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lotusthekat · 4 years

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Elegia

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Lars & Steven, Lars/Sadie, Lars & Lion

Characters: Lars Barriga, Steven Quartz Universe; MINOR ROLES - Sadie Miller, Lion; other characters are only mentioned

Summary: The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

*Takes place after Letters to Lars (s05e16)

Word count: 3.173

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: Hello, SU fandom, here’s some good ol’ Lars-centric angst. :) This is probably the biggest existential nightmare I’ve ever written (and I blame Neon Genesis Evangelion for that), so I hope you like this, lmao.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past canonical character death, thoughts of death, fear of death, trauma and implied past bullying(?)

Elegia: Greek/Latin form of elegy. Also the name of a song by New Order.

el·e·gy

a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.

It’s really been two months or so since he’s been away, and it’s quite obvious when Lars returns to the Big Donut; finding not Sadie, but the town’s former mayor. Obviously, he’s been informed by Steven’s letters back in space, yet he wouldn’t contain his surprise. Just Mr. Dewey working at the Big Donut seems to have been attracting a lot more costumers now.

Lars knows he can’t exactly eat, yet Steven insisted he had the pink donut named after him. The Pink Lars is so, well… pink, that even the dough itself isn’t the ordinary donut color. Steven actually orders six of the desserts – as it turns out, it’s become one of his favorites, right along with the chocolate donuts he regularly buys.

There’s quite a lot of people in town today, under the soft, warm blue sky. Steven and Lars soon settle in a bench at the boardwalk, the former already handing the latter one of the pink donuts.

“You think you can give it a try?” Steven wonders.

Lars is, admittedly, not hungry. He has eaten pieces and bits since getting back home, otherwise nothing much. Though a bite might not hurt.

“I guess so,” He accepts. Soon enough, Steven already puts a donut in his mouth. He enjoys it.

Lars, on the other hand, stares at his. It’s possibly the pinkest thing he’s seen – besides Lion and… himself. The donut, however, doesn’t have the same pink tone. Its frosting is sparkling and appealing, but it’s closer to purple, filled with pink sprinkles over a dark pink dough. The difference between his own skin and the food probably goes unnoticed to others’ eyes at first; on the outside, they’re both pink.

Despite the name, Lars knows they’re not the same. The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

“… Lars, are you okay?”

Realization hits him. Lars has really just been contemplating a donut and Steven is reasonably concerned. The pink teenager releases a sigh, to filter the deepness of nonsense filling his head.

“Yeah.” He barely holds up a smile when he returns the donut to the box between him and Steven. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t have the stomach right now… literally.” He lets out a forced laugh.

Steven doesn’t laugh or smile in return, whereas Lars avoids the kid’s big concerned eyes. The younger boy swallows.

“Lars, I…” Knowing what he’s going to say next, Lars doesn’t wait for him to finish.

“It’s okay, Steven. I’m…” He bites his own lip. “I’m glad to be here.”

He’s saying the truth, clearly. But…

… no, Lars doesn’t want to sound selfish and ungrateful. Not to Steven of all people. The half-human boy saved his life, and sure, nothing could be the same again. Lars can’t eat the same way as before; he can literally not function like a human being anymore… but he’s glad he’s gotten this second chance. To be there for the people he loves. To be himself.

(But pink, pink, pink.)

Home has changed. He has changed.

Even so, everyone is fine with him becoming pink. Including his parents. They’re definitely shaken at what happened to Lars, and they were brought to relieved and terrified tears upon finding their son again. Yet almost a few weeks later, it’s almost as though he… hasn’t been to space, even though things are different now. If that makes sense.

Sadie is a lot more open and confident now. She sings with all her might, encapsulating the horror films she’s binged into her music. The Cool Kids are themselves, continuing to live as regular teenagers and discovering new interests, whilst giving life to their instruments. Lars cooks and bakes, and he laughs along with his friends. He introduces the Off Colors to the good things of life on Earth. Steven helps with that, as well as his own gem family. The Rutile Twins, Fluorite, Padparadscha and Rhodonite are having the time of their lives, free, loved, joyful. But most importantly, everyone embraces Lars. Everyone accepts who he is.

Everything is good.

(And Lars can’t accept it.)

Lars realizes he’s afraid of the dark.

The darkness was once a place of comfort for him. No one could really see him there. It was endless, omnipresent. Lars often found himself there.

Yet even with the skyscrapers revealing the night sky, today the boy can’t fathom his bedroom without the reassuring light of his lamp, or any background music at all.

(Holes might catch him. Silently, holes might swallow him again, before Lars can scream for help.)

Lars doesn’t need to sleep, but he knows he can. His eyes almost drift off, almost give in and rest. Yet right now his thoughts are loud and clear. His heart may not beat fast, yet his brain works like a machine nonstop.

His ears are filled with the somber music from his headphones. The lyrics, tragic but hopeful.

Lars thinks.

He thinks of Sadie’s hand against his. Her smile brightening when he’s in the same room. He feels her pressing her head against his shoulder, soft blond hair light to his face. Her macabre voice as Sadie Killer, her make-up, the lights and lasers behind her. Beautiful in every way.

He remembers Steven’s bouncy retellings, his patience, his kindness. Lars remembers the kid’s deep honesty, his comfortable presence. Lars feels their hugs, especially as he’s the one who hugs first nowadays.

Jenny, Buck and Sour Cream are their own souls as he’d always known. They’re fun to be around. They’re smart, funny, and supportive. Genuinely the best friends he could ever have.

He talks to his parents more. They’re more involved. They bake together at the kitchen often, his mother teaching desserts that aren’t in his recipe notebook. She helps him with the following potlucks that the Cool Kids plan. They hug, they say “I love you” to one another. They call him Lars.

The Off Colors look up to him. He’s their captain. They love his home, they excitedly watch the sun setting every single day; they have fun in the rain, when the sky doesn’t crack with lightnings. They trust his guidance, and they will follow him until the very end.

They… love him.

(Why?)

Lars is himself now. He’s open, he’s happy, he’s better.

(Why? Why?)

(Pink. Of course.)

(They love pink. They love the Pink Lars.)

He finds the stars above him. They’re suddenly so small in contrast to outer space.

He doesn’t sleep.

Pictures.

His home is filled with pictures. Many, many faces. So familiar, yet so unknown.

Lars sees him. Not the Pink Lars. Him.

Young, young Lars. Orange-skinned. Dark hair. Brown eyes.

A rare smile of such a young boy. A short-tempered kid excluded from his classmates. One that began pushing away the few people who cared. A boy that screamed and locked himself in his room far too often.

Briefly, Lars sees his own reflection on the glass.

Pink skin. Bright pink hair. His right eye, a saturated color, cut by a dark scar.

Gone.

The boy is gone.

(Why does Lars miss him?)

Something that represents him.

Ube. Purple, creamy, tasty. A childhood memory. The pride in a child’s face, dirtied with speckles of purple.

The Pink Lars. Pink, round, soft, alive; sprinkles as a special touch.

Both so full of life.

Both, true to their essence.

They’re them.

Lars is himself.

(Is he?)

Sadie asks him if he’s okay.

They’re watching a horror film together. Lars can barely pay it any mind.

She takes his hand and kisses every pink finger of his. Her eyes, worried.

Lars smiles sadly.

“Yeah, of course. I’m even better when I’m with you.”

(Sadie looks far from convinced. She knows Lars. She knows he’s always struggled with openness and vulnerability.)

The blond girl says nothing, instead snuggling closer against him, his arm pulling her deeper into his chest. Lars feels relaxed. He enjoys staying like this. He listens to her heartbeats. Her warmth enters his pink veins, butterflies shyly filling his stomach.

(For a moment, he feels like he’s never become pink.)

You brought me back to life! Just… let me be somebody who deserved it.

Somebody who deserved it.

(Did the orange-skinned boy not deserve it, then?)

(He was just a boy. Sure, a kid who made a lot of mistakes. Too many. Who let outside opinions get the best of him. But he could’ve grown, too. Maybe, if he were given a chance other than the inevitable.)

(Did he not deserve a chance, too?)

Can't you see that I exist?

And I don't need an exorcist to let me out

Look at me and I'll appear

Why can't you see that I'm right here, that I’m right here?

Why can't you see me?!

I think I might be

A g-g-g-ghost.

(I'm calling you from the other side.)

Today, he’s alone at the beach.

Usually, Lars joins the Off Colors, and sometimes the Cool Kids come along as well. Now, he’s hiding his hands inside his pockets, lonely steps on the sand. The sunset is the same explosion of colors as every other sunny day.

It’s blue, pink, orange and yellow. The sun reflects on the water, which hits the sand softly.

Its pink is livelier than his own.

The orange is there, too.

They’re here and alive.

Lars stays and watches. Alone.

It’s all so distant. So far away.

Maybe they know the truth. Maybe they’re keeping their distance.

Lars doesn’t try to reach them. It’s probably for the best.

Like that, he’s not expecting to be startled by a big creature staring at him.

Lars almost falls back on the sand, only to realize it’s safe.

Lion.

The only other creature that is as pink as him. Same hair (or mane). Eyes that are not scarred but are deeper than other eyes he’s seen. As if the feline has seen years and years of experience, without sharing words about it.

“Hey, buddy,” Lars greets him, voice quiet.

As usual, the big cat says nothing. Still, he gazes at the pink space pirate and understands. Lion snuggles his face against Lars’, who sighs and hugs him back, arms tight around his neck.

Lion practically has no heartbeat, unlike Sadie, or Steven or anyone else. His deep breaths are the only remaining of life he has.

The distant seagulls sing somewhere. But somehow, all Lars listens to is Lion.

His eyes blur.

The town is so distant.

… Literally.

Lars casually figured out that he can walk on water like Jesus now. That’s something. He told Steven and the boy was enthusiastic about it, of course. And well, it is cool. He can see the fish swimming down him, and he gets to touch the sun that reflects on the water. Otherwise, he can’t go for swims anymore, while everyone else can.

He’s fine.

There’s no sun or powerful colors this time. The sky is clouded, foggy, yet the ocean doesn’t react too much. The water is usually not furious, anyway.

It might rain soon.

Lars can actually sit on water, too. So, he hugs his own knees and thinks. Stays.

…

Someone is coming.

“Lars?”

Looking up, he finds Steven riding on Lion, with a puzzled look.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man,” Lars gives him a finger gun. “I’m just chilling here. Got to use my Jesus privileges now, am I right?”

Steven doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look remotely reassured.

(He understands. He wouldn’t find it funny, either.)

Isolated dripples begin surrounding them.

“Come on, let’s go to my house,” Steven offers. “It might be dangerous staying here.”

Lars hums, noticing the fish have all gone away. He stands.

“Okay.”

In the way, Lars tries to throw in a joke or two about the whales he found near him earlier. Steven still won’t laugh or find it endearing. And Lion simply listens.

When they enter the beach house, the rain starts coming down. The ocean practically disappears in the fog now.

(He almost wishes he stayed.)

The falling water outside is the only sound you could hear, besides the questions in the kid’s puppy eyes. Instead of answering them, though, Lars has an idea.

“Hey, what do you say I bake those space cookies you like so much?” The older teen offers, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You have the ingredients, right?”

“I think so, but…”

“Great! You can help me if you want.”

He ignores Steven’s frown and heads to the kitchen, already knowing where the ingredients are thanks to memory. Lion lies somewhere near, attentive. Though unlike other times the three of them have shared the kitchen, the big cat might not want to attack the ingredients today. Lion is as lazy as the rain day.

The baking session is… surprisingly quiet. Lars is the one that does the talking this time, trying to cheer the kid up. Steven doesn’t seem fazed. He just follows the steps. Lars’ smile will falter little by little, yet he keeps going. Maybe that will change by the frosting, Lars hopes. The kid loves frosting the cookies, more than he does.

But then, Steven is just… there. Staring at the star-shaped fellas without any enthusiasm. Staring concernedly at them, as if something is wrong with them, even though they’re perfectly fine.

“Hey, Steve,” Lars lowers his voice and puts a hand on his back. “What’s wrong?”

(He knows what it is. And Steven knows that he knows.)

For the first time, Steven looks away and hugs his own arm.

“I… I think I should be asking you that.”

(Lars shouldn’t be shocked. He isn’t.)

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked how you’ve been lately,” Steven admits. “I was so excited to have you back home, and have everyone see you again, that I thought you’d be fine.” He sighs and adds quieter, rather bitterly at himself. “But I’ve never been good at asking the right questions.”

Lars contains the harsh breath that tries to escape, and he gently pats his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. You’ve got nothing to worry about me.”

Steven looks back with something akin to disbelief.

“Lars—”

“I mean it, I’m okay.”

“But you’re—”

“Kid, I swear, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to force you—”

“You’re not forcing me, Steven,” Lars reassures him. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You’re—” Steven observes dumbly and groans. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

(It’s the same look from the pictures. From the gone, lost boy.)

(Revolted. Pushed aside.)

(Hurt.)

“T-There’s nothing to talk about!” Lars defends.

“I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!”

“Then why are you treating me like I am?!”

“Steven, it’s fine! I’m fine-!”

“NO!” Lars steps away. “STOP LYING TO ME!”

Whatever words were about to be said, they disappear at the sudden voice raise. At the angry – no, frustrated, tearful eyes. The clenched fists.

(Why does Steven look so much like him?)

Steven covers his own mouth, scared of his outburst. He recomposes himself or at least tries to.

“I… I thought we could count on each other. I thought—” He sniffs. “I thought, after we were stuck together, after everything we’ve been through, w-we could… be there for one another. You were there for me, you’re always there for me.” He pauses, his eyes more and more painful to look at. “But now you’re… you’re suffering, and you want to, what, you want to hide it from us? From me?”

Lars’ heart drops. “No- No, no, Steven, I’m- I’m fine—” He almost approaches again, only to get yelled at.

“Stop! I don’t need to be coddled! And you don’t need to hurt yourself for me! For anyone! Y-You of all people told me that!”

After that, Lars has become completely silent. There’s nothing around them, nothing but the rain falling outside, the shaky breaths coming from Steven, and Lion’s observation. The cookies are abandoned in the counter.

(And somewhere, somewhere far, a boy is screaming from his room, locked away.)

(Crying.)

“Lars…” Steven’s anger has dissipated again. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up. I know things won’t be the same again, and I know you want them to be. I’ve noticed.” He hugs himself, guilt filling his avoidant gaze. “Believe me, if I could go back in time, I would’ve never let you go in that ship. I would’ve never let you…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, clutching his own shirt. “I wish I could fix everything. But I can’t. And I’m really, really sorry.”

Lars would have opened his mouth to reassure him. He would have pulled him in a hug and tell him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. But Steven seems to catch onto that thought, because he then says:

“Even if I didn’t mean to… and even if I saved you in the end, I… I still did this to you.” He pauses. For once, he takes in a deep breath. “So, I promise you, I’ll do what I can to make up for it. I… I don’t know much about my powers.” He begins taking a step forward. “I don’t know how to feel about them most of the time, and I’m still trying to understand how Lion’s work, too, but…”

Steven looks up at him, eyes sparkling like the starry sky Lars sees every night.

“We… we can figure out. Together.” He looks away again, adding, “If you want.”

Lars locks the gaze with him, and before he registers it, a laugh escapes him.

“Yeah.” He swallows a sob. “Y-Yeah… I’d- I’d like that.”

For the first time, Steven smiles yet he immediately bumps into the other’s waist, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

“I’m so sorry…” The kid repeats. Once Lars returns the hug, he freezes when he catches Steven’s following words.

“… You never deserved to die.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, only for him to hear.

And yet it feels like a complete punch. The good kind of punch.

Lars loses it.

They cry as hard as the rain. So much that Lion eventually joins the hug, offering his support.

Later, they create the cookies together with more delight and trust. They’re more… alive than all the others they’ve baked until now.

Tonight, Lars gazes at the stars with tranquility.

(He lets the boy free.)

#steven universe #lars barriga #steven quartz universe #su lion #sadie miller #larsadie #fanfiction #death tw

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kohanayaki · 5 years

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Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 1

Just before the school year begins, a new girl drives into town in a black 84' Jaguar with a New York license plate. But you weren't new to Hawkins at all. As a matter of fact, you were returning. While reunited with your old friends you soon find yourself making some unexpected new ones as well; namely the hair of Hawkins high himself and a certain hot-blooded Californian bad boy. Little did you know, dark forces were at work just beneath your feet. How the hell did you get caught in the middle of this?

Links: Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7

___________________________________________________________

Ch 1 .:Something Old, Something New:.

Nothing really changed much in Hawkins, Indiana. It was always the same people working the same jobs or going to the same high school. However one thing that was definitely different was the fact that a giant, glass-topped complex decked out in neon signs and flashing lights stood tall in the middle of town square- a stark contrast to everything else around it. Starcourt Mall looked severely out of place in your small town, but then again it had been almost six years since you've been here.

Your gaze swept over the impressive building, swarms of teenagers weaving in and out of the stores. Your eyes suddenly settled on a cute blue and white striped sign that read 'Scoops Ahoy!'

“You up for ice cream?” you asked.

“I'm down,” your brother said from the passenger seat.

“Good, because I was going to pull over anyways,” you grinned.

You backed into a nearby parking spot, getting out of your car and stretching out your arms. The ten hour road trip from Rochester to Hawkins did not do great things for your body or your sleep schedule, especially when you had to live off of nothing but McDonalds and 7-11 food for a few days. As ready as you were to flop face first onto your old bed, some ice cream sounded really good in the sweltering heat.

You headed into the ice cream shop as you took out your wallet, a cute little bell ringing out as you opened the door.

“Ahoy,” a pretty girl with shoulder length blonde hair greeted you as you walked in. She wore a sailors uniform and hat and looked like she couldn't wait to go home. However, she seemed to regain a bit of energy as she saw you. She stared at you curiously for a moment, looking you up and down before smiling.

“Hold on just a second,” she said.

“Uh, sure?” you said, a bit confused by the girl as she quickly disappeared into the back room,

“You're gonna want to take this one, Harrington,” Robin said.

“I'm on break,” Steve said, his feet up on the table.

“You've been 'on break' for over an hour, dingus,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Besides, you'll thank me later if you play your cards right.”

She reached behind the table he sat at, pulling up a white board with two columns reading 'You Rule' and 'You Suck'.

“You're 0 for 6, Popeye,” Robin said, “Let's see if you can flip the odds.”

She gestured over to the window where you stood in front of the display case, looking around for another employee. Steve seemed to perk up at the sight of you. It was a rare occurrence in Hawkins for Steve to run into someone he's never seen before, and hell if you weren't beautiful.

Robin chuckled as he shot up out of his seat, straightening out his uniform with new enthusiasm.

“Alright, I'm going in,” he said, pausing for a moment before he opened the door, “And you know what? Screw the company policy.” He took off his hat and threw it over his shoulder with a flourish, “Totally hiding my best feature.”

“Yeah,” Robin said under her breath, “That's what's holding you back.”

“Ahoy there!”

You nearly jumped at the overly-loud greeting you received as the door to the back room swung open, revealing a guy about your age in an equally ridiculous sailor uniform as his coworker.

“Sorry for the wait, I hope you're still available to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me. I'm your captain for today, Steve-”

“Harrington,” you finished, surprising the boy behind the counter. He blinked a few times, letting his brain catch up with itself.

“Do. . . do I know you?” he asked.

“Probably not,” you chuckled dryly, “We went to middle school together. I moved a few weeks before freshman year.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling kind of bad. A lot had changed in the last year- mainly that he almost got killed by flesh eating beings from another dimension on no less than two accounts. But he'd also changed a lot as a person. He was one to acknowledge that he wasn't the greatest person in the past; Maybe it was better that you didn't know him in high school.

“Well, I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other back then,” Steve said honestly.

That took you by surprise. This wasn't the Steve Harrington you knew. He was the King as far back as elementary school and, as far as you knew, a grade-A asshole. He seemed a lot different than when he was smacking down lunch trays at the sixth grade table in the cafeteria, but he was still just as stupidly attractive.

“Let's start over, then,” you said, “I'm (Y/n), and this is my brother Kyle.”

Steve looked over to the (h/c)-headed boy who looked only a year or two younger than you and gave him a little salute-wave.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, “What can I get you two?”

After taking your orders Steve started scooping up the ice cream, piling them into waffle cones. As he handed you yours he seemed to hesitate before talking.

“So, are you just back in Hawkins to visit, or. . .” he trailed off.

“I'm back here as long as my dad's business is,” you said, “He moved us out to New York for work, but he's setting up base back here.”

“Oh, New York!” Steve said, trying to come up with something to say, “That's, uh, the- where the Statue of Liberty is and. . . hot dogs, and. . . taxis?”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” you laughed, the sound making Steve smile.

You looked over to the wall clock and bit your lip as you saw how late in the afternoon it was.

“Hey, we have to get going,” you said reluctantly, “I still need to finish moving in. You know, unpacking everything I own and all.”

“Uh, yeah, no, I totally get it,” Steve said, mentally kicking himself as you turned around to leave.

Just before you closed the door you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“You know, I start my senior year in a few weeks at a little place called Hawkins High,” you said.

Steve rose an eyebrow, his expression a little more hopeful, and you grinned.

“Who knows? I might see you around,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Robin smirked as Steve watched you walk away, a little in awe.

“I like her,” she said, “Although, I'm not really sure if this one counts as a win or a loss.”

Steve was fine with that, so long as he got to see you again.

~2 weeks later~

Hawkins High was always bustling with activity, even in the early morning. Chatter from groups of students walking to school together along with the hum of car motors filled the air. Everyone was either sitting on the steps of the school or leaning against their cars to show them off, trying to avoid going to first period as long as they could.

Suddenly, a low rumble sounded out in the air as an unfamiliar vehicle rounded the corner. It seemed like everyone in the school was watching as the sleek, black car pulled into the parking lot with the windows down, music blasting.

You enjoyed the feeling of the wind on your face as First Blood from AC/DC's new album sounded out through your car's stereo. You turned it down slightly only to talk to your brother.

“Got everything you need?” you asked Kyle.

“Everything but a doctor's note to get me out of here,” your brother joked.

You chuckled as you grabbed your jean jacket from the trunk; You slung it over your Black Sabbath t shirt before killing the engine and locking the door.

You were about to start walking in until you were tackled into a hug from multiple children.

“(Y/n)!!” Dustin yelled, running towards you from the middle school next door.

“You're here!” Mike said, grinning wildly as he joined the group hug that Will and Lucas piled onto.

“Hey, guys,” you smiled, “Good to know you avoided setting fire to this town without me.”

“Hey what am I, chopped liver?” Kyle said.

The group quickly shifted their attention from you to your brother, each of them doing the secret handshakes they'd come up with together when they were little.

“I didn't know you guys were coming back,” Will said, “Why hasn't anyone said anything?”

“Your mom wanted it to be a surprise,” you admitted, “I already talked to her.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Will exclaimed.

You noticed two girls you didn't recognize were standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, not really sure what was happening.

“New party members?” you asked, smiling at them.

“This is El and Max,” Mike said, introducing you, “El, Max, this is (Y/n) and Kyle. They used to live across the street from us.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said to them before turning back to the boys, “Damn, I'm gone for a couple years and you all go and get girlfriends?” you teased.

Mike and Lucas blushed and your smile widened.

“How do you know them again?” the redhead girl named Max questioned, “It's just. . . I don't know, you actually seem cool.”

You laughed at that, much to the boy's chagrin.

“I used to baby sit them when we were kids,” you explained.

“God knows why,” Lucas said, “It's not like you were any less trouble than us. You were only, like, thirteen.”

“Ok, but you were, like, seven and completely out of control,” you countered, mimicking his tone of voice.

“Woah, hold up, hold up,” Dustin said, circling around your Jaguar, “You have a fucking car?!”

“Hey, language, you little shit,” you said playfully, ruffling his hair, “And yes, I got it last year.”

“Sweet,” Dustin said, wide eyed as he continued to stare at your new ride.

“If you guys want I can drive you to the mall this weekend,” you offered.

Excited shouts followed, effectively giving you your answer.

“Ok, but there's no way you'll all fit back there, so someone's riding in the trunk or I'm going to have to strap one of you to the roof,” you said, only half joking as you tossed your keys up, catching them with your other hand and pocketing them.

“I'll see you guys later. Hell awaits,” you said, gesturing to the school building. Kyle fell into step next to you as you walked up the stairs.

As you entered the halls of Hawkins High you couldn't help the sigh that escaped you. Sure, it was good to be back in some ways, but school was not one of them. You liked your school back in New York. It was so different from here. The people were more diverse, more open minded, and just less dickish overall.

One of the biggest downsides of a small town like Hawkins was that you were pretty much stuck with the same kids from kindergarten until high school, and you knew you'd have to see the same people that made your life hell in middle school for another year.

“Well shit, look who's back!”

Speak of the devil.

Your expression immediately hardened as Tommy and Carol walked up to you, looking just as pleased to see you as you were to see them. Among their posse were a couple of brainless football players and a guy you didn't recognize.

He had long, curly, dirty blond hair and blue eyes that took no shame in raking over your body. He had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he chewed absentmindedly on a piece of gum.

“You just had to come and infect this school again, huh?” Tommy sneered.

“Nice to see you too,” you said sarcastically. Carol said nothing, just glaring at you behind her protective shield of a boyfriend. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; you both knew she wouldn't do shit.

“You know, I don’t think New York changed her at all, guys,” Tommy said, leaning into your face, “You still a bitch?”

You shot back without skipping a beat.

“I don’t know, Tommy. You still finger banging cheerleaders in the bathroom behind Carol's back?”

The new guy let out a small chuckle at that while the rest of the group looked stunned.

“You what?!” Carol said, eyes wide as she shoved Tommy away from her.

