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bluecoolr · 2 years ago

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You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Darrell arrives in Ambrose. [Part 1/5]

Links to Part 2 3 4 5

Warnings: the girls being teeth-rottingly sweet to newcomer, Lester being an excited rambling cutie, Bo being Bo, and jealous!Vincent

A/N: When I have all the parts ready, I'll be putting links on each post. I'm just really excited and wanted to post this. Also the title has no business being that threatening since I took it from a Byrds song...

Featuring the Sinclairs, Jason Vorhees, RZ Michael Myers and the ocs of @rottent33th (Ellie) @slaasherslut (Ava) @kalid-raven (Alia) @the-pinstriped-hood (Percy) @cries-in-latino (Red) and @angxlslasher (Merry). I hope y'all don't mind!

Sunlight woke Darrell the next morning. There was a dull pain in his neck where his backpack had been the night before. Stirring, he groaned and opened his eyes.

He was greeted by the sight of a large, dark snout. A moment of panic arrested him, until he remembered where he was. In a field. By the highway. The curious quadruped before him was not a razorback, but a cow. She chewed noisily as she inspected him.

"Down, Bessie." Darrell patted her head. She flicked her floppy ears and grazed on the grass right by him.

Darrell sat up from his makeshift bed. He used a liberal amount of water from his canteen to rinse his mouth and wash his face. Reaching deeper into his pack, he pulled out a scrupulously rationed breakfast of potato chips and a chicken sandwich.

Funny. He tried so hard to shake off the Marine in him, but here he was - acting like one again.

Well, minus the potato chips, he thought.

Bessie snuffled at the little ziploc bag, eager to have a taste. Darrell reached in, crushed a handful of chips, and fed it to her. Once he was done, he bid farewell to his new friend and straddled his bike.

"On my way now," he told his non-cattle friends through text.

Do a wheelie.

Darrell smiled involuntarily and asked Red, "Got bail money? 🤨"

Wheelie you fucking coward.

He did two on the empty highway. Just for fun.

The way to Ambrose was long and winding. Too long, he remarked, eyeing the fuel gauge. He cursed inwardly and, with the same breath, begged heaven to let him have enough to get there.

"Ack! Where's God when you need 'im?" he grumbled as his dirt bike stuttered.

He set the bike on its stand and scratched his head. No soul for miles. No help in sight. Guess he was going to have to push his defeated steed along. He went on for about thirty minutes or so, with the punishing Louisiana sun and the 40-ish pounds on his back bearing down on him.

Panting now, he turned from the Interstate to the byroad Ellie had told him to take. Trees hedged him from either side. The ground was a mixture of silt and dust. It made his throat scratchy.

Darrell became aware of an approaching vehicle from the thrum of an engine and the clatter of tools behind him.

"You need a hand, man?" asked the driver as he let his truck go idle.

Darrell looked through the open driver's side window and regarded the stranger politely. He was grimy and slightly flushed, no doubt from the exertion of a day's early work.

Darrell cleared his throat. "No... I need gas, actually."

The stranger cracked a pleased smile. "Well it's your lucky day! I got some gas right here."

He giddily rummaged about in the cab and retrieved a beat up looking gallon jug. The stranger stepped out and wordlessly urged Darrell to bring his bike forward.

"Please, if it ain't too much. I just need enough to get to Ambrose."

For a moment, the stranger, almost miserly, held back the jug. "Why're ya goin' to Ambrose?" he asked, face cloudy with suspicion.

"Visitin' some friends. M'overdue, s'matter o' fact. Was supposed to get there last night."

Realization twinkled dimly in the stranger's brown eyes. "Say… ya name ain't Darrell by any chance, is it?"

"Yessir, it is."

The stranger eased and flashed him a toothy grin. "Now, ain't it a small world," he cried. "I've heard loads about you from the girls."

Darrell rubbed the nape of his neck. He smiled. "Did ya?"

"Yeah! Boy, you've got everybody standing watch. Tell ya what," said the stranger, "Help me haul your bike into the back. I'll give you a lift."

"Aw, shucks… I-"

The stranger waved him quiet. The gas sloshed in the jug. "No ifs. No buts. No coconuts." He gestured to his truck. "Get."

Darrell stammered thanks and apologies for the trouble. The stranger moved the litter of animal carcasses.They loaded the bike onto the truck, shut the tailgate, and carried on.

"Sorry. What cha say your name was?"

The stranger chuckled. "Lester."

They shook hands as the truck went on its jittery way. Lester was kind to offer Darrell a rag to mop his sweat with. Darrell dragged the cloth over himself and wiped each of his fingers clean.

A strong feeling of liking for the traveler stirred in Lester. That rag was filthy. He had hesitated to hand it over, but Darrell had grabbed it without question.

"You can get gas at the station in Ambrose. Bo, m'brother, runs it."

Darrell shamefully looked at his boots. "Sorry 'bout the dust."

Lester gave another chuckle, his glance straying to Darrell's feet. "S'alright," he assured him, "Truck's had worse than that, f'ya know what I mean." He jerked his head toward the window behind them.

"Good I picked ya up or else you'd be trudging in that for 15 miles more."

"Preciate it, really." Darrell smiled. He was brushing dust off his pants. "Been walkin' for about half o' that 'fore ya found me."

Darrell was quite remarkable to look at, Lester decided.

His hair was the first thing you'd notice: Teal blue and long. The way it tumbled down his shoulders in wisps reminded him of paint, pulled out by water in bright, rippling clouds when you dip your brush into the glass.

There was a silver ring that pierced his plump, pale pink lower lip, and he seemed to have a habit of nibbling on it. He was also very tall. Taller than Bo or Vincent. Almost as tall as Michael. (Really, he didn't think there was anyone taller than that fella.)

His broad chest stretched the fabric of his shirt. His thighs were doing the same to his jeans.

He was handsome, Lester would give him that.

He was also sporting a knife on his right shoe.

Two kinds of bells rang in Lester's mind; An alarm to beware of this stranger, as he wasn't sure of his intentions, and another that told him to hurry and show him his own knife. After all, he had been polite. Hadn't been mean or fussy.

Lester was itching to pull out the bowie when Darrell cheerfully turned the conversation toward matters that concerned him - How had his day been? His work, the weather, the town, the girls? - things he was glad to talk about.

Before he knew it, he saw the wash-out up ahead.

"Think you'll make it?" inquired Darrell, his hand on the dash.

"Just have to flip the hubs into four-wheel."

He didn't have to ask. Darrell hopped out and got to work on the wheels on his side. The beat up truck rattled over the stones, the men inside shared a laugh. "Felt m'brain rattle in m'skull like a bean in a can!" Lester cried as he tried to shake himself right.

Gravel gave way to asphalt and they entered the town. Lester pointed out the gas station just at the end of Main Street. When Darrell asked for the grocer's, he did some quick thinking and said, "There's Flannery's back where we came, but don't cha go in there. F'Joe Flannery sees ya and gabs, you'd be in there all day. If ya need anythin', I'm sure Ellie would be happy to get it for ya. She's an amazing cook. There's Bo!"

His older brother gave the truck a cursory glance, and, with practiced charm, greeted their guest.

"You shoulda called in," said Bo, obligingly filling the dirt bike's tank with gas from the pump."Would've picked you up myself."

Lester had wandered off and was now coming back with the hose. He was aiming it at the bike. He turned the nozzle and a sudden jet of water blasted out of the end, splashing Bo and Darrell's shoes.

Noticing the scathing glare Bo gave him, Lester lowered the hose and apologized. "I got blood and gunk all over your wheels," he told Darrell.

"No! It's fine. It'll wash off." Turning to Bo, he declared, "Wouldn't have made it without him. He's a lifesaver." He extended one large hand and patted Lester's shoulder.

It prompted Lester to step in and swing his arm over Darrell's shoulders. He was awful pleased with himself. It didn't matter that he had to stand on his tippy-toes.

"Sure." Bo said dismissively. "You came down here all the way from where? Devil's Prick?"

"Yessir."

"How's it there? Heard it's haunted."

Darrell laughed. "By hicks like me."

While they spoke, they were blithely unaware of Ava and Percy scuttling from the Sinclair house, down Main Street, to Ellie's house. They had heard Lester's truck and spotted the tall man at the station.

They came running back, now with Ellie in tow, one hand hiking up her dress skirt and the other clutching a lime green frog.

When she screamed "DARRELL!", the three men leapt clean off the ground. Lester's fingers instinctively tightened on Darrell's jacket, and he had to clutch his chest to make sure his heart wasn't going to give.

Ellie shoved the frog into Lester's hands and braced her arms around Darrell's torso. "You made it! I was so worried when you didn't arrive last night!"

"I-I know, Ellie… I'm sorry."

She gave him a light squeeze. "Shh! No! Don't apologize. Now, I want you to meet my sisters."

She passed Darrell around for the girls to fawn over, which they did despite his shyness. "I'm covered in God knows what. I probably smell like a dog in the sun."

"That's two of us, then. I've been out in the garden."

"Alia and Michael are back there too," Percy said. "They'll be delighted to meet you!"

Ava looped her arm with Darrell's and started to lead him to the house Ellie shared with Vincent. "Come on! Jason and Merry are set up not far from there."

All three women began to chatter, making Darrell throw his head from side to side.

"That boy's gonna end up like a bruised fruit by sundown!" Bo chided. His warning fell on deaf ears.

He saw his twin in the distance - shoulders tense and visibly uneasy. Bo knew that look. He was sizing Darrell up, suddenly unhappy about the attention he was getting from Ellie.

Psst!

Vincent snapped out of it and met Bo's gaze. With a frown, Bo wordlessly told him to be nice. Try to get along for godsake.

Vincent, hunching as if to get away from a whip, buried his hands in his pockets and trailed after the girls.

"Here. Hold this."

Lester was holding out the frog.

"No," Bo said flatly - body poised to bolt.

"Ok."

Lester set the frog down on the ground and trotted after the girls. It stayed put, locked in a standoff with Bo.

He picked up the hose. Aimed and blasted the frog away. Then, he wheeled Darrell's bike into the garage.

#darrell todd #slasher oc #friends oc #house of wax fanfiction #slashers x oc #ellie mason #ava walker #percy jones #alia fowl #merry ross #damon red herring #red herring #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #jason vorhees #rz michael myers #bluecoolr.txt #Spotify

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the-blind-geisha · 3 years ago

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Hello! I have a very dirty idea for an Demi story in my head and I wanted to share it with it if you or anyone else wanted to make a one off thingie or snippet or nothing at all really is okay! I was just too shy to post this so I thought I would share it with fellow Demi lovers anonymously. Sorry for small rant. I thought of this when I saw your snippet of Demi sniffing MCs panties and gets caught by her and wonder what it would be like the other way around.

Demiurge walks in on smoll omega mc in her heat, in his room, mindlessly nesting in a pile of his clothes with a pair of his underwear held close to her face so she can savor his alpha demon muskiness

A/N: Ooh yeah, I remember that drabble. Sure I can do something like that. I don't mind at all! Sounds spicy. X3

Having a heat cycle was new. To be fair, everything was. Being trapped in an avatar you didn't think would have a strong sense of taste and smell was something you had to adjust to. However, being in the state of heat was hell. You needed to be sated, but what could you do to calm yourself?

You could order a Floor Guardian to your side to help you, but who were you kidding. You were too shy to try, not wishing to waste anybody's time with your needs. Everybody was busy.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of your options. Demiurge was the most open and honest Floor Guardian when it came to wanting to assist you, no matter the means, but asking him to fuck you senselessly on the bed made your ears burn.

“He's at the ranch today anyways, isn't he?” you muttered to yourself. “He won't notice if I...”

Driven by hormones, you took to your feet and ran to your room's door. Making your way down to Demiurge's bedroom, you knocked first for the sake of courtesy and then allowed yourself inside.

It was empty. He was nowhere insight. That was a relief. Even the room alone smelled of him. It made your body quiver, wanting and desiring more just by the smell alone. You followed it, trying to locate where it was the strongest. The bed wouldn't make any sense, as he never slept. It was there you ventured to a closet in the room.

