheting up as we exit the station. I follow Baz to the platform, my hands in my pockets. I’m not sure meeting Mr. Grimm entwined with Baz is the best idea.

“There he is.” Baz points to the parking area, where a black Jaguar is waiting. Mr. Grimm gets out to shake hands with Baz and then he turns to me.

“Hello, Simon. Nice to see you again. It’s been awhile.”

His handshake is strong. I nod my head. “Nice to see you again too, sir. Thanks for letting me spend Christmas with you.”

“You’ll have to drop the ‘sir’, Simon. You’re making me feel ancient. Malcolm will do.”

“Uh, thank you, sir. I mean Mr. Grimm. I mean . . .” That’s not something I’m going to manage at all. I can’t call him by his first name.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Mr. Grimm is fine if that’s easier for you.”

He’s kinder than I expected. I honestly don’t know what I expected. He always seemed distant and preoccupied at Watford. That may have had to do more with Baz’s mum and his own memories though.

I hadn’t thought of that.

Baz takes the front seat and I slide in the back. I hope their house isn’t far. I tend to get a bit carsick on long rides.

It’s not that far.

And it’s not a house. It actually is a fucking Gothic Mansion.

“It’s Victorian actually,” Baz says. Fuck. I must have said that out loud.

I can’t believe Baz lives on a bloody estate. Well, actually I can believe it, knowing him, but the reality of it is a bit daunting. I wonder if it’s haunted.

Mr. Grimm drops us off at the front and goes to park the car somewhere. Baz bumps my shoulder so I turn to look at him. “It’ll be alright, Simon.” His fingers brush against mine and he grips my hand for an instant before opening the door.

We stand in the magnificent foyer for a moment and then I hear the thumping of footsteps and then a flurry of children rush Baz. He staggers then rights himself as he’s literally enveloped in a mass of arms and bodies.

I feel a light touch on my arm and turn to find Baz’s stepmum next to me. “Hello, Simon. I’m so glad you were able to join us. Baz said you’ve had an awful time of it getting home.”

She’s got a gentle voice and a kind face and it makes me relax just a bit. “It’s been a bit of adventure, that’s for certain.” I nod my head in her direction. “Thank you . . . for having me here . . .I’m sure it’s a spot of bother, having an extra person.”

She cuts me off before I can say anything more. “Not at all. I’m glad Basilton convinced you to join us. I think you both need a bit of a rest after all that nonsense with the weather.”

She moves to give Baz a kiss on the cheek and I realize the pack of children are now all staring at me.

It’s unnerving. They’re all so similar and they all have terribly inquisitive expressions on their faces. The tallest one, Mordelia I think Baz said, tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me. “So you’re Simon Snow.”

“Uh, yes?”

She darts her eyes to Baz and then back to me. “Not quite what I expected but I suppose you’ll do.”

“Mordelia.” Mrs. Grimm and Baz speak at the same time.

Mordelia rolls her eyes at me and links her arm with Baz’s. She looks up at him. “Took you long enough to get home. You promised you’d be home for Christmas.”

“And I am, you frightful wretch.” Baz’s words don’t match his expression. He’s smirking down at her in such a fond way.

“Simon, come with me,” Mrs. Grimm touches my arm again. “I’ll show you to your room.”

She sweeps me away, up the grand staircase at the far end of the foyer. I turn back to look at Baz. He’s still surrounded by the little ‘uns but his eyes are following me. He nods his head and gives me his most brilliant smile.

It makes me feel all warm, a radiating rush of heat from the affection I can see in his eyes. I’ll be alright I think.

I think I’ll be alright.

The room is massive. This place must be on some historic register. The bed is a four-poster monstrosity in a dark wood with drapery all around the bed. Everything is in shades of blue in here—the deep blue velvet curtains, the drapery around the bed, the chair by the window. Even the wallpaper. There are portraits of men and women on the walls and a soothing landscape across from the bed. I put my duffel down on the cushioned bench at the end of the bed and turn around to thank Mrs. Grimm.

She waves in the direction of the wardrobe and points down the left hallway for the shower. I nod my head and then she’s gone.

I don’t even know where to sit. I’m afraid I’ll break something. There’s delicate knickknacks and candlesticks and whatnot all over. I finally decide to sit on the window seat—it looks solid enough—when the door opens and Baz strides into the room.

He shuts the door behind him and I stand at his approach.

“Hey.” Baz’s arms are around me. It’s the most familiar thing in this place, the feel of him, the scent of him.

“Hey.” I slide my arms around his waist. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a fucking mansion, you twat. I should have known.”

Baz laughs. “I don’t think about it that way. It’s just home to me.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I can show you around a bit, if you like. Or you can take a shower and we can do the tour after dinner.”

I feel grimy. “I’d rather take a shower, if that’s alright.”

Baz nods. “Come to my room first. Let’s see if I’ve got anything for you to wear.”

Baz’s room is outrageous. It’s even larger than the one I’ve got and there are literally gargoyles carved into the frame of his bed, I swear to God. Dozens of them. Their eyes are unnerving. Makes me shiver, it does.

It’s mostly done up in dark reds and burgundies. His room could be right out of Jane Eyre or Dracula or some such gothic nightmare of a book. It’s absurd, really.

He laughs at my expression and drags me into a walk-in wardrobe that’s wall to wall clothes. Suits and shoes and jumpers and whatnot. Not an item out of place.

No wonder it drove him mad to share a room with me. My side of the room was always a disaster.

He pulls some jumpers off a shelf. “You’ll have to make do with your own trousers. I doubt any of mine will fit you, with the height difference.” He arches an eyebrow. “I tend to wear them fitted and I don’t think they’re meant for thighs like yours.”

I think I should be offended. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not fat, you know. Just . . . sturdy, I suppose.”

His grin is almost predatory. “I mean they’re thick and muscular and stunning and absolutely not suited to be in my trousers.” His grin gets even wider. “At least not that way.”

I can feel my cheeks flame. That’s about the most suggestive thing he’s said to me and it makes me feel tingly, like a rush of fire just below my skin. I need a shower. Preferably a cold one.

Baz fusses with the jumpers for a few moments more, completely oblivious to the effect he’s having on me. Or maybe he’s just enjoying it.

He tosses a jumper at me. “That one will do.” His gaze softens as he looks at me. “It’ll bring out the blue of your eyes.”

It’s a Nordic style, which almost makes me toss it back to him, as I remember the bloke at the airport. But it’s soft and I like the color so I just clutch it to me instead. “I should shower.”

I grab my toiletries from my room and head to the bathroom down the hall.

My hair is an utter disaster but I’m knocking on Baz’s door a short while later, clad in his jumper and the nicest trousers in my bag. They’re a bit wrinkled but they’ll have to do.

“Come in.”

I peek into his room and am met with the magnificent sight of Baz in a dark suit. It looks black from here but as I move closer I see it’s a dark green. It highlights his coloring. I can’t look away.

“I was right. That color suits you perfectly, Simon. I think you should keep it. It never looked that good on me.”

“What?” He’s knotting a blood-pink tie and the effect of that with the suit is so mesmerizing I simply can’t focus on what he’s saying.

