#but my sewing ‘’station’’ is already taking up space

[wildestheart4ever]

So I switched rooms with my youngest sister, yes? Yes. Because my cousin is coming back and I might as well give him the room he used to stay in [Never mind that there’s the unused study downstairs - I just really wanted a window again].

So any plans I had for room decoration now have to be changed with the smaller space

Mostly I’m just hoping that my sister takes the desk and the computers that are sitting outside of the media room so I can put my sewing stuff there….

At least I have a window again.

Anyways! Renewed list of stuff I need to get:

Vanity

Small|Tall dresser [More storage/surface space to put stuff]

Corner shelves

Side table because the thing I currently have is a sad rickety lump of plywood

[balkanradfem]

So as you mayhaps now, I'm spending my summer preserving and drying food, and a big part of it is cutting up and drying zuchinni, which comes in every day and is impossible to keep up with. I made my own little drying stations by taking some produce nets that my roommates brought home, and sewing them onto cardboard boxes. This meant the net was suspended and I could put tomatoes, zuchinni, mushrooms, peppers or whatever I wanted to dry, on top of it, and leave it in the sun, and it'd be dried in two days.

Now this worked for the first few years, but now my plastic nets are falling apart. I've been trying to mend them, sew multiple ones together, but the plastic is too weak and is no longer staying in one piece. I have one little drying box left, and have to figure out a new solution to this (current produce nets are so weak I can't use them).

So, yesterday when I was heading to the garden, I found this big round netted-looking thing left next to a trash container. At first I couldn't tell what it was, but I was immediately thinking, omg, I could dry food on this thing, look at it, it's strong. Coming closer, I recognized it was a piece of a cooling fan; apparently someone's fan broke and they threw the wire bit away. The net wasn't fine enough to be good for drying vegetables; I could see how my small cherry tomatoes and mushrooms would fall trough. So I left it there.

But I couldn't forget about it. It just looked... so neat. I liked that netted circle. I became obsessed with figuring out various ways I could make a basket out of this, and harvest produce in it. I wanted to use it for something so badly. Finally, my mind conducted a perfect idea; I could tie strings onto the edges, suspend it, and hang it from the ceiling, and then keep all my fresh produce on it. This way, my produce wouldn't be taking up any counter space, it would be so beautiful suspended in the air on this round net circle, and since it's metal it could last forever. I could come home and put all my produce on a hanging basket and then just stare at it for hours.

Incredibly excited, I headed out and got my beautiful piece of fan.

Carrying it around my apartment, it immediately became obvious that there's no potential place where I could suspend it from; the ceilings in the building only have light bulbs hanging from them, and that's it. Nobody thought about how I might want to hang a basket and suspend it from the ceiling and keep my tomatoes in it, and I think that's on them. When I'm making my future home, I'm going to fill the ceiling with support for stuff hanging from it. That's how I'll use this, I decided, it's going to be a hanging produce basket for the place I build for myself. It'll be perfect and I'm already excited for it.

But then, I was confronted with the amount of zuchinni I needed to dry that day, and had another realization; while this net is too wide for cherry tomatoes or mushrooms, zuchinni slices are wide. They can fit in there no problem. And this is so big, I could dry a lot of it. I just need to wash it. I can put it on top of a cardboard box and not worry about it. They can't even slide off because the edges are curved in. And then later, I could weave my own hanging basket for the produce I want to suspend in my future kitchen.

And so, the problem of deteriorating plastic net was solved. I am now drying zuchinni on this incredible round net object. I am going to have so much dry zuchinni this winter. I feel like I resolved this issue in the funniest way possible, but the solution is effective and long-lasting.

[saijspellhart]

The One Time I think My Step Dad Saved my Life.

I never liked my mother’s husband, we never got along and I always thought my Mom was too good for him. But it would be a disservice not to acknowledge that I think he saved my life once, and I’ll forever be grateful.

I was 18 at the time, I’d just made a dog suit for an anime con and had decided to wear it for Halloween too. (Not a fursuit in the traditional sense. Imagine you had a giant dog plushie, and you skinned it and wore it like a dog suit. Floppy, baggy, understuffed and everything.) it was my first major sewing project, I was so proud. It turned out exactly how I wanted it.

I took my two little half-brothers trick-or-treating that year. Running around the neighborhood with them collecting candy, having a great time. We made it back to my Mom’s house safely, but I wasn’t going to stay the night. There was supposed to be one more bus passing through the area and I planned to catch it and take the bus system back to my apartment.

The bus stop was just right across the street from my mom’s house, in a moderate neighborhood. Not quiet, but not busy. The street it was on saw quite a bit of traffic. Most of the street lights were well spaced, so the neighborhood got pretty dark at night. It was also late so all the trick-or-treaters had long gone home. I’m actually major scared of the dark, but I sucked it up and waited for the bus, still wearing my dog suit mind you.

For a while it was just me, all by myself. But then a man showed up out of no where a couple blocks down. I could see him whenever he wandered under a street light. I didn’t think much of it, he was pretty far off, it was Halloween, and my Mom’s house was right there. But the man was clearly walking in my direction.

It didn’t become strange until I saw he kept stopping.

Every so often he would stop, sort of loiter around, then start casually walking towards me again. I’m checking my phone for the time at this point, cause the bus should have been here already, but I hadn’t seen it. The man continued moving closer.

I began to realize that the man only moved closer when there wasn’t any traffic. The moment cars would drive down the road is when he stopped to loiter about. Then, when the cars disappeared he would casually walk my way again. I started to get really uneasy. I could sense something was very not right about this.

My Step-Dad happened to pull out of the drive way during all this, off to go party with some of his friends no doubt. He waved at me as he drove by, inevitably passing the strange man farther down the street. At this point the man was about four driveways away. I was seriously considering just darting across the road, going back in my Mom’s house and calling my older brother for a ride. But I was also telling myself I was paranoid and the bus would be there any minute.

The man continued to move closer until he was about two driveways away, and under a streetlight. Cars were passing again, so he’d resumed his loitering. Still no bus. I was wondering how fast I could actually run in a baggy dog suit.

The man had started moving again when a car suddenly pulled up to the curb in front of me. It was my Step-Dad. He had the window rolled down, stank of weed and cigarettes, but he told me to get in the car. At this point it didn’t matter how much I disliked him, I was scared and thankful. I hopped in the car and he drove off, passing the strange man who just stared the entire time, watching us go.

My step-Dad told me he was dropping me off at the bus station in the middle of the city, where I could catch a connecting bus and go home. He said he saw the weird man when he passed the first time, got a weird feeling, so he circled the block to come back and grab me. I thanked him. It was actually really touching that he was concerned about me, I’m not even his kid, and he never raised me.

I caught a bus home from the station, made it home safe. Celebrated the rest of Halloween with my older brother and my friend/roommate. I honestly didn’t dwell anymore on the experience after that.

It wasn’t until a couple days later we heard on the news there had been some assaults in the neighborhoods surrounding my Mom’s house on Halloween night. The gravity of my situation really hit me after that. I could have been one of those assaulted people, or worse.

Ever since I honestly believed my Step-Dad, in all his paranoid, conspiracy theory, people-hating delusions, saved my life that night. He’s dead now, he and my mom died in a car accident years ago. I never actually got to express my appreciation for that night, (aside from the generic, “thanks for the ride.”) We’d never spoken about it. Never talked about the assaults reported in the neighborhood. Never had any meaningful conversation about the situation. I don’t think he ever knew how much I appreciated that small act of concern.

To this day that was one of the most haunting and frightening experiences I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. But I’ve kept this story to myself for a very long time, and even though my step-Dad is gone now, I wanted someone to hear this story.

Thank you Larry.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

sure one could argue its annoying and sad impulsively getting into hobbies and buying supplies only to drop it quickly. BUT I see it as a pro because I impulsively bought an insane amount of embroidery supplies and wanted to get into it super hard but then stopped after 2 projects. but now I can the means to impulsively start another project.

I wanted to get super into sewing so I have a whole sewing station set up in the basement that I barely touched after like a month, but now that means I can quickly sew something whenever I need to instead of putting it off because if I didn't have all the supplies and space my executive dysfunction would never let me sew.

when I was younger I got into cake decorating for like, 2 months and dropped it but to this day a lot of the tools I bought my family uses whenever we bake something and it means whenever we make a cake we can do something a little fancy.

I ordered a bunch of fancy yarn because I was certain I would become a lace knitter but then I didn't but now I have the supplies to start a new project whenever the impulse hits. Not only that, but when a roommate was trying to get into knitting but didn't have the yarn, I was able to light up and go grab my bin of yarn I haven't used and let her take whatever she wanted.

I have a lot of knitting projects half-finished tucked in bags but that means I have a project already started I can jump back into whenever I want (which I did recently! a scarf I started a year ago, I wanted to do something creative but couldn't summon the energy to start something but then I found an abandoned knitting project and it meant I could just start doing something right then!).

When I was younger i got into ice skating for a couple months and dropped it, but I still know how to skate and can go to an ice rink and skate around with friends and show them half-remembered moves.

I joined a floral arranging club for a bit in high school which I quickly started getting anxiety about and ended up dropping. But the interest in flowers and arranging means that I've been able to work odd-jobs with a florist and help with weddings and holidays.

It's hard to think I wasted money or time when I look at it all. I am the accumulation of all these experiences! No amount of experience or joy is meaningless. It's like they say "A jack of all trades is a master of none, but often times better than a master of one"

[bluntfish]

Press-Me-Not, Gilded Anemone (Part III - Mutual Exchanges) [+18/NSFW]

Is it hard to ask for a date with an elusive man in the snow fields?

I am on my knees. I never thought I'll make another behemoth once more and my brainrot prevailed. Do I have the energy to make something akin to this? Perhaps in the future. No promises though. I underestimated myself last time after finishing CFL and god, I might as well do it again (in a different form since writing in this type of context got me wacked out). Still, thank you for reading this if you make it this far. You already made my day.

CW: sex (mostly mentioned but not purely explicit), comfort/angst themes. Minors DNI. 🐟

Your front door creaks open and closes behind you, where puddles of water pooled near the entrance. The sound of feet entering in. You’re back home, and Aurelius accompanies you this time. Warm lights fill the space with a flick of a switch. He sighs, removing his coat over one of your hangers and you do the same. The ornament on his turtleneck still hangs and swings when he lines his boots on top of your mats. He orients himself upright to adjust his sweater, then joins you in the kitchen.

Aurelius watches you opening the fridge, and sorting a few things. He then takes a glance over your countertop. It’s very neat and organized. Spices line up against the drawers, and your recipe box is stacked on top of the microwave. 

“Do you mind if I look?” he inquired, holding the item of interest in his hands.

You nod with a hum. He shifts through it, noticing the neat handwriting explaining each dish and dessert.

“Huh,” he uttered, “are these yours?”

“My old man’s. He has much of a sweet tooth. Want me to make you some?”

“You don’t have to,” he says, closing the box back to its original place.

“Do you want a drink? I got fizzy pop and a few beers–”

“I’ll take a beer,” he quickly responded.

A beer can slid over the counter. Wiping the sweat from the can, he cracks the tab open and gulps the golden drink.

“If I knew you drink, I might have considered having a bar date instead,” you laughed.

You lead the marksman to your living room once more, arranged somewhat differently than his last visit. The sewing station was the same as ever, with your other coat waiting to be mended with a durable cloth scrap. The windowed door leading to the back view of the lake is closed shut. Two cans rest on the center table as you start up the fireplace. Aurelius takes a gander at the wall adjacent to the mantle. Photos of your family, how Raine used to be with the rolling plains and shimmering lakes. He eyes you as a wee child, and silently moves the corners of his mouth to a slight, upturn smile.

“You had a good life, (Y/N). These photos… you were loved.”

“No need to get so mushy with me. They’re what they are,” you softly giggled.

“But I’m serious. I wish I had something like that, even now.”

His stance was unwavering. Lost in memories and wistful look in his eyes, his hand fetters as it lowers to a side table. It’s decorated with more photos of your formative years. He nearly knocked off a frame but caught it in time. Sweat on the brow. You pretend you didn’t notice his fumble.

“Is your dad coming home soon?” Aurelius murmured.

“He’s out,” you hesitantly responded, “gone to my Aunt’s for karaoke.”

“He sings?”

“Pretty much. Won in some local competitions for a few years now. He won’t be back till the afternoon tomorrow. Probably.”

You walked to your sewing table and picked up a hefty, thick book. It’s decorated with embellished lines drawn on all of its corners. Similar to an embroidered handkerchief. The man walks up to you, curious about what you have. And you presented your pages. Sketches and notes of various plants and trees you observed in the wilderness or found online. Some, like the dried flowers Aurelius gave to you previously, were drawn in meticulous detail. Almost too lifelike for him at least.

“Wow,” he mutters with his eyes on you, “this is amazing.”

“Why, thank you for the compliment.”

“Where did you put the flowers by the way?”

Without saying a word, you gestured your hands toward your bedroom. He soon follows with a glimmer in his eyes. Gently the door was pushed open. The switch turned on to reveal what you have from the darkness. Homely and inviting your space was. Small knick-knacks laying on your shelves and windows. Your bed is tucked in the corner of your room, against the window. It can accommodate you, but with two people it would be a crowd. You’re trying not to come up with any ideas. Aurelius quipped about the corner of your room. His attention is on a pile of books on a table as you’re stacking more. Tomes of nature and wonder you read many times, but treated as paperweights for the meanwhile. He took a whiff of a familiar scent emitting from them.

“What are you doing over there?” he asks. 

His hand glides over the hardcovers and nearly lifts one book till you stop him. Your hands, small and meager, overlap his.

“Flower pressing,” you said. “I want them to last a bit longer so I thought it would be nice to decorate parts of my sketchbook with those. They’re not done yet, so you have to wait. Maybe next week.”

“Sorry for being nosy,” he said with a smile.

You quickly withdrew your hand. 

“Must be the liquid courage.”

“Maybe so,” he laughs.

“Well, Mr. Marksman, I have to cut the tour short,” you said gently shoving him out, “Your presence ever staying in my room will be unbearable to my psyche.”

“How so?”

“...I’ll get impure thoughts. And I don’t think you want to deal with that,” you replied with a muted voice.

He chuckles and plays along as he strolls out of there. If anything, the humble act of showing your room to him is endearing. Including your sudden modesty. You’re both back in the living room. The lights get dimmer as the fire warms the house. You sit close to Aurelius. The couch creases with both of your weights. Once again, he removes his glasses and tucks them around his zippered collar.

“So what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“It’s getting late. Are you busy tomorrow? Maybe we can talk later.”

“I mean, right now (Y/N).”

Thoughts rummage in your skull. Your arms rest against your chin as you lean over toward your knees. You’re contemplating. His hand draws upon his scarred face as he too thinks about what else to say. After meditating your mind further, you started to speak.

“About …the bed thing. How did you feel about it?”

The color of Aurelius’s face shot up.

“I-I was about to say. I felt like I was pushing myself but… I don’t know. Did you regret what we did? What have I done?”

“No regret came to mind. It was something that came up in the moment,” you nervously assured him, with your thumbs twiddling. “I thought if I didn’t do anything then, then I probably wouldn’t meet you again after that encounter. And you proved me wrong. B-But I did feel like it went too fast. If anything, maybe it was me that was pushing it too far.”

“I don’t think so,” he bluntly added, “though… I was worried that you didn’t enjoy it…”

“N-No I did! I wish it would…last longer.”

Aurelius stares at you. You return his glance.  His arm reaches to yours and he’s holding your hands. Pulling you close to share his warmth. Engulfed by his warmth.

“It was reckless of me,” he whispers in a dour tone. “We barely know each other. I…I wonder why I agreed with it. But I won’t deny I got attached to you, (Y/N). You saved me.”

“I did?” you questioned.

“It’s been three years since I've devoted my life to the harsh climate of Raine. No sane person would opt to do so unless they had a death wish. But without it, I wouldn’t meet you. And I’m very thankful. However…”

His raspy voice trails off to the flames. You witnessed the fire reflected in his eyes.

“The solitude offered by the snowfields is what I wanted of course. But sometimes I feel I can't just be out here by myself. It’s very…lonely out here. I shared some of my thoughts with Marshal Zhong a few nights ago. It was… a response. But not what I was looking for. What’s your take?”

“Unsure if you want to be living on the tundra any longer, Aurelius?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind. It’s not like I have other places I can run to,” he admits.

“Then you could do both, you know.”

“Being a man of the snowfields and still be with you?”

“Yeah. You have an important job. You told me your stories, and I want you to keep doing that. Helping others when you can.”

“But came from a desire to escape–”

“Then does it matter what the original reason was?”

He was stunned by your sudden statement. The man paused with his head turned away. His hand is unmoving, his body still. Barely putting himself together, cracking from the pressure of the dark premonitions through his mind. Aurelius assumes to be a man made of restraint, though naturally, he is rather impulsive. Awkwardly he expresses this in his daily interactions, sometimes without thought. But intentional rashness has some caveats.

The last time he was acting on his heart fully cost the lives of his family in Utgard. His life spiraled as he was tugged and pulled by different factions. The city’s full of lions; fully capable to mash its plutocratic maws towards the destitute and those barely surviving. And Aurelius was well familiar with this game to the point of exhaustion. Those experiences became an extension of his current outings. As if it's all he knows. No peace in sight. A facade of a lone man wanting to connect not just nature but his kind. He doesn't know what's worse: admitting these feelings or dying without a breath of his struggles.

You sat in silence. The sudden cracks of wood burning across from you were the only sounds resonating in the space. Then, a breath. Out of your lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...about me?"

"Yes," you stated, "I can't read minds. What’s troubling you?"

Aurelius shakes. His breathing shortens. His hand was unable to hold its grip, resting upon his lap once more. His teeth meet his lip for a second. Then he's calm. A pin was raised. The unnerving vibe brought upon the man you desperately wanted to know.

"I'm not a good person."

"What? Why would you say that?"

"I've done some horrible things. You won't understand."

"But that's not what you are–"

"Don't assume what you think of me," he howled faintly.

You froze.

“I am just as horrible as those rich bastards who ruined my life. I did what I do to survive. But for what? I never asked to have a life like this. The things I’ve seen since I was given this power,” he says while gripping his hands, nearly leaving marks on his palms, “Inhuman. A pawn. That’s all I was. And here is no different. I used to be like you. With my family and now its–”

More words stammered out of his mouth. The sudden rise of his panicked voice could jump even the largest of animals. His eyes could dig through your skin. Skinning you whole. Without warning, you grabbed his hand and pulled yourself to his side with your arms bearing nothing but sympathy. A tight squeeze. You remain still but shaken. Nothing can surmount the stream of words failing to break out. Failing to break out of your vocal cords.

“What are you doing?” he sternly said with a tremble.

Aurelius hears a whimper, soon a croak. Fresh tears soaked his sweater. He looks down as you clung on, losing his train of thought. He silently rubs your back, hoping it would calm you down. It doesn’t. He tries it again, this time his entire body captures you in the frame. You were finally able to put together sentences.