Opening the intricately designed doors, you noted the many outfits—suits mainly—that Ulbert had bestowed his creation over the years of play. While the pinstriped red suit would no doubt smell the most of him, he was always wearing that one. Always. The others still did have a faint odor to them, reminding you of the Seventh Floor Guardian.

Grabbing a few of the clothes, you pressed them to your face to inhale the intoxicating scent. It made your body tremble all the more, wanting to feel as though you were closer to him.

The scent wasn't something you'd think he'd have—It was of brimstone, and a very faint citrus aura that burst into an ever lingering sambac jasmine. The brimstone part made sense. That was him through and through, but the other part smelled as though it were sprayed on. Must have been some sort of cologne of his.

Weirdly enough, as much as that scent reminded you of him, you'd prefer his actual musk over anything trying to lead you to believe it smelled different.

You continued your digging, putting some of the clothing on the bed in his room.

Making it to a drawer off to the side near the closet, it was there you uncovered his underwear. Your heart started to pound wildly. The scent assaulted your senses worse than any love spell could. Digging through them you found them all to be one color—black. Of course. Very predictable. But you didn't care.

Grabbing the first pair you could, you looked around cautiously to make certain nobody was nearby to notice your odd behavior. Biting at your lower lip, you brought it close to your face and inhaled the longing smell with a loud sigh of delight as you reclined backward and landed on the ground in euphoria.

He didn't have to be here. This could be enough. Rubbing your legs together, you whimpered under the euphoric intoxication of his alluring smell.

“This is perfect,” you whispered hoarsely, hurrying up to the bed where the other clothing pieces were. Sprawling out on top of them, you began to rub your body against them to try and sate your selfish need for the demon. Your mind played out so many different scenarios, several in which he dominated you to pleasure you till you couldn't walk. It made you salivate in sexual hunger.

You were at a loss for time. You didn't even bother to look and see what time it was as you grew so intoxicated on what you had. Eventually, the door to Demiurge's room did open, allowing the devil to step within.

“Eh?” He stalled himself, trying not to disrupt what you were doing. If anything, the heat cycle scent was enough to leave him breathless. Demiurge shifted his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat and doing his best not to be unprofessional. He called out to you by name.

Your entire body went rigid, feeling as though you were burning up from head to toe.

“May I ask what it is you are doing with my clothes?” Demiurge probed. He knew, he just wanted you to say it.

You pulled his underwear away from your face, trying to find the right way to explain yourself. “I, umm... w-well, you see I...”

Noticing his underwear there in your grasp, he clenched his teeth in a fit of shock and embarrassment. “If I had known you were going to fetch such personal things, I would have seen to it they were cleaner...!”

Looking to the black pair of tight underwear, you kept it close to your chest. “But I like this smell of yours! I-I like when it just smells like you!”

“Oh?” Demiurge wasn't sure you'd go that far, but he understood why. Again, he could smell why. It was hard for any who didn't know him to take note of, but you could have sworn he was looking over the clothing you had made a nest of there on his bed. “I can tell you've marked it yourself here as of late.”

Entire face turning warm, you looked down at the suits and things you had been rubbing your body against and panicked a bit at the sight. Not just by scent had you, but the liquid that was now on some of his clothing was very apparent as to what it was.

You panicked. “S-Sorry! I didn't meant to do that!”

He came closer, loosening his tie and removing his coat and undershirt in the process. At times like these, you forgot how large this muscular, nearly six foot demon was compared to you and your much smaller body. It made you ache in a desire to find out more.

The twisted, elongated grin stretched unnaturally across his features. The devil was inches from your face. You could practically smell his breath, taste his words. “If you're so in need, my dear, I can help sate you.”

Before you could even think to answer, he grabbed your face and urged you around. Your cheek was pushed against the clothing you had grown so attached to marking yourself. Your clothes were torn from you in an instant as the devil growled in a way to show dominance over you in the matter.

His free hand grabbed your leg, moving it away to give himself better access to what you both wanted. Your scent being as intoxicating in return, he savored at least the taste of it by rolling his tongue up and over your womanhood to enjoy in the lubrication. A growling almost purr sound rumbled in his throat.

“Just...Just...” Your fingers bundled up on the clothes underneath you. “Just fuck me, please! Take me...! I need you so badly...!”

His long tongue slipped back between his lips as he hummed at the begging. “If you had required me so, why did you not call for me?” The knives like Devil's Claws elongated and touched upon your lips. “I will gladly do whatever you so wish, need you only beg.”

It was there you felt it. He didn't ram himself inside of you, but the slow and steady push to come inside of your body made you tense as the bundle of euphoria went erratic within your gut. It burned like a fire through your veins as you trembled at the intoxication that spread through your form. You could feel his cock touch every part of your quivering walls, hitting all the right notes as he did so. You were so wet, any could hear it in your union.

The squelching sound grew louder and louder with every thrust the devil urged with an alpha like growl of domination on the omega that was his and his alone in his mind. His nostrils flared. Demiurge huffed like a wild stallion as the tight dampness nearly drove him insane in the process.

It had been quite some time since he experienced something such as this.

Inching closer to your face, he rolled his tongue over the nook between your neck and shoulder and it was there he bit down with his fangs. The thrusting within you only became more feral, the bed moaning with every harsh act upon it to demonstrate how rough the demon was.

Drooling from the blissful, mind numbing experience, you didn't even have it in you to warn him of your approaching climax. He didn't either, to be fair, as his mouth was already busy to keep himself and you contained. The warm rush of his release filled you far more than you anticipated it would. Lacking an area in which to go overtime, it pooled at your union before spilling down between your legs.

Your body felt warm, wanting to beg to go again as you laid there trying to recover.

Demiurge removed his mouth from your shoulder, licking the spot again as if to be apologetic. His breathing was heavy through his nostrils as he did his best to regain his strength and clear state of mind. “There...sated now, my little pet?”

#demiurge i see as being the most hellish one to keep at bay if you have a heat cycle #demiurge #demiurge x mc #demiurge x reader #demiurge snippet #alpha/omega #demon x reader #overlord #mod answers #anon #nsft

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quellmythirst · 3 years ago

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Going Up Part 1

Summary: With Avengers Tower growing fuller and fuller by the day, Tony offers to put you up in an apartment complex on the other side of the Baxter building. It’s not too far from work but the residents are something else.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Neighbour!Billy Russo

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, misunderstandings.

AN: So two in two days aye me? Well, all of my friends went out and caught COVID so I've been very bored. I also wanted to try something new. So this is gunna switch perspectives about halfway through. Let me know how you like it.

-Y/N-

Late again. “Fuck, I'm gonna be late,” you swear to yourself, “I can't believe this is happening. I've only been here for a week and I'm already running late,” You had put your keys and your purse on the nightstand you were sure. But with so many boxes still laying around your apartment you could barely find a toothbrush. Fuck, it was a mess. If you could just get a few free days to unpack or if one of those losers who was constantly calling you a friend would actually come and help you move some of the heavier stuff. It definitely would’ve been done by now. But no, they all had to go on a mission and leave you behind to do all the boring shit. You had an appointment with a governor this afternoon and had to take some of the younger recruits to a youth training garbage thing. You’re sure they don’t need it, they were some of the smartest kids you had ever met.

“Ah there it is,” you sigh, spotting your purse on the ground next to the coffee table. Gathering up all your things into your satchel as you speed through the door. Your foot manages to catch the elevator just as it's about to close, “thank fuck,” you breath a sigh of relief, clutching at your chest as you catch your breath. You hear a huff and the sound of expensive shoes tapping on the elevator floor.

You look up, your eyes immediately locking with an annoyed pair of dark eyes. They seem to be trying to implode you from the inside. You stand up adjusting yourself to move in as the doors begin to close on you. Forgetting yourself, your eyes dance along the clean lines of this man's beautiful 3 piece suit, the clean silver pinstripes matching perfectly with the sleek red tie. You stand a moment staring at him before regaining your fucking senses. Immediately spinning around and clicking the button to take you down. You try to keep your eyes down, but you can feel the man's eyes on you. He must be glaring holes into the back of your blazer. He was definitely not the type of person you were imagining would live in this posh ass building. The only other two residents you had met were a lovely elderly couple who had invested well and were now living in retirement. Then there was the young family, the mom was some hot shot lawyer and the dad who you figured stayed home as he was the one you saw with the kids most often. They were polite, but kids? Especially little kids, they were never really your thing. But this guy? Where the fuck did he come from? He looks like he walked straight off a GQ runway.

Taking a chance you peek up from the ground and spy him in the mirrored door. He’s definitely staring at you, his eyes are narrowed, his teeth biting into the corner of his lip. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, but you can just make out the outline of his fists. Yep, he’s definitely mad. You see his eyes shift, he’s starting to look up. You dart your eyes down, your hands fiddling with the strap on your bag. You hold your breath the rest of the way down, only occasionally looking up. But you’re too fast for him to catch you looking anyway. Your eyes are drinking in how tall and elegant this man appears to be. The man says nothing to you though and you're sure that after only 5 days in this building someone already hates you.

-Billy-

“Wonder who that woman was? I'm sure I vetted everyone in the building when I moved in but I've never seen her face before and I’m sure I’d remember seeing the rest of her. She looked official, dressed in her tight Chanel blazer and that Vera Wang blouse. But the skirt, fuck that skirt,” He licked his lips at the picture he had of you in his head, “Hopefully I'll get to run into her again,” He thought aloud to himself. Sure he had seen bounds of beautiful women before, there wasn’t anything new about that. What was new though, was that you hadn’t fallen over your feet to tell him your name, thrown yourself at his feet or like one very forward woman just straight up took his pants off. Of course he slept with some of them, but it had been so long since anyone had mostly ignored him. Only seeming to be annoyed that he tried to shut the door on you when you tripped your way into the elevator that morning. Your eyes scrutinized his appearance, like you knew that he didn’t belong in this fancy ass building. Well he did. He paid a lot of money and killed a lot of folks to earn his spot right in the middle of Manhattan. Maybe if he was lucky he would run into you again. He had been unsuccessful in the last few days, thinking that if he got in the elevator at the same time as he had the day before he was more likely to run into you, unfortunately that didn’t seem to work out for him. He clicks the button to head down to the lobby and thinks maybe luck gave up on him.

He’s adjusting the sleeves of his suit when the door dings open and you step into the elevator. His eyes glance over the romantic pink sundress, the soft material delicately covering your shoulders and the hem just skirting above your knee. His eyes travel down your legs, golden sandals wrap delicately around your shapely legs. It didn't escape his notice the first time how beautiful you were, but seeing you in your casual clothes was doing things to him, almost looking like a princess from one of his books. He kept his eyes forward, not wanting to let on just the way you were affecting him. It wasn't often he got to run into a stunning woman with nothing to dig up on, no trace of her anywhere on the internet or in any government database he could find. Not to mention you still hadn’t spoken to him, you seemed unimpressed by his $1000 suit or the haircut he had picked out for him by an uptown barber. The trap he had set to lure in women was failing and he couldn’t figure out how you managed to keep out of it.

He slyly pulls out his phone, hoping to take a sneaky picture to search you up on his computer in his office. Maybe the Anvil database would be more helpful than the programs on his laptop. He felt your eyes on him, his eyes slowly drifting up from his phone and he caught you watching him, gracing him with a polite smile when your eyes lock in the mirror. Your head tilts to the side before you fluff out the skirt of your dress and adjust your hair, ignoring him yet again. A bored expression falling across your pretty features, he wanted to smack a smile onto your lips. His mind started wondering how that pretty mouth would look with his fingers shoved down your throat. Leaning back into the corner, he crossed his arms the coolness of the elevator wall keeping him centred as he tries to imagine what you would look like underneath that dress. He was not meaning to work himself up this much, digging his nails into his palm to stop himself from his primal urge to lift that dress up and fuck you into the wall.

The door dinged open, pulling him from his muses, the click of your sandals on the marble drawing his eyes as your dress swished with your elegant walk on your way out of the lobby and into the morning sun, next time. Next time he would have to speak to you.