Baz turns to face me, which doesn’t help with my situation at all. His hair’s still a bit damp from showering, curling up at the ends. He’s not slicked it back yet. I like it like this. I like it a lot.

“The jumper. You should just keep it. I look a fright in that pale a hue—washes me out completely. I look like the undead.”

“You look bloody perfect right now.” I’ve crossed the room to stand directly in front of him.

He tilts his head and there’s a soft smile on his face.

I never knew Baz had a soft side. It’s one of the astonishing discoveries of this unexpected reunion we’ve had. It’s a precious secret that’s rarely revealed. I feel inexplicably fortunate to be one of the lucky few who see this side of him.

Baz reaches up to brush my curls off my forehead. I’m sure I need a haircut.

I swear he’s a mind reader. “I like it like this.” His fingertips trace a path from my hair to my jawline. “It’s longer than when we were at school.” He takes a step closer.

“I’m due for a haircut, now that I’m back.”

“Don’t.”

It’s my turn to smile. I reach out and wind a strand of his hair around my finger. “I’d say the same about yours. It looks better like this. Loose.”

Baz’s lips meet mine and my fingers tighten their grasp on his hair. He’s pressed up against me and I breathe in the fragrance of his posh shampoo, the aroma of whatever cologne he’s put on, the familiar, sensual, arousing scent of him.

He wraps his arms around my back to pull me flush to him, bodies in contact from chest to hips. The slide of his tongue against mine drives all other thoughts out of my head. His arms hold me, his scent surrounds me, the taste of him is on my lips, my senses overwhelmed by it all.

Which is probably why neither of us hear the door open.

“Oh my God, I knew you were shagging him!”

The speed at which we spring apart is astonishing. Mordelia is standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a triumphant expression on her face.

“You’re supposed to knock!” Baz growls, advancing on her in a surprisingly menacing fashion.

“I did knock. You were obviously too busy snogging Simon to hear me.” She raises one eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of him but takes a small step back just the same. “Mother said to tell you it’s time for dinner.” Mordelia turns her sharp gaze on me then smirks at Baz. “Looks like you’ve already had your snack.”

She makes a run for it before Baz can reach her, the door thudding shut behind her.

“Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry, Baz.” I don’t know if he’s upset at her walking in on us or at the fact that we’ve just been outed as more than friends. Or both.

He frowns at me. “What are you apologizing for? I’m the one with an absolute maggot of a sibling.”

I shrug, giving him an apologetic smile. I’m concerned about him more than anything. How he’s taking this. “I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away. I promised myself I’d not let your irresistible charms tempt me while I was here.” I keep my tone light. I want him to know I’m not fussed about his sister.

He’s on me in a heartbeat. “Irresistible charm, now is it?” His hands cradle my face. “That should be my line.” He kisses me again, all warmth and affection, not the simmering passion of a few moments ago.

My stomach rumbles audibly. Baz pulls back and shakes his head at me, a hint of amusement visible in his eyes. “I suppose I should get my boyfriend down to dinner.”

His hand slides down my arm until his fingers intertwine with my own and that’s how we make our way down the stairs to the formal dining room for dinner—hand in hand.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #travel au #my fic #my writing

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taesbetch · 6 years ago

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03 | Blood\\Water

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Gory, Smut (eventually) Mafia!AU

Summary: Taehyungs life has become consumed with the gang lifestyle. But when he becomes a bit too greedy he endangers the only person he's ever truly cared about. Fighting fire with fire is never a good idea, but Taehyung is lit match in a room full of gasoline, will everyone make it out unburnt?

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous | Next

Previously...

“Boss!” A voice that you identified as Jungkooks shouted.

“WHAT!”

“we just got news that the block boys are planning an attack” He answered. His tone unbothered by taehyungs

“on the mansion? That’s ridiculous” Taehyung shot back, his ear getting closer to the door.

“apparently they’ve got help” you heard before the sounds of feet running got further away from the door.

Taehyung shot you a look before grunting and angrily exiting your room. As the door slammed shut You sat on your bed with a huff, still too emotionally riled up by the argument to fully comprehend what jungkook had said. Taehyungs rival was planning an attack. They were coming for revenge. Which means they were coming for you.

“Y/n”

Being awoken in the middle of your slumber your ears adjusted to the sounds of panic outside your door as mark kneeled beside your bed, his eyes scanning the door as he shook your arm. The boy was afraid but the way he was gripping your had you knew he was determined for some unknown reason.

“mark what the hell?” You asked as you sat up briskly, remembering taehyung mentioned an attack on the area. You figured you’d be safe if you just stayed but the shouts by strangers running by had you thinking otherwise.

“Come on, I’m getting you out of here” he exclaimed as he pulled you up. Shocked by his strength you mumbled a few inaudible words as you tried to figure out why you were leaving when taehyung specially said you were not supposed to leave.

“What do you mean? Mark where the fuck are we going?” you asked as he moved to your wall, moving the heavy cabinet out of the way to reveal a small hutch in the floor. Mark looked at you before opening the hutch

“I’m getting you out of all this gang mess, look, ill explain everything in the car, just…do you trust me? I’m still the same mark that was your best friend, I swear I only have good intentions” He stated.

Your eyes narrowed as you examined the boy, your heart was calm and comfortable with him, but your brain was foggy as he was just another lie placed by taehyung to keep an eye on you.

“You wanna get out of here or not?” he asked.

You sighed before nodding your head. you did indeed want to get out of there, it wasn’t as if you were unaware of the threat that the other gang had provided but too you this was almost equal to being dead.

As mark helped you down get attached to the ladder, you carefully climbed down, unsure of where it leads but sure that mark had a plan of action.

As you hit the ground, you looked around, feeling the air of outside blowing from a certain direction. Thinking that’s where you were supposed to head you started going in that direction only to be stopped my mark.

“This way,” He said, pointing into pure darkness. You gulped as the man started walking, no fears in the world, into pure sensory shut down. As you followed, your eyes tried to adjust but couldn’t, your nose sniffed around hoping for any kind of scent in the world and your ears rung with the sound of marks footsteps.

“Here, hold my hand” Mark said if only you could see his hand. Reaching forward you slowly moved your hand around, trying to take a hold of marks. With a huff of defeat, you whined in annoyance.

“Mark, I can’t see your hand, I can't see anything, where the fuck are we” you said as the two of continued to walk for what seemed like hours.

“It’s an underground exit, its leads across the street to a park, I’m sorry, I know it’s dark, but I can’t turn the lights on, it might get taehyungs attention.” He explained.

“I can’t believe there was a hutch underneath my cabinet” You stated as literally, a light at the end of a tunnel revealed itself. As your eyes adjusted to the lighting you watched as mark looked back you with a smirk.

“neither does taehyung, I put it there for you just in case” He shrugged as he moved towards a ladder near a wall. You looked towards the exit noticing the long grass in front of it. Instead of asking why you were going up a ladder instead of going through the tunnel exit you shrugged it off and followed him up.

Finally climbing out of yet another hutch you winced at the strong yellow street lights, confused as you were exposed in a small alleyway.

