#i was in this antique store because I wanted to browse the place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

The fact that I can't freaking find more Sub!Klaus pisses me the fuck off. Like why the fuck won't people write more about sub!Klaus? Literally this man needs to be spoiled and loved by somebody. (That somebody could be us, but I can keep on dreaming.)

Anyhow, I ranted a bit.

But, can you please write where Klaus girlfriend is really rich because she owns tattoo/piercing shops, restaurants, clothing stores, and more. The reader takes Klaus to one of her tattoo shops because she had appointments and he didn't want to leave her side and he was behaving and when she was done she took him out to eat and spoiled him.

She would do absolutely anything for him

(Third person)

Klaus wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. He had someone that loved him so incredibly much without a doubt. She never once put him down or shamed him for his past actions.

He found himself shy when around her and a blushing mess whenever she gave him gifts. When she took him out and spoiled him rotten. When she told him how pretty he looked and adorable he was.

Sometimes he struggled to handle all the kindness, it wasn’t something he received often and he had ran from love from centuries and so to be given so much without having to give anything back was…well at first it was terrifying but now it was all he wanted.

His heart beats for her, for her touch and her words, anything she will offer him. It wouldn’t matter if she were the richest or the poorest, he would always adore her.

He was originally unaware of quite how much money she had, how many places she owned until he had complimented her restaurants and she laughed lightly and told him it was hers, and when he asked where she had her tattoo done and she told him her friend did it at her shop.

Even Rebekah shopped with her company for her outfits and had her hair done with her workers.

She was very well known and well respected.

Sometimes Klaus felt intimidated by it but how could he with how much she loved him? With how much she gave him?

“It’s okay Niklaus, if you would like something you can have it” she told him watching his eyes stare longingly at the antiques behind the glass. “You own this shop too?” He asked surprised “Well no, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get you it”

And there were many occasions similar. She was always wanting to give him things, take him places.

He found that he would always be with her, he always wanted to be touching her, at least me in her presence.

He couldn’t have been more happy the first few times he had gone with her to some of her jobs, watching and learning how to make different things and seeing her in her element. Seeing her be so professional and commanding she could be only stirred that feeling inside him further. He just wanted to be hers.

So when she told him she had been called into work and would be back later he was upset

“Can’t i come with you?” He asked confused

“Well it’s a tattoo shop Nik, you gotta be good and stay say for a really long time” she told him

“I can do that, I’ll behave I promise” he pleaded, his arms clinging to her and his eyes big “please, I won’t even make a sound”

She smiled softly down at him as she sighed dramatically “fine, I suppose you can come”

If he had a tail it would be wagging as he beamed at her and nodded convincingly

“Are we going now? Can we go now?” He asked as he quickly pulled his jacket on

“We won’t be going anywhere if you trip on your own two feet” she chuckled as he rushed around to find his things.

Once at the tattoo parlour he was sat patiently in his chair and browsing through the tattoo designs and glancing up every now and then to see his love at work. Seeing her make up the designs herself and then ink them onto people was mesmerising.

He searched his way through the sketches she had in several of her ‘ideas books’ from the years until he found one that spoke to him most.

He waited until she was on her break and came up to her with the sandwich he had gotten her

“Y/n?” He murmured somewhat nervously. She took the food from him with a smile and hummed in question

“What is it my love?”

His face blushed in response and his nerves eased

“I was wondering if um…if I could get one?” He asked quietly.

“Get what honey? You didn’t get yourself a sandwich?” She questioned looked up at him in concern

“N-no no i meant a tattoo” he muttered shyly

“Oh” she blinked at him for a second as a smile pulled at her lips “of course you can, do you want to make your own design or find one?”

“Actually I already picked one, it’s yours” he told her as he brought the page he loved to her. She looked it over and then him

“It’s perfect for you, you know where you would like it? I can have one of my workers do it now while i finish the other one”

“But…I want you to do it” he whispered

“Of course…okay, we can come back tomorrow?” She offered and he nodded

“Can you help me pick where to get it?”

“Course I can, I’ll sketch it up for you again incase you want any changes made okay?”

He smiled brightly as he nodded and went back to studying the way her hands moved as she did her job.

Some time later she had finally finished and he nearly picked her up to get her out of the door

“I told you it would be boring” she reminded as he groaned and stretched his legs

“No, it was fun” he convinced smiling at her

“Oh really? Which part was so fun hm?” She challenged and his eyes blushed as he glanced to her hands. He had accidentally payed a little too much attention to them earlier on and had to go sort himself out in the bathroom. Her brows raised as she followed his eye line and she smirked at him

“Oh I see” she hummed and his heart sped up “well perhaps we can make your little fantasies real after hm?”

His brows furrowed as he looked up to her eyes

“After what?”

“You didn’t think you’d have to sit still for all that time without a reward?” She questioned and he lit up

“Reward?”

“Mhm, we’re going out for dinner” she told him watching him attempt to hide his smile

“Where?” He asked quietly

“Wherever you like, doesn’t matter, I’ll get us in” she promised and he grinned

They got in without any hassle and were given their table by the window overlooking the city with the stars lighting it up and the dim candles that burned above their table to keep them company.

She convinced him to order whatever he wanted, watching his frown grow when he looked to all the prices

“I’ll pay” he told but his efforts were pointless

“No you won’t, this is my treat for you” she told him

“But-“

“No. Why can’t I spend money on you but you can on me?” She questioned

“Because…well you earn your money…I just have it because of who I am…you don’t need to be invincible, you work hard and I shouldn’t take advantage of that” he uttered softly

“But that’s why i love to spend it on you so much, because you are worth every penny. You deserve it, all of it” she told him, her hand holding his face “you will always be given the best” she promised.

She watched him struggle to form any words as his blush heated his face and neck, his heart pounding and his eyes soft

“Don’t worry Niklaus, you don’t need to fear it, just accept it…eat your food yes?” She hummed bringing the fork to his mouth with a grin seeing his embarrassment as he ate what she bed him with a bright red face

“At this rate I’ll have to feed you everything myself, I’ve never seen you so flustered” she told him teasingly as she continued to guide the food to him.

“I can do it myself” he whispered, his eyes darting to check nobody was watching him

“Don’t be paranoid Nik, you’re safe with me” she reminded, her thumb stroking his jaw “Please don’t shy away from me” she pressed and he nodded softly

“I’m sorry” he murmured

“Don’t be, you’re perfect” she told him, kissing his lips softly but rather quickly leaving him whining for more the rest of the evening.

Even in the car ride back he was upset with her lack of physical affection

“You always want to give me kisses” he whined

“Mhm and you always scrunch your face up” she reminded and he frowned

“No I don’t…”

“Yes…”

“Please…just one more”

“Just one”

And with that his lips were on hers, if he only got one then he would make sure it was the longest and most passionate kiss possible.

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jennay · 8 months

Text

Photographs

Noah Sebastian x reader

Request: I've got a fluffy one with Noah!! You've been best friends forever, and one day, Noah looks over old pictures of you guys and realizes that he's in love 🥰

An: this is around 3-4k and it's the longest thing I've written on here. I loved this idea so much. 🖤

Noah Master List

Noah didn't want to tell you the bad news. He didn't think you would take it well, but much to his surprise, you acted like you didn't care.

You didn't want him to feel guilty, so you put on a brave face and pretended it didn't matter. "It's okay." You give him a reassuring smile. "We've celebrated so many birthdays together, one more or less won't make a difference." You wrap your arm around his and pull him along. "Let's make the most of our time?"

"Really? You're not mad?" He asks, sounding doubtful but following your lead.

"I know you have a lot going on, and you need to show up at these things." You say, stopping in front of an old building with a sign that says 'Antiques.' You'd always loved browsing through the dusty shelves and finding hidden gems from the past.

Noah, on the other hand, hated the smell and the clutter of these places, but he never complained when you dragged him along.

"Come on, let's go treasure hunting." You say, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

"It smells like my grandma's attic," Noah whispers to you, keeping his hands in his pockets and looking around nervously. He always acted like he was afraid of catching some ancient disease.

"Stop." You laugh, "You're literally so dramatic."

You unlock your arm from his and walk into one of the sections filled with stuff from the 1950s. You loved the feel of the fabrics between your fingers, the smell of old perfume and dust, and the thrill of discovering hidden gems among the piles of clothes.

You told everyone you would reinvent the style and wear them, but you never did. Instead, they collected dust and stayed in boxes. You always told people it was because your apartment was too small for such a big project, but the truth was, you just didn't have time for all your hobbies.

Noah watched you with amusement, wondering what was going through your mind. He'd known you for a lifetime, yet you still surprised him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching. "You look awkward, Noah. Can you at least pretend to look at something? They're gonna think you're casing the place."

He saunters closer, standing behind you and leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder, "I hate this place."

You pick up another shirt, holding it in front of you, and observe the fun pattern, wondering if it's worth it. "Do you think I should get this?"

Noah stands straight and gently grabs the shirt from your hands and holds the shirt close to your chest, imagining what it would look like on you. "I like it, but I think your boobs are too big." He laughs. "I don't think it's going to fit."

"My boobs aren't even that big." You say, shrugging your shoulders; you grab the shirt back, folding it and setting it down.

You notice his eyes falling to your chest as he says, "They are!"

You cross your arms over your chest, a light laughter falling from your lips, "Stop looking at them!" You snap your fingers at his face, "My eyes are up here!"

"Sorry, but the denial is extreme."

You tilt your head back, looking at the ceiling, praying for the strength not to murder him right then and there. "Let's get out of here; I'm not asking you for advice ever again."

Noah laughs, following you down the aisle, and when you reach the door, he gladly reaches out, holding it open. "After you." He smiles goofy as he showcases the world outside.

He inhales the fresh air, glad to leave the musty store behind. "How about a drink?" He gestures to the bar down the street. "Or are you ready to call it a night?"

"Let's go to my place instead. I still have some beer from the last time you were over. And I found these old photos of us when I was packing. You have to see them!"

He freezes on the sidewalk and gapes at you. "Packing?" His voice croaks, and his smile quickly fades.

Your eyes widen. "Shit." You say under your breath. "Noah, I…let me explain."

He blinks at you a few times, waiting for you to start explaining, but you can't find the words.

You and Noah never kept secrets from each other, and his heart sank at your words. He feels anxious as he wonders why you're moving and why you didn't tell him sooner.

You two had been inseparable since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood in Virginia, and when he moved away, you followed him. You had never lived more than half an hour apart.

"I meant to tell you, but I knew you'd freak out, and I had this whole speech planned." You say, trying to sound casual. You hope he'll understand you're not abandoning him but just trying something new.

He shakes his head and walks away from you towards his car. He presses a button, and the doors unlock.

"You can explain in the car." He says coldly.

He's angry you didn't trust him enough to tell him sooner and feels betrayed by your secrecy.

You fasten your seat belt, feeling a knot in your stomach. The silence between you and Noah is deafening. You wish he would say something, anything, to break the tension.

Noah rests his head on his hand on the middle console and steers the car with the other. His expression is blank, but you can sense his resentment. "Where are you moving? Is it far?" He asks, his voice flat.

"Washington." You manage to squeak out.

He straightens up and grips the wheel with both hands. He glances at you when he stops at a red light. His brown eyes are cold and distant. "That's two states away from me." He says, his tone bitter.

You sigh heavily, "My brother offered me a job, and with it being a new company, I want to help. He helped me through some pretty hard times." You pause, remembering how your brother was always there for you when you needed him. "I wanna help him out now that he needs it." You say softly, hoping he will see how much this means to you.

You glance at him, hoping to see some understanding in his face.

"What about me?" He quietly asks, his voice cracking slightly. "You're okay with just peacin out on me?" He stares at you with disbelief.

"It's not like that." You try to explain, but your voice trembles. "Noah, you do this to me all the time. Every year four the last four years, to be exact." You look away from him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. Arguing with him was your least favorite thing to do.

He rolls his eyes, "My job is touring, and I always come back!" He reminds you, raising his voice slightly. "And when I'm not working, I spend time with you!"

He pulls into your apartment complex, but you don't respond to his words. There was no use in adding gasoline to the fire.

You unclick your belt and open the door. On a typical day, this is where Noah would get out and meet you in front of the car and give you the biggest bear hug telling you he will see you soon, or he would come upstairs and have a few drinks while the two of you played games and laughed your asses off, but Noah won't even look at you after you.

You shut the car door and walk around to his window. He rolls it down and numbly looks at you. You hate this. You hate hurting him like this. "I know you're mad, and I'm sorry. I should've told you a long time ago. Before I started packing." You say in a shaky voice. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He nods, biting his lip. He doesn't know what to say to you. He feels like he's losing you.

"Can you wait a minute? I have something for you." You ask him, hoping he will accept your gift.

He studies you for a second, noticing the fear in your eyes. He doesn't want you to be afraid of him, but he's angry, too. "Yeah." He says softly, giving you a weak smile.

Noah waits for you in the car, lost in his thoughts. Is he wrong for feeling this way? Does he have the right to be upset?

You come back with an envelope in your hand. You hand it to him through the window. "These are some photos of us. I thought you might like them." You say with a sad smile. "I made copies so you can keep these."

He takes the envelope from you but doesn't open it. He looks at you with a conflicted expression. "Thanks." He says quietly. "I'll look at them when I get home."

Noah was curled up on the couch, his eyes glued to his favorite show. He knew it was a futile attempt to distract himself from the pain of losing you.

The envelope you gave him lay on the coffee table, a silent reminder of what he was about to lose.

He had brought them down from his bedroom, telling himself he would look at them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. They just taunted him with their presence.

He glanced away from the TV, noticing his bandmate and friend coming down the stairs. He watched as Jolly approached and sat on the couch beside him.

Jolly picked up the envelope and examined it curiously. "What's this?" He asked, shaking the envelope slightly.

"(Y/n) gave me some pictures," Noah muttered, turning his attention back to the TV.

"Ooh, pictures? Like naughty pictures?" Jolly joked, wiggling his eyebrows. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the photos.

Noah didn't stop him; he wanted to see the pictures, too, but he needed someone else to do it. "She's moving to Washington next week," Noah states painfully. "She thinks she gave them to me as a parting gift, but I think she's a sadist."

Jolly hands Noah the photos one after one, making sure that he looks at every single picture. "You're going to let her go?"

He shrugs at his friend, "I can't tell her what to do, man. It's her life."

Noah stares down at one of the photos, feeling nostalgic. He smiles as he recognizes it's a picture of you and him from your teenage years when you were both rebellious and adventurous.