#Going up #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #female!reader x billy russo #reader x billy russo #billy russo x you #the punisher fanfic #billy russo x female reader #billy russo #Neighbour!Billy russo

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jar-of-ectoplasm · 4 years ago

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Confessing to La Squadra

a/n: look i know i already have some Risotto confessing headcanons but those are more about him confessing so i'm including him here anyway

Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst (but no rejection), these hoes don't know what love is lol

~Risotto Nero~

-Seriously thought you were joking when you pulled him aside and told him how you felt

-He was convinced Formaggio had put you up to this or something

-Ris feels like he isn't deserving of love (BUT HE IS) and he's literally so bad at expressing himself so he just nodded and walked away

-Had a breakdown in his office because why the fuck did he just walk away?? after you poured your heart out to him???? jesus christ what if you think he doesn't like you???????

-So he gets up and fucking sprints to your room to try to fix his mistakes

-Frantically tells you that he likes you back and would love to go out with you sometimes (you can barely understand it because he's talking so fast)

~Prosciutto~

-Saw this coming from a mile away but he won't be a bitch about it don't worry

-Takes your confession with an overwhelming amount of grace and gives you a time and place to meet him for a date the next day

-As soon as you leave he's jumping around and giggling like a child because oh my fucking god his crush likes him back holy shit!!!

-He'll panic about what he's supposed to wear. Should he just wear his regular suit? No, no no this is a special occasion! Pinstripes or no pattern? What tie would go best with this shirt? He needs to pick a suit with your favorite color, you'll like him more, right?

-Eventually caves and has Risotto pick something out for him because he literally can't (indecisive queen)

~Pesci~

-He is so INSECURE OH MY GOD

-Like Risotto, he thinks you're just fucking with him. He honest to god doesn't believe you could fall in love with someone like him

-He gets too nervous and freezes up then runs to find Prosciutto because he has no idea what to do

-Prosciutto basically screams at him to go back and find you. He can't just leave you all alone after telling him something like that!

-So he does go back and stutters out the softest "i like you too" in the world

-He'll take you for a picnic on the beach right after because he wants to make up for just leaving you standing there after he ran

~Illuso~

-BITCH MOTHERFUCKER

-He already knew because he eavesdropped on your conversation with Melone about how you should confess to him

-Sure he likes you back but he wanted you to come to him so he didn't seem desperate or something

-Teases you about it because he can't socialize for shit and probably ends up making you upset because he won't shut his god damn mouth

-So when you just walk away incredibly frustrated and probably a little teary eyed he realizes he fucked up bad

-Goes into the mirror world to scream because why can't he just be a normal person and not a little bastard

-Pops into your room from the mirror and gives you the quietest apology you've ever heard then hugs you because he feels really bad

~Formaggio~

-Another member of the team that thinks you're joking. Not because he's insecure, he's actually very confident in himself, but he jokingly flirts with you all the time so he thought you were finally playing along

-But you're not and you like him for real which makes him SO FUCKING HAPPY

-He knew he was gonna fall in love with you the day you joined the team and he's been daydreaming about your guys' first date since you went on your first mission with him

-Might be the most well prepared member of the team if I'm being honest

-He has a whole speech about how much he loves you and all the things he wants to do together and he already knows a guy that can legally marry you two

-He's so soft for you

~Ghiaccio~

-You told him how you felt when you guys were cornered during a mission and could die in literal seconds

-So when that didn't happen and you two made it out alive with the target killed, he tried to ignore your words ringing in his head

-But god damn the car ride back to Napoli was a long one and all Ghiaccio can do is think after you fell asleep in the passenger seat

-He couldn't tell if you just said you loved him because you guys were about to die or if you actually felt that way. But what if you loved him like family instead of like a boyfriend?

-And so Ghiaccio pulled over and woke you up. It was bothering him too much, he needed an answer now

-When you clarified that yes, you did love him romantically, he hugged you so hard your ribs almost broke

-mans was worrying for nothing smh

~Melone~

-He flirts with you all the time but...you actually caught feelings for him? Like genuine "I love you" feelings? Not lust? Melone seriously can't remember the last time someone actually enjoyed his presence outside of the bedroom so much that they wanted to be with him

-Mel started bawling his eyes out. Like, full on sobbing on his knees in front of you

-You thought you had done something wrong so you started apologizing which made him cry even harder (he thought you were apologizing because it was a joke)

-After he got himself back together he shakily asked you if you really meant it (which you obviously did) and after you gave him a positive answer he started crying again

-He won't let go of you for the rest of the day. He's just so happy someone finally loves him (FUCK that's sad)

~Sorbet and Gelato~

-It's a damn good thing you liked both of them. Gelato might've killed you if you only like Sorbet and Sorbet would've laughed in your face if you only liked Gelato

-So you avoided getting your face cut off but what the fuck are you supposed to do about confessing? You didn't want to become a homewrecker, it was quite obvious Sorbet and Gelato were perfectly content with nobody else in their relationship

-So you never said anything about it to anybody. God only knows what Illuso would've done if he heard you saying anything about it and the rest of the team would've let it slip eventually

-But Sorbet and Gelato always have a way of finding things out for themselves

-You were already close to the couple so when the smaller blonde man walked up to asking to see you for a second you thought nothing of it

-Until you were seated in front of them and Sorbet had broken the silence with "We know about your little secret"

-Honestly you thought you were about to die. How did they even find out? You were sure you hadn't said or done anything to hint at your feelings for them

-Gelato broke the silence this time. "Honestly, we're quite flattered both of us caught your attention."

-That didn't help ease you at all but when the both of them spoke in unison, "But don't worry about it too much, you've caught our interest as well."

-So now their murder duo is a murder trio, have fun :)

#can you guys tell who my favorites are yet #ik sorb and gel's were long as fuck but it's technically for two characters so #la squadra #la squadra x reader #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #sorbet and gelato x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba x reader

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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

#gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles christmas #harry christmas

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years ago

Text

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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winryofresembool · 3 years ago

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 36

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: New Year’s Eve

A/N: Oops, I'm late again. But this is the longest chapter so far (over 6k words) so I hope you can forgive me for that!

This chapter finally brings back some friends we haven't seen in a while and introduces a couple of new ones too. I'm not gonna lie, having read ToA just once about a year ago, my characterization is probably very off so my apologies for that!

Now, hope you guys enjoy this mega chapter! Please let me know what you think! It's suuper important.

Words: 6,2k

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

After the boxing day Leo and Calypso returned back to their flat and the ‘normal’ life. Calypso already started remembering the downsides of working at a flower shop as it was a surprisingly busy time of the year with the wealthy people of that area wanting some flowers for their New Year celebrations. She and her boss Demi were the only two running the shop between the holidays while the second assistant was on a break. The older woman promised Calypso a day off for New Year’s eve, though, claiming that young people like her should be having fun that day instead of working. She graciously accepted the offer even though she didn’t have any plans for that day; after the eventful Christmas she kind of just wanted to stay at the flat with Leo.

But as it happened, Hazel texted her the day before the eve that she was having a small ‘gathering’ with a few friends and since Calypso hadn’t seen her for several weeks due to the work and a break from the art classes, she told Hazel that she would come. When she had asked Leo how he would feel about it, he had offered to go with her. Usually he would have spent the New Year Eve at Jason and Piper’s annual party but it was not happening this year due to their complicated situation. The flatmates had still decided to not tell Hazel or Frank about their own, developed situation, because they hadn’t even told Leo’s parents yet.

“So what is this Hazel like?” Leo asked Calypso as they were getting prepared for the evening out. “She doesn’t mind a stranger coming to her party, right?”

Calypso almost missed his question because of Leo’s current state of shirtlessness. A moment earlier he had wanted to know if she thought he should wear a light red or a white shirt to the party and hadn’t bothered to put either of them on yet. Not that she minded. No, her boyfriend definitely was not a bad sight with his tan, strong body, a quiet voice in her head said. “Oh no, she doesn’t mind,” Calypso finally remembered to answer. “I think she was even happy to hear you are coming with me. Besides, you have met Frank before, so technically you are not a complete stranger.”

“Are those two dating?” Leo asked.

“No, they are not. Not officially, at least. Hazel likes him but due to various reasons they have decided they shouldn’t rush it. Sounds kind of familiar to me.” Calypso looked at him significantly.

“It does? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leo raised his eyebrows, and Calypso nudged him on the arm playfully.

“Anyway, Hazel is great. She is the kind of person who seems really sweet on the surface but she would probably kick your behind if needed. She’s also kind of mysterious when it comes to her own story but I feel I can trust her. I may have even accidentally slipped her once that my flatmate is kind of neat.” She smiled at him shyly.

“Oh? So you’ve talked about me to her.” Leo grinned in response. “Hope you remembered to mention my good looks and quick wit…”

“Yep, and your modesty,” Calypso shook her head. “Seriously speaking, though, I find her very inspiring. Despite everything she’s been through, she’s thriving to do the things she enjoys, and she’s an incredible artist. Better than I, for sure.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I like your art.”

Calypso was happy and slightly flustered about Leo’s compliment but she wanted to explain herself. “I’m not selling myself short; I am just telling the truth. She really is that great.”

Leo raised his hand. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Good. Uh, hey, how should I wear my hair for the party?” Calypso asked as she stepped in front of a hallway mirror, taking some hairpins into her hands.

“I… I like it the way it is?” Leo looked at her with slight disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe that she didn’t like her current hairdo.

“Thanks… I don’t know. I could leave it mostly free but maybe I’ll add some waves.” Calypso wasn’t quite sure why she cared so much how she looked because that wasn’t like her, but she figured it might have had something to do with her being nervous about meeting new people at the party. Hazel and Frank were probably the only ones she knew there, after all. Her paying attention to her looks definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she liked it when Leo gave her that special look that he reserved only for her.

“Sunshine, just so you know, you are the kind of person who will always stand out no matter what you wear. Me? Well, you could perform your magic on me but I’d still look like Santa’s elf.”

Calypso couldn’t believe that her boyfriend clearly had no idea of the effect he had had on her only a moment earlier (and still had). “Leo, don’t let this get to your head but I think there's a certain charm in your elf ears.” She took one of his earlobes between her fingers and tugged it gently.

Leo’s eyes brightened at her comment.

“If that’s what you think, then screw what anyone else says.”

“That’s the spirit,” Calypso approved, letting go of his ear and almost leaning close enough to give him a cheek kiss, but then she withdrew quickly. Leo looked quite disappointed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked teasingly.

“I thought that you were going to kiss me,” Leo replied honestly.

“I’ve heard that there’s a habit that you kiss your partner at midnight on New Year’s. It’s not midnight yet, is it?” Calypso blinked innocently.

“No, but…” Leo couldn’t come up with any arguments to Calypso’s statement so he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Sometimes good things are worth waiting for,” Calypso finished with a smile and withdrew into her room to change her clothes. While doing that, she admitted to herself that this phase where everything was so new was pretty exciting.

…

A little bit later Calypso was dressed up in a dark blue short dress, tying the bracelet she had gotten on Christmas around her wrist when Leo got out of his room. He had switched his usual mechanic’s overalls to a white collarless shirt, suspenders, and pinstripe pants. Calypso had a feeling that he would have also put his tool belt on if that had been socially acceptable. To her surprise, he seemed to have even tried to flatten his curly hair a little, although it hadn’t quite worked out.

“Wow, look at you. The only thing you’re missing right now is a hat,” she noted, ruffling his hair a little. What she actually meant was that she thought he actually looked very nice in his current clothes. It was quite different from what she was used to seeing on him – even at school Leo usually wore a casual t-shirt or a hoodie and worn jeans – but she didn’t mind either look. Leo frowned at her, though.

“Don’t look so concerned,” Calypso continued with amusement. “I just meant that you kind of remind me of some film stars of the past. I just can’t get my finger on who. It’s a compliment, though.”

Leo’s frown disappeared. “Alright, thanks.” Then he took a second look at her and his eyes got that funny gleam he always got when he was about to say something embarrassing. “Woah, Sunshine. I’m suspecting that you are made of copper and tellurium.”

“And why’s that, mister chemistry nerd?” she asked, although she could pretty much guess his answer.

“Because you’re CuTe.”