“Carol, she's lying!” Tommy panicked as she started walking away, “Babe, it's not true, I swear!”

You sighed as you finally got them out of your hair, turning to your brother.

“You better get to your first class,” you said, “I'll meet you at lunch, okay? And let me know if any assholes give you a hard time.”

“Will do,” he smiled, “See you.”

And with that he bounded up the stairs.

You started to make your way across the hall to get to your locker when you found your path blocked by a muscular chest, barely covered by a half-unbuttoned shirt.

You looked up to see the guy who was with Tommy just now and your breath caught in your throat as you tried to put some distance between you two. Everything about this guy screamed red flags, from the scent of his cologne to the slit in his eyebrow, but wow he was handsome. Then again he was friends with Tommy, so that placed him in the category of 'shittiest humans ever' by default.

“You've got a smart mouth on you, I like that,” he drawled, his voice smooth and deep. He hooked his thumb through one of his belt loops, pulling his tight-fitting jeans down even lower. “I don't think I've seen you around here. The name's Billy Hargrove.”

“Cool,” you said before walking away. You were going to be late at this rate, and you knew he was nothing but trouble no matter how hot he was.

Billy was slightly taken aback at your disregard towards him, but he was persistent. He caught up with you easily, sliding into your view again as he walked backwards in your peripheral vision.

“So-”

“No thanks,” you said, shutting him down fast.

Billy's face fell slightly as he kept up with your quickening pace.

“No thanks what?”

You stopped at your locker and started putting in your combination. He leaned against the wall as you did.

“I’ve heard about you, Hargrove, and I know your type. You’re good looking, you know it, and everyone in this place seems to follow you around like a herd of sheep. You’re gonna make some kind of lame pass, ask if I wanna take a ride in your mediocre car which is definitely a euphemism for something else, expect me to jump into your pants, and then never talk to me again afterwards. So to that I say: no thanks.”

Under ordinary circumstances Billy would have been in uproar about you reading him or calling his car mediocre, but instead his lips twisted upwards into a shit-eating grin.

“So you think I’m good looking?”

You sighed as you slammed your locker shut. Of course that’s all he got out of that.

“If I say yes will you go away?”

Billy laughed at that, still insistent on following you.

“Quite the opposite, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you glared.

“Would you like to be?”

You rolled your eyes. This guy just doesn't know when to quit.

“Do you pull these cheesy one liners out of your ass with every girl you see?” you asked, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“Not every girl,” he said suggestively.

“Oh, really? Because I’ve only been here for half an hour and your hand’s slipped into the back pockets of at least five different willing participants,” you said.

“Jealous?” he smirked.

It was at this moment that you realized when you stopped walking he basically had you trapped between his body and the rows of lockers lining the walls. His gaze was hot and heavy as he loomed over you, purposefully giving you a full view down his shirt. A sudden spark of confidence made you smirk right back at him as you replied:

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

As the bell rang out into the hall you used it to get past Billy and continue on your way to your first period. He turned around, staring at your retreating figure.

“I never caught your name,” he said.

You stopped in your tracks to look at him over your shoulder.

“I never threw it,” you said, a playful tone to your voice, “(Y/n) (L/n). Don’t rack your brain too hard trying to remember it. If you’re a friend of Tommy’s we won’t be talking much.”

Your words were harsh, but the way you said them and the grin on your face made it sound like a challenge, and Billy Hargrove has never backed out of one of those.

Read Ch 2 Here!

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargove x reader #steve harrington #billy hargrove #reader insert #love triangle #stranger things season 3 #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #will byers #jim hopper #original characters

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liw-the-melancholic-apple · 4 years

Text

The First One - Bonus scenes in traditional written word

This is a smau and a zukoXreader, although i haven't decided how this ends yet.

Y/n has recently transferred to Ba Sing Se from Omashu university and meets the gaang through a schoolproject they do with sokka and suki.

Bonus 2: Nerves

Ooooookay. It wasn't all this exciting. You'd been to parties before. You'd met new people before. Why did choosing a pair of jeans feel like you were deciding your fate? You usually only noticed people's jeans when they didn't fit, were neon colours or torn to shreds.

Your jeans all fit you, they were all in the neutral colour scheme and those that were distressed were still more fabric than hole.

So, by your own logic you could choose any pair and be fine. Yet still five pairs were laying on your bed. 2 grey, 2 black, one midnight blue. You didn't seem to be able to pick one.

The pile of t-shirts and jumpers on the ground hadn't gotten any of your attention but promised to be a similar drama...

You sighed in annoyance and texted both, Jin and Fai. The latter had a lot of encouragement and suggestions while the former mostly mocked you. He did however offer some really good advise: treat it like a gig with the band. In a pub. Wear those clothes.

"And stop being such a nervous wreck! It doesn't suit you. You're great. You're fun. They'll like you."

He didn't let you thank him, though. "Next time you're here, you're buying at least two rounds. I'm not your fucking therapist."

Classic Jin. But his idea worked. To a gig you'd wear the ripped black jeans, white t-shirt and the vintage leather jacket.

Those where the clothes you wore when you left your appartment. Those were the clothes you wore when Suki texted that she was held up at Aang's place. She would be late. Sokka was gonna join later anyways. Ty Lee wasn't coming at all.

Yeah, meeting new people who were presumably forced to be nice to you!! On your own. Without the safety blanket that were Suki and Sokka. Great...

You stood in front of the Jasmin Dragon, studying the green and gold of the big logo on the window and the small one on the door.

You could just wait here for Suki. No, you weren't a child and Suki wasn't your mum. Besides, she would show up with Aang -why did that name seem so familiar? - and you already told her that you would be about 15 minutes earlier than her. Waiting was no option.

You shifted your weight from your left leg to the right and texted the group chat:" So, I'm here."

Katara answered, telling you to come inside to the counter. The scent of oriental spices and caramel syrup filled the air in the shop. The perfect mix of old-timey, traditional tea house and modern way too sweet coffeshop combined into one smell. The essence of the Jasmin Dragon.

You had discovered it during your first week in Ba Sing Se and instantly fell in love with it. Was it that smell? Maybe. Was it the excellent sencha-ginger-tea? Partially. Was it the supercharging, black as your soul giant mugs of coffee? Partially. Was it the delicious muffins in every flavour imagineable? Yes. Was it the breakfast items that all looked mouthwatering? Absolutely.

But mainly it was the general atmosphere here. The furniture was a collection of armchairs, benches, sofas and tables that all looked like they came from a 50's or 60's living room. All colours of the Rainbow, nothing actually fit together. It was so cosy and inviting.

And then there was the old man who usually was behind the black marble counter. You'd found that he would start around 11 am, as he was never there when you got your coffee before early lectures and classes. But he would take orders, prepare drinks, clean tables and give his thoughts on students' problems when you popped in for a midmorning pick-me-up.

And also now, close to closing time, the rotonde older man with the long grey hair stood behind the counter checking on a couple of teapots that gently bubbled behind him. While doing so, he talked to a short black-haired girl that giggled a lot. She held on to an annoyed looking tall guy, that you thought might work here, and stood next to a girl that warmly smiled at you and waved you over.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, that would be me. You're Katara?" She nodded.

"And that's Toph and Zuko", she answered while indicating the girl and the guy. Suki had warned you about both of them. Toph was blind and often subjected to people wanting to help her, which she hated. "Don't offer her help. She'll let you know when she needs you", Suki had said.

The girl extended a hand into your general direction. "Pleasure meeting you."

"All mine", you answered taking her hand. Zuko also shook your hand, mumbleing "Hi."

He had a rather large scar on the left side of his face. His hair covered it some. According to Suki you shouldn't stare and shouldn't mention it. She had known Zuko for years and still didn't know how he got it. You quickly averted your eyes.

"Okay, so I'm sure Suki already told you but she only just left Aang's. His roommate is a bit mad because he can't go to the party and delayed them."

You were about to answer when the man behind the counter cleared his throat. "Sencha-ginger", he handed you cup. Surprised but greateful you took it and looked for your wallet.

"Oh, no need. You've been a valued customer. And i finally learned your name. You know, you're one of the most quiet People ever to come into the shop." He gave you another smile.

"Not really quiet", you answer laughing. " But i usually come in alone and i don't like talking to myself in public. People stare." The man crinkled his forehead but Toph punched your shoulder and laughed. "Sokka said you were funny!"

"Well, why do you always come in on your own?", counterman inquired, his forehead smoother.

"Uhm...", should you tell the sad truth?

"You don't have to answer that", Zuko intervened. "Since he opened the dragon he's become quite enamored with gossip, haven't you uncle? No need to satisfy his curiosity."

"My nephew thinks me impolite. But I reckon there is a reason for your solitude. If it is your choice to enjoy our tea alone you can tell me that and no harm is done. But if unfortunate circumstances force you to drink your tea by yourself i would like to give you the oppertunity to speak about it. Let go of dark thoughts."

Wow. Some teamaker he was. And Zuko's uncle? Interesting.

"Thank you...Mr..."

"Iroh. Just Iroh will be fine."

"Well then, thank you Iroh. It's not too much of a story, though. I moved to Ba Sing Se six weeks ago and haven't yet found a group of people who'd put up with me for extended periods of time", you chuckled, hoping you didn't seem too desparate.

Katara seemed like she wanted to say something really nice but Iroh spoke quicker:" Oh, i don't think that's true. You don't give me the impression that anybody would have to put up with you. But if you want company while drinking your beverage i can always chat.

We could talk about your love for green tea and ginger. You know we also have black tea varieties that feature ginger and i think you might enjoy the herbal infusions.

The fruitier teas go great with the muffins! And if you're into croissants and pudding pretzels you should try the vanilla chai latte.

But if you don't want to talk about tea we could also gossip and play pai sho. You know how to play pai show, right?"

You absolutely didn't.

"I'm familiar with the most basic of basic rules." Wrong answer. The sweet little man grabbed a pai sho board out of nowhere and started explaining the game. Zuko offered an apologetic gesture, while Katara and Toph intently listened. You sipped your tea, nodded your head and enjoyed just being part of something. It had been a minute. But you would never play pai show of your own volition. The game was complicated and boring at the same time.

"Maybe you would like to learn about the ancient art of teamaking?", Iroh continued his suggestions of things to talk about when at the dragon.

Was there an art to it? Hot water and a teabag, no? You tried a vague expression and he kept talking.

"I always wanted to found a club or class, you know. Likeminded tea enthusiasts who want to deepen their knowledge and appreciation. Would you be interested?"

No, you weren't. But he was so endearing. So caring. So genuinely into this idea.

"I... have yet to find out how much time and effort my classes will demand. I wouldn't wanna make promises i can't keep."

That was fair, right? And not even an actual lie.

"We're here!!!!!"

Suki burst through the door, followed by a gangly guy with a shaved head. Aang!! That's why the name sounded familiar! He was Instagram verified. Half the campus followed him for his inspirational quotes and vegan recipes.

Suki hugged you hello, introduced you to the insta-famous and then Katara ushered you out and to the metrostation.

You waved at Iroh as you left. He had only talked about things that hardly interested you but he'd managed to make you feel like a member of the group that was now discussing pai sho rules, teamaking and being on time.

MASTERLIST

Part 1

@fanficflaneuse @eddiesemoass

#atla fanfic #atla zuko #smau #avatar: tla #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader

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moonb-eam · 4 years

Note

from tarot list: DEVIL?!?!?!?!? PLEASE?!?!?!?¿

the devil: failure, lust, temptation

“you want it too”

possible AUs/settings/ideas: desire, nsfw, unrequited love, demon au

tarot card prompts

alright listen anon i’m so sorry this was supposed to be SHORT and SEXY but instead it’s almost 8k of shmoop, which….are we even that surprised anymore

still, i hope you like it, darling 🧡

this was a pretty perfect prompt for a halloween-theme fic so here we goooo 👻

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

read on ao3

It begins with Eliott coming out of his room at seven p.m. to tell Idriss and Sofiane that he’s no longer coming to the Halloween party they’re hosting that night.

He’s groggy from a nap, still suffering from a headache that’s plagued him all day, and he’s desperate to dive back under the covers, to lock himself in his room and watch black and white monster movies until it’s safe to come out.

He’s not prepared for the looks of utter betrayal that meet him in the living room, Sofiane and Idriss freezing in the middle of stretching swaths of fake cobwebs across the ceiling, a techno mix of the Monster Mash playing in the background.

“But Eliott,” Sofiane says, eyes wide, “you promised.”

Eliott tries a weak argument, saying he doesn’t have a costume, definitely doesn’t have time to make one now, but that is quickly shut down by Idriss, who calls in a last-minute favour from Imane.

Do you or any of your friends have something Eliott can wear? He didn’t plan anything because he’s lame.

Just after nine p.m. Eliott opens their apartment door and a cascade of loud, giggling girls spills into the entryway, one of them wearing a skeleton onesie holding up a bottle of white wine like a ceremonial offering and another, dressed as Wonder Woman, thrusting a cloth bag into Eliott’s face.

“Eliott, yeah? Here’s your costume, gorgeous.”

So, it ends with Eliott standing in his kitchen, holding a cup of the “mystery punch,” and wearing a full angel costume, wings and halo and all.

(Or maybe, this is where it really begins.)

He’s alone, nursing his cup of disgustingly sweet punch slowly, closing his eyes so the neon colours from Idriss’s blacklight projectors are nothing more than muted flashes behind his lids. His headache is pretty well gone, but he’s tired, a bit grumpy, and the last thing he wants to do is throw himself into the pulsing mob of people taking over his apartment.

He drums his fingers restlessly across his leg, tapping out the beat of an imagined song. He thinks about sneaking onto the balcony for a cigarette, thinks about letting himself be carried away by the windy night, thinks about laying down in his dark room and throwing layers of blankets over himself until the throbbing bass of Idriss’s music is soft enough to be indiscernible from his own pulse.

He glances at the stove, at the digital clock displaying 23:00 in tiny blue numbers.

One hour, he tells himself. I’ll stay for one hour, then I’m going to bed.

“Yo.” It’s Idriss, appearing at Eliott’s side out of thin air, holding onto a plastic chalice filled with pale liquid that glows neon under the black lights. A gold crown is sitting crooked on the top of his head and he’s wearing an expression Eliott is immediately suspicious of.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just think you should come into the living room. You know, to socialize.”

Eliott frowns. “I’m socializing.” He says it a bit defensively, a bit embarrassed, waving his free hand between them. “I’m literally socializing with you right now.”

“Not with me.” Idriss hisses, eyes darting to the kitchen doorway. “You should be socializing with other people. With the people in the living room.”

“What?”

“Socializing, Eliott. In the living room.”

“Why do you keep saying those words like that? Is it supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

Idriss sighs, long and loud, tilting his head back to the ceiling, his crown sliding further back on his head.

“Just know,” Idriss tells the ceiling, “I tried to be subtle. I really did.” He returns his gaze to Eliott. “That guy in Imane’s class you like is here.”

For a moment, Eliott genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about. “Who?”

Idriss stares at him. “Seriously? The guy you’ve been talking about for months? You know, the one with…” Idriss rests his elbows on the counter, blinking up at Eliott dreamily, “…eyes so blue I could drown in them.”

“My voice doesn’t sound like that.” Eliott argues automatically, which is good. It’s good he’s able to get an entire sentence out despite how his brain is whiting out in panic.

“It does when you’re in love.” Idriss coos, bopping Eliott on the nose.

“I’m not in love,” Eliott says, horrified. He darts his eyes over to the kitchen doorway, still thankfully empty. “I’m not…I just…”

Idriss laughs, gently patting Eliott on the arm. “I know. I’m just messing with you.” He dunks his cup into the punch, taking a loud slurp off the top when it resurfaces. “But he actually is here.”

“Oh god.”

“Which is why,” Idriss says, “you should come into the living room. Imane can introduce you.”

“Oh god.” As if the idea of leaving the safety of the empty kitchen wasn’t already terrifying. Eliott has been crushing on this boy for weeks from afar, ever since he saw Imane walking with him across campus one golden afternoon in September. Oh, he thought, taking in a small frame, bouncing brown hair, and a sweet face. He’s cute. Then Imane had said something that made the boy laugh, and Eliott felt his entire chest cave in.

Oh, he thought, clutching onto his takeaway cup of tea like a life preserver—helpless, unmoored, devastated. He’s beautiful.

Ever since then, Eliott’s life has been a swinging pendulum of desperately wanting to see him again, and then running in the opposite direction when he does see him again, overtaken by infatuated panic. One time he actually leapt behind a trash bin. He’s not proud of it.

“Eliott, come on.” Idriss ducks to meet his eyes. “You’re on home turf, you’ve got your boys to back you up, and you look hot as fuck.” He flicks at the halo on Eliott’s head. “There are literally no better circumstances in which to shoot your shot with your dream man.”

“Idriss, I’m wearing wings.”

“And? Maybe he’s got a thing for that.”

Despite himself, Eliott bursts into laughter. “Jesus Christ.”

“Calling in favours from your friends. Okay, I see how it is.” One of his hands falls to Eliott’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Seriously, Eliott, listen. If you’re really uncomfortable you don’t have to talk to him. You don’t have to do anything. But I’ve had to hear you waxing poetic about this guy for weeks, and I want this to happen for you. I really do.” He sighs. “It’s the romantic in me.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Eliott mumbles, and suddenly it’s like he’s in primary school all over again, staring down at his shoes while he asks Thomas Chartrand if he wants to share Eliott’s pencil crayons with him.

Only now there’s Idriss, staring at Eliott like he’s just asked him the easiest question in the world. “Then he’s an idiot, Eliott, because you’re amazing.”

The words could sound like trite placation from someone else, but there’s an easy surety in Idriss’s voice that makes something rattle free in Eliott’s chest, something ugly and heavy that he hadn’t realized had been weighing him down.

He takes a steadying breath. “Fine, fine, okay. I’ll come. I’m just gonna…” He wiggles his cup in the air. “…fortify.”

Idriss cackles as he strolls out of the kitchen. “Atta boy, Demaury!”

As soon as he’s out of sight, Eliott collapses back into the counter, knocking back the contents of his cup.

He’s psyching himself up too much, and he’s painfully aware of it, of the way his heart is stuttering in his chest, the way his fingers are restlessly dancing over his now empty cup. He’s so nervous just from the the thought of seeing him, and it’s ridiculous, it’s completely ridiculous because Eliott doesn’t even know if anything is going to happen, just because—

“Oh wow. An angel.”

Eliott’s head snaps up, and of course, of fucking course.

Just like that, he’s there, standing in the entryway of Eliott’s kitchen, plucked from the deep caverns of his thoughts and made real. He’s dressed in black jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt, he’s holding a beer bottle loosely by the neck and he’s wearing a smile that could only be described as wicked.

There’s a chance Eliott might pass out.

Then his eyes land on the two small, red horns nestled in the boy’s hair, and he lets out a hysterical bark of a laugh.

The boy’s grin deepens. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” He says, stepping into the kitchen, to where Eliott is stuck still at the counter, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge. “An angel and the devil walk into a party. The set up to a joke we’ve all heard.”

“Yeah,” Eliott says, scrambling for something to say. “Except I live here.”

“I know you do.”

Eliott blinks.

“Sorry.” The boy laughs, holding his hands up. “That sounded weird. I mean, you’re Eliott.” There’s another pause, and the boy rushes to fill it. “I know Sofiane and Idriss through Imane and they, uh, they talk about you all the time. I’m Lucas,” he tacks onto the end, tapping the centre of his chest with his beer bottle. “I’m in Imane’s year.”

It’s a lot of information to take in at once: that the boy’s name is Lucas, that Lucas already knew who Eliott was when he arrived tonight, the apparently Idriss and Sofiane have talked to Lucas about Eliott before. Apparently they do it all the time.

Eliott is going to have words with them about that later.

But right now—

“It’s nice to meet you, Lucas.” Eliott says, extending a hand out. The gesture feels a little formal in the setting they’re inhabiting: the empty plastic cups and neon lighting and distant drunken shouting, but it also feels like it might be the right one.

Lucas smiles, and grasps onto Eliott’s hand and that, holy shit that feels right.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eliott the angel.” Lucas parrots, and he winks.

It really shouldn’t work. It’s not even a good wink: it’s lopsided and awkward but Eliott still flushes from it, and then when Lucas huffs a laugh, lowering his eyes like he’s embarrassed, something feather-light and dangerously fond stirs under Eliott’s sternum. He follows Lucas’s gaze to where their hands are still locked together.

“Do you, ah…” Eliott licks his lips, shifting awkwardly on the spot. “Do you want to dance?”

Lucas’s gaze snaps up to his. “Yeah.” He say excitedly, his face lighting up in another smile. There’s a pink flush on his cheeks that Eliott wants to memorize, to try and recreate on his sketchpad later. “Yeah, come on.”

Eliott nods, and leaves his empty cup behind, letting Lucas tug him out of the kitchen by his hand, letting himself, finally, be pulled into the chaotic throng of people.

Somewhere, faraway, Eliott thinks he can hear a faint sound—maybe it’s a choir singing, maybe it’s the voice of god, if they exist, or the voice of the universe, but what ever it is, it’s telling Eliott to pay attention, not to forget what happens next.

Get ready, the voice, song, sound says to him. Get ready, Eliott.

Eliott can feel the wind racing past his ears. Like he’s at the top of a slide.

Let’s go.

🕸

It all feels like a dream.

There’s Eliott, dancing to Electric Feel with a boy, but not just any boy. It’s Lucas, the boy Eliott has been infatuated with from the first moment he saw him, and it’s not just dancing, it’s moving freely, rapturously, forgetting that he’s in a corner of the living room, forgetting that he’s inside his own apartment.

He’s aware only of Lucas: of Lucas’s hands ghosting touches along his waist, down to his hips; of Lucas’s toothy smile and his loud laugh; of the smell of Lucas’s hair when he gets bumped into Eliott’s chest, the feel of him pressed close.

Lucas giggles at Eliott’s flailing dance moves, then tries to copy him, and Eliott forgets to feel self-conscious. He expected he would be nervous around Lucas, and he is, nervous in a way that feels familiar and new at the same time, but it also feels so easy with Lucas: to dance with him under Idriss’s shitty black lights, to laugh with him when one of them trips and they collapse into one another, to sing in broken English along to the songs they both know.

It feels so easy. Like breathing. Like falling into the best dream Eliott has ever had.

He catches Idriss’s gaze across the room, and when Idriss points at Lucas and gives Eliott a conspicuous thumbs-up, Eliott only grins.

They give up dancing to join a semi-circle of truth or dare spilling onto the floor form the sofa, something that seems like a bad idea to Eliott when they first sit down, but turns out is a fantastic one when Lucas picks dare and Alexia, the girl who brought Eliott his costume, dares him to kiss the most attractive person in the game.

A series of oooooh’s rise up from the other players, but Eliott is barely able to register them before he feels warm, soft lips pressing to his cheek.

Everything stops.

Or more like, everything moves slowly. Like Eliott is underwater.

He can feel the weight of the collective gaze of the circle, expressions ranging from surprise to delight to smugness. Someone next to Eliott makes a swooning sound.

Lucas’s hand is on Eliott’s knee, giving him leverage to reach his cheek, and when he pulls away, Eliott can hear him make a small gasp, an exhale that shakes and shivers and tickles Eliott’s skin with warmth.

The entire moment lasts, in reality, a handful of seconds.

Then Lucas’s lips are gone, his hand is gone, and Eliott is physically holding himself back from following him, from kissing Lucas’s cheek, or maybe kissing him on the mouth, pressing him down into the carpet and making him gasp again, or maybe just leaning close enough to ask, Did you mean that? Did you kiss me on the cheek because you want to kiss me on the mouth? Do you like me? Do you feel as hopeless as I do right now? Do you also feel like you’re drowning?

Eliott doesn’t know if he’s ever wanted anything so badly as he wants to know the answers to those questions.

The game moves on, and it’s Lucas’s turn. He sends it right back to Alexia, asking her to reveal her most embarrassing sex fantasy when she picks truth.

Instead of shying away, she scoffs at Lucas. “That’s so fucking easy, Lallemant. It’s to do it in the dance studio on campus. You know,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “where all the mirrors are.”

That gets a riotous cheer from the group, and Eliott joins in, letting it distract him from the lingering sensation of Lucas’s lips on his cheek, from the obvious way Lucas is avoiding Eliott’s gaze.

Then, it comes to him.

“Eliott. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Eliott answers immediately.

Alexia smiles, resting her chin in her folded hands. “If you had to kiss someone in the circle, who would it be and why?”

Eliott thinks he’s beginning to understand Alexia, the more time he spends with her. Underneath that sweet, bubbly exterior there lurks an evil mastermind.

Someone else in the circle, a girl who Eliott thinks is dressed as Britney Spears, complains that the question is too similar to Lucas’s, but Alexia shushes her.

“Well, I mean,” Eliott shrugs, painfully aware of how intently Lucas is staring at the floor now, like he’s about to find the meaning of life there. “I would choose Lucas.”

Another chorus of oooooh’s rise up, but Eliott is only aware of Lucas’s head snapping up, the tops of his cheeks coloured that same pretty pink Eliott saw in the kitchen.

He wants to feel that colour it under his fingertips.

“The second part of the question is why,” Alexia sing-songs from her spot on the sofa.

Eliott nods. He doesn’t think there’s an answer he can give to this question that won’t sound completely wanky. Saying because he’s beautiful would be trite, and a bit cheesy, and saying because I’ve had a crush on him since the moment I first saw him would probably make him sound like a creep. So, Eliot tries to go for something simple. Something true.

“Because I can’t imagine kissing anyone else.”

He’s not expecting the reaction that gets.

Two girls across from him in matching doll costumes let out loud, drawn-out awwww’s. The boy sitting next to him in a football jersey cheers, slapping Eliott on the back. Another girl in the circle, wearing a cowgirl outfit, practically melts, “And they’re wearing matching costumes! Fuck me, that’s so cute!”

