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uglypastels · 4 years

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To the Beat // drummer!Tom 2/2

(a/n) and, as promised, here’s part 2! again big thanks to @duskholland and @captainpeggy40 <333 but a quick reminder, that i don’t often write smut, i don’t really know shit about writing smut so i actually had no business doing it... but i did it. so enjoy :) just, if its bad, don’t come for me

word count: 9117 words of filth tbh

warning: SMUT, i don’t even know what to specify. just.. 18+ okay but also, some fluff and humor cause i live by that

Please reblog if you liked it so more people can see it <3 and if you want to see more of this au, send an ask or dm <3

Read part 1 here <---> extra headcanons here

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door.

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.” He said softly. For a second, it felt like your heart had stopped altogether. How you hoped he would say that, and then he did.

“What do you want to do?”

“I live a block away. We can- I don’t really know what we can do, to be honest.” He admitted, making both of you laugh.

“Your place sounds good,” and you stepped aside for him to lead the way. Tom opened the door but almost stopped when he saw it was raining. And it was raining hard. It had escalated from the moment you had looked out the window. Then you realised he didn’t have a jacket and was only wearing that tank top.

“I would offer you my jacket,” you said, “but I don’t think you would fit it… and I don’t have one.” You came to realise like the genius you were.

“I guess we’ll have to run for it, then.” He held out his hand. You didn’t even hesitate and grabbed it. Clutching on to the shirt and CD, you ran alongside Tom, across the street and then following it to the next right. It wasn’t really a run, but definitely a trot. The rain poured down on you, quickly soaking through all your clothes. By the time you had reached the door of his apartment building, your hair was sticking to your face, and you both looked like drenched cats. Tom grabbed his keys and unlocked the door as quickly as possible, letting you go first.

You leaned against the wall and let your breathing calm down. He did the same against the door. There was a second of silence before you started laughing. What was so funny? Neither of you knew. It just felt nice and like the right thing to do after running through the rain like idiots. Oh, so that’s what was so funny.

“Right, this way,” he pointed up the stairs. “I would suggest the elevator, but it hasn’t worked in like five years, I think.”

“Stairs are fine,” you said, already walking up.

“Wait until the fourth floor. Cause I’m not carrying you.” He joked, and you giggled, putting away the thought of him holding you in his arms and carrying you up the stairs into his home… and kissing you… throwing you onto the bed… FOCUS!

“Woah!” you almost missed a step, but luckily Tom caught you just in time.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, just a bit slippery,” you tried to excuse your clumsiness, hoping that the fact that you were soaked from top to bottom would help. It did. Still laughing at you though, Tom helped you up and from then on you walked side by side. All the way up to the sixth floor. As exhausted as you were, you tried to play it off cool.

“Here we are.” He tapped on the door with his whole palm, and for a second you thought someone would open, but then he pulled out his keys again. A moment later you were walking into the flat. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but Tom quickly turned on the lights. It was a nice looking place—big living room with an attached kitchen. On one side there were two doors, which you assumed were his bedroom and bathroom. It was clean, but here and there some items were misplaced or left behind, making known that there was indeed a person living here.

On the wall closest to the entrance, you noticed pictures hanging. Most were of Tom and his friends and family. One stood out to you. It was an adorable little dog, smiling at the camera. When you looked over to the living room again, you noticed a red dog bed next to the couch with a bunch of squeaky toys.

“You have a dog?” you asked, already excited to see a puppy.

“Yeah, she’s called Tessa, but she’s staying with my parents and other brothers for the weekend since I would be out of the house for most of the time.”

“Ah yeah, that makes sense-” you had been looking around, not paying too much attention to Tom himself in all honesty. But then you had turned around and froze. There was Tom. Shirtless. He looked at you, slightly concerned and confused as to why you looked like that. You just had no idea what to respond with. There he was… six-pack and- and everything, in all its glory. His arms were still shining from the rain. Was this actually real?

You hadn’t noticed it before, but without the shirt, you saw how he had been wearing a necklace. A thin silver chain with some sort of charm on it that from a distance looked like a coin. He had been in the middle of fixing it when you turned around. So, there was that flexed arm to add to the things that broke your mind momentarily.

Tom stared at you, looked down at himself, then back at you. He was about to look behind himself, probably to check if there was something wrong, but then realised.

“Oh..OH. Shit.”

You were still speechless.

“See, I did not think this through. I was just gonna change my shirt.” He showed you the wet piece of cloth that was once his loose tank top. “Do you want something to wear? I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Now that you mentioned it, you were starting to shiver.

Your throat dry, you tried to mutter out, “uhh, yes. Thank you.” He nodded, walked past you and disappeared into the room you suspected to be the bedroom. He was gone for a bit, but when he came back, he was already changed. You had to hide your disappointment that he had put on a shirt, but the grey sweatpants made up for it in a way. Fuck.

“Here,” he handed you some clothes. “It’s probably not the best outfit, but it should keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” you grabbed the clothes from him. “Can I change in there?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He got out of the way, but you only took a step before he repeated something. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Uhm, sure. Tea?”

“Coming right up.” and he went off to the kitchen to set the kettle. You walked, uninterrupted, to the other room. It was, like assumed, the bedroom with not much there except for a closet and a large bed. It did look really comfortable though. And made up. You wished your bedroom looked this clean.

You took off your wet clothes, which was quite the challenge since it all stuck to your skin and your jeans wouldn’t budge from their place. The clothes Tom had provided were some shorts that seemed like he used for training or whatever exercise he did and a sweater. You had wanted to wear your new Winter Solstice t-shirt but, of course, that had soaked through as well. So, you put on the sweater and knew immediately that that was the better choice. It was soft and warm. Plus, the idea of wearing his clothes was also touching to the heart.

You walked out of the room as Tom was pouring the boiling water into two mugs. He looked over at you with a smile.

“How do you take it?” He was opening the fridge, ready to take out the milk.

“Honey and lemon, but it’s fine if you don’t have that.” you quickly added.

“Please, you’re talking to the tea expert here.” He took out a bottle of lemon juice, the same out you always buy you noticed, and a jar of honey from the cupboard. As he did that, you looked around some more in the room. The large leather couch was definitely the centre point of the room, with the large tv in front of it, accompanied by a PlayStation. There was a bookcase filled with… well, books, but also CD’s, records and different little things between them. You looked around, hoping to find a drum set somewhere, but there was none. Which made sense. You didn’t expect the neighbours to be too fond of drumming as a pastime hobby.

“We practice at Harrison’s place. He soundproofed his place.” Tom explained, seeing how you were looking around cluelessly. He handed you your cup as you both sat down on the couch. Fearing for your tongue, you carefully took the first sip, but it was surprisingly pleasant. He must have poured in some cold water to cool it down, just the right amount too. As soon as the tea got into your system, you felt the warmth go through your entire body. It was absolutely fantastic.

Still, you had to admit, it was a strange situation. Never would you have imagined to go to a concert and then, later on, go out for a late-night meal with the drummer, and now to be drinking tea on his couch.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” You quizzed. Tom looked up from his mug.

“Do what?”

“This. Take a girl out to eat, bring her home, undress in front of her… make her tea.” you elaborated on your question.

“The tea making, yeah, that’s new.” He sipped his tea with a slurp.

“Well, I’m glad to be the first then.” You knew he had meant it jokingly, so why not just go along with it?

You drank your tea together in silence. It all had this strange domestic feeling that was very nice, but by far not what you thought would be doing with Tom that night. But eventually, the tea had been drunk. You were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. At one point you had put your legs on top of his. You could see that he was thinking about something.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked. He had been staring at the coffee table, mumbling the Flintstones theme song to himself and tapping his fingers along to the melody on your leg. You had clearly pulled him out of a trance.

“Do you wanna dance?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking, we can sit here the whole night until we fall asleep, or we can put on some music and dance. Just a suggestion.” He was full of surprises, this guy.

“Yeah, sure.” You got up and pulled him by the hands to follow you. “Sounds fun. Pick a song” You thought he would just get out his phone and get a Bluetooth speaker, but boy were you wrong. He moved over to the bookcase with his music collection. You tried to look over his shoulder at what record he had picked, but he pulled it out of the sleeve quickly and put it under the needle of the record player.

As the needle scratched between songs, he walked back to you. The music that he picked was slow, and it felt perfect for the moment as he took your hand in his and let the other softly touch your side. You weren’t the most excellent dancer but knew enough that you had to put your free arm on his shoulder.

The two of you moved around the room slowly, to the beat of the song. You put your head on his chest and could hear his heart beating along, well a bit faster. You could see his necklace poking out from underneath his shirt, so you let go of his shoulder to pull it out.

“It’s nice,” you smiled, a bit dazed, playing with the charm between your fingers. You could hear him chuckle a thank you.

The song was new to you. It was a simple melody, the singing was soft and intimate. As you spun around in Tom’s arms, it felt like the words were speaking to you directly. What was it again? You couldn’t remember exactly. Feeling him so close next to you, everything else was just a blur. Just like when he sang-

“Wait, is this you?” you looked up at him. He just smiled.

“Oh my god, it is!” Way to ruin the moment, but the song had already ended, and it was the only one on that side of the small record. “You guys have records?”

“We got ourselves an EP copy each,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. “I hoped you would like it.”

“I- I do.”

You looked into his eyes, trying- hoping- to see what he was thinking. They were flickering golden brown in the soft and warm light of the room. Then you saw it. That one sign you were looking for. It was just a fracture of a second. If you had blinked, you were sure you would have missed it. But you did see it. You saw how his eyes quivered down to your lips and back up to meet your eyes again.

He held your hand in his, the other was on your waist. He pulled you in closer—your chest against his. You could feel how shaky his breath was against your cheek. You lost your battle with self-control as you dared to glance down at his lips. They looked so soft. So inviting.

And you took that invitation gladly. Pressing your lips against his. He stumbled back a step, not expecting the push. He let go of your hand so he could hold you firmly against his chest. In the meantime, your hands wandered off to his hair. It was still wet from the rain, making it easier for you to comb through it. The kiss itself intensified with each lasting second.

A sound escaped you as he grabbed onto your leg, just to drag you off to the couch. He sat, giving you easy access to sit on his lap. You sat down with great pleasure.

If the air wasn’t such a necessity in life, it would have been likely you would have never pulled away, but alas. You parted your lips just enough to stop your lungs from burning. Tom took that moment to brush off a strand of hair behind your ear. A classic little move but you fell for it immediately. The feeling of his fingers against your skin. It felt sinful. It was only your cheek. Just thinking about his touch all over your body gave you that rush to kiss him again.

As he kept on holding your waist with one hand, the other made its way to your thigh, squeezing it gently. That little gesture made you jump up. Unplanned, was the friction between your and his hips. You couldn’t hear it, but you felt him hold back the moan.

“Fuck, don’t hold it in,” as frustrating it was to pull away, it had to be said. “Please,” you panted.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time he went lower down to your jawline. You held on to the back of his head and shoulder for support as he kissed and nipped at your skin, moving down to your neck.

Your body was starting to feel hotter and hotter. The once so comfortable sweater was just an inconvenient restriction at this point. And Tom felt that too. To your disappointment, his hands left your body to tug at the hem of the sweater. Before taking it off, however, he looked you in the eyes.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“But, if you ever wanna stop, just tell me, okay?”

“Yes.” How he managed to form full sentences, that was a mystery. You put your arms up, letting Tom take off the sweater. He threw it over the edge of the couch. Not a second later, your lips were together once again. Even though it only had been a minute, two max, it felt like an eternity that you had to get through to touch him again.

His fingers moved slowly over your body. Every inch he moved, followed with a burning sensation as if he was on fire. Burning you gradually, in the best way possible. One thing just felt off. So, you tugged at his shirt.

“I’m not doing all the work, babe,” he said with a grin. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it wasn’t as if you really minded undressing him. You grabbed the shirt and slowly pulled it up to his chest. One by one, his muscles showed themselves, and you had to control the urges that started building up in the pit of your stomach. You pulled the shirt. Tom already had his arms up, ready to get the fabric off. If only he knew about your plan that started forming in your head.

The hem of the shirt just touched his lip when you put it in his mouth. He was about to spit it out, but you stopped him.

“Just wait, okay.” He kissed his cheek sweetly, making him roll his eyes at you. As slowly as possible, you slid off his lap. He wanted to make a grab at your hips, but you pushed his hands off… with difficulty, cause fuck, if it didn’t feel right to have him touch you.

The only way to let him leave you alone was intertwining your fingers, and letting your hands fall to his sides. He saw how you planted your feet on the ground so to make it easier for the both of you he spread his legs. It was a golden sight. With a big smile on your face, you leaned in, kissing his chest. It immediately received the reaction you hoped for. With the fabric in his mouth, Tom groaned softly, but still very audibly in the quiet room. When you looked up, you saw him tugging at the shirt as he tried to pull his head up, tensing his jaw. He could have just spit it out if he really wanted it gone… but he didn’t.

Thought it safe, you let go of his hands. They stayed in place next to his thighs. You moved closer to him to continue the feather-light kisses along his smooth skin. With each touch, his chest heaved in deep and heavy inhaled. You kept going. Kiss after kiss, moving lower and lower. You couldn’t help it but lick down that line of his abs, across that gorgeous tummy of his. And it was good too, rewarded with a beautiful growl from Tom. You could have said it was the best thing you had heard that night, but you had listened to a lot of good things that night… and who knew what was still to come.

You left one last kiss below his belly button, exactly to meet the elastic band of his underwear. A part of you wanted to snap it, but that felt a bit too cruel considering you almost made him swallow his shirt. You looked up again. It was a magnificent sight, Tom holding that hemline in his mouth, gritting his teeth as his chest moved up and down, needing and hoping for a release. He looked down at you too, and his eyes were black with lust. You could see him clenching his fists.

That was a sign of continuing. Unlike before, you quickly started to unbutton his trousers. You were too focused on your little task to look at Tom, but you saw him roll his head on the backrest of the couch. You unzipped the pants and pulled them down with a few tugs.

You almost felt bad seeing how hard he got in those few moments. Almost. Just a little bit more teasing wouldn’t hurt, right? Tom had other ideas. He pulled out the shirt from his mouth, tugged it off in one swift move, and threw it behind him. He glared down at you. “I swear if you don’t suck me off right now-”

“Or what?” you challenged him. This clearly took him aback, but only for a second. Then, this twinkle in his eye appeared, telling you that there was not a saint thought in his mind at that moment. He leaned over, only an inch away from your face. His words were like a high, each one giving you precisely the right rush of adrenaline you needed.

“Suck my cock, Princess, or I’ll just have to fuck that pretty mouth myself.”

And you were gonna let him, but a more significant part of you didn’t want to give up that easily. So, for now, you let out a soft whimper and nodded. Tom kissed you softly on the lips before sitting back up straight. He looked like a king on a fucking throne, with that proud and smug grin. It was giving you the greatest pleasure to ruin that little moment of his.

You palmed him through his boxers, moving your hand up and down, then leaned in yourself to kiss it, still through the fabric. Tom hissed out a moan, and right then, you knew you were golden. One more little kiss and you reached out for the border of his underwear. You were about to pull it down-

And then you got up.

“What the fuck-”

“I’m gonna get some water, I think.” And just like that you hopped over to the little kitchen and grabbed yourself a glass. As you were pouring yourself the water, you could hear him shuffling his feet out of his trousers. You could hear him walk up behind you. As you were about to touch the brim of the glass against your lips, you felt him push against your back. His hard-on was more than evident. He moved his fingers into your hips as he whispered into your ear, making your body shake from anticipation.

“So, you wanna play games, huh?” His tone was nothing but filthy. “You could have just said so, I mean I got Monopoly somewhere in the closet.” His left hand drifted off, moving up your side. You were still holding that damn glass of water, body frozen.

“Or I could turn on the PlayStation, whatever you want darling.” He kissed you just below the ear. His hand was sliding across the valley between your breast, tracing up to your neck.

“Hmm, tell me, what do you want?”

“I- I-” you couldn’t think straight. With him talking like that and his soft touch, it was too much.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I want...Aah!! What the fuck!” Suddenly his touch was gone, and you felt something ice-cold cover your torso. You had still been holding up that glass of water, and when Tom got close enough, he tipped it over with his finger, letting all the cold content spill out on you. Goosebumps formed all over your body, and you shrieked out in pure shock.

“Oops,” he giggled and pecked you on the cheek. Before you could say another word, he was walking away, in the direction of his bedroom. Not looking around, he held up his hand.

“Counting to four and then you better be here, without those ugly shorts.”

“They’re yours,” you said as he opened the door, still shivering from the cold water. He opened the door and was gonna close it but then quickly said-

“So? I have horrible taste. Take ‘em off, darling,” and he closed it. You could hear him count from the other side.

ONE

You quickly pushed off the, indeed, not great looking shorts.

TWO

You started walking up to the bedroom. The butterflies in your stomach had left the cage and were going crazy.

THREE

Almost at the door.

FOUR

You opened it. There stood Tom. He didn’t even hide the way he was checking you out. In only a bra and panties, there was little you could hide behind, but you tried to fight the insecurities.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He said before striding your way. Grabbing on to you, he kissed you passionately. You felt his hand in your hair, so you mimicked it. For the rest, you had no idea what was going on since you had closed your eyes. You let all the other senses speak for themself—his soft but harsh touch; the way you could still smell the rain on him—the sweet taste of honey and tea on his lips. You could hear the little grunts and whimpers escape the both of you as he slammed you against the door with a thud.

Then he grabbed your leg, signally for you to jump. You did without hesitation. Arms around his neck, fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. You kissed him feverishly. The fact that he was holding you up with only one hand hadn’t even caught up to you. The hand that was leaning against the door next to your face was not even registered by your addled brain yet.

Feeling the need for air again, you pulled away. Your foreheads were leaning against each other as you both inhaled deeply.

“What happened to fucking my mouth, Tommy?” You quipped. Tom was staring down, looking at how your chest heaved deeply with every breath.

“Would take too long,” he said, now looking up into your eyes. “I thought it would be better to just straight up start with your sweet little cunt.” He growled into your ear. Before you could say anything in response, he kissed you again.

His words were still spinning around in your head as he pushed the two of you away from the wall and carried you across the room to the bed. You could feel his erection against you, hard as a fucking rock. Why did you pull away from him on the couch?

He put his knee on the mattress before letting you drop. It made you think back to just a few hours ago, how you had fallen down on to your own bed, contemplating whether or not to go to some dumb concert… now look at you.

Your head touched the soft bedding, but your legs were still around Tom’s middle. He grabbed your legs and spread them just the right way so he could lean closer to you.

“You look so fucking hot, right now.” He groaned as his teeth grazed your neck, making you arch your back. He pinned you back down on the bed.

“Seeing you in that crowd, you know how hard it was for me to concentrate?” At this point, he had your arms above your head, holding them tightly. He kissed your jawline and moved up to your ear, tugging at your earlobe just that little bit, enough to make you quiver. You didn’t realise he actually wanted an answer until you felt the harsh sting of him slapping your thigh. Just enough to send that spark up to where you needed him the most.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “No, Tommy, I didn’t.”

“Hmm, thought so. But I saw you staring at me. Checking me out, huh? I had to really control myself to not just grab you and fuck you out there, right on my drumset.” His free hand, the one that wasn’t holding back your arms, was getting closer to your pussy. Your entire body was pulsing and shaking, needing for him to do something. Anything.

“Just imagine that, Princess,” he was whispering into your ear again, “you bouncing on my dick, in front of all of those people.”

“Fuuck,” you had never been much into exhibitionism, but hearing him speak like that, everything sounded good.

Suddenly you felt his fingers move over your underwear. It was just for a moment, him passing through from one thigh to the other, but it was enough to have you moan out his name in need.

“Tsk, behave, darling,” he kissed your forehead. So sweetly, it almost seemed as if he wasn’t about to fuck the complete hell out of you. “You’re gonna behave for me, right?”

“Yes. Just please- please do something.” You pleaded, which gave great pleasure to Tom.

“Good to know we got that little attitude from earlier sorted out, huh? I really didn’t want to punish you.” He didn’t? So what the hell was this torture? Of course, it all felt amazing, but if he would cross his fingers one more time next to your clit, you might actually explode.

“Now, I think I’m going to finger your little pussy, okay Princess,” He asked with that sweet tone. You could feel his fingertips move across the fabric of your panties. “Yeah, I think you’d like that huh, look how fucking soaked you are.” With his thumb he pressed over your clit, moving down through the slit. You moaned out, finally feeling some kind of relief from him.

He kissed your neck as he finally moved your underwear to the side.

“You’re so pretty and needy, you know that?” he said, smiling. You nodded your head, biting your lip in anticipation of what he was gonna do next. You had your eyes closed and opened them for a moment. Tom was right above you. He sent you an air kiss for extra measure. You tried to focus on his eyes instead of the sensation you felt every time one of his fingers was getting closer to push into you. Still, whimpers escaped you. Which he enjoyed immensely.

Then he finally did it. Two fingers, deep inside, stretching your walls. You moaned out in pure relief, ecstatic to finally feel something inside you. Tom let you adjust for a second until he started to move slowly in and out, making momentum. Not that he forgot about your clit. Oh no, he rubbed it until you were seeing stars in front of you,

“I’m going to let go of you, alright?” You were ready to nod at his question, but he added more on to it. “But since you do like playing games so much-” here it comes, you knew it, “let’s make it a bit of a game. I’ll let go of you, and then you got, let’s say, three seconds to pick a new place for them. And then you better stick with it too, cause I don’t want to see you move until you come, understood?”

“Yes, Tommy.” you gasped more so than said.

“Good.” He kissed you but quickly started to move down. You knew what was going to happen, you had been waiting for it. But he was still holding on to you. Right as his mouth had passed your stomach, he let go of your wrists. Without thinking about it, you planted your fingers in his hair.

“Hmm, good choice, darling.” He mumbled against the skin of your hip. You brushed your fingers through his hair, not sure what else to do while waiting for him to-

Then, he pushed your panties aside completely. You felt his tongue, and it made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. He held on to your leg with one arm, the fingers of the other were still moving in and out of you. You held on to his hair, holding on for dear life. For a second that thought of possibly hurting him flashed through your mind, but then that melodic groan went through him, and the vibrations of his voice passed through your body like an electric shock.

He kept moving his tongue in a way that made you sure he was trying to spell something out, possibly his own name, but you simply couldn’t make anything of it. You could barely concentrate on your own breathing, let alone words.

Tom pulled you closer to him, deeper, making you moan like you never had before. Now, you had your fair share of experience, but he was… extraordinary. He took his time, made sure to give every minuscule part of you the attention it needed. Almost as if he wanted to hit every single nerve and cell individually. You weren’t even sure if he did it for your pleasure or because of his own.

Did it matter?

From the way how you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, clearly not.

“To-tom.” you gasped out. You were close. So close. But he didn’t need your words to know that. But it wasn’t enough for him. So, instead of going deeper, harder, faster, he sucked at your clit one last time before licking his way over to your thigh. You could have screamed in agony.

“Tom!” you did.

You wanted to let go of him and get up. Pull him up to you, maybe get on top even. But you remembered his words. I don’t want to see you move until you come. As much as you wanted to know what would happen if you broke that little rule, you also wanted to listen.

And so, you let out your frustration through digging your nails into his hair, but it had the exact opposite effect on Tom that you hoped for. Any time you would pull, even the tiniest bit, he would grab your thigh even harder, pulling himself to you. And he just kept on toying with you. Playing with your clit until that familiar knot was tying itself up in you, only to pull away and suck another perfect little hickey on your thighs. You had lost count how many times he had already marked you. On top of that, every time his lips would pull away, so would his fingers. Pull out just enough, only leaving his fingertips in you, to get you on that next edge of frustration, to make you beg for more.

“Tom, pleeease,” you begged. Tears were already forming in your eyes. It didn’t help that he would take that stupid necklace of his and put it against your burning skin. The cold metal of the charm always managed to come up against a new mark that Tom had left behind.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he said, kissing your sensitive skin between the words. You had to take all the power left in you to form the semi-coherent sentence.

“I want- want to come. Please, Tom.” Your head was spinning, body flushed and hot, sweat and tears mixing at your temples.

“You only had to say so.” His voice was the opposite of yours, composed and relaxed. You felt his smirk against you as he left one last kiss on you. The finally-

The easiest way to describe it was that he had gone wild. Animalistic. He devoured you as if he was a starving man, and you the last meal on earth. Then there were his fingers, moving at a rapid pace, but still so steady. You could feel it nearing. So fucking close. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Your legs were shaking, and all your other muscles were practically rigid from how tense you were. You needed to let go now. Feel that release at last.

At last, yes. With a scream, you felt it all relax. Your body came undone in a wave of pleasure. You were melting into the bed, Tom being the only thing keeping you somewhat conscious of your surroundings.

You tried to concentrate on the feeling of his lips, licking one final line over your clit. It shook you to your core. You whimpered, not being able to take much more. Your body went limp, you let go of his hair.

“Shhh,” he was moving up. Kissing your body, snaking his way back up to look into your eyes. The cold touch of the necklace followed behind. You opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. After blinking a few times, you could finally see him, drenched in your juices, with the biggest grin on his face.

He parted his lips just the tiniest bit, and you followed him blindly. You felt his fingers on your lips and without thinking, put them in your mouth. The taste of yourself, together with the feeling of his fingers tasted like the best damn thing ever.

“That’s right,” he kissed your tear-stained cheek, “you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded, closing your eyes. It was all too much, you had to cut off one of your senses before it was too late.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you looked right now. So fucked out- and I haven’t even had my good fun with you yet.”

You wanted to protest, but it was too difficult to speak. Besides, your fingers felt too good in your mouth to let them go for some pathetic little words. It wasn’t worth it.

But like all good things in life, it had to end. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Having no control left over your body, you let a whine escape you at the loss of touch.

“Christ, you’re needy,” he said before kissing you deeply, but shortly before he finished his statement. “I love it.” His hands were roaming your body. He held up your leg just so he could get in the position to squeeze your ass.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he murmured between another kiss. You did your best, still feeling no energy in your limbs. You crossed your arms behind his neck, feeding on the kiss for the strength to move. He held you as he pulled the both of you up to sit on the bed. And he kept holding on to you when he thrust his right hand to your back, to the strap of your bra. He moved his fingers around, looking for the clasp. Even in your dazed state, it made you laugh a little.