Calypso shook her head in disbelief, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Really, Leonidas? Out of all the cheesy pick up lines in the world you chose that one?”

“Nothing wrong with chemistry puns, mi sol,” Leo claimed. “But I do think that you, um, clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Calypso admitted, feeling the warmth gathering to her cheeks. “But we should probably get going now before we melt each other with these compliments. It’s getting pretty late already,” she noted when she checked the clock of her phone before dropping it back into her purse.

“Okay, I’m as ready as I can be,” Leo replied and tugged a strand of Calypso’s hair gently before picking his keys and heading to the door after her.

…

Frank and Hazel lived on a different campus than Leo and Calypso so it took them a while to find it. The party was organized in Frank’s flat because it was bigger than Hazel’s. The latter had explained that Frank had applied for a two-room flat because he had several pets (who would however be spending their New Year at Frank’s granny) and he was lucky enough to be able to afford it due to his work and because he had inherited his mother.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting but not this,” Calypso told Leo when she noticed a cat tree and a big pile of toys for both cats and dogs in one corner of the house. “For some reason I pictured him having a gym or something in one of his rooms.”

“I guess never judge a book by its cover,” they heard a voice behind them say. Calypso felt heat rise on her face as she realized the speaker was Hazel.

“H-hi, Hazel!” Calypso stuttered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hazel waved her hand when she noticed Calypso’s expression. “I can see why you would imagine that.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have assumed anything either way,” Calypso muttered. “What about you, though? What is your place like? I really should visit you some time.”

“Way smaller and I have a couple of flatmates there. But to be honest? I like it that way. My father tried to buy me a new apartment several times but something always happened to those places, like they were cursed or something. One burned, one had some water damage, one was full of bugs… But I was able to get my current place because I do some odd jobs for a neighbor. So far nothing weird has happened.”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but didn’t you once tell me that your father doesn’t contact you all too often? Yet he was going to buy you an entire apartment? Calypso asked, confused.

“I think it’s because he’s proud as hell,” Hazel shrugged. “His cousin or something - a president at your uni, I think - bought his son an entire house in a nice area, and my father just couldn’t let him flex about it. Well, his plan didn’t quite work out as I just told you.”

“Wait, the son of our uni’s president… then do you happen to know Jason Grace?” Calypso asked, connecting the dots in her head.

“Yes, I do,” Hazel answered. “A distant cousin. We lived in San Francisco at the same time for a little while until he moved away. And now we’re somehow both here. Small world.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Jason is Leo’s good friend. And this is Leo, by the way,” Calypso introduced, feeling weirdly happy about being able to introduce him to her friend, even if they were still keeping their relationship status a secret.

However, soon Calypso noticed that Hazel took Leo’s appearance in for a moment longer than was necessary and she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit uneasy even though she knew that she didn’t actually have a reason for that. Leo was dating her, and Hazel seemed very interested in Frank. But there was something unusual about her stare, and she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello, Leo.” Hazel seemed to return back to her regular self as she shook his hand, although the color of her cheeks might have been a tiny bit darker than a moment ago. “I’m Hazel. Calypso never stops talking about you at our art classes. I’m not entirely sure if it’s extremely adorable or a little annoying.”

“What?” Leo turned towards her and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. “Cal, I didn’t know that you are constantly talking about me behind my back! Hope they have been good things, at least.” “Don’t worry, they’ve been nothing but good things,” Hazel reassured him, glancing at Calypso mischievously.

While Hazel’s teasing reassured Calypso that she had simply imagined her interest in Leo, they were getting dangerously close to the relationship topic, so she tried to change the course of the conversation. “Hazel, you didn’t have to tell him that! Now he won’t stop boasting for the next two weeks,” she said exaggeratedly even though in reality she was secretly kind of happy that Leo heard about her compliments.

“Sorry, Caly,” Hazel grinned at her, not looking particularly sorry. Then she leaned closer to her, whispering. “Just a little help from a friend. I thought you were going to get together during your vacation!”

“Th-thanks, but that really isn’t necessary,” Calypso whispered back, hoping that her acting was good enough to convince Hazel that she and Leo hadn’t made any progress yet. To her relief, her friend got distracted when a guy who was at least a head, maybe even more, taller than Hazel, with dark, short hair appeared next to her.

“There you are,” the guy said. “Nico was wondering if…” When he realized they had company, he gave them a polite smile.

“Oh, hi! Nice to see you guys!”

“You both have met Frank before, right?” Hazel asked.

“Yep,” Leo confirmed. “Frank thought I was a bad dog owner, but quite frankly, that was an understandable mistake.”

“How is your dog doing now?” Frank wanted to know. “Hope he’s good?”

“Never better! He enjoyed following Calypso everywhere while we were at Waystation over Christmas,” Leo replied happily.

“So are you two…?” Frank turned his head between Calypso and Leo. Calypso couldn’t help but wonder how many times they would still be asked that question that evening.

“No, no, no,” Leo denied. “That’s crazy talk. Right Cal? She just came with me because it was a better option than spending the holidays alone in our flat.” Calypso nodded along even though she didn’t like that they had to lie to their friends. But it was her who had made the decision to not tell them.

“Yeah. We’re just flatmates,” she confirmed.

Luckily, Frank didn’t ask more. Again, Calypso noticed that Hazel was staring at Leo with that mysterious expression on her face and she was already going to ask if something was wrong when Hazel addressed Leo:

“Have we… Have we met before? I mean, before tonight? You look so familiar to me but you can’t be…” She frowned.

“I don’t think so?” Leo seemed a bit confused. “Not that I remember, at least.”

“Oh… alright. I guess you just really look like someone I used to know. You haven’t ever lived in New Orleans, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Leo shook his head. “I’m originally from Texas. And yeah, I’ve also lived in a few other states for short periods of time when I was moving from a foster home to foster home but never in Louisiana.”

“Alright, sorry for bothering you about that,” Hazel said.

“It’s OK. Now that I think of it, though… I did have some distant relatives in that area, but I haven’t seen those people since I was a baby.”

“Really? What’s their last name?” Hazel seemed to get more interested again.

“Valdez, like mine. I think the mom of the boy who was around my age was my mom’s cousin or something like that. Why? Do you know them?”

“Yeah… Possibly… The boy’s name is Sammy Valdez. Does that sound familiar?”

“Hmmm…” Leo stopped to think about it. “Maybe. The boy’s name did start with S. I’ve seen pictures of me playing with another kid who looked a lot like me in our relatives’ yard but I think I literally met him just once. I was like one back then.”

Hazel seemed a little bit disappointed by Leo’s answer. “Alright. Sorry, it’s just that Sammy used to be my only real friend until I moved away from there and I was just wondering if you knew anything about how he’s doing now. I guess you don’t.”

“No, can’t say I do. My fam… well, they weren’t particularly accepting of me after what happened to my mom…” Leo said bitterly. “One of my aunts spread some sick lies… So, yeah, I moved to a foster home and haven’t seen any of my relatives since then.”

“I understand…” Hazel said sympathetically. Calypso imagined that Leo must have been grateful that Hazel didn’t question him more about what had happened. “Sorry, this is not a good topic to talk about at a party. My curiosity just got the best of me, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Leo waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s just move on.”

“I agree. Frank, were you going to say something about Nico before you got interrupted?” Hazel turned to him.

“Oh yeah,” Frank remembered. “Nico wanted to know if it’s OK that Will comes here a bit later. He’s working today, apparently.”

“No problem,” Hazel replied. “We may not have a lot of food and drinks left by that point, though, but he’s gonna have to deal with that.”

“Nico? Not Nico di Angelo, by any chance?” Leo joined the conversation.

“Yep, that’s him. He’s my half brother. I know, we look nothing alike,” Hazel commented when she noticed Leo’s expression.

“No, I was just surprised that you know him and Jason too… Soon you’ll probably tell us you know Percy Jackson too.”

“I’ve heard stories of him from the others,” Hazel chuckled. “But no, haven’t met him personally, at least yet.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you met him some time soon,” Leo predicted.

Calypso felt she had already been quiet uncomfortably long, just listening to Leo and Hazel talk and trying to figure out what to make of it. She couldn’t deny that she had felt a bit jealous at first but when she had learned that Hazel had only seemed that interested in him because he had looked like an old friend of hers, she had relaxed somewhat. Maybe the trust issues were a result of many failed relationships, if she could call them that given that most of them hadn’t lasted too long. Cursing herself for her unnecessary thoughts, she asked:

“So, is there anyone else I know here besides Nico?”

“I invited Rachel from our art classes too,” Hazel answered. “You remember her, right? She said she was really happy to spend the New Year’s Eve in any place that isn’t his father’s penthouse.”

Calypso remembered Rachel as a really enthusiastic and unique artist. She herself tended to try to make her art look a bit more simplistic while you really had to stop and look at Rachel’s art to be able to see its many dimensions.

“Yep, I remember her,” Calypso responded. “I’ve often thought about talking to her but there’s something a bit… intimidating about her, like she knows something about me that even I don’t know…” “She’s fine, though, when you learn to know her,” Hazel reassured her.

“That’s nice to know. If I see her, I’ll say hi.”

“Good,” Hazel nodded.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Leo nudged her on the arm. “I’m getting hungry. Maybe we should go and get something to eat.”

“Somehow he is already hungry even though he ate at home before we left,” Calypso said in disbelief. “How’s that even possible, Repair Boy?” Then she realized how the nicknames may have sounded to the others’ ears so she hurried to add: “Um, sorry, we’re used to using nicknames at our flat. With everyone. I’m Sunshine, Jason is a Lightning Boy and so on. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure he won’t eat everything!”

“It’s OK, there’s plenty for everyone. Also, if you plan to dance at some point tonight, watch out for my pink haired friend Lavinia. She is a little bit eager about tap dancing.”

“I don’t think we are gonna dance…” Calypso cursed herself for blushing like a teenager when she pictured herself going for a slow dance with Leo, standing as close to him as possible. “…But thanks for the warning.” Then she waved at the hosts quickly and started dragging Leo out of the room.

“Well? What do you think of my friends?” Calypso whispered when they were picking some nachos on their plates and no one was in the hearing distance.

“Hazel seems cool,” Leo replied nonchalantly. “But you really think I pay attention to anyone else when I have my amazing girlfriend next to me?”

“You’re so cheesy, Leo,” Calypso said but gave him her brightest smile. She might have also kissed him if it weren’t for the other people nearby and the fact that she was carrying a plate full of food.

“Part of my charm, babe,” Leo claimed, giving her that stupid grin that never failed to make her feel things. He sat down on an unoccupied chair near the table and started enjoying his nachos. “Hey, these are really good! You gotta try them.”

“Babe? I thought we already had our nickname discussion,” Calypso interrupted him. She sat down next to him but didn’t taste her nachos yet, instead expecting his answer.

“But it’s better than Mamacita, isn’t it?” Leo asked innocently.

Calypso couldn’t argue with that logic. “Well, yes, it is, but… maybe you should stick to Sunshine. Or just Cal. I’m not… huge on pet names. I’m just not used to them.”

Thankfully Leo seemed to understand. “Alright. I won’t call you a babe, then. My mom just used to say ‘a dear child has many names’ and it seems that has stuck with me. I think she meant that we have a tendency to give nicknames to those we care about. Maybe that’s the reason why I sometimes go a bit extra with the names I give you guys… especially you.”

“Oh. I see.”

There was something weirdly sweet about Leo’s reasoning behind his nicknames and Calypso couldn’t help but smile down at her food. She didn’t realize she had been lost in her thoughts for a moment until Leo said:

“Earth’s calling Calypso. Try this,” Leo handed her a nacho that had some sauce she wasn’t familiar with on it.

“Chili?” she asked when she tasted it and felt a slight sting on her tongue. It wasn’t a bad sensation, though; this sauce was notably milder than the one Leo had once fed her. “You really find ways to make me eat it.”

“Admit it: you liked it.”

Calypso was feeling a little brave because they were somehow still alone in the room: “Make me.”

Leo was about to lean closer to her when someone entered the room without a warning.

“Uh… Hi!” Nico di Angelo finally reacted to their presence when Calypso and Leo jumped a bit farther from each other.

