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asterlark · 3 years

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ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm-#i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

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slasherpegger · 3 years

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Going To The Mall With The Sawyers

Characters: Bubba, Chop Top, Nubbins, and Drayton

Word count: 0.6k

A/N: I’m open for requests!

Bubba Sawyer

Obviously you can’t bring Bubba with his skin mask, so you two have to think up ways he could cover his face. There are numerous ways to go out; sunglasses and a medical mask, halloween masks, even maybe a masquerade mask. You settle on a ski mask.

Bubba isn’t used to social interaction as he’s a homebody. He’s definitely anxious, fidgeting with his bracelet and whimpering nervously. Make sure to hold his hand to calm him down and keep him close.

Clothing stores are a must. Bubba loves to dress up and it doesn’t matter what gender the clothes are-- he’s going all out. Tuxedos? Definitely. Dresses? Yes please. He isn’t just dressing himself up, you’re a part of this too. It’s impossible to leave the store without bags and bags of clothes.

Chop Top Sawyer

Wears his Sonny wig and encourages you to dress up with him.

The moment he sees a FYE he’s running over to it, dragging you behind with him. He’ll go absolutely feral in the vinyl records section, throwing the ones he doesn’t like on the ground and hoarding his favorites.

He brought his shoulder bag just to steal an unhealthy amount of vinyls. Mall security is called after five minutes of him trying to play tetris in his bag with how much he stole.

The two of you are running out of the store the moment security arrives and Chop is still pocketing random items as he runs out.

The two of you are hiding in the back of his truck trying to catch your breath when he pulls out a palm sized pink bunny plushie.

“F-for my Cher… ehehe.. I-it’s as c--cute as you.”

Nubbins Sawyer

Undoubtedly you need to hold this man’s hand or else he runs away by himself. You remember stories of Drayton putting the twins on child leashes and you can never blame him.

If there’s a fountain, Nubbins is drinking out of it and stealing the coins. Who’d leave all of this free money at the bottom of this tasty water?

You’ve learned the hard way not to take him clothes shopping. The moment he gets bored he’ll wander off into the dressing rooms, set off a fire, and scream you need to get out.

Nubbins has no awareness of personal boundaries. He takes pictures of everybody and everything he thinks is cool. It took a bit of convincing, but he takes pictures of the two of you together.

All of this chaos made you hungry so the two of you decided to get a soft pretzel. As you reach into your bag to pay, Nubbins takes a photo of the employee and hands it to him with a shit eating grin.

The two of you are escorted out of the mall after a fight with a soft pretzel stand employee, photographs, and coins being thrown.

Drayton Sawyer

First, you need to convince this grumpy old man to even leave the house. By some miracle you do, here’s how it’d go.

He’s the most “normal” out of the Sawyers so he doesn’t need any supervision, no disguises, no hand holding, no child leashes.

He complains the entire time you’re out about how much of a waste of time and money this is, particularly if you go clothes shopping.

If the mall you go to has rest areas with couches, he’ll fall asleep once sitting there. If you let him, he’d be out for hours.

Getting food is a difficult task with Drayton, he’ll pull a “we have food at home” the moment you offer anything. If you manage to get something to eat, he’ll complain about how it’s not quality and as good as home cooking.

#bubba sawyer #chop top sawyer #nubbins sawyer #drayton sawyer #tcm x reader #tcm fanfic #headcanons #fanfic #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers x reader #slashers #x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer x reader #Drayton sawyer x reader

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fundy-simp · 3 years

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Fundy/GN!Reader - Two Days [11,010 words]

Fluff! For this anon! You were lucky enough to join your European friends on their trip to England and in the process you got to meet your wonderful boyfriend Fundy. Oh, you also got to get the wrath of TommyInnit witnessing his friends in a relationship. (/lh I love Tommy) I have so much fluff for this idea guys, I’m going to write some really cheesy bits for this and I’m going to love it >:] Also there’s a very intimate scene in this, not spicy or heated but idk I felt like I should mention it just incase. Ignore the botched plane stuff, lines that are off from the vlog, and the slightly rushed ending, I was getting a little frustrated with how long this was taking <//3 I promise tho I still love the request and I’m very happy I could fill it in a way that I’m at least mostly happy with. Anyways as always please feel free to scroll past if anything about this makes you uncomfortable :)

Your fingers tapped on the arm rest, leg bouncing as you grumbled, how long does it take a plane to land? Immediately you laugh at yourself, it takes a while. You need to calm down, it’s not like your one plane landing away from your closest friends and the man you quite honestly see as the love of your life! Of course not. It’s just a normal first ever trip to England. This is absolutely fine.

...

You’re entirely lying to yourself, your heart feels like it's going to explode as it beats in your ears. Fundy’s going to be there, the man who’s brought you endless hours of joy and smiles. The man who’s pulled you out of countless panic attacks. The man who you’ve had to lovingly bully into making sure he eats and drinks enough. The man who you’ve fallen asleep in call with countless times. The man who all you’ve ever wanted to do to is yank into a kiss and never let go.

Fidgeting with your seatbelt for a second, you groan and you pull your hands up to your face, resting the heel of your palms on your eyes. You all have known each other for months and logically you know it’ll go fine. But your brain isn’t known for listening to logic, or you for the matter, so when anxiety starts to boil in your stomach you’re not surprised. So many things could go wrong you couldn’t even begin to list them.

It took the plane actually touching the ground to land for you to pull your hands off your face and realize you didn’t hear a single thing the pilot just said. Quietly you waited for them to say your good to go as you readjusted your mask. Good god, your fidgeting is starting to annoy you, what are all of your friends going to think? You sigh as you feel the plane finally stop, waiting till you see other people standing up before standing up yourself.

Slowly the passengers started to leave the plane and carefully you followed behind, trying not to get too close per social distancing and all. Nervously you pat your hands on your thighs, waiting patiently while the flight attendant checked your temperature. Once you got the okay you shuffled off the plane, your eyes scanned over everyone in the airport, looking for any of your friends.

After a few scans you finally spotted Wilbur, how it took multiple tries to spot a man who towered over everyone is beyond you, but aside the point. As you started to jog towards him you see Tommy pop up next to him, "Ayyyee y/n!!" he basically yelled and Niki shushed him, whispering something to Tommy before you see him huff. The scene made you smile, he was definitely just as loud as you expected him to be.

“Hey Tommy!” you replied, you’re still anxious but actually seeing your friends in its own way has calmed you down. Once you get over there Niki pulls you into a quick but tight hug before Wilbur flung an arm around your shoulder.

You couldn’t see his smile, thanks to his mask, but you could recognize the way his eyes were crinkled. “Hey, y/n! How was the flight?” he asked as he started walking, pulling you along with him.

“Oh it wasn’t-” You looked around for Fundy, frowning slightly when you didn't find him, “It was okay. Where- Where’s Fundy?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your knuckles together, you know he wouldn’t lie to you but a lot of previous relationships made an uncomfortable pit grow in your stomach.

Tommy from the other side of Wilbur let out a bark of a laugh, “That dumbass overslept and missed his flight!” he shrugged, “Don’t know why he still bothered getting another flight but he should be here soon.”

“Yeah, he’ll be here. We’re gonna go get your luggage then we’re heading to his terminal.” Will said as he gave your shoulder a couple of pats, “Don’t worry your lover boy will be here soon!” he couldn’t help but laugh at his own lighthearted teasing while you turned red.

You could hear Tommy gasp as Will said the second part, oh god. You guys never told Tommy you were dating, you both managed to keep it under wraps for an upwards of five months. “You and Fundy are dating?!?!” He yelled, earning himself another glare from Niki that he ignored, too lost in his own laugher, “Oh my god, this is gonna be so great! I’m going to make this so awkward.”

Groaning at the sound of Tommy’s ‘I’m definitely causing mayhem and you can’t stop me’ voice, you sigh and pull Wilbur off of you before looping around to Tommy. He was definitely taller than you but that didn’t stop you from hooking your arm around his neck and pulling him down to your level “Tommy. My main man. My good friend. My best bud, if you will... I swear if you ruin anything within the first thirty minutes, I will personally assure we leave you in an alley after 9 pm.” You gave him a stern squint as he just stared at you. After a few seconds and Niki and Wilbur giggling, you give him a noogie before letting him go, “I’m joking, I’m joking! But, seriously, at least thirty minutes.”

Tommy huffed as he ran his hand through his hair a few times, “Bro what the fuck?” He stopped for a moment, seemingly remembering you asked something of him “... Fine. But you owe me one!” He insisted, you just rolled your eyes and agreed.

By now you had all made it to the baggage claim and you carefully looked for your backpack to make sure you didn’t grab someone else’s by mistake. Once you spotted it you quickly ran to grab it before returning to the group who had moved and sat on one of the rows of benches in the middle of the room. You could see Niki mumble something to Wilbur before he nodded, “You guys whispering gossip without me?? God, my own best friends would really hurt me like this huh?” you say dramatically as you pulled your backpack on.

The two immediately shook their heads, “No, no! Of course not, how could we live with ourselves if we did?” Niki replied, her voice sounding just as dramatic as yours. You both cracked into giggles, them falling into her words as she spoke “But anyway, Fundy might be a little longer so we’re just gonna wait here.” she patted the seat next to her and you happily plopped down.

The next ten minutes were filled with Tommy talking about basically anything he could get away with, future video ideas, Dream SMP plot, at one point you're pretty sure he started talking about SMP Earth, but you couldn’t be sure. It was a nice filler conversation, sometimes one of the others would jump in and say something but you just stayed quiet for the most part, stuck in between the weird middle ground of anxious and very, very tired from your trip.

When you accidently started to doze off you felt someone carefully wrap their arms around your shoulders. “Oh, Fundy...” You say quietly, leaning into the touch for a second before almost jumping out of your skin, “Holy shit, hey Fundy.” You said pulling yourself out of his arms before jumping over the bench to tackle him in a hug. “You’re actually here. Oh my god.” you are trying your damnedest not to cry as you finally learn just how comfortable his hugs really are.

Fundy holds onto you a little tighter when he hears little hics come from you, changing his stance just enough to be sure you both don’t fall, “I'm here, y/n. I really, really am.” he said quietly, burying his face in your hair. “I love you so much.” he pulled you away from him, pulled down his mask so he could place down light kisses everywhere on the exposed skin of your face, making you giggle.

“I love you too, dork.” You reply before pulling your own down and tugging him into a kiss, it was a slow one, full of unfamiliarity and so much love. It made your heart flutter more than he already did and you honestly didn’t think that was possible.

When you both pulled apart you were forcibly reminded by Tommy making very exaggerated gagging noises that you two were, in fact, not alone. “My eyes! Wilbur my eyes!! It’s so gross it's blinding me!” The teen jokes, still fake gagging. You and Fundy just rolled your eyes while you pulled your masks back up, neither you expected anything different from him.

Wilbur just sighed and lightly shoved Tommy, “Great job, you lasted almost five minutes, that’s a record I’d say.” Tommy just replied by flipping Wilbur off which sent the whole group into hysterics. He tried to defend himself but all his sentences just devolved into laughs so he gave up. All you can think about is how this is home, laughing so hard with your friends that you cry while you lean on your boyfriend.

Once everyone calmed down Fundy made sure his backpack was on fully before stepping over the bench. Niki let out a laugh as she jokingly scolded him, "The bench really isn’t that long, you could have just walked around, you know?"

Fundy just shrugged, "I mean, y/n just did it! I'm just following their lead!" he said, a shit eating grin on his face that made Niki sigh.

You chuckled as you walked around and the rest of the group got up, "Well, who's hungry? I know y/n hasn't eaten in at least five hours so why don't we go get pizza or something?" Wilbur suggested, fishing his keys outta his pocket.

“Fuck yeah, pizza!!!” Tommy yelled excitedly, quickly stealing Wilbur's keys and sprinting away.

Will stuttered for a second before running off after Tommy, "Motherfucker, not again! Get back here, you aren't even old enough to drive!!"

You, Fundy, and Niki followed after the two, laughing at their antics. Fundy softly entangled your guy's fingers, placing his forehead on the top of your head for a second in place of a kiss. "Oh my God, you guys are already attached at the hip-" Niki said, laughing more, you know it's lighthearted teasing but it still makes you blush.

"Aw, come on Niki! I thought you'd be the one to not tease us!" you said in a joke whiny tone, hiding your face in Fundy's shoulder.

Niki started to laugh harder, "Oh- Oh hell no, this is just the beginning!" she said, you couldn't see her face but you could absolutely hear the devilish grin. You lightly bonk your head on Fundy's shoulder a few times out of embarrassment which caused him to giggle. Oh. That's so much cuter in person, holy shit.

Sighing, you hear Tommy scream making you snap your head in his direction, Wilbur had him by the wrist, wiggling his keys out of his fingers. Tommy let out a loud laugh as he basically sprinted away from Wilbur to the doors of the airport. “Oh, we got outta here faster than I expected....” you mumbled mostly to yourself, watching Tommy fling the door open at full force and quickly close behind him.

“It was probably longer than you think, you were just too distracted by a certain Dutch to realize it.” Wilbur said while he pushed the door open with his shoulder, lingering long enough for the rest of you to walk though.

"Shut your dirty crime mouth, Soot." you say through a groan, you weren't actually mad, of course, but if they were going to be like this this entire trip your pretty sure your just going to stop existing.

Fundy let out a quiet laugh at your behavior before responding to Wilbur, "I don't know, I feel like this is a win for me! I get all of y/n's attention and you called me 'a certain Dutch' instead of other things." he smirked, still laughing a little.

Wilbur snapped his fingers, "Oh yeah! Of course my bad, a certain furry was distracting you y/n!" he said happily, as he directed the group towards his car and Tommy who was basically already there.

"Noooooo!!!" Fundy grumbled as he brought his free hand up to his face.

Tommy stood at the car now, trying to open the front seat door “Shut up furry boy, I want pizza!” he shouted, trying the door again.

A mischievous grin crossed your face as you lifted his hand up near your face, "It's okay babe, I love you even though you're a furry!" you teased him, which made him groan.

"No no no no no! Stop it!!" he pulled his hand out of yours, causing you to frown, before he crossed his arms and stopped in the middle of the parking lot "I'm not a furry and you know it y/n!! My own partner for fucks sake." You could tell from his high pitched voice that he was joking but you still felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach

Carefully you grabbed his wrists and tried to pull his hands from his face but he pulled against you, “Noooo, sweetheart I’m sorry.” You say in a soft voice, now trying to pull his hands away with a good portion of your body weight. “Baaaaabe, please...” you pleaded, you could feel him tense and shuffle his feet to better support your weight, his hands still not moving. “Oh, this is just unfair now!” you say exasperated.

Fundy tried to keep his pouting bit up but quickly broke into a laugh, it was the fox esque laugh he normally did, it still makes your heart flutter “Unfair!? You’re the one supporting, like, all your body weight on me!” You giggle as you start to lean down towards the ground more, making him wobble for a second before steadying out.

“Holy SHIT, I was supposed to make it awkward but you guys are doing a fine job on your own! What the fuck guys?!” Tommy complained. You turned his way to see him grumpily crawling into the back seat of Wilbur’s car, “Now stop being in love, it’s gross and I want pizza!” He shouted as he slammed his door.

You immediately let go of Fundy, almost stumbling to the ground out of embarrassment, “Listen! In my defense this is the first time I’m meeting my boyfriend! I feel like this is warranted.” you said as you got up and made your way over to the car.

“Y/n you’re gonna have to sit in the middle seat, I’m pretty sure the other two tall bastards would die if they sat there.” Wilbur said as he checked everything up at the front.

You shuffled into the middle seat, trying your best to not get into Tommy's bubble too much as Fundy sat down next to you. The drive was relatively short, only about ten minutes, and he felt even shorter when you absentmindedly cuddled into Fundy. He happily wrapped an arm around you as he rested his head on yours.

Tommy tried to complain about being stuck in the back with you two but Wilbur derailed him and got him to go on about their trip to an arcade yesterday. If you’re honest you weren’t paying attention at all but he seemed very excited about his vlog guns and you were glad he was having fun. Sighing, you lean into Fundy just a little more and he hummed quietly, if the car ride was any longer you’re pretty sure you both would have fallen asleep like that.

When Wilbur pulled the car to a stop you both begrudgingly leaned up from each other and everyone filed out of the car. Quickly you guys made your way into the restaurant, you and Fundy ordered your pizza first, just a simple medium where it was half his favorite and half yours. After they handed you your table marker you went and sat down, you and Fundy had your own both while Niki and Wilbur had one near and Tommy sat at a table by himself.

Fundy looked at the table marker in disbelief, “OH- Y/n, y/n. Holy shit, look at what table number we have.” he looks at you, quite literally making the pog face at you, which makes you giggle.

“What is it?” you ask, trying to push your giggles down as he showed you the table marker, it was bright yellow and had 69 written on it, “YOOOOOOOOO!” you said much louder than you meant to, making him break out laughing.

“Guys- Guys, you need to see this.” Fundy insisted as he turned towards the rest of the group, presenting the 69 table marker. Everyone fell into a heavy giggle fit, laughing more at another’s laugh causing a laughing feedback loop.

You bang a fist on the table a few times, struggling to breath, why were you laughing so hard? You had no idea, but man, the serotonin it gave you was wonderful. Eventually you all calmed down, the other three going back to their conversation while you and Fundy finally calm down. Silence grew between you two, it was comfortable but you’d be lying if you didn’t want an excuse to hear your boyfriend’s voice. You dig into your mind, looking for a conversation topic for a few moments before finally finding one. "So how was the plane?" you ask him, absentmindedly putting your hand on the table to tap some random tune.

His eyes flicked to your hand, smiling a little as he recognized the tune, one of Wilbur's songs, "Terrible if I'm honest, I'm unbelievably exhausted but it's okay. I'm here with you so it doesn't bother me at all." he said softly, his eyes full of love.

Blush creeped onto your face, something about him prioritizing you always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Before you could reply Tommy spoke up from his table, "That is the worst and cheesiest shit you could have said, you fuckin’ Simp." he was deadpanned for about two seconds before he cracked up in his bark of a laugh.

"And what about it Child Innit? You couldn't talk to someone you were interested in if you tried." Fundy retorted but his words lacked any bite to them, still it made you giggle as you heard Tommy sputter. Your friends bickering has always been the funniest and oddly coziest things.

You stop tapping the table and lean over it to lightly smack his shoulder, "Come on that was just uncalled for!" you say though a laugh, which makes him laugh.

Finally your food gets there and you both dig in, it wasn't until you took the first bite that you realized just how hungry you were. Thanks to that, the pizza didn't last long and soon the space was filled with your friend talking again. Wilbur was asking what to do next, since he really didn't have a plan, Niki suggested they go walk around town to find something to do while Tommy suggested that you all go to Wilbur's and watch Hamilton since he hadn't seen it yet.

A little to your surprise, Wilbur agreed with Tommy, mentioning how Fundy looked like he was ready to drop like a bag of cinder blocks and you had to agree with him. So once you all were fully done, Fundy paid for your pizza, Niki insisted on covering all of them but he wouldn't let her. As you all packed up to get back into the car you watched Fundy slip the table marker into his pocket, putting a finger to his lips while you both giggled. Finally, you all piled back into the car and headed to Wilbur's, which was a much shorter drive than you expected, you were much too used to America's commute times for this.

Once you were they're you all followed Wilbur up to his apartment, carefully you pulled your shoes and mask off before flopping down on his couch and getting comfortable. Fundy followed after you like a lost puppy, a little tell tale of when he got tired is that he got clingy, it was undeniably really cute. Once you sat down he sat down next to you and cuddled into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and craning his neck slightly to rest on your shoulder.

You pulled an arm up to ruffle his hair before turning and placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. He just hummed, stifling a yawn. Pulling your arm down, you turn to Niki who sat on the other end of the couch, "So how have you been Niki?" you ask, it's been a while since your last one on one conversation with her.

"Oh I've been okay!" she said happily, her eyes vaguely watching Tommy and Wilbur fight over the TV remote, "Been thinking about getting into art again, I'm not really sure yet though." she continued, trying not to laugh when she saw Wilbur basically sitting on top of Tommy, remote in hand.

A smile spread across your lips as you also tired not to laugh, mostly not to disturb your almost sleeping lover, "Oh really? That's great to hear!" you say as Tommy curses Wilbur out, insisting that he should have just let him pull Hamilton up, "I think you should go for it, especially if it makes you happy! I bet your fans, especially fanartist, would love it." you encourage her, you didn't interact with the Minecraft Youtuber fan community often, but a hunch told you that you were right.

"Maybe, maybe..." she nodded, it was hard to explain but you could tell she seemed at least a little more sure of herself now. By now Wilbur had let Tommy off of the ground as he pressed play on Hamilton. You've never seen the actual musical but you've heard all the songs enough to know them by heart, whether that was a good thing or not you couldn't tell.

Once the musical started playing the Wilbur and Tommy scrambled to the two recliners on either side of Wilbur's couch, getting comfortable for the long show. You frankly didn't watch it all that much, mostly just listening as you closed your eyes and rested your head on Fundy's. All your movements were deliberate, you were being very careful and highly aware just to make sure you didn't jolt him awake. Not that you were sure he was asleep, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

You basically spoke it into existence because within the next five minutes you notice his breathing even out and the hand on your hip becomes loose, limp even. You silently curse to yourself as you realize just how badly this is going to hurt his neck. After debating with yourself for what you would call way to long you decide to catch Niki's attention, "Psst, Niki, Nikiiiiii," you say quietly, dragging out the second 'i' till she looks over at you, "would you mind if Fundy rested his feet, well legs- he’s fuckin’ tall- his feet would be more on the arm rest- on you? I don't want him to hurt his neck." you say gesturing to him.