Noah remembered the day perfectly because it was the same day your parents decided he was able to stay with your family for a few weeks until he could figure something out.

He was always grateful for your parents, who treated him like their own son. He bounced back and forth between your house and a few others, never feeling like he belonged anywhere. But with you, he felt at home.

You were sitting next to him on a bench at the park, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your hair was bright pink, contrasting with your black clothes and accessories. You wore stud bracelets and Converse shoes, showing off your punk style. Noah wore skinny jeans and a red band t-shirt, matching your edgy vibe. You thought you were the coolest kids in town, but doesn't every 16-year-old think that?

You had a camera in your hand and snapped a selfie of the two of you, capturing the moment forever. You smiled at him with your eyes sparkling, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He still feels it every time he looks at you.

He continues to flip through the photos, listening to Jolly's side comments about how dorky the two of you are or how he couldn't fathom having a friend that long.

Noah felt a strange sensation in his chest as he continued flipping through the images. He saw your smile, your eyes, your laugh, and he realized how much he missed you. He was starting to comprehend why he was so upset you were deciding to move away from him. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Fuck." He says, tilting his head back and dropping the photos beside him. He runs his hand down his face dramatically. "I can't let her go."

Jolly finds this whole situation amusing. "Oh?" He laughs.

"It's her. It's always been her, dammit! I'm mad because I love her, and she wants to leave." He shakes his head, feeling a rush of emotions.

Jolly chuckles at Noah's sudden realization. "Yeah, man. I was wondering how long that was going to take. Glad you caught up." He says sarcastically.

Noah leans forward, groaning while resting his face in his hands, "What do I do?"

Jolly stands up, stretching his arms out and yawning. "You can start by, I don't know, telling her?" His hands fall back at his side, "Why are you still sitting here? Go tell her." He demands. "I think heartache is great for making music, but dealing with you having a heartache moping around all the time is going to be miserable for all of us."

Noah looks up at him with a hopeless expression. "But what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship?"

Jolly rolls his eyes and grabs Noah by the shoulders. "Dude, trust me. She feels the same way. She's been dropping hints for years. You're just too dense to notice." He says bluntly.

Noah blinks in disbelief. "What?"

Jolly sighs and lists some examples. "Like how she always hugs you longer than anyone else. Or how she laughs at your lame jokes. Or how she looks at you with those puppy eyes. Or how she always calls you her best friend, but in a way that sounds like she means more. She's never gotten along with any of your girlfriends…and she's jealous when you don't spend time with her?"

Noah thinks about it and realizes he's right. He feels hope, "She does do those things."

Jolly nods and pushes Noah towards the door. "Exactly. Now go get her, tiger." He laughs.

Noah smiles and walks out of the door, leaving Jolly behind.

Jolly shakes his head and smiles to himself. "I did it."

You'd just finished packing the last box for your kitchen. You hated packing. You always left it until the last minute, hoping that somehow it would magically get done by itself. You always procrastinated. It was your biggest weakness and a terrific motivator.

You lay on the cold kitchen floor, exhausted from the continuous packing. You felt a wave of sadness wash over you as you looked around the empty room.

This was where you cooked, laughed, cried, and shared many memories with your friends. And now you were leaving it all behind. You thought about asking a friend to sit with you, but part of you wanted to be alone. This would be your new norm until you made new friends.

Am I doing the right thing? You text your sister.

You needed some reassurance, some validation, some support. You peeled yourself off the ground, lazily crawled to the fridge, and popped open a beer. It was one of the ones that Noah left. You stared at the label, feeling a weird pit in your stomach. You wanted Noah here helping you through this and sharing what's supposed to be a positive pivot in your life.

You wanted his support more than anyone's, but he ignored your text, and you decided to give him space. You understood why he was upset but thought he would get over it. It's not like the two of you were dating, and this was somehow breaking up your relationship. But maybe that was the problem. You wanted more, and he didn't.

You sipped the beer, feeling the bitter taste on your tongue. You wished you could talk to him, hear his voice, see his smile.

You wished he would tell you that he loved you, would miss you, and would follow you anywhere, but that just wasn't the case.

I think big decisions are sometimes scary. Besides, this will be the first time you won't have your sidekick, and I'm sure that's a weird feeling.

You sigh as you lean against the cupboard, texting her back, I don't think I can do it.

You feel a surge of panic and desperation. You can't leave without telling him how you feel. You can't let him go without knowing if he feels the same. You stand up, set your beer on the counter, and search for your keys. You knew what to do, and it was now or never. You didn't care that you were in pajamas; you needed to talk to Noah and understand what would happen if you chose to stay. You grab your purse and head for the front door.

As you open it, you're startled to see someone standing in your doorway with his hand up as if he were ready to knock. Your heart stops as you recognize him. It's Noah. He's here. He's looking at you with shock and confusion. "Hi?" Noah says as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

You stare at him, speechless. You can't believe he's here, at this exact moment when you were about to find him. Is this fate? Is this a sign?

"Is this a bad time?" He asks.

You shake your head no. Your shoulders relax, and you smile while letting him in. You hang your purse on the coat rack and lead him to the living room. "Sorry, there's shit everywhere."

He doesn't seem to care. He only has eyes for you. "You can't go." He bites his lip nervously. "I can't let you."

Your eyebrow raises, and you decide to stay quiet, hoping he will enlighten you.

Noah nervously grabs your hand and pulls you to the couch where the two of you sit. He turns to face you, holding your hand tighter than before.

"Just hear me out for a second." He swallows hard, unsure of how to say the words. "I'm an idiot." He exhales loudly. "I'd do just about anything for you. I hope you know that. Miles got us out of that interview on your birthday… the one out of town. So that I could be with you."

You pull your hand back, squeezing the bridge of your nose. "You guys didn't have to do that."

You feel guilty.

He reaches for your hand again, gently caressing it with his thumb. "We did Because I wanted to spend that day with you. I need to tell you something."

He looks into your eyes, his own filled with sincerity. "I'm in love with you." He says softly. "I can't stand the thought of losing you."

You feel stunned. You don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't that. You feel a surge of joy and relief mixed with disbelief and fear. Is this real? Is he serious? Do you dare to believe him?

Your stunned face finally shows a smile creeping on your lips. "Good. I was going to find you to tell you the same thing."

He grins, no longer nervous, as he brings his hand to your face, closing the gap between your lips and pressing down. You feel his tongue gently trace your lip, asking for permission, and you don't hesitate to accept, allowing his tongue to dance with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his heartbeat against yours, and before you know it, he's pulling you on his lap and deepening the kiss, making you moan softly.

In between kisses, he tells you how much he loves you, wants you, and needs you.

You gently pull away, resting your hands on his chest, lust in your eyes, craving more touches from him.

He smiles at you with love filling his eyes, "This means you're staying, right?" He rests his hands on your hips, waiting patiently for a response.

You giggle, a little surprised by his question. You thought it was obvious. "Yes," You say, looking around the apartment, "Wanna help me unpack?" He groans, but his eyes sparkle with joy. He pulls you closer and kisses you softly. "I guess I can, but only because I love you."

#noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #noah Sebastian x you #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 8 months

Text

One of a kind

Elrond x reader. This is a modern AU!

This fic is dedicated to @montyc @lady-of-imladris and @sotwk. You guys rock!!

*****

The small bookstore, situated in the oldest part of the city and semi-hidden between a laundromat and a grocery store, is a decidedly peculiar place. No volumes with brightly coloured covers arranged in alphabetical order or grouped by topic on the shelves, no new releases put on display on the front window, no section reserved to academic texts or books for children. It is a tiny, dusty space, with tomes of all sorts, sizes and shapes (!) piled in the corners or spread over tables; some look like they have not been touched for years, or are barely legible. It looks more like a pawn shop or a flea market than a bookstore, but the unassuming, modest appearance hides a veritable treasure cove: the store deals with rare and antique books, including many unique pieces, some of which are worth as much as the rent of a four rooms apartment. You adore it, and adore spending hours browsing around: you have been studying, and working with, old books ever since you were a girl, and in the bookstore you have found many precious volumes to add to your private collection; were it for you, you would never leave.

The sole downside of the store is its owner…

In a cool, rainy fall afternoon, you are wandering about as usual, inspecting the hundreds of books all around you, some of which are even piled under the furniture, given the lack of space, protectively holding the loot of today against your chest: a book printed at the beginning of the last century, in mint conditions, that many experts in the field considered lost. You know already that the store owner will ask a high sum for it, but the book is well worth it.

As you continue your tour in the barely lit rooms, the old parquet crackling under your feet, you find yourself walking by the counter: the owner, behind it, is discussing with a young man with dark hair, who you briefly, almost reflexively, glance at… and find yourself unable to look away.

He looks roughly your age, with the slender, strong build you would expect from an athlete, short hair the colour of oak wood framing the sort of face you had only seen in centuries-old paintings: he is simply dressed -jeans, a soft sweater, dark boots- but there is something elegant, even refined, in him. You move a few, hopefully unseen, steps towards him, to better look at him under the soft light of the old chandelier… and your eyes fall on the book the man and the store owner are discussing about; it is sitting on the counter between them, and when you recognize it, your heart skips a beat or four.

“So… how much could it be worth in your opinion, sir?” the man asks, his polite tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Hmm, let’s see...” the owner answers with the condescending tone you are used to, but still dislike “It is in fairly good conditions. I’d say… a hundred.”

The book you had chosen almost slips from your hands. A hundred?!?!

“So little?” the man asks, disappointment evident on his fair face “It is antique, I thought...”

“So it is, but what makes a book valuable is its rarity, not so much its age. This edition of your book was printed in more than five thousand copies, which significantly reduces its worth.”

“Oh.”

The man sighs, visibly saddened. “I see. A hundred is fine.”

The two men, engrossed in their conversation, pay you no mind, and you wait until the store owner has opened a drawer under the counter to take the money before making your move.

“If I may interrupt.” you intervene in your sweetest tone as you approach; the store owner glares at you.

“What do you want?”

“Simply to take a look at the book, if the gentleman allows.” you explain before addressing him directly “Do you mind? I am a bibliographer, and antique and rare books are exactly my field of study.”

“Of course.” he readily answers as he turns towards you, and for a moment you feel your heart tremble because of the soft, clever but kind look of his dark eyes, pink lips opening in a friendly smile; he is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people you have met in a long time, attractive enough to leave you speechless for a moment, but the weight of the book he is offering you in your hands quickly brings you back to attention. It is as you thought: a copy of The Annals of the Beleriand printed at the very beginning of the last century. And it is in perfect conditions!

“I had not seen one of these for years!” you exclaim, as usual unable to hide your excitement when a rare book is concerned “May I ask how you came by this?”

“It is part of the book collection we inherited from our parents.” the man explains; he has sensed your interest, and looks at you hopefully “Do you think it is worth more than a hundred?”

“I’d say! Normally, two hundreds would be a fair price for a book from this period, but for a particularity: it is said that the warehouse where the copies of this edition were kept was set aflame on the night before the books were supposed to be transferred and put on the market.”

“You are saying the books burnt?”

“I am; the fire very nearly spread to the whole street, according to an old newspaper article I read. Anyway, only six copies were said to have survived; including this, and another one which is in my possession.” you explain with satisfaction, and then offer your sweetest smile to the store owner, who has gone red in the face with anger and irritation “I am sure our friend here was unaware of this little detail, otherwise he would have never offered you such a modest sum.”

The dark-haired man’s smile, already aware you saved him from being swindled, grows even larger, and grateful; there is no need for words, and in a moment, you have allied against the owner. “And since you are clearly an expert on the subject, what price do you think I should accept?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

Ah! “I would say...” dramatic pause “A thousand.”

It is ten times the sum the man was going to accept, had you not intervened, and this makes him gasp with joy; the bookstore owner, on the other hand, looks on the verge of a heart attack.

“Of course, if the gentleman here cannot afford to offer such a figure, I know a few people who…”

“No, no, just a second!” the owner protests “The book’s conditions are not so satisfactory after all. I think seven hundred is…”

“A thousand.” your new friend interrupts him, still polite but clearly determined not to accept less than what he could ask for “Either a thousand or the deal is over.”

It is with great pleasure that you observe as the owner takes the agreed sum out of the drawer and rudely puts it in the hands of the client; on his request, he also writes a receipt for the sale.

“I’d like to buy this instead.” you state then, handing the man the book you had chosen, and your credit card “I think four hundred is a fair price.”

The owner glares at you; if looks could kill, friends and family would be already gathered to cry on your tomb. “It’s not up to the client to decide the price. Six hundred.”

“Four hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred, all right.” he finally relents with a sigh, while you mentally pat yourself on the back; this is a fair price, and the one you had intention to pay from the start. You put the book in your bag, while the man next to you does the same with his money.

“Goodbye and thank you!” you say almost as one to the owner, still glaring at you both while he looks at the man open the door and let you pass first.

Once you are both outside, the dark-haired man smiles at you, full of joy and relief. “If we were a couple of teenagers, I would now high-five you.” he confesses “But since we are both adults, I’ll limit myself to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your help.”

“It was a real pleasure.” you sincerely answer, while impulsively you offer his your hand “I am (full name).”

“Elrond Peredhel. Pleased to meet you.”

Elrond’s hand -the grasp firm but not painful, the fingers long and elegant… and naked, you cannot help but noticing, with no wedding or engagement ring on sight- shakes yours; the gaze of his dark eyes is so intense it makes you shiver… and the sensation is not at all unpleasant.

“How may I repay you?”

“There is no need, really; I can’t stand those who take advantage of other people’s ingenuity.”

“I agree, but thanks to you I earned ten times what I would have otherwise. May I at least buy you dinner?”

He is not asking you out, unfortunately, but you like his approach, the ability to recognize he is in debt without humbling himself; he has a self-confident, but not proud, bearing, this young man you find yourself liking more with each passing minute. Who knows, maybe he has other books to sell, and in that case you could meet again at the store…

“Thank you, but I really can’t accept.” you answer, forcing yourself not to take advantage of his generosity “Dinner would be far too much…”

“A drink, then?” Elrond insists, a friendly smile softening the insistence in his words “Wherever you wish.”

By now you can’t help smiling; why not, after all?, you ask yourself; he’s offering, and all you ask is to enjoy his attention for a while. “All right; if you are sure, thank you.”

You decide on a nearby pub. It has started raining, and Elrond covers both with his umbrella as you walk towards it, his boots and your sneakers advancing side by side on the wet cobblestone.