“Hi, Nico,” Leo greeted him. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I know here but it looks like I was wrong.”

“Seems so,” Nico replied, not in a mood for small talk.

“So how is it going?” Leo asked. “And how’s Will?”

“It’s going,” Nico shrugged, combing some of his long bangs to the side with his fingers. “Been trying to take it easy lately. Doctor’s orders. Will works as an intern at a hospital and turns out they really needed his help on New Year’s Eve so he’s not here yet. Something about lots of fireworks related accidents and so on…”

“Fireworks suck,” Leo commented, and Calypso noticed an angry spark in his eyes. “They feel like such a waste of money and they cause people to lose their eyes and such.”

Calypso wondered if Leo’s hatred towards the fireworks had something to do with the fact that fire was involved but she decided to ask about it later.

“Tell me about it,” Nico agreed. “Anyway, how do you two know Hazel and Frank?”

Calypso briefly explained how she had met Hazel at the art class and Leo told Nico about Festus’ vet visit.

“Somehow Hazel even knows my second cousin from Louisiana. How crazy is that?” Leo marveled.

“Pretty crazy, yeah,” Nico admitted, not contributing more to the topic so Leo decided to ask about something else.

“You haven’t happened to hear anything about Jason or Piper lately? I accidentally ran into Piper at Christmas and she seemed to be doing OK then, but… I’m still a bit worried about them.”

“I don’t really know much.” Nico replied vaguely. “Just that Jason hasn’t been home much lately. He’s always training, or with Percy and Annabeth or… I dunno. Just avoiding dealing with the situation. Or that’s at least how Will has interpreted his behavior. He’s way better at reading others than I am.”

Leo let out a frustrated sigh. “If only those two talked it out, said what they really thought…”

Calypso couldn’t help but see the amusing side of Leo’s statement. She started chuckling at him and both Leo and Nico gave her perplexed looks.

“What’s so funny about this? I was trying to be serious, Cal.” He narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

That only made Calypso even more amused. “I know, I know! I’m sorry. It’s just that… don’t you think that’s a little bit ironic coming from your mouth?”

“From my mouth…?”

Nico still looked like he understood nothing about what was going on, but Leo had at least a tendency to blush when he realized that Calypso was right.

“Oh, this is totally different!” he claimed. “I, um, have my reasons to keep my mouth shut in certain situations. But those two… they’re just being weird.”

“I’m not even trying to follow this conversation anymore,” Nico stated, going to gather some chips and a beer from the food table. “Will would probably be able to translate Leo’s incoherent speech but he’s not here so I’m just gonna eat quietly now.”

Leo gave him an annoyed look and focused on his own food for a while. Once finished, he told Calypso that he wanted to see where the rest of the guests were. Calypso, relieved that Nico hadn’t apparently connected the dots about their relationship, agreed to follow him, but soon she realized that it might have been a mistake when Leo was walking towards the dancing area.

Being on the dance floor usually meant that you were expected to dance.

And she was not ready to dance. At all.

First of all, she hadn’t danced in years and while Calypso usually wasn’t too self conscious about those kinds of things, she still didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Leo and the others. Second of all, she was quite sure that people would speculate - again - if they saw her dancing with Leo and she didn’t want that. She may have told Hazel about her crush some time ago and she did trust her, but who knew what kind of connections the other people in the room had?

Suddenly she realized that she was being paranoid. The people at this party were in their late teens or early twenties and probably had never even heard of her father. And why would they care if she was dancing with him? That was a normal thing to do at parties. It didn’t automatically have to mean anything.

There were already a lot of people gathered on the dance floor when the roommates arrived there. A few were dancing a bit farther from the rest of the group, while the others were watching a pink haired girl with real tap dance shoes on showing her skills. She must have been Lavinia, Calypso concluded. And based on her determined look, she seemed ready to challenge anyone who dared to pass by into a dance battle.

“Lavi!” Hazel’s voice came from behind Calypso. “Are you showing off again?”

The group that was standing in front of Lavinia moved from her way, and Calypso got a better look at her. Her shoulder length hair was flying freely and she was wearing a purple T-shirt and black pants to go with her shoes. Calypso also noticed that even though she had stopped dancing, one of her feet still kept tapping quietly on the floor, as if she was unable to stand still.

“Sorry, Hazel. Couldn’t help myself,” Lavinia muttered, and Hazel’s expression softened a bit. Calypso was still surprised to see this side of her because usually she seemed very kind, but clearly she still had authority even over people who were way bigger and older than her whenever it was needed.

“It’s OK! But try to let the others dance too, and not just tap dance.”

“Alright,” Lavinia answered but rolled her eyes when Hazel didn’t look. Calypso could hear her whisper to the closest people: “She just doesn’t understand the art of tap dance.”

Soon after that, the people in the room started dividing into smaller groups, some trying to chat over the loud music, some dancing. Calypso and Leo tried to spot some familiar faces but Hazel had already disappeared somewhere and Frank, Nico and Rachel weren't nearby either. Just when Leo opened his mouth to ask something, Calypso noticed that Lavinia, who had stopped dancing, was approaching them.

“Hi. We haven’t met before,” Lavinia started.

“Yeah, hi. I’m Calypso. Hazel’s friend from the art classes.” She shook Lavinia’s hand and then turned towards Leo. “This is my b… flatmate Leo. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lavinia Asimov. Hazel and I used to go to the same school,” Lavinia said, but Calypso couldn’t help but notice that even when she was shaking hands with Leo, she was actually eyeing her.

“That’s cool,” Calypso replied casually although she was starting to feel slightly weird because of the staring.

“So, Calypso, do you know how to dance?” Lavinia asked.

“Not really, I just know some very basics,” she replied. “Haven’t danced in years, to be honest.”

“I could teach you, you know,” Lavinia blurted.

“Really?” Calypso asked, slightly confused by the other girl’s eagerness.

“Sure, why not? I’m pretty good.” Lavinia grinned at her.

“Do you mean now or...?”

“Now or whenever you’d like.” The girl twirled a strand of her pink hair around her finger as she spoke.

It took Calypso a moment to realize that Lavinia was actually trying to flirt with her in her own way.

“Hold on. I’m really flattered, but… I’m already taken.” Calypso rubbed the back of her head. From the corner of her eye she could see Leo’s stance getting more relaxed when he heard her answer. “Sorry. You seem like a cool person, though.”

Lavinia seemed visibly disappointed by Calypso’s response. “Are you taken by him?” She pointed at Leo judgingly. “You could do better than that.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what to answer, given that she wasn’t supposed to reveal their secret to anyone, but to her relief Leo cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Pink? We literally just met; what makes you think you know what kind of person I am? You’re right in one thing, though,” he continued before Lavinia could reply. “Namely, she is way out of my league. And her boyfriend would probably kill me if I looked at her in the wrong way.”

“But… didn’t you just say you two are flatmates?” Lavinia asked suspiciously.

“Oh, yeah,” Leo responded quickly. “Cal’s boyfriend lives far from our uni so it was more convenient for her to get a flat from somewhere nearer to it. He knows he can trust me.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what amused (and scared) her more: the lies Leo came up with or the way he managed to sound that convincing even though he was literally coming up with the story as he spoke. At least Hazel wasn’t listening because she probably wouldn’t have bought it. Eventually Calypso decided she needed to contribute to the story as well.

“Besides, my boyfriend knows that I would kick Leo’s ass if he ever did anything inappropriate.”

Calypso noticed that Leo’s mouth was twitching slightly, but he quickly pulled the poker face back on and rushed to nod along.

“Totally. I wouldn’t wanna try that.”

Lavinia finally seemed convinced enough. “Alright. Well… I think I’ll go and find something to drink now. Dancing makes me thirsty.”

“Okay, we might see you later.” Calypso nodded at her before she disappeared from view. Once they were sure that she was far enough, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whew, she really seemed convinced we are dating,” she whispered to Leo. “I was worried she wouldn’t believe us. Also, Mister Not-boyfriend, I’ll have you know I do not approve of lying but in this case it was probably for the best. So thanks.”

Leo grinned at her. “You’re welcome. Geez, Sunshine, do you see the effect you have on people? Everyone is falling on your feet.”

Calypso blushed a bit. “It’s a bit weird… I am not used to getting attention.”

“You’ll get used to it once I shower you with the Leo love,” he whispered and Calypso blushed even harder.

“Gods, Leo! Don’t say that here!” Calypso peeked around and was relieved to see that no one they knew was nearby.

“Couldn’t resist,” he claimed but then got more serious. “Uh, so… do you think dancing would be pushing the line that we have set?”

“It probably would,” Calypso said a bit sadly. “Maybe when we’re home, though.” She added quietly.

Leo seemed pleasantly surprised by her answer. “Oh! Okay. I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“Hey, listen,” Calypso spoke again. “Maybe we should split up for a moment. Nico and Frank could probably use your company and I’d like to catch up with Hazel a bit since I haven’t had a chance yet. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Leo nodded. “I need to make sure that Nico doesn’t eat all the miniburgers from the bar.”

Calypso chuckled. “Alright. Save some for me too! I've only tasted the nachos so far!”

“I will try,” Leo replied, emphasizing the word try. “Well, see you in a bit!” He waved at her.

Once Leo had disappeared, Calypso started looking for Hazel and found her from the balcony with Rachel and a couple of other friends of hers, watching the fireworks from the distance.

“Hi, you guys,” she greeted. “Looks like nice weather for the fireworks show.”

“Yep, it is,” Hazel agreed. “So… how did your little vacation go?” She went straight to the topic, smiling at Calypso slightly mischievously. “You and Leo seemed pretty chummy over there.”

“Chummy?” Calypso laughed awkwardly. “I don’t even know what that means,” she lied, trying to use the fact that she wasn’t a native English speaker as her advantage. “But the vacation was pretty good. Sure, there were some ups and downs as you can expect when you’re spending the holidays in a new place with people you don’t know very well, but overall? I had a good time.”

“I can almost see with my own eyes what exactly happened there now…” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Come on. Give me some details. Please tell me that some progress has happened.”

“But there really is not much to tell,” Calypso insisted. “I taught Leo’s little sister Georgina some baking and sewing and stuff like that and helped with the Christmas preparations and met some new people… Oh! And Leo’s family has an animal shelter; they had some adorable dogs and cats and…”

Hazel looked less enthusiastic when she realized that Calypso really was not going to tell her any news about her and Leo.

“So… nothing really happened?” she asked.

“No,” Calypso said as convincingly as she could. “Although we did have a good talk one day and I feel that we can be more open towards each other now. But we are not together. It’s not the right time for that yet.”

Hazel tilted her head, still unconvinced. “I heard Lavinia talking about you a moment ago, though. Something about some guy not realizing how lucky he was.”

Calypso started feeling she was reaching the limits of her acting skills, but she tried her best. “I… uh, may have told her that I was taken to make things less awkward. Sorry, I know that was extremely rude of me.”

“No worries,” Hazel reassured her. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly. Besides, I happen to know that there’s someone she really really likes and hasn’t just found the courage to ask her out yet.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I hope she manages to do that at some point.”

The girls proceeded to talk about other things, such as Hazel’s vacation, the foster animals of Waystation and their expectations on the upcoming art classes, with Rachel joining the conversation as well. Calypso was just laughing at Rachel’s story about the many uses of a hair brush (she had used one for painting and another for threatening her teacher who had misbehaved towards her) when Nico rushed into the balcony, looking even paler than usual.

“Calypso, I think you should come. Something’s not right with Leo.”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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spruceplank · 4 years ago

Text

I told you I was brave but I lied

AN: based on this post by @blocklasagna

Or the AU from the time after Wilbur’s death and before Tubbo’s peaceful driven presidency can really begin because rebuilding has just started: The universe takes Tommy from Dreamsmp and asks the admin of Hermitcraft to help him heal. Cue Tommy now in Hermitcraft re-learning how to live again and not just survive because he deserves a chance to be a kid again.