“Do you think I’ll ditch you because of your past? Because of the people turning your life upside down? None of that changes how I feel, Aurelius.”

He says no more. The realization hits him. Nearly admitting his pain he thought of the worse outcome. That you won't want to associate with him. That you’ll sever his interest and he’ll be alone. But why is that wish not coming true, he pondered. You were firm, stiff as soggy cardboard, and still admired this man with kind eyes. He is puzzled. Why would you want to be with a broken man like him, he thought. As if he doesn’t think the multiple occasions you shared with him were not enough. It was never enough to ease his mind of its uncertainty. And yet, you defied those claims.

“…you’re not going to let me go?” he inquired with his voice quavering.

“Fate dealt you a bad hand. I can’t fix any of your past, your regrets. But I told you many times, didn’t I? I care about you. We just have to move forward.”

He uttered a confused hum. A kind of hum he didn’t realize at first. Typically he will believe the first thing out of your mind but Aurelius has become cautious, more conscientious. He doesn’t have the grace to speak out loud about his woes, for the fear of losing you. He doesn’t want to lose anyone again amidst his self-loathing. So he zips up his lips, unsure what to say. Except, for one thing.

“I really didn’t deserve this,” he shutters to himself.

“You do,” you asserted, “live for your present, Aurelius. We want you to be around longer.”

“We?” Aurelius repeated with concern.

“It’s not just me. Marshal Zhong, the people you encountered and helped. How can you be bad when you’re just doing what you can? Anyone would understand that. I lived here for my entire life, but a city like Utgard could make a kind-hearted person twisted. You’re just unraveling. Trying to be whole again after being freed. Right? Is that the real reason why you came here? Just to start over?” 

Your head rests against his chest, under his chin. The light of the flames radiates your face. It fills in the missing heat after shedding so many tears, till you caught a drop on your cheek. Aurelius succumbs. His eyes puffed up, trying to wipe off the rolling tears with his freed hand. However, it doesn’t stop the jumbled words of his apology. Like a child distraught by his actions, he pleaded for forgiveness. Several times, you assured him of each one. Truly, for a man who suffered for so long, he’s trying to come to terms with his former agony.

“Why does my chest ache when you’re being so nice to me? Your honesty knows no bounds,” he cries.

“It’s what I know best.”

The both of you were mentally exhausted. Aurelius reaches for his unfinished can, as he hesitates to take everything at once. Though, he pushed through and immediately set it down with a refreshed expression. All he does is just lay back on the couch, staring at the fire kindling itself. And you are in his arms now he has your attention. He nearly mouths something, then his raspy voice emerges from his lips.

“I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“It’s alright. Not like you’re trying to make me run to the hills.”

“Good. That would be bad," he mutters.

You grinned with a slight chuckle, calming yourself down from his warmth. His hand limps over to your shoulder as he exhales and breathes again. A sigh of relief. His watery eyes dry up, only perceiving the light in front of him. Across the darkness. Mutual silence. No words were spoken between the two of you. Communicating through your hands, you gently join his grasp for your touch. Once more, you felt his finger reaching. Another wrapping your palms. His heat sears your arms, your body. As if you’re roasted over a bonfire, waiting for someone to put it out. Yet it never does. 

“(Y/N),” he said in a soft voice, “if you become anything in the world, what would you be?”

“What do you mean?”

“...I was thinking if you could be like…an animal, or a thing. What would you want to be, if you were that?”

“A tree. I’ll be a tree,” you responded after some thought.

“How so?”

“...I always want to protect others, even when I’m not physically strong enough to do so. That doesn’t mean I want to neglect my well-being. I want to be rooted, well-grounded, but enough to take care of the people I love.”

You didn’t include the sudden insight you picked from your inquirer. Aurelius feels like the first embers of a forest fire. His touch alone could make you combust; his finger is the ignition set off from that particular night. Rapid like a backdraft. As much as you want to be consumed by him, you decide to withhold such words for later. He’s touched by your thoughtful answer as you sit there swimming in your head.

“Oh,” he hummed, “I figured you'd say that. My other guess would be a kind of flower.”

You giggled, ignoring the burning desire deep in your corporeal essence. “Or I could mention being a rabbit.” 

“I’m grateful you’re predictable at least,” he says in his usual blunt tone.

“What about you? What would you be?”

His face contorts into contemplation. The energy that left him, the mired thoughts drowned itself off. He was not certain of what kind of plant he wanted to become. Or if he had any such thought about it.

“Do you want me to help you? You got quiet for a minute.”

“Would be nice. Your thoughts?" he quietly pleads.

“I think…you remind me of an anemone. Do you know what those are?”

Something sparked inside Aurelius. The flower came to him in a mental image, swaying in the wind.

“What color?” he whispered in eagerness.

“A white one. It means sincerity or…a love that is forlorn in some places. It’s from a book I read a while back.”

The man follows your mental throughline, listening with all intent. He identifies himself as a pale, white bloom. Fresh in spring, reaching towards the sun. And you, the person who tended the fields in his mind, plucked him off the ground. Gingerly snipped by the stem. From your tender hands, you carried him home. You put him in your best vase and he basked in the sunlight and warmth. Facing toward you constantly, turning his attention as you walked around your dwelling space. For your favor, for noticing him among the myriad of flowers. For once in his life, he feels lucky. Lucky to meet you amid his other thoughts. And a thought it was.

“Aurelius?”

“Mhm? Sorry.”

His face was full of peachy wonder. His tone of voice is a bit brighter. He’s enamored. Smitten. That’s the emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. His heart pumps harder, leaning close to your face. Another bold motion as his hand wraps your shoulder. Pulling you closer. Lost in his mind, his lips brush past your ear to quietly proclaim his feelings.

“I really don’t know if…this is love, or it's me wanting to be close. But could you…let me take care of you? Take care of me? Please. There’s nowhere I would rather be right now than here, (Y/N).”

He grew silent. Then you felt something moving across your face. Your heart bursts out with his sudden kiss on your cheek. You clung on, flabbergasted by the smooth transition attacking your lips to your neck.

“Whoa there loverboy, let's slow down a second,” you protested. He didn’t turn away. He had gotten more delicate, more familiar. He could be drowning himself from the floral scents of his jacket former. Or could be you. His exhale is deep, deep as his body yearns to merge itself into its match. Melting, melding to each other till nothing remains. He leaves the last pluck on your lips once more, and intently gazes at you. Embarrassed by what he did, but willing to claim his guilty behavior outright.

“Was I too forward?”

You were too flustered to even speak. You express your bemused deposition with an audible confirmation.

“I… I… didn’t mind it. It’s…nice.”

He gives you a look. The kind of look when animals leer at each other in the wild. Ones that make the relationship between hunter and prey. The fawn to his gray wolf. The heat of this encounter is more spartan than last time. More controlled. You figured that he was still restraining himself. If you give yourself wholeheartedly to his desire, you’re not sure if there’s any sense of self left in him, in you, in both of your hearts. And one thought permeates through the threshold of reason, a single thought that could break this pining to pinning your bodies together with a tack.

“Are you…going to…?”

“If you want to,” he murmurs.

“I’m asking you,” you clarified without sounding too wanting.

“I don't want to push it. I can stop.”

You reeled him back as when he backpedaled his body away. You earnestly want him to follow through with his actions. But in the end, he grew restless. He can’t think in the good conscience of being wrapped up like this. In the dark and your presence. His mind is mush. Some of it, you thought, could be the self-conscious actions Aurelius does to justify his doubts. But for this relationship to survive, there’s another thing to address to him.

You prepared your conscience by a heave and proceeded to tell some of the unsavory things in life. In your life. Things don’t usually go to plan, as living on the tundra does. There are times when you feel defeated or unable to change. Death of a loved one. Stuck in the snow, crying alone behind a forced smile. Even a picturesque life with your family doesn’t show the true colors. You appreciate Aurelius praising the life you have, but it is like anything else. It is what it is. You are what you are. A person who experiences varying degrees of sadness, pain, and loss.  Just like him.

“I never knew you went through all of that,” he remarked.

“You deserved to know. Now we’re even,” you chimed.

He takes this information in leaving only a smile written over his face, holding you ever close suddenly. You did your best not to utter a word though it surprised you regardless. The fireplace is getting dimmer, but you don’t want to move your spot. Neither does he. Darkness overtakes the majority of your vision. Barely make out any of the shadows. Outlines of his body you trace with your only sense of touch. Taut, just as you remembered. His core is just as strong. You hear his faint breaths reacting as you make your way feeling his thigh till you paused and looked at him. You assume he probably has blood rushing to his head.

“Mr. Marksman… I…” you stuttered.

“We’re not strangers, (Y/N). Call me by my name,” he says.

“Aurelius,” you said with conviction.

You can hear him gulp. A loud one in some ways. Your fingers dance their way from resting on his sternum to his zippered collar.  One of his hands broke free, grasping you from fiddling with his glasses tucked between its teeth. You feel small when he’s holding your hand. You like this feeling a lot. Wanting to ball up in his arms. Enveloped by his body tenfold. 

You carefully continued, “how are you going to treat me? Making out or getting started with the act? Pick your poison.”

“No offense but I have no clue."

“We can help each other. If that’s okay?” you mumbled.

“Sure thing, but I have an idea. Maybe get on top and we can start there?”

You remove the glasses from his sweater and set it aside. Your legs start moving over his, sitting on his lap. Unsure what you’re doing, you rest against his chest. You’re not trying to think too hard about what he has going on down there. Do you think he knows? He probably knows what you’re doing as he instinctively rests his hand on your waist, sitting back on the couch. He’s getting comfortable with the new sensation.

“Are you alright?”

“M-Maybe,” you meekly responded.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do my best if anything,” he whispers with assurance.

You’ve always known Aurelius has a pedant for being sensitive to your wants and needs. You know he’ll go out of his way to make himself comfortable for you. He says with quiet bravado but he’s just as nervous as you are. You can feel his hand shaking, either from excitement or the unnerved anxiousness when interacting with a person. Gently you wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed. Sweat accumulates between the two of you. A hidden heat emerges from your stomach—a pit of flame.

“Or maybe you’ll show me instead,” he mumbles.

You’re nervous. Drawing upon his fingers to your chin like striking a match, Aurelius gently glances at your face. Lost in words. Undecided on what step to follow your bones too. You met his gaze after avoiding his eyes, avoiding any reciprocation. Yet you’re being filled with a tender kiss. He’s taking the initiative. His hand digs deep, tugging you closer to his body. Sharing his heat. No words, just action in play.

“I’m a little impatient. I hope you can forgive me,” he apologizes absentmindedly amidst his sudden kissing.

You are familiar with what happens when an animal is out of breath. Its lungs max out their capacity after exerting their energy output. Sweat ducts exit the body or the animal pants constantly to exhale hot air to cool down. Whatever it is, it fails to do its job. Your mind drifts akin to a white kite sailing across the sky. The bitter cold blows it through. Strong winds. Forces of nature overcame and witnessed through the light cracks of your window. An intimate sight you don’t want anyone to see, lest you incur the wrath of what had come. 

You’re like a naked stalk with its petals plucked. Akin to a child playing “loves me, loves me not”. Clothes are peeled away. Parts of your skin are bare. And the friction against the soft fabric between your legs is making you lose your grip on reason. Aurelius is already far gone in his mind, other than his quiet quips. Questioning his actions, hearing your reactions. Till he pulls your lower garments, you quake with sudden consciousness. 

“…protection.”

He blinks. You mustered a timid smile as you quickly got off of him, not making an effort to cover your body.

“I-I’ll be right back. I need to get something.” 

You run off to the darker parts of the house while Aurelius sits withholding any sudden shouts. You’re in your father’s room. There was a time you found something, a secret that he didn’t share with you, and you kept it locked in your mind if anything came about when you needed it. And now it's the time. You opened the nightstand and found small packages untouched. Checking the date, and it's still good for the next few weeks. You take two or three and leave it as it is. Knowing your father doesn’t keep the inventory of his condoms like the number of logs you saw through on the daily.

You enter the living room. Moonlight spills from the sliding doors. Aurelius adjusts his sweater, his pants, and his hair. He’s waiting as the fireplace light dies out. The man pulls himself up from the seat once he caught your sight and walks towards you with an embrace. You wrapped his arms to catch your breath.

“O-Okay we can continue. Sorry, I just want to make sure we’re safe doing this so I got something for you to wear,” you informed him.

He murmurs something inaudible. You could barely hear it from his raspy voice. Soon, your feet are being lifted off the ground. You’re being carried. Aurelius silences your outcries with a kiss as you’re lifted above his waist.

“Where to?” he asks in determination.

“Oh. U-Uh…” 

Your eyes instinctively glance at your bedroom door. Then he slowly brings his body over, nudging his head against the entrance, and carefully walks into the dark room. The window light beams over your bed. You realize where this is going. He collapses over the mattress with you in his arms. His hands run on your bare back reaching lower.

“W-Wait, what about my—”

“Morning. We’ll fetch your clothes before your father finds us like this,” he hushes.

He pops off the sweater, knowing his body can’t contain the heat he’s emanating. His cheeks are blazing. You’re examining his scarred chest in full view. The sheer mass of Aurelius’s maleness is radiated by the glow outdoors. It's like you're watching a sculpture making its first gesture in life. You gasped as he reached your inner thigh. Clumsily wrapping, pressing against his upper waist. Your heart races. His hair obscures his vision as he continues where he last started. You felt something growing. Something big. It’s distracting. His pants are pulled down. You’re pinned on the sheets. As if you’re going to be pressed like the flowers you prepared.

Aurelius opens one of your hands to take what you borrowed, and he looks at it carefully. He tears it open and is speechless as it falls on your chest.

“What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing,” he says, picking it up quickly.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” you teased.

Taking it as a challenge, his fingers quickly stretched the rubber over his member. But his first attempt was too quick. 

“Damn it.” 

He frowns in frustration. It ripped after his fumbling for five seconds.

“Here, let me just–”

You sat up and opened another. You asked Aurelius to hold still. He tries, holding his breath. You reach down holding the tip and roll it on. Avoiding eye contact, only staring at his chest. You try to be covert about it, but you took a quick peek. How big is it, you wonder? You felt it doesn’t accommodate the size of your hand, lest what he’s going to do to your insides in a few minutes. Regardless, he utters a faint moan from your touch. You shutter; the chills set in. You pulled your head back and looked at him.

"It's on."

"Thanks," he mutters sadly. His ego was bruised. 

"What's up? You want to be sexy about it?"

"I want to impress you," he huffs.

"You already have, big guy. If you already got me like this, you're doing something right."

He sighs in agreement. He leans over, taking in your words as you're laying back against the sheets. Your arms drape behind his back.

He murmurs to your ears. “Let me know when.”

You clung on, once more pressed against his weight. Hoping you’ll take in what he has. He glances at your pleading eyes. Sealing your lips shut then he gets to work. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a faint sound. Just raw flesh meeting in unison. Gentle as gentle can be in your mind. Intimately whispering how he’ll treat you right in one thrust. Timidly proclaims his wants in another. At first. The moment when he truly relaxed, hell broke loose. You understand what he means when he gets selfish. You’re watching him making his decisions out loud with his hands. Becoming even less graceless and more coarse. And it excites you to see this man puppeteering himself without a master, without forethought. Just himself in the rhythm of bodies talking to each other.

It was all a blur. You’re praying for your father doesn’t connect the dots when he gets home. The puddle of clothes trailing to your room, underwear dropped on the ledge of your bed, and Aurelius taking your body as his own. You’re praying this night doesn’t end. You’re praying he’ll take you to the gates if you happen to die that night. You’re praying so hard that his passionate feelings will imprint on your torso.

“(Y/N)...” he uttered in sweat, “do you want me to stop?”

“N-No, keep going. I’m okay.”

His hands squeeze your mass. Fastening to your hips as you still hold on. Your brain came up with many excuses. Excuses to say when someone asks about your first time. Nothing is coming up. His sweat drops on your forehead, and you embrace him closer. His movement became erratic, but you didn’t mind. You utter small gasps, urging him to continue till the landmarks on your skin darken. Smothered. Claimed. The last thing you heard before his finish was a harsh groan. Twitching, then his muscles ease. The fire subsided into a flicker.

You curled up after cleaning up the act, tying up his condom to your trash can. Your clothes were picked off soon after Aurelius traced his steps from the bed to the couch. You, on the other hand, are sore on the sheets. It might take a century to recover what he did with your limbs. You crawled underneath the bedcovers till he entered the room door closed. He dumps the clothes on your center rug and then scoots onto your bed. You are afraid this will happen. The two of you barely fit on your mattress. He fixes this by lifting you off the bed, then lays down with you on top. Your legs tangling with his.

Aurelius stares at your ceiling decorations and you’re fidgeting your fingers around his neck. The wind is knocked out of him. He pants all wide-eyed. His head rested on one of your pillows while you gingerly rubbed his hair playfully.

“You were enjoying yourself,” you whispered to his ear.

“S-Sorry… I couldn’t help it. Was it too much? I can do it again,” he tiredly pleaded.

“Silly.” 

You held him close as his arms wrapped around you, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re fine. You’re very manly, you know that?”

“M-Manly?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

He shook his head. The two of you lay there on the bed naked. Embracing still. Pondering what is to come in the future.

“Is it me or did I feel a lot better after sex?” he said while running his hand over his face.

“Did you?”

“Maybe I did,” he continued thinking out loud, “I feel like my mind floated somewhere far. Like a flower patch. Next time I’ll try better, (Y/N). I really lost myself, I think.”

“What if I told you that I enjoyed that?” you whispered to his ear.

“Really now?” 

He blinks a few times. The room is dark, but you can tell he’s content hearing such praise. He quietly chuckles while you were smooching his lips a few times, giggles sneaking between each exchange.

“Maybe I should let myself loose more often. Thank you for listening to me. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you.”

“No need to apologize. If anything, I’m relieved you got off of your chest.”

Your fingers join his, and your palm matches his palm. With this embrace, he sighs in silence.

“I love you.”

“Don’t say that out loud! My walls have ears,” you snorted.

He explodes into laughter till the two of you calm down staring at each other with tender affection. 

“Didn’t you say before your pops will kill me if he finds us like this?”

“I mean, he could if he was in his prime,” you said, “but… I don’t think I’ll cry wolf for today.”

Shutting your eyes on his chest was the best feeling you had in a long while. You glance up, and Aurelius is out. You hear him snore softly, tuckered out from the energy he input for the night. You didn’t want to move or make the right decisions. You captured his heart, where you wanted him to be. And you hope he doesn’t let go. 

When morning rolls about, you are awakened by the sun rays hitting your face, unmoving. Aurelius remains in the same spot. He’s still hugging you close as if he’s in a dream protecting you from danger. He murmurs in his latent slumber a slurry of words so nonsensical that it got you to chuckle.

“Aurelius,” you shake him.

“Don’t,” he stammered, “Stay. Stay with me.”