Then, there’s Lucas.

Lucas, who’s finally looking at Eliott again, his mouth dropped open into a shocked o, his eyes wide and bright.

Eliott now wonders if that was the wrong thing to say. Maybe it was too much for Lucas. They’ve been flirting, yeah, but Eliott is working off of a month-long crush that’s growing helplessly worse with every minute he spends in Lucas’s presence. To Lucas, Eliott is sure he’s just a guy he met at a party.

Someone is telling Eliott to go, that it’s his turn, and he pulls himself out of his thoughts, locking on Sofiane’s warm, familiar face on the edge of the circle. He chooses Dare, and Eliott orders him to give an a capella rendition of Don’t Stop Me Now.

Sofiane does it happily, and as he’s bouncing around the edge of the circle, spouting Queen at the top of his lungs, Lucas is leaning into Eliott’s side, close enough to whisper in his ear,

“Is there somewhere quiet we can go?”

Eliott doesn’t even think about it before he nods, and this time he’s grabbing onto Lucas’s hand, helping him up from his spot on the floor, ignoring the conspiratorial looks being shot to them from everyone still in the game. The cowgirl winks at him.

He doesn’t know if Lucas is asking them go to somewhere where they can be alone, alone, but Eliott feels a little overwhelmed from the noise, a little sweaty under his robe, and he wants exactly what Lucas is asking for—somewhere quiet. Somewhere they can talk.

He leads Lucas back towards the kitchen, and on the way there they pass a group of boys huddled close together near the entrance. As they get close, Eliott can see one of them, tall, handsome and wearing a grey robe with a green pyramid taped to the front, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, hi Lucas.” He says cheerily, a smirk teasing a the corners of his mouth. “Where are you off to?”

“Nowhere.” Lucas replies, just as cheerily.

One of the other boys, blonde and dressed as a vampire, laughs. “Nowhere, huh? And who,” his eyes snap over to Eliott, “are you going nowhere with?”

Everyone turns to Eliott, and he feels his cheeks warm under their speculative gazes.

Lucas, though, rolls his eyes. “You guys know Eliott.” He says easily, tugging Eliott closer by their linked hands. “He lives here. With Sofiane and Idriss.” He points at each of the boys with his beer bottle as he lists their names. “This is Yann, Arthur and Basile.”

The third boy, Basile, sporting a head of curls and navy boiler suit, sticks a hand out to Eliott. “I mean, we’ve never met, but we’ve heard a lot about you, man.”

“Um.” Eliott reluctantly releases Lucas’s hand to shake the offered one. “Good things, I hope?”

“The best things,” Basile says sincerely. “In fact, the first time I heard about you was when Lucas—”

“Right, okay!” Arthur interrupts, yanking Basile away from Eliott by the back of his boiler suit. “Time for another drink, boys, or what?”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Yann claps Eliott on the shoulder, grinning. “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

But instead of taking off to the kitchen, where the bowl of mystery punch and fridge stocked full with cheap beer and wine wait, they return to the living room, quickly swallowed up by the crowd that’s moving back to their tiny dance floor, Disturbia blasting from Idriss’s speakers.

Eliott spares a mournful thought for the inevitable neighbour complaints they’re going to get.

Then he feels a hand slide against his, fingers linking back together.

“You were taking me somewhere?”

And well, yeah. Eliott feels like he may have missed something with Lucas’s friends, some dramatic irony he’s not privy too, but he also has Lucas holding his hand, the memory of Lucas’s lips on his cheek, and Eliott wants to be alone with him. He wants it so badly.

“Yeah, just let me get some water.”

He fills an empty plastic cup from the sink and guides Lucas through the kitchen, to the hallway leading to their bedrooms, where Idriss set up a white sheet over a lamp with a sign hanging off of it that says, All trespassers will be haunted.

“Ah. So this is the part where you take me to your bedroom?” Lucas teases when they step around the makeshift ghost, bumping his shoulder against Eliott’s.

He wasn’t planning on it, but the suggestion, the curve of Lucas’s lips when he says it, sends Eliott into a tailspin of images: flashes of Lucas spread across his bed, sitting on his desk, standing in front of his window, his silhouette outlined by moonlight.

“No.” He blurts out, clearing his throat to mask the roughness of his voice. “I mean, I wasn’t planning, like I wasn’t asking you too…” His voice trails off, and he points behind Lucas, to where the door to the balcony is. “We can go outside.” He says helplessly, still recovering from the onslaught of decadent fantasy.

Lucas hums, turning to follow the direction of Eliott’s finger. “Actually, that sounds nice. It’s kinda hot in here, isn’t it?”

Eliott takes a deep breath. “Sure is.”

It’s blissfully cold out on the balcony, the ground littered with brown leaves that flutter and dance with every gust of biting wind. Lucas shivers, crossing his arms over his chest. He leans back against the door, gaze roaming to the apartment buildings across from them, to the streetlight on the corner, pale orange and flickering at odd intervals.

Eliott can hear faint music coming from another apartment, something dramatic, filled with bold, heavy organ. Below, there are groups of teenagers marching in a line down the street, capes, cloaks and long dresses billowing behind them, drunken laughter wrapping around their bodies like a well-worn blanket against the crisp autumn night.

The comparative quiet of the street, away from the chaos of the party, feels like something from a film: the flickering glow of the streetlight soft and knowing, the wind whispering with mystery when it curls around Eliott’s neck. It reminds him so much of what he used to love about Halloween when he was younger: the uncanny strangeness that always came with it, like the night itself was separate from linear time and space.

“I used to hate Halloween when I was kid,” Lucas says, his low voice breaking the spell of quiet.

Eliott turns to face him. In the blackened, star-touched night and the slanted glow from the streetlight, Lucas really could be an otherworldly creature, devil horns or no; something ageless and ancient, ethereal and terrifying.

“Why?”

Lucas rolls his beer bottle between his hands. “I used to hate being scared.” He says softly. “But I never wanted to tell anyone. I didn’t want to be seen as…weak, I guess. And then,” he shrugs, “it wasn’t easy, before my parents split. Holidays in general could be pretty hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliott says, and he knows the words themselves aren’t meaningful but he really means them. He can hear the exhaustion in Lucas’s words, a heaviness that speaks of burdens still being carried.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows. Eliott wants to kiss it away.

“No,” Lucas sighs, his head thudding back against the glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that on you.”

“It’s okay.” Eliott tells him softly, tapping his fingers along the rim of his cup. “And I—I mean, I’m happy to listen to anything you want to tell me.”

“You’re easy to talk to.” Lucas says, and Eliott smiles. “I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

“Me too.”

They stare at each other across Eliott’s tiny balcony, both of them smiling, cheeks pink from the cold. Both of them imagining what would happen if they were to kiss. If it would make the world itself fall away from beneath their feet.

Eliott leans back against the railing, tilting his head up to the night sky, to the half moon cast in cloud, “I used to love Halloween.”

Lucas smiles, taking a shallow pull from his beer. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Eliott’s angel wings are squished against the railing, pressing into his shoulder blades. “I started planning my costumes in the summer, and I’d make most of them from scratch with my mom. I was…pretty intense about it.” He can see it so clearly in his mind, the endless hours of sewing and glueing, and he laughs, closing his eyes. “I always loved how strange it is. How there’s an entire day devoted to everything that’s otherworldly. To everything that we’re scared exists, but love to believe in. I dunno, to me it always felt like the night where anything was possible.”

He lets his voice trail off, lost in memories.

“What changed?” Lucas asks after a moment. “You said you used to love it.”

Eliott shrugs, but he knows the answer. He got older, he got diagnosed and he began distancing himself from anything that was weird, any interests that would make him seem too different. It aches to think about, like prodding at an old scar. “I got older. I changed.”

“Do you feel any different about it now?”

Eliott slowly opens his eyes, smiling when his gaze lands on Lucas. “I think I’m starting to.”

Lucas nods, a matching smile curling at the corners of his mouth, dimpling his cheeks. “You know what? Me too.”

God he’s so beautiful.

It’s the sight of him: the wide, pretty eyes, the pouting, pink lips, the smooth curve of his neck, but it’s also the knowledge of him, of Eliott seeing firsthand how funny and sincere, sweet and sarcastic he is. He thought having Lucas as a crush that existed inside his daydreams was damning enough, but he was in no way prepared for the reality of Lucas: the endlessly endearing imperfections of him.

With every second that passes, he’s sinking deeper into an ocean of hopeless infatuation.

Eliott registers another silence growing between them and he realizes he’s staring, making moon eyes at Lucas like he’s a devout art student who’s just stepped into the Louvre for the first time.

He drops his gaze, face warm, and takes a swig of water to play it cool, but somehow manages to miss his mouth entirely, cold water trickling down his neck to his white robe.

“Fuck.” Eliott sighs, wiping a hand down his chest. Reason number three-thousand and five why he should never try to play it cool.

There’s a clink of glass being set down on the ground.

“Oh no, Eliott,” Lucas says on a laugh, and Eliott’s vision is suddenly filled with glittering red horns poking out of fluffy brown hair, Lucas stepping close enough to him that, if Eliott wanted, he could tilt his head down to rest his chin on the top of Lucas’s head.

“That wasn’t very smooth,” Lucas teases him, plucking the plastic cup from Eliott’s grasp. Eliott watches, rapt, his hand hovering uselessly in the air, as Lucas takes a sip from it.

“I have to tell you,” Eliott says, eyes fixed on a single drop lingering on Lucas’s bottom lip. “I’m not very smooth. At all.”

Lucas grins, leaning over to set the cup down on one of the metal chairs pushed into the corner of the balcony.

“I have to tell you,” Lucas says, matching Eliott’s solemn tone, “I really, really like that you’re not.”

“You make me nervous.” Eliott blurts out, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when Lucas makes this shocked, delighted face, like Eliott just gave him the best gift in the world.

“Oh my god,” Lucas giggles, and he’s gripping onto the front of Eliott’s robe. “Are you kidding me? You make me nervous. You actual, literal angel.”

Eliott blinks. “I do?” He asks, but the end of the question is caught by Lucas’s lips pressing against his.

It’s not rushed, not a desperate crush of their mouths like Eliott had initially pictured, based on Lucas’s frenetic energy, his bursts of confidence that exploded like fireworks. It’s gentle, a barely-there touch of lips that makes Eliott’s head swim.

They part with a quiet smack, but Eliott catches him before he can get too far away, cupping Lucas’s cheeks in his hands and lowering his head to kiss Lucas like he’s been wanting to all night, deep and lingering, stroking his thumbs across the smooth skin of his cheeks.

Lucas lets out a low whine against Eliott’s lips. His hands find his waist, skirting around to his lower back, pressing into the base of his spine. His lips part Eliott’s on a gasp, and there’s Lucas’s tongue, warm and sweet, and Eliott presses forwards, tilting his head to try and get closer, closer, until his halo bonks into one of Lucas’s horns, and both of them snap their eyes open at the impact.

They burst into laughter, and that, if possible, might be more blissful than the kiss itself—Lucas collapsing into Eliott’s chest, snorting in a way that’ shouldn’t be cute but really is, his eyes scrunching up at the corners.

“Fucking hell,” Eliott sighs, still shaking with laughter. “Why am I even still wearing this?”

“It looks good.” Lucas says emphatically. He brings his hands to Eliott’s front, fiddling with the collar of the robe. “It suits you.” One of his fingers follows a trail of water that dribbled down Eliott’s chin to his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. Eliott shivers from the touch.

“Yeah, well,” one of his hands moves to the back of Lucas’s head, brushing through the soft strands of his hair. “The devil horns suit you.”

Lucas giggles, and then his tongue is retracing the trail of water back up, all the way to Eliott’s bottom lip, gently kissing it.

“I think,” Lucas murmurs, lips brushing against Eliott’s with every word, “now would be a good time to show me your room.”

Somehow, Eliott manages not collapse to the ground in a pile of aroused, lovesick boy.

Small miracles.

🕸

They re-enter the apartment much in the same way they left it: holding hands, stepping softly, suddenly shy once away from the secure anonymity of the wide open night.

The party is still going strong by the sounds of it, a roar of cheers filtering into the hallway from what sounds like a nail-bitingly close game of flip cup, but Lucas and Eliott don’t bother to take a look. As soon as Eliott opens the door to his room they’re tumbling inside, Lucas pressing him up against the wall and kissing him, hot and open-mouthed, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“Oh god.” Eliott groans, flailing a hand out to lock the door. “God.”

Lucas breaks away from the kiss on a giggle, clasping his hands behind Eliott’s neck. “It’s so weird to have you calling out for god when you’re dressed like that. I keep expecting him, her, or whoever they are to appear out of thing air, punishing me for corrupting their little angel.”

Eliott nearly chokes on his own tongue. “What is wrong with you? That sounds like something from an old porn magazine.”

“Eliott, come on. What are the chances that we dressed in these specific costumes? When will we ever get the chance to make these kinds of jokes again?”

Eliott laughs, tugging Lucas closer to him by his hips, flushing only a little bit from his use of we.

“I mean it.” Lucas says. “We’re in some prime role-play territory right now.”

“You think so? Then let me try.” One of Eliott’s hands slides down to Lucas’s ass, his head lowering to whisper in his ear. “Oh, Lucas. You’re making me so hot, so…horny.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lucas yells, tearing himself from Eliott’s grasp and spinning into the centre of his room. The look of sheer disgust on his face sends Eliott over the edge, bursting into a fit of cackles that has him bending over at the waist.

“You’re the worst.” Lucas flings his horns at Eliott, the plastic headband bouncing off of Eliott’s arm. “I can’t believe I ever wanted to kiss you.”

I can’t believe it either, Eliott thinks, straightening up. He’s still laughing, the occasional giggle erupting like a bottle of champagne in his chest. Across the room, Lucas is biting down his bottom lip, like he’s trying not to smile, but Eliott’s making it really difficult.

Eliott thinks he might be a little bit in love with that expression.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

Lucas sighs, makes a show of being annoyed. “Yeah. Unfortunately I still do, so. Get over here.”

Eliott takes a deep breath. He removes his halo, dropping it onto the floor next to Lucas’s horns. “You know,” he says, sliding the wings down his arms, “I didn’t even plan a costume for tonight. Someone lent me this one to wear last minute.” The wings land with a soft thud on the wood. “It’s funny, you could say that it was—”

“Fate.”

Eliott’s head snaps up. At once, the mood in the room shifts, the shadows on Eliott’s floor lengthening with the weight of their gazes. In the darkness, Lucas’s eyes are pools of endless blue-black.

“Yeah.” Eliott whispers. “Fate.”

“You could say,” Lucas swallows audibly when Eliott takes a step towards him, “that it’s the universe trying to tell us something.”

Eliott takes another step forwards. “And what do you think the universe is trying to tell us?”

He takes another step, and one that brings Lucas close enough to touch. Eliott’s hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“I don’t know.” Lucas murmurs. “Maybe it’s saying that we should kiss.”

Eliott doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands find Lucas’s cheeks, tilting his head back gently while he leans down.

“Or maybe,” Lucas breathes shakily against his mouth, “it’s trying to tell us that we should—”

This time, Eliott cuts him off with a kiss. It’s a bit rushed, a bit clumsy, but Eliott doesn’t think he can be blamed, not with how his entire body is aching to touch, to hold Lucas in his hands, to feel his soft lips parting under his.

Kissing Lucas is unlike anything Eliott has ever felt. He could drown in him. Easy as anything.

So he does.

He angles his head to the left and coaxes Lucas’s mouth open, both of them whimpering as the kiss deepens, pressing even more tightly together. Lucas hands are at his lower back again, but they travel upwards, smoothing across Eliott’s back, fingertips digging in on certain swipes of Eliott’s tongue.

It’s dynamic, kissing Lucas, an intoxicating, euphoric push and pull. Their kisses will smooth out, become cleaner, more chaste presses of lips as they catch their breath, and then one of them dives in again and they’re gone, panting into each other’s mouths, kissing hot and wet, then teasing and biting.

Lucas’s hands come up to Eliott’s shoulders and he’s gripping him, turning Eliott on the spot, and shoving him down to the mattress unceremoniously, Eliott’s breath leaving him in a surprised gasp. He props himself up on his elbows, then nearly collapses back down when he sees Lucas, staring down at him like he wants to devour him.

“God,” Lucas sighs, lowering himself to the mattress, crawling up the length Eliott’s body. “You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and his hands are sliding into Eliott’s hair, tugging at the strands as he kisses him.

Eliott’s hands immediately go for Lucas’s hips, palming the curve of his ass, sliding under his shirt to touch the soft skin at the dip of his spine. His robe was pulled up with Lucas, and the hem is at Eliott’s knees now, making it easy for him to raise one leg up, pressing the inside of his thigh to Lucas’s side.

Lucas breaks away from the kiss to glance down. “Are you…what are you wearing under this?”

“Just boxers.” Lucas’s head snaps back up, but Eliott refuses to be embarrassed by it. “What? It’s really hot in the apartment,” he says defensively, digging his knee into Lucas’s side.

“Oh my god.” Lucas whispers. He untangles one hand from Eliott’s hair to smooth over his knee, eyes on the place where the hem of the robe is falling away from Eliott’s legs. “Oh my fucking god, I’m going to come in my pants,” he says, voice pained, and Eliott laughs, tugging Lucas back down into another kiss.

There’s an urgency to their movements that wasn’t there before—their kisses are desperate, the movements of their hands frenzied, roaming across each other’s bodies like they’re trying to touch as much of the other person as they possibly can.

Eliott doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before—burning from the inside out with a thick, aching rush of want. He feels wild with it, terrifyingly out of control but he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t imagine stopping.

He gasps when he feels one of Lucas’s hands move under the hem of his robe, gripping behind his knee and sliding up to his thigh. There are small fires left in the wake of his hands, as scorching hot as the bruise his teeth left on Eliott’s neck, as the gentle scrape of Lucas’s tongue as it trails across his collarbone.

“Fuck,” He whimpers when Lucas kisses him, wet and warm and sloppy and mind-numbingly good.

“I know.” Lucas breathes. His hand slides a little further up Eliott’s thigh, scratches gently against his skin. “I know, angel.” He shifts his hips, letting out a choked-off moan when their erections line up. “Oh, fuck, you’re so hard.” He grinds his hips down, tugging Eliott’s leg higher up on his side. He kisses up the side of Eliott’s neck, bites down on his ear lobe. “You’re so hard for me, baby.”

“Lucas.” Eliott pants, and he’s asking for something but he’s not even sure what, some desperate release from the rubber band being pulled taut along the line of his body. “Please.” He grips onto Lucas’s ass with both hands, guiding him down to meet his own jerking movements up, searching for more friction.

Except, Lucas lets go of Eliott’s thigh, gripping onto his hands instead, pulling them away from his ass and planting them on either side of Eliott’s head.

“Lucas.” Eliott whines, so overwhelmed, so close to the edge that he doesn’t even care how desperate he must look right now, trying to buck up into the empty air where Lucas is hovering over him. “Lucas, what the hell, let me touch you.”

Lucas grins. “Hmm, no. I think I like you like this.” He squeezes Eliott’s fingers, lowering his hips back down so he’s sitting in Eliott’s lap.

Eliott lets out a strangled noise at the sudden weight.

“I could ride you like this,” Lucas says causally, as though he’s telling Eliott what he had for breakfast that day. “Until you can’t take it anymore. Until you’re begging me to come.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Eliott is so turned on by the thought of that he can barely see straight, but at the back of his mind, there’s something else, something he’s aching for.

“Okay, yeah, we could do that. Or, you could fuck me.” Eliott says. He tries for the same, casual tone Lucas has adopted, but it doesn’t work. He sounds too strung out, the rubber band inside of him a second away from snapping.

That makes Lucas pause, the slow, teasing movements of his hips stuttering to a halt.

“Yeah? You…” He blinks at Eliott, slow and hazy. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” He does. The more he thinks about it, the more Eliott is sure that’s exactly what he wants to happen tonight. He’s light-headed just from the idea. “I do. Please.”

Lucas releases one of his hands to brush his hair back from his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you sure, angel?”

It’s so sweet, the way Lucas is looking at him. He’s so sweet, stroking his thumb across Eliott’s temple, gazing softly at him. It makes Eliott feel warm, looked after. He smiles, plucking Lucas’s hand from his hair and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the underside of his wrist.

He makes sure not to break Lucas’s gaze. “I’m sure.”

There’s no sudden frenzy, once he says it, no montage of stripping down and getting to business. There’s Lucas, leaning down to kiss him, unhurried, still holding onto Eliott’s hands. There’s Eliott, breaking the kiss to tell Lucas that yes, he really wants to be kissed, but he’d also really like to have sex now, please, and there’s stuff in his bedside table.

Lucas laughs and says stuff in a mock-sexy voice, but he goes, rifling through Eliott’s drawer, holding up the Anne Rice paperback Eliott forgot he stuffed in there with a smirk, and returning with a condom and a bottle of lube.

Eliott gets distracted by Lucas’s abs when he pulls shirt off, feeling the desperate need to apply his tongue to every ridge and divot of them, and then Lucas gets distracted when they wrestle Eliott’s robe off, kissing all the way from Eliott’s shoulder down to his thighs, mouthing up and down the lengths of them, biting into the sensitive, tender skin on the inside, high up near his hips.

By the time Lucas gets the condom on, they’re both delirious with want, overwhelmed and shaking when they come together, Eliott gasping into Lucas’s mouth and Lucas slamming a hand into the mattress, desperately trying to hold himself still.

Even when Eliott whispers move, please, Lucas goes slowly, gentle movements that are long, dragging and deep, that make Eliott feel taken apart, piece by piece until he’s nothing but one centre of ecstasy. He digs his fingernails into Lucas’s back, moans so loudly that he’s briefly worried everyone else in the apartment will have heard him, and he realizes he has no idea how long he and Lucas have been fucking for. It could still be around midnight, it could be three in the morning, but the thing is, it really doesn’t matter. It’s just him and Lucas, the time between one kiss and another stretching infinitely into the heavy night.

Lucas is sweating above him, biting down on his lip as he pistons his hips forward, stroking one hand down Eliott’s chest to his stomach. He’s thrown into broken shadow by the moonlight pouring in through Eliott’s window, and Eliott remembers when they were standing out on the balcony, how otherworldly Lucas seemed to him then. And now, Lucas is panting, tense and swearing under his breath and inside of Eliott, his skin scorching hot where they’re pressed together. He’s so unmistakably human in this moment, raw and real, and Eliott thinks it’s the most beautiful he’s looked all night.

Maybe Lucas can hear his thoughts, or maybe they were written on Eliott’s face, the proverbial open book, because Lucas brings hand back up and smoothes Eliott’s hair back, tender and adoring.

Beautiful, Lucas says, and Eliott has to kiss him. He has to.

He pulls Lucas back down to him and the kiss is clumsy, with how they’re moving, but it’s good, so good that Eliott can see the edge of the cliff coming, the inevitable plunge to oblivion right under his toes.

I’m close, he tells Lucas and Lucas nods, starts picking up the pace of his hips, reaching between them to grasp Eliott in hand.

Lucas says, Come for me, angel, and Eliott does, arching his back off the mattress and pulling Lucas close to him, biting down on his shoulder to muffle a broken cry.

Lucas follows only seconds after, and they collapse onto the mattress, sticking together in awkward places and gasping for breath, giggling and kissing each other on the forehead, cheeks, lips, occasionally gasping variations of holy shit and that was fucking amazing.

Lucas throws away the condom and Eliott uses Lucas’s discarded shirt to clean himself up, laughing when Lucas notices and snatches it out of his hands.

You can borrow one of mine, Eliott says, and he pauses before he adds, when you leave tomorrow. Or the day after.

Lucas grins, and searches for his phone so he can text his friends.

🕸

It’s four in the morning and they’re still awake, curled together under Eliott’s duvet sharing stories and secrets in low voices.

Eliott’s head is pillowed on Lucas’s chest, Lucas is playing with his hair, and his eyes are drooping shut. Exhausted and happy. So unbelievably happy.

“I’m really starting to like Halloween again.” Eliott says, and Lucas laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He feels himself drifting off, on the edge of sleep, when Lucas shifts under him, gently tugging on his hair.

“Eliott?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Mhm.”

“I didn’t have a costume planned for tonight either. Mine was a last-minute borrow.”

Eliott frowns, his near-sleep brain slow at processing the words.

“I…I know Alexia gave you the angel costume, and, well, I think it was the girls’ idea of matchmaking? Because Emma gave me the devil horns, although it took me a while to put it together.” He pauses. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is I should have known my friends would try something because, well, I’ve had a crush on your for weeks and uh, they all know about it.”

“Oh.” Eliott murmurs. He snuggles into Lucas’s chest, yawning around a smile. “That’s funny.”

But then—

Eliott’s eyes fly open.

“Wait, what?”

#prompt fill #tarot prompts #for anon 🧡🧡🧡#i know it may be different than what you were looking for #but when i got the idea 'halloween party' in my head it refused to leave #fic tag #elu fic #skam fr fanfic #skam france #happy halloween mecs!! 👻

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edgythought · 4 years

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Strangers in the Bar III

Part I | Part II

Alex Turner x OC (I guess??)

Description: Two lonely people observe each other in a bar. It leads to something nice. Word count: 3,297

Warning: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, non-explicit mentions of sex, physical harassment.

A/N: I hope you enjoy the last bit for this. Please, let me know what you think about it. Thank you for reading, it means the world to me!

The sky was deep blue as I walked out of the bar and looked around for a spot to inhale some nicotine. I was kinda worried and a little embarrassed of rushing away from the Dancing Dude. Sweetie, you have to accept you are stupid, I told myself while I lit my cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling thick smoke into the breezy air. It was difficult to process what happened inside a couple of minutes ago, but I tried my best taking drag after drag. It's weird though, his disappearance. I did not expect that. But I shall be silent, because it's also me who ran away from a cocktail and a proper introduction.