“mark, people can see me” You hissed as you ducked back down into the hutch, your heart rate spiking up at the thought of having to go back.

“Just act natural, the car is right there,” he said pointing to a silver car, parked on the side of the road closest to where you were. the car looked like it belonged to a father of five kids, perfect for this time of the nights as it looked like a regular person going home to their family after a late-night shift.

As the two of you walked towards the car, your eyes couldn’t help but scan the streets. Even though you couldn’t see anyone suspicious you were still careful and would hide your face just in case.

“Get down” Mark said as the two of you got in the car. You pulled your hair in front of your face as you sunk down into the seat, you heart pounding at how easy It was to escape the mafia mansion.

As the drive got longer, marks head stopped turning side to side, scanning the roads and the streets for people he should be wary of. The ride was silent as the two of you were on edge, glad that the trip out went smoothly but worried about how long that smoothness would last.

“okay, you can sit up now” He said. “once taehyung notices your gone he’ll check the road ccv for your face, but we should be long gone by then” He finished.

“why are you helping me and not taehyung? Where are we even heading?” you asked as you got comfortable, still cautious about how much of your face was shown.

“Y/n…when taehyung first gave me the assignment of watching over you, I was 100% committed to him. I would have done anything for him, things that I didn’t want to do, things that made me hate myself, things that made me a monster. The more time I spent with you…the more I felt...free? To live a normal life was something I knew I wanted deep down. Taehyung took advantage of me, he knew I was vulnerable and in need and swooped in like a predator. I struck a deal with the devil and I’ve had enough. God, the things that man has done y/n. he’s a cold-hearted demon.” Mark explained, his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he spoke.

“You. You’re my friend. You cared about me – I can’t just sit here and let the same thing happen to you”

“mark…what would have happened when the whole block boys gang drama blew over.” You asked him, the lights of the roads running over his face.

“he wouldn’t have let you leave if that’s what you were hoping for. Once you know what you know and you’ve seen what you’ve seen, that’s it, you’re a part of the gang whether you like it or not.” He explained to you.

You huffed as you pushed your head against the chair header. The gang leader who had been hidden in the shadows of your life was now front and centre. Though you were gratefully that they saved your life that night, you couldn’t help but wish he was never a part of it to begin with.

“What about Daehyun? Was she real?” You asked, thinking about your best friend.

“as real as It could get. She loves you” He said as he gave you a soft smile.

“She loves you too” You stated, remembering their relationship. “was your relationship real? Did you love her or was that all part of the façade?” you asked, your voice soft.

Mark scoffed before nodding his head “oh yer, that was real. In fact, it wasn’t supposed to happen, but I couldn’t help myself. When you fall in love you fall in love” He sighed.

“I’m sorry that taehyung is a part of your life. I’m sorry he dug his greedy claws into you when he could’ve left you alone” He added as silence fell on the car.

“Do you know why?” You asked as you re adjusted in your seat.

“All I know is that you’re a piece of his past, one he can’t seem to let go of” He sighed. Marks explanation just fuelled your anger against the mafia man as it didn’t make logical sense to you. if you were a mafia leader, you would cut all ties with all people outside of your gang, that way everyone who doesn’t want to be involved isn’t and there was no one other gangs could capture to have an advantage on you.

“Fucking psycho” You whispered as you watched the cars ahead of you.

“You have no idea. The amount of people he’s had killed for merely bad mouthing him is concerning” Mark sighed.

“these are the type of people that shouldn’t have power,” You said as you shook your head.

“Correct. He’s a crazy power-hungry psychopath, he has no regard for others” Mark replied.“Y/n, if we get caught there’s no doubt that I’ll be killed but promise me something okay? Don’t let him rule your life, he’ll be manipulative and play you like he does other girls, don’t fall for it. Don’t become a piece on his chess board.” He said, his voice lowering as his eyes stayed set on the road.

“…I promise”

“good. He's really not a good guy…”

Without knowing it your eyes had closed, your body had felt safe enough to slip into an unexpected slumber. You squinted your eyes at the soft light of the early morning, the car had stopped, and mark was nowhere to be seen.

You panicked as you sat up, looking outside to see an aeroplane and a strip ready for the plane to take off on. Looking inside a shed nearby you relaxed as you saw marks figure in the distance. His face seemed stressed out as he spoke to another man, his hand clenched into a fist as he started shouting.

You watched carefully as he stormed back to the car.

“whats wrong” You asked as he slammed the door shut his hands gripping the wheel once again.

“Taehyungs blocked off the air, fuck I should of known he would do that, so stupid of me” He exclaimed as he backed out of where he was parked, getting ready to zoom off to whenever your new plan would take the two of you.

“What…what about boats?” You asked as you recalled the docs and there sailing times.

Mark was silent for a second before he clicked his tongue “It's tricky, but…I think it might be a good idea” he answered, swerving the car around as he missed the turning, he needed.

“Mark…if shit goes down…I need you to save yourself first okay?” You said as he sped the car up. If you knew mark for the mark you were friends with you knew he would try and help you escape first. Just as he’s helping you now, you knew if his life was on the line, he would throw it away in a second if it meant saving you.

As you pulled up to the docks mark looked you dead in the eye.

“My life is practically over, you have a chance y/n…you have to take it” he stated.

You blinked in response, the both of you realising this is the last chance you have, you can’t run forever.

Quickly, the two of you got out of the car, running towards the docks where you spotted three signs with their sailing times. Unfortunately, the closest time you could get was 2 hours away; it might be too late for you then.

Mark ran a hand through his hair as he spoke to the boatmen, you couldn’t hear the conversation, but you were sure he was asking if it were possible to go any earlier.

You sighed as you let the wind cool your cheeks down, you were stressed but couldn’t help the tiredness you were still shaking off.

Watching the road your eyes narrowed as you saw the few black vans approaching your area. Your heart jumped out of your chest.

“Mark” you shouted.

“hey! Mark!” you shouted louder as you moved over to him. Mark looked over, looking past at the cars coming fast. His blood drained from his face as he ushered you over, grabbing your hand and running through the boats Mark shouted that you needed to hide.

“Run!” he shouted as he pushed you towards the piles of boats.

You watched from your hiding spot as taehyungs crew stepped out, guns out and scowls ready as they stormed towards you. you watched as people scattered away, not being able to leave without someone checking them out.

“Mark, really? I’m hurt” Taehyung said as he clicked his tongue.

You winced as the man stood in front of them, not bothering to hide, probably to give you more time to run…but where? You looked around, your hope dwindling as you realised the only place you could go was the ocean, even that was a stretch.

“Get in the car y/n, where ever your hiding” Taehyung shouted, stopping the rest of the gang from going to look for you as there wasn’t anywhere you could run.

“Hurry up and kill me you prick” Mark growled as taehyung drew closer. you watched as jungkook and yoongi walked to the van, pulling out what you assumed was a girl with a bag over her head. You moved your head to see better as the screams of the girl sounded all too familiar.

Your heart clenched when the girl screamed for help, her figure bringing up memories of someone extremely close to you.

As they pulled the bag off her head you gasped, your eyes watering as you watched daehyun squirm in fear.