She gives you a quick nod and you lightly shake Fundy's shoulder, "Hey baby, lay your head down in my lap, I don't want you hurting your neck." you whisper, he grumbles some but listens to you. Once his head is in your lap he pulls his legs to his chest and seemingly falls back asleep. Noticing this you look up at Niki and shrug, she shrugs back with a soft smile before turning back to the musical.

Carefully you run your hands through his hair and he unconsciously leans into the touch making you smile. He's a lot more fox-like than he'll ever admit but that's okay, he doesn't need to admit it for it to be cute. With your boyfriend much more comfortable you happily turn your attention to the screen, absentmindedly messing with his hair as you sing along to the songs under your breath.

When the musical ended Tommy let out a loud cheer, which caught everyone off guard and definitely made you jump which in turn made Fundy jump awake. “Oh shit- What happening?” he asked as he sat up and straightened his legs while rubbing his face.

“You passed out during one of the best musicals ever, dickhead.” Tommy replied deadpan and all Fundy replied with was a very confused and tired face. Tommy scoffed and looked away, making you laugh, how and why that boy was always so dramatic you don’t know but it was undoubtedly entertaining.

Shrugging, Fundy leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “Hey, babe.” he said, lingering just long enough for you to place a kiss on his cheek back before leaning away again. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked, yawning.

“Well, Niki did suggest we walk around and just look for stuff to do, so why don’t we do that?” Wilbur asked, “Especially since now Fundy’s had a nap and all.” he stood up and stretched, groaning quietly.

Fundy followed after him, much to your surprise, and as he stood up he looped his arm in yours and pulled you up with him. You halfheartedly groan but don't stop him, "I'll be honest I've barely seen the ocean, let alone literally any other country." you mostly mumble, processing just how embarrassing that is to say to a bunch of Europeans.

Tommy shot up from his seat, "You've never seen the ocean??" he basically screams, getting a lighthearted smack from Wilbur, "Guys. Guys. We gotta go to the boardwalk, y/n would love it, it's considered-" he faked gagged, "-romantic."

You roll your eyes but don't argue, slightly leaning on Fundy for a few seconds before you lean up and gently place a kiss on his lips. There was a slight second of surprise on his face before it melted into a lovestruck look as he looked down at you. Your heartbeat was in your throat, that is a look you'll never get used to, a look that says you're the only person in his world, or at least the only one right now.

Before you could kiss him again Niki lightly shoulder checked you, oh shit, when did she get up? "Get your shoes on lovebirds." she said, you looked around to see the other three were basically already to go and scramble away from Fundy, your face going bright red.

You quickly make your way to your shoes, pull them on and put your mask on, and open the door for the others. The other three filed out, Wilbur waiting by the door frame and once you shut the door he locked it. “Aye, y/n, do you mind if I vlog? I’m a vlogger now!” Tommy asked as you all made your way to the street, he dramatically dragged out how he said ‘vlogger’ making you laugh a little harder than you meant to.

“Go for it big man, I don’t care if Fundy doesn’t.” You reply, threading your fingers in Fundy’s while the group starts walking, Tommy and Wilbur leading the group.

Fundy shrugged, “Since y/n’s okay with it, go crazy.” he agreed, Tommy let out a cheer and shoulder checked Wilbur just to mess with him. You can’t help but chuckle, “What’s so funny?” Fundy asks.

Waving your free hand you laugh a little more, “Oh, just seeing Will and Tommy in person reminded me how I thought they were actually brothers before we all got close.”

He looked at the two in question, squinting his eyes for a couple of seconds before he nodded, “Yeah! I see it, they definitely act like it.” he said as they burst out into a Hamilton song, Niki laughing as she joined in. Before you knew it Tommy had pulled out his phone, recording their shenanigans with a bright smile on his face.

It was all really loud and energetic so you and Fundy just quietly watched as the chaos unfolded. Tommy picked random times to start vlogging, catching half conversations and shots of the town. It all felt familiar even though you were the only one who didn’t really stream or do youtube, but it reminds you of when you just chill in their streams, mostly in the background to vibe. After a bit of wandering around you all ended up at a little food stand, getting a small snack before you went onto the boardwalk.

Once you all finished your snacks, Tommy started recording again, “I never know what I should record with these things.” he said, turning to look at Wilbur who just shrugged.

“The trick to making a good vlog is to just record everything, like just go up to people and ask ‘Hey, can I vlog?’“ Wilbur said, talking slightly with his hands.

Tommy groaned, “But then I look like a dickhead-!”

“Not if you ask!” Wilbur insisted, interrupting the teen. “Record your feet as you walk and go up to people and ask them random questions.” he continued, you watched the look on Tommy’s face turn mischievous as he turned the camera to Fundy and you.

“Hey! Fundy! What do you think of women?” Tommy asked, the phone all too close to Fundy. He stumbled for a slight second before pulling up the 69 table marker, barely holding a straight face as he tried to not laugh. “Oh- Oh my god! That is so incredibly offensive. Is that- Is that all women are to you Fundy?” Tommy asked while he cackled, causing everyone else to laugh with him. “Sexist Fundy!! Sexist Fundy and his sexist by association partner!” He joked.

That made you lose your mind, something about being sexist by association was the funniest goddamn thing you’d heard all day. You leaned onto Fundy as you struggled to breathe, instinctively you repeated the joke under your breath as you laughed which somehow sent the group into another laughing fit as Tommy tired to move on with the bit.

Eventually you all dropped the bit and happily spent the next two hours just wandering around the boardwalk and talking about whatever came to mind. Around the hour mark NIki had to leave, giving you all light hugs before she left on her own. The other hour was basically Tommy’s podcast, not that you were complaining, it was nice to listen too as the topics naturally jumped between each other and you did make sure to add your input when you felt like it was needed. It wasn’t until Tommy had gone on a long ramble about the youtube algorithm that you actually started to tune out. You swung your hand that held Fundy’s with a little bit of force, a smile in your eyes as you looked out at the ocean. “Really pretty, huh?” Fundy asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh yeah, I’m so used to fields I never thought oceans would look this pretty...” You say quietly before you turn to Fundy and squeeze his hand in yours, “But I’d say you're still the prettiest thing I’ve seen by a long shot!” You whisper to him, your voice soft with adoration as you watch his face go red under his mask.

He quickly looked away from you, ducking his head a little, “Then you should really start investing in mirrors if you think I’m the prettiest thing.” he replied just as quietly, his voice a little unsteady. It was cute to watch him flirt, how he tended to tiptoe the line of stuttering, rarely looking you in the eyes when he said it.

Your face heats up as you tilt your head, “Oh, really?” You ask, “I feel like I nee-” you go to continue before Tommy screams, making you jump and everyone to stop in their tracks. Your head snaps in his direction as his phone starts to ring, which true to his brand his ringtone was able sisters.

The rest of you stayed mostly quiet, absentmindedly you teetered from leg to leg while you tried your best to not eavesdrop on Tommy's conversation. Which was a much harder task than you’d expect, whether Tommy had his call volume all the way up or his dad is where he gets his loud persona from and you could hear his dad say he’d be at Wilbur’s to pick him up in a little under an hour. Tommy said okay and quickly hung up, probably to avoid his dad saying anything that embarrassed him which made you chuckle. He swiped at his phone a few times before holding his phone up near his face, “Okay, we gotta finish this vlog up! Wilbur, it was nice hanging out with you and-” He turned the camera to Fundy, laughing at his annoyed look, “-and sad Fundy.” He turned to the sky in front of you guys.

Quickly, Tommy and Wilbur devolved into banter as they ended the vlog and Fundy drags you to a bench on the side of the boardwalk. “Tommy was right though,” he says quietly and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to rest on his shoulder. “the boardwalk is pretty romantic.”

You giggle as you lean into him more, “And you’re pretty cheesy.”

“Oh, so you get to call me the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, but I don’t get to say that walking on a boardwalk with the love of my life is romantic?” Fundy grumbles but there’s no bite to it.

“Well yeah! That- Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.” You interrupted yourself, finally processing the words he just said, you bring your hands up to his face and cup it lightly, “Fundy- Fundy did you just call me the,” you swallow thickly, it’s not a problem if did, it’s just. You weren’t expecting him to care as much as you did already, multiple past relationships had taught you that you fall too hard and too fast for others to keep up, even if they wanted to. “The love of your life?” your voice drops to a whisper, like you hadn’t been dating for five months already and he could reject you right here, right now.

Fundy couldn’t help the light chuckle that left him and he brought his free hand to rest on one you had on his face, “Of course,” his eyes soften as he watches shock and blush spread across your face, “I had fallen in love with you the first time I heard your voice and I only fall more everyday.” He rubbed his thumb on your hand, you thought you’d pass out with how your heart soared at the lovestruck look he gave you, “Hell, y/n I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you more every second of this trip.” he moved to kiss the top of your head before remembering the masks and just resting his face in your hair.

Any and all words had completely dropped out of your head, “I… I don’t know how to respond to that…'' You mumbled, moving your hands from his face to wrap your arms around his waist as you bury your face into his body.

He hummed quietly, rubbing your shoulder, “And that’s fine, I already know you love me, don’t worry.” he yawned at the end of his sentence, snuggling into you more as he closed his eyes.

“How are you still tired?” You ask in a mumbe, surprised.

Shrugging, Fundy holds in another yawn, “Maybe you should just stop feeling as comfortable as home does, then maybe I won't be so tired.” He replies, while his words held weight his voice was soft.

Lazily, your gaze fell to the horizon, then to an arguing Wilbur and Tommy, you couldn’t hear them but you could assume they were arguing over something trivial. “Never,” you reply quietly, “if feeling like home to you means I get to hold you in my arms, then I never want to change that. I can deal with a clingy sleepy Funs for the rest of my life, frankly I think it’s cute.” you can feel him tense from embarrassment under you.

He quickly relaxes and grumbles and hides his face in your hair more, “I’m going to never be tired again out of spite now.” he said, mumbled by your hair.

You can help but laugh, your entire body bouncing with it as you replied, “Yeah, sure love. Whatever you say.” As hard as he tried he can’t keep a straight face and he quickly falls into giggling with you. After a bit you both calm down, simply enjoying each other's company while you don’t have any of your friends to, albeit lovingly, bully you. Neither of you are really sure how long you sat there, but before you knew it Wilbur was shaking your shoulder.

“Get up lovebirds or the offer to my guest bedroom is void.” He said in a dead tone, if you couldn’t see him you possibly would have believed him but his eyes said the opposite.

Sighing, you wiggled your way out of Fundy’s arms and tugged him up with you, intertwining your fingers. “Oh nooo! Whatever should we do! Fundy, my love, he’s going to make us sleep outside on this cold Brighton night!” You dramatically lean on him, bringing your hand to your forehead, suppressing a smile as you watched him try not to laugh.

Wilbur smirked as he puffed out his chest and touched it with just his finger tips, “It is all going to plan! Thy shall perish by sunrise!” his voice sounded like a rich british person making it impossible for any of you to keep a straight face, Fundy was the first to double over in laughter, you and Wilbur followed close behind.

Slowly the wheezing calmed down and you all came back to your senses, wide smiles plastered onto your faces, “Wait, did Tommy leave?” You ask, frowning some.

Stretching his arms above his head, Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, his dad picked him up while you and Fundy were having your moment on the bench. He didn’t wanna interrupt you guys.” he shrugs.

You can’t help but grumble, “Damn, I at least wanted to say goodbye to him!”

Reaching over, Wilbur lightly pats your shoulder, “Ey, don’t take it personally. You know he’s a busy guy, plus you know he cares for you.”

Nodding, you lean into Fundy again as you all silently come to the decision to start walking home. It was nice to listen to Fundy and Wilbur ramble on about things together, going from DreamSMP lore, to Wilbur's new album, to Fundy's new plugins, before looping back to music as Wilbur opened his front door. You didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying, just enjoying the noise of their voices.

As you all step in you pull off your shoes and masks, moving into the living room, “You can play my keyboard if you want Fundy.” You hear Wilbur say, visibly perking up at the idea, which Wilbur noticed, snickering as moved further into his house, “Seems like y/n very interested in the idea of you serenading them with your piano skills.”

Now they’re both laughing and you’re pretty sure this is where you sign your will and accept your fate. Quietly grumbling, you bury your face in your free hand, “Both of you shut your ups, I swear to god, I’ll go sleep in the airport.” you threaten, even though you’re all aware that’s an empty threat.

Fundy just laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap an arm around you “All you had to do is ask, you know.” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke which only made you blush more. Stupid cute boyfriend and his cute laugh and smiles and kind touches and- You pull your other hand up to your face and drag them down before pull them back up and through your hair.

You looked at Fundy with a loving but exhausted face, “You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” You say, only a little exasperated, you can still feel the heat on your face.

He smiled at you, it's warn, genuine, as he replied, “That’s okay, you’ll be the end to me too” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Smiling, you snaked your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss as he moved so that his hands so that they rested on your hips. Before you pulled apart you both could hear Wilbur yell something from his bedroom, office? Broffice. Chuckling as you finally did pull apart, Fundy pulled you to the broffice, Wilbur sat in front of his keyboard before noticing you guys and getting up.

He dragged you over with him and sat down, patting the seat for you to sit with him and you did, leaning on him lightly as he played a few short things to get used to the keyboard. It was nice to listen to, the small mistakes made you smile as you watched his hands, “Will, you should tell me where you got this, my keyboard is all wobbly. Makes playing certain songs hell.” he said, starting to play C418 Sweden.

Sighing, you close your eyes, sinking into the music and the warmth of Fundy pressed against you. Fundy switched through songs he knew carefully playing to be sure not to jostle you too much, you’re not sure when it happened but at some point you could hear Wilbur’s guitar. Quietly you hummed along while the two played, in the back of your mind all you could think about was doing this more often. Weekly would be nice, just a bunch of your friends get together and you listen to your boyfriend and best friends play.

Before you knew it Fundy was lightly shaking you awake, “Babe, come on, come with me to our room.” He says quietly. You let out a hum, letting him pull you up and along to your shared room. You hear some shuffling and zipping of bags as you halfheartedly try to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Here, go change out of your jeans, sleeping in those isn’t exactly comfortable.” he said softly, shoving a pair of sweats and a t-shirt into your arms. You move over to the bed and set them down before stripping to change, which immediately makes Fundy squeak, “WOAH- Woah- I- Hold on!” Fundy stuttered out as he turned around.

You can’t help but giggle as you pull off your shirt, “Why are you so embarrassed? You’re my boyfriend, you know?” you tease him as you slide on the shirt he gave you, the first thing you notice is how big it is, had to be one of his shirts.

You watch him bring his hands to his face, you could see how red his ears were from here, “Well, I mean, yeah but I’m being polite.” He mumbled, ducking his head as he moved his hands to the back of his head.

Pulling off the jeans quickly before slipping on the sweats, you walk over to Fundy and loop your arms around his waist, resting your face on his back. “Okay, Mr. I’m Very Polite and Nice, I’m all changed. It’s time for bed.” You say, tugging him slightly towards the bed. He nodded and pulled himself out of your grasp, headed to the bed as he dragged you along. He flopped down and you soon followed, quickly he shuffled the blanket over you both and pulled you into his chest.

The two of you sat there quietly, relishing in each other's touch as you listened to the other’s heartbeat. It was almost overwhelming how much Fundy felt like home, how his touches brought a sense of calm you didn’t you could get to. It was weird, new, exciting even, in its own way.

Then the fact you were leaving tomorrow hit you like a ton of bricks. Your brain starts to spiral, unconsciously your grip tightens on the front of Fundy’s shirt. You feel like you can’t breathe. Your eyes blur as you feel Fundy grab your hand, steadying it- wait when did you start shaking? He rubbed soft circles on it, his other hand felt grounding on your back as you curled into him just ever so slightly more. Two days wasn't enough. One night wasn't enough. You don't know how you're going to breathe now that you've learned what it feels like to actually have him by your side. "It's not fair." you quietly grumble, the words barely comprehensible.

His grip on your shirt tightens as he places a kiss on the top of your head, "I know, I know babe..." his voice was soft as he spoke, "Let's just enjoy it while we have it."

All you can do is nod, your brain too busy trying to memorize what it felt like to have your head tucked under his chin and your arms around his waist. After a couple of cozy silent minutes Fundy started to hum a tune, you couldn't recognize it but you know he's sung it to you before. You could feel the hums in his chest, the scene felt surreal, like every other part of this day. You didn’t bother stopping the tears that pricked your eyes.

You fell asleep like that, him humming quietly and rubbing calming circles on your back. Trying your best you committed every touch to memory as you slowly faded into sleep, just barely catching Fundy whispering "I love you, y/n." as you feel into one of the most comfortable rests of your life.

When you woke up your arms and legs were entangled with Fundy’s gangly ones, his face softly tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn’t want to move and unless someone had a real good reason you weren’t going to. You’re pretty sure this is what heaven feels like, holding the love of your life close as the sun poked through the half drawn curtains making the whole situation feel all the more unreal. That moment was cut short as Fundy started to wake up, instinctively pulling away from you as he did so. You whine quietly and weakly try to pull him back, after a few seconds he listens and reburies his face in your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for a while, probably around an hour, before you begrudgingly tell him you both should get up. Fundy let out a loud groan as you slipped out of his grasp, you sat up and stretched your arms over your head, looking over at him who now laid with his arms stretched out from his body.

Wait. When did he take his shirt off? Of course you've seen him shirtless before but something about seeing it in person is fundamentally different. It felt so much more, intimate, than before. You hadn't even realized you were staring till Fundy spoke up, a laugh in his words "If your gonna stare might as well touch." his voice was low, still laced with sleep.

"Wh- I- Uh. Well. I mean-" you stutter out, looking away making him laugh more. After a few seconds you look back at him, he didn't move at all, which didn't surprise you. Silently you turn towards him, you glance up at him holding his sleepy gaze as your hand hovered over his waist. He gave you a small encouraging nod and you lightly touched him, his muscles involuntarily tense at your touch, shit your hands were cold weren’t they? You internally cringe at yourself but just as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed, letting out a quiet hum as your hand started to warm.

You felt so dumb, looking at Fundy like you were a child seeing fireworks for the first time holding the same hesitation, even as if you could burn yourself or worse, you could hurt him. Of course, you knew you wouldn’t hurt him but unfamiliarity and anxiety boiled in your stomach no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was okay. Looking up at Fundy you can see his face soften, a smile on his lips as he leaves you to your own devices, not wanting to interrupt whatever process you were creating.

Silently grumbling at the lack of direction and you go to place your other hand on him, only to realize just how weirdly you were positioned. You pulled away from him, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from your boyfriend which you just wave your hand at. Carefully you straddle his hips, earning a soft grunt from him but he doesn't stop you, somehow you manage to just completely blank just how close you are as you continue to run your hands over his chest.

Despite how inherently not innocent the scene looked out of context, in context it was the exact opposite. Your movements were filled with both boundless curiosity as you tried to commit the feeling of his soft, pale skin under your hands and endless hesitation as you tried not to do something wrong. "You know, you are really, really handsome..." you say quietly, it's still hard to believe you're actually able to touch him if you're honest.

Softly you cup his face, leaning down and placing soft kisses all over it, making him quietly giggle. Pecking softly at his lips before you moved on to his jaw, then his neck. It was odd, to get to this point of intimacy without there being some sort of sexual motive threw you off, but it was a much welcomed change of pace. Something about leaving light kisses on the neck and collarbone felt different when it was just reassurances of love.

As you sit up away from him he hums quietly, finally awake enough to really process what's happening. After another minute or so he sat up quickly, knocking you off balance and sending you back towards his legs. Before you hit his legs he grabbed your waist, pulling you close, the situation happened so fast that by the time you realized he was fully awake you were already in his arms, both of you giggling messes. Fundy rested his nose in the crook of your neck, you could feel the smile he wore pressed against your skin.

It was a calm and serene scene, one you hope to have again and again and again when you guys can be together more. While you were lost in thought he smirked as he blew a raspberry on your neck, making you let out a loud laugh, "WH- Wait- Hold on! I! Fu-Fundy, what the f-uck??" you struggled to ask through your laughter as he continued to assault your neck with raspberries, moving in between each one.

You pushed against him, trying and failing to get away from his attack. After multiple failed sentences, giggles, and barks of laughter he finally let you go, his face plastered in a smug but still genuinely happy grin. You wanted to ask him what that was all about but air was not being your friend so you just rested your head in his shoulder, struggling to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry, but after I let you pamper me while I was half asleep I thought I'd just keep the train rolling." he said as if he read your mind, his hands resting comfortably on your hips as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "I couldn't resist your laughter, I love it too much!" he said happily.

You let out a quiet defeated sigh, moving so now your cheek rested on his shoulder, your nose nestled in the crook of his neck. "Did Wilbur have plans for us today?" you ask quietly, part of you wished he did but another part of you is completely okay with laying in bed with Fundy till you needed to go to the airport.

Fundy thought for a moment, fingers tapping lightly on your hips, "No idea, honestly." he finally said, shrugging ever so slightly. "I should probably text him." he pulled one of his hands off of you and leaned to grab his phone off the bedside table. He moved his hand to your lower back and he leaned over you to see his phone. Melting into his touch you let out a quiet hum as you placed a hand over his heart, feeling his heartbeat through your fingertips as he typed away on his phone. You two sat like that for a few minutes before he spoke up, “Wilbur said he was gonna go get drinks with Niki, Phil, and Tristin later today, around four pm. We’re free to join but he also understands if you don’t wanna drink before your flight.”

Silently you thought, tapping your fingers lightly on his chest. On one hand it would be nice to chill out with Phil, especially since neither you or Fundy had met with him in person yet. On the other you know you, and if you were hanging around a bunch of people who were drinking you’re going to end up drinking as well. “As much as I hate to say it, I really don’t wanna drink before my flight.” You say sighing, Fundy just nods as he shoots a message back to Wilbur.