Content warning: Descriptions of a panic attack

ao3 || 3.6k words || First | Previous | Current | Next

When Xisuma asks him if he wants to go to the server shopping district, he immediately says yes. It doesn't matter that this meeting is going to be for Xisuma telling the rest of the server he's here for now. It doesn't matter that it's like twenty plus people he's never met before in his life. He's not worried about it at all! If it means he gets to see more amazing buildings like Xisuma's base but now from so many different people he's all for it! If only he could get himself to believe it.

When Xisuma leads him to a nether portal he's starting to think this wasn't the best idea. He manages to pass it off as being worried about piglins and Xisuma assures him that their nether hub is spawn proofed, well at least the parts they'd be going through.

That's not something he's sure of but he decides to continue to trust Xisuma for now, at least on this. When he goes through the portal though, if it weren't for the sweltering heat he would not believe this was the nether. He doesn't have time to even look around at the place because he's too busy trying to catch up to Xisuma who's already off walking towards another portal. Hermitcraft huh… Was everything on this server so extravagant and resource intensive? The only other place he's seen so much warped or crimson wood is in the respective forests they come from.

He's too busy gawking at the massive tunnel, made out of crying obsidian of all things, that he almost misses Xisuma going through another portal. Thankfully he manages to catch a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye and he scrambles over to follow the admin through the portal. Upon stepping out the other side he immediately thinks that this has to be some sort of fever dream. There are diamonds in the trees. And not even like just a couple, like as many diamonds as Technoblade owns and that's a lot of fucking diamonds. He looks around and is just blown away.

This is a fully paved and detailed shop like area. This is the kinda shit he remembers seeing on servers dedicated to shopping where days of work were spent to make a server area look nice. There's an entire series of stylized buildings that are all completely different scattered about and then he turns around - Holy Fucking Shit. There's a fucking diamond throne. There is a throne made of diamond blocks, literally only diamond blocks in the building behind him. It doesn't matter if it's only the front of the throne or its hollow on the inside, that, holy fucking shit. How many diamonds even is that?

He doesn't even realize he's stopped walking until Xisuma is asking, "Tommy? Are you alright?"

"What the fuck." Is all he manages to say. Why the fuck is there a dog in a jumpsuit. Do those sheep have sunglasses on? What the hell is going on around here?

"Excuse me?" Xisuma balks.

There's, that's a fucking terraformed mountain. He bites the inside of his cheek to make sure he's not having a hallucination or in the middle of a fever dream. Nope, neither of those. He really can't put thoughts into words right now so all he manages to say is, "What the fuck is this place."

"The shopping district?" Xisuma hesitantly supplies. He needs Xisuma to know how crazy this is to him. What the actual shit.

"Dude, Xisuma, how? There's, there's fucking diamonds in the trees. The throne, the throne of diamond blocks. It's just sitting there? Hello? How has no one stolen that? Then there's the fucking buildings! What the fuck!" He yells, half laughing because he feels like he's losing his mind a little bit.

"Welcome to Hermitcraft, your one stop shop for over the top." A new voice chimes in from behind him, sounding amused.

"Hello Joe." Xisuma greets the other person, Joe. He turns to look at whoever it is and finds a dude with a basic blue shirt and jeans. The blue shirt has a white @ symbol on it. Brown hair hangs slightly over the edge of rectangular glasses.

Joe gives Tommy a smile when their eyes meet and he feels like the man is staring into his soul when he greets, "Howdy Xisumavoid and guest, you're up and around much faster than I thought you would be."

"Right introductions! Tommy this is Joe Hills, pseudo admin and poet. And Joe this is Tommy." Xisuma

"Hiya Tommy, nice to meet you." Joe offers a hand which he shakes.

"Thanks, you too." He nods to Joe.

Joe smiles at him again and he thinks that maybe its not Joe, maybe he just isn’t used to people being friendly without an ulterior motive that makes him so nervous about meeting the man. He’s distracted from his thoughts when Joe asks, "So did Xisuma tell you much about this server?"

"Uh… No, not really?" At least he hopes not. He didn’t remember much of anything. It was called Hermitcraft. Xisuma was the admin. Uh….

Joe sends a look to Xisuma who merely sputters in response for a moment before defending himself with an explanation, "I didn't want to overwhelm him! He thought my base was a lot yesterday so I figured he could learn as he went."

"So you didn't want to overwhelm him but then you brought him to the shopping district for the emergency meeting where you're going to tell most everyone on this server that Tommy will be here for the foreseeable future with no other explanation? And you didn't want to overwhelm him?" Joe continues to send a look of what he can only call ‘displeased parental figure’ at Xisuma as he asks. Yikes, he’s seen that enough from Philza Minecraft to know that even if it doesn't mean you’re in trouble it certainly means this wasn’t your brightest idea.

"Okay, fair point." Xisuma sighs.

"Is everything on this server like this?" He can’t help but ask nervously. There was no way right? But no, Xiusma’s base was insane. The nether hub was also insane too.

Joe laughs lightly, "Tommy there are things on this server that will blow your mind, this is just a small glimpse of what Hermitcraft is like."

"Fucking hell." He can’t help but mutter.

"Well I wouldn't want to spoil the surprises of Hermitcraft either. After all, where's the fun in that." Joe grins at Xisuma who merely shakes his head in response to the man’s antics. Joe rolls his eyes but starts walking away only to call over this shoulder, "Alright follow me you two, Xisuma is going to be late to his own meeting."

"We'll have time! Someone else is always late!" Xisuma yells after Joe.

"Yeah but some of us, have things we would like to get back to. Remember this was just brought up yesterday." Joe yells back without stopping or turning around. Xisuma grumbles under his breath but gestures for Tommy to follow him after Joe. Well at least these two seemed like good friends. Hopefully that would bode well for him. But then again, he and Quackity used to be good friends too.

"Hello everyone and thank you all for coming on such a short notice." Xisuma addresses the crowd gathered around the outside of a building. Apparently this was the moon area? He didn’t know what the surface of the moon would look like but here in the center of all of this it certainly looked out of place. Pretty bleak too but there were so many different blocks blended together he had to give whoever built this area props for the block varieties. He stands a little behind one of the various pillars in the ground near where Xisuma is so he’s not visible to the others because he doesn’t want people staring at him right now. Its weird to occasionally peek around and see all these people in the same place talking nicely with one another. He’s used to only seeing fighting when large crowds gather. The area gets silent after Xisuma talks.

"What's this all about anyways?" Someone asks.

He expects Xisuma to ask him to come forward but the admin doesn’t even look his way when answering, "We have a guest who will be staying here on Hermitcraft with us for the foreseeable future. I expect you to all be on your best behavior."

"Why did you look at me when you said that?!" Someone cries out, sounding offended.

There’s a round of laughter when someone teases, "I don't know mother spore, why do you think?"

The first voice snipes back, "Hey! You're in on that too!"

"Yeah but you started it! Besides everyone knows the HEP is the best around here." The second voice throws back with a huff, "Maybe we'll recruit our new guest to join us as well."

Someone else chimes in, "Oh no don't you dare! What if he wants to join our side? Not you HEP people!"

"Nuh huh! He'd join our side after just touring our base!" Another voice retorts back and he peaks around the pillar to look at the group of people. He can’t really make out who is who or who’s been speaking. But now he’s curious.

"Sides of what?" He can’t help but ask, hoping that someone will answer without looking for him.

A man with a pinstripe suit talks without even realizing it was Tommy who asked, "The opposing sides of the war-"

Opposing sides of the war. Opposing sides of the war. The opposing sides of the war. He’s running from the battlefield before he even realizes he’s gone. He hears someone call his name and a few others echo that call but he won’t go back there. Please, please, please no. He hears the sounds of withers and explosions. He can hear the opposing side’s cheers as his friends die. It was never meant to be. The final control room. Eret betrayed them. They all lost a life. He’s already lost two lives. He only has one left. His brother is dead. Wilbur is dead. That’s a good thing right? It means his brother won’t have to suffer anymore. He couldn’t save his brother. He couldn’t save his best friend.

He doesn’t know where he is. The ground is hard beneath him but he can’t breath. Is it possible to drown on dry land? Why is he just sitting here? They’ll catch him if he doesn’t keep running. He pushes himself off white walls and turns to run only to smack into someone coming around the corner of the building.

He’s knocked back to the ground and the world spins. Over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear he can sorta make out someone say, "A Kid?"

"Oh no." Everything sounds far away. There are people here. He's walked right into two of the enemies. He's as good as dead.

He has to leave. He has to run while they're distracted. He tries to get himself up from the ground only to fail and fall back down against the hard stone. Someone is asking him a question, "Woah dude, are you alright?"

Are they asking him a question? He squints, trying to make out the people in front of him. The world comes together to see a person with a moustache and someone with a robot eye. He doesn't know these people. He shuts his eyes again and curls in on himself. He doesn't understand. What is going on? Why is he so scared? Why can't he breathe?

"Iskall he's having a panic attack." One of the people says. He recognizes the words. A panic attack? It sounds familiar but when he tries to remember why all he can hear is laughter blending into explosions. The world is shaking. The ground crumbles beneath him and - there's something touching his arm.

He wretches away from the touch, eyes shooting open to identify the threat. It's the person with the robot eye. They're holding up their hands in a non threatening way. They're not a threat to Tommy. Their voice is warm when they ask, "Can you hear me? Is it okay to touch you?"

The thought of them not being a threat is quickly overrun by maniacal laughter. Let's be the bad guys, let's be the bad guys. Wilbur wasn't a threat before. People change. He can't trust anyone. The mustached person watches him before turning to robot eye and quietly saying, "Iskall I don't think he can hear us, we need to go get-"

"NO!" He chokes out on half a breath. No, no, no, no, no. He doesn't know these people. He doesn't trust them. But what if they bring back someone he does know? What if it's an enemy? What if it's one of his brothers? He'd rather leave his fate to strangers than anyone he knew.

"Alright alright, can you match my breathing? In and out, in and out, may I see your hand?" Robot eye, what was the name, he doesn't remember what the other person said. Robot eye asks for his hand, holding out one of their own like a request. He doesn't want to take it. He doesn't want to take it. A grounding presence. Calm the breathing. Match my breathing. Static fills his head in the places where memories should be. He holds out his hand. Robot eye gently maneuvers his violently shaking hand onto their chest, he can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his palm. The slow, exaggerated rise and fall of their chest. They're talking to him again, "See just time it with mine okay? Don't think about it, just follow what you feel."

He feels like he's drowning. He feels like the world is shaking. He chokes on his own sobbing and panicked breathing, "They, don't, don't let -"

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay. Just match my breathing okay?" Robot eye whispers to him. Gently tapping his wrist to get his attention. Through blurry vision he can make out the fact they're counting but he can't hear the numbers.

"Can't, can't, too loud." Even his own words sound like a roar in his ears. He's going to die here isn't he? This is where they died, this is where it ended. The cramped walls of the ravine loom over him as yelling echoes from nearby. Its too loud here, its always too loud here.

"Mumbo, do the Sahara protocol." Robot eye says to mustache.

Mustache, Mumbo?, looks bewildered at Robot eye who merely nods with a raised eyebrow as if saying to speak. Mumbo sighs but starts to explain something, "So you start by selecting the items you want which sends the order keys back -"

He tries to focus on whatever is being said but it's so over his head that he doesn't even know what the hell is being said. In a brief respite of everything not being deafeningly loud, he can hear the Robot eye person quietly reassuring him, "There you go, just match my breathing. In and out, in and out."

"When the order key… gets sent back to the warehouse… the connected...." Mumbo’s voice fades in and out as he tries to calm his breathing. His heartbeat pounds loudly in his head and everything seems muffled as he tries to make sense of the world.

"Conn- connect the what?" He struggles to ask through shaky words. What the fuck is this dude talking about? Didn’t he hear something about pistons?

There’s a pressure on his wrist as someone, Robot eye, squeezes his arm lightly to get his attention. Its a little hard to hear but he can make out the concerned voice that tells him, "Hey, hey, don't speak, no speaking until you're matched up your breathing."

So he sits there and listens to whatever the fuck is being talked about. He closes his eyes and just listens. This has to be about redstone. He’s heard repeater and comparator which he’s pretty sure are redstone things? His knowledge of anything beyond basic pistons and stuff is basically nothing. Eventually it feels like he isn’t dying anymore. He opens his eyes to see Mumbo pacing back and forth as he talks.