“You are a regular at the bookstore, I gathered.”

“I really am. The owner hates me, and the only thing stopping him from shutting the door in my face is the fact that I am his best customer, and I have brought many others to the store. It really is the best place in town when it comes to rare and antique books, which is why I put up with him.” you explain with a sigh, and Elrond smiles.

“Well, all the better for me.”

You reach the pub five minutes later, and soon you and Elrond are sitting at one of the round, lacquered tables; as a perfect gentleman, he lets you order first.

“Forgive me if I say so, but a thousand seems like an absurd sum for a book.”

“I understand you’re surprised, but believe me, that is a pretty standard price for what I usually deal with, and I have seen many volumes sold for much higher prices.” you eagerly explain; you like to talk about your job, especially when the interlocutor is clearly interested in what you have to say “Last year, a first edition of The Red Book of Westmarch was sold for a hundred thousand. And that is not the most striking case.”

“Hmm…”

Elrond sips his drink as he reflects on your words. “Would you be able to assess the value of any rare book? And to put the owner in touch with a potential buyer?” he inquires in the end.

“Of course, with a little time at my disposal.” you proudly answer “I know many collectors and bibliophiles, and even a few auction houses. Why, you have other treasures to sell?”

Elrond’s expression turns serious, almost circumspect, as he takes a notebook out of his bag, opens it and then offers it to you. “I think I can trust you.” he states, and you are taken aback at how proud, and sincerely happy, you feel because of that assessment “Here, tell me what you think.”

Listed on the pages of the notebook in a small and elegant calligraphy, under the title Ada’s books are more than a hundred volumes; of each, Elrond has neatly listed the title, the year of publication, the editor and the conditions - mostly perfect or very good.

And what a list! You feel your eyes widen as you scroll down the page and realize the content of this notebook is a veritable treasure cave. First editions, novels in languages that were only printed once, signed copies… if they are all, or even just half of them, genuine -which you can’t assume, no matter how friendly and handsome Elrond is; like any bibliographer, you are by now an expert in recognizing a forgery, and you can’t count the times the masterpiece you thought you had discovered was actually not even twenty years old- this is a discovery worth to be shown to all the experts in the field, and even to be exhibited.

“So? What do you think?” Elrond anxiously asks, and you make sure to look at him in the eyes before answering.

“I feel as if I had opened a cookie box and found all three Silmarils inside.”

His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, come on…!”

“I am deadly serious, Elrond. This list… some volumes on it are first editions, and a few must be rare enough to be classified as almost impossible to find. There is at least a title, maybe two, for which a single copy was thought to exist until now! Eru… it is a veritable fortune! We are talking of very sizeable sums, if you were to sell them.”

“Please! Lower your voice!” Elrond urges you, discretely looking all around him.

“Sorry, sorry. It is just…”

You swallow the rest of your drink in a gulp; you are so excited that the hand holding the glass is shaking.

“I am sorry; when it comes to rare books, I lose the sense of moderation like some women do in a clothing boutique; I really am obsessed. My mother says this is why I am still single.” you admit, making him laugh “How did you come by this… collection?”

Elrond explains that his ancestors have bought rare books for decades, and that through the generations the collection, by now of considerable size and richness, was bequeathed to him and his twin brother Elros. Then, the expression of your new friend turns sad.

“Our parents were… taken from us when we were very young. We were kidnapped, in a sense, and then we were informed they had died.” he explains, catching you a bit off-guard; you can’t see how that tragedy is linked to the book collection, but that doesn’t prevent you from offering him your sincere condolences.

“I am so sorry, Elrond; it’s… it’s a terrible thing to experience, especially when one is so young.”

“It was. Now we are older, and we manage just fine, except… my brother fell ill, six months ago; very ill, enough that for a while we thought he would not… anyway, there is a cure that has a good probability to restore his health, but it is costly. Very costly - too much for me, and none of our friends can help in a way that would really matter.”

Even with the relatively good news of the cure, taking care of his brother has clearly taken a toll on Elrond; his sad, scared and still brave smile talks of a man who has spent more than one sleepless night wondering how to save the life of the only family he has left. Poor, poor Elrond, you think as you feel your heart break for him; you have already taken a liking to him, to his sweet smile and expressive dark eyes, but this poor man is dealing with problems you would not wish on your worse enemy, and that are taking a toll more on his mental equilibrium than on his economic situation.

“I am so sorry, Elrond.” you whisper; instinctively, and even though you have never been used to physical contact with people you have barely met, your hand finds his arm on the table, and gently squeezes it in consolation “I took care of my father for years before… before he left; I know how painful it is.”

“Thank you, (name). But there is no need for condolences; Elros will live, I know, I only need to help him, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to in order to give him just one more chance. To sell our family’s book collection was a tough decision -all of it, should it be necessary- considering it is one of the few things we have left of our father, but my brother comes before everything else.”

Elrond smiles. “Thanks to you, that copy of the Annals will pay for two months of his therapy; so thank you, (name), thank you so much.”

You tell him you are happy you could help, especially now that you know what he will use the money for. “Maybe… maybe I could do something else.” you tentatively add, suddenly shy for a reason you can’t fully comprehend but determined to support Elrond in any way you can, for no reason but the need to make sure his brother receives the best of care, and the love and the concern you see in his dark eyes. “Could I borrow this list? Or could you make me a copy?”

“Why?”

“Even at first glance it is clear that you are in possession of a veritable gold mine in books, but I would like to do a throughout research on a few of this volumes. I need to consult a few database and maybe with one or two colleagues, and check with the auction houses to see what price we -you- could realistically hope to sell at, because sometimes simply there is no one willing, or able, to pay a fair price. You could tell me if there are volumes you would be more inclined to sell, or what sum you need for Elros’ next cycle of therapy, and I would do my best to find a buyer. What do you think?”

Elrond doesn’t think much, at the moment, judging by his overwhelmed expression. “I… I had thought about bringing one or two volumes at a time at the bookstore…”

“You could; but as you have seen, the store owner is the last person you could expect a fair payment from; if you let an expert -which I am, false modesty aside- help you, you will be sure no one is taking advantage of you.”

“And you could help me? You would?”

“Of course.” you reassure him with a smile “This is what I do. I usually take a percentage of each sale I help arrange, but don’t worry, I am relatively cheap - ehm, my fee is.”

You would be tempted to add you can repay me taking me out to dinner or something like that, but you don’t; even in jest it would be offensive, given what Elrond told you regarding his brother, and you have seen enough of him to know already he would be terribly embarrassed by your proposal. It would be highly inappropriate… for now, at least, and regardless of whether he would be inclined to accept or not. Who knows...

A quick telephone number and e-mail address exchange later, Elrond promises to send you a copy of the list before the end of the day, and you to get down to work as soon as he does.

“Meeting you was a gift from above, (name).” Elrond says “I am sorry you had to waste a whole afternoon because of me.”

“Believe me, I was happy to help.” you answer, as sincere as you have never been before, while you leave the pub together, under a sky devoid of clouds, the blue almost blinding “And I had nothing else to do, to be honest. I have walked my dog this morning and I, uhm, I am not married, you know, and so...”

“Well, all the better for me.” Elrond says, and then, realizing the implications, he blushes a fiery red “I mean… otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to consult you, and...”

He’s stammering, but he smiles when he sees you do the same, and finds again the polite, self-assured attitude you have already witnessed while he spoke to the bookstore owner; you have dealt with your fair share of rare books, you suddenly reflect, but he is the first real one of a kind you have ever encountered. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get home, (name).” he promises.

“Amazing. You’ll hear from me very soon, I promise.”

He hesitates for a moment -he is still blushing- and then kisses you on the cheek, his touch as delicate as a sparrow’s wing. You depart, stopping just once to look at Elrond’s elegant, slender form walking away, and then you set off for home, feeling happy for reasons that have nothing to do with the antique book stored in your bag.

Tagging as usual @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Elrond #Elrond Peredhel #Elrond x reader #Robert Aramayo #Bellona's stuff

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allbimyself65 · 1 year

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Yandere Kirishima x Reader

This is just setting up for the actual story and doesn't have any mha characters in it yet.

Will eventually have some bakugou x reader and kirishima x reader. No warning for this part should be all good.

Someone all too familiar is hiding in a bedroom—far, far closer than you think. It’s you; you're the figure. You’re curled up in the nest of blankets, snug, cozy, and warm, with the huge pile of blankets and stuffed animals engulfing you like an ant. You're rereading your favorite fantasy novel for the good parts only. You must have read this book a million times, but you can never get enough of it. Even if the cover looks like a trashy vampire romance book. After a long while, you eventually get too stuffy and decide to walk towards your favorite book store because even if you have around twenty new books on your shelf, you can’t stop buying books. The adrenaline rush of getting more has consumed you and your bank account. While you walked, you eventually saw the sign of your favorite quant bookstore. "All booked up," run by an older lady in the old part of town, didn't get much business but had loyal customers that dedicated themselves to the shop. You were in luck; there was no one else in the store except you and the owners. You decided to go play your favorite game. I'm definitely just browsing and not buying games where you see how long you can hold off buying a book in the store. You’d never win.

After a while, you got lost again when you decided to explore the other sections besides the fantasy one to see if there was anything that piqued your interest instead of having a one-track mind for fantasy.You eventually came to one of the more abandoned corners of the book shop. This particular bookshelf was filled with second-hand books people had donated to the kind old lady who ran the shop. They all looked so old, with dust lining the shelves and making the worn books look like antiques. Actually, scratch the donated part; they were probably the owners' books after all. You were about to power walk to the cash register when a shiny red jewel caught your eye. You turned slowly, halfway expecting to see a red demon or a ghost. Instead, what you saw was a book that was weather-bound. It was a very cool book, looking like something a famous traveler would have. The book in question was definitely not from the century, looking like a hurricane had rocked it, and it went back for some more afterwards with tattered pages and a very dusty jewel on the side. It was probably a fake, but you still wanted it for aesthetic purposes. Deciding that the contents weren’t very important anyway, you went and picked it up before grabbing your other soon-to-be purchase and leaping to the cash register. Carefully ringing the dingy bell before you and waiting at the old oak wood desk, which was embedded in the floor, You looked around, wondering how a beautiful place like this could be so forgotten. It looked as old as time itself, with ornately carved pillars from a century you couldn’t name and wood so finely polished and made with such care that professionals had to be involved. Overall, it was a hidden beauty; the store had something unforgettable in its bones. It was so remarkable that even the air seemed to have a stench of mystery and grandeur.Soon a lady appeared with a face full of wrinkles, moving with a slight grace. She spoke in a more cheerful tone than you expected from her withering form.

"Hello, thank you for your purchases. I'll take the copy of the cruel prince, and... She came to a halt, a breath caught in her throat as she looked at the old book you'd also placed on the counter.A long moment passed before she uttered another word. "Oh, I haven’t seen that book in a long, long time." She breathed again, almost as if she were saying something; you didn’t have a clue. "Though that devil of a book had long since vanished, or had finally decomposed."that ancient thing."

"Is it bad?" you inquired, your eyebrows slightly raised, and your entire posture and being inquisitive.

"Bad, no, never, but this old book will give you the adventure of a lifetime if you aren’t careful." Stumbling into a pit of more curiosity, you felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole of one question being answered and another arising. This was all too familiar; you’ve seen it before. That thought was for another millennium, but you were too tired to figure it out, so you decided to thank the woman quickly.Then power walk yourself out of there, hoping to regain the earlier inner calm you had experienced.It has started to drizzle now. The hours you thought you had left faded away into the night. The lamps illuminate your path, buzzing with the fireflies within their lights. The sky had a stretch of clouds rolling over it. An eerie calm set in, with the few people that still wondered at this time of night hurrying back to their families. You walked down the familiar stone roads, though they came and went faster than the wind. You soon arrived at the black sheep of your aesthetically pleasing street.The reason you didn’t burn it to the ground as soon as you saw it It was cheap; you needed a place to stay, and everything else was priced higher than your self-confidence will ever be. Soon things began to move on their own as you found yourself falling into your heaps of blankets, and soon sleep overcame all worries. Soon, you'll be waking up at 5:30 a.m. to prepare for your early morning job.You rushed and zoomed in a daze of routine and normalcy. While things were simultaneously going to be a disaster, While getting on your shoes, you bumped into your favorite drink, ruining your shirt, and you had to change. Shame. truly a waste of a good beverage. Then, as usual, traffic was a nightmare.Then you ran to your office late. Work was normal as ever, a pretty meh day. Then you got the awful news that your building had to be fumigated the next day, so you’d have to find a place to go. They did not cover anything; they were of no help at all. This was a picture-perfect day.Soon your day slowed with time going on, and you were at home packing for a hotel you booked for the next day. It looked sketchy, but it was what your top dollar could afford, so it worked. Deciding a book would be an acceptable choice, you went and got a book; the red jewel caught your eye. Again, just like in the store, But you remind me of someone.A quiet voice in your head whispers conspiracies.of fantasy and romance and other great things. Quieting those thoughts, you grabbed something random and went off into the corner of your apartment that you found most suitable and quietly laid down to rest. Soon the hours came just as quickly as they went, and before you knew it, you were as dead as a log with sleep tearing its way into your being. The night was quiet, almost normal; if you didn’t know what was going to happen next at a later date, you could see why things played out the way they did. Something even more powerful than sleep made its way into your brain, rotting it from the inside out. Tearing into every crevice, it eats its way through your subconscious mind. like a worm would do to an apple. whispers, then silence. They came again.

"Wake up," they said, foreshadowing their next lines.

"Come on, wake up; so many things shall await you." They came into the final part of your subconscious, the final bite of the apple, crescendoing into your dreams, reeling back relaxing whispers that weren't going to work.Soon your dreams come alive with a putrid vision of worms and apples. of awful creepy crawly things.You awake with a gasp. /

"AH!, just a dream, don’t be silly, nothing wrong, but just in case, let's not go back to sleep," and then you realized you were talking to yourself in your sleep: "Oh my god, I’m going insane." Again, something glistened in the back of your mind. The worm nestled deep within the apple. You thought you were going crazy. Your mind must’ve been converting to that of a dragon; with its constant referral back to that jewel, you might as well be a fully fledged one yourself. Still, this overwhelming desire to find out what’s in the book was much more than a simple curiosity. So you did exactly that: you went open, walked over cautiously, and opened the book with a deep breath.You looked around, searching violently for some kind of change, and... Nothing? The book was blank.