“Mark?” She asked, her question not pulling you away from the bruises on her skin. You cried as you thought of your friend being beaten up by the boys she was held by.

“N-no, why are they holding daehyun!” Mark cried as you moved forward, ignoring taehyung’s chanting of your name, you tried to move closer to her but was stopped by hoseok who only shook his head at you.

“Y/n…Y/n where have you been? I’ve been so worried” She cried as she gave you a soft smile. You sobbed as you watched your best friend try and move towards you, failing as the strong men tugged her back.

“let her go!” you cried as you shot taehyung a glare, your face wet with tears as hoseok held you tightly.

“Taehyung…s-she’s an innocent person, she’s not a part of this” Mark stated, his voice full of defeat.

“what are they doing…” You whispered to hoseok as jungkook and yoongi made daehyun kneel down.

“Y/n…sweetheart, get in the car” Hoseok whispered sadly, his eyes on the ground as he tried to pull you to the car, but you tried your hardest to fight it.

“you know the rules mark and you know what happens when you break them” Taehyung shrugged, his voice sending chills down everyone’s spine.

Daehyun cried out to you as taehyung pulled out his gun, first pointing it at mark before slowly turning it to daehyun, his eyes cold as they watched marks reaction, smirking when marks eyes trembled with sadness.

You screamed out as you realised what he was about to do. “TAEHYUNG NO DO-“You screams were met with a gunshot, your eyes wide as you watched daehyuns body drop to the ground, her eyes open as blood dripped from her head. She had been shot dead, a girl with an amazing life ahead of her had been killed, for no good reason.

You pushed hoseok off you as you moved closer, your lip trembling as you tried to tear your eyes away from her body.

“Before you go, just remember that this was your fault” Taehyung added, not waiting a second before shooting mark in the stomach, you jumped at the gunshot and turned to mark as he dropped to his knees.

You rushed over and tried in vain to block the bleeding, you knew he wouldn’t make it and felt your stomach turn with disgust at taehyungs need for mark to feel pain before he died.

“I'm sorry I could help you” Mark splattered out before coughing up a bunch of blood

You cried as held his hand tightly.

“it wasn’t your fault mark, it really wasn’t your fault – remember this instead okay” You whisper sobbed, the man giving you one last smiled before passing.

You let out a squeak as your heart felt like it was being squeezed relentlessly. Hearing footsteps behind you, you took the opportunity to head ocean, jumping off the dock despite the shouts to stop.

Inch by inch, your body felt the ice water attack it, your lungs were filled with minimal breath as you continued to cry. This feeling…felt familiar to you, the fear in your bones, sadness in your heart and throbbing of your head wasn’t new.

“Don’t hurt her!” A boy screamed as you shivered, the memory was blurry, but it seemed as though you were in a pool centre. You a boy and woman whose nails were digging into your skin

Coming up for air you, the splash behind you didn't bother you. you started swimming away, the tears coming from your eyes were unstoppable so you had to give up on freestyle and switch to breaststroke so you could breathe.

“Y/n!” You heard taehyung yell behind you as he gripped your leg.

“Don’t touch me” You cried as the waves worked against you, pushing you towards the mafia leader. You gave him a harsh kick to the gut, not feeling bad as he groaned in pain. Though the kick was powerful he had taken grip of your shirt, chocking you slightly as he pulled you his way.

“shouldn’t I be the one angry with you?” he growled as he gripped your wrist.

“Angry with me? You killed my best friends right in front of my face” You cried as he wrapped a hand around your waist, you screamed out for helping to hope someone nearby would be brave enough but just as you thought, no one was.

“I told you to get in the car!” he argued as he started swimming back to the edge.

“You’re a monster! I hate you and I’d rather drown! I don’t care that you think you're protecting me, being with you is worse than death!” You yelled as you cried harder, the bodies of your friends coming back in sight

“Is that yours or marks opinion?” he hissed as you managed to slip out of his grip, swimming back out to sea and destroying his progress. You huffed as he quickly caught up with you holding your waist as you cried out to the open ocean.

Giving up you let your body float. Taehyung held you upwards as you tried to dip your head under water.

“why won’t you just let me die, I don’t want to do this anymore” You whimpered. Your eyes burned and your lungs were ready to give out. Taehyung turned you around, holding your cheek with one hand and your body in the other.

“because I love you” He stated in all seriousness. Before letting you register what he said he pressed his lips against yours giving you a harsh peck as you made muffled noises in protest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You yelled as you pushed him away from you.

“You kill my friends and then tell me you love me!” you yelled as you looked at him in disgust.

“Don’t fucking kiss me again” you hissed as you swam to shore, knowing there was no other way to escape, it was either swim forever or go back and replan. You shot taehyung a look as hoseok helped you out, the boy didn’t seem bothered with your words of hatred….and that concerned you…

He really was a monster with no regard for others…

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marmolady · 6 years ago

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Home, Sweet Home

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. This follows on directly from my fic ‘Broken Chains’, but should be easily enough to ‘get’ without reading it first. Estela is returning home to her tio in San Trobida at last, bringing Taylor and Jake along with her. For Taylor, it is the beginning of a search for belonging outside of the only world she’s ever known.

Warnings: Coarse language

Word Count: 6345

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa@edgydepressedchoicesthot @endlesssummerfan@blightarts @princessstellaris @acidsugar0 @taramitch96

Taylor jiggled her leg erratically, glancing as she did between the aeroplane window and Estela.

“You don’t have to be so nervous…” Estela leaned in to kiss her. “He’s gonna like you. Just… don’t expect it overnight.”

Groaning, Taylor slumped deeper into her chair. “He’s gonna grill me to death.”

“Yup.”

She buried her head in her hands as Jake laughed beside her.

“You’re doomed, Princess…”

“Get off her, cabron; it’s you who’s gonna have to work for it. You’re not half as likeable.”

“Ouch.”

The pilot -not Jake, the competent one flying the plane- announced the beginning of their descent, and all at once, Taylor was not the only one with apprehension showing in her face.

“Hey…” she urged, taking Estela’s hand in her own. “Don’t look so worried; it’s not as if we’ve got that idiot flying us this time.”

“Wait- is this what I’ve got to look forward to? You two takin’ shots at me all day?”

Taylor smirked; poking fun at Jake was good for settling her own butterflies. “That and watching us make out… yeah. That’s pretty much what you’ve signed up for, Top Gun. Get used to it.”

Estela was quiet. She was excited to see her tio again, to see her home again, but it meant returning to an existence that belonged to someone who was no longer her. Would that closed-off, fatally single-minded person creep back up on her, taking her over and send her back into a hell of furious despair? Where did this new, healed Estela fit into the world she’d left behind? There was so much her tio didn’t know… so much she’d have to tell him…

A warm breath against her cheek, a fluttering kiss, and Estela was pulled from her thoughts.

“It’s… gonna be weird,” said Taylor gently, “but, like the best kind of weird. Which by now, I’m pretty sure is our specialty.” Putting on a brave face, she told herself resolutely that after everything she’d been through with Estela, going home should hardly constitute a challenge at all. They were going to be just fine.