“Aurelius,” you call him again, “do you want breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“I can’t cook if you’re holding me tight, handsome.”

Aurelius sluggishly sits up, pulling your body along with his. His bed hair is impressive. It’s all over his face.

“Good morning,” you smiled, “ready to pretend that you got here during daybreak?”

“Do you want me to cover myself with snow on top of it?” he seriously contended.

“If you want to!”

The two of you followed up with your makeshift plan. Not blinking an eye about what happened a night ago. And soon, cooked eggs greet the morning rays from the window sill. Two plates, two cups, two of everything. He’s smiling more. Laughing even.

The weight of his past still affects him though he doesn’t have to carry it by himself anymore. At least with you, he’ll look forward to even the most cloudy of days. Chatting without a pine or yearn sometimes. And soon, you hope the first touches of spring will reach where you are. As long as you keep reaching, his touch will bloom onwards to better horizons. Your gilded anemone.

[crones-trash]

It’s really good news things are moving along with your mobile home. You will be in your new home before the holidays. Pretty much be all moved in and get to enjoy the holidays at your new home and also with family. Will the previous owner install the cabinets before closing? I lived in two different mobile home parks and I loved both of them. I hope you will share pictures when ready. Did you take most of your furniture or are you buying new stuff for your place

I down-sized, never expecting to find a place w/ almost the same square footage as the one I left. Consequently, there's going to be a lotta open space, which is NOT bad. I kept my husband's Steelcase Modular Work Station Modules because they look like a starship command center. No joke. They assemble into a U-shaped arrangement w/ 2 angled-corner workstations attached to 3 tables in 5', 7', & 10' lengths. The work surface is pale mottled grey w/ brushed steel legs & 2 nearly black file cabinets. I plan on putting my computer in one corner & my sewing machine in the other.

I don't plan on having a sofa or a big screen TV. I can stream movies on my large screen monitor or watch them on my laptop in my muted blue velvet recliner.

The walls in the house are already white. I reckon this is gonna look stark until I put up stained wood shelves I packed for my books & decorative objects & cover the walls w/ my collection of framed art. I could also make a statement w/ curtains over the expansive windows. But, I can't decide what statement I feel like making. I'll make up my mind when everything else is in place.

I also kept his bedroom suite w/ SIX pieces, solid honey oak inside & out, which are close to the color of the floors, very 70's w/ rounded corners. That's more than enough to set up 2 bedrooms. In fact, one or more pieces might end up in the living area because I will have nowhere else to put them.

I've also got a dark oak round pedestal table w/ 4 chairs & custom cushions I made for them. And a Danish walnut Mid-Century Modern china hutch to display my collection of Blue Calico china. I'm a person w/ eclectic tastes.

You may notice I don't mention a sofa or side chairs. We never used the ones we had & I gave them to his oldest daughter. When people came to visit, we had extra rolling desk chairs for them to sit inside the circle of our workspace. I'll do the same. Maybe I'll find child-size desk chairs...HA!

[annelizabethwrites]

Pairings: Roger Taylor X OC (Scarlett Walker); George Harrison X OC (Star Walker)

Rating: Mature (See Notes, Muses & Warnings for the actual warnings)

POV: Scarlett, Star, George

Warning: slight addiction talk

Wattpad||AO3|| Playlists||Table Of Contents

♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎

July 9th, 1969

"Okay, you're going to love it! I got furniture that probably would match you," Kelly smiled.

"Alright," I raised an eyebrow. Kelly opened the door. It has this beautiful layout. On my left is this little workshop. It has Dress forms, a fabric pressing station, a sewing machine table, and three cabinets with glass for the door. One cabinet showed a collection of multicolor threads. The second showed different fabrics. The third is all the other essentials, Draping Tools, Sewing Tools, Needles, Pattern Making Tools, and Product Development Tools. I walked over to my desk, some drawers were filled, and some weren't, but I loved that all the available tools I needed for designing were on the right side of my desk, the left side if I'm looking from the door. 

On the right side of the room is a little living room area. There's an L shape couch with a coffee table in the middle. With this large window sill, the sofa is pushed back against the wall, where I get a beautiful view of the River Thames. That's the same river Big Ben is on, if people wonder. The couch is against the front wall that shares the main door, so the end of the sofa and the back wall has some space. Maybe I could put my records there? The back wall, the wall behind my desk, has a little filing set up behind my desk. Both sides of the filing setup have a door. Both doors are in the middle of the filing setup and the wall's ends; I walked to the door closest to my workshop area. It's a storage closet for designs. And I walked to the other side, and it was a personal bathroom with a clothing rack, so it could also be a changing room. Plus, to match everything, the room has the color scheme of my favorite color, orange, with white, so it doesn't look too poppy.

"It looks amazing!" I smiled, "Thank you, Kelly! I'm obsessed!"

"I'm so glad! Your work is already on your desk, and you can decorate as much as possible! It's your office," Kelly smiled, "Even though I will miss you."

"We're literally across the hall," I laughed.

"Oh, yeah," Kelly said as I laughed, she walked out, and I put my bag in this little cabinet behind the desk for bags, purses, etc. I quickly grabbed out my new driver's license and glasses. Before taking my driver's test, I went to the eye doctor and got my glasses. The shop made them very fast. I need them for writing, reading, drawing, practically anything for nearsightedness. I luckily do not always need to wear glasses. If so, I would never hear the end of it from John. I started to work on my new project, I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm doing my first line! Kelly stole my sketchbook one day to see my designs; she told me to expect a line soon when she gave it back. The next thing I knew, I was COO, and on my first day as COO, I was told I was getting my line. I haven't told anyone, not even Star, I want to surprise everyone, but I have no clue when to surprise them. As I was working, I took breaks for my hand and looked around my room. I noticed the things in my workshop have my initials or full name engraved on the tools. If they're small, it's just SRW, but they have Scarlett Rosemaire Walker if they're big. I was also unpacking my box of decorations on my old desk. I went back to work. I heard the door again and assumed it was Kelly.

"Come in," I yelled as I saw Roger walk in with something behind his back, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the new office and brought you a gift," Roger walked up to my desk. He brought out a thing of violets, "Thought flowers would be a nice touch."

"They are, thank you," I smiled, grabbing them and reaching out to quickly kiss him.

"Very spacious," Roger looked around.

"Yeah, it's really..." I was trying to find the words.

"You?" Roger looked at me as I nodded.

"And this was all Kelly," I shrugged.

"It looks perfect," Roger walked to me and hugged me from behind, "Am I allowed to be back here."

"Yes," I giggled.

"How's the hand?" Roger asked.

"Eh, a little swore, I take breaks before I overdo the hand," I shrugged, looking up to see his beautiful eyes, "Lesson learned. Don't punch a wooden board after getting into a fight with my Nana."

"Why not, not getting into fights with your nana?" Roger looked at me.

"Because it's fun to piss her off," I said as Star, George, John, Paul, and Ringo walked in.

"This looks fancy," John started to look around.

"Meaning expensive, don't touch," I looked at him as he started to play with my new tools.

"Right," John put down a tool, automatically walking off, then rummaged through my box.

"Can I help you?" I looked at John.

"Awww, you have our first picture together on your desk," John pulled out the picture of John holding Star and me.

"Stop touching her things," Star looked at John as George and Paul looked at the view, and Ringo was scoping.

"Why are you guys here?" I looked at the five.

"Because we have a surprise for you, well it's drummer boy's ideas, but we helped out," Star sat on my desk.

"What surprise?" I looked at Roger and then my siblings.

"Sit," Roger moved as I sat on my desk chair. Then I got a small box. I opened the box and saw a set of keys with the roadrunner cartoon keychain.

"What did you six do?" I looked at them.

"Come on, and grab your license," Ringo started to walk out, I grabbed my wallet, and we walked outside. We got to the parking lot to see a 1967 Orange Plymouth Roadrunner. My mouth dropped. Since I was 12 in my 2019 life, this has been my dream car and always has been in this life.

"You guys didn't!" I gasped.

"We did," everyone mimicked my reaction. I turned around and forced everyone into a group hug.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" I smiled as I still forced everyone into a hug if they were in a hugging mood or not.

"I am guessing you like the car?" Roger laughed as we pulled out of the hug

"Are you kidding? I love it!" I smiled and jumped, "And I'm not letting Elaina touch it."

"Good idea," Star rolled her eyes, then grabbed my arm. She dragged me to the car, "I got the same guy who switched the driver side on my mustang to do your car. He is also the guy who installed the new radio, so I got you a radio upgrade and a thing of cassettes."

In the middle compartment, Star showed me the cassette of my favorite bands, including The Beatles.

"It's perfect! Thank you!" I smiled.

Later...

Roger had to go back to Death Row, and Ringo had to do something with Maureen. They're trying to move past her affair with George. Paul left to be with Linda; she's a little anxious as she is in her eighth month of pregnancy, and John went to be with Yoko. George and Star are just hanging around my office while talking.

"What are you doing?" Star asked.

"Paperwork for tomorrow," I looked up at her, then back at my paperwork to realize I didn't have a photographer written down for tomorrow, "Oh, my beautiful twin sister."

"What do you want?" Star looked away from the window.

"Can you be the photographer for tomorrow's photoshoot?" I innocently smiled, "Pretty please?"

"Sure, I'm sure my boss wouldn't mind," Star shrugged, "Speaking of... I should go back to work."

"You think?" George and I looked at her.

July 10th, 1969

I drove Star and her equipment to my work. The plus side to Kelly's Closet HQ is that there were renovations a few years ago to do everything there. The addition is a bit half level, which is the runway floor with a launch party room. It's built on a hill. The main floor is the offices, conferences rooms, cafeteria, and essential rooms to run a business. The next floor is for promos, such as photo shoots, interviews, and commercials. There are two manufacturer floors. One's jewelry from when Anne was here, the other is for clothes making, and the basement is for packaging. Since it's built on a hill, a piece of the cellar sticks out, where the loading docs are. Star and I walked in, and the staff had already started to grab Star's equipment, we walked into the room, and the models were already ready, getting their makeup done.

"Star!" Theo walked over.

"Why are you here?" Star looked at him.

"I'm here to support my girlfriend," Theo smiled.

"Shit, Maddie is dating you," I looked at Theo.

"Yeah, I know I'm so out of her league," Theo smirked.

"Scarlett!" Maddie ran over, "We got bad news."

"What?" I looked at her.

"We're down a model. Dotty left," Maddie said.

"What do you mean, Dotty left?" I breathed out.

"Her new job wanted her now, so she had to move pronto. She wasn't even allowed to wait until after the show," Maddie explained.

"Shit," I muttered, "Give me a few minutes. I may know someone that could help."

Dotty was the head model, none of the girls wanted to be the head model, so Kelly had to hire someone willing to be the head model. The other girls feared that the position would make them think they were better than the other girls and didn't want to ruin their bond.

A few minutes...

I walked into Brian and Tim's flat and breathed out, Please don't get an ego boost. I was about to storm into Tim's room, knowing she was here since she didn't come home last night.

"El," I sighed, knocking on the door. I heard a bang, rumbling, then finally footsteps at the door. Elaina walked out in one of Tim's shirts and her underwear.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Elaina looked at me.

"I need you for something," I sighed.

"For what?" Elaina asked.

"How do you feel about modeling?" I rubbed my face.

"No, no, I'm not letting my girlfriend be jerking bait for some creep!" Tim quickly interfered, we looked over, and I saw Tim's tiny Tim. I closed my eyes and gagged.

"Jesus, hide that!" I gagged.

"Shit, sorry, Scar," Tim said. After a few minutes, Tim finally spoke, "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

"Listen, my head model just quit, so not am I only short a model. I need a head model. The other girls refused the position, afraid of ruining their team bond." I looked at Elaina, "And I thought, why not my big ego hot best friend who never really met them and probably didn't want to."

"I'm not that much of a bitch," Elaina scoffed, "But the offer is tempting."

"See," I looked at her as Freddie and Roger walked into the flat.

"Hey, Little Wolf," Roger walked over and kissed me, "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to give Elaina a much better job than Biba," I told him, then looked right at Tim, "But someone doesn't want his girlfriend to be quote on quote 'jerking bait' to other men."

"Well, I don't. Models are known to be jerking bait. I don't want my girlfriend to be on some teenager's wall for him to jerk off too," Tim threw his hands up.

"Who's jerking off?" Freddie interfered in the conversation.

"No one," Roger rolled his eyes.

"I heard jerking off," Freddie shrugged as Brian walked out of his room.

"Tim doesn't want me to be a model because other men could jerk off to my picture," Elaina explained.

"What did I walk into?" Brian looked at us.

"Tim being an Arse," Elaina blinked.

"El wants to be a model, and unlike Scarlett, I don't think El would like it if she becomes other guys jerking bait," Tim said.

"Unlike Scarlett?" I crossed my arms, lifting an eyebrow.

"Come on, everyone knows the Beatles twins were the 60s jerking bait, still are in some horny teen's bedroom," Tim said as Elaina slapped him.

"I don't think Rog would like to hear that," Elaina said.

"He was one of them!" Tim pointed out.

"Not the point!" I groaned.

"No, this is getting interesting," Freddie said.

"I'm in. Modeling is my passion. Let's go!" Elaina looked at me, wanting to get out of this conversation, like me.

"One, you need pants. Two; In the nicest way possible, you need a shower your greasy and sweaty," I looked at her.

"Yeah, because love birds have been doing rounds since last night." Brian scoffed.

"I'm scared when you two start fucking." Freddie looked at Roger and me as Roger comfortably rested his head on my shoulder with his arms wrapped around me.

"Mmmm, we will be extra loud just for you, darling," I mimicked Freddie's voice. I got good at that after hanging around him for four years. The others started to laugh as Freddie rolled his eyes.

"I'll make sure your extra loud," Roger huskily whispered in my ear as I breathed out, then Roger softly kissed my ear, "But that's all when you're ready if you're ready with me."

"If you still decide to stick around with this crazy, because as far as I'm concerned, you and I are kinda a forever thing," I looked up at him with a smirk.

"You're not crazy, but I like to hear that we're still on the same bases," Roger kissed my temple, "Because we're a forever kind of thing."

"I'm still going to do it. It's a no-brainer job!" Elaina looked at Tim as Roger, and I zoned back into the world around us, "Please? For me? I support you being a musician, and I'm sure you're some fan's jerk bait."

"You really went there," Tim sighed, "I'll always support you, just welcoming to the fact."

"Good, because I should get back before Kelly realizes I'm not at work," I looked at my watch, then looked at Elaina, "I'll drive you to the flat to freshen up."

"Thanks! Let me put pants on," Elaina walked into Tim's room and quickly got changed.

"I'll see you later?" I looked up at Roger with a smirk.

"Of course," Roger kissed me, "I love you, have a great rest of your day."

"I love you too," I giggled, we shared one more kiss before Elaina, and I left. Elaina took a shower but didn't wet her hair and changed into something easy to get out of. We returned to Kelly's Closet HQ, and Kelly ran to me.

"We have an emergency because our head model just quit, and you went out to hang out with Elaina?" Kelly looked at me.

"No, I fixed our emergency," I pushed Elaina in front of me, "Meet your new head model."

"Hi," Elaina waved as Kelly grabbed me and dragged me a few feet away.

"Her? Really?" Kelly looked at me.

"Listen, El always wanted to become a model. She knows the shit. The sisterhood models refuse to be the head model because they fear egos will break their bond." I pointed to the girl models, "Elaina doesn't know any of them and probably doesn't want to. This causes no drama with models and a model asap."

Kelly paused, clicked her tongue, and looked at Elaina, looking around and taking it all in. Kelly looked at the team of models and then back at Elaina.

"Good news, guys!" Kelly shouted, then grabbed Elaina and walked over, "Due to the quick quitting of Dotty, Scarlett's best mate, Elaina quickly jumped into her position. So please give a welcome to Elaina Wilson."

"She had to add El's your best mate," Star walked up to me.

"If they don't like her, blame me," I shrugged, "Good idea on her end."

We finally got the photoshoot rolling. Elaina put on an outfit and got hair and makeup. Star started taking pictures of the models while I ensured the outfits looked precisely how I pictured them. Kelly was helping Star with the models' poses. It was all coming together. Once I finished the costumes, I walked over with water bottles for Kelly and Star.

"This is all coming together," I smiled.

"Proud?" Kelly looked at me as I nodded.

"Yeah, I never thought my first thing as COO was my own line!" I smiled.

"You own line?" Star and Elaina shouted, as an 'oh shit' face quickly went on mine. I turned around to see the two arms crossed and glaring at me.

"Got something to tell me?" Star looked at me.

"I love you?" I looked at her.

"Scarlett! How come you didn't tell me!" Star looked at me.

"I was trying to find the right time to tell you lots," I coughed. Star looked, then quickly hugged me, "What are you doing?"

"Shut up. I'm trying to hug you," Star said, "I'm so proud of you!"

"If you're hugging me, why hug me tightly?" I looked at her.

"Just shut up and hug me back before you ruin the moment," Star rolled her eyes as I hugged her back.

Later...

After the photoshoot, Elaina quit Biba and signed a contract with Kelly's Closet. The cafeteria had extra donuts. I volunteered to take them home since we're driving to Abbey Road. Once we got there, I dropped off the donuts on a table and then quickly ran to the bathroom so I could change out of my outfit. I walk back into the live room to see the lads, Yoko, and Star eating donuts.

"Whatcha doing?" I looked at the six.

"Nothing," the four boys said as Star and Yoko stayed quiet.

"We totally were not just eating your donuts," Ringo brushed his hands together to get the powder off his hands but not his face.

"You got powder on your face," I sighed as Ringo wiped powder off his face.

"So, how was the photo shoot?" George asked, already taking another donut.

"Good, my head model quit, so El is the new head model of Kelly's Closet," I walked over and took a donut.

"El? Don't you have a full team?" John looked at me.

"The girls have this pack where none of them take the head model position, afraid to break their bond. So they let Kelly hire a head model instead of picking one of them," I explained.

"That makes no sense," Paul looked at me.

"I don't ask," I rolled my eyes.

"Don't you also have something to tell them?" Star coughed, giving me a look. I gave her a look while everyone else gave me a confused look.

"What do you need to tell us?" Ringo looked.

"Something good?" Paul asked.

"Something bad?" John asked.

"Inbetween?" George added probably didn't want to feel left out.

"Um... you see... the line isn't Kelly's line," I tried to tell my family I had a line coming out.

"Whose line is it?" John asked.

"Mine. It's my first line," I coughed. Their faces were in shock, but a good kind of shock.

"You have your own line?" Paul looked at me as I nodded.

"Yeah, surprise?" I threw up jazz hands, and the lads dropped their donuts, ran up, and hugged me. That's a first. Star did, of course, join the hug, I felt a little squished, but I felt the love.

"We're so proud of you!" the five hugged me.

"Thanks, guys," I smiled.

July 11th, 1969

"Thanks for helping me get this record player," I smiled at Roger.

"No problem. Do you need any help setting it up?" Roger looked at me.