“Well since we’re gonna lay in bed all day…” Fundy started as he turned his body and flopped you both down onto your sides, both of you giggling messes. Carefully you moved your hands from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks softly. “... You know you’re really, really pretty?” he whispered, grabbing one of your hands and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

You sputter and duck your head, trying to hide the blush on your face. “You may have told me one or two times…” You say quietly, mostly as a joke.

His head perks up, “Only once or twice?” He asked, you chuckle and continue the bit nodding. He gasped as he softly makes you look at him, he holds your face as he gives you a serious look, “You’re pretty, you are so goddamn pretty, y/n. I every fucking day think about how you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Any time my mind wonders it finds its way to you because- because, you just- y/n you feel like home. Whenever I’m with you, whether that’s in person or in some form of call, I feel like I should pinch myself and remind myself that I’m actually awake.” He stops for a second, taking a few breaths as your face gets redder making him chuckle slightly. “God- I am so in love with you. I- To quote you from last night: You’re going to be the end of me, you know that right?” he finishes his spiel.

You’re on cloud nine. Point blank. “Damn it, how the hell do you always know what to say?” you mumble before you snaked your arms around his neck and connect your lips. It wasn’t heated but it was passionate, full of emotions that didn’t have proper words but still needed to be communicated. Pulling apart you both were panting, only a few microseconds before you started laughing, “We are so cheesy, oh my god.” you say quietly through laughter, he joined you with a large smile on his face.

“Maybe we are cheesy, but we’re cheesy together so who cares.” he replied, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

You laughed harder, fingers messing with his hair by the nape of his neck, “You’re proving my point you fuckin’ nerd!” You basically cackled out, when you looked up the in love look in his eyes almost knocked the breath out of you. You tucked yourself under his chin, hiding your face as a hand still carded through his hair.

You two sat in bed for a few hours, scrolling through different platforms and showing each other funny or cute things. It was nice, cozy even as you fell into a simple routine, every once and a while you’d switch positions and continue with your scrolling. All too soon five pm rolled around and Fundy reluctantly brought it to your attention, “Hey love, your flight’s at eight right?” he asked quietly, you two were spooning, you as the little spoon as his chin was tucked over your shoulder.

Groaning, you nodded, “Yeah it is.” you say quietly, sinking into his touch more.

It was quiet for a few seconds before he continued, “We need to get up..” he slowly pulled away from you, making you whine but inevitably listen. Groggily, you make your way to your bag, pulling out a simple t-shirt and jeans. You stripped and Fundy did the same thing as last night, making you chuckle but you don’t say anything this time.

Once changed you walk over to him and lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “How mad do you think Wilbur would be if I made us some breakfast? Well, ‘breakfast’.” You asked, making air quotes around the second breakfast.

He hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “Probably not at all, but if he does it was my idea.” he said as he turned around and placed a kiss on your forehead, “I’m gonna shower real fast so just come knock on the door when it’s done.”

You nodded and peeled yourself off of him, making your way to the kitchen. You make some simple eggs and toast, not wanting to use too much food from your friends kitchen and when you finished fifteen minutes later Fundy was walking into the kitchen, “Aw man, you put a shirt on.” you say in faux disappointment.

He sputtered for a second before shaking his head, “We are literally about to leave and go out in public.” he said, grabbing one of the plates from the counter as he looked through the drawers for a fork.

Rolling your eyes, you lightly bump his hip with yours when he finally finds the forks, dropping the subject in favor of some comfortable silence while you both ate. Or at least partially comfortable, the fact of the plane ride still hung in the air, uncommented on but there. Fundy finished before you, placing his plate in the sink and giving you a kiss on the top of your head before heading into the guest bedroom. A few minutes later you finished your own food and you washed the dishes that you guys used, eyes falling to the stove clock: 6:30 pm. Sighing, you placed the dishes into the strainer and made your way to the guest room, “Fuuuns,” you whine more than really say, “we probably should go soon, since I wanna still say bye to Wilbur.”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, zipping up the bag in his hands on instinct, “Oh- Hey y/n!” he said quickly.

You walk over and lean on him as you look at your bag in his hands, “Whatcha up to, big man?” you asked, grabbing the bag from him.

“Oh I just, I wanted to give you something but I thought it’d be better for you to find it when you got home…” he said as you opened your bag up, smiling as you see one of his hoodies folded on the top, “I was just gonna give you one of my hoodies but it didn’t feel special enough, sooo…” he dragged out his words as you pulled out his iconic hoodie, “I gave you the hoodie.” he finished with a large smile.

Your face goes bright red as you pull it on, it smelled like him, like home, you’re too lost in the gesture to notice when Fundy pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “You’re… You’re.” You didn’t know what words you were trying to find, you knew he loved this hoodie, he wore it all the time even, it felt weird, both very wrong and very right for you to take it, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” He hummed, “what better thing to remind you that I love you and that I’m here for you than my favorite hoodie?” you just stuttered in response and nodded, “Plus you look very cute in my clothes.” he said as he leaned away from you before he pulled you into a kiss, it took you a few seconds to kiss him back, the cogs in your brain fighting between stopping entirely and going twice the speed.

When he pulled away from you, you were breathless, “Man. I’m going to die without your kisses, what the hell…” You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest.

“Nooo, don’t die,” he replied dramatically, “if you die then how am I gonna kiss you when you come back?” he jokingly held you tightly, but a small part of you knew it wasn’t a joke, that he fully processed just how much he’s going to miss holding you.

You let out a sigh muffled by his chest, “Well, guess I’ll just live forever.” you said quietly, which made him chuckle slightly. You know it’s a joke but if you could find a way, you would. Just for Fundy. After a few seconds you reluctantly pulled yourself out of his grasp, zipping up the large hoodie before putting the backpack on.

Fundy let out a sigh as he patted his pockets, “Wilbur’s letting me drive you to the airport using his car.” He said as he pulled out Wilbur’s keys, showing them to you.

You nodded before you cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you so, so, so goddamn much, Fundy.” you whispered, placing your forehead on his.

“I love you too, y/n. And the distance between us doesn’t change that in the slightest.” he whispered back, his voice slightly shook as he spoke which made your heart hurt. Slowly he pulled away from you, grabbing your hand with his as he dragged you to the door, you both slipped on your shoes and masks before heading out to the car.

The car ride to the pub Wilbur was at with Phil and Kristin was quiet, not a bad quiet but quiet nonetheless. The radio played soft classical music as Fundy carefully drove the car through the town, you can’t tell if you’re surprised by that being Wilbur’s default station or not. Once you guys got there you quickly got out of the car, telling Fundy you’ll be back soon as you ran in and told Wilbur goodbye. It wasn’t all that much, you gave him a hug and promised to text him once your plane landed to let him know you were safe. You quickly said hi to Phil and Kristin, apologizing that you couldn’t stay longer, which they brushed off, saying that there’ll always be another time.

By the time you and Fundy were finally on your way to the airport it was a quarter past seven, the drive there was viscerally different than the drive to say bye to Wilbur. He drove with one hand, his free one resting carefully in your’s as he rubbed the back of it with his thumb. The silence was almost oppressive as you sat there but neither of you knew what to say, so you both stayed quiet. The silence stretched on into the airport, it was odd but somehow fitting. It was the first time neither of you could really bring yourself to break the silence.

Fundy eventually did, though. After you had made it through security, you two sat down on the benches waiting for them to call your flight number. It started with a laugh, a sad one, followed by a quiet apology, “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything y/n…” He basically said to himself, you’re pretty sure if you had even an ounce less of self control you’d start crying right then.

Carefully, you cupped his face, a sad smile in your eyes, “Don’t worry love. Trust me, I understand.” you replied as you rubbed your thumbs over his cheek bones. He silently nodded, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you close. You moved your hands from his face and wrapped your arms around his neck, “It’ll be fine, just like Phil said to me in the pub today, ‘there’ll always be another time.’ I’ll visit again when this is all over, next time for longer.” You promise him, voice hushed so that only you two can hear it.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, next time.” he said, it was so soft, as if he said it too loud something would curse against it. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, enjoying the last time you’d hold each other for at least a long while. All too soon they called for your plane and reluctantly you pulled away from him. Quickly he pulled down his mask, looking at you for a long second before you do the same, softly he connected your lips, it was a slow and desperate kiss. One that knew you had to leave but so strongly wish you didn’t that you could have mistaken it for tangible.

When you pull apart, you smile at him, pressing a light kiss on his cheek before standing up, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” you ask, fixing your mask.

He nodded, probably much more aggressively than he meant to, “Yeah, definitely.”

#dream smp x reader #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #fundy x reader #fluff #im so sorry this took so long #my brain just said no <3 and decided i was going to hyperfocus on every other hobby i have #I hope a 11k fic makes up for it #< that tag causes me so much pain bc it said 5k then 7k THEN 10K AND. [head in hands]#oooo you wanna tell me what you thought about this so bad oooooo you wanna give me so much validation /hj

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fe-semi-decent-scenarios · 3 years

Note

Hey! I wasnt the one who requested it, but I loved your how would the Blue Lions react to killing their SO! May I ask the same but for the Golden Deer if its alright?

{That was actually one of my favorite requests to write! It’s been a long time so I might be a bit rusty, but let’s give this a shot :)}

Claude:

He had accounted for the possibility of you betraying him. Your disappearance had not been something he took with ease, yet the lack of contact or declaration of death for so long had him thinking

Emotions are fleeting...the human mind was complex. Your loyalty was never something he wanted to question but he could never put his complete faith in you

Even when you stood at his side protecting the crests, befriended his people, treated him as a true partner...he just couldn’t completely put his faith in you. Not with so much on the line

He wonders if that’s where he went wrong. Heavy rain clouded his sight but the sound of your voice rang dominant across the field. As you stand at Gronder with your weapon focused on his friends- your friends; Claude could not help but momentarily reminisce over the times you instead showed him your smile. The one that temporarily alleviated the weight of his dreams and expectations from his shoulders

He would be the one to get it back. The professor had already converted other students to their side so there was a chance

One you didn’t want, as you aimed at their head with tears pricking your eyes. He dismounted his wyvern instantly

“Was it all a lie? Tell me...is this what you want for your home (Y/N)? Come fight with us” He slowly begins his approach, but the words die out as you attack him this time

A shrill battle cry is all he hears before he watches an axe lodge into your side. He’ll never hear the answer, but he didn’t need to. It finally clicked

White hair

You planned to die

His brows pressed in further as Lysithea gasped at your fallen form. Before he would have killed to know more about the hidden experiments going on in the empire, but not like this. They’ll come to collect the body before Hanneman can conduct any research, but he’ll give them more. Much more

Raphael:

Raphael doesn’t like to think on the battlefield. It’s not that he enjoys pummeling people without a glance, but if he looks back then he won’t look foreword. He’s confided in Ignatz many times after being scolded for running ahead, but when thinking can cost you your life he prefers not to waste the effort

Especially because he takes longer to process complex emotions and thoughts compared to the others. He trusts them to be tactical while he uses his muscles to save the day

Back in the day he had a perfectly reliable head to think for him. He cleared their path and they took care of all the important business. The classic ‘brains and brawn’ duo that no one would expect to ever find genuine interest in one another. Aren’t they stereotypically supposed to fight and be at each other’s throats? Not in this case

“Haha! THAT WAS GREAT! Nice Job (Y/N), I hope today’s menu has meat because you need brain food and I need to feed my muscles!”

You knew Raphael and how to predict his movements, and he had complete faith in your judgements. Even at the monastery you both made the most efficient team to do chores

Instead of trying to change him, you worked to match his pace and became his partner. On the field and in life. Raphael knew he didn’t have to second guess with you at his side, and he felt what he wanted to feel.

He loved you. Your brains, your laugh, your heart, your cooking no matter good or bad...you. It was an emotion that came easy to him.

Though sometimes he berated himself for not thinking. Sometimes you’d get in trouble if he broke equipment or did something else out of line. Yet you remained patient and calmed him down at the same time.

It was difficult to adjust to fighting without his partner. He essentially had to relearn everything through experience, but he had full hope that you’d come back

That hope clouded his judgement when he saw you conversing with the professor at Aillel. He was so overcome with joy that he mindlessly pushed aside enemies to get to you without actually examining the scene

His fury took over when the professor’s sword went straight through your stomach. He tackled them to the ground and it took both Lorenz AND Hilda to pry him away.

“You idiot! They’re the enemy!” Hilda shouted at him as he settled down. He couldn’t process it. They wouldn’t hurt their family, him.

Yet, they wore red. Red that grew darker as their blood seeped in

Ignatz:

“Can you paint my portrait?” You asked him one evening long ago. After a particularly grueling training session with the rest of class he had snuck off to sketch the trees by the market. The year was young and he still wasn’t too familiar with all his classmates

You were new and he had took to your appearance instantly. He could replay your introduction mentally over and over. Your smooth words, slight bow, and the way your feet glided effortlessly to the closest seat you could get to the window. He was of course too shy to approach a new student since he wasn’t the social sort, but luckily he did not have to do much.

You took the liberty of following him to his painting spot. He was flustered at being found, but you merely plopped at his side and began to eat your lunch. Where you had it stashed beforehand? He still doesn’t know

He had never been more aware of another’s presence, and his art showed it as the paper crinkled in his grasp. Yet somehow you seemed enamored at the picture forming on the page, so much that you asked to model

He grew anxious instantly and decided to head back for his own meal. With no given answer you had left the topic behind, and from then on he began to find you nearby often. From acquaintances to friends, and from friends to ‘lovers without definition’. No confession was ever spoken but he knew you made decisions easier, life joyful, and the rest of his peers agreed as much as he.

He drew that portrait. He drew it over, and over, and over, and over because he refused to forget your face. He would remember you and fight twice as hard to make up for what you couldn’t give. He swore that to Claude and everyone else when you were pronounced missing in action.

and now? His eyes glisten as a body fitted under a white tarp lays yards away. You hadn’t tried to harm him but you were healing the enemy. It was decided that you were not with the Empire, but instead travelling through and became swept in the battle. Perhaps you didn’t know? Perhaps you simply decided to help whoever needed it no matter their side?

He clutches his bow to his chest. One arrow, and you were down. He didn’t know

He didn’t know but the pictures would never let him forget. The pages never felt the same from then on

Lorenz:

Relationships should never be formed unless you have something to gain

It is a nobleman’s duty to protect the weak, the poor, the sick; yet, there must always be distance.

A nobleman must always carry themselves with a sense of professionalism. They must not display weakness, and a true leader is born of being able to separate their personal affairs from that of those they govern.

One day Lorenz will be the head of the Glouscer territory, and soon the Alliance as a whole if he has his way. Death must not phase him and he must be willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his people

He follows the laws of a noble. He knows them on paper, but not in practice.

Only as he grew during an age of dispute and fighting did he begin to learn that actions differ from voice. All that he pledged as a young man held no meaning, because gradually he began to realize that he is not the most fit to govern Fodlan. He was incapable of completely tossing aside his personal desires or making the best decisions with certainty. Yes, he was well educated and would make a great right hand

Yet the title of leader would never be his. Why? Because he is a noble by definition

The professor was a noble by heart. A true leader who let actions speak for them and selflessly protected the entirety of Fodlan instead of one singular portion.

Lorenz is a noble in name, but in nature he is a man. He is a solider, a son, a friend, a politician...a human. One not immune to temptations or the grievances of loss no matter what face he may display for the public eye.

There was a soul he once found vibrant. They were a mere commoner yet full of dedication. He placed a barrier around them immediately, one he was not allowed to cross no matter how tempted. They did not fit the criteria he sought

Yet the night of the ball he allowed “them” the curtesy of a dance. Their warm hand on his own, their body held tightly in his embrace, and lighthearted small talk being tossed between quips about their poor dancing skills

They left his mouth dry as he bid them farewell to their next partner. He allowed the barrier to resurface as he went his own way

“You must rethink this (Y/N). How could siding with the empire lead to any promising future/ They will kill us all and then themselves in the process! Please, join us”

“Spoken like a true noble, Lorenz. This social hierarchy has divided people for too long and you would realize that if you’d only look beyond Alliance borders!”

If only he had grasped their hand longer- listened. They were the first to show him a world beyond his bubble, if only he popped it sooner.

Hilda:

You really annoyed her in the beginning. The way you carried yourself like some kind of prophet, or how you’d question everything the professor taught. Was it so hard to just do what was needed and move on? Even with something as simple as weeding the courtyard you always had to add your own two cents

It was like always being under analysis. She got that enough from Claude and didn’t need two people trying to read her. On many occasions she tried to gain traction over you, but somehow her efforts never bore fruit

For a try-hard you were very accepting of her shortcomings. So long as what you were tasked with got done, the performance of others was never a secondary priority

If only she could be that carefree about other people’s opinions. Maybe then living would be easier?

Perhaps you were what she wanted to be? Satisfied with who you were enough to question the world around you while remaining secure with what you had

Someone with the ability to step beyond your comfort zone and make your own decisions. Respected, knowledgeable...loved for who you are. Maybe that’s what drew her to you and lead to her envy forming into adoration

and that adoration being trampled by sorrow

“I still love you so no hard feelings, okay? I can’t back down” is what she told you. It was a taunt, but she did not expect your smile

“Of course. I’m glad you’ve decided to show your backbone, just think of this as a spar like old times”

The casual talk did not fit the clash of blades that followed. Nor did it suit the battle roaring nearby

A spar- just like old times. It was a familiar battle but this time her axe did not halt before delivering the deciding blow.

Her hands shook as your body fell, yet you still appeared at peace despite the gash adorning your back. Perhaps you knew this would be the outcome before the day even began

Hilda did not cry, but asked for you to be buried on alliance soil. If anything she owed you that curtesy

Leonie:

She would never forgive you. Not today, not ever.

How dare you choose to side with the people who killed the captain? He never did anything to anybody, and if you chose to betray everyone than Leonie would return the favor

She decided that any history between you two was nonexistent the moment you lifted your weapon. Mercy was a word you forgone long ago when instead of defending Garreg Mache, you slaughtered it’s inhabitants

She thought you felt the same as well. Yet, fate always liked to twist in ways to hinder justice

She watched from a distance as the professor approached your fallen form. They had insisted on trying to sway her old classmates, but she scoffed at the mere thought

What made them think traitors would be good allies? Did they want to be stabbed in the back like their father?...like the captain

She ignored the sting in her chest as you swatted their hand away. You had some nerve to reject their kindness and it pissed her off. She wanted this entire situation to simply end but-

Her feet moved on their own

“Why are you such an idiot? Were you always this irresponsible?” her words cut deep, clearly shown by how you turned away. She could only grit her teeth at the stubbornness and reach for her lance

You made your choice, and clearly it was up to her to deliver justice if no one else would

So she did what she’s always had to do, the brunt work. With one swing it was over and you were just another count among the others

She doesn’t know if the captain would praise her for remaining strong or scold her for remaining indifferent

Lysithea:

Everything always boils down to one thing: people cannot be trusted. Each and every time Lysithea has allowed someone close it has blown up in her face

and somewhere deep down, she knew this situation wouldn’t have ended any differently. The world always found new ways to crush what she cared for

The only question that remains is how much longer will she have to endure? How much longer did she have to fight?

because now she had to fight for two. She had to find a cure or die trying

During the battle for Garreg Mache many had been taken prisoner. She hadn’t the empire to conduct unethical experiments; maybe torture, but nothing like what she was witnessing.

It was a fever dream one couldn’t fathom, but the mindless husk killing without remorse kept her in reality. What had they done to you?

She noticed the white hair in an instant. One of her worst fears had come to life seeing you at the death knight’s side, but the way you hadn’t even flinched when she called your name made her terrified

Not even a whack of thoron could snap you out of it. She began to lose hope...were you even there anymore? Is this what they had planned for her if she didn’t flee?

“Say something you jerk! Don’t tell me you’re letting some petty magic keep you grounded, fight it!”

No matter what anyone said it did nothing. When moral dwindled the only solution left was to free you through other means

The death knight escaped after you fell. Next time...next time he would die at her hand.

Lysithea instantaneously moved to further her research after your burial. Not for herself, but to find out if you were gone long before they found you. She needed to know if your death was peaceful, if you could see that she tried

If you would forgive her

Marianne:

“This is Nova. I have to leave for a mission, would you watch him for me Marianne?”

Bright blue eyes bored into hers as she gingerly took hold of the bunny. It’s fur was soft, well groomed. She took notice of how it snuggled into her arms as if it feared no human. Marianne knew instantly that the animal was well loved and cherished. The though made her almost refuse the favor in fear of hurting it, but her classmate’s insistence wasn’t something to fight.

Despite her warnings (Y/N) never listened, and at some point Marianne gave up on pushing them away. Their company was appreciated yet she would never say it, and the cuddly creature in her arms truly proved their trust in her

She could only nod in agreement as they skipped off to prepare the bunny’s necessities to bring to her room. Marianne hoped she could care for the animal properly, and that nothing would happen to it

She worried for the wrong reasons, as (Y/N) never returned home. They were sent to face Solon and avenge the death of the Professor’s father. Marianne was asked to remain and help in healing injured soldiers from the most previous confrontation.

·If she knew that would have been the last time (Y/N) would show up in her room, she--no, she wouldn’t have done anything. She may have tried to convince them to stay home but Marianne knows she would have not confessed anything

Not that she valued their friendship or that she worried for their wellbeing. Not that she was grateful they trusted her with Nova, or that they help her care for her horses. She wouldn’t have even thought it.

She didn’t think of it afterwards either. Her fondness for her deceased friend wouldn’t have been noticeable at all if not for the bunny. Despite everything she cared for it as if it were (Y/N) themselves.