“It’s upfront,” you mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. He moved away to look at you, confused. You pointed down at the front of your bra.

“So you’re telling me,�� he flicked it open, letting your breast basically spill out in front of him, “I could have had this view this whole time? Fuck!” He pulled the straps down your shoulders to take it off.

“Sorry?” you said, not sure if you really needed to apologise.

“No, don’t be.” He threw the bra to the floor. Almost on the spot where you had changed. It really wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it. Had you thought of this happening when you put on his sweater? Maybe? In a sense. It was an option. But nothing would have prepared you for this.

How could you have even thought about sitting on his lap, your legs around his waist, your arms on his shoulders, as he held you? Because of this, this wasn’t just some simple fuck. You hoped it wasn’t, at least. The way you held each other and how there was nothing but the passion between you- or was it possible that it didn’t mean that much to him?

Still, that orgasm he gave you was the best you have had in a long time. So if it was only for the night, then let it be. You could still get a good time out of it, and you would not let your mind ruin this.

Luckily for you too, Tom’s kisses made you shut off your thoughts reasonably quickly. It wouldn’t even matter if the world had been ending.

But kissing could only get you so far. And he clearly had the same thought. Panting, his hot breath hitting your neck, he asked you.

“Are you ready for this, babe?” You nodded. “I need to hear it, please.”

“Yes. Just fuck me already.”

“Perfect.” with a peck on the cheek, he let go of you and let you slip off his lap. He got off the bed. You sat on your knees, hands next to your legs, looking at him in anticipation. It was insane how he had managed to eat you out while his cock was rock hard. You could see the outline of it through his underwear, leaving nothing, but really nothing, to the imagination.

You watched him do a little jiggle, making you laugh, before taking the band off his boxer shorts and pulling it down. To say your mouth started to water, would sound ridiculous, but you weren’t so far from that state. He wasn’t too long, or too thick, you didn’t expect it to be anyway, but it looked just right to send you over into another dimension. There was that one vein going along his shaft that you couldn’t get enough of. Unconsciously, you were moving over to the edge of the bed. Just seeing him completely naked in front of you, send your mind into a frenzy. It was a magnificent view.

What couldn’t go unnoticed was how red the tip had gone, from pure arousal and frustration that he needed to relieve. How badly you wanted to help him. You moved closer to the bed end, he took a step closer to you. He had his hand on his cock but didn’t move a muscle. If he did, you thought, he might have exploded right there in the spot. And what would be the fun in that?

“Fuck,” he groaned, standing in front of you. “You look so fucking perfect on your knees.”

You didn’t say anything, just smiled. The energy was coming back into your body, slowly, and you could feel getting that independence back that Tom had so rudely taken away from you. So, without saying anything, you took him in your hand and started to move up and down, not breaking eye contact, well, until Tom’s head rolled back. You couldn’t blame him.

You kept on stroking him, steadily, leaving kisses every few seconds on his tip. The pre-cum started leaking almost instantaneously, which you gladly used to spread all over his tip, making it much easier to move your hand around. Your kisses in the meantime got sloppier each time, longer. Until you were basically just kitten licking that vein that was taunting you before.

The sounds that were coming from Tom were adding to the whole experience in the best way. His moans and grunts were sending you to the edge, so far that you couldn’t help but let your free hand wander down and rub your clit. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Tom.

“Even when sucking my dick, you need more, huh?” He asked as he looked down, right when you had finally put the tip in your mouth, twirling your tongue around it. The fact that you tried to look up into his eyes all innocent like should have sent him flying from laughter, but instead, he put his hand on your head and softly started to stroke your hair.

“Thought so,” he grunted. His hand stayed in your hair as you let your jaw slack and you made your way down his shaft, all the way till you could feel him touch the back of your throat. His grip got tighter, he didn’t move anything, but you just felt him grab your hair in his fist. Just enough to tell you to move without hurting you. He would have probably said it in words, but when you looked up, you saw how twisted his face was in pure delight.

You started to move in a paced way, but eventually, it felt too slow for Tom. That hand in your hair came to final use as he began to guide your movement. Letting you practically choke on him every time he moved up with the tempo. You felt the tears coming again as the drool fell from your mouth. You were an absolute mess, but it didn’t bother you one bit.

He kept going, fucking your mouth just like he had promised on the couch earlier.

“You know,” he said between pants, “As much as I’d love to cum in your mouth-” he hissed in pleasure when he hit the back of your throat again. “I swear the things you do to me, darling.”

He let go of you and pulled out. You gasped for air, finally having a free passage of air to come through to your lungs. Tom wiped some of the drool from your mouth before leaning in to kiss you. He closed you in by placing his arm next to you and slowly let you fall on your back again.

“Jesus,” he panted after the kiss. He looked at your mouth before gazing into your eyes again. You couldn’t imagine that it looked great, with your makeup completely smudged, but he smiled. “Would it be crazy to say that I love you right now?”

“I’ve heard crazier,” you said back, also out of breath.

“Oh yeah?”

You just shrugged. He let out an airy laugh that you could feel against your face. You closed your eyes, just for a second, to enjoy the moment. This small speck of time in the universe, where it was only you and him, where nothing else mattered. Just two strangers having a great time. Would there be more after this? Who was to say? It didn’t matter. Not to you, at least.

The little moment was ruined when you heard him curse. Suddenly the weight of the bed shifted, as he moved from hovering on top of you. You opened your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He was already on the side of the bed, leaning out to reach the drawer of the bedside table.

“Condom,” he muttered out, still trying to reach it. Not that he could just move up a bit and slide the thing open with ease. He liked feeling you underneath him. And you did too.

Finally, he managed to open the drawer and had to move up a bit to reach into it. You could hear his patting on the wood, but there was no sound of packaging.

“Fuck, wait a second.” He got up with a small jump and ran off, leaving you basically naked and alone on the bed. You sat and finally took off your panties. It was no surprise that they were completely soaked. You threw them on the ground next to your bra.

The drawer was still open, and you bit your lip at the thought of looking inside it. You could tell a lot by a person’s bedside table. And it was already open… just a peek wouldn’t hurt? Right?

You moved closer to the table and leaned in to look. There was not much inside-just a charger, a book (but it was too dark in the room to read the small print of the title), a glasses case and a small notebook and pen. On the notebook, you saw scratched “WS”. Winter Solstice? Was it possibly lyrics? You didn’t go as far as going into that.

As you had been looking, you could hear him rummaging through stuff in the room next door, the bathroom.

Having seen everything there was to see in the drawer, you decided to just lie down on the bed, looking for a comfortable position, but also something that Tom would enjoy seeing when he walked into the room. Right then, the door opened, and Tom walked in. His one hand over his crotch and the other holding a box of condoms.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find them at first, turned out they were- fuck.” He was looking at the box and hadn’t seen you lying there immediately. When he finally did, he almost dropped the condoms, only catching them with his other hand at the last second.

“You think you can get on your knees for me, darling?”

“I can try,” you shrugged, already turning around. You could hear him curse to himself as he saw you sit there. Then the ripping off the wrapper. He was taking his time for sure, which you didn’t really mind. You just weren’t really sure if your arms would be able to hold yourself up. You could already feel them shaking.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I, love?” You felt his cold hand on your ass, squeezing and kneading gently.

“Yeah, I guess so-Ah,” you moaned as he slapped the spot he had been so gentle with just a second before. At that touch, your left arm gave in, and you lost balance, falling with your face into the blanket. The nicely made up bed now only smelled of sweat and sex and you really weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he groaned, pulling you in by your waist, so your back was against his chest. You yelped out at the sudden movement and looked over your shoulder to look at his face. He was looking down at your chest. Hard nipples begging for attention from his hands and then they finally got it. As he kissed your shoulder, he started to play carefully pull at them, making sure your reaction was nothing but good. He got what he looked for when your hand reached out for his while you moaned.

Then there was that cock of his, between your legs at this point, teasing you. Tom let go of your chest, allowing you to replace it with your own hand. You tried to ignore the tickling sensation as his fingers danced over your naked body, moving down to your legs. He grabbed his shaft and, for worst or best, slapped your pussy with it.

“Tommm,” you whined, just needing to feel him inside you.

“Alright, sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.” He kissed your neck as he finally slid into you. Those two feelings together made you roll your eyes so far back you thought you had gone blind for a moment. He spread your walls and filled you up perfectly, like the strangest fucking puzzle. You reached up to grab his hair again. There was just something about it, how it was so messy and you were the cause of it, that turned you on. And by the way, he smiled as you tugged at it, you could tell he loved it as well.

Tom kept on pounding into you at this perfect rhythm, to no surprise. You wouldn’t have expected anything less from a drummer. He was rough, deep, hitting every spot he needed to at just the right time. And with every thrust, you felt yourself getting closer. Already so sensitive from the previous orgasm and the way he had utterly destroyed your mouth, there was really not much you needed to get there again.

But it didn’t mean that he put in any less effort. Tom took each and every thrust with the precision you deserved. He kissed every inch of your skin available to his lips.

It didn’t take long for you to come undone again. The moans coming from your mouth were all he needed to get there too. The way he groaned into your ear as he came could have sent you going for another round, but your legs were shaking like crazy. If it wasn’t for the way he held you, you would have most definitely fallen.

His hand fell to your stomach, holding you tightly. Out of reflex, you reached out for it, intertwining your fingers. He pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness in you was the final straw for your legs to give up, your knees spread, making you slide down past Tom’s body a little. Heavy breathing from both of you filled the room—his chest against your back. Your heart beats mixing together into one.

He held you close to him until you could somewhat control your breathing. He sat down and carefully put you down so you could lay down on the bed. You watched as he took off the condom and threw it into the small bin in the corner of the room. He grabbed his underwear and put it on quickly.

“Let’s get you something to wear, shall we,” he smiled at the sight of you lying in his bed, exhausted, naked, with the most sheepish smile on your face. You nodded, expecting him to grab the sweater from the living room, but instead, he opened the closet and took a shirt that was folded on the top shelf. He sat down on the bed and helped you sit up as you got the shirt over your head.

You noticed it was another Winter Solstice shirt, but it had a different design on it. It didn’t have that scratchy writing on it. Instead, the letters flowed smoothly into each other in an intricate cursive pattern. Underneath it, there was a sketch of a crescent moon.

“It’s a design we think about using if we do any other shows,” he explained before you could ask. “The other one was cheaper so we could get more.”

“I do hope you’ll play more shows,” you admitted as you lay down on the pillow. You thought he would join you, but instead, he got up. Clearly, he saw the panic in your face because he quickly explained: “I’m just gonna get you some water.”

“No, stay,” it came out a bit more whiny than you intended it to, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow but still sat down next to you. You patted the other pillow motioning for him to join you in the horizontal position, which he eventually did with pleasure. You scooted over to be closer. By doing so, though, the shirt moved up, only just covering your breast.

Tom put his hand on your side, tapping mindlessly, you focused on it, trying to figure out a pattern, but nothing came to mind. You put your arm under your head for some more support, and you looked at him while his eyes were on your body. He seemed to be deep in thought again, just like back on the couch before you started dancing. His tapping transformed into his fingers moving around over your skin in small shapes.

“You know,” he said, still drawing little pictures on your side, “I’d really hate for this to just be a one-night thing.” He looked up into your eyes.

“As long as you make me some more tea again, we’re good.” you leaned in to kiss him through each other's soft laughs. Of course, it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You didn’t want it to be. You were completely hooked on him. Ever since you had seen him sitting at that bar. To think it was only a few hours ago.

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed > please reblog and leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them >masterlist and link to taglist in bio

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julemmaes · 4 years

Note

One of the kids getting lost in a crowd.

Find Her

A/N: Have I ever told you how much I love angst? Oof, too much. This is set in the same au as this fic here, but there’s no need to read it to understand this. You only need to know that Nessian have five children: Ezra (15 - he’s 14 in the other part), Cal (10), Nora (7), Celia (6) and Andra (4). Ezra is my bby boy and I think we can all agree he’s the best;)

Enjoy!

Word count: 5,175

Cassian couldn't get over how hot a human being could get before collapsing or dying. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as if he were under the shower jet, and Andra's sticky little hands pulling on his left arm every four seconds didn't help. His mind was somewhere else as he led his family toward the market parking lot.

They were spending their summer vacation in Adriata and although the last ten days had been great, today Nesta had had the great idea of taking the whole family to one of those traditional street markets and it hadn't even taken two hours before the whole Navarro team started complaining that they wanted to be at the beach instead of at that place of "old men with three minutes left of life" - as Celia had described it.

Nesta had tried to convince them that they could have fun there too, watching the locals as they created traditional items from the region and cocked typical local street food, but when she had turned around to see the reaction of the clique, even Cassian had a bored grimace on his face and had sighed, she had decided she stood no chance against them.

After all, though she would never admit it out loud, she didn't even mind all that much spending another day on the sand soaking up the sun while her kids played in the water and didn't bother her.

"Dad are you okay?" asked Ezra suddenly. Cassian turned to his son with a furrowed brow and maybe he had moved too fast because he saw black for a second.

He nodded bringing a hand up to his face to cover himself from the sun, "It's this goddamn heat that's making me sick, but I'm fine don't worry."

Nesta gave him a wary look, ready to snap forward in case her husband decided to pass out, but Cassian smiled lovingly at her and she sighed again, lowering her hat over her face.

"When we get to the beach can we go swimming right away?" asked Andra mumbling half the words as she ate a cookie.

"No, you have to wait until I've put sunscreen on you and everyone else," Nesta answered her flatly - they had that talk every day now. "No one goes in the water until you're all ready, remember?" her mom asked her.

Andra nodded, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to jump into the water the second they arrived. They'd made that rule after the fourth time the first two to be ready and “sunscreened” had run into the sea and left the others alone and it had been a ruckus of crying and fits of abandonment.

"I'm hungry." said Celia hopping in front of them and starting to walk backwards so she could look them in the face. Cassian was about to tell her to watch out for the road when the little girl stopped and frowned, making everyone else stop as well.

Nesta extended a hand towards her to cross the street, "We'll figure it out when we get to the car, now give me your hand come on."

"Mom," Cal said with a hint of agitation in his voice. Cassian turned to him feeling his uneasiness. His son's dark eyes locked into his, "Where's Nora?"

Ezra jerked his head up, taking his eyes off his phone, "She was next to me ten seconds ago." he said.

Cassian let go of Andra's hand, moving between them to see if she was hiding behind someone. "Nora!" he called agitatedly. He cast a quick glance at Nesta before starting to walk briskly in the direction they had just come from, motioning the people walking towards him. Ezra brought a hand to his hair and cursed.

Nesta counted her children and gave a choked noise, closing her eyes, "Let's be calm."

"Nora!" they heard Cassian yell again as the reality of what was happening was spread over them like a giant, suffocating black veil.

Ezra stepped closer to her, eyes wide, "I'm going with dad."

"No." said Nesta immediately, her hands beginning to shake. She felt her legs bounce with the need to run after Cassian and find their daughter. Her eyes darted from spot to spot in the garden, behind the bench, through the trees, next to the playground. Nora seemed to be nowhere to be found.

She heard a ringing in her ears and the faint sound of Cassian's voice shouting in the distance.

"Mom." called Ezra to her again, with more urgency.

Nesta snapped out of her trance and grabbed Andra's hand, taking her in her arms and giving her to Ezra, who took his sister without hesitation, "You hold them, I'll go with dad." then she pushed Celia and Cal closer to their older brother, "Please, please don't wander away from here." her voice broke mid-sentence and Ezra winced. He had never seen his mother so upset in his life. None of them had.

Andra began to whimper, probably only just realizing in that moment that Nesta was about to leave. Ezra put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her against his shoulder, "I got this, go find Nora."

Nesta looked into his eyes and blinked a few times, then counted again. One, Ezra, two, Cal, three- three, Celia, four, Andra. Only Nora was missing.

She turned and without another word began to run through the crowd, letting her eyes run over every figure shorter than her hips.

Her stomach was twisting so hard she was afraid she might throw up at any moment.

"Nora."

She saw Cassian freeze suddenly across the garden. Leaning forward as he brought his hands to his mouth in a daze and then resumed running through the crowd shouting his daughter's name.

Nesta stopped in turn, starting to spin around.

This place was too big.

Too big.

She began to breathe heavily, resuming to dart through people, asking anyone if they had seen a little girl with black hair and dark eyes.

No one answered her, but the reaction of the others was always the same. Their faces scrunched up in grimaces of pity and sadness.

Where is my daughter?

The second those words formed in her head a sob came desperately from her throat, scratching its way out of her.

A couple beside her had stopped and were about to approach her, but Nesta had no time.

She started running again, "Nora!"

She felt the dread of any possible option make its way inside her. The idea that she had only strayed from the family and was safe a hope too great for her to wish for.

The image of someone drawing Nora's attention away from the family and kidnapping her was as vivid as a picture in her mind.

How had this happened?

They had all been together until seconds before.

How had it-

Nesta's breath suddenly caught as her vision blurred and she leaned forward, bringing a hand to her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe in enough air to keep looking for Nora.

How many minutes had passed?

How long had she been looking for her?

She felt a hand settle on her back and she snapped forward, pulling herself up and turning around to see who it was.

How long had she been gone?

Nesta sobbed as her face turned into a mask of pain. She had never seen that fear, that terror, in Cassian. She thought at that moment that no parent should ever be forced to feel such utter horror.

Cassian brought his hands to her shoulders, "Nes, I know," his voice as hoarse as hers, but his eyes were so serious, so focused, "I can't find her either, but she can't be too far away." he tried to reason with her.

"What if-" she took a shuddering breath, "what if she hasn't gone far?"

His eyes darkened as he squeezed her shoulders.

"What if someone took her?" she breathed.

Cassian shook his head, looking around, "Don't talk shit, kids get lost all the time," then turned around eyeing all the kids running through the crowd, "She'll be around here for sure."

Her children never strayed.

"Listen to me," Nesta demanded, "it happens. Children get kidnapped and- and taken to the other side of the world to be sold." another sob escaped her.

Cassian closed his eyes, breathing through his nostrils, "Can you please not talk about child trafficking right now?" he begged her. Then she looked over his shoulder and behind him immediately after, "Where are the others?" the panic clear in his voice.

Nesta put a hand on his chest, "They're with Ezra at the entrance of the park." she reassured him, "So if Nora comes through there, they'll see her."

Cassian nodded, then gave her a quick kiss on the lips, bringing her hands to her face, "We find her, okay?"

Nesta nodded.

"And we're not leaving until we do," he murmured.

Then they parted again.

Every time she heard a child crying, laughing, screaming, Nesta felt hope bloom in her chest and her heart break when she realized it wasn't Nora.

A lady had flanked her after ten minutes and they had been looking together for half an hour. She had returned to the entrance after a few minutes to leave Ezra some money and the car keys in case they needed anything, but she had begged them again not to move from where she had left them.

"What was she wearing?" the woman asked. Nesta turned to her with wide eyes and it was as if he couldn't see her. She was looking at her but had no face, no name.

She shook her head, bringing her hands to her temples and closing her eyes, trying to remember what she had taken out of the suitcase that morning, but billions of memories and images were repeating in her head.

The first outfit they had given her when she was still pregnant and had found out she was expecting a girl. The way she had realized just then that she was going to have a little girl.

All the pairs of white and pink and purple booties they had bought her. All the toys she had been submerged in and all the things her aunts and uncles had spoiled her with by being the first of the girls to enter the family.

"I don't remember," she whispered, "I don't remember. My husband dressed her this morning."

Oh god, Cassian.

She hadn't seen him in half an hour, but she knew that he too had gone to make sure the others were okay and had stayed put at the entrance. Cal had made sure to let her know.

The lady put a hand on her shoulder, "It's okay, it's not important." then she stepped closer and Nesta looked up, "If you don't want to involve the authorities that's fine, but there's one of the park rangers there, I think it would be wise to go talk to them, spread the word. Maybe Nora could hear someone talk about it too and get help."

Upon hearing her daughter's name, Nesta felt the tears build up behind her eyelids again. She nodded slightly and then the woman pushed her towards the ranger.

***

Cassian was going crazy.

Never in his life had he felt such extreme fear as he was feeling right now.

He could hear Nora's voice calling to him from every direction and none.

He could hear her laughter like an echo in the distance. He could see her dark, ever-cheerful eyes and-

"Nora!" he shrieked with all the voice he had left. He had lost track of time, but he knew it had been too many minutes, too many seconds, since his daughter had walked away. Too much time for her not to be crying in despair because she couldn't find her parents, her brothers or sisters, any person with a familiar face. He didn't want to picture her thinking they had abandoned her.

A group of people turned toward him, shocked by that sudden burst of hopelessness and anger. He brought a hand to his mouth and choked on a sob.

Nesta had planted the seed of doubt in his head and now he couldn't think of anything else but Nora being dragged away by strangers.

He tried to take a deep breath, to no avail.

Where are you? Where are you-

"Nora where are you?" he said in a broken voice, spinning around.

Two girls in the group stood up, approaching cautiously.

"Sir," one of them asked. Under other circumstances, Cassian would have laughed in outrage at that word. "Have you lost someone?"

"My daughter, Nora," he answered immediately, continuing to look around. How was it possible that there were so many people and no one had found her yet? Surely, a little girl crying in need would have found help right away. "She has dark hair and today she had two braids with fuchsia scrunchies and light blue pants and a green t-shirt."

"We heard one of the guards talking to your wife, I think," said the other. Cassian looked at them, they both had serious and worried expressions on their faces. "If you want we can help look for her."

"Please." he murmured, nodding. The words left his mouth before he could think them out.

One of the two girls turned to the group, "Guys come here."

It didn't take Cassian more than a minute to explain where they had last seen her and how she was dressed, how tall she was. And although he knew these people's intentions were good, he couldn't block out the concern. He was providing a clear picture of his daughter to a group of strangers that could have been as dangerous as they were helpful.

The feeling of panic and dread only intensified as they all scattered, beginning to shout his daughter's name.

He couldn't help but wonder if this would only make the situation worse.

Nora was smart and would never leave of her own will. But she was also very reserved, probably the shyest of their large family, if she heard someone call out her name, Cassian wasn't sure she would come forward. In fact, it would probably get the opposite reaction in her and make her look for a way to hide.

After all, he and Nesta had taught her not to trust strangers.

He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath.

How was he going to explain to Nesta that he couldn't find her anywhere?

How was he supposed to get out of that place if he wasn't holding his daughter?

***

Nesta had fainted.

The lady had been just in time to put an arm around her waist when her legs had given out under her weight. She had closed her eyes for a second and then found herself lying on a bench, while someone pulled her legs up to get the blood flowing to her head, surrounded by curious and worried people.

"Nora..." she murmured, trying to find out something about the situation.

She wasn't crying, but she could feel the tears sliding down her temples.

Fuck the heat, fuck the low blood pressure.

She needed to find her daughter.

She had pulled herself up to her seat, despite the protests of the people around her, and resumed wandering around the park, screaming Nora's name as loudly as she could. It was as if the whole world was looking for her now. She could also hear the voices of others saying the name again and again and again.

She felt her legs weak and her knees wobble beneath her, ready to buckle from exhaustion, ready to give way one more time when she heard it.

"Mom!"

Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the sound, perhaps too quickly as she couldn't focus on anything, but she had already begun to cry when her daughter's small, puny body collided against her legs, leaping into the air to be picked up. Nesta let herself fall to the ground, taking Nora's face in her hands and laughing through her tears, looking into her eyes, making sure she was okay and unharmed. She was crying too, but she didn't seem to be hurt.

She wrapped her arms around the little girl as she too cried and hid her face in her mother's neck. Nesta breathed heavily when a sob broke the crying, one hand went to caress the girl's head.

"Nora." she whispered, "Nora, Nora, Nora-" she repeated over and over.

Her daughter's hands tightened around Nesta's shirt and she didn't care about anything else but the fact that Nora was okay. She was safe.

"Oh thank god." she heard someone say and then a loud thud, before arms wrapped around both of them and Cassian's sobs of relief and exhaustion from the dread they had shared so far joined theirs.

Nesta pulled away just enough so her husband could see that Nora was intact and when the little girl saw her father, a sound that Nesta wished she never heard again in her life made its way between them, produced by her daughter, "Dad!"

A huge smile spread across his face and Nesta laughed amidst tears, "Potato," he called before Nora launched herself onto him and wrapped her little arms around his neck. Cassian's hands left their place on Nesta's back and tightened on Nora.

"It's okay honey," she whispered, resting her forehead against Nora's back, "you found us." she continued when she heard her daughter sobbing louder.

She met Cassian's gaze over Nora's shoulder and smiled at him, letting go a sigh of relief and closing her eyes.

They stayed cuddled on that lawn until Nora stopped sobbing so hard that it seemed impossible to speak and each sob was like a stab to the heart. Nesta and Cassian had spent an hour looking for her, terrified that someone had kidnapped her, but Nora must have thought they had abandoned her, left her behind.

At the mere thought that she was the cause of the heartbreaking cry that was shaking her daughter, Nesta pulled Nora's arms away from Cassian's body and brought her to her chest, cradling her as she told her how much she loved her and how worried she had been. Then, to play it down a bit, she added chuckling, "Mom even fainted at one point, you know?" Nora's eyes had looked up at her at that point, "I fell straight down on the floor and some gentlemen had to lift my legs-"

She was interrupted by Cassian, "You what?"

She looked up at him, smiling wearily, and he seemed to realize how white she actually was just then. Cassian dropped his head forward, bringing a hand over his eyes, "Sorry I didn't notice, I was thinking about Nora-"

Nesta put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm fine." she told him, then looked at Nora again, "I'm fine." she repeated more slowly, moving a strand of hair from the little girl's forehead and smiling at her.

She felt Cassian's gaze on her, trying to figure out if she was actually okay, if she was going to pass out at any moment, but she didn't care. Nora was in her arms and breathing and intact and she didn't care about anything else.

The lady who had helped her had brought them a small bottle of water and now Nesta was sitting Nora down so she could drink.

"Easy there." Cassian had told her seeing how she had stuck to the bottle. It had hurt them both to see how quickly she had finished half the water.

That wasn't thirst, that was fear.

Nora hadn't said anything yet, but they knew it was only because she was in shock.