"No, I should be fine. But thank you," I hugged Roger, nuzzling my head in his hair a bit, then whispered, "But you can hang around if you want."

"I would love that," Roger smiled before kissing me. We broke the hug. I grabbed my glasses and started to assemble the table for it. On the top is just a record player. I'm not a radio person. The talking and commercials just keep on going, in my opinion. Still, I have a portable one just in case someone has a radio interview or emergency. It came with two speakers. Roger and I were talking as I was setting up. Roger started to look at my collection of records, and he made commentary on my selection.

"The fact that you voluntarily listen to the Beatles is hysterical," Roger laughed.

"Their music is good, and I'm not saying that because they're my brothers," I looked at Roger.

"Right," Roger gave me a look as I rolled my eyes and finished putting the record player together.

"Can I have a record?" I asked. Roger quickly pulled out a present, "You with presents."

"We both kinda spoil the shit out of each other," Roger got off my desk and handed me the gift.

"We do, don't we?" I took the gift and opened it to see Frankie Valli's single Can't Take My Eyes Off You. It's my and Roger's song. When we first started to go out in December, we went to this club. They had a playlist of a high school prom, and one of the songs was Can't Take My Eyes Off You, which became the first song we ever danced to. Then not too long after we got back together, it was playing on the radio. Roger and I were just at my flat and started dancing to it. It wasn't long before we made it our song.

"You got me our song," I smiled, "I love it."

"I'm glad. Why don't you test out the new record with the new record player," Roger smiled. I carefully opened the new record and started to play the single. I turned to see Roger have his hand out to dance, I took it, and we began to dance around my office. The record was outstanding, and the player sounded amazing once we finished dancing. I put the vinyl back in its sleeve and started to put my albums in order. My system is that my favorite band is closest to the player, albums in chronological order of release, then my second favorite, third favorite, etc. I chose the Beatles to be next to my record player since they were my favorite band in my 2019 life and still are to this day, but it's just The Beach Boys beat them to it for my favorite band in this life. But once Queen starts to form, and the albums get produced, they'll be next to my record player, Beatles, Beach Boys, etc.

"Scarlett! I have amazing news!" Kelly burst in, "Oh hey, Rog."

"Hey Kelly," Roger waved.

"Anyways, I have news, and don't be mad," Kelly looked at me.

"Why would I be mad?" I looked at her.

"BecausemysterymanisSimon," Kelly quickly stated.

"What?" I looked at her.

"I may or may not be dating your cousin," Kelly coughed.

"What?" Roger and I both said but in different pretexts.

"You're dating my cousin?!" I looked at her.

"Surprise?" Kelly smiled as I breathed out. She left immediately, either in fear or assuming we were on an official date. I turned around and walked right into Roger's arms. I like it here. I always felt safe in Roger's arms, and it's good because I can't remember the last time I felt this safe in someone's arms.

"Hi," Roger laughed a bit before kissing me.

"Hi," I smiled, "I have news to tell you."

"What is it?" Roger broke the hug, grabbed my hand, and sat on my new couch. This is really comfy.

"I have my own line coming out," I smiled with excitement.

"Really?!" Roger's face brightened with excitement as I nodded.

"That's what I've been working on since I got back," I smiled as Roger quickly hugged me, and I giggled. We both fell over, and he was on top of me, embracing me with kisses as I laughed.

"I'm so proud of you," Roger rose up, touching my nose with his, "I already know it looks amazing, and I'll be buying all the men's outfits."

"Don't, stores overprice things," I giggled, wrapping my hands around his neck.

"Yeah, but my girlfriend made them. They'll be worth every penny," Roger smiled. I moved my hand to cup his cheek and moved my head up to kiss him.

"I love you, Roger Meddows Taylor," I stroke my thumbs against his cheek.

"I love you, Scarlett Rosemarie Walker, and I'm very proud!" Roger gently grabbed my hand while putting all his weight on his other hand.

July 20th, 1969

Roger and I are cuddled up in my bed. Star and George use my couch bed since George's parents use Star and George's bedroom. They came for a visit, and today we have a private screening of Let It Be. Not going to lie. I'm a bit nervous to see it. The movie's beginning has me recovering from amnesia, and the end is when Roger and I broke up. Not to mention Star and George's one-night stand happened during the filming, and they seemed very awkward afterward. A beautiful nightmare woke me up today. I'm panting and drenched in sweat; I haven't had a nightmare; they haven't been as frequent. I used to get them almost every night. It was rare to have a night where I didn't have them. Now I get them maybe twice a week. 

I changed into a dusty yellow blouse with yellow plaid shorts and finished the look with sandal Wedges. I put my hair up and realized I had time to make everyone breakfast. I made pancakes, the same recipe our dad used. Star and I got the cookbooks since we're the only ones who bake and cook.

"I remember that smell," Star walked in, looking like she just followed the smell, "Dad's pancakes, my favorite thing to wake up to."

"I figured you'll be in the mood for pancakes," I laughed.

"When am I not?" Star laughed.

"When you're in the mood for fettuccine alfredo," I laughed.

"They're both good. I can't help it, but I can put strawberries on pancakes," Star started to make a teapot.

"Can you cut bananas?" I looked at her as she nodded, "I figured the others are probably coming over."

"No, duh," Star started to cut some bananas, "Do you think Geo and Rog will be confused when they wake up, and we're not there?"

"Probably. But George knows we're borderline insomniacs," I flipped over the pancakes.

"Does Rog know?" Star looked at me.

"Don't know. I figured it's just something he'll figure out. When I can't sleep, I bake," I shrugged.

"Speaking of, I want to try this thing, where you put a cookie and brownie together and see what it tastes like," Star said.

"I'll put it on the list," I laughed. It wasn't long before Roger and George woke up. Roger got changed while George stayed in his pajamas like Star. They forgot to grab their clothes. Elaina stayed over at Tim's, and we double-dated. When George's parents woke up, they got ready then George and Star quickly got dressed. Star has a white dress with long sleeves and stops at mid-thigh and white gogo boots.

"Oh, wonder twins!" John barged in as Star and I sighed. John, Paul, Linda, Yoko, and Ringo walked into the kitchen, saying, "You made dad's pancakes!"

"Yeah," I finished cleaning up my pancake mess.

Later ( Star's POV )...

After eating breakfast, we hung out around the flat before it was time to see this private screening. Micheal Lindsay-Hogg was waiting outside for us. Scarlett and Roger sat behind Mr. Harrison, me, George, and Mrs. Harrison. The director is next to Scarlett and Roger in the last row, and Linda, Paul, Ringo, John, and Yoko are all behind us. George had his arm around me. I laid my head on George's collarbone. I moved my head and leaned it back to see Scarlett.

"Ready to relive the amnesia?" I joked.

"Jumping with joy," Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't have gotten amnesia if you weren't such a shit driver," John looked at Scarlett as Scarlett turned to John.

"How's Yoko's back?" Scarlett asked. John glared at Scarlett as we both snickered, and I high-fived Scarlett. I faced forward again while still sneering. The movie started, and George and I cuddled up watching the movie. Thank god it's dark, so the other three don't make fun of us. The beginning of the film had one scene of Scarlett having amnesia, then the very next, John grabbed the phone, and they left in a rush. That had to be when Scarlett got her memories back. The movie got a few giggles from how different it's been, which was the beginning of this year. We got to George and John's fight, where we heard the two now slide down their chairs. Then a few shots were without George, and he got comfortable again. Then he came back, and the two of us acted weird afterward. George and I sunk in our seats as Scarlett snickered at us, knowing why we acted strangely. But it wasn't long before it was the scene of us dragging Scarlett to the studio because Roger 'cheated' on her. She quickly stopped snickering and slid down in her seat while the lads and I laughed at her.

Later...

We all decided to go out for lunch, it was just John, Ringo, Yoko, Linda, Paul, George, Scarlett, me, Roger, and George's parents. We laughed at the movie and talked about it when we filmed it.

"It felt like it was years ago," Paul had his arm around Linda, rested his hand on her baby bump, then looked at Scarlett and me, "For you two, it must-have."

"Yeah," I sighed.

"It did for me," Scarlett shrugged. We got into our separate conversations, and John surprisingly started to talk to Roger.

"So, how are you and George doing?" Mrs. Harrison asked.

"Good, really good," I smiled.

"How are those two living together?" Mrs. Harrison looked at Scarlett.

"Good, they've been surprisingly on their best behavior," Scarlett said as I gave her a look.

"How is it with him moving in general?" Mrs. Harrison asked.

"I mean, I noticed more biscuits are coming into the flat than before, but it's been great," Scarlett joked as I gave her a look.

"I'm so glad he's finally with his lucky Star. I can tell he's been happier since you two have been dating," Mrs. Harrison looked at me as I blushed.

"That's good because she's been much happier since she started to date her Georgie," Scarlett started to tease me.

"She seems much like her old self," Mrs. Harrison looked at me.

"I'm glad to say I am," I smiled, as I hate to admit it. Once the drugs and partying entered my life, I changed. But as soon as I sobered up, all the parts of me that I didn't know disappeared came back, and I felt like myself again, which feels good, "I've been two months clean from the toxins that changed me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Mrs. Harrison smiled. I felt a gentle squeeze on my hand. As soon as I turned over, George kissed me. Of course, John and Paul made noises, but Linda, Yoko, and Scarlett automatically stopped them.

"You know, in some way, we match," George looked at my outfit.

"A bit. We both have white on," I giggled. Mrs. Harrison and Scarlett talked for a while before I joined their conversation. Then Mrs. Harrison and Scarlett joined up to tease me until I blushed.

"You know, I'm shocked he hasn't asked for your hand," Mrs. Harrison joked.

"I assume if Geo asked that too, John would've killed him," Scarlett laughed.

"She's not wrong," John added.

"We all thought those two would get married first," Mr. Harrison added to the fun.

"I always said they were love at first sight," Scarlett snickered.

"What is their love story? No one told me," Linda genuinely asked. Scarlett took up the offer to tease two of her eight siblings. She, of course, started to tell Linda the story. George and I blushed so hard that we slid down the seat until we physically couldn't anymore.

July 23rd, 1969

Theo, Cecilia, and I just finished an interview to find someone in our quad's last desk slot. In Bluebird, the writers are organized in quads. It's four desks connected together, and it builds our team. There are seven quads. Not every square has four people or even one at the moment.

"She won't fit," Theo rubbed his face, exhausted.

"She's too hyper," Cecilia looked at Theo and me.

"I swear if I hear 'like' or 'oh my gosh' one more time in that annoying ass tone, I'm going to kill someone," I rubbed my temple.

"Oh my gosh, Star!" Theo mimicked the girl we just interviewed as I laughed.

"I will be the perfect fit," Cecilia added as we got to our seats.

"If I had to sit across that every day, I would lose it," I rubbed my temples.

"Tell me about it," Theo rolled his eyes.

"That or I would just duct tape her mouth shut," Cecilia said.

"I'll help you," I chuckled as Marcus and Terry walked up.

"And?" The two looked at us.

"Are you trying to hire the most annoying journalist possible?" I looked at them, "Like she doesn't know fucking English with the usage of 'Like' and 'Oh my gosh,' not to mention the loud ass gum chewing."

"She's a no," Cecilia looked at them.

"Star just gave you my answer," Theo pointed to me, "The girl is fucking annoying."

"Alright, we'll let her know," The two sighed, walking off, looking happy we didn't like her. She stormed out of the conference room as I looked at the clock.

"I need help with something," Theo looked at Cecilia and me, "What would be a good romantic date?"

"Well, it differs," I looked at him.

"Yeah, every girl is different," Cecilia added.

"Yeah. Like some girls prefer elegant restaurants. Others like just a movie night on the couch," I said, "But since Maddie is a model, I say she likes the elegant stuff. Take her to Paramount."

"The shit is expensive there," Theo looked at me as I grabbed my wallet, took out the coupon I got for the Paramount from fan mail, threw my signature on the back, and gave it to Theo.

"Here, say we work together, and I gave you this. My signature on the back probably would give a few pounds off," I looked at Theo.

"Thanks," Theo took the coupon. We got up and started to head to lunch. Aaron has the night shift this week for the radio. He and Matt switch sometimes, and on the weekends, they're totally different people, so it's easy for Aaron and Matt to fix their sleeping schedules.

"I'm going to the Coffee Lounge to see Ronny. You two in?" Theo looked at us.

"No thanks, I'm going to Abbey Road to have lunch with George and my siblings," I smiled.

"Sorry, I can't. Already made plans at the Premier," Cecilia frowned.

"It's alright, catch you two later," Theo waved as I looked at Cecilia.

"Can you drive me? My car has been getting repaired since Elaina crashed it. I'll walk from the Premier," I said.

"Of course," Cecilia smiled. The two of us went into her car and drove to the Premier. We got to the Premier, and I told her not to worry about the ride home. I walked to Abbey Road and noticed Scarlett's car parked outside.

"Hola," I walked in.

"Heyla," Scarlett has casual clothes on.

"No work?" I asked.

"Kelly told me I need a day off because I'm a workaholic," Scarlett said as I sat next to her, "They're almost done. We're waiting for you."

"Awww, thank you, I feel special," I jokingly said. The lads walked into the room, probably talking about their work. George walked up, hugged, and kissed me. I embraced him as Linda and Maureen came.

"No, Rog?" I asked Scarlett as we walked out.

"No, he has some band stuff. I know I'm second with them," Scarlett joked a bit.

"Y'know, if I knew we were going to be here, I might've as well just waited here for you guys." I walked with the group to the Premier. 

"You were here first?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

"Cece drove me here as I walked to the studio," I answered.

"Guys!" Chef walked up to us, "Table for nine?"

"Yep," We smiled, "Hi-ya chef!"

"Come on this way. I'm noticing the eyes, so I'm giving you guys a more private spot." Chef walked us to this more closed-off room. We all got seated. I sat between George and Scarlett. Chef got us a waiter, and we ordered our drinks.

"How's work so far?" George put an arm around me.

"Tired. This lady I had to interview was a bloody walking headache," I sighed, "She talked annoyingly and didn't even know proper English."

"So I guess she's not a fit?" George asked.

"Far from it," I rubbed my temples. Not too long after, we got our drinks and then food.

"Scarlett, got any plans for the weekend?" Paul asked.

"Glad you asked. I need help on something," Scarlett said, "Saturday is Roger's 20th birthday, and I want to do something big for him. But-"

"You suck at parties since they've never been your scene?" I cut her off.

"Yep," Scarlett coughed, "He should have an amazing 20th birthday, but that's not under my department."

"Why don't you get Freddie? Isn't he good at that shit?" John looked at her.

"Yeah, but Freddie didn't plan my 20th birthday. You lots did," Scarlett said.

"Yeah, but they're all boring now," I looked at her.

"Hey," the lads looked at me.

"So am I. I stopped partying when I stopped the drugs, booze, and sex because the five years of it bit me in the ass." I shrugged.

"Five years of it?!" John and Paul glared at me. Oh fuck.

"We thought you only did all that when we weren't talking," John glared at me.

"I did," I blankly said.

"Well, apparently not if you did it for five years," John looked forward to me as I clicked my tongue.

"No regrets?" I forced a smile.

"Explain now," John said.

"Or never because it's none of your business," I looked at him.

"If it was five years ago, you would be under my guardianship. Therefore it is my business, so Star Judith Walker, stop being a pain in my ass and just fucking explain," John glared. I could sense the anger burst coming out if I stall any longer.

"Just tell him, he will lash out in a restaurant," Scarlett said, "He'll find out eventually and if he gives you shit, give it back."

"Fine," I sighed and looked at John and Paul, "If you must know. I lied. Big shock."

It was a bit quiet. I focused on my food while John and Paul muttered something, got up, and left.

"I'll-" Scarlett started to move.

"I got it, my mess anyway," I sighed, getting up and following John and Paul. I got close to them and pulled onto their sleeves, not wanting to make a scene. The two turned around and glared at me.

"Listen, to not make a scene look happy and don't shout," I smiled as I noticed people spotting us.

"Or we can do this," John yanked me and dragged me into an alleyway with Paul following. He let go of me and glared, "What the fuck?!"

"I'm sorry," I looked down.

"You're sorry? Five years? And clearly, it's yet another secret you kept from us since George, Ringo, and Scarlett aren't out here either." John yelled, "What do those three have that you can tell them fucking everything but leave Paul and me out?"

"It has nothing to do with you," I looked at him.

"Oh really? Then how come we're the last to know?" Paul asked.

"Because I didn't want people to know. Scarlett knows because we shared a room. George knew because I started when we were hiding a relationship. Ringo found out because George wouldn't mind his fucking business when he was with Pattie and constantly dragged Ringo to places where he knew I was." I said, "If I had it my way, no one would've fucking known. I didn't want people to know because I would've gotten the disappointing speech."

"I'm sorry, okay? And I'm not going to say I regret it because I don't. I had loads of experience and lots of fun. So if you want to hear me say I regret it, you're not," I looked at them.

"How bad were you?" Paul asked.

"Don't ask questions you don't really want to know the answer to," I sighed.

"I want to know since everyone else knows." John looked at me.

"I don't know. I tried a lot of shit, but I stayed away from the needle," I looked down, "I got hooked on most. Still, I was the one taking your and George's LSD stickers, plus I took some Coke when you guys were experimenting on that too..."

I bit my lip and glued my eyesight to the ground. I feared the disappointing looks Scarlett refused to give. I heard footsteps and looked further to the bottom to see Paul walking away.

"I'm not saying I'm disappointed, but I thought after what Nancy put you through, you wouldn't be a junkie," John scoffed.

"But here we are," I still looked down, feeling tears fall from my face.

George's POV

"So, umm, is she going to get in trouble?" Linda coughed.

"Most likely," Scarlett said, "They're arses when it comes to Star and I doing something we really shouldn't."

Paul walked in with no John or Star. I started to feel a bit anxious.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Oh, you mean the one that lied to us for years?" Paul grumbled.

"You want to go there?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow, "She had a problem. Thanks to everyone at this table, including Payton and Venessa, she's clean. So give her a break because she didn't tell you, and as someone that did know, you didn't want to go down that path with her."

I looked down, not wanting to interfere, but some guilt started to fill me in. I know I'm partially why Star got so bad, and she hasn't talked to me about her sobriety or addiction. Just says she's sober, and that's all she wants to say.

"Are you going to talk or just sit there?" Paul said, "You apparently bloody known for years but didn't think of telling us."

"Not my business," I shrugged, "She didn't want anyone to know, so I didn't. I didn't tell Pattie; she found out by herself. I didn't tell Ringo; he found out by himself. Maybe if you guys paid more attention, you would've found out. It wasn't that hard. She was constantly under the influence. You just needed to look at her to realize something was wrong."

"Oh, so it's our fault?" Paul said.

"I'm not fighting with you on this, don't point fingers because she didn't tell you. She didn't tell any of us. We just realized something was off about her, and instead of giving her shit, maybe be glad she's okay," I crossed my arms, getting frustrated. John walked in and glared at me.