When she sees a familiar figure take charge at Gronder, time freezes. She remembers the bunny sitting in her dorm without an owner. She wonders how abandoned it must have felt to never see it’s best friend again. She feels for the bunny because it’s how she felt.

Without thinking she shoots a blast of magic their way and watches them crumple on the floor

Why did they abandon their precious bunny? Did they give up on it? Did they give up on her?

Did you...finally realize you had befriended a monster?

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

This work and others are also available on AO3!

If you like this, please consider reblogging, as sharing a creator’s work is very encouraging to us and helps our creations reach more people!

74 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Changes Nothing

Requested by anon: I saw you write posts with male readers, so I was hoping you’d write this idea: Tommy Shelby’s son being gay??? I’d love to see what you come up with, i fucking love your writing!!!! 😘😘😘

Pairing: Thomas Shelby + Son!Shelby!Reader, Shelby + Gray Family + Nephew!Shelby!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, ADA BEING THE BEST AS USUAL, mention of homophobia, indications of smut, slight angst, I think that’s it

Words: 1699

Key: 'Cause I’m too lazy to think of a name, B/n = boy’s name or boyfriend’s name

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Y/n Shelby, the son of Thomas Shelby, was a person who kept to himself. It intrigued many residents of Small Heath, but few were lucky to learn why. His family didn’t even know, but they were to find out soon enough, one way or another.

He was handsome, smart, kind, practically had all of the young women wrapped around his finger. Only eighteen but brave enough to take on the world himself. It was a wonder to almost everyone how the Y/n Shelby had yet to find himself a woman.

The truth was, Y/n had an attraction to people the same sex as himself. And male on male relationships weren’t something a lot of people accepted, so Y/n kept his secret with his social life; if he didn’t talk to a whole lot of people, he didn’t have many people to tell.

Of course, it couldn’t have been that easy. He knew that. His whole family taught him that. When something seems to easy, there’s bound to be a price for it’s doing.

Steal a car with no distraction or extra people required? Someone’ll find out soon. That or, you’ll crash or something. Why? Because there is always, always, a price.

No price had shown up so far, and it was making Y/n nervous, anxious even. Y/n had a lover now, for months, and they were doing alright. No one found out, no one hurt them, it was completely fine. But they’d both be lying if they said neither of them was worried.

They hadn’t even came out to their families! Y/n was the one with the most to lost in this situation, the most to be scared about. What if-

“Y/n?” Tommy snapped his son out of his trance-like-state. “I’ll be going somewhere with your uncles. Here’s some money,” he dropped said money into his hand, “ask Pol if you need anything. I’ll call you when I get to where I need to be, alright?”

“Yes sir, I understand.” Y/n smiled at his father, gripping the money tightly. He walked over and gave him a hug, “Bye, dad.”

“Goodbye, son. I’ll call you, so be ready!” Tom was running out the door, yelling to his oldest child as he approached the car. The two waved to each other until the car took off.

Right after the vehicle was out of sight, Y/n raced to the phone, dialing the one number he’d been waiting all week to call. “Y/n?” The voice of his beloved came through.

“B/n! Is he gone?”

“Yes, he’ll be gone for a while. Can you come over?” They talked for a few minutes, speeding through their conversation with excitement. He was eager to have his lover over after not being able to for so long. It was almost a full two months since they’d been together, the lack of intimacy being no exception.

So there they were, together after a small, quick, phone-call. In bed, lying with limbs tangled together, sweat slick on their bodies, a vulnerable moment for the two. A vulnerable sight to walk in on. And unfortunately, that’s just what happened.

Polly was just checking on Y/n, as he didn’t answer the phone like he’d promised. Tommy called her with worry, begging her to make sure his boy was okay. She argued, “he’s an adult now,” but he continued begging and begging, just needing to know his son was okay.

Opening the door to Y/n’s room, Polly released a gasp, widening her eyes upon the sight she had been greeted with. The two were covered, thankfully, but still found in the same bed, very obviously naked.

“P-Pol it’s not what it- um... it’s not what it looks-”

“I think it is what it looks like, Y/n. And I think your guest should leave so you can explain to your father that this is why you missed his call when he returns.” Her eyes were still wider than Y/n had ever seen them and her breathing was off due to the unintentional scare.

Y/n clasped his hands over his face. “Fuck...” He’d forgotten about the call.

“S-sorry.” B/n kept his head down as he slid his trousers on, grabbing the rest of his clothes when he got off the bed, and ran past Polly to get to the front door.

“Pol-”

“No. Don’t ‘Pol’ me right now. This is... you have no idea how.. how... how frightened your father was when you didn’t pick up! He demanded I come to check on you and this is what I see!”

“Are you ashamed?”

Polly blinked. “What?”

“Are you ashamed of me? Your great-nephew being a homosexual?”

“I-” She inhaled sharply, “I’m more disappointed in the fact that you didn’t trust us enough to let us know. Aside from that, I can’t think right now. Meet us in the family room when Tom arrives.” Polly closed the door behind herself, walking down to the same room she spoke of.

Y/n sighed, his head hitting the bed behind him with a soft ‘thud’. How was he going to explain this to his father?

“So, Pol says you have something to tell us.” Tommy sat down, confused due to his lack of information on the matter.

“I um...”

Polly, from the seat next to Y/n, rested her hand over Y/n’s. “You don’t have to tell them about that quite yet. Do that on your own time. For now, just explain the reason why you missed the call however you please, alright?” She whispered into his ear, expressing her change of heart since the last few hours.

“No...I have to.” He smiled at his great-aunt. “The secret’s out anyways.”

“What secret are you talking about, Y/n?” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, laced with uncertainty.

“Well...I missed your call because I had someone over-”

“Your boy’s finally done it!” Arthur cheered, raising his drink with John, the two chaotically drunk as always. “See, Tom, told you it couldn’t’ve been bad!”

Thomas studied his son, the hesitation still present on his expression. “No. Let him finish.”

“But- he just-”

“Arthur. Tommy’s right, there’s something else, I can see it too.” Ada rested her hand on her nephew’s shoulder. The look in her eyes was heartbreaking, causing Y/n’s heart to speed up faster than it already was. He couldn’t cope if he’d hurt his family, let alone his sweet aunt, the most supportive of the bunch.

“I...It wasn’t with a girl.” He waited, allowing the sentence to be processed by each person. “It was with a-”

“Another male.” Tommy looked at the ground.

“Shit...” Arthur and John stopped celebrating, sobering almost immediately if it were possible.

The three remained quiet. Silence created the worst tension Y/n had ever felt, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. Until Ada interrupted, cutting it with words like scissors.

“Could you three just get over yourselves already! Y/n has just told us something that he obviously has had a lot of trouble telling another person! Something he trusts us with, and all you do is be quiet?” She scoffed at her brothers, standing up and walking to her nephew. “Come, love.”

Sitting on his bed, Y/n told his aunt about his boyfriend. The stuff he loved about him, what he was like, how much he loved him. Ada felt special, for the first time, over joyed with how close she’d gotten to her nephew in just a few minutes.

“Ada?”

“Yes, Y/n?”

He kept his head down, similar to his father’s in the family room. “Do you think my dad hates me?”

“No... I think it’s just taking him time to process... you know? A bit hard for him to process in a couple minutes. You’re his son, someone he loves more than anything in the world, and to learn something that big... he loves you, okay?” Y/n looked at Ada, the tears starting to stream down her cheeks creating an ache in his heart.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled his aunt in for a hug. When they pulled away, he thought for a second, “Do you, support me, aunt Ada? Even if my dad doesn’t?”

“Do I support you? I had a gay roommate, Y/n! ...Of course I... Your father and that man, they worked together at one point. He didn’t care that he liked men. So that’s why I have complete faith that Tom will come around. I promise, we all love you, so so much.”

“She’s not wrong.” Y/n and Ada’s heads turned towards the door. Tommy walked in, hand in his pockets and a small smile on his lips.

“How long have you been-”

“Long enough. Ada, can I please I have a moment with my son?”

She nodded, hugging Y/n one more time before standing to leave. As she walked past Thomas, she leaned next to him to whisper before she left the room completely. “If you hurt him in any way, I will not hesitate to invite him to live with me, nor will I think twice about ruining your fucking life, Tom.”

“Y/n... I admit, it’s hard to process, but your aunt is right. Yes, you’re attracted to males, sexually and romantically, and yes, it’s is a hard thing for me to think about-”

Y/n rolled his eyes, thinking it was going to be the same old “subtly-homophobic” talk parents these days gave their gay children, but Tommy caught on quickly, “but that changes nothing. Nothing in this world could make me hate you or stop loving you. You are my son. You like men? So be it. Invite him to a family dinner next week if you’d like-”

“Wait really?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Y/n studied his father, smiling and hugging him tightly. Tommy’s smile returned, his arms mirroring his son’s movements and pulling his son into him.

The door creaked open, the two drunken uncles ready to say the same when they, and Polly, saw the father-son moment. The hug bringing a smile to Pol’s face as it did to Tommy and Y/n’s. She hushed her nephews as she shooed them from the room and closed the door, listening as the words left Tommy’s mouth again and again.

“This changes nothing.”

Supportive Ada comes back to defend the gays again! I love her so fucking much oh my god- anyways! How do you guys feel about a series? I know it may sound funny at first, but think about it; Ada being the cool aunt she is with her gay nephew?

Feel free to send ideas! And speaking of sending ideas- feel free to send some requests for Elizabeth!

Also like- listen- if Ada isn’t a lesbian, bi or pan, curious, or any part of the LGBTQ+ community, she’s an ally. Like, it’s the truth- and it’s cannon

✘ Bowie

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 3 years

Text

ONE PLUS ONE || 2 ||

✨Summary: Trials and tribulations of Vinnie and his gf

✨pairing: Vinnie Hacker x black!OC

✨genre: agnst, just a little bit tho, but it’s fluff at the end

✨word count: 1.6k

I really like this so I may make it into a little mini series.

_________________________________________🖊

Rhey's heart dropped as she started at Vinnie with wide eyes. He only sighed and ran his hand through this curly hair. Those words that came out of his mouth put her in a bad position, and she didn't know how to react to it. She was scared.

Vinnie was her entire life and the thought of him leaving made her feel some type of way. Anytime she left the country or state to tour, he was always with her. He never missed one tour. It's hard to be away from your significant other for a certain amount of time if you were always around them before. It's like a fish without having water, she couldn't survive. With her being a huge star like Billie and Ariana Grande, it was hard to find a steady foundation in her life when Vinnie wasn't around her.

".....Are you gonna accept it?" She asked quietly after a moment of silence, fiddling with her fingers, something she did when she got sad or anxious. Vinnie shrugged his shoulders.

"If I accept the offer...I have to move. I'm gonna accept it. This is huge for me,"

Rhey's heart stopped, "Are you fucking kidding me Vincent? You weren't gonna take it up with me first?"

"Why would I? I can make decisions like this on my own!"

"Vinnie, I don't want to sound selfish, but your life is here, you can't just leave. I mean what does that mean for us if you end up leaving?" She asked, getting right to the point.

Vinnie knew she was right but it still hurt that she made it seem like she wasn't going to support him during his decision making.

"What do you mean I can't leave? Your my girlfriend not my mom, I expect you to at least be happy for me, but you can't even do that! I made sacrifices for you, do the same for me for once!" He argued, raising his voice in the process.

"What sacrifices have you made for me other than the fact that you moved away from you and your friends old house which is 30 minutes away, to this fucking villa that WE BOTH picked out together! Please let me the fuck know!"

"All those times I've went on tour with you and I had everyone here with the United fucking States! That's one sacrifice! When you were sick so I had to cancel doing a video with James! That's two!"

"NOBODY TOLD YOU TO FUCKING COME WITH ME! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO ASKED! AND LETS NOT FORGET THAT I TOLD YOU NOT TO CANCEL AND YOU DID ANYWAY! THOSE WERE SACRIFICES YOU TOOK!" She screaming, pointing her acryliced index finger at him. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

"What's the point of us being together if you aren't gonna compromise. Addison sacrifices for Bryce all the time." He tried explaining, but all it did was make her even more confused.

"Please do not bring up that racist bitch in my household. I'm fine with all of your friends girlfriends EXCEPT her and Dixie and besides, she has the brain capacity of a fucking roach of course she's gonna compromise with him! You joined the Hype House and your mouth been getting real fucking reckless Vincent."

"Well...what are we gonna do then?" He asked quietly. He knew that if he left then it'd be over for him and his girlfriend and that's the last thing he wants but this was a huge thing for him.

Rhey closed her eyes as she tried to calm herself down. Everyone on her team knew how much she hated yelling, voice raising, or anything of that nature. It was in a rare occasion where she yelled or raised her voice angrily.

"I just want you to think about what you're doing. I don't have a home in Paris. Only LA, ATL, and NY. So how do you expect me to always come see you when my career still rapidly on go? How do you possibly expect this to work if you're gonna be living in Paris for the rest of your life—"

"Its not the rest of my life! God Rhey, even if it is the least you can do is be supportive!"

"Then HOW long is it? Do you know how Vogue deals work? Once you sign with the region, you can't permanently leave unless you visiting somewhere else. They need you at all times!"

Vinnie sighed, not knowing what to do. He loved Rhey immensely. She was the love of his life. They've been together for 8 years, and he didn't want all that to gown down the drain. No ever, but he was put between a rock and a hard place where he had to choose between his gf and being an actual model.

"I'm not trying to pry, I swear I'm not but I just want you to think about this. It seems like you really want to do it and if you do then that's fine. I will support you, if you don't then I will continue to support you. Doesn't matter to me, I just don't want you signing your entire life away halfway across the world away from your girlfriend and friends, but do what's best for you. Do whatever you want." She sighed, trying not to get emotional.

Before he could respond to what she said, she grabbed her phone and keys, and left the house in a hurry. He followed her outside and watched as she sped out of the driveway and down the street. Vinnie looked on life360 and saw that she was heading in the direction of the skate park that always went to when they wanted to talk and skate for hours.

He gets that relationships are never easy, and that it'll always be something that may or may not cause a break up. This situation just might make them or break them. He knew that being with your high school sweetheart after high school changes everything, but no one ever told him it was going to be this hard to the point where his heart aches and drops every time someone mentions them breaking up or even taking a break. There's a lot he can take, but to potentially not be with Rhey anymore was a sickening thought that he could erase from his brain.

"Ugh, Rhey why did you have to leave?" He mumbled to himself as he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his car keys. He got in the car and rode to the skate park, seeing her sitting under a tree. He was very surprised to see no paparazzi standing by taking photos and bombarding her.

Getting out the car, he grabbed two blunts and walked over to his girlfriend to sit down beside her. He gave her a blunt and lit it, then lit one for himself. She inhaled the smoke and blew it right back out after sucking it through her nose, dried tears on her face. Despite her high social status, he had never seen her so messed up over something like this.

"Do you wanna break up?" She asked, kind of catching him off guard. Vincent gave her a confused look

"What? God no! Baby you're the love of my life. I can't live without you! " He assured, pulling his girlfriend into his arms as he continued to smoke. It was almost 12 and it was completely dark outside.

"I can get you a deal out here. I've just gotta talk to the director and I can get you a 5 year contract. P-please don't leave me." She stated, her voice cracking at the end.

Vincent sighed, finishing off his blunt and throwing it away. He grabbed his girlfriend by both her cheeks with one hand to make her stare into his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head, making him show a small smile before smashing his lips into hers.

Once they pulled away, Rhey pulled out her phone to show Vinnie something. His eyes squinted at the screen and then widened once he saw what it was.

"You didn't..." He trailed off, his eyes clouded with tears. Rhey smiled through the tears running down her face and nodded her head.

Vinnie was looking at a photo on him on his skateboard, a photo she took of him. She used a picture of him as her album cover and he didn't know whether to cry or fuck her silly. He might end up doing both.

"That's what I wanted to show you when so got home. I finished the album, this may be my most personal album yet because each and every song is about you and our relationship. Guess what my last song is called." She laughed, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't have an answer, she showed him her track list and let him scroll all the way down. When she heard a small gasp, that's when she knew he had found it.

"Vinnie....the name of the song is vinnie."

Rhey smiled, but it didn't last long because Vinnie pushed her onto the ground with kisses, invading her personal space. He put more passion into the kiss as he rubbed her sides in a soothing way before reaching under her shirt to grab both her boobs, making her gasp, letting him indulge deeper into her mouth. He finally pulled away, giving her air to breathe, only to trail kisses down her neck and collar bone, sucking and kicking every crevice that she was sensitive to, not caring that anyone could come behind the large tree and see them.

He attempted to pull one of her boobs out but she quickly stopped him, not wanting to live life on the edge TOO MUCH.

"How about we finish this at home yeah?"

"Fuck yes! Let's go!"

#vinniehacker #vinnie #interracial #black!reader #black reader

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moon-goddess-posts · 3 years

Note

Hiii could I request a genshin match-up if thats okay?:3 I'm a female INFJ-T and a Sagittarius. I have long brown-ish black-ish hair and dark brown eyes. I also wear glasses which I tend to lose often.

I think I'm a creative, smart, patient and hardworking person. I'm an overachiever in a lot of things in life. I have hobbies like knitting and crocheting when I have the time and materials, reading books, daydreaming, and listening to music. I love music and it means a lot to me. I love going out as much as I love staying in:>

I'm the type of friend who's between being that overprotective mom friend and that friend who radiates crackhead energy (lmao idk either) I've been told that I come off either as a really distant yet confident person or a shy person at first. I'm a clingy person to the people I'm close to. I'm pretty confident and headstrong when the situation calls for it, and I'm not afraid to stand by my morals and fight for what I believe in, although I like to keep an open mind. I don't like fights, aggressive confrontation, or being yelled at because it makes me really anxious and I am a crybaby:<

My love languages are probably all of them tbh and I really wanna try to do all those cliche dates and couple things (like dancing in the rain.) I would really appreciate dates that are away from other people and are private though. Promises mean a lot to me, and I'm the type of person who gets really really upset over broken promises, no matter how little they may be. I'm a patient person and I think that translates into relationships as well. I'm willing to wait for someone to really open up to me. I want a relationship that isn't only built on love, but other things such as open communication, trust, respect and faith in the other person. I want to build a relationship where I can really build a deep connection and bond as well. I wanna do and try things that the other person likes doing, like their hobbies and interests.

Some negative about me are that I tend to overwork, overthink and stress myself out a lot. I cry a lot too, I don't really know if thats a bad thing but I cry when I'm overjoyed, when I'm angry, and when I'm hurt. My tendency to cry depends who I'm around as well though. I tend to second guess myself and have a pretty low sense of worth and self-esteem. Although I'm a pretty optimistic person around others, the pessimist in me comes out a lot when I'm alone. I can also be pretty jealous. I don't really want to bother other people so I tend to just shut up about my own problems, and it'll take a while for me to open up. I tend to bottle up my emotions and end up a huge mess:( but I do try not to, its just that I do have a lot of bad days:(

I hope this was good and I didn't overshare too much hehe:> I hope you're having a great day and stay safe out theree

Ty so much for requesting! You didn't over share in fact it helped me a lot!! I hope you're happy with your results!

I match you with Zhongli

You both seem to posses very similar traits and he's glad he's found someone who understands him as well!

Would very much be willing to do all those cliche romantic things with you 😭😭

Would find it pretty funny you seem to lose your glasses all the time, he'd sometimes even tease you about it until he eventually helps you find them

Zhongli admires your hard working behavior but strongly encourages you to take breaks in between. He will always be there to reassure you and calm your mind over some hot tea he made <3

If you're really stuck in your own head and are constantly daydreaming, he'll do small things like kiss you suddenly or hold your head to ground you a bit

Would ask what you're thinking about, he's really curious (๑•᎑•๑)

Would absolutely love how you never back down from what you believe in and are always ready to defend your causes, with you being an open minded person it really helps Zhongli be more comfortable when talking about what he likes or believes in as well.

He tends to make decisions by himself most of the time and can be assertive, but hes more than willing to try things you'd like to do as much as you'd love to do things he enjoys

If you'd like he'd also would be willing to read to you as well! He loves telling stories and you love reading books, a perfect match <3

Zhongli is a gentleman and does not lose his composer easily so you won't have to worry about any harsh emotional out breaks. If he feels the need to confront something, he will do so in a calm and respectful manner

Doesn't quite fully understand why you cry so much but hes always there to comfort you too! You should probably tell him that sometimes your tears aren't negative and its just because you're happy LMAO

Would do that thing where he wipes your tears and kisses your eyelids 😭💖

He would never break promises as he thinks of them like a contract. He would also get pretty upset if anyone else broke a promise too, I mean hes the god of contract sooooo

Zhongli doesn't mind how you're shy at first as he talks so much, its easy to start joining in on conversations and really go into depth about topics.

He finds your clingy side very endearing, he wants to make so much memories and savor each second with you because he knows it won't last for long :,[

Hopefully you're a big cuddler cause this man will give you so much 😭😭😭

Would make you sit on his lap while he tells you stories because he loves being close to you

Isn't really the type for too much social interaction either and prefers more intimate places so its no issue asking for dates with not much people around :D

He isn't always aware of his actions and sometimes it may come off the wrong way or be mistaken as flirting but if your mood or behavior changes a teeny tiny bit, he can still figure out that something is wrong

Zhongli always makes you feel special and gives you tons of physical affection and words of affirmation, he understands everyone has bad days and is willing to do anything to help you make your day a bit better

Hes very patient as well and will slowly encourage you to open up because he would be worried if you constantly bottled up your feelings :<

Zhongli also strives to have such a deep connection with someone thats built from good trust, respect, communication, and all the others

Though you both might see the world a little different from each other, it doesn't stop the fact that you both have similar things you guys both look for in someone, its sure to be a long lasting and happy relationship!

