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umbry-fic · 2 years

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Swaying from Season to Season

Summary: It is in winter that Lloyd first meets an angel with snow in her hair. It is in spring that he takes her hand and pulls her through the rain. It is in summer that he falls for her, sparks all around them. It is in autumn that he knows hopelessness, and the guilt of a kiss.

And when winter rolls around once again, he lets her go.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 7866 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 14/06/2022

Notes+Warnings: Written for Colloyd Week Day 6: Quote Day. ("Please, dream some good dreams for me, Lloyd.") Inspired by the After the Rain song of the same name! A canon divergence where Colette isn't the Chosen but is still Mana Lineage. The ending to this fic isn't very happy. :)

~~~

It was on a cold winter's day that Lloyd first met an angel, one with petals of snow scattered gently across her hair - a wreath woven from flowers picked by the heavens themselves.

On that day, Noishe's paws had crunched against the endless white that blanketed the ground, loud against the still silence, as he rushed down the familiar dirt path that led to school, nearly unrecognizable now, tongue lolling out of his mouth, ears flopping against his head. The boy clinging to his back had tightened his hands in the massive creature’s green fur, shivering at the breeze brushing his skin. Glancing up at the grey sky, burgeoning with the promise of more to come, wondering if it ever ran out of snow, or if it always had more to give. More and more, until everything was buried, and nothing could emerge.

Lloyd had thankfully reached the schoolhouse before the snowflakes made their presence known, Noishe giving him a last playful lick goodbye before disappearing into the shadows of the forest, ready to slink back to the warm comfort of home.

Leaving him alone in the classroom, the barest of light that managed to pierce through the thick clouds smothering the sky filtering through the windows that revealed the wintry world outside. Barely chasing the shadows from the room, leaving the darkest of them to gather in the corners, giving the whole place a dreary atmosphere that wasn't contributing much to his excitement to be here.

It was rare for him to be the first one to arrive, for all the chairs to be empty as they were now, facing him and seeming to stare him down. Last week he'd been late every single day, not used to having to get up early - or to leave the house on any schedule at all. The teacher had certainly given him a fierce mouthful every single time, giving him so many punishments involving water buckets that his arms had been shaking from exhaustion by the end of each day. He’d be ecstatic if he never had to see a bucket in his life again.

Today was a miracle that wouldn’t be repeated, he supposed, as he slumped into his chair and retrieved his latest project from the depths of his pockets, scattering the bits and bobs on the table. A mess of tiny wood pieces and twistable wires, that he hoped would one day become… something. What he was working towards was a blank space in his mind as of now, but he was confident that one day, he’d figure it out, just as Dad had told him countless times before, with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

There was nothing else to do but pass the time by tinkering. He lost himself in the still somewhat clumsy movements of his fingers, having not yet mastered the awe-inspiring fluid motions that Dad always displayed effortlessly, that he hoped to one day emulate with ease. Head steadily dipping closer and closer to the desk, hands never stopping, completely tuning out the surroundings until his entire world had narrowed to what he was working on.

Nothing interrupted him. Nothing registered at all. Not the intensifying slam of the wind against the window panes, nor the shaking of the bare branches outside, casting shifting, creeping shadows on the desks, and certainly not the now falling snowflakes, spiralling soft from the sky.

There was only quiet, filled with the rough sensation of wood against his palm, of links slipping between his fingers, leaving his mind no space to ponder on what his classmates would say to him today.

Whether it would be the same cruel, pointed words that were so carelessly thrown at him, with no knowledge of how they sliced at his skin, or just pure disinterest that chilled his heart, like the cold, uncaring world outside.

There was no need to think of any of that.

Bang!

The door smacked into the wall with a surprising amount of force, the jarringly loud slam firmly shattering the bubble around him. He jumped and dropped everything from slack hands, only to fumble and fail to stop them from rolling right off the table.

He made no move to pick anything up - didn’t move at all, frozen in place, still half flattened over the desk with his hand outstretched to grasp at nothing, having caught sight of the girl in the doorway. Shivering with her hair caught in the winter winds, rushing in through the open door. Her white dress billowed around her knees, her coat flapping like Noishe’s ears, the blue ribbons attached to the sleeves fluttering wildly.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, cheeks flushed as she rushed to shut the door, to stop the wrath of winter from forcing its way in.

There was white on her hair, blinding against its gold. And amid the fog that was still clearing from his mind, his only thought was that perhaps they were daisies, twined together to form an elegant flower crown that was so very at home sitting atop her head.

“It’s… fine,” he replied, finally shaking off his daze and snapping into motion, bending down to retrieve the remnants his project had fallen into, not wanting to meet the girl’s gaze. He recognised her - the girl who sat at the centre of class, surrounded at all times by a swarm of other classmates, the faces in the crowd always changing as everyone eagerly tried to stay by her side. Always in the midst of conversation, always with a smile painted on her face. A smile that seemed off to him, the few times he’d sneaked a glance at her out of the corner of his eye from his corner of the classroom, devoid of anyone, though he couldn’t put a finger on how.

A girl as popular as her wouldn’t want anything to do with him, surely.

Not the child who lived on the outskirts of the forest, an outsider to the village, raised by a dwarf. How strange, as everyone had already said, passed in whispers and laughter.

He bowed his head once more, trying to return to what had engrossed him just moments before. But his hands trembled, his mind straying, the hope he was trying so desperately to squash only surging up tenfold. For there was nothing more persistent, and even when forced to retreat after days of abuse, still it refused to simply shrivel and die. Even as he told himself that he shouldn’t even try, that it was better to just snap the thread of hope in half -

“I’ve never had someone arrive earlier than me.”

He sucked in a shaking breath, settling his hands on the table to stop the tremors, and raised his head. Seeking the soothing voice that calmed the frantic beat of his heart, and unlocked a well of courage he didn’t even know existed, slowly flooding him with its comforting warmth.

Somehow, she hadn’t walked away yet, as everyone else had. Hands folded behind her back, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, swaying gently. Different from the impression of her he held in his mind - there was a hesitance to the way she carried herself, the distance she kept between them.

Up close, he could see now that what he’d thought were flowers were really the remnants of snow, stark and beautiful. Her eyes were an incredible blue, like the sky on a warm summer’s day, perfect for making wonderful memories. He’d never noticed that before.

“My name’s Colette. Colette Brunel.”

The corner of her mouth lifted shyly as she continued to stand there, as if awaiting something, but what, he didn’t know.

All he knew was that she had yet to snicker, to grin and say something mean. She only continued to look upon him, a storm of emotions contained in the blue of her eyes.

Colette… It’s a very pretty name.

“I’m Lloyd. Lloyd Irving,” he replied, springing to his feet with the same energy charging his voice, returning to him after that first horrendous day. Leaning forward and eagerly offering a hand, hoping she would take it and close the gap between them. It would take so little.

He had never before known what it felt to want something so terribly much, to yearn for something with all of his heart, so much so that it felt like it would burst at any moment.

The small smile on Colette’s face bloomed, large and bright. Causing him to realize what it was that so bothered him about the ones she always flashed in class - it was the restraint. It was obvious now that he’d seen her true smile, here, where she wasn’t holding herself back. A smile of pure happiness, radiating a warmth that chased away the chill still clinging to his fingers, unravelling it from around his heart. Strong enough to chase away the darkness, making it seem like the cheerful summer sun was shining high up in the sky, instead of being weak and lost behind the clouds.

“Nice to meet you, Lloyd!”

Her hand, soft and small, grasped his, almost desperately, fingers curling tight. As if he was providing a lifeline that was keeping her afloat.

It was a moment in time that would become vividly seared into his memory.

For it was on that day that he came to know the joy of friendship, and a beautiful dream first unfolded. One that, in the naivety of childhood, he had thought would last forever.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

That winter was spent playing together. Stomping on the snow as he grabbed her gloved hand and together, they ran through town countless times, imprinting memories into the very ground they stood on. Building snowmen that all inevitably got knocked over, either by Noishe’s enthusiasm or Colette’s clumsiness. Throwing snowballs at each other as Dad watched, a smile playing beneath his bushy beard. Finding a new friend, and sealing their friendship with a hearty handshake and sweets spilt on a table.

It was spent getting to know Colette, this girl who was so different from him, yet was much the same in many ways. A girl who was supposedly loved by all, yet seen by no one. A girl who knew so little of the joys this world had to offer, who had spent so long trapped within a protected life, shut behind a locked gate, glancing mournfully at all the other children. Always having to pretend with the emptiest of smiles on her face.

The impression he’d first had of her peeling away completely to reveal the completely different girl, hidden beneath - incredibly kind and adorably awkward. Who was always ecstatic to see Noishe and receive his sloppy kisses, laughing as she hugged his furry neck and proceeded to get knocked to the ground. Who clapped her hands in delight every time he met up with her for another day of play, jumping up and down on the spot, loudly yelling his name as she waved wildly.

He liked her a lot more like this, he’d decided.

He didn’t quite understand, at the time, the reason why there were so many rules hanging over her head. Didn’t understand the significance of the title she carried, knew little of the Church or the Mana Lineage or any of those big terms that made his head spin like he’d just run ten circles around the house trying to catch Noishe.

Only knew how much all of it must have weighed on her, watching her droop like a wilted flower whenever she was reminded of it. He didn’t want that.

So he had promised her he would show her everything, from one end of the world to the other, and even more after that. No matter how many years it took, and no matter how many rules they had to break. Even if it was impossible, he’d make it happen.

Watching her eyes light up made him believe he could do it, as long as it made her happy.

And the rest of winter passed, spent memorizing the feel of her hand in his; the way her cheeks flushed in the cold as she hid her face; the shape of her smile. Until he was certain he could trace it in his sleep.

As the little project in his hands began to take shape, a purpose solidifying in his mind.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Rain fell from the heavens, only adding to the small river rushing down the dirt path. Hitting the tiny yellow flowers that lay alongside it and making them shake from the force, as if vigorously waving to the two children passing them by, everyone else having long since taken shelter from the whims of nature.

The individual drops pattered against the single red umbrella held above Lloyd’s head, its handle gripped tightly in one hand. His other arm was wrapped around Colette’s shoulder, ensuring she was huddled close under the umbrella’s protection, her shoulder pressed snugly to his.

It wouldn’t do for her to catch a cold from the spring shower.

“You alright?” he whispered. The constant pitter-patter reaching his ears made it seem right to do so, to share secrets under the safety of an umbrella, the curtains of rain hiding them away from the world. Not even the sun, hanging in a sky splashed with deep pink and orange, could spy on them now.

“Mm,” she murmured in return, head dropping further onto his shoulders from exhaustion. The strong smell of mud and rain, mixing together, surrounded them. “I had a lot of fun today. Thank you.”

Today had been spent in the same way every other day of spring had been. Staking claim on the rolling hills and lying beneath the unbelievably blue skies, drawing shapes in the clouds and giggling together over the most ridiculous of their ideas, making the sky the canvas on which their imaginations ran wild. He’d even tried to teach her how to climb trees, acting as her footrest to boot her up. Ending more often than not with them in a tangled pile of limbs by the roots, shrieking in laughter, mud having gotten everywhere.

But spring had other ideas, and had cut their day short with a clap of thunder that had driven them back inside his home. No amount of munching on cookies and peering through foggy windows, with their hands and noses pressed to the glass, had encouraged the rain to stop. With the sun rapidly sinking, there’d been no choice but to grab the umbrella Dad had offered and send Colette home in the rain.

If she didn’t get back soon, her father, and likely the Church, would have his head for “kidnapping” the next of the Mana Lineage or endangering her life or… Something. And he’d rather not die over something so stupid. There was so much more he hadn’t shown Colette yet.

And so they’d emerged into the world in its current state. Water gathering on leaves and making them sag, that would be almost completely gone tomorrow, leaving only beads of water, glittering under the sunlight. Nothing had been spared. Not even the gift he’d made especially for Colette - a flower crown made of daisies, white like the snow he’d seen on her head the first day they met, painstakingly woven together.

It was now a soggy mess from the rain, utterly ruined in his eyes. But she’d refused to take it off, continuing to smile and say it was a precious gift. Somehow, she could still see beauty in it.

“We’re nearly there, I think.” He perked up as he caught sight of the familiar bend in the road.

“That’s good. I hope Father’s not too - Ah!”

He wasn’t certain what Colette’s foot had caught on to lead to her little cry. It could have been a bump in the road, a stray pebble, or even thin air. It was Colette, and he had learned long ago that she could trip over anything.

The only thing he was certain of was that she was falling forward, her hand tightening on his, tugging him along. He reached for her shoulder, hoping to stop the disaster that was unfolding before his eyes, but it was far too late. There was no stopping their momentum now. All he could do was grab on and sharply turn his body, praying for the best.

He winced as his back hit the ground, all the air driven out of him in one fell swoop, the umbrella having flown out of his hand to lay useless beside him. Rain pelted his face, water running into his eyes and making him blink as he struggled to raise his head off the ground, disoriented. Only able to heave a sigh of relief at the sight of Colette, resting against his chest.

At least he’d managed to shield her from the fall.

“Sorry.” She pushed herself up on her arms, smiling sheepishly. The rain blurred against her head, forming a halo that floated above her. Water caught in her eyelashes, in the hair clinging to her arms, rolling down her face like tears. Making him stare for reasons he couldn’t hope to understand. “We’re really drenched now, aren’t we?”

“Well… You’ve never been out in the rain either, have you? Let’s just take it as part of the promise,” he said, letting his head rest against the ground. Closing his eyes against the thud of the rain, letting the noise wash over him. “It’s surprisingly nice.”

“Hm, you’re right. So I guess it’s just another thing to experience! Maybe we’ll even see a rainbow!”

“At night?”

“At night!” Her giggles reached his ears, her weight shifting as she laid her cheek against his chest. “It’s cold, though.”

“Not as cold as the snow.”

“No. Not as cold as the snow,” she agreed, her hand finding his again, their fingers lacing together. Her other hand snuck its way into the pocket of his shirt, pressing against his beating heart. Far away from the pockets concealing a secret, not yet ready to be revealed.

“But you’re warm,” she whispered, her sweet voice sliding into his ears and making his breath stutter in his chest.

And even though her palm, pressed against his, was cold, even though the freezing rain still poured from the sky, there was a current of warmth shivering its way down his spine, originating from their interlocked fingers. Making him forget everything - the umbrella laying abandoned mere inches from his fingers, the need to get Colette home. Until the world consisted of just the two of them and the never-ending rain.

Later, he would pull her up and take her running through the rain, spinning round and round, Colette laughing in delight when Noishe made a sudden appearance, splashing them both as he enthusiastically leapt into puddles. But for now, he would simply lay here, enjoying Colette’s company, letting the rain wash all away.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

When Colette’s 13th birthday rolled around, he was finally given the chance to show her the present he’d finished almost half a year ago, and had spent the past months tweaking on many a sleepless night. He wanted it to be perfect, and nothing less would be acceptable. Every blemish had to be stomped out before she got even close to laying eyes on it.

He’d asked her to sit down at the dining table so he could do everything properly - only for an awkward silence to result, all the words he’d carefully put together and practised countless times flying away when he opened his mouth. Sweat began to roll down his neck as she stared at him in confusion, hands clasped and resting on the table.

Throwing his entire plan out of the window, he nervously uncurled his fingers to reveal the necklace sitting on his palm, a circular charm hanging on the chain, its vivid red seeming to shine. Practically yelling happy birthday, his gaze fell to the floor, too scared of what he’d see reflected on her face. What if he hadn’t gotten the shape as well as he’d thought he did? What if he hadn’t connected the chain well enough? What if -

None of his doubts mattered, for they all dissolved when Colette clapped her hands together, a brilliant smile spreading across her face as she exclaimed that she loved it.

Beaming, he leaned forward and helped her put her birthday present on, fiddling with the clasp as Colette held her hair up, his fingers brushing the back of her neck.

When he was done, he sat back and watched her trace her fingers along the curved surface, her soft smile glowing in the sunlight.

“I’ll treasure it forever,” she whispered.

Even then, as he’d taken her hand, the words had rung hollow between them.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The tapping of a pencil against paper stopped as the familiar rap of knuckles against the wood of the front door echoed through the house. Lloyd raised his head, frowning as he contemplated heading downstairs. Who would be visiting at this time of night, with the sun having gone to sleep, leaving shadows to creep about on the dirt?

Maybe it was some client of Dad’s with some urgent request that couldn’t wait. Regardless, he ignored it, going back to puzzling over his math homework. Dad would deal with it. This was due tomorrow, and if he didn’t get it done, Professor Raine was going to murder him… Even if he nodded off every ten minutes and couldn’t comprehend half of what he was reading, he would get it done, one way or another.

“Lloyd! It’s for you!” Dirk’s boisterous voice snapped him out of his latest nap, pencil having bounced off the table and onto the floor. Scrambling out of the chair, he began to make his way down, rubbing at his eyes.

For him? Who would be here to visit him at this time of night? Everyone who would even remotely want to see him should be asleep.

Except… But that couldn’t be right, he thought, as he passed Dad on his way to the front door. Feeling his sharp gaze, heavy on his back.

Stopping at the open doorway, his mouth fell open as he spotted the person waiting for him there, patiently waiting with their hands held behind their back. Proving his suspicions right, no matter how improbable they had been.

“Hi.” Colette waved, smiling. “Sorry if it’s too late at night for me to be here.”

With the moon beginning to peek out from behind the clouds, its silver highlighted her golden hair; the charm resting against her chest caught its light, making his heart skip a beat.

“Why are you out here?” he managed to get out, fingers tightening on the door jamb. He wanted to look away, to drop his gaze to the dull dirt, as if staring at her any longer would burn him. Maybe it would - with the flames that burned through his veins each time he took her hand, the spark that jumped in his heart each time her face lit up with that beautiful smile, the one he wanted to see, again and again and again for the rest of his life.

A wish he had carried with him all this while without ever thinking about it, cracks starting to show in the foundations as he began to realize that it would never be possible to achieve.

Yet he couldn’t look away, utterly captivated.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Her answer wasn’t an answer, but the mischievous rise of the corner of her mouth told him the truth, as she stretched out her hand. As did her next words, her voice dipping into a shy admittance, a blush dusting her cheeks. “So I wanted to see you.”

“Right,” he whispered, swallowing as he stepped out from his home and the warm yellow light of flickering lamps, into a world of browns and greens, awash with shadow. A hint of possibility, of mystery, of hope, all contained in the hand offered to him.

The knowledge that she had snuck all the way out here to seek him out, made him smile, just a little.

He took her hand with no hesitation, for he had never been able to say no to her. Letting her lead him in the direction of the forest, into the darkness of the yawning branches, fully trusting his heart in her hands. The heavy summer air pressed against them as they walked, surrounded by the pervasive buzz of cicadas, barely a hint of a breeze to act as a reprieve on this humid night.

“We’re here!” she declared as they stepped into a familiar location. Dropping his hand, she leapt onto a little outcrop, beaming as she swung around to face him.

They’d arrived at the little clearing they’d found on one of their forest explorations, long ago. A small grassy area, with flowers popping out of the ground here and there, and a pond on the edge. A place they returned to from time to time whenever they wanted to relax alone - which often ended with Colette dozing off, her head resting in his lap, hair falling everywhere like an ocean of gold as he let her hair fall through his fingers, wishing her peaceful dreams.

The full moon, now fully revealed, was reflected on the surface of the pond, turning it into liquid silver. If he were to throw a stone, the ripples would surely resemble the melted metal that oozed in the forges whenever Dad was working. A sight straight out of the fairytales he and Colette had read out loud at sleepovers - bursting to the seams with magic. Where fairies would meet on nights such as these, making merry above the water and soaking in the light of the full moon, causing the very air to shimmer.

Against a blank canvas of pure black, Colette drew his gaze as she did another spin, teetering wildly before regaining her balance. The only star in a cloudy night, brighter than any he had seen before - almost glowing from within as she cocked her head, hair beginning to slip out of the loose ponytail she had thrown it into, nightgown fluttering around her ankles.

Oh.

The realization was sudden, an arrow piercing his heart. Yet, at the same time, he had already known, and perhaps always had. A weight pressing on his chest all summer, that had been there ever since that evening in the rain, which he could no longer pretend was just the heaviness of the summer air. Every glance snuck at her through the veil of her hair as she reached up a hand to feel the leaves of a tree only making it build.

All of it left as a sigh, his fists clenching against his sides, the cheerful words leaving her mouth going unheard as the world came to a complete stop. Leaving him to fall.

He was making the one mistake he wasn’t allowed to, that he could never come back from. For the burden she carried would never be something she could put down, or would ever be willing to.

That was just the sort of person he’d fallen in love with.

“Lloyd?”

The touch of her hand against his cheek was what drew him back to reality. When had she gotten so close, close enough for her breath to tickle his cheek, like gentle butterflies brushing at his skin? Staring at him with concern reflected in her blue eyes, that deep blue that he’d always loved, that was so easy to get lost in.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, a small tremble to her voice as she smoothed his fringe away from his forehead, having fallen there from their trek through the forest.

He shoved down the shudder that threatened to make its way down his spine, resisting the urge to lean into her touch, to wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

“Nothing,” he said in return, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking, and smiling what he hoped was a smile free from pain. “So, what did you bring me here for?”

She stepped away, something unreadable in her eyes that was gone within seconds. Fleeting like fireworks.

“Sparklers!” She grinned, pulling out the little sticks from her pocket and waving them in his face, bringing back memories of chasing each other through town, blazing a trail of sparks behind them as they weaved between houses. “We haven’t used them at all this summer!”

“Where’d you even get these from?” he asked, incredulous as he took one from her, their fingertips brushing. “Do you have a secret stash at home or something?”

“That’s a secret!” She grinned, pressing a finger to her lips as she placed a lighter to the tip of his sparkler, followed by her own. Making them explode in golden light that enveloped them both in a warm embrace.

Falling soft on Colette - tracing the lines of her cheek, the flow of her hair, making his heart squeeze in his chest with an ache that would only get worse from here. But it wasn’t a feeling he’d trade away - not for anything.

“So… Catch me if you can!” She took off without warning, only turning back to stick her tongue out at him, barely slowing down at all. Sparks trailed behind her as she twirled with the sparkler held high in the air, weaving patterns in the air.

“No fair!” he yelled in indignation, taking chase and catching up, inch by inch, until he was hot on her heels. Breathless laughter echoed between them, sparks overtaking the entire clearing. Becoming eager fireflies with a life of their own, hoping to witness all the night had to offer. Creating wings behind their backs that stretched into the night sky to fill it with stars.

And for now, he could forget all that weighed in his heart, content to enjoy Colette’s smile and the sound of her laughter.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

He finally caught her by lunging at her from behind, arms wrapping tightly around her to keep her still as his chin came to rest on her shoulder. She squirmed, but eventually conceded, a few remaining sparks, struggling to stay alive, escaping from between her curled fingers.

They retired by the side of the pond, dipping their toes in the cool water and watching their reflections be disrupted. Her hand pressed atop his on the soft grass between them, a comfortable silence falling, the both of them out of words.

The pitiful remnants of his sparkler was stuck in the grass, valiantly sputtering, the stars that had finally come out to play painting their light in the canvas of her eyes, brushing tender strokes down her arms. He wondered what it would be like to gently cup her face and lean forward -

He only smiled when she squeezed his hand, tearing his gaze away from the curve of her mouth.

Darkness seemed to hover at the edge of everything. At the tips of leaves, at the far side of the pond. It felt like the world was wavering between a dream and reality, beginning to fray and fall apart. Perhaps this had all been a mirage, conjured up by the summer heat, to be forgotten once the fragile illusion shattered.

On their way back, they parted at the edge of the forest, her hand slipping out of his as she took a separate path and disappeared down a bend. Exhausted as he was, he trudged home and collapsed into bed. Right into another dream. Of the image of her, flickering. Always at the edge of his vision. He reached out to grasp at it, only for it to disappear the moment his fingertips brushed it. Unable to hold on.

He awoke to the heat of tears on his cheeks, heart heavy with the knowledge that the dream they shared must come to an end someday. Turning over in bed to stare out his window, he watched a shooting star tear across the sky, splitting it in two in an explosion of glorious light.

In its wake, he wished she would never know the same pain he carried now, and that she would never discover the feelings he was determined to lock away, somewhere deep in his heart. It wouldn't be fair, for her to have to shoulder another burden.

He never realised that he’d forgotten to tell her goodbye that night. Even as the world said farewell to summer, welcoming autumn’s dull brown with hesitant arms, the innocence of childhood wilting.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

“What would you do, if you could be free?”

The question slipped out of his mouth, with no reason as to why. Unable to take it back, he could only watch as Colette stiffened where she lay next to him on the grassy knoll, drawing her shoulders into herself and turning away to hide her expression.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, even though the words were meaningless at this point. What he'd said must have stabbed right at her heart. "I…"

All around them were hints of the approaching cold. Shrubs that were beginning to wilt; brown and curling leaves barely clinging onto the boughs of the trees that gave them shelter.

A reminder of the passage of time. Just as the cycle of life was - each seed that sprouted, bloomed, and then died, before his very eyes. Each grain of time slipping through his fingers no matter how much he tried to tighten his grasp, the world turning on, uncaring of the ending it was hurtling towards.

“Why do you ask?” Her voice was muffled, but steady.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would emerge. Even as he scoured his heart, there was nothing tangible enough to scramble at. Only scattered emotions. Perhaps it was the tiny bit of bitterness that he'd never been able to get rid of that had prompted this - a part of him that wanted to claw savagely at fate, to protect whatever was left, to stave off the future for as long as possible.

“I would dream. Freely, and forever,” she whispered, sitting up and turning back to face him, blue eyes shimmering with an entire sea of emotions - threads that were tangled and knotted with no hope of being smoothened out. She shifted towards him, her hand rising to cradle his face, fingers splaying on his cheek. Her other reached for his hand, slack beside him.

The thought that he should stop her leapt to the forefront of his mind, his hand hesitantly pulling away from hers. They were dancing dangerously close to the cusp of an abyss, about to take a plunge over the edge. But with her so close that he could count each spot of darker blue in her eyes, like bursts of stardust, he couldn’t bring himself to pull any further away. Blood rushing in his ears, his eyes fluttered closed as he let Colette’s fingers intertwine with his.