"Be glad? She could've died, and we wouldn't have known why, but you did," John crossed his arms.

"But she didn't," Scarlett said.

"Oh, miss little twin, please tell me why the fuck you didn't tell me after what Nancy di-" John started to say.

"Before you finish that, let me make this clear. Star and Nancy are two different people. With two different relationships with drugs," Scarlett started, "Nancy was a spoiled little bitch that used drugs and alcohol for her needs. Her selfishness, not caring who she scars or hurts. Star used drugs and partying to escape the PTSD, depression, and anxiety Nancy gave her. She didn't tell people because she didn't want to hurt those she loved. Star was sick and got help. She's clean, and you two acting like this will not make her feel better."

They started to argue as I stood up and walked out. I honestly could care less what they're talking about. The only thing that matters is knowing Star is okay, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her until I know she's genuinely fine. I walked out of the Premier and started to look for her.

"George?" I heard as I turned around to the alleyway to see Star. I didn't say anything, and neither did she. I just walked up to her and embraced her. She hugged me back. Her grip was tight as I heard her silently whimper.

"It's going to be okay." I kissed her on top of her head while rubbing her back as she melted into my embrace.

[katetheworm]

Requested By: anonymous

“headcanons for garak and a reader that is his best friend and a new security officer on DS9, perhaps? Both feel isolated there. So the reader decides to make Garak feel less alone by sneaking a present and decorations into his shop.”

Note: I am not dead! Hoorah! Super sorry for the late posting of this lol, but y’know how it is. Hope you like it nonetheless😊

Pairing: Platonic (?) Garak and GN Reader

Warnings: none

Rating: G

Word Count: 407

Holidays and Friends

So you recently transferred to DS9 as a new security officer. Already you felt like an outsider.

The captain and all of his senior officers knew each other so well, they had all gone through so much while you were just… there.

You never were good at making new friends, so when a certain Cardassian tailor approached you one day, asking very politely to sit with you while you ate, you, albeit hesitantly, agreed.

After that fateful day, you, Garak, and surprisingly Dr Bashir, all shared lunch together for months to follow.

On your time off, you would visit Garak at his store, keeping him company while he sewed pants and dresses. 

It was a strange friendship, that was for certain, but you enjoyed each other’s company regardless.

You liked to think you were approachable, but by your very apparent lack of friends aboard the space station, you might have been wrong in that assumption. 

Garak kept you company and you kept him company. You both felt so isolated on the station; you with your late arrival and him with his “sketchy” background. 

So when the holidays rolled around and everyone seemed to have plans while you and Mr Garak did not, you decided to take things into your own hands.

It started very simple, just a few decorations and maybe a present but it soon grew into a whole pile of streamers, lights, ornaments, you name it. Along with a fairly expensive sewing kit that took weeks to ship. 

Since you and Garak were such close friends you knew exactly when you could sneak into his shop and set everything up.

Thankfully Garak and Dr Bashir took so long eating lunch.

After everything was put up, the lights and streams strung along the ceiling, the ornaments hanging from clothes and racks, you moved the quite heavy sewing kit – that you wrapped yourself – onto the main table just before Garak walked in.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

“My dear, what is all of this for? A holiday? Why, you didn’t tell me a thing and now I feel completely underdressed!”

You had Garak open his present almost immediately, your desire for him to see it and like it overwhelmed you. He was the one constant on the station, the one you could count on, and you wanted to make the day special, even if he had no idea what holiday you were celebrating.

[jangofctts]

Not Rhyssa and half the bois hovering around you after that rescue mission, still vibrating from residual rage while Void tends to any injuries you sustained at the hands of your captor(s).

“Guys, relax. I’m OK, you don’t need to cling—“

“You’re not OK, you’re bleeding out!” You flinch at Kami’s outburst, adjusting the uncomfortable pressure your hand is applying over the bacta patch that Void stuck to the deep slash under your ribs. He’s had to elbow Kami out of his way a couple times already to patch you up on the drop ship that was carrying you all back home.

“I’m not bleeding out—“

This time it’s Fuse that interrupts your cavalier attempts at calming the squad down. “Bullshit, look at your shirt.” You don’t need to look at your shirt— shredded and tossed maker-knows-where so Void could quickly treat your torso’s injuries— to know that it was probably soaked. You hadn’t been abducted and held captive without a fight.

“I’m not bleeding out anymore and we’re almost home,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders to feign lack of affect over the past week’s events. But your voice is strained, raspy and tight both from enduring a few beatings at the hands of your captors and from the emotional shock beginning to hit you. “I’m a bit bruised and scratched, but I’m fine.”

Void glances up at you from his kneeling position where he’s holding one of your legs steady in his lap. You’re reclined against a couple crates of medical supplies while he stitches a larger gash on your thigh closed. He moves his eyes back to his work, but your eyes don’t miss the tension in his temples and jaw as he clenches and unclenches his teeth. “His blade almost caught your femoral artery,” he drones. A surprised wince escapes you as he abruptly continues the job.

“Not you too,” you hiss. You turn your eyes to Blanche, who had resigned himself to standing off to the side in silence with Jaws, Sweets, and Blue, gripping an overhead bar to keep balance while the dropship jostled its crew here and there. “Blanche, tell them to quit worrying so much. You guys have me now, everything’s fine.” Blanche gives you a brief look that you can’t interpret. Maybe a cross between critical and sympathetic.

“Leave them alone and let Void work,” he commands in Kami’s and Fuse’s general direction before turning his attention to the wall of the ship. You feel a wave of relief wash over you as Kami and Fuse reluctantly give you some space and quiet their incessant (though well-meaning) banter. You tense as Void sews the last few stitches to seal your leg’s injury, but then he’s smearing it with bacta and wrapping it a few times with gauze and bandages and the worst of it is over.

“Are you in much pain?” He asks, using a swab to carefully dab some sort of ointment onto your split lip. Your eye twitches reflexively.

“I’ve been in worse pain.”

He raises a brow. “That doesn’t answer my question.” But he tosses the swab into a waste container filled with soiled medical supplies and he’s cleaning up his impromptu work station. “The pain meds should kick in soon anyway. Let me know if something doesn’t feel right.” He soon takes one of the seats nearby, far away enough to let you breathe, but close enough to monitor you out of the corner of his eye should your condition take a nosedive.

As if Rhyssa occupying the seat just a couple feet away from you wouldn’t be quick to alert Void to any change in your condition. She hasn’t said much to you since hauling your ass onto the ship, eyes simmering with residual rage as she had gingerly set you down on the floor. “Don’t fucking close your eyes, stay awake,” you remember her nearly yelling while Void had been getting the worst of your bleeding under control.

After Void is settled in his seat, Rhyssa is standing up from hers to pull a blanket off of one of the crates to drape over you, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Shit, just leave ‘em exposed to freeze,” she’s muttering. You (usually) know better than to protest her judgement, so you let her fawn over you. You look up at her while she makes sure you’re sufficiently covered, unable to stop yourself from stealing a glance at the way her brows are knitted together, her mouth set in a deep frown. You try to meet her gaze, but she avoids making eye contact.

“Hey.” She doesn’t respond, continuing to adjust the blanket. The damn thing’s too short to cover you shoulders-to-toes. Probably better off being used as a washrag, Rhyssa muses. You huff. “Rhyssa, could you please—“

“Stop talking,” she interjects lowly. “Save your energy.” She stands up straight and heads back towards her seat.

“But I’m fine—“ Before you know it, Rhyssa is whipping back around to face you, straddling her feet on either side of your legs and crouching down over them. Her face is inches from yours now and you can feel the faint pulse of what you assume is “the Force” licking your skin like a flame. She doesn’t look placated.

“You WEREN’T fine. You were taken. You were hurt in captivity. You were days away from being trafficked or killed or both.” Her voice is low and nearly hissing, and you think she’s trembling as she counts off each point on her hand. “We almost couldn’t find you, we almost lost you while rescuing you, you almost died. We almost lost you; we came so close to losing another crewmember. The bastards that took you almost got away before we lit them up. You might be fine now, but we’re not.” She continues to stare into your gaze as you swallow, and you’re the first to break eye contact, opting to stare at the floor as you feel your face flush with embarrassment. Thankfully the rest of the squad is keeping their attention averted from Rhyssa’s outburst.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted everyone to stay calm.” Your voice is just above a whisper now. “I’m not that breakable, I can handle a lot.” You hear Rhyssa huff through her nose and a callused hand is drawing your chin up for you to face her. Her eyes have softened a fraction and you’re momentarily lost in their endless gaze.

“I know you can.” She ghosts her thumb over a bruise growing on your cheek, eyes flitting to the smaller grazes on your face and neck. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest and you inwardly panic that she can sense it. She brings her eyes back to meet yours briefly before she’s standing up and taking her place in her seat again, the moment of intimacy over in a flash. “We won’t be landing for another hour yet. Rest up before you have to be moved.”

You let out a quiet sigh as you feel the drowsiness of the pain meds kicking in and pulling you into unconsciousness.

hang on babes let me just fucking SOB

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Framed.”

Hey guys, I start my new job today, so my posting schedule is going to be erratic and sort of weird, but I will try to get a story out every weekday, so I hope you like it, and have a great week :)

They met back at the station, or the Tesraki version of a police station anyway. The building they walked into was massive, rising many stories. Robots and Tesraki of all shapes and sizes moved about with the light chatter of conversation. Of course, their presence drew eyes, though no one actually paused in their work to stare. WIth the Tesraki homeworld being one giant city, there was always something to do and no time to do it.

Adam had been patched and cleaned up, his wounds stitched back together. He had even retrieved his jacket, which was significantly more battery than it was before, requiring more stitches then he had to pull back together. He had done the sewing himself and admitted that his mother would probably have had a heart attack upon seeing his work, but then again time was limited as were his resources.

The shaking had stopped many hours ago, leaving him calm and collected as they were lead through the station and back towards the elevator. The investigator they had met at the first crime scene met them on the fiftieth floor.

“Have you talked to them?” Adam asked, stepping from the elevator and out into the hallway followed by Sunny and and krill.

“Only preliminary questions. We were waiting for your investigator to step in before we started…. Our understanding of humans is limited.”

Adam pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “probably a good idea.”

“So you think that these two attacks are related?” The Tesraki wondered as he lead the group of them down the hallway.

Adam nodded sharply, “I do.”

The Tesraki turned to look at him, ears flattening back against his head, “Are you alright Admiral. I heard that you fought off all three of them before….”

“I am alright, how about them?”

“Two of them are fine, but the third is still receiving medical care. You broke his sternum, and it is going to take some work before he recovers.”

Adam shuffled his hands inside his pockets nervously, “Whoopse.”

“You saved a life, and, in my opinion, that is all that matters. Investigators have taken statements and matched them up against your story, and everything seems to check out, so you should have no problem legally, though I would stick around for a while just in case something else comes up.”

Admiral Vir nodded, “Anything you need, Detective.”

They had just come around the corner, when a commotion from the other side of the room stopped them in their tracks. Adam turned on the spot surprised to find a group of people heading towards them at a furious pace.

At the front of the group, the detective they called in was marching, dark brown coat billowing out behind him in great whipping streams of air. The look on his face was focused and thunderous, his cold grey eyes turned on Admiral Vir and the others with dark intent.

The group of them slowed in confusion as the human and the small army of Drev and Tesraki officers followed with.

“Admiral Vir.” The Detective said, his voice booming around the room. Where their original entrance had not garnered more than a couple of glances from the assembled officers, this deep booming voice sure did grab their attention.

“Detective, wha-”

“You are under arrest!”

Adam stepped back in shock, his hands raised before his chest.

A gasp rose up around the room as everything came grinding to a stuttering halt.

“Under arrest! On what charges!” The man reached down to his side withdrawing his holstered weapon. Admiral Vir raised his hands slowly, “What is going on here.” he demanded.”

Sunny went to step in front of him, her spear raised, but he barked an order that made her stop in her tracks.

She turned to look at him and he shook his head.

The Detective walked forward glowering at Sunny, “You would do best to listen to your boss. As of yet there is no evidence liking you two to the crimes.”

He grabbed Adam by the front of his jacket and spun him around, gripping a handful of his collar as he walked him over to the side of the room, pinning him against the wall, hands still over his head. WIth a kick of his foot he widened the Admiral’s stance and began going through his pockets.

Behind them, sunny marched forward, ‘What are you talking about! Let him go! What crimes!”

“The murder of the Tesraki.”

“What!”

Andam was shoved harder against the wall as the man ran a hand over the front of his jacket and down either side.

He stopped as his right hip, reaching into his coat and confiscating his sidearm, which he handed to one of the Tesraki.

“I would never. I was off-world when that Tesraki died!”

“Don’t try to play dumb Admrial. Last night in the alley, you Killed a Tesraki and nearly murdered three other people.”

Adam spluttered in shock and confusion, “Murdered! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was in the ambulance when I-”

A sharp Jab to his ribs cut him off as the man ran a hand down either side of his legs, reaching a hand into his front and back pockets trying to find anything, “Your fingerprints were on the knife that killed the Tesraki.”

Adam shook his head in shock and confusion, “I would never kill anyone! What are you on about.”

Behind him, Sunny angrily marched forward, “Do you have any idea who he is! He’s admiral Vir, representative of the GA. So get your hands off him little man.”

She hadn’t made it more than a few steps before two big, beafy Drev stepped in front of her, both of them at least nine feet tall if not more.

She paused in her tracks as the detective grabbed the Admiral’s wrists and forced them behind his back securing them with energy cuffs.

Admiral Vir grunted, “What the fuck! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was alive, and those three men were trying to kill him.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I…. yes! The Tesraki was fucking ALIVE when he left in the ambulance.”

“That's interesting, because I have images right here than seem to think differently.”

Adam was turned around and allowed to stand back to the wall as the Detective pulled a set of photographs from his his jacket and threw them on the floor at the Admiral’s feet.

Adam stared down in wide eyed shock as the pictures he found there. 

Bodies lying on the ground in carnage. Three humans and one Tesraki with a Knife sticking straight into its eye.

“YOu have to be pretty sick and angry to do something like that.” The detective snarled 

“But I DIDN’T He was ALIVE I…. I saved…. I saved his life. I Don’t…. I don’t understand.”

“You have a history of xenophobic behavior Admrail, so It doesn’t surprise me.”

Krill, Sunny AND admiral vir sputtered loudly at that.

Krill shook his head, “Are you fucking insane. Admiral Vir BEGGED me to come onto his ship, how the fuck is that xenophobic.”

Admiral Vir locked eyes with Sunny who was so speechless all she could do was open and close her mouth. If anyone here knew how untrue that statement was it was her.

“Look, you play a good came admiral, but I have looked over your history carefully. Your involvement in the Drev war, and your constant return to the Drev planet after that. Then of course there was the entire fiasco with the starborn, and how you are the reason humans have to wear spit shields when detained. Your tiff with Noctus, and your systematic destruction of the Gnar’lak. All of that is hardly evidence of a man who supports human alien interaction. The bran STILL don’t trust the human race because of you.”

“The hell are you talking about!” Sunny shouted, “He’s the reason the GA even ALLOWED HUMANS IN. Just call the chairwoman, she will tell you.” 

Krill shook his head, “You don’t even have to call her, there were at least thirty witnesses that saw the Tesraki leave alive.”

Adam, Krill and Sunny turned to look over at the Tesraki director, who was standing just off to the side looking down at his feet, “I am sorry Admiral, but they are right, the evidence doesn’t look good.”

More gasps.

Admiral Vir shook his head, “What are you saying! You know what happened, your men saw…”

He was cut short as the Detective prodded him in the back, “If you can provide evidence of your innocence, we will consider it, but right now i have at least 30 eye witness testimonies, a knife with your fingerprints on it and two dead Tesraki.”

“I WOULD NEVER KILL ANYONE.” He snarled completely flabbergasted at the accusations.

“Save it.” The man snarled, shoving him forward across the floor.

Adam turned back to look at sunny, who still stood dumbstruck blocked by a group of four Drev as he was dragged away. Krill was loudly proclaiming his innocence and protesting the charges as he was led back across the floor and down another group of steps.

Adam’s head spun as Sunny’s and Krill’s voices were drown out behind him.

Xenophobia…. Murder?

He had never done either of those things in his life, it was completely ludicrous. He was dating Sunny for crying out loud, how could it even be possible.

Then again no one knew he was dating Sunny, and if you looked back at his career there were plenty of things that could be taken in the wrong connotation. He thought there were plenty of more things that were irrefutable, but that didn’t seem to matter to the detective, who had already made his assumptions.

Was he part of some elaborate plot, or was he being used by someone else and fed false information. The Tesraki he had worked with on the first case seemed sure of the accusations as well, though there had been no evidence of these thoughts before today.

His boots thudded on the floor as they reached the bottom of the steps, and the Drev that held him ordered the steel door ahead to be opened. A very nervous looking tesraki pressed a button on the forward console and the interior door hissed open. He was brought into a small room, nd the door that closed behind him caused another door to open up in front of them.

The room they walked into glowed blue and purple from the energy fields on either wall where separate energy cells housed the inmates of the Tesraki jail. Most of the inmates were Tesraki, but there was at least one human curled up on their side in the corner. The way she was dressed, and how heavily she was sleeping suggested she had had an interesting night out on the town and had been pulled in for a drunken disorderly.

One of the field walls was temporarily shut off, and he was shoved into the small cramped room where he sat down on the metal bench and stared at the energy field as it was pulled back up. Outside the Detective sat watching him, looking eye to eye with each other, Adam could see what seemed like real disappointment on the man’s face.

“It’s a real shame, Admiral. I really believed you were a better man than this.”

He stood up almost placing his hands to the barrier before stepping back, “I AM  a better man than this, please just listen. I’m being framed.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“You CAN believe that, I swear. I run  a ship full of aliens if the GA wasn’t here I wouldn’t have my job. You can ask my family anyone, I would do anything for the GA, I-”

The man just shook his head and turned away leaving Adam to stare after him in complete disbelief as he did.

***

Sunny was irate. Not just irate but incoherent in her complete and utter rage. The only thing holding her back was the realization that attacking these people would get hr locked away where she would be unable to help Adam.

She couldn’t believe the allegations.

Xenophobic, xhenophobic.

She knew first had how NOT xhenophobic he was.

…. Like very much

… not even a little bit

… either that or he was good at faking it, but Adam was the worst lier she had ever met, he couldn’t fake his way out of a paper bag.

Beside her krill was arguing with one of the other officers, someone he said he recognized from last night,

“Instead of being angry like her, the little creature was pointing out all the inconsistencies she was too angry to see. Like how he hadn’t been arrested on the spot, or what those other three humans were doing there, or how Krill and Sunny had SEEN the Tesraki drive away in the emergency vehicle.

They KNEW for a fact that Adam was innocent.

Sunny was more than positive. Adam was the biggest marshmallow in the universe. It had taken months to convince him to actually fight here in the dueling ring, and try to hit her considering he was mortified of the idea of hurting her, or any number of examples off the top of her head.