#genshin impact zhongli #genshin matchups #zhongli fanfiction #genshin reader insert #zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact

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gallickingun · 4 years

Text

remember me || t.a.

SUMMARY: Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture.

PAIRING: Tamaki Amajiki x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mild violence and language, etc. WORD COUNT: 6.9k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first submission for the @bnhabookclub provisional license event! if you want to participate, here is the post! and if you want to apply for the server, here is the application!!

i have to get sappy here for a second. i had 2 panic attacks while writing this because i was so self-conscious, so riddled with doubts about a. was i getting tama’s character right b. was i even on par with the great and wonderful writers of this fandom and c. am i proud of this? eventually, after talking it through, i realized that it doesn’t matter how i measure up to everyone else. i should be writing this because i want to, and because i’m enjoying myself. so, special thanks to @freckledoriya and @k-atsukidayo who have once again been my lifeline. i love you guys ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Tamaki Amajiki had never given flowers much thought.

He usually passes by the windows of a floral shop and notices the blossoms just enough to smell the variance of air – from stale to sweet – and then he moves on, not much effort spent towards the colorful display of petals in the open windows.

But now, after finding you, he cannot stop thinking about the way they bloom.

“Columbine,” your eyes light up, thumbs pressed to the dark red petals, “they are used to symbolize anxiety.”

Tamaki’s eyes graze over the flower, wondering how you could know so instantly that he might connect with this specific budding plant. The tether he feels to it is strange, something particular but also aloof – as if he could not place it if he tried.

Anxiety is something very relevant to Tamaki’s life, a demon he has struggled with every day since he could comprehend the reason his stomach tied into knots, the worry he keeps pent up in his chest burning ulcers into his belly. He wraps his arms around his waist at the memory of meeting you, the way his entire body was wrought with anxious thoughts, mind unable to comprehend the extent of your impact on him at the time.

You tilt your head as if able to realize that his mind has begun to spiral, “We don’t usually add these into bouquets, but something about them is just so beautifully broken, I can’t help but fall in love.”

It is a typical day on patrol when he first stumbles upon you, nothing special or out of the ordinary, not really.

Tamaki has been working under Fatgum’s agency for a few years to date, and he’s comfortable with the route that he’s been assigned, a routine he has held since the beginning of his deployment. The elder hero understood from the very start that Tamaki tends to try and avoid social interaction. In response, Fatgum made sure to create a patrol route so Tamaki could walk the least populated paths while also providing an effective amount of protection to the community. It’s the least he could do for the young Suneater, a new hero steadily climbing the charts despite his difficulty in speaking with the press outlets.

Some days Tamaki will try to stop by various vendors’ carts, eating foods that will create good manifestations for his quirk or just to support the local economy. It also allows him to try and force himself to have a discussion, even if there isn’t much substance to it, trying to grow more familiar with the ideology of small talk. He’s decided that he is going to stop by his favorite sushi bodega today, already thinking up his lengthy sashimi order as he starts towards the food stand.

And then he hears someone cry out.

Tamaki races in the direction of the distressed sound, channeling his quirk as he rounds the corner. The tentacles that are thanks to the octopus he regularly incorporates into his diet are extended from his fingertips, ready for action as soon as he skids to a stop in the street.

Your body is pressed against the wall of the alleyway, face cut by the brick beneath your cheek. You connect your gaze to his, your brilliantly shining irises seeking him out like a moth to a flame. Tamaki can’t help the way his chest constricts at the sight of such a helpless person, and then his heart lights on fire when he sees the burly man currently trying to take advantage of you. He snarls, digging his heels into the concrete, tentacles growing straight from his fingertips.

Before you can part your lips to try and beg for help or mercy, Tamaki is landing a swift blow to the thug’s head, successfully knocking him unconscious to the ground. You clasp your freed hands around your neck, coughing violently as you bend over at the waist, stars in your eyes and shards in your throat. A thin river of tears streams freely from your lids, and when you’re able to look back up at him, you’re far from embarrassed.

“Th-Thank you,” you manage, voice hoarse. You lick your lips and swipe your hands at your face to rid your skin of tears and snot, “Seriously. That guy-he came outta nowhere!”

Tamaki finds the adrenaline of the short-lived skirmish to have fled from his system, leaving behind only the crippling anxiety that makes him blush from head to toe. He swallows the growing lump in his throat when he realizes he’s been staring at you without responding for at least a full minute now. Your hands are shaking and your shoulders quiver, but Tamaki is frozen in place, feet unable to start towards you.

Fatgum taught him how to comfort civilians, but he’s never been good at it, and the way that you look at him like he hung the moon in the sky does not make the encumbrance of his task any less intense. He knows that the objectification and idolization of heroes is inevitable, no matter how poorly he projects himself onto the public. The reality of it all only does more to constrict his throat, the familiar shroud of apprehension blanketing his body and curling around his spine like a snake. It slithers its way up into his throat until he can’t breathe, tongue deadweight in his mouth.

“Black-eyed Susan,” you muse, plucking a set of three yellow flowers from a vase not too far from him. You turn the buds between your thumb and index finger, the canary-colored blossom blurring in midair as Tamaki tries to stay focused on it. He’s not so close with you that he can smell your perfume, a distinct scent even when you are hidden amongst the blossoms in the greenhouse, but near enough that your presence is dizzying.

It is hard to focus anyway, what with the way your eyes are sparkling under the lowlights of the greenhouse.

You bring the bright flower toward your face and scrunch your nose as you sniff it, eyelids fluttering closed in bliss, “They’re used to express a fierce sense of justice. Usually, we use these in our arrangements for hero galas and festivals.”

Your eyes turn to him, connecting with his violet irises as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth upward, “Don’t you think they’re stunning, Tama?”

For some reason, when he answers, you can’t help but feel there’s a duality to his words, as if he is saying one thing but meaning something else entirely. Tamaki’s eyes are trained in on your face, not the flower, and his lips move in slow motion, like syrup dripping from his tongue, “Oh yes,” Tamaki is close to smiling, “quite stunning.”

You return to your arrangement and begin to hum a gentle melody between heavy breaths as you meticulously place the flowers in their perfect order. The way your brow furrows, creases ever-present on your forehead, draws Tamaki’s attention.

For a fleeting second, he wonders if he were to press his mouth to your worried skin, would you find yourself able to relax? To allow your body to melt into his touch?

“U-Uh, yeah,” he forces the words out, a hand brushing the back of his neck to try and relieve some of the tension he’s feeling. Tamaki adjusts his cape, taking a step forward, just like Fatgum taught him in his earliest days of training. He reaches out his hand for you to shake, but you’re fumbling towards him to capture his frame in a hug before he can make sense of what is going on.

You cup his face in your hands as you pull back to look him in the eyes, completely oblivious, it would seem, to his current state of panic, “Thank you so much! You’re Suneater, right?”

Tamaki gulps down what is left of his dignity and nods in silent confirmation, eyes a little glossy as he gazes over your face. He takes in your features, noting the slope of your nose and the bow of your lips, and he wonders if he’s ever seen anyone as pretty as you before. Normally his body would turn him to mush at the mere sight of a person such as you coming so close to him, but there is something different about your aura, the way you carry yourself. Your hands pull from his face, and he can’t help the manner that his body follows you, desperate for more.

Just as he’s coming to his conclusion about your beauty and grace, he realizes that you’re talking again, lips moving animatedly. Only this time, you aren’t speaking directly to him. You’re on the phone with the local police, letting them know that there’s been a low-level thief apprehended in the streets.

Tamaki is in awe of you – absolutely shocked at your ability to take charge of the situation, to hold onto it with an iron grip and make it your own. He should be the one alerting the cops, giving them an address and a rundown of what’s happened – that’s his job. And yet, here you are, phone to your ear and authority in your voice, detailing the scene down to the hair and eye color of the perpetrator currently propped up in the alleyway. He’s still unconscious, with his head lolled to the side with tongue protruding from his mouth.

Amajiki’s jaw is hanging just slightly, you notice, so when you step forward, crowding his space all over again, you nudge his chin with the crook of your thumb. A gentle giggle parts your lips, your head tilted in such a way that reminds him of a curious young animal, “Do you want to stop in at my shop? The police said they should be here any minute.”

“Y-Your shop?” he stutters, eyes flitting around to the different curbside stores on the strip of the road in an attempt to pinpoint the building you might be speaking of. He sees a few food stands and a bodega selling travel brochures, but nothing that screams you.

Although, does Tamaki really know enough about you to determine what kind of shop you might own or manage? He chastises himself for jumping too far ahead, his intense and sudden feelings forcing his heart to tumble over his inhibitions.

The habit of his emotions leaping into his throat is one he has struggled to curb for years now – he’s fully aware of his naturally forward-thinking spirit. He can take one action, one string of words, and force it into a new, paradoxical reality which he has fashioned all on his own in a matter of moments. The fabric of this new world is woven so intricately that it’s difficult for him to pull himself out of it, the alternate universe sucking him in and creating a vortex in which his mind can play.

You nod, grabbing your phone out of your pocket and unlocking it quickly, heading to your pictures folder for something specific. The split seconds in which you are distracted give him time to pull himself out of the recesses of his mind, to mend the fabric of time to bring him back to the present. You proudly hold the device up in his face, and he blinks harshly so he can focus.

The photograph on your screen shows him a rather familiar front display stand, dozens of budding flowers framing a beautifully crafted window sign that he’s seen every day since the start of his time at Fatgum’s agency. Tamaki tilts his head, trying to take in the store fully before he admits that he patrols by your flower shop consistently.

His head spins – he can’t believe he never stopped into your store before. Could he have met you a long time ago? Could he have seen you every day for the past few months, getting to learn your favorite flowers and flavors and the specific perfume you wear to smell so enticing? Another question plagues his mind – would you have stopped to give him the time of day had he not met you by saving your life?

“Oh,” he forces himself to speak, to dislodge himself from his tumultuous thoughts, “I-I’ve seen that shop before. You own it?”

You’re looking at the photo now, marveling at it with proud, shining irises. The picture distracts you from his enlarged pupils and blushing cheeks, and he’s thankful for the reprieve of your daunting gaze. Tamaki takes advantage of the seconds of your distracted scrutiny to map out your frame again, attempting to commit as much of you to memory as possible, given the short amount of time he has with you. He swallows the lump in his throat, licking his dry lips when you shove your phone back into your pocket, and he must refocus his eyes on some facet of your face other than your lips.

“There’s an adjoined coffee shop just to the left of it.” You’re smiling at him, and Amajiki thinks his heart is going to beat right out of his chest, flesh bruised from the intensity of its ministrations underneath the skin of his pectoral. The beginnings of a bashful tinge of pink warm your cheeks and ears, and Tamaki speculates whether your body is reacting to him or the heat of the afternoon. You lick your lips, “We can grab a scone and a cup of coffee if you like? My treat since you saved me.”

Tamaki is immediately refusing, holding his hands up as he shakes his head, ducking away from you entirely. “No, n-no, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Your lips are pulled downward in a pouted frown, eyes losing a little of their luster. Tamaki regrets instantly that his mind is so tied down to the rules, the reality that: “Heroes aren’t supposed to accept bribes, gifts, or rewards in any form.”

You are twirling a different yellow flower between your fingers – this one is much more fragile in nature. Tamaki eyes the papery blossom and ponders the antiqueness of its appearance, as if it were meant to be made into outdated floral prints on fine china.

Your eyes are focused in on the center of the bud, narrowing just enough that he can tell you’re trying to concentrate, “These are yellow carnations. Carnations can mean so many different things – red for heartache, white for innocence, pink for the reality of being unable to forget someone – but yellow, wow yellow is something much more draining, exhausting.”

Tamaki is scooting closer to you, his body drawn in by the tone of your voice, “If the other flowers mean something so kind, h-how can this one have such the opposite effect?”

Your eyes are sparkling, but there is something hidden in the back of them, an emotion he can’t quite pluck out. Perhaps you have a familiarity with this type of flower? Does it hold a different power for you than the others? Are there memories tucked away in the recesses of your subconscious that wreck your spirit when you see this type of blossom?

“That’s the beauty in the buds,” you laugh at your attempt at a jesting remark, eyes hooded now as you glance downward, “if you choose the wrong one, you’re sending a different message entirely.”

Tamaki’s knee bumps into yours, and usually, he would pull away, but this time something feels different, weightier than before. His eyes cannot stray from you; he finds it difficult even when he tries. And so, he succumbs to the desire and leans closer. Near enough to you now that your body heat is intoxicating once mixed with the headiness of your perfume. He tries to keep his eyes from crossing and his hands in his lap, body uncharacteristically wanton for your skin.

You take a breath, your chest expanding, “Yellow carnations mean rejection, disappointment. Usually, they’re used as a revenge flower, given to someone who has harmed you, or taken advantage of you. We don’t do many yellow carnation bouquets.”

The phrase only seems to make you more determined – your brows pull together so tightly that your forehead creases, “Well,” you pause, brushing your hand over your face, “I guess it just won’t have to be any of those things then.”

Tamaki’s head tilts just enough to remind you of a confused animal. His inky irises are zeroed in on you, raven locks of hair falling in his eyes, “Wh-“

“It’s a date!”

His eyes practically bug out of his head, sweat starting to bead down his temples. He shakes his head and steps back from you, holding his hands up in the space currently separating your bodies. Tamaki attempts at conversation, trying to tell you in as few syllables as possible that no, that’s not okay, we can’t, I don’t think that’s allowed…

You shrug, “Listen, call it whatever you want - it’s just coffee.”

The police arrive with sirens blaring a few minutes later, taking down a statement and emailing Tamaki a new set of paperwork he’s going to have to fill out later regarding how and why he used his quirk. He secretly is praying that you will flee the scene once you realize how mundane this part of the hero job can be – interviews and paperwork and confessions on the street.

Maybe you’ll find him and the whole process tedious enough that you’ll run away, back to your flower shop where you can live on in peace, pretending as if you never met him. It’s not always fun and games being a hero, and typically, once a civilian realizes it, they walk away from the scene at hand and find something much more interesting to take up their time. Tamaki is sure you must have a thousand other things you would prefer to be doing than waiting for him to wrap up a discussion with a police officer, or so he’d like to believe.

For some reason, it does not surprise him to find that you are still waiting on him, patiently sipping a bottle of water given to you by another officer while you chat, feet twisting back and forth to pass the time. Tamaki’s mind begins to wander again to how he always passed your shop and never found you outside, watering the arrangements or even in passing in the window. He would have waved – that’s what Fatgum taught him to do. He has been trained to interact with civilians, to remind them that he is there for their protection and safety, as a beam of light in the darkness of their daily lives. There are other shop owners who he knows by name, their faces somewhat cataloged in the recesses of his mind, so he knows he would recall meeting you.

You’re remarkable; Tamaki would have remembered you.

And yet, he knows that now, every time he passes your shop, he’ll think of you, regardless of whether or not you’re outside watering the plants or inside working on an arrangement. Tamaki will be distracted with thoughts of your pretty smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your shop. Surely he’ll never be able to walk the beat of this street again without remembering you, his heart hammering in his ribs as he plucks up the courage to pass your shop each day. He’d bank on the hope that you’d see him, that you’d turn to wave, and he might be able to catch a glimpse of you, maybe even hold a full conversation more than a few sentences long.

It’s like his eyes are magnets for you now, drawn to find your essence like a northern pole. He turns his head so he can look over the officer’s shoulder, trying to find your frame again amidst the police and pedestrians alike.

Tamaki is more than surprised to find you staring directly back at him.

“What are these?” Amajiki points to a white flower he realizes he should have memorized based on its simplicity, and yet the hero knows that he’d sooner hear your bell-like voice rattling off the meanings to him, “I feel like I’ve seen them before…”

“Daisies,” you giggle, plucking a plume from your wall on display.

You twirl the flower around, taking an inhale of it before returning your attention to the hero stood in front of you. Your body moves without thinking - inhibitions tucked away in a box in your heart as you step forward, so your body is almost flush with his own. You press one palm flat against his chest, eyes connected with his inky orbs as you grin.

Tamaki is frozen in place, his feet cemented into the ground. He couldn’t escape you even if he wanted to, what with the way his anxious heart stutters underneath the cage of his ribs. Amajiki is somewhat thankful for the bone structure around the organ, acting like a prison so his heart can’t flutter out into the open. His body blushes from head to toe, painting his skin pink, when he feels your fingertips brush against his cheek.

“You look so pretty, Tama,” you murmur as you tuck the bright white blossom behind his ear.

You cannot pull your gaze away from the fragile petals held in place by the thickness of his violet hair and the curve of his ear. The blossom looks so lovely and light in contrast to his inky hair, tucked away like a secret between the strands and his skin. You are practically whispering when you speak next, afraid you might shatter some unspoken moment, “A daisy symbolizes innocence and hope. They’re typically used to symbolize the potential of new beginnings, a promise of faith despite a certainly somber situation.”

Tamaki’s face is bright red, but he manages to speak, “O-Oh, so a get-well type of flower?”

“Something like that.” Your hand ghosts over his cheek, pushing the bud deeper against his temple so the petals are flayed outward, a hauntingly beautiful smile painted on your lips. “It looks purely providential in your hair, Amajiki. Like a light in the dark.”

When you catch him staring, your left eye drops in a wink. Tamaki knows that he has never felt his entire body blush before, but now he is privy to what the sensation is like, an intense heat traveling from his ears to his toes. It’s hot and stimulating in all the strangest of ways, pinpricks of heat underneath his skin, making it seem like he may balloon up and fly away at any given time. He coughs to try and conceal the way his throat is bobbing, covering his mouth with his gloved hand. Even his palms are bright pink beneath the white leather of his suit, turned darker in shade by the overwhelming heat of your gaze but thankfully hidden by his gloves.

The eye contact between the two of you must make you bolder, because you are walking towards him now with purposeful strides. Tamaki knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make his body combust instantaneously to avoid talking with you, and he can’t quite run away when you’re striding towards him. None of those options would prove very heroic.

And, at the end of the day, despite his personal inhibitions and self-restrictions, his job is to be a good hero, to strive to provide the public with safety and comfort, and maybe today the word heroism just means coffee.

You step over to him, your body closer now than before, “You think you’re ready for that coffee now?”

“I-It’s three in the afternoon, what if the caffeine-“

“There is this cool, new invention called decaffeinated coffee,” you deadpan, raising a patronizing brow at him, smirk lilting your lips, “or you can always try tea.”

Tamaki runs his fingers over his jaw in trepidation, the pads of his digits soothing his sweating skin. He licks his lips and chews on the inner corner of his mouth, diverting his eye contact from you to the ground, focus now steadily on the toes of his boots.

The first thought in his mind is that he could be reported for this – he’s still on duty, and he’s decked out in his full hero costume. If he were to be spotted by one of the head heroes or a news outlet for being too friendly with a civilian after saving their life, it could end poorly for him in terms of his reputation. Not only would Fatgum be disappointed, the Suneater’s ranking would dip into the undesirable zone, and he’d probably lose a few of his current brand endorsement deals.

And yet, when you grab him by the elbow and loop your arm through his, Tamaki is frozen just long enough for you to begin dragging him down the street with little opposition.

“Hollyhock,” your eyes roll back in your head as you smell the pink flower in front of your face, a whimper caught in your throat at the dizzying scent. You groan, slumping down in your chair, “One of my favorites.”

Tamaki’s ears perk at the statement, eyes widening just enough so he can memorize the shape of the floral arrangement, stashing away the memory in hopes that he might pull it forward if he were to need it in the future.

“This flower is usually an accent piece, something to show that the recipient is ambitions, outgoing,” you place the stem back into the arrangement, neatly tucking it away to ensure the set is not disturbed. “They’re so stunning, such a phenomenal meaning. So often we don’t reward ambition, instead trying to stifle it.”

The hero turns toward the arrangement, eyeing it carefully. He tilts his head, careful of what he says next, “They a-are pretty flowers.”

“Yes,” your voice has quietened when you admire the blossoms, eyes glazing over as if you were under a spell. You sound far away when you speak, like you might be somewhere between here and there, feet planted on the ground beneath you but mind and soul much further away. “I think so.”

The scent of floral buds and coffee beans makes his head spin – or maybe it’s just the closeness of your body and the gentle breeze that blows your perfume towards him. Your smile mixed with the sunlight of the day makes Tamaki’s breath hitch, eyes averted from your gaze so he won’t turn every shade of red in the book.

“Bean There, Done That,” you rattle off the name of the shop, “they give me free coffee because I put together the floral arrangements for their shop.”

Tamaki is overwhelmed by the menu alone – his eyes roll back and forth over each flavor of roast and style of drink that they offer. Eventually, he feels terrible for holding up the line and he starts to stutter, attempting to spit out some flavor of some type of some kind of drink. His surprise only grows into silence when you half-step in front of him, palm jutting out to wrap around his bicep as you start ordering something that sounds like he might actually like it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologizes as you wait off to the side, his toes overlapping as he turns his feet inward. Your hand has since released him, but that does not stop his body from blazing beneath his costume from your touch. Tamaki coughs to hide the trepidation, “I-uh, I don’t really…I don’t really drink coffee? I-It doesn’t do much to help my quirk, so I tend to stay away from it.”

You shrug, folding your hands together at the knuckles in front of your waist, “It’s okay! I figured.” You’re turning to look at him, softness held in your irises as you behold his face, “Plus this place has a lot of options, so it can get kind of easy to feel bogged down, especially when you’re in a line, and other people are waiting impatiently.”

Wow, he thinks to himself, it’s like she’s in my head.