"And then once the shulker box loader is done," Mumbo is just making up words at this point. What the fuck is a shulker box? A loader? Are these english words? He’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck a shulker box loader that he misses more of whatever is being said. He only snaps out of his own thoughts when Mumbo finally stops pacing, "Until finally the order arrives and you can remove your items from the shulker box."

He stares up at Mumbo, hoping that he looks as confused as he feels. When Mumbo merely shrugs he looks towards the other person who asks, "Better now?"

"Yeah, what the fuck was all that?" He questions, ignoring how raspy his voice sounds.

Mumbo looks at him like he’s the one making up words, "The panic attack or the redstone?"

"You were talking about redstone!?" He can’t help but squawk.

"Yeah?" Robot eye hesitantly answers.

Everyday he is just a little bit closer to losing his mind like Wilbur did, "What the fuck."

The conversation forcibly switches topics when Robot eye suddenly points at him and declares, "Oh wait you're that Tommy kid!"

"I'm not a kid!" He instinctively bites back before he realizes what was just said and pauses for a moment. He never told these people his name, "But my name is Tommy, how did you know that?"

"Dude we've met before, remember MCC?" Does he remember what now?

"What's MCC?" He asks confusedly. Why were these two saying fake words at him? Wasn’t it enough that he had a panic attack?

"Minecraft Championships, run by Noxcrew? If you don't remember me then surely you remember False and Ren right?" Robot Eye person presses. The other two share a concerned look and he feels like he’s missing out on some inside joke.

"Um.. You sure are saying words to me…" He tries to laugh it off but it really doesn’t work. He sure hopes he’s not supposed to remember these people.

"You're joking." Robot eye states and maybe he flinches a little at that.

"Uh…" He looks between the two of them trying to grasp any sort of name from his memory but he's only coming up with a whole lotta nothing.

Mumbo awkwardly clears his throat, "Iskall I don't think he's joking."

They all sit there in the weird silence where the air hangs heavier than when he was in the middle of the panic attack. He realizes that his hand is still awkwardly held out against Iskall’s chest where he can still feel the other’s heartbeat. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to push past the uncomfortable weirdness that he feels because everyone is going to be aware of what he’s doing and focus on him again at the movement. When he finally works up the courage to do so its right as Mumbo says, “We should probably tell the others you’re here.”

Immediately his world seems to darken at the edges of his vision. There’s hands on his shoulders and his eyes snap open, when did he even close them?, to see Iskall looking at him with concern, "Tommy, Tommy just breathe. It's to let Xisuma know you're safe. He becomes a mother hen when he's worried."

He nods weakly, trying to remember how to breath again. He hates this. Hates feeling like this. Hates having to rely on others for something so stupid. His breathing stutters to a more even pattern slowly. Mumbo holds up his communicator which is open to a private chat with Xisuma, "I'll even send a private message to Xisuma, do you want to watch me do it?"

He doesn’t understand why these two are being so kind to him. But he does want to watch Mumbo message Xisuma. Because even if they were nice to him, he still couldn’t trust them. He watches the messages pop up over Mumbo’s shoulder from where the man shifts to sit down next to him against whatever building is at his back.

MumboJumbo: Hey X, me and Iskall found your lost guest. We're probably taking him back to the jungle for a bit.

He wonders what the jungle is aside from being a biome. Is that where these two live? He is thankful that wherever it is, its somewhere out of this shopping district.

Xisumavoid: Oh thank goodness you have him, is he okay?

He feels bad for making Xisuma worry. Why does he always mess everything up?

MumboJumbo: He's physically unharmed and a little shaken up still but he's okay

Xisumavoid: Okay? Why don't I believe that?

MumboJumbo: Iskall says to remember the fifth? What does that mean?

Xisumavoid: Tell Iskall I want to talk to him later but otherwise I'll leave Tommy in your hands. Thanks, you two.

He can’t help but feel even worse at Xisuma’s trust. He has to clear his throat but he manages to rasp out, “Te- tell him I said hi. And, and that I’m sorry.”

MumboJumbo: Sounds good, Tommy says hi and sorry by the way.

Xisumavoid: There's nothing to be sorry for Tommy, but hello back :P

MumboJumbo: :P

He zones out for most of the trip wherever they take him. The jungle right? It's only when he blindly stumbles into Iskall's back for a third time in the nether that he's forced into a piggyback ride. He passes out before they even leave the nether. Maybe letting other people help him is okay, just this once.

#hermitcraft x dsmp #hc x dsmp #dsmp x hc #i think those are all the tags i need on this now?#anyways i return from my break of having to do life things bleh #next chapter will hopefully not be as mean to me as this one was #i hope yall enjoy it anyways!

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squibbles-gubwee · 3 years ago

Text

Shopaholic

In which Fortune and Spooks have fun at the mall.

@thelazyhermits here u go more Fortune Spooks shenanigans

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"Man, I can't remember the last time I went to the mall… Thanks for inviting me, gatita."

Fortune smiled and shook her head, grabbing the much taller man's hand as he looked around in awe, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his pierced nose.

"Thank you for coming! I know how much you hate the heat, you could have refused…"

"Bah, like I could disappoint my lil sis like that. Besides, the walk to the station wasn't bad. Probably good for me, if anything." The hand she held squeezed hers, a happy smile donning the white haired villain's face.

It was quite kind of him, she thought. He was incredibly sensitive to the sun- not due to any quirk drawback or his poor eyesight, but rather a medical issue he told her about. A very nasty heat stroke he had when he was a child gave the man, as he put it, a 'permanent debuff during the warmer seasons'.

Apparently, once during an outdoor class, he had overexerted himself and ended up fainting due to heat exhaustion. It had put the whole class in a frenzy and he was forced off for two days. Yaomomo and Todoroki made sure Spooks frequently had either water or frozen towels to cool off with now.

"You'll tell me if you start feeling weak or hot, right? Here, let me take your vest, I'll put it in my bag-"

Huffing in amusement, Spooks let go of the concerned lady's hand to shuck his denim outerwear, leaving him in just his tattered crop top. He passed it to her and watched as she folded it, mindful of the patches as she packed it up.

"You didn't have to do that, gatita." The man took the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder much to Fortune's protest.

"I can carry my own bags!"

"Yeah but anyone who has eyes can see that stealing from me is asking for an ass kicking." Spooks proceeded to motion to his boots, these not being his very tall platforms but what they lacked in height they made up for in spikes and studs. Fortune rolled her eyes and brushed her hair from her face, green eyes locking with monochrome ones. Out of habit, Spooks stiffened and tore his gaze away before remembering he had his glasses on, cancelling his quirk out.

"So, where first? I haven't been in years."

Tapping her foot, Fortune thought for a moment before remembering the entire reason for going. "Oh yeah!! I wanted to get something nice to wear for that big staff party coming up!" Fidgeting, her mind was drawn back to Aizawa, Hizashi, and Bakugo who all didn't like clothes shopping. "Oh, um, if it's okay with you, I mean. I don't want you to be bored, sitting and waiting-"

"Psh, what? And miss playing dress up? Not a chance." Fortune huffed and batted his hand away as he ruffled her hair.

Hearing the words 'dress up' made Fortune gasp. "Wait, you're staff too! You need something nice to wear to the party too!"

"Hah! Yeah, no. I'm not going."

Frowning, Fortune stopped, looking over at Spooks as they stood outside the first stop, a nice clothes shop, full of business-y and formal outfits galore. "Wait...what do you mean?"

Blinking, Spooks tilted his head, an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm...not going? To the party?"

Fortune couldn't help the frown deepening, gently holding his hand in both of hers. "Why not, though…? You're staff, are you not?"

She watched Spooks stiffen, worrying his lip rings in a way she knew was a tell that he was getting anxious. "I just...Look, I know I'm not welcome, gatita. I'm not a hero, I'm barely a teacher, and I don't get along with...anyone. The invitation wasn't extended to me." Sighing, he closed his eyes, steeling himself before opening them, giving a smile. "Listen, I'll be fine. I'd rather help you anyway! This is important to you, and it'll be fun. Ellos no me quieren allí- ah, I'm not wanted there."

"That's not true!!"

Fortune could barely contain her shaking, anger and sorrow mixing in a miasma at how someone could speak of themselves like that, especially someone she cared so much about.

"It's not true, Spooks! I want you there! I know you don't get along with everyone, but it wouldn't be the same without you!" Putting her hands on her hips, the TA huffed. "Besides, I want a partner to dance with, and everyone knows you have the best moves~"

Her flattery made him laugh, the villain nodding and rubbing his eye. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'll go."

"That's what I thought! Now come on, we got to look our best!"

---

"I can't believe you bought a skirt!"

They had hit up several stores, Spooks ending up with a shin length black suspender skirt coupled with a pinstripe button down. Fortune went with a cute tartan overall dress and a peachy turtleneck sweater.

They also had swung by the cute shop that Aizawa, Nemuri and Hizashi had brought her to before, where she picked up a necklace with a cute cat pendant that she planned on pairing with the outfit along with some darling kitty print stockings to match. It was while they were there that Spooks had saw the backpacks, zeroing in on the raccoon one and immediately falling in love with it. It was now settled next to her own cat backpack, the two of them buying keychains of the other's animal and attaching them to their packs.

Spooks grinned at the astonishment, pointing a fry at Fortune as they ate at the food court. "What? Nothing more punk than giving gender norms a big ol "fuck you"! Did you think it was weird or something?"

"No, it's cool for guys to wear skirts and dresses. I'm just shocked you found one that made it look like you actually have the hips for it."

The insulted gasp was Fortune's only warning as a fry hit her cheek, making her burst into a fit of laughter. "You're getting too catty!! Maybe I should ask Koda to send the cats off for a few days so you can tone it down!"

"Noooo, stop! You're bullying me! I'll call Aizawa crying, don't test me!"

The white haired man cackled, gently pinching her cheek. "Alright, alright! No tattling now!" With that, he went back to his fries, the milkshake he sipped on colourful and sweet. He offered a taste which Fortune accepted.

"So, are you starting to get excited about going?"

"A bit...Make sure to remind me of that seam in your dress when we get back to the dorms, by the way. I can hem it!"

"I will. And good!! I'm glad you're getting more into the idea!" Fortune beamed, leaning forward a bit on the table as she took a bite of her mango chicken. "So, are you going to dance with anyone but me? Not that there's anything wrong with it, I'm just trying to picture it." She couldn't help the snort when she thought of Spooks, a towering 6'4, dancing with Principal Nedzu.

"D-Dance? Oh um, I don't think this is one of those kinds of parties, but I still wouldn't mind dancing with you! Not many people I could think of that I would want to dance with, after all! Keheheh…"

The redhead cocked her head, green eyes looking over the man in front of her. He was behaving…odd. His bravado was dampened, eyes shifting nervously, he was fidgety and toying with his piercings… Fortune narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Hey, Spooks-nii-san, were there any other reasons you didn't feel like coming to the party? Like, I know you said you didn't feel welcome, but...were you also maybe...scared of seeing someone there?"

"H-Huh? No, um. It's not that, I mean a little bit it is but, I also just...didn't want to ah… aye, dios…" Fortune waited patiently as he cursed under his breath, seeming to argue with himself about something. "I did not want to um...make myself embarrassed...in front of another?"

"You didn't want to humiliate yourself in front of someone?"

"Yes! Bah, that."

Fortune was quiet as she studied the long haired delinquent, the other quietly sipping his shake as he looked around, his glasses occasionally catching the light.

...He didn't want to embarass himself. He was nervous about going, he could think of very few people other than her that he wanted to dance with…

Lightning practically shot down her spine as she gasped, piece after piece clicking into place as she pointed a finger at him. "You…"

"M-Me?! What? Listen I said sorry about eating the last piece of taffy-"

"-YOU have a CRUSH on someone!!"

The rate at which the older man paled was hilarious, the only colour being the red that bloomed on his face and ears as he stuttered, panicked. "What?? I!! I just, um! I don't want to talk about this topic! I refuse!"