There was only one conclusion to make.

And despite not being a genius like krill, she knew the answer immediately.

He was being framed.

[quietmyfearswith]

perfect fit {ransom drysdale x fem!reader}

perfect fit {ransom drysdale x fem!reader} 

status — completed 

warnings — cursing, unprotected penetrative sex (pls be safe when havinf sex), mirror sex, semi-public sex, degradation (slight), oral sex (female receiving), mentions of blood and being poked (briefly and not detailed)

word count — 3,370 words

a/n — lmao i have no shame i got inspired to write this because of an something i listened to which had a similar premise. i had a sequel in mind but idk if im gonna write that since i have a lot of fics planned out. feedback is appreciated and hope u guys have a lovely day !! :> 

masterlist

It was something no one expected Ransom to do; but he did it anyway.

He was just lounging in his home one day and he took one of the many notebooks he had lying around and suddenly found himself sketching different clothing articles. By the time he was able to tear his focus and hands away from the notebook, it was already 11:45 at night, “Huh, so in the past five hours I was able to design 11 clothes,” he quietly thought to himself as he closed the notebook that contained his ideas and headed to bed.

The following day consisted mostly of doing two things; more designing and making calls. He was looking for possible suppliers who could give him the materials he needed in order to bring his designs to life. He also ordered his assistant to look for tailors who were willing to sew and stitch them to life, as he did not have any intentions on making those himself. Searching for a place to lease to station where the clothes would be made and sold was also something he did.

All of that happened almost 19 months ago; Ransom just suddenly had the idea of creating his own clothing line and he was successful in that endeavor. His brand was known for its eloquent and classy designs, while still being comfortable and affordable. It was also a bonus that the materials they used were cruelty-free and vegan; though this wasn’t really his idea, something his assistant had suggested and something he mindlessly agreed with as he was burying himself in designing a dress.

When his family found out about his current endeavor, there were various reactions in response. Joni seemed to be legitimately excited to see if Ransom’s design would match her taste and even told him how she was willing to post about his line on her Instagram. Meg and Walt finally had something in common as they both teased him and questioned his sexuality since he suddenly became interested in fashion; even his own father silently had the same thoughts and concerns. His mother, however, was somewhat proud of her son following in her footsteps and making a name for himself. While Harlan was surprised on how he was persistent in pursuing fashion, for he always thought that his first grandson would be his successor in terms of writing and in handling the publishing company.

Ransom, having had enough of their judgmental comments and half-assed support, snapped at them once he broke the news as they were enjoying dessert, “Alright, all of you, eat shit! No offense, Mom, but you had a loan from Granddad and without his money you’d be nowhere! Joni, cut the shit! We all know you rely on those brand deals you have and of course, on our family’s money. And Walt? At least I’m gonna make something of my own! Unlike you who just relies heavily on the books Granddad gives you to publish. And what the fuck does fashion have to do with one’s sexuality? If clothes make people gay then why are you wearing that sorry excuse of an outfit? Scared people might find your dick too small?” 

And with that, he left the house as a sea of screams and commotion followed him, but he chose to ignore it of course.

In the span of those 19 months, his clothing line took off. Critics spoke highly of it, consumers couldn't get enough of his designs, and he was being constantly praised for his creativity. So it made Ransom feel as if he was on top of the world.

After his designs being featured on various fashion shows and being worn by numerous celebrities, the pressure to put out equally great designs was taking a toll on Ransom. Hence why he often spends time on the main store and headquarters he had in Boston. The place was fairly spacious — it had an office for where he could have meetings or design some of his clothes, a spacious and luxurious space for the customers to try on the clothes, rows of sewing machine next to an array of cloth for the workers whom he fairly compensated for their hard work, and even a small circular platform placed in front of mirrors for alterations. 

Ransom advised his staff to go home early to enjoy the start of the weekend and he would be the one to close the store and balance what they had already sold and what was left. As he was busy in the counter checking the log and counting the money, he heard the chimes of the bell that hung above the door make a sound, directing his attention to where a lovely woman stepped into the store and it felt as if all the oxygen in his body left his body with how breathtaking the woman was.

“We’re about to close in a few minutes,” was all he managed to let out as the woman stood on the opposite side of the counter; she just smiled as she placed the gown wrapped in plastic down on the counter, “Oh? I’m so sorry but I was just wondering if I can have this gown altered? I bought it hastily last week and only got to try it on two days ago since I was incredibly busy with work and realized how loose it was on me.”

He looked down on the gown as he spoke, “Yeah well we close earlier on Fridays so,” prolonging the word so, he noticed how she moved as if she was about to exit the establishment, but he wondered, “What is the work you do that kept you busy?”

The question surprised both of them; Ransom didn’t know as to why he was curious about it, but it probably had to do with how he just wanted an excuse to talk to her and listen to her soothing voice. While Y/N didn’t realize that those were one of the requirements in order to have a dress altered, she told him anyway what kept her busy.

Nodding his head, he made an impulsive decision, “My assistants just left, but I can take care of it. It shouldn’t be a big problem” Her eyes lit up excitedly and she smiled widely and thanked him for being able to accommodate her. “Just go to one of the dressing rooms and change to the gown, and head to where the platform is — just right across, okay?” She nodded and followed to where his hands pointed to where he’d be waiting for her.

As she scurried off to the change, he found himself questioning himself as he switched off the open sign, grabbed a notebook, pen, and measuring tape, and waited for her to come out. Why the hell am I making such an effort for her? And when she did step out of the dressing room and made her way to step on the circular elevated platform, he remembered just why he was going out of his way to serve her; because she looked fucking gorgeous, especially seeing her wear a gown he designed.

Standing on the platform, she shyly looked at him to which he found adorable, “Why don’t you spin around slowly for me?” She nodded and did so, “What seems to be the problem with the gown?”

With her back facing him, she craned her neck and replied, “I found the length to be too long, I’m afraid I might trip on it,” as she faced him he noticed how he was standing dangerously close, and his facial features were dead serious, “So you just want to trim it a bit?”

She nodded, “Would it be possible to create a slit?” And just as she made that suggestion, she bunched up a bit of the gown and showed him how she wanted the slit to look like; but all it did to Ransom was make him drool with how luscious and soft her legs looked like. “Okay, yeah that’s something we can do.” 

Grabbing a small container full of sewing pins he took hold of the bunched up fabric she held in her hand and told her he got it. “You know when I designed these gowns, you were exactly the target buyers I had in mind,” she tilted her to the side, confused with what he meant so he further explained, “Gorgeous, elegant, and absolutely stunning; especially once they wear my clothes.”

Her cheeks suddenly became a dark shade of red as she tried to shrug off his compliment, “Well I don’t really wear these kinds of clothes, but when a wedding comes, you have to.” As he was placing the pins on the fabrics, he looked up from where he was sitting on the platform, him being eye level with her thigh was doing nothing to prevent him from nursing a hard on, “A wedding you say?” 

Snatching a glance from where her hands rested on her hips to get out of his way, he took note of the lack of ring and voiced out his observation, “I’m not seeing any ring on both your hands, so I’m gonna assume that you’re not the bride?” She laughed softly and shook her head, “No, I'm not the bride-to-be, my best friend is.”

“Good to know,” Ransom said softly and she didn’t hear it well and was about to question what he just said as she felt the sewing pins poke her skin. “Ow, fuck!” She yelped, which made the designer realize that instead of piercing through the dress, he accidently lightly grazed her leg. “Fuck, I’m sorry!” He apologized as he pulled the pin and wiped her upper thigh that started to bleed a little. 

Feeling his warm hand envelope her hand and the thumb swiping away the crimson liquid, made her feel tingly as she looked down on him. Inching his face closer to her thigh, he looked up at her as his lips touched the area that he unintentionally hurt her in, “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Y/N was stunned as his lips were back on her thigh after apologizing. 

Breathlessly, she just nodded and was surprised both his hands took a hold of her ankles and were softly caressing her just like how his lips were being gentle with her flesh. As his hands were sliding up towards her shins, she could feel the goosebumps on her skin rise, and by the time they reached her thighs, that was the only time Ransom detached his lips from her skin, “You taste divine, baby girl. But I’m not done with making it up to you.”

Having a sudden surge of confidence, Y/N spoke out, “Then keep kissing me if you want to make it up to me.” Ransom too, was surprised because this meek-looking beauty demanded him to do something, “I beg your pardon?” It was her turn to be brave and brazen as she smirked down on him, “Keep on kissing my thighs or else I’ll leave a bad review of your services.”

Quickly, Ransom placed his lips back on her thigh, kissing and smooching every inch he could find; he wasn’t sure if he was threatened with how his business could be negatively affected or was he just turned out at the prospect of being told by this beautiful woman to keep on admiring her figure.

Tangling her fingers on his hair, she tugged at him and guided her where she wanted his mouth as he gave verbal directions, “Higher, baby, kiss me higher.” Though his eyes were darkened with pleasure of having to know what her skin tastes like and aroused with how he met someone who was able to tell her what she wants and bosses him around; he’s never had someone do that to him, for it was always him calling the shots.

Poking his tongue out, he traced over the outline of her lace underwear which resulted in her letting out a moan and tightening her grip on his hair — urging him to keep going. Moving from her thigh, he kissed his way until he was face to face with the center of her pussy. Inhaling her scent, he closed his eyes as he groaned and took in her addictive scent and lunged forward to kiss and lick her clothed core. Even with the fabric in its way, he was nipping on her pussy lips and licking through it, getting a faint taste of her.

“Oh, more please,” she gasped out in pleasure; and with that plea Ransom moaned as he tore his mouth from where he was making out with her clit and smirked as she heard her sigh at the sudden loss of contact. Looking up at her, he gave her a grin as he asked, “Did you honestly think you would be the one who’ll call all the shots, baby?”

Somehow, her crimson red cheeks managed to turn into an even deeper shade of it at what he said. He then moved to pull her panties down her legs, he didn’t even wait for her to kick them out of her as he immediately licked from her clit down to her opening. Moaning out, she trembled a bit and Ransom’s hands latched themselves onto her thighs to help prevent her from falling.

“Careful now baby girl,” he warned her as he looked up to see her flushed face starting to drip with sweat, his lips never fully removing themselves from her clit so with every word he spoke the vibrations was felt throughout her core, “Wouldn’t want you to injure yourself. How are you gonna turn up to the wedding then?” 

As he finished his question, his tongue pushed itself into her tight opening and swirled around inside. Feeling dainty fingers push his face further, he was able to get a better taste of her juices that began to drip down to his tongue and he hissed at how delectable they were. Pulling out his tongue from her pussy, he immediately licked his way up to her swollen clit, “You taste amazing, baby,” he moaned out as he focused his efforts into sucking her clit hard and fast, feeling her thighs began to shake — a sign that she was close to her orgasm.

But Ransom wouldn’t let her cum right away, his left hand left the warmth of her thigh and slapped her clit multiple times, she opened her eyes in shock and looked down on the designer, aroused and elated with what he did. Getting the hint that she enjoyed what he did he teased her by saying, “You like it when I slap that clit?” Seeing how she nodded and bit her lip, he went on and slapped her clit multiple times but with not a lot of force, and his tongue went on to caress her tight opening until she once again began to quiver. 

“God you’re such a filthy slut,” he stated as he stopped the movements his tongue and hand were doing, and went on to bite lightly her thigh, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you. Have to make sure my customer leaves this place satisfied with my services.” As he mentioned the double entendre, his voice was laced with desire and hunger.

Giving her thigh one last kiss, he stood up from the platform and placed his hands on her hips and lifted her so she stood on the ground just like he was. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pushed her against him so their lips met and they began to hungrily make out. Her hands were at his cheeks, softly grazing his cheeks which contradicts how their tongues were roughly dancing with each other. While Ransom’s other hand was feeling for the zipper on her back, unzipping it and pushing the dress off of her.

Moving both his hands to touch her back, he noticed the lack of bra and felt how her nipples harden against the fabric of his shirt, he separated their lips from where they were entangled and looked down to see her breasts, “Such a nasty little girl you are, aren’t you? Wearing this gown with no bra underneath, like you wanted me to see just how good your boobs are.”

She shook her head, “The gown goes well best without a bra,” she defended. Amused with her reply Ransom decided that they’ve had enough foreplay; both his hands planted on her hips and pulled her back so it was flush against his front, “And you know what would go best with your divine body? My cock and cum,” one of his hands grabbed onto his cock and rubbed the tip of it against her folds, feeling her shudder at the sensation, “So come on and take it.”

“Shit baby girl, you’re so tight for a slut,” Ransom groaned as he threw his head back with how her walls squeezed his hard dick in one smooth motion. The hand that guided his cock in repositioned itself and held onto her hair, pulling her head back and arching her back away from his chest, which contrasted the way her ass was pushing back to accommodate Ransom’s cock.

Hand in her hair and the other on her hip, Ransom was pulling her into his cock with sharp, fast, and harsh thrusts; while her moans and whines did nothing but to fuel him to drive his thick meat deeper in her. “You like this don’t you, baby? You like how I’m just ramming into you like you’re nothing but a whore?” He taunted as he let go of her hip and began to rub, twist, and pull at her nipples.

Y/N could only nod, too blissed out to give out a verbal response for the way he was deliciously torturing her nipples disabled her from forming a coherent sentence, much less a thought. Unhappy with how she responded, he let go of her hair and slapped both her ass cheeks, “Answer me! Tell me you like it!”

She went still for a moment due to the sting of his slaps, she widened her eyes and peered over her shoulder to look at him, “I love it! I love how you’re treating me, sir.” The title she had given him made him even more feral as he ordered her, “Look in the mirror slut, look at how desperate you are for me.”

Feeling shy from seeing her blissed out state on the reflection, she instead diverted her gaze on the man behind her who was mercilessly pounding into her. She found it absolutely hot how his jaw was clenched so hard and his eyebrows were furrowed; it made her clench down on him hard which led to Ransom to slam deep inside her and grab onto her shoulders, “You’re close aren’t you, baby? You’re about to cum on my cock aren’t you?” She nodded and whined, “Yes, sir, I’m so close. Please let me cum,” he chuckled in appreciation, she begged him to cum without even telling her to do so. 

Speeding up the pace of his thrusts, his one hand was now alternating with rubbing and pinching her clit, in order to get her right on the edge. His lips were resting against her ear, his pants were only turning her on even more and with a final pinch of his fingers, she was cumming hard and with a loud wail.

Feeling how her walls squeezed him too tight to the point he couldn’t move anymore, Ransom stilled inside her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, “Fuck, you feel good.” After a couple of breaths, Ransom collapsed to sit down on the platform, taking her with him. Sitting down, he took the time to steady his breaths and recover from the intensity of their intercourse and orgasm. 

Snaking his hand to her cheek, he tilted her head enough for him to plant his lips on hers and let her give a faint taste of her own juices and he pulled apart from her not without planting a small kiss, “The gown will be ready in a week, baby. And it’s on me.”

[fandomsilhouette]

to be seen

There are so many hopes that exist in one heart, so many expectations that pull them apart, so many people they’re desperate to be, so many voices they’ll never flee. They’re shrouded in secrets they can’t quite explain, but if there’s a person where they can abstain, avoid the disdain, inane, insane, and find a way to be human again, then they’ll take it with both hands outstretched, and hold on before they find themselves wrecked. 

Happy @felinettenovember, y’all! This was supposed to be an easy prompt, some dumb lighthearted joke at Felix’s expense, but I can never be that simple, and when I asked @musicfren to help me brainstorm, we had the terrible wonderful idea to write companion pieces. So! You can read what Felix is thinking here, and fall in love with his very wonderful writing as you do. 

Showcase night is finally here. Marinette’s fingers dig into the fabric she was pinning around her mannequins before she remembers that there’s no time to iron out any wrinkles. Luckily, the final pieces were sewed and on the models already, no pinning required, but Marinette had opted to show off stages of the design progress by pinning half-completed scraps of fabric on mannequins: a choice she would be sorely regretting if she weren’t so excited.

She’s prepared, of course, she’s been scarcely able to think about anything else for the last month.

Marinette’s parents will see her project for the first time tonight, despite how relentlessly they’ve attempted to wheedle clues out of her for as long as they’ve known about it-- which is about as long as the concept has existed. But she’s been insistent not to spill a single secret about it, wanting it to be unapologetically, undeniably her own, all the way through, every missed stitch and tangled thread and crumpled up note tossed at the trash can late at night showing in the final outfits.

She finishes the final touches on her poster board, checks that her models are ready in place, shuffles her flashcards into order one more time. Everyone else around her seems relaxed, chattering excitedly, flitting from station to station in an eager buzz; Marinette is overwhelmed by the motion and the optimism of it. Her gaze flicks from person to person, moving away faster than it can catch on anything until--

Felix looks pale, nearly translucent halfway under the stage lights, still half in shadow as he steps up onto the platform to perform. He meets her gaze and it holds, but it’s vacant and glazed, almost as if he’s not seeing her at all, even looking right at her. And knowing that someone is just as anxious, maybe more, than she is makes Marinette feel… alright. There is so much of herself in this presentation, more than anyone will ever know. It matters. It’s going to be okay.

Marinette only hopes her presentation won’t sound like pouring ketchup from a bottle: timid at first, then gushing out faster than she can control it, too much to be palatable or interesting, spilling over her plate and dripping onto her shoes with her tears.

Then the parents flood into the room, and chaos ensues.

The presentations go better than she expected: a lot of people flock to her stall, lured by the motion and the flash of fabric in a room full of the fantastic; Marinette suspects it’s the traditional familiarity of the Parisian civilian wrapped up in the novel familiarity of the heroes of Paris that draws their attention. Her parents ooh and ahh, gush over all the right parts and ask her enough questions that she doesn’t worry that her point won’t be made.

“I wanted to remember that the heroes of our city are people too: that for all that they pretend to be larger than life, magical beyond belief-- miraculous, one might say,” she tosses out a wink to laughter that delights her, even if some of it comes with a deadpan look, “they are not pretentious. They are people, and they are people who deserve respect, compassion, empathy… privacy and support, where we can manage it.”

The small crowd around her table is silent for a moment that stretches too long, and anxiety drips and dribbles into the spaces their silence leaves behind. Their gazes settle heavy on her shoulders and her blush heats up her cheeks like a blood-red mask she’s too comfortable wearing. Has she finally managed to be seen, under all of the pretense? Will they manage to care?

Then Tom sweeps her up in a hug, tossing her into the air, and it takes her and Sabine’s combined strength to bring her back down, to remind him she still has the rest of the evening to keep presenting. Marinette talks, and glows, and shares and explains and laments all of the things Ladybug wishes she could say and doesn’t, and doesn’t stop for a second.

She doesn’t stop, except to listen to Felix. The auditorium has had music drifting in the background all night, between Nino DJing and Kitty Section, and a handful of other students on various instruments, but it’s Felix’s melody she cuts herself off mid-sentence for.