“With you.” The words were the last to float into the air before her lips pressed against his, soft and sweet, her hand gripping onto his tight enough to leave marks behind.

His heart soared as he drowned in the scent of spring that always clung to her, gently running his fingers through her hair. Savouring this one moment where he wished time would stop. Perhaps in another world where they were both nothing but children, without the weight of the world on Colette’s shoulders.

Yet at the same time, his heart was cracking in two as he tasted salt against his tongue, heavy with guilt.

She broke away with a gasp after just a few seconds, bringing them both crashing back to reality. There was no happy ending to be found here, no future where they could both smile.

Her huge eyes welled with tears, hands dropping to grab at his clothes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have. We… I’m so, so sorry…” she cried, burying her face in his chest as sobs wracked her shoulders.

And again, he could do nothing. Utterly powerless. Unable to stop her trembling, or to soothe her pain and make it go away. He could only wrap his arms around her, holding her close and pressing a kiss to her hair. Whispering reassurances as his own tears began to fall.

All he wanted was to take her hand and run, as far away as possible, perhaps even to the edge of the world. Where no one could find them, where no one would know who she was, where they could start over. Continue this dream they both so desperately wished for.

It wasn’t possible. Some part of her would always be left behind, here. Carrying a guilt he could never fully understand or alleviate, but would continue to pull at her, dragging her into a dark pit of torment. She could never leave. Not truly.

She continued to apologize, for things that had never been her fault to begin with, still shaking like a leaf, her sobs tearing at him. Perhaps the right thing to do would be to push her away before they could get ever more entangled with each other, but he’d never had the strength to do that, even as he constantly swallowed down the words at the tip of his tongue.

The words they had both told each other a thousand times over, without ever saying a thing out loud. Every time she sought him out when she couldn’t find the peace of sleep, every time he wiped a stray tear of hers away, every time they said goodbye to each other but refused to part, not wanting to waste a single moment… Always too afraid to say anything, even as they stole tiny moments of sweetness, stained with guilt.

A beautiful flower they nurtured in the safety of their hands, that could never see the light of day. For to speak of it would be to acknowledge that it was true.

He let the wind whisper the words beating within his heart as it caressed his face, and stared at the birds gleefully gliding through the skies above. Free to seek out a better life in lands far away, with nothing chaining them down.

Mourning all the firsts they could never have, lest the world lost its chance for a saviour to lift it from its inevitable demise. Remembering a promise that he could never keep. The last of the leaves stolen away by a sudden burst of wind, their resilience crumbling to nothingness, taking with them the final breath of spring.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

On the steps leading up to the Church, he let go of her hand. Every step they’d taken to get there trampling on a thousand memories, written onto the very surface of their hearts.

“Bye,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze, a small, guilty smile on her face. Her eyes were still slightly puffy and red, even if all other evidence had been wiped clean, the tracks down her cheeks gone.

Nodding, he fell back into the same old charade of normalcy, still unable to muster up any words.

He watched her make her way up, taking each step carefully. She turned back at the top to wave, lingering for just a moment before disappearing into the building.

Knowing what news she had come here to receive from the priests only made the vice around his heart tighten. In just an hour, she would hold in her hands the name of the person she must, by the Goddess’ demand, be tied to for the rest of her life. The “gift” the Church would give her for her 18th birthday, in their neverending kindness.

One day very soon, he would have to let go of her for the final time. And she would go where he could never follow. Saying goodbye one last time, after which he would no longer get to tell her that he’d see her again.

Tomorrow was not yet that day.

I’ll see you again then.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The sight before his eyes was the most beautiful he’d ever seen - there were no other words to describe it, and there would never be anything that could surpass it.

Colette stood before him, dressed in a resplendent white dress that trailed on the ground behind her, outfitted with frills, her hair braided with daisies threaded into them by Raine’s careful hand. A Goddess walking upon the land, prepared to bless it with fortune.

Yet her eyes broke the image of radiant happiness - overflowing with melancholy, her head bowed as if in repentance, hands clasped before her.

With another turn of the season, they had arrived. Ink trickling to the bottom of paper, ready to end the chapter, whereafter a flip of a page would close the book on their story. A fork in the road where they must part, just as they had done a thousand times before, to go their respective ways home.

“Lloyd…” She stepped closer, raising her head and smiling weakly. “I… I’m…”

“Don’t cry,” he muttered, reaching out with a shaking hand to wipe away the tears that budded at the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill over. Unable to follow his own advice, his heart at risk of shattering into a thousand pieces, never to be put back together again. Slowly sinking into despair. “The bride should be happy on her wedding day, right?”

She laughed, dry and without humour, before taking a deep breath, as if steeling herself.

What could he even say at this moment, with his world about to come to an end? Helpless to do anything to save the girl he loved from her inevitable fate. Any words of comfort would be easily crushed by the waves of authority and power the Church wielded, meaningless. Unable to even beg that she take him with her, to that far away dream within a dream, an entirely different world from which one could never return.

“Thank you, Lloyd.” Her voice, somehow no longer wavering, made his breath catch. A constant reminder of her unbreakable strength, that continued to amaze him even to this day. Her eyes blazing, she took his hand, pressing her forehead against his. “For everything.”

“Even if it was only for just a moment…” The first real smile he’d seen from her today bloomed on her face, just as entrancing as the one he’d seen on the day they’d met. Her warmth, her very soul seeming to touch him as she held their joined hands against his heart, a lifetime’s worth of dreams and hopes and wishes, contained between their palms. “You taught me what it meant to be happy. And I’ll treasure those memories forever.”

He couldn’t help the broken sound that escaped him as she pulled away, leaving only the ghostly imprint of her hand on his, even knowing that it was selfish of him to be making this any harder than it had to be. For her, it must have felt like she was ripping her heart out of her chest with her own hands, being the one who had to willingly walk away. Knowing that at the same time, she was stabbing a dagger into his heart as well.

But the world must know salvation, and to the crowd of unknowing people waiting in the chapel, prepared to clap and cheer, a few crushed hearts were barely a sacrifice.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he brushed a tender kiss against her forehead, feeling the scratch of lace. Reminiscent of the hundreds of kisses they had stolen, whether it be by the river, on the secluded path to his home, or behind the Church, desperately huddling together, still following the unspoken agreement to never speak their feelings into words. His last display of love, and a final goodbye, choking on grief and unable to speak.

Pulling away before his tears could wet the fabric of her wedding dress, knowing that the bride must look perfect.

Colette reached behind herself, fingers fiddling with the familiar clasp he’d fastened so many years ago. The image of him giving it to her, reflected in a broken mirror.

The charm was pressed into his open palm, now returned to the sender. His fingers curled over the curved surface, so tightly that it dug into his hand, the chain dangling in the air. It was still in pristine condition, the surface mostly free of scratches, for as she had promised, she had treasured it, with all of her heart. Always remembering to protect it, even when she fell and scraped her knees.

The physical manifestation of their bond, held in his hand, returned to him by the girl he had wanted to share everything with.

Her last gift to him - an attempt to cut him free. A plea for him to do what she couldn’t, to forget about her and move on, to a better life where the choice of where to go lay solely with him. Even though she would always carry a part of his heart with her, that he had carved out and given to her without ever noticing.

Just as he knew he would carry a part of her forever. For he couldn’t forget, even if he tried. Their years of laughter and tears, of embraces and teasing, of sleepovers and shared snacks and the times they’d stuck out at night, would stay with him. Even if those memories were really nothing more than a blink of an eye in comparison to the vastness of the universe, like a drop in an endless ocean… Even then, they would remain everything to him. And he would cherish them, no matter how distant they may become, no matter how much it would hurt to hold them close, each one now riddled with thorns that pricked at his skin.

Coming together in the shape of the kindest girl he’d ever known, and the only one he would ever love.

“Dream a good dream for me, won’t you, Lloyd?” she told him, showing him one last smile, raw with emotion, before turning her back on him and disappearing out of the room. Out into the Church hall where she would soon walk down the aisle, a well-practised smile painted on her face that would fool everyone but those who knew her best. Good enough, for the Church, and the rest of the world, had never cared if she was happy or not.

Leaving him alone, eyes stinging, bitterness pooling on his tongue, clutching the necklace he had once painstakingly crafted for her to himself. Discarded shards littered all around him, from that wonderful dream they had shared that had, at long last, come to an end.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And so, on a winter’s day just like the one on which he had met her, with snow falling gently outside to give the world a soft blanket, and wind battering the sides of the Church…

He let her go, once and for all.

#fanfiction #one shot #colloydweek2022 #day 6: quote day #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloyd

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bethansfandoms · 3 years

Note

hii! i had a prompt but i really wanna see a wolfstar version of it (i already asked the same prompt to a jily writer 😭) but can you do "say the words your wish is my command" but not in a lyrical way? so like theyre not singing it but theyre saying it in a conversation, and btw i looove ure writing 💞

tysm! i have no idea what kinda thing you wanted so i hope you like this :))

“It sucks that I can’t be with you,” Sirius mumbled into the crook of Remus’ neck.

“If you want to try and explain to my parents that you’re an unregistered animagus, be my guest.”

“I just hate the idea of you in that cellar,” he kissed him, “you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I did it like this for over six years, Sirius. It’s just one moon.”

There was a soft knock on Remus’ door and Sirius reluctantly detached himself from Remus, moving onto the mattress on the floor that he’d been pretending to use whilst staying with the Lupins.

“Remus, honey, we should probably get going.”

“Coming mum.” Remus leant down and gave Sirius a quick kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

Sirius tried not to be too disheartened as he watched Remus go. He’d seen the cellar. It was a cold underground room; the door to it was at the far end of the garden.

There was a chain in the corner, which prevented the wolf from being able to reach the door, and scratch marks on the walls from the transformations in the years previous to Hogwarts and the ones that fell over the holidays. Sirius hated the idea of Remus being there. Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t be.

Hope Lupin came up to Remus’ room hours later and knocked on the door again.“Yeah?”

The door slowly pushed open. “Hello Sirius, I wasn’t sure if you were asleep. Lyall and I were going to have some herbal tea before bed, would you like one?”

“No thank you. Is Remus okay?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Hope smiled and nodded. “Lyall put all of the protection spells on the door. He has to be at work early tomorrow though so it’ll just be the two of us, I don’t know if—”

“I know healing spells and stuff. I, uh, I’m with him after the moons at school so I’ll help tomorrow morning.”

“I’m glad Remus has you,” she said, simply. “Sleep well, Sirius.”

Sirius didn’t sleep at all.

He was up before Hope the next morning. As soon as the sun had risen, he was outside of the cellar door, wand in his hand, and taking down the protection spells; he descended the stairs into the room quickly.

Upon seeing Remus with a shackle on his ankle and a few deep gashes on his torso, he crossed the cellar in a half run and immediately let Remus’ ankle free before letting him collapse into his arms.

“Moony, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Remus rasped. His voice was incredibly strained. “I feel...” he let out a slow breath and went limp for a moment, Sirius kept holding him. Hope arrived moments later and helped carry a half conscious Remus out of the cellar and into the house, laying him on the sofa as Sirius mentally recited every spell he knew.

He quickly took his wand out of his pocket and got to work healing Remus’ wounds. They were far worse than they usually were after a moon with the marauders.

Hope stood there the whole time, watching, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel it must be awful as a muggle to not be able to use magic in times like this.

He’d managed to get madam Pomfrey to give him healing salves and draughts and after he’d exhausted every spell he knew, he carefully applied the salves to Remus’ wounds to help the scarring.

Remus slipped back into consciousness for a moment and Sirius gently explained he’d be giving him a draught that’d make him sleepy. Remus had murmured a dreary “love you” and if Hope had heard it, she hadn’t addressed it.

They decided to move Remus off of the sofa as he was too tall to be lying across it comfortably and a combined effort got him tucked into bed.

“There’s food and tea and coffee if you want anything, Sirius. I’ll leave him be for now but when he wakes up give me a shout. You were really good with him today, are you planning on being a healer?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, “I can’t say I’ve really considered it.”

“You should. Between you and me, I think whatever spells you used today have done a better job than when Lyall usually does it.” She sent him another smile before walking out of the door, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Sirius slipped into bed next to Remus and wrapped an arm around him, careful to avoid the new injuries. He stayed like that until Remus woke up at around noon.

Sirius ate lunch with Hope in the kitchen and prepared some soup and tea to bring upstairs to Remus. Hope had asked if he wanted her to do it but Sirius had politely declined and she let him go.

Remus was fully back to his senses now and cautiously sat up as Sirius entered the room with a tray. “Tomato soup, tea with milk no sugar,” he greeted. “Done the muggle way too which was mildly terrifying. Have you ever used a hob before? It’s scary.”

Remus laughed and put the tray onto his lap. “How bad was I?”

“Few scratches on your torso, a lot on your ankle, I don’t think the wolf liked being chained up. Broken rib but just the one. I used the spell madam Pomfrey told me to use but if it starts bruising you have to let me know.”

Remus brought the spoon up to his mouth and winced slightly, “My shoulder?”

“Oh, yeah, popped out. It’s back in but it’ll be a bit stiff. I could kiss it better if you like?”

Remus laughed again and rolled his eyes, “There wasn’t a scar on my lip that needs kissing better, was there?”

There wasn’t but Sirius leant down and kissed him anyway. “Just incase. What do you need? Jumper? More soup? A cuddle?”

“Sirius,” Remus smiled, “I’m fine, really. Although I might take you up on that last one.”

Sirius grinned and crawled into bed, nuzzling into Remus’ neck and hooking a leg over him. “Anything, Moony. Say the word, your wish is my command.”

“Is that Queen?”

“Less talking more eating.”

Remus chuckled and kissed Sirius’ head before returning the attention to his lunch. Once both the soup and the tea were finished, he lay back down properly, wrapping an arm around Sirius and playing lazily with his hair.

“I know I just woke up, but would it be okay if I went to sleep again?”

“Of course, Moony. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, stay. If that’s alright.”

“Your wish,” Sirius repeated, “my command. Love you.”

“Love you too. Thanks for coming here. I know you love being with James it’s just with dad working we weren’t sure if—”

“Moony, I love being with James but I especially love being with you.”

“I love being with you too.”

Hope came up to check on them an hour later and found them in Remus’ bed, limbs tightly wrapped around each other. She smiled as she gently shut the door. She’d heard Remus laughing earlier. She hadn’t heard him laugh after a moon before.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar headcannon #wolfstar oneshot

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

The Great Outdoors

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1275

Summary: In an attempt to relax and leave the stress of your jobs behind, you convince your boyfriend to come with you to a cabin in the Black Hills.

Notes: Okay, I spent a weekend in the Black Hills and I couldn’t resist. Since the last two were really dark, I thought this little bit of Spencer fluff would be fun. Plus, writing steamy Spence is really fun. (Ha, get it?)

Warnings: A whole lot of *suggestive* material and a sprinkle (more like a bucket full) of fluff.

More Spencer: HERE

You held the two plane tickets up with a wicked grin on your face. You’d been waiting to surprise him all day, but he’d been filling out paperwork and you had to get the vacation days approved by Hotchner. His reaction wasn’t exactly what you’d expected.

“South Dakota? Why would we go to South Dakota?”

“I rented us a cabin up in the Black Hills. I already got Hotch to give us the vacation days, so don’t worry about that. I figured we could just get away for a while. Away from serial killers and D.C. and everything else. We can just be out in the woods and forget about everything but each other.” You draped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Spencer pushed back with a confused expression.

“You want me to stay in a cabin for a whole weekend? Out in a forest?”

“I’m not asking you to scale a mountain or anything Spence.” You laughed. “I just thought getting out into the great outdoors would be good for both of us.” Spencer just gave you an uncomfortable look. Morgan walked by with a stack of files he had to work on.

“Why don’t you take Morgan?” Spencer blurted. He stopped walking, having no idea what he just got dragged into. “He likes mountains and camping and trees, right Morgan?”

“Uhh, sure?”

You put your hands on your hips.

“Well I can’t have hot hot-tub sex with Morgan, now can I?” You snapped. Morgan smirked.

“You can sure try, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you smacked his chest. He laughed and went back to his desk, eyeing the two of you with an amused smile. You turned back to your reluctant boyfriend.

“Come on, Spence, please? I used to go up there all the time when I was a kid and I really need an escape right now.” You pouted your lips, imitating the puppy-dog look he was so good at. “Don’t make me go by myself.” You used the most powerful tool you had- guilt tripping. And it worked.

“Okay, okay just stop doing the sad face with the eyes and the lips!” He surrendered. You squealed happily and threw your arms around him. You whispered in his ear.

“I’ll make it worth your while, I promise, Dr. Reid.” Your voice was low and seductive and when you pulled away to finish up some last minute paperwork, his face was turning red.

Spencer walked slowly to his desk, keeping a calm exterior when on the inside he was dying to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you in a way that would make even Morgan blush. Packing up his bag, he looked up to see his coworker shaking his head.

“Man, that woman has got you eating out of the palm of her hand.” Morgan chuckled, making a whipping motion with his hands.

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious. If my girlfriend tried to drag my ass to a cold and dreary cabin, I would have made her work a little harder. Y/N barely even begged before you caved.” He teased. Reid knew exactly how to wipe that smirk off his face, even if it was a little out of character for him.

“Don’t worry, Morgan.” He closed his bag and smiled. “This weekend, she’ll definitely be begging for something.”

He walked away, leaving a flabbergasted Morgan gaping at his desk. You joined him at the elevator.

“What was that about?” You snickered, lacing your fingers with his. While you hadn’t heard their conversation, the look on Derek’s face was a strange combination of proud and mortified. Spencer just blew out a content breath and smirked.

“Remind me to tell you at the cabin.”

Spencer’s enthusiasm could not be more forced as you unlocked the door of the cabin. He rushed inside to escape the frigid air, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. How you were still so warm and chipper, he had no idea. His little Los Vegas body was extremely uncomfortable with this environment but you seemed to be thriving in it. The freezing wind made your cheeks and nose a reddish pink color and your bright smile only grew as you explored the inside of the cabin.

“This place is so great!” You gushed. “The kitchen is amazing, there’s a huge fireplace, and the hot tub is just outside.”

“Do you have any idea how many germs are in that thing?” Spencer shuttered. You just rolled your eyes.

“Buzzkill.” You shed your giant coat and plopped down on the sofa, watching snow outside the window. It was beautiful- the snow covered trees to the endless hilly horizon- it all made you forget the horror of your job. Spencer saw the way your eyes sparkled and couldn’t help but feel guilty about being such a downer about all of this.

He sat down beside you, draping his arm around your shoulders. You cuddled up beside him and he lifted your lips to his. When you pulled back, you were grinning.

“What was that for?”

“I haven’t actually said thank you for doing all of this.” He said. Your grin spread wider.

“Is this a good time to say ‘I told you so’?” You bragged. Spencer rolled his eyes and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss and slowly laying you back on the couch. You smirked against his lips and wiggled out of his grip.

You backed away from the couch with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. You motioned for him to follow you, slowly unbuttoning your blouse.

“Where are you going?” Spencer gulped, his eyes following your fingers. You just giggled and took off down the stairs, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

You winced, feeling the hot water against the cold skin of your feet. Taking a few seconds to adjust, you sank down into the jet-stream water, feeling all of the tension still trapped under your skin melt away. You ran your fingers through your hair, letting thoughts of serial killers and gruesome deaths vanish from your mind.

“That’s so unsanitary.” Spencer complained, appearing in front of you. He was still fully dressed, but he was shivering in the below-zero weather.

“You know you won’t be so cold if you just get in.” You crept towards him, the bubbling water concealing your body but still leaving little to the imagination. Spencer shook his head.

“Do you know how many germs are probably-”

“Spence, I made sure that there’s plenty of chlorine and that the water was switched out before we got here, okay?” You started with the puppy dog face again.

“That’s not going to work this time.” He crossed his arms defiantly, but you could tell you were wearing him down. He just needed a little push.

You stood up, the freeze breeze contrasting with the hot water dripping down your bare skin. Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I told you that I would make this trip worth your while, Dr. Reid.” You untucked his shirt from his dress pants and lifted it over his head. You watched his eyes darken as his long fingers traced up your sides and over your arms to tangle themselves in your hair. The sound of his shoes hitting the deck was lost under the sound of the jets.

Spencer stepped into the hot tub, pants and all, sinking down into the water with you. The trees created a perfect wall around you, the snow silencing the world’s noise. With you in his arms and your lips against his, maybe he could get used to being an outdoors guy.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#spencer reid x reader #black hills #south dakota #Matthew Grey Gubler #criminal minds #steamy #derek morgan #criminal minds imagines #dr spencer reid

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teddyylou · 3 years

Text

Monday: Klance Drabble - teddyylou

Keith woke to gentle kisses being pressed to the shell of his ear. Wrapped up under the warm covers of his bed, he pulled the strong arm that was hugged around his middle even tighter, pressing his boyfriend’s hand, which had crept up under his shirt as they slept, to his chest, kissing his knuckles.

“Hmm, morning, baby,” Lance hummed, burying his nose snuggly into Keith’s mess of black hair. Keith felt him breathe out happily, the way their feet brushed together at the foot of the bed adding to the serene feeling that was swiftly taking over all of his senses. Every place on him that Lance touched tingled with a warmth that sent goosebumps all over his body, and every breath they took in unison as they snoozed well past Keith’s alarm made his heart swell and his smile grow exponentially.

“Morning, Lance. Mmh, it’s so sunny and nice you could almost forget that it’s Monday,” he mumbled, rolling over so that he could face his boyfriend. “And your sleepy voice is just so sexy,” he giggled, pressing their foreheads together.

Lance scrunched up his face, still yet to open his eyes, simply holding Keith closer to him to stop him from wriggling around so much. “Yeah, you can even hear the birds chirping,” he replied with a content sigh, purposefully skipping over Keith’s crass sentiment.

“Aw, you also say really sappy, cliche things when you’re half asleep. Did you know that?” Keith’s aimed a toothy grin at Lance as he opened his eyes to lour, who merely pulled the pillow out from under Keith’s head and gently smack it back down over his face which a ‘whump’.

Keith tossed it aside, rolling over to share Lance’s pillow so that he could press a kiss to his lips. ‘The first one of the day’ he thought to himself, closed mouth to avoid Lance’s nasty morning breath.

“Hey Lance, you know you have terrible morn-”

Knock, knock.

“Keith, are you up? I heard your alarm go off. Breakfast will be on the table in five; don’t make me come and get you.” Keith and Lance froze as Keith’s mother spoke gently through the door from the hallway. Keith even heard Lance hold his breath.

“Yeah, uh, coming mum,” he called back. They waited for her footsteps to disappear down the hall before Keith could even tear his eyes away from the door, relaxing against his bed as Lance let out his breath with a disappointed sigh. He knew what was coming.

“Okay, Romeo, out you go.” Keith patted Lance’s thigh as he pulled back the covers. Lance, left only in his sweatpants, laid firmly on the mattress shaking his head.

“Nooo, I don’t want to go. Let me stay,” he whined, attempting to pull Keith back against his chest before he could reach for the hoodie he’d stolen from him about a week prior.

“Mum would kill me if she knew you’d been sneaking in at night, you have to,” Keith pleaded, eyes wide as he tried to force Lance out of his bed.

“Keith, I’ve been staying here about three nights a week for the last two months! You don’t think she knows?” He asked, leaning over the bed to put his socks back on, tying his converse with a huff.

“Nope,” Keith said frankly, shaking his arms until his hands poked out of the ends of Lance’s hoodie. He climbed out of bed, catching one of Lance’s arms as he grabbed his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “And she isn’t going to find out. Now, window. Out.” Keith gave Lance a gentle push towards the second-storey window, an easily slidable roof just underneath it that would drop Lance in the front yard of Keith’s house. Lance held his hand up to his heart, scorned.

“Nine whole months I’ve loved you and here you are, forcing your dear, sweet boyfriend out of a window to ride his bike the whole way home. How you wound me,” he feigned. Keith raised an unsympathetic brow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Forsooth,” he mused, causing Lance’s facade to crack with the upturn of the corner of his lip.

“Ah, so you finally did your English homework,” Lance said, one foot already standing on top of the garage. He straddled the window sill as he slid on his shirt.

“I may has't,” Keith smiled before dawdling over to Lance, handing him his phone. “See you at school.”

“Don’t be late,” Lance said, standing fully on the roof so that he could lean back in, hands supporting him on the sill. “I love you.”

Lance kissed Keith sweetly, clearly not caring as much about morning breath as Keith did.

“I love you too,” Keith said before leaning in again, even if he knew that Lance did it on purpose, because Keith really just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. “Bye.”

“Bye,” they muttered to each other between short pecks before Lance pushed himself up, slid down the roof, and landed skilfully on the lawn. Keith watched him as he ran down to the street, pulling his bike out of the bush he had stowed it in, and rode off towards his own house. Keith watched until he’d disappeared over the crest of the hill that led to his street, actually enjoying the warm sun and the singing birds because Mondays were always good when he started them next to Lance.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Keith was startled back to reality by his mother’s voice. He’d not even noticed she’d come back up to find him.

“Oh just… some birds,” Keith lied. Krolia stared at her son for a second.

“Okay,” she replied. “Come get breakfast, we have to leave soon.”

“Cool, be down in a sec.”

***

Keith woke up tangled in sheets and all of the extra blankets he and Lance had thrown over themselves as they went to sleep the night before. His entire body was engulfed in the warmth of the strong arms holding him close, heat radiating off Lance’s chest that was pressed tight to Keith’s back.

Lance groaned as they both stirred, instantly pulling Keith even closer as the raven wiggled around to face his boyfriend. Keith felt a sleepy kiss against his forehead as he tucked his face into Lance’s neck. It was warm there. No need or desire lingered to go anywhere else.

Lance adjusted his feet to intertwine them with Keith’s. He, however, managed to pull the blankets with him as he did and for a brief moment, a gust of piercing cold air let itself into their safe cocoon. In unison, they gasped an indigent “Ah!” and huddled in together, giggling as they found themselves safe from the dreary Monday morning weather.

They laid in silence, sharing soft, lazy kisses as the rain poured on outside. The windows were fogged and if they tried just the slightest it was as if nothing else in the world existed outside Keith’s bedroom.