You’re pressing your palm to his arm now, warm touch once again like an anchor to his befuddled mind. When he looks down, you’re smiling, and some small part of him wishes your expression would never fade away into anything less miraculous than your grin coupled with dimpled cheeks and shining irises.

The crumpled petals look like sheets of tissue paper all bundled together, but somehow your magic touch makes them look appealing, beautiful even. Tamaki watches as your delicate hands swirl around the arrangement, tucking different colored flowers into various sections of the vase, transforming it from something that was one dull on its own to a symphony of color and meaning. He tilts his head and smiles, a gesture he’s discovered to be much easier now that he’s found you, “A-And, what are these?”

You glance up from your work, hands caught beneath a blossom, “Hydrangeas.”

He nods, as if he might know exactly what that word entails, lying through his teeth. When you see his unsure expression, you can’t help the grin that tugs upward on the corner of your mouth, “Do you know what these symbolize?”

Tamaki curls in on himself, shoes overlapping as his knees knock, “Uh, n-no?”

“Hydrangea flowers are beautiful because they are used to communicate gratitude for being understood,” you pluck a blooming flower from the stand, turning to hand it to him. When his knuckles brush yours, it’s like a dozen electric shockwaves tumbling through his veins, blistering his blood beneath the skin, turning him to ash inside. Tamaki gasps at the contact, but he’s thankful that you don’t laugh at his unexpected outburst, or rather you continue as if nothing happened, allowing him to shrink back in on himself with less shame than he may have been burdened with otherwise.

You lick your lips and take a short breath, eyes returned to the arrangement at hand, “Hydrangeas are beautiful and easy to manage, most people have them in their yards or gardens for decoration. I haven’t met many gardeners who know what the true meaning is, however, it seems that people always choose them for their bouquets.”

“When would you give someone a hydrangea?” Tamaki asks, eyes tracking your motions no matter which side of the arranging table you’re on. He cannot get enough of you, body drawn to your presence as he sits in wait of another story, another tale to tumble from your lips.

You are tilting your head, considering the question like it held the weight of a court behind it, as if Tamaki were your judge and jury. You sigh, the weight of the world seemingly settled on your shoulders, almost like you’d thought about this question far too much before, “I think if I were going through a hard time, and I had a friend who just was there for me, I would give them a bouquet of hydrangeas.”

“Why?”

He wishes he hadn’t blurted it out – how rude of him – but your answer makes it worth the accidental insensitivity.

“It’s easy to try and instruct someone on what you think they’re to do next,” you answer carefully, eyes following invisible directions as you stalk around the arrangement as if it were your prey. You grind your teeth together; Tamaki can tell based on the way your jaw quivers under the strain. “It’s difficult just to sit and listen. Even when it’s meant to be kind and helpful, it can sometimes be overwhelming to constantly be told how to react or what to say or how to handle a situation. Almost like they aren’t considering you at all, instead preaching to you of their prowess, how they might have done better if they were in your shoes.”

Your voice is almost chilling, hollow like a needle or a feather, “To find a friend who could listen to me without interjecting their opinion, without telling me what to do, now that is worthy of a hydrangea.”

He allows his subconscious thoughts to wander for a moment, thinking on the implications of you possibly having a mind-controlling quirk. Is that the reason he was okay with coming here? Was it all because you manifested a quirk that allows you to influence the minds of men? Or did your quirk work on women too? Did you-

“Hey,” your voice is gentle, subtle despite the loud volume of everyone else in the shop. Your palm is on his bicep, and for some reason, it anchors him instead of making him want to float away at the sudden contact. Your eyes are genuine as you whisper, “Breathe.”

Tamaki listens to you, taking a short breath in and exhaling soon after, eyes never losing direct contact with yours. His shoulders roll with tension, Tamaki’s lower lip tugged between the bite of his teeth. He swallows, realizing what a fool he must appear to be. How can a hero need assistance from a civilian just for breathing?

“I know what anxiety looks like.” You brush your thumb against his bulky costume, and Tamaki wishes a very secret thing then – something he would never admit aloud. He is curious about how intense your touch would be if he weren’t in his full hero outfit.

Would the pads of your fingertips be soft? Would he be able to feel the heat from your skin leeching onto his own? How much more calming might your skin be if it was direct on his own?

You tilt your head, a considerate grin tugging on the corners of your lips. He’s pleasantly surprised to note the dimples that dip inward, making you all the more appealing, as if you needed any additional help. Tamaki tries to say something, but it gets lost in his throat, so you speak instead, “I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you at the counter. I just wanted you to be a little more comfortable. I felt bad since I was the one who asked you to come.”

“N-No, it’s fine,” he forces the words out, turning to look you in the eyes. Tamaki grits his teeth together and muscles through the anxiety gripping his bones like a vice. He questions when the day will finally come when he might break. “I just feel bad for the people waiting on me.”

“This flower is pretty,” Tamaki licks his lips and leans forward, inspecting the blossom rather intently.

You laugh, and he’s reminded of how delicate you are when you giggle. His eyes are momentarily redirected toward you, taking in every curvature of your face, the dimples created by your smile, the way the gesture reaches your eyes, and it’s like little stars shine from your irises. Tamaki can’t help the way he grins, your laugh and your smile are infectious, much like your love for flowers.

“Have you seen one before?” you ask him, stepping towards the wall of blooms, “They’re a beautiful choice, a lot of meaning behind them. Most people have never seen one, though.”

Tamaki turns to face the flowers again, compelling himself to detract from your silhouette, “Are they rare?”

“Not necessarily,” you respond. You push yourself up on your toes to grab a bright red bud from the wall, twirling your choice blossom between your fingerprints. The scent wafts from the center of the flower, a small dusting of pollen coating Tamaki’s nose.

You giggle as you reach across to brush his skin free from the yellow powder, hand lingering just slightly too long for him to ignore your possible intent. You lick your lips, irises swallowed by your pupils for a moment, allowing him a direct line of sight into your soul. He reads you for a split second, and he swears that the look in your eyes mirrors his own when he thinks too hard about the way you move and the distinct notes of your smell. You’ve taken over every inch of his mind, every last curve of cerebrum and cerebellum.

For the first time, Tamaki is somewhat confident that you might be under the same spell.

“These are anemones,” you break him from his stupor, pulling his line of sight towards the budding flower in your grasp, “they signify anticipation – the build-up before the burst. Kind of like when you’re going to have your first kiss!”

Tamaki stutters, “T-That’s why you’d g-give someone this flower? Wh-When you want to kiss them?”

“No, silly,” you swat at him, smacking the back of your palm against his bicep. However, before you can turn away from him entirely, he notes the beautiful blush turning your cheeks to a rouge. You sigh dramatically with your hip leaned against the table, “I just mean that’s what the flower symbolizes – the tantalizing next step into the unknown.”

“Sounds scary.”

Your eyes light up as you turn to look at him again, irises gleaming under the bright lights of the flower shop, “Oh, but doesn’t it feel riveting?”

You are too close now, your pose intoxicating as he remembers every time you’ve come so near to him and he hasn’t had the strength to reach out and grasp you by the waist. Is this his time? Is this the day that he finally hands you a blossom and tells you the truth about the war raging inside of his chest? He has little soldiers prodding at his heart, stomping all over his bones, making them ache when he is adjacent to you.

Something within him wanders into the tumultuous thoughts of how you might respond, what his body would do in reaction to you. Would he finally find some relief from the plague of himself when he finally passes the threshold into adoring you on a physical level? Mentally, he’s been infatuated with you for some time now, but his throat can’t force the words out when he’s within ten feet of your frame.

Tamaki reaches out, his hand weighted down with reserve and implications. And yet, it’s almost like you lean into his touch before he can think on it too harshly, before he can make the rash decision to retract it and flee. He gasps audibly, eyes flashing to find your face, irises connecting like some sort of lighthouse out at sea, giving one another hope despite the disparity of every other moment leading up to this one.

“Anemones,” Tamaki whispers, voice curling from his throat, projecting onto you like a prayer. His hand is hot with hesitation as it rests on your rib cage, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Well, the people waiting on you can get over themselves. Everyone needs to learn a little patience, anyways.” You brush a hand through your hair, blowing away stray locks as they float back into your line of sight. You sigh, voice sounding dejected until your topic turns to blossoms, “I-I’m sorry if this wasn’t the place to bring you. I just figured it would be easy since it’s right next to my shop. I’d love to show you some flowers if you have time?”

“I-I’m on patrol,” he manages to push the words out from between his teeth, his throat grating like sandpaper, “I’m not sure…”

“Maybe another time, then?”

Dare he say you sound hopeful? And maybe even a little nervous?

How is it that each time his mind snaps him from you like a rubber band, you are right there, ready to stretch his limits yet again?

“I have seen this one…in Mother’s Day bouquets, I think?” Tamaki asks, unsure of himself this time as he circles the table. There are so many different types of blossoms, so many different meanings to decipher based on genus and color alone.

Your nod makes the pit in his stomach settle for some reason, and Amajiki releases a breath he didn’t realize that he was holding captive in his lungs. He’s not sure he understands why just the small reassurance of your head bobbing or your voice lilting on the right side of kind can calm the raging sea in his mind and stomach.

Tamaki is nearly tucked into your side, hands itching to find purchase against your body, his frame devoid of his typical uniform. The long sleeve shirt may cover the majority of his palms, but that does not mean he would refrain from baring his skin if it meant he could dip his toes into the edge of the ecstasy he might feel at your touch.

His fingertips are on the cusp of you, the calloused pads extended, beckoning you to come closer in a silent, desperate plea. Like your hearts are tied together in some other realm, as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, in a dozen other lives, you turn subconsciously to allow the collision of his fingerprints to impact the curve of your waist.

“Gladiolus means remembrance,” your voice is breathless as you point towards a set of buds that are seated proudly on the wall of flowers. You tilt your head upward, eyes shining as you press the heel of your palm into the column of his throat, thumb grazing his Adam’s apple to soothe it.

The weight of your words does not fall on deaf ears, Tamaki’s every sense on high alert as you speak next, “They can mean remembrance of someone past, or of someone you’re currently trying to honor. Or they can just mean a simple remember me.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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adhduck · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3 of But I Can Hope How This Will End is now up, besties, and yes I have chosen violence 😌

AO3

CWs: canon-typical blue veins/disease content; accusation of ‘death wish’ implying suicidal ideation; canon-typical discussions/descriptions of injury, pain, death; several descriptions of blood; slight emetophobia; mentions of past trauma for Zolf; slightly in-depth descriptions of temporary first aid

With Wounds We Can Heal

Wilde almost never goes on missions; even before the curse blocked access to most of his combat skills, he wasn’t built to be an in-field agent. He’s a diplomat at heart, not a fighter, so there’s no need to risk getting him infected when the others can bring information safely back to him.

So when Wilde announces at breakfast one morning he’s going to a meeting, not just in-person but with someone they haven’t verified yet, Zolf is understandably upset.

“Since when do you have a bleeding death wish?” he demands, pushing his plate to the side.

Wilde remains perfectly, infuriatingly calm. “I will admit the risks are higher than usual, but if Mr. Douglas’ information is true, it will be both crucial and time-sensitive. We don’t have a week.”

“Well, isn’t that bloody convenient,” Zolf mutters.

“Does seem like a trap,” Carter agrees. “I mean, he just happens to have exactly what we need, and exactly the right urgency to not go through safety protocols? That’s classic untrustworthy stuff.”

“Which is why I’ve already put in safety measures myself. We will both come alone and unarmed. I made sure the meeting spot was neutral ground, something we couldn’t hide traps or snipers in. Nothing physical will be changing hands, so there won’t be a need for close contact. And just as with his initial report, any information I bring back will be verified before we commit to a next course of action.”

Barnes leans forward, drawing everyone’s attention in that subtle way of his. “What’s your plan if you get into combat? I know you said you’ll both come alone and without weapons, but that doesn’t mean he’ll actually follow that.”

“He knows I’m a talented magic user, and doesn’t know about the shackles, so that should intimidate him into not attacking. And if he does catch my bluff, and my excellent running shoes don’t do the trick—” Wilde shrugs, and Zolf’s hands curl into fists atop the table. “Well, I know I’m none of you, but I can hold my own just fine, I think.”

“Unless you show up and he shoots you right off the bat,” Zolf argues, trying very hard not to picture it. “Or he has a group with, like, invisibility spells or potions or somethin’, and they attack you all at once. Or—bloody hell, Wilde, or anything! There’s no reason to think this man is anything but a danger until he’s gone through quarantine, and even then, he could still be a- a regular ole dick who wants to kill you! You certainly made enough enemies before all this started.”

“Our job,” Wilde says coolly, though Zolf can see just a touch of tension forming in the corner of his jaw, “is to figure out how this blue vein scourge works and stop it. We are saving the world here. There’s no way to do that without a bit of risk.”

“Risk is one thing, but this is just plain stupid,” Zolf snaps back. “If you need the information, fine, whatever, let’s get it. But at least bring one of us with you.”

“That’s not the deal I made with Bo- Mr. Douglas.”

“And? Who says he won’t just break the deal and betray you first chance he gets?”

That, for some reason, brings down Wilde’s façade, but just for a moment—he’s covered it up almost as quickly as Zolf notices. “As I said before, I’ve already done some research on him and the information he presented as evidence of our meeting’s importance. If he’s still himself, not honoring the terms of our agreement will make him back out immediately. And if he’s infected, bringing someone else will almost certainly ensure a fight, and we cannot risk half of our group getting taken out in one go.”

Zolf is going to actually, truly strangle this man. “But we can risk you getting taken out?”

Wilde’s jaw tenses, releases. “We’ve all risked our lives for the cause. This is no different.”

“Yes, it is, because you’re relying on- on bloody trust when the world’s like this—”

The harsh scrape of Wilde’s chair being pushed back cuts Zolf off. Standing over them, Wilde looks every bit the rich, uncaring aristocrat Zolf thought he was all those months ago– save for that same tension in the corner of his jaw. “I’m trusting myself—my research, my insights, my diplomatic abilities.” He sweeps his eyes across the table, lands a few inches above Zolf’s head. “You can trust in me or not, I don’t care. I’m going either way.”

Zolf feels unmoored, suddenly. Like he missed something important, something he’s supposed to say or know. “Wilde—”

“Thank you for breakfast, Zolf,” Wilde says, and it almost hurts more that he sounds sincere. “I’ll be in my office if any of you need me.”

He turns and walks off, and all Zolf can think, a little nonsensically, is I do.

Wilde leaves for his meeting the next morning, unarmored and alone, and Zolf is absolutely fine about it. Sure, he’s making more bread when he just made some yesterday; and sure, he rearranged the cell five times in some shitty wooden prosthetics because he couldn’t decide whether to put Wilde’s favorite blanket in there. And sure, when he tried to decide on a Campbell to read, he ended up with the only one he can’t read—a Gaelic translation of When Passions Collide Wilde once brought him. But it’s not- he’s just- it’s fine. He’s used to the people he cares about being in danger, and no matter how much he disagrees with Wilde, he does trust him.

So instead of going with Wilde, Zolf bakes bread.

The fussing gets him through the first day of Wilde’s three-day journey with only minimal stress-pacing. He cleans the inn on the second, doing an inventory of their supplies as he goes, and realizes they’re drastically lower on mundane medical supplies than they should be. To be fair, they rarely use them, as all the field agents can be healed magically, but it’s no excuse for this lack of upkeep, especially when Wilde could sustain any number of illnesses or injuries on his mission.

He brings it up to Barnes and Carter, and they agree it’s worth Barnes – who has both social skills and a sword – taking a trip to the village. Zolf gets a firm clap on the shoulder as a goodbye, which he returns with an awkward pat since their height difference doesn’t allow for much else. And for Carter, Barnes curls a hand around his neck and leans their foreheads together; not long enough to make Carter stay still, but long enough to loosen tension Zolf hadn’t noticed from his shoulders.

(Something in Zolf aches.)

Barnes is gone for maybe an hour before Carter gets too antsy to be around the inn and takes off for a run. Since there are no other visitors at the moment, that leaves Zolf alone in the inn besides the owner, who’s manning the bar, so he takes the opportunity to sit by the fire and flip through his Gaelic Campbell, trying to guess which scene is which. He’s doing pretty well, too, and then he spots Wilde’s favorite blanket hanging on the chair opposite him – he’d taken it out of the cell again this morning – and starts to feel the weight of the quiet. How it settles heavy on his heart and lungs, makes the space around him simultaneously cavernous and too small to move in. The deafening loneliness of it.

Zolf’s been around the block enough times to know when he’s starting to spiral, so he heads to the kitchen to make lunch. While he’s at it, he figures he can start prepping soup for tomorrow, which will be easiest on Wilde’s anxious stomach and convenient for leftovers. (Bread, too, but he’s already made far too much of that.)

He’s halfway through getting out the ingredients for miso when he hears the backdoor of the inn open, the muffled sound of his name being called, and his heart does a distinct, worryingly earnest oh.

It only takes thirty seconds to make it to the backdoor; just long enough for Zolf to concoct five or six ways to greet Wilde sans-touch, all of them horrible. Just say hello, you bloody idiot, he tells himself as he rounds the last corner, sees Wilde—

Oh.

There’s this feeling Zolf’s gotten a handful of times in his life, always right before disaster strikes—or after, sometimes, but just before he’s realized. When he kicked the tunnel’s support beam and heard a crack. A breath before he hit the water, already littered with debris and bodies from the ship that used to be his home. Waking in an unfamiliar lab with no legs and Sasha’s organs floating above her chest like some sort of horrible biology experiment. It’s a sort of…grounding feeling, but not in a settled way. Like the last moment before the earth crumbles beneath you, when you’re still on solid ground but somehow you know, you know, you’re about to fall.

Zolf sees Wilde, and he’s falling.

There’s blood—not deathly amounts of it, bleeding out wise, but he can’t tell where it’s from because Wilde’s currently facedown on the ground, weakly trying to pull himself onto his elbows. His clothes are torn, his bag of holding nowhere to be seen. A blood-soaked knife – the only weapon Zolf could convince him to bring – is clutched in one hand.

“Wilde,” Zolf says, and he’s underground again, he’s underwater again, he’s falling.

He starts forward, and Wilde flinches backwards with an alarming burst of energy. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Zolf freezes, forces himself to take a breath. Of course. Wilde was out, he could be infected, they can’t touch. But that doesn’t mean Zolf is gonna let him bleed out. “What happened? Are you injured?”

Finally, Wilde manages to pull himself to his elbows, but hesitates there; he’s leaning all his weight to one side, so probably a broken leg.

“Meeting wasn’t a big hit,” Wilde chokes out, head hanging low; his voice sounds wrong, and not just from the obvious pain and exhaustion. It’s gargled, and sort of twisted up, like he’s got something lodged in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ noticed, Wilde,” Zolf says. He’s not going to panic. Wilde’s going to be fine, because Zolf’s going to make sure he’s fine, because Zolf is absolutely not going to panic. “Can you walk?”

Wilde lifts his head to look Zolf in the eye, which reveals where a lot of the blood is coming from: there’s a deep wound across his cheek, cutting from below his eye to his chin and ripping through his mouth on the way. He spits some blood, heaves a breath that seems to hurt the whole way in and out. “I could until about thirty seconds ago, yes,” he manages. His arms are shaking; Zolf’s hand twitches.

“Put pressure on that cut, if you can,” he says, trying to sound calmly firm but mostly just sounding impatient. Wilde winces when presses a hand to the wound, but keeps it there. “Good. Now, we’re low on medical supplies, but we should at least have stuff to clean it and sew it back up.”

Wilde nods. “Once I’m in the cell.”

In a show of good bedside manner, Zolf doesn’t outwardly roll his eyes. “Bloody hell, Wilde, I can’t doctor you through the bars. It needs to be before.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I won’t be stupid about it. We’ve got gloves, I won’t touch you at all—”

“No,” Wilde growls, that fierceness rising up again. He breathes in and out, hard, and the anger settles, or at least contains itself. “We get me into the cell, and you work me through how to treat it myself. If I pass quarantine, we’ll do further medical procedures, and if not- well, it won’t matter, because you’ll have killed me.”

Zolf can’t help it; he flinches. “Fuck, Wilde, don’t—look, that cut is bad, okay? You might lose some facial functioning if it’s not treated properly. And if your leg’s broken, which I’m pretty sure it is, you could end up with a limp, or not being able to walk at all.” He winces. “Not- not that not being able to walk is wrong or somethin’, it’s just- I mean, we don’t exactly have the resources—”

He trails off, too panicked to keep track of his words, and realizes that Wilde is…smiling? It’s more of a grimace, but Zolf is almost sure that’s an attempt at a smile. What the fuck, Wilde. He doesn’t answer for a second, either, so Zolf adds, “Wilde? You with me?”

Wilde blinks, then schools his expression into something more formal, nodding seriously. “Your concerns are noted.”

“And?”

Wilde does a rather pitiful attempt at a shrug. “That’s it; I’ve noted them.” And then the absolute bastard starts trying to crawl.

“Poseidon’s soggy arse, Wilde, you’re not making it to the cell like that,” Zolf hisses, looking around for an alternate solution. Gods, why did Barnes and Carter have to leave at the worst possible time?

Spitting some more blood, Wilde bites back, “Well, I have to make it somehow, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but not like—oh, wait, I might have an idea. Stay- stay here.”

(Wilde gives him a particularly withering look at that, which, fair.)

After half a second of hesitation at the idea of leaving Wilde alone and bleeding, Zolf runs for the living area. Wilde’s blanket is still there, and Zolf starts to reach for it, then imagines it stained to ruin with blood, burned to ash as a precaution. He grabs the big quilt instead.

“Here,” Zolf says when he returns, a little out of breath as he presents the quilt. “I can just wrap you up and carry you downstairs.”