It’s the presentation she’s been waiting all night, and when his fingers lift from the strings, the last note still echoing around the room, she feels gutted.

The rest of her presentations go on without a hitch, but she’s a little quieter now, gestures a little less broadly. Something of the spark is missing, and she’s just glad her parents have moved on to celebrate the other students’ presentations instead of sticking around long enough to notice. Finally, finally the day is over, and Marinette knew she’d be looking forward to this moment, exhausted and exhilarated, but she didn’t think she would meet it like this.

She wraps up her presentation one last time, and the crowd thins, drifting off to help their children clear up their stations or pick off the last remaining crumbs from the snack bar. Marinette’s own parents are nowhere to be seen, so she turns and starts unpinning the mannequins herself.

“How quaint of you.”

Felix’s voice is chilled as he leans his hip against her already-wobbly table. Marinette worries for a moment about it spilling over and then decides she doesn’t care.

“Thank you,” she accepts, knowing full well it isn’t a compliment. “I liked yours a lot, Felix.”

“No, you didn’t.” She doesn’t have to turn to hear the sneer in his voice. “You have no appreciation for true art. You think this,” he gestures wildly at her half un-pinned mannequins, the models drifting away, “is art? This is derivative. This is… this is nothing more than a false pretense of an understanding you don’t have in a failed effort to curry favor with someone who is never going to notice you.”

“I liked the way your composition sounded in the rehearsal room,” Marinette cuts in quietly, tiredly, so hurt she can’t resist, too hurt to resist.

“What.”

“I’ve spent most of class time sitting outside the rehearsal room you always choose-- you’re very predictable, Felix-- and sketching there. That’s what my designs are based on: that mournful, hopeful, determined, resigned haunting tune that you practiced day by painstaking day. That’s how I imagine the heroes feel. I can understand how you’d know that. I do too.” Marinette thinks about the way his presentation today was so polished, the way it reverberated around the room, every note rich and mellow-- but it felt so hollow.

Hearing it today has torn out the very heart of what she had built her designs around.

“I wish you had played it like that today.”

Felix moves forward, drags a finger down fabric that seems a little softer, a little more somber. He looks at her, a sidelong glance that goes too long, and doesn’t respond until he looks away.

“I wish you would’ve worn these yourself.”

[nightfayre]

a donation drabble request for the ever kind and supportive Ayobami @tps31! thank you SO MUCH for your donation and support!! you’ll never know how much it means to me <3

prompt: tianshan quarantine fluff, aka “why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?”

(a/n: this is just a random thought but I honestly don’t think I’ve written a fic about the boys still in middle school like, ever, so thank you so much for this prompt! it was so refreshing to write them as the flustered, airheaded, and teasing boys they are!) <3

tianshan, 3600 words, rated T

*   *   *

Guan Shan hates this. 

The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—

Guan Shan hates it.

And, what’s worse: he never asked for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.

“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”

“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”

“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”

And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”

Guan Shan choked. 

Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”

“He’s already stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”

She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”

“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need compassion.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”

“A week?”

“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”

“Ma, please—“

“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”

And that, unfortunately, was that. 

That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet blaringly enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude. 

Guan Shan hated it. 

But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.

And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Little Mo, are you naked?”

Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”

“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

“Then you can wait.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”

“That’s an average fuckin’ time for showers!”

A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”

The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. “Fuck off!” 

He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied. 

He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print. 

If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least something valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using that specific pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — sometimes — causes him to drop his jam knife.

A stalemate, Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing? 

By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner. 

“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”

“I don’t work at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors. 

For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns. 

It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he certainly never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before. 

Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort. 

Guan Shan hates it. 

But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick. 

Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”

Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.

“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”

He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”

“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”

He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing. 

“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“

“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and didn’t help at all—“

“—and I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s a normal person’s life,” Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”

He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”

And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only stare. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous and fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”

Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.

“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”

Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”

And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”

The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. Surely, considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—

“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”

The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away. 

“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”

“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”

A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”

He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”

Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it. 

“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk. 

“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”

Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”

“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home, unprompted. Even I know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”

Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either. 

After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. Real friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”

He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”

“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group isn’t. Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.

“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”

The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier. 

Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t— need to.”

“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”

Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”

Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen. 

“I don’t have a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”

He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl. 

“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.

“No, dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I asked you to be.”

He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.

Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully. 

And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.

“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I was expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”

It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — more — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to. 

He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from He Tian, the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago. 

Had he been— testing Guan Shan?

“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to justify? “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t urgent. I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”

He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse. 

“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”

“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”

“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”

“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”

Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses. 

He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”

“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.

“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.

Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”

“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”

“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”

Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs. 

“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”

He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”

“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one. 

And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

*  *  *

thank you for reading! likes/reblogs would be greatly appreciated, as this fic is dedicated to the Black Lives Matter movement. if you would like a fic/drabble written for you (and you want to support the BLM cause!), please see this post!

have an incredible week! <3

[snowdice]

One More Chance (Part 12 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton, Logan & Virgil, Roman & Patton

Characters: 

Appear: Patton, Logan, Virgil

Mentioned: Roman, Remy

Summary: Season change. Life changes. This time, Patton does too.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie

This is the twelfth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

“And There is a Question”

“Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

“And There is an Answer”

“But What Does It Mean”

“One More Dance”

My Master Post

The day Roman danced with Patton marked a big change in the house. Remy had basically already figured out what was going on with Patton (or at least as much as one could given Logan and Virgil didn’t quite understand it themselves), but it came as a surprise to Roman… somehow. Virgil had worried on the first day about Roman’s reaction considering his initial behavior when he’d met Patton, but much like Virgil had, Roman had managed to get attached. Zombie or not, Roman had decided Patton was his friend. The explanation of just what exactly was going on had come with some awkwardness, but not violence and life quickly moved on.

Once the secret was out and neither of them had an extreme negative reaction, their guests began to crest the barrier between guests and residents in the house. Logan began to devote time to thinking up a more permanent solution than just having the two crash on the floor of the study. For now, they had found usable mattresses and dragged them home to set up a temporary third bedroom in the study, but Logan had been making plans to renovate the house next door and build an attachment between the two so they would have more space. He’d already spent some of the summer constructing a sturdier fence around the neighboring house and planned on working on building more solar panels for its roof in the basement during the winter.

The division of labor became a lot easier too with the addition of two people. Scavenging was much easier, allowing Logan to get the supplies for the aforementioned solar panels as well as other supplies from more difficult to break into places. Remy and Roman were actually quite practiced at not dying in more risky situations since they’d started in a city.

Remy knew a bit about tech, having worked in a theater and jury-rigged a few things like microphones and lights in his day. Though he didn’t know as much about stuff as Logan, he knew enough basics that Logan was able to teach him things about maintaining and fixing the generators and other things around the house.

Roman, meanwhile, was good at hunting in both the traditional way and in the Roman-did-you-really-just-catch-a-chicken-with-your-bare-hands sort of way. They now had 3 chickens which they’d set up a coop for in the other house’s backyard.

Both Roman and Remy could sew pretty well which took some of the load off of Virgil and they could help in the garden some (Logan was still not allowed anywhere near it).

Virgil still often found himself panicking about the fast approaching winter, but they had even more supplies than the year before even counting the two extra mouths. So, overall, everything had changed for the better.

And then, there was Patton.

Patton had good days and bad days, but even the bad days were in stark contrast to what he’d been like a year ago. It’s like something had been triggered in him, and once he’d figured out how to follow the path to consciousness, it became easier to do so by the day.

On good days, Virgil imagined an outsider wouldn’t ever guess what he was. He wasn’t 100% normal, but most people would have no trouble saying he was a person. He still never spoke (except reportedly to Logan sometimes when they were alone), but he did react to what they said and seemed to understand. He smiled at Roman when he played him a song and tilted his head when Virgil spoke softly to him. There were entire passive aggressive arguments about the décor between him and Remy as both moved everything from furniture to decorations around sometimes behind each other’s back… and sometimes while making unflinching eye contact. Virgil thought they were having fun. Maybe?

There was a day in late August after the temperature had finally broken and it wasn’t boiling hot anymore where Virgil came down to find every blanket and pillow in the house had been brought to the living room and piled on and around the couch. Virgil at first had thought it was another malfunction and Patton was confused, but it was clear by how Logan reacted that it was in fact just a Patton thing. Roman had taken the blankets and constructed a fort for him which they’d both proceeded to spend the rest of the day in talking (well, Roman did the talking) about musicals and Disney movies.

Then, there were a few times where Virgil had caught him staring at a full cup of water sitting in the armchair. He’d sheepishly pretend like he’d gotten the water to drink it and Virgil let him.

Virgil’s hoodie just as often ended up folded outside his bedroom door in the mornings as it ended up in the washing machine and sometimes Patton would even come find him and hand it to him.

They hid the macaroni and cheese and woke to the entire loaf of bread that had been on the counter gone and cold grilled cheeses in the refrigerator. They put the macaroni back.

And on his best days when he came downstairs and poured himself a glass of juice from the refrigerator, he’d shoot a smile at Virgil and go off to find Logan. Virgil would often find them later smashed into the armchair together with Patton’s head on his shoulder while Logan read a book to him out loud.

The good days were become slightly more frequent as the months pushed on, but today was a bad day.

He’d been very confused and mostly unresponsive all day, but there was still something there in his eyes even today. Virgil glanced over as he removed the last jar of canned strawberries in this batch from the pressure cooker on the stove and set it on a dishtowel to cool. He’d been taking inventory earlier and some of the older cans that needed to be used soon were on the kitchen table including a jar of pickles.

Patton was staring at that jar intently as though it held the secrets of the universe. “Do you want a pickle, Patton?” Virgil asked. There wasn’t much of a response except for maybe a flicker of his eyelashes. However, the fact that he seemed to connect the sealed container with one of his favorite snacks did say something good about his object permanence.

Virgil passed the card table he’d set up for the earlier batches of cans to the kitchen table and grabbed the jar. He quickly took out one of the pickles and closed the can back up tight so the man wouldn’t try to eat all the contents in one go. He placed the pickle down in front of Patton. He immediately grabbed it and Virgil quickly turned away, so he wouldn’t have to watch that. When he looked back, the pickle was gone, and Patton had placed his chin on the table to once again stare at the jar intently.

“You just keep doing that buddy,” Virgil said before turning back to his canning station on the counter. He’d been working all day and this next batch would be his last. He started spooning the pre-prepared strawberries into the jars as he heated the water back up in the pressure cooker. He heard Patton shifting around but didn’t pay him much mind, too engrossed in his task. Annoyingly, it ended up that he was about half a can short on his mixture. He must have filled one of the earlier batches too full and now everything was uneven. It wasn’t a big deal, but still irritating. He’d just placed the last lid on when a hand suddenly appeared next to him and he jumped.

Honestly, one would think he’d be used to Patton randomly reaching for him by now. Except, unlike what usually happened, the hand went for one of the jars from the last batch instead of for Virgil himself. There was a quiet pop before the jar was set down again with its lid off. Virgil blinked at him. He blinked back and then wandered away. Virgil’s eyes followed him which is when he saw the card table. Every single jar was open.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me Patton.” Patton gave him a curious head tilt, looked at the dozens of opened cans, and then looked back at him.

Virgil put his head down on the counter and let out a long, loud groan. He was actually impressed by own his lung capacity.

There were footsteps from the living room after about 15 seconds of sustained groaning. “What happened?” Logan asked.

“I just wasted an entire day on canning is what just happened,” Virgil sighed, gesturing to the many, many open cans.

Logan’s presence in the room seemed to pull Patton in and he walked up to him, kind of bumping into his front. Logan’s arms came up to hug him softly, and he rubbed his back a bit. Virgil watched as, after a moment, Patton tilted his head a bit to angle his mouth towards Logan’s ear. Virgil raised an eyebrow at that. Logan hummed after a few seconds and pressed a kiss to the top of Patton’s head. “It’s okay, love. I’ll help Virgil clean it up for you. You don’t have to worry.”

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, no, it’s fine Pat,” he was quick to reassure. “I get it. You’re good. It’s just a few cans.”

“How about I take you upstairs and you can lay down for a bit?” Logan offered. Patton nodded. “Alright, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Logan said to Virgil before starting to guide Patton upstairs.

“You will not,” Virgil muttered, knowing it would be at least an hour, maybe two before he could pull himself away. Yet, he was more amused than annoyed at that fact. Virgil turned to look at the state the kitchen was in as they disappeared up the stairs. “Well, I guess I get one more chance to make sure the strawberry levels are even in all of the cans.”

Want to read more? The next part of this series is  When There Is Something Left.

[only-here-for-jatp]

Build-a-Band pt 1&2

Inspired from a tumblr post that I have lost track of. (If you see it lmk)

The boys go to Build-a-Bear. 

Each chapter is told from the POV of a different person. Reggie is first up!

I tried to reference actual build a bears, but the accessories are whatever I wish into existence so there.

Can read on Ao3 here

And also below! ~1900 words

Everything had been normal since the Orpheum. Well as normal as life can be when you live with three teenage boy ghosts from the 90s and you’re in a rock band that played one of the most well-known clubs in LA. The boys still got into their crazy antics that Julie inevitably had to fix and there was still something going on between her and Luke, whatever that was. She didn’t have time to worry about it so much these days.

Ever since the Orpheum they could touch and every now and again they could become visible to Flynn or Carlos. It still hadn’t happened in front of Ray yet, much to Reggie’s disappointment but he kept trying. Ray had taken news that the boys were ghosts surprisingly well with the addition of a few extra rules. He eyed the empty space where one ghost in particular was supposed to be when he told them although if the object of Ray’s focus noticed he sure didn’t show it.

Time was passing by rather quickly these days, and soon it was the start of summer. Julie’s dad had been nudging her to get a summer job and she couldn’t help but think it might be a good idea. The band was playing regular gigs now, but they weren’t making much money. If they were going to keep going, they needed another source of income. The boys of course couldn’t be of much help with this since you know, dead, so it was mostly up to Julie.

The boys, especially Luke, were a little grumbly about her taking time away from their music. Once she explained that this was to make money for the band, they’d felt a little better about it. They still weren’t over the moon, but the pouting had definitely decreased.

This is how Julie found herself with a job that she knew really wasn’t that awful but was exhausting none-the-less.

Build-a-Bear.

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

The boys were really enjoying the fact that summer meant more time with Julie, even if she did have her new job at the mall. Reggie in particular loved having the extra people around. There was always something going on with Carlos and he’d made numerous trips to baseball practice, or to the park, or whatever was going on.

Today though, after much begging and pleading with Julie, she’d finally relented to let him tag along to her job. For the most part she’d forbidden them from visiting, saying that her job was chaotic enough without throwing three teenage ghost boys into the mix, but Reggie had just been so intrigued.

Build a Bear was apparently a place for kids where they came and made stuffed animals and you could add hearts and costumes and name them. To him that sounded like possibly the best place in the world.

When he was younger, he’d had a small chocolate brown teddy bear that he carried around with him anywhere. It came with him for the first day of kindergarten, and most days after until he found Luke. Then Sir Reginald, as the teddy bear was known as, would stay in his backpack, just in case. It’d been his support during all of the fighting, and he’d hold tight every time he hid in his closet trying to drown out the noise.

In truth, he’d never really grown out of his teddy bear but it was early middle school when Luke discovered there was a way to climb in through Reggie’s window and soon it was Luke sitting with him in the closet or pulling him out of the house to the studio to play music and wander the beach.

How exactly did one make a stuffed animal he thought? It seemed like it would take a long time sewing all of the pieces together and stuffing it? That’s a lot of work, do kids really enjoy it?? So he was very curious about this Build a Bear, especially when Julie exclaimed that they sold more than just bears! He could Build a Dog or a Turtle or maybe A DRAGON. He had no idea what he was going to find, but he was so excited to find out.

Reggie poofed into the store sometime that afternoon and immediately felt his eyes widen. This. Was. The. Best. Stuffed animals lined the walls of all shapes and kinds and colors. He stood in a sea of kids all running and screaming in sheer joy and he got it. If Julie hadn’t already spotted him, he would absolutely be doing laps right now. But he promised and he really wanted to try and keep the promise that he would be on his best behavior.

He took in the plastered on smile that edged just a little bit toward frantic, her tense posture, and the kids that were lightly tugging on her arms and knew he really couldn’t- “OH MY GOD JULIE IS THAT A STAR WARS BEAR.” He shrieked upon seeing what was clearly a teddy bear but it LOOOKED LIKE DARTH VADER and before he knew it he was poofing over to Julie, tugging on her arm much like the children while speaking so fast it sounded like a blur even to him “JulieJulieJulieJulieJulieJuliePrettyPleaseJulieCanIHaveTheBearJulieIt’sStarWarsITSSTARWARSJULIE.”

All of a sudden Julie was laughing and he stepped back to give her a curious look. Had he broken her? He hadn’t meant to break her. OH NO what was Luke going to say if he broke Julie? And Alex? Oh god please let her not be broken.

But soon he saw the soft smile playing on her lips, a genuine one this time. He smiled back at her and he watched her give him a small nod in a different direction. His eyes followed where she was indicating, and he felt his mouth drop open. There was a soft tan bear with kind of curly fur and its feet had this soft pink material on it. And he couldn’t say what about the bear it was, but it felt like he was looking at Alex.

Reggie quickly glanced at the name, “Timeless Bear” and he smiled. That was all of them exactly. Julie had come to stand next to him, and whispered softly “we can make that one, deal?” Reggie nodded, joy spreading through him quickly and he couldn’t stop his excitement from making him bounce.

Julie had a horde of kids following behind her and Reggie joined them, fitting right in if he wasn’t taller than them. And a ghost. Julie had picked up what looked like a deflated version of the bear and understanding was slowly started to dawn on how this whole process worked. But he still couldn’t figure out how they were going to all stuff and sew it.

Julie led them to this small open space and he watched all the children sit down, so Reggie followed along. In front of them was this huge machine and Reggie stared at it in awe. Was that? Was it filled with stuffing??? This was so cool! He was almost too distracted to miss Julie’s speech. Something about waiting your turn and choosing the softness levels and adding the heart.

Wait. The heart? Reggie tuned back in.

“Alright everyone, you will all need to pick a heart for your new friend.” Reggie’s eye grew wide. The shuffling of kids drew him to the little boxes filled with soft satin hearts. They were all in shades of red and pink and checkered. Julie was there talking with the kids to help him decide when he spotted a heart that was the exact same shade as Alex’s favorite sweatshirt. He pointed with a small voice and said that one. Julie picked it up as they all headed back to the big machine.

“Of course we can’t just put a heart inside our new friend. We’ve got to get it going with some magic first.” Reggie’s eyes widened, watching as Julie charmed the kids into believing with her. “First, we’ve got to rub the heart between our hands to make it warm.” All of the kids followed suit, and even though he knew Julie had the heart for his new friend between her hands he still followed suit. “Next, let’s add a little excitement! We can jump up and down for this one. Gotta have a spring in our step after all.”