They had thanked everyone who had helped look for her and then turned back toward the exit, Nora in Cassian's arms, her head resting on her father's shoulder and her arms dangling at her sides as she slept worn out with emotion.

When Celia saw them coming she broke away from the group, starting to run towards them and shouting Nora's name, but Nesta brought a finger to her mouth and she froze dead in her tracks, but she was smiling. As were the other three for that matter.

Cassian could see the remnants of a cry on Andra's face and felt guilty for leaving them alone in the sun for so long without returning to them from time to time. He saw Ezra close his eyes and sigh with relief more than once and put Andra down, who along with Cal ran to their parents. Ezra sat down on a bench, bringing his hands to his face.

"Nora's resting now, okay?" pointed out Nesta to her three children. They all nodded frantically. "So let's not make too much noise."

"Mom and I thought we'd go back to the hotel, at least for a few hours," Cassian continued, keeping his gaze fixed on his oldest son, who still kept his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands, "Then when she wakes up, after we've all eaten, we''ll see if we can go to the beach for a few hours, sounds like the plan?" Andra let out an excited squeal and Celia shushed her, Cal simply nodded, but he still looked worried about Nora.

Nesta smiled at him and lowered herself to their height. As if she had been a magnet, the three children immediately reached out, touching her in some way: one hand on her shoulder, one on her knee, one on her hand. Cassian stepped back.

"Nora's fine, I mean it," she squeezed Cal's tiny hand. "Sorry we were gone so long, but we couldn't find her," she explained to them, "We went all over the park, made new friends, talked to the park guards. I even fainted from the heat, ouch." she brought a hand to her forehead, imitating the fainting gesture, to make them laugh. It only worked with Andra. "But we're all fine, we're all here."

Nesta smiled, "One, Ezra." she said, "Two?"

"Cal." said the person directly concerned.

"Three?"

"Nora." said the girls.

"Four?" asked Andra.

"Celia." replied her sister, "And five?"

"Me!" squealed the youngest.

"That's right, you're five and you're all here," said Nesta, "You do know we didn't want to leave you alone here?" she asked, hesitant to introduce the subject. Three little heads nodded in confusion. "Dad and I would have reacted exactly the same way for all of you," she continued, "And we're sorry if we scared you acting like that, but we were scared too," she explained, stiffening her back and watching each of her children's reaction carefully, "If you feel that you're scared or stressed or want to cry because it seems like too much, you can do that. Mom and Dad cried, too." Celia opened her eyes wide, mouthing a dad and shifting her gaze to her father.

Cassian was much more emotional than Nesta, actually, but he tried never to do it in front of his kids because he knew it made them restless and sad. It had only happened a few times and Cassian still hadn't forgiven himself for making his kids worry like that, but that didn't mean they didn't teach them to express their feelings openly.

"These are stressful situations for everyone, so we understand if you need to release some frustration." Nesta smiled at them. Then an idea occurred to her, "How about when we get back to the beach tonight or tomorrow morning, we scream under the water so loud that we scare the little fish?"

Celia and Cal nodded again with excitement. Andra frowned, "I don't want to scare them."

Nesta stroked her face, "Then you'll sing to them and scream just a little bit loud. So we can let go of some of the stress of this horrible day, hmm?"

They all seemed to agree.

"Can we get pizza when we get to the hotel?" asked Celia with a strange glint in her eye. The little girl knew perfectly well when to ask for certain things. She knew full well when Nesta wouldn't be able to resist giving her kids everything they wanted without batting an eye.

Nesta nodded.

The children suddenly rejoiced and began to do a little dance that had been a tradition for more than seven years now. Something little Cal and the still child Ezra had invented when theirs sisters weren't even an idea.

Smiling, Nesta pulled herself up to her feet again, "Come on let's go to Dada."

***

"Ezra." murmured Cassian.

His son's head snapped toward him and he frowned. Cassian contracted his jaw.

"How is she?" asked Ezra in a raspy voice. Realizing this, he cleared his throat and pulled himself up to sit with his back straight, looking away from the approaching duo.

Cassian watched him closely, "She's fine, she got really scared and her mom found her crying, but she's fine." then he sat down next to him, being careful not to bend Nora's legs. Ezra bent down to his little sister, stroking her forehead, as Nesta had done only a few minutes before. "How are you?"

"Fine," his son replied too quickly, "why? How am I supposed to be?" he asked, snickering nervously.

Cassian was tired. So tired that if it wasn't for the fact that he had to take everyone to the hotel, he would have fallen asleep on the first free bench and slept for days, but he had to make sure his son was okay.

"Because we left you alone with the other three and it's not a small thing. Thank you for doing this." said Cassian to him, looking at the wedding band on his finger and playing with the ring, trying not to make the other uncomfortable.

Ezra shrugged, "I do it all the time, it's no big deal."

"That doesn't make the task any easier," his father murmured. "In fact, the fact that you do it every day is admirable and I'm sure without you, Mom and I wouldn't survive half a day," he chuckled. Ezra smiled wearily.

"How are you?" he tried again.

The boy seemed to really think about it, "I was afraid something bad had happened to her, but I couldn't do anything about it and I couldn't talk to the others about it because they're still too young and I'm sure a riot would have erupted if I said even half the stuff I was thinking," Ezra confessed in one breath. Cassian was about to respond, but his son continued, "And then Andra started crying and Celia was hungry and I didn't know what to do because she didn't like the stuff at the food trucks, but I couldn't get out of the park because if Nora came by, I'd lose her and-" he took a deep breath and looked toward Cassian, "You know?"

Cassian wished he didn't know. He wished his son didn't have to take those things into account. He wished he and Nesta didn't have to lean on him so much.

"Yes, I know," he murmured. Then he looked into his eyes, "I know your mom has been telling you this since you were born, Ezra, but if you want to cry because it all gets to be too much, no one is going to make fun of you or tell you to man up. You know it's all bullshit." said Cassian, turning slightly towards him, "Andra and Celia don't know how to talk about their emotions yet because they're too little, same with Cal and Nora and they cry to make us understand they're feeling too much. Just because you can release some of the tension by talking about it, doesn't mean it has to be just that way."

"I know," Ezra nodded, "I know," he said more softly. Then he ran a hand over his face, "Although I'd rather you didn't give me these heart-to-hearts in the middle of so many people."

Cassian chuckled, already feeling lighter upon hearing that Ezra had started joking again. He just had to make sure his son knew one last thing.

"Maybe not in situations like this, because we really needed you today," he said sincerely, "But when we're home and Mom and I want to take a night off and ask you to babysit, if you're not up for it or even just don't feel like it for one night, tell us and we'll figure something else out or we'll go out another time." Cassian watched as his other children danced in front of Nesta and smiled, "We would never want you to feel forced to parent."

"Yeah yeah, I know," Ezra chuckled, "all that talk about me being a son too and not having the same responsibilities as you as a sibling." he turned a relieved look to his father, "Mom reminds me enough that I know her speech better than happy birthday."

Cassian burst out laughing at Ezra's exasperated tone and when Nesta and the others stopped in front of them they were all smiling. Nesta leaned forward over her oldest son kissed his forehead, "Thank you, love."

Ezra nodded just once, a tight smile on his lips.

"Can we please go now?" sighed Cal. Celia nodded beside him, ever the one to agree with her brother.

Cassian pulled himself up with a grunt and then Ezra, who took Andra's hand and held it tightly as if afraid she might disappear at any moment.

"Are you going to sing or yell at the fish?" asked the little girl as they crossed the street.

"What?" asked her brother laughing.

"Do you sing like me or yell with mom?" she demanded without giving any context yet again.

Ezra shifted his gaze to his father and Cassian looked as confused as he was, so he looked at his mom, who was laughing under her breath.

"Mom?"

"I may have promised them that we would scream underwater to release some of the extra steam," she explained.

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head, "Sure, all normal."

Ezra shifted his attention to Andra, "I think I'll sing with you." he replied, smiling.

Eyes as light as his locked on his face and then a lighthearted laugh made its way between the two and Ezra couldn't help but laugh along with his sister, picking her up and spinning her around in the air.

Nesta counted her children one last time before getting into the car and when she got inside, she leaned her head back against the seat, sighing. Cassian mimicked her and then leaned toward her, Nesta turning just in time for their lips to collide.

A roar of disgust and embarrassed giggles erupted from the backseat, and Nesta thought she'd never heard such a beautiful sound while still smiling at her husband.

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painless-innit-colourful · 4 years

Text

‘Come Home’

A TommyInnit & Clingyduo Fic ahead of the final showdown tomorrow - spoilers for today’s (19th) Tommy stream.

tw for events of Exile Arc (skippable if you miss out the entire middle section of the fic, marked by three dashes on their own separate line)

The rush, the high. He’s been chasing this feeling since forever. It’s not a perfect replacement for the real thing, which he hasn’t felt in such a long time. It’s not a fluttering but an explosion, not the strumming of the guitar but the crash of the drums, not the rain but the thunder and lightning, though even that’s become fraught for him recently. He remembers the last time, a wonderful five minutes sandwiched by pain and chaos and destruction. His best friend standing on a stage, new leader of L’Manberg. A fresh start, the promise of peace and prosperity for all around them. But then it was all over, all brought down so quickly. The Tommy that cheered at his best friend’s inauguration is unrecognisable now.

But Tubbo is not, and between the scars and the new outfit and all the words, both spoken and unsaid, it’s still them. Tommy tastes the potion they’ve just made and hears his best friend’s laughter, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend for a few fleeting seconds that nothing has changed at all. If he opens his eyes, he’ll be back in the camarvan, and Wilbur will walk in through the door with more blaze rods and laugh at the two of them and ruffle his hair. The discs will be in his ender chest if he wants to listen to one with Tubbo. There’s a lake outside the door and a forest and a whole wide world to explore, and Tommy’s only worry is that Punz will yell at him if he sees him for having a ‘Fortnite build battle on his front lawn’ a little while ago. He opens his eyes and then takes another swig of potion to dampen his disappointment.

“Aye careful,” Tommy’s vaguely aware of Tubbo pulling the bottle away from his face before he accidentally upends it on himself. “Don’t want you looking like Sapnap earlier.” Tubbo’s grin is brighter than the sun on snow. “I have no idea what was happening with Cracknap other than he still needs help.” Tubbo’s laughter is soft, “He’s not the only one anymore.”

“Too shay.”

They drift upstairs, and then eventually out the door. It’s around 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and there are clouds drifting on the edge of the horizon. They’re dark and heavy-looking, but for now too far away to block the pale winter sunlight keeping the outside temperature a stubborn 10 degrees C. “I should go back to Snowchester.” Tubbo looks restless as they step onto the Prime Path. Tommy knows the feeling. Suddenly tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

“You’ll come back though, right? Tonight, one last ride?” They embrace, squeezing tightly as Tubbo hums an agreement. “Of course. One last ride.” And then they withdraw, and Tubbo gives a small wave as he disappears down the hill towards his highway, and Tommy watches him go. And when he finally looks up, alone with his thoughts once more, he realises he is leaning on the back of his bench; here again, always retreading the same ground. He briefly entertains the idea of putting on a disc and staying a little while, but he doesn’t have any music to live up to the occasion. Not Far, nor Pigstep or Wait, and he still hasn’t sorted out his complicated feelings over his version of Blocks. Besides, he still has things to sort out before the showdown. He walks away to prepare, humming Mellohi lightly as he goes.

---

‘Home’ is a fraught word for Tommy now. Every home the boy has had in this land is either steeped in blood and bad memories, or blown to bits beyond repair. Somedays Tommy wakes up alone and forgets that L’Manberg was wiped off the map, and it comes as a nasty shock when he rounds the corner by his home to see a crater that stretches all the way down to bedrock. Pogtopia never really felt like home, but it was bad enough when it was only soulless stone walls and bashing your head on the lanterns hanging from the ceiling that its inhabitants and visitors had to contend with. After the Manberg Festival, there was an entire room in there that’s sole purpose was to remind Tommy that he didn’t save his friend and couldn’t have if he’d tried, dried blood on the walls and all. Then there's the fact that it’s practically server tradition at this point: if you want to send TommyInnit a message, leave it on signs in his house. Don’t forget to blow up the house first though! Tommy forgets how many times he’s had to put his abode back together; probably about as many times as he’s had to reconstruct himself.

That leaves Logstedshire. Sometimes he agrees with himself that that place doesn’t deserve to be considered a home of his. He sure as hell didn’t want to live there, barely survived his stay, and the place is mostly blown up, the awful icing on the dreadful cake that was his second exile from L’Manberg. He supposes it could be considered weird that he finds himself stepping down a path he never wanted to walk again, but today… Today is about closure. And if he can look Technoblade in the eyes with a belt-full of potions stolen from his chests, he’s brave enough to face his fears in Logsted. As he arrives at the portal, he hesitates, his gaze drifting away from the swirling purple and to the bubbling orange, much further below. So many times has he been here, only then his mind was a much worse thing to own, a clouded mass of hateful thoughts, most of them not his own. Where the bridge meets thin air there are patches of a shimmering wind where the heat takes the place of the nothingness, and if he squints Tommy can imagine himself standing on the edge, wondering what would happen if he'd just let go. He’s glad now that he was in the Overworld when he made the pillar, even if it seemed like he had nowhere to go.

Logstedshire is haunted, even more so than the Nether path. It’s exactly how Tommy remembers it: the broken Nether portal missing a single piece of obsidian, the craters untouched, the pillar still stretching skyward. He can see himself again; on the beach, repairing the chests, standing at the top of the tower. It’s like being in a haunted house where all the ghosts are yourself. But Tommy isn’t afraid. The ‘Drista’ sign makes him laugh, the ocean where he’d wake up drowning (trying to make it home to where? A country that no longer exists) gets a small wave, even the pillar gets a smile, because he’s here to look at it from the ground. It was a bad time in his life - possibly the worst - but he made it out the other side. And that’s what matters.

There are some craters though, some specific memories that Tommy can’t face yet. The smiling mask of the green man, snatching items out of Tommy’s hands to then force him to watch as he blew them to bits. How he specifically said “I want you to watch.” when he blew up everything Tommy and Ghostbur had managed to scrape together for themselves out there alone. The two-by-two hole in the centre of the largest crater, and how just glancing at it summons Dream’s voice to his mind, taunting him as he grabbed him by the front of his already ripped shirt and hoisted him over the short drop, “Why don’t you get in the hole, Tommy?”

Those still sting. There’s a reason, he supposes, why Wilbur went mad after losing L’Manberg. Why he asked Philza to kill him instead of facing the wreckage all around. But Tommy refuses to be just another repeat of history. Tommy looks into the pit made by Dream’s TNT where scraps of happiness were burned, and he spits at it.

No more.

TommyInnit heads home.

---

Hours pass. Tubbo returns from Snowchester soaked through to the skin but smiling. Tommy helps him peel off several layers of frozen clothing (he decides not to ask in regards to the hazmat suit), finding out that the nukes project is going well but they are presented with the usual issues of living in a frozen tundra: cold.

After Tubbo’s showered and changed, they share a dinner giggling about really dumb topics like Tommy pulling a fast one on Technoblade, Jack Manifold being weird and unhelpful again, and good old GeorgeNotFound. The hours fly by, and it's much later that they’re getting ready for bed when the heavens finally open, and the sound of a heavy downpour seeps in through the cracks of Tommy’s dirt house. Tommy can feel the smile crossing his face until he remembers his house is a dirt shack at present, and mud houses aren’t generally known for being the most watertight. Tubbo gets a good laugh out of his expression when he comes bustling down the stairs dragging his bed behind him, crying out, “Our clothes! Beds! Tubbo-” Their plans changed and they put their beds in the storage room, the room voted Least Likely To Have a Leak by a grand majority of two. The sound of the rain is somehow less muffled down there, and it clatters against the ceiling almost melodically.

Tommy picks up the crossbow from the pile of clothes and other bits and bobs he grabbed from upstairs when the downpour started. ‘Chekhov's Gun’. Wilbur’s gun. As in, actual Alivebur’s weapon, from before he blew up L’Manberg. It feels heavy in his hands. Too heavy. Wilbur’s voice echoes through his head, not the usual line he hears in his nightmares, but similar.

“You’re never going to be president, Tommy.”

It doesn’t hurt anymore. Wilbur gave him that choice, and he declined. He wonders, with a certain detachment, how it all would’ve turned out if he’d chosen to take the presidency. He certainly wouldn’t have exiled Tubbo.

Tubbo, who’s looking at him with a lopsided grin, standing by his bed and holding his covers aloft, one leg already in bed. It seems like an invitation. “You alright?” Tommy nods and sets down the crossbow and clothes on top of one of the chests, “Yeah… Goodnight Tubs.”

“Goodnight Tommy.”

In the split second before either of them can commit to getting into bed, Tommy hears Wilbur again. This time though, he doesn’t mock him, nor does he sound too far gone to be saved. This iteration of Wilbur Soot wears a captain’s hat instead of a beanie, and speaks with soft conviction, and puts his hands on Tommy’s shoulders like he can shield the teen from the choice that he’s made.

“I want you to do whatever your heart says you should do.”

“Tubbo wait,” Tommy catches his best friend by the arm. Two pairs of blue eyes meet briefly as Tommy pulls him into a hug, putting one hand on the back of Tubbo’s head and messing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Tubbo’s surprise doesn’t last long, and he hugs back, burying his face in Tommy’s shoulder and balling Tommy’s shirt into his fists. Tommy breathes a deep sigh, trying to make the moment last, but knowing no one lives forever. Eventually they split, and Tommy ruffles Tubbo’s hair as they grin at each other with tired eyes and heavy limbs. “Okay, goodnight Tubbo.”

The older boy in question takes two steps back and sits down on his bed, shuffling back quickly and holding the covers open, smiling invitingly. “Tommy,” His voice sounds like honey, so sickly-sweet it shouldn’t be nice, but is. There’s also a heavy undertone of teasing going on to start with, but it becomes more genuine suddenly. “Come home.” And Tommy understands and climbs in beside him, and they tease each other for being clingy and sappy as they try to get comfortable, and then they quiet to the odd remark as they find the right place, Tubbo’s head resting on Tommy’s collarbone, their arms wrapped around each other and Tommy’s head leaning on Tubbo’s. Tubbo drops off first, and Tommy is waiting in the noisy quiet for sleep to claim him too, listening to the rain pattering on the roof and his friend’s breathing beside him. And in the quiet, he realises a couple things.

He realises he rather likes the rain without the thunder, and that maybe the guitar is better than the drums, and that the fluttering in his chest is more uplifting than the explosion of a vibrant heart. It’s not the triumphant high he’s been chasing. It’s quieter, it’s comforting, it’s a warm feeling in his whole being. It’s just as good as the victorious moment. It’s perfect.

The second thing he realises is that he’s been wrong since the beginning. Home was never Logstedshire or Pogtopia, but neither was it L’Manberg or even the building they’re currently in. Home was the togetherness L’Manberg brought, sitting around a campfire singing the national anthem and putting more effort into the ‘fuck Eret’ part every time it came around. Home was listening to Wilbur’s guitar echoing through the caverns at Pogtopia and complaining about eating Technoblade’s potato stew for the third day running while your comrades laughed. Home is right here, wrapped in the arms of your favourite person, belly full of good food, listening to the rain as sleep slowly takes you. He sees that now.

TommyInnit is home.

#WHOO OKAY SO #do not. heckin. read/tag this as ship #you can pry platonically intimate clingyduo out of my cold dead hands #however if you ship them i will personally manifest into your house and start throwing things #dream smp #mcyt #crim writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #ghostbur #pogtopia #manberg #l'manberg #logstedshire #clingyduo #mmmm this was cathartic to write

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wickedobsessed101 · 3 years

Text

"Sewing It Up" Oneshot #2: Into The Gala

Villy hummed as she sifted through the dresses in her closet. She knew she should’ve planned her outfit for the charity gala ahead of time, but got caught up in custom orders in the shop.

“Mimsey?”

The dressmaker was so focused, she didn’t register the little girl’s presence until she felt a tap on her leg. “Yes, Honey?”

“Are you and Papa still going to the fancy event?”

“We are, if I can pick out something to wear.”

“And Elphie’s coming to play with me all night?”

“She should be here soon.”

“Can I help you get ready?” Nyris scrutinized her stepmother’s clothes, not waiting for an answer. “Wear this one.” She grabbed the skirt of a floor-length dress and pressed it into her hands. “It’s pretty.”

The seamstress examined the gown. Soft, crepe material, off-the-shoulder sleeves, ruched bodice, and a mermaid skirt. The braille color tag pinned to the sleeve identified it as wine, and she smiled with a nod. “Okay. Great choice, Nyris.”

“Thanks! Can I brush your hair?”

Villy nodded and grabbed her hairbrush before sitting on the edge of the bed. Nyris climbed up with a soft grunt and took the brush, gently running it through her wavy, copper hair.

“You can wear one of my tiaras, so you can be a pretty princess,” Nyris offered, bouncing behind her.

“Thank you, but I can’t be a princess tonight. It’s a non-princess party, so I can’t be the only princess in attendance. It wouldn't be fair to everyone else.”

“Oh. You’re right. That wouldn’t be fair. Perhaps next time.”

Nyris insisted on giving Villy’s hair one hundred brush strokes to ensure its shininess, but Villy stopped her at forty-three, claiming she was running out of time and thought her hair had sufficient shine.

“Elphie’s here!” Nyris squealed when the doorbell rang. She jumped off the bed and hurried out. Once she was alone, Villy took the time to braid her hair into an elegant crown braid and slipped into the dress.

“Almost ready, Dovey?”

She sprayed her face with the makeup setting spray. “Yes. I’ll trade your help: I’ll do your tie if you zip up the back of my dress.”

“I like that deal,” he chuckled, carefully doing the zipper, accepting his kiss of thanks.

“What color is your suit?” she asked as she tied his tie.

“Navy blue. My tie is black with small, white polka dots.”

Villy’s lips twitched. “Polka dots?”

“I almost wore the tie Nyris colored for Father’s Day.”

“I almost wore one of her princess tiaras.”

He took a clear bobby pin and pinned her final wisps of stray hair down. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hands over his jacket, and not just to smooth out the wrinkles. “You look handsome.”

“Thanks. Elphaba’s downstairs, the car’s coming to pick us up in ten minutes.”

“And it’s driving us back?”

“Yes. The venue has an open bar, and I know everyone’s going to take advantage of that… myself included.”

The two went downstairs, where Nyris was trying to convince Elphaba that ice cream was, in fact, a suitable dinner option.

“Try not to tire Elphaba out already, Jellybean,” Villy chuckled, walking towards their voices and stopping at Elphaba’s side, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Thanks again for this favor, Elphaba. We really appreciate it.”

Elphaba smiled. “Of course, Miss Villy. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Our car will be here soon, and we should be back… probably early tomorrow morning. Nyris knows not to try and wait up for us.”

“I won’t let her climb the walls.”

The little girl snuggled next to the green girl. “Let’s play ‘Princesses and Ponies’!”

She turned back to her boss. “I’ll let you know if I’ll require a raise a work.”

Villy smirked, interrupted by a soft honk from outside.

“Time to go. Have fun, you two,” Geri said, lifting Nyris into his arms and kissing her cheek.

“Bye, Papa. Bye, Mimsey!” Nyris hummed, reaching for Villy.

The transfer of arms was flawless, and Villy gave her a squeeze. “Be gentle with Elphaba. We have a full week of orders coming up.”

The green girl made an indignant noise in the back of her throat.

Nyris giggled. “‘Kay, Mimsey!”

Villy returned her feet to the floor, grabbed her bag – filled with her business cards – fixing the strap over her shoulder, and cane, placing it in her bag as she headed out with Geri. The two settled in the large car, waving to Elphaba and Nyris as they drove away.

“Have you been to the gala before?” Villy asked.

“Once, with Taeal, before Nyris was born. I don’t remember most of it. There was a lot of standing and talking, and I think at least five people went home wearing someone else’s jackets.”

“Sounds like fun. Is it just the Tip Bank branches?”

“As well as Ozma Trust and First Emerald Bank branches. I might see some of my old colleagues.” He glanced at her. “Will you be alright?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry.”

“Do I look worried?”

Villy gave him a look, but gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“It’s a gala.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just accept the saying. You know I’ll tell you if I need anything.” She took his hands. “I’m excited to share this fancy night out with you. The first of many. It’s only fair, since I’ll be dragging you to multiple fashion shows. I’m prepared.”

“For?”

“Repeating my life story multiple times and debunking myths. If I can give away half my business card stack, I’ll be satisfied.” She straightened. “On that note, you need to promise me something.”

“Yes?”

“That you’ll let me advocate for myself and won’t jump to my defense every time someone says something insensitive. I know how to play the game, and I play it very well. Please.”

He nodded. “Of course, Dovey. You know I’ll always support whatever you need.”

“Tonight, I’m supporting you.”

Forty minutes later, they reached the venue. Thanking the driver, they climbed out of the car, and Geri offered his wife his elbow. She paused to straighten his tie before taking it and walking in with him. Geri showed the security guard their invitations, and they were directed to follow everyone else inside.

Upon entering, they were immediately accosted with a mixture of music and indistinct conversations. A look of uncertainty flashed across Villy’s face for a moment, but it was gone before Geri could comment on it.

“It’s a large ballroom.”

She nodded. “It’s very echoey.” Her gaze traveled upward. “Large chandelier?”

“Uh-huh. And lots of small lamps along the walls.”

She hummed, following him through the crowd of people, her grip on his arm gently tightening.

“Dovey –“

“As long as they don’t crowd around me, I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I promise. What hors d’œuvres do they have?”

“There’s crackers with various toppings: salmon, cream cheese, caviar...”

“Caviar sounds good.”

The couple made their rounds of taste tasting and small minglings. For the most part, no one made any comments on Villy’s visual impairment or how she did her job, which put Geri at ease more than his wife.

“Don’t get too comfortable. The flood's coming,” she warned.

“Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“There’s an ice sculpture of Lurline. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“An ice sculpture? In summer?”

“Apparently. It manages to capture her long, flowing hair, folded wings, and sheath dress. She’s holding a long scepter and her other hand is stretched out in a calming gesture.”

“Gerium! It’s been too long!”

The banker turned and smiled. “Uiliu, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Villy let go of his arm as he hugged whoever this acquaintance was.