Few stars were already present, shining discreetly on the velvet background of the spring LA sky. I enjoyed the view immensely, I was always fascinated by space and everything about it. Being so complicated and far, I always found space interesting enough to spend much of my free time researching information and staring at the sky. Nothing particularly changed since middle school.

Suddenly my stream of consciousness was interrupted by a familiar voice and my heart skipped a beat. The Dancing Dude was walking towards me across the road, sly smile oh his lips. "Waiting for me, eh?" - he asked, when he reached me. "I was just staring at the sky and smoking, don't take too much on yourself" - I said, taking out another cigarette out of the pack and searching for a lighter in a small bag of mine. He couldn't manage to watch me struggling to find a lighter and offered his, that I had to accept, because the bag was both ridiculously small and really big to fit a handful of stuff inside. I smiled to myself a little and looked at him. He was busy lighting his own cig and running his fingers through his half-wet, half-gelled hair. He looked so mysterious to me, everything I wanted in that moment was to get into his head. And he smelled great. -We seemed to have quite a nice time there, why did you rush away? - he was looking me straight in the eyes, his hand on his waist, a cloud of smoke twisting behind his left ear. -Oh… Sorry about that, I felt a little dizzy. Didn't want to ruin your bomb look with my puke. - I did not expect him bringing it up and I had to come up with a simple lie to cover up my growing anxiety. He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke to his left so it won't get into my face. -How are you feeling now? Is everything okay? - he touched my shoulder to get my full attention. - Yeah, don't worry, I am totally fine - I shrugged and took my last drag. He seemed a little bit spaced out, standing in front of me smoking. I found him smoking pretty sexy combined with his hair and overall rockstar vibe. He finished his cigarette and turned to me - Wanna get outta 'ere? - Sure. Any ideas? -Not really, but I think it'd be nice to get some fresh air, eh?

The night was still young when we paid the bill and got out of the bar. He grabbed my hand and routed to the sound of waves crashing at the beach. His palm was warm and dry, while mine was cold and it was an immense pleasure for me to warm myself up a little. I was watching him slightly while we were walking in silence. His most distinctive feature was his nose: big and straight, the tip teeny tiny bit crooked down. His big warm eyes didn't suit his demeanor at all, but I suppose, he's a lot more than he wants people to see.

Suddenly I realized I didn't even know his name. We never got to introduce ourselves. Dumbasses, nothing more to say. I sighed a little and grabbed his hand a little tighter to catch his attention. -Hey, what's your name? - I asked him, pulling his hand a little more to make him turn to me. He stopped and for a second I thought he was surprised? Am I supposed to know who he was? Oh my god… -You can call me Alexander, Al for short. Alexander is my official name and you know, my mom used to call me like that while whooping my ass. - he smiled softly, - And what is your name, love? Instead of just telling him my name I decided to show off a little bit. I let go of his hand and fished one of my business cards out of my purse. Before giving it to him I made sure it wasn't anything else, since my purse (of any size) is always a dump. -I'm impressed! - he chuckled as he examined the card carefully. - Well, that will do for now, miss, but I am interested to know more. - he pushed me to the side playfully with his hip and I smiled at him. -Anything for you, Mr Alexander. -Anything? How about some stargazing on the beach then? A little bit of oversharing probably? - he let out a small chuckle.

He surprised me once again and I realized we were right across the road from the beach. I didn't pay attention to the route we took because I spaced out watching Al. Wow, girl, you need to concentrate. Alcohol is not helping though, it always makes me dizzy and starry-eyed when it comes down to a charismatic stranger. The breeze was pleasantly cool, so I let my hair down out of the light knot I rocked in a crowded pub. It was a blessing and Alex graciously admired me tossing hair to give it a little bit of shape. -Stop teasing me, baby, you look gorgeous. - he told me, placing his hand on the middle part of my back. I shivered to his touch, still not used to it. -That was not my intention, but glad you like it. - I smiled slightly, reaching to touch his own hair. It was not as slick as it was when we met, but those little strands framed his face so beautifully I couldn't take my eyes off him. He winked at me and turned to watch the waves hit the shore. The sound was ASMRish and I felt a lot less tense. I almost lost myself to the breeze and calm noise the water made, Al's hand still on my back. I closed my eyes. It felt so right, there's no other place I'd rather be today. -Whatcha thinking about, babe? - Al asked, as we were sitting on the pavement and watching the sky and the ocean collide in the dark. -Nothing in particular, really. The vibe is quite melancholic, I should say. Maybe the whole LA thing has something to do with it. -Elaborate. -Well, I feel a lot more lonely here than anywhere else. Like I am heartbroken for whatever reason and, like in a movie, I am watching myself almost from the side, as if I am not quite myself anymore. Does it make any sense? -It does, yeah. LA is a cruel place, you see, love. It's not easy here, probably, anywhere is easier than here. This feeling of loneliness and distortion never left me since I moved here a couple of years ago. -Oh, from where? -Small town on the other side of the planet. Doesn't matter, really, I am living here now. -It hasn't grown on you yet, as I can see. -Not really, yeah, but you get used to it eventually. I wrote some great songs here, though… -You're a songwriter? -Yeah, a musician, a singer, something like that. Does it matter? -Yeah! I don't know, I wouldn't be happy to go stargazing with a drug dealer - I chuckled and hit him lightly on the shoulder. -There are a lot of drug dealers here, love, you can't even imagine… - he smiled at me and placed his hand on mine. His presence in such proximity was both overwhelming and disturbing. I didn't know what to think and tried to relax again, but failed miserably, listening to my own heartbeat go crazy and feeling my intestines twirl unpleasantly.

It took us a while to stop stargazing, but as the time flew fast we agreed on having something to eat. Dancing was rad and we were tired, so a bit of fuel wouldn't hurt. We got up and Al took my hand in his as we walked down the cobbled path to the road to call a taxi. - I know a nice place not far from my house. They serve delicious tacos there. You like tacos? - he asked me. -Oh, I've never tried them, although I really enjoy a nice home made guacamole. - I laughed a bit. - Pardon me, how long have you been here for? - Two weeks, I guess? - And you never managed to get yourself some tacos? Oh my, you're a disaster! - he threw his other hand in the air in a dramatic gesture. I laughed, he was pretty cute doing all the theatrical stuff both on the dance floor and now. Still, although his gestures felt natural and genuine, I couldn't stop worrying for no apparent reason.

Al's Uber appeared soon enough to interrupt his subtle efforts to kiss me and I was glad he did not succeed. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly was wrong, but it was. I enjoyed Alexander's company though. He was not the nicest man out there, but he was hilarious in his own way and I happened to appreciate that. Our taxi ride was mostly silent, as I was staring out of the window all the time, not paying much attention to a man sitting beside me or his hand sliding up and down my thigh quite erotically. This whole LA aesthetics with neon signs, blue and orange street lights and wide streets somehow crippled to the back of my mind. I wasn't sure if I ever could forget this city, a real living organism, merciless and unforgiving. I felt small and weak in that car, in Los Angeles. I was out of the place, spacing out each time I had an opportunity to. Quite an unpleasant situation, to be honest. Alexander did not make it any better. He was all right, but I was on the verge of a panic attack near him, which was totally surprising, since dancing with him was an amazing experience. Perhaps, it is not always a good idea to get to know a person you've danced in a bar with. He can turn out to be something completely different from what you've expected. I was fascinated by everything in that particular moment during the drive, alcohol in my blood made me feel like yet again I was in a movie about my life instead of reality and I gave up to this feeling. I turned to watch Al. He looked alien to those surroundings, like he was inserted by someone in Photoshop. Still, he was very handsome and I took my time to admire him in the neon light passing by quite often. He side-eyed me and smiled softly when he realized he was being watched. -Is there summat on me face, love? - he asked me, smiling and stroking my hair. -No, I was just admiring your beauty, mystery man. I will continue, if you don't mind. -Whatever pleases you, baby girl - he responded and turned to the window on my right, so I could see his face a little better. I smiled at myself, my heart was racing uncontrollably and it was way too hot in the car. Again, his proximity was too much to handle, being both exciting and worrying.

Finally, we arrived to the destination point, the taqueria Al liked so much. It was a nice neighbourhood, as I managed to notice during the ride, and several men were standing outside the 24/7 coffee shop next to the taqueria, laughing loudly. It took me a while to get out of the car, because my door was blocked and I had to wait until Al comes out to follow him. He graciously helped me out and I couldn't help but admit he was a gentleman. We decided to have a smoke before food, Al started talking about his musical aspirations. I didn't listen to him attentively, because I was watching him talk. He had a very expressive face and I loved that about him, really. Still, I didn't trust him at all, he was way too much to be sincere. We finished our cigarettes and headed to the cafe, as one of the guys coming out there in front of us, stopped in his tracks and went "Wooo, girl, you are one sexy lady! Dump this skinny ass of a dude and come with me". I looked him dead in the eye and told him to go fuck himself. He proceeded to give me a mean smile, while he was moving towards me out of the cafe. Alexander stood behind me, his hand in my waist, but he had to let go as I started going inside. Then, the dude slapped me on the ass, real hard. At the sound of a slap Al turned and grabbed him by the collar. I didn't see his face, but his back was tense enough to understand what's going on. -Oh, fuck off, you piece of shit! - I cried in anger, turning to slap the bitch, but he was too far from me to reach. - Al, let him go. - He still looked enraged when the dude was strolling down the street, turning at us several times and giving us the finger. Al did the same and we finally got inside. -Wanker. -What? - I laughed. - Don't be angry, man, let's eat our troubles away. -Fine, but what the fuck just happened… - he brushed his hair with his fingers. - What shall we eat? - he asked, looking at me with a mixed expression. -Whatever, you choose. You see, I haven't tried tacos, I have no opinion on the topic… - I smirked at him and went to a small table by the wall to sit down. Al went to the counter and asked the guy for beef tacos, salsa, guacamole with chips and some french fries. He looked at me questioningly and I just nodded in approval. In 10 minutes our food was ready and I was excited to eat because I suddenly felt exhausted. -Try it. -As your Highness commands. - I said and bit the taco Al offered me. - Mm, delicious! -Told you, they are amazing. You shouldn't be such a prude, by the way. I bet, these tacos are the best thing that happened to you today - he smirked and put the whole taco in his mouth. -Ew, gross. Haven't your mother taught you some manners, Alexander? - I teased him as he was chewing. -Fuck right off, okay? -Suck a bag of giant black cocks - I responded with a shit-eating grin. -Sounds like a tongue-twister - Al looked at me and smiled. -I was always good with them at school, you know. I speak 3 languages. My tongue does miracles. -Oh really? Care to demonstrate? I smiled mysteriously at Al. I had no intention to show my skills right off, if you know what I mean. Not that I was comfortable with him to go past second base today, but teasing is not illegal. Plus, I enjoyed flirting with him. We finished our food and realized we didn't order any beverages to sustain the water balance, so Al went to the counter once again and bought us two cans of soda. It was refreshing enough to pull me out of the chair. -So, what shall we do next? -My place, maybe? I can play you some of my songs. -Sounds nice, but I don't think it's appropriate. - I told him as we were leaving the taqueria and walking down the street. -I insist. - I looked at him and our eyes met. He looked intimidating, in a semi-sexy way. I was confused, my mind paced from one stupid decision to another. - There's no limit to the length of the dickheads we can be. - he stated as he walked past me. -Is it far? -No, come 'ere. - He took my hand in his and looked at me. His other hand was at the back of my neck as he reached out to me and kissed without warning. He tasted like soda and cigarettes and smelled so good I lost myself a bit. Wowza woo. Oh, how the tables have turned. Al grabbed my hair and pulled a bit to break the kiss. I blinked a couple of times to gather myself. -Shall we go a bit faster?

It really wasn't far from the taqueria, so in around 10 minutes Al was already opening the front door of his house for me. The walk happened to be not interesting, since we were waggling our tongues in each other's mouths most of the time. I liked it, but it still didn't feel safe at all. That probably was the main trigger for my absolute failure in keeping my arousal to myself. You go, girl! Keep it up! Anyway, I was inside his house already, I suppose I have to finish what I'd started, right? -You okay, darling? - he asked, touching my shoulder softly. -Yeah, sure… You promised to play me some of your songs earlier, where shall we do that? - I ruffled my hair nervously as I replied and looked at him. He noticed I wasn't quite fine, but didn't say a word about it. Weird? -Oh, change of plans.- he took both my hands in his and pulled me closer. - I think we should have some fun first. - he added and went full on me, kissing hard and grabbing my ass painfully. I squeaked a little, but he didn't pay attention to it at all. He kept pulling me closer and closer, as he kept pushing us towards something behind my back, which I couldn't see. I wasn't afraid, I was curious how everything will turn out. I was nervous. He was all over me, I couldn't escape his embrace, even if I was physically able to. He held me tight, biting my neck, tracing wet lines between my ears, lips and collarbones. And then I lost it.

He was too much and not enough. Mysterious, unexpected… Dangerous. His teasing was a heavenly torture. I forgot myself. He was cruel, angry, violent even. My senses were overloaded by him doing what he had in that twisted mind of his. Nasty shit, kinky, gross and overly expressive, explosive. He moved like a predator, he watched me die in his arms time after time, he never let me breathe deep enough to form a coherent thought. I grasped for air, panted, cried and screamed with him. Dirty. Ugly. Cosmic. Pure. I slowly opened my eyes. The sun was way too bright for my liking, shining through a huge wall window. The sky was pinkish orange, with a slight silhouette of the moon still visible, marking it was early morning outside. It was inexplicably hard to gather the thoughts. Was it even necessary at this point? I guess not. I blinked several times to brush away the sleepiness. Suddenly, a soft voice somewhere behind me asked: -Is it everything you've come to expect, baby girl?

#Alex Turner #Alexander David Turner #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x oc #arctic monkeys #The Last Shadow Puppets #Miles Kane #Nick o'Malley #jamie cook #matt helders #writing #short story #romance #strangers in the bar

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darylwillfightnatureforcarol · 4 years

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The Ball Chapter 1

This one is almost finished now but there’s still a part two of an epilogue in the works. This is kind of partly crackfic in the antics at the party with a deeper Caryl storyline underneath. Ez bashing is present so beware if you’re a fan of him.

Description: The Kingdom holds a celebratory ball. Carol does not expect Daryl to show up, even though she invited him. Except Daryl does show up, and not alone. He shows up with a date. Carol shouldn't be jealous, right?

Set somewhere in Season 9-ish. Carzekiel mentioned just because it unfortunately happened.

The Ball

“Ladies and gentlemen, The Kingdom would like to express their thanks for your attendance to this celebratory ball. Without further ado, may I present my lovely Queen, Carol!” The King announced in an over the top fashion. Carol revealed herself, stepping out from behind her husband.

She wore a floor length, royal blue dress. It fit tightly to her slim frame and ended flowingly at her ankles. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant knot at the back of her head. There was an almost imperceptible roll of eyes from her.

This brought a smirk to Daryl’s mouth. Carol still found this bullshit as ridiculous as he did.

The mirth disappeared from his face as the king leant over and stole a kiss from his queen. As the two broke away from each other, Carol smiled at Ezekiel.

Daryl’s heart clenched at the sight. She looked radiant. It was all he’d ever wanted for her. Yet here he was dying inside at the sight.

He sighed and pushed his way through the crowd towards the makeshift bar. He needed a drink.

It was bad enough that he had to wear this ridiculous outfit. The dark dress pants he wore were uncomfortable to say the least.

Aaron had shoved them at him with a pleading expression.

Please, be civilized just this once?

Daryl snorted derisively. Civilized. The word shouldn’t even exist any more. Civilization was gone but all these idiots were clinging onto the concept with their fingertips.

He pulled at the collar of his shirt in annoyance. The damn thing was practically choking him. Not caring if it would make him appear dishevelled, he undid two of the buttons. The only saving grace of the clothes, that he had been guilted into wearing, was that they were black.

Aaron had attempted to hand him a sky blue shirt but Daryl had stepped back from him with a disgusted look. Aaron had merely sighed and exchanged it for the black as night shirt he now wore.

He grumbled at the bartender his order and the kind old man pushed the beverage at him with a grin.

Ugh.

Daryl couldn’t stand how happy and friendly all these Kingdom people were. It weren’t natural. He could only hope that the woman he had escaped would take the hint.

He couldn’t believe it when Aaron had brought it up.

He had promised some Alexandrian woman that he had a friend that would be able to escort her to the ball. Of course this friend had to be him for some damn reason.

Earlier:

“Why the hell would you do that?” Daryl spat in confused outrage.

Aaron winced at the response he should have seen coming.

“I just thought it would be nice for you to get to know her. I think you’d like her,” Aaron had explained in his normal calm tone. Daryl’s eyes narrowed.

Aaron sighed.

“Daryl you’re always alone. I know you’ll never admit it but you must get lonely. I know for a fact you miss Carol since she moved to the Kingdom.”

Daryl winced at the mention of Carol’s name. He had been about to tell Aaron that 1: he did not get lonely, and 2: he was perfectly fine alone. Instead he felt his heart clench at the thought of Carol.

He was happy that she was happy but he missed her, like Aaron said. Not to mention he burned inside with an inferno of jealousy.

“This could be good for you. Just go with her and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll never bring it up again,” Aaron pleaded.

Daryl focused on his friend and sighed.

What could it hurt?

“Fine but you better warn her what to expect,” Daryl growled as he stalked away. Of course, as Daryl had predicted, it had gone terribly.

The woman, Jenny, was nice enough. Aaron had not been lying about that. She was a fairly recent addition to Alexandria. Younger than him, probably in her late thirties with auburn, wavy hair. Aaron had said she was pretty and he was right. None of that mattered to Daryl though.

He had tried to be as polite as he could when he met her.

She looked nervous and shy. This relieved Daryl because he didn’t want to have to deal with an over exuberant personality all night.

She smiled meekly at him when he had stomped up the steps of her house in Alexandria. She had on a long, burgundy dress and her hair was pulled up atop her head.

He tried to smile at her, to be nice, but it probably looked like a grimace.

He offered his, on this rare occasion, clean hand to her to shake.

“I’m Daryl,” he’d grunted at her awkwardly as he took his hand back.

She nodded.

“I’m Jenny. Aaron’s told me a lot about you. I have to say, you’re not what I was expecting,” Jenny said shyly as she looked him over.

Daryl shrugged in response.

He had no idea what shit Aaron had told her but he didn’t give a damn if he wasn’t up to her standards. She was the one who agreed to go to a stupid ball with a man she’d never met.

“Well, I’m me,” he said needlessly with a bit of a glare.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks become red.

“Oh, I wasn’t saying that like it was a bad thing!” she spouted, looking embarrassed.

Daryl just nodded.

“Right, well you wanna go?” he asked, shifting his posture.

He prayed that she said no. That she was as disappointed in her date as he thought she was. Then he could go back to his makeshift home and work on his bike or maybe play with Dog. He had been meaning to toss a stick for the mutt today but hadn’t had time.

“Sure,” she had replied with another shy smile.

She followed him to the little cart Aaron had made him borrow for the trip. If he had his way, he would have rather she just hitch her skirt up to hold while they took the bike. He guessed his “date” wouldn’t have appreciated that. Would have been damn uncomfortable in the stupid dress pants anyway.

When they arrived at The Kingdom he gaped at the change for the night.

Party lights everywhere. Decorations, clearly handmade from random objects hung on the gates. They must have been planning this shit for months!

You would never have guessed that the world had actually ended if you only went by what you saw here. He immediately felt uncomfortable and unwelcome.

Jenny, however, blew out a whistle in awe.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her forward to continue inside.

They followed behind some other arrivals. Everyone was heading to the auditorium where the king usually sat on his thrown. When they stepped inside, he was surprised to see that the benches that used to line the floor had been cleared away. The floor was filled with people, dancing and mingling.

He began to spot familiar faces.

Enid dancing with Alden.

Jerry with Nabila.

He spotted Aaron chatting animatedly with Jesus on the sidelines. Aaron met Daryl’s eyes and Daryl sent a pointed glare at his well-meaning friend. Aaron merely waved in response with a smirk.

Daryl was appalled when Jesus noticed him and let out a loud wolf whistle. His face felt hot as he hurried away with Jenny.

He snorted a laugh when he saw Tara.

She was dressed in a mid length emerald dress with her hair hanging loose down her back. In her hand she held a champagne flute which tilted precariously. In Tara fashion, the ensemble was completed by a pair of bright neon, flashing sunglasses perched on her face as she bopped around, pumping her fist to the music.

She noticed him then and a grin split her face.

“Daryl!” she shouted in greeting.

A few people turned in curiosity.

Daryl blushed as the attention was turned on him.

She must be smashed already.

She stumbled over and presented her fist as usual, which he bumped.

“I thought this was ‘sposed to be a fancy ball. The hell is with this music?” Daryl question with a wince as the loud pop continued to pound.

“Shut up, this music is amazing!” Tara argued loudly, shoving his shoulder with her free hand.

She looked him up and down for the first time.

She tore her sunglasses off.

“Holy shit, you look hot!” she assessed loudly.

He blushed as he frowned at her.

“Thought you liked girls.”

“I do but I also have eyes. God, Carol’s gonna flip her shit when she sees you!” Tara continued.

She covered her mouth with a shocked expression.

“Oops, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“I think you should switch to water,” Daryl advised with a shake of his head.

She giggled as she pointedly sipped her champagne. She finally noticed his date, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes.

“Oh, new person! Hi, I’m Tara!” she introduced with a clumsy fist brought up.

Jenny eyed said fist for a moment before glancing at Daryl. He just nodded his head that she should just do it.

Jenny bumped Tara’s fist with her own awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jenny. I’m from Alexandria.”

“Oh cool. I heard they got some newcomers. I’m from Hilltop. Practically running it to be honest. It’s supposed to be Jesus but he’s been making out with Aaron in the woods,” Tara said in an annoyed tone as she sipped at her glass again.

A beat before her eyes widened.

“Shit didn’t mean to say that out loud either,” she confessed as she stifled a giggle.

“You’re a goddamn mess,” Daryl observed.

Tara considered it before shrugging.

“Can’t argue with you there. I’ll see you later, there’s a hot blonde that lives here that I’ve been eyeing all night,” she conspired in a low voice with a smirk between sloping away clumsily.

Daryl glanced at Jenny who looked amused and alarmed at the encounter.

“Sorry ‘bout her, she’s kinda…weird. It’s not really even the booze. She’s just like that,” Daryl explained matter of factly.

“Wow. That’s actually pretty impressive. Though I’m a bit happier that I live in Alexandria. I don’t think I could deal with that all the time,” Jenny confessed, looking a little scared.

Daryl huffed out a genuine laugh at that.

“Yeah, you ain’t any safer in Alexandria. She shows up all the damn time. If she remembers you after tonight, she might even show up at your front door,” Daryl said with a blank expression.

Jenny watched after Tara nervously.

Daryl coughed to hide his laugh.

Tara could be a bit much.

#caryl #carylers #caryl on #caryl fanfiction #caryl fanfic #caryl is endgame #caryl is coming #carol and daryl #daryl and carol #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #carol peletier #daryl dixon

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cakesunflower · 5 years

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Lucky Shot in Paradise [Bartender!Calum One Shot]

Summary: There’s a beautiful new waitress in the diner across from Calum’s bar. Calum can’t wait to get to know her.

First, They Meet. (Paradise)

Calum’s favorite diner had a new waitress. He’d been going to Paradise Diner for a few years now, grabbing his morning coffee before school or work or breakfast on Sundays with the boys. He was on first name basis with all of the waitresses, was always given a free slice of cheesecake on his birthday despite him offering to pay for it every year. It had seemed like fate when he and one of his best friends managed to open up their own bar right across the two way street from Paradise. Getting morning coffee had never been easier.

He got to the diner, same time as always, just forty minutes or so before noon for his cup of coffee. He’d worked til last call last night, until about five in the morning, got about four and a half hours of sleep in before needing to wake up to head to the bar. There was a football game on and the bar would be packed with men who didn’t have work or had a break from their jobs to come to the bar and yell at the TVs over drinks. The cup of coffee he’d had after his shower this morning wouldn’t hold him over—he needed a bigger one of the diner’s finest.

“What can I get for you?”

Calum glanced up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice from where he’d been bracing himself on the front counter of the diner. A young woman stood on the other side, probably around his age; Calum had never seen her there before, yet he felt the wind getting knocked out of him at the sight of her. She was pretty, stunningly so, with skin just a shade lighter than his, warm brown eyes and hair dark enough to be mistaken for black. And, somehow, she looked unexpectedly attractive in the sunny yellow and white collared dress of the diner uniform, the color appealing against her skin.

“Uh.” Calum blinked, off guard for a brief moment before his hunched shoulders straightened. She looked at him, patient with a friendly smile on her face, hands braced on the counter. “Just a large coffee to go, black. Thanks.”

She nodded, reaching for the to go cups on the shelf in the back before grabbing the freshly made pot of coffee. Calum couldn’t help but keep his gaze on her, her dark hair tied back into a ponytail with thin tendrils loose to frame her face, pink lips mouthing something until Calum realized she was singing along to the song playing through the diner. It made his lips curl up into a small smile.

“Haven’t seen you here before. Are you new around here?” Calum wanted to face palm after the words slipped out of his mouth. Are you new? Of course she was fucking new if he hadn’t seen her before today.

Fortunately, she didn’t find his inquiry strange or invasive as her dark eyes met his, a smile stretching across her lips. “Mhm,” she nodded, pouring the drink in the cup before backtracking. “Well, I’m new here, obviously,” she added with a breathy chuckle, gesturing to the diner. “But I’ve lived in the city for most of my life.”