"I swear these books are getting to my head or something, honestly thinking something like a book could do something magical," you hughped."Old piece of garbage"Rumbling, thrashing, and crashing went off at once. Books flying off the shelves tumble down with gravity. Pages swirling. Something glowing a brilliant apple red The book's open pages were sucking things into you.

"AAAAHHHH!" With flight instincts kicking in, you darted, trying to run. A whirlwind of force is coming from the book. With terror, you realized it was after you. "Almost there," you thought when the door was mere inches away. Another powerful gust You're on the ground. Desperately, you tried to grab onto something. The wind was too strong. The shining light now swirled in beautiful circles. like the Mona Lisa, only red and somehow even more beautiful, bursting with pops of green and orange. You screamed another time in a hopeless attempt to try anything. You were sucked in, and the book slammed shut. Then he fell to the ground. Then it suddenly opened. It began to write and paint a picture of you in your room. Quick as lighting, as soon as it started, it was finished; then page two was beginning, with the background setting but nothing being painted yet. It's almost as if the stories are happening right now...

#mha fanfiction #yandere mha #yandere kirishima #yandere eijiro #yandere kirishima x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #fanfic #multiple chapters #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #deku x reader #deku x y/n #izuku midoryia x you #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya

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ghoulishbuck · 5 months

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This post is for those who want to know places to get books or where I personally get mine. If you would like to add places please leave them in the comments.

Ways I acquire books:

•Libby- this is an app that connects with your library card(s). 90% of what I read I loan from my library using this as audiobooks and ebooks at times are easier for me to use.

•Kindle Unlimited- I own an old fire tablet that I just got two months of kindle unlimited for free on but personally I won’t continue it after it ends because I have a hard time with ebooks.

•Amazon- I rarely buy things on here now but they do often have a lot of books on sale. I do also browse for deals on ebooks and have gotten a plethora of ones I’m interested in for free.

•Secondhand stores- most of my collection comes from secondhand/ thrift stores. I very rarely buy a book from chain stores or for full price. This also includes antique stores.

•PangoBooks- 98% of the time if I want to buy a specific book I’ll look for it here before I look elsewhere. They also at times do give out coupons like spend $20 get $5 off.

•NetGalley- every now and then I’ll request digital arcs (ebooks and audiobooks that aren’t released yet). As long as you read the books you request and review them (or state you DNF’ed and why) on the site and keep your ratio at least at 80% of all accepted request reviewed you’re golden. But, having another place where you talk and review books does increase your chances. Personally, I have my Goodreads and Instagram account linked to help even though I haven’t touched my Instagram account in awhile.

•Library- I’ve barely checked out any books in person since I got my library card but that’s purely because I’m really trying to read my physical tbr and stay away from adding more to it.

•Gifts- if people ask me what I want for something for example my 21st birthday which is a few months away I’ll either say a certain book, an author, or a gift card to someplace that sells books. Sometimes I’ll say other things depending on the person. Now that doesn’t mean I’m expecting a bunch of books especially new ones in fact when I gave someone a list of books and author names I only gave them things that I thought they could easily find in a thrift store and always remind them that it’s not a list of things that needs to be completely bought but more of a scavenger hunt that they can end at anytime.

•Audible- for awhile I had a subscription mostly due to multiple free trials and it not cancelling even after I cancelled… Anyways, I prefer using Libby.

•Half Price Books- this is both a secondhand store and not. A good chunk of my books have come from here although these days this is mostly only my go to when I’m near one, when I don’t have time for a thrift store (I will look at nearly the entire place), or when I’m hoping to find certain more popular books.

•Barnes & Nobles- I very rarely went to Barnes even when I lived near one but every now and then I would buy some books from there. I do wish I could be near one when they do their 50% off hardcover sale they usually do on the 26th of December.

•Giveaways- I’ve won quite a few e-book giveaways on Goodreads. Personally, I’ve only won one physical giveaway and never received it. Which is pretty 50/50 when it’s the publisher doing the giveaway from what I understand.

•Dollar Tree- this is pretty hit or miss but whenever I go I make sure to check out their book section because they do sometimes have books I am interested in.

•Target- their price on books especially viz manga always gets me. Along with the deals they do every now and then like buy one get one 50% off or buy two get one free.

•Walmart- they also have about the same pricing for books as Target does but the only extra deal they do is for books they put on clearance which they put in cardboard bins.

•Book Outlet- discounted books that are pretty cheap although condition can vary. Not like extremely bad but like I have gotten a book with a small rip in the cover, the cover smushed on the top and bottom of the spine and a broken spine on a hardcover. I just think it’s better to know what the condition could be be before going into it. As long as your fine with the chance of getting that I highly recommend it. They are currently doing a fiction books sale right now where their only $5.99 and everything else is 20% off. Just dropping my referral link below if you use it you get $5 off of a $25 or higher order.

•Rightstuf (rip now is under Crunchyroll)- they had some great deals on manga, graphic novels, anime figures, and anime. I sadly didn’t take part in the birthday sale even though I really wanted to but I did make one or two purchases from them and had a good experience.

•Book of the Month- I’ve been getting books from them for just about to be a year and one month. I personally have really enjoyed it but I also will read anything that interest me and usually even if I don’t care for the months picks after watching people react to them and talk about them I want to pick up at least one of them. Book of the Month referral below.

•Aardvark- I got this one month with the discount code they always have where you get your first book for $4. There’s been a few books I wanted that they have but it’s been too rare for me.

Other ways that I haven’t yet done:

•Library sales- every now and then libraries will sell the books they no longer plan to keep in circulation and the profits go directly to the library.

•Little Free Libraries- these are strictly take a book leave a book deals. Most of these are run by a book lover who just wants to make books more accessible to people but they have to take the money out of their own pocket to keep it filled.

•Asking Publishers for physical arcs- this is the one I’m most anxious about and know the least about. From what I heard you have better chances of getting accepted for physical arcs if you have a big following. And it’s better to wait until you have had a book blog be somewhat regularly active (every week or two minimum) for six months. After that point you have to send an email to the publisher specifically asking for a certain physical arc(s), link your blog, make it professional sounding and just cross your fingers.

•Independent bookstore- I live in the middle of nowhere so the closest one to me is over two hours away (this is actually the closest bookstore period) and it’s also pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I just have a hard time paying full price so even though I love browsing through a bookstore the drive just for the bookstore that’s full price isn’t worth it.

•ThriftBooks- I like to know the condition I’m buying books in so I’ve never bought something from here as new could actually mean good condition depending on the person.

•SciFier- this is what a lot of people especially in the UK use especially for manga. It’s like a Rightstuff but from what I’ve seen better.

•eBay- I feel more comfortable with Pango’s system of just incase the seller screw’s you over than with eBay’s so I’ve never bought anything from here.

•Facebook Marketplace- I don’t have Facebook so I’ve never used this but I have seen some good deals.

•Garage/Yard/Estate Sales- I haven’t been to any of these in quite some time but when I did go things were quite cheap because they just wanted to get rid of things.

•Illumicrate- special edition book subscription service

•Fairyloot- special edition book subscription service

•Owlcrate- special edition book subscription service

•Broken binding- special edition book subscription service

•Forbidden planet- Manga, books, comics and figures store

•Indigo- Canada’s verison of Barnes & Nobles

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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do you have any store recommendations for plus size gothic lolita fashion? i really appreciate the help on your first post about it and i’ve thought a lot about what kind of style i want to focus on. thank you for everything, love!

sorry this took me a while to get to anon!!! here are a couple of recs;

lady sloth - err a little more on the cutesy side of gothic, but still plenty of wearable pieces; their size range is also pretty inclusive!

violet fane - currently don't have anything particularly gothic in because their last pieces weren't that style, but i would recommend looking secondhand on places like lace market for their pieces like, say, asylum or the funeral!

fan plus friend - better if you know what you're doing; lots of their pieces are hit and miss - but they do offer custom sizing and lots of their stuff is nice, as long as you have the eye to pick it out!

metamorphose - a 'brand' brand - but if you CAN afford them, theyre one of very few jp brands that are actively working with their plus size customer base and deserve to be supported! they do a lot of sweet and classic stuff too. my ultimate favourite brand.

other jp brands that offer a good range of sizes in that style: atelier pierrot (who also try and reach out to their plus size customer base as well!), maxicimam lovely size (err on the side of sweet-gothic but nice black base pieces can be found), enchantlic enchantilly, physical drop.

you can always look for things you like that may not be in stock by brands that are more known for their size inclusion on lolibrary, too - and then hunt them down in the secondhand market! lolita brands tend to make small batches of things and then sell all of that, so the secondhand market is super important for us (and sometimes a good way to get a bargain, because lolita IS expensive, unfortunately, and i actually find that what little gothic pieces we own have been more expensive than our sweet wardrobe!).

do NOT buy via devilinspired; they've had a lot of awful press for inflated prices, sharing customer's personal informations, and just bad customer service in general. BUT. you can use their website to browse taobao brands that may fit the vibe you're looking for who you either fit in the sizing of or who do custom sizing!

gothic is a nice style because you can often simply pad out your wardrobe with things from 'normie' stores or goth stores - black lace high collar blouses, victorian style boots, fancy antique style jewelry!

#nat.txt #always happy to talk about Clothes fgdnkjvngfjkbnf #long post

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invisibleraven · 1 year

Note

"visit an antique book story, choose books for each other to read" and Rulie??

They were actually out window shopping when they found it, a small little store just off the beaten path that had Julie intrigued. And Reggie was happy enough to be pulled along.

The bell over the door chimed as they entered, an older lady waving at them from behind the counter, and Julie stopped. The place smelled a little musty, but overwhelmingly of old books, and she just let the aroma pass over her.

"it smells like my nona in here," Reggie commented. "She loved old books."

"We should browse, see if we can find something for each other," Julie said.

"Whoever does better gets to choose dinner tonight?' Reggie proposed, a competitive gleam in his eye.

"You're going down Peters!" Julie replied, shaking on it, then reeling him in for a tiny peck before diving into the shelves.

Reggie smiled at her retreating back, then slowly started traipsing through the aisles. He could see countless mystery titles but passed those by, it was definitely a genre neither of them were great fans of. Same too of horror. He liked horror movies okay, but reading it wasn't his cup of tea.

A few biographies were interesting, but nothing screamed at him that it would be a perfect choice for Julie.

Then he was in the classic literature section, and Reggie knew he hit paydirt. Julie loved Austen and Bronte, he had fond memories of laying his head on her lap as she read Pride and Prejudice to him, toying with his hair the whole while.

Of course, he had done the same for her, reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy, not even caring that she fell asleep part way through Fellowship. It had been a nice way to spend an afternoon, his favourite girl and his favourite book all curled together.

With that in mind, Reggie grabbed another Austen title, bound in thick blue leather with gilded edges. He knew it probably cost a fortune, but no price was too great for Julie.

He met her at the cash register, her purchase already wrapped up, and she playfully hid her eyes as his was given the same treatment. "Home?' she suggested, offering her hand.

"Home."

Once there, they giddily exchanged bags, Reggie urging Julie to go first. She gasped as she pulled out the copy of Sense and Sensibility. "Oh Reggie, it's beautiful!"

"I figured you could read it to me like we did Pride and Prejudice?" he suggested.

"I'd love that," she whispered, wiping at her eyes. "You know this was my abuela's favourite book? She gave me a copy when I was a kid, and I've loved it ever since."

"Well then I'm honoured that you get to share it with me," Reggie said, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

Then he opened his book, and stared down at the copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

"You said you had fond memories of your nona reading this to you as a kid," Julie said. "And I thought..."

"It's perfect," Reggie stated. "I haven't read it in forever though."

"Well we'll just have to enjoy it together then," Julie surmised. "After dinner, which will be mac & cheese because I want something warm and comforting before we spend the evening curled up with a book."

"Coming right up," Reggie said, going off to start cooking.

It might had been chance that lead them to the store, but the books they bought there became treasured relics in their home. So much so that when Luna was old enough, they read her both, forever instilling in her a love of books, just as their families had for them.

And they did the same for their grandchildren as well, the books forever having a home in the hearts of their family, just as they always would.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rulie #julie and the phantoms

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just6f · 9 months

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mahoneybeard2 · 2 years

Text

ostrich birkin 17

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Text

Close Shave #1 - Frankie Morales

Frankie Morales x reader

Word count: just shy of 2k

Warnings: Straight razor shaving. I guess it could technically be counted as knifeplay, so just to be on the safe side I’ve marked it down. Some James Bond quotes are lifted from the movie Skyfall.

And yes, there’ll be another piece with Clyde later on. Because these two men have my heart and I will not be able to choose. Lol.

Ever since your visit to the antique store with Frankie on a sunny Sunday afternoon, you hadn’t been able to get the set out of your mind. First off, the wood case was beautifully crafted; despite the time passed it still looked shiny and all the metal parts worked well, despite aging and darkening. It had called you from the corner, sung like the sweetest canary, and you had been unable to resist. You marveled the feel of the smooth wood as your hand caressed the corners, admiring the craftsmanship.

Once you had opened the case, you had been sold. The beautiful straight razor with gold and copper caps, the fluffy brush with a casing for cream, the leather strop and paste box all looked pristine. Well, the strop had obviously been used before, but it still looked in wonderful condition. You could still smell a hint of the musky beard oil that was once kept in its own place within the box, the woodsy and earthy tones hitting your nostrils as you peered in for a closer look.

It had only been the steep price that had made you leave the shaving kit there. But you still had thought about it until long after dinner and as you got ready for bed that you knew you had to get something like that for Frankie.

After some intense browsing and comparing later, you had finally placed an order for a straight razor kit, some additional oils and moisturizers and they had arrived neatly packaged this afternoon. You had taken the day off work in order to prepare. Preparing meant countless Youtube videos on the subject, practicing the use of the straight razor on air and on balloons you had slabbed some shaving cream on.

You had also transformed your master bathroom into an oasis, with dimmed lights and one of the dining chairs sitting in the middle of it all. There were lit candles, sheets and towels in the dryer to keep them warm and a small pillow sacrificed for the occasion was sitting beside the sink, ready for use.

You had a selection of bottles next to the pillow; a small moisturizer, a bottle of beard oil that carried a sandalwood, vanilla and bergamot scent (something you thought he would appreciate) and a little bowl with shaving cream already ready. The piece de la resistance had a prized place on a small side table you’d dragged into the bathroom.

Now you just needed the man of the hour, one Francisco Morales.