“Now, give it a big hug so your new friend knows you’ll always be there for him.” Julie was making eye contact with him now and he could feel himself tearing up a little.

“Finally, make a wish and whisper it into your heart.” Reggie whispered into his hands “I wish I could stay with my brothers forever.” He didn’t know what Julie whispered to his heart, but he trusted her.

The kids bounced around in excitement, not feeling the gravity that was shifting around them. Julie stared for one long moment at Reggie before turning back to them with a smile and beginning the process of stuffing the bears. Reggie gasped so loud he made Julie whip her head around at him. THAT was how they did it. The machine did the stuffing and then it was just a quick close up! He watched the kids get their new stuffie one by one and then take them over to the “grooming” stations where you could brush them and “bathe” them before finding outfits. Reggie wandered over to the clothing section and admired all the selections. There were fancy dresses and Halloween costumes and pajamas and sports outfits and fanny packs.

WAIT. He shrieked with joy and immediately started clapping and jumping around. There in the accessories was a little black fanny pack. He started searching more thoroughly now. There wasn’t a pink sweatshirt but oooh! Was that a pink shirt! And and a baseball cap. YES.

He turned around to find Julie only to discover she was on the last kid. He walked over to her and stood patiently by as she heaved a sigh of relief. Waving them off. “Ready Reggie?” He nodded and shook in excitement. “Here!” She handed him the little pink heart and for a second he could only stare at it. But then he held it tightly in his hands and whispered in his mind.

You will be Alexander. You are the greatest drummer and one of the greatest friends a guy could have. You will be there for every heartache, panic attack, and moment of joy. You are sarcastic, but there for us anyway. Just wait until you meet the real Alex.

Julie nudged him, ready for the heart and watched as the limp piece of fabric became almost real. He didn’t give Julie much time after she finished before dragging her to his clothing selections. She giggled the whole time though, he knew that although she might act exasperated she was having as much as him. She approved of all the clothing choices, and offered one additional thing.

A small rainbow flag that had a band so it looked like the bear was holding it.

Reggie watched it all come together. He took one look at the dressed up bear and exclaimed- “It’s ALEX!!! I have to go show him!!! Thanks Julie” He gave her a quick hug and poofed away before anybody could wonder why that bear was floating.

[teacup-crow]

Things That Make it Warm

Zombies Run Secret Santa fic for @whirly-wind! Thanks for organising @runnerzero, @goblinsharkz and @notforconsumption. Spoilers up to S5M24 below the cut :)

Hi Mystery! I was so so so excited to get you because you’re always lovely about my writing, especially my Tom/Jody stuff 😍 this is the story of them getting to know each other (with a Christmas involved, because Christmas is romantic right?)

Apologies that it starts off just a LITTLE bit angsty but it’s these two and angst just happens to them. A writer can only do so much. I promise there’s festive fluff in there!

I hope you enjoy this! Merry Christmas!

((Stole the title from a Cavetown song because I hate naming things!))

*****

“Jody’s running slowly, so she’ll give ‘em a good chase.”

She almost has to swallow a laugh at Sam’s sweet admiration. Jody’s running slowly because everything hurts, because this idea is crazy, because it might be the last run ever gazing at an Abel sunrise, orange and pink flecking the horizon, and she wants to see it before-

Boom. The explosion rattles her teeth, her bones, smoke rising behind her. She doesn’t look back. She knows better.

“Miss Marsh! To me!”

Tom grabs her hand and before she can process anything at all they’re sprinting. Her heart and lungs are burning; it’s been months since she ran like this, weeks since her muscles atrophied, and the pain shoots through her legs at every step until she feels nauseous. But they’re running. At some point, she lets the bundle fall from stiff arms, a pile of empty blankets. Tom whispers something, and vanishes into the dust he created.

***

“We are not leaving you here.”

“Ian won’t kill me. He knows I still have some useful things inside my broken noggin.” His smile is lopsided, his eyes slightly glittery. Jody doesn’t know him that well, really, but that look has never been a good one on him. She pats his arm, and it dulls a little. She leaves her hand there.

“Isn’t that a reason to get you out?”

He swallows. “I can’t… I can’t promise that I’ll…”

“You saved my life. You’re coming with us.”

She knows, even though his sister might protest out loud, that Janine is grateful to her for making the call. She knows her so well she can hear that the woman’s shoulders have dropped just a bit in relief.

***

Tom likes Noah Base.

It’s warm, and enclosed, and safe. He can feel the presence of walls around him at all times. When he whistles, it echoes. It’s familiar. 

When he was younger, being inside used to bore him silly. Paperwork was the worst part of the job; as a boy, Jane did his homework more often than not. Back in Karachi, the memories warm and soft as parchment, he’d play football with the neighbourhood kids late into the night, everyone teasing but good-natured, curious about the white boy who spoke Urdu like a local. The calls of other boys’ mothers rang out as the day grew long until at last they’d scatter at the figure of his father, the ambassador cutting a long shadow across the evening, rumbling “Thomas? Thomas? Time to come home.”

A couple of years later, he lay out on the family’s broad flat roof, breathless - hiding from his sister so she wouldn’t see him crying about their parents, about being ripped away from everything and everyone they knew. Hiding from the men from the embassy, so he couldn’t hear the bad news. So they couldn’t take him to England.  Outside there were birds soaring above him, the sun shining like any other day. He didn’t have to confront reality.

And after that, inside meant dull lessons at boarding school far away from Jane, where he actually had to concentrate to keep at the top of the class, and inside meant stuffy offices with stuffy bureaucrats who would never understand the realities of field work no matter how often they were explained, and then inside was three bare walls of concrete and agony and time.

When the open air was no longer a choice, when life became nothing but a cube, six by six, lights off more often than on, inside became more comforting. There, nobody could sneak up behind him. It was easy to keep one eye open. If you stay in the corner, you’re never surrounded. It’s outside where things go horribly wrong. Outside is where the crawling men eat human flesh. Outside is where Jane and the others left him behind. 

And so, years later, England again, he’d slip off his cuffs in his new cell and finally manage to relax enough to rebuild some of his sanity. He knew now that inside isn’t the problem. Being trapped there is.

Noah Base is safe. He can map out the whole place in his head, learn fourteen different escape routes, ranked from worst to best.

Noah Base is better than safe.

Noah Base has Jody in it.

***

Jody, for one, feels cooped up.

It’s okay, at first. Things were worse than this right after the outbreak. She’d stayed in a Tube station for a couple of nights, only peeking her head above ground to try and get decent reception to call her mum. When her phone gave up the ghost, she trekked it out of London. But sometimes, especially now, she still thinks of the noise, the irrepressible heat, sickness already spreading like wildfire. 

It’s okay, at first. She knits. She stretches. Builds up her core strength again. Takes lectures on strategy. Starts to actually read Janine’s notes, to Sam’s disgust. She keeps positive as morale begins to drop, until one morning she doesn’t get out of bed at all. 

Tom arrives at her door with a plate of cold toast and strawberry jam.

“You weren’t at breakfast.”

Of course. He notices everything.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replies, then bites her lip. If anything, the latest messages from Abel make her far too sick to eat. Steve, inexhaustibly flirtatious, convivial, suave Steve, had sounded shattered. Half-rations. Quarter-rations. Ian’s getting… more unbalanced. Kefi reckons half the town is anaemic.

“Come in if you like, I’m decent.”

“You need to eat something,” he insists, pushing the door ajar and handing the plate up to her. She sits up, back against the wall, and tries to give him a wobbly smile.

“What’s the matter, Miss Marsh?”

“I just… can’t believe we left them.”

And she bursts into tears. He pats her arm.

He doesn’t rationalise anything to her.

He thinks that, just maybe, it’s worse to be the leaver than the left.

***

She’s so strong.

He watches her with a bow and arrow hit one- two- three targets in the centre, more accurate and deadly than his own hand with a pistol. She swings up the climbing frame like a monkey, upside down and ten feet in the air. The gym in Noah Base is cramped - what isn’t? - but training is manageable with the lack of equipment to fill the space. Peter - the man who found them this place, the man with the silver tongue, the man who hurt his sister - is at the weights. He’s always in Tom’s peripheral vision; Jane only puts him there to keep an eye, he knows that.

“Whoop!” Jody swings down from the ropes triumphantly and rolls to a halt. He clicks the stopwatch.

“One-forty-seven. Your fastest time yet, Miss Marsh. That was excellent.”

“You can stop calling me that any time you like, you know.”

“Nonsense. What would I call you then?”

She looks up at him, quite serious. He’s maybe a foot taller than she is. He’s a madman. A murderer. But there’s not an ounce of fear in her gaze, not anymore. When her hair is tied back like that, he can see her face properly, the fading freckles, soft straight hair, her laughing eyes, the cleft in her chin, the birthmark on her cheek.

“...Jody’s fine, Tom.”

“I… yes.” He blinks away in embarrassment. “If you would prefer that name. Yes.”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable. Anyway, I’m going to try that again. I just know I can beat you.”

“And then you’ll take a break?”

“We’ll see,” she grins, and jogs back to the start.

She’s not only physically strong; she’s been through so much and she hasn’t let it harden her. She looks at every new day like an opportunity, a sunrise, swallowing back the bitter pill of life with orange juice. Not like him. He’s so far past broken he doesn’t even remember what wholeness tastes like; some important part of his soul still lies in that cage, rotting. So how can he be falling in love?

***

It just doesn’t feel like Christmastime.

The last few Christmases have fallen into some kind of routine, at least. They were bare and hard but everyone was together, kids faces lighting up as they decorated the township, people working together to make it as okay as possible. A bit more frivolity, a bit more food. 

It’s December already, and nobody has even mentioned it.

Steve hasn’t sent a message in a good while, and the radio silence is making all of them itchy. Five’s been gone for weeks; Cameo’s probably dead. Everyone she cares about is probably-

“Jodes? Can you help me with this?”

It’s Tom, sprawled on his stomach on her bedroom floor, attempting to darn a sock and failing miserably. She laughs.

“They didn’t have darning as a class at Harrow?”

“Not that I remember, but I can recite some Latin at you if you’d like.” 

“That sounds extremely helpful.” She swings down from the bunk and looks closer. “Have you just been tying knots in this?”

“I was trying to…” he stares at the sock in his hands with a rueful expression. “It appears that yes, I have just been tying knots in it.”

“Okay,” she sits down cross-legged and takes it from him to start unpicking. “At least you’re honest.”

“Where did you learn to sew and knit?”

“Our church hall ran a youth club. They’d do snacks and activities after school most days, and Mum always liked us out doing something; there were four of us and she didn’t want us under her feet all afternoon. I was a big fan of the needlework table. Who knew it would come in so handy, hey?”

“I have underestimated it.” 

He rests his chin on his hands, intently watching her work. Her fingers are so small and quick compared to his. Her gaze flits between the sock and his face. It’s weathered and worn but she still sees warmth and handsomeness there, between the cracks in his scarred armour. The way he’s kept an eye on her every day since that breakfast, just to make sure she’s holding up. She shakes her head, and passes it back to him.

She can’t fall in love with Janine’s brother.

***

It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and Sam hasn’t let Five out of his sight for more than two consecutive hours since they got back to Noah Base, his hand stuck to theirs with glue. They’d normally protest this, but yet another dusting of horror and shadow under their eyes has cut their counterargument short. They nod to Jody when they see her request, and make some excuse about going to ask Janine about work assignments, hobbling a little on a twisted ankle. She appreciates it.

“Sam! Finally got you alone for a minute!”

“Jody! What can I do for you?”

He’s almost himself again, grinning at her from the chaotic comms desk that he’s tacked a bit of tinsel to. She can nearly forget the sound of his screaming last week when Five practically died in that godforsaken maze. It turns out nobody is better at picking up and piecing back together than Sam Yao.

“How did you know that… how did you…”

She pushes the door closed, and clears her throat. “How did you know that you liked Five?”

 His grin broadens. “Jody, you like someone?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you didn’t have crushes!”

“I didn’t. I don’t. Well, maybe I do. I don’t know!”

“Well, describe it to me.”

“It’s like…” God, his smile is dopey. “Stop looking at me like that, Sam, you’re putting me off! It’s like… every time I look at him I feel warm, and the world feels a little bit softer, more yellow, and I just want to protect him. Like, I’d die happy if I knew he’d be safe. And his face. His jawline. I… you’re giggling!”

“Tell me more, tell me more!”

She lobs a stack of rotas at him half-heartedly. He ducks.

“He’s just… so clever and so kind. And he’s still hurting, and I wish he would stop.” She sighs, warming to her theme. “Janine will go mad with me if she hears about it.”

Sam’s face goes slack with shock. “Oh my God. You like Peter?”

“Jesus Christ, Sam, no! I like Tom!”

“Oh, that makes so much more sense!” He chuckles, and then adds: “You do know he’s still a bit...”

“And Five isn’t?”

It comes out defensive, and she immediately wishes she’d bit her tongue, but he doesn’t get annoyed. He shrugs. 

“You’re right, Five isn’t well either. Both of them have been through… stuff we can’t even imagine. Done things that people maybe shouldn’t forgive.”

“Who hasn’t.” Jody says darkly. 

“Exactly. Their hearts are in the right place, but… just be careful, Jodes.”

Lines like but he would never hurt me and things are different now are not lines she likes to have run through her head. She heard those lines often enough as a little girl, when her brother Cameron was still in nappies and she herself barely out of them but already knowing they were lies. Her mum’s taste in men had got better by the time she’d had the twins, but Jody didn’t forget. She’d vowed to never, ever need anyone that volatile that much. 

And yet - here she is.

“So. How’d you know you liked Five?”

“I just,” he flushes. “One day I woke up and just knew. My heart belonged to them. I couldn’t get it back. When they’re not around… it hurts.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Oh Sam, what am I going to do?”

“You could just tell him?”

“Yeah. No.” She swings around in the office chair as she talks. “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I make him uncomfortable? He’s going through a lot still, deep down, and I don’t want to add to it, or put him under any pressure.”

“He’s a six foot three MI6 Commander, Jodes, I somehow don’t think you’ll be pressuring him into anything.”

“I suppose... but you keep your mouth closed, no matter what, okay? I don’t want to hear this anywhere outside of this room.”

“Just tell him you like him!” Sam calls after her as she heads back down the corridor.

***

“You’re coming to me for advice about women?”

Tom’s already realised that this was probably a bad idea, but he can’t exactly back out now. “I mean? Jane likes you.”

“Janine’s Janine. She’s… well, I know she’s your sister but she’s not like other women.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, she’s…” he’s flustered. “She’s amazing.”

“And other women aren’t amazing?”

“Fair point, fair point,” he raises his hands. 

Tom runs a hand through his hair. It’s thinning. When did he get old? So much of his youth was wasted. 

“Jody is beautiful and talented and so good. She’s got this… hope about her. This luck. I feel like nothing could truly go wrong when I’m beside her.”

Peter nods. “And what does she think?”

“I have no idea, but she can do a lot better than me. She’s seen me ranting and raving out of my wits, and I’m ten years older, and… just look at me, Pete. I’m mostly scar tissue.”

Peter does, up and down.

“You’re very good looking to me, Colonel,” he winks at last. Tom snorts. Maybe the bloke isn’t so bad.

“You must have had relationships before, though? Surely? The way Janine always put it you’d think you were James Bond. A different person on your arm every day of the week.”

“I mean, I did. Of course. Lots of people. Nothing serious, but… that was so long ago. Before… before my head became a mess. When I could tell truth from lie as easy as up from down. These days, I’m not even sure if you’re in front of me. If I squint, I might lose you completely.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. Tom’s introspective seriousness has always made him uncomfortable. 

“Anyway, enough of all that rambling. I’m going to give her this.” He proffers a wicked-looking weapon. “For Christmas, I mean. Do you think she’ll like it?”

“An automatic crossbow?” Peter whistles. “Romantic. Right up her alley. She’ll love it.”

He nods in gratitude. “I appreciate you listening. Before you ask, Janey will love the ringbinder full of poetry you put together.”

“How did you know about that!” Peter is ashen, mortified.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.” Tom throws the line over his shoulder as he wanders away.

***

Their Christmas is a quiet one, but perhaps more festive than anyone expected. Someone dims the base’s lights with crepe paper, and Amelia emerges from her quarters with a bottle of champagne. “Not as a gift, you understand,” she impresses firmly, “but as a service to myself. Being around you lot is making me bloody miserable. Put some smiles on, for once!”

Someone else has found a flock of wild geese and thanks to Jody’s crossbow the residents of Noah Base feast like Victorian paupers made kings. Janine taps her glass, makes a speech about times being tough and the importance of finding the things to celebrate. “I salute you all for your fortitude and bravery. This time next year, we will be with our friends and families again. It’s only a matter of time before we take our home back.” She’s got good at these at this point. They all raise a cheer, at least.

 Tom and Jody talk long into the evening about everything they can think of that isn’t the last decade. Childhood stories, mostly: Tom and his football friends accidentally crashing a wedding and causing a minor diplomatic incident; the prank war with next door that Jody and her brothers got into one summer; Tom, Janine and General Bakari’s three-way chess matches; Jody nearly burning the house down attempting to make her mum breakfast in bed. Debates over Doctor Who episodes lead into arguments over the best Quality Street chocolate until they’re the last people still awake.

“D’you believe in God?” She asks, at some point, hazy under piles of blankets in front of the heater they’ve powered for the occasion. He’s wearing the new jumper she made him (“I’m sorry it’s bottle green, it was the only wool we had enough of but it’ll bring out your eyes, I reckon”) and leafing through the pamphlet of beginners knitting patterns she’d painstakingly copied out and tucked inside it. 

He chews his lip, lost in thought, his mind straying back to Algeria even as he takes her hand in the present. “No. I used to. I was a chorister when I was a boy.”

“Seriously? One of those ones in Westminster Abbey? My mum always used to listen to them!”

“Yes! I loved it!” He laughs. “Only did the Christmas service once, though. I got bronchitis the next year, and after that my voice broke. But it was the first time I started enjoying life in England. When we stepped outside after the service, that was also the first time I saw snow. I thought it was a miracle. Janey told me not to be so ridiculous, so I put a snowball down the back of her coat.”

“I can’t get over how posh you are. Did you have to wear robes?” It’s the biggest he’s seen her smile in ages. He laughs again at the look on her face.

“Yes, I had to wear robes.”

“If there are no photos left of this, I’ll never forgive your sister.”

“What about you? Why did you ask about God?”

“I don’t know: I was just wondering. True meaning of Christmas, and all that. I used to think at the start of all this that if He did exist, he must have a pretty sick sense of humour. But I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s all that black and white anymore. Maybe He’s just tired of us.”

“Perhaps He’s on a long holiday. He’ll check in next millenia. Until then, we’ll have to figure it out for ourselves.”

She falls asleep not long after that, her head on his chest. He loves her so much his ribs ache.

Maybe there is a God, if a feeling like this can exist. If the two of them can find each other, despite everything. If he can leave so much behind, and lose so much, and still be so happy.