Calum nodded, feeling slightly betrayed by the universe that he never ran into her before. But it was a big city, so it wasn’t at all surprising. Still, just one look at the girl in front of him and Calum was wishing he’d ran into her sooner. “Me too,” he offered, arms folded on the counter top as she grabbed a black lid for the cup. Calum nodded towards the doorway. “I work at the bar across the street. Lucky Shot.”

Recognition flashed across her dark eyes as she came back to stand in front of him, handing his hot cup. “I’ve been meaning to drop by for a while,” she confessed with a smile. She did that a lot—smile; it was something Calum found himself liking the sight of. “But between working here and my other job and school, it gets a bit busy.”

“Where else do you work?” Calum inquired as he pulled out his wallet, before pausing as his head snapped up at her. “You don’t have to answer that, I mean, if it’s too, like, invasive or—”

God, would he shut up? What was with his sudden issue of not being able to keep his words in his mouth? One look at the pretty girl in front of him and suddenly the connection between his brain and mouth was lost. Calum felt the heat creeping up his neck and face as he fumbled for the money for the coffee. He should just leave before he embarrassed himself.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Her smile widened, and Calum could detect the hint of amusement dancing in her dark eyes as she regarded him. Alright, maybe she didn’t think he was a complete fool yet. She then proceeded to tell him that she was a writer for a literary magazine at her university, where she was working to get her masters and hoping to land a job at the publishing agency she’d interned at for a few summers. The way she gave away that information, so casually and conversationally, relaxed Calum a bit for feeling like a fool just moments ago.

“So reading and writing?” Calum asked with an interested smile, ring clad fingers wrapped around the cardboard cup, knowing he had to get to work but not wanting to move from the stool. “That’s your thing?”

She grinned happily and offered a nod. “Sure is, ever since I moved to America and my parents said I didn’t have to be a doctor or lawyer like my cousins.” At the raise of Calum’s eyebrows, her cheeks flushed slightly, shyly adding, “I’m from Pakistan.” Calum practically melted at the way she said Pakistan, the name slipping from her tongue without sounding at all Westernized. “So, you know, doctors and lawyers are the way to go.”

Calum mirrored her smile. “But not for you,” he concluded, feeling proud for this stranger who didn’t have to indulge in a career she had no interest in.

“Not for me,” she repeated with a satisfied smile, her dark eyes never leaving Calum’s, his own taking in the sweet of her long lashes that framed her pretty brown irises.

He wanted to stay; God, he wanted to stay and get to know her more, but Calum’s gaze flickered to the clock behind her on the wall and forced out a breath. “I’ve gotta run,” he reluctantly spoke, pushing himself off the stool and onto his feet, his gaze meeting hers once again as he smiled. “But come by the bar when you can. Your first drink’ll be on the house.”

She raised her eyebrows, but the smile still tugged on her lips. “Are you allowed to do that?”

Calum was already walking backwards towards the door, drink in hand, offering a boyish shrug and grin. “’S my bar. Can do whatever I want.” He caught sight of the surprised yet amused expression on her face, making him smirk. Right when he reached the door, however, Calum paused when he realized he never introduced himself. “’M Calum, by the way.”

The pretty waitress smiled, letting out a light laugh as she picked up the rag to wipe the counter. “Sana.”

Pretty name for a pretty girl.

First Free Drink (Lucky Shot)

Saturday nights were always, expectedly, busy at the bar. The music was louder, as were the TVs so the patrons could hear them, the pool balls would be clinking together often and the walls vibrated with lively chatter. Both Calum and Luke, his best friend and co-owner of the bar, were behind the counter serving drinks and bowls of peanuts to go with them. The lights were bright, neon going around the perimeter of the room, framing the 70’s and 80’s band and movie posters that were on the red brick walls.

As Calum handed a pint of beer to a regular, his gaze, not for the first time tonight, casted over towards the door. He felt ridiculous, pursing his lips, constantly checking to see if she’d walk in. They’d met for the first time nearly a week and a half ago, but Calum had seen her multiple times since then, every time he’d walk into the diner for his morning cup of coffee or when he and the boys would grab lunch. His friends had most definitely teased him, after momentarily recovering from their shock of Calum so openly ogling after her when he wa the kind to keep those kinds of reactions to himself. But fortunately, for all their jokes and jabs, none of them had been in front of her. At least they’d granted him some mercy.

“Have you ever heard of the saying, a watched pot never boils?” Luke’s teasing words pulled Calum from his thoughts, his brown eyes gaze meeting the bright blues of his best friend’s next to him. When Calum blinked in confusion from being yanked from his mind, Luke snickered. “If you keep looking at the door, man, she’s never gonna walk in. Relax.”

Calum huffed, nearly affronted, as he answered for a round of shots from the group sitting at his end of the bar. “I am relaxed,” he countered with a frown before smoothing his brows to smile at the group once he gave them their drinks. Turning back to face Luke, he awkwardly added, “I’m just—”

“Eagerly anticipating her arrival?” the blonde smirked, finding his friend’s crush all too amusing. Truthfully, it was refreshing. It’s not like Calum hid his emotions—he didn’t, at least not around the boys. But when it came to relationships, he was guarded, slow to make any moves. It was just how he was; he liked to be cautious, didn’t want to dive head first into something and risk getting his skull cracked. That being said—watching him be so openly intrigued with the waitress across the street was interesting, to say the least. When Calum’s lips thinned into a line, Luke rolled his eyes and used the dish towel thrown over his shoulder to lightly slap it against the brunette’s shoulder, turning to face the shelf of drinks behind them. “If she said she would come, then she’ll show up. Don’t freak out. Take a shot.”

Honestly, Calum didn’t know what his deal was. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a girl so deeply engraved in his mind. He’d only known Sana for a week and a half and their conversations weren’t too long every time he saw her, since she was working, except that one time he’d come to the diner on his lunch break by himself, right when Sana was about to take hers. And somehow, for some reason, right when she saw him walk in, she decided to take her lunch break at her place of work and joined Calum. After profusely making sure he was alright with it—which he was because, seriously, why would he say no?

They got to know each other a bit more then. Talked about their lives, their childhood, everything they could think of in the span of an hour long lunch break. Calum left Paradise feeling like he’d known her his entire life.

Now, as every moment passed by and Lucky Shot was filled with patrons that weren’t Sana, Calum wondered if he was the only one who’d foolishly felt an instant spark of connection.

It wasn’t until around nine o’clock when Calum was facing the shelf, putting away a bottle of vodka after making a drink, when he heard a familiar voice sound over the noise. “I was told my first drink would be on the house.”

Calum spun around, feeling his heart thud at the sight of the girl sitting on the other side of the bar in front of him. Sana sat there, a smile on her glossy lips and colorful neon lights splashing across the brown skin, dark eyes glimmering as she eyed him knowingly. He hoped his smile wasn’t too wide, too eager, as his heart hammered beneath his ribs and skin fired excitedly at her presence. She was here. “You were,” he confirmed with a nod. “What’ll it be?”

Sana’s grin widened. “Whiskey neat.”

Calum reached for the glass to make her drink, promptly ignoring the smirk Luke was sending his way from down the bar as he poured the drink into the glass before handing it to Sana. “You here by yourself?” he questioned, bracing himself with his hands on the bartop, rings clattering against the wooden slab as he placed his palms down.

Sana took a sip of her drink, scrunching her face delightfully, adorably, at the taste before giving a shake of her head. “Came with friends,” she informed him, nodding her head towards where the pool tables were. Calum followed her gaze to a group of newcomers, all grinning and chattering with bottles of beer and pool sticks in their hands.

He looked back at Sana, who was still looking at her friends, and allowed himself a moment to take her in. She looked like she was glowing under the colorful neon lights of the bar, and for the first time she had her dark hair down as opposed to it being in a ponytail or braid, perfectly straight and reaching her lower back. There was something evoking about her sitting there, in front of him and in between a bunch of men hooting at the televisions for whatever games they were watching, looking comfortable with an easy smile on her face and lights coloring her skin. Calum wondered how she did that; wondered how she could look like she belonged in a place she’d never been to before, look picture perfect sitting in front of him nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Not gonna join them?” Calum asked, casting a glance in the direction of her friends before looking back at Sana. He felt something tighten in his throat to see her brown eyes already on him, eyeing him from over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

There was a smirk on her shining lips once she lowered the now empty glass, folding her arms on top of the bar as she leaned forward a bit, gaze never leaving Calum’s. “Not just yet,” Sana hummed over the boisterous noise of the club. “I wanna chat with my favorite bartender for a little.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, careful not to show the surge of excitement that rushed through his body at her jovial words, despite the warmth creeping up his neck. “Favorite bartender, eh?” he grinned, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and filling her glass again. “How’d I earn that title already?”

He pushed the glass towards her, grating against the wooden bartop as Sana picked it up. “Since my first drink was free and you filled up my glass without me having to ask,” she giggled, the sound familiarly enticing a kind of warmth in Calum’s chest. Sana raised the glass at him, saying a foreign sounding, “Shukria,” before taking a sip. Calum quirked an eyebrow at that, aware she spoke a different language, and taking the curious expression on his face into account, Sana smiled, “It means thank you in Urdu. The more you know, huh?”

Calum was about to respond to a customer two seats over before Luke swooped in, taking over, allowing the brunette to turn his attention back to the girl in front of him. “How d’you say you’re welcome in Urdu?” he asked, genuinely intrigued. He was always one to want to know more about other cultures, no matter the capacity. Plus, Calum would be lying if he said his heart didn’t leap excitedly when Sana spoke in a tongue different than his own.

“Meher-baani,” she told him, finger absently trailing around the rim of her glass before she chuckled with a quick shake of her head. “But that sounds so. . . Fancy,” she decided with an adorable scrunch of her face. “So I just stick with the English phrase.” Calum let out a low chuckle as she took a sip of her drink, before her eyes widened and she lowered the glass. “Oh! Or if you just wanna be simple, you can also say, ko’ii baat nahiin, which translates to it’s no problem. That’s much better.”

His smile widened, using the rag to wipe down the bar before bracing his hands on top once again. “Well, in that case,” Calum started, giving Sana a joking yet sincere bow of his head as he repeated in what he hoped was at least a somewhat accurate pronunciation, “Ko’ii baat nahiin.”

Sana’s cheeks pushed up as a wide grin took over her face once the phrase fell past Calum’s lips. His pronunciation was surprisingly great, getting all the right accents in despite his own Australian one, the phrase being spoken in a raspy, deep tone Sana found herself enjoying. She also felt something else, something fluttering in her stomach, at the genuine interest Calum was showing in her language, even if it was just through a phrase or two. And when he mirrored her grin, catching onto her approval of him speaking Urdu, that fluttering intensified all the more as Calum let out another, almost embarrassed, chuckle, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as he continued to wipe at the spotless bartop.

Sana took a sip of her drink, eyes never leaving the tall man in front of her, entranced with how his lashes brushed his cheeks and curls fell across his forehead. Favorite bartender, indeed.

Sister’s Approval (Paradise)

“Oh, man, I missed this place,” Mali grinned, settling into the baby blue booth opposite of Calum, happy eyes looking around the diner she hadn’t been to in a while. Her nails tapped the laminated menu sitting on the table, eyes still searching as she leaned forward and whispered to her brother, “Where’s that waitress you’ve been talking about?”

“Oh, Jesus, Mal,” Calum huffed out a laugh, not surprised that his older sister wanted to catch sight of the pretty girl Calum could never get tired of seeing. It’s been over a month since he met Sana, the two of them becoming fast friends with him coming to the diner, her visiting the bar, and the two of them finding time to hang out during their off hours. Unsurprisingly, the more time he spent with Sana, Calum found himself falling faster and harder. Then his eyes caught sight of the very woman invading his thoughts and he practically hissed to the blonde across from him, “She’s coming.”

Mali sat up excitedly, dark eyes lighting up just as Sana walked over with a smile. “Good afternoon,” she greeted, her voice melodic and making that boyish smile appear on Calum’s face automatically. “How’re we doing today?”

“Hey, Sana,” Calum returned, hands on his knees and fingers tapping against them. He was well aware of his sister’s amused staring, opting to ignore her for a moment as his gaze remained on the girl standing next to their booth. “We’re, uh, yeah we’re good.” Then, gesturing to Mali, he added, “This is my sister, Mali. Mali, this is Sana.”

Sana’s eyes flickered to the other woman, a smile lighting up her face as she pressed the notepad to her chest and held her right hand out. “Oh, my God, hi! It’s so great to meet you, Cal talks about you all the time.”

Mali smiled but Calum knew his sister, knew that her smile was both thrilled to meet the girl Calum couldn’t shut up about, and intrigued at Sana’s ease of calling him Cal. Like he knew her, Mali knew her brother, and she knew that nicknames were something Calum was weirdly picky about. So this girl, who Mali only knows through text and FaceTime conversations with her brother, calling him Cal was interesting, to say the least. “Good things, I hope,” Mali smiled, shaking Sana’s hand. “He’s mentioned you quite a bit, too. I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Calum’s smile became slightly strained as he shot his sister a look, which wasn’t missed by Sana as her own gaze flickered over to him. He’s mentioned her to his sister? Sana pushed back the jolt of excitement she felt, all the while Calum felt his skin firing up. Mali really knew how to put him out there, huh?

After the formalities, Sana pointed her pencil at Calum. “Your usual?” she questioned, jotting down the order after Calum nodded, before looking at Mali. “Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu?”

“Mmm,” Mali hummed, looking over the menu quickly before giving a shake of her head. She said her order, finishing off with a smiling “thank you,” before Sana gave them a nod.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” she smiled, taking their menus and leaving.

And as soon as she was gone, Mali slapped her hands on the table top and shot Calum a wide eyed look. “She’s so cute!” she exclaimed as quietly as she could manage, her jaw ajar as she stared at her flushed brother incredulously. “There better be a good reason as to why you haven’t asked her out yet!”

“Relax, will you?” Calum hushed, a bit too paranoid that Sana, or one of the other waitresses, will hear. The bartender wasn’t known for putting his feelings out there so openly, and he wasn’t going to voice them or act on them until he was completely ready. There was also the uneasy knot in his stomach that told him Sana probably didn’t feel that way about him, probably only saw him as a friend and nothing else. Calum was unsure if he was willing to face the rejection, restless yet weirdly content in staying in the safe zone of being friends. “I will when. . . When the time is right.”

Mali snorted, unconvinced as she leaned back in the seat, raising a dubious eyebrow. “When the time is right?” she repeated before rolling her eyes and looking away. “Yeah, alright, little brother. That’s a plan.”

Calum crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his leather jacket stretching a he grunted, near poutily, “Don’t patronize me.”

Before Mali could respond, the amusement still fresh in her eyes, Sana returned with their drinks, putting Calum’s Coke and Mali’s Ginger Ale in front of them. “Your food should be out in a couple of minutes.”

“Thank you,” Mali smiled, hands wrapped around her dewy glass before she tilted her head at Sana. “Hey, if you’re free tonight, a couple of our friends are in this, like, Indie band and have a show tonight at nine. Wanna join?”

If Calum could kick Mali under the table without making it at all obvious, he would. Instead, he was digging his nails into his arms through the leather jacket, clenching his jaw together and hoping his eyes weren’t as wide as they were trying to go as he stared at his sister, incredulity flooding him. Mali made it a point not to look at him, keeping her gaze on Sana, who was blinking in surprise at the sudden invite. Calum loved his sister with every fiber of his being but he was ready to throttle her.

“Oh, um,” Sana sounded, looking unsure as her dark eyed gaze slid over to Calum, who hesitantly returned her stare. She was looking to see if he was okay with her coming, but wasn’t sure what to make of the small smile on his face and a look in his eyes she couldn’t figure out. Looking back at Mali, Sana added, “I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You’re not intruding if you’re invited,” Mali easily responded, quirking her perfectly done eyebrows as she absently twirled her straw in her drink. “We’d love for you to join us. Right, Calum?”

Both women were now staring at him—Mali with an encouraging and expectant raise of her eyebrows and Sana with a look that Calum could describe as. . . Hopeful. Or maybe he was completely reading her wrong. Still, that false sense of hope that she, too, felt the same had Calum clearing his throat lightly as he nodded. “Yeah, yes. We would. I think you’d, uh, have fun.”

Mali bowed her head a bit at Calum’s response, letting her blonde her curtain the right side of her face, shielding herself from Sana as she mockingly mouthed at her brother, “Smooth,” which only brought Calum’s attention to the way he felt the back of his neck heating up. Maybe if he swallowed one of his chunky rings and choked on it he wouldn’t have to sit through this. Calum genuinely felt like he was about to burst into flames for no fucking reason other than the fact that his sister invited the girl he couldn’t keep off his mind to hang out with him tonight.

Which, truthfully, Calum was quite excited for. He loved spending time with Sana. But it also made him feel like a school boy with a crush. It was disheveling.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Calum groaned quietly once Sana left, rubbing his hands down his face before staring at his sister incredulously.

Mali grinned, unapologetic, grasping her straw between her fingers. “Just tryin’ to help my little brother out,” she hummed before taking a sip.

Calum put his hand on the table, leaning forward towards her as he raised his eyebrows pleadingly and whispered, “Stop.”

She leaned forward too, smirking. “Never.”

Somebody Else (Lucky Shot)

It was surprising that the glass that Calum had been cleaning for the past ten minutes hadn’t shattered in his grip. It was more surprising that he hadn’t yet tossed it at the head of the fucker that was currently flirting his ass off with an all too compliant Sana. There was a tight, painful knot in the center of his chest and a bitter taste in the back of his throat that wasn’t due to the shot he took with a group of patrons who asked him to join for a round.

She was smiling. They were sitting at one of the smaller round tables towards the wall opposite of the bar, just the two of them leaning towards each other with their beers on the table and grins on their faces. The bar wasn’t too busy, so Calum unfortunately had an unobstructed view of Sana and whatever the fuck his name was—Mark or Matt or whatever— and his teeth were beginning to ache from the tension in his jaw.

Over two months. That’s how long he’s known Sana, that’s how long he’s quietly harbored his feelings for her without letting her know. He’s thought about her, fantasized about her, written about her, talked about her, dreamt about her—done every fucking thing except tell her. He waited too long, stayed silent for no reason other than stupid hesitation, and now he had to stand behind the counter and watch as some guy she’d met the other day made her smile the way that melted his heart.

“. . . Hello? Excuse me? Hello?”

“So sorry about that!” Luke’s voice pulled Calum out of his reverie, blinking himself back into reality as he watched Luke hastily place a beer in front of the exasperated man sitting at the bar, who’d been trying to get an absent Calum’s attention for the past few minutes. “Cal,” Luke huffed, nudging his friend towards the other end of the bar, watching as Calum ran his ring clad fingers through his hair, head bowing in mild sheepishness. “You can’t let it distract you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Calum glowered quietly, tossing the rag on the shelf under the bar, leaning his lower back against the bar as he crossed his arms over his chest. At least he couldn’t see Sana anymore. But then his nails dug into his arms because he heard her tinkling laugh over the music, and Calum let out a slow breath as his eyes met Luke’s. “The girl you like isn’t sitting in your bar flirting with some prick.”

Luke let out a sigh, scratching at the facial hair on his jaw as the concern flickered across his face. His own fingers itched to run through his hair but it was tied back into a bun, obstructing him from doing so. “Dude, that’s the fourth customer you’ve been too distracted to serve in the past hour,” he finally said, his own tone lowered as he shot a quick glance to where Sana was. “I know it sucks but—”

“But I can’t do anything about it,” Calum ground out through teeth gritted in frustration. It was his own damn fault. With a huff, Calum pushed himself away from the bar and Luke took a step back. “’M steppin’ out for a smoke.”

The bar wasn’t too busy, being a Tuesday night, so Luke could handle it himself for a few minutes. Calum didn’t dare glance Sana’s way as he grabbed his jacket and walked past her table, hands clenching into fists in his pockets as he stepped outside the bar and leaned against the brick wall. The cigarette did little to relax him, the long drag burning him familiarly as he propped the bottom of his right foot against the wall, blowing out the smoke a moment later.

Stupid. He was so fucking stupid for just standing idly by, letting his nerves get the best of him and restrain him from acting upon his feelings. How many times did he spend just admiring Sana whenever they were together, completely taken by her beauty? How many nights did he spend complaining to his friends about how much he liked her and how quickly it all happened? How many beats had his heart skipped every time he saw Sana smile or heard her laugh or listened intently to her speaking her native tongue? How many dreams did his mind attack him with, all filled with Sana and the life he vividly could picture himself having with her?

His chest was being weighed down by self-degradation and pity, hating himself for not listening to his sister and his friends and his own damn heart. Now all he could do was watch as the only girl Calum had so quickly and readily fallen for get swept off her feet by someone that wasn’t him.

It was something short of a tragedy; Calum never allowed himself to be vulnerable for someone else, and the one time he did, he let them slip right through his fingers.

The door to his left swung open while he took another drag, damn near choking on the smoke when Sana stepped onto the sidewalk, her arm looped through the guy she’d been enamored with all night. Her long hair was in her face as she shook it off, the sound of her laughter reaching Calum’s ears until her dark eyes locked with his. “Calum! Hey,” Sana smiled, stepping over to him with the guy still on her arm, easy smiles on both of their faces.

Calum straightened. He wanted to punch the guy’s smile right off, but he wasn’t a violent person. Mostly. There was a pathetic, small burst of satisfaction when Calum noticed he was taller than the man in front of him, as if that made him better than the guy, which it didn’t but whatever. It was difficult to pull back his pettiness. Calum eyed the man, short dark brown hair and blue eyes that seemed dark under the street lamps, before letting his gaze fall on Sana. “Headin’ out already?”

“Yeah,” Sana responded, a hint of apology in her voice. “Mason and I got tickets to see Venom.”

Calum hoped the ingenuine smile he wore didn’t slip off his face at that; he and Sana had been talking about wanting to see that same movie just a few days ago. He’d wanted to watch it with her. Blowing out a cloud of smoke and ignoring the sudden emptiness in his chest, Calum nodded. “You guys have fun, then.”

Mason smiled, oblivious to Calum’s desires of wanting to throw a punch decorated with rings to his face. But Calum’s eyes were on Sana, who offered him one of her pretty, breath stealing smiles as she and Mason began walking past him, and Sana reached out to give Calum’s free hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised, and before Calum could loop his fingers with her and pull her into him the way he so desperately wanted to, she let go and was off, walking down the sidewalk with her arm still looped around Mason’s.

Calum watched them go, throat working roughly to fruitlessly loosen the tightness, feeling that hollowness in his chest grow as he watched the two of them go, the sounds of their laughter floating back. Fuck, he wanted to pull her right to him. Wanted to yell down the sidewalk how he felt about her.

But Sana disappeared around the corner, and Calum dropped his stub of a cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot, retreating to the bar where all he wanted to do was drink his shelves dry rather than serve them.

Collision (Lucky Shot & Paradise)

He’d been cleaning the peanut shells off a table by the window, all of the blinds drawn, after hours when he looked up, catching sight of a frazzled Sana through the doors storming her way across the street from Paradise, right through a practical storm that was currently pouring rain, and right to the door of Lucky Shot. Calum dropped the rag on the chair, eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up at the sight of her as he hastily went to the door and unlocked it. He pulled it open, the rain louder as it sprayed against him, thrown into a bewildered silence as a panting Sana walked in calmly, opposite of how she’d been just a second ago.

Calum shut the door and drew the door’s blinds as well, but his eyes were on the girl that was completely soaked, the yellow diner dress sticking to her body and her ponytail wet, tendrils sticking to the side of her face as she breathed heavily. “Sana. . .”

In the silence of the room, he heard her hissing a rant to herself in words he didn’t understand. “Saala! Uska moun tor doun. Kamini ka batcha. Kon samadjtha hai apne-aap ko?”*

Sana was huffing vehemently, her breaths sharp as the scowl took over her pretty features, hands coming up to rub down at her makeup free face to wipe off the water after she tossed her purse on the bar. Calum cautiously approached her, unsure and worried over what’s gotten her so pissed off to the point where she stormed through a downpour and was now ranting to herself fiercely in Urdu.

“Sana,” he began again, his raspy tone cutting through her quick words. “Doll, are you okay? What’s going on?”

She spun around, wet ponytail whipping about as she finally faced Calum. Her expression was one that could only be described as indignant, eyebrows drawn together over wide eyes and lips curled into a sneer. “He broke up with me!” she exclaimed, her first words in English. Calum’s heart stopped. Sana let out a loud scoff, reaching up to roughly pull out the scrunchie in her hair to let the wet strands fall limply around her shoulders. “That asshole broke up with me before I got the chance to do it myself!”

The fire in her brought Calum right back into reality, though he couldn’t help himself as he gaped at the heated girl in front of him. The selfish part of him was found being thrilled at the knowledge of Sana and Mason, who’d been dating for a little over four months, no longer being together. But just as quickly, Calum pushed that part and the bubble of excitement away and focused on Sana, who was standing in the middle of his bar, drenched.

“I—hold on. I think I’ve got some clothes for you to wear,” Calum said, her strawberry scent that still clung to her over the rain wafting through him as he walked past her and towards the back room. The inventory was there, as well as Calum’s bag of extra clothes. He always kept it after a mishap of a patron throwing up on him a while back. Pulling out the black Playboy button down, Calum pursed his lips when he realized his pants wouldn’t fit her.

“It’s okay,” Sana said after he relayed that to her, her demeanor somewhat calmer as she accepted the shirt and offered a smile. “This looks like it could be a dress on me, anyways.”