“I hope they’re not too horrendible to you at Tip Bank.”

He laughed. “No. But they do think there are more than twenty-four hours in a day. Apparently, I’m so amazing, they think I can complete projects that normally take two weeks in two days. How’s Joanhn? Is he here?”

“He’s schmoozing with the CEO. He already made his rounds, collecting more potential clients, no doubt. He always does this. He collects business cards like they’re limited edition items. He has a binder full of them at home, always claiming to ‘know someone’ when we need a service and flip through the pages.”

He took his wife’s hand. “Uiliu, this is my wife, Villy. Villy, this is Uiliu Paraitez, a broker from First Emerald. I worked with both her and her husband.”

She gasped. “I had no idea you remarried. How long ago?”

“Three months.”

“Congratulations to both of you.”

“Thank you,” Villy smiled.

“What do you do, Mrs. Moxx?”

“I’m a seamstress. I own a dress shop, ‘Lilies and Lace’ on Overlained Street.”

“You own a shop?”

The well-hidden condescending tone was still obvious to the seamstress. “Yes.”

“Is it a franchise?”

“No, just a small business. It’s just me and my assistant, Elphaba, and we make all our clothes from scratch. Dresses, skirts, some blouses, and we also do custom orders and alterations.”

“How?”

“Um… sewing machines. Sometimes hand sewing, but the machines are faster.”

“No, I mean… you’re…”

She felt her husband move to defend her and dug her fingers into his arm, reminding him of his promise. “It’s a very tactile profession, and everything’s labeled and organized. The shop’s been successful for almost a decade. The Tarvey’s are regular customers, and I’ve also had Lady Longren buy a few dresses, as well as custom orders from the Governor of Munchkinland.” She felt a bit bad for flaunting that last one, giving Elphaba’s relationship with her family, but that was how to play the game.

She hummed. “Did you make the dress you’re wearing?”

“No. I rarely wear the clothes I make.”

“Except what you wore on our first date,” Gerium interjected softly.

“That was the exception to the rule.”

“It caught my eye.”

“Mine, too.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Paraitez.”

She took the card. “You as well, Mrs. Moxx. Lovely to see you again, Gerium. I should probably go rescue the poor soul force to listen to one of Joanhn’s rants about priority investments.” She excused herself with a polite nod and hurried away.

“Are you hungry?”

Geri shrugged. “A bit. You?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. It’s a buffet, so we should find our table before getting food.” He led her across the room to the tables, searching the place cards for their names. “The place cards have the names in golden calligraphy. We’re over by the window.”

“Okay. Where’s the buffet?”

“There’s a lot of food, and it wraps along the walls. We’re near the desserts.”

She smirked. “Very convenient.”

“What are you in the mood for? Meat, fish, pasta, salad…”

“Um… fish.”

He led her over to the proper section, describing the variety and helping with her plate. Once they were both situated with their meal, they went back to the window table, and Geri glanced over at the other place cards.

“Silaen’s sitting with us.”

Villy brightened. “I didn’t know she would be here.”

“I’m the main event, so the party doesn’t start ‘til I take the first sip of alcohol.”

Villy resisted an eye roll as she and Geri turned towards their friend. “Have you improved since our college days?”

“I don’t think so, but I hired a driver for tonight, so does it really matter?”

“I’m not peeling you off the floor.”

“You’ll be peeling me off the ceiling if I get my way.” Silaen smiled as she looked the couple over. “You two look lovely. Did Villy dress you, Geri?”

“I can pick out my own clothes,” the banker huffed.

“He did, all by himself, except for his tie. Did you bring a plus-one?”

“I planned to, but unfortunately, Krescia had to work late at the hotel.”

Villy had heard very little of her friend’s girlfriend, and had been looking forward to meeting her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll use up most of my time mingling and trying to avoid upper management. They look like they’ve hit the open bar already.” Silaen excused herself to get some food, returning with multiple questions and shop inquiries. “Have you seen the silent auction items yet?” she asked as they finished and a passing server took their plates.

Villy shook her head. “Not yet. Are you gonna –“

“Geri, a bunch of us are going in the side room for a card game. Care to join us?” a fast voice asked from behind them.

The banker perked up slightly.

“Go, Geri,” the seamstress encouraged, giving his arm a nudge. “I’ll go to the auction table with Silaen.”

“I’ll make sure we don’t empty your bank account,” Silaen smirked, standing with her friend and linking their arms.

The couple parted ways, and Silaen and Villy went over to the table. Villy was the tamer one of the two, making sure Silaen didn’t touch the pens… or her checkbook. They got in a bit more networking, which soon turned into an hour of talking and business card exchanging.

When Geri returned, he found the two women coming away from the bar, both with small glasses of a bright red liquid.

“How much damage did you two do?” he chuckled, kissing his wife’s cheek.

“Money or alcohol?” Villy asked innocently.

“I felt like I should say ‘both’…”

Silaen shrugged. “Then the answer to ‘both’ is ‘not much’. Villy stole –“

“Protected,” the seamstress interjected.

“My checkbook, and this is only our third drink.”

“Third? In one hour?”

“Open bar, designated drivers. Need I say more?”

Geri rolled his eyes, his face softening as Villy looped her arms around his, finishing off her glass. “Dance with me,” he growled hungrily in her ear, taking the empty glass and handing it to a passing server.

She nodded eagerly, returning the checkbook to its proper owner, and headed to the dance floor with her husband. Slowly, the indistinct voices gave way to the music, which transported the couple to a world of their own. Villy relaxed and snuggled closer, enjoying feeling his strong arm around her waist and gentle hand on her shoulder. As the song ended, she wrapped her around his neck and pulled him into a gentle kiss.

“People are staring,” he whispered against her lips.

“There are other couples here.”

“None that are snogging on the dance floor.”

“Snogging?” She made a face. “That makes it sound like we’re teenagers caught on prom night.”

Before he could continue, he heard his old co-workers calling him and led his wife over. The couple spent the next two and a half hours making more rounds. Geri mostly threw names, titles, and occasional side stories at his wife, who did her best to juggle them, and the echoey atmosphere still wasn’t her friend.

“Geri,” she whispered after their most recent subject excused themselves to the dessert cart.

“Yes?”

“I need a quiet break.”

He noted her strained tone and expression. “Alright. There are small, private lounges in the back.” He led her through the crowd into the hallway, turning two corners before opening a door and leading her inside. “Are you alright?” he asked as they sat on the couch.

“I… headache. I have medicine in my bag, and I should have asked before we left…” She sighed. “Could you get me some water, please?”

“Of course.” When he returned with the water, Villy was squeezing her eyes shut, and squeezing the pillow in her arms even tighter. “Here, Dovey.”

She relaxed when he pressed the cold glass into her hands. “Thanks.” She fished the small bottle from her bag and popped two tablets into her mouth, chasing them down with three big gulps of water.

The banker wordlessly pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her forehead. He was about to ask if she wants to leave, but decided against it. He knew she’d tell him what she wanted.

“The lights,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s what was causing the headache. I held out for as long as I could, but it was becoming unbearable.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was handing out twenty business cards, booking five appointments… I was on a roll. I didn’t wanna break my streak.”

“Are you having fun?”

She nodded. “I am. I do like social events like this. The overall atmosphere could be more ideal, but overall, I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“I am, too. Are you feeling better?”

“Getting there.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to head back.”

She nodded, staying in his arms for a few more moments, relaxing deeper into his embrace as the throbbing pain ebbed. “How do you think Elphaba and Nyris are faring?”

“‘Princesses and Ponies’ is an intense game that requires a lot of stamina. I don’t know how much of a workout you get at the shop, but it requires a lot of strength on the bigger person’s part.”

“Will I still have an assistant tomorrow?”

“She might be sore, bruised, and might not want to talk to either of us for the rest of her life, but she’ll be alive.”

“Good enough for me,” Villy smiled, and they lapsed into silence, only broken when Villy announced she wanted more chocolate cake.

By the time they returned to the ballroom, they were announcing the winners of the silent auction. Once they got their cake and returned to their table with Silaen, and politely applauded with the room as the winners were announced.

It was just past midnight when everyone started to disperse. The couple (not as drunk as they thought they’d be), found their car and relaxed for the ride home.

“I had a wonderful time,” she smiled, kissing his cheek.

“I’m glad you came with me.” He brushed stray whisps of hair, that had managed to free themselves from her braid, out of her face. “Have I told you I love this color on you?” He kissed her neck. “And this ravishing dress…”

“It was 70% off,” she reported proudly.

He lowered his voice. “I’d prefer it 100% off.”

“The store can’t be giving away free clothes.”

He blinked. “That’s not what I –“

“That’s a horrendible way to run a business, Geri,” she frowned. “If I did that, I’d run the shop straight into the ground.”

He wondered if the alcohol had made her thick, but when her frown gave way to a playful smirk, he rolled his eyes. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hilarious. Didn’t you marry me for my humor?”

“I married you to save money on shirt buttons.”

“I married you to get a higher interest rate on my savings account. And for you to introduce me to new, potential customers.”

“You were getting very friendly with the CEO.”

“Rich wives may be pushy and ambitiously demanding, but they’re the best tippers.” Villy chuckled. “I have my eyes set on one man, anyway.”

By the time they returned home, they could barely keep their eyes open. They thanked and tipped the driver, and headed inside, Villy immediately inquiring if Elphaba was asleep on their sofa.

“She’s fast asleep. She left us a note.” He grabbed the folded paper with a scribbled ‘Miss Villy and Geri’ on the cover. “‘If you’re reading this rather than talking to me, that means Nyris wore me out. You didn’t warn me about ‘Princesses and Ponies’! At least she didn’t climb the walls, nor throw my back out. I accept tips in cups of coffee.'”