Until they heard shuffling around in the kitchen below.

Keith let out a deep sigh, placing a few more kisses to Lance’s defined collar bone before patting his side solemnly.

“Hhh, you should probably go now,” he weighed the unfortunate words on his tongue as he spoke. Lance merely groaned in response, snuggling deeper under the mountain of soft blankets where the sting of the outside couldn’t get him.

“Keith, baby. You can’t possibly make me go out there. You wouldn’t make me ride home in the rain,” Lance begged, holding him and rocking him, like a half-hearted shakedown. Keith huffed, considering his options for a second.

He peeked his head out of the covers, hair still a mess over his face. It looked so cold out there that his skin prickled just at the thought of it. But then he thought of his mother downstairs, catching them. Each rattle of a closing kitchen draw made his heart pound. It was a tough choice.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make me ride home. I can’t believe my small, loving, sweet boyfriend is going to send me out like this. I could catch a cold Keith. Do you wanna be the one looking after this snotty-nosed bastard?” Lance persisted almost too loudly and pointed to himself.

Keith snorted and placed his hand over Lance’s mouth to hush him. He thought about it for a second longer, eyes narrowed to a squint, shifting from the bedroom door to the window. Lance’s eyes remained wide as he awaited Keith’s verdict.

“Fine,” Keith said after a second. Lance whispered an elated cheer before pulling the both of them back under the blanket pile to cuddle.

Keith didn’t know what his next move was, but while he was laying so comfortably and soundly in Lance’s arms he was sure of one thing. That move was not going to be for many, many minutes. He opened his eyes so that he was just staring blankly at Lance’s chest as the brunet carded a hand through Keith’s knotty hair—the pair simply pretending that it wasn’t as such due to Keith sleeping like the dead, and Lance’s fingers totally weren’t getting stuck and tugging on a knot every few strokes.

Keith was almost completely lulled back to sleep when he heard a knock.

“Keith, I called you already what are you up to?” His mother’s voice became increasingly clearer as the door opened ajar and without a second to lose he threw the blankets over Lance’s head, holding them tightly up to his chin. He hoped it looked like he was just really cold, and that their entangled bodies just looked like Keith under a mass of about four quilts.

If Krolia knew anything, she wasn’t letting on; Keith thought he was safe.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Bit hard to get out of bed today. I have to plan my course wisely to get from here to the warm shower with as little time in the antarctic hallway as possible,” Keith explained, trying to appear nonchalant as Lance feathered kisses to anywhere he could reach on Keith’s chest without moving. Krolia nodded inconspicuously.

“Okay, well, breakfast is on the table, get it while it’s hot,” she told him taking a step back out of the room. She stopped, however, just as she was about to close the door. “Oh, and there is a place set for Lance too,” she eyed Keith smugly, a faint smirk on her lips as she closed the door.

Keith heard a quiet ‘oh fuck’ from under the covers and, well, yeah. That.

#klance #laith #keith kogane #lancemcclain #klance fic #klance art #vld #voltron #vld fic #vld art #klangst #klance fluff #klance au #klance drabble #teddywrites

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

A Very Hot Bath

A (not so) mini-fic for @cinnamon-hoe featuring my favorite gentleman vampire, le Comte de Saint-Germain. For my 400 follower celebration! It turned out longer and smuttier than intended. I’m . . . sorry? Approx 2000 words.

April, le Comte, Spicy and Sweet

If there was one thing le Comte knew, it was how to read a woman’s moods. And his mademoiselle was an easy study. For example, today, she lingered at each shop window and walked slowly, a clear sign that she wasn’t ready to go home despite the dreary rain and chill weather. “Ma cherie,” he said, leaning down to speak so that he didn’t need to raise his voice above the patter of the rain on their umbrella.

“Mmm?”

“This weather is certain to get worse. If you want to stay in town a bit longer, perhaps a cafe?”

She smiled. “A cafe would be nice. Hot tea, something sweet . . .”

“I knew you’d agree.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. He pretended to consider his next idea, though he’d already decided on it. “After, let’s get a room. There’s a lovely home in this district that once belonged to a friend of mine.”

“Do you think it will be alright to leave everyone on their own for a night? Without you there to keep them in line . . .” She laughed.

Comte grinned. “Sebas will hold the fort while we enjoy our evening. Besides, it’s been too long since I had you all to myself.” His golden eyes were molten hot when he spoke, testament to the truth of his words.

“I’d like to - to have you all to myself too.” She turned her head to kiss his cheek, but he was too quick for her. He caught her lips in a kiss, pulling her tight against him. She gave a breathy moan, silenced by his mouth, that made him want her more. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one that hadn’t wanted to go home today.

When he finally released her, she was breathless, glassy-eyed, and pink-cheeked. “We’re in public,” she gave a half-hearted protest, belied by the way she leaned closer and licked her lip.

“That is why I stopped when I did.” He smiled.

She gave a little pout and turned back to look in the shop window. “Is this where you got my little purse? The beaded one?”

Comte nodded. “It is.”

“Can we go in? I’d love to see what they out for this season. If - if that’s alright. We don’t need to buy anything.”

His cherie was always so worried about what he spent on her, as if somehow she could dent his wealth. He’b buy the entire shop just to see a smile on her face. “As you like, ma belle.”

They went in and handed off their coats and umbrella to the doorman. The shop owner recognized le Comte and came out to greet him, stumbling over his courtesies. Comte did his best to put the man at ease while his love wandered the shop, looking first at the ready-mades and samples, and then at the material samples.

Despite her insistence that they not buy anything, he kept an eye on where she lingered and what she touched. A woman could never have too many purses. After he reassured the shop owner that, of course he would be placing an order - he hurried to her side.

“Did you see these,” she asked, pointing to some delicate red beads. “They are garnets but they look like drops of blood when they catch the light.” She shivered and touched her neck.

Comte didn’t miss the spot her fingers found. The last little love-nip he’d given her faded there, barely visible even to his keen eyes. “I think they’d look gorgeous paired with your ivory gown.”

She shook her head. “No - it’s just- there are so many beautiful things and I just like to look at them. It makes me happy just to see them.”

“That must be why I can’t take my eyes off you. There is nothing more beautiful anywhere in this world.” He took her hand and ran his fingertip along her wrist, tracing the vein beneath. He could feel the warmth of it there through her skin.

Her eyes closed for a breath at his touch. “Ah, you can’t say things like that.” She laughed softly. “Besides, I’m not anything special. I’m glad you think so though.”

Comte kissed the tip of her nose. “You are humble too.”

Her tummy growled at exactly that moment, and she blushed crimson from the neck up. “Ah, and hungry? How far is it to that cafe?”

“It’s close. Why don’t you get your coat and the umbrella. I’ll be along in a moment.”

“You aren’t buying me anything, are you?”

“Ma cherie! You wound me.”

Her look told him she wasn’t buying that bland denial.

“I promise that I will not purchase these beads for you. A direct promise - and you know I don’t break my word.” He kissed her hand. “Now hurry along. I need a word with the shop owner.”

She raised an eyebrow but lost the expression when his lips touched the skin on the back of her hand. If there was another thing le Comte knew how to do, it was how to make his belle giddy. And he enjoyed doing it.

After she hurried over to get their things, Comte placed an order for a new purse and matching shoes using the brocade she’d lingered over and some matching blue beading and pearls. It would look gorgeous with the dress he’d commissioned for their country trip.

Comte was nearly done with the specifications when a shout got his attention. The door to the shop was open, a young gentleman on his way in. But his love was darting out into the rain. He hurried after.

“I’m so sorry, monsieur. When I opened the door, the lady’s umbrella caught a gust of wind. She’s run after it . . .” The gentleman looked perplexed.

“Yes, she’s quite impulsive,” Comte smiled. It was one of the things he loved about her. She didn’t plan or plot - she rushed headlong into life, full of joy and hope. It made her even more beautiful.

“That poor girl will be soaked to the bone,” the gentleman sighed. “If you know her, can you pass on my apology?”

“Of course,” Comte grabbed his coat and swept past. Outside, the rain was still falling in tiny chill droplets, the kind that made quick work of even heavy wool. They got under it and soaked you through, right down to the soles of your feet.

He could see her a little way down the street, running after the umbrella as the wind tugged it along. Her hair was already stuck to her scalp and her clothes were dripping. It took him only a moment to catch up.

“Quick, Comte! Catch it,” she shouted, pointing.

It was too late though. An updraft between buildings caught the fabric and the umbrella shot up and caught on a roof tile.

She turned and looked at him with big eyes. “I lost our umbrella.”

“It’s alright, ma cherie. Our lodgings are close.” Comte lifted her up and tugged his overcoat up to cover her head. “How is that? Are you a little drier?”

“Mmm, I don’t know about dry but you are so warm.” She slid cold hands against his chest and snuggled close.

Comte smiled. “And you are very cold. I should hurry or you’ll get sick. Then I’ll be forced to nurse you back to health.”

“Promise?”

He laughed. “I don’t know, ma belle. If you are looking forward to it, I should threaten you with something else. I don’t want you to get sick.”

Ahead, he could see the lights of his friend’s estate - though it was now a waystop for ambassadors and dignitaries, and his friend long dead. He knocked at the door, and when it opened, they were ushered in.

Given their soggy state, the staff wasted no time getting them into a fine room and drawing a hot bath. The maid offered to stay for any needs they might have, but Comte shooed her out. And then he was finally alone with his dearest.

She was shivering in her wet clothes, bare feet burrowed into plush carpet. Her teeth were chattering, though she tried to hold them still with a clenched jaw. Such a stubborn beauty.

Comte crossed to her. “Come now, let’s warm up.” He undid the tie on her flange and let the little capelet fall to the floor. Then began on the buttons, his fingers moving swiftly down.

“I c-can d-d-do it m-myself,” she chattered, and reached for the buttons.

Ever the gentleman, Comte dropped his hands. “As you like, ma cherie.” He gave her a wide smile, one reminiscent of the predator that he was beneath the civilized veneer. “I am eager to see you without.”

She blushed and began to undo the buttons on her own. Her cold-numbed fingers were much too slow for le Comte’s liking but he was a patient man. Most of the time.

Instead of watching her, he saw to his own soggy clothes. His jacket and vest, his scarf. He undid his shirt and draped it on a chair to dry. Then he began to unbuckle his belt but stopped at a breathy gasp from his beauty. Comte looked up to see her wide-eyed and watching him.

The hungry look in her eyes would have made any predator proud. As if she was considering eating him up.

“Ma cherie?”

She blushed and looked down. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You misunderstand, ma belle.” He closed the distance between them and lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “I want you to watch. You looked like you were enjoying it.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “Y-yes, but -”

He stepped back and finished with the buckle. Then with a duelist’s grace, he slipped his trousers off and set them on the chair. All that remained between him and the open air was a thin layer of cotton. Comte crooked a finger. “Ma cherie? Perhaps you could help me with this drawstring?”

“H-help?” She looked down at her slip, the last bit of clothing between her and the hot bath. I - I was about to -”

“I’m terrible with these knots.” Which was, of course, a lie. An egregious one. If she refused, it gave him plenty of space to laugh it off. But she didn’t. She walked forward and reached toward him tentatively. Her hands slid down his chest, caressing his belly and sides. Stopping at the top of his hip. It sent an electric shiver through him and suddenly, he very much wanted the rest of their clothing off. It put too much space between them. Entirely too much.

Her fingers slipped under the top hem, pushing the fabric down.

The sensation made Comte gasp. “My bold cherie!”

“Mmmm, turns out I’m bad with knots too,” she teased. Her fingertips danced over his low belly, stopping just above the rise of fabric and below his belly button. She slid her other hand over the top of the fabric and he groaned. “I’m not sure I can take these off you . . .”

A true gentleman, Comte reflected, would take the teasing with a sigh. But he was no true gentleman. He reached for the tie and in a heartbeat, that last shred of fabric dropped to the floor. He could feel her cool, silk slip against his belly and before he could consider it, Comte had tugged it off her and tossed it away.

“I thought you were a patient man,” she giggled.

“Not when it comes to you, ma belle.” He pulled her against him, his hot flesh to her cold skin. Even like this, she felt of heaven to him. The closest to the divine he’d ever reached. He wanted to be in her, to devour her, to taste every part of her.

Comte’s hands cupped her and lifted her up, hip to hip.

She threw her arms around him, still laughing. “What will you do to me now, you beast?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to,” he purred. He might have said more, but she nipped the skin at his neck and suckled it. An imitation of the vampire’s kiss. It destroyed what was left of his composure, though he had enough control to carry her to the bath and climb into it.

Hot water splashed over them as he sat, holding her tight in his lap. She gasped at the sensation, the sudden warmth and wetness. Then she grinned at him wickedly. “Should I be your bath maid, noble sir? I can wash your back. And all your hard to reach places.” One of her hands went under the water, seeking - and finding - his achingly hard shaft.

Comte inhaled sharply at her touch - and her boldness. “I - I,” he cleared his throat, trying to hold to words and coherency. “I think . . . we shall . . . be much d-dirtier . . . in this b-bath.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A dirty bath? You’ll have to show m-”

Her speech stopped mid-word as he leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth, scraping it lightly with his teeth before suckling and stroking with his tongue. If she wanted to find out how filthy bathtime could be, he had every intention of teaching her. In detail.

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp le comte #le comte de saint germain #ikemen comte #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #spicy #Smut

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21burritoseavey · 3 years

Note

Hey love!

How are you?

I hope you are doing good.

Can we please get a pt2 of secret relationship and where’s my love

hey! here's pt.2 to 'where's my love'. FINALLY. The pt.2 to 'secret relationship' will come a little later:)

a/n: without giving too much away...Daniel finds Y/n...and this sucks ergogeijhet

warnings: mental illness. please read at your own discretion:)

Where's my love Pt.2 (d.s.)

9:27am

“Hello,” Daniel rubbed his dreary eyes with the back of his hand, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder tightly as he lifted an energetic Kobe up to his chest.

“Hi Daniel, it’s me, Victoria.”

Daniel took a second to recall who this person was. Victoria, he whispered to himself, finally remembering that she was one of Y/n’s work friends. A smile smeared across his lips slowly, and his eyes lit up with a small glimmer of hope that Y/n would just be at work, and she’d be safe...and warm...and okay. “Oh, hey! You work with Y/n, right? Is she at work right now?” He asked, trying to tone down the sudden excitement laced in his voice.

“Actually, that’s why I called. She didn’t come to the office yesterday, or today.” Her voice was quiet, and despite only hearing her voice through the phone, Daniel could sense her worry. He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“W-what? No, no. There’s no way.” He stammered. “She went to work yesterday.” He clenched his jaw tightly.

“No, she didn’t...Look, I just wanted to ask, next time you talk to her, can you tell her I called?”

Daniel nodded. He didn’t have the guts to tell Victoria he hadn’t seen Y/n in more than a day and he simply let out a “yeah.” in reply.

“I’m just a little worried is all.”

“Yeah,” Daniel nodded again, “I’ll tell her.”

“Great, thank you Daniel. She’s lucky to have you.”

He didn’t even try to mutter out a steady reply before hanging up the phone. He tapped on Y/n’s number and waited impatiently as the phone rang, ultimately going to voicemail after a few long seconds. Daniel didn’t know what to do with himself. With the new information he’d just been told he tried to piece together where Y/n might’ve gone but...nothing. His mind went blank, and he shamed himself for it quietly as he paced the living room. Christian’s door opened rather silently and padded from his bedroom to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of his brother.

“Hey, Daniel.” Daniel looked over his shoulder. “What’s up?” He took a shaky deep breath before speaking. “Y/n’s missing.” “What?” “She’s gone. I haven’t seen her since yesterday and her co-worker called me, and she wasn’t at work yesterday or today and I literally have no idea where she could be. What should I do?” Daniel rushed out, scaring himself even more as stared at his older brother, awaiting his reply. The two boys shared identical panic-stricken faces.

“Do you wanna call the police?” Christian asked gingerly.

Daniel chucked humourlessly. “Y-you don’t think she’s actually in danger, right?” He answered the question himself. “No, no. Sh- she wouldn-” “Look, we should call them just in case, just to make sure.” Christian assured, walking back towards his bedroom to retrieve his phone.

Daniel stopped in front of him and walked backwards, closer to the front door. “No, I can find her. I will find her. Don’t call!” Christian barely had time to at least compromise with his younger brother before the door slammed with a loud thud. Daniel was rushing out towards his car with his keys laced in his fingers and untied sneakers nearly slipping off his feet

The studio came into view as Daniel took his usual right turn - almost speeding - towards the contemporary style building. He knew it was far away from Y/n’s workplace, which was where he planned to drive next, but he always needed his best friends. Especially today.

The automatic door gaped open as he rushed into the studio, running down the corridor that was lined with multiple studio rehearsal rooms. Daniel’s eyes flickered towards the window to look at his bandmates around their microphones and instruments. He swung the door open.

“Hey,” Daniel started, lifting his gaze to his friends sitting on the mini sofas around the sound board. “Guys?” The overlap of voices that lingered in the room and the background plucking and strumming and playing of instruments sent him into overwhelm. “Everybody shut up!” Daniel hardly ever yelled, but when he did, it was more etched with stress than anger and the rise in his tone startled the boys working in the studio. They looked over their shoulders to peer at Daniel, who had a hopeless frown on his face and eyes shimmering with tears. “Daniel? Hey, we missed you this morning.” Corbyn chuckled gently, placed his guitar down to lean on a nearby chair and walked towards the doorway.

Daniel stayed still, suddenly the reality of it all settled right there. “We need to go find her.” They boys knew what Daniel was talking about and they all exchanged concerned glances with each other before turning back to the fearful boy in front of them.

“Like now. We need to go now, come on!” He gestured to his car outside.

“Okay,” Jonah said, getting up as he grabbed his car keys. It took a little convincing from their management and other members of their team, but the boys did ultimately get permission to leave rehearsal early. The boys all followed Daniel’s request and headed out of the studio. Since Daniel was basically brimming with worry, Jonah suggested he should drive as they looked for Y/n.

The car of concerned boys wandered the streets and roads with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, peering out in hope that Y/n would be found. Daniel raked a quick hand through his hair. “God. I hope we find her,” Daniel melted further into his chair tiredly. “Can you drive faster?” he breathed. He knew Jonah couldn’t, but panic was running high, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

Daniel’s gaze drifted out the window, and he kept his chin in his palm as he thought for a moment. “We gotta go to the beach.” Daniel said, glancing towards Jonah in the driver’s seat beside him. “Y/n loves the beach.” Despite the long car ride so far, the boys didn’t argue with him one bit. They all knew first-hand what it was like to feel that heart wrenching fear and concern that emerged when texts or calls go unanswered. Of course they all loved Y/n dearly, but they could’ve never imagined just how terrible Daniel was feeling.

Daniel was right about Y/n. She was at the beach; a place she appreciated devotedly and always went when she wasn’t feeling like herself. The beach looked dozy as it rested in the afternoon glow. Y/n always liked it that way, where the rich blue surface rose and fell easily or where the sun illuminated the clouds with thin streams of light. Y/n ambled along the sandy shore, slowly at first. Hesitant. She took agile steps towards the sea that ebbed ever so gently beneath her feet.

The band got to the beach not long after. Jonah stealthily parked the car on the edge of the curb. They had no idea where Y/n was yet, let alone that she had plunged deeper into the freezing water. And Y/n, was utterly clueless to the boys that were on the razor’s edge of panic only a few metres away from her.

The coldness of the water stung her skin, futile compared to the sting of melancholy in her heart. The sea was like an icebreaker to her, and from there Y/n found it easier to wade across the water despite its aggressive waves pushing her towards the shore again and again.

Daniel leaned his arms on the front of the car and leaned over to look for her from his spot on the pier. He was casting his eyes warily, straining to any sounds with eyes and ears.

“She’s over there!” Corbyn called after hearing her feeble sobs from across the beach. He pulled at Daniel’s shirt so they could run over to her together. Daniel’s whole body shot up at Corbyn’s words but before he could even stumble out any words, the little, slightly blurred image of Y/n knee deep in the water made his blood run cold and he felt a wave of...something rush over him. Corbyn, Daniel and Jonah called Y/n’s name profusely as they clambered down to the beach towards Y/n. Jack and Zach lingered near the shore, shaken and scared.

“Y/n!” Daniel yelled, wading through the relentless water as fast as he could to get to her. “Y/n! Baby?! Come here!”

Sorrowful body-shaking sobs racked Y/n’s body, weakened by her walking, each coming in a wave, and she let out soft whimpers. There was no doubt that Daniel was crying too. He let his tears roll down his face and drop into the water as he got closer to Y/n.

“Hey, hey, hey...” He repeated quietly, finally able to get a hold of her. Y/n clung onto him limply and Daniel wrapped his arms around her, as sure as the sun shining down on them. Y/n couldn’t focus on much. The overwhelming hovering birds orbiting around her or the splashing of water against her skin filled her cloudy mind. “I’m sorry!” Y/n sobbed, “I’m so-sorry!” her sorrowful apologies infused with the crashing waves and surging tide. “I thought it would make me happy, Dani. I didn’t make me happy…. I-it didn’t make me happy she repeated.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Daniel repeated. “You’re okay,”

Y/n’s voice was thick with tears and Daniel tried his best to wipe them away. Corbyn and Jonah were right at her side too. Their hands hovered over her back and arms just in case her or Daniel needed that extra help. They all walked towards the shoreline silently.

---

The car ride was silent. Y/n was cuddled up comfortably in a cocoon of Daniel’s sweater, Corbyn’s jacket and a small blanket that Jonah found in his trunk - tending to Y/n was a team effort - and despite scaring the boys to death, she was glad to feel the sense of warmth and love that mingled with their wary supervision. Particularly Daniel. And she felt awful that she made him feel the way he did. She kept her gaze out of the window and let her mind drift to thoughts of sleeping in his warm bed when they’d get home. The security and cosiness of it all was comforting and she let her cool face lean against the glass to warm under the sun that cascaded down through the car windows.

No matter how hard he tried not to, Daniel couldn’t stop blaming himself for what had happened that afternoon, barely an hour ago. He sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, his knuckles white from the cold water and the lingering glint of panic present in his eyes. The roads shimmered in the midday sun and the city buildings stood tall, piercing the blue sky as they sparkled in the distance. The faraway horizon was a feast for the eyes, but Daniel didn’t care. The world was all a blur to him, and the only view his eyes would focus on was the one right in the seat beside him.

When they arrived back at his place, Daniel noticed Christian through the front window as he parked the car. He was standing right near the foyer with Kobe held securely in his arms. Daniel smiled to himself and glimpsed towards Y/n before he hopped out of his side of the car. As he walked around to her side, Y/n let her eyes linger on his figure trudging across the front of the car, particularly his tired, red eyes, either from crying or lack of sleep. She gazed at him as he opened her door.

Daniel pressed a hand to her back with his hands gently holding hers as she stepped out. Y/n sighed tiredly as her feet hit the ground and she felt his protective hands upon her rosy cheeks, “You alright?”

Y/n nodded. He pressed a kiss to the same spot without a word and let his forehead rest against hers.

“Y/n,” Christian breathed as they walked through the door, guiding the clueless dog away from her as he scrambled around her excitedly. His paws tapped lightly on the wooden floors and Y/n dropped her gaze at the gentle sound, pulling a smile towards the wide eyed puppy that hadn’t seen her in a couple days. She looked back at Christian. “Hey, Chris.” She spoke gently. Daniel kept his hand placed behind her back and he shared concerned glances with his older brother.

“We should get you to bed now, Y/n.” Daniel whispered gently, linking his arm in hers as they walked to his bedroom.

“Have a good sleep, my love, okay?”

Y/n nodded. “Okay,” she held out her hand to hold Daniel’s, and he placed it lazily over hers, bending down to press a kiss to her hair as she kissed his knuckles gently. “M’kay, I love you.” He threaded his fingers through a strand of her hair before pulling away. “I’ll just be in the living room.” He assured her.

---

3:32pm

“Here you go,” Daniel turned around to Y/n, “your pancakes...or what I call, little bits of happiness.” Daniel beamed towards her the best he could and placed the plate on the tabletop.

“You think I could get about a thousand of those right now?” She joked. “The...happiness, I mean.” She let a gentle smile tug at the corners of her lips as she spoke. It was a small smile, but a real one.

“There’s my girl,” Daniel whispered. He rested his forearms on the counter and leaned in closer to dust his thumb over her cheek. “There’s my happy girl…” His quiet voice wavered between them and he finally let the tears in his baby blue eyes drop onto the counter.

Y/n’s heart virtually broke as she watched him cry and sniffle silently. She dropped her fork and cupped his face in her hands. “No, no, Daniel...” Y/n’s voice lowered in sadness and with best efforts, she tried to continue steadily for both their sakes. “I’m okay, I’m okay, really.” She rushed out, lifting Daniel’s limp chin upwards to meet her eyes.

“Why did you do that?”

Daniel’s strong words echoed inside her like a ripple of guitar strings. She thought for a moment, dropping her hands back to her plate of pancakes. “I don’t know...I don’t know what I was thinking.” Daniel didn’t answer. Her genuine response didn’t seem to heal the intense, aching hurt that lingered in his heart from the hours before.

Y/n sighed before continuing, “I’m...I-I feel like I’m being pulled into different directions...I can’t deal with it all! I’m just getting overwhelmed with school and work..,and you’re always busy,”

“I knew it. This was all my fault.” Daniel sighed, lifting his hands up in front of his face.

“No, no. It’s not, none of it is. You are the sweetest, kindest guy I know and it’s not your fault I did...that,” Y/n said quickly.

“We-were you trying to…” Daniel pressed his fingers to the nape of his nose before his tears could fall again. He took a shaky inhale before continuing, but Y/n did it for him.

“No, I wasn’t…trying to hurt myself.” She said honestly. “I just need a break from…”

“Us?” Daniel asked quietly.

“No,” she said strongly, meeting his gaze with a subtle smile. “I need you more than anything right now. I just...need a break from work, and maybe school.”

“Okay,” Daniel’s eyes misted over again as he spoke. “Don’t ever feel like you need to hide things from me, okay? I love you. And when you need to talk and I say I’m busy and all that, you let me know that you need to talk, okay? We can talk whenever you want.”