Calum nodded, scratching the back of his neck as she went to the bathroom, letting out a breath once he heard the door shut. He then walked behind the bar with a shake of his head. He was glad Mason and Sana broke up—was indignated on behalf of Sana—but also beyond puzzled as to why anyone would break up with someone as fucking wonderful as Sana? How could anyone intentionally let go of someone loved discussing the existence of aliens and ghosts and wanted to try every restaurant in town and was able to read three full novels in less than a day? How did that happen?

He’d been so busy trying to work his mind around Mason’s stupidity while pouring drinks for both himself and Sana that Calum hadn’t heard the bathroom door open, nor hear Sana’s footsteps until she appeared in front of him. It wasn’t until he’d finished pouring the whiskey when he glanced up and caught sight of her, the bottle nearly slipping from his grasp and throat drying as he looked at her.

Sana walked over to the bar, wearing nothing but her shoes and the shirt Calum had offered her. The black button down done up, and while the short sleeves tightly hugged his biceps, they were loose and nearly coming down to her elbows. The shirt had every button done, but the size of it had it hanging on Sana’s body and even with the top button done, it hung low and showed off her collarbones. But her legs. . . Man, her legs were in full view, the hem of the shirt barely grazing her mid thigh, shorter than both of them anticipated.

Calum snapped his gaze away, grabbing onto both glasses and hoping he hadn’t just been caught ogling at his friend’s legs as he slid one glass across the counter. “Drink?” He offered a small smile, brown eyes meeting grateful brown. “It’s on the house.”

Her shoulders sank slightly, a breathless smile quirking at her lips as she grabbed the glass. “Ugh, you’re my jaan.” Her smile widened at Calum’s eyebrow rising. “My life,” Sana translated, oblivious to how those two words hitched Calum’s breath in his throat. She picked up the glass. “I adore you. Cheers!”

Sana clinked her glass with Calum’s and took a sip, while he needed a moment to pathetically recover from Sana’s words. She was just being friendly, treating him like she always did, but she never failed to make Calum’s heart stop. Worst part was, she didn’t even realize the effect she had on him.

Quickly taking a sip of the drink, Calum licked his lips as Sana moved her wet hair behind her shoulders. “So, uh, what happened with you and Mason?”

Sana grunted with a roll of her eyes, folding her arms on top of the bar as she looked at Calum. The neon lights in the bar were still on, and the dampness on her skin gave Sana an even more ethereal, glowing effect than usual. Calum felt his knees weaken. “He’s just been acting like a dick lately. Got all possessive and kept texting me about my whereabouts. Kept getting pissed off at the stupidest things. Total red flags.” Sana huffed and pursed her lips. “Can’t believe he ended the relationship before I even could. Saala.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl, lips turning downwards at Sana’s words. She deserved someone better than that, and even if she was annoyed that she didn’t get to be the one to end things, Calum was still glad they were done. Surprising, though, since Mason was getting possessive yet was still the one to end things. “Well,” Calum took a breath, picking up his glass once more. “At least you got out of that kind of relationship.” Then, after a pause, asked, “What’d you say at the end? Was that some curse?”

Sana let out a chuckle. “Yeah. Saala. Means, like, bastard.”

Calum snickered, raising his glass. “Here’s to breaking up with a saala.”

Her grin widened, showing off her love of Calum saying terms in her language as he took a sip, eyes on the rings decorating his fingers. As he took a sip, Sana hummed, “He really was a bastard. Should’ve known, since my parents weren’t too fond of him. Though, I think that has more to do with the fact that he was white. Reminded them of Wonder Bread.”

At that, Calum found himself snorting into his glass, coughing as he unexpectedly choked on the drink. He closed his eyes, coughing into his elbow as he tried to catch his breath, missing the way Sana shot up and leaned across the counter, rubbing his back. “Holy shit,” Calum coughed out, his body relaxing as an amused grin took over his face. He turned back to look at Sana, who was staring at him with wide eyes and tensed shoulders, alarmed from his sudden coughing attack. “Wonder Bread?”

“Y-Yeah,” Sana stammered out, still trying to recover from Calum’s cough before her own shoulders relaxed, though she remained standing. “I mean, they’re not racist or prejudiced or anything. My brother-in-law is white,” she reminded Calum with a light laugh. “Mason was just. . . Unnaturally pale.”

Calum shook his head, wiping a hand over his mouth as he smirked amusedly at Sana. “You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“Hey, hey,” Sana protested with a pout, the action instantly drawing Calum’s gaze to her lips. Were they as soft as they looked? “I can’t help but make stupid decisions about one situation when another situation makes me feel like a pitiful coward.”

Calum took a sip of his drink, drawn together eyebrows raising as he peered at her over the rim of the glass. “What’re you on about?” he asked with a confused chuckle. “Why’re you a coward?”

Sana was silent. The rain kept pouring outside, could be heard pelting against the windows relentlessly. Calum’s gaze were fixed on her, how the protesting pout transformed into a stubborn one as she looked away from him, arms crossed over her chest, and Calum was left wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. “I’m a coward,” she began after taking in a deep breath, gaze still averted, “because I gave my time to the first guy who showed an interest in me instead of asking out the one guy who I couldn’t keep off my mind.” Her dark eyes suddenly clashed with Calum’s, and the smirk was wiped off his face at the sight of her knowing look, at the fire in her eyes.

An exasperated huff escaped Sana as she pushed away from the bar, meandering over to where the pool tables were. She didn’t bother to look back at Calum, instead kept walking, as he heard her say, “I figured you gave free drinks to all of your friends every now and then, but honestly, Calum—” Sana paused, bringing herself to sit on the edge of one of the tables, her legs on display and a wistful smile on her face as she looked at where he stood frozen behind the bar. “—I just felt like I was getting mixed signals. Was I wrong to assume you liked me?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How the hell did she do that? What the fuck was going on? She knew. She was completely aware of his feelings for her, and Calum had no idea how to react. Even more so at the knowledge that she felt the same way. Fucking hell.

Calum’s heart was pounding, but he was going to try his damndest not to let it show. Especially with Sana sitting there, legs on display and wearing nothing but his shirt and whatever she’s got on underneath, looking completely at ease. “Like,” he found himself smoothly correcting, his steady voice a contradiction to how he felt, as he walked from around the bar and made his way over to her. “There’s no past tense in this situation, sweetheart.”

He was in front of her now, effortlessly nudging his way between her parted legs, her—his—shirt bunching at her hips and exposing more of her inviting legs. And while Calum was trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was happening, that he could feel the warmth of her skin and smell her fruity scent and was so close, Sana was peering up at him with a curious, analyzing look on her face. Like she was trying to figure out if they were on the same page—like she was confirming that they, in fact, were. Calum couldn’t seem to look away from her dark eyes, glittering with the neon colors.

And then, apparently finding what she’d been looking for, Calum watched as Sana’s shoulders sank in relief and a smile spread across her lips. The only warning she gave him with a breathy, “Thank God,” before her hands were on the back of his neck and she was pulling him in for a kiss.

Their eyes shut at the touch of lips, missing the flash of lightning that went off out in the world they’d abandoned, wanting to do nothing but get lose in each other as their lips moved heatedly. Calum’s hands were on her thighs, rings cold against her smooth skin as he pulled her close and felt her fingers thread through his curls. His heart had never beat so fast, feeling it thudding against his chest as his tongue trailed the seam of Sana’s lips, which parted instantly to let his tongue meet hers eagerly.

Fuck, it felt better than Calum could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were soft and she tasted like the whiskey they’d both drank, a soft groan sounding at the back of Calum’s throat when he felt Sana tug pleasurably at his hair. He was in heaven, Calum was sure of it. Nothing had ever felt as good as Sana’s lips against his, sucking and biting and doing all the right things. His hands were squeezing her thighs, rings digging gloriously into her skin, and Calum caught Sana’s lower lip between his teeth as she let out a soft moan that was music to his fucking ears.

He kissed her again, unable to get enough of her lips, over the moon that he was finally able to do this and blissed that it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. Meanwhile, Sana’s hands had traveled down and fingers gripped the hem of his Sensation T-shirt, pulling it all the way up until they had to momentarily break their kiss for Calum to pull it over his head. As soon as it was gone, Sana’s lips were working their way down his jaw and to his neck, sucking, licking, and biting the warm skin.

Her right hand slid up his arm and to the back of his neck, tangling her finger in his hair as she expertly left a mark, and Calum’s eyes shut at the feel of her sinful mouth on his skin. Fuck, she was already driving him crazy.

While she did that, Calum’s hands began undoing the buttons on the shirt she wore, not even having to look as he did so until the shirt fell open and Calum was pushing it off Sana’s shoulders. She was still happily leaving her marks on him, though dropped her arm so Calum could completely take off the shirt and toss it somewhere on the floor, his own heart dropping when his hands brushed the underside of her bare breasts.

Sana smirked despite the chill she felt when her damp hair stuck to her back, especially when he groaned, hands sliding up to completely cup her flesh as she nipped at his ear. “Oops. Don’t like wearing a soaked bra.”

Calum chuckled breathlessly, the sound deep and raspy in the quiet of the bar, smirking as well when his forefinger and thumb teased her nipple and Sana gasped slightly against his skin. “Still got your underwear on, though,” he pointed out in amusement.

She pulled back, satisfied with the few marks she left on his pretty skin, admiring his own bare chest and tattoos on full display with hooded eyes. Sana pulled her lower lip into her mouth after licking it, inhaling sharply as Calum’s one hand had its way with her breast and the other teased the strap of her underwear, her own hands traveling down to begin working at his pants. “Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

Her eyes went to Calum’s lips, pinker and fuller from kissing her, fueling her desire to kiss him again, as Calum huffed lightly when she undid his belt and got rid of it, undoing the buttons and zip of his pants before sliding them down after he pulled out a little packet from a pocket. “Nothin’ ’bout this has been easy, jaani,” Calum rasped, his voice and use of the term of endearment making Sana’s heart skip a beat. She’d taught him how to say love as a pet name a while back, and he often called her that. It always made her heart swell. He was naked now, completely bare and all for her, and Sana felt her throat tighten wonderfully at the sight of him. Utterly beautiful, just like she imagined, just like she knew. It wasn’t surprising how gorgeous he was in every single aspect. Then Calum stepped closer to her, his fingers hooking into her underwear as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers, hoarsely confessing, “You’ve no idea how painful it was to watch you want someone else.”

His piney, familiar scent clung to him and enveloped Sana, tilting her head into him more, breathing heavy as Calum’s eyes closed and his fingers pulled her underwear off before stepping back between her legs. But Sana felt a tug at her heart at his words, hands cupping his cheeks and feeling the slight stubble tickle her palms as she murmured, “Don’t want anyone else. Want you. Please.”

The amount of nights Calum yearned for Sana to say that, dreamt of it, could never live up to the moment those words actually fell from her kissed lips.

They had waited too long, wasted too many months being cowardly and dumb and holding themselves back to drag this out too much. There would be time for that later, they knew. For now, their hearts were soaring and breaths were heavy as Calum slid on the condom before his lips met Sana’s once more, swallowing each other’s blissed moans when he buried himself inside her.

He gave her a moment to adjust, despite the animalistic desire of moving, but Sana was quick to nod her approval, and Calum didn’t waste a second in pulling out before thrusting, picking up a steady rhythm as his lips captured Sana’s once more. His hands were on her hips, fingers digging into her skin as Sana’s hands gripped his biceps and Calum reveled in her nails leaving crescent shapes. The sound of the rain was drowned out by Sana’s encouraging moans, his name soft gasps against his lips and Calum fucking loved this. He loved this closeness, this intimacy, and he loved it with Sana. His skin felt like it was on fire, his mind hazy with lust and desire and yearning for only her, finally living out what he’d been wanting to do with her for so long. He couldn’t wait to do so much more.

“Oh, my—fuck, Calum,” Sana whimpered, her lower lip grazing his upper one as they clung to each other. Her eyes screwed shut, feeling the familiar knot form and head beginning to dizzy with the impending wave of pleasure about to hit her. “Cal, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, doll,” Calum grunted, feeling his own release build up with every stroke of his cock within her walls, snug and wonderful and hugging him just right. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath heavy and eyes meeting her pretty brown ones. “Let go for me, yeah? Cum for me, baby.”

She saw stars as her orgasm washed over her with a moan that had Calum following her lead right away, his forehead dropping to the crook of her neck as his thrusts grew sloppy and he let go as well. They rode out their highs, Sana’s head tilting back and Calum’s arms wrapping around her waist to keep her close and upright. Their bodies were fired up, the sounds of their breaths echoing in the room over the rain, and Sana’s hands left Calum’s biceps so her arms could loosely hang around his neck.

They both needed a moment after he pulled out; both needed to recover from the crashing waves of oragasm and settle their spinning mind and catch their breaths. But they were still so full of each other, wanted to hold on to the other for as long as they could, wanted the other’s scent to cling to them like a second skin. Months of feelings of heavy adoration—maybe something more?— thought to be unrequited finally bubbling to the surface with wonderful results, enough to bring lazy, post-sex grins on their faces. Sana could feel Calum’s against her hot skin.

“Glad I could properly christen this pool table with you,” Calum murmured against her, letting out a laugh when Sana lightly slapped his shoulder. He kissed the spot on her skin where his lips were before pulling back, peering down at her with glimmering eyes and messy curls and kiss swollen lips. Calum kissed the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t dream of doin’ it with anyone else.”

Sana rolled her dark eyes, but the smile on her face she couldn’t seem to keep off was everything. Calum gazed at her, took in the way the colors of the light splashed against her skin, how her lips looked just as kissed as he knew his probably did. He smiled, soft and fond, as their arms dropped from around each other and he bent down and offered her the shirt she’d been wearing. She returned the smile as she pulled it on and Calum got rid of the condom, pulling on his boxers and shirt.

Noticing that she was still sitting on the pool table, buttoning up the shirt, Calum swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat out of nowhere, stepping in front of her again. Sana looked up at him as his towering height took her over, letting her hands grip the edges of the pool table once she was done with the buttons as she smiled at the sight of the bartender. But then she saw the hesitant look on his face, the ghost of a nervous smile tilting at his lips as his hand came up to push back a damp lock of her hair behind her ear.

He was thinking about something, Sana could tell, getting lost in his thoughts and the repercussions for saying whatever it is he was obviously yearning to say. “What, Cal?” her soft voice asked, her hands gripping his sides through the material of his shirt. “Say whatever’s on your mind.”

Calum’s eyes, brown and wonderful and Sana’s favorite, were on her face as his knuckles lightly grazed her cheek. “Kind of afraid ’m gonna scare you off if I do.”

She gave him a squeeze. “Not happening,” she assured confidently because, honestly, nothing he could say would send her running. Not after finally finding out he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. For months. “Tell me.”

Silence, save for a small crack of thunder, but Calum’s heart was pounding in his ears. Could he say it? Was it appropriate? Fuck—he knew he felt this way for a while, knew these feelings weren’t going away any time soon because every time he had caught sight of Sana, Calum felt everything within him soaring before free falling. Everything about her was gorgeous, perfect, wonderful. How could he not fall for her as quickly, wildly, fiercely as he did?

He looked into her eyes, brown meeting brown, and the words slipped out. “I love you.” Those same pretty eyes widened, and suddenly Calum was ranting. “And I don’t—this isn’t just me saying it because we just slept together. I’ve been feelin’ like this for a while and I wanted to say it for so long but it just—you were in a relationship and I wasn’t goin’ to ruin that and I was bein’ a coward so—”

Her lips cut him off, and Calum was instantly melting into her touch as he kissed her back, soothed in her thumbs softly rubbing at his cheeks as they kissed. His frantic mind settled for a moment, letting Sana calm him down after making a confession he hadn’t expected to make tonight, slowing down his rapidly beating heart. Calum was sure it would jump out of his chest. He can’t believe he did that. He can’t believe he just told Sana he loves her. It was out there now, out in the open and for her to accept or reject it as she pleased. And when they pulled away, his anxieties were working hard to creep back in, until he saw the smile on Sana’s face and the way her eyes appeared glassy.

“Been waiting months for you to say that,” Sana finally spoke, her voice a shaky whisper as she blinked back the tears and smiled up at him. Oh, God, Calum’s knees were going to give out. She let out a giggle, soft and delicate with a shake of her head. “God, I don’t even wanna think about all the time we wasted because—” Her grin widened, using her hands on his face to pull him closer, “—I love you too, jaan.”

The air rushed out of Calum’s lungs, his eyes widening as those five words fell from Sana’s lips and landed right on his heart. An incredulous, elated and breathless smile took over Calum’s face with a quick expel of a breath, widening only when Sana’s smile took over her face and became a personification of the utter happiness lighting her up. It was a beautiful sight. She was a gorgeous view.

He kissed her again, pouring out all of the emotions he’d been holding for the past few months, hoping to convey the love he’s had for her and prepared to show it for however long she’ll allow him to. This kind of paradise. . . It was incomparable.

How lucky was Calum that the shot he finally made was the one that counted?

*Translation of “Saala! Uska moun tor doun. Kamini ka batcha. Kon samadjtha hai apne-aap ko?” -- “Bastard! I should break his face. Son of a bitch. Who does he think he is?”

tags: @irwinkitten @cals-babylons @angelbbycal @calumh-excess @softforcal @plainwhiteluke @astroashtonio @caelumhood @hearts-to-the-sky @ghostofhood @lovelettercalum @checkeredcalum @softboycal @asht0ns-world @gigglyirwin @dancingonanemptywallet @5secondssofssummer @meetashthere @roselukes @captain-what-is-going-on @wrappedaroundcal @kinglycalum @ghostofch @ohhmuke @calumhampton @slimthicccal @hotmessmichael @valentinelrh @dxmncalum @bitchinbabylon @antisocialbandmate @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @invisiblexcth @mermaid-merrick @cliffordcntrl @inlovehoodx @hemmomfg @theagenderwhocriedwolf @cathartichaoss @fucking5sos @xhaileyreneex @lipstickstainfading @cosmixcalum @clum-thomas @poppedpins @romanticalumhood @egyptiangoldhood @cal-pal-cuddles @mysteriouslycali @biggestslutforcalum @soulmatecashton @calistheloml @calumamongmen @babygirlcashton

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nightofnyx8 · 5 years

Text

I’d Still Choose You (Part 2)

Well, in honor of the new Titans trailer coming out today, I finally added another part to this story. And remember how I said the first part was going to be the longest? Well, I lied. Also, I’m not sure if this will have just three parts, or four. Sometimes when I write the story takes a life of its own! But here you, Part 2! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

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

The perks of being the adopted son of a billionaire? You could get whatever kind of international coffee you wanted, as long as it was 99% caffeine.

As much as Dick appreciated Rachel's herbal tea, he had been asking for Arabic black coffee every time he came over to Wayne Manor. Alfred would usually protest against this, but lately he only had to look at the dark circles under Dick's eyes to know it was probably for the better.

"Master Dick, you are sleeping, are you not?"

Dick drunk deeply from the steaming hot mug. "Yes. Maybe just, not the amount of hours I'd prefer."

Alfred sighed as he took back the cup. "I do worry, that is all."

"I'll be alright, Alfred."

The older gentlemen gave him a pointed look until he finally relented to the question in Dick's eyes.

"Miss Kory is already waiting for you out in the gardens."

"Thanks Alfred."

Dick had been coming out to Wayne Manor every day for the past two weeks. He spent most of his time with Kory, taking her on walks to get her out of the house while simultaneously answering all of her many questions. This morning was no exception, as an hour later they found themselves strolling along the harbor in the brisk autumn wind. Today's topic was none other than Batman himself, as Kory had seen Bruce leave the manor many times in the later hours of the evening.

"So…the Batman is Bruce Wayne." She stated emphatically.

"Yes."

"And you also participate in the saving of others in a costume and mask."

"Yup."

"And…I do this as well?"

Dick laughed. "Yes, you too. Let's just say that Earth has…problems. And when there's bad people who are too big for the law, that's where we come in."

"So, we are as a league of protection?"

"Something like that."

Kory smiled and shook her head. "What a strange life."

She leaned over the edge of the dock railing to see the ocean better, letting Dick rest his head on her shoulder. She seemed to be becoming more comfortable with Dick's presence these days. To the very least, she had gotten used to the idea that she was special to him.

Dick closed his eyes, enjoying her silent company before finally summoning up the courage to ask her the question that had been on his mind all morning.

"Kory?"

"Yes?"

"How would you feel if we um, stayed out a little later tonight? You and me?"

She gazed curiously at him. "What are you implying?"

"I would like to take you on a date."

"A date?" She questioned skeptically.

"Yes. Would you, Princess Koriand'r, do me the honor of accompanying me this evening?"

Kory sighed and bowed her head, staring at the rotting wood below them. Dick knew she was still wary of the fact that she was married to a man she didn't know anymore. After all, who wouldn't be in her situation? Maybe he was moving too fast, and maybe he should have been backing off right now.

But every moment he wasn't with her, he felt something ache terribly inside of him. He missed her laugh, the way her face lit up when she saw him. He missed her gentle kisses and tight embraces, and just how free she made him feel.

You don't just give that up.

Kory had resolved to playing with the tips of her hair. "I don't know, Dick."

"Come on, Kory. Just to get out and have a little fun."

She glanced over at him suspiciously. "Fun?'

Dick put up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise I'll be a good boy and behave. I'll even get you home before midnight so Alfred doesn't ground you and come after me with a shotgun."

She laughed. "That is not why, I promise. It is only that…"

She trailed off, her unspoken words building up under her pained expression—an expression that Dick recognized. The very same one she wore in that cave long ago, when she had asked him how she was to know how he felt about her. Obviously, she didn't remember that conversation. But he did.

"Hey." He took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. "I know this is hard. But you've always taught me it's okay to take some chances, even if we might get hurt along the way."

"I did?"

"The Kory I knew was never one to be hesitant." He said reassuringly. "Maybe, maybe it'll help your memory a bit. But for tonight, let's just try to get to know one another again."

She smiled softly at him, the sunlight shimmering off the curls of her hair. "Alright, Dick. I can take a chance."

"That's my girl."

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

He drove up to the entrance of Wayne Manor around eight. (How ironic it was to be picking up his own wife for a date from the very house he grew up in). He tugged restlessly at the open collar of his leather windbreaker. Why was he so nervous?

But all of that melted away when he was greeted with the sight of his wife as she opened the door. He had brought over a bag of her clothes a few days ago, along with some other personal belongings she might have needed. For tonight she had opted for a simple white blouse with jeans, her long red hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"You look beautiful." He said simply.

A red tinge appeared on her cheeks, and she looked down with a small smile.

"Thank you. You, um, you too."

"You trying to tell me I look beautiful?"

She looked up mortified and started to protest, but Dick just laughed and took her hand.

"Come on,"

"Where are we going?

"You'll see."

He led her down the driveway, revealing a sleek, blue motorcycle parked near the edge. He positioned himself in the seat and looked to see Kory standing awkwardly near the side.

"Well, jump on." He chimed.

"Is it safe?"

He laughed again, extending his arm towards her. "Quite."

She climbed onto the back cautiously, wrapping her arms around his waist for support.

"Hold on tight."

"Do I have a choice?" She managed to squeak out before he hit the accelerator to maximum speed.

Gotham was an excellent place to ride a motorcycle. Dick rounded the corners quickly, weaving effortlessly between the crawling traffic. He really didn't need to take the long way there, but he loved hearing her small gasps of surprise whenever they took a sharp turn. She laughed with delight as they sped alongside the water, bringing a smile to his face.

At last they stopped along the edge of the pier, the water reflecting the Ferris wheel lights along the surface.

"Where are we?"

"See for yourself." He replied, helping her off the motorcycle.

She looked around, the carnival buzzing with activity. Children chased each other with neon glowsticks while booth keepers encouraged loudly for families to try their luck at the games. The air smelled of buttered popcorn and smoky ash as colorful fireworks burst into the air above them.

Kory turned to smile at him, but instead found him offering her a cone of bright pink cotton candy. She took a bite cautiously, letting out a small laugh as she savored the taste.

"It's wonderful!"

Dick grinned. "Come on, I want to show you something."

It took a little bit of convincing, but he finally got her to join him on the old, rickety booth that glided slowly upward until they reached the top of the Ferris wheel. They had a perfect view of Gotham City, the skylights gleaming in the distance. Kory leaned forward and stared curiously at the scene in front of them.

Dick, meanwhile, had stretched out his arms behind him. "You loved being here." He said casually. "I'd always take you here every time the carnival came into town."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It was at a carnival like this one where we actually talked to each other for the first time."

He gazed off into the distance, lost in the memory until he heard Kory clear her throat tentatively.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked with a nervous timbre.

He looked back at her. "Yeah, anything."

She took a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek. "How did we meet?"

"Oh." Dick leaned forward in the booth and tried to think. Where to begin? "Well, when the Gordanians took you from Tameran, eventually you escaped, and the first planet you came to was Earth."

He looked over at her. She was listening silently, staring intently at him.

"And then well, the Gordanians started attacking Earth since they were looking for you, and you kind of ran into us."

"Us?"

"The Titans. You remember Rachel and Garfield from the manor, right? They were in Jump City as well. And there was also Victor, you know, that cyborg who visited you last week and brought you that music box."

"Ah, yes." She mused, as if recalling the soft Tamaranean lullaby Victor had installed within the trinket.

"Well, you ran into us, since you were um, destroying the city. But we finally got you to talk to us and I uh…introduced you to the language."

He glanced over at her to see if she reacted. She said nothing, so he continued.

"You became part of the team, and you and I got closer over time."

"Closer." She repeated carefully.

"Mmm, I would say it took me forever at least. Not that great at talking about how I feel. But, one thing led to another, and after a few bumps in the road, we finally got married."