You knew he had no flights today so he should be home shortly. Maybe you’d roped Will and Benny into making sure there wouldn’t be any Friday happy hour gatherings but you would never tell. And neither would they if they wanted you to cook for them the next time boys night was at your house.

Right on cue, you heard the truck pull up and you took the moment to gather one of the sheets and two towels from the dryer, while you waited for him to enter.

“Hermosa? You home?”

“I’m in the bathroom, babe! Would you come and help me for a moment?”

Was it sneaky to lure him in under false pretenses? Maybe, but getting him in here would be a challenge otherwise. And you didn’t want him wandering around the house and picking up on the missing items.

Two loud thumps followed your question and you knew Frankie’s boots were off and socketed feet carried him towards your bedroom. Some shuffling around the bed and a question rang out.

“What’s this, hermosa?”

“Please put them on and come in. I have a surprise for you. Oh! And leave the cap behind too, thank you.” You had laid out a pair of sweatpants and his softest possible T-shirt on the bed, wanting to extend the comfort as far as you could. You pressed play on your phone and smooth classical music began to play from the bluetooth speakers. It was set on top of the toilet, far away from any water sprays.

You heard him shuffle in the bedroom, no doubt obeying your wishes and you started to swirl the shaving cream in the bowl with the brush, making it as fluffy and airy as you could.

The door to the bathroom opened and you were greeted by your boyfriend in his grey sweatpants, his white t-shirt and dark curls framing his face. The hair was mussed up, no doubt because of his tendency to keep the hat on at all times and this must’ve been his attempt at ridding himself of hat hair. He looked adorable as the curls hung around his forehead and over his ears all messy. His dark brown eyes were open and curious as they took in the scene and you smoothed down your own t-shirt anxiously.

“Sweetheart… What is all this?” He whispered, the awe clear in his voice.

“Come, sit down,” You took his hand, placing the bowl back on the counter as you pulled him closer. A small kiss was placed on him by your lips and you pushed him gently towards the chair. As he sat down, you placed the small pillow under his neck, urging him to relax into it. The pillow would certainly help his position in the long run.

“Remember that antique store a couple of weeks back?” You spoke as you draped the sheet on top of his chest once he was settled. With Frankie’s affirmative hum, you opened the tap and let water run, trying to find the perfect temperature.

“I didn’t tell you this at the time, but there was this gorgeous antique shaving kit in the back, strops and brushes and all in tip top shape. It got me thinking that I wanted to do a little something to pamper you and I bought a modern-slash-antique-looking set. I want to give you a shave.”

As you spoke, you lathered your hands under the water, ridding them of their coldness before wetting two small makeup towels to run across his face. The surprised gasp that left his lips betrayed he hadn’t been expecting that.

You got into the rhythm of things, wetting his face with long strokes, allowing the warm towels to soothe his skin and soften it. Frankie’s eyes fell closed as the up and down strokes lulled him. After that, you squirted some cleanser into your hands, rubbing them together.

“I’m going to clean your face real quick, before we get into the shaving part. Do you want me to leave something or would you prefer clean-shaven?” You murmured, keeping your tone low to make sure he wasn't disturbed.

“Whatever you like hermosa,” came his reply, a sleepy mumble that made you smile. Frankie worked so hard sometimes, taking care of his baby girl on the weekend she was with you, you and your relationship, his sobriety and the copters back in the hangar.

After Colombia, he and the Miller brothers had joined forces, opening up a business together. They combined self-defence classes and survival training and business was good. Once Frankie had gotten his licence back, they often took their students training in the mountains, testing the limits and allowing for them to train first-aid skills on the wilderness too.

It was honest and hard work. You knew how much all of them loved it and they were hopeful that Santi would join them as well once he was able, bringing the boys together once more. But the physical aspect of the job, including the maintenance of the planes, did take a lot out of your man, so to offer him this after a long week felt really good. And judging by his blissed-out state in the chair as you swept the lather into his skin and beard, he was enjoying it too.

Round and round the brush went, all along his jaw and cheeks. You made sure he was well covered in the cream before you stepped back a little, taking the small steel knife into your hand.

“Cut-throat razor. How very traditional.”

The quote slipped your mouth quietly as you admired the blade in your hand. Frankie’s eyebrow lifted but a hand on his shoulder eased it down again. Taking a deep breath, you let the blade touch his skin and waited for a beat. When there was no resistance on his part, apart from his hand finding its way to your hip as a grounding place, you let it slide across the lathered skin and stopped about an inch from his jawline. After all, there was something in a man with facial hair, especially if that man was Frankie.

“Sometimes the old ways are the best,” You couldn’t help yourself, letting the next line fall down as the blade lifted from his skin. The motions repeated themselves, both of you getting lost in the moment. The music faded in the background, Ludovico Einaudi’s calming notes becoming only a memory as you watched the blade move and turn the cream around, revealing smooth skin beneath. Each motion was followed by a swipe on the towel to make sure the blade didn’t dull in the middle of the session. It felt almost like a dance, your breaths the only sound left.

You moved, he stayed still. He moved, you stayed still. Back and forth, like the steps of a complicated dance.

You didn’t know how long it took, shaving his face, but when there was only the small part left in the middle of his throat, you felt him gulp.

“Keep still,” You admonished him slightly, tipping his face backwards, his skull digging a little deeper into the pillow that separated it from the cold marble of the sink. “This is the tricky part.” The final swipe was almost tantalizingly slow as you dragged it upwards to meet his chin. The trust he placed in you that moment made you feel powerful. It felt like something settled upon both of you as you lifted the blade from his skin for the last time.

“Now that’s better,” You breathed out, as you watched him tip his head forward and open his eyes. The dark pools drilled into yours, the arousal and relaxation dancing a tango within, battling for dominance. How you wanted to keep watching it, enjoy how the candlelight reflected from the dark orbs but there were still steps to take before you could. You held his gaze for a moment, before lifting a towel from the counter to wipe off any excess cream left behind.

“Did you…”

“Shh, I’m not done with you yet, mi amor.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled softly to him. Frankie nodded, the movement barely there but still visible. He relaxed back, allowing you to rub some oil into his beard and some moisturizer into his skin. Frankie’s eyes slipped close once more and you took the moment to really admire him and the neatly trimmed beard in full.

“All done,” A whisper in the air as you trailed his regal nose with your fingertip. His eyes remained closed but his hands grabbed your waist to tuck you into his lap. Slowly, the eyelids opened and lashes fluttered as Frankie peered into your eyes. The relaxation had won out, but there was still a small fire simmering behind that.

“Did you quote James Bond to me?” He muttered, letting his left hand trail up your spine.

“You know how I like that scene.” You shrugged.

“Mhmm… Will you allow me to recreate some other scenes from those movies?” There was a playful edge to his voice as Frankie’s hand rested on the back of your neck. You leaned closer, breaths mingling, as you let a sliver of air between your lips.

“Go right ahead, mister.”

Tagging @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mind-p0llution

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing #cw: knifeplay #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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a-supernatural-writer · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows Pt.2

Previous Part Next Part

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1336

OC x Poly Lost Boys

Fingers traced the spines of books that were on their shelves. Chocolate brown eyes skimmed over each and every title that the fingers touched. Timothy smiled as his eyes landed on a book called ‘Astronomy and Astrophysics’.

“You boys need any help?” The owner of the small bookstore asked Timothy and Luis as they looked through the selection of books.

Luis tilts his head toward the owner and gives her a polite smile, “Just browsing.”

The owner mirrored Luis’s smile and gave a nod, walking away from the couple. The bookstore itself was filled to the brim with books. The book cases were arranged in a way that the space in between them was the same width as a human. So if two people wanted to look at the same set of books, they would be almost squished together.

The random antique lamps give off a yellow glow, shrouding the corners of the store in shadows. Random knickknacks hang from the ceiling and were scattered along the shelves.

Timothy took the book off of the shelf, clutching it to his chest, “See anything you want?”

Luis shrugged, walking deeper into the maze of bookshelves, “Not really.”

Timothy hummed, grabbing onto Luis’s hand, “I know that all of this-” Timothy gestures with the hand that was holding the book, “Isn’t really you.”

He knew that Luis wasn’t really a big fan of these types of books. Luis had a few selection of romance books that he loved, but besides that, not many other readings satisfied him.

But Timothy loved it. The smell of the pages and ink, the feeling of having a heavy book in his hands made his heart soar. More specifically, sci-fi or informational texts about astronomy.

“It might not be my cup of tea, but it’s yours. Besides, maybe I can find a good romance book?” Luis said, squeezing Timothy’s hand.

They chuckled. “I have a better idea. Since the bookstore has no sense of organizing, which is making me bat-shit crazy, when I’m done, we can hit the comic book store?” Timothy suggested.

Luis’s eyes lit up at the word ‘comic’, “And this is the reason why I love you.”

Timothy winced, “Is that the only reason?”

Luis gave him a look and gently placed a kiss on Timothy’s lips, “Just one of many, love.”

The couple made their way around the bookstore and Timothy only picked out one more book of his liking.

Since the store had areas shrouded in darkness, it wasn’t too far of a stretch to say that the two of them took advantage of the shadows and the lack of customers. Their lips attracted to each other like magnets and their hands dancing along one another skin. Though they did have to stop their actions more than once because of the owner poking her head almost around every corner as she was placing books back on their shelves.

With a kind smile and a wave goodbye, Luis and Timothy left the store. Timothy clutched his bag that was filled with his two new books while he continued to hold his hands with his partner.

While walking along, the two could feel people’s lingering stares at them. They ignored it of course, they stopped caring what people thought.

“Woah.” Luis blinked in surprise as they found the comic book shop they were looking for.

“This is way bigger than what we had back home.” Luis comments, glancing at the two adults that were passed out with sunglasses on behind the counter.

Timothy let go of Luis’s hand to let him explore, “Which home?”

Luis snorted at the joke and started rifling through the stacks of comics, looking for nothing in particular.

“Never seen you guys around here before.”

Luis jumped at the sudden voice behind him. He turned to come face to face with a kid, probably somewhere in his early teens with a red bandana tied around his forehead, part of it hidden underneath his brown hair.

Timothy looked up from his section, “We just moved here.” He answered the kid.

“Where from?”

Timothy looked over his shoulder to see another kid with dark brown short hair, more than likely the same age as the other kid. Both kids were wearing clothing that consisted of camouflage print. Which was an interesting choice of fashion.

Luis picked out a few comics that caught his eye, answering the kid, “New Orleans. We got here this morning.”

He cradled the comic books in his arms, “The name’s Luis. That’s my partner, Timothy. What about you guys?”

Much to Timothy and Luis’s surprise, the kids didn’t acknowledge the fact they were both partners and just skipped any comment to introduce themselves.

“I’m Edgar and that’s Alan. We’re the Frog Brothers.” Edgar introduced himself and his brother.

“Since you’re new, you guys are going to need this.” Alan picks out a comic from the stands and places it on top of Luis’s pile.

Timothy walked over, looking over Luis’s shoulder to see what Alan gave to him. He raised a brow at the comic, “Vampires?”

The comic held the title, ‘Destroy All Vampires!’ with an illustration of Dracula on the front.

Luis and Timothy turn their heads toward another.

“You don’t think?” Luis's voice rang in Timothy’s head. His question floating about.

“Haven’t seen any yet.” Timothy answered.

The two broke their stare and Luis cleared his throat, “Vampires aren’t real.” He held out the comic for either one of the brothers to take, but they didn’t.

“You’ll be eating your own words once your face ends up as one of those missing posters.” Alan gestures over to the multiple posted missing posters on the walls of the outside of their shop and others.

“Look, this could save your life.” Edgar pushed the comic book back to Luis, wanting him to take it.

Luis smiled a little, taking it back into his pile to appease them, “If you say so. Um, besides that, I’m gonna get these.” He gestures to the small stack in his hands.

Seemingly pleased that Luis was going to take the comic, the Frog brothers rang out the rest of his comic books, “This one is free of charge. Our number is on the back, pray you don’t have to call us.” Edgar says ominously.

Timothy nodded, “Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind.” He could tell that this was a rehearsed speech. Warning newcomers of the possibility of vampires being around Santa Carla.

He wasn’t going to deny that the multitude of missing posters wasn’t alarming. Whatever was around Santa Carla wasn’t good about spacing out their attacks.

Luis waved at the boys after placing his new pile of comics into the same bag that had Timothy’s books.

The two wrapped an arm around their waists, their sides pressed tightly together as they left the area of the comic book store.

“You think the Frog brothers are right? Vampires?” Luis asked, peering up at his partner.

Timothy shrugged, “Seems like armature hunters to me. Plus they’re young teenagers, probably would get themselves killed even if they tried.”

He paused, mauling everything over, “Maybe we should’ve just stayed in New Orleans.”

Luis kissed his teeth, reaching up to cup Timothy’s cheek for a brief moment before patting it twice lightly, “We saw everything that New Orleans had to offer. Plus, our rock and roll couldn’t even touch jazz.”

Timothy hummed happily at the memories that were made in New Orleans, “The late nights, the smooth jazz, the food, and all those nights when I swept you off your feet.”

Luis chuckled, “And we can still have the majority of those things, just in Santa Carla.”

“And if there are vampires?” Timothy asked.

A silence hung in the air between them.

Luis squeezed his partner’s side, speaking words he’s said many times before, “Then we deal with it. All of us... Like always.”

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#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys oc #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #gay vampires #vampire #male ocs #male oc x male oc #santa carla #lost in the shadows #poly lost boys x oc #poly lost boys x reader #poly lost boys

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shyvioletcat · 4 years

Note

ITT Drabble?