“Okay,” She muttered with a smile.

Daniel lifted her chin up to look at him. “I know this won’t all go away, but it’s a start.”

“Yeah, it’s a start.”

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#daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey x reader #why don't we #why don't we imagines #why dont we fanfic #jack avery #jonah marais #zach herron #corbyn besson

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ayanna-wild · 3 years

Text

Love Like A Story

Word Count: 2033

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining because that is definitely a warning lol, fluff

A/N: Request from wattpad

Summary: Love was a fairy tale, it didn't exist beyond movies and words on the pages of a book. With your fair share of heartache and break, you'd decided you were better off alone, but Lucifer's determined to show you love wasn't a trope for the story books.

Such a persistent devil.

..................................................................................

You stacked the books from your cart onto shelves lined with even more books. Some new, some old, all with a story or more to tell. This little shop was your own slice of heaven, your refuge from the world outside. You had no need to venture out when any adventure you could ever want was right here, between the pages of all these books. The bell above your shop door chimed faintly, and you called out to whomever it was.

"We're not open yet!"

The sound of footsteps grew nearer and a familiar man poked his head around the shelf you were stacking.

"I'm just here to pick up my order, assuming you have it?"

You smiled faintly, dusting your hands off from the older books that had collected more dust than the ones towards the front of the store.

"Mr. Morningstar, nice to see you again."

Lucifer was a regular in your little shop, always seeking to expand his library and occasionally asking you to find books you weren't sure even existed anymore. You always came through though, and you supposed that was why he kept coming back.

"How many times must I insist you call me Lucifer?"

His voice followed after you as you walked back towards the counter.

"You're my customer, not my friend." You replied, albeit a bit stiffly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow leaning against the counter as you walked behind it, shuffling through a box.

"Shall I pretend not to be offended?"

You mostly ignored his comment, setting a very large and very old book in front of him. The pages were well-worn and bound in a material you suspected wasn't leather. Lucifer smiled and ran his fingers over the spine before open the book.

Words you couldn't understand were written on the pages, and he seemed even happier upon that discovery.

"You even got it in the original Sanskrit."

You shrugged a bit, although you did feel rather proud of yourself.

"It's what you asked for."

Lucifer pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to you. Another reason he was your favorite customer is because he paid handsomely for finding books like this. Honestly he was keeping your shop afloat. You grabbed the envelope but frowned when he didn't let go.

"Mr. Morningstar, you don't get the book until I get my money."

He tsked, still not letting go.

"It's Lucifer my dear, go on try it." He smirked.

You sighed, tapping your fingers on the counter. It was safe to say you were his match when it came to stubbornness. His hand brushed yours when he leaned forward a bit, and you tried to ignore the feeling his skin brushing against yours gave you. You stared him down before he let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well if you won't say my name at least humor my curiosity for a moment."

You nodded, and he relinquished his hold on the envelope, which you tucked into the cash register.

"Do you ever leave this shop? You always seem to be here, don't you ever go out?"

"Why would I? I have everything I need here."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, and he frowned.

"Don't you have friends who miss you? Family? A lover to be with perhaps?"

He noticed the tense of your shoulders, your lips pressed in a thin line, and you pressed the book into his hands, causing him to fumble with it.

"I don't need those things. Have a good day, Mr. Morningstar."

He stared at you surprised by your sudden hostility, and he stood there a moment, holding his book.

"But my dear, surely you don't enjoy being so alone..."

"Goodbye Mr. Morningstar."

You turned away from him, busying yourself with marking the transaction down in your receipt book. Lucifer stood there a moment longer before leaving without another word. You waited until you heard the bell chime before releasing your breath, leaning back against the wall.

You didn't need anyone. It was never worth the heartache that followed after they left, you decided long ago being alone is what you wanted, and he wasn't about to change that.

Not if you could help it.

Although Lucifer continued to come as he regularly did, he noticed you grew even more distant than before. Which was saying something because the two of you were never very close to begin with. Not for a lack of trying on his part though, you stopped any advances of friendship he made. Now however, you didn't speak to him at all.

Not beyond a polite greeting, or the total of his purchases. He'd even accept you calling him Mr. Morningstar, as long as it meant you'd at least look at him.

"Are you alright darling? You seem very off lately."

You didn't answer him as you rung up the stacks of books he had sat down. Lucifer frowned when you wordlessly began loading them into a bag.

"Y/N..."

The provoked a small glance from you, he seldom used your name, preferring to call you darling, or dear, occasionally love if he was in an especially chipper mood.

"Good day Mr. Morningstar."

Lucifer frowned when you handed him the bag, his hand brushed yours as he grabbed the bag, and you jerked your hand back as if he had burnt you. He didn't leave though, continued to stare at you until you finally met his eye.

He studied you closely before leaning towards you a bit, with a wall behind you there was nowhere to run. You couldn't seem to force yourself to look away, eyes locked with his.

"Tell me darling... what do you desire most in this world?"

You didn't want to answer, really you didn't, but you found your lips moving before you could stop them.

"I want to be alone, completely and utterly alone."

Lucifer stood up straight, shock and concern written all over his face. You blinked rapidly for a few seconds, breaking whatever spell had fallen over you.

"Why would you desire such a dreary existence?"

You scowled, angry at yourself for saying that out loud, angry at him for asking.

"Everyone always leaves in the end, love is just a fairy tale, a story better left to empty words on a page."

Lucifer's heart ached to hear you say such a sad thing, it left him wondering who'd hurt you so. You didn't give him much of a chance to ask before opening your shop door.

"I have work to do, Mr. Morningstar, please leave."

Your cool tone left no room for argument making it clear you were telling him, not asking. Lucifer conceded, leaving you alone with your darkening thoughts.

You closed the shop early that night, locking the door behind you as the sun began to set. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Lucifer standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He put it out once he saw you though.

"Hello love, I was wondering when you'd come out!"

You stared at him confused and a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Have you been waiting for me out here this whole time?"

"Well yes, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back into your shop today, after what happened."

He said it so casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Why?"

"So I could walk you home of course!"

"I can walk myself, Mr. Morningstar."

You shouldered past him, but that phased him very little as he fell into step beside you.

"It's after hours, none of that Mr. Morningstar nonsense, surely it'd be appropriate to call me Lucifer now?"

You slowed to a stop, sighing as you turned to him.

"If I do, will you leave me alone."

"For tonight, yes."

"Then thank you, Lucifer, but I'd really like to walk myself home."

His excitement over you finally saying name canceled out your dismissal of him, and he smiled widely.

"Well then a deal's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow my dear!"

And just like that he was strolling away, you stared after him a moment before shaking your head and going on your way. That didn't stop the ghost of a smile that graced your lips though.

True to his word he did come the next day, and the day after that, and every day since. By the end of the month you'd gotten so used to having him around you began to look forward to the lunch breaks you'd take with him, the evenings he'd walk you home, and you'd pretend not to notice he guided you the long way just to talk longer.

It'd become so normal for you that when he abruptly stopped coming one day you grew worried. He'd never been late before, and you'd received no text nor call. Given your past, your thoughts began to darken, perhaps he'd decided to leave you like everyone had.

Really could you blame him?

It had to be you if everyone kept disappearing from your life. You were so lost in your harsh thoughts you didn't even realize you were crying until your eyes began to burn. You wiped the tears away harshly, scolding yourself for being so weak.

"You were fine on your own before, and you'll be fine now." You firmly told yourself, but you had trouble believing your own words.

When had you allowed yourself to start relying on Lucifer?

The bell above the door chimed, and you turned around surprised. Lucifer stood in the doorway, shrugging off his drenched coat to hang it on the hook in the wall. He fixed his hair with one hand holding a bag in the other. He was soaked from head to toe, probably from the downpour outside.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm so late darling, I wasn't expecting the rain and got- Oh."

You had abruptly hugged him, catching him off guard, but he placed a gentle hand to your back nonetheless.

"You'll get wet if you cling to me like that." He said softly.

"I'm sorry..." You spoke, stepping away from him.

"Oh no my dear, it's perfectly alright! I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Lucifer said quickly upon seeing your tears.

You laughed a little, wiping your eyes.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then what is it?" He asked carefully.

Seeing Lucifer standing there, drenched from the rain, looking at you so concerned made you suddenly feel very foolish. How could ever assume he'd just abandon you.

"It's silly now that I think about it... but you were late, and I thought... maybe you weren't coming back."

Your voice grew quieter towards the end and Lucifer let out a small sigh.

Not one of annoyance or irritation, but relief, and he walked over to you.

"Does this mean you don't want to be alone anymore?"

You thought for a moment, your insecurities were still there, the small fears, but you were more scared of not having Lucifer by your side anymore.

"I guess I wouldn't mind... if you wanted to stick around."

He smiled proudly and forgetting his earlier concern of you catching a cold, hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The bag in his hand crinkled, and you pulled back to look at it curiously.

"Oh that's right! I got you a little gift!"

He held the bag out to you, and you opened it eagerly, your heart skipping a beat when you pulled out the book.

"Lucifer, this is... how did you find this?"

The book you held in your hand was one you'd been desperately searching for, but it was so rare you suspected you'd never find it, let alone afford it.

"I called in a few favors, a little gift to commemorate our time together. It's nothing really, you're always finding rare books for me."

You laughed a little running your fingers along the cover.

"But Lucifer this is..."

You laughed once more, throwing your arms around his neck as you hugged him tightly.

"It's amazing, thank you."

He smiled, hugging you back as he leaned into your touch.

"You're worth it my love."

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar one shot #luciferonnetflix #luciferonfox #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x you

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nvrrmiind · 3 years

Text

Not In The Same Way ; Calum Hood

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut & swearing -- like always

Summary: the one where y/n doesn't love Calum the way she used to.

(Read more of my work here)

***

It started like most relationships did, with fiery passion and unrealistic standards of happiness. In the beginning there was an overwhelming feeling of love and trust, like they’d known each other in a different life and had somehow found each other again in this one. They’d joked about being soulmates, but as their relationship progressed it would become evident that that wasn’t the case. Not because they didn’t love each other enough, but because they loved each other too much. In fact, they loved each other so much that it prevented them from being happy.

Calum had met her through a friend of a friend, who couldn’t stop talking about the beautiful girl with the killer smile and vibrant personality. Eventually one thing led to another and they met for drinks on a terrace overlooking the city. They seemed perfect for each other, both adventurous, yet laid back, and both aspiring to make a name for themselves. Perfect, however, as the years progressed, was the last thing outsiders would dare to call the pair.

It’s like what everyone says, what is good, must eventually come to an end.

***

“I love you. You know that, right?” He whispered, fingers trailing up and down her naked back.

“Yea, I know that.” She sighed, trying to muster up the strength to give him a smile.

Their bodies were covered in a light layer of sweat, yet she was cold to the touch. Her face lay on the back of her hands as she turned away from him, her chest feeling heavy. She couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him that she loved him anymore, much like how she couldn’t muster up the courage to give him cheesy smiles or squinting eyes that were filled with happiness.

She’d given up responding to his ‘I love yous’. It’s not that she didn’t love him anymore, because she did, but not in the same way she used to. She used to love him with the entirety of her heart and soul; she used to admire everything he did and couldn’t find a single thing wrong about him. But as her infatuation dwindled and real life began to kick her ass, it was getting harder for her to remember all of the things she used to love about him.

“I’m going out.”

“Okay.” She felt him leave a lingering kiss on her shoulder before their bed dipped and he was leaving to the bar yet again.

Two and a half years, she’d sigh. Have I wasted two and a half years of my life on a relationship that is going to amount to nothing? And am I going to continue to allow myself to feel this miserable, and if so, for how long? These questions swirled through her mind constantly for the past couple of months; and to be frank, she wasn’t sure how to answer any of them. She felt stuck between her past and present self, because she didn’t want to leave the man who she lived with and built a life with, but she also wanted to branch off and do different things. She was still so young and full of life, why should she spend it with a man she was no longer in love with.

That was it, she decided. She still loved him, but she wasn’t in love with him.

By the time she’d managed to get out of bed and showered off the lingering smell of him, he was stumbling up the stairs, drunk off his ass; a normal routine of his for the past few weeks. Because while she was ignoring and avoiding her relationship issues, he was feeling all of the blow-back from it. Calum was feeling the space that she was putting between the two of them and how she hadn’t told him she loved him. He could tell that she wasn’t happy and he knew that he was the reason for it, but he wasn’t sure why.

She avoided her problems by shutting down and he avoided his problems by drinking. Maybe they still were a match made in heaven, he thought sarcastically.

“You’re home early.” She remarked, meeting his drunken gaze. He was standing in the doorway, slowly swaying on his feet. It was hard not to notice his puffy lip and the cut above his eyebrow. While she continued to trail her eyes down his frame, she stopped at his busted knuckles.

“They kicked me out.”

“I can see that.” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she approached him, loosely linking her hands with his. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“I’m sorry.” He hissed as she brushed the alcohol pad over his cut. His hands were bruised, and hurt when he gripped them into fists, but he still gripped her close to him.

“What happened?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“I always want you to be honest with me.” She nodded, her free hand cupping the side of his face, her thumb running across the underside of his eye, his eye-bags evident from the lack of sleep he’d been getting.

“I wanted to fight.” He was sitting on the side of the tub, his body melting into hers.

“You’re a psycho sometimes.”

“Only for you babe.” He winked, flashing a quick smile, something she had missed seeing.

Times like this, when he held her close, and they had their comforting witty banter, she felt like everything was okay again. But nothing would really ever be the same again, not with the two of them. The damage was already done, but neither of them wanted to admit it -- to admit defeat. They stayed like that for what could have been hours, but in reality it was only minutes, until she pulled away to throw away the bloodied tissues.

She could feel his stare, but refused to meet his gaze in the mirror. She could see Calum’s eyebrows furrowed in sadness and confusion, like they had been for the last few dreary months.

“I love you.” He spoke quietly.

“Me too.” She whispered, feeling her chest tightening each time she refused to acknowledge both his love and the love she had for him.

So, she did the only thing that she could think of to ease the tightening in her chest and the hopelessness in his; she made her way to him and cupped his face gingerly and brought his lips to hers. It was sloppy and laced with desire, everything they both needed at the moment. While they both knew that sex wouldn’t solve anything, they couldn’t help themselves.

Calum’s hands gripped the hem of her t-shirt, or rather his, and pushed it quickly up her body, before he tossed it across the bathroom. He left wet kisses up her stomach and between the valley of her breasts, his hands grabbing at her perfect ass. She hastily worked at his jeans, pulling him up by his belt loops, before she yanked them down his legs.

It didn’t take long before her knees and forearms were pressed against the cool tile floor and he was filling her up like he’d done hundreds of times before. She felt so warm and snug wrapped around him, like he was meant to be inside of her, pounding in and out of her with pure lust. He loved looking at her from this angle, with her ass in the air and back arching in pleasure. Small pants left her mouth as her eyes rolled back with every rough thrust he gave her. The sound of skin snapping against skin filled the room and her sweet whimpers mixed with his breathless moans.

“Harder,” She gasped, her body shaking with pleasure. “Please, Cal, give it to me harder.”

His hips slammed into hers with fervor, sliding in and out of her slick folds with ease. She could feel her orgasm in the pit of her stomach, waiting desperately to be taken to the edge, so she could release around him.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispered into her ear, nipping at her neck. “Come all over my cock.” He continued, suckling on her neck, making sure to leave a mark. He needed to, to remind her that she was still his, despite all the recent flaws of their relationship.

“Fuck, Cal, I’m gonna--” She whimpered, hot pants lingering past her dry lips.

“That’s it.” He groaned, feeling her clench around him, her legs spasming as her orgasm flooding her senses. He fucked her through her high, before he was a garbling mess behind her. Spurts of his hot white come filling her up.

He stayed inside of her, holding his come inside of her in desperation. Desperate, that if he pulled out of her that she would walk out of the door at the very next moment. As much as he tried to drink away his problems, nothing could fix the pain he was going through. Calum felt like there was a hole in his chest, like part of him was missing. He felt empty and sad and angry; and all of this was because of the fucked out girl in front of him, who was still coming down from her high. But she couldn’t have been the only problem, he knew that he played a part as well, but he didn’t know where he went wrong or how he could fix it.

When he finally pulled out of her, his come dripped from her weeping hole and down her thighs. He marveled at the sight, but it didn’t last long, before he was in his head again, thinking about how the only time he felt close to her now was when they were having sex. Inevitably, he knew, that they would end up fighting sooner or later since nothing seemed to be going right for them.

He wondered if they’d reach the point of no return.

***

Tears slipped down her cheeks with ease and stained her tear-ridden hands. She was tired, so tired. Tired of having to deal with this tightening feeling in her chest from her mixed and muddled emotions. She couldn’t keep living like this -- feeling like she was confined and trapped inside of her own mind and body. She paced around their kitchen in nothing but an old t-shirt, her sock clad feet scuffing against the smooth hardwood. There was a glass of whiskey that she’d slowly been drinking, set on the island, it was her second glass -- maybe third -- not that it mattered.

Calum was passed out upstairs, having come home after he helped close out the bar. The clock above the stove brightly shined 3:12am, and she couldn’t quite figure out why she was awake or why she decided that drinking whiskey would fix her. She was turning into him, she thought dryly. Her mascara was making her lashes clump together and was drastically smeared below her eyes like she was going through a life crisis in some generic movie. Tissues were littered across the counter, full of her sorrows; she’d gone through half a box of tissue already and wondered how much more she’d go through before she’d be able to stop pouring her heart out over a glass, or rather bottle, of whiskey.

She scrolled through her phone for the past twenty-five minutes, looking at pictures of the two of them together. Seeing how the both of them looked so happy, so in love. Pictures from years ago flooded her screen, of them at some lousy bar -- his arm hanging lazily over her shoulder, holding her tight. Pictures at the beach, of her holding him in the water with cheesy smiles on their faces. Pictures of them cuddled up next to each other by the fire, photos that their friends had taken of him. There were pictures of them after one of his shows, where you could see the light sheen of sweat layered across his body, where she still held him close even though she secretly hated his sticky post-concert skin.

There were the more intimate photos of them, and silly ones, and romantic ones -- and paparazzi photos that she’d saved to her phone from Twitter. The longer she stared at the photos the tighter her chest felt yet she still couldn’t look away from them. Her eyes continued to fill to the brim with tears that spilled from her eyes and continued to leave streaks down her cheeks. Why couldn’t she look away? She nearly let out a sob, reaching for her tissue box once again. Her phone hit the counter with a soft thud and she threw back the last of her whiskey before refilling it for the third -- maybe fourth -- time.

Sniffle, sigh, sip. That was her new mantra and as she looked at the clock above the stove the numbers shined brightly at her, 3:54am.

“What are you still doing up?” Calum’s groggy voice shook her from her thoughts.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She murmured, downing the last of her whiskey.

“Why don’t you come back to bed.” He spoke softly, matching her tone.

Her back was to him as she leaned over the counter, her glass discarded to her side and large piles of tissues were scattered around her. She wondered if he could feel her sorrow from across the room but he often decided to play the oblivious card whenever he could. Part of her wished that he would sweep her off of her feet and take her upstairs where he’d whisper sweet nothings into her ear until she fell asleep. Another part of her wished that he’d yell at her for being so distant and moody lately or yell at her for not loving him the same way that he loved her.

“Why haven’t you left me yet?” She questioned, turning around to face him, sniffling in the process.

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed, and although he wanted to act dumb he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“I’ve been a complete and utter asshole to you. I’ve been the shittiest girlfriend imaginable for at least the past month and you’ve stayed by my side like a sad fucking puppy.” She was angry, irrational, sad, and broken -- and she’d take it out on him if she had to.

“Because I know you’re just going through it. You’ll get over it, I know you will.”

“It’s not that simple.” She all but sobbed. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me understand.” He came to her with soft eyes and open arms. “Help me understand what you’ve been going through so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” She fell into his arms, clinging to his shirt, fearing that he might slip through her fingers.

“I’d rather be hurt by knowing what’s going on in that brain of yours than be hurt by you not telling me anything.”

She breathed in his scent with nostalgia, thinking about all the memories they’d made together. She thought about their first date and their first kiss. She thought about the first time they said they loved each other and the last time she actually meant it. She also thought about moving in with him and getting their first dog together. Her memories came flooding back to her in waves, making her clutch onto him tighter. She didn’t want to leave him, but how could she stay with him if she didn’t love him?

“I - I don’t think I love you anymore. Not in the same way I used to, at least.” She cried into his shoulder, mascara staining a shirt he should have thrown away a long time ago. “I want to love you so bad, Calum; I swear! I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure this out, y/n, I promise.”

#Calum Hood #calum #hood #5sos #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfic

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sour--disposition · 3 years

Text

Across The Miles

harry lewis x fem!reader

please check my masterlist to see if my requests are open

(gif from the amazing @sdmngifs)

You stepped off the plane and were met with the dreary skies that seemed to always plague England. Simon had told you he and JJ would meet you outside of the baggage claim to help you with your bags and take you home.

As soon as you’d wrestled your cases off of the conveyer belt, you walked towards the big exit sign, looking very much like you’d just stepped off of a long haul flight. Donned in sweats and a Sidemen Clothing hoodie with a travel pillow hung around your neck, you weren’t going to be winning any fashion awards any time soon.

“Y/N!”, JJ and Simon called from the other side of the large arrivals hall. You grinned, waving manically at them as you walked over as quick as you could. You dropped you hand luggage down next to your cases and flung your arms around both of them.

“I’ve missed you guys!”, you smiled up at them once they’d released you. “I can’t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity. And letting me live with you guys? I mean... there isn’t enough words to thank you!”, you gushed.

You’d met Simon, JJ and the rest of the Sidemen at the 2017 Upload event and had stayed in touch with them ever since. You’d been planning on moving in together for quite a while, but finding a time when the three of you were free enough to facilitate moving an entire human and her belongings across the Atlantic Ocean was harder than first imagined, but the minute that the three of you had decent schedules, flights were booked, you’d handed your notice in for your apartment in New York and started packing up your things.

By the time you’d been moved into the spare room, your room, it was nearing 5pm. “We were thinking about grabbing dinner with the rest of the guys? They’ve all missed you and I know Freya and Talia are dying to see you”, Simon said from the door frame.

“Yeah, sounds good”, you smiled from where you sat on the floor, surrounded by your clothes as you tried to organise them.

“You don’t have to do it all in one go. Why don’t you grab a shower and get changed and then you can have another go at this once were back from dinner?”, Simon suggested, the exhaustion from the day beginning to become clear on your face. You nodded, putting down whatever it was you were trying and failing to fold and took yourself off for a shower.

Of course, the guys took you to Nando’s. With there only being a handful of the restaurants in America, and none in New York, you made a point of going whenever you were in the UK. “Are you excited to see Harry?”, Simon poked at you from the drivers seat, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror.

“Wait, what!?”, JJ exclaimed from the passenger seat, struggling to turn around and face you in his seat. “What’s this then?”, he pestered, reaching out to shove against your knee.

“It’s nothing”, you said pointedly, glaring at Simon.

“Oi, so Simon knows and I don’t? Bit unfair”, JJ sassed, pulling a face at you.

“Simon knows nothing”, you told JJ. “He’s getting ideas in his head that I haven’t said anything about”, you said, eyeing Simon again.

“So, was I just supposed to ignore one of my best friends’ names popping up, literally non-stop, on one of my other best friend’s phone?”, Simon quipped, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just saying what I see, is all”, he shrugged.

“Okay, sue me, I’ve stayed in touch with Harry. Have you guys forgotten that I’ve literally just moved into the same city as all of you and your friends?”, you snipped.

Simon grumbled in defeat, all whilst JJ’s eyes followed the back and forth between the two of you. He sat there with a massive grin on his face, and you just knew that he wasn’t going to leave this alone over dinner.

When you walked into the restaurant, you were greeted by a round of hugs from all the guys, being given the eye by Simon and JJ when you looped your arms around Harry’s frame. You were hugged by Talia and Freya as well, when the guys finally let you go.

“It’s so good to finally see you again in person”, Freya beamed. “Discord and twitch just don’t do it after being friends for this long”, she pouted, eliciting a laugh from both you and Talia.

The group sat down at the table, smaller groups of people all chattering amongst themselves. “How was your flight?”, Harry asked from the opposite side of the table.

“It wasn’t too bad, I’m kinda used to it now, I guess? I mean, 8 hours is 8 hours so it was pretty dull, but I managed to get a few movies in”, you smiled.

“Oh yeah?”, he asked. “What did you watch? Am I gonna be disappointed?”, he asked you with a laugh.

“Of course you’ll be disappointed, you don’t like watching films”, you laughed happily. “I finally started chipping away at my Disney plus watchlist, so I watched Up and both of the Incredibles films”, you told him.

You kept chatting with Harry, along with Ethan, who was next to Harry, and Vik, who was next to you, until your food came. Once people had plates in front of them, chatter died down significantly, only the occasional comment here and there made itself known.

“He likes you too, you know”, Simon commented as he drove the three of you home. You’d been bundled into the backseat, wrapped up in JJ’s jacket as you were practically falling asleep on Vik’s shoulder.

“No, he doesn’t, Simon”, you denied sleepily, eyes drifting closed as you rested your head against the cold glass of the window.

“And how do you know that? He doesn’t even know that you like him, so how could he have turned you down?”, Simon asked.

“Because he’s Harry. I’m just some small timer from New York that you guys seemed to adopt after Upload”, you told him. “Look. I’ll get over it, I just need you to stop bringing it up so that I can actually forget about it and ignore the mushy feelings”.

As soon as Simon pulled the car to a stop, you climbed out and started making your way to the lift. You leaned heavily against the wall of the lift as it hurtled the three of you up to your floor. “Thanks for the coat, Jide”, you smiled tiredly, hanging the jacket up on a hook by the door. “I love you and all that, but I’m off to bed. My eyes are melting”, you groaned, waving your hand roughly in the direction of your room. Simon and JJ only laughed at you, wishing you a good night as you trudged down the hallway.