After a smooth landing that prompted another round of mocking Jake’s flying skills, the trio had to contend with passport checks; the part that Taylor- who’d been zapped into existence out of thin air- had been dreading. It seemed, however, that Vaanu was just as skilled at whipping up official documents as they were creating people, and she was nodded through security without a second glance. The trio finally emerged into the dingy, crowded airport with bags in tow, Jake trailing a few steps behind the two women who held hands for mutual support. As she spotted a grey-haired man waiting next to the barrier, Taylor let Estela’s hand go, and gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Estela’s eyes met with those of the tall, grey-haired man, her beloved tio. Her breath caught in her throat. “Tio…” She lurched forward and let herself be captured in his arms, held with a loving intensity beyond anything she’d ever felt from him. It was as though he was back from the dead… and even as she felt those strong arms around her, she could barely accept that it was real.

“Oh, mija…” Nicolas took her face in his hands and stared at her, disbelieving, before kissing her on the forehead.

She cried, euphoric. After all this time, after all the worry she’d put him through, she was back home. “I can’t believe it’s you… I… I’m sorry.”

“My Estelita, you are home now.”

Hanging back beside Jake, Taylor had to dry her eyes. She’d risked everything for this moment, and it was worth it. Still, the nervousness that shook her body had reached fever pitch. With no relatives of her own, she needed Nicolas’ acceptance on a deep level. She felt Jake clap her on the shoulder.

“Come on, Princess, making friends with people is like your superpower. You won over Katniss in just a few days… and she was in full creepy loner mode. You’ll just knock him out with your magical friendship beams. Gotta put a patent on those, by the way.”

“That’s helping. Really,” Taylor responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. It was true that she had an effortless way of getting along with people, but this wasn’t just people. This was her best shot at a family that she could always return home to.

Estela took her tio’s hand and led him to where Taylor and Jake waited for her. “I need you to meet someone…”

Seeing the tears in her wife’s eyes, Taylor’s first instinct was to reach out and hold her, but she instead mouthed a quick, “Are you okay?”. A tiny nod and a kiss to the side of her face gave her all the reassurance she needed.

“Tio, this is Taylor, my… my wife.” Estela’s face flushed with happiness and pride as she looked to the woman who made her heart soar. “Taylor, I’d like you to meet Tio Nicolas.”

Taylor could barely think over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, but she collected herself enough to offer her hand and receive in return a firm handshake. “It means a lot to meet you at last,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt to her. “I know Estela loves and admires you so much.”

Scrutiny was clear in Nicolas’ eyes, but he nonetheless greeted her warmly. “It is clear you’ve made quite an impression yourself.”

Drawn into Estela’s arms, her safe place, Taylor immediately felt surer of herself. “We’ve been through a lot together,” she said simply.

Nicolas offered her a nod of acknowledgement before glancing to Jake, who’d held back a little. “So, you brought the pilot home?”

“She wore me down,” Jake said, and he held out his hand. This guy seemed all right; he had a definite no-nonsense air about him, which was hardly a surprise.

“Tio- Jake, Jake- Tio Nicolas.”

His eyes narrowed as he took Jake’s hand, but Nicolas shook it politely. “Dios, you can’t let her do that. Once you show that you’re weak, the upper hand is gone forever.”

“Ha. Don’ I know it.”

In Nicolas’ car, a rust-bitten four-wheel-drive that had clearly seen better days, Taylor perched on the back seat with Jake, feeling it rocking ominously beneath her. She pulled at the seatbelt, but it wouldn’t come.

“Sorry, it’s a bit unstable,” said Estela, “but the two of you sitting on it should be enough weight to keep the back from collapsing.”

They drove out through the city, and with the windows down, their senses were assaulted by car horns blaring, the dirty scents of a developing urban landscape, the muggy air. It was an overload, so starkly different from anything Taylor had ever known. She took this new world in with wide eyes. It was bustling and busy, and beautiful, yet there was an undercurrent of danger; walls built high, windows barred, barbed wire atop every fence. There appeared to be no rules on the roads, with cars pulling in front of one another whenever the drivers saw fit. The loud honking of petulant road-users seemed never-ending.

Estela looked back to Taylor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great… it’s amazing!”

“It’s home.”

The streets soon became less crowded, the roads quieter. Rainforest had been cleared for farmland, but Taylor saw glimpses of forest that reminded her of the tropics of La Huerta. They turned in to a sprawling compound, defended by armed guards and sharp wires overhanging the tall fences.

“Most people live in one of these,” Estela was saying. “It’s safer if you know who’s around. Even in here everyone is on their guard; when the war was going on, you never knew who you could trust.”

Nicolas nodded. “It is better now. Within the communities there is a sense of building something together. It is fragile, yes, but we have survived the worst.”

Jake was also taking in the surroundings with great curiosity. It had been hard to know what to expect- only rarely had he flown passengers to San Trobida, for most tourists were warned off. Warzones were not alien to him, but he’d not experienced the recovery that came afterwards.

A little while later, they pulled up near the beach, having opted for some fresh air after having been cooped up in the aeroplane. Home, Taylor and Jake had been told, was just a short walk away. A long day of travel, of harrowing goodbyes and new beginnings had taken its toll, and the three Catalysts were wrecked. The wind off the rough sea was wonderfully refreshing as they sat upon the sand, shoulder to shoulder.

Before Estela could truly relax, though, there were conversations that needed to be had.

“You don’t mind if I leave you for a little while?” She searched Taylor’s eyes, but she appeared to be taking everything in her stride. Her incredible Taylor… always rolling with whatever life threw her way.

“What-? No! No, of course not.” Taylor pulled her in for a delicate kiss and gave her an affirming squeeze. “There’s so much you’ve got to say to him; you need space to do that. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Estela smiled appreciatively, and then rummaged in her pockets, pulling out a crinkled San Trobidan note. “Take this. If you keep walking to the river, there’ll be a place selling ice creams. Or I think there will be… it’s honestly been a while. But you should be able to find something if you’re hungry, okay? We’ll meet you both up that way when we’re done.”

“Cold desserts on a beautiful beach? Now I know I’ll somehow soldier on in your absence.” Taylor winked and tugged Estela back to her, just for a few moments more. Her expression became thoughtful, serious, and she saw it reflected in her lover’s eyes. “Take a deep breath…”

Letting Taylor guide her, Estela exhaled slowly. All that she had to tell her tio… it was not sunshine and rainbows. The devastation she’d felt when she discovered that it was a trusted friend who had mercilessly slaughtered her mother- Nicolas’ sister; she wished she could spare him the same heartbreak. She wished she could spare herself the pain of reliving it. And she had questions… had he known who her father was all along, or was it a secret even from him? If he didn’t know… would the revelation forever warp her in his eyes? The thought of what she’d been created from made Estela want to vomit. She couldn’t expect him to love her the same knowing whose blood coursed through her veins. And even beyond all that, how could she begin to explain Taylor?

Taylor cradled her wife’s face in her hands, stroking loose hair from her fearful eyes with gentle fingers. “…Estela…” she whispered. “I’m with you, my starlight. You’re strong enough for this.”