HERE IT IS! Last one on my 1200 follower Fluffy Prompt-a-thon. (Masterlist for that here)

This takes place just before Chapter 27 of It Takes Two. Masterlist for that if you needed a refresher.

~~~~~

Rowan stepped out onto the street after finishing his shift at the gym. Even though it was close to 7 o’clock the street was still busy. It was late night shopping and people were stepping in and out of shops along the street. Which was good, there were a few things Rowan needed to buy for Aelin’s baby shower and this was his last chance to get them before it on Saturday. He already had something for Aelin in the back seat of his truck, but he wanted to get a few things for the baby.

Yesterday on his way to work he had stopped at the shopping centre he had gone to with Aelin and went to one store in particular she had taken him to. He bought her the blue floral wrap dress she had tried on to demonstrate to him exactly what a wrap dress was. She had looked lovely in it and he could tell that she wanted to buy it, but hadn’t because of the price. So, wanting to get something for her and only her, Rowan had bought it. He desperately hoped it was the right size, because he had got it on sale with a no return or exchange policy on sale items the shop assistant had told him. He’d cross that bridge if it came to it but he had a feeling Aelin would be at least a little impressed that he had managed to get it at such a good price.

With Aelin’s gift done Rowan now needed something for the baby. A bit clueless, he had done a little bit of research on useful baby gifts. It didn’t take long for him to get overwhelmed, but he had a few ideas. He had fully intended to give what he bought to the twins so they would take to the shower. But Aelin had asked him to come, insisted that he come now that they had come to their new understanding. She had said she wanted him there. Something about that had made his heart beat a little faster. They were moving forward and Rowan was excited to see where it led.

He didn’t go to his car, instead he started walking up the street. There was a baby store a little way up that he had driven past and had been looking in the window as he went by. Rowan had seen something the other day, well he thought he had seen something at least. It only took him a few minutes to get there and he looked in the window. He had been right.

There in the window was a mobile, a single halo of flowers with animals and a few more flowers hanging from it on decorative strings. But they weren’t just any kind of flowers. The door opened and Rowan moved to hold it open for a pregnant woman and who he assumed was her mother. They thanked him as they passed and Rowan nodded and smiled in return before he went inside. This store was more of a boutique than anything else. It didn't stock a large range of things, but what they did looked like they were good quality.

Rowan started to browse, looking at some of the toys and the tiny clothes. Towards the back of the store was some furniture – he could see cots and bassinets and rocking chairs – but he was making his way towards the window. The mobile was hanging there, the flowers small blooms of kingsflame, like the one that he had seen on Aelin’s dresser. They of course weren’t real but they looked as if they were the next best thing. The only thing that was putting him off were the elephants that hung from it. He didn’t think Aelin would particularly like the elephants, not that she would have anything against them but… Rowan had noticed what she decorated her room with and the little knickknacks she had around the house. He knew she liked deer, it had something to do with her family lineage. An old sigil of the Galathynius was a white stag and Aelin seemed to follow along with that imagery. But hopefully he could at least go along with something more woodland-ly.

“Can I help you?”

Rowan turned to see the shop assistant behind him, smiling politely.

“Yeah, actually,” he said and then pointed to the mobile. “By any chance does this come with other animals?”

“It does actually, it’s one of our customisable mobiles. I’ve got a book of the options at the front counter.” The shop assistant started walking towards the counter and Rowan followed. It didn’t take her long to find what she needed and soon Rowan held a large magazine in his hand. “When did you need it by?”

“Saturday actually,” Rowan said as he started to flick through the pages.

The assistant sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but let me know which one you like and I’ll see what I can do. We don’t have all the options in stock at the moment but they can be ordered in.”

Rowan nodded and continued looking. There were horses and foxes, some weird looking dogs. He was hoping there would be deer but he didn’t see any. Maybe the foxes would have to do… But it turned out there was another option. He’d almost missed it because he was flipping the pages so fast in his frustration, but there on that almost missed page was the answer he was looking for. Rowan had always liked hawks, and birds of prey in general, so when he saw the little felt hawks in the book he had already decided.

“Do you have these?” Rowan pointed to the picture of the felt birds.

“Hmm,” the shop assistant said, her lip pursing thought. “We might. I’ll have a look out back for you.”

“I’ll just keep looking around,” Rowan said and the shop assistant nodded and left him to browse.

Rowan wandered around the store, curious about the products on offer. He stopped by a rack of clothes, flicking through the onesies. He pulled one off the rack and held it up. Dear gods, it was basically the length of his hand. Were babies really that small? Gripped by a mild sense of panic Rowan put the onesie back and kept looking. The next section he reached was the stuffed toys, an antique looking bookshelf crammed full of them. Peeking out between a rabbit and a teddy bear was the head of a little deer. Rowan couldn’t help but pick it up to look at it. Its brown coat was speckled with white, the hooves made of a velvety material and it had large fluffy ears. Rowan didn’t put it back down, deciding that Aelin would very much like it.

“Good news!” Rowan heard the shop assistant call out and she was approaching where he stood. “We’ve got the hawks.”

“I’ll take them,” Rowan said without hesitation.

“I can put them on the mobile if you like?” She offered kindly.

“That would be great,” Rowan said with a polite smile.

“I’m assuming you’re shopping for a girl?” She asked Rowan nodded. “We’ve got some new dresses over there,” she nodded to her left. “Just if you were interested.”

The shop assistant headed for the front window where she pulled down the kingsflame mobile and took it over to the counter. Rowan went over to the clothes again with renewed interest and looked at the teeny tiny dresses. A blue one caught his eye, almost the exact same shade as the dress he’d bought Aelin as far as he could remember, just without the flower pattern on it. It came in a few sizes, and reading the tags he was a bit lost as to what they meant. He soon worked out the more zeros there were the smaller the item was. Still not really comprehending the exact size of babies he thought going with a 00 might be safest and hung the hanger over one of his fingers.

By now he had pretty much looked in all the sections of the store except the furniture. Just before the furniture Rowan stopped at the display of bedding. Ignoring the sheets he looked at the muslin wraps, which there were piles of. From his very cursory searches he deducted that these were an essential item, with many uses apparently. He glanced through the stacks, seeing if any caught his eye. He paused on one that looked to have a floral pattern on it with some little critters too. Easing it from one of the stacks he saw that the critters were in fact little fawns. He added this to the growing pile in his arm.

At the very back of the back of the store was the alcove with furniture set up. Rowan wandered through it, looking at them casually. The other day Aelin had been browsing baby things on her laptop and he’d caught a glimpse of the screen as she’d put it down on the couch as she got up. She had been looking up bassinets, and she had also sadly muttered something about baby things so expensive as she walked away. Aelin was adamant that she would wait until after the baby shower to start buying things just in case anything she needed was given as a gift. She was an efficient shopper and knew how to cut costs, it was probably why her bookstore did so well.

Rowan started looking around intently, trying to remember what kind of bassinet she had been looking at on her computer. Maybe he could buy this for her so she didn’t have to fork out the money for it herself. It was an essential item so he could give it to Aelin as a gift for the baby shower, and besides that he wanted to. Gods, he’d been exercising so much self control to not buy everything that caught his eye. He was excited and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Looking at the bassinets Rowan was getting a little overwhelmed. There were different styles and some looked like they had different features, but what they did exactly Rowan had no idea. He passed one that was suspended from the roof by a large hook. The longer he looked the sicker he felt. All that was holding it up a fair few feet from the ground was some rope and a hook. There was no way in Hellas’ realm was his baby being put in one of those. Rowan turned away from the whole sight before he had a stress induced stroke just imaging the thing falling down with a baby inside it and went to look at the others. He saw one that looked similar to what Aelin had been looking at. It was a simpler design, a white bed and a timber base. This one looked much more secure with the base on the ground, and Rowan liked this one because it looked a bit taller than the others. Some of the others he had passed had barely brushed past the middle of his thigh. It would be a long way down if he was putting a baby in one of those.

He turned around and saw the shop assistant was at the counter. “Excuse me?”

She looked up and smiled and came over to him. “What can I help you with?”

“This bassinet here,” Rowan said, tapping the rim of the bed basket. “What can you tell me about it.”

“Well, this is one of the most popular designs on the market,” she explained. “First of all there’s no tools required for set up, you just attach the pieces together. Then looking at its features, it has six height positions, anti-reflex base positioning to help baby sleep if they’ve got reflux. This here,” the shop assistant pointed to the zipper, “folds down for easy and safe co-sleeping and it fits on just about any bed. Mesh ventilation is on all sides for added breathability. Just about everything is removable and machine washable, and the mattress is included.”

Rowan did not understand half of what this woman had just told him, but it all sounded good. Important, even.

“Can I attach a mobile to it?” He asked.

The assistant nodded, “You’ll need to buy a mobile arm for it but yes, you can put a mobile on it.”

“Great,” Rowan said. He was decided. “I’ll take that too. Can I pay for it now and pick it up on Saturday? It’s… it’s a surprise.”

The shop assistant nodded enthusiastically then led the way to the register. “Absolutely. Did you want to leave anything else with it?”

“I’ll take these things with me,” he nodded to what was in his arm. “But I’ll leave the mobile with the bassinet.”

“Perfect,” she said and entered some things into the computer at the register. Rowan put the items he was carrying on the counter and it only took her a few moments to scan those in too. “Would you like these gift-wrapped?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Rowan said. His wrapping techniques were atrocious. If he ever bought a gift for anyone he usually just took the receipt out of the bag and handed it over.

The shop assistant got to work wrapping the dress, deer and muslin wrap, quick and efficient. Rowan was about to pay when he saw a book on the counter.

What to expect when you're expecting

Rowan grabbed that too. “You don’t need to wrap that,” he added.

The book was for him. If he was going to be part of this and help Aelin through the rest of her pregnancy he would like to know what was going on. The more he knew the better prepared he would be for whatever was ahead of them. Because they were in this together.

“Ready to go,” the shop assistant said and Rowan paid. She put the book and wrapped items in a bag and handed them to him. “Thank you so much.”

Rowan gave her a small smile and nod in return and left. He was almost to his truck when it dawned on him what he had just done. He had just bought Aelin a bassinet for their baby. What if Aelin didn’t like it? What if there was another one she had been looking at that she wanted? What if he had just completely over stepped and this would upset her? This was a big thing to buy and maybe she wanted to be part of it...

Rowan rubbed at his face as he opened the driver’s door and got in his truck. If Aelin didn’t like it it would be easy to return. If he’d overstepped Rowan would apologise and hoped it went smoothly. But he hoped she liked it just as much as he did. He carefully put the bag on the passenger seat then pulled out his phone. There was a text from Aelin from about half an hour earlier letting him know she was going to bed and not to worry about dinner for her because she’d eaten some leftovers. Rowan didn’t reply in case he woke her up and was secretly glad she’d gone to bed. It meant he could get his purchases into the apartment without any prying questions. It took Rowan a few minutes but his thoughts settled and he was finally quietly confident with his purchases. He didn’t waste anymore time and put the keys in the ignition and drove home.

~~~~~

He’s so cute, right?

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Hades and Persephone

Summary: Rachel works at her family’s bookstore where she’s surrounded by stories and myths all day. So what happens when Camden Town’s myth, Alfie Solomons, walks in.

//Totally inspired by Hadestown, who am I even kidding?

The little bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Rachel was hidden behind a stack of books so she couldn’t see who was coming in the bookstore.

“'Morning!” She called brightly so they knew the store wasn’t empty.

Heavy footsteps walked across the creaky, uneven floorboards accompanied by the soft brief thud of a cane. Along with the footsteps was the clicking of toenails on the wood, the clanging of metal, and the distinct sound of a dog panting.

“You allow dogs in here?” A gruff voice asked.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Rachel rounded the front counter to greet the customer properly.

Alfie Solomons was the myth of Camden Town. The bogeyman, the shadow in every alleyway. His reputation was menacing and nearly everyone in the community had a story about him.

And yet, he didn’t quite look the part of a monster. He was a bit intimidating in the flesh, but he was just a man. A bit shorter than she anticipated, yet well-built and wearing simple clothing.

The dog beside him gave him a more humane look about him. The dog was big but had a kind eye to him and as he panted and slobbering, he appeared to be smiling.

Rachel was a little frightened to talk to the man, even if he did appear less wicked in person. “I-that’s a very nice dog you have.”

“Yeah, thank you. Name’s Cyril.” Alfie peered at the young woman. “You’re not usually here, are ya? Never seen you ‘fore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the owner’s daughter, Rachel.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing.

“Right, well your father gave me a book and it was utter shit,” Alfie replied.

The comment made Rachel’s spine tingle in fear. Would a bad book warrant Alfie to do something in retaliation? Would he burn their store down? Kill her father?

“I’m sorry I could refund you or-”

“S’alright, love, just wanted something better.” He walked further into the bookstore, looking around the shelves of new and used books.

“Oh.” She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Well, what do you like to read?”

“I like good books.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, don’t we all?”

He turned into one of the aisles to scour the bookshelves. Cyril followed obediently.

“Do you like fiction?”

“Yeah.”

“Historical fiction?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we have new works. All Quiet on the Western Front. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“Hm.” He grunted, still browsing the shelves. “What’s that about then?”

“The war if I’m not mistaken. Many people have enjoyed it, my father hasn’t been able to keep it in stock for very long but we just got some new copies.”

“Nah, nothing like that.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and Rachel could only surmise that he was a veteran. “Further back then.”

“Sure.” His heavy boots trailed through the store, studying titles on the spines of books.

“I may have books on the royal family’s history.” She turned into the aisle only to see him disappear around the corner into the next one. Another grunt told her she was still heading in the wrong direction, so she put out a wildly different option. “Antiquity?”

It seemed to pique his interest. “Anything good?”

“Well, I’d only suggest good ones to you, I know you don’t like bad books.” She found him in the next row of books.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, not anything too long, yeah. M’very busy.”

“What about a collection of myths?” She offered; glad she was finally narrowing down what he was really looking for. “I find they can be enjoyable but not very tedious to read.”

He turned to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “You sound very educated, anyone told ya that before?” He wondered.

“Well, I…” She shrugged. “Figure growing up with an infinite number of books around me would teach me a thing or two.”

He only grunted in response again. “Rare to find a very educated girl ‘round here. Your parents must not be very Orthodox, letting you get wild ideas from whatever book you can grab. Y’know there are some very scandalous books out there, love.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m aware, but every book has at least some little tidbit of information we can take away from.”

“And what do you think I’m gonna take away from these myths you’re offering me, aye?”

“The Greeks used gods to highlight man’s true nature in all its forms. Their gods were more relatable, better suited to explain how the world came to be, and how it works. So, I suppose it’s a commentary on mankind.”

He seemed impressed with the way she spoke, his brows lifting. “Right, well I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

“I suppose so.” Rachel turned so she could look through the store’s catalog and find the book.

Alfie lingered by the front counter as she looked. He rested an arm on the counter and leaned over to see Rachel’s little setup. She had a cup of tea that was quickly cooling beyond consumption next to a book that had a ribbon in place as a bookmark. Curious, and a little neglectful of common courtesy sometimes, Alfie reached over the counter to pick up the book and see what it was.

This Side of Paradise. By F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Alfie read the dust cover with a frown.

Rachel returned with the book and saw him examining the book she was in the middle of.