What you’d quite easily admitted in your half awake state wasn’t mentioned again, much to your relief. You got on with filming you ‘I’ve moved house!?’ videos and ‘Guess who I live with?’ clickbait titles. You started streaming more with the the girls, since you were finally in their timezone, and even dropped into the occasional Among Us stream with whoever was playing that night.

You settled into life in London well. You were surrounded by your friends and you doing what you loved with the people you loved. You’d felt more at home in the short months you’d lived in London than you ever had in New York. There was only one problem, though...

The Harry situation hadn’t resolved itself.

Which is why, when Simon came and asked you if you’d be in a video where he sets you up on a blind date, you couldn’t see a reason to turn it down. Worst case scenario, the date went horribly and Simon got a funny video of it. It wasn’t like you’d ever had to see the guy again.

You sat in front of the camera with Simon. “So, before I can send you on this blind date, I need to know what to look for”, he said.

“Erm - someone who’s funny, easy to get along with, can take a joke. Someone who won’t be intimidated or annoyed about me having quite a few male friends, someone who’s supportive of my career...”, you listed, trailing off when you realised who that described to a tee.

“And what do I need to avoid?”, Simon asked. If he had noticed any similarities of your description to Harry, he chose to keep his mouth shut about it.

“Someone thats going to be ashamed of me and my career or is going to want me to take my attention away from Youtube and Twitch. It’s one of the most important things in my life and I love what I do for a living and I’m so lucky that I get to do this for a living, so avoid someone that’s going to try and come between me and that, I guess”, you told Simon.

You knew that you weren’t going to find the love of your life doing this. It was more than likely going to be another single youtuber that Simon had roped into his video with the promise of a great video title and some decent content. But it would be nice to get dressed up nice and have an evening away from editing software or your stream deck.

Simon had told you where to go and when, he’d also told you to dress “all nice like”. He’d set the date up at a cocktail bar that you’d been wanting to visit since you’d moved to London. You only agreed to it once you confirmed that the expenses would be on him because top shelf liquor was on the bottom shelf in this place.

You picked out a dark green satin dress and paired it with some strappy silver heels. You took advantage of the opportunity and filmed yourself getting ready so that if things didn’t go too horrifically, you could post a ‘get ready for my blind date with me’.

Sitting down and chatting to the camera as you got ready took longer than you’d expected. You were rushing around, stressing about your Uber not being there quick enough to get you to the bar in time.

“I’ll drop you off”, JJ offered, already heading over to pick his keys up. “And that way, if he’s a weirdo, you don’t have to worry about waiting for another car to come get you”.

You climbed into the Porsche, thanking JJ for what might have been the fiftieth time since leaving the apartment. “You can stop saying thank you, Y/N. I offered”, he chuckled as he drove out of the parking garage. “You look lovely tonight, whoever Simon’s got you set up with is lucky”, he told you, sending you a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Jide”, you smiled. The rest of the car journey was shrouded in a comfortable silence, disrupted only by the radio. “I think it’s just around this corner”, you said, pointing out of the front window.

JJ pulled up by the bar and came around to help you out of the car, causing you to laugh. “You don’t have to escort me in, J”, you told him lightly. “Why are you acting like an over-protective dad?”, you whispered to him in a giggle.

“Just trust me”, he told you, rolling his eyes softly.

You kept your arm looped through JJ’s as he walked you down the pavement. As you neared the entrance to the bar, you saw a figure standing outside, looking around nervously. That must be him.

“Harry?”, you asked. You turned to JJ, “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m supposed to be on a blind date”.

“Surprise, I think”, Harry said awkwardly, scratching his arm.

“Look after her, Harry”, JJ told him sternly. JJ dropped a kiss to the side of your forehead. “Call me or Simon if either of you need anything, yeah?”, he said before he turned and walked back to his car, leaving you and Harry alone.

“I promise I’ll say something, I think I’m just still trying to process what’s going on”, you laughed awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of your clutch in your hands.

“I can maybe clear things up over a drink? Simon’s paying”, Harry said lightly, reaching his hand out to you. You smiled and nodded, letting him take your hand in his and guide you into the bar.

Once you’d got your drinks, Harry lead you to the terrace garden out the back. It was decorated with flowers and muted fairy lights, making for quite the romantic atmosphere. Harry pulled the tall chair out for you and held his hand out to help you up before walking to the other side of the table and sitting opposite you.

“I - uh. Basically, I asked Simon’s advice on how to ask you out and he said that whenever he brought me up around you, you shut him down. So he came up with this idea. I totally get it if you want JJ to come back and pick you up after this drink, I just couldn’t not try... at least once”, Harry said, sounding dejected as he finished.

You put your hand over Harry’s that rested on the table. “I won’t be calling JJ, Harry. I’m over the moon to be here”, you told him with a smile. “I only kept shutting Simon down because he’s been trying to interfere since the day I landed in London. I was convinced that you wouldn’t like me so I just tried to... I don’t know... get over it, I guess”, you told him. You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks as you spoke, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.

“Why wouldn’t I?”, Harry asked quietly, rubbing his fingers over the back of your hand absentmindedly as he did.

“Are you kidding? You’re part of one of the biggest youtube groups, have a successful youtube channel, you’ve been someone for so long. And I’m just... what? A newbie who got adopted by the big boys in London. I never thought you could”, you said, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Y/N, you’re amazing”, Harry boasted. “You’re an amazing streamer and your youtube content is quality. Okay so I’ve been uploading longer? And? It doesn’t mean anything, Y/N. And believe it or not, I like the you I see off camera, you know”, Harry said shyly.

“I guess I owe Simon an apology then”, you smiled at Harry, who took your hand in his.

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storm-leviosa-fanfics · 2 years

Text

Cat-in-the-box

A gift fic for @darlinglissa. Hope you have a great Christmas, Mel!!

(@batfamgiftexchanges)

Summary: Something suspicious is afoot in Wayne Manor, and Tim is Not going to be fooled by it, even if it is Christmas.

AO3 link here

It was a horrible night in Gotham, and Tim had just lost the world’s most important game of rock-paper-scissors.

“Better go get suited up, kid.” Dick patted him on the shoulder and skipped (skipped) to the elevator like he hadn’t just ruined Tim’s day. Tim wanted to murder him. Just a little. And Dick was just so eager to escape his wrath… He listened to the stalactites drip, drip, drip, and then let out a sigh and went to suit up. Murder wasn’t worth the hassle.

There was a reason no one wanted to patrol. The pretty fall leaves and light frosts had given way, not to snowfall and icicles, but a driving December rain that was almost - but not quite - freezing.

It was utterly miserable.

Bruce, upon looking outside for the first time at about ten past five in the evening, had decided it wasn’t worth everyone catching their death of cold when the weather was too dreary for even the most hardened criminals to be out, and told them he needed one person out with him and one person on comms, decide amongst yourselves. Hence rock-paper-scissors. Hence Tim being the one catching his death of cold. He hadn’t done a single thing to deserve this torture either! It wasn’t fair! Someone must have- Oh, right, he was meant to be patrolling.

When Tim almost slipped off a roof for the third time in half an hour, Bruce gave up and sent him home. It was hard not to be relieved. He was pretty sure the rain had soaked into every part of his suit and his fingers were kinda going numb. He’d given up trying to find the difference between wind-tears and rain on his face about twenty minutes into patrol, and he wouldn’t even need a shower because he was getting one long cold one just by being outside. He had stopped one whole robbery all night. The streets were deader than Jason. Until Mr Freeze escaped on Christmas Eve, it would probably be the same. Tim being out was stupid and pointless and he wanted to go home, so when Bruce told him to leave, he did.

The manor was too quiet when he got back. He didn’t like it.

He knew Babs had been on comms, not anyone in the cave, so maybe they had all just had an early night, but that didn’t sound like his family. He crept down the hall like he expected to be ambushed, and honestly? He kind of did.

Somehow, despite being on guard, seeing Jason of all people coming down the hallway surprised him.

“Tim,” he said, as if this was normal.

“Jason?” Tim squeaked back. He hadn’t meant to squeak. These things just happen sometimes.

“You get sent home early?” What in the world was happening here?

“Yes? It’s quiet tonight.” Jason leaned against the wall next to him and Tim realised he’d made a mistake. Now he was stuck here until the conversation was over.

“Good, good. Hey, wanna bet on when Mr Freeze’ll get out of Arkham again. The brat reckons it’ll be next week, Dickface says no earlier than the 16th which is a cop-out if you ask me but whatever. We’ve got 10 bucks each on it. You want in?”

“He’s too smart to try anything earlier than the 20th,” Tim said before he could stop himself. “He knows Bruce’ll catch him the minute he shows his face. Doesn’t mean he won’t escape earlier, but you know what Arkham’s like, chances are we won’t know he’s out until he’s making ice sculptures of Nora in a blizzard again.” Jason was tapping his foot impatiently, and Tim knew that Dick got a cop-out answer but he wouldn’t. “I don’t think we’ll see him until Christmas week, at least, most likely Christmas Eve.”

“Cool. Cool. You’re all wrong and I’m about to be $60 richer, but that’s your mistake.”

“Wait, how many people are in on this bet?” Tim asked. The door at the end of the hallway clicked open and Damian stepped out. What he’d been doing in Dick’s room, Tim didn’t want to know.

“Oh, you know, me, you, Dickiebird, the gremlin, Cass, Steph, Duke, the usual suspects. I’m gonna try and get Babs in on it,” he said, pushing off from the wall. “I doubt she’ll go for it, but you never know. She pretends to be too good for all our nonsense, but I know she loves it.”

And then he was gone. Tim hadn’t even gotten to ask why he was there.

In Tim’s defence, they had no way of knowing what was going to happen. Previous evidence suggested Mr Freeze would escape Arkham near Christmas, and that their mission (should they choose to accept it) would be to track him down and gently escort him back to his cell. Every. Year. They’d done it so many times now, they had the routine down to an artform.

It was, they had been assured, no one’s fault that he chose to switch it up that year. This did not make Tim feel any better.

“You’re on bed rest until the end of the week.” “What? But Bruce-” “Bed. Rest.”

Tim did the math in his head. God, his head hurt. End of the week would take them up to… okay so he couldn’t remember what the date was. Or how many days of the week were left. Shit happens alright? Sometimes you just can’t remember what day of the week it is, even though you have a busy schedule that relies on you knowing when and where you need to be places. That was perfectly normal and perfectly justified, in Tim’s expert opinion. Totally, definitely, absolutely not the concussion talking.

“Yeah, so, Tim? Buddy? I think maybe we should rest a little. And stop thinking so hard. There’s way too much thought going into days of the week right now.”

Oops.

The upside of being benched was that he had time to think about what to get the others for Christmas. The downside of being benched was that he had time to think about what to get the others for Christmas.

It should have been easy. They were brothers, after all, and Tim was normally pretty good at remembering what people needed or wanted. This year, though. This year. Everything had been so insane, so crammed with one disaster after another, Tim’s usual ‘list of gift ideas’ was alarmingly short. There were only so many times he could give Damian dog treats, or Dick an ‘adopt an elephant’ subscription. And what were you even meant to get people who had more money than sense, anyway? His poor concussed head had spent way too many hours in front of a computer screen, but he had acquired approximately zero gifts and it was a problem.

“Master Tim, away from the computer, please.”

Well, now it was a problem for future-Tim. Future-Time hopefully would not have a concussion. Or broken ribs that really did not appreciate being coiled into that position. Ouch.

Alfred wanted him to help bake gingerbread. Privately, Tim thought this was a terrible idea, because when had anyone in their family (except Jason) ever shown an ounce of competency in the kitchen? But Alfred was insistent. Tim was going to help him make gingerbread. He would not hear arguments or complaints. Two hours later, Tim was covered in flour, and sneezing harder than he’d ever sneezed in his life from inhaling ginger powder like an idiot, but also the proud baker of some only-slightly-burnt gingerbread men. They were not iced. Yet. Alfred had promised him some icing, but did not trust him with the food colouring or icing sugar, and so Tim would just have to wait. This was not a problem. Alfred was telling him all kinds of stories about Bruce when he was a kid, and Tim had never had so much blackmail material in his life.

“Bruce did what?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“He wanted to touch the bird, so he jumped into the tree.” Tim just about fell off his stool. There was no way he could sit there with a straight face and listen to this.

“Please tell me you have it on video.” “Unfortunately not. We do still have the bird, however. It goes on the tree every year.”

“You can’t tell me that and not show me which one!” Tim had a sneaking suspicion that he knew which one it was. The one that was always placed by Alfred just out of Bruce’s reach, even though he had to stand on a step to do it; the one that never matched but always got put up anyway; the one that made Alfred grin, quick and sharp, and Bruce sigh whenever they saw it.

Alfred pointed out the feathered robin to him, and Tim started laughing all over again, because of course it was a robin. They really had stood no chance at all of being functional.

By day three, Tim was bored. Actually, ‘bored’ didn’t cover it. Bored was a weak word that did not properly convey the utter tedium of his life. Tim was fucking miserable. His life was so dull he wanted to cry. There was nothing to do, or, more accurately, nothing he wanted to do. He wandered the halls like a ghost, moaning at anyone who would listen, and he knew he was being obnoxious, but he just wanted something to do. Relaxing for a week should’ve felt good, but instead it was just dull. And no one was around to bother, which was unusual in itself. He’d knocked on Dick’s door and had no response, Jason’s door also held back complete and utter silence. He didn’t dare knock on Damian’s, and there was no point trying Cass’s. She was either inside, or she wasn’t, and either result wouldn’t get a response if he knocked. Cass simply did not believe in answering the door.

He would rather die than go bother Bruce.

Instead, he languished in boredom, pointlessly refreshed social media feeds looking for new content that did not exist, begged Babs for a cold case to solve and got told to shove off, begged Steph for a wikipedia rabbit-hole to fall down and got a string of emojis that could loosely be interpreted as ‘pls go away I’m busy see you later bestie”.

When Tim was bored, strange things happened in his brain. It started making connections that didn’t exist. Jason cornering him weeks before became a distraction technique, the silence became suspicious, his brothers’ closeness became scheming. Something Was Up. This was not simply a break from the usual shenanigans; this was a Case, and Tim was going to solve it.

Tim’s first step was, of course, reconnaissance. He was going to Search Rooms for Evidence. Starting with Dick. Because his room was closest and Tim was lazy. So Tim, dressed in all black because ninjas, slipped out his window, edged along the little ledge a ways, slipped, fucking shit damn it, recovered, waited to stop shaking, jimmied the lock on the window, and finally tumbled through Dick’s now open window, rolling to absorb the impact and sound.

He could feel eyes on him.

Yep. Those were his siblings staring at him. They looked like baby birds, all ugly and wrinkled and massive creepy eyes, and never tell Damian Tim said this but he hated baby birds with the burning passion of a thousand suns. They were just…disturbing. They made him shudder. Just like his siblings when they were scheming to Do Something Bad. He stared at them. They stared back. No one blinked.

“...oops?” he offered. Then he fled back out the window.

Babs was, surprisingly, unhelpful.

“Tim, they’re not up to anything, I promise.” “Everything’s too quiet. Something’s up, I can feel it.”

“If Dick was planning on pranking you, I’d know about it. He tells me literally every time he’s planning something.” She was trying to be reassuring, he could tell, but it wasn’t helping.

“Look, Tim, just try and get some sleep. Everything will look better when you’re not sleep deprived.” This ignored the fact that Tim was not, for once in his too-short-too-long life, sleep deprived. He did not need or want more sleep. He wanted something to do. He told her so. Babs had no answers.

Why did he even bother?

He took another nap, and woke up to Damian and Jason whispering outside his door. Definitely not suspicious at all.

There was, he realised after ten minutes of meandering up and down corridors he hadn’t seen in weeks, no one else in the house. It was then that he realised it was Christmas Eve. The last ostentatious clock he’d passed had said it was about 7pm, which meant the others would be returning from Alfred’s last minute Christmas food shop in about half an hour. Then everyone would go out on patrol. Except him. Obviously. Tim was still benched for two more days. But Christmas Eve patrols tended to be quiet anyway, something about the holidays made people unwilling to break the tentative peace, regardless of their reasoning. Mostly they went out to boost morale, and to point the misfortunate in the direction of a shelter or food pantry. Tim was seriously going to miss it. Last year, some kid had managed to persuade/bully Batman into saying ‘ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas’ on camera and it had become Gotham’s new favourite meme literally overnight. Tim had missed that, too. It was maddening.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, because they were all out in the city playing at Santa and his elves. Tim lay flat on his back in bed and hated everything. He wasn’t even allowed in the cave to run comms and it was stupid. Instead, he was trapped in his room, alone, listening to the house settling, and the clocks ticking, and the cat in Damian’s room yowling, and the owl outside hooting, and-

Wait.

Damian’s cat was more of a silent killer than Damian was, why the hell was he yowling?

Tim became the one creature stirring in the house, and rolled over and grabbed his headphones. The cat was Damian’s problem, not his. Tim was going to play the untitled goose game and ignore the world’s problems, as was his right.

Tim made his way to the lounge on Christmas morning in the sneakiest way he knew - through the secret passage on the third floor, down the servants’ stairway, along the balconies on first floor of the east wing, and then past the guest toilet. It was much, much longer than simply going down the stairs, but Tim knew, deep in his heart, that he was getting pranked today and he was not going to fall for it that easily. Damian might’ve believed otherwise, but Tim wasn’t stupid. And he definitely wasn’t stupid enough to get pranked when his brothers had been unsubtly planning it right in front of his nose. Not happening. Not today. And so, the long way round.

Alfred, like every year, had made them breakfast - a light one, in preparation for the real feast later in the day - and graciously allowed them to eat in the lounge instead of at the table. He knew better than to expect them to have good manners on Christmas morning. It also meant that Tim had no escape from whatever his brothers had planned, because they were stuck in the same room until lunch time. Thankfully, Bruce and Cass were the only people awake and he could trust them: Bruce would never, and he and Cass had an agreement when it came to pranks. He could claim their protection for the time being.

By the time the others came downstairs, all in a chaotic, rowdy, over-excited clump that very nearly did not fit through the door, Tim had nestled himself into the sofa between Bruce and Cass - the perfect place to be safe from any pending pranks. And sure enough, within five minutes, he was dodging thrown food as Duke retaliated to a particularly awful joke. Dick laughed. So did Bruce. Tim counted it as a win, even if he did have to flatten himself into the sofa to avoid a piece of orange.

None of them opened any presents until breakfast had been eaten, and everyone had helped with the clean-up and dishes. Then, the presents were handed out one present per person at a time, just to be fair. This was how it had always been. Until today. Today, they all opened one present each, until they reached Tim. At Tim’s turn, Dick suddenly sat bolt upright and blurted out “Tim has to open all his presents together!”

That… wasn’t how this was meant to go? He was so confused?

Damian got up, went upstairs, and came back with a box. Tim was growing more confused by the second. The box was unwrapped and plain brown and oh god, this was their prank wasn’t it? This was their plan: a prank disguised as a gift. And he couldn’t refuse it without looking rude. Damn it. He reached out to take the box with dubious hands, but Damian set it on the floor by his feet instead. That was strange, but Tim wasn’t going to question it. He glanced at Bruce, once, at Cass on his left, and they both nodded to him. The box wasn’t even taped shut - just laziness, really, could they seriously not be bothered to at least make their prank look the part - and he reached out to lift the lid. As he did so, he heard a muffled meow.

Tim stopped.

“Damian. Cat,” he said.

“He’s fine,” Damian replied, then made a ‘carry on’ gesture at the box. An odd smile was tugging at his lips and Tim did not like it at all. Nevertheless, he reached out again to open the box, half his awareness on Dick wiggling in place, on Jason and Duke literally on the edges of their seats, on Damian and his weird little grin.

Meooow

That was definitely not Damian’s cat. Alfred the cat did not meow like that, Tim knew. Where was the fucking cat?

The fucking cat chose that moment to knock over the box it was in, formerly on the floor by Tim’s feet, and escape under the sofa. Tim caught approximately one glimpse of it before it disappeared, and he thought it might be grey.

“Damian? Cat?” he said again.

“She’s fine,” Damian replied. “She’s just not used to this many people. And also does not appreciate being in a box, most likely.” Tim blinked at him.

“Cat?” His brain had not caught up with this fact, apparently. It could only repeat this one word over and over. Cat. Cat. Cat.

He slid off the sofa, onto his hands and knees, and looked underneath, just to check. Maybe he’d imagined it. Somehow. But there were bright amber eyes staring back at him from the far side. Tim pssped at that cat like every stereotype. The cat did not move.

“Leave her be for now,” Damian told him. “She will come out on her own when she feels more comfortable.”

Tim’s other gifts were, predictably, cat related. A bed, some toys, a litter tray from Jason with a truly horrific Bat-themed pun on it because of course, and, finally, the most awesome looking scratching post/tree/general source of enrichment Tim had ever seen. It apparently took actual hours to assemble which sounded like an opportunity for some weird family bonding (thank you, Bruce - you were apparently in on the scheme and didn’t let anything slip. This was a new achievement that Tim wasn’t sure he liked). By the time Tim had unwrapped a toy with catnip, the cat had emerged, sheepishly, from beneath the sofa. At Damian’s warning glare, everyone let her sneak back into the cardboard box and curl up, a ball of grey fluff with eyes, and that was where she stayed for the rest of the unwrapping chaos.

She slept through lunch, too, and this wasn’t concerning because Tim remembered reading once upon a time that cats slept for most of the day. She woke up a bit in the afternoon, when they were all tangled together and half asleep from too much food, and let Tim play with her and stroke her a few times, slowly, from head to tail. By the time Alfred brought out the snacks, she was almost used to him. She certainly appreciated being fed, yowling for more only ten minutes later and then stealing smoked salmon off his crackers. That was not appreciated. Tim liked smoked salmon. But he would gladly give up all his smoked salmon to the cause, if it helped make the cat (his cat. And wow, what a wonderful thing to get to say) feel more at home.

He had named her, after much playful debate with his siblings, Mel. This was mostly because he’d been told her name was Sprout and that simply would not do. She was a beautiful and charming little lady, not a goddamn brussel sprout. He refused to consider it. And Mel was a pretty name for a pretty cat, so it tracked. Better than Sprout, anyway.

In the evening, when everything was quiet, and the TV turned down low, Mel curled up on his lap and purred. It was the absolute best feeling in the world. He felt very peaceful, and very happy with the world in general. And then Damian sat down next to him.

Damian’s hand trailed down the cat’s back so gently, Tim could almost forget he was one of the most violent teenagers on the planet.

“I made sure we got her from a shelter, instead of a breeder or,” he said, and scrunched his nose up in disgust, “a kitten mill. She deserves a good home.” He did not say ‘I trust you to give her one,’ or ‘I know you’ll do it’, and to any outsiders it would sound like a threat, but Tim knew him well enough to hear the unsaid words.

“Thanks, Dames,” Tim said, and it was a thanks for many things: for the cat, for thinking about ethics, for the trust he was placing in him.

Alfred told him not to let her sleep on his bed, and Tim followed that advice for all of 5 seconds. He just liked the feeling of her warm fluffy body curled up on top of his duvet, okay? That was allowed. And as he watched her sleep, with snow falling outside and lights twinkling from the tree in the driveway, he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong about the whole ‘definitely going to get pranked’ thing.

#batfam fanfiction #batfamily #fanfiction #tim drake #christmas fic #gift fic #cat #contains far too many christmas traditions highly specific to my family and my family only

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detectivehannibal · 3 years

Text

Warm Beverages

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Brief sexual reference.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: hey!! excited to see you’re writing again 🥰 honestly anything fluffy would be great with hannibal ,, im craving somethin soft. maybe some winter cuddling and hot chocolate making? thanks!!

Word Count: 1,064

“I take joy in being busy.”

The snow was steadily falling from the gray sky outside the comfort of your home. Little white flurries and decorative snowflakes fluttered through the air, sticking to every surface outside. The ground was coated with the cold snow that was expected to continue well into the next day. It was dreary, miserable weather. There wasn’t much to do other than stay inside and have a day to yourself. You were perfectly fine with this.

Hannibal, though, wasn’t a fan. He was extremely active, and he preferred to be occupied as often as possible. The fact that he was stuck inside with nothing to do was a bit maddening. However, it helped that you were staying over and keeping him company. If you weren’t there, you were convinced he’d get himself into something he didn’t need to.

The living room was possibly the coziest room in his home. He always kept it clean and always had a fire going when it was cold outside. You were perfectly content to lounge around on the sofa with him all day. He had finally accepted that he wasn’t getting out of the house today, so he settled in nicely.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as you snuggled further next to him, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The only sounds in the room were coming from the crackling fireplace and the occasional house creak. Even though Hannibal was more at ease now, he began to get a little shifty after a while. You looked up from the book that was nestled in your hands, holding your place. You looked up at him, knowing he was getting antsy.

“It’s only been half an hour since you sat down.” You announced.

“I’m aware.” He mumbled.

He had done just about every chore and task he could possibly do around the house. The laundry was folded and put away, the windows were so clean you could almost accidentally try to walk through them, the counters were spotless. He had done everything.

You returned your attention back to your book, but soon put it away when Hannibal’s heavy sigh interrupted you.

“Do you need something to do?” You asked sassily.

He didn’t say anything. He’d rather die than admit a weakness. You laughed heartily and tapped his shoulder playfully.

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go make us something?” You suggested.

His eyes brightened as if that was the best idea he had heard all day. He scampered into the kitchen, almost taking you off of the couch with him. The living room grew quiet again, but you caught the clatter of pots and pans every now and then. You were able to finally finish your chapter peacefully, and just in the nick of time too.

Hannibal returned soon enough with two mugs with some sort of steaming liquid inside. You tossed your book side, sitting up and reaching for one of them.

“Okay, chef. What do we have here?” You asked.

The scent of chocolate filled your nose, a delightful rush coming over you. You sat with your legs folded, Hannibal taking his previous position once more.

“It’s heated cocoa powder with milk, vanilla, and sugar.” He explained.

You raised a brow.

“You mean hot chocolate?”

He shrugged.

“Yes.”

You laughed again, sipping gingerly. You groaned happily at the feel of the warm beverage filling your belly and spreading over you. He really knew how to make anything. The sweet taste was heavenly over your tastebuds. Even Hannibal was impressed. His arm raised to invite you back to his side, to which you obliged.