Though her eyes were determined, Estela’s breath shuddered as she reluctantly pulled away, wobbling slightly getting up on her feet. “Taylor… thank you. I’ll see you real soon. You’re good, cabron?”

“I can see a hammock, and a bar. I’m set.” He stood up and stretched, groaning dramatically, before giving her a playful shove which meant, his eye catching hers. It was something Jake had dreaded himself; the hard part of reuniting with family. As much as he desperately wished to go home, he couldn’t help but be silently glad he wasn’t the one having those conversations. Without saying another word, he knew she got the message; he was there for her.

Leaving their companions behind, uncle and niece walked side by side along the beach until they settled on a rocky outcrop, the foamy sea lapping at their feet.

Estela played with her hair. Where to even begin? “I guess this is easiest if I just go from when we landed on the island? I’ll get to the things that are important, but there’s so much… and you should know everything.”

“Whatever is comfortable,” said Nicolas, kindly. It was clear that his niece was happier within herself than she had been when he’d last seen her face, but knowing her purpose for going to La Huerta, that some of what she would recount would be difficult to share seemed inevitable. “In your own good time.”

“Right.” She bit her lip before beginning. “So, as we came in to land, we hit this storm…”

And she talked him through the eventful first weeks of her time on La Huerta; the deserted resort, her search for Rourke, the nature of the work being conducted on the island… and then the revelations that had brought her to her knees… the details of her mother’s murder… the truth about her own identity.

“…I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me. My whole life, I thought she’d always be honest with me, that she could tell me everything. Didn’t I have a right to know I was…” Her voice cracked. “…his.” Hearing it out loud, Estela hunched up on herself, ashamed. “Did you… know?”

Nicolas grasped her shoulder tight and shook his head. “I didn’t know.” He stared out to sea, hurting for his niece. “I would not have kept it from you if I did. Your mom told me that you were unplanned and that the father was not interested; I didn’t need to know more than that. I’m sorry, mija.”

Unable to look at him, to see the disgust in her that would surely be on his face, Estela stared at her own hands as they wrung with anxiety.

“Estelita,” Nicolas’ hold on her shoulder became almost painful in his desperation to reassure her. “It has never mattered who your father was. You are you, not anything else. Look at me!”

Flinching, Estela’s gaze nervously darted to her tio’s face. There was no revulsion there… none at all. Her eyes closed as he stroked her cheek, smearing away the tear that ran down it.

“My little star. I could not be more proud of you. I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “No more tears.”

“I love you too. I’ve missed you so damn much.” Estela wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and slowly breathed out the tension that had built up in her body.

Nicolas gave a quiet and affectionate laugh. “I missed you. In your absence, I have gotten far too accustomed to winning arguments. It is almost tiresome.”

She hugged him. Despite the blood she carried within her like some festering disease, he saw her no differently. Deep down she’d known he would love her the same, but some fears had no care for reason. How could she have ever doubted?

“Tell me about your esposa. The mysterious lady from the crystals. I see that when you look at her, your face is like sunshine.”

Estela’s cheeks flushed pink. This was a side to her that her tio had never seen, and it felt strange -yet liberating- to share it with him.

“She was always… different. I’d got so used to everyone being fearful of me, it sorta threw me off when she wasn’t… like at all. She was just curious. From that first night on La Huerta, Taylor… just seemed to care about me, wanting nothing in return but my friendship. Not needing any explanations for what I was on the island for, she wanted to help.” She gave a dry laugh. “I don’t even remember the last time someone genuinely wanted to be my friend. Maybe when I was, what, six? Anyhow, my gut told me I could trust her. And I had, uh, feelings for her, and it freaked me the hell out…”

“Ah, our Estelita with her first crush… I wish I could have seen you trying to flirt…” Nicolas teased, earning a jab in the arm.

“Shut up! And I did not try to flirt. I actually did everything I could to avoid that; I couldn’t be distracted. But then I had to rescue her from a hangar about to explode, and then the dumbass went and got bitten by a snake and I was sucking on her neck and…”

Nicolas roared with laughter, while Estela’s face turned flaming red. She slapped him over the head several times.

“Tio!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It just sounds like your worst nightmare.” He wiped tears from his eyes.

“It wasn’t my worst nightmare, but it shook me up. So, uh, we were preparing for the attack by the native people and stuff um… happened… between us.” She hastily cleared her throat as her face blushed even brighter. “And then I got it in my head… what I felt with her scared me, but it just might be, you know, worth it, if we could face the world together. I told her everything, and she should have freaked, she should have run away, but that wasn’t who she was… she wanted to be on my side. I wanted to be on hers. After that… I was with the other students, part of their group, and it was just the beginning…”

“You know what’s weird?” Taylor was asking as she strolled along the unfamiliar beach.

Jake gave her a look. He’d known enough weird by now that it barely even registered. “Since this all started, better off askin’ what’s not weird.”

“Well, I guess that’s kind of it. There are people around. I don’t know them, and they’re not blue or green. It’s like… the real world. It’s just bizarre.” She glanced back the way they’d came. “I hope Estela’s all right; this talk’s got to be heavy.”

“Startin’ to sound like a broken record there, Princess. She’s fine. I’m sure she’ll put in a good word for you an’ all. C’mon, ice cream and a cold beer!”

The vendor huts along the beach reminded Taylor strongly of Colonnade Cove… then she remembered Estela commenting on the same. The thought made her smile to herself. Unlike Gurgi, these vendors had a well-developed sense of hospitality, with hammocks set up to entice beachgoers to stay and relax. When Taylor sank into one, tied up between two trees and hanging close enough to Jake’s that they could annoy one another with pokes and prods, she wondered how she’d ever find the energy to climb out again. As she licked her ice cream, she watched a group of children playing in the river that Estela had pointed out. Connecting a fast-moving flow into the choppy sea, the effect was a foaming watery playground that tugged the squealing kids off their feet with every step. The waters surrounding La Huerta had always been so placid -at least once Cetus was no longer around to influence things; San Trobida had a contrasting fierceness in its nature.

When she at last spotted Estela and Nicolas walking up to the beach, Taylor almost fell out of her hammock and ran, ignoring Jake’s laughing at her. Immediately swept up into Estela’s arms, she felt relief. Her wife’s eyes were red from the inevitable crying, but she seemed bright… happy.

“You missed me, then?”

“You left me with Jake. He convinced some guy to lend him his guitar… my ears are crying. Besides, I always miss you.”

Nicolas shook his head, laughing at them. “Dios! Not even an hour and we’ve got a Romeo and Juliet routine… Do you want some real food, or do you want to keep gazing into one another’s eyes?”

While Nicolas went to order an evening meal to share, Taylor and Estela headed to the shady trees overlooking the river, where Jake was waiting for them.

Estela could feel her wife waiting for her to speak.

“It was okay,” she said, “… I’m okay.” She leaned in for a kiss, and took Taylor’s hand in her own. “He knows about you. That you came from the prism energy that Mom was studying. I think I told him just about everything.” She saw the question in her eyes, the one that she would not push. “Tio didn’t know about Rourke. It was just… just Mom’s secret.”

Taylor stroked her cheek. “You look lighter in your face.”