Villy chuckled softly. “I suppose she can spend the night, and we can spare a cup and invite her to breakfast in a few hours.”

~~~

Villy's Dress

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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Footnotes

it’s been a bit since i added to the bookshop au: time got away from me!

We’re taking over the world/a little victimless crime -Do It All the Time, IDKHBTFM

Tony notices that Bucky doesn’t come into the store for a month. This is fine. Should be fine. Not like he wonders what Bucky will think of the newest latte, which is geared more to the warmer weather that has been breezing in cheerfully. The iced latte, flavored with caramel and coconut, had been a hit with MJ and Ned, who both loved it.

But Bucky hadn’t come in and tried it.

His anxiety tells him that he is found out and are currently waiting until Tony leaves the building to set up a trap and probably blow up every single book and also him.

But that would be stupid. There’s no way that the Avengers know who Iron Man or War Machine is. Tony Jarvis is a nice guy who runs a bookstore, has a suspicious amount of money from inheritance, and got a degree in English from a local college.

He even photo-shopped pictures there with Rhodey and everything. (Thank god for anti-aging technology and Rhodey’s genius.)

But he still kind of wants Bucky to come in and look at books. He even has a few records pulled just for the occasion.

“You are quite honestly the worst kind of person,” Rhodey says. “Who gets a crush on who is supposed to be their arch-nemesis and wants to make a custom coffee menu for them?”

“Not me,” Tony says quickly, pushing away the lemon-blueberry scone idea. “And besides if anyone would be my arch-nemesis, it would clearly be Black Widow. We match each other intellectually.”

“Not a chance,” Rhodey says with a snort. “Or did you forget the time you got so nervous you—”

“Hello?” comes a voice from the front. Rhodey immediately cuts off, going back to filing new shipments. Tony looks over.

“Hey, you’re back!” Tony cheers.

Rhodey makes a motion of gagging. Tony flips him off with one hand behind his back as he comes forward.

“Sorry I haven’t been in. Work has been…enlightening.”

“Usually code for ‘I-don’t-get-paid-enough’” Tony teases. “You wanna try an iced coffee drink?”

“I’m game.”

“Sit down at the table, I’ll get it out for you.”

Bucky has to admit that a good apron can do wonders for an ass. Or maybe Tony just has a really nice one. Either way, the view is spectacular.

“What has work been having you do?” Tony asks, pouring in syrup.

“Oh just…the usual,” Bucky says. He’s horrible at lying. He really, really is. “They keep twisting up what they want, it’s getting confusing.”

“Bookshops, luckily, are much simpler than that,” Tony says, smiling. He slides the drink over to Bucky. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”

Bucky takes a long slurp. Puts his head back.

“Tony, you ever experienced a masterpiece?”

“Once or twice,” Tony says, smiling.

“This is the damn Mona Lisa of drinks.”

Tony grins. Bucky sips a bit more, sighing in contentment.

“Hey, I know that last time I learned that you sold records. What are, um, your favorites?”

“I’m glad you asked…”

Bucky learns about new music. He learns that he needs to google new bands. AC/DC is a clear favorite of Tony’s, who sings along. It’s a funny juxtaposition with his cardigan and old jeans, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Bucky finds some of the old ones, which Tony doesn’t look surprised at.

“You have an old soul,” Tony says.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bucky mutters.

“Don’t I?” Tony teases. “You act as if you’ve never had iced coffee before.”

Bucky has to turn back to the player to stop from laughing in front of him. What Tony doesn’t know…well. He’s damned sure he doesn’t know that technically all of Bucky’s favorite records were either unable to be found, most likely questionable, or long disintegrated with time.

Oh, Tony knows. He knows for a damned fact that Bucky has never had iced coffee, most likely does not know who the hell Jimmy Carter was and knows how to disassemble and reassemble most weapons in under sixty seconds.

But it’s cute to mess with him. His brow furrows. Tony has a thing for furrows.

“Hey Tony?” Rhodey asks, head popping up from the upstairs. Bucky automatically looks up, finding the face to be vaguely familiar.

“What is it Rhodey-dear?” Tony calls back out.

“I have a computer glitch, you gotta come see it! Now!”

“This better not be a repeat of the pinball incident,” Tony mutters, turning back to Bucky. “I’ll be back in five minutes, I promise.”

“Take your time, love,” Bucky responds.

Bucky then immediately wonders if he bangs his head against the column near him if Tony and Rhodey will hear it. Tony also called his…person “Rhodey-dear.” Dear! Does he even have a chance?

But this brings him to think about Rhodey. He looked familiar. Bucky’s life doesn’t consist of knowing that you know someone from a certain social event and trying to place them. No, Bucky knows people because of two reasons:

1.) He tried to kill them.

2.) SHIELD has something on them.

He’s pretty sure that if he was faced with someone like Rhodey, he wouldn’t be able to kill him. Even from the head poking out, he could see a pretty defined shoulder and a look set to his gaze that read as very competent, entirely capable of taking down an authoritarian government, and also probably likes gourmet cheeses. The last one is a guess. But Bucky likes to guess pretty damn accurately.

Rhodey…

Rhodes. Colonel James Rhodes. Close with Tony Stark, who went missing. They thought he had something to do with something. He moved to New York pretty quickly after that, refusing to go into military service to a “previously unreported mental incapacity.”

Bucky smells bullshit.

Tony Stark. Another mystery in this puzzle. Bucky remembers trying to kill Howard and Maria Stark. It was the wrong person. Winter Soldier never missed his targets. Of course, Tony Stark wasn’t the target.

Rhodey is freaking out. Someone at SHIELD figured out there was a tiny bug in the system.

“When did they hire someone competent?!” Tony whisper-yells. “I thought they were two years behind schedule!”

“We made that schedule when we were drunk out of our minds from Moscato,” Rhodey hisses.

“Still! It was Moscato. It wasn’t like we drank vodka until we were shit-faced. That would’ve ended up disastrously and possibly given Dum-E and U a new sibling before Butterfingers.”

“Butterfingers wants a baby, just so you know,” Rhodey says.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Tony asks.

“Because you know what you’re doing and I figured you should know what your daughter is up to. It’s very important in developmental psychology.”

“Do not,” Tony hisses. “Let me fix this…”

With a couple more frantic curses, one eye shut, and a yelp, the problem is (mostly) taken care of.

“You think they can trace it?”

“It’ll trace back to a random e-café,” Tony says. “And there will be Justin Hammer who is currently trying to work out why his dating profile isn’t working. I’ll give you a hint: it’s the bio and the fact that he looks like he’s going to bail on paying for your dinner.”

Rhodey smiles, shaking his head and looking out the door.

“Get back down to Barnes. Don’t let him know what this is.”

“When would I?”

“You tend to be a terrible liar around people you like.”

“Why you—!”

“Thank you for helping with the pinball machine again!” Rhodey says, throwing his voice. He shoves Tony out of the office. Tony’s cheeks are bright red, he’s flushed, and he can barely walk down the stairs.

He’s not sure what exactly happened. He knows someone found out about them, tried to trace the bug back. That simply wouldn’t do because Tony runs a legitimate business. Pays taxes on April fifteenth and everything.

“Sorry about that, emergency with a pinball machine game,” Tony says.

“Understandable,” Bucky says. “What was wrong it? A bug get in?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Tony responds, body going tense for a moment. “You want to pick out a new record?”

“Yeah, sure…”

They find out that Bucky absolutely hates the pop, almost-fake music from the fifties.

“It’s…unsettling,” Bucky says, shuddering. “Gross.”

“Let me get some Benny Goodman then,” Tony says.

“How’d you know?”

“Everyone likes his music,” Tony says. “But then again, you did say you were an old soul.”

Bucky can hear the familiar music fill the air as he hums to himself.

“Hey handsome, wanna help me with something?” Tony asks. “I have some books that need to be shelved. I was wondering if you could help?”

“No problem,” Bucky says, grinning. “Can’t reach the top shelf?”

“Why you—”

“I’m shelving!” Bucky calls, grabbing one of the boxes.

Tony thinks that no one should be attractive when they’re lifting boxes. Especially when they’re holding what is essentially about forty pounds with one arm. His left one, but still.

There is also the matter of making sure that Barnes never finds out who he is. Tony has been quite careful about that, although the “bug” comment got to him. Does he know about them? Is he playing some sort of long game?

Answer: no. Bucky got distracted by a book title that he remembers from years ago.

“I forgot I read this,” he says, smiling. “It was forever ago.”

“Old books get to you like nothing else,” Tony responds. “I grew up with Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You read that one yet?”

“Add it to the recommended box,” Bucky answers.

He has his own box now. Technically a crate, but Tony’s been putting books there for Bucky when he thinks he’s found one that he’ll like. Which of course, Bucky will like whatever book is in there if Tony chose it. He likes anything Tony chooses. He would wear the worst outfit in existence if Tony chose it.

Shelving goes by with little conversation, although they both hum along to the music being played softly over the intercoms. Tony comes and goes, helping customers with different items, brewing some more coffee, and getting some more boxes.

Bucky likes the routine.

He’s sad to go, taking his books with him and waving a soft goodbye. Tony’s leaning against the doorframe, a fond look on his face as the bookshop light floats out onto dark pavement. He wishes he could be there all the time.

And then, of course, people are in his apartment.

“Bookstore again, huh?” Steve asks. Natasha’s looking through the pile of receipts on the kitchen counter.

“You go there a lot,” she murmurs.

“I like being literate, gives me a headstart on Clint,” Bucky answers glibly.

“Even if someone liked reading this much, they wouldn’t be buying obscene amounts of books and coffee.”

“I don’t buy every book. To—the owner lets me take some home if I return them the next day.”

“You’re on a first name basis?” Natasha asks, eyebrow arched. “Just what bookstore are you going to?”

“One that’s none of your business,” Bucky says.

“It says it on top of the receipt,” Steve says.

Bucky curses.

Steve laughs at him.

#bookshop au #lovelyirony writes #sorry it took so long #i've been dealing with personal stuff and schoolwork #but now schoolwork is done #writer's block on the other hand.....#winteriron #rhodey #pepper potts #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 3: Gotten Lucky

Touya awoke with the sunrise, as he often did. He groaned as the spears of light flowing through the moth-eaten curtains played over his face, eyes fluttered as they tried to adjust to the sun. He leaned over the arm of the couch, inadvertently pushing the throw pillow to the ground, to see the light puddling across the dusty wood like slowly-spreading spilled milk. His back cracked as he arched it, and then he flopped back down against the couch, running his hand over his face. When he pulled it away, he found a smear of blood across his index finger that he’d apparently missed when showering last night.

He’d given Moe the one bed in the apartment, because he wasn’t a dick. She’d passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, filling his bedroom with quiet, peaceful snores. As he stood over her, marveling at how young and innocent she looked while she slept, he wondered yet again how she’d ended up beaten and bloodied in an alleyway. It was a question only she could answer, and if Touya had learned anything in his years on the streets, it was that you didn’t exactly gain much information trying to force people to talk.

He’d just have to wait and see, if she stuck around long enough.

Touya scrolled through the news feed on his phone, then, after finding nothing of interest, tossed it on the coffee table and reclined his arms behind his head. Damn, that was a sweet ass Porsche. That dickwad definitely didn’t deserve it, nor the drunk honeys he was sweet-talking into it. Touya’s mouth soured at the thought of how much money he could have made off the car. The worst part wasn’t the loss, really, it was that with Moe here, he couldn’t go out and make up for it. There was no way he was leaving a stranger alone in his apartment unsupervised, especially one with some sketchy past.

Ugh. I don’t want to have to borrow money from Tomura again, he thought with disgust. There was no telling the amount of interest he would charge, and Touya hated being in the guy’s debt. Last time, he’d made him transport something he was ninety percent sure was a dead body, and Touya wasn’t keen on repeating the most stressful two hours of his life. Unfortunately, the creep was pretty well-off, probably from pawning all the shit he nabbed off dead people.

Touya had some questionable acquaintances, okay? That shit came with being a deadbeat.

Touya looked up when he heard the tentative pitter-patter of feet. Moe came creeping down the hallway, looking furtively around the room, but she couldn’t see that Touya was awake from her vantage point. He remained still, a smirk playing over his lips. After a second, the girl tip-toed across the room into the kitchen, disappearing from sight. As quietly as he could, Touya slowly sat up to peer over the back of the couch, where he found her sitting on her knees on his counter to rummage through his cabinets.

“Yellow polka-dot panties? Cute,” he called, and Moe nearly fell off the counter in surprise. Scowling over her shoulder at him, she jerked the back of the tee-shirt over her rump, holding it there with one hand while she continued to rifle through his stores. Touya just crossed his arms over the back of the couch and watched her, amused. She’s a little feistier today.

“How do you live like this?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in defeat when she found nothing to suit her tastes. “You don’t have shit.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, honey.”

“Well, it looks like you didn’t choose anything,” she countered, turning to hop off the counter. The tee-shirt swished around her legs as she stomped towards him, stopping at the back of the couch to glare at him with her hands pushed primly into her hips. “I’m starving! Don’t you have anything to eat?”

“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do my grocery run because I was tending to your sweet ass,” he replied matter-of-factly, and her cheeks darkened, probably with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking away with a dour pout. Touya languidly rose from the couch, flicking a bit of her blonde hair from her face and causing Moe to gasp in affront. “Don’t be mad, sweets,” he purred. “Let me getcha somethin’ halfway-decent to wear, and then we’ll go out and get some food, okay?”

“And just where am I supposed to get clothes?” she shouted after him as he walked to his door, and he just gave her a dismissive wave before stepping out. He walked across the hall and knocked on his neighbor’s door, and he wasn’t two raps of his knuckles in before Himiko was swinging it open, causing him to nearly knock on his forehead.

“Hiya, neighbor! What can I do ya for?” she grinned brightly, and she could almost be mistaken for a cute, nice next-door neighbor if Touya didn’t know that she practiced arcane rituals and summoning spells on the weekends. To each their own, he always said, and Himiko always assured him that no bad spirits would find their way into his apartment.

“Hey, Himiko. I got a lady friend who’s in need of some clothes.”

With wide eyes, Himiko peered around his tall, lanky form to find Moe standing in the doorway, blushing while she fisted the hem of the tee-shirt. Himiko gave him a sly look, and with a blush, he hurriedly lied, “Look, she lost her luggage at the airport and I had to make do. Until they find it, she’s shit out of luck and I don’t got the money for a shoppin’ spree, so can you just loan her a few outfits for the time being?”

Either Himiko bought the fib, or she wasn’t in the mood to pry for once. Dabi didn’t care as long as she didn’t look at him like he had just gotten lucky with Moe.

“Sure thing, Dabi, dear <3 I just so happen to have a bag of goodies I was about to give to donation. She can help herself!~” Himiko grabbed a garbage bag from the entryway and passed it to him, and he grunted a “thanks” while he turned to pass it to Moe. Himiko giggled and blew them a kiss before flouncing back into her apartment, and Touya planked against the opposite wall with a groan. Even just a five-minute conversation with the girl was exhausting.

“She’s a bit weird, but she has good fashion sense,” Moe commented, and he peered through his bangs to see her holding up a tube top. “Lost luggage, huh?” she then sneered, and Touya scowled. “How long do you think that cover story will hold up?”

“Long enough. Now get dressed, I thought you were starving?”

Her stomach growling answered that question and sent her skittering back into the apartment with a shy squeal. Touya remained outside, smiling despite it all. At least she livened up the place.

There was a spring in Moe’s step as they walked out of the apartment together. A pair of dark blue skinnies hugged her legs, and her white cardigan ruffled in the breeze, along with her hair, which was piled into a bun atop her head. She flitted about, commenting about how nice the sunshine was, while Touya just strode along behind her in silence. It was nice to see her in good spirits, at least, but it was a little migraine-inducing for her to be so cheery at eight in the morning. He needed at least another four hours before he was ready to consort with such an optimist.

They walked to the supermarket, and Moe’s demeanor instantly underwent a change. As they strolled through the aisles piling TV dinners, chips, cereal, and other things into the cart, she clung to Touya like glue. Literally, she had her hands curled into the back of his shirt while she peered around him, hiding behind his frame whenever somebody walked by. It was pretty obvious that Moe didn’t want to be seen, but by whom? Well, probably whoever beat her ass in the alley and anyone associated with them.

Sensing her anxieties growing, Touya shoved a lollipop in her face.

“Eh?” she blinked, looking up at him in confusion.

“Stop worryin’,” he huffed. “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you while you’re with me.” She blinked, then smiled shyly, her posture melting like butter in a pan. She popped the plastic off the lollipop, keeping it so the cashier could scan it when they finished, and began sucking on it happily. Just like a kid, Touya thought, but more endearingly than irritatedly. She even climbed in the basket, sitting among the food items sucking her lollipop and demanding to be wheeled around.

Touya wasn’t sure why it was so easy to give into her childish demands. Perhaps it was her smile, the first genuine smile he’d seen grace her lips since he’d come across her in the alleyway, as she stuck out her arms while he pushed her around the supermarket.

Once they’d gotten home with their haul, Moe smashed two bowls of cereal before crashing on his couch, laying on her belly with her heels kicked up over her back. Bored, Touya booted up his old Nintendo to play Super Mario World, and Moe watched him for about half an hour before piping up.

“So what’s your story, Dabi?”

Without looking away from the screen, Touya offered her a smirk.

“We all got secrets, toots, and my ‘story’ is one of them,” he quipped. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her lay her cheek on her arms, her expression thoughtful while she watched the pixelated Mario run around the screen stomping Goombas.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured her, moving the character with one hand while he leaned down to grab a beer from his cooler. He popped it open and took a swig, then continued, “Don’t sweat it.”

“Mm,” was all she said, and they fell back into silence, the only noises being the clacks of the controller and the audio of the videogame. She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but he did just meet her, after all. Maybe she’d stick around, and maybe she’d catch him in a divulging mood one day. But today was not one of those days; today was one of those days where Touya pretended his life wasn’t the shit pile it was and he beat the only game he owned for the hundredth time.

“Hey, um,” she spoke up again sometime later, and from her tone of voice, he thought she was going to apologize again. He turned around, mouth open to tell her not to worry about it, but she cut him off with a shy, “Thank you.” He clamped his mouth shut, the viable skin on his face turning a bit pink. “I never thanked you, you know, for saving me.” Her red-orange eyes stared at the floor as she traced patterns into the dust. “So… Thank you. I’m sure it was a pain.”

He blinked, then smiled wanly.

“Most things in life are, toots. You just gotta roll with it.” She looked up at that, smiling slightly, and he gave her a kind look. “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t been a dick move for me to leave you like that. Contrary to what I look like, I’m not a monster.” She laughed, genuinely, and it made him feel kind of floaty and light inside, like maybe things weren’t all bad.

Maybe he’d gotten lucky with this girl after all, fluttering into his life like a butterfly on the breeze. He supposed he’d just have to stick with her and find out.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #moe kamiji #kamiji moe #burning #dabi x burnin #burnin x dabi #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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writer-k-pop · 5 years

Text

Fashion

잃어버린 조각일 수도 있어. It could be the missing piece. Description: As Ateez’s stylist, you often get their opinions on concepts and outfits. It’s something you’ve always welcomed and encourage. This is just one of those times with the creative person that is Kim HongJoong. Warning: None Genre: A day in the life Word Count: 1.5k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

My ringing phone pulls me out of my wonderful slumber. Grumpy, I roll over and pick up my phone. Squinting against the bright screen, I make out Ateez’s manager’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello?” I answer the phone, eyes still closed.

“(Y/n)?” A voice that does not belong to Ateez’s manager speaks from the other side. “Did I wake you up?”

My eyes shoot open and I pull the phone away from my face to make sure I read the caller ID right. “Who is this?” I ask.

“Hongjoong.” I now recognize the voice as the senses become more awake, “My phone is dead and I needed to ask you for something.”

“Can it wait till I get into the office, Joong?” I ask, “I spent all day yesterday stitching Mingi’s ripped shirt back together.”

“But I need your advice.” Hongjoong pouts.

“On what?” I ask, checking the clock. It’s 5am and I don’t have to be up for another two hours but I don’t think I’m getting back to bed at any time.

“I want to make a jacket for this comeback but no one will tell me what the other outfits will look like. I don’t want to make one that sticks out like a sore thumb against the others.” Hongjoong explains.

“Hongjoong, I can’t even show what the concept colors are or anything until I get to the office.” I laugh, rubbing my eyes.

“I know but you always have an idea for it and it’s fun to work with you on stuff like this.” He explains.

“So you called me at 5am to tell me that?” I laugh, surrendering to the day and getting out of bed.

“Don’t people usually get up at 5am?” He asks.

“Only people closely working next to idols do.” I tell him, dragging my feet to the kitchen for some breakfast. “Most other people don’t even stir until 8am.”

“Oh, sorry.” Hongjoong apologizes softly.

“It’s okay. I should be putting in more hours for the next concept anyway. I have a lot of work to do on it.” I ramble while putting some bread in the toaster. “When will you guys be back at the company building?”

“Uh, we have rehearsals until like noon or something and then an hourish break.” Hongjoong thinks, “Oh, manager hyung wants to talk to you.”

I nod, “Mm, okay.”

“(Y/n)?” Their actual manager’s voice asks.

“Yes, I’m here.” I answer.

“I am so sorry for waking you up.” Their manager apologizes, “I didn’t know he’d call you, he said he wanted to monitor their rehearsal from yesterday and then disappeared with my phone.”

I smile at Hongjoong’s antics, “That’s okay. I should be getting to the office anyway. I think Hongjoong wanted to see me later today if he had the time.” I mention.

“Ah, yes. After their rehearsals, I’ll send him up right away.” Their manager declares to me.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” I say goodbye and then hang up the phone.

The toast pops out of the toaster and I swipe on the butter which is quickly followed by the jam. I don’t bother to sit down to eat, so I just lean against the counter and munch away on the toast.

Looking around my apartment, I make a reminder to vacuum the living room when I get back tonight. Hanging over the arm rest of the couch is the half jean, half plaid jacket that Hongjoong begged me to get for him.

Finishing my breakfast, I move back to the bedroom to get ready to go into the office.

30 minutes later, I’m changed and picking up the things I need to bring in. Purse goes over and across the body. Mingi’s repaired shirt, Hongjoong’s jacket, and the black and white striped shirt Hongjoong asked me to combine with a black hoodie for Wooyoung are all tucked away in a bag. Turning off all the lights, I walk out of my apartment and out into the still silent world.

30 more minutes later, I stand across the street from the KQ building, waiting for the pedestrian walk sign. The streets have filled up slightly with some cars but it’s still relatively quiet. When the sign turns green, I scuttle along the crosswalk, my bags are starting to weigh down on me.

Walking through the main lobby, I greet the receptionist and head to the elevators that will take me up to my office.

Walking into my office, I set the bag down on the table and maneuver around the 8 mannequins scattered around the room to reach my desk. Tucking my purse away, I log into the computer to check a few emails. After deciding that there’s nothing important going on, I move to the bag of clothes I brought, lay the items out, and begin to work on this round of concept outfits.

Before I know it, another stylist comes knocking, asking to join her for lunch.

I apologize and decline, while pinning an accessory onto a jacket. Giving myself a five minute break, I sit down in front of my computer and start searching for more clothing items to play around with.

A knock at my door makes my ears perk up but doesn’t interest me enough to turn around. A pair of boots on my computer screen has my full attention.

“Come in!” I yell to whoever is at the door.

“(Y/n)?” I hear a male voice ask, “I’ve brought Hongjoong up for you.”

Hearing his name, I immediately pull my attention away from the boots.

“Yes, he can come in.” I stand and walk towards the door.

Ateez’s manager nods his head and moves aside to allow an excited Hongjoong into the room.

“Woah.” Hongjoong breathes out looking at the mannequins in the room. “Are these ours?” He asks, reaching out to touch Jongho’s jacket.

“Careful.” I caution him, “The accessories haven’t been sewed on yet.”

Hongjoong retracts his hand but continues to admire the clothing.

“Do you only have these ones?” He asks, moving onto Mingi’s mannequin.

“Oh no, I have like five other sets in the wardrobe room downstairs.” I tell him, watching him admire the work. I sit down at the table with my laptop, “You wanted some advice?”

“Yeah,” He suddenly remembers why he came up here and sits down kitty-corner from me. “So I have an idea for this jacket but it wouldn’t be for the title track, it’d be for the B-Side track.”

“Okay. This is what I have conceptualized so far for the B side track.” I tell him and pull up the concept boards on my laptop. “So I far I only have these four but the other two will be along those lines.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen and he reaches for my laptop. “Woah, how long have you been working on these?”

I lean back in my chair, “Mm, like all the outfits or just the B-side track outfits?”

“All of them.” He says nodding to the mannequins.

“Uhm, it’s been six months?” I think back. “Yeah, six months.”

“Only six months?” Hongjoong shakes his head, “You’re good.”

I wave my hand at him in disagreement, “Anyway, what was your idea for the jacket?”

Hongjoong nods and pulls out a sketch from his back pocket. I look over the sketch and nod in amazement. “This actually already fits pretty well with the concepts.”

“But?” Hongjoong probes.

“But it still needs a bit of work.” I finish, laying the sketch on the table. “I can fit it into the next line of outfits for the track. Once I get those started, I’ll let you know so that you can add the finishing touches to it.”

“You mean you’ll add it in?” He asks, giddily.

“Of course. You always make really creative and cool pieces so why wouldn’t I put it in?” I tell him. “Honestly, never hesitate to show me things you make. You never know, it could be the missing piece we need to finish the concepts.” I shrug.

Hongjoong nods excitedly. “I’ll organize my ideas too, so it’ll be easier to view and understand.”

“That would be lovely.” I smile.

He checks his phone and immediately stands up. “Ah, I’m late to rehearsals.” Hongjoong bows and begins to make his way out of my office when I remember his clothing items that are hanging in the closet.

“Hongjoong!” I call out and he turns to me, “I almost forgot these.” I quickly pull his jacket and the modified sweatshirt out.

“Ah, you found it?” Hongjoong’s eyes light up when he sees the jacket. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I laugh and hand the items over.

“Wooyoung’s gonna love this.” Hongjoong says holding the two pieces in front of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He repeats.

“You’re welcome, now go to rehearsals before we get in trouble.” I joke and wave him towards the door.

Hongjoong scurries towards the door and leaves with one more thank you.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez hongjoong #ateez hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong imagine

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bronzeflower · 5 years

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Present Mic Merch

Also on ao3

Chapter 1: Five

-----

1: Coffee Mug

Everyone knew that Aizawa had a Present Mic brand coffee mug.

It wasn't all that strange. Most of Class 2-A just assumed that Present Mic himself gave it to Aizawa as a gag gift, but Aizawa chose to use it because it was practical to or because it was the one he kept in the office. There was no reason to keep a coffee cup if you didn't use it.

The strangeness came from when it was dropped and shattered to many pieces on the ground. This in of itself wasn't all that strange, and the shards were soon picked up and thrown away while the leftover coffee was easily wiped up.

What was strange was when Aizawa walked in the next day with a different Present Mic brand coffee cup.

This one was a lot more noticeable. Aizawa's normal mug was white with a simple "Put Your Hands Up!" written on it in black, along with a drawing of a microphone. It was simple, practical, and didn't draw too much attention to itself.

This new mug was bright yellow with a chibi Present Mic on it next to bright and bubbly letters that spelled out "Banana Dreamer."

No one said anything about it. But they noticed. And they also noticed when Aizawa came in two days later with a brand new mug that was identical to his old on.

Nobody said anything. But they talked amongst themselves about it, wondering about it.

Perhaps the mug wasn't a gag gift at all.

2: Sunglasses

Class 2-A was taking a trip to the beach for training. It was supposed to be an event where they practiced using their skills and quirks in difficult terrain, but they also got breaks to just have fun in the sun.

This meant swimsuits and sunglasses and sandcastles and everything else people brought to the beach.

Midoriya was wearing his All Might brand swim trunks and was going over to see if Kouda and Tokoyami wanted any assistance with their sandcastle when he noticed something odd about Aizawa.

Now, Aizawa was basically the same as always, trying to take a nap under an umbrella, even if he was wearing a striped black and gray 1920s swimsuit. But there was something else Aizawa was wearing that caught Midoriya's attention.

Aizawa had Present Mic brand sunglasses. It was one of the subtler designs, but Midoriya was a true hero otaku, and he could recognize them from a mile away.

After Tokoyami confirmed that they would need some seaweed, Midoriya took to the ocean where Uraraka and Todoroki were.

"Guys, Aizawa-sensei is wearing Present Mic sunglasses," Midoriya kept his voice low as he rummaged the sea for broken off bits of seaweed.

"Seriously?" Uraraka gasped in surprise. "I didn't even notice. That's so weird!"

"I know right? It's totally unexpected! I mean, I get the mug and all, but sunglasses?"

"But he did replace the mug," Uraraka pointed out. "It would be hard to believe that Mic-sensei gave the same exact one as a gag gift. What do you think, Todoroki?"

Todoroki thought deeply.

"Maybe...Aizawa-sensei collects Present Mic merchandise."

"Wha? But I can't really imagine it at all," Midoriya said.

The three of them collectively imagined Aizawa having a room filled to the brim with Present Mic merch.

"No way, no way he does that!" Uraraka insisted. "He just seems like too much of a guy whose place is completely empty and devoid of anything except a bed."

Midoriya nodded furiously.

"Mic-sensei and Aizawa-sensei are good friends though, right?" Todoroki asked. "So Aizawa-sensei might be trying to support Present Mic by purchasing his merchandise."

"That's...actually kind of cute," Uraraka gushed.

"I feel like it's way more possible that that's the case. It's still difficult to think that Aizawa-sensei has a lot of merch, but I suppose it would make sense if the miscellaneous practical items he has are Present Mic brand."

"Do you think he has Present Mic brand pencils?" Todoroki questioned, which made Midoriya and Uraraka burst out laughing before Midoriya suddenly had a very serious face.

"Wait...he might...Present Mic brand pencils look the same as regular pencils except for the label by the No. 2 says Present Mic."

"...Do you think that's why he never lets anyone borrow pencils?"