“You like books ‘bout the war?” He asked, not looking up when she walked over.

“I wouldn’t say I like them but there’s a lot to learn from them.” She said, a bit taken aback at how at home Alfie made himself with her things.

“Yeah? Like what?” He turned the book over a few times before setting it back down next to the cup and saucer.

“The-I apologize but were you in the war?” She asked hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was try and assert her opinion on the war when she was in the presence of a veteran, especially if the said veteran was a notorious gang leader.

“I was a captain.” He made himself busy by looking around the rest of the shop, never meeting the shopkeeper’s daughter. “I wasn’t promoted by obedience or anything of the sort. I was promoted because I kept me men in line and I weren't dead. I don’t pretend to know why the fuck we were over there or what I gained from it. But that’s where I was for a number of years of me life.”

Rachel wondered if he had always been the way he was before the war or if fighting had disillusioned him. Nevertheless, she was certain that in all the stories she’d heard of Alfie, she never once heard that he was a captain in the war. “I suppose I won’t know what you know but I learn what I can from books like this.”

Alfie didn’t respond to that. “That for me?” He pointed to the book in her hand.

“Oh, yes, this is what you might like. Although, please let me know if there’s something else you wanted me to suggest for the future.” She handed the collection to him and went behind the counter to ring up his order.

“Right.” He examined the book like the one she had been reading, turning it over. “So your parents are Jewish then?”

Rachel paused as she was writing up the invoice. She wasn’t sure what she had said that would warrant the topic of religion. “My mother is, but my father isn’t.” She explained.

“Ah, another good Jewish woman snatched up by a Christian.” He tutted.

“He doesn’t believe in God.” She shrugged. “It’s the one thing they never agreed on.”

Alfie looked mildly amused. “And what about you? The half-theist, half-atheist?”

“You said I sounded well-educated. But I don’t have spiritual answers.” She smiled slightly. It was a strange conversation to have with a customer but she was oddly enjoying it. Alfie kept her on her toes, it wasn’t some mind-melting boring conversation about popular books. He was intrusive with his questions but almost in a well-meaning way even if he came off a bit gruff.

“Well, how about that.” He snorted. “I suppose books don’t have those sorta answers do they? Just scripture.”

“I do find it interesting that you’re a spiritual man who is buying a book about a polytheistic culture.” She said, continuing with the invoice.

“Well, figure you can read about it, right? Ain’t much of a sin if you know it’s utter garbage. It’s entertaining, innit?”

“Hm.” She nodded. “Eighteen pence.” She handed him the receipt.

Alfie dug into his coat to retrieve some coins. “What’s your favorite book, then?”

“I don’t have one.” She took the amount from him and put it in the till.

“Aye? Girl with infinite number of books at her disposal doesn’t have a favorite book?” He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

“I don’t pick favorites. They’re all different so why compare them?”

Alfie didn’t respond again. He looked down at the receipt. She had carefully written out his full name. He was certain that although she had given her name, he hadn’t returned the favor. “You know who I am then?”

“Pardon?” Rachel shut the till closed.

“Never mind.” He shook his head and pocketed the receipt.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel was minding her own business on her balcony. She was tending to her flower boxes trying to keep the little flowers alive in the smoke of London. It was her quiet time before opening up the shop downstairs. But there was a certain someone who didn’t care about store hours.

There was a sharp whistle from the streets below. “Oi!”

Rachel turned with her watering can in hand. “Oh, Mr. Solomons, good morning.”

“Gotta bone to pick with you, Miss Watkins!” He shook the book of myths towards her.

Rachel was a bit amused, albeit terrified. She didn’t recall giving him her last name. But the way he stood there with a grumpy look on his face made her stifle a giggle. Cyril was beside him, as per usual, his tongue lolled out as he happily panted.

“We open at nine, Mr. Solomons.”

“Right, well I’ll make sure that our conversation is over before nine.”

“Alright then.” She set her watering can down and ducked back inside. “I’ll just be a minute.” She called out the window before shutting it.

“Rachel, who’s that shouting outside?” Her mother was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

“Just a customer, mum, I’ll handle it.”

“You don’t have to open for another hour.” She reminded her.

“It’s alright.” Rachel assured her and went downstairs to the shop. Pulling out her keys, she opened the front door up. “Come on in.” She allowed Alfie and Cyril inside. “Was there something wrong with the book?” She asked.

“Have you read the one about Hades ‘n Persephone?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s a fairly popular one.” She agreed, not sure where he was heading with the conversation. But she allowed him to lead as if it were a dance.

Alfie set the book down on the front counter. “S’bullshit, innit? I mean, what am I supposed to think ‘bout it, aye? Ain’t romantic, ain’t heroic. Just a right shame, innit?”

“I mean…” Rachel shrugged. “It’s tragic. Lots of Greek stories are tragedies.”

“But he lets her out for however many months, yeah, so what? I’m supposed to think he’s some sorta hero for letting her go then locking her back up again?”

“Every piece of writing is supposed to elicit a reaction from the reader. I think this myth has done its job with you.” Rachel pointed out, not sure how else to placate him. She couldn’t exactly change a myth to suit his needs.

Alfie snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Do you sympathize with Hades or Persephone?” She went around the corner to tidy up a bit as they spoke.

“Who could sympathize with Hades, aye? Fucking god of death, ain’t he? Not supposed to sympathize with men like that.”

Men.

The use of the word men was very telling to Rachel. So, she probed deeper. “Hades isn’t the god of death really. He is the god of the dead and he’s the god of the underworld. The Greeks didn’t see him as evil, but they didn’t want to attract his attention either.”

“So, what makes him evil was kidnaping a woman,” Alfie concluded.

“Yes, but there was humanity in him. Didn’t you see that?”

He scoffed and picked up the book to flip through it carelessly. “Ain’t seeing any humanity here.”

She gently took the book from him and turned to the myth. “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, god, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. Be no so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods. Those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, shall be punished for evermore.” She read the passage.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “He still did what he did.”

“Yes, but the Greeks were dramatic.” Rachel shut the book. “If you’d like me to find you another book…”

“You knew who I was the first time we met.” He interrupted her with something that had been weighing on his mind.

“Well-yes. I’d heard a lot about you. It’s nearly impossible not to hear anything when you live in Camden.” She shrugged.

“You weren’t afraid of me though.”

Rachel lost her train of thought when their eyes met. Before, he had been flitting about the store so she hadn’t been looking at him long enough. But now, well now she could see the ocean in his eyes. Just enough of the shop’s lights got under the wide brim of his black hat to reveal his true eye color. They were certainly green but there was a wave of blue running through them as well.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she went completely silent on him.

“Oh uh…no. I guess not. Why do you ask?”

He just chuckled; a bit bewildered. “You’re braver than most men are, love.”

“Should I be afraid of you?”

“Well, s’pose I ain’t the god of death or the dead, or whatever you said.” He looked amused, almost like her blind bravery was funny. “Don’t make me a saint though.”

“You’re only a man.” The words sounded foolish when Rachel heard them out loud, but Alfie seemed to enjoy her candor.

“Fucking hell, you’re something else, ain’t ya? Must be that half-Jewish half-atheist in you.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

“Maybe, Mr. Solomons.”

“Yeah, well you can call me Alfie.” He said, suddenly becoming a little less intimidating than he usually was. He was certainly struck by the young woman. So much so that it threw him off balance.

“Did you get the sense that Hades was lonely? The Greeks paid him no attention because they were so fearful of him. Perhaps he thought that if he found a woman to give him comfort, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t care if people were afraid of him. Now he didn’t go about it a good way, but maybe that’s why he did it.”

Alfie cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket. She was getting right to the root of his being, passing through all his barriers and finding a nice cozy place in his heart. He was fucked. No one had ever gotten through to him so easily, if ever. “You get lonely all ‘round these books?”

“Always,” Rachel admitted with a shy smile. “When I was younger I used to use books to escape but now I’ve learned that life is just too hard to escape when you’re older.”

He fidgeted, scratching his cheek and messing with Cyril’s leash. “Yeah, I suppose I could understand that.”

Rachel could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying. I get lonely too.

“If-well I s’pose it would be nice to have someone to talk to ‘bout books. Can’t find enough people like that, now can you? So maybe I could stop by every so often, keep ya company.” He offered as if he was doing her a favor. When in reality he was being a bit selfish.

She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

“Right.” Alfie took the book of myths. “Well, I’ll finish this and let you know what I think, ‘bout the rest of them, aye?”

“Alright.”

Alfie gave her one last look before leading Cyril to the door, letting the bell jingle as they left.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #one shot #peaky blinders one shot #hades and persephone

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s notes: Surprise, have a double update! Have another chapter of light-hearted dialogue and self-indulgent smut featuring my favorite song from one of my favorite bands. Lord knows these two deserve it because of what I have planned in future chapters.

I watch you taste it, I see your face, and I know I'm alive | you're shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes | it drives me crazy, just drives me wild

The next morning, the air is cold and crisp, and the sun barely provides any warmth as it kisses Takatora’s skin. Yamaneko is thankful for what little heat it provided her this morning, warming her ever so slightly. The rest was taken care of by the warm cup of coffee in her hand.

One of the Beach’s mechanics was busy checking the tires of the vintage four by four they’ll be using to grab supplies as the duo approached him. In the car is the girl that Yamaneko saw arriving with her father, whose face contorts into horror when she sees the two militants approaching.

“Tatta,” she calls out to her companion, panicking. “Militants!”

The young man, who seems like he’s around Yamaneko’s age, turns around and practically jumps, a look of unbridled panic on his face as the two approached him.

“Drive,” Yamaneko tells him, going right ahead and opening the door to the back of the car. The girl jumps off the back in a hurry, moving to the passenger seat in the front, nervously glancing at Tatta. The militants sat in the back.

The poor boy was shaking, clumsily pushing the key into the slot and turning it, the engine roaring to life.

“Um… where to?” Tatta asks the two of them. The girl next to him busied herself by looking outside the window, the sun imbuing her bronze skin with a golden hue and the breeze blowing through her shoulder-length hair.

“Shimokitazawa,” Yamaneko says mid-yawn. “Just drop us off there and you can go on with your supply run. Pick us up in the afternoon.”

“Got it,” he replies, stiff as a board in the driver’s seat.

Yamaneko notices their unease. Flicking her coffee stirrer towards the front, she laughs as the two flinches. “Relax. If we wanted to hurt you, we would’ve done it by now. We just want a ride, that’s all.”

The girl shifts in her seat and gives Yamaneko a nervous smile. “So, what are your names?”

“Just call me Yamaneko. He’s called Last Boss.”

“Your friend doesn’t talk much, does he?” the girl asks, each syllable spoken with caution. “I-I mean not like it’s a bad thing…”

The militant woman smirks, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yeah. He’s the quiet type. What about you two newbies? Care to introduce yourselves?”

The boy and the girl glance at each other, as if gauging who should go first. “I’m Kodai Tatta,” the boy answers, then the girl opens her mouth to talk. “Zia Hinata.”

“Zia, huh? Not a lot of Japanese girls have that name. Is one of your parents a foreigner?”

When Hinata doesn’t respond, Last Boss leans over and glares at her. She yelps, and takes a deep breath. “Y-yeah! My mother is Filipino,” she near-exclaims, pitch rising an octave or two.

Yamaneko puts a hand on Last Boss’ arm and laughs. “No need for that. She’s obviously just scared of us.”

She can practically hear the sigh of relief Hinata lets out from where she’s sitting when he withdraws.

“Saw you arrive a few days ago,” Yamaneko comments. “It looks like Niragi has taken an interest in you.”

The sharp exhale Hinata gives her says it all. “Yeah.”

“Word of advice? Niragi tries to break anyone who makes his cock hard. If he attempts to fuck you, just try to pretend that he doesn’t faze you. He thrives off of his victims’ fear.”

Tatta almost swerves into a barricade, and he exhales a few times while fixing the cap on his head, while Hinata presses a palm on her forehead. The boy with the cap gives his companion a nervous, concerned glance.

“Yeah, well, about that… I knew him before I ended up in this place. So, I doubt that will work,” Hinata mentions, nervously picking at the skin around her fingernails.

“He’s a bastard even back then, huh?”

“Actually, no. He was my upperclassman. I was his only friend in middle school. He was nothing like that back then… Now he’s, well, evil. And he won’t leave me alone. Supply runs with Tatta are my only escape.”

“Well, this is awkward,” Yamaneko comments, cringing and gulping the rest of her coffee. She tosses the cup, the wind carrying it away. “Thanks for confirming that he’s always been a loser though. Good luck getting that bastard off your back.”

The rest of the ride is filled with uncomfortable silence, with Yamaneko having given up on making small talk with the new citizens of the Beach. Perhaps it comes with her status as a militant. People were told to avoid them to avoid trouble after all, and she couldn’t blame Hinata being cautious around them after her experience with Niragi.

As they approached Shimokitazawa, Yamaneko’s sleepiness wears off entirely and a smile laden with nostalgia sweeps across her face. Quaint little shops of vintage clothes lined up in the streets, along with abandoned cafes, record stores, and bookstores. Even Last Boss’ interest seems piqued, eyes lively as they pass by the storefronts. Tatta takes in the sights as well, mouth open in wonder, and half of Hinata’s body is practically outside the window as she gawks at the colorful neighborhood, the street murals a welcome change from the half-naked bodies of the Beach.

They stopped outside a cafe, and the two militants hopped off. Tatta doesn’t drive off though, still impressed by this odd little neighborhood in the middle of the once-bustling Tokyo.

“Hey! Don’t you two have a supply run?” Yamaneko shouts playfully, while Last Boss is already wandering off to check the place out.

“Sorry! I got distracted,” Hinata shouts, then she pauses. “I wanted to do a mural in a place like this.”

“Then hurry up so you can do that later,” Yamaneko replies, one hand on her hip.

“Y-yeah! We’ll come back to pick you up from the same spot in the afternoon,” Hinata shouts back, and she ducks her head as she sits back down in the car. She looks to her companion, and whispers, “Let’s hurry. I wanna explore this place later, too.”

Tatta smiles at her, and drives away.

As the car speeds off, Yamaneko turns around and runs after her lover, who stopped in front of a bookstore. The female militant wraps an arm around his, and leans against his bicep. “You wanna check out this shop first?”

Takatora nods, and they enter the store together, the bell making a faint chiming sound as he pushes the door open. Books, manga, trinkets, and other items lined up on the shelves; an impulse-buyer’s worst temptation, and a book lover’s dream. Like a child let loose in a candy store, Yamaneko grabs a basket and starts to rifle through the assorted items.