Wilde, who is currently trying to work himself into a half-sitting position, eyes the blanket like it’s a vial of bubbling green liquid. “I’m over twenty inches taller than you, Zolf.”

“And yet you weigh about as much as my glaive,” Zolf replies. Wilde still seems unsure, so he adds, “It’s either this or waiting for Carter to get back, and then we can risk two people getting you down there instead of one.”

A muscle ticks in Wilde’s jaw. “Fine. But you don’t touch any part of the quilt that has touched me.”

Zolf lays the quilt out for Wilde to push himself onto—a slow, painful process that has Zolf cursing the world for giving weight to Wilde’s stubborn paranoia. Once he’s settled, Zolf wraps the quilt around him much the way he imagines one would do for a child, focusing his tension into the curl of his fists so the rest of him can be gentle.

He recalls the first night he helped carry Wilde to bed, tucking him in (shoulders, waist, thighs) so he couldn’t wiggle free in the night. This isn’t what I meant, you idiot, he thinks, and pulls Wilde’s half-limp form into his arms.

It’s difficult going, mostly because of the aforementioned two dozen extra inches Zolf has to manage, which also makes it slow. A few times, when Zolf stumbles or is forced to shift his grip, Wilde winces and starts to curl against Zolf’s chest; he always catches himself, though, muffling the noise against the quilt instead. Still, Zolf can feel the ghost of Wilde’s labored breathing on his collarbone, his matted hair against the curve of Zolf’s shoulder. He wants to look at Wilde; he can’t bear to.

They make it to the cell and, miraculously, down the steps, at which point Zolf remembers his legs are, in fact, magical. “Ah, shit.”

Wilde stirs a little from where he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. (Zolf aches.) “What- oh. Your legs.”

Zolf tightens his grip (shoulders, hips) and does as a small a shrug as he can manage. “Only a problem inside the cell itself. I’ll just go on my knees.”

He manages to grab the keys hanging by the stairs with two fingers, leans Wilde more onto his chest as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. When he drops slowly to his knees, Wilde’s heels and then calves touch the ground; this makes Wilde chuckle, which then makes him curl up in pain. His forehead brushes Zolf’s shirt before he manages to turn away.

“Almost there,” Zolf says, trying his damnedest to not sound shaky. He shuffles into the cell’s interior, suppressing a grimace at the sensation of his legs going dead, and gently lays Wilde down. Their eyes meet for a moment, then he shuffles back out and locks the door.

“All right, now keep up pressure on your face, and since we can’t elevate your leg yet, just try not to move it, all right? I need to grab supplies, so just- just don’t go anywhere, or somethin’.” Wilde manages a full glare, which is almost relieving. “Okay, yeah, I know, I just meant- just don’t- you know. Yeah.”

Wilde sighs, nods his head. “As long as you bring me some wine, too.”

“I’ll bring alcohol,” Zolf promises, “but it’s for the wound, not for drinking.”

This earns him a heavy, dramatic sigh, and Zolf lets himself a smile a bit before he heads back into the inn proper. A bard to the last, that one.

He’s pulling out the last of the supplies he needs – which is everything they have – when Carter gets back. He comes in the front door at least, thank gods; Zolf doesn’t want to have this discussion standing over a pool of Wilde’s blood. He intercepts Carter as he enters the seating area, ready to explain, but it’s not hard to guess: bundle of supplies in one arm, alcohol and pillow in the other, what’s sure to be a harrowing look on his face. (Not hard for Carter, anyway, who’s already too perceptive for his own good.)

“What happened?”

Zolf huffs out a steadying breath. “Meeting went wrong, Wilde came back early, he’s not doing well. Got ‘im to the cell, but.” He lifts his full arms awkwardly.

“Shit. Did they betray him?”

“Didn’t ask.”

He nods, frowning. “Yeah, fair enough. Should I—actually, you know what, you should have that covered right now, so I’ll take watch. Make sure nobody followed him.”

Zolf hadn’t thought of that, and he kicks himself for not being more careful. “Good plan. Thanks, Carter.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says; brushes his hand over Zolf’s shoulder, a half-pat, then he’s off again.

When Zolf makes it back to Wilde, he’s in almost the exact same position he was left in: wrapped in the blanket, barely conscious, keeping up a low hum of pain. “Hey,” he says gently, and Wilde stirs a little. “Time to patch you up, yeah?”

“Sorry,” Wilde replies, unfolding the blanket and easing himself into a sort of lounging position. There are clear streaks of tears down his face; his jaw is completely clenched.

“Ain’t gotta be,” Zolf says firmly, sliding the supplies through. “Let’s get the blood cleaned up, see what we’re working with.”

Wilde raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he takes the damp cloth and gets to work. A lot of the blood has dried already, coming off in flaky clumps as he wipes away the worst of the mess on his cheek. He’s incredibly delicate around the wound itself, but there’s a sharpness to each careful swipe across his jaw and chin that tells Zolf he’d be harsher if he had the energy to be.

His mouth is what Wilde gets to last, resoaking the rag for the third time to squeeze out the blood, and as he swipes the corner delicately over where his lips have been torn open, Zolf—gods, it’s horrible, it’s unforgivable, he shouldn’t even be acknowledging it. But in that moment, with Wilde hurt and half-conscious and maybe just days away from not even being Wilde anymore, Zolf thinks for the very first time: I think I want to kiss him.

“So?” Wilde says; Zolf startles, which at least gets a fond little exhale. “What’re we working with, oh mighty healer?”

“Um.” Zolf absolutely cannot look at Wilde right now, but he also has to. He compromises by squinting a little, blurring out everything that isn’t the problem at hand. “Yeah, uh, it’s—you’re definitely gonna need stitches, though I don’t know if you can handle that at the moment.”

Wilde glances down at his shaking hands; the movement briefly unbalances him. “You’re probably right—as much as it wounds me to say it.”

It’s unclear whether that was intended as a pun, and Zolf’s not in the mood to find it funny either way, so he just nods. “We’ll just have to temporarily close it, then.”

Thinking of a way to do this takes several minutes, during which Wilde cleans the wound with an alcohol-soaked rag and a worrying lack of complaints. Finally, what Zolf figures out is to take a piece of surgical tape that’s slightly too small and stretch it across the cut so it’ll pull the sides together, trimming the middle part so it doesn’t stick to the wounded skin. He has to guide Wilde through some complex extra wrapping to stop it from peeling off without covering up his eyes, mouth, or nose; it ends up looking rather ugly and pins Wilde’s snarled hair to his head, but it seems to help.

They clean up a couple other scrapes and gashes Wilde didn’t mention earlier – there’s one on the side of his ribcage, shallow but terrifying with its intent – and then get to his leg. With Zolf unable to examine the injury properly, he can’t confirm what the exact issue is, but it’s not grisly, so Zolf walks Wilde through a basic wrapping and tells him to elevate it on the overstuffed pillow he brought. “We’ll need to do more when you’re out, of course,” he adds. “But right now your job is just to sleep.”

It says a lot about Wilde’s current state that his only response to that is curling up on the blood-soiled blanket, perching his leg awkwardly on the pillow, and falling asleep within seconds. Even with the accompanying ease of tension, he looks awful: clothes ripped and dirty, left trouser leg sheared off from the thigh down for the cast, a mummy-like arrangement of surgical tape crisscrossing his overly pale and pink-stained face.

But he’s also alive, and Zolf allows himself a shaky exhale at the knowledge. Puts his face in his hands when that breath threatens to quicken, focuses on the divine warmth in his chest until the panic fades. He looks back at Wilde, his hand resting delicately beside his face, a few locks of hair obscuring his cheek, and there it is again, that feeling—that terrifying, horribly-timed feeling that prickles at the tips of his fingers and in the pit of his stomach, that stretches languidly in his chest like a stray cat who’s decided to stick around. That makes him hope for something he doesn’t even have a name for.

Fuck.

#rqg #rusty quill gaming #zoscar #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #rqg barnes #rqg carter #zoscar fic #rqg fic #rqgaming #zoscar fanfiction #zoscar fanfic #but i can hope how this will end

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beeexx · 3 years

Text

Fic: Autumn

4 tattoos on TK’s body, 4 stories set over each of the 4 season. Carlos and TK grow closer.

Read part one here or read the whole thing on ao3, see the end notes there for more of my comments.

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It’s been raining on and off for weeks now, the humidity thick in the air, mixing badly with the chillier temperatures in the mornings and evenings, the sky looking a lot like someone’s taken a paintbrush to it and permanently painted it a depressing colour of grey that’s never going to disappear. Carlos is either constantly overdressed or underdressed and the uncertainty of the days, the constant rain, and the stress he’s been under for a few weeks now has made him extremely tired.

Which is why he and TK’s had a fight. They don’t often do this, Carlos has the patience of a saint, he knows this, Owen’s told him that on numerous occasions when TK’s been a little difficult and Owen’s been struggling to not lose his own temper, even TK’s gratefully expressed that too on a few occasions. So yes, he is very aware of how calm and patient he can be. But today Carlos has had a bad day at work and he’s tired and it’s just his luck that today of all days clashes with one of TK’s bad days, where he is anxious and too wrapped up in his own head to really be able to read signals.

Carlos doesn’t fault TK for this, of course not, but when his boyfriend is being uncooperative and uncommunicative, and not having had the strength to not drink that fourth cup of coffee today, their moods are doomed to clash. And it turns into a fight over something really stupid that causes TK to slam the bedroom door shut and for Carlos to kind of want to cry as it rattles on its hinges, that’s how much he feels that everything is too much right now.

He’s bent over the stove, staring angrily at the uncooked chicken in the pan and wishes he could set it on fire or something, that would maybe make him feel fractionally better. Carlos really doesn’t want to fight, and he really doesn’t want to fight with TK, but even he has bad days where all signals go straight over the other one’s head and the answer ‘I’m fine’ with a foot bouncing unrelentlessly while hanging off the chair with a nose in phone, means that TK is definitely not fine, sometimes that doesn’t always translate for Carlos. Particularly not on a day like this.

He knows most of the signs and tells when TK is anxious, has been through one anxiety attack triggered by a nightmare with him where he might have remained totally collected on the outside while on the inside his heart broke in two because his boyfriend was on the floor telling him he couldn’t breathe and that image is doomed to haunt him for a long time. It was scary, but he’s seen panic before and he recognized the signs immediately and they talked through it afterwards and moved past it, well adjusted to deal with it in the future.

And TK isn’t selfish, he’s pretty good at reading Carlos’ in return, but not on the days where Carlos is strung so tightly he could snap in half due to days full of picking kids up from places where their parents are fighting with fists, bloody from the violence and almost always on something while the kids are hiding, their faces blank without tears because they’ve been through it too many times by then to know it doesn’t help. He doesn’t know what’s worse, that they’ve seen too much of this already, that it’s become so normalised for them they’ve already accepted it, or when they see it for the first time and Carlos is forced to gather them up in his arms, talk to them or sing to distract from the vicious yelling from the other room while child services are being called and the parents are dragged away in handcuffs screaming bloody murder. Yeah, sometimes he hates his job.

So, it’s been a bad day and coming home to a TK that is a nervous ball of tightly strung energy too, is not a good combination.

Carlos exhales, feels absolutely exhausted by now and he’s honestly ready to just go to sleep on the couch and forget about everything. He hears the bedroom door open, prepares himself for some short clipped words from TK informing him that he’s going home to his dad to sleep, instead, and this goes to show how upset and distracted he is, when TK steps in close and wraps his arms around him instead. He freezes for a moment, rendered shocked before he snaps out of it, covering TK’s hands with his own.

He’s about to turn around so he can hug back for real when he feels TK’s arms slip from his, hurt he turns to look at TK, but TK’s already taken his hand in his, tugs on it until Carlos follows him, and walks him over to the couch. Gently he pushes him down on it, and Carlos goes willingly, at first not understanding what TK is doing. He gets the hint that TK wants him to lie down though, and when he does TK wordlessly climbs on top of him, laying down, covering him with his body. Dumbstruck he puts his arms around TK, feels his calming breathing on top of him, and somehow he calms down himself. TK winds his own arms around him too and with the both of them on top of each other like this, it’s a snug fit on the small couch. But it doesn’t matter, having TK near calms him immediately.

“I’m sorry.” TK whispers. “I didn’t mean to be difficult.” Carlos shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay, I’m very sorry too.”

“I know work’s been a lot for you recently and I should have been more considerate, it’s just, it’s hard for me sometimes when I get stuck in my head to see that you’re struggling too.” He admits and Carlos nods, he understands.

“And I’m not leaving, I promise.” It makes Carlos stop for a moment, the words taking him by surprise because while it’s been hanging over them from the beginning that TK’s been scared that Carlos is going to leave him because he’s has got it into his head that he’s going to be too much and have too much baggage for it to be fair to Carlos to have to deal with it too, Carlos cannot help but feel the exact same at times as well. Especially when TK is upset and angry and on the rare occasions that they do fight, that he’ll leave. Not for long, but for a few hours and the thought of that is just too much for him sometimes that it makes him not think clearly, panicked into apathy almost.

“I’m in it for the long run I promise.” Carlos tightens his arms around him, breathes him in, feels the weight of TK ground him into the couch, and he focuses on that feeling of safety, allowing it to embrace him for a moment as he swallows down the tears.

“I know.” He whispers, hears his voice waver slightly. “I know, but it’s nice to hear you say it nonetheless.”

TK sits up, rests his elbow on either side of Carlos and wipes the escaping tear away gently, and kisses his cheek.

“I love you Carlos, I’m not leaving.”

“I know…”

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned and Carlos shrugs, not totally used to being on the receiving end of TK’s worry. It makes him feel a little odd but he’s also understanding TK’s own hesitancy to opening up to Carlos in the beginning of their relationship, it’s scary.

“Work has not been easy recently. It’s just been a lot of bad stuff involving kids and social services and drugs, it’s making me feel useless. These kids, they deserve better and most of them just want their parents to love them. Separating them like this feels inhumane.” He admits, shakes his head to prevent more tears from escaping.

TK nods but he winces and he has that rare look on his face, one Carlos knows means that he wants to protect him, wishes he could carry some of the burden for Carlos himself. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on call and he has to deal with a particularly difficult rescue, where instincts kick in and he will do everything he can to save the person.

It’s strange but Carlos recognises it’s deeply meaningful to be on the receiving end of it, Carlos can’t imagine there’s many people alive that TK cares this deeply about.

“I’m very very sorry about that.”

“Yeah...me too. But taking it out on you when you’re clearly not feeling your best either is not okay and I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and I wasn’t exactly helping my case along by being inconsiderate.”

“Agreed then that we both made mistakes?” Carlos says, his lip twitching a little and TK nods, smile small.

“Yeah, agreed.” He leans forward and kisses Carlos’ nose, a soft gentle gesture and it lodges something fiercely in his throat for a moment, making him gulp down the tears.

But it makes him feel better too, and the tough and long day has started to diminish slightly by now when he feels warm and loved and comforted by the love of his life.

“Tell me about your day.” He tells TK and he huffs but smiles softly and nods, leans down again and while he talks he keeps placing butterfly light kisses on Carlos’ exposed skin, making his heart flutter in love.

He talks for a bit and Carlos hums and nods and doesn’t say much, starts to feel himself drifting off but feeling too tired to stop it.

…..

He wakes by the cascading sound of water against his windows, sits up confused as to where he is for a moment and why there is a blanket draped over him, the loud noise alerting him to the roaring storm outside. The living room light is off but the kitchen ones are on and there are two steaming plates of food standing on the counter, TK absent. He yawns, stretches and gets up in search of his boyfriend. It doesn’t take long, he comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Carlos’, a little loose around the arms. He smiles when he spots Carlos is up and comes close, wrapping his arms around him. He looks better Carlos notes, less burdened than when earlier.

“Hi.” He smiles. Carlos can’t help but smile back, loving it when he gets to see TK like this, completely at ease, facade gone, face open and soft looking in clothes that belong to him.

He feels his heart grow in size and he leans down, kisses his boyfriend and hopes it conveys everything he feels that he can’t find the words for at the moment. TK seems to appreciate it and somehow understand it too, he hums, wraps his arms tighter around his neck and gives in to the kiss completely. He could do this forever, but he’s hungry and whatever there is that TK’s made smells lovely, so he breaks the kiss and TK kisses his nose before he steps back, but only a little, still keeping close to Carlos.

“You cooked.” He comments lifting an eyebrow. TK shrugs, a little unsure.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you had planned to make before the fight but you fell asleep and I thought you might appreciate some food when you woke up.” Carlos' heart melts, he loves him so much.

TK looks back and Carlos kisses him again, taking the breath out of him as TK’s surprise becomes evident. Carlos steps back and TK looks dazed, he blinks and Carlos smiles.

“Thank you, I love it.” And a shy little smile breaks across TK’s smile, relief mixing with love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I am starving.”

“Good.” They step apart to sit down and the evening that started out horrendously turns into something soft and beautiful instead, both of them tucked away into a little bubble of light while it rains heavily outside, unbeknownst to them.

After dinner and the dishes have been cleaned away they move to the couch again, Carlos also having changed out of his jeans to fully enjoy the downtime. An episode of Criminal Minds is playing on TV, not Carlos’ favourite thing to watch when he wants to relax, but TK enjoys it and has taken to asking Carlos questions about what they do being realistic or not.

He’s not paying attention to the episode though, his attention is on TK more than anything else right now, his head in Carlos’ lap, eyes attentive on the screen, his hair soft and loose, having been left unstyled after the shower, breathing slow and calm. He’s stroking a hand up and down his arm, making goosebumps erupt on his skin, something he delights a little too much in doing.

The sleeve of the shirt has risen up, and there is one of TK’s many different tattoos. This one is the SOS one, the world as the O and it’s pretty, Carlos actually likes it a lot, can’t help but be curious about it too. He moves his hand over it, fingers gently hovering above it until he has TK’s full attention. It takes a while for him to notice that the stroking has stopped and he moves his head, frowning slightly.

“What is it?” He asks, Carlos smiles, a little cheekily.

“What about this one.” He taps gently at the underside of his upper arm and TK’s eyes move to it. When he gets what Carlos is asking he huffs but he nimbly moves and lies down on his back, meeting Carlos’ eyes. Carlos gets a pillow from behind himself, motions for TK to move and puts it under his head making it more comfortable for him.

“Okay this one really doesn’t have as deep a meaning as the other one, just to warn you.”

“It doesn’t have to be deep.” He reassures. “I just want to know more about you.” TK’s eyes go soft for a moment and he draws in a sharp breath.

“I love you so much.” He whispers and Carlos smiles brilliantly, leans forward and kisses TK.

The angle is all wrong and kissing upside down really isn’t as sexy as they make it out to be in films, not that it matters, the action, softly kissing someone he loves is all that matters.

“I love you too.” He sits back.

“Okay, well this really isn’t that deep. But you know I love the ocean?” Carlos nods.

“Well I went on a trip with some friends to California for a weekend when I was younger and there was this activism group that was protesting and advocating for the protection of our seas so I stopped and talked with one of the guys and he was really passionate about it. I learnt a lot from him and I guess it just kick started my own passion for the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“But the tattoo came after a drunk night out, same trip though, where I flirted with the tattoo artist for long enough to make him agree to do it even though I very obviously wasn’t sober.”

“You little menace.” TK flashes him a cheeky grin, clearly proud of the achievement.

“Well the tattoo turned out nice though.” He strokes his thumb appreciatively over it and TK nods.

“It did.”

“What happened with the dude?”

“I went home with him for the night.” Carlos snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Of course you did.” TK chuckles.

“But yes the tattoo turned out nice, it really did. Not that I am against putting tattoos or piercings or stuff on your body that don’t have any meaning. But I guess it’s nice when some of them do.”

“It’s art, I like it on you, adds another layer to you, as well as making you hot as hell.”

“Yeah?” TK lifts an eyebrow, intrigued now, fishing for details, wanting more. Carlos chuckles but he can’t really resist TK when he looks at him like he does now, biting at his lip, knowing of course exactly what he’s doing to Carlos.

“You are a menace.” TK chuckles, sits up, easily turning around planting himself in Carlos’ lap, kicking away the pillow.

“Yep, but you love it.”

“I do.” He says leaning forward, meeting TK in the middle.

They don’t last too long on the couch because after becoming an actual well adjusted couple both of them prefer having sex in the bedroom, it makes for much more intimacy than a quickie on this small couch do for either of them these days. Not that they are exactly opposed to having sex a bit all over the place at Carlos’, but after the evening they’ve had, the bedroom it defintiely is.