They laughed at the concept, Midoriya got the seaweed for Kouda and Tokoyami's really awesome sandcastle, and they didn't think more of it.

3: Cats and Clothing

It was always terrible to run into your teacher in the grocery store. Kouda knew this more than most because he didn't particularly care for talking, and it was infinitely more awkward to engage in conversation with a teacher.

It was also terrible when they expected him to actually talk.

So when Kouda saw Aizawa in the grocery store looking at different brands of cat food, he was completely ready to turn the other direction and never come to that store ever again.

Except that Aizawa was looking ever so intensely at the cat food, and Kouda was ever the animal lover, so Kouda nervously tapped Aizawa on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Oh, Kouda," Aizawa greeted. "What do you need?"

"Ah, well," Kouda flustered before signing. 'Are you trying to figure out which cat food to buy?'

Kouda was expecting Aizawa to just kind of stare or inform him that he didn't understand sign language, but to his surprise, Aizawa turned towards him more fully to sign back at Kouda, which also revealed that Aizawa was wearing a "Put Your Hands Up Radio" t-shirt, the one where the words were surrounded by a pair of headphones.

'The brand I usually buy was discontinued,' Aizawa explained. 'And my cats are kind of picky.'

'How many cats do you have?' Kouda asked.

'Three.'

'I'd get one of the higher-end brands like this one,' Kouda stopped signing to point to the brand he often used to feed stray cats he found. 'Mind if I ask what the names of your cats are?'

'Jelly, Sofa, and Present Meow,' Aizawa answered.

'What do they look like,' Kouda said, but internally thought about how he didn't imagine Aizawa picking those kinds of names for his cats. It was just unexpectedly cute.

It was also a little strange that one of them was named after Present Mic, but Kouda wasn't going to point that out.

Aizawa brought out his phone and showed a few photos of the cats to Kouda.

Jelly was a white cat with large black spots who was very fluffy and was apparently very cuddly. Sofa was a light brownish color with a missing ear who was ready to play at all times. And Present Meow was a ginger cat who was missing his tail and was also very loud and whiny when he wasn't getting attention.

'They're very cute. It looks like you take good care of them,' Kouda signed, and Aizawa gave a proud smile.

'Thanks for the help. I'll see you at school.'

With that, Aizawa grabbed the cat food and walked away, which revealed the fact that the jeans he was wearing were also Present Mic brand due to the microphone stitched on the back pocket of the jeans.

Kouda told Tokoyami later, and while Tokoyami was skeptical of the outfit Aizawa was wearing, he understood Kouda wasn't one to lie.

4: Music Album

Jirou was overwhelmed.

Present Mic had recently released a new album, and it seemed that every single Present Mic fan in Japan had come to Beatz and Bopz, the music store Jirou's parents owned and where Jirou worked part-time.

It was probably due to the fact that Beatz and Bopz had received five hundred signed copies of Present Mic's latest album, and that meant they were prime hero memorabilia.

Jirou wouldn't admit it, but she purchased one for herself before she opened the store. Present Mic was her favorite hero. She knew she could have gotten one of the normal ones and then gotten her teacher to sign it, but it was just way too weird to ask.

Jirou expected the onslaught of people who were willing to pay extra for a signed copy. She expected the cosplayers, the rockers, the generally music inclined, and the general hero otakus.

She wasn't even all that surprised when Midoriya showed up, even if she was pretty sure he preferred All Might over Present Mic although she guessed he was a huge fan of all heroes.

What Jirou wasn't expecting was when Aizawa walked in to buy the CD.

Jirou had seen the line out there when she went to open the store. It went past the block. Aizawa absolutely had to have stood in line for several hours to get exclusive rights to one of the five hundred signed copies of the album "Living Louder."

Jirou didn't have time to comment. She was too busy trying to do crowd control, so she rung up Aizawa without complaint, who didn’t buy just one, but two, and he left as soon as he came, seemingly content with not saying anything about the reason he purchased the album, much less two of them.

"Aizawa showed up to Beatz and Bopz to buy the new Present Mic album," Jirou said to the Bakusquad after the fact.

"So?" Bakugou asked in his usual angry tone.

“So,” Jirou countered. “He bought the signed version. Two of them.”

“What!?” Kaminari exclaimed. “He did!? I tried to get one but didn’t get there early enough! He must have been standing out there for hours!”

“Yeah, and why would he buy two?” Kirishima questioned.

“Obviously he got one for someone else!” Ashido theorized. “It’d be weird otherwise, right?”

“Why didn’t he just buy two of the unsigned album and then get it signed by Present Mic?” Bakugou asked. “It’s stupid to pay the extra if you could get it for free.”

“Probably the same reason why I didn’t just ask Present Mic-sensei to sign one. It’s too weird,” Jirou explained. Ashido nodded in agreement.

“It’s weird to ask,” Sero repeated, agreeing.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird, dumbasses!” Bakugou shouted.

Shinsou walked into the room and looked over to the Bakusquad, his gaze fixated on Kaminari, who grinned when he noticed him.

“Hitoshi!” Kaminari hollered, practically yeeting himself off the couch and into Shinsou’s arms. Shinsou, of course, caught him and returned the kiss thrusted upon him by Kaminari.

“Hey,” Shinsou greeted, a little smile on his face.

“Stop being gross!” Bakugou yelled.

“You’re just jealous!” Kaminari teased before turning his attention back to Shinsou. “How’s it going, babe?”

“Well enough,” Shinsou lightly lowered Kaminari back to a standing position. “I got something for you.”

Shinsou’s hand was on the back of his neck, and he had a light flush on his cheeks.

“Oh?”

Shinsou reached into his pocket and pulled out a signed copy of the newest Present Mic album, “Living Louder.”

“Here,” Shinsou was basically looking anywhere but Kaminari. “My Dad’s a pretty big fan of Present Mic, so I asked him to get a second album for you if he managed to get there in time.”

Kaminari delicately took the CD from Shinsou, staring at it in awe.

“Really?” Kaminari glanced up from the CD to look at Shinsou. “You’re really okay with me having this?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shinsou dared to look back at Kaminari, who pretty much immediately pulled Shinsou back into a kiss.

“Get a room!” Bakugou yelled, which the rest of the squad adamantly agreed with for once.

“Y’all are so gross,” Sero commented. Kaminari laughed at that, but he and Shinsou did actually go get a room where they went to go be gross outside of the eyeshot of others.

5: Hero Convention

Uraraka’s birthday was coming up, so Asui was searching for a present for her. It was still a little ways away, but Asui wanted to give her a gift before the winter break since she probably wouldn’t be able to see Uraraka during her actual birthday.

This search for a gift landed her at a hero convention because Asui knew that Thirteen was Uraraka’s favorite hero, but she didn’t necessarily always have the money to get merchandise for them, so Asui figured some kind of Thirteen merchandise would be well received.

Asui was also a practical gift giver, so the Thirteen brand jackets seemed like a perfect choice, especially since Uraraka’s current jacket looked a little worse for wear.

She opted to walk around the convention after finding the gift and getting it wrapped.

While she did, she noticed Aizawa.

“Hello, Aizawa-sensei,” Asui greeted, being close enough to him that seeing and greeting him in public wasn’t all that strange.

“Ah, hello, Asui,” Aizawa responded, looking up from the Present Mic figures he was observing. “What brings you here?”

“Ochaco’s birthday is coming up,” Asui explained. “I’m getting her a Thirteen jacket, Kero.”

Aizawa nodded.

“Practical.”

It was a little difficult to not preen at the praise, or, at the very least, something very close to praise for Aizawa.

“What about you, Sensei?” Asui questioned. “What are you here for?”

“I’m only telling you because I don’t think it’ll undermine my authority too much if I tell you,” Aizawa stated, voice suddenly serious. “And I don’t think anyone will believe you if I do tell you.”

“So what are you here for?” Asui was listening very carefully to the next words Aizawa said, especially as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“A new Present Mic figurine was released, and I heard that you could get it at this convention,” Aizawa confessed.

“Why do you want it?” Asui asked. Aizawa’s cheeks went a little pink as he answered.

“I’m his number one fan. What else, kid?”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Asui said, and Aizawa gave her one of his terrible and slightly terrifying grins.

“I know you won’t.”

And with that, they went their separate ways, and Asui kept her word.

#erasermic #shinkami #aizawa shouta #kaminari denki #shinsou hitoshi #eraserhead #bnha #my hero academia #asui tsuyu #uraraka ochaco #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #kouda kouji #bakusquad #jirou kyouka

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popliar · 5 years

Text

Ateez in Seoul, 8 and 9 February 2020

Olympic Hall at Olympic Park

No one will believe this but I actually had my holiday with @flywithturtles planned before I knew the dates coincided with Ateez's Seoul concert dates. But it's true! I have the WhatsApp conversations to prove it!! Anyway I secured the tickets and all was well.

This is the first concert I've been to where they were handing out masks, making sure everyone had hand sanitizer and checking temperatures as you entered. Haha. Well they also checked our temperature going into the Line Friends store that day so, that's corona virus life. I was actually really worried the concerts would be cancelled, given so many other events have been, so it was a relief that it went ahead.

Structurally this is the same as the show I saw in August last year, after Wave/Illusion: starting hard with pirates, a lighter middle section, and a mythology-heavy last third. And then the encore which went for ages.

What's great to see is that the gaps and pacing downsides of the previous year have been corrected and improved. The pacing has been tightened up, the banter and ments flow much more smoothly and the show just feels very professional and well run.

Here's my post about last year's show: https://popliar.tumblr.com/post/187095347758/ateez-in-sydney-11-aug-2019

It's a shock to realise they've only been around one year four months but they were able to fill out a full 2.5 hour set, every song solid. And KQ spent proper money on this, the production was good - it's not like LAVISH but there were good stages and fancy screens and new VCRs and plenty of back up dancers, and it all worked well. There were maybe too many fireworks on the first night (I hate it when it obstructs the choreo) but they'd adjusted well on the second night.

Surprising but welcome - they had English subs for some of the ments. I don't think they were "live" subs because sometimes they'd get ahead of what the members were saying. But it was helpful. Even without them, body language and tone says a lot. Though I'm regretful that I don't understand Seonghwa's acrostic poems or all of their stupid jokes lol.

The show is called Fellowship and they leaned into it hard, asking Atiny to be part of their shared journey and to stick with them forever. It's a familiar refrain from other shows, but each time I find it both surprising and effective - this very overt, explicitly stated entreaty to be a fan, to enter into this imagined relationship, the appeal to reciprocity. "We've made you happy, make us happy too, be with us and we'll be with you."

But you can know a thing and it can still be effective. I did love the shows. I want them to be happy too!

A list of observations and random things:

Spoilers follow, I'd put it behind a cut but I can't figure out how on mobile haha

OK REALLY SPOILERS NOW

-first VCR to open the show expanded on the Treasure theme.

-Desire opens with blindfold choreo. Was this a gift for me? THANK U.

-for Lights, they had cute moments where they held up little speech bubbles over each others heads. They paired up with Hongjoong and Mingi, San and Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Yunho, and Yeosang and Jongho. Both nights, Woosan held hands. On the second night Yunho held Seonghwa's hand and Seonghwa was like a shy maiden. Mingi and Hongjoong had very strong flirty energy. Yeosang and Jongho are cute.

-the VCR in between part 1 pirates and part 2 fun boys showed what felt like a series of different dimensions? An ocean, a mountain, fields of flowers, cosmic surrealism, etc. As though each of them was alone somewhere in time and space.

-During If without you, they threw out balls to the crowd as gifts (mini riots ensued). Mingi put the empty basket on his head both nights, what a beautiful fool.

-Night 1 was the first time with the light stick! Hongjoong announced its official name: Lightiny (light of destiny) but also Tinybong lololol. The light stick is super pretty. I was tempted but didn't have time the first night. The second night it was sold out when I arrived!!!

-The VCR in between parts 2 and 3 is the really intriguing one. It paired them up into the Lights pairs again. Yeosang and Jongho searched for each other in a hall of billowing drapes. Mingi and Hongjoong were rockstars (with great lipstick). San and Wooyoung were mirrorverse versions of each other. Yunho and Seonghwa put together the pieces of a puzzle in a set that reminded me of both Treasure and Wonderland.

-In the intro to Say My Name on the first night, Hongjoong went halfway down the stairs then turned around, went back and grabbed his mic, then went down again lol. The second night he very firmly took his mic before descending the stairs lol.

-The final VCR before the encore showed them uncovering items on pedestals as though in a museum: a camera, a gramophone, a painting, a book of poetry by Yeats... Then they all created a painting together. When viewed through a red screen (like the puzzles in their albums) the pattern revealed a compass. They then all showed their wrists to reveal each had a compass tattoo.... WHAT IS THIS OT8 SOULMARK FIC!!!!!

-They said they had planned for every audience member to have this compass stamp (the Fellowship again) but it was cancelled due to health concerns. But we could see it with our true eyes, right???? On the second night, the 99s swarmed Seonghwa at this point to try to look down his shirt. I see. I see. (Later on Hongjoong also tried to peek into Mingi's shirt also fine just fine.)

-Early in the show Hongjoong said there would be clues through the show about the next steps in their concept/narrative. The hourglass and compass were very recurrent but these are not new. Hmm. I wonder.

-In one ment on night 1, Jongho spoke to all his hyungs informally and it was HILARIOUS. He did something similar on the second night, patting Yunho on the head and pinching Wooyoung's chin etc.

-During Star 1117 on the first night, Hongjoong and San started crying. Then in the following ment, they and Yunho and Wooyoung were crying, and Seonghwa and Jongho were teary. Yunho cried so hard (missing his grandfather!) that during Hongjoong's ment, Mingi quietly went over and gave him a towel. There were like five members in between that he passed to give him the towel, it was so sweet I'll cry. Night 2 felt more joyful and upbeat.

-Some ppl really left way too early like before the encore. The encore is half an hour long omg! You missed out on so many songs!!!!!

-On night 1 between main set and encore the crowd didn't quite know what to do. Huge kudos to the fans who led some cheers otherwise it would have been so quiet. Second night was better and also they kept the light sticks on while we were waiting which added to the atmosphere.

-They didn't sell a couple of sections in the hall at all, they were curtained off. It's interesting to think BTS had their first Muster here at around the same point in their careers. Like BTS, Ateez too are more popular globally than at home. They were beaten quite handily in voting on music shows by SF9 this comeback, who are more popular at home than internationally.

-It is great being in a huge fandom like BTS but also you know this is actually a great time to stan a group like Ateez. They're big enough to be exciting and have good shows, they are interesting and still developing, they're still playing intimate venues... They're good!!!!!

-A few of them had fake neck tattoos. San helpfully labeled himself "San" on the second night lol.

-Hongjoong briefly went off stage during sunrise On night 2. Hopefully just a technical issue.

-Treasure and Precious choreo start and end in the same place, echoing their musical connection.

-They had different encore outfits for Answer each night, before changing into hoodies. On night 2, Yeosang saw some of the others had scarves/banners tucked into their back pockets and was like "where's mine????" Instead of a banner, Yunho had a baseball cap. Seonghwa took his off and Hongjoong tied it around Seonghwa's wrist.

-For Star 1117, everyone held up their mobile phone lights. On night 2, San repeated the request in English too. Very pretty to see all the lights.

-On second night, Seonghwa and San got their mics and necklace tangled up during a ment lol.

Setlist:

(Intro)

Win

Horizon

Pirate King

(Introduction ment)

Medley: Twilight, Stay, My Way

Light

Mist

Desire

(VCR)

Illusion

Crescent

Wave

Sunrise

(Ment, lightstick announcement)

If without you

Aurora

Utopia

(VCR)

Say My Name

Dazzling Light

Hala Hala

Treasure

Precious

Wonderland

Encore:

(VCR)

Answer

(Ment)

Thank u

Star 1117

(Ment)

Promise

Dancing like butterfly wings

Setlist from: https://twitter.com/updateez/status/1226112679728812032?s=19

#ateez #ateez in seoul #200208 #200209 #concerts #actually using tumblr as a blog how strange #kpop

23 notes · View notes

corescorner · 5 years

Text

Charmberry Cove Chapter Three.

Chapter Title: Thrift Store Shopping Shenanigans.

Wordcount: 3,627

AO3

Ch1. Ch2.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

“Alright gang” Thomas announces, clapping his hands together getting everyone to look his way. They're standing in front of the thrift store, Thomas is at the front of the four of them holding their attention “I'm going to be back here in about an hour to get you, so be ready for around-” he looks at his phone “-three, three thirty at the latest, I'll text Patton when I'm here.”

Logan however, already knew this. He had his watch set for three seventeen since this morning.

“Everybody get that?” Thomas asks making them all chorus a 'yes' in varying tones. He seems satisfied with that, so he gets back into his car and drives off leaving the four of them to themselves.

Remus is the first to move.

“Well let's get the fuck in there!” He declares, pushing his way through the door.

They file in after Remus, Patton grabs a cart for them to share.

“So what are we doing first?” Patton asks the group.

“Well, we should probably get what we are here for and if we have enough time, look around at anything else we might want to purchase” Logan suggests.

“To the clothes then!” Roman says leading the way, an arm up pointing in the direction of the clothing section.

They stop right at the edge of the first row of clothing racks now looking around at another loss of where to start, so Logan asks: “what specifically are you looking for and how much do you have in spending money?”

“I need a whole new wardrobe and I have like fifty bucks” Remus replies.

Okay, this is going to be slightly more challenging, he was certain Remus had more money than that.

“I've got you covered for anything you're missing Bro” Roman interjects.

Ah, that makes more sense now, he knew he wasn't wrong.

“Should we split up and pick out anything we think you'd enjoy or would you prefer us all to stay together?” Logan turns to ask Remus.

“Oh! The first one sounds like fun! Wow me plebs!” Remus exclaims.

“It'll be like a fashion show!” Roman says excitedly.

“Oooh fun” Patton claps.

Well, it seems like that is what they're going with. He's not surprised.

It had the higher probability level of the two after all.

They separate, Logan goes straight for the button up shirts, knowing Patton will go towards the sweaters and Roman to the shoes first.

And Remus... Well Remus is harder to pinpoint, his probability doesn't exactly work well with Remus' random and sporadic thought process.

It is nice sometimes though, to have someone he can't predict the next actions of. It's one of the reasons he enjoys Remus' companionship.

Remus dose surprise him by following him instead of going off on his own.

“I thought we were splitting up?” He asks the other, Remus flails his arms up in a loose shrugging motion.

“You'll probably find the best stuff” he says factually, “ya know, on the account of your psychicness an junk” he waggles his fingers in Logan's face.

“I'm not psychic Remus” he informs while adjusting his glasses. “I just know the probabilities of certain outcomes and the percentages of each possibility before it happens so I can properly assess the situations at hand from the probable outcomes it provides me.”

“Assess this” Remus says shoving him lightly, “nerd” he tacks on affectionately.

Logan smiles as he stumbles, fixing his glasses as he rights himself.

“Shall we get started?”

“You tell me Mr. 'I know things before they happen'.”

Logan sighs. “That's not exactly how it works, there's more to it than just knowing.”

“Whatever! Start looking for clothes Nerdy Wolverine.”

So that's what they do, Logan picks up items and instead of using his probability to calculate the items he simply turns to Remus for confirmation; it's relaxing.

Some items that he shows he knows for a fact that Remus would never wear and he doesn't need his probability to tell him that, he does it on purpose to see Remus laugh out at the suggestions that are obviously not his style.

It's fun. Logan is having fun.

They have a handful of potential shirts as they finish that row; they make their way to the next aisle, when a rack metaphorically catches his eye.

He walks up to the stand of different ties, Remus follows.

“Only serious people wear neck ties Lo.”

“Yes, you are quite right. I might get one for myself.”

“Blue” Remus says making Logan blink in confusion. Blue?

“Pardon?” He asks, looking at Remus looking at the ties.

“Blue” he repeats as he points at a specific tie. “It's your colour” he explains.

“Blue is my colour? How so?”

“Suits you” he simply says. “That darker one up there” he waves his pointing hand to get Logan to look at it then jumps for it and trips in the process; taking the whole stand down with him.

“Are you alright?” Logan slowly asks.

There are ties everywhere, and there's also a large cut on the side of Remus' cheek, but he has a wide triumphant smile plastered on his face so Logan supposes his friend is alright. Remus holds up the tie that he's clutching, it's the one that he jumped for.

“I got it bitches!” He yells as a worker rushes towards the commotion frantically.

“We are quite sorry for the disturbance; we’ll get out of your way.” Logan hauls Remus away from the puddle of ties and the disgruntled worker who mutters 'fuckin children' under their breath.

Well then.

“Here!” Remus happily declares, thrusting the tie at Logan.

He takes the tie. Yes he does think blue will suit him just fine.

“You're bleeding” he states, “we should wash that out in the bathroom.”

Remus flaps his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Nah I got it” he says, wiping the blood on to his sleeve.

Or rather, Roman's sleeve.

“Roman is not going to be happy about that” Logan muses.

“Did your probability thingy tell you that?” Remus mocks.

“No, common sense did” Logan snarks.

~0~

Patton goes to the sweaters to begin with, cause who doesn't like a warm snugly sweater?

No one that's flippin who.

He knows kinda what he's looking for, he knows that Remus' favourite colour is green and that his sense of style is unique.

Though, he does wear a lot of Roman's more baggy and comfortable clothes, so he'll go for those.

He picks out several sweaters, most of them having green accents and funky designs on them, before moving on to the next aisle.

He looks up from his search to see Roman five rows down with his own basket filled with an abundance of items he’s heading towards the jackets at the other end with a shine in his eye.

He looks over to where Logan and Remus are to the far left of the jackets that Roman is perusing.

They both have an arm full of items, engaged in what looks like a playful conversation. Remus laughs, Logan smirks.

Well, they're having fun.

He continues the clothes hunt, picking up random things that he wants for himself as well, like this really cute long grey knitted sweater with little blue stars all over it.

He startles, jumping a bit when he hears a loud crash around the area he last saw Remus and Logan.

He hopes they're alright, he goes to investigate the commotion.

He sees Remus wipe blood onto the hoodie sleeve he's wearing and he panics at the sight of the blood.

“Oh my gosh! What happened are you okay?” He rushes over, trying to push out a soothing aura as best as he can at the moment.

“Peachy keen Papa!” Remus smiles.

“You should clean your face” he worriedly suggests.

“That's what I said.” “That's what he said!” they chorus at same time.

“Who said what?” Roman asks as he saunters towards them and continues without waiting for an answer like he didn't even ask the question to begin with. “I heard a ruckus and assumed it was my brothers doing, do I need to apologize to anyone?”

“Nooo” Remus says indignantly.

“I already did” Logan supplies, then looks at his watch. “We have a little over half an hour before Thomas arrives, we should decide what we're getting.”

Everyone nods as they dump all of the items they've accumulated into the cart Patton has been pushing around, Roman even drops his basket in.

“To the changing rooms!” Roman declares leading the way.

~0~

Roman goes right for the shoe racks to begin with, he knows Remus needs another pair and he has a vague outline of a specific outfit in mind if he can find the right items, and a pair of boots got his attention from across the room, so shoes first.

Remus was right yesterday, even if they had a bunch of money to spend they would still be going to the thrift store, Roman thrives here with all the treasures you can uncover and all the differing styles.

He goes from aisle to aisle and back again to aisles he's already been in to grab things he didn't think would work at first to pick them back up, in the end he figures the more Remus tries on the more he can find what he wants.

He needs a basket.

Dumping everything into an abandoned hand basket he looks up towards the back racks of jackets and a shine catches his eye that he just zeros in on it, marching up to it intent on getting it.

Taking it off the rack his eyes rove over it. Oh yes, this is definitely Remus' aesthetic.

He hears a loud crashing and rolls his eyes. That would probably be Remus; he should go check on that.

“Okay, so I got you things I know you'll like and also things I think you should wear” Roman says as they get to the changing area.

He pushes his brother into a stall “you go in there and we'll hand you things!”

They hand Remus outfits, if it fits he shows them, some items are not... great, Roman will admit, liking something on the rack and seeing them worn are two different things entirely.

Some of the clothing Remus comes out with are really nice, and he makes jiggy movements when he likes a specific piece.

This happens for a while longer until Roman hands him The Outfit. Saving it for last, of course!

“What the fuck?” Roman hears his brother whisper with amusement “Ro, what the fuck is this?”

“I don't know.” He so knows.

“This is definitely your doing isn't it?”

“Maybe, we won’t know until you come out.”

Patton looks worried, Logan looks curious.

“Roman?” Patton starts in a low tone.

“Don't worry Padre, it's nothing he'll be uncomfortable in, trust me.”

Patton looks slightly unsure but nods.

Roman feels a wave of calm wash over them anyway. Patton's way of saying 'it’s okay' directed in Remus' direction.

“Fiiine” Remus says pushing the door open and stepping out.

Who knew they made clothes like this for young teens?

Remus has his arms stretched out from his sides as he does a spin like he has done for all the other outfits.

The outfit, Roman must congratulate himself is simply amazing.

The jacket Remus is wearing is form fitting but not tight, the collar fans out and the ruffles lining the shoulder and cuffs aren't ugly like most ruffles tend to be and the jacket is also imbued with shiny green sparkles everywhere.

The shirt is slightly baggy with intentional rips throughout in a deep green colour; the collar is dipped, but not too low.

The pants are worn leather, but not clingy or tight, just the right amount of slack; covering up to his knees are a pair of punk boots.

Roman makes a note to buy neon green laces for them.

“Woooow” Patton breathes out.

Logan adjusts his glasses with a throat clearing. “Yes, 'wow' indeed Patton.”

Roman thinks Logan might be a tad flustered. Though, he would probably never admit that. You know cause: 'Roman, I do not have those types of feelings, stop asking'.

Whatever Nerd.

He can see a blush from Remus at Logan's agreement. Well, not much can do that, good for you Calculator Watch.

Roman whistles appreciatively.

“I love it” Remus says.

“Of course you do, I chose it” Roman boasts, hand fanned out towards his chest. “If I knew how good we look in leather I would have already gotten some for myself” he tacks on.

~0~

Remus decides he likes this style, he was already kinda leaning towards it, but this solidifies it for him.

The jacket is sparkly and the pants are weirdly comfortable.

He also looks pretty bad ass and judging from the others reactions, they agree.

He's definitely going to incorporate this more into the rest of his clothes buying decisions.

That was also the last outfit they had for him to try on. Of course leave it to Roman to save it for last, the fuckin drama king.

He changes back into the clothes he came in. Roman hasn't noticed the bloody sleeve yet.

He picks up the 'yes' pile of clothes and they all head to the cash.

He ends up with three sweaters, two jackets, seven pants, eight shirts, four button up shirts a pair of converse and the boots.

Rather good haul today.

They're in line to pay as Logan's watch goes off at the same time Patton's phone dings.

Not psychic his ass.

“Thomas is here” Patton announces. “I'll just tell him we're almost done.” He says as he texts.

The total comes out to be much more than the fifty three that Remus has. Roman stays true to his promise to spot Remus the remaining amount.

Roman is too good for him honestly.

All of them are, he doesn't deserve them.

Patton snaps his head towards Remus with a concerned look.

Right, no self-deprecation around the living emotion detector.

Gathering all their bags they file out of the store, walking to Thomas' car; the trunk is already open for them to dump their newly acquired shit in.

As they climb into the car- sitting in the same seats as they did coming down- Thomas asks: “Have fun?”

“So much fun!” Patton pipes up “Remus gave us a little fashion show and he got so many cool clothes! And I even got some new stuff too!”

“That does sound fun” Thomas agrees “hey you guys hungry? I bought some snacks” he says handing Patton a lemonade and a large oatmeal chocolate chip cookie.

Thrusting a convenience store bag into the back for the rest of them, Remus takes it being the one sitting in the middle seat.

It's clear that Thomas knows what they like.

It makes sense the man practically raised them alongside their parents after all.

Roman gets a small bag of sweet and salty popcorn with an iced tea.

He hands Logan the water bottle and yoghurt/fruit/granola mix cup thing.

And he gets Mountain Dew Red and one of those individually packaged large pickles.

No doubt on who's was who's that's for sure.

Thomas starts the car after they buckle up and drives in the general direction of home.

That's the only way you can go when you wanna get into The Cove, just go in its general direction, vaguely knowing where to go. You'll eventually get there if it accepts you.

The drive was quiet while they ate for the most part. Remus did make some innuendos with his pickle, making loud gross noises until Thomas told him to stop.

“Remus, buddy. Please, enough with the noises okay?” He asks, but in that way adults ask which really means 'shut up'.

He did notice that it was annoying Roman on how his twin was crunching on his popcorn, and making Patton uncomfortable if the forced calm aura was anything to go by.

Logan is the only one who seems like he's not fazed by it.

Fine. He'll stop.

The rest of the drive was filled with light chatter and laughter, mainly from the brothers up front.

Roman and Logan do interject every now and then to get into the conversation.

Patton tells them about his new friend that he was helping yesterday, but Remus isn't listening...

He stays uncharacteristically quiet. Roman shoots him looks every once in a while.

What's wrong with him?

Whatever, his thoughts are enough for him to concentrate on right now, too loud to distinguish between what's being said and what he's thinking, so he stays quiet.

He doesn't know where this mood came from, but does he ever?

The answer is no. His brain does whatever the fuck it wants.

They just had a fun day! Stop being stupid!

He can feel Patton trying to calm him, but he pushes against it as best as he can, he doesn't want that right now.

Patton's wince at the push back obviously hurt his feelings but so what, he shouldn't be forcing that shit on people anyway!

Uuuuugh, why is he like this. He knows Patton is just trying to help!

Well, fuck him then huh?

Jeeze Remus, shut up.

He needs a distraction. That would be nice right now. He looks to Logan, who is conversing with Thomas and Patton.

Well, that idea is fucked into the ground.

So what, he'll just... deal with his thoughts.

Nothing new.

They get to The Cove within forty five ish minutes, the sun already going down as it does earlier once you're in The Coves boarders.

It felt like much, much longer than that though.

They get dropped off first considering Logan lives close by to Thomas and Patton, while they live on the other side of town.

Remus slams his bedroom door shut once he gets there, dropping his things on his bed and throwing himself limply to his floor, staring at the glow in the dark stars Logan gifted him.

'It might help calm you down' he said. Well, tough fucking luck for Remus.

UGH, he needs a distraction.

Roman knocks on his door but walks in without an answer and flicks on the light Remus ignored to do when he came in.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly.

“It's just a small cut Ro” he snips.

Roman looks at him like it's the first time he's seeing the cut.