“My sister told me about this neighborhood, you know,” she comments offhand as she continued looking through the items. “Aside from Harajuku, this is the other place I used to blow my allowance on.”

A small smile tugs at Takatora’s lips, watching as his lover adds knick-knacks and other clutter in her basket, and he turns to browse some books.

Some time later, Yamaneko comes behind him and buries her face on his back.

“Found anything you like?” she asks, and the taller militant turns around to face her, a few blank notebooks tucked under his arms, and a mountaineering encyclopedia in his hands. He folds the encyclopedia and holds it out for her to see, and he has a sheepish expression on his face. Yamaneko holds out her basket, and he drops the items in with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I didn’t know you’re into mountaineering,” she comments.

“Not really. Explorers. But I couldn’t find a book about them.”

“Oh? Who’s your favorite explorer?”

“Robert Edwin Peary,” Takatora responds, and Yamaneko smiles.

“Tell me about him.”

She listened to Takatora talk, trying to fight the huge smile from blooming on her lips as she heard him say anything more than a short sentence. As she listened to him talk about how Peary lost his toes to frostbite, she packed their items with care in a shopping bag, then they moved on to the next store.

They pass by a small sukajan store, and a cold breeze that sends chills up Yamaneko’s spine urges her to check it out. Various bomber jackets with beautiful, intricate embroidery hung from the shop walls, and she couldn’t help but admire the artistry in each stitch. A particular jacket caught her eye, a black one with a roaring tiger and peach blossoms embroidered on it.

She tiptoes to reach it, but her shorter stature prevents her from taking it, fingers barely brushing the hem of the jacket. Amused, Takatora extends his arm and takes it from the rack, and hands it to the shorter militant. After muttering an embarrassed “thank you”, Yamaneko puts on the jacket, and admires herself at the dirty mirror nearby.

“This jacket reminds me of you,” she says to her lover. He responded by pulling her close, silently asking for a kiss.

Yamaneko responds by tenderly pressing her lips onto his. Before he can taste her with his tongue, she pulls away and gives him a devious smirk with half-lidded eyes. “If we continue this, we would end up spending the day just fucking. There’s more places I want to see, c’mon.”

Looking at her with longing, Takatora relents, nodding. He follows her out of the store, and they pass by several shops and cafes before ending up in an antique shop by noon. He was taken aback when Yamaneko squealed, and she ran towards the glass storefront. There, she marvels at an antique sewing machine, eyes glittering with excitement.

“It’s a Singer,” she gasps, trying to contain her excitement. Pushing through the entrance, she rushes in and lets her hands wander over the black finish of the machine. Meanwhile, Takatora leans at the door, mouth tugging upward upon witnessing his lover’s excitement.

“We’re taking this back to the Beach. I don’t give a shit, I’m not leaving this here.”

“If that’s what you want, Yamaneko,” Takatora responds, walking over to ruffle her hair.

As she fusses over the machine, he explores the rest of the shop. Aside from the old typewriter that he decided he will be hauling back to the Beach too, an old instant camera on a dusty counter catches his eye. Long fingers gingerly pick up the Polaroid, and brushes the dust off of the item. Under the counter are boxes of old film, and he reads the instructions on the back.

The sound of a shutter breaks Yamaneko out of her trance, and she turns around to see her lover holding a Polaroid and a photograph, waiting for her image to show up on the paper. She grins and nudges him.

“Nice find,” she says.

Takatora aims the camera at her again, and Yamaneko smiles for him. Sweet. Inviting. One that she hasn’t given anyone in a long time.

As they wait for the photographs to develop, the wildcat saunters over to a vintage Sansui turntable, browsing the pre-loved vinyl records piled neatly beside it. Ranging from the 50s to the early 2010s, Yamaneko browsed through them, most of which are from UK and US musicians. Her English wasn’t the best, so she just picked what she thinks looked most interesting; a vinyl record whose cover had a white owl imposed on a black background as the album art.

Behind her, her tiger prowls, pressing himself against her back as she places the needle on the vinyl. He buries his face in her hair, taking in her scent, and his free hand roams her body, while the other still holds the Polaroid. Through his black pants, he’s already at half-mast, and Yamaneko giggles at her lover’s earnest desire to have her.

“It’s already noon. Those two will be back soon,” he whispers. “Can we do it here?”

She spins around, pulls him by his jacket, and plants a hard kiss on his mouth, restraint slipping away. The camera makes a light clatter as Takatora puts it down on the pile of records, both of his hands cupping his lover’s face as he kisses her deep, permission to taste her granted when she parts her mouth.

Reaching behind, Yamaneko undoes the strings of her top, which she pulls and tosses to the nearest surface. Spindly hands grab the soft mounds on her chest, squeezing hard enough to draw a whine from her. The wildcat throws her head back, and her lover swoops in to assault her neck with kisses as his fingers fondled her nipples.

Before he can lean down to suckle on them, Yamaneko kneels and undoes his belt, pulls his trousers down, and licks at the skin on his flat stomach. Damp and hot against her cheek, she rubs her face against his clothed cock, smiling impishly as she teases him and draws a rasp from his throat.

Deft fingers pull the rest of the fabric down and the tattooed militant’s cock springs out of his boxers, stiffening from all of his lover’s teasing. At a torturous pace, Yamaneko drags her tongue from the underside of his shaft all the way to the tip, encloses her lips around the head, and pulls back with a lewd pop. One of his hands grasps at her wild hair, holding on for dear life.

She looks at the camera from the corner of her eyes. “I have an idea,” she croons against the angry, blushing head of his cock. “Why don’t you go ahead and take more photos to remember me by?”

Her lover gulps, cock twitching from the request. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t,” Yamaneko hums, and gives his head one teasing lick.

Grabbing the camera again, Takatora could barely aim it properly as Yamaneko finally went ahead and took his whole length in her mouth, soft lips sliding against his shaft as she bobbed and twisted her head at every stroke. Small hands grasping his length, she opens her mouth to stick out her tongue, and presses it on the underside of his head, holding that position long enough to let him take a photo.

As soon as she hears a click, Yamaneko goes back to work, this time enclosing his balls with her warm, wet mouth as her hand stroked him, humming in delight as she drew a lengthier rasp from her tattooed lover, his head thrown back in bliss. Afterwards, her mouth goes back on his length, and she goes all the way to the base of his dick, doing her best not to choke. Yamaneko pauses so he can get a picture, looking at him with an inky, black tear running down her cheek.

The sight almost drove her tiger wild, who began to fuck her mouth hungrily, gaze searing as he watched his length disappear in her loving mouth. More tears start to stream down out of his lover’s eyes, which remains fixed on his, and wet, lewd sounds fill the shop, accompanied by her choked moans and the music blaring from the Sansui.

“So good… You make me feel so damn good,” Takatora whispers, breath rasping as he continued to violate her mouth.

Legs shaking, his breathing quickens as he comes closer to the end, and he presses Yamaneko’s face against his hips, grunting as he floods her mouth with his cum. Her throat constricted around him as she struggled to swallow the load, overflowing from the corner of her mouth, mixing with the creamy formula of her lipstick. Takatora pulls her head away from him, and predicting what follows, Yamaneko grabs her jacket and opens it wide, the fabric sliding off of her shoulders, letting the next spurt of his cum land on her face and breasts. Panting heavily as she gasped for air, she looked up to him, a satisfied smile on her open mouth, and she milked the rest of his come onto her tongue.

With an unstable hand, Takatora photographed all of those moments, letting the instant film fall to the ground. They’ll pick those up later.

For now, he picks up his lover and puts her on a nearby surface, a delicately-varnished, antique wooden table. Clumsily, he loads the Polaroid with another box of film, and takes more photographs. Makeup ruined, smiling, and naked from the waist up, she lies on the table to catch her breath, beads of cum dripping to the side of her breasts. He preserves the fleeting moment with another click of the camera, then he puts it down beside her. He kissed her skin and tasted himself in the process.

A warm tongue flicks on the wildcat’s hardened nipple, and she moans as Takatora toys with them, flicking them back and forth with a finger, swirling his tongue around it, then putting it in his mouth. The sucking motion makes her hips buck against him, her juices staining her underwear from her arousal.

Frantic and greedy, he pulls those away, and photographs her naked body. He dips two fingers in the entrance of her pussy, and the wildcat arches her back, a low moan rumbling from her throat, while her lover takes another shot, this time including her face, twisted from lust. Then, he gets to work, setting the camera aside once more, and shoving his face against her crotch.

Long fingers assaulted her hole, stroking at a sensitive spot, while his tongue played with her swollen clitoris, earning him a sustained moan. With his free arm, the tattooed militant takes one of his lover’s legs and hooks it over his shoulder, his cheek resting on her creamy thighs as he continued to fuck her with his hand.

Yamaneko cracks her eyes open, and sees their reflection on a mirror right across them. She picks up the Polaroid, her turn to capture the private moments between the two of them. Her lover's lips, stained with her juices, seal against her sensitive bud and she almost drops the camera from the way it made her feel, her legs quivering and toes curling from the sensation.

She swore she heard him chuckle against her with a near-sinister tone.

Just when she thought he couldn’t push her any further after that, he adds a third finger, and his pace turns brutal. Yamaneko’s hands scramble for purchase against the varnished, wooden surface, trying to find an edge she can cling to. A searing, almost painful pleasure builds in her core, which bursts and sets her on fire as a fourth finger fills her, the stretch pushing her over the edge.

White spots filled the wildcat’s vision as she came, crying and moaning as she rode his fingers. They pull out of her ruined pussy, a wet, sloppy mess staining the antique table, earning him a whine.

Yamaneko rolls over, panting and resting on her stomach, the sound of the shutter clicking again. Arching her back, she puts on a show for her lover, smiling as he used up the last of the film. She relaxes as he busies himself with loading the last box of film.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks her, a hand on her ass, gently squeezing the globe of muscle and fat. His cock, semi-hard again, rests between her buttocks.

“Yeah. Can we go slow at first?” Yamaneko replies, looking over her shoulder.

“Sure.”

With unexpected tenderness, he parts her legs, and tucks his cock inside her. He pulls her jacket down halfway, exposing her upper back, and he presses his lips on her skin, sucking at the back of her neck. This makes his wildcat arch her back, throwing her head back in desire. Her walls clench around him, which makes him harden further. His tongue traced circles on her shoulder as he started to rock his hips again.

Yamaneko moans his name as he clamps his mouth down on her good shoulder, the scrape of his teeth shooting pleasure down her spine.

Each thrust is torturous, deliberate. A staccato of gasps filled the space as the head of his cock kissed a sensitive spot deep inside her with each stroke, accompanying the music. Sucking hard on her neck, Takatora’s hand moves to her breasts, fondling them as he went on with his ministrations. One arm propping herself up, and another reaching for the Polaroid, Yamaneko takes a photograph of the tender moment through the mirror, and she sets the camera down, content in letting her lover take over and be in charge of their collective pleasure.

Takatora takes off her jacket, and his hand presses itself on the small of her back. Her tiger leans over to whisper, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Can we go faster now?”

“Please, go as fast or rough as you want,” she moans, looking up to him. She braces herself, grabbing the edges of the table for what’s coming. “Use me, Takatora.”

He smiles, and grabs her neck to push her head against his chest. Takatora gives her a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, their juices mixing together.

As soon as the kiss ended, she let out a strained moan as her lover bucks forward, sharp hips colliding with the soft flesh of her ass. Lewd sounds of flesh slapping together fills both of their ears as he fucked her forcefully, ruthlessly. Yamaneko’s holes quiver as Takatora repeatedly fills her, pussy squelching at each thrust, while his thumb hovers over her other entrance, teasing it, gathering the wetness from below and spreading it over the puckered hole.

“Should I put it in?” he rasps, and Yamaneko nods repeatedly, desperately.

“Fuck, yes, please!”

Grinning, panting, Takatora slides his dripping thumb in, and the tight ring of muscle constricts around it. The rest of his fingers grip her ass, pulling and pushing her against his cock. The action made Yamaneko throw her head back and scream as a wave of pleasure crashed through her body, the combined pressure of his cock and finger making her holes pulse simultaneously.

Another mind-numbing orgasm turns her limbs into jelly, and she sprawls on the desk. The aftershocks of her high milked the cum out of her lover’s cock, who grunts and gasps as he reaches his own release.

His thumb slides out of her first, then his member, and he lies on top of her, their sweat and other bodily fluids mingling together. He kisses his wildcat’s neck, covered with a film of salty sweat, and gently cups her face to press his lips against hers.

“Good?” Yamaneko asks, and he nods.

The taller militant’s weight leaves her, and she felt exposed. He retrieves her clothes, and she gets up to sit at the edge of the table. Helping her get dressed, Takatora gives her a small, bashful smile. “Good?” he asks her in return.

Yamaneko smiles back and nods, glancing tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies.

When their clothes are back where they should belong, the pair started picking up the scattered photographs from the floor. Everything looked scandalous, save for Yamaneko’s photograph where her back was turned from the camera, and the one where she smiles at him.

Takatora decides that those are his favorites, out of all of them.

As they went out of the store, they saw the four by four parked nearby. They didn’t even notice the other two coming back earlier.

Around the corner, Tatta and Hinata sit on the sidewalk, chatting amongst themselves, and behind them is a street mural with fresh paint. When Yamaneko approaches, the boy couldn’t look at the militant, his cap shadowing his face, and Hinata nervously glances at her, dried paint on her flushed cheeks.

“Ah, hey Yamaneko! Um, you two were busy, so Tatta and I just worked on this while waiting for you,” Hinata tries to say with a straight face. She fails. “Don’t worry we didn’t see much. We’re so sorry,” she continues, and both of them bow in apology.

So they did see them.

Yamaneko cackles at her scandalized expression. “What are you two, children? Your parents more or less did the same thing to make you. You’ll see even more of that action at the Beach in public. Get over it and help us load our stuff.”

Hinata clears her throat and nods, standing up and avoiding looking at her. Tatta follows suit, walking like he broke a leg, one hand covering the front of his shorts.

“Hell, you two might as well enjoy each other’s company too,” Yamaneko adds, shouting after them.

Without seeing their faces, she just knows the blush on their faces got deeper.

#Smut #nsft #alice in borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Alice #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib #last boss x oc #takatora samura x oc #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #kodai tatta #oc: zia hinata #fanfic: dormouse #fanfiction #character study

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Text

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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