“Do you think you can handle sitting here long enough to let yourself finish your drink?” You asked jokingly.

“Of course I can. I don’t lack self control.” He stated.

“A day off isn’t a bad thing, Hanni. You could use it.” You countered.

“I take joy in being busy.” He explained.

You couldn’t argue with him there. He was very prideful in being busy and successful. As he should. He worked hard for everything. He drained the rest of his drink in record time, you scoffed as you slowly sipped yours.

“I know you do. I just don’t like it when you overwork yourself, you know?” You expressed.

“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that I know my limits,” He told you; “I’m well set as long as I can find something to do.”

You could feel his stare on you. He liked to take in your presence. It made you nervous in the beginning, but you eventually learned that was one of his many love languages. You knew that everyone showed love differently. Hannibal seemed to tap into all of them. He surely was an acts of service kind of guy. He also showed physical touch and words of affirmation. He was kind of the full package.

His gaze raked over your eyes, your skin, the way your sweater brought out your best features. You were a perfect human being to him. He never thought of you having physical flaws, or any flaws for that matter. You were almost too perfect in his eyes. He craved perfection. He strived for it. It was no wonder he was drawn to you. You were everything he had ever wanted.

His hand fiddled with the hem of your sweater as he watched you. Your lips gently wrapped around the rim of the mug as you took your final sip to empty it. He felt his heart jump when suddenly your eyes met. He watched your pupils shrink in size as you looked away from the light of the fire to look at him.

He casually took the empty mug from you, setting it aside as if he hadn’t just been staring at you. He kissed you before you could ask any questions, the taste of chocolate still prevalent. You shifted to straddle his hips, taking his face in your hands. His arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him. You broke away briefly, your lips just barely touching his. You felt his heartbeat racing through his loosely buttoned shirt. Knowing him, he could probably smell yours.

You seductively spoke before delving back into him, ensuring that you’d be busy at least for the next hour.

“I think we just found something we can do.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #Hannibal TV #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #detectivehannibal

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 7

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: school’s a bitch, but nothing’s stopping me from having a fuck ton of fun with this series. and with this chapter, I had loads of it.

WORDS: 11,289 (I’m not even sorry) WARNINGS: batarella’s funeral

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

First, it was the light.

You always slept with your curtains drawn, so the light almost never reached your room when you wake up in the early or late hours in the morning. So when you awoke with your eyelids red and bright, like the sun was a foot away from your nose, you knew something was wrong.

Second, the sheets. They were clean, but obviously different from the cottony light comforter you liked to wrap yourself with in the winter. The ones you had around your body right then, on the other hand, was just a thin, white sheet, warm yet not nearly as warm as your quilt.

Then the bed felt off as well. Stiff. Firm. Not at all wrecked like the mess you often left behind even after making your bed, or in your case just draping the blanket over the whole mattress before you went off for the day.

And when you were awake enough to have the rest of your senses snap out of your dreary, groggy vision of a dream that faded as soon as the sting in your temple kicked in, you realized that it was bacon being cooked somewhere within a few meters from where you lied down, warm smoke and all.

Forcing your throbbing eyelids apart, you confirmed that you were, in fact, not in your studio loft.

And you almost had a heart attack when the next thing that graced your line of sight was a large, shirtless man with roughed up dark hair and a pair of gray sweatpants, facing the stove from whence the sweet smell of bacon came.

You didn’t have the sober senses to linger on such eye candy for long, not when you went straight to clutching your clothes, your jeans, your leg, everywhere else. No, they hadn’t been taken off. Not for the whole night, it seems. And you didn’t feel anything funny down there.

Almost jumping off the edge of the bed, Jason spoke. “’Morning, pretty bird.”

Okay. It’s just Jason. At least you did not end up having drunken sex with a stranger and overslept.

And now that that was out of the question, the thoughts, the panic, eventually into this blissful yet brief momentous relief, the horrific migraine came along.

You grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over to cover your face with your bent knees.

“I’m assuming that hangover isn’t a good one.”

“I can't believe I stayed the night-“

“Relax. It’s no big deal.”

Seeing with the room so bright definitely didn’t help when you looked up at Jason. “Did I-“

“No, you didn’t do anything regretful, or memorable, and I was the one who insisted you stay over.”

“I remember…” Your palms stuck to your face. “Talking and burritos and Dick and Tim and-ugh…”

“Yeah that’s… basically it.”

“I didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did I?”

Jason poured his pan of bacon onto a plate. “Define embarrassing.”

“Something you wouldn’t have wanted to hear.”

“If anything, pretty bird, you told me everything I needed to hear. My brothers sure have it bad for you.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. “What did I say?”

“A lot. Dick talking to you right before the wedding. Tim telling you he loved you right after. I told you some stuff, too. Remember those?”

“It’ll probably come back to me. Soon enough.” You swung your legs over the bed and saw that you, unfortunately, only had one.

You exposed yourself to Jason.

So hurriedly you reached for your prosthetic and latched it on at a record five seconds. Fuck, you showed yourself to him. That was the drunken move of the night. You could have said shit all, and it wouldn’t have mattered, yet you just had to take off that stupid robot leg.

You coughed, and it only made that stupid headache throb worse.

“Bottoms up.”

Jason placed a plate of his cooking with a fork for you to take onto the coffee table, then he made his way to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at him and you were sure you looked like some sorry excuse of a human being with your hair up in all directions and your eyes as dead as a rotting corpse’s. But Jason just shrugged, pulled on your shoulder when you didn’t take his hand, and led you to the couch.

You probably would have had something else to say other than a wordless mumble if he’d just made himself look a bit more presentable and not to overly distracting with his brick wall of a chiseled body. You picked at his bacon and forced it down your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

The bacon tasted great.

“I feel pathetic.”

“It sure seemed like you needed a talk.”

“I know -“

“Who else would you have talked to?” He took a bite for himself. “Steph? Cass? Bruce? They don’t know half the shit I do about Dick and Tim. And trust me, you deserved to know the truth.”

Yeah. Dick wanting to chicken out of his wedding to profess his love for you was something you definitely needed to hear.

“Yeah,” you snarled. “But then I got drunk and slept here… and you know I hate being an inconvenience.”

“It’s alright, pretty bird. If anything I had a good time last night.”

Then, so unexpectedly, he placed his arm around you and never have you felt a naked body press so tenderly against yourself that you froze at the contact. Then you looked up at his face, eyes so wide, then he looked back at you and smiled.

You smiled back, slowly easing in.

Your smile. That same smile.

It made Jason lose his, then you saw his throat hitch.

Your lips were flat and practically gone when you looked away, picked up your fork and stuffed your mouth with more bacon so he’d pull his arm off you.

“What did I say before I passed out?”

“About Dick and Tim?” Jason inched himself away and everything felt too cold. “A lot.”

“Was I pathetic?”

“No. I don’t blame you for being so confused.”

Okay. You were many things. Stupid was one of them. But confused wouldn’t exactly be the right thing to define that horrific typhoon devastation that was left of all logical thought. You weren’t confused per se, not when you understood everything with the timing with Dick and the break up with Tim. You knew exactly what went on with either of them, it’s just that you didn’t know how to make all these directions weeded out into this one, straight line so you’d know how to go through the rest of your days as smooth as you possibly could.

“I’m not confused.”

Jason sighed. “When you said you didn’t know if you should even choose, I just assumed.”

Maybe, in a way, you were confused.

But indecisive felt more like it.

“I just don’t want to-“

“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to upset either of them anymore.”

Jason stood up, and slowly, he went over to the fridge for a glass of water. He poured it into a glass, then he gave it to you.

“You called yourself selfish, too. But I don’t think you are. You don’t want to choose between them ‘cuz you want to do what’s best for both of them. Not for you.”

You’ve never seen him look at you like that. And even if he didn’t already look enough like his brothers, he had that same wide-eyed softness that often got to you. That look that made them all look the most beautiful.

He sat next to you again, elbows on his knees.

“My brothers were fucking assholes with what they did, but they’re good people. And they’re lucky, that you’re even considering them to be the one who gets to be with you. They deserve forgiveness. They’ll bend the world for you. I’m sure of it.”

If he wasn’t sitting so close, or watching your face like he wanted to note every detail you had on, you would have taken much longer just to shut your dangling mouth, because all there was right then was silence. Not just with your words, which you didn’t have even one, but that typhoon that raged, that indecisiveness, it was all quiet.

“Thank you…” you swallowed your food. “I showed you my… leg, too… didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Jason hunched over and grabbed his hair, running his own fingers through his locks. “You don’t have to worry about that, though. But if it means anything, I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t ready to show me, yet.”

You shouldn’t have been biting your lips so much before you’d eventually be tasting your own blood. But that, with that comfort you once had with him last night now this tension that you could pick apart with a needle, you were surprised your palms weren’t bleeding with the way you were digging your nails into them.

“I was ready…”

“Really?”

He was trying to bite back a smile. It was cute.

“Yeah…”

You finished the food, which you probably shouldn’t have done. You should have left before you even took a bite or said anything more than just a sentence.

His eyes were slightly squinted when he looked up at you, head craned down. This bashfulness you don’t often see. Then his brow was up and he was chuckling.

It made you smile back.

Jason stood up and went over to his closet to get a shirt. Finally.

Your bag was already on the couch, and even when you looked like aa troll had thrown up on you, you didn’t look absolutely horrific that people would stop and stare. So after a few brushes down your hair with your own fingers, you went for the door.

“I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Really. It’s all good, pretty bird.”

Jason walked up to you, held out the door, then you stood just outside to pull on your coat.

“Thank you so much, Jay.”

“I swear. Don’t sweat it. Hit me up when you need anything.”

Jason was beautiful.

And he had the kindest heart tucked behind this façade of street and trauma. You swallowed, laughed, then you opened your arms to invite him for a hug. Jason rolled his eyes and let you.

Nose to his shoulder, you ran your hand down his clothed back, and with just one hand he wrapped it around you.

Then you left. Back home. Back to that inevitable loneliness and the thinking you could foresee that was as good in occupying the spaces in your mind as music in the background, which you should probably be resorting to just to have some kind of attempt at peace. When you got to your apartment, the unfinished canvas was staring daggers at you, screaming and demanding your attention away from boys.

You rolled up your sleeves. A shower can wait, after you go through this whole painting that was big enough to be a wall. This will distract you, hopefully. At least your hands will be busy.

A fashion magazine’s editor wanted a piece for her office. You ran frantically about in your studio and picked up your basket full of paint and brushes to use for the piece, which already stained your hands just holding it up. And you set it on the floor. You’ll work on the floor for now. An easel can suck it.

The canvas was right up against the wall and the blank strokes of yellow and blue for the background were practically growling at you to just finish it off, demanding apologies in the form of touch ups and polishes over its now dried up surface.

You started with the biggest brush and violently dried it off, slapped it onto your palette for the mustard yellow you’d concocted, then you swiped that brush over for the background swirling it around the roughed-up edges of the left side to creating this wind-like surface. There were whites, so it looked a lot like wind, and even with it so dark on your palette, it had lightened up the moment it hit the canvas. So light, and soft, like the bickering remnants of sunlight when barely would it pierce through roughened glass.

That, and with your brush smaller and more precise, you drew on with a tone a bit darker the curving lines to signify direction. Then you lightly tapped it on.

You placed more paint onto your own jeans and mixed it with white, over and over with your brush. Sitting cross legged on the floor, you could tell from the sun that it had only just passed noon. Hair up in a mess, you went on with sketching out the sky with an even lighter color, letting the mix play around and form these strips of clouds.

Yellow was safe. Warmth. Something you could rely on and a color so close to your heart, comfort when you hadn’t an idea where to start. The color that was still, calm, light. It was the sun. It was the wind. Often the horizon. The leaves when it was autumn.

You always managed to find a place for yellow in every painting you did, because it calmed you, like a blanket over your shoulders when you were curled up in your couch.

Done. Now onto the right side.

Your brush sinking into a cup of water, you started with a new shade. Cobalt.

Not your usual choice when you painted the sky, but this wasn’t so much of a sky as it was just an abstract excuse of a wall that went with the yellows and all. But it should look good. At least, in your head it did. You swept your brush onto your jeans and didn’t even curse when you got paint onto your shirt, so you rolled your sleeves some more, scratched your chin despite your hand covered in paint and went to town.

The cobalt did look good, but the blending with the yellow was going to take more work. You just went with it, let the pressure control the shades for different parts of the right side and let it splatter a bit, messily enough to look casual and unintentional.

It was yellow that calmed you and blue that brightened up your days when you felt the most… well… blue. When you often felt like anything you destroyed everything you laid your hands on when all you were supposed to do was create, on those days, those days, that you just couldn’t hold back from taking control of the best of you, it was often blue, and all the different shades of it, that gave you the foundation of a brightly lit sky, and you’d go on from there.

When nothing comes to mind, that color was what pushed you to move forward, inspired you, gave your creative juices that needed startup so you’d know where to go on from there and take you on until it all ends. You loved landscapes especially, and what other color was there more than blue. It was the sky. It was the water. It was shared, and most other people loved it as well. But so often did it brighten your work, it was what your eyes would turn to at first glance.

You were done with the background, and only had it been hours since you started. Your arm to your forehead, you backed away and eyed what you’d finished.

A dress. Of course. That, and the woman wearing it. You’d start with the woman for now.

Beautifully tanned skin, almost a dark orange even. You painted her hair and her head was slightly turned to the side. A sharp, small nose. Eyes were shut but soft, watching the ground beside her. Then you went on to outline her slender body, her leg in front of the other, then you placed her hands on her front. They won't be seen with the dress and all, anyway. So that’s what you went. She looked shy, like she was covering herself. And sad.

You wanted her hair flowing over her shoulders and her back, but you needed the dress first. A flowy, fiery statement dress.

A can of red paint was staring at you from all the way across the room, and with it definitely going to contrast against the yellow and blue, you decided for it and stood up, wiping your hands all over your jeans, then you picked up your paint. Barely anything left, but it should be enough for the dress.

You sat back down, mixed it on your palette for the shade you wanted, then you dabbed it lightly over the woman’s breast.

Then you backed up, eyed the whole painting from some distance away.

You weren’t often the one for red, especially not really bright tones that just wouldn’t look natural with your scenery paintings of either the country or the city. You don’t use it often, though it did look exquisitely beautiful when it was fiery and loud and would pop up over anything else painted onto the same plane, and it was beautiful. Mesmerizing. It called for attention and it was romantic and lustful and so awfully did it want your touch.

Not long after, your round tip brush was all over the woman, covering her with a skirt that flowed from one end of the canvas to the other so much like fire, the same ones from your dreams and nightmares. You hated fire, despised it, but it was beautiful. It didn’t spark a trigger or made you flinch. So seldom were you so mesmerized with your own work as you were in the middle of doing it. It was beautiful. Warm like yellow, bright like blue, but red had this sense of danger, darkness that just called out to you. And you just wanted to jump into it.

It was exciting. And its intensity called out to your darkest sides and somehow that intensity was what pulled the whole painting together.

You even gasped when you finished that last stroke, and with that, and the sun so close to setting, you put your brush down.

Your clothes looked like they’d just gone through a washing machine filled with red, blue, and yellow paint instead of detergent, and the rest of you looked no better than if you’d just climbed out of a drainage pipe. You wiped your sweat off your forehead, pulled the canvas off the wall, and set it on an easel.

She looked beautiful. The woman. Sad, but beautiful. You used that last bit of sunlight to look at how it set into the fabric, how it was practically its own world apart from the real one.

And after you decided you were content with it, and with it, ridding you from an otherwise horrible start with a hangover and all, you took a shower, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The next morning, you sent it over to your client, who told you that somehow, the painting told her a story.

A story, it could be.

Though even with the painting telling it, it was clear it was far from ending.

-----

You prayed to the deity above that it was Sunday, the only day you allowed yourself to sleep in now with you having three ongoing clients at that moment. And with the room so freezing, since you left the window open the night before, you’d rather wallow into the depths of your sheets than to pull yourself up from the bed and actually function like a normal human being. You forced just one eye open and openly cursed at how bright it was that day. You pulled on the blankets, right over your head, and forced your eyes shut to let your brain believe it was still well into the night.

But then your phone rang, and now you really wanted to beat yourself up for forgetting to put it on silent and leave it all the way over to the kitchen. You muffled the noise with your pillow but even after long minutes, the ringing just wouldn’t stop.

Throwing the blankets violently off of you, you reached for your phone, eyes adjusting to the light. You rubbed your eyelids open.

‘Dick’ it read on the screen.

Deciding that call wasn’t such a bad start for your day, you set yourself on the little table in front of your fridge and accepted it.

“Hey…” you yawned.

“Mornin’, night owl.” Dick sounded enthusiastic. “Did I wake you up?”

You yawned some more and it made Dick laugh.

“Obviously, you’d know when you call at this hour.”

“Y/N, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” you said. “Explains why I’m starving.”

“How are you?”

You stood up from your chair and went over to make yourself a cup of coffee, anything to make that morning, or afternoon, just a bit more bearable. “I’m alright. I sent a new piece over to a client that other day. One of my biggest sales yet.”

“Oh? What of?”

“This one’s funny. And borderline illegal. This guy enrolled in some course over at Arts College needed a boost for his finals and he paid me to do his work for him.”

“Good thing they don’t run plagiarism checks on paintings.”

“Even if that was possible, I made sure to do it the way this guy usually does from a few pictures he’d sent me. He’s not bad. Not too good. But he must have needed that A or else he wouldn’t have paid me almost a thousand dollars for a small piece.”

“A thousand dollars?”

“I know. The guy’s rich.”

“No kidding.”

Dick laughed, and you missed hearing it in person so terribly. You could imagine the dimples that must have been on his cheeks right at that moment, knowing how beautiful they must have looked and you couldn’t even see them.

“I’m really proud of what you’ve done for yourself,” he said. “Just look at you.”

You felt your face all weird and you wanted to look away even when there wasn’t a ghost around you at all. You felt like a straight up moron.

“Thanks,” you coughed. “What about you? How are you?”

“God, you don’t wanna ask,” he grunted. “It’s a mess. Not everyone got along back when I was Robin, but it wasn’t anything as messed up as this. I don’t know what happened while I was out, but they can't keep off of each others’ throats for a second.”

“And you said you’d be home by the time you were done dealing with Deathstroke.”

“As long as that man’s alive, we’re never actually done with dealing with him. And even if he wasn’t almost immortal, we can't do much outside sending him over to Blackgate.”

“Is he in Blackgate?”

“For now.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s keeping you back there?”

Dick shuffled with the phone, and you heard voices. Gar’s, most probably. Dick was making his way out of the room, to a balcony of some sort away from other people, because then it was quiet.

“Everything else.”

Even with just a few sips from you mug, already you were wide awake. Your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you sighed.

“You really are quite the leader…” you said. “I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who can do it like you do.”

Dick snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Look what happened with you being out even for just a few months. It’s amazing, really, how people just listen to you.”

“Yeah… Except when it’s my siblings. It’s like tying bears down with dog leashes.”

“It’s not your fault. No one, not even Darkseid, can make Damian Wayne submit.”

“Almost as if he’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

You laughed and sat back against your chair.

“Anything interesting happen lately?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t bore you to death.”

“Try me,” you said. “Just let me hear your voice.”

You heard him sigh. You heard him smile. From cheek to cheek. You wanted to see him, but you just calmed.

Then Dick started talking about this incident with Gar and Raven, how one catty little comment turned into this jungle fest between an overpowered demon and a green tiger wrestling it out in the living room. Dick was in the middle of it, of course, but his pleas weren’t nearly enough to calm either of them down.

And even when you were laughing and giving all these fun little remarks that often made him chuckle, it was all too difficult how you had to hold yourself back from spilling the mounds stuck at the back of your throat, everything you wanted to talk to him about, and you couldn’t, can't, say a thing. The things that had to be said, that had been waiting in this old shed stuck at the farthest corner of the earth for days too long. One that you were both too afraid to surface, because you were a coward yourself. What do you even say to him? How do you even begin?

And as Dick went on, the more you just wanted everything lash out of you, even when talking about it through the phone wouldn’t be the best idea.

You needed to look at him in the face, see how he’ll react to all the things you had to pour out of your heart and scream whatever you wanted to scream at him for. Your anger, the frustrations for his cowardice and how he just let Tim have you without so much as a fight or even try to find out who really had your heart, even when you yourself couldn’t even say. And even more did you want to tell him all that despite it not being his fault how the worst enemy there was to your story with Dick was timing.

But you didn’t do any of that and instead, you kept your silence. You pretended that this little conversation of yours was enough to get you through the day to keep all that sinking pit in your stomach at bay and not let anything bother you anymore. Even though, more than anything else at that moment, you desperately just wanted to get back to work without having so much to think about.

Dick finished the story, and by the end, you hadn’t even an idea what he’d said, when all those years you never even missed just one word out of his mouth when he spoke to you.

“What about you?” Dick asked. “Anything interesting happen other than work?”

The only thing interesting that happened lately that wasn’t work was Jason, and the last thing you wanted was to get away from that even when you hadn’t placed a thought on that night since, well, that night. You didn’t want to.

“Not much, really. I’m usually just at home painting.”

“Have you been outside to paint?”

“Just once. I wanted a view of the skyline. I went to the rooftop of the Gotham City Plaza just to paint for a few hours and finished it at home.”

“For a client?”

“No…” you said. “Just for me.”

“That’s so great. I’d take you to this place just an hour away from Jersey. It’s this farmland, but it has this really pretty view of a valley at the far end.”

“Dick, how do you know all these places?” You stuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you cleaned up and went over to the sink.

“What places?”

“The ones out of the city. It’s not like you go out on vacation much.”

“Well, I-“ Dick mumbled, and you heard him shuffle his phone over to the other ear and his breath hitched. “I guess… I don’t know. I know you like painting the countryside. I look them up on the internet. Sometimes I ask around. Sometimes, most of the time, really, when I drive from Bludhaven to Gotham, I go through the route near the ocean. That’s where I found that cliff I took you last time.”

His voice was so soft at the end that you could barely even make out his words.

And, once again, you didn’t even have a breath you could take in to calm your throbbing chest.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“That’s-“ you placed your other hand on the kitchen counter. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Your cheeks were hurting, again, and you wanted to wash yourself with a bucket of cold water.

“Dick,” you croaked. “When are you coming back?”

You knew something was wrong the minute you didn’t hear a word out of him even several seconds after. You heard him walk around. You heard him cough. You could even hear him breathe a lot louder than he usually does, but when all that was from his silence, you knew it won't be for a long time.

“I don’t know…”

Then you heard him breathe faster, like he was running, like he was nervous.

“B-but, if you ask me to come home right now, I will. I’ll be there by tonight. If you need me at all…”

Something was picking at your neck like the knife you had laying around in your kitchen, and you wanted to drive it all the way up so you’d actually have an excuse not to have a response at all. Because you didn’t have one, not when your face felt like exploding from how much you’ve had to hold in.

“Or even if you just say you miss me, I’ll come back. Wait, no, that sounds… wrong. I’m sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You shut your eyes.

You want him home because you wanted to talk about how he’d just changed the course of your whole life in just one single letter and made you doubt all the waterfalls and rivers of feelings you’ve had for him all these years.

“Of course, I miss you. But…” You dipped your head down and faced the bottom of your sink.

“Stay there, Dick. The Titans need you…”

Silence. And you wanted to choke the air out of you when you couldn’t even hear him breathe anymore.

Something echoed from behind Dick, and you heard his muffled voice from his hand blocking the phone’s receiver. You swallowed, looked up at the window just to let the melting snow on the ground outside fill that frightening blank in your head.

You heard Dick clear his throat. “I’m really sorry. I have to go.”

“It’s alright,” you softly sighed. “You going out tonight?”

“No. I’m trying to let the Titans do the work by themselves. I’ll be sitting it out the next few days.”

“Alright, then. Be safe.”

“I will.”

You hung up first, and with that, you turned on the faucet and let the water flow out from the rim of your coffee cup, watching the brown dilute with the water so painfully slow.

Maybe Jason was right, you were confused.

You had to talk to Tim.

Maybe he can change all that.

-----

It probably was a mistake to come all the way to the manor, to talk to someone about things you didn’t even know in the hopes of clearing up a picture you weren’t sure you wanted to see.

But you’ve been holding out on talking to Tim, really talking to him without it turning into some pity fest for the both of you and it was obviously one you both really needed. And, without a doubt, you missed him. The days without even getting to text him was taking its sweet toll on you. You couldn’t be apart from him even if you tried.

Alfred welcomed you in, telling you that Tim was about to wake up anytime soon since he got home from the office at fucking twelve in the afternoon that day because he spent the whole night, and morning, working when even Bruce was telling him to come home. You started to take off your coat, but with it being so empty in the parlor, the fireplace dark and gritty and the walls so silent, it was eerie, you wanted to stay outside.

You went over to the back, through the kitchen where there was a backdoor, then you went outside in the light orange pasture where the snow had melted and the trees and bushes sticking up with just their trunks of wood. There were leaves around, drenched and muddy with the soil, and the grounds were unkept. But it was wonderful to see, nonetheless. You stayed outside at the gardens, grass under your boots, and waited despite the breezing chill.

Not long after, you heard him come up from behind you.

“Y/N.” Tim sounded relieved. “Christ, I was just about to call.”

And it wasn’t even awkward, hesitant, or at all unusual when he rushed to you and pulled you to his chest. You hugged him back immediately, eyes closed, ignored how the last time you saw him you were so close to just breaking down and focused instead that you hadn’t seen your best friend in weeks and none of you had the courage to even call. And already, that void within you felt infinitely better. And you didn’t pull away even after so long. And for such a moment, you pleaded that it wouldn’t end, that you wouldn’t have to pull away and face the realities don’t even want to go into. And after all you’ve been through, being here, being in his arms, it was too good to even be a part of your fantasies, the resort, or a distraction perhaps, of what was really going on.