“Well, I didn't realize that that was new”

Well, maybe he didn't notice.

“Dunce.”

“Asshole.”

They're both quiet until Roman comes to kneel at Remus' side, softly touching around the cut.

“This is not a small cut Rem, it's kinda deep actually.”

“It's fine, you can leave now.”

“Are you okay?” He asks again, Remus huffs.

“I already told you it's fine.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He knows, but Roman doesn't need his crap brothers crap ass thoughts dragging him down too.

Roman sighs while he gets up and leaves.

That's for the best.

But he comes back with rubbing alcohol, bandages and a warm cloth.

Idiot.

He closes his eyes, he can't look at Roman being so soft right now.

Remus doesn't flinch when Roman dabs his gash with the alcohol soaked cloth.

“You don't have to tell me anything” he whispers.

Duh, he knows this.

“But, I would like to help in any way I can. So I'm not leaving you tonight.”

Oh.

“We've dealt with everything else together, and we can deal with these intrusive thoughts as well. I'm The Prince Rem, I'm not going anywhere while you're hurting.”

Fuuuuck Ro stop being so you! You chivalrous wang!

Remus opens his eyes.

“They hate me” he whispers.

Roman looks taken aback.

“What? No they don't, what makes you think that, we just had a great day together.”

Remus shrugs. “They're being nice cause they like you.”

“So they've been being nice for our whole lives? Remus we grew up together, they like us equally.”

“They like you. I'm just the tag along reject twin who needs to be told to shut up.”

Roman finishes bandaging his cheek.

“You have to know that's not true” he says softly.

Remus grunts.

“Is, is this about Thomas telling you to stop? Cause you know he wasn't being malicious right.”

“No” Remus says, Roman raises an eyebrow.

“Yes? Ugh! Kind of? I don't know Ro it's a lot of things!” He throws his arms and legs up into the air, letting them thud back to the floor making his body into a star.

“Thomas was annoyed, Patton was annoyed, fuck you were annoyed!”

“I wasn't annoyed” Roman says.

“Bullshit, Mr. Passive Aggressive Popcorn Muncher!”

“What? I was eating my popcorn in a normal fashion thank you very much.” he says poking Remus' bandage.

“Whatever.”

Roman sighs again.

“Okay, granted, not everyone enjoys your... sense of humour” he says slowly.

Remus scoffs.

“But, but” he points at Remus “that's okay.”

Remus rolls his eyes.

“Hey, it's true! Do you like your jokes?” He waves his hand as he asks.

Remus nods.

“Okay so there, we may not all appreciate the crudeness, but that doesn't mean they hate you” he enunciates with poking Remus in the forehead multiple times as he speaks.

“Take your own advice Ro.”

Roman squints down at Remus with a scowl pout and huffs.

“Yea” he simply says, flopping himself down on the floor laying next to Remus.

They look at each other with small smiles.

Until Roman notices his sleeve, picking it up with Remus' limp arm.

“Uhgh” he whines, “you can keep this one.” he says, dropping the offending sight.

Remus snorts.

13 notes · View notes

wild3flow3r · 5 years

Photo

Chapter Seventeen

August 12th

“Hey, Sterling, you got a second?”

Lorelai jumps, nearly knocking the coffee off her desk. She carefully picks the cup up and moves it to the furthest end of the desk, away from the papers of statistics and probabilities she’s supposed to finish looking at by the end of the day. She’s already been at this desk for six hours, and she doesn’t plan on leaving it for another three, not for any kind of break. ‘Put the hard work in, and you’ll get a real big pay off,’ her boss had told her her first day here.

Now that said boss, Mister Cunningham, stood over her desk, staring down at her with amused eyes from her almost fumble.

“Yes, what is it, sir?” Lorelai asks, forcing a smile on her lips and looking back up at him. It’s not that she doesn’t like her boss, actually he’s her best boss yet, but she just hasn’t taken the time to get to know him. She hasn’t taken the time to get to know any of her new co-workers.

Lorelai once might have been up for water cooler talk, would have indulged in everyone’s conversations, but nowadays she buries herself in her work. She’s twenty-eight now. She wants to make some big moves in her life. After the… well, after Harry, Lorelai’s two choices were either mope around and have to move back home with her parents, or pick herself up, ignore her problems, and find a job in the field she got her degree in. Mister Cunningham was the first person to reply to the millions of applications she sent out, and the pay he was offering was more than Lorelai has ever made in her life. So she took the position. It was a new start, a new job, and new house, and a new country.

Cunningham leans his hip against Lorelai’s desk. He’s only a few years older than her, traditionally handsome, and also a millionaire. He started this architecture company in his early twenties in his parents' garage, back when it was only about living his dream. Nowadays, he’s still living his dream while having thousands of workers under him.

“I was just looking over the reports you handed in last night. I just wanted to say you did a really good job with them.”

Lorelai’s cheeks tinge red. In the three weeks she’s been working here she’s never heard him compliment the five other people working alongside her in the financial department. Then again, Lorelai wonders if it’s because she’s the only female working in this department.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re going to do great things, Lorelai.” He stands up again, walking out of the office Lorelai shares with the others. A few of the younger workers glare at Lorelai, while the older ones don’t even spare her a glance. They’ve been here a long time, they aren’t looking for a promotion. The younger ones are.

More often than not, the others in her department haven’t been including her in their after hours drinks or their lunch breaks. Also another reason why Lorelai hasn’t bothered in getting to know them.

Brian, one of the younger workers, is still staring at her, his eyes hard and his lips tipped downwards in a thin line. He was really nice to her during her first week, but that had all changed when Cunningham had given her that first praise. Now he doesn’t take his lunch breaks either, not unless Lorelai takes hers.

Lorelai rolls her eyes and gets back to work. Her back has begun to ache over these last few days, and she wonders if sitting over the desk in her chair like she is now is the reason why Harry had so many back pains. He’d also sit there for hours, working until his thoughts were incoherent. Lorelai stops her pencil mid word, takes a deep breath, and pushes thoughts of him away. She promised herself she’d stop crying about him once she moved, and she’s kept that promise. She hasn’t shed one tear over him since she got on that plane and left London.

The minutes tick by slowly, but finally six o’clock rolls around and Lorelai’s allowed to leave. She organizes her work for the day, having just finished it thankfully because she didn’t want to stay here any longer than she has to, and puts it inside of an envelope. Everybody else on the office has left, except Brian that is, but Lorelai doesn’t bother saying goodnight to him. Lorelai takes the envelope and sets it in the outbox for Mister Cunningham to pick up the next morning, and she leaves.

New York City is a lot like London, at least to Lorelai. There are always people bustling around all hours of the day, noise constantly filtering all around her, and she still didn’t need to learn how to drive to get around from place to place.

Lorelai just takes a step outside of the building when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns around and it’s Brian behind her. She stares at him skeptically. Finally, he holds his hand out to produce her phone.

“You left this behind,” he mutters.

Lorelai grabs it from him. “Thank you,” she replies before shoving the item into her purse. She nods before stepping away and starting to stride down the sidewalk. Brian follows her.

“How do you do it?” he asks her, falling into step beside her.

“Do what?” Lorelai shoots back. She can walk home from work, her apartment only being a few streets away.

“Cunningham loves every piece of work you give him. Why?”

“Well maybe if you grow a pair of boobs-”

Brian shakes his head, cutting her off. “He loves his wife, his kids, he’s so devoted to them, I’ve seen it. He would never do something like that to them. He’s not that kind of man.”

Lorelai frowns while thinking his words over. She’s been so accustomed to the way Bertram had treated her that she never considered that Cunningham appreciated her for the work she put in rather than her body.

“I don’t know then. Maybe I’m just really good with numbers.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “I put as much work in as you do. I’ve been working here for two years longer than you. I just… I don’t get it.”

She shrugs. “I’m sorry Brian, but I don’t know what to tell you.” Lorelai stops in front of her building. “This is me,” she tells him.

Brian looks up at the building before back down to her. He’s loosened his tie now, and he must have ran his fingers through his hair a few times because the pristine look of it from before is gone. Brian reminds her of him, of Harry, in the smallest of ways, and it attacks her heart. He nods and takes a step backwards. “Goodnight then.”

Lorelai nods back to him before entering her building, walking away with a thudding heart and her breathing coming out in quick pants. You will not cry, you will not cry, you will not cry, she repeats in her head over and over again as she walks up the three flights of stairs. She unlocks the door and enters her apartment. She lets her purse fall to the ground with a quiet thud and then presses her palms against her eyes.

She does not cry.

August 21st

One of the hardest things about moving to New York City for Lorelai was that she’s now even farther away from her family. At least in London she always had the opportunity to take a train ride down to her family home if she could ever find the time to. Now that wasn’t even an option anymore, and the new time difference between them just made everything so much harder. By the time Lorelai got home every night, most of them were already asleep. Weekends were easier to get ahold of them, but even then Lorelai wasn’t sure if she’d be bringing some work home with her.

Most nights Lorelai spent alone. Much like London, she hasn’t made many friends. And even though it hadn’t bothered her then, after spending so much time with Harry and then having that ripped away from her, she’s been feeling lonelier that she ever has before. Even though Brian has taken more of an interest in her now, he’s tried bantering with her, proving himself successful a couple of times, has tried to be her friend, maybe even more, he reminds her too much of the home she left back in London. The guy she left back there.

But the worst of it all? Harry called her the night before. She’d finally started feeling comfortable in this new city, finally getting past the heartbreak just the tiniest bit, but when she saw the missed call notification this morning she spiraled again. It was the first time he’s tried contacting since they broke up. He left a voicemail. Lorelai didn’t listen to it and instead went straight to work, focusing on nothing but the numbers on the papers.

And then she was home again, no matter how late she tried to stay, she’d have to come home to an empty house, with nothing to distract her from the voicemail waiting on her phone. Still, she held it off. She made dinner, did her workout, took a shower, picked out her outfit for the next day, and then the outfit she’d wear the day after that. The entire time her phone stayed on her night stand table, mocking her. She knows once she hears his voice she’ll break down, she’ll break her promise. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she just deleted it never knowing what it was that Harry wanted to say to her, even if it was cruel and just him stringing a bunch of curse words at her.

It’s near eleven at night when Lorelai tucks herself into bed, both of her hands shaking as she grips onto her phone. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since the message has been there. Lorelai presses play.

But there’s nothing, no words anyways. It’s just a rustling and muffled sounds, like the phone is in his pocket. It was accidental, the phone call. She wonders why he’d still be up at four in the morning, or why he would’ve woken up that early. But then she presumes it would’ve had to do with his work. Then there’s some shuffling, the phone being taken out of his pocket, and then there’s a voice. A woman’s voice.

“Harry, you’re calling someone, did you know?”

“Huh?”

And then the call ends. Lorelai heaves in a large breath, her bottom lip wobbling. It wasn’t even an actual word, but it’s broken her heart all over again. So many thoughts consume her head. Who was that woman? Had he moved on? Did it really mean nothing to him at all? He still has her number saved? Still she doesn’t cry. She refuses to cry.

Her doorbell ringing brings her out of her thoughts. She tenses up, unsure of who would be at her door this late at night. She doesn’t move, knowing she shouldn’t answer whoever it is. But then the bell rings again. And again. And again. Lorelai stands, practically tiptoeing around her apartment as if this person could hear her from three floors below.

She goes to press the talk button, but then a knocking starts at the door. One of the other residents must have let the person in. This time Lorelai really does tiptoe as she nears the door. She presses her eye to the peephole, and the breath is taken out of her. With slow hands, she unlocks the door and opens it.

“Zachary, what’re you doing here?”

Zachary Styles is the last person Lorelai expects to be at her door. Any other person in the Styles family would’ve made at least the tiniest bit of sense, but Zachary?

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Lorelai frowns at him, closing the gap between her door and her apartment. “Why would I?”

Now he rolls his eyes. “I’m here to talk about Harry.”

“Why?” She looks at him suspiciously. “Hope I’ll let something slip that’ll give you leverage over him? Hell, we’ve never even met before. How in the world did you find me?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!” Lorelai tightens her grip on the door.

“Then let me in.”

Lorelai bites her bottom lip, and then finally lets Zachary into her house. He walks in, his eyes scanning over the space. This apartment is bigger than the one Lorelai had in London, the furniture more modern even. Zachary moves into the living room and then sits on the couch.

Lorelai stands across from him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Well? How did you find me?”

“Harry found you.”

Lorelai’s heart stops. Her mouth goes dry. “What?”

“He’s staying in a hotel about thirty minutes away from here. We got here this morning. He was too scared to come here himself. I told him I was going out for a drink, and then I came here instead. I didn’t travel all the way here for you to not know he was here.”

“Harry’s here, in the city?”

“Yes,” Zachary replies, impatience filling his tone.

“Why?”

“Well, there was a big family scandal that was revealed about a month ago. Well, only Gemma and Harry didn’t know about it, but now they do.”

“He knows? He knows about Laura and Xavier?”

Zachary nods his head. “Overheard them speaking about it or something. Next thing I know, Harry’s throwing a fit, then he’s got me pushed against a wall, and then he left. Nobody heard from him for twelve days after that. My wife got quite worried about him. Frankly, I didn’t care, he’s a man and he can take care of himself.”

Lorelai shakes her head, her disdain for Zachary growing each time he says something like that. “Then what happened?”

“Well, then he called me, of all people. Asked to meet me, and only me, so I went to meet him and I didn’t tell anyone. Then he punched me in the face,” with those words, a small smile falls upon Zachary’s face. He then points to the barely there bruise on the side of his left eye. “Let’s just say, we’re working on our relationship now. Now that everything’s out in the open, it’s more tolerable for me and him to be around each other.”

“But then why are you here?”

“He knows the emails were fakes, and that Xavier and Laura were lying to him. He hasn’t spoken to either of them since he found out. He won’t speak to anyone in the family since he found out, except me and Gemma that is. Imagine my wife’s heartbreak, that her own son chooses to talk to me over her.” There’s a bitterness in his tone, a feeling he’s probably harbored towards the woman since Harry’s conception. “He wants to apologize, but he’s being a fucking coward- I’m sorry, I mean he’s afraid to talk to you. He thinks he looks crazy for begging your parents for your location and then flying all the way here without telling you.”

“Well… It is a bit crazy,” Lorelai responds without much thought behind her words, her thoughts all muddled as she tries to take everything in. She believes that now that she knows how close in proximity Harry is to her, it’s causing her brain to short circuit.

“Anyway, we’re supposed to leave in two days, meaning he’s already wasted a day by not trying to contact you. Meaning, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. Tomorrow, be at the Gramercy Tavern at seven o’clock precisely if you want to see Harry. I’ll make sure he’s there.”

“But if I don’t want to see Harry?”

Zachary stands up, and then gives her a dubious look like he could see right through her. “Seven o’clock, remember that.”

Zachary starts walking away then, towards the front door, and Lorelai doesn’t move to follow him. She doesn’t move at all.

“I loved Laura, you know, a long time ago. I thought she was the perfect match for me, but she didn’t love me the same way back. It turned me bitter and cold, and Harry got the brunt of it all because I wasn’t allowed to take it out on Laura or my brother. I know it doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done, and I know I can’t take it back even though sometimes I wish I could. But I’ve been seeing that same plague take over Harry’s heart since the two of you broke up, it got even worse when he found out the truth. I’m not trying to guilt you into picking him, because if you don’t, well you don’t. But if you do, you’d have something real, not some one sided bullshit I got stuck with.”

Zachary leaves then, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Lorelai continues to stand still, arms still crossed, and her fingernails now digging into the skin of her forearms. For a second, she can’t breathe, and in the next something in her chest begins to grow. And then she remembers the voicemail, the woman’s voice she heard, and it’s ripped out of her chest again.

#1dff #cmiyc #cmiyc17 #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles au #hello let me know your thoughts on this one!! can't wait to hear them :)

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Five → in which Nick gets to climb something again

“How do you know who we are?” Lilac asked, jumping to her feet.

Her siblings also quickly stood, and the sweatered scout said, “I thought you might be headed this way. And, well, there are five of you. Where’s the other toddler?”

“Sunny’s been captured by Count Olaf.” Violet said quickly. “Are you VFD?”

“In a way.” the boy said. “But stay quiet. Bruce is a light sleeper, and if the kids catch us, they’ll either tattle or want to tag along. Come on.”

He gestured, and Nick quickly said, “How do we know we can trust you?”

Klaus and Soli both grabbed tightly onto his hands as they all looked to the scout. He watched them for a moment, and then said, “Xenial.”

“I’m sorry?” Violet said.

“Xenial is an adjective that starts with X,” he explained. “It means ‘being welcoming to strangers.’ Having a good vocabulary doesn’t guarantee that I’m a good person, but it does mean I’ve read a lot, and in my experience, well-read people are less likely to be evil.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “We may have had some different experiences.”

“I’m very sorry,” the scout said, “But we don’t have time for this. We need to get to Headquarters quickly.”

“Take your mask off.” Nick said, slowly picking up Solitude.

“I can’t. If any of them wake up, I don’t want to be recognized.”

“Why not?”

“Nick,” Violet carefully said, “He knows the way to headquarters.”

“Violet, we can’t-”

“If he tries anything,” Klaus said, “We’ll protect you. Promise.”

Nick took a deep breath, looking between all of his siblings. Then he approached the masked scout, stopping just short of him.

“If you hurt my siblings,” he said, very darkly, “I will kill you, and it will not be fast.”

“I understand.” the scout said, not even seeming very concerned, but maybe a little sympathetic. “Now follow me.”

The Baudelaires glanced to each other, and then slowly followed.

He led them to the center of the room, slowly stepping over sleeping scouts, before pointing a flashlight from his pocket. He gestured upwards, and the Baudelaires looked up to see a large hole in the ceiling of the cave, wisps of smoke disappearing into it.

“The official name is Vertical Flame Diversion.” the scout whispered. “It serves as a chimney and secret passageway, running from his cave straight to the valley of four drafts. If we climb up there, we can reach headquarters within hours, instead of hiking up the mountain. There used to be a pole there so people could slide down and hide in this cave during an emergency, but it’s gone now. There should still be carved toeholds on the side.”

“How do you know that?” Lilac asked, as Nick held tight onto Solitude.

“I read it.” he said. “In The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations.”

The Baudelaires jumped; most of them hadn’t thought of that book in a long time. Nick started to speak, but they heard a low whisper. They turned, to see Carmelita muttering in her sleep, “Give me those earrings…”

“We’ll talk when we reach headquarters.” the scout said. “Can you all climb?”

“Not well.” Klaus said.

“A little.” Lilac said, while Violet and Nick nodded. “Soli might need help.”

“There’s some extra rope in our supplies.” the scout said. “We can tie her to someone’s back.”

“I can do that.” Nick volunteered, before running to find the rope.

“You should also put your masks back on.” the scout said. “The air will be smokey, but the masks might be able to filter that.”

“Copy that.” Lilac nodded, rushing to grab their masks.

Violet walked over to the sweatered scout, putting a hand on his arm. Something about him seemed familiar, though she wasn’t sure what. “Can you really help us?” she asked.

“Of course.” he said, sounding very soft. “It’s what Volunteers do.”

Nick returned, and Violet helped him tie Solitude to his back, while the toddler whispered instructions on how to avoid Babbitt in her pocket. Lilac brought their masks over, which they put back on, as Solitude pulled the poncho over her face again. The Sweatered Scout went up first, cautiously climbing his way up to the Vertical Flame Diversion, and then Violet helped pull Klaus up before going up herself. Nick hesitantly followed, after making certain Solitude was very secure, and then Lilac.

And then, quietly and carefully, they climbed.

Sunny clambered out of the casserole dish, yawning to herself and pulling her coat over her. She’d just heard the adults yelling, and she’d much rather be prepared for whatever they were doing than hiding in her dish.

Her former coworkers were chatting with the White-Faced Women, while the Hook-Handed Man tried to fix a fallen tent. Esme must’ve still been in her tent, because Sunny couldn’t see her, but Count Olaf was standing by his henchpeople, barking directions. He turned to see Sunny, and he called, “You! Orphan! You’ll cook breakfast for us! We’ll need the energy to do unspeakable crimes!”

Sunny gave him a look. “Planka?” she asked, which meant, “How am I supposed to cook breakfast on the top of a freezing mountain?”

“Too bad your brain isn’t as big as your teeth, you dentist’s nightmare.” Olaf said. “You’re talking nonsense, as usual.”

Sunny paused, staring at him, and then she smiled. “Sneakitawc,” she said, which meant, “Of course, because you can’t understand me, I can say anything I want to you, and you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about.”

The Hook-Handed Man jumped, giving her a look as she giggled and Olaf said, “I’m getting tired of your ridiculous speech impediment.”

“Brummel,” Sunny said. “In my opinion, you desperately need a bath, and your clothing is in shambles.”

The Hook-Handed Man waved his hooks to try and get her to stop, as Olaf ordered, “Be quiet this instant!”

“Busheney,” Sunny said. “You’re an evil man with no concern whatsoever for other people.”

“Shut up!” Olaf shouted, and he threw the car keys at her. “Get the groceries out of the trunk of the car and get to work!”

Sunny paused, picking up the keys. She could probably drive the car herself, but… well, that mountain path looked dangerous. She wouldn’t want to miss a turn and go flying off a cliff.

She toddled over to the trunk, unlocking the car and flipping it open, hoisting herself up to see what supplies she had. Unfortunately, a thin layer of frost seemed to cover every item, meaning she had to use her sleeves to wipe the ice away; everything was very frozen over. She found a bag of coffee beans and a frozen hunk of spinach, as well as a bag of mushrooms and a completely frozen jug of orange juice. Sunny pushed aside some cold cheese, a can of water chestnuts and an eggplant about her size, she found a jar of boysenberry jam and a loaf of bread. She hmmed, brushing her bangs out of her face as she considered what she could make with all of this.

“Olaf!” Esme called, as Sunny pulled the bread to the edge of the trunk. “I need longer to choose what I’m going to wear! It is not In to burn own a headquarters without wearing a fashionable outfit!”

“I can’t imagine why you need all this time.” Olaf huffed, as Sunny started dropping ingredients onto the ground. “I usually just wear one outfit for weeks at a time.”

“Boss!” Hugo called. “I can’t find the soap!”

“We don’t have any. Why would we?”

Sunny slowly pulled some cups out, and started chopping the coffee beans with her teeth, combining it with snow to make iced coffee. She walked over to a blanket that had been laid out, presumably for the meal, and put the cups down, before ripping apart the loaf of bread and starting to spread jam.

“What are you doing, baby?”

Sunny looked up to see the Hook-Handed Man had stopped just short of her, watching curiously. “Breakfast.” she said.

“That’s very smart of you.” he said. “I thought for sure you wouldn’t be able to make anything.”

Sunny brightened, and then said, “Hamo!” which meant something like, “I know a way you can help!”

“Oh, the boss wouldn’t like me to-”

Sunny held out the mug of orange juice, and said, “Aurantiaco,” which meant, “Chip away at the juice until you have shavings, so I can make orange granita.”

The Hook-Handed Man looked very impressed, and after glancing over his shoulder, he sat down and started chipping. “That’s a good idea.”

Sunny smiled and shrugged, and once she’d finished with the bread, she ran back to the trunk, pulling out a bouquet of ivy and placing it in an empty cream dish, walking back and placing it down as a centerpiece. She took the orange shavings and started spreading them out.

“You’re very good at preparing a meal.” the Hook-Handed Man complimented.

Sunny sighed, smiling a little, remembering once when she was small, and had been hanging out in the kitchen with her mother, who was throwing together a salad. Sunny had mostly busied herself dropping a fork onto the floor to see what it sounded like, but he remembered Beatrice Baudelaire saying, “This isn’t a very complicated recipe, Sunny, but if I arrange the salad very nicely on fancy plates, people will think I’ve been cooking all day.”

“Defero,” Sunny said, repeating what her Mother had said next- “Often, when cooking, the presentation of the food can be as important as the food itself.”

The Hook-Handed Man nodded seriously, and once Sunny had finished arranging, she stepped back and said, “Breakfast!”

The rest of the troupe approached, and Sunny backed off, smiling slightly, but her face fell as Olaf picked up a cup and yelled, “What is this? It looks like coffee, but it’s freezing cold!”

“What is this orange stuff?” Esme asked suspiciously. “I want fashionable, in food, not a handful of ice!”

Colette picked up a piece of bread. “This toast feels raw. Is it safe to eat raw toast?”

“Of course not.” Hugo said.

“The baby is trying to poison us!” said a White-Faced Woman.

“Actually, this coffee isn’t so bad.” Kevin said. “Though it’s a little bitter. Could someone pass the sugar?”

“Sugar?” Esme screeched.

Olaf grabbed onto one end of the blanket and pulled as hard as he could, and Sunny ducked as all of her hard work went flying into the air.

“All the sugar in the world couldn’t save this terrible breakfast!” he shouted. “Orphan! I told you to make a nice, hot breakfast, and you gave me cold, disgusting nonsense! Do you realize how high up we are, you little shit? If I threw you off Mount Fraught, you’d never survive!”

Sunny shrunk back, but she hissed, “Bull!”

“I don’t have time for your nonsense!”

The Hook-Handed Man, who looked a little uncomfortable, spoke up. “She’s calling your bluff, boss. Says you can’t kill her without losing her fortune.”

Olaf gave her a cruel look, and Sunny felt even colder than she had before. “Is that so? Well, little orphan,” he took a step forwards, and Sunny tried to move back, only tripping over herself and falling into the snow, “I don’t need to kill you to punish you. We have ways of making you behave. Didn’t your dear brother tell you what finally got him to shut up?”

Sunny hissed, and the Hook-Handed Man said, “Boss, I really don’t think-”

“I don’t pay you to think!” Olaf said.

“You don’t pay me at all.” said the henchman. “But I was just saying, maybe it was difficult for the baby to prepare a hot breakfast without a fire-”

“Oh,” said a deep, low voice behind them that caused everyone to jump, “But there is a fire.”

Everybody turned to look behind them, and Sunny instantly detected an aura of menace from the two people now standing behind them, having somehow snuck up on the group without alerting them to their presence. One was a tall man with a beard, but no hair, and the other, who’d spoken, was a woman with hair, but no beard.

“It’s good to see you, Olaf,” said the sinister woman, stepping forwards, and Sunny scooted back against the car. The woman pulled a wooden toboggan behind her, making an eerie scraping sound against the ground. “We were worried the authorities might have captured you.”

“You look well,” said the man with a beard but no hair, with a hoarse voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve laid eyes on one another.” He gave Olaf a wicked grin, and Sunny started to feel very, very scared.

Olaf wouldn’t meet their eyes, which did not help Sunny’s anxiety; in fact, everyone seemed terrified. “Hello.” he said nervously. “Did you, um, say something about a fire?”

The woman and man looked to each other and laughed, and Sunny covered her ears with her hands, trying to think about her siblings, and how Lilac and Klaus would be hugging her right now. “Haven’t you noticed that there are no snow gnats around?” the woman said.

“I just assumed they were no longer in.” said Esme, who seemed to be trembling.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Esme,” said the man with a beard but no hair. “The gnats aren’t around because they can smell the smoke.”

“I don’t smell anything.” said Hugo.

“That’s because you’re not a snow gnat.” replied the woman with hair but no beard. “We did you a favor, Olaf. We… took care of the VFD Headquarters for you.”

Sunny started, and before she could stop herself, she shouted, “No!”

The two new adults turned to look at her, and Sunny straightened up then, and tried her best to look brave.

She tried her best to not look like a baby.

“The top’s up here.” said the masked scout. “We’re almost out of the woods.”

The Baudelaires very much doubted that, but they managed to finally push themselves up and into a dark tunnel. It seemed to be some dim hallway with a small grate on the ceiling, but they could all clearly see the Eye etched into the grate.

The scout helped Klaus up, and then Violet. Nick just pushed himself past him, before untying Solitude and making sure she was alright. Lilac climbed up, moving a bit awkwardly.

“Are you okay, Li?” Violet asked.

“Fine.” Lilac said.

Violet moved to her sister, and then flinched. “Your sleeve’s torn- shit, what happened to your arm?”

“Just grazed something on the way up. Not a big deal.”

Violet paused, and then said, “Well, um… we might have matching arm scars now, that’s pretty cool.”

“Where are we?” Klaus asked, turning to the scout, who was sadly watching the sisters.

The scout paused, and then gestured to the grate. “That’s where the smoke escapes. Leads to the very center of the Valley of Four Drafts, so the winds scatter the smoke before people can get suspicious and investigate. If a Volunteer needed help, they’d light one of these.”

He pulled a box from his jacket, pulling out some green tubes.

“Is that a cigarette?” Lilac asked.

He shook his head. “Verdant Flammable Devices. It sets off a dark green smoke.”

“I’ve seen that box before.” Klaus said, standing up and looking shocked. “In Father’s desk. Why would he-”

Nick huffed. “He was hiding them from us, Klaus. Obviously. Keeping them secret, like everything else in this hellhole.”

“Everything is secret in VFD.” the scout said sadly.

“It makes things very difficult.” Lilac said, crossing her arms. “We had to learn the secret location of headquarters from a secret code on a map.”

“I had to draw my own map.” the Scout reached into his pocket, pulling out a dark purple notebook. “In my commonplace book, I gathered information from The Incomplete History and other books from Dr Montgomery’s study.”

The Baudelaires jumped. “Monty?” Solitude asked, and they could hear Babbitt let out a muffled, soft chirp from her pocket.

“Long story.” the scout said. He held out the map and said, “Look here, this passageway branches off in two directions.”

“This is a really well-drawn map.” Violet said, impressed.

“Thank you.” the scout replied. “I’ve been interested in cartography for quite some time. But anyway, if we go left, there’s a small area for sled and snowsuit storage. If we go right, we’ll arrive at the Vernacularly Fastened Door, which opens to the Headquarters’ kitchen.”

“Then let’s go.” Violet said.

“No!” Nick grabbed Solitude, jumping to his feet. “No, we can’t just-”

“Nick, one of our parents might be there.” Violet snapped.

“So could anyone else!”

“We’ll be careful.” Lilac put a hand on Nick’s arm. “We’ll be careful, I promise. But we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Nick shut his eyes tight, clutching onto Soli, who gave him a tight, comforting hug. Klaus put his arm around him, and then Violet turned to the scout and said, “Lead the way, mystery boy.”

The scout hesitantly nodded, and then said, as they walked, “It’ll be safe, I’m sure.”