“Now I’m not half expecting him to reject me, yeah. It was so stupid, but I needed to hear it from him that it didn’t change anything.”

“Anyone would be out of their mind not to love you to pieces…”

Estela rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Taylor… you’re so soft. They’re gonna eat you alive out here,” she joked.

“Rude. I have kicked your butt on more than one occasion…”

“…Shhhh! You don’t have to shout about it!” Estela laughed and went in for another kiss to shut her up, savouring the taste of Taylor’s slightly wind-chapped lips. When she reluctantly came away, she pressed her forehead against her love’s. “You’re not too overwhelmed by everything? It must be a shock to your system. It’s a shock to mine and I’ve lived here almost all my life…”

“I’m good, honest. It feels like a dream, and I think I’ll be absolutely wiped out by the time I get to bed, but it’s exciting. I can’t believe I’m here with you.” Taylor beamed, seeing pure happiness reflected in her wife’s face.

“I can’t believe it either.” Estela looked out onto her home, so much more beautiful for the time she’d spent away, and for the woman who now sat beside her. She exhaled, content. “All right, I’m gonna go get some drinks. Share a milkshake with me? The best in San Trobida.”

“That is not even a question. Thanks, love.”

“What about you? Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up Tio’s rum.”

Jake rolled over and stretched out, falling onto his feet from the hammock. “Pretty sure a milkshake ain’t gonna cut it. Let’s see what ya’ve got that’s stronger.”

Taylor was soon joined by Nicolas, who sat upon a rock with his flask of rum, and met her eye with a scrutinising look.

“Hey, uh… thanks for dinner,” she said. “I didn’t even realise we haven’t eaten properly since breakfast.” Apparently, that gaze- the one that felt as though your soul was being stared right through- was a family trait. “Estela went to get drinks with Jake...” Her voice trailed off, and she tried not to wither under pressure.

Nicolas’ voice was sharp when he spoke. “She thinks a lot of you. That doesn’t happen very often. I need to hear it from you… what are your intentions with her?”

Taylor sat up straight, looking him dead in the eye. Forthcoming and direct to the point was the only approach to take; even if her stomach churned. This, she imagined, must be what going for a job interview was like… if the potential employer was a man capable of slicing her into pieces with a sword.

“Estela is… my world,” she said. “I want us to build a life together, side-by-side. I want to give her the future she deserves.”

“But what do you know of the future? You’ve never known anything else; I know what you are. What happens when you get out there in the world, and realise life would be easier without the baggage? You’re not trapped on the island any longer… you could walk away from her at any time.”

The questions rang like accusations, and Taylor felt herself get her back up, more than defensive… angry.

“I know she’s got baggage. I’ve got fucking baggage- I get it. But I know how damned privileged I am that she trusts me with every single part of her. That did not happen overnight- I earned that. And I will not hear an insinuation that I could ever, ever sacrifice her faith in me. When I say Estela means everything to me, I mean that she’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep; I mean that she could offer me the slightest glance and it would be enough to give me the courage to fight an army; I mean that seeing her hurt is like a physical pain. Her heart is safe with me. Always.”

For several excruciatingly long moments, Nicolas held Taylor’s gaze in silence. Slowly, a crooked smile played on his mouth. “Well, you have a backbone to stand up for yourself, that’s something.”

“Do you think I’d be married to Estela if I didn’t? I’m nobody’s shrinking violet.”

The silver-haired man chuckled, but his sharp eyes retained the shadows of suspicion. “You’ll forgive me for being wary. My trust is not something I give easily.” He studied her, curious. She spoke with passion, and with the stories Estela had told him, it was hard to doubt that her word was true. To see his niece so happy… at peace within herself after all this time… he wanted to believe in this person who’d shown her the way. More than anything, he wanted this to be real, for the niece he’d so desperately tried to protect all her life.

“I understand,” Taylor said steadily, thankful that her outburst hadn’t backfired. “It’s been a long time that you’ve been the only person in her corner. After everything that’s happened… I guess I’d be protective too. I just hope you’ll see what she means to me.” She offered her hand, biting back her nerves. When Nicolas took it, a glint in his eye, she almost gave an outward sigh of relief. Of course, Estela was right; this wouldn’t happen instantly, but she now had faith that in time, it would fall into place. Acceptance. They were, after all, family now.

“I am looking forward to knowing you, mi sobrina en la ley.”

“Tio! No puedes interrogarla en cuanto me doy la vuelta!”

Nicolas just laughed as Estela stormed over, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Niña, ella está bien! We were just talking; my heart breaks that you don’t trust your old tio… Can I not get to know Esposita? She is my niece now, no?”

Seeing that Taylor was unruffled, the blazing fire left Estela’s eyes as quickly as it had come. The fact that her tio was already speaking of Taylor with a term of endearment was encouraging. She hmphed. “Maybe I’m a little protective…” She handed her wife an enormous milkshake, and realised that she too was laughing at her. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“You can’t exactly jump on your tio for being excessively protective when you’re doing the same damn thing… and don’t you glower at me!”

Estela grumbled under her breath. “Might be a family trait.” Joking aside, that Taylor was not going to put up with nonsense from Nicolas would serve her well. He did not suffer fools, and he needed to know that she wouldn’t either. She felt her nuzzle close.

“You were right- this milkshake is amazing!”

Nicolas held out his rum to them. “Just a little… then it will be perfección.”

The sun slowly set on the San Trobidan beach, and the refreshing winds turned biting. Waiting for their dinner, the three friends barely felt it. In the shallows, Jake had been roped into sparring with Nicolas, who was providing ongoing critique on his performance as they jousted with heavy sticks, all set to the sound of giggling from the two tipsy women who watched them from the shore.

“Laugh it up, Katniss!” he yelled back to Estela over the wind, “You’ll get your turn. Much as I hate to be the one to tell your tio how sloppy you got…”

“Sloppy?”

“Ya heard right.”

“Coming from you? If ‘all over the place’ is a technique, you mastered it long ago, cara de pito!”

Jake sniggered, but had to re-focus quickly to avoid being clocked in the kneecaps. “My Spanish ain’t up to much, but I’m guessin’ that wasn’t friendly.”

“Ha! Friendly, it was not. But if you are so easily distracted, perhaps you are worthy of such a taunt.”

“Culo peludo!”

“That was not complimentary either, my friend. I am sorry- my sobrina, she has the manners of a burra.” Nicolas turned slightly to call out to her, easily keeping his opponent at bay as he did. Jake’s style was fast and furious, and that meant that he was now tiring. “Where did we go so wrong, Estelita?”

Shoulder to shoulder, Taylor and Estela shared their slightly boozy milkshake, holding one another close, and warm with mirth. Rhythmic beats pulsed out from the nearby stalls, and the air was filled with chatter as families gathered for dinner. It was… chaotically idyllic. And then, they’d kiss, and all else would fade into the background.

Then was the food. A steaming platter of tamales shared between four filled a rumbling void, all but inhaled the second it was set down upon the sand. Taylor tucked in gratefully, sitting almost on Estela’s lap, and gazed out to the stars that began to pepper the darkening sky. She wondered after the rest of her friends… they felt so far away. But here she was, full and contented, a breath away from her Estela, and with Jake coming along with them for the ride. A fresh start. Taylor felt herself slipping, leaning in just to remain upright. Still recovering from losing the alien part of herself, she tired easily, and the day had been long and eventful.