But it wasn’t like you were revealing some long-forgotten truth that would crush him out of unexpectedness, because he already knew. You just didn’t know what it’s going to be right after.

Eventually, unfortunately, you both pulled away, but not without Tim brushing his thumb across your cheek which made you want to just melt in his arms. His hair was swept back and he looked like he’d just gone out of bed, but his eyes looked absolutely striking against the white of the snow left over on the ground, and the way he looked at you made you want to regret ever looking away from him after the last time, which, frankly, you couldn’t even remember.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out-“

He hushed you down. “It’s alright. How are you?”

Still in his hold around your waist, your faint arms enjoyed themselves resting against his chest.

“I could be better.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You were so close to just blurting out ‘yes’, but that could possibly make him want to pull away, which you didn’t want to happen at all. At least, not for a bit longer. You needed to be held.

But Tim must have known, because he slowly pulled away, and you were in no place to just ask to be held one more when you were about to, possibly, rip his heart out.

You didn’t even have a clue on how he’s going to react.

“Tell me about you first,” you said. “Anything happen lately?”

“No. Nothing at all. I’m at the office when I’m not asleep at home and god, I really need you to make me stop drinking ten cups of coffee everyday because it’s driving me nuts.”

“You did not-“

“Oh, I am. And it’s so boring as well. I swear I’ve been wanting to just call you and have a car sent over so you could hang out with me in the office.”

You smiled and watched how the dark circles under his otherwise bright blue eyes were even more eminent now than even before, which you hadn’t thought to be possible. You straightened his shirt. “You should have called me.”

“Yeah. I know. I should have.” He roughed up his hair and placed his other hand on his hip. He looked tired. “I just thought you needed some time alone.”

Hands in your coat, you pretended that it was the cold that made you want to curl up into a ball and roll away on the ground, but your eyes were on your boots and you breathed out a bit of smoke past your lips because you really did not want to keep staring into his eyes, out of guilt or in awe. “I… I guess I did. But I would have gone to you if you wanted me to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Then call me next time.”

Tim’s adorable smile. It was amazing how quickly it got to you.

“I will.”

You couldn’t possibly hold this for long. You got your hands out of your coat, which didn’t actually need to be housed like that when you had gloves on to protect them, then you licked your lips.

“So… Did you come to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah…”

“We can head inside.”

“No, Tim.”

It won't be long. It shouldn’t have to be long. You’ll stay here, outside, so this agony wouldn’t have to last and you’d have an excuse to cut to the chase. He didn’t deserve to stand out here while you waltz around in circles because of your cowardice.

“It’s about Dick.”

The way his face fell.

And as much as you wanted to look away before it got to you, you had to face him now.

“What about him?”

“About two weeks ago,” you said. “That day I left the manor.”

The day you last spoke to each other.

Tim listened intently, stepped closer to you, almost as if he already knew where this was going.

“Dick and I… kissed.” Fuck, you wanted to cut open your mouth saying all this to Tim. “Then when I got home, he left me a letter telling me everything.”

“Everything?”

You saw his neck tighten, even with his collar covering most of it. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

His face, what you thought to have been anger slowly building up when you first mentioned Dick’s name, all dropped into this soft, unmoving silence. Tim looked away from you, watching the empty branches stay still as if they were so much more interesting than having to look at you in the eye.

“That’s, uhm,” he whispered, voice harsh and forced. “That’s great.”

It didn’t sound so great when he said it that way.

“Are you… together now?”

“No. We haven’t exactly talked about it since then.”

He nodded, pulling on his hair a bit too hard when he ran it across his scalp.

“Tim, you knew about him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly doing much to hide it.”

Now, he looked mad. He turned away from you, walking down to the gardens further away from the manor, where the others might hear. You walked with him, stayed by his side. He spoke so softly, yet you knew it came straight from his darkest thoughts too painful to bring up.

“I always knew. Back when we were together. He didn’t try to get too close to you back then, but I just… had a hunch, you know? I think every boyfriend can tell when other guys try to get too close with their girl.”

“Tim, I swear, I didn’t feel anything for him at all back then-“

“I know, I know.” His sad smile broke you. “A part of me was always afraid he’d just steal you away from me, but I knew he cared about you a lot. When I…” he bit his lip. “When we broke up, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Dick didn’t know if I was fine with him going to you so soon, but I knew you’d feel better if he was there for you, and I knew he wanted to be there for you, too, so I sent him.”

Just when you thought none of this could possibly get worse.

“You sent Dick?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No…” you said. “Don’t be sorry.”

You stepped on a melted puddle and almost slipped on the mud. Tim held your shoulder, pulled you up, then kept his hand on the small of your back. You let him.

“It was the right thing to do. You were okay. It was my fa-“ He was choking on his own words by then. “I had it coming, after how I left you…”

“Dick had Kori then,” you said, and that only made Tim snort.

“I was honestly surprised he didn’t leave Kori the moment he saw you needed him. Idiot even made it through a wedding.”

“He thought I was still in love with you.”

That’s when he stopped walking right in front of you so you’d stop, too. You looked up at him, wide eyed, and somehow you couldn’t tell if it was hope or horror staring back at you from his eyes.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes, and wished he’d instead asked if you loved him and not if you were in love with him. Because if there was anything this experience taught you, it was that it made a hell lot of a difference.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he shook his head. “Y/N, why are you even here?”

You wanted to cry. He wanted to cry even more. His voice broke and with how his uneasy shoulders were shrugging, you didn’t know if pulling him close would be the right thing to do.

“I thought I’d talk to you about this-“

“And I told you we were over…”

If he were someone else you would have slammed your fist up in his gut.

“Are you-“

“Be with Dick,” he said. “Please. Go to him now and be with him. I’ll be okay. Is that what you came here for? To make sure I’ll be okay with it?”

“I-“ you swallowed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Mouth parted, watching your face, possibly to see how your eyes were moving and your lips were shaking for any signs of lying or whatever it was detectives do to read faces. And Tim was smart. You didn’t have to tell him any more.

And when it came to him, he backed away. He looked like he’d just seen his own murder.

“Y/N, I can't believe you're-“

“You said you knew I loved you.”

“Listen,” he growled. He was angry now. Tim barely gets angry. “I can barely even live with myself after what I’d done to you. Why should you?”

Tim held your shoulders and squeezed them so tight, you couldn’t do much else but stare up at him so breathlessly. “I hurt you and you should have gotten rid of me the moment I walked out your door. You’re supposed to hate me, Y/N.”

“Is that what you really think?” you breathed.

He laughed, raised his arms up in disbelief. “I love you. For Christ’s sake, I love you so much and it’s going to kill me when I see you with someone else. Believe me. But this is what I get. I left you, and I hurt you.”

You tried holding his face, but he wouldn’t let you.

“You’re not even supposed to let me be your friend anymore. And here you are. You keep coming back. You’re not supposed to keep coming back. Are you actually choosing between me and Dick?”

Not a tear down your face, even when you thought you’d be breaking down by now. You were without breath and still not even your own body was processing all this the way it should already be and not be stuck in utter disbelief when clearly this was all happening.

“You are…” Tim whispered. He was shaking his head, and you just felt ashamed of yourself. “I can't believe this… You should be with Dick right now…”

“I can't.”

“That night we kissed.” He stepped back closer to you. “Christmas Eve. You told me you couldn’t handle being with me anymore because of what happened.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m over you,” You didn’t realize you sounded angry. “You don’t think I hate myself for that?”

“Y/N, just be with him. You can't keep torturing yourself like this.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

None of you were screaming. None of you could scream. Not at each other. Not even when you were supposed to.

“I can't forget what I did…”

“You’re not just talking about our breakup, are you?”

Tim’s mouth stopped trembling. His voice didn’t crack. He took a step back, never breaking away from your stare. Then you saw how he flattened his lips, biting them behind his mouth.

“Tim…” you swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault-“

“Stop it.”

His jaw clenched, hands crushing each other with his fingers locked. His eyes were on the ground.

“It’s true-“

“Y/N,” he croaked. “It was my fault.”

“It’s-“

No longer did he look so vulnerable. His forehead was creased up the way it did when he was firm. He stared at you so soullessly and so exhausted.

“If it weren’t for what I did that night, you wouldn’t have to worry about going out in the summer wearing shorts or getting to join the rest of the family in a pool party or anything at all. All this is because of me. We both know it’s true.”

You should have said something.

Anything.

But he wasn’t letting you.

His eyes darted to your hidden prosthetic and immediately he looked away. But you caught that glance. You always caught glances.

“I love you, Y/N. But choose Dick. Please. I saw how happy he makes you, and I’ll be damned if I held you back from even that. Just forget about us, Y/N. Please.”

From behind him, you could see Alfred waiting for you both by the library windows. Tim turned around, nodded, then couldn’t even look at you in the eye.

His plea was what broke you. It didn’t sound like a plea you could reason with.

Tim didn’t walk away this time. Instead, he waited for you to leave first. And when you did, with him trailing behind, you fought all the demons left within to not look back. You went straight to the foyer, to the door. Not even a minute after, you were out of the manor.

-----

A call wasn’t what you needed. Not even close.

But it had been days, and wallowing in your own sadness wasn’t exactly doing you any good.

And now, after what happened with Tim, it shouldn’t have to mean you’ll run to Dick just because you were freed from the confines of a choice.

You still had to decide whether you wanted to be with Dick or not. To stay alone or be with the man who’d done nothing but love you from afar, never failing to make sure you were smiling.

And with that, after you’d spent the past few days dwelling on what’d happened, you picked up your phone, sat on the little nook by the window in your studio, then called Dick.

He didn’t answer.

It was still well into the evening. You’ll wait it out.

An hour later, still no answer.

Three, four more hours. At twelve am, having to wake yourself up from dozing off, your own fault after days of having absolutely no sleep, was exhausting. You kept staring out the window and hoped to whoever was watching you from above, ancestors or a god or whatever there was, that Dick was at least still alive. It should be a crime for vigilantes to not answer their phone in the middle of the night.

Then, at one am that night, Dick finally called you back.

“Hey…” you forced yourself to sound awake.

“Hey.”

You heard him walking. He didn’t sound injured, or even tired at all. “I’m so sorry I missed your calls.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you still awake?”

You laid back against the wall. “I was waiting for you.”

He snickered. You heard a door open and close behind him, and he must have crashed into bed right then because you heard bed springs from his weight.

“Where were you tonight?”

“With the Titans. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your head was against the window’s glass and you watched the snow almost completely melt on the roads in front of you. “You poor thing. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m alone now…” You rolled your eyes at his tone. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” you lied.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?”

That made you smile. His voice. His tone. Already it made things a lot more bearable.

“I just… thought you should know. I talked to Tim the other day…”

He didn’t sound like you had to say anything more for him to understand. You heard him breathe louder, heavier.

“What did he say?”

“Well… He said I should be with you…”

“He did?”

“Yeah…”

Then there was even more silence. You should have thought about this a lot more.

“I was going to ask when you’re coming home but it sounds like the Titans need you a lot more than I do.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I want to go home more than anything.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“You know what…” he breathed.

The glass was freezing being pressed up against your skin, but you just let it. It didn’t even bother you.

“Dick…” Your finger traced the glass. “We haven’t exactly talked about… what happened.”

“I just… I thought talking about it over the phone makes it even more… I don’t know… cowardly.”

“It’s been weeks.”

“I know...”

You threw your head back, up against the wall, then you closed your eyes. You let the cold seep in all the way down your toes. You let it calm you.

“I’m sorry if it was too much…”

“It wasn’t.”

“I was-“ He was a nervous wreck. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, or that I forced my feelings down your throat. I hope I didn’t upset you…”

You couldn’t say it didn’t upset you. “It’s fine…”

“Y/N… You don’t have to do anything about it. I swear. We can just go on like nothing happened.”

Dick let out an agonizingly long sigh, then you heard his head fall to a pillow.

“That’s going to be hard…”

“I know… I don’t even know what to say to you when I come back…”

“You can say it to me now… if it makes things easier.”

Then there was silence.

Nothing at all. Not even the sheets moving. You could have sworn he was cut out for a minute. But then, when you heard him take a breath, then clear his throat, you just closed your eyes and hoped nothing he’d say would break you any further.

“I love you, Y/N…”

And despite the hurt, with everything else that went on, you let those three words be the only thing in your own little bubble of a universe. You smiled. You were never going to forget the way he said it so softly.

Then he was laughing. “I love you…” he said again. “God, it feels good to say that…”

You smiled so much; your face started to hurt.

“I read your letter like… fifty times…” you snorted.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He giggled. You’ve never heard him giggle before. It was the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.

“I love you. I meant everything I wrote. Everything.”

Your head met your palm, and you had to stop yourself before this was going to get the better of you.

“If it means I have to wait longer for you to sort things out, I will. Take as long as you need, and we… I can take this as slow as you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I just don’t want to rush you into anything…”

Maybe, in a way, this was the right choice. He could be the right choice. And it’ll take a while to prove that, but it was a start.

“Dick, I-“

From his end of the phone, you heard a door swing open, then there was his phone shuffling in his hand, then all the other noises were incoherent and muffled. Voices. There was more than one.

And Dick’s hand was shaking because you managed to pick out a few of them.

“………… thank you……… Dick……”

“……………alright………”

“………. You………. sure?.........”

“………. Yeah……..”

“…….good….. talk……… understand……”

“thanks………….. rest up……..”

No. Not a few. Just one other voice. A sweet, melodic voice, much like singing.

You never thought you could feel losing a smile so quickly, your chest being pulled all the way down to the earth’s core.

The door closed, then it was Dick’s voice again.

“Hey… sorry-“

“Dick,” you croaked. “Where did you say you were tonight again?”

You heard how confused he was. “I was… the Titans…”

“You were with Kori, weren’t you?”

“I…”

“You said you were gonna sit it out the next few nights. You weren’t out on patrol with the Titans. You were in the tower with Kori. Alone. Weren’t you?”

“Y/N, I know that sounds bad, but it’s not what you think-“

“What were you talking about?”

“Y/N… We just talked…”

“About what?”

“I told you I had to come talk to her about what happened. The wedding. She deserves some closure-“

“It’s been weeks, Dick. And you spent what, five hours talking to her just tonight?”

“You know it’s not that easy.” His mouth sounded trembling. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened. Kori and I are friends.”

“I find it hard to believe that you could be friends with someone you almost married. Why didn’t you tell me you were with her tonight? After I told you I waited for you?”

“I didn’t- I don’t know… Y/N, it’s not like you don’t talk to Tim…”

“Then why did you tell me you were with the Titans?” You scoffed. “At least I don’t lie to you when I talk to Tim.”

“I wasn’t… We were at the control room alone to watch them from the cams. I didn’t think I was… I promise you, nothing happened.”

“It isn’t about that, Dick. It would have been fine if you’d just told me about it. Now I can't stop thinking about what you tried to hide from me. I know you. You're honest until you think the truth hurts a lot worse than a lie.”

It’s funny how quickly that high you went through just two minutes ago could blow over so quickly and leave you down at the bottom of an infernal pit you couldn’t climb out of, because that’s where you were right then. You were tired. You didn’t want to go through any of this. You weren’t even surprised, and that was what hurt the most. And even more so wouldn’t you be surprised if at any of those days he’d spent in that tower, they’d slept together.

“I don’t even know what I’m so upset about,” you sighed. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Dick. We’re not together. Stay there. Take as long as you like.”

You hung up on the phone.

You were done thinking.

You were done sulking.

You were done dwelling over those two boys and let them take so much control over you that barely could you even take control over yourself.

You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

You wouldn’t let the thoughts take over, at least, just for that night. There was no darkness, nor light.

There was just… nothing.

And for four whole weeks, it was just that.

Nothing.

-----

The world was kind enough to give you four weeks after that to prepare for what was possibly the worst fucking holiday there could possibly exist. And it wasn’t always so bad, not when at one point, you had a boyfriend who spoiled you with everything you could possibly wish for, and even after that, you woke up with a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for you at your doorstep full of art supplies. So not at all was Valentine’s day the absolute worse. Not always.

Just this year, you dreaded it. You woke up and already you wanted to sleep through the whole day if you could, which you did. If not for getting up to prepare yourself a lunch and eventually an early dinner, you managed to successfully sleep through the most horrific day of the year.

Eventually, it took its toll on you, because your head was throbbing by the time it was eight o’ clock that night.

When you heard the bell outside your door ring, you took it as an excuse to actually get up and at least be a human being for the day. You strapped on your leg and walked to the door. The bell rang again, and you screamed “Coming!”

Which you probably shouldn’t have done. You really were out of your own head that day, because there could only be two people outside waiting for you on Valentine’s day and neither of them you wanted to see possibly for the next few years.

Frozen, ever so slowly moving, you peeked through the eyehole.

Then that ice that froze you into the ground broke apart and you groaned when you saw it was just Jason with a shit-eating grin staring back at you at the peephole.

You opened the door.

“Happy Valentine’s day, pretty bird.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t want to be mean or unwelcoming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning and rolling your eyes all over the ceiling as you swung the door wide open. Jason, knowing exactly what went on, just snickered and took off his coat.

“You brought booze?”

“I brought booze.”

Two bottles. He held them up and that same shit-eating grin still hadn’t left his face. You shut the door behind you and went with him to the kitchen.

He opened one for you and you went through a quarter of the whole thing in one go.

“Woah, woah, slow down there.”

“You know what you got yourself into coming here on Valentine’s day. You come to mock me?”

He opened his own bottle and drank. “No. Maybe. But I thought it’d be better than being alone after four whole weeks of you practically disappearing from the face of the earth.”

“So I changed my number,” you shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, except Bruce doesn’t exactly want to pry on you like he does with me. And with Tim and Dick laying low, I thought I’d take one for the team.”

“Take one for the team?” You scoffed. “What are you, some goat they sacrificed?”

“Come on, don’t see it that way. We’re all worried about you.”

“If you wanted to know how I was, your whole family of vigilantes could just easily follow me around the whole of Gotham.”

“I know, but we wanted to know how you really were.”

You took a long, much needed swig, then something pulled you to the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed.

Then you slipped, your ass landing on the floor. You laid your back against the bed frame and sighed with the bottle of booze in your hand.

“Fine. I lied. No one sent me here. I just thought I’d come by today. I know how much this day probably took its toll on you.”

“Believe me, it did,” you drank some more. Jason walked over and sat right beside you on the floor. “I haven’t gotten out of bed until you came.”

Jason chortled. “I don’t blame you. I’m not exactly a fan of heart’s day, either.”

“Really?”

“Nah. Not one gift. Never sent anything to anyone.”

“Not even to Rose?”

Jason took a swig at that. “We spent Valentine’s massacring an entire ship’s worth of goons.”

“Romantic.”

“Better than some date serving this capitalist excuse to consume.”

“You’re too cynical for your own good.”

“And you’re not cynical when you probably should be.”

“I am,” you drank. “In a way.”

Your empty bottle was on the ground, and you looked up at the ceiling. You were there an hour, maybe more. Jason let himself get drunk as well and laid his elbows on the bed since he was tall enough.

“This probably isn’t what you want to talk about,” he burped. “But I’m assuming what happened with Tim and Dick wasn’t what you expected.”

“I hate them,” you growled. “God, I fucking hate them both.”

“Shit. How bad was it?”

“Those two assholes must have thought I was dead after how much I ignored their calls, texts, emails, everything.”

“It’s been four weeks. They probably found out by now that you’re… well… alive.”

“I can't believe their own kindness and selflessness brought this out. Tim wants nothing to do with me and Dick’s having the time of his life in California with his perfect would-have-been wife.”

“That bad, huh?”

Your bottle tipped over on the floor and you didn’t pick it up. “I hope you don’t hate me for wanting to murder both your brothers.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason laughed. “I’m not exactly far off from your loathing for those two nutjobs.”

You raised a brow. “Something happen?”

“They told on Bruce, and he practically disowned me that last time we went on patrol. I crossed the line, or whatever it is they like to call it. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Haven’t called them either. They say they want me on the family and they pull shit like that ‘cuz apparently the consequences will help.”

“Makes two of us.”

“Exactly why I’m here.”

He nudged your shoulder, and you were surprised you were still sober after all that when you didn’t exactly feel like throwing up just yet. You groaned, head against the mattress.

And with that, you turned over to face him, who had the same, exhausted look on his face. Eyes closed. Arms up on the bed. Really veiny looking arms that made his shirt pull up and tighten around his chest.

“You don’t have to choose, you know…”

“I know. But it doesn’t help how-“

“You want to choose.”

You wanted to drive that bottle down your throat at that question.

“I want to. I don’t want to. You know I can't answer that.”

“And they’re lucky you can’t.”

Your head against your sheets, you watched him face you in turn. He was so close to you right then. You could smell his breath. You could feel his breath. And it was there. That beauty. The one that understood so much about you that you hadn’t understood yourself.

“You don’t have to choose if you don’t want to…” he whispered. “Fuck them. You’ve been hurt too much. You don’t have to get hurt any more. Choose to not get hurt.”

Eyes on him, quietly lingering on every scar on his skin.

If there was one thing that separated Jason from his brothers, it was his scars. The ones that littered his face. They had the same hair. Same blue eyes.

But Jason had marks on his eyebrow, his cheek, his lips. And he was so beautiful because of those.

“You understand…” you breathed against his mouth.

Jason’s eyes were on yours, but you saw how they darted over to your lips.

“I understand hurting myself… for others…”

His arm, it found its way past your head. And you knew because you felt his fingers sneak onto your hair behind you. You bit your lip, turned your torso so you could face him better.

“I can't blame them…” He started playing with your hair. “If I was in love with you, I’d be as god-awfully stupid as they are, no doubt.”

That made you laugh. “Thank you, then. For not being in love with me.”

“You're welcome.”

Oh God, the way he said that. His low, breathy, husky voice. It made you fucking vibrate and your hair starting sticking out the back of your neck. And then, all you could see, all you could feel, was how close he was to you. He was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. It might have been the booze, which you doubted. Because you felt so lightheaded and all the pain was just sitting there and all you wanted was just some kind of release.

Jason’s eyes, as obvious as they were, couldn’t keep darting down your shirt, as well. And you realized you weren’t even wearing a bra.

It made you stick your chest out even further, so you’d watch him watch you.

Booze breath against booze breath. Your lips met so sloppily and messily, and only for the shortest, briefest moment, because Jason was already making his way down your jaw, your neck, biting onto your skin.

There. The blur. That silent, ringing noise. Jason’s tongue lapped over the skin on your collar bone and everything that went on in your head for the past few months were just thrown out the window that very instant. His hands were on you. All over you.

And finally, the body you’ve lusted after for so many years¸ the body you’ve only gotten to see and drool over and fantasize on nights when you were lonely and all those days of wanting to touch every part, every ripple of his chest when you see him fresh from the gym. You practically ripped his shirt off and your hands couldn’t stop for a second ravishing every bit of his skin. And it was just as good as you’ve always longed and imagined.

Jason squeezed onto your hip, and with how he touched you, you thought maybe he’d felt the same. It hurt to pull away, but Jason was holding you, hoisting you up on the bed, then you were kneeling on the mattress, his hands on your waist just begging for you to be against him so close. You were there for so long, watching, touching, enjoying his body just as he did with yours. He held your face so gently and kissed you.

You held his arms, barely being able to hold them with how large they were compared to yours. And even with the light so dim, this orange, unintentionally beautiful dim, you took off your shirt. And for a second, just for a second, he watched how your breasts looked being held in his hands.

Everything was moving way too fast but you couldn’t have wanted it any other way. None of this needed a build-up, or a slow burning of a wick. Anything more, any longer and it would actually have to mean something, and with that, it brought hurt. It wasn’t a bomb that needed days just to explode. It just needed to happen, at least for just that moment.

You moaned, but he kissed you before you could cry out anything more. Lips first, then it didn’t take long for him to trail down to your nipples. Your arms were around his neck and you pulled him back up, kissing him because you just needed it. This sweet, all too sweet release.

“Wait…” Jason whispered. He held your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. He looked at you and his forehead was all creased up.

“This your first time?”

You nodded, swallowed, then hoped it wouldn’t drive him away.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You kissed him in response.

Then he pushed you onto bed.

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A/N: WHERE MY TEAM JAY BABIES AT

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MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

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1littleshippergirl1 · 3 years

Text

Something Odd

There was something odd about her neighbors.

Gladys Barlowe prided herself on knowing just about everything that went on within the bounds of the neighborhood. Why, Mrs. Keperna, who lived just down the road, was getting up there in age and yet none of her children made much of an effort to visit. But those girls had been a bad sort; they'd gotten into much trouble in their youth. She'd told Ingrid it was a bad idea to let them go out to that dancing club. It was bound to corrupt them and it did, rest assured.

Oh, and the Irmagards next door were having marriage troubles. Yes, indeed, it was quite a shocking revolution. She'd overheard shouting going on between them and glass shattering. Why, she had jumped a mile in the air when that happened! It was a toss up whether or not they would stay together or file for divorce. Privately, she'd said to the other ladies of the neighborhood came for a visit to sip on tea and enjoy some freshly baked biscuits, if it were her and her husband, they would never have been so inconsiderate to everyone else and aired their dirty laundry for all to hear. Had they no decency?

Her husband, Mervin, was less enthusiastic whenever she relayed anything she'd found out to him. Yes, Dear, he'd say. Or, mhm. Or, that's nice. She'd huff in frustration whenever that happened. So caught up in the sports section newspaper or television, he was! He had the nerve of wagging his finger at her once, insinuating her to be a gossip fiend. She was hardly such; they'd lived in the neighborhood ever since they'd gotten married, watched as people passed on, moved on and new faces appeared. They were one of the longest remaining home owners there. She had a right to know who was living nearby. Besides, what was the harm?

But, back to her neighbors.

She couldn't put her finger on it on what made them stand out to her. They didn't look that different than any of the other families that were around. It started out as a feeling, one she couldn't shove to the side and forget about, no matter how many times Marvin told her she was being paranoid. She wasn't. This was real, that feeling. She just knew it. She only had to prove it.