"Too bad, I'm your little sister! Now tell me who you have a crush on!"

#bnha fic #mha fic #tabf fanfic #bnha oc #mha oc

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

Note

#76 Awkward IT!Cas and CEO!Dean

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#76--Nobody thinks what I think (Dean Smith/Castiel)

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“IT help, this is Novak.”

“Hi, this is Becky Rosen from Smith’s office.”

Castiel freezes at the perky voice. Even though he’s just a lowly IT grunt, he does keep up with the news of Sandover Bridge and Iron. He knows all about the unlikely promotion of Dean Smith to CEO, over the heads of several, possibly more well-qualified, candidates. He hasn’t caught a picture of him, but the rumors are that he was too young for the position, that he’d gotten it through networking and not through his merits.

Meanwhile, Becky’s been talking and Castiel has to struggle to catch up.

“--so if you can send someone up to take a look, that would be wonderful.”

She hangs up before Castiel can ask her to repeat herself, which might be for the best. Then at least he can get away with the facade that he’s not a complete idiot. Her last words hang in his head--send someone up. Rosen wants someone from IT to take a look at their new CEO’s computer. Castiel wants it to be anyone else but him.

He looks at his best friend, willing him to be free. “Sam,” he hisses, twisting in his chair. Sam Wesson ignores him, which might mean that he’s on a call, or it might mean that he’s just being an ass. “Sam,” Castiel hisses, more urgently, punctuating the name with a pencil tossed towards the larger man’s back.

Sam turns around, his mouth twisted in playfully amused irritation. “Problem?”

“Smith’s office just called. They want someone from IT to go upstairs.”

Sam’s eyes flick up and down. “Well, it looks like you fit that bill.”

Color floods Castiel’s cheeks. “I can’t go up there!” He’s fine over the phone, when the meat of most of his conversations consists of Have you tried turning it off and then back on again? Having an actual conversation? In person? Not so much. Sam is infinitely more suave than him, capable of holding a normal conversation with a normal person for at least three minutes at a time. He would be perfectly fine to go to the CEO’s office and not get fired.

“Look, Cas, normally I’d be there for you, but I’m working on this.” Sam twists to show Cas a tangle of spreadsheets, all of them with complex coding. “They’re trying out a new program in accounting and asking us to work through the kinks. You go. It’s probably something you could do over the phone, but new CEO wants to throw his weight around. Ten bucks says he won’t even be in the office.”

With that, Castiel is sent upstairs. He brings a small briefcase along with him, unsure of what he’ll actually need. If he’d been paying attention to Becky, then he might know, but that would mean that he was an actual person with actual social skills, so that was always a long shot.

He presses the button for Floor 20, the top floor of the building. This is the floor reserved for the CEO, complete with his office, conference room, and personal bathroom suite. For all Castiel knows there might be a gym up there too; rumor has it that their new CEO is a stickler for a morning workout.

The elevator opens, revealing a sumptuous waiting room. Behind a desk which dwarfs his, sits perky blonde woman. No one should be able to smile that widely at work.

“Hi,” Castiel says, his hand raised in an abortive wave. “I’m Cas Novak, I’m here from IT.” His pale yellow polo screams his department, and his hand hangs awkwardly in the air.

Becky grins at him, one perfectly manicured nail pressing down on the intercom. “Mr. Smith? IT is here.” A garbled reply comes through the intercom and Becky smiles at him. “You can go on in,” she tells him, gesturing at a door which probably cost more than his monthly salary. There’s something encouraging in her smile, like going into the CEO’s office is something that Castiel can do.

Castiel takes tiny little steps towards the door, waiting for a hurricane to possibly hit the building, making computer troubles the least of anyone’s worries. He’s not lucky enough for that to happen, so he knocks on the door, wincing at the noise his knuckles make. Too loud? Does it sound like he’s trying to beat his way in? A gruff voice bids him to come in, and Castiel obeys.

He walks into a room which has more square feet in it than his office. There’s a bar in the office, with a mini-fridge, stocked with waters and energy drinks, a small table for private meetings, a seating area with a loveseat and chairs, and a desk which looks as though it function as a raft, in the event of the office flooding. And behind the desk...

Castiel usually doesn’t call other men beautiful, but it’s the only word which describes the man behind the desk.

Despite his unfortunate fashion choices (blue and white pinstripes do not go well with red suspenders, not that Castiel can make any judgments; he himself is dressed in a pastel usually reserved for Easter parties and nurseries), Castiel can already tell that his boss is indeed a stickler for the morning (and maybe afternoon and evening) workouts. He has broad shoulders and the fabric of his suit doesn’t hide the muscle underneath. Castiel spends a long moment lingering over his hands, with their clean, neat nails and thick fingers (there are quite a few uses he could of for those fingers). To top off the whole package is a face with a jawline strong enough to crush titanium, full pink lips, and large eyes with full lashes. He can’t be but a few years older than Castiel, if that, which makes him astonishingly young for his position.

The man (Mr. Smith, his boss) finally offers a cautious, “Hi?”

Castiel licks his suddenly dry lips. “Hi,” he says, then remembers that this is the man who is worth billions and who has power over his literal job (and therefore his living situation and eating situation). “I’m, uh, from IT? There was a problem?”

Mr. Smith blinks at him for a long moment, and Castiel wonders how he could have possibly screwed up so soon. Then he gathers himself and gestures towards his computer. “Yeah. I got here first thing, and it won’t turn on.” Castiel chances a surreptitious look to make sure it’s plugged in and comes back with inconclusive results. “Think you can do something about that, Steve?”

Heat floods Castiel’s cheeks. He hadn’t really looked this morning when he grabbed at his nametag (he hadn’t really looked when he grabbed for a shirt, a fact of which he is almost painfully aware of now that he’s standing in front of Mr. Smith), and of course he’d grabbed the joke.

“Castiel,” he mumbles, and immediately regrets it. What does it matter that Mr. Smith knows his name? He’s never going to see the man again, so really why does it matter? (He wants to hear that lovely, deep, gruff voice say his name, his full name. Just once.)

“Your nametag says Steve.” Castiel knows the look that’s starting to spread over Mr. Smith’s face. It’s the one that he’s seen all of his life, the one that says Uh-oh, now I’ve gotten myself into a conversation with this freak, how can I best extract myself from this situation. It hurts, much more than it should, to see Mr. Smith start to look that way.

“It was a joke,” Castiel mumbles. Warmth spreads down his neck, sparking a nervous little sweat. “My name is apparently difficult for people, so they gave me this tag to make things easier.”

Mr. Smith’s mouth purses. “Well, that’s a douchey thing for whoever to do. Cas-tee-ell.” He lingers over the tee, rolling it on the tip of his tongue, and goosebumps prickle on Castiel’s arms. “It’s a mouthful, but it’s not hard.”

A different kind of warmth suffuses through Castiel. It starts at the center of his chest and slowly spreads outward, like the eggnog that he had last Christmas at the company party. It’s tingly at the edges.

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” Castiel says, to try and diffuse the heat flooding through his body.

“Yeah, well, nobody thinks how I think.” Mr. Smith keeps his eyes focused on Castiel’s face. There’s something intense in his eyes, and for once, Castiel finds himself on the uncomfortable end of a staring contest. “‘S why they gave me the gig in the first place. ‘Innovative ideas’ or something like that.” He chuckles, and there’s something bitter in the sound. “I don’t think they realized that I have maybe one good idea every couple of years.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Castiel blurts, before he can stop himself. He has no real basis of comparison for his statement; he knows next to nothing about Mr. Smith. “I just mean,” he stammers, “that if you start doubting yourself, then you’ll never know what you can do.”

The advice rings as hollow coming from his mouth as it did coming from the mouths of every advisor and guidance counselor he ever had. Mr. Smith’s mouth twists in a sardonic little smile. “Supposed to breathe new life into this company, and I can’t even get the damn computer going.”

“Oh!” Suddenly remembering the reason he’s in this dream of an office, Castiel moves forward. “I can probably help with that.”

He steps in close to Mr. Smith (too close if his sudden blush and recoil are any indication) and fiddles with the mouse and monitor. The screen remains dark, which Castiel is almost glad to see. At the very least, it tells him that Mr. Smith isn’t an idiot. He follows the cords and finds that at the very least, the computer is plugged in. He kneels under the desk, sorting through the various tangle.

“Ok, the person who put this together is an idiot,” he murmurs, tugging at a cord.

“I put it together.”

A cold spike of fear jolts through Castiel. Why, why, why does he always speak without thinking? Why can’t he be like a normal person, who had a modicum of tact, why can’t he manage to hold it together in a conversation long enough to interact like a regular person? Why is he such a disaster of a person?

He bashes his head on the top of the desk as he scrambles out from underneath it. He glances up at Mr. Smith (tries not to concentrate on the visual aspects of this particular scene: him, on his knees underneath the desk, Mr. Smith, on his chair, looking down at him with a smoothly amused expression). “I’m sorry,” he says, hopefully in a garbled amalgamation of the English language. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Calm down, Cas, it was just a joke.” Mr. Smith’s face turns apologetic. “Apparently not a funny one.”

Relief floods through Castiel, at odds with the throbbing pain in his head. “I just meant...the person who set up the computer did it wrong. The wires are shorted out.” He rubs at the back of his head as he glances back down. “It’s a simple fix, shouldn’t take me more than five minutes.”

“Oh.” Mr. Smith’s mouth (Castiel really shouldn’t be staring at Mr. Smith’s mouth so much, has Mr. Smith noticed how much Castiel has been staring at his mouth? Is Mr. Smith aware that he has a mouth which is very stare-worthy?) drops in a frown. “So quick?”

“Well like I said,” Castiel grunts as he shimmies back under the desk, “it’s a quick fix once you realize what you’re doing. The person who set this up was probably just trying to go too fast and made a mistake. Or something. Who knows.” He doesn’t want to throw a member of his department under the bus, but he doesn’t want to lie to Mr. Smith either.

“No, I just mean...” Mr. Smith taps his fingers against the desk. “Listen, do you want a cup of coffee or something?” He gestures towards the gleaming coffee machine on the counter.

“I don’t know.” Castiel stops working and pokes his head out from under the desk. “I don’t want to be late.”

Mr. Smith laughs. The sound is round and rich. It fills the room and sends little sparks of delight dancing down to his fingertips. “Who’s going to narc on you? You think you’re going to get in trouble with the boss?”

“I mean...I guess...” Castiel can’t help but smile at Mr. Smith.

“Come on, Cas. Give me a break here. Have a cup of coffee.”

“I’m really glad you got the job,” comes tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth. Which is bad enough, but then comes, “You’re much better looking than Mr. Adler.”

A dreadful silence hangs over the room. Castiel hopes his words will fade, but they linger between them like skywriting, scrawled in neon. His brain decides to come back online now, with thousands of worst-case scenarios.

Mr. Smith fires him for sexual harassment.

Mr. Smith presses charges against him.

Mr. Smith ensures that Castiel Novak never gets a job anywhere in the industry ever again.

Castiel ends up homeless and alone, ridiculed by everyone, and has to move in with Gabriel, possibly ending up working as a production assistant in Gabriel’s porn company.

Then Mr. Smith laughs. It’s not a mean sound; it’s delighted. He pinches at the bridge of his nose, still laughing. Even after the sound fades, his shoulders still shake with mirth. When he opens his eyes, Castiel thinks there are actual tears in them.

“I mean, that’s a pretty low bar to set, but I’m glad that I made it over.” Mr. Smith chuckles. He’s still laughing as he makes his way to the coffeemaker. He pushes a few buttons, then leans against the counter. “Stay for coffee, Cas. Please,” he adds as an afterthought.

Castiel thinks of his tiny cubicle, crowded together with dozens of other small boxes, in a stifling environment screaming with the sounds of computers and copiers. He thinks of Mr. Smith’s smile, the strange kindness in him, the thoughtfulness with which he said his name.

“I can stay for coffee, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith turns around, one eyebrow raising at the formality. “Call me Dean,” he says.

Castiel turns the name over in his head several times. It’s simple, direct, yet oddly complicated. It suits the man in front of him.

“Hello, Dean.”

---