Of course, there was a lot more than that to the story. Different teams, different costumes, and even different planets accompanied a tale of two lovers who seemed to take forever to make up their minds about each other. There were so many midnight flights and dancing on rooftops that made him fall deeper in love with her every time. And obviously, there had been fights and misunderstandings as well. His stubborn and secluded disposition would ignite her fiery temper and their fights only ended much later when he played the piano to call her down the stairs, the notes speaking the apology much better than his own words (well, that and the kisses that always came after). How could you possibly "sum up" a relationship that had extended over ten years?

Kory seemed to have closed up all her words, and Dick allowed a comfortable silence fall over them as they sat there, watching the fireworks bloom above them in red and gold sparks. He placed his hand over hers on the wooden bench between them, and she allowed it to stay there. Small victories.

"How would you feel if I took you out again next Friday?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"You mean, on another date?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "I mean, still lots to learn about this Boy Wonder, right?"

She pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. She considered the idea for a minute before finally relenting.

"Alright. As long as you buy more of the vanishing cloud candy."

Small victories indeed.

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

Kory was already regretting her decision. She couldn't believe Dick had talked her into this. Gear up in her Tamaranean attire, sure; shoot some starbolts, why not? But to take down criminals as part of Bludhaven's vigilante superhero team? What had she gotten herself into?

"I am not certain that I am exactly comfortable with this." She stated, picking nervously at the hem of her skirt.

Dick shot her a sideways smile. She had not anticipated his uniform in the slightest when he had emerged on the roof half an hour earlier. He was clad in a jet-black bodysuit that made him almost as black as the night itself. Electric blue stripes cut through his chest and down to his fingertips, the color matching the dangerous electricity that sparked from two iron sticks sheathed onto his back. "Come on, Kory. You do this all the time with me."

"Do I?" Kory looked over the skyline, letting the cool night air tingle her bare arms. It wasn't fear that rushed through her veins. No, she was used to defending her planet from unwanted invaders. But this was something different altogether. She felt her emotions swirl inside of her. Uncertainty, restlessness, and…excitement? Her heart raced with anticipation and her body tensed, as though jumping off a twenty-story building was just a normal, nightly routine.

She caught Dick watching her carefully. His blue eyes were now hidden by the inky mask he had donned, making him look more sinister as he turned up the corners of his lips.

"You look…different in a mask." She decided.

"Well I certainly hope so. Kind of the point of a secret identity."

Right. No one else knew Nightwing was really Dick Grayson, just as no one else knew that Starfire, the name she was apparently known by on Earth, was really Kory Anders (her other, other name). She shook her head in disbelief. Starfire, Kory Anders, Koriand'r: no one wonder she ended up with a headache whenever she tried to remember her past. She couldn't even get her own name right.

Dick was filling in Rachel and Garfield (sorry, Raven and Beast Boy) on the patrol positions. Both had volunteered to help look after Bludhaven for a little while, as recent events had somewhat interrupted Nightwing's usual routine.

"Alright, the night's not getting any younger. Raven, stake out on the right side of 8th Avenue with Beast Boy. Two weeks without any supervision and this city is making Gotham's criminals look like harmless angels."

Beast Boy spoke up. "Does that mean Joker's been demoted? Because I think Batman's out of a job then."

Dick scowled. "Just get the job done. And no arcade stops this time."

Beast Boy stuck out his tongue. "Killjoy." But he complied with Raven's huffs of exasperation and transformed into a crow before they both sailed out into the city.

Dick turned to Kory. "Starfire, you and I will take the left flank of the city. We'll set up watch from the news tower until trouble arrives."

She nodded, resisting the urge to bolt right past him and straight back to Wayne Manor.

He must have noticed her hesitation, because he took her hand and squeezed it with assurance. "Don't worry. Just be yourself. You're a natural at this, I promise."

She smiled slightly and allowed him to lead her towards the edge of the building. Dick prepared to release what looked like some sort of zip line when he stopped, receiving a line of communication in his earpiece.

He looked annoyed as he answered. The words he chose were not exactly kind, so Kory assumed he was talking to Bruce. After a few minutes of banter, he looked towards her and gestured towards the tower. His message was clear: I'll meet you there.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. At least flying was nothing new to her.

One. Two. Three.

Kory took off into the night sky, letting go of all the fear and confusion that had built up from the past two weeks. The wind rushed through her hair as it billowed all around her. Climbing higher and higher into the sky, she laughed in delight. Oh, how she had missed this! Allowing herself to fall for a few moments, she closed her eyes and let time stop, pure happiness welling up inside her like a balloon. Glowing, bursting happiness! Moments before reaching the roof of a particular tall hotel, she stopped and landed gently.

She had overstepped their meeting place. The broadcasting tower stood tall and dark in the distance. She prepared herself to launch again when she caught sight of the night sky above her.

The void was inky black, glittering with thousands of twinkling stars. Her Tamaran was up there somewhere, and oh how she longed to see it again.

"Enjoying the view, are we?"

She jumped, turning to see the owner of the voice, but saw nothing.

"Nightwing?"

The voice laughed, sending chills up Kory's spine. The voice was smooth, like velvet, but held a sinister tone as though it were enjoying watching something die slowly.

"Who are you?"

"Really my dear, I would have thought that by now we would have known each other quite well."

Realizing too late, a bulging figure materialized behind her, holding her in an iron grip. Fear clenched her heart, her strength leaving her in a moment of weakness.

"Let-let me go!"

"Oh dear, you're trembling." She flinched as he crooned in her ear. "Not too good for you. Fear and confusion do tend to block certain abilities of yours, now don't they? But there's no need to be quite so scared, Starfire. I come only with a message."

She tried to gain control of her pounding heartbeat. "W-what do you want?"

"You seem to be having some memory issues. I can help you with that."

"And why would I need anything from you?" She protested defiantly. "My friends are already helping me."

"Are they your friends, my darling? How do you know you can trust them? After all, you don't remember them anymore better than you remember me."

"You don't know anything about me."

She recoiled to the sound of his ragged laugh. "I know all that I need to, sweetheart. As for your friends, do you really think they're all so innocent, so good? Even after all this time, you're still so incredibly naïve."

"You're wrong!" A hot pull burned at the pit of her stomach as her alien strength returned. She wrenched herself out of his grip and charged a starbolt to face the monster before her.

The greenish glow of her energy orb revealed a man who stood over six feet tall, his whole body clad in heavy armor. The white eye slit in his orange and black mask was the only opening, giving off a cruel aura in every way imaginable.

But the figure only laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of fighting you alone, Princess. But my offer still stands. And if you ever want to have your memories back, you will meet me here in one month, the exact same time."

"Never!"

"Well then, I suggest you get used to being entirely, hopelessly clueless for the rest of your life."

"SLADE!" A defiant voice yelled. Both turned to see Nightwing standing on top of the water tower, his iron pipes charged to the maximum. Raven and Beast Boy flanked his sides, both tensed and ready to attack. Kory had never seen Dick look so angry.

"Leave her alone!"

"Oh my, such an improper greeting. I would have thought, old friend, that you would have had better manners by now."

"I said, leave her alone!"

"Relax, Robin." He said calmly as Nightwing flinched. "We were just saying hello, weren't we, my dear?"

Kory said nothing, her starbolt still crackling in the night air.

She couldn't see his face, but she could have sworn she saw him grin under the mask.

"Well, until later, dear Princess." He said as he disappeared into the darkness, but she thought she could still feel his eerie presence watching her every move.

Nightwing jumped down from the water tower and took her gently by the shoulders. "Kory, are you okay?" He brushed her hair out of her eyes, taking her face in his hands.

Kory nodded. "I am unharmed."

"Did he say anything to you?"

You think they're all so innocent, so good? How can you possibly trust them?

"No." she replied shakily. "Just…introducing himself."

Dick cursed under his breath. "Come on, let's get you back to Wayne Manor." He was breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he sheathed his escrima sticks. Raven and Beast Boy didn't look any less relaxed.

"Dick?" She stated tentatively.

"What is it?"

"Who was that?"

He stared straight at her, his mask hiding whatever emotion he conveyed in his eyes. For a moment, they stood there in silence, letting the night air suffocate the distance between them before an answer finally detached from his lips.

"No one, Star. No one you need to remember."

#dickkory #robstar #fanfiction #writing #teentitans #dickgrayson #koriandr #nightwing #kory anders #starfire #enjoy!

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littlemisskookie · 5 years

Text

coraline au sneak peak/intro so far

For some reason you expected it to be more colorful.

Typically when someone thinks back to their childhood home and summer memories, they think back the lush green of the trees and the wide expanses of grass and yard. Perhaps blue skies and scraped knees, with a golden sun overhead to burn skin and give tans. Maybe the flush of cool water against one's skin, and friends whose little arms would wrap around you in a tight hug.

Well, that's what you supposed most would think of, anyway. You really couldn't say, truth be told because you had no recollection.

As in, no recollection whatsoever.

An incident had apparently happened when you were eleven years old, at this very place. It was your childhood home, but you were spared most of the details. After the incident, your grandparents who you lived with decided a change of scenery would benefit you, and you were unable to recall the memories you had before middle school.

You'd remember small things, but none of it really seemed real. It was more like a dream, some of it bizarre and outlandish. A small door and a winding tunnel, as well as neon bugs and mischevious mice. Some nights, until about a year after the incident, you'd wake up screaming about your eyes.

Neither you nor your grandparents could decipher what it really meant.

There was one thing you were positive was real though. Two boys. One you weren't able to really make out, but the other had a face as clear as day. A bright smile and long eyes, with big cheeks that looked ready to pinch.

You wondered if you'd see that boy again.

Your grandparents had decided to move back to the home after all of these years. You were being transferred to another school, and you'd be away for a while. The two felt nostalgic about the place since it was originally where they had raised your mother before she died, and wished to return. You insisted upon helping them settle in during the summer before you go away yourself, admittedly curious about it. They were worried- about bad memories returning after all these years or other things, you weren't quite sure. Nevertheless, you had pestered them into letting you stay with them for one last summer before leaving.

The town was a lot more grey than you would've guessed. A bleak sky with a dreary yet humid atmosphere, lightly sprinkling enough for your skin to feel dewy, but not enough for the need to go inside. The ground was muddy as you stepped out of the car, taking a long look at the house you had grown up in.

It was a large suburban home that was divided into four apartments, all of the neighbors staying there even after your departure, apparently. The landowner immediately let your family move in, perhaps for nostalgia's sake or for the need of money.

Sweeping a hand through your blue-dyed hair and tugging your yellow raincoat closer, you marched up to the house, noticing how run down and old it was. The paint was faded and chipped, and each step you took creaked.

"Y/N! Don't run off too far!" your grandmother called, paranoid as always.

You ignored her, giddy as you clutched on tightly to the key in hand, jamming it into the front door and entering the premises.

Nothing.

You felt deflated.

It was standard, some old furniture still there, and dusty as hell. You didn't know what you expected. Why did you get your hopes up?

The whole reason you had brought yourself here was to try to recover your memories.

You had all summer for that, though. Surely something would come up to bring back the rush of memories.

You ventured through, noting leaks and mouse traps that had yet to go off. Walking up the stairs, you continued to look for something of interest, only to stumble across your old room. The landowner was right- it really hadn't been touched since your family moved away.

The room was set up for a young girl, with faded pink walls and a bedspread of butterflies. You stared around, racking your brain for any sense of familiarity, only to find none. It felt as though you were in a stranger's room, but you knew it was yours. Your grandma had some pictures of you in your room back when you had stolen one of her polaroids, and you were sure if you'd look at them in comparison, the room would be a match.

You squinted your eyes, however, seeing something that seemed out of place. A tiny door, no taller than your knee. You kneeled down, finger tracing along the outline of it, ripped wallpaper being hastily taped up with duct tape that was already beginning to fall off.

This... This seemed familiar.

Your heart palpitates, realizing it looked awfully like the door in one of your many dreams.

It couldn't be real.

Ripping off the tape, you try to pry the door open, only to find it locked. You grit your teeth, looking around the room for a key. You looked beneath the bed, behind the dressers, everyone until you finally found it beneath some cobwebs. Blowing the dust off, you jam it into the lock, twisting the key to pry the door open only to find... brick.

Disappointed, you return to the car, your grandfather calling for you. A tall, strange figure stood before both of them, a mop of dark hair on top. You furrow your brows, looking at the man in question.

His skin was golden, making him glow and illuminate the grey clouds in the background. He was stunningly handsome, and you felt your breath hitch as you stared at him, finding your mouth dry.

"Y/N, this is your childhood best friend, Kim Taehyung. He's the son of the landowner, and he's graciously offered to help us move in!" Your grandmother beamed at the man, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "My, how you've grown! I remember back when you were no bigger than my knee, you were such a cute kid. Now you're a handsome young man! You know, Y/N's single right now, and with the history between the two of you-"

"That's enough, Grandma, I'm sure he's got another girl," you hastily interrupt, feeling your cheeks flush. You hold your hand out, smiling at Taehyung, internally praying that your hands weren't sweaty. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you."

He glared down at your hand before giving you a confused look. "Why're you introducing yourself? We've known each other since diapers."

You feel your face go beet red, and you fume with anger immediately. That was just plain rude. "There's no need to be obnoxious."

"Y/N!" your grandmother snapped.

"I'm sorry I don't remember you, but it's probably for the best, seeing how rude you're being," you continued, crossing your arms as you looked up at the man. You were best friends with this brat? You would've figured it'd be the boy with the chubby cheeks and long eyes, not this absolute jerk.

Taehyung raised a brow in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Is that so?"

"It is," you say, wanting to spit out the words. "I can't imagine myself being friends with such a pompous ass."

"Y/N, that's enough. We raised you better than this. Why don't you get started on moving the stuff inside? We'll have to apologize to Taehyung on your behalf."

You rolled your eyes, huffing as you began moving the boxes inside. It's about only five minutes later that Taehyung joins you, boxes in his arms as well. He's about to stumble when you catch some of them, quick on your feet as you prevent them from toppling to the ground.

"Careful! That could be our good china!"

Taehyung set down the box carefully, both of you trying to calm down after the brief scare.

You're both silent for a moment, but you break the silence ultimately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burst out like that. I was being rude."

He grunted in response, and you do your best not to get pissed off at him once more. There was no need for you to act so immaturely and childish, after all. Finally, he speaks up. "So you really don't remember anything, huh?"

You pause at that. "So they told you, huh?"

"Yeah. If I had known I wouldn't have been like that," Taehyung admits.

You let out a breath. "It's alright. There was no way for you to know. And no, I don't remember anything. It's one of the reasons I came back for the summer. Apparently, there was some incident that just completely wiped away my memories and... Well, I've been gone ever since."

"So you don't remember me."

"No. You probably know my childhood better than I do, if we were really friends though. It's hard to imagine, though. You're no more than a stranger to me right now, I mean look at us." You gesture at the contrast between his dark coat and your own bright yellow one.

"Show your left ankle and I'll tell you one story," he offers.

Your eyes light up at that, and you don't hesitate, kicking off a rainboot and rolling up your already cuffed jeans, showing the small, crummy butterfly.

Taehyung traces it softly, making sure not to make you uncomfortable as he does so. His mouth quirks up a bit, and you can't help the unexpectedly warm feeling in your chest. "When we were eight we all snuck into Mrs. Miller and Wilson's apartment. They had this old tattoo pen and such. Jimin advised against it, but you were obsessed with butterflies at the time and wanted me to draw one on you. By the time the adults found out, it had been done. You were the only eight-year-old at our school who had a tattoo, needless to say."

You laugh at the story. "Oh God, I could totally picture myself doing that. Makes sense why it's so poorly drawn, though."

"Hey, I was eight and had never even held a tattoo pen before, give me a break," he scoffed in response, though laughing as well.

"Wait, but who's Jimin?" you ask curiously.

Taehyung's laughter stops immediately, and his face returns to the previously dark look. He gets up to walk away, and you're quick to hobble on one foot, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Wait, why're you leaving? Did I offend you?"

His face is steely as he looks at you, removing your hand from his sleeve. "You're not my Y/N, and you never will be. My Y/N wouldn't have left no matter what happened."

Your eyes widen at that. "Excuse me? I can't help the fact I had amnesia!"

"I don't give a damn about your amnesia. You said it yourself that we're strangers, and we're going to stay that way. The less you know the better," Taehyung spits.

You narrow your brows, glaring at him. "What the fuck, Taehyung? What are you even talking about."

"I repeat: the less you know the better."

"What, do you know what happened?" The wheels in your brain begin to spin as you frantically try to prevent him from leaving. "Do you know the incident? What happened to me? Why I forgot everything?"

"I don't know anything," he says hastily.

"Liar!" Your eyes immediately catch the small quirk of his lip, a twitch of his sneer. "I can tell you're lying. I don't know how, but I do. That small quirk of your lip..."

He stops in his tracks, reaching up to his mouth, his face turning red with embarrassment. You know your assumption was correct, and you can't help but grin victoriously. "It doesn't mean anything," he excuses.

Your face softens, and you reach for his hand, glad that he doesn't flinch at your touch. "Taehyung- I need to know. It's why I came here. I feel like there's this big part of me that's been missing all this time. You might not know everything, but clearly you know something. It's clear you and I were best friends- why can't we be that again?"

He's frozen in your touch as you stare him in the eyes, searching for something. With your hand in his, though, you do feel some sense of familiarity. You haven't felt this in a long time.

He retracts from your touch as though burned, snapping out of his daze as he turns away from you. "Grow up, Y/N. I would've figured you would after all this time- but you're still childish as always."

"I thought you said I wasn't your Y/N," you say.

"You're not. You never will be," he hisses, avoiding your stare as you attempt once again to make him look at you. It's as though it physically pains him to look at you. "We'll keep it that way."

"We're going to be neighbors now, Taehyung. You can't ignore me forever," you say stubbornly. "And if there's one thing I'm sure I've kept with me even from childhood, it's my ability to be a pain in the ass. We've got three months together, and I'm not leaving without finding out what happened to me. You can either choose to help me or be annoyed for months on end until I figure it out on my own."

"Go to hell, Y/N. I told you that the less you know the better. After all, curiosity killed the cat."

You grin, finally succeeding in locking eyes with him again. "But satisfaction brought it back."

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tangyyyy · 5 years

Link

Lucille and Eliott met when they were both very young, here is a piece of their love story. They truly loved each other, maybe in a wrong way, but love isn’t always an easy thing to live and to do. From 2014 to 2019. From Lucille to Lucas, with a lot of Eliott in the middle.

Time travel

Friday February 8th, 9:41 pm

Hand in hand, Eliott and Lucille walked in the Parisian night. The couple went to Lycée Dorian, where a secret party was held inside the common room. The young man had to insist to Lucille to come with him. The young woman wasn't really eager. As the mid-year exams approached, spending a night dancing with high school students whom she didn't even know, was feeling, for her, slightly like a waste of precious time. But, as usual, Eliott had been convincing. Discreetly, they get into the highschool, walked a few meters and got to a room full of laughter and electronic sounds. Eliott was visibly nervous but Lucille didn't understand why. Perhaps he was freaking out to spend the first party with his classmates? Perhaps he was anxious to please everybody in that party? Anyway, the young man remained silent and dragged Lucille inside.

The foyer was way too narrow to comfortably accommodate the amount of teenagers dancing and jumping to the rhythms of the large speakers settled at the four corners of the room. The atmosphere was saturated with smoke and alcohol vapors. Lucille turned and looked up at Eliott. The latter was watching the whole crowd. Obviously he was looking for something or someone in particular. When he seemed to find it/him/her, he walked across the crowd with quick steps. To keep from getting lost, Eliott put an arm on Lucille's shoulders. They made their way through the dancers until the young man slowed down and stopped. In front of them were standing two teenagers. The girl looked young, very young. She had beautiful dark hair tied in a pretty french braid and was smiling with a bright white smile. Lucille smiled at her politely. Eliott, not giving her much attention, had preferred to focus his attention on the young man by her side. Following his gaze, Lucille's eyes lingered on him. He wasn't tall, was even a little smaller than Lucille. His hair was a big mess and seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Just like Eliott's, thought the young woman. His body was thin and nervous, although he wasn't quite the type of guy Lucille used to liked, he had a je ne sais quoi that made him very attractive. Something in him attracted the eyes and the sympathy. Despite the darkness of the room, his deep blue eyes stood out from all the rest. Unlike the girl, that Lucille guessed was his girlfriend, he wasn't smiling. On the contrary, he seemed to be suspicious about Eliott, he looked at him as if he was frightened and at the same time... Nervous. Had something happened between the two young men? An argument, a misunderstanding? Eliott had never told her about something like that.

"Hey mec”. Eliott said. Despite the mask on his face, Lucille could tell by his voice that the young man was smiling. "Hi Eliott.” Replied the girl, not caring that Eliott's greeting wasn't directly addressed to her. The slender young man still didn't smile and was still staring at Eliott. "Hi, I'm Chloé.” The young girl introduced herself in a pretty smile as she turned to Lucille. "Lucille." Just answered the young woman. The scene was strange to Lucille, as if she lacked many explanations to understand everything that was happening between them four. The two boys stared at each other. The two young girls seemed outside, way off their concerns. The tension was heavy and Lucille wondered if it wasn't better for them to move away, as the animosity between the two boys grew from second to second. Yet the boy finally spoke. "Hi.” He simply replied, his eyes still focused on Eliott.

Answering absolutely nothing, Eliott took Lucille's hand in his own, and walked away from the couple. Lucille didn't understand anything. At first, he had seemed to look for this boy in the crowd, he had found him, get to him and waited for him to say his first word to finally getting away from him? It didn't make sense. Eliott began to dance frantically, a broad smile on his lips. Lucille looked at him for a moment then let the music invade her body. A song, two songs. As before, when they were still at high school, Lucille danced, jumped, laughed, forgetting everything else. The young woman was having fun like she hadn't for a long time. Nothing else mattered anymore except her body and Eliott's, moving at the same pace. Then, without her expecting it, the young man slowed down. He came closer to her and instinctively Lucille stopped jumping in her turn. Eliott stared at her with dark eyes. He didn't lean over. Without really ever saying it out loud, Lucille worshiped when the young man did so. Usually, to look at her, to kiss her, he leaned forward, putting himself at her height to express all his tenderness. There, it wasn't that. His gestures weren't sweet or tender. It was all about pure attraction, arousal. Staring her body from the feet to the head, he seemed to tell her that he wanted her but that it was up to her to reach his mouth. A shiver ran down Lucille's spine. It had been a long time since the young woman hadn't wanted him so hard. They slowly moved their bodies together, coming closer of each other. Their lips searched and found each other. In contrast to electronic beats, their bodies started to dance to their own music. Hands on the young woman's hips, Eliott dragged her against his tensed torso and let his tongue slip into her mouth. Sighing, Lucille put her hands on his nape and closed her eyes. Eliott was hers, only hers, how could it be otherwise in such a passionate kiss? Eyes still closed, she enjoyed the taste of his tongue in her mouth. Mint, beer and cigarette. Short breathing , flushed cheeks, the young woman buried a hand in the hair of the young man. His body was like a drug to her, the more she kissed him the more she wanted him, his mouth, his tongue, his skin. Everything, she wanted everything from him, getting lost in his body like...

Suddenly, silence. The music shut down, the cold neon lights replaced the multicolored flashes. Lucille opened her eyes and looked at Eliott, who didn't seem to have closed his own at all. The couple tensed abruptly, looking all around them to try to put words on this sudden mood change. A blond girl appeared in the crowd, she looked in panick. "Code red! I repeat: code red! This is not a drill!” She exclaimed before other teenage girls clarified her words. "So get a move on! The watchman's here, dammit!" “Every man for himself!” "Yeah! Let's go!"

Everybody rushed to the door. Without further ado, Eliott grabbed Lucille's hand and led her towards the courtyard. Once outside, the young woman ran as fast as possible. If there was one person who shouldn't be caught by the watchman, it was her: A girl over the age of majority, not even enrolled in the school, it was much more risky for her than for any of the other teens. Eliott dropped her hand to allowed them to run faster. They ran a long time. Lucille was in front, thinking the young man on her heels. She slowed down only a few minutes later, getting in a deserted street and no longer hearing any noise around her. She turned around, Eliott was no longer here. Hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath, she walked back in the previous streets but didn't see anybody. Where was he? The young woman grabbed her phone in her jeans. The young man didn't answer to the call, she left a message. "Yeah... Eliott it's me... Well... Call me back as soon as you can... I hope you're okay..." Without any news from her boyfriend, Lucille came back to her place alone, her phone in her hand, waiting for some news that didn't come until much later in the night while she was already asleep in her bed.

#Still going on of course #Feeling a bit emo #It'll be over soon #I'll keep writing about elu of course #But I'll miss Lucille...#Yeah #Unpopular opinion #I don't care !!#Skam France

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zrreed · 6 years

Text

Psst...

Wanna peep the first chapter of the new book I’m working on?

The lady’s locker room was buzzing with excited talk. The start of the fall semester was only a week away, with the beginning of season only a week after that. What that meant was that today was the day Coach Salles started seriously considering who would be captain this season, and if I had anything to say about it, it’d be me. The other girls had a lot to say about it, too, but I tuned out most of the conversation as I opened my locker at the back of the room and set my duffle bag on the middle shelf.

It was my senior year – my final year to take the position of captain and lead our team to national championships. I’d worked hard for it during the pre-season, running scheduled practices with the team, frequenting the gym in my off time, and eating right and not drinking at parties. I was in the best shape I’d ever been, and I was focused. I was ready.

I stripped my tank top and swapped it for my green and black jersey that read ‘Caplan’ on the back. I was so anxious about today that I was in my pre-game state of meditation, and didn’t notice the locker beside mine had opened until Zulema waved a hand in front of my face and said, “Audrey.”

My gaze snapped to her. “Hm?” She had one eyebrow raised in expectation, but the amused smile she was wearing lit up her umber cheeks and her dark sepia eyes. I winced, “Sorry.”