So, she did the reasonable thing and began to subtly watch them.

It was the house that was directly across the street from her, the one with the rather unflattering paint job and the red-headed man with his two daughters. They'd been there for about thirteen years now, back when it was originally just the man, his wife and only one of their children. She wondered whatever happened to that wife of his-Andria? Alana? Audrey, perhaps. Oh, yes, that must have been it. Gladys distinctly remembered a woman with blonde hair living in the house at one point and then she just disappeared! Their marriage must have soured. Poor thing. They were quite young, by the looks of it

(Marvin had told her it was none of her business when she'd planned on bringing over a casserole, with the intention of asking about it).

That woman, Audrey, was a little more cold then her husband was and the way she dressed was just plain awful. Those colors and her complexion-just what had she been thinking? Well, Gladys wasn't completely up to date on fashion these days either but still. Even she knew there were just certain things you kept in the back of your closet after turning thirty. She wasn't judging, of course.

Her husband, on the other hand, was much more friendly. Always smiling and waving to her when they happened to be outside at the same time. That wasn't an issue. She and the ladies from her book club agreed he was such a nice man. There were just occasions where she saw strange things; like that one time when she witnessed him throwing a cape over his shoulders when it snowed and a pointy hat, like a witch would wear.

It threw her for a bit of a loop, it did, at first. He might have been into that fad all the teenagers and young adults were into, where they dressed up as fictional people and used the convention center for all of them to get together. What a strange thing to do with one's time. Did he go to those events held at the local convention center, too? Oh, they were outrageously expensive, according to the flyers she'd seen posted on a bulletin board at the grocer's. Not to mention, he was raising two growing girls, who had needs that should've come before a silly hobby.

And speaking of his girls..

They were quite pretty. One of them, the oldest she reckoned, had taken right after her father. She was his spitting image, right down to the dreary clothes and atrocious looking glasses. The other was more so of her mother, appearance wise. She, too, wore glasses that were slightly big on her face and dressed without any fashion sense.

Like she said, they were pretty, but they could've looked magnificent if she just had a few minutes with them.

Those two weren't around very often, peculiarly enough. She saw them in the summertime and on occasion, if she looked out her window and if the curtains were open, they were home for Christmas but not any other time. That began shortly after they'd turned eleven. It started out as the oldest leaving and the younger one was still there but then it was both of them!

Just where did they go? Well, they weren't attending the local secondary school, that was for sure She'd casually asked Mrs. Thorp, who had a son going there, if she'd seen them around but they weren't there. That was odd. Unless they didn't go there because they were going to some exclusive school for gifted children. That must be it, wasn't it? What other explanation could there be? Truthfully, she never would've guessed those two would be prodigies. They never struck out to her like that. Weren't prodigies supposed to be all quiet and depressed? Those girls were rather lively from what she'd seen of them. Of course, they might just be an exception.

A thought crossed her mind and she wondered what the red-headed man did for a living. She hardly ever saw him leave the house. He didn't even have a car, for crying out loud! How did he get anywhere? Did he wake up in the early hours of the morning to walk back and forth to work? He couldn't have been poor; these houses cost a pretty penny. The few times she did see him, he wore casual, comfy clothes that gave no clue to his occupation, whatever that may be.

What if he was in some sort of governmental work that was highly confidential? Or perhaps he and his daughters were in the witness protection program! That made a great amount of sense. Why hadn't she considered that before? It might provide an explanation as to where that Audrey woman had gone. Oh, what if she'd been killed? Had she and the red-headed man gotten caught up in gang activity prior to the birth of their daughters and one of those members had found her and finished her off? Oh, the man must have been devastated! And now he was left to raise his girls on his own. What a terrible thing.

Didn't he have any family help? She was sure he did. She'd seen some red-headed folks in his living room once-she'd been outside watering her garden when a man standing in front of the window caught her attention. He was younger than the man who lived there by a few years and oh it was just awful, he was missing an ear! Her hand had flown up to her mouth, the hose dropping to the ground. What on earth had happened to him? A work related accident? An animal attack?

There were a couple non red-heads that came over to the house as well. A man with unkempt black hair had come around. He had the strangest looking scar, she'd noticed with curiosity as he stepped out of an old, beat up car. And then there were two separate women as well on occasion. One with hair that reminded Gladys of a rat's nest while the rest of her seemed well put together. The other had such nice hair. A cross between silver and blonde. It must have been from a box. It certainly didn't look natural. She'd assumed one of those women had to have been involved with the man. Why else would they have come to him? She dearly hoped he wasn't seeing them both at the same time. He wasn't that kind of man, was he? And to do that with children around. Very disgraceful if he was.

Gladys sat at the kitchen table of her home, sipping delicately on a cup of tea with slightly pursed lips. In all her years of knowing of the man, she had not yet once had a proper conversation with him. She didn't even know his name. And her curiosity was getting the better of her; she had several questions needing to be answered that couldn't be done by a simple, quick chat. No, she would need a reasonable reason to go over there.

She supposed she could bring over a late housewarming present. A batch of cookies, perhaps. Yes, that sounded splendid. The children would enjoy them and she could get the man to talk. Surely he wouldn't be so rude as to merely take the cookies and push her out of the house?

"How do you think this looks?" She asked her husband, presenting him with the china that contained the cookies. She'd put a red bow on top for decoration.

Mervin was doing a crossword puzzle. His eyes barely even lifted up. "It looks nice, dear."

"Oh," she scowled, "you didn't even see it!"

He did look up this time, unimpressed. "It looks the same as any other time-what's with the bow? Did you take it out of the Christmas container?"

"So what if I did?" She straightened herself up. "I want it to look nice."

"For who, exactly?"

"Our neighbors," she said. "The ones across the street. You know, the red-headed man and his daughters."

"Gladys," Mervin said warningly. "You leave those people alone."

She shot him a look, miffed. "I'm bringing them cookies."

"You're being nosy is what you're doing," he pointed a finger at her accusingly. "I know what you're up to."

She made a noise from her throat. "I'm not up to anything!"

"Oh, yes you are," he got up out of his chair. "You're going to go over there and use the cookies to get information. I'm telling you, Gladys, leave the man alone."

"You're not the least bit curious about him?" She said, taking a quick glance in the direction of the window. "I've never seen him speak to anyone in all the years he's lived over there."

"No," he said flatly. "If he wanted to speak to us, he would have by now. He doesn't need you going over there to bother him. You remember what happened with the Kremps, don't you? You remember being tossed out of the house and Mrs. Kremp threatening to hit you with that pan of hers?"

Gladys adjusted her dress primly. She vaguely recalled it. But it hadn't been her fault. The woman had simply overreacted to an innocent question. How was she supposed to have known that the ugly vase on the mantel contained the ashes of her father?

Mervin folded his arms across his chest, sighing heavily. "Don't go causing any more trouble."

"I'm doing no such thing," she was offended he thought so little of her. "I'm just going to ask a few questions."

"Gladys-"

"Don't you ever wonder what happened to that wife of his?" She cut him off.

"No. But they likely got divorced, if anything."

"Not divorced. Murdered," she revealed.

His eyes widened in surprise. It was about time he finally reacted, She thought with satisfaction "She was murdered?" he said in disbelief.

"Well," she shifted and his expression turned into a glare, "I can't say for sure that's what happened, but I have reason to believe the man and his daughters are in the witness protection program."

He inhaled, shutting his eyes as if praying that he was given more strength. "What?"

"Now just listen," she advised. "No one really knows much about them, do they? They don't talk to people and we don't even know his name. His wife was around and suddenly she disappeared! Now, I think they must have been involved in some illegal gang activity and one of those gang members must have come back to finish her off!"

"Do you know how mad you sound right now?" Mervin snapped.

"I'm not mad, I'm serious."

"And that's what scares me," Mervin muttered. Louder, he said, "I don't want you going over there, do you hear me? You're not going to say a word of that nonsense to him!"

"It's not nonsense-"

"Oh, you're right. It's worse," he scowled. "When is this all going to stop, hmm? When am I going to get peace?"

She harrumphed. "You're not even listening to me!"

"I'm the one not listening? You're the one not listening to me! I'm trying to save you from getting your lights knocked out. I'm warning you, Gladys. Don't do it." He gave her one last look. "Now I'm going back to my puzzle and I'm keeping an eye on that door!"

"Yes, dear," she said pleasantly. She stayed put like he asked, until he went to the bathroom that is. Then she quickly grabbed the cookies and bounded out the door and across the road. When she came to a stop on his front porch, she smoothed down her hair and dress.

Hmm, she noticed his door was ajar. Did he know? Perhaps not. Well, there was no harm in going in a bit. "Hello?" She said cheerfully. "Is anyone home?"

No one responded but someone was there. She heard noises coming from inside. There were people talking. Three in fact. The man and his daughters, she realized she had never heard their voices before.

"Can I show you, please?"

"I said no, Molly. You know the rules."

"It'll be quick! And no one'll know. I won't tell anyone."

Tell anyone what? She frowned.

"And what if someone sees?"

"I told you he'd say no."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Girls, stop arguing."

"Please, Dad? Please!"

"I already told you no. Especially with the windows open. What if someone saw you? I'm in no mood to deal with it today. The department has enough reports already."

What department? What reports? What did he not want to deal with? She stuck her ear in as far as she could.

"Don't worry, if someone sees, we'll just call Uncle Harry. He can take care of them."

She gulped. Take care of them? Surely she didn't...she didn't mean that kind of take care of. She couldn't have. No. That was preposterous.

Oh, my. What if...what if the man was still involved in the gang? What if they were doing illegal activity in the house? Were the girls involved too? Was that what she wanted to show him and he was afraid of getting caught?

There was a pause.

"Quickly. And don't think you'll be doing this all the time."

She decided on going in. She had to see what was going on. For the good of the neighborhood, of course. She had to know. Inhaling, she braced herself and burst into the home and came to a halt in front of the kitchen.

Just as a textbook magically turned into a chicken. And the girl! She...she was holding a stick-

The man and his daughters froze. Gladys stammered, pointing a shaky finger at them.

"You...that..."

She fell flat on her back in a faint.

Molly stood over her body, peering down at it through her glasses. "Is she dead?"

Percy rubbed at his face tiredly. "No, honey. She's just fainted."

"That's good," Lucy said from where she sat on the countertop. "What was she doing here anyway?"

"I have no idea," he shook his head.

Molly was still peering down at her. "Dad, can I take a picture? I've never seen a muggle faint before."

"No, Molly."

Percy sighed and began to write a letter to the Accidental Muggle Reverse Squad.

#Harry Potter #percy weasley #lucy weasley #Molly Weasley #hp next gen #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH18

I commented recently after GoS aired that canon Alya was on her way up, but MDCSPR Alya was on her way down. Consider this the beginning of the end for her for a while.

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 18: You Are In Love

“Good evening, m’lady! You’re looking radiant as ever tonight,” Chat Noir called. His boots clanked against the roof, and he tucked his staff into his belt as he approached the love of his life.

Ladybug stood on the edge, the lights from the city reflecting in her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled when she turned to him, and his heart fluttered. There was no contest—Ladybug was the most beautiful girl in the world, and his heart would always belong to her. She flicked his bell with the playful smile that made him melt.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” she asked.

“Only when you fall in love with me.” He grinned. “Or if you kiss me.”

She looked up at him through long, fluttery lashes. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His heart took off into a sprint as Ladybug wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up on her toes. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, savoring those few moments of bliss while they lasted. Nothing else mattered—just his lips on hers. The girl of his dreams was kissing him, and he wanted to stay locked in her embrace forever.

“Adrien,” she sighed his name when they pulled away, lingering close.

Her bright blue eyes found his, soft fingertips trailing down his arms. A light breeze blew through the garden, and Marinette smiled up at him.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked.

He answered by leaning in, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her lips were soft and warm, and they kissed him back eagerly. Their hearts beat in time together, passionately entwined. There was no one to interrupt them here. The invisible force that drew him to Marinette bound him tightly, and he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t want to.

Marinette was beautiful and kind, and Adrien wanted to stay in the garden with her forever. His Marinette. The girl he’d always protect, no matter how far he fell to do it. He’d never thought about it before, but holding her this close felt right. She felt right. Marinette had seared her name onto his heart the day they met, binding them together forever. They were always meant to be.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “Marinette.”

A clap of thunder boomed, and Adrien shot upright in bed, heart pounding. What once was a small flame now blazed wildly, burning his chest, his cheeks, his head. Marinette. Marinette was…

People don’t sneak off into the garden to kiss their friends, Adrikins.

Adrien touched his lips, still tingling from his dream. It felt so real. He’d kissed Marinette, not Ladybug. It was never Ladybug. From the moment their lips touched, it was always Marinette. The pounding of his heart, the fire burning through his chest, was all from Marinette.

Kicking off the blankets, he stumbled into his bathroom and flicked on the faucet. His cheeks were bright red and hot to the touch. Everything was too hot. He splashed cold water on his face, but the flames were too big to extinguish now. His heart refused to slow the cadence ravaging his veins.

I love you.

Sparks shot up his arms, numbing his fingers. He said it to Marinette. It had all felt so right in his dream. Now his heart had been stirred so violently in the waking world that not even he could control it. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his, the warmth of her breath on his tongue. It had all felt real…

Outside the storm raged, the downpour beating against the windows too loud for him to make sense of his racing thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it was no use. His heart and his mind were at war, and Adrien was caught in the crossfire.

Has another lady finally stolen your heart?

He didn’t call her m’lady. When he saw Ladybug that evening, he didn’t call her cute names or tell her she was beautiful. His heart didn’t burn when she called him kitty. Not like it did now. His head was spinning.

He gripped the countertop until his knuckles turned white. The eyes staring back at him in the mirror buzzed with the electricity spreading across every inch of his skin. Lightning flashed, and the sparks vanished. His racing thoughts skidded to a halt, and the air in the room hung still and quiet. Adrien held his breath.

In the silence, his heartbeat echoed in his ears in a deafening chorus, and when the thunder finally came, all of the tension came crashing down, threatening to crush Adrien under the weight. His head had gone quiet, but his heart was loud, beating to a new rhythm. No, not new. It was old and familiar, a song that had been playing the whole time, too quietly for him to notice. Marinette’s rhythm.

He and Marinette hadn’t kissed in the garden, but Adrien wished they did. If Chloe hadn’t interrupted, then he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kissed her again and again and again. Marinette. His first friend. The girl he’d go to hell for. The girl he couldn’t stop chasing, and now he knew why. She’d stolen his heart and run away, and this time he was going to steal hers back.

♪♫♪ willow ♪♫♪

Marinette skipped down the stairs to the bakery the next morning, lips pursed. News about Gabrielle had spread rapidly, and everyone at school knew now. Macy and Eliott texted Marinette the moment she got home from the party. Gabrielle told her not to worry, that Marinette shouldn’t care about her, and she was right. It wasn’t like they were friends, and after everything Gabrielle had done, Marinette should be happy like everyone else. But she wasn’t.

Maybe she was stupid. Or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. Tikki was right after all—Marinette couldn’t stop helping people.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mom greeted.

“Morning.” Marinette stooped to kiss her cheek.

“Did you have fun at the movies last night with your new friends?” her dad asked.

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly, biting her lip.

“Well, it takes time to adjust to a new school, and we’re happy you’ve already made some new friends. They’re welcome here anytime, okay?” Her mom lifted her chin, and Marinette offered her a smile.

“Thanks, Maman. I’ll see you tonight.” Marinette waved over her shoulder.

The sky was still gray from the late-night storm, casting a dreary haze over the city—a true testament to her mood. Droplets dripped from the overhang onto her blazer, and she brushed them off with a sigh.

Everything would be fine. If she tried hard enough, she could introduce Gabrielle to her group, convince her to be nicer to everyone, and they could all be friends. She’d helped Martin, Eliott, and Macy a lot since she met them. She could do the same for Gabrielle.

“Ya know.” She jumped at a familiar voice. “I think I’m starting to like the uniform.” Adrien leaned through the open window of his silver car, dreamy as ever.

“That makes one of us.” A smile curled on her lips.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” She gave him a look. “Okay, it’s pretty bad, but if it makes you feel better, I think you look cute in anything.”

She faltered, cheeks burning hotter than the bakery oven. Adrien thought she was cute! He’d almost kissed her. Twice. And now he was calling her cute! Dreams really did come true.

“I- well, it’s not- I mean, I’m not nearly as cute as you,” she stammered.

Nailed it.

“True, I am the cutest teen in Paris. At least, that’s what all the tabloids say.” He flashed her his best model smolder. “But if you look as cute as you did last night all the time, you might just give me a run for my money.”

He noticed! Chloe sat between them on the ride home and refused to let him walk her in, so Marinette worried that he didn’t get to see how cute she looked. Lisette needed to teach her how to work that kind of magic all the time.

“Well, after Chloe hosed us down, I had a little help getting cleaned up,” she said.

Adrien’s bodyguard cleared his throat from the driver’s seat, and Adrien flashed her an apologetic wince.

“Guess it’s time to go. I’ve got a full schedule this week, so I wanted to see you at least a little bit,” he said. “Let’s hang out when I’m free again.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, and Adrien smiled.

“See you later, Marinette.”

“Yeah, see you.”

♪♫♪ Ain’t It Fun ♪♫♪

Things were as bad as Marinette expected at school. Everyone was elated about Gabrielle, and Marinette’s friends were no exception.

“I can’t believe she’s really broke. What did her face look like when everyone at the party found out?” Macy chattered before class.

“Yeah, how did you get invited to Lisette’s party, Marinette?” Eliott asked.

Marinette squirmed in her seat. “I-” She flicked her gaze over to Gabrielle, sitting in the back of the room. “I went with some old friends.”

“Oh! Chloe, right? I heard she helped Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat an akuma as Queen Bee again. It must be so awesome being friends with a superhero!” Macy said, and Marinette didn’t have the energy to correct her. “But more importantly, word on the street is you and Adrien came in soaking wet from the garden. Wanna explain yourself?”

Marinette’s heart skipped. She’d been hoping the Gabrielle news would be enough to distract people from that detail. Remembering the warmth of his breath so close to her lips sent her mind into a tizzy. Then there was this morning…

“We went for a walk in the garden, and the sprinklers turned on,” Marinette said as if it were no big deal, even though it was probably the biggest deal of her life.

“Then why is your face so red, hmm?” Eliott smirked.

“I- we- nothing happened!” Marinette insisted, but when her friends seem unconvinced, she diverted their attention. “Want to hear something horrific that happened? After I got cleaned up from the sprinkler-incident, I ran into Thomas, and he kind of hit on me.”

“Ugh!”

“Gross!” Macy and Eliott both recoiled.

“He is such a scuzzbag. Please tell me you told him off.” Macy groaned.

“Well, I started to, but then Gabrielle interrupted, and they started arguing, then Thomas told everyone Gabrielle’s secret, and yeah,” Marinette said.

“Serves her right. If Thomas wasn’t just as awful, I’d commend him for taking interest in you. You’re definitely a step up from Gabrielle,” Eliott said.

“I dunno… Don’t you guys feel at least a little bad for her?” Marinette winced, and Eliott and Macy looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Absolutely not. It’s going to be a lot quieter around here without her bossing everyone around,” Macy said.

“Yeah, she got what was coming to her.” Eliott agreed.

“Well, she was terrible and mean, but maybe if we showed her a little kindness, she could change,” Marinette said. When Macy and Eliott stared at her again, she faced forward with a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Look, Marinette, we love you, and it’s super sweet that you want to help everyone. Seriously, you’re an angel, but Gabrielle is a demon. She’s run this school ever since she set foot in it, and now her kingdom has crumbled. Those of us who have been enslaved by her tyranny are enjoying our newfound freedom,” Eliott said. “I mean, if that mean girl who stole all of your friends from your old school got exposed tomorrow, wouldn’t you be happy?”

He had a point. If it were Lila, Marinette would be over the moon. She couldn’t blame them for celebrating, and even though Gabrielle tormented everyone for the past three years, Marinette couldn’t help feeling like she wasn’t all bad.

If she had learned anything since leaving her old school, it was that people could change. People she thought were trustworthy could become strangers overnight, and people she never thought possible could become her most trusted allies. But maybe they were right. Maybe Gabrielle was a lost cause, and Marinette should just let her go. Things would be easier that way.

“Yeah, I guess…” Marinette mumbled as Mr. Mercier called for everyone to find their seats.

Marinette didn’t bring Gabrielle up again for the rest of the day. Her friends weren’t going to forgive her any time soon, and truthfully, she shouldn’t have expected them to. Gabrielle Burton was their Chloe Bourgeois wrapped in Lila Rossi. The reigning queen of their nightmares was now reduced to a powerless shell of her former glory, and peace had been restored to the kingdom at last. If someone told Ladybug on her first day that she would willingly give Chloe Bourgeois a Miraculous to fight beside her, she would have thought they were crazy. Healing would take time, but just because they weren’t ready to forgive, didn’t mean Marinette couldn’t help on her own.

Gabrielle was by her locker at the end of the day, having waited until everyone left to change into her work apron. She bristled when Marinette approached.

“What do you want?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Marinette said. “Everyone else was so mean to you, and I just thought after everything that you could use a friend.”

“Of course they were mean. In case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t exactly been nice to them in the past either.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t risk your reputation for me.”

“You did.” Marinette nodded. “But there’s no one around now.”

Gabrielle eyed her, perplexed. “Why do you care so much?”

It was a question Marinette had been asking herself all day, and looking at Gabrielle now, she finally knew the answer.

“When I left my old school, I was afraid I’d lost all of my friends, and I felt so empty inside,” she said. “But then I met my new friends, and I knew that everything would be okay. They helped me find my footing when I felt like my world was crumbling, so I want to be that for you.”

“You’re stubborn, Marinette. I’ll give you that.” Gabrielle leaned against her locker with a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to take the subway together?” Marinette offered.

“Fine.” Gabrielle shut her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She averted her gaze as they walked, cheeks pink, but a small smile tugged the corners of her lips. Gabrielle may have a complicated past, but maybe with the right influence, she could learn to be nice after all. Sometimes all a person needed was the right friend and to know that they weren’t alone.

♪♫♪ crushcrushcrush ♪♫♪

Alya descended the stairs to the courtyard slowly, her stomach churning in knots. When Malin showed up, Alya thought Ladybug picked new allies for all of the Miraculouses. After all, she and Nino knew each other’s identities, and everyone knew Chloe’s identity. So why did Queen Bee get to fight by Ladybug’s side again? What had Alya done to deserve being replaced that Chloe hadn’t? None of it made any sense.

Lila and Ladybug had never met before, and truthfully, I don’t think they really even like each other.

Was it all because of Lila? If Adrien and Marinette’s stories were true, then Ladybug would know if she was a liar. Had Alya ruined her chances of wearing a Miraculous by aligning herself with Lila? It was the only thing that made sense, but Alya couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She needed answers.

Alya vaguely remembered Adrien’s fencing schedule from helping Marinette with her hopeless confession schemes. She almost missed those days. Things were a lot simpler back then. If she remembered correctly, Adrien should have been finishing his private lessons, which would put him in the locker room.

Alya hurried to the double doors across the courtyard. At first she thought she’d missed him, but voices mumbled several rows down. Alya crept in quietly to get a better listen.

“Are you sure these questions will get her to spill the tea?” Chloe.

“Yeah, all we have to do is get her to agree to it,” Adrien said.

What were they up to? Sure, everyone knew that Chloe and Adrien were friends since childhood, but on most days ‘friends’ was a generous exaggeration. As far as Alya knew, Adrien could hardly stand Chloe, so why were they talking now? Ducking behind the next row up from theirs, Alya held her breath and listened.

“Lila isn’t going to know what hit her after our interview with Ladybug goes live. She is so done for,” Chloe said darkly.

“I’m not doing this to ruin Lila’s reputation-”

“I know, I know.” Chloe groaned. “I can’t believe you’re going through all this effort to trick a superhero into exposing Lila for Little Miss Nobody.”

What?

“Her name is Marinette, and I know you miss her too, Chloe,” Adrien said.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve actually got feelings for her—I might barf. It’s bad enough I had to chase you two out of the garden last night,” Chloe groaned. “Let’s just get rid of Lila, then you can go play the hero for Dupain-Cheng, and I can get back to being the reigning queen at this school.”

“We’ll try to signal Ladybug tomorrow afternoon. After that, no one will ever trust Lila again,” Adrien said.

“You and I make such a good team, Adrikins. We should ruin lives together more often,” Chloe said.

“I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

The locker door slammed, and Alya scrambled to the end of the row, diving behind a cart of basketballs. Her heart hammered, blood pounding in her ears. She waited until the courtyard doors shut and the room fell quiet to move.

Chloe and Adrien were working together to get back at Lila for Marinette! She’d been right not to trust him. All this time she thought Adrien was a good guy, but she should have known better. No nice person could be friends with Chloe Bourgeois for so long. Ugh, that girl made Alya so sick! How could anyone be that cruel? And Ladybug actually trusted her over Rena Rouge? After everything Alya had done to prove herself. Chloe was the most selfish, bratty, conniving person Alya had ever met! Why did Ladybug ever trust her? Unless…

Unless she didn’t.

What if Chloe was manipulating Ladybug too? She said they were going to trick her into exposing Lila, so what if she tricked her into giving her back her Miraculous? Chloe was very good at getting what she wanted, and it wasn’t beneath her to ruin someone’s life just for stealing attention away from her. But why would Adrien and Marinette help her?

Alya’s head was spinning. What was the truth? Was all of this a long con set up by Marinette, and Adrien and Chloe were just the pawns? Why would she do that? None of it made sense. Why did they all hate Lila so much?

One thing was for sure: she needed to warn Ladybug about that interview. If Chloe was manipulating her, then Alya needed to put a stop to it. Maybe then she could prove to Ladybug that she was still worthy of being a hero. But she needed to hurry.

Her fingers dialed quickly, and Lila answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just overheard Adrien and Chloe talking. We don’t have a lot of time. We need to call Ladybug. Now.”

#mdcspr #mdcsp #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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