Nick didn’t respond, instead just leaning onto Klaus’s shoulder. They started down the hallway, with the scout leading the way. It started to feel colder, and Solitude curled up against her brother and shivered a little, and Lilac grabbed onto Violet’s hand, and Klaus and Nick held each other for a while. And after a minute or two, Violet reached forwards and grabbed the scout’s hand, too, not wanting him to feel left out. The corridor was starting to give off an eerie, powerful feeling, and none of the children wanted to feel alone.

At last, they reached a large metal door, with a strange device, looking a bit like a spider, where a doorknob should have been. Wires were spread from it, going in all directions, and at the head was a typewriter keyboard. Violet immediately broke away from the others and ran forwards, taking off her mask and pulling her hair back with a ribbon to inspect it.

“Careful.” the scout said, as Lilac ran forwards to join her. “This is a coded lock. If we don’t operate it properly, we won’t be able to get into the headquarters.”

“How does it work?” Violet asked, as her siblings also discarded their masks.

“I’m not sure. I couldn’t read through the pages it had in The Incomplete History.” said the scout, taking out his commonplace book as the other Baudelaires crowded around the lock. “I was more interested in the maps, honestly, and then I lost the book.”

“Well, it’s called the Vernacularly Fastened Door.” Klaus said. “So it operates on language. Vernacular means ‘a local language or dialect.’”

“That makes sense.” Violet nodded. “Look how the wires are curled around the hinges. They’re locked in place, unless you type the right sequence of letters on the keyboard.”

“I know you’re supposed to type out three specific phrases in a row.” the scout said, looking down at his commonplace book. “The phrases change every season, but for right now, the first is the scientist most widely credited with the discovery of gravity.”

“That’s easy.” Lilac said, and she leaned forwards and typed in S-I-R-I-S-A-A-C-N-E-W-T-O-N, and when she was finished, there was a muted clicking sound, as if the device was warming up.

“The second is the Latin name for the Volunteer Feline Detectives.” the scout said. “That’s Panthera leo.”

Violet typed in P-A-N-T-H-E-R-A-L-E-O, and the wires near the hinges began to shake a little.

“What’s the third phrase?” Klaus asked.

“I don’t know.” the scout sighed. “Another volunteer told me it’s the central theme of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, but I haven’t read it.”

“We did.” Klaus said, turning to smile at Nick. “Do you remember what Mother told us?”

Nick stared very hard at the ground as he nodded. “A rural life of moral simplicity, despite its monotony, is the preferable personal narrative to a daring life of impulsive passion, which only leads to tragedy.”

“That’s a long theme.” the scout said.

“It’s a long book.” Klaus said, as he began to type.

He worked very quickly, and as he did, the Baudelaires could see the wires begin to curl and uncurl very quickly, and the door start to quiver. When Klaus finally typed out T-R-A-G-E-D-Y, the children stepped back, waiting.

The door stopped shaking, and the passageway fell dead quiet.

“It’s not opening.” Lilac said.

“Maybe that isn’t the central theme of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina.” Violet said.

“It seemed like it was working.” the scout said.

“Maybe the mechanism is stuck.” Violet said.

“Maybe a daring life of impulsive passion leads to something other than tragedy.” the scout said.

“No.” Nick said quietly, and they heard a low rumble. “No, Violet was right. It was just stuck.”

The door swung open, with a slow and eerie creek. The Baudelaires started up excitedly, only to immediately back up and cough, as smoke filtered into the tunnel.

“No…” Lilac muttered, as Klaus rushed forwards into the remains of headquarters, and his siblings hastily followed.

The entire headquarters had gone up in smoke, and as they stepped over ashy debris and burnt pages, they felt their hearts sink to the floor. They had stepped into what used to be a kitchen, which they could only tell due to an overturned, singed table and the remains of what might have been cabinets or ovens, as well as a fridge in the corner. Violet let out a small cry, and Solitude started to wail, clinging to Nick, who stumbled back against what was left of a wall, shaking uncontrollably.

“No, no, no…” Lilac said, looking around. They could see other rooms to the side- the remains of what might have been a library, what could have been a recreational room, or a study, or a dorm.

“Mother!” Klaus shouted, his voice breaking. “Mother! Father!”

“Mother!” Violet joined him. “Mother! Father!”

“Dad?” Lilac shouted, hearing only their own voices echoing back. “Mom?”

There was no response.

“This headquarters is gone.” Klaus said, shaking.

“And there’s no survivor.” Violet said, tears streaming down her face.

“No.” Klaus shook his head. “No, that can’t be.”

“Klaus-” Lilac began.

“Jacques Snicket said there was a survivor of the fire.” Klaus cried.

The sweatered scout, who’d been walking around the headquarters, seemingly just as in shock as the Baudelaires, stopped dead in his tracks. “Jacques Snicket said that?”

The Baudelaires turned to him, and then Klaus nodded.

The scout quietly said, “Then he was right. There is a survivor of the fire here.”

“Where?” Nick asked.

“Here.” said the scout, and then he took off his mask.

The Baudelaires stepped back in shock, and Solitude whispered, “Duncan?”

“I’m Quigley Quagmire,” said the scout, “And I was hoping to find my siblings here.”

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the slippery slope #mine #my fanfic

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you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus · 6 years

Text

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 8: Thantophobia

Word Count: 5158

Read on AO3

Nearly two weeks had passed since the encounter at the Spoon. Neither TJ nor Cyrus texted each other, their phones not buzzing with excitement like they had for most of the summer.

TJ hated being without Cyrus, if only for a few days, but this was getting excessive. It was as though this important part of him, this large part of him, was suddenly gone. And he knew that Cyrus wasn’t gone gone, but all of a sudden, he felt so much further away. Pulling up his phone, he hesitated, wanting to text Cyrus, but instead opening up Instagram to scroll through photos.

“Give me a sign,” he mumbled, scrolling past endless selfies of girls who applied just a touch too much makeup before an ad popped up. It was for the Christmas in July festival; the one that Cyrus had talked about a while ago.

“Gee, now you wanna give me a sign, universe?” TJ shook his head, opening up his text messages to text Cyrus.

[Me: so for that xmas in july festival thing, we still on for that?]

TJ sat staring at his phone for a few minutes waiting for that gray bubble with the three little dots to appear. Five minutes. Ten minutes. He gave up at about the twelve minute mark, setting his phone on the side.

And then it buzzed.

[Underdog <3: obvi!! we should go get clothes for that]

[Underdog <3: unless u own ugly christmas stuff]

TJ smiled, butterflies erupting from his stomach and fluttering up to his chest.

[Me: i only own the best of hoodies. where do we get stuff?]

[Underdog <3: the place across the street from cloud 10, hideous holidays]

[Me: see u there in like 15 minutes?]

[Underdog <3: ok!]

“I am not wearing this,” TJ shuddered, his fingers gliding over a sweater that was most certainly going to give him a rash, “I’ll look the the human embodiment of a bad office Christmas party,”

“C’mon it’s not that bad,” Cyrus tried to convince him, popping out of the dressing room, sporting a light up Hanukkah sweater, “but seriously, this is great, isn’t it?”

He twirled around in it, the lights nearly blinding TJ, but he smiled, shaking his head slightly. “You and only you could pull that off,” he chuckled, turning his attention back to the racks and picking out a slightly less atrocious sweater, “well?”

“Try it on,” Cyrus encouraged, pushing TJ towards the dressing room, “you never know until you try,”

“That’s for sure,” TJ mumbled from inside, putting the sweater over his blue tee. Granted it was a little itchy, but it wasn’t unbearable. He stepped out, grabbing a Santa hat from the shelf and putting it on his head. “Well?”

Cyrus turned around from where he was looking at menorah headbands. “Oh my gosh,” he sputtered, taking out his phone and snapping a picture, “blackmail,”

“You wouldn’t dare,” TJ narrowed his eyes, a grin splitting his face as he grabbed a light-up necklace and ran towards Cyrus, putting it around his neck and taking a picture. “Blackmail,” he mocked, raising his brows.

Cyrus let out a childish squeal, rushing towards where all the hats were and grabbed a bunch of them, throwing them at the other boy. TJ rushed forward and threw his hands around Cyrus, effectively pinning his arms down by his torso.

“Let me go,” Cyrus whined, giggling nonetheless, “I’ll do anything,”

“Well in that case,” TJ started, releasing one arm and pulling his phone out of his pocket and bringing it up, “smile,”

TJ snapped a selfie of the two of them, Cyrus with a light-up necklace around his neck, and TJ with one too many hats on his head. “We look great,” Cyrus mused, taking off the necklace and putting it back with the others.

“No way, you’re getting that,” TJ insisted, taking it back, “we’re getting these outfits for the festival,” he said, peeling off his sweater and his hats.

Cyrus rolled his eyes, struggling to get out of his sweater. “Only if you pay for them will I wear it to the festival,” he said, handing TJ all his clothes.

“Picky, picky,” TJ huffed, making his way over to the register with Cyrus behind him, “what did I do to deserve someone like you,” he mused, pulling out his wallet and fishing out some bills.

“I know, I’m pretty great,” Cyrus agreed, adding a pack of M&Ms to the bunch, “these are for you, as a thank you,”

“Even though I’m paying,” TJ chuckled, handing the money over to the lady behind the counter, “I appreciate the gesture, Underdog,” he said, pulling him in for a quick side hug.

“We’re having a couple discount, ten percent off your order,” the lady piped up as she started to ring up the items.

TJ felt his heart leap into his throat, his face turning a shade of red comparable to the Santa hat on the register. “Oh, uh, we’re not, uh. . .you know, we’re-”

“-not dating,” Cyrus finished for him, clearly flushed, but not unable to form sentences like TJ.

The lady, Ellen was what her name tag said, looked rather embarrassed. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized, bagging up the items and punching a few keys on the register, “I just thought that you guys were. . .nevermind. I, um, you guys have the discount, sorry about that,” she mumbled, printing the receipt and putting it in the bag. “Here’s your change,”

“Thanks,” TJ managed to get out, shoving the mess of coins and bills into his pocket and grabbing the bag, “have a good day,”

“You too,” she added, shaking her head at herself, “kids,” she muttered under her breath.

As soon as Cyrus and TJ left the store, TJ exhaled, feeling some of the excess color drain from his face. “These ones are yours,” he said, pulling out the necklace and sweater for Cyrus and handing them to him.

“Thanks,” he replied, pausing for a moment, “I really missed that, you know. Doing stupid stuff with you,”

TJ felt a familiar smile make its way onto his face; the kind was reserved for only Cyrus and Cyrus alone. “Me too,” he agreed, taking a seat on the bench by the store and patting the spot next to him for Cyrus to sit. Cyrus took a seat, kicking his legs up in front of him and gripping the seat of the bench.

“Do we wanna talk about it?” he asked, the question hanging in the air.

“About what the lady said inside? I mean I don’t think she meant any harm and I’m sure she w-”

“-no, not that,” Cyrus cut him off, “no, I mean what happened back at the Spoon,”

“Oh,” TJ mumbled, defeated. That something. “I mean, is there anything to talk about?” I only have a massive crush on you and it’s killing me inside.

Cyrus shrugged with one shoulder, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “it was just. . .weird. I think I just, like, totally zoned out,”

Oh. “. . .Yeah, yeah me too,” TJ lied, nodding his head as if to convince himself as well as Cyrus, “Think I was just tired from not getting enough sleep,” he tacked on, knowing full well that it was a complete lie.

“I’m glad we’re back to being normal best friends,” Cyrus sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment and letting the sun warm his body.

“Yup. Friends,” TJ repeated, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he spoke, “wouldn’t wanna lose you,”

Cyrus opened his eyes, turning his head towards the other boy. “You’d never lose me, Teej,” he promised, “not unless you, like, murdered someone,”

TJ breathed a laugh, putting his arms on the back of the bench. “I know, I just. . .you’re important to me, you know, and I wouldn’t wanna lose that,” because I am so in love with you.

“You’re important to me too, you know,” Cyrus admitted, “sap,” he added with a giggle, pulling out his phone. He made a quick note of a word to write down for his journal entry.

thantophobia: fear of losing someone you love

“I should probably get back home. My mom doesn’t know I’m out,” TJ groaned, rubbing his hands through his hair and messing it up slightly.

“I’ll walk with you. Think I’m going to stop by the barber shop near your house and get a trim,” Cyrus said, running a hand through his hair, “My hair looks like a mess,”

“Lies, but okay,” TJ retorted, walking towards his street. He saw a pair of figures in the distance and could barely make them out, but once he got a little closer, he saw Amber and Andi. They were. . .talking, which was something that hadn’t happened a lot in the past few weeks.

“Turn around,” TJ whispered, bumping into Cyrus with his sudden motion.

“Wh-” Cyrus started, before following TJ’s line of sight and seeing the two girls talking, albeit intensely, looking closer to an argument.

Without thinking, TJ grabbed Cyrus’ hand and dragged him in the other direction, rounding another corner. When they were out of sight and earshot from the girls, he released Cyrus’ hand, feeling his own bead with sweat as he wiped it on his shorts.

“There’s another way to get home. It’s a little longer but, I didn’t wanna intrude on-”

“-that,” they said in unison, both breaking into smiles.

“Yeah, me neither,” Cyrus agreed, swinging his arms by his side, “I don’t think I’d like to know what they’re saying”

“Can’t we just talk about it?” Andi suggested, her gaze down on a new bracelet she’d made.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Amber said cooly, drumming her fingers against the picnic table they were sitting on.

“Please, Ambs,” Andi pleaded, taking off the bracelet and toying with it in her hand.

“Look,” Amber started, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, “I don’t wanna avoid you anymore, okay? We need to finish this, stupid, journalism assignment, so let’s just plan out some days to do things and get it over with. Just pretend nothing happened,”

Andi looked up from her bracelet, her eyes glossed over with a layer of tears. “. . .but what about us?”

“What about us, Andi?” Amber sighed, “That’s in the past, can’t you just move on already?” she snapped, a bit harsher than intended.

Andi put a hand on Amber’s. “You know I care about you, right? I shouldn’t have said anything and I’m really sorry about what happened,” she croaked, her voice thick with pain.

“Me too,” Amber said, offering her a sympathetic smile, “things just. . .weren’t meant to be, I guess,” she admitted, “which is okay, you know. . .sometimes things just don’t work out,” she finished, letting her blonde hair shield her face from Andi. She’d done her best to keep her composure and really act like this was no big deal, but she was breaking inside. Amber cared for Andi so much and it physically hurt not being around her.

“I need to do something before you go,” Andi said suddenly crossing her legs and facing the other girl. It was enough to snap Amber out of her thoughts and toss her hair behind her shoulders.

“Okay, sure, I guess, what do y-”

And before she could comprehend anything, Andi’s hands were on her face and her lips were on Andi’s. Amber was in such shock she didn’t know what do; was she even still alive? The kiss felt like it lasted forever and not long enough at the same time. And when Andi pulled away, clearly embarrassed by her actions and muttering apologies under her breath, she just sat there, stunned.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Andi whispered to herself, walking away and swiping at the tears that fell.

Amber remained fixated on the girl, watching her turn into a dot in the distance. She feebly reached her hand up to her lips, still buzzing with adrenaline and excitement. It took her what felt like forever to come back to reality. She tugged on her hair, still ruminating on what had just happened. She cared about Andi so much, and that kiss. . .seemed to answer her questions and raise double the amount of questions simultaneously.

“I still really like her,” Amber whispered to herself, shutting her eyes and letting her eyes burn with tears, “I still like her, and I let her go,”

TJ felt the air conditioning hit him when he first opened the door, sighing audibly. As much as he loved summer, he couldn’t deny that it was so nice to walk into a cool house. Setting the bag down on the floor, he started to take his shoes off when his mom walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” she asked, grabbing a pitcher of milk from the fridge.

“Out shopping,” he said, holding up the bag, “it’s a bunch of things for the Christmas in July music festival,”

“That sounds fun,” she replied, adding the milk to her already brewed coffee, “I think I saw an ad about that on Facebook,”

“Yeah, Cyrus and I have been planning for a while, and I still need to get tickets, but then after that I-”

“-Cyrus?” his mom cut in, her voice shrill and piercing.

Shit, TJ. Why can’t you go two seconds without mentioning Cyrus? “I-uh,” he cleared his throat, face turning redder by the second, “y-yeah. We’re journalism partners, remember? I told you that we had to work together and write about it, take pictures, you know,” he explained, his voice growing consistently softer.

“You can’t go to the festival with him,” she said plainly, as though with a hint of disappointment in her voice. She took a sip of her coffee, meeting her son’s gaze for the first time since he walked in.

“Wh-mom,” he practically whined, “please don’t do this,” he begged. Please don’t take me away from Cyrus.

“I’ve already said why, TJ, and I’m not going to explain it again,” she said firmly, leaning against the counter, “I’m not going to have my son hang out with. . .people like him,”

TJ could almost hear the smoke coming out of his ears, his heart thumping so loudly in his ears that he thought his eardrum would burst. “People like him?” he repeated, his voice rising, “Mom, you don’t know him at all! Cyrus is the nicest, sweetest, kindest, smartest, best person I know,” he rambled, crossing his arms. And also I’m so in love with him and I love the way he smiles and when he laughs I feel like I’m going to faint from happiness and I just want to kiss him a thousand times.

His mom simply shook her head, her short, graying hair dusting her shoulders. “See? It already sounds like you’re in love with the boy,” she mused, nearly grimacing at the very thought.

TJ felt a lot of things in that moment; embarrassment, anger, shock, confusion, frustration. But he never expected himself to say anything about it. “Cyrus is the best thing in my life,” he stated, no wavering in his voice, no fear in his eyes.

She took a sip of her coffee again, setting it down with a high-pitched ‘clink’. “TJ. You can’t go with him, end of discussion,”

“But I already promised!” TJ insisted, frustration bubbling up inside of him with each word.

“And I already said you couldn’t go,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes hardening, “tell him you can’t go with him and that’s that, TJ. You’re done with him,”

TJ felt his hands balling up into fists, shaking at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to punch a hole in the nearby wall, but somehow, he managed to contain himself. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” he seethed, grabbing his phone and heading out the door, slamming it behind him.

[Me: can u come to the swings now? i need to talk to you]

TJ stomped his way down to the park, feeling a lump in his throat rise, making him feel as though he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were burning, tears wanting to trickle down his face, but he refused. He was going to do this calmly and smoothly.

[Underdog <3: okay...i’ll see u there]

“So,” Walker started, swinging his and Jonah’s intertwined hands, “there’s this pride parade happening next week. Do you wanna come with me?”

“Obviously,” Jonah chuckled, the idea painting a smile on his face, “I just. . .I don’t know what my parents would say about that,”

“Oh, we can do something else,” Walker suggested quickly, “you know I’d never put you in a situation that made you uncomfortable, right?”

Jonah nodded, furrowing his brows together. “I know, and I like really want to go,” he sighed, thinking it over for a moment, “I could. . .tell them I’m doing something else?”

Walker quirked a brow, stopping Jonah for a second to he could face him. “You really don’t have to, Jonah. Whatever you feel comfortable with, I’m right there with you, all the way,”

Jonah smiled, his cheeks a dusty pink. How was he so lucky to have someone like Walker in his life? “I know. I want to do this. You and me, together,” he chirped, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Walker’s.

Walker felt a rush of warmth take over his body, tilting his head a little to give Jonah a quick peck on his nose. “Together,”

Cyrus walked up towards the swings, seeing TJ lazily move in one of them. “Hey, I got your text, is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah,” TJ lied, looking at the ground so Cyrus couldn’t see the tips of his ears burning, “I just needed to talk to you,” he started, motioning for Cyrus to take a seat on the open swing.

“About what?”

“. . .about the Christmas festival,” he sighed, his heart already racing, and he wasn’t even at the worst part.

“Oh, I still need to get tickets for us, shoot,” Cyrus mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, “I promise when I get home I’ll get them for us, I’ve just been thinking a lot lately,”

“Right,” TJ mumbled, kicking at the ground, “about that.” He exhaled sharply out of his nose, gripping onto the swing chains harder. He couldn’t even face Cyrus; he knew he’d start crying the moment his eyes met the other boy’s. Just spit it out, his mind yelled at him, causing his to squint his eyes shut.

TJ opened his mouth to say something, but then he felt Cyrus put his hand over one of his own. He felt his breath hitch, a familiar lump forming in the back of his throat. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Not now.

“I-uh. . .I can’t go to the festival with you anymore,” he said quickly, his voice growing meeker with each word. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the other boy’s reaction, but he immediately felt Cyrus retract his hand, as if he’d been burned.

“What do you mean you can’t? We’ve been planning this for weeks, TJ,” Cyrus exclaimed, hopping off his swing, and although TJ couldn’t see it, he was staring the taller boy down from his swing.

“I know,” he muttered weakly, scrubbing harshly at his eyes, continuously reminding himself not to cry, “and, shit, I really wanted to, but,”

“But what, TJ? Did something else come up?” Cyrus asked. TJ looked up to meet his gaze and instantly regretted it. He no longer saw the warm flame of happiness burning in the other boy’s eyes; they reminded him of when he was with him in the cafeteria and he looked terrified of the other students.

TJ bit down so harshly on his lower lip that he almost drew blood, but he didn’t care; that pain was nothing. “I-my mom. . .she said I couldn’t go,” he supplied lamely, hoping that was enough of an answer.

Cyrus frowned, his brows furrowing up. “Is it like a transportation issue? My mom could drive us both down there and she could even-”

“No, it’s not that,” he cut in, his gaze returning to the wood chips underneath his sneakers. He could sense his hands were trembling, but all he did was grip onto the chains harder. Deep breath, TJ, he reminded himself, exhaling a final breath.

“She doesn’t want me hanging out with you because you’re. . .” he trailed, waving his hand and gesturing without saying anything more. And God it hurt to badly to do this he felt like he was in physical pain.

A beat. Two beats. Cyrus took a step forward, studying the other boy’s face carefully. “Because I’m gay? You can say the word, you know,”

I know. “. . .Yeah, that,” TJ replied shakily. He technically had the ability to say the word, but he could barely say it to himself in the mirror. How was he expected to say it so nonchalantly in front of Cyrus?

“And. . .you’re just going to ditch me just like that?” he continued. Another step forward. Slowly, TJ could feel his carefully constructed walls starting to crumble. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t start crying, at least not here.

TJ shrugged in response, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “I mean, what else can I do? She’s an adult, and she’s in charge and-”

“Are you implying that she’s right about this whole situation? That it makes sense for you to not be able to hang out with me because I’m gay?” Cyrus demanded, causing TJ to gulp. He’d never seen Cyrus so adamant, and he’d never felt to vulnerable. How the tables have turned.

“If I’m being honest, Cyrus, I didn’t-”

“Oh, now you’re going to start being honest?” he scoffed, crossing his arms, “has everything until now been a lie?”

The question hung in the air, thick with tension. Neither boy stirred. TJ had completely stopped swaying on his swing; the only noise was the rustling of the wind through the trees. TJ had always loved silence, but something about this one seemed bad. Really bad.

“. . .Did you mean it,” Cyrus deadpanned, knowing his voice was on the edge of breaking, “when I came out to you, and you said that you’d accept me no matter what. Did you really mean it?”

A pause. With each moment of silence that passed, TJ could feel the lump in his throat grow more prominent. He felt tears start to bud at the corners of his eyes, but he scrubbed them away.

“Cyrus, please, I-“

“You what, TJ?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes, “you can’t just deal with your mom not approving of something you do? I’m sure that’s not new to her,”

TJ clenched his hands around the chains and released them, over and over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cyrus brushed it off, his voice cracking as he kicked at the ground, “some people are homophobic,”

TJ jumped up from his swing, taking a step towards Cyrus. “I am not homophobic,” he hissed, curling his toes inside his sneakers, “dumb, insensitive, and a fucking idiot, yeah,”

“Don’t try and play the victim here,” Cyrus jabbed, “it’s not my fault you can’t stand up to your own mother,”

“You have no idea what it’s like living with her,” he started, glaring at the other boy, “she’s—“

“Homophobic,” Cyrus finished, “like you,”

TJ felt his blood boiling, his vision becoming a little blurry through tears. “I am not and frankly cannot be homophobic!”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Cyrus demanded, getting closer to TJ by the second.

“Because I’m fucking gay!”

And there it was. He’d finally said the word out loud; in front of another person, as well. It felt almost relieving, and probably would have felt better if he wasn’t fighting with Cyrus. He expected Cyrus to be shocked, maybe take a second to think it over.

What he did not expect Cyrus to do was laugh. Like, full on, doubling over.

“You really got me there,” he said through a chuckle, a few tears trickling down his face, “you think you can just pretend to be gay to try and make this whole thing okay?”

Pretend. Pretend. “I’m telling the truth, Cyrus, I—“

“How am I supposed to believe that, TJ?” he cut in, searching his eyes for some sort of answer, “you’ve basically been taking your mom’s side all day,” he accused.

And then TJ broke. His walls were reduced to piles of sand, his clever comebacks dying before they reached his tongue. Tears flowed freely down his face. If you asked him, it was utterly pathetic.

Cyrus stared at the ground for a moment, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for journalism. I don’t think I can do this,”

TJ angrily swiped at his tears, trying to meet his gaze. “Don’t quit the class because of me,”

Cyrus scoffed, dabbing at his own tears. “Oh, please, I’m not quitting because of you. I’m quitting in spite of you. There’s a difference,” he grumbled.

“How am I supposed to do the assignment then?”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped slightly, letting out a breathy laugh. “For once, that’s not my problem,” he stated with as much confidence as he could possibly gather. Silence fell over them, save for their occasional sniffing.

“You know,” Cyrus started, a smile ghosting his lips, “I hated you before I even met you. Buffy told me all about you and I believed her blindly,” he paused, glancing up at TJ, whose gaze was on the ground.

“And when you started being nice to me, doing all these things with me,” he mumbled, pacing around so harshly he thought his footsteps would burn right through wood chips, “and I thought that maybe Buffy was wrong. That I was right and that you were actually a good person; someone who’s changed,” he choked back a sob, trying to smile at the situation.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong in my life,” he blubbered, pressing against his eyes firmly.

TJ looked at him with watery eyes. He wanted to say that Buffy was wrong, and that he had changed. That he cared about Cyrus more than anyone could imagine. That all the good things he’d done were because of Cyrus. That he was so utterly in love with him. But all the words were caught in his throat, held back by tears and fear.

After another beat, Cyrus sighed audibly, and started walking away. With each step, he could feel more and more tears slip down his face and drip onto his shirt or the grass. At one point he slowed his pace, begrudgingly turning around to see the swings and see if TJ was still there. But all he saw was two empty swings, swaying gently in the wind.

6/23

Today was the worst day of my life. TJ hates me because I’m gay, and cancelled plans to go to the Christmas in July festival. I should have just believed Buffy when she said that he was ‘Toxic TJ Kippen’, and that he was bad news. I really thought that this project would bring us together. Turns out I was wrong.

Cyrus wiped away tears quickly, before they had a chance to smudge his writing. This was probably going to be the last entry of the journal, considering he was seriously contemplating dropping the class. Yes, he loved journalism and it was something he definitely wanted to pursue in college. No, he didn’t want to spend the rest of the summer with TJ. Pushing his journal aside, his picked up his phone. Several new texts from TJ, one from Buffy, and a notification letting him know that his order for a new theatre book would arrive soon. His hands trembled, setting the phone aside to flip to the back of his notebook.

thantophobia: the fear of losing someone you love

Cyrus sighed, a few loose tears trickling down his face. No matter how mad TJ made him, how upset he felt, he couldn’t bring himself to tear out the little sheet of words. Trying to distract himself, he picked up his phone again.

[real vampire slayer not clickbait: sorry for teasing you about tj. he just seems like he rlly likes you, you know?]

Cyrus almost smiled: almost. Buffy rarely apologized, but she seemed to be getting better at that.

[Me: dont worry about that or us jsdhkjfsd]

And he meant it. He didn’t want Buffy to worry about what was happening; he didn’t want anyone knowing what happened.

7 new messages from ‘Teej’

Cyrus hesitated, his finger hovering; one click to just see the messages. And he really wanted to, but he also didn’t want to. It was this inner tug of war where nobody won, and Cyrus ended up losing either way. Shutting his eyes, he tapped on the screen, opening up his messages.

[Teej: cyrus im so so sorry i fucked up so badly]

[Teej: i do support you like so much]

[Teej: please talk to me]

[Teej: i can’t stand not talking to you]

[Teej: please answer my texts, i wanna make sure you’re ok]

[Teej: cyrus please]

[Teej: sorry]

Cyrus read the texts, over and over. Eventually the colors started to blend together, the white background and the blue bubbles becoming one blob as his eyes glossed over with tears. He turned his phone off, putting it under his pillow and burying his head in the pillow, his sobs muffled by the fabric.

6/23

I screwed up so badly today. I lost my best friend, all because I’m scared of my mom. I’m such a coward. I’ll never get to talk to him again. I’ve lost him. I’ll never get to hear him laugh, or see him smile, or tell him that I love him. Classic TJ. Anything good, I gotta ruin it.

TJ let out a frustrated sigh, blinking his eyes a few times. He’d done his share of crying, his eyes now irritated and puffy. He tried taking a shower, to clear his head, but that didn’t help at all. Everything seemed to be crumbling before his very eyes.

“TJ? Can I come in?”

Amber. TJ groaned, pulling a blanket over his face. “Go away,” he whimpered, and cleared his throat, “I don’t wanna see anyone,”

“You’ve been crying,” she observed, solely from his voice.

“. . .no,” he lied, crossing his arms, but not like she could see him.

“TJ.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he protested, “not now,”

Amber nodded, taking a step back. “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me,” she said, walking back to her room and shutting the door.

Only when TJ knew that she was gone did he go into the bathroom, turn on the water, pull his knees into his chest, and sob until he cried himself to sleep.

Tag List: @shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ginnychrises|| @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian || @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz || @quietmarvel || @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia || @broadwayitbitch || @tjsmuffin || @tjthekippen || @idpleasesir || @hi-hello-hey-there || @bingewatchingenthusiast|| @booklove-2 || @illbeyourreasonwhy || @birdiesandflowers || @whistlepunk || @phinallyjackie || @thedampjofangirl || @tyrus4eva || @tj-is-a-lemony-boy || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @dis-app-oin-tme-nt || @nessarinthegay || @breadisticks || @typewriter-riz || @gobletofash || @bluemuffinboy || @sofuuh || @cheesystars || @tjmuffin || @multifandom-bxitch || @allylovessadie || @hithatsmyname || @tyrusinarush ||

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