Carlos turns off the TV, carries his boyfriend easily enough to his bedroom and closes the door behind them.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tattoo fic #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #fanfiction #my writings #tk x carlos #carlos x tk #carlos reyes #tk strand #9-1-1 lone star

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moth-based-cryptology · 3 years

Note

Can I ask about the alternative face reveal hcs? I know Tumblr screwed you over the last time but if you still would like to share, I’d still be interested!

i’ve been having a day but this i can do !! one batch of anxious albert coming right up 🛎

prepare to feel race’s unending rage right along with him cause it’s very justified

so chances are someone recognized race from a distance

definitely didn’t approach him or albert would’ve put his sunglasses on and ducked away to hide cause he’s a dork

the boys were probably being cute and couple-y and this person was like “hey that’s race! so that must be red” cause,,,,, 1+1 is 2, yk

and because he has no idea anyone’s recognized him, let alone has a camera on him, you can totally see albert’s face in the pictures this person took

and they post it EVERYWHERE

(this person is definitely not a fan cause idc if they’re fictional there will be no race and red stan slander in this house, they’re perfect)

albert’s face connected to his handle is all over every social media - hell, there’s even articles written about it - by dinner time

which is, of course, when they first see it

well

race does, but albert can immediately tell something is up cause race looks beyond furious and in serious danger of pitching his phone as hard as he can into a wall or something

so albert, as one does, asks him what’s wrong, and gets up to see what’s making race so angry

albert grabs the phone from his hand (to save it, of course) and time seems to just stop

cause he’s looking at,,,, well him, on the screen, posted publically for everyone to see

to put it kindly, panic is setting in

his chest is burning, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registers he should probably breathe, but he can’t cause feels like a vice is slowly closing around his rib cage and no matter how hard he tries he can’t get a breath in

he can feel the lump in his throat rise and his eyes fill but he tries to push the tears down cause this can’t be happening there’s nothing to panic about cause thatphotocantbefuckingrealohmygod

he feels race stand up next to him and put his hands on albert’s shoulders trying to coax him into breathing, but it’s like he’s watching it happen to someone else

race finally reaches down and places albert hand against his chest just over his heart, exaggerating his breathing and asking albert to mimic him

it takes a moment, but the thump of race’s heart under his hand grounds him enough to let him drag an uneven breath in, then another and another

his chest stops burning and he can actually hear the hushed but comforting words race is babbling out in a rush cause he’s always terrified when albert panics like this

race, still clutching albert’s hand to his chest like he needs it as much as albert does, grabs albert’s phone out of his pocket

race’s voice is still soft when he asks if albert is ok, and although he still looks vaguely disbelieving when al nods his head numbly, he presses a kiss to albert’s cheek and sends him off towards their room

he takes all of 10 minutes to issue a tweet from the chaotic red twitter saying “in light of the recent total invasion of privacy, red will be offline for a bit. i hope all of you understand. message me if you have any questions. -race”

the tweet from his own twitter is,,,,,,, much less tame (not to mention the instagram story live where he explains everything and also rants a bit more)

it’s an 8 post thread of pure rage-fueled ranting, and every word of it is justified

race also manages to get the original posts taken down, but by then it’s spread like wildfire and been saved and screenshot and reposted a thousand times over and it’s really no use anyway

when he walks back into their bedroom, albert is sitting up, still in his regular clothes, staring blankly at the wall

race coaxes him into pajamas and just,,,, holds him? there’s not much he can do other than just be there (which race hates, btw. he likes to be able to solve problems, and it upsets him he can’t solve this one, especially cause albert is hurting because of it.)

albert is completely offline for over a month and a half. he deleted all the apps off his phone the next morning.

it’s a random tuesday when he decides to redownload twitter and see what’s going on. the level of support STILL happening over on twitter for him makes him genuinely smile, and he replies to a few of the nicest or funniest ones

he basically tells everyone “i’m not officially back yet, but i’m not completely gone anymore. streams and videos, will take a bit of time, but i’ll be around :)”

fans are,,,, enthusiastically excited, to put it mildly

they loose their fuckin minds

(the simps have already doubled and he’s already read at least 50 tweets about how “hot” he is. he doesn’t know what to do with that, honestly)

he mostly just starts cropping up in race’s videos little by little

and then he starts streaming on twitch, just to test the waters

then he releases the same video he releases in the original face reveal (albeit with a bit more anxiety and a lot more general vibes of race yelling not to invade their privacy like that again from behind the camera)

then the face cams and cute twitch moments start

and it takes longer for him to be,,,,, ok? and comfortable? in front of the camera, but the dynamic settles in pretty quickly and we get our happy boi back :,)

so,,,,, i did it! not a super big fan of it and i still prefer the official version i posted BUT it was really fun and i hope you like it :))

also, angst is NOT my strong suit so i hope it’s not too terrible, i did my best ✨

thank you for the idea lovely <33

#newsies #livesies #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #never not read the tags #ralbert #spam ralbert gang #chaotic red and radioactive racer #youtuber ralbert #youtuber!au #my boys!#but a bit sad this time #anxious albert hurts my soul #it makes me SO SAD #anyway #i hope you liked this :)

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a-verified-rat · 3 years

Text

I don’t know if I should continue this or not.

Basically what I’m thinking is a social worker takes Ponyboy into a boys home instead of giving Darry custody (The let soda stay case he’s almost of age) and while doing so they learn that Johnny was being abused and take him as well. When the gang try to get them back they learn that they’d already been adopted by a soc family. And that’s all i got so far. What do u think? Should I make more?

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13801968/1/Now-Would-Be-A-Good-Time-To-Be-Any-One-But-Me

Chapter 1:

I knew the good times would never last forever. My life has always been one misfortune after the over. Just two weeks ago my parents had been killed in a terrible car crash. I still remember the silence as the cop told us the news. He tried to look solemn but I knew it was just an act. They didn’t care about us greasers or what happened to us, they just came to deliver the news and leave. They didn’t want anything to do with the three sobbing brothers in the run down house.

Their funeral was last week. It took all of my willpower to not scream and jump into the graves, pleading with them to come back, that they were asleep and that it was all a bad dream and my mother would come to wake me up and my dad would take me and my brothers out to play football. But no matter how much my thoughts told me it was fake, I knew that it was real and that they were never going to come back. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at their bodies in the caskets. It overwhelmed me with so much guilt that I couldn’t even say goodbye. I wish I could've but every time I thought of my parents dead bodies, my mothers beautiful blonde hair all bloody and tattered, my dad's playful eyes now lifeless and tull, his usual twinkle no longer there, it made me sick to my stomach and I felt like I could pass out any moment.

The state didn’t care that they had just died. They saw an opportunity to tear me away from my brothers, what was left of our family and they took it. Me and my brothers were sitting at the table eating our breakfast in silence. Well they were eating, I was just pushing my bacon and eggs around my plate with my fork. Sodapop had just dropped out of school and taken a job at the DX with his best friend Steve to help Darry with the bills that were piling up. Darry didn’t take it too well. He yelled at Soda about how he was throwing his life away.

“Darry, let’s face it I’m too dumb to get anywhere in life. Ponyboy’s the only one of us who even has a chance of making it out of here.” Were his exact words. It was true, but it made me feel uneasy. I didn’t like the pressure of having to work extra hard just to make it out of Tulsa and leave everyone. Don’t get me wrong, i’d love to get out of this town, but that would mean leaving my brothers and the gang. I loved them too much too just let them go like that.

Anyways, we were silently eating our breakfast when a powerful knock on the front door echoed throughout the house. We all shared a confused look at each other. Everyone in town knew that they could just walk in, no one ever knocked. Our parents made it well known that anyone could come in if they needed a place to stay or some food.

“You better have eaten some of that food by the time I get back, Little Buddy.” He warned, pointing an accusing finger at me, before standing up and heading straight for the door. Me and Soda stayed seated at the table, trying to hear who was at the door. It didn’t take long before an elderly looking woman walked into the kitchen with two tuff looking dudes next to her.

“Hello there. Ponyboy and Sodapop, correct?” Her voice was shrill and I knew by the wide smile on her face that something was up. I just nodded not knowing what to say. I looked at Darry. He was standing in the doorway with an expression on his face that looked like a mix of angry and anxious. It looked like he was desperately trying his hardest to not punch them and throw them out of the house. He caught my eyes for a second and my breath caught in my throat when he gave me an apologetic look. If Darry is sorry for anything, it couldn’t be good. I turned back to the woman and the men, hoping that was going to happen wasn’t going to. But I knew nothing would ever go my way.

“My name is Bree Johnson and i’m your social worker.” She said with a sickenly sweet tone that made me want to barf.

“Social worker?” Soda asked, just as confused as me. He looked at Darry and back at the woman again, before standing up as well, like he was expecting a fight.

Bree’s eyes narrowed a little before returning to their normal size. “That’s right. Since your legal guardians have passed away, it is illegal for you to be here without someone of age. So I am here to place you in a proper home”

Soda’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. I could have laughed at his expression if I wasn’t feeling the exact same way.

“WHAT!?” He yelled so loud that I was sure the people down the street could hear it.

Bree winced at the loud voice and rubbed her ears before returning to her composed posture once again. “Well, since you're of age,” She explained, looking at Soda with pointed eyes. “You are welcome to stay, but Ponyboy here is just too young to go without a responsible adult in his life.”

I felt like I could cry. I just lost my parents and now this woman, this monster, had the audacity to waltz in here not even a week later and take me away from what I had left of my family.

“But I am of age. I’m twenty, I'm a legal adult.” Darry pleaded, practically begging for them to let me stay. While I was surprised that he actually wanted to keep me, a little part of me felt extremely guilty. We had talked about it before, that Darry would give up his chance of going to university to take care of us, but part of me didn’t feel like I was worth giving up so much.

“Barely.” Ms Johnson said sharply, narrowing her eyes at my oldest brother. “You’ve only been a legal adult for a few months Mr Curtis. And you have a full time job am I right?” Darry swallowed before silently nodding. “Then who is ment to care for Ponyboy while you’re away? And I heard that Sodapop has dropped out of school?” She asked, now turning to Soda with questioning eyes.

He looked down at the ground before mumbling, “To help with the bills.”

Ms Johnson let out a short but loud laugh before turning back to Darry. “This is what I mean. Your brother had to drop out of school to help you pay bills. How are you going to make sure that you’ll be able to provide for everything that Ponyboy needs?”

Neither of my brothers had a good enough argument, so they just looked at our said social worker with pleading eyes, silently begging for her to let me stay. She just scoffed before turning to me.

“Go pack your bags, I’ll be picking you up tomorrow.”

A stray tear fell down my cheek but I ignored it and stared wide eyed at this cruel woman. She didn’t react to my expression and just stood there with an emotionless look in her eyes.

I glared at her, more tears falling from my eyes, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away. “NO!” I yelled slamming my hands down on the table and pushing myself up from the chair with such a force that it knocked it over.

Bree’s smile faded and she looked at me with piercing eyes. “No?” The smile came back, except much more sinister. She placed her hand over her chest in mock shock and laughed again. “I am sorry young man, but you do not have a say in the matter.”

“THE HELL I DO!” I yelled at her, throwing my hands up in the air. My brothers didn’t call me out on my cursing, seemingly agreeing with me. “You don’t care about Johnny down the street who gets beaten to death by his parents every day or the many other kids who get abused or neglected by their parents.”

Her smile faded again and she leaned in closer to me, like she was trying to hear me better. “Johnny’s parents do what to him everyday?” She questioned. I slapped my hands over my mouth almost immediately, knowing I had screwed up big time.

We all wanted to report Johnny’s parents to the authorities multiple times, but we knew that if we did then he would be taken to a boys home, but I guess it was too late now.

Before another word was spoken, the door slammed open and someone ran in. Bree pushed past Darry and into the living room where the mystery person was, her henchmen following her. Me and my brothers followed them just in time to see a bloody and bruised Johnny Cade starting with a gaping mouth and wide eyes at the woman like I had been not too long before.

“Let me guess,” Bree said in a taunting tone. “Your Johnny?”

Johnny closed his mouth and turned to us with questioning eyes before looking back at the woman and nodding.

“Well,” She said. “I guess that me and the police would like to have a chat with your parents.”

Johnny just raised an eyebrow, still not understanding what was happening.

“I expect you to be here tomorrow morning as well Johnny, cause it seems that you're going to be joining Mr Curtis.” And without another word, she and her minions fled from the house, leaving us all staring at the door. A few moments of silence passed before Johnny turned back to us.

“What was that about?” He asked. “Where are we going?”

And with that, the dam broke. The tears flowed freely and I collapsed to the ground, clutching my chest. In just a matter of minutes, my entire life had been stripped away from me. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay here, with my brothers and my gang. I wanted my parents back. My eyes were too blurry by the tears and my thoughts were ringing so loudly in my head that I didn’t even realise when Soda had gathered me up in his arms and rocked me back and forth on the floor as we both sobbed our hearts out, nor did I notice as Darry explained the situation to Johnny and he too broke down crying in Darry’s arms.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #two bit mathews #steve randle

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mageicalwishes · 3 years

Text

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen & Up

Chapter: 1/? (More chapters to come a little later in Dec + Early Jan!)

Summary: A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. "He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Carry On Countdown, Day 10 - Crossover @carryon-countdown

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Social Anxiety, Crossover, Pining Baz, Artist Baz, Space Enthusiast Simon, Star Gazing, Anxious Thoughts, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 10

Words: 2,145

Baz

I need to stop thinking about grey, slippery roads and black shrouds. About the purple under my Father’s dull eyes, and the red of my Aunt’s anger. I need to stop thinking about me - About my life. My head is too loud. Too noxious. I need someone else to take my mind for a while. I need to see. To paint. And so, I search for a subject.

Dragging my binoculars across the bleak, colourless houses, I search, desperately, for even a glimpse of a hue. But the colours are slipping from the world again. They always do when I’m trapped in my head.

And then I see them - The movers - so far from colourless that I’m dizzied. They’re great work horses, both of them - One chestnut, and one palomino - Hulking a grandfather clock up the house-next-door’s stairs. I’m zooming in, before I have time to reconsider - Into the stretch of navy against the flex of their arms, the rose flush of their foreheads, the tan swath of smooth stomach revealed each time they lift their arms. And then ... Shit.

I drop the binoculars onto the floor, my body following swiftly behind them. Because, on the roof of the house, there’s a boy pointing a telescope directly at me. Fucking Hell. How long has he even been there?

I risk a glance over the top of my windowsill. He’s wearing a tatty purple jumper, and there’s a mess of bronze curls tangled atop his head. Even without the binoculars, I can see that he’s grinning at me. Is he laughing at me, already? Does he know what I was doing? That I was watching the movers? Does he think that I’m ...? He must. Why else would I be ogling them. God. I feel the dread pinching at my throat, and try to tether my mind, so that it doesn’t get away from me again. Maybe he’s just a smiley person. Maybe he thinks I was looking at his clock. That’s equally as plausible, surely? And, I mean, he has a telescope. Dickheads don’t tend to have telescopes, do they?

Tugging at the ends of my hair, I stand. When he sees me he waves, but before I have a chance to reciprocate, he’s reaching into his pocket, drawing his arms backwards, and lobbing something straight at me. (Maybe he is a dickhead, after all).

On reflex, I stick out my hand. The unknown object slapping hard against my skin, as I close my fingers around it.

“Nice catch!” He yells. His voice deep and bright, with a definite Northern tinge. I decide that I like it. It suits him.

But, I don’t know what to say back. So, I don’t. Instead, I examine his potentially dangerous ‘gift’ - Spinning the rock around in the palm of my hand. It’s small (About the size of a pound coin) and covered in irregular lightening-like cracks. What am I supposed to do with it? Do I throw it back? Why did he even throw it at me, in the first place? I don’t know, but I slip it into my back pocket for safe-keeping, anyway.

When I look back at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, he’s turned himself back towards the sky. Too focused on looking through his telescope to notice me. Which, to be honest, is odd. I mean, it’s daytime. What could he possibly be looking at?

Even though I’m curious, I don’t stick around to find out. I’m worryingly off-kilter, and I need to rebalance. I hadn’t prepared myself for meeting a new person. I wasn’t ready. And so, I run to the place that I know best, to recuperate - The Art Institute. Where I can carry out further recon on the studio.

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

It was a good, productive sketch session. Nobody caught me peeping through the window, and I was able to get a few decent body references down. But … I don’t feel my usual post-art calm. My mind is still racing (Although, with a different genre of thought than earlier).

Every over time I have visited, the models have been women. Posing demurely, with a bowl of fruit or silks. Arms placed, to partially protect their modesty. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. But today … it was a bloke.

I don’t have a problem with that (Not really). There’s nothing wrong with blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with naked blokes, either. I’m mature enough to handle that. A body is a body. A sketch is a sketch. And I’m an artist first, queer person second. I just … hadn’t expected it. And I don’t like to be caught off guard. So, I’m feeling slightly rattled. I just need to get home, and get back to normality. To safe things - Like a beach scene, or a self-portrait. Familiar things. No more surprises.

And yet, a few steps into my walk back home, I see the guy from the roof leaning against a nearby tree, the same lopsided-grin aimed over at me. I blink, confirming his existence, and then he’s talking. Stood, barely 3 metres in front of me, in the dirt.

“How was class?”

He says it like it isn’t the strangest thing in the world that he’s here, with me, where he really has no reason to be. Like it isn’t only just slightly beaten in its absurdity by me, sketching propped-up on a wall outside, rather than inside, the studio. Like we aren’t complete strangers (Because, no matter how much he may be smiling at me, we don’t even know each other's names yet).

‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda’ followed you. I wanted to check out the woods, but I wasn’t sure of the way. So … I just tagged along. Figured you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry though, I wasn’t watching you the whole time. I was busy with my own stuff.”

He points to an open suitcase filled to the brim with ... rocks? As if that’s normal.

“My meteorite bag’s all packed.”

I nod like that explains something, but it really doesn’t. Meteorites? I thought those were in the sky, not on the ground. And what does that even mean? He just carries around pieces of infinity. For what?

I look at him more closely, studying his face for any sign of disingenuity. For any sign that he’s just having me on. But I find nothing. Nothing … bad, anyway. Just a deep dimple accompanying his crooked smile, and miles of tawny skin, speckled with moles. He exists in shades of orange and gold. He’s the sun. And I can’t look away.

“Stare much?”

I drop my gaze, embarrassed - Staring down at his scuffed Nikes, as my neck prickles with heat. I don’t talk. What am I even supposed to say to that? Yes?

“Well ... you’re probably just used to it from staring at that bloke for so long. You know … for your drawing.” I look up - Grey meeting blue. He’s eyeing my pad curiously. “He was naked?” He breathes in as he says it, like the words stole his oxygen. It makes my stomach plummet, but I try to keep my face calm. I think about him watching me, watching the movers. How he watched me, watching the model. He must know. And ... I don’t know how I feel about that, just yet.

He looks down at my pad again. I don’t understand why. Does he want me to show him the drawings of the model bloke? It seems like he does. And some disturbed part of me wants to. But I doubt it. ‘Hey stranger, wanna’ see how I draw dicks?’ said no sane person ever. My stomach twists tight, and I’m out of control - My brain hazy amongst the moment’s tension.

“Look, man,” he sighs, half-smiling as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “I legit’ have no idea how to get home. I tried, but I just ended up back here. I’ve been waiting for you to lead the way. You don’t mind do you?”

I don’t think I mind. Do I? I don’t know. I shake my head, anyway, and point him in the right direction.

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

It’s a long way home, and we walk the majority of it in silence (Well, near-silence. The bumping of his suitcase creating a constant accompaniment to our steps). I try and resist the urge to look back at him. The urge to ask him all of my ‘Why?’s - Why did you follow me? Why are you still following me? Why are you collecting meteorites? Why were you looking at the stars in daylight? Why were you looking at me in the daylight? It would only make me more muddled. So, rather than relent, I take out my invisible brushes and start to paint behind my eyes.

And, after a while, I feel myself settling back into my skin. The dancing trees and setting sun relaxing me, in spite of the moment’s unsteadiness. Or ... maybe it was him. He’s an alarmingly relaxed person (I mean, I don’t know anybody else who would just follow a stranger around, with zero self-consciousness), so it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of ‘Realm of Calm’ thing going on around him.

When we emerge from the woods, returning to our familiar concrete-laden pavements, he spins around and jumps in front of me. Ecstatic.

“Holy shit! That is like ... the longest I’ve ever gone without talking in my life! I was holding my breath just trying to keep the words in. How do you even do that? Are you always like this?”

He’s a mile a minute, and I’m lagging behind.

“Like what?”

And then he’s laughing at me. I can tell that he’s a person who laughs a lot, from the way he lets it take him over so easily - His whole being lightening up, as the sides of his eyes crinkle, joyfully. But it’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s not a mean laugh. It just makes me feel a little bit fizzy inside (In a good way. I think).

“Dude! Are you kidding? You do know those are the first words you’ve said all day, right?”

I didn’t, actually. But I don’t tell him that. He’d probably just think that I’m more strange than he, no doubt, already does.

He’s properly cracking up now (Although, I don’t know what, exactly, I did that was quite so funny). “And then you’re all just like ‘What?’”. </p>

He makes an absolutely atrocious attempt at imitating my accent (Which leaves him sounding like some kind of drunken Prince Charles impersonator), and before I can stop it, I’m laughing outright, alongside him. Both of us hunched-over cackling, wholeheartedly, probably looking more than a little mad.

Once we’ve calmed down, he starts staring at my pad again. Jesus Christ. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m not going to show him my sketches. Not even if he begs. I’d never survive the embarrassment.

“So ... lemme’ guess. You do most of your talking in there?” He points down at my pad, and I feel the tips of my ears flood scarlet.

“Yeah. Something like that.” My voice comes out mumbled and gruff. I didn’t mean for it to. He probably thinks I did it on purpose, though.

He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured.

“I paint in my head sometimes,” I blurt. Dumb. So unbelievably dumb. “That’s why I was so quiet, I was painting.”

“Oh that’s cool. Saves paper, I suppose. Better for the trees, and that.” Stalling. He’s stalling. I’ve made it weird. I always make it weird. “So ... were you painting anything specific?”

“You.” Oh, fucking hell! I’ve ruined it - I’ve smeared on that last glob of un-erasable acrylic and ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just ... popped out. And now he’s stood, gawping, eyes wide and face flushed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’ve gone and dumped all my greedy keenness on him, completely uninvited, and now he’s drowning in it.

Everything feels tight. The air, suddenly too humid to swallow. I’m gasping - Waves of breath crashing, loudly, in my ears. Panic. I’m panicking. I need to - I have to go.

So, for the second time today, I run. Spinning on my heels and darting back towards my house, without as much as a ‘Goodbye”. Away from him. Away from humiliation. Back to my room, where I pull the blinds shut and open up my pad - Briskly skipping over today’s work. A blank page. A fresh start. I really am no good at talking the normal way.

#carry on #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #my fic #my writing

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