“…Taylor… carińa, you’re ready to go home?”

She nodded and reached up to stroke Estela’s face. “Are you?”

Estela’s smile was endlessly affectionate. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Come on, mi amor.”

The house was small and plain, but backed onto a quiet and secluded stretch of beach just a short walk from where they’d left the car. As they approached, Taylor’s hand was grasped by Estela’s, prompting a supportive squeeze.

Nicolas pushed the door open. “Home, sweet home.”

It was just as Taylor had seen in the vision Vaanu had given Estela; simple but welcoming, hints of the lives lived there in pictures on the wall, books piled on shelves.

“Princess!” Jake hissed, tugging at her hair to get her attention. “Baby Katniss at two-o’clock!”

Taylor had to hold in a squeal as she spotted a photograph on the window ledge. A tiny Estela, surely less than two years old, reaching up for whoever it was who’d taken the picture. “Oh, sweet lord,” she said quietly, automatically reaching out to hug Estela’s arm. “I think my ovaries just exploded…”

“Yes, I was a baby once. Can we move on?”

Nicolas smirked. “Oh, Estelita… you don’t want to break out the baby album? All these years, your frowny old face never changes…”

Ignoring the taunt, Estela showed Jake to the spare room. Tentatively, she pushed the door, feeling her heart drumming violently against her ribs. It had been years since anyone had slept in that room. “So, uh, you can sleep here,” she said. “We’ve kept all the personal stuff safe out the way, so you can make yourself comfortable without worrying about disturbing anything.”

Jake made to step forward but hesitated. “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t mind the couch if this is uncomfortable for you. Honest, it would not bother me at all.”

Estela met her friend’s eyes, appreciating his deep care for her. “I invited you here because I want you here. You’re practically family; you sleep in a proper room.”

She let Jake pull her into a hug, lingering and heartfelt, before letting him settle in. Then there was Taylor’s hand on her arm.

“Estela, are you all right?”

“Fine. I swear, I’m fine.” She pressed a sweet kiss to Taylor’s lips. “I’ll just say goodnight to Tio, then we’ll go to bed, okay?”

A short while later, Taylor followed Estela into a small, boxy room, a single bed in the corner, and a distinct feeling of being untouched for quite some time.

“This is us…” Estela said, putting down their bags beside the bed. “…I know Jake’s is bigger, but I can’t sleep in that room. It’s….” She heaved a sigh. “You get it, right?”

With a kiss to her wife’s shoulder, Taylor wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, and buried her face in her hair. “Of course, love. If this is home for you, it’s home for me. It’s nice and cosy in here… just enough room for us.”

Stripping down to their underwear, the two women crashed out on the bed, lying side by side in the tight space. Exhaustion had crept up on Estela. The past day… everything that had happened, it was almost too much to process. It didn’t seem possible that the other Catalysts were now countless miles away, making their own way home. And that just outside her window was the San Trobida she’d said goodbye to when her mission for revenge took her to Hartfeld. Everything felt so… normal. All that she’d seen since she’d left… the end of the world, for crying out loud… it seemed to have left no mark. She lay on her bed, and it was as though she’d never been away, but for Taylor right beside her, stirring her senses without so much as a word or a touch. And yet, this new piece fit into the puzzle, creating a picture so beautiful.

Taylor struggled to keep her eyes open, even in her desperation to drink in every detail of this place, a place from a recollection or a wish, her love’s memories brought to life before her. The sheets were thin and worn, the mattress slightly hard. It was by no means the luxury Taylor had become accustomed to. But tucked up in that small room, she could feel Estela all around her, in the scent that lingered on every piece of fabric, in the select precious photos that adorned the nightstand and dresser, in the hard edges that belied the endlessly comforting warmth within. So far removed from the familiarity of La Huerta, she felt at home.

Estela noticed Taylor’s weary eyes land on the framed photograph nearest to the bed. One that tugged painfully at her heartstrings.

“That was just before she left,” she murmured. “Maybe… the day before? I kept it by my bed so it was the first thing I saw in the morning- not that I needed a reminder of what was taken from me, but to make sure I woke up fighting.” She sighed, sadly. “Tio used to take a lot of pictures of us. After this one it stopped. I didn’t feel anything worth looking back and remembering, and I don’t think he did either.”

Taylor took her hand and squeezed. The Estela in the photograph was not unlike the one she knew so well, but clearly younger, and with no long scar over her eye. Beneath the smile was something like apprehension, dread for the separation to come. Olivia Montoya was so like her daughter, perhaps lacking the same quiet fierceness, but there was great inner strength shining through her dark eyes.

“I wish I could have known her, to have her see me as a daughter,” she said wistfully.

“She really would have loved you. Everything you’ve done… giving yourself completely to care for the people you love… she’d be proud to have you as family.” Estela studied Taylor’s earnest face, now just an inch from her own. There was little she wouldn’t give to have just a single day with her as part of the family they should have had. She could imagine conversations; her mother would, of course, have been fascinated with Taylor, born as she was of the energy source she’d been dedicated to studying. For her part, Taylor would have relentlessly asked about Estela’s childhood, seeking the stories that only a mother would hold onto. It wasn’t to be, and the pain could never completely fade. What she had, though, what she saw in those sweet eyes, was a promise of happiness that grief could not temper. She drew her in, slowly brushing her lips against her Taylor’s, taking her time to let the soft caress grow deeper, harder, until the emotion behind it was too all-consuming to allow her to carry on. “I love you, Taylor…” she breathed.

“And I love you.”

Estela reached for Taylor’s phone on the nightstand. She played with it in her hands and felt her cheeks flush, self-conscious. “We should take a picture. I…uh… I want to… to live a life worth remembering… like before. To collect the memories again.

“So… right here, right now? Lying on your bed in our underwear? Not that you don’t look cute as heck…”

“Right now…” Estela rolled her hips so that she was pressed even closer to her wife. “With you, here, I’m… happy. In a way I don’t want to forget.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to forget this feeling either. Gimme that- you might be skilled when it’s life-or-death, but you can’t take a selfie for shit.”

Settling down to sleep, the two lovers removed what little clothing remained between them and snuggled close. Estela surrounded Taylor like a full-body shield; she was hers, and protected always. As Taylor’s eyelids grew ever heavier, she took a moment to glance at the photograph on her phone before giving in to slumber. She’d caught the moment she’d planted a kiss on Estela’s eye, having aimed for her cheek and missed as she fidgeted in front of the camera. Estela’s face was scrunched up with laughter; she honestly looked as though she hadn’t a care in the world. The image brought a fond smile to Taylor’s face. She closed her eyes and let herself be lulled to sleep by the feel of Estela’s chest rising and falling against her back, the rhythm of her heart, the gentle heat that radiated off her scarred skin. If these were the memories she’d build her new life from, she need never look forward with trepidation again. Her star… her Estela… she’d follow her anywhere.

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #jake mckenzie #estela montoya #choices fanfiction

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