“I said ‘big day today,’” she announced with a laugh, reaching into her duffel bag for her different, neon green goalie jersey, “but that was an understatement. You’re wound tighter than usual.”

“Just nervous,” I told her. I undid my shorts and pushed them down my hips while I kicked out of my shoes.

“Don’t be.” She pulled on her jersey and grabbed her headband, slipping it onto her forehead and under the tight bun at the back of her head. “Coach knows what kind of player you are, the spot is yours.” I smiled half-heartedly while I finished putting on my black soccer shorts, but Zulema reached over to grab my face before they were halfway up my thighs, forcing me to look at her stern expression. “Audrey, get out of your own head before you spiral.”

“Okay,” I laughed, pulling out of her grip to finish dressing. “Okay, I’m out.”

We went back to getting ready, but only moments later, the chatter in the locker room quieted enough to be noticeable. Something had grabbed everyone’s attention – probably Coach Salles – so I leaned out from my end-locker to see down the row toward the front of the room. But it wasn’t coach who’d distracted everyone. A girl had walked in with a duffle bag just like mine and Zulema’s and the rest of the team’s, with the New Hampshire State University logo on the side. Only, I’d never seen her before.

I couldn’t see her too well from the back of the locker room, but she was a couple inches taller than Judith, who instantly went to greet her, which put her at about my height. Her fawn-colored skin was sun-tanned from the summer and filled with warm gold undertones, and her light brown hair was pulled back into a long pony tail. She was wearing short jean shorts that showed off her strong thighs, and her left bicep was cut as she reached over to adjust the bag on her right shoulder so she could shake with Judith.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Zulema leaned over my shoulder, her head cocking with interest. “I don’t know, but I’ll go find out.”

She left our row as the new girl picked the first empty locker toward the front of the room. I’d introduce myself when I got a moment on the field, but right now, I needed to focus on the task ahead – keep impressing coach, keep playing smart, and keep showing that I could lead the team. I sat down on the bench in front of our lockers to put on my cleats. Zulema returned two minutes later, but she didn’t say anything and went right back to her locker, and that was suspicious.

“Well?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I just got the basics. Morgan Bailey, transferred from Oregon State. Center forward.”

But she wouldn’t even look at me while she said that. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently, sitting on the bench beside me with her cleats in her hands. “She just asked me if coach had picked a captain yet, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” I leaned sideways off the bench to try and get a good look at the new girl, or maybe to glare a little, but I couldn’t see her anymore. “You think she wants the position?” You couldn’t just come to a brand-new school and expect to make captain after your first week of practice, especially not when I had worked so hard for it. The audacity. The nerve. What even made her think-

“Audrey.”

I glanced over at Zulema, reading the look on her face before she could say it. “Yeah,” I told her, “yeah, I’m out of my head.”

She hummed her disbelief, but let me finish dressing without another word. I got done putting on the rest of my gear, flipped my head over to pull my long black hair into a pony tail, and then tossed a wave at Zulema that I’d meet her on the field. Out on the field, I sat down near the few other girls that were already there, and kicked my legs out to begin stretching. It was a gorgeous day, still with all the clear blue skies and sunshine of summer, but with the beginning breeze of coming fall to keep it cool. I shut my eyes as I grabbed my toes, basking in the sunshine. Until someone blocked it out. I opened my eyes and looked up.

“Hi.” It was the new girl, and she plopped down across from me without invitation, stretching her legs out beside mine. “I’m Morgan.”

“…Audrey…” I said, taking her in as she bent over her legs to stretch deeply. She was even cuter up close. She had a strong jawline and a delicate neck, and her eyes were a sparkling grayish hazel while her hair was streaked with natural honey highlights. But that wasn’t going to distract me from the fact that she wanted my position as captain.

She stretched a bit deeper for a moment, then stretched her arms above her head and fell back into the grass with a sigh. “You’ve got clean air out here. I’m relieved.”

She was… attempting small talk… which I was terrible at and not entirely interested in at that moment. I’d been hoping to stretch in silent focus, but she’d shattered it. So I gave her a noncommittal, “Yep.”

Only, she didn’t take the hint, and lifted onto her elbows to look at me. Her head tilted as she studied me, which then made me think that maybe she did get the hint and just didn’t care, because she said, “You have really pretty eyes,” which was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth, and my eyebrows furrowed. “The green in your jersey brings them out.”

That was me – green-eyed, pale-skinned, freckled Audrey. Not very exciting if you asked me, but I murmured an unsure, “Thanks?”

“What’s up?” Zulema greeted, dropping down beside me and passing a friendly smile at Morgan.

Morgan sat up fully and nodded toward me. “Trying to get her to say more than one word.”

“Good luck,” Zulema laughed. “She’s like Fort Knox. I’ve been her best friend since freshman year and I only learned last month that she has a sibling.”

Morgan grinned a bright smile full of perfect teeth, and her only imperfection seemed to be that her grin was totally lopsided, but even that added to her charm. “Well now I’m ahead of the curve, thanks.”

I passed Zulema a look that told her to stop fraternizing with my potential competition, but that only caused her to ask what she knew I wanted to know. “So, you’re going out for captain?”

“I guess,” Morgan shrugged.

I scoffed. “You can’t just try out for captain on a whim.”

One of Morgan’s eyebrows lifted, like she couldn’t believe that was the first full sentence out of my mouth, and Zulema muttered out the side of her lips, “Be nice.”

“It’s not really a whim,” Morgan said easily, unfazed. “I was slotted for captain at my old school. I know it’s a long shot here, but I came with a glowing recommendation and figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

A whistle and shouted, “Ladies!” ended that conversation, and Morgan hopped to her feet to jog off in the direction of the coach.

“You hear that?” I asked Zulema as we stood to trail after her. “She came with a glowing recommendation.”

“Would you relax?” she laughed.

“I can’t,” I groaned. “I worked so hard, ZuZu, what if I lost the spot to someone who just got here?”

“I forgot to tell you that I was trying out for captain too,” she said.

“Shut up,” I smiled.

“And I ate an entire pizza all by myself last night, so you’re in trouble.”

As anxious as I was about this week, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

Zulema challenged playfully, “Score one goal on me today and I’ll let you.”

We gathered around in front of the coach in a half circle, waiting while she went through our faces for attendance. “Okay,” Coach Salles said, dropping her clipboard to her side, “we’re running scrimmages all week while I decide our next captain,” and her eyes briefly met mine, “which means I want you all to hit the gym at least once in your free time for weight training.” Nods all around. “And I want to welcome our newest addition, Bailey. I’ve seen some of her footage and she’s going to be a great addition to this team, I’m really excited about it.” I held back a groan while everyone else said hi, but Zulema knew me well enough to elbow me in the ribs. “Alright, take a couple laps.”

The team jogged off to start laps around the field, with me at the head. It wasn’t ten seconds into the run that Morgan reached my side, and she beamed that lopsided smile at me when I glanced over at her. But I didn’t want her running at my side. As far as this week went, she was competition, and I’d be damned if she was going to show me up on anything on her first day here. I increased my pace to take a lead, but she refused to leave my shoulder. I sped up again. So did she. By the time we reached center field on the opposite side, we’d left the rest of the team behind.

Only the threat of another lap kept me from full-on sprinting, but I’d never done warm up laps this fast in my life. I was winded, and my thighs were burning, but Morgan was still right beside me and that pushed me to keep pace. The rest of the team was only a quarter done with their second lap by the time we finished.

We stumbled to a halt in front of coach, and Morgan buckled over to put her hands on her knees. “Jesus, you’re fast,” she panted.

I was gasping for air, but I stood straight and tried not to let it show exactly how out of breath I was. “It wasn’t a race.”

“Why not?” she asked, straightening up and then leaning back with her hands on her hips. “It was fun.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to handle her ‘having fun’ when I was facing the most important week of my athletic career other than by being annoyed about it. So I didn’t say anything, and balanced on one foot to stretch my quads while we waited for the rest of the team to catch up.

Coach gave the rest of the team thirty seconds to catch their breath before saying, “One more warm-up drill before scrimmage. One v. ones to goal. Guppa, start on defense.”

The rest of us lined up at the soccer balls Coach had dumped on the field during our laps, while Guppa went to defend inside a small square of cones and Zulema stood in goal. I took a spot closer to the back because Morgan had lined up second, and I was curious about exactly what she could do. When it was her turn, she took the ball to the cones she’d have to attack through to get to the goal, and then dribbled to try and trip up the defender. She dribbled for a few moments to get a feel for Guppa’s defense, and then dashed forward. She feigned left, kicked the ball behind her to the right with the rear of her left foot, and followed. And she was clear. She took the shot, scored, and ran back around in line.

Okay, impressive. A few players later, it was my turn. I dribbled forward and went right for it. I acted like I was going to kick hard left to take it around wide, but made the pass a lot softer and caught it with my left foot, directing it straight through. Guppa and I bumped hips with the move, but I got by and took the shot, which Zulema blocked. I almost wished she’d let it in just so I could show off a bit…

Coach blew the whistle right after my shot, which meant to switch. I took Guppa’s place on defense, and she took the head of the line for offense. I blocked a few of my teammates’ dribbles, missed a few more, and then Morgan was up. I could tell she’d been watching my defense by the intense look of focus on her face as she stepped up to a ball, but she dribbled with confidence. She dashed forward and tried to get around me, but knew by the kick of my foot I would’ve stolen the ball, so she tried to go the other way, with the same result. I thought I had it, thought I’d shaken her enough that she’d mess up and I’d win this round, but then she went hard right.

The moment I followed, she stopped her momentum on a dime, kicked the ball crossways behind her and past me. By the time I spun around to follow, she was already lining up her shot. Another goal.

Coach blew the whistle as Morgan was jogging by me to return to line, so she stopped where I was and passed me that crooked grin. “Your move.”

Like hell I was letting her keep the drop on me after that cocky remark. I hurried to the line to grab a ball, and then dribbled up to start my attack. I didn’t give her time to get in my head, I took the ball left, and as soon as she took a wide step to follow, I passed it right between her legs and sprinted around her. I shot and scored, and Morgan still had that smile on her face when I ran past her to get back in line.

The drill went on for another ten minutes before coach blew a long whistle for us to stop. We all gathered around her for our next instructions. “Scrimmage,” she announced, and tossed me a bag of orange-colored vests. “Caplan and West, pick your teams.”

We picked our teams, and even though I kept Morgan in my vision during the game, we didn’t interact any more than she did with the other players because we both played offense. She was good, though. Really, really, intimidatingly good, even if a bit of a show off. I had to play at my best just to keep up with her, and after thirty minutes of the scrimmage, it ended in a tie. Even then, the only reason we scored as many goals as we did is because the other team didn’t have Zulema in their net.

“New teams!” Coach yelled as we ran toward her. “Bailey, Rockhart, pick your players.”

Coach was making Morgan a team captain… that was… not a good sign. That was actually a really bad sign, because it meant she wanted to see more, and she’d only want to see more if she was considering that Morgan might be a good captain for the season and-

“Caplan,” Morgan called.

I froze with my eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Morgan had called me? She wanted me on her team?

“That is your last name… right?” she asked when I hesitated for too long.

“Yeah,” I murmured, and stumbled forward to stand beside her. Only her, because I was the first person she’d picked. What was she trying to pull?

She picked Zulema next, and her and Rockhart took turns filling up their teams. As we jogged off to take sides and start the scrimmage, Zulema leaned into my side.

“You’re on the same team as Bailey now,” she whispered, “get that competitive glint out of your eyes,” and she smacked me on the butt as she sprinted off for the goal.

I glanced at Morgan as we took positions for the other team to throw in, only for her to gesture curiously at her spot in the grass, offering me her post as center forward – probably because I’d played striker during the last scrimmage.

“I’m center mid,” I called.

She nodded, and we were off. I did my best not to focus on the fact that Morgan was going out for captain, and instead put all my attention on the ball and the game. The result surprised me. I’d always been a smart player, using my head as much as my body, and Morgan was intuitive. She was always exactly where I wanted her to be, and knew exactly where I’d be. She passed, I scored. I passed, she scored. I passed, she dribbled and passed, another player scored. And it went on like that for the entire scrimmage, and we stomped our other teammates. By the time coach blew the whistle for the end of practice, the other half of our team seemed relieved.

“Great practice,” Coach told us as we gathered around her. “Rest up, be ready to go tomorrow afternoon. I know classes haven’t started yet and it’s a lot to ask of college students, but let’s get back into the routine of not having too many late nights.”

A few girls laughed ‘yeah right,’ and we were dismissed back to the locker room. I headed to my locker and reached into my duffel bag to grab my shaker bottle of pre-scooped protein powder.

“Dude,” Zulema said as she reached my side.

“What?”

She gave me this look, like I should know exactly what she was thinking. “You and Morgan are totally in sync. We’re going to win nationals this year.”

I laughed. “We’ll see.” I carried my bottle to the water fountain at the side of the locker room, but Morgan was already there, bent over and drinking.

She finished, straightened, and turned around while wiping the back of her hand across her chin. “Hey,” she said, dropping her hand to reveal that signature grin.

“Hi.” I tried to sidestep her to get to the fountain at the same time she tried to get out of my way, but we ended up going the same direction. “Sorry,” I said, feeling my cheeks flair, and I always blushed so easily that it only made it worse. We both scooted again, almost bumping right into each other. “Just-”

I stepped again, and so did she, three more times in quick little jerks before she laughed, “Okay, stop,” and reached out to grab my shoulders and hold me in place. When she was certain I’d stay there, she angled sideways and gestured. “Your move.”

Only, I didn’t take the opportunity to skirt past her. “Are you cocky on purpose?”

She huffed a laugh, gave me an up and down once over, and laughed again. “You really don’t pull punches.”

“You’re flashy on the field,” I pointed out.

“You didn’t seem to mind when we were winning.” She reached out and grabbed the bottle from my hands, and I was too stunned by her boldness and the fact that she was still smiling to stop her.

I watched her in confusion as she unscrewed the lid, and she’d turned around to begin filling the bottle with water before I realized it was my turn to say something. “Yeah, but there’re easier ways to score goals.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, turning around while she screwed the lid back on the full bottle, “but flashy is fun,” and as she began to shake it to mix up my protein powder, she added, “and girls dig the flair.”

My mouth fell open as I inhaled to respond, but I froze because what do you say to something like that? She just came out and said it. One hundred percent said it, no reservations.

She put the bottle back into my hand while she studied my expression, and then said, “Oh god, you’re not a homophobe, are you? ‘Cause that would be awkward.”

“What, no,” I blurted. “I’m not- I’m- I just- I-” I like girls too, is what was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t go around announcing it to people I just met, especially not off-putting lesbian soccer players. “Are you screwing with me?”

“What?” she asked through a laugh. “Why would I do that?”

“You’re like…” I gestured with my free hand, “trying to get in my head or something.”

“Wow, you’re intense,” she said, one side of her mouth pulled into an amused smile, and she watched me for a few silent moments while she thought. “Tell you what, enjoy your protein,” she stepped around me, walking backward and wiggling her fingers in an easy wave, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turned around to walk away before I could even remember the word ‘bye,’ and then that whole conversation hit me as I glanced down at the full shaker bottle in my hand. How annoying. She acted all nonchalant about being good at soccer and going out for captain, and made comments to throw me off and pretended to be all smooth filling up my bottle, and then walked away before I could regain my bearings and make a rebuttal. She was totally screwing with me. She had to be. At the very least she was finding amusement at my expense, which wasn’t amusing at all. Annoying. Morgan Bailey was annoying.

#yeah this is happening #college soccer and gayyyyyys #yeet

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thepartyresponsible · 6 years

Text

this fill is for @roguetelepath, who had the beautiful idea of Jason Todd/Harry Potter with “a post-war, done with everything Harry in Gotham.”

my general disregard for canon compliance is stepped up a bit here, because i’ve only read the first seven books and seen their movies. i know nothing about fantastic beasts.

...well, i know that i am a fantastic beast, but that’s probably not what the movie is about.

Talia would call it a Lazarus gift, the way Jason can sense magic these days. She’d call it that - a gift - because she’s never experienced it herself. When the dark-haired man passes behind him, Jason feels the magic on him, sharp and unpleasant, like fingernails and ice chips scraping across the back of his neck. It doesn’t feel much like a gift, but he’ll grant that it’s interesting.

The place is a dive bar, sure, but people usually don’t layer on high-level repulsion charms before they go out for a drink. Especially when they’re nowhere near the magic-friendly districts of the city.

Jason counts thirty seconds and then he stands up, takes his beer, and follows the man across the bar. The magic pushes against him, but charms that rely on redirection tend to lose most of their punch when you confront them head on. He feels it, though, the whole way over, chilled air settling across every inch of exposed skin.

“Hey,” he says, as he leans into the space next to him at the bar. Jason smiles, trying for friendly, self-aware enough to know that he’s probably missing the mark.

“Hello,” the man says, glancing at him. He has a British accent and some kind of spell on his face, concentrated in the center of his forehead. Jason can’t see behind it, but cosmetic magic always looks wrong in his eyes, vaguely blue-tinted and reflective.

Jason never did finish high school, but the dealers on his street taught him all about basic arithmetic.

An English accent, a concealed mark on his forehead, and magic, a lot of it, equals Harry fucking Potter, hiding out in a shitty Gotham bar.

Jason thinks about asking him if his press knows he’s here, but Potter’s watching him now, mouth bullied into a flat, miserable frown, pretty green eyes gone all dark and defensive. Jason spends most of his nights patrolling the city with a mask on his face; he knows what it’s like to try to cut your way out of an identity you don’t want anymore.

It’s a little like clawing your way out of a coffin.

“Buy you a drink?” Jason asks, instead.

Potter blinks at him. His eyes dart toward the bartender, who’s hanging back, reading Jason. “There some reason you would like to?” he asks, after a moment.

“Sure,” Jason says, with a shrug. There are a dozen reasons he would like to. He read the news, when it hit, a couple years back. He knows all about the clusterfuck that happened to the British Ministry. He knows about the horcruxes, and the bullshit Dark Lord. He knows about the dead kids. “I’ve got a thing,” he says, “for brunettes.”

“Really,” Potter repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. Like he’s exhausted by the very idea of pretending, again, to believe whatever lie someone’s selling him.

“Sure,” Jason says. It even has the benefit of being true. He looks over at the bartender, who finally starts making his approach, apparently reassured that he doesn’t need to stay out of the shrapnel zone anymore.

“Look,” Jason says, when Potter just keeps staring down at the empty bar napkin in front of him. “You’re here to drink. You really think it’s a good idea to do that alone?”

Potter’s eyes snap up to his, and there’s a moment where Jason can feel himself being assessed. He doesn’t mind. He’s been calculating how dangerous Potter is since he walked into the bar.

“Fine,” Potter says. “But I’m terrible company.”

“Oh, good,” Jason says, settling onto the nearest bar stool. “Me too.”

Later, after they’ve shared a few beers and some meandering conversation, after Harry quietly eased the repulsion charm until it disappeared entirely, they go outside to smoke behind the bar. Harry – who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom – goes through the whole process of fishing out his lighter and hunching inward, shielding his cigarette from the wind.

Jason snaps his fingers, summons a bright blue magical flame that dances briefly above his thumb, and lights his cigarette neatly, efficiently, waving the flame out of existence while Harry’s still holding his stupid lighter in the air.

“Thought so,” Harry says, after a beat of silence. “How’d you know about me?”

Jason rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers again, holds the flame under Harry’s cigarette until it finally lights. He closes his hand around the fire, and it disappears. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re really not that subtle.”

Harry sizes him up again. He’s been doing that all night. Jason wants to tell him that, someday, he’ll shake himself free from the habit of continuously updating the threat level of everyone around him, but Jason’s an asshole, not a liar. Shit like that never, ever goes away.

“This whole city,” Harry says, settling back against the wall, “is cursed. How do you stand it?”

Jason shrugs. “Grew up here,” he says. “Get sick if I leave for too long.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, thinks that over. “Do you really?”

Jason nods, although it’s not a sickness the way that word maybe implies. It’s more like an addiction. Leaving the city for too long leads to anxious, skittery, bone-deep aches that feel like withdrawals. There’s a reason people don’t leave Gotham, no matter how shitty the place is, no matter what they lose to it.

“Over there,” Jason says, “you British wizards, you’d probably call it Dark magic.”

“Call it Dark magic?” Harry shoots him a faintly incredulous look, lighting up his green eyes with skepticism. “It is Dark. This whole city’s Dark.”

“It’s all just magic,” Jason says. The difference is that this kind’s got a higher price and a sharper bite. And maybe Jason would care more about the former if he weren’t so dedicated to the latter.

Sometimes, he can feel the echoes of the spellwork he’s done settling into his joints, aging him early, rotting him from the inside out. But there are hundreds of people alive today that wouldn’t be, if he hadn’t done what he’d done. So what’s it matter, in the end? He’s living on borrowed time anyway.

Harry frowns at him. Jason figures that’s fair. Harry’s probably still a little sensitive to that whole bullshit light-and-dark divide. Bruce can get that way, too, if you let him corner you into a philosophical debate about it. But the reality is Bruce uses whatever magic he can, and dark and light are just words frightened people use to keep each other in line.

“It feels bad,” Harry says, finally, and gestures outward, toward the sprawling nightmare of the city.

And, yeah, Jason imagines it does. The city always seems to weigh heavy on new arrivals. “If it feels so bad,” Jason says, “why the hell are you here?”

He already knows. Of course he knows. He knows why every single one of them surfaces here, all the runaways, the fugitives, the deserters. He knows what Gotham can offer people, if they’re desperate enough to bargain.

“Can’t be traced here,” Harry says, finally, after he busies himself for a while with the nearly finished cigarette in his hand. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, with a smile, as he flicks his cigarette into a nearly puddle. “Sure. The kind of vacation where you’re actively hiding from everyone who knows you. That kind of vacation.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “I’m not hiding,” he says. He sounds like he means it. Maybe he hasn’t figured that part out for himself yet.

Jason grins at him, leans closer, settles his hand on the brick wall beside Harry’s head. “So, Neville Longbottom,” he says, enjoying the quickfire focus that ignites in Harry’s eyes at the mocking tone Jason uses when he calls him by a name they both know doesn’t belong to him. “You got a place to stay yet?”

Harry’s still for a second, and then he drops his cigarette to the ground, crushes it beneath his boot. He runs his fingers through his hair, and, in the wavering light of the nearby neon sign, Jason catches the glint of a line of scars down Harry’s hand: I must not tell lies.

England, he thinks, is just as hard on its boy heroes as Gotham. Maybe the whole world over, Robins and Harry Potters get eaten alive.

“I’m entertaining options,” Harry tells him. For a second, his eyes drop down Jason’s face, to his mouth, his throat, down all the way to his hips and then slowly back up. And then he looks away, squints up the alleyway. “But,” he says, “I’m a nightmare to share a room with.”

“Oh, really?” Jason thinks it’s sweet that Harry said share a room instead of share a bed. Especially since he just got finished eye-fucking him in the back alley behind one of Gotham’s least impressive bars.

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes dropping, dark with guilt and maybe shame. “I’ve got-- dreams. Bad ones. Broke somebody’s nose once.”

For fuck’s sake. This is what happens, Jason thinks. This is what happens when you’re fourteen and someone you trust tells you that you can save the world.

Jason’s not sure of the details of what happened to Harry. They were, as usual, on the brink of the end of the world in Gotham, too. But he knows the look on Harry’s face, knows the weight of that directionless rage, the drag of all that that hollowed-out exhaustion. He knows what it’s like to play hero too young.

“This is Gotham,” Jason reminds him. “You don’t have to apologize for shit like that here. If we couldn’t handle a few nightmares, we’d all be sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together. He sizes him up again, and Jason waits, lets that threat analysis buffer until Harry nods, once, slow and thoughtful. Cautious. “Well,” Harry says, “not sure I’ll be staying the night.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Break my heart, English.”

Harry grins, then, bright and uncomplicated, sharing the joke. Jason sees, for a second, who he could have been, if he hadn’t been sent out to fight, if he hadn’t been asked to save the world before he had a chance to find his place in it.

It’s no use, second-guessing the sacrifice once it’s already been made. But Jason wishes like hell that all these old men would learn to fight and lose their own Goddamn battles.

Jason wonders if that’s the reason the two of them do what they do. He wonders if Harry’s an Auror and Jason’s a vigilante so they can put themselves in front of all those desperate, stupid kids, build a wall with their bodies that keeps all the starry-eyed, Bambi-faced preteens from looking at the you must be this tall to avert the apocalypse sign and figuring fuck it, close enough.

Or maybe this is what they do because it’s all they know how to do. Maybe, once you put a price on your life, hand it over in trade, you can’t ever get back to a place where you have any value at all.

“C’mon,” Jason says. He tips his head up the alleyway. “Let me show you the parts of Gotham that are slightly less shitty.”

Harry smiles, and it doesn’t have the wattage of that grin, but the grittiness of it – the worn-down edges, the glint of danger in his eyes – has a hook all its own. Jason always did have a soft spot for lost causes.

“You know,” Harry says, as they start up the alleyway. “My name isn’t actually Neville Longbottom.”

“Well, holy shit, English,” Jason says, feigning shock, clutching his non-existent pearls. “Does this mean you’re Hermione Granger?”

Harry laughs, sharp and surprised, and there are shadows in his eyes, scars on his skin, but there’s still life in him, still something bright and sweet and worth preserving.

As they walk up the alley, Jason feels the magic fade, like the softest brush of breath against his throat. When he looks over, Harry’s scar is clear on his face. It feels like a declaration, like some kind of trust.

“Oh, hey, Harry Potter,” Jason says, with a small, sideways smile, “welcome to Gotham.”

#writing #fic #fill

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