#just not quite the omph to follow through yet

[miodiodavinci]

suddenly hit me today that outside of one small doodle project i did in march, i haven't properly drawn since october of last year whoops

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader(A/n- I’ve been meaning to post this since last week, but I’m lazy.)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8  9  10 11 12

Warnings- Angst

Chapter 13- Hold Me Without Hurting Me

The pack had started warming in his hands, and eventually, Keanu couldn't bring himself to do much more than toss it back to the table and listlessly drag himself back to his trailer, which neighbored Y/n’s. Standing outside, between both metal contraptions; his on the right and hers on the left, he contemplated knocking on Y/n’s instead. He didn’t like the way their earlier interaction had ended; with her in tears, storming out and essentially ending their relationship. 

It was his fault, he’d pushed her.

Keanu had almost made the trek up the steps, almost knocked on the door, almost begged her to take him back. He’d almost done a lot of things, like let himself fall. But alas, for everything he’d almost done, there were a dozen more that he'd done wrong and in the end, he’d just slunk back into the cold cocoon of his own trailer, flopping onto the sofa, groaning as he threw his head back. It hurt though the insistent throbbing, the slight pull of his stitches and heaviness over his left eye felt like nothing compared the new hollowness in his chest.

Truthfully, Keanu hadn't meant for things to go the way they had, it was never his intention to have her leave for good. But it was so foreign to him; it had been a while since he'd been with a woman who'd looked at him the way Y/n had, who's touch alone was enough to remedy physical pain. Who could make his lips tremble but slow his anxious heart at the same time. She was different in other ways too; usually, the girls he dated were willing to go with whatever he wanted, anything just to keep him interested. Sometimes, though more times than he preferred to admit, Keanu would find himself realizing that a woman only adored him for what he was, rather than who he was. But Y/n…….Y/n actually cared. Y/n loved him.

Even if he’d given her a million reasons not to.

Love.

The word made an unwarranted panic rise up in Keanu’s chest. He wasn’t sure if he felt that way, when you feel it, you should know right? But Keanu didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted her back, unashamedly and quite selfishly, even if he wasn’t sure what his feelings were. Maybe they could patch things up with an emotional band aid, just enough so he could have her, though without letting himself get too submerged. Keanu wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment anyway. He wasn’t the type.

At least, that was what he’d told himself. Convinced himself.

But he was lying to himself. Keanu was always lying to himself

Maybe he really should make things right, heedlessly hold on until he could sort himself out, until he could find a way to to shift things, so if they ever did walk away, he could leave unscathed. Control. That was what he wanted, control. Control over their feelings, over the way everyone saw them, over the way he saw himself. 

Control, he would find it.

Production had been halted for the rest of the evening, and by extension, the two days following Keanu’s accident, hopefully giving him enough time to grasp his bearings. It was without warning, though Y/n understood the circumstances and was immensely grateful for the down time, hoping that she too could manage to pull herself together before they’d face each other again.

Nearly a day had passed, going on twenty four whole hours since she’d left Keanu sitting on a plastic chair in an air conditioned trailer that smelt like Hydrogen-Peroxide and disinfectant, tossing a beady ice pack to his chest, earning herself nothing more than a surprised ‘omph’ in the process. Since then, she’d fluttered through a range of emotions; anger at his reluctance, gnawing sorrow because he couldn’t return her love and finally, frustration when Keanu hadn’t made the slightest effort to swing by her room and pretend to be sorry. 

All she wanted was to get him back, so she could put aside the doubt, at least for a while. Y/n didn’t like the feeling that came with his absence, and even if being with him felt like she was sinking slowly, drowning in a whirlpool resulting from her own devices, being without Keanu felt like she was being pulled under ice cold water, suddenly and without the strength to swim herself to recovery. 

By then her bed had become a haven, one that still held his scent, even if the sheets had been changed. Perhaps it was just her imagination. Y/n had spent far too much time there since she’d returned to the hotel, only ever leaving for lengthy showers or to get food. Not much else seemed appealing anyway and the rest of the hotel would just remind her of everything that she’d poured into Keanu. She ruined things with a good man for him, almost dismantled her relationship with her father for him, sacrificed half her sanity, just for him. And still, it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

Maybe nothing would be enough for him.

Yet, Y/n still clutched hope close to her chest; Keanu would knock on her door, tell her he was sorry and ask her to take him back. She’d do it in a heartbeat too, even if she was almost sure that he’d be lying. Believing his lies; it had already become her norm anyway. There was a toxicity that came with loving him, and Y/n could readily recognize it; you shouldn't have to swallow up lies when  affections ran as deep as hers, you shouldn’t cry yourself to sleep or have to convince yourself that they care either. But she’d done it, and in the name of hope, she’d keep doing it, until she couldn’t any longer. 

A fretful huff left her chapped lips and shoving the sheets away, Y/n aimlessly hoped that running her hands through her tangled hair would do something to dismiss the thoughts of Keanu; as much as she loved him, she really did want to stop thinking of him. It wasn’t like she could do much about their break up anyway, she’d broken up with him and he hadn’t really done much to stop it. 

As she sat up, Y/n surveyed the room, dimmed by the incoming evening, merely the silhouettes of furniture remaining visible in the hazy room. The air conditioner ran on high, offering a chill to combat the thick, comfortable layers she’d sought refuge in and the remote to the television mounted to the wall remained her only companion. Her phone was somewhere around too, probably hidden away beneath the room service menu on the nightstand, Y/n could hear it buzzing every once in a while, but couldn't summon up the will to pick it up. She’d get back to whoever it was, at some point. 

For a solid minute, she just sat there, immersed in the sea of fabric, wondering if she’d be spending the night the same way she’d wasted the day; sulking in between wine induced naps. Though, three brisk knocks on the front door interrupted her muddy thoughts, causing Y/n to groan as she tumbled out of the bed. On her way to the door, she finished a glass of red that had been sitting beneath her unlit lamp and once again ran her fingers through her hair, that time to vanquish any traces of telling bed head. 

With a strained sigh, Y/n took the knob in her hand, pulling the door open, ready to tell whoever it was that she was busy. But at the sight of the offender, the words didn’t come, stifled by the hope pluming in her chest, “You’re…... “ With glassy eyes and quivering lips, Y/n tried to seem as cool as possible, though she knew the over sized sweatshirt and loose booty shorts, along with the redness in her eyes and flush in her cheeks would be a dead give away.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed sadly when Keanu found that Y/n probably wasn’t going to say much more. His lips were set in a deep frown and the bandage protecting his sutures had been recently changed and switched out for a smaller one. Keanu's hair looked almost as frazzled as Y/n's and she wondered if he'd been nervous about going to see her. "I never meant to hurt you," he carried on softly, exhaling as he shoved his fists into the pockets of worn jeans, "I just-"

Despite her mind's protest, a nagging thought reminding Y/n that she was making it too easy, she held the door open a bit wider, the fondness in her heart growing at just the thought of Keanu wanting her back, "Why don't you come in?"

He seemed stunned at first, eyes widening with confusion and jaw going slack, but eventually gave in and Keanu knew that it would be a lie if he wasn't secretly hoping that things could be that easy, "Okay," he nodded wearily, "Thanks." 

Now standing in the living room, the orange glow from the setting sun washing the room through the glass balcony doors, casting a burnt hue on the furniture and floors, Y/n thought that the atmosphere felt choked and a little clumsy. She couldn’t tell if Keanu was being genuine or not, but she did know that she was going to believe him, just so things could go back to being okay for a while. He stood about a foot away, shoulders hung and head down cast, directed to their feet, still though, she had to look up at him, not meeting his gaze, but desperately searching for some truth in his expression. “What I said yesterday,” Keanu swallowed thickly, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean it when I said that you were smothering me, I just wasn’t expecting you to care that much.”

“I’ve always cared that much,” Y/n turned her face away, not wanting Keanu to see her feelings, he’d already hurt them so much. Her fingers toyed with the cuffs of her grey sweatshirt as she awaited more, eventually trying to propel it with; “Is that what you came here to say?”

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily, removing a hand from his pocket to run it through his tousled hair, scrubbing his nails through his salt and pepper beard before letting it fall haplessly to his side again, “And to ask you for a second chance. I want us to work on this,” finally, he looked at her, and Y/n let their gazes meet. She searched his eyes, only finding turmoil and swirling confusion there. It was nothing like what she offered him; love, admiration and adoration. 

Maybe she could find it there though, one day.

“I……” Don’t do it, he doesn’t care as much as you do. Don’t do it, he doesn’t care at all. Nothing’s gonna change, don’t do it! But Y/n didn’t listen, logic was a dry pill that was too hard to swallow she wasn’t willing to believe that Keanu would hurt her again, even though she knew it was the truth. They had so much to work out before they could even think about being together, they were hurt people, who in the end, would inevitably hurt people, but Y/n didn’t care. She never did. She wanted what they had when he made her laugh, when he touched her and sparked life in shadowy depths of her soul. 

She was selfish enough to want him, despite their brokenness.

“I want that too,” Y/n eventually nodded, dragging herself towards Keanu, thoughtlessly letting herself sink into his sullen embrace. His arms, circling her waist, felt warm, though not in the way she’d expected to. Instead, it was like being enveloped in hot, empty air. It was just a gesture, nothing more than the act. That was in actuality, but in her head, she could feel what he poured into it, convinced herself that this was what he wanted, that things were going to work this time. 

But unless they learned to grow up,  stitch themselves back together,  they wouldn’t. 

But she could hope. Hope that one day, there would be more than emptiness. Hope that at some point he’d change his mind and fall in love with her.

Y/n could always hope

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews  @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[larenoz]

Roswell New Mexico - Live Rewatch - Ep 1 - Pilot

So I don’t really have much in the way of original content on my blog. So I decided it might be fun to post the live blog I’ve been doing on discord of the rewatch our server is doing for Roswell, New Mexico over the hiatus period. 

I’ve only posted my comments, so there might be a couple of bits that look out of place. These are my responses to other people’s comments. I’m up to episode 6, so I will post the backlog and then do one a week until the re-watch is complete.

Be warned, there is swearing. 

--------------------------------

Sorry, cat decided it wanted a cuddle

I love the glass effect, it's so cool

You may not plan to see the small people again, Liz but we know it's gonna happen!!

Not gonna lie, I love poltics in my TV

You quote that verdict to him, Liz!!

That vent tells us so much about Liz in such a short period of time.

You're finally back says Max.Because he's been waiting for that to happen the whole time.

Excuse me Sheriff, with that good girl comment. Rude!

Arturo, playing along with Liz's mpreg story.

Fuck, I just realised - mpreg is canon!?!

Rosa!!

I want antenna headband

Cream on a milkshake is wrong.

So many people in this show have pretty eyes!!

Nooo.

Damn that's alot of lights to replace

I love that damn bullet hole in Liz's dress. It was the first indication they weren't gonna make everyone dumb as a bag of rocks and drag the storyline out FOR EVER.

Hoverboarding. Iz!!

Hey there Kyle!

Annnd here it comes, I'm in love.

That smug fucking grin. The song.

That look when he's trying to get the keys. That look would make you do just about anything.

That Michael monologue. It just gets better everytime I watch it.

Without a doubt, top 3 best character intros ever.

And we're only 15 mins in! I need to make less comments

I didn't think anyone was reading!! :wink:

"Untie some loose ends" - you go Iz

Oh Max you fucker. Telling Michael he wouldn't do anything for anyone else. Excuse fucking you.

Ok, blasting Max across the room is kinda hot. But then his guilty face! :sob:

And god, that little shoulder touch on Iz one the way out.

Another example of non-verbal storytelling. In one scene we get the fractured relationship between Max and Michael, we get that Iz and Michael are close and that both boys defer/protect Iz. So much with so little. It also sets up the physicality of the broken relationship between Max and Michael.

Others have commented on how Max is physically intimidating with people, and literally pushes Michael around, but to be fair, Michael is pretty much the same with Max (but never really with anyone else that we see on screen though we hear about it.

And then in a few lines, Iz gives us a lifetime of fears and concerns - dissection, prison, lying and hiding to loved ones - the rest of the season in seconds of dialogue

Ah, the ONLY thing that gives me Max feels is how dismissive both Iz and Michael are of Max's feelings about Liz. Especially annoying consider Michael should really fucking know better.

Yeah, because he's been pining for Alex just as long.

Unrequited love hurts just as much. Kiss or no kiss.

That's my take anyway.

Here it comes...

Typing may get bad. Cat is sitting on chest and I can't see keyboard.

Seriously, there is nothing overtly relationshippy or sexual, no pointed stares, but just how soft Michael is, even as he's making the real Manes man comment, you just know these two have a past, and that past was probably intimate.

The casual sex comment though, oh yeah they've fucked. That is such a fuck you comment to an ex.

And again with massive story in few words - Alex knocking his leg. "3/4 of one"

That run and tell Daddy line. The nastiest thing Michael says in the entire season, although we don't know that yet. And it strikes such a dissonant tone, even though we don't know why. I'm gonna put it down to things changing so much between shooting the pilot and the rest of the season.

Just my humble opinion but the shirt changing scene could've lasted longer. Just sayin'

Maths, lots and lots of maths

I love the glass SFX

Rosa!! "All our lives that kids been making eyes at you"

Oh Liz, such a good sister. Fixing up the memorial. And the braclets

Ah, sneaky Liz appears

Oh yeah can he keep a secret

Liz begging Max to tell her she isn't loosing her mind. Fuuuck.

Not cool Michael. Great control, but not cool.

Racist Hank, you douche bag

And Maria introduced as taking no shit from ANYONE.

Iz and her slideshow. I love that line.

Why is Iz so vehement that Michael would be so upset about telling Liz?

Max loosing it and Iz looking quite surprised. Forshadowing

yes, Iz no like about it. He is in love with her.

Ah Iz, Iz, Iz. "Too many secrets, things she can't ever know" you don't know the half of it.

Fall in love with someone else.  - If I could have, I would have. Fuck, Max, I feel you on that one.

Jesus, how do all these guys make dark flannel look so hot?

Dance it out. i don't dance in this town anymore, Kyle...

Hot take, I know everyone is mad for Trevino's cheekbones, but honestly, they aren't my thing. But his eyes, gods, his eyes. He has the best eyes on the show. God that make me sound like a freak.

"whatever" with that tiny, tiny almost invisible smirk. Yeah, you think you're all that

He manages that whole distraction use me, use me speech without coming off as a total wanker. And that is pretty amazing.

The station promo/ad on my cable channel has a bit for Roswell - tag line: "Beam me up hotties." Too right.

Scientist Liz!!

Needs answers now.

Fuck you Jesse Manes

I hate you already.

No Kyle, don't do it. But thank fuck he doesn't just start talking,

Yeah, nah Max. That's not how it works. It's not ok if people are nice to you but shitty to everyone else.

Why should Michael like the world? it's been pretty shitty to him!?!

Liz with the serial killer joke, just with the wrong person!!

The pods are sorta cool.

They could've been so chessy.

Now we know why the three of them are so close. And just about the only real bit of exposition on the show.

But will you Liz? Will you keep the promise?

Secret Bunker No 1

"This matters to you, so I'm here". :heart:

Do what Michael, what could you possibly mean?

"Just like you did 10 yrs ago".......

What are you max? Just a guy from Roswell

In Max's favour, when he says he stayed in Roswell, and didn't follow Liz because of Iz and Michael, he doesn't sound resentful, which is sort of what you'd expect here. I like that.And Max going to the reunion for Iz. And Liz tagging along even though she's expecting a bad reception.

"i don't save people all the time. I never save people" But you saved Liz, And why is that Max?

OT re Trevino's eyes. It was that gif set of him laying on his stomach  on his bed (?) with his doggo, looking up to the camera. That angle, OMG, his eyes....

And no verbal confirmation, just Liz realising exactly what Max said - that even though he's in a job where he'd be in contact with sick/dying people alot, he's never saved anyone before. Omph

Of course you remember the very first time you met, Max.

Little kid Max is sooo cute.

Ah you big sap, Max.

No kissing. An "Echo" of what he feels for Liz.

Nice choice of words there writers.

We see what you did there.

So far it's taken me 2 hrs to watch 50 mins

Fuck you again Jesse Manes

Swoon Kyle's eyes.

And we have Kyle's first exposure to the fact that the govt knows about aliens and did medical type stuff to them.  Does this hover in the back of his mind from now on? is this the reason for the quick reaction to his fathers actions at Caufield.?

No he's fucking not cooking meth. Seriously, Alex, what the fuck?

Sorry Alex, not cool, not cool AT all.

I want to see the outakes of Tyler saying phenyl-2-propanone

Because I'm a bitch like that

Yeah, that so serious up close and personal for straight people....

And there is Alex's nastiest line - You're wasting your life. Gods, that is such a shit thing to say to Michael.

And re outtakes because Tyler would laugh and do that thing where he covers his mouth as he trys to stop himself giggling. That's soooo cute.

But anyway, back to the show...

Oh, he wants to hold something, Michael but it's not your hand...

Macho cowboy swagger.

Did it get old for you.

No it did not get fucking old for him. At all.

Michael walking away with arm around girl. Noting for those who say they didn't realise Michael was bi after watching the pilot. How?

How could you miss it?

You go Maria - dying alone of syphillis to bitch

Maybe Liz does still dance in Roswell!! She just needs a good reason.

And that song begins.

"You can't hide from who you are". Alex's prothesis as he looks at himeself skating in the slide show. Fucking killing us.

And it only gets worse-

I don't thnk that's an unpopular opinon at all. That's totally where I see his headspace. But that does result in him saying some nasty shit to Michael. And it's because we know it's not true that it hurts so much.

Fair warning it may take me half an hour to get through the next 2 mins of show!!

Long shot - "Nostalgia's a bitch"

Fuck, the way Michael looks at Alex as he's leaning against the door. People have started wars to have someone look at them like that. That's Greek epic shit right there.

Then cut shot to Max and Iz looking at Liz.

Alex expecting Michael to be gone from Roswell.

"Is that what you want" as Michael takes a step closer. Not "wanted", but "want".

"What I want doesn't matter" as they both slowly sway towards each other. Bullshit, Alex. What you want is ALL that matters. Fuck everything else.

Michael's eyes flicking up to Alex's face....

And Michael launches himself at Alex like a dying man.

God, how do you even describe that kiss?? Everything about it is just.......

But it's more than just the fire. Its the tenderness of Michael gently craddling Alexs' head even though the kiss is passionate and desperate.

Battery break

And then, back to reality - Iz knows that Max has told Liz.

And then Jess Fucking Manes (I fututus et mori in ignie cunne) (don't look that up it's very bad swearing) talking about being monsters who despise compassion and love. Projecting much.

"Thrive on our tragedy". Die MF Die

Despise Love over a visual of Michael and Alex. Die some more you MF

But you haven't told Liz everything have you Max. There's still some stuff you're hiding.

"When the truth hunts you down"

Yeah, that truth is going to hunt you down and fuck you up Max

My house just wobbled.

No, there isn't a secret that is safe.

And people will be caught in the crossfire - have already.

"What's lost will be found, when the truth hunts you down."

Well doesn't that one line sum up a ton of shit that goes down in the rest of the season.

And fin

3 hrs

That was not what I planned.

[joiesomer]

Rainling monthiversary 8/10

Who: Somer & Jeff ( @xjefferxx​ )

Where: a trampoline park, a cliff overlooking the city

When: 10 August 2019

Notes/Triggers: nsfw

Had it really been a month since he and Jeff had started dating? Somer could hardly believe it -- it seemed both like forever, and like no time at all. He checked himself in the mirror again, trying to make sure there was nothing in his teeth, that no parts of his hair were sticking out stupidly, anything like that. Jeff had said dress comfortably, so he had on his favourite Zelda tshirt and loose shorts, and he ran his hand through his hair again.

If he stared at himself any longer, he was going to be late meeting with Jeff. Somer squared his shoulders, nodded sharply, and walked out the door. Making his way to the student parking lots, he looked around for his tall, handsome, blond boyfriend, and waved his hands over his head. "Jeff!"

Jeff was excited. They were going out, going on a date and just going to have some pure fun. He  had wanted to do this date before, but now it just seemed fitting to do it for their one month. Dressed in his shorts and a button up, Jeff waved at Somer.

He leaned against his car, smirking. His hair was falling just right into his eyes and over his sunglasses. Somer hadn't seen his car yet so this was going to be fun. "I'd like you to meet Esmeralda. She is my baby, I rebuilt her."

After a month, most of the time Somer wasn't stunned by how hot his boyfriend was. Most of the time. But the way Jeff looked today, and the car he was leaning oh-so-casually against, stopped the redhead dead in his tracks. "Shit," he breathed. He stepped forward, fingers reaching out to brush against that glossy black surface. "Is this ... this is ... what model year is this? It's amazing!" Only then did it actually connect that the blond said he'd rebuilt the car, and the images Somer had made his mouth dry.

"'67, my dad finds them all rusted up and then we start at 13, working on them and building them, they become ours at 16 when we have our license. I may come from money but my father believed in keeping us grounded," Jeff said, opening the passenger door for him. "Shall we?"

"If you don't stop getting more sexy," Somer said, only half joking and sliding into the passenger seat, "I'm going to need -- I don't know but I'm not going to be able to handle it." His eyes were wide, and he touched the dashboard with gentle fingers, then the gearshift. Trying for composure, he asked, "So where are we going? And has it /really/ been a month? When are you even counting from?"

Jeff slid into the driver side. "Does that mean you don't want to be there when I change the oil or anything?" He smirked as he put it into gear and took off. "Yes, it's been a month. I'm counting from the party ... you know ... the pool one," he replied. "And you'll see, be patient but I promise it will be fun." He took Somer's hand.

"It means it's going to take me some time to get used to it!" Somer laughed back. "You're already the hottest guy I know, tall and sexy and elegant and, and graceful. Now I'm picturing you shirtless with a smear of grease on your face, and just wow." He lifted Jeff's hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle.

Jeff grinned softly to him. "Yeah, something like that." He parked at what looked like a warehouse. "You ready?" Getting out of the car, Jeff took his hand once more as they walked in. Inside there was a floor that dropped down and was all trampolines. "I thought we could have some good old fun and hops."

The redhead gasped with joy, hands to his mouth. "Jeff! Oh, Jeff, blondie ~!" He threw himself at his boyfriend in a hard bear hug. "Oh my god. I've always wanted to come to one of these places but I just never -- and you -- and --!" Kissing Jeff hard, Somer smiled so much he thought his face might split.

Jeff kissed him back, so happy to see that Somer was happy about this idea. It was only the beginning though. "Glad you like it, now let's go get our non slip socks so we can jump," he said, keeping his hand in Somer's as they joined the line.

There were a couple glances that might have been vaguely disapproving, but Somer didn't even notice. He held to Jeff's hand tightly, swinging their joined fingers and occasionally headbutting his boyfriend's shoulder. Every chance he had to see what was actually going on on the floor, he was craning his neck and peering, eyes going round with some of the things he saw people pulling off. "Can you do that?" he would ask, headbutting Jeff.  "Or that?"

Jeff looked around as well when Somer asked him about things he could do. He only chuckled some. "Yeah, I can and I'll show you. Now shoes off." Handing him his socks, "let's go put these on and it's jumping time." Jeff found them a bench to use and quickly traded one pair of socks for another. "Ready?" Stepping closer to the trampoline floor.

Hastily Somer ripped his tevas off and pulled on the socks, wiggling his toes in the fabric to get used to it. He looked around, checking where everyone else was, and hurled himself onto the springy floor with a whoop. It bounced him back up, flailing, and he giggled.

Jeff jumped on as well, laughing as he went up in the air. It was something else, the tramps were made for gymnastics to make it give more of a jump. "It's like being back in gymnastics, I haven't been on one of these in some time." Though there were people there, it wasn't packed, so Jeff kindly asked for people to step back and winked to Somer. "You wanted to see this." He took three running small jumps then did three back hand springs before doing a twisting backflip in the air and landing on his feet. "Tada."

Somer hardly noticed the way he bobbed up and down with the motion of the tramps, watching Jeff with wide eyes. He applauded his boyfriend's tumbling pass, then gave a couple experimental bounces himself. "I wonder if I could do something like that?" He'd done tumbling kind of dives before, playing at swimming pools. With a harder bounce, he tumbled forward into a roll, coming back up onto his feet with a happy yell.

Jeff watched and smiled big to see Somer trying and doing his best. "Yay!" he cheered, bouncing over to him and pulling him in close. "What do you say we bounce together?" he asked, as he already was doing that with him softly.

It took a second, his heart still pounding with the excitement of turning a flip, for Somer to synchronise his bounce to Jeff's. He looked up, eyes still alight with laughter, and said, "So you just want to hold me and bobble here?"

Jeff shook his head. "Well no, but I did want to bounce with you, so hold on." Holding his hands, he crouched down with Somer and one big push threw them into the air, "let go," he announced, letting them fly away from each other with a laugh.

Somer hadn't quite expected that, and flailed in midair, laughing and landing on his butt. He managed to gain his feet on the second bounce, hurling himself at Jeff. They collided with a soft thunk.

Jeff laughed, jumping and letting out an omph when they hit each other but still finding it all fun and games right now. "What do you want me to show you next?" he asked, still bouncing and talking to his boyfriend as he did.

The redhead bounced more slowly, glancing around. He pointed, at a pit surrounded by tramps and full of soft blocks. "There. I want to play in that." Bending his knees, he pushed off and bounced his way across the tramps to the pit.

Jeff followed behind him. "Oh this is used to do like flips into and know you won't get hurt. Let's see your best flip." Bouncing in one place but out of the way of Somer, he got his phone out, ready to take photos.

"You mean the one where I don't land on my face?" Somer laughed. He did a couple experimental bounces, feeling the way this tramp reacted to his weight. Brushing his hair out of his face, he dove forward in a low roll, and forgot to bring his knees up, leaving him in a gangly flop in the midst of the blocks. He lay there giggling and breathless.

Jeff laughed. "Yes, but I mean, if you're talented, you still will." He recorded now as Somer tested then tried it out. Of course his boyfriend went flying in all the wrong ways and Jeff had recorded it. It was funny and perfect for the memories he wanted to hold onto.

Tipping his head back, Somer saw the phone in Jeff's hand and yelped. "You recorded that?!" He tried to scramble out of the blocks and failed, ending up swimming more than anything else, and fired one at Jeff. "Noooooo!" he protested, laughing. He managed to get onto the ledge and grabbed for the phone, bouncing and wobbling and laughing himself breathless again.

Jeff laughed as the block came at him and was quick at getting the phone out of Somer's reach. "Nope, not for boyfriend eyes just mine," he laughed, though he pulled him close and kissed him now. Kissing him slowly and in a teasing manner to distract him.

Somer started to try to climb up Jeff to get to the phone, even though there was no way he was going to be able to reach it. Except then Jeff was kissing him, and the redhead quickly forgot what he was doing, melting in his boyfriend's arms.

Jeff grinned, glad to have him melt and glad that he was doing it in the middle of a place like this. "What do you say we get to part 2 of our date?" he asked him, fingers lacing with Somer's.

The redhead made one more abortive grab for the phone, trying to use the bounce of the tramps to help him get high enough. "I want to get the flip right, though. One more try?"

Jeff smiled. "Alright, one more try and this time I won't record, I promise." Though he was fully tempted to do just that.

"Liar," Somer whispered, eyes sparkling. He kissed Jeff's cheek, perilously close to the corner of his mouth. Then he tossed his head, turning a serious face on the block pit. He was going to do a good flip. "Up, and then out," he muttered to himself, then licked his lips and tumbled into the pit again.

Jeff grinned, putting his phone away and smirking when Somer kissed his cheek like he did. He watched, cheering him on softly as he didn't want to distract him.

Climbing out again with a big grin, Somer whipped his shirt off and did the back double biceps pose. He laughed over his shoulder at Jeff, waiting for, he was sure, his boyfriend to fumble his phone back out.

Jeff grinned; now that was a photo. He pulled his phone out and took the photo, seeing and knowing his boyfriend wanted him to. "That is so getting posted to everything. Yep it's happening."

Instantly the pose dropped, and Somer yelped. He was still laughing, not actually that bothered by the photo, but he wasn't really sure about posting it anywhere. Once again he tried to get the phone from his taller boyfriend, laughing and grabbing.

Jeff held it up, knowing how to distract him. He kissed him once more; this time, though, he was a bit meaner. His phone put away, he stole Somer's shirt and took off hopping with it with a laugh. "Come get it baby," he teased.

"Jeffrey Sterling!" Somer exclaimed, laughing, torn between which of three things he should pursue: his boyfriend's mouth, his shirt, or the phone. He gave a mighty bounce, sent himself flailing into the air, and missed Jeff completely, tumbling in an awkward roll across the tramps. He might have banged something, he wasn't sure, but he was too high on laughter to even notice. "Give that back!"

Jeff was out of the pit of tramps and could really move now. He laughed as he swung his boyfriend's shirt around. "You want it, you have to pay the toll and come get it." Winking and teasing his boyfriend.

The redhead scrambled out of the bounce pits, running after Jeff, but he couldn't run very fast for laughing. "Toll?" he gasped, fingers flailing to grasp a bit of fabric. "What toll? I ain't payin' no toll!"

Jeff pulled him in tight, slipping the shirt back on him. "This toll." He kissed him softly then, cupping his cheek the whole time. "Come on, shoes and time for part two," he whispered. "Also, I love you."

The second Jeff's lips met his, Somer fell still and silent, and clung to his boyfriend. When the blond finally let him go, his green eyes were starry. "Love you," he whispered back, reluctant to let go. Finally he unlocked his arms and sat down to peel off the socks and put his shoes back on.

Jeff changed out his socks for his original socks and shoes. Once they were back on, his hand in Somer's they went back to the car. He held his hand as he shifted and sped them out of town but not far, finding a dirt road that took them up to a look out over the light city below.

Somer was surprised to realise how much time had passed while they were in the trampoline park. He couldn't hold Jeff's hand while they were driving, which in his mind was a mark against a manual drive. He watched the road slid by as they sped out of the city, and climbed from the car with his gaze fixed on the lights of the city spread out. "Wow," he said softly.

Jeff grinned, making sure the car was in park and grabbing the picnic basket from the trunk as he set it all up, including a propane lantern for light. "Come eat baby." Some of Somer's favorite food were in the basket, thus explaining why Jeff asked about them.

Ignoring the basket for the moment, Somer knelt up in front of Jeff, taking his boyfriend's hands. He leaned forward to kiss him softly. "Thank you," he murmured, eyelashes low. He settled himself on the grass, nestled close to the blond, and started to unpack the basket.

Jeff kissed him back, wrapping his arm around his waist. "You're welcome. I want to make tonight fun and just about relaxing as well." Kissing his cheek as he unpacked it, Jeff grabbed a soda to crack open.

"All alone out here, I feel very relaxed," Somer teased. He wasn't quite hungry yet, and just spread the food out, peeking at various containers to see what was in them. "So this is what you meant when you were asking about my favourite foods."

Jeff nodded some, kissing his jaw. "Yeah, I wanted to make this perfect for you, all about your favorites and all that. Also I know I already got you some gifts but I have one more." Jeff pulled a box from his back pocket.

"Do I get to spoil you like this at some point?" Somer asked, his smile turned up a little more at one corner. He started to kiss Jeff, but paused, eyes fixed on the box. "Uh, blondie, you know my birthday is two weeks from now. Why are you giving presents?"

"Sure, for my birthday and yes, I know, also it's only one week, it's next weekend because it's the 10th, silly." Jeff smiled. "You're getting spoiled twice this month," he said, handing the box to him. Inside was a old-fashioned feather quill and ink well. "For your writing."

"Shit, is it really that close?" Then Somer actually looked at what was in the box and blinked. "Oh ... " He swallowed, and shyly asked, "... will you teach me how to use this?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, it is and I think I can try. I don't really know but I know it's very cool to use and well, I thought you'd like it ... "

The fact that Jeff had given him a thoughtful gift, that nevertheless neither of them knew how to use, struck Somer as funny. With a chuckle, he closed up the box, fingertips lingering on the top. "Would it be okay if it sat on my desk? I don't want to mess it up until I know how to use it." Then a thought occurred to him, and colour leaped into his cheeks. "I mean, how to write with it."

Jeff cuddled him close, kissing his cheek. "I'm glad you like it and yeah, it can sit on your desk." He was just glad that Somer at least liked it some. Jeff had been worried he wouldn't enjoy the gift. "You feeling hungry or do you just want to watch the stars a bit more?"

"Is it okay that I'm not really that hungry right now? At least, not for food." Somer snuggled in closer to Jeff, looking up into his eyes. "I like looking at the stars right here."

"No it's okay, just wanted to have it." Looking up to the stars as well as they sat there. "I love coming up here, it's nice and quiet, it's a bit like the beach house ... "

The redhead bit his lips in an amused smile. Then he turned Jeff's face until he was looking into hazel eyes. "There, now I can see the stars," Somer said softly. "Much better." He felt that spark inside him, low, that Jeff seemed to always cause, and kissed him. "Thank you," he said against his boyfriend's lips. "For this. For putting up with me for so long. For everything."

Jeff blushed. "Dork," he whispered against his lips. "No need to thank me, I want to be here. I want to hold you and I do love you ... this is just the start to so much more." His hand cupping Somer's cheek. "Thank you for being with me."

"Your dork," Somer murmured back. He loved that blush. Jeff could seem so worldly and knowledgeable, and Somer still had the power to make him turn that delicate pink. He kissed Jeff again, more sensually this time, with intent. "Since we've been together a month, is there anything else you want to do to ... celebrate?" the redhead asked coyly.

Jeff smiled. "Yes, my dork. My gingerbread that stole my soul and my heart," he whispered against his lips. "Hmm, well yeah, I can think of a couple of things ... love to get my lips on your skin some and hand in your pants ... yours in mine too," he whispered, kissing his neck now.

The corners of his green eyes crinkled with his smile. "Got no use for your soul, blondie." He shivered at Jeff's words, letting out a soft, wanting sigh. "You can do anything you want ... "

Jeff grinned, laying Somer back on the blanket as he sucked on his neck more. "Saving most of the fun for your birthday ... wanna try some new things with you," he whispered there, palming Somer through his jeans a bit.

Somer's hips bucked up involuntarily into Jeff's touch. "Don't want to wait," he mumbled, poking his lower lip out. It was hard to pretend to be sad or annoyed with Jeff sending sparks all through him, though, and Somer's expression softened into desire very quickly. "Gonna have a permanent hickie there ... "

"I promise, when we go there it will be worth it but taking our time," he whispered, tuggin his earlobe as he palmed him a bit more. "Unfasten your pants and push them and your boxers to your knees for me ... "

Softly Somer cried out, arching into his boyfriend helplessly for a moment. "You ... " he panted. "You have no idea what that spot does to me." He reached up, wrapping his hands around Jeff's biceps, then rolled the blond away just a bit. It took him a moment to let go, not wanting to be away from touch for even a second. But he thought ... he hoped he knew what his love had in mind, and with trembling hands he shoved his clothes down.

Jeff smiled, watching him push his clothes down. Jeff did the same to himself. He stroked his own cock a bit, then leaned up to kiss Somer. "Hmm I wanna know what that does to you." Still touching himself as he tugged on Somer's ear. "Touch yourself baby."

The redhead could almost literally feel his cock get hotter, harder, when Jeff nibbled his ear again. "Makes -- makes me want you so bad," Somer gasped. "Your hands ... your mouth ... everything. So bad." He couldn't find a way to split his attention between his own hand and what Jeff was doing to him.

Jeff grinned, taking them both into hand at first, Then he just focused on Somer. His thumb teasing the head as he worked his way down Somer's body with kisses. Coming between his legs, he smirked and licked up his cock. Sucking the head, Jeff looked up to Somer with lust-blown eyes.

"Oh, Jeff," Somer whimpered. A slight breeze blew over them, and he shivered, skin coming out gooseflesh all over. "Jeff, oh ~ oh." When the blond finally took him into his mouth, Somer's head fell back with a soft thump, and he moaned, heedless of the volume of it. "Baby. Blondie. Oh, god. Fuck ~ that feels so good. Sogood."

Jeff grinned, hand on Somer's thigh as the other massaged his balls. Jeff sucked up and down his length some, slipping out to the tip to run his tongue over it then relaxing his throat to deep throat him once more. He hummed a song as he winked up to Somer, loving the noises he made.

There was input from his other senses, Somer knew that. Had to be. But it wasn't making it through his sense of touch, ramped up to the highest level. "Oh god," he moaned helplessly. And things -- sex -- got better than /this/? How? He barely realised he was lifting his hips into the heat and fit of Jeff's mouth, one hand resting on the blond hair.

Jeff was glad to feel Somer get more into it. He focused on just bringing him to his edge and over. Focused on his climax and knew his own would come as well from just seeing his boyfriend so wrecked. Sucking down hard, he gave him all the attention he needed, still looking up to see Somer's reaction.

He could feel his climax coming, like a great cresting wave, and there was the vague idea that he should do something now. Something to do with Jeff, but he couldn't get the idea to resolve. Somer's hand clenched in the fine silky strands of Jeff's hair, and a ragged cry burst from him. He thrust deeper into that welcoming warmth, heedless, and came hard.

Jeff swallowed around his cock. He took it all, smiling as he pulled off with a pop. Moving back up him, Jeff kissed his cheek and wiped his hand on the blanket as he had come just from seeing Somer cum like that.

Somer lay panting, feeling boneless and good. He rolled his head in Jeff's direction, one hand limply lifting to brush against his boyfriend's skin. "Kiss?" he murmured.

Jeff chuckled. "Sure but you're going to taste yourself." Pressing a kiss to his lips softly. "You are gorgeous," he whispered against his lips.

The redhead did his best to kiss back. There was a different taste to Jeff's mouth, not bad, but different. "'d return the favour but I can't move," he breathed with a soft chuckle. "Wh-what did you just do to me?"

Jeff smiled, helping him to put his pants and boxers back on along with his own. "It's a blowjob, baby."

Somer laughed quietly again. "No 'm pretty sure you just sucked my brain out through my dick," he said. He still felt very limp -- or maybe languid was a better word? maybe this feeling was what that word was for -- and pulled Jeff down to lie beside him. "Love you."

Laying back down by him, Jeff smiled and caressed his cheek. "I love you too," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to his lips over and over again. Just getting lost in the peace and quiet of them being up there together and spent. "Hmm we should get back soon, baby."

"Noooooo," Somer said dramatically. He rolled over on top of Jeff, then went completely limp. "I can't move. We can't leave. We're trapped here. Doooooooom."

jeff chuckled, letting Somer lay over him for the moment then he sat up and picked Somer up. Setting his boyfriend in the car, he cleaned up the picnic, knowing they could eat later. Now in the driver's seat, he kissed Somer's cheek. "Still doomed?"

Somer turned his head quickly, in an attempt to catch Jeff's mouth. "You cheat," he said, smiling. "Always picking me up when I'm trying to weigh you down. One day, one day I'm going to just make you carry every single bit of my weight and see how you do then."

Jeff chuckled. "Even if you were dead weight, I'd still pick you up and carry you." He kissed his hand and driving them back to school. Jeff held his hand in one hand the basket in the other. "So do you want me to stay over tonight or should I kiss you at the doorstep, leave you with your food and say have a good night?" Swinging their hands some.

A little shyly, Somer confessed, "I don't sleep so well when you aren't there." He clung to Jeff's hand tightly, unwilling to let him go. "So I always want you to stay over -- but I understand if you want to go home and sleep in your own bed."

Jeff shook his head. "I sleep better with you too." he whispered, kissing him softly again. "Come on, up to your room and into cuddles. Maybe we can watch Princess Bride again for fun?"

Somer snorted. "It was fun the first time, too, dork." He reached up and ruffled Jeff's hair, pulling the blond strands over his boyfriend's face, then laughed and ran up the steps to his dorm.

Jeff blew the hair out of his face. He laughed as well, chasing after Somer as he ran too. Catching the boy, he picked him up from behind. "Gotcha!"

"One day," Somer said, laughing, "one day I'll race you in the pool, and then it won't be so easy for you to catch me. Let me down, I can't reach the lock."

Jeff set him down, kissing his cheek. "I can't wait for that day. I love seeing you in the pool, watching you swim."

Slyly, pushing his door open, Somer said, "You mean you like seeing me with hardly any clothes on."

Jeff smirked. "I like both." Scooping him up again, and carrying him to the bed as he kicked the door shut.

[sunshineandfangs]

Supernova

Step 9: Movie/book Plot Stardust AU!

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue

Man, I am bad at being on time!

Warnings: Character death, mentions of violence, going to be multi chapter (I promise!)

“A philosopher once asked: ‘Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?’

Pointless, really.

...Do the stars gaze back? Now, that’s the question.”

A man, features drawn with weariness, downed another drink in large, gulping swallows. And all too soon he found his cup empty as he twisted it in his hand, only the tiniest of drops sliding along the base. He raised it in the bartender’s direction, but the man just frowned at him and shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to cut you off.”

The man reluctantly relinquished his stein, resting his elbows on the bar and burying his head in his hands. He tiredly rubbed his face, palms brushing across several days of scruff. Eyes unfocusing, he peered off sightlessly into the distance.

“Hey! Stop crowding the bar!”

The shout and drunken poke, jolted him from his trance. Perhaps on another the day the man would have put up more of a fuss, but this night he was tired. And with his attention returned to the bar, the noise began to bother him anyway, now that he had no distracting drink in hand.

Clambering from his stool, the man walked toward the door, not quite drunk enough to stagger, but there was a bit of a sway to his gait.

As he exited, the crisp night air brushed against his face, returning a bit of clarity to his alcohol hazed mind. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted clarity, thoughts of his loss reswamping his mind.

My love. My love. Why did you leave me?

As if in answer, a slight breeze kicked up, carrying the scent of hearthfire and herbs. For a moment, it felt as if he was once more in his wife’s presence, her voice in his ear.

Live. For yourself. For your son. And be happy.

The man found himself shockingly sober, and he stared into the distance. His mood tottered between mournful and fond remembrance, emotions a tangled coil in his gut. But before he could really think about it the man was setting off, his feet having a mind of their own as they moved purposefully toward the wall, the one for which the town was named.

Its guard took a look at his determined countenance and surprisingly stood aside.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ansel.”

Those words followed him as he made his way through the grass beyond the wall, everything looking surprisingly tame, mundane even. Was it naught but a field across the way after all?

Ansel’s disappointment was soon rectified as he came upon a town square a few miles down a dirt path. It was alive with activity, a startling barrage of vivid color and odd scents. There was one woman with a bird cage of miniature elephants and another with what appeared to be a tiny fairy. It was a shock to the senses, and Ansel couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he had passed out drunk some ways back.

This notion of a dream was hardly deterred as he bent over to examine a tall glass container of what seemed to be eyeballs, his stare causing them all to peer back at him.

He leaned away, perturbed to say the least. How much did I drink? He couldn't help but wonder, even as his feet carried him onward. Rounding the stall’s corner, he stuttered to a stop as his eyes took in the tall form of a blonde woman leaning on a yellow painted wagon. She smiled at him, hair falling in gentle waves around her face.

He wasn’t struck still because she was a vision of beauty, through she was lovely, but because something about the way she stood, the way she gestured reminded him of his wife. Hearthfire and herbs tickled his nose and he moved forward in a daze, was this dream meant to be a blessing from her?

Abruptly another woman stepped in front of him, a brunette with a harsh frown, disdain coloring her expression.

“I don’t do business with time-wasters.” She glanced over her shoulder, making a sharp motion with her head. “Tend this stall. He’ll hardly be beyond your skills.” Sauntering away with an annoyed glare, she muttered under her breath, “I need a drink.”

The blonde woman walked over, smiling coyly.

“Do you, perchance, see anything you like?”

Ansel smiled back.

“Indeed, I do.”

Her eyebrows raised at his confidence.

Tilting his head, he gestured with a hand. “These blue blossoms here. How much for them?”

“Well, they could be the color of your hair. Or,” a smirk curled across her lips, “they could be all of your memories before you were three.”

Ansel was quite sure his face looked a bit disturbed.

“I can check if you like,” she continued. “But you really shouldn’t buy the bluebells. Take this one.”

The blonde plucked a white flower from the display, its petals drooping and delicate. “It’s a snowdrop. She gave it a slight twirl. “It will bring you fortune.”

He blinked.

“And what will that cost me?”

She peered deeply into his eyes. “This one costs a kiss,” she uttered as she gently tucked the flower into his breast pocket.

Looking down he ran a tentative finger across its petals. It smelled of spring, fresh herbs and morning dew.

“Well now, I haven’t agreed yet.”

She looked a bit taken aback as he stared at her with a solemn expression, but he broke the sudden building tension with a smile, eyes twinkling. Lifting her chin, he leaned in and placed a gentle peck on her lips. He let her lead as the kiss grew more heated, tongues and lips chasing one another. She retreat a moment later, breath warm little puffs against his lips. Her eyes were dark, as she peered up at him from beneath half-lidded lashes.

“Follow me.”

She swayed backward toward the wagon, before turning sashaying her way up the steps,

Ansel on her heels.

Taking the first step, he suddenly hesitated as he looked down, noticing the slim, silver chain that wrapped around her ankle. The woman must have sensed him stopping for she turned, following the tract of his gaze.

Flicking at her skirts as if she could hide it, she muttered, “Right, the woman from earlier, she holds me captive with this chain.”

Frowning, Ansel bent down taking the chain in hand and pulling a hunting knife to cut through the tiny metal links. It cut easily. Then, mended just as quickly, the two severed ends snaking together and resealing with a slight glow.

The blonde looked on in resignation. “It’s enchanted. I’ll only be free when Dahlia dies.”

“Is there nothing I can do for you?”

She held out her hand from the wagon steps, beckoning him in.

He paused eyeing her hand, and took a breath, prepared to refuse, now that he was thinking more clearly.

Hearthfire and herbs.

He accepted

Ansel stumbled home the next morning, carrying the peace and freedom of his dream with him. And for the first time in a while, he could look at his son without wanting to burst into tears.

Nine months later he was shocked when he opened his door in the middle of the night, the wall guard on the front step.

“This was left for you at the wall.”

A slightly judgemental look on his face, the guard hefted the basket on his arm, a swaddled infant cradled within it.

“It said his name is Niklaus.”

Stunned, Ansel took the basket from the guard, half-stumbling back into his house.

“Klaus, welcome home.”

“Father,” he returned with a nod.

Opening the door, Ansel gestured his son in.

“How has your shop been going?”

“Well.” Klaus rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a carved figurine. “I had some spare wood, it was a bit too small to sell, but I carved this for Henrik.”

“He’ll love it.”

“Nik!” A young brunet boy cried, running toward Klaus and hurling himself into his arms.

Klaus let out a playful omph, catching the boy and spinning the two around. Setting him down again and He ruffled his hair, even as the boy batted his hand away with a whine.

“And have you been good, Henrik?”

“Of course, Nik! I’m not Kol.” The boy replied with a snicker.

“Oi!” The two heard shouted from the next room, Kol poking his head out into the hallway.

“Whatever have I done to deserve such cruelty?” With a dramatic hand pressed to his chest, Kol pouted as he stepped from behind the wall.

Henrik raised a practiced brow. With a chuckle, Kol dropped his faux hurt and sauntered into the room, taking the opportunity to pester his brother back and tousled his hair.

Henrik squawked even as Kol praised him. “Ah, we raised you well.”

Klaus grinned.

Klaus spent the rest of his day off, playing around with Henrik before heading out. His youngest brother was truly a joy: kind, thoughtful, and with a touch of mischief. Who could ask for better?

Now, he had a very different person on his mind, as he paced beneath Tatia’s window, fiddling with a small stone. With a deft flick of his wrist he hurled the stone up, bouncing it off the glass.

He waited with building anticipation as he caught the movement of a few shifting shadows. A moment later, her figure came into view, a beaming smile on her face.

“‘Lijah?”

Klaus frowned, both at the mention of Elijah and the way her expression faltered upon seeing him. But she soon smoothed out her features and a new smile bloomed on her face.

“Oh, Nik, good evening!”

“Good evening, Tatia.” Rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, Klaus felt almost bashful.

“Niklaus.” He heard called from beside him and he turned with a slight scowl.

“Elijah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Staring each other down, bodies tense, the two brothers’ standoff was interrupted by the girl they had both come to visit.

“Don’t fight!” She called down.

Forcing himself to relax, Klaus pivoted to peer back up at her.

“As you wish, love.”

Walking over, Elijah clasped his shoulder with firm pressure, just shy of painful.

“We shall take our leave then?” His brother half-asked.

The brunette glanced over her shoulder for a few moments before returning their gazes, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. She frown, appearing disappointed.

“Yes, I suppose that’s best. I shall see you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course,” both brothers chorused together, each slightly frustrated by the other, though they did their best to hide it. They continued to smile up at Tatia until she vanished back into her room.

Their mutual beloved now out of sight, the two brothers pulled away. Klaus glared and Elijah returned his disgruntlement with a severe frown of his own.

“We should settle this now should we not, brother?”

“Indeed, brother,” Klaus agreed, whipping around and stalking toward the forest.

Klaus hefted his blade, giving it a practiced flourish, feeling the familiar weight in his hand.

“I’ve always been the better swordsman, brother. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Ah, but I have something to fight for, Niklaus.”

Klaus’ lips pursed at the implication that he was not also fighting for Tatia.

“Prepare to lose all the same.”

Blades hefted, the two brothers clashed in a flurry of steel, neither seeming to have the upper hand. Blows traded, blocked, and parried, until Elijah miscalculated, taking a fraction too long to follow through. In a whirl of motion, Klaus lashed out, cutting clean through his brother’s belt.

Vexed, Elijah withdrew, stiffly running a hand down his tunic, smoothing the wrinkles from their battle.

“The match is yours, brother.”

“Oh, Nik…”

Tatia trailed off, worrying her lip.

Concern welled up in his chest, and Klaus faltered.

“Tatia?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, big doe eyes welling with pity. “But I-I promised my hand to Elijah.”

“When was this?!” He cried, voice a bit harsher than he intended judging by Tatia’s flinch. Softening, the blonde apologized.

Accepting his sincerity Tatia answered, “Late last night. A few hours after you departed.”

He forcibly kept his face impassive even as he internally raged. And his brother claimed to have honor.

“Will you not allow me to at least plead my case?” Carefully absorbing her expression, he observed the obvious conflict painted across her face.

“Very well.”

“Goodness, Nik, this must have been most of your savings!” Tatia cried as she peered at the impressive spread of food Klaus had laid out on the blanket.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, love.” He gave a casual roll of his shoulder and looked over at her fondly, trying not to boast too boldly. “Even if it were, I can always make more. That’s the beauty of it, my love. And one day I will travel the world.”

“I’ve always admired that about you, Nik. You dream so grandly.”

Opening his mouth to offer it all to her, he was interrupted. “...Did you know Elijah is traveling all the way to Ipswich?”

“Ipswich?” Klaus laughed, concealing most of his bitterness. “Tatia, I would take you to London or Paris, any, all of the great cities. Ipswich,” scoffing Klaus continued, “for your hand, I’d cross oceans or continents. I would go to the gold fields of San Francisco and bring you back your weight in gold. I would,” he insisted as a look of half skepticism and half wonder glinted in her eyes. “I would sojourn to Africa and fetch a diamond as big as your fist.”

She looked tempted, but his elation deflated as he watched the woman suppress it.

“You’re wonderful, Klaus. But it’s getting late, and I should really get going.” Rising and dusting off her skirts, Klaus scrambled after her, hurt by the change in address.

“Tatia, wait!”

She turned to peer over her shoulder at him, face apologetic, but she only muttered a soft ‘sorry’ before running off toward town.

Slumping, Klaus lashed out, kicking the basket with a snarl.

An aged man, once fierce and proud, laid tucked amidst decadent bedding a definite increasing frailty in his limbs. Yet despite his approaching death there was still a ferocity in his countenance.

“Where is Alaric?” The man demanded.

“He’s on his way, father,” another replied, a man with a strong jaw, dark hair, and hazel eyes. Beside him stood his brother, features a bit narrower with a noticeable wave in his hair. And beside him, stood another brother. This one younger with lighter, even wavier hair and green eyes.

“Then, we shall wait,” their father intoned.

As if summoned, Alaric came strutting through the double doors.

“Sorry, I was late, Father. I came as swiftly as I was able.” Coming to a halt between his brothers, the man knelt at the foot of the bed, paying his respects to his father, the King.

“Lucien.” He nodded to his narrower faced brother before turning to each of the others in turn. “Tristan,” he acknowledged, this time to the other dark haired man. “Stefan,” he concluded.

“So, to the matter of succession.” Their father began, instantly silencing the room. “Of my seven sons, four of you remain still,” the King announced pointedly. “It is quite a break with tradition. I had 12 brothers and they all fell at my hand when my father was still hearty at seven and forty.”

“We remember, Father. Your triumph is truly an inspiration, a mark of strength and courage,” Lucien praised.

“And cunning,” the King added, a trait Lucien had purposefully failed to mention. Cunning was his greatest weapon after all. Shifting his eyes the King addressed his second son, “Alaric.”

“Yes, father?”

“Go to the window, my son. Tell me what you see.”

Confident and hopeful, Alaric strode over to the large open face window and peered out into the night.

“I see the kingdom, Father,” he called back, voice filled with pride, “the entirety of Stormhold.”

“And?” The King prompted.

“My kingdom, perhaps?”

Behind his turned back, a subtle expression of distaste crossed the King’s face.

Smirking, Lucien slipped over on silent feet, stopping just behind Alaric. With a harsh shove, Lucien easily sent the idiot to his death. Alaric’s plummet marked by his echoing scream.

The King chuckled darkly in his bed, a certain schadenfreudic joy also in his tone. Stefan stepped beside Lucien and peered down, just catching a glimpse of Alaric’s rapidly shrinking figure. He brushed a bit closer to his brother, but the brunet whipped around quickly and stared him down. Stefan raised his hands in a gesture of innocence even as a tiny smirk bloomed.

Unseen to all, the ghosts of their dead brothers watched on. Each reflected the circumstances of their death, some more gruesome than others. One was covered in terrible burns with about a third of their face near melted away. Ironic perhaps, as in life the dark haired, blue-eyed Prince often bragged about being the most handsome of his brothers. Another was covered in frost, pale and blue tinged with the occasional blackened patch on their fingers. The last appeared normal albeit dour. Unlike his other two brothers who cackled with glee, the frozen one seeming particularly delighted, this one sat unfazed having no particular response to the death of Alaric.

They were soon joined by Alaric, his hair windswept and half of his skull caved in. His brothers each greeted him, and Alaric glanced at them in surprise.

“Finn?” With increasing shock, Alaric’s eye landed on the burnt and frozen forms of the other two. “Damon? John?!” He neared shouted.

John scowled. “We are trapped like this, in limbo, until the new king is crowned.”

Alaric moaned in dismay, a tiny fraction of himself hoping his brothers were somehow still alive despite their appearances, that he was alive. “I was that close.”

“Well, at least you haven’t lost your looks,” John taunted sarcastically, casting his gaze back and forth between Alaric and Damon. The barb struck, and Damon sneered back; a gruesome image on his ruined face.

“Well, at least I wasn’t moronic enough to let Alaric over there lock me in a freezer.”

John glared, retorting, “And what a load of good it did him, the new King of Stormhold. Oh, wait. No. He’s here, with us, skull crushed.”

Alaric jolted, his ghostly form may have appeared deformed, but he couldn’t tell. His vision seemed normal and he was in no pain. Yet when he reached up he realized that the whole right side of his face must have taken the brunt of his fall. His fingers traced newly flattened planes of shattered bones and his burst, half-crushed eye.

Ripping his hand away, determined to ignore it, Alaric took the opportunity to launch his own taunt.

“Still bitter, John? It was ten years ago.”

John opened his mouth to shoot something back, but was interrupted by their most silent brother.

“Enough. If you would all stop bickering like children then perhaps you will be able to hear Father’s verdict.”

Disgruntled, but acknowledging the logic, his other three brothers resolutely ignored each other as they turned to peer at their still living relatives.

“Esther? Esther?” The King called, voice a bit hoarse now, as he peered about the room. Stefan glowered at the tiny smirks on his brothers’ faces.

“No, father it’s me. Your son,” he reminded, “Stefan.”

“Oh,” the King sighed, an obvious note of disappointment in the sound. “Where is your sister, Esther?”

Tristan stepped closer as he answered, “Apologies, Father, but no one has seen Esther in years.”

“Lucien?” The King drawled as he turned his head, a bit accusatory.

Sauntering closer, Lucien defended himself. “I certainly didn’t kill her, Father. Why would I, when these two yet live? It’s not as if she could inherit the throne. See,” Lucien gestured toward one of the far corners where two women looked on, the blonde with apparent disinterest and the red-head with a tiny smile. “Freya and Aurora are alive. If I were mad enough to kill one sister, surely I would have killed them all.”

The King turned his head, taking in his two other daughters with slightly softer eyes. “Indeed.” Casting his gaze back to his sons, his tone regained its harsher edge. “As three of you live, we shall resolve this matter in a non-traditional manner.” Reaching up the main unclasped a thick golden chain from around his neck and held it aloft.

Everyone looked on, even Freya and Aurora stepping a bit closer, as the ruby at the necklace’s end drained of its color, until only a clear, faceted stone remained. The jewel began to pulse with light, and the King released it, allowing it to float. The necklace bobbed in the air, the chain seeming to slither back and forth from the magic enveloping it.

“Only he of royal blood can restore the ruby. And the one of you who does so, shall be the new King of Stormhold.”

Sacrificing the last of his life force, the King propelled the necklace far from the room. It hurtled out the window, just past the grasping hands of his eager sons, in a streak of light.

Even a brush from death, the King had conjured enough power to send the necklace catapulting into space where it struck something in an explosion of energy. A ball of white hot plasma came shrieking down, burning away the atmosphere as it descended.

Klaus was distracted from his spiraling thoughts as a burst of light fell from the heavens. He stared at it, a wild idea forming in his mind. Perhaps, seeing as Tatia did not desire anything of this world, she would accept something beyond from beyond it as his courting gift. Surely, a far better token than a mere ring from Ipswich.

The star continued its rapid descent, flying over the head of a contemplative olive-toned woman, before finally crashing into the earth. Dirt and rock were forcibly expelled from the impact of the landing, the nearby vegetation incinerated.

In the crater, rock had melted into one largely continuous sheet, some barely surviving plants at its edge in flames. And nestled at the very bottom was a beautiful blonde woman, clad in a long silver dress. One that flowed and gleamed like liquid starlight, a mark of what she was.

Groaning, the woman turned her head to look at the necklace that laid beside her, the cursed thing that had knocked her from the sky.

“Seriously?!”

Miles back, the olive skinned woman was still staring at the sky, gathering her thoughts. With a slight hum, she moved from the balcony and waltzed deeper into the castle she called home.

“Ayanna? Qetsiyah?” She called. 

From another room, two other women emerged. One looked similar to the caller, both of them possessing dark, wavy hair. Although this second woman appeared a few years older, and her skin had a lighter more golden hue. The third woman at her side was the oldest of the three with rich brown skin and hair styled in careful cornrows.

“What is it?” The oldest inquired.

“A star has fallen.”

“A star has fallen, you say?” The other asked, looking a bit more interested.

Seeing her nod, the three moved as one toward the divination room.

“It can’t be left to wander,” one muttered, cornrows swaying as she moved.

Features tightening, the other grumbled, “It certainly cannot.”

A chuckle. “Are you still feeling bitter, Qetsiyah?”

“Would you not be?”

“Don’t start,” the oldest reprimanded as she moved toward one of the animal cages.

“Yes, Ayanna,” the other two chorused with fond exasperation.

Ayanna returned with a ferret in her hands, stroking its fur apologetically. Stretching its squirming body across a stone table, Qetsiyah appeared at her side, knife in hand, and cut a deep line across its belly.

All three peered over.

“If these divinations are correct then the star lies 100 miles from here.”

“Which of us is going to fetch it?” Qetsiyah wondered, Ayanna having wandered farther away to cremate the body of their sacrifice.

“I shall,” declared the original woman, and the other two agreed, not particularly bothered.

Klaus stood before his father’s door, barely remembering to give him notice as an image of Henrik flashed through his mind.

It only took a few quiet knocks, before door swung open, his father in the entryway. He looked surprised, but after a quick scan of his face he seemed to reach some conclusion.

“You have something to tell me.” It was a statement not a question.

Klaus fought the sheepish expression that wanted to emerge. “Yes.”

Opening the door wider, Ansel beckoned him in.

“That’s quite the tale,” his father replied, having silently absorbed the details of Klaus’ self-imposed quest.

“Is this girl truly worth your struggle? When she toys with you and your brother both?”

Klaus couldn’t hide his surprise, having not mentioned Elijah at all.

Ansel snorted, a wry grin on his face. “Come now, Klaus. You and Elijah may have both moved out in an effort to ease my financial burdens, but I am still your father.”

Still a bit stunned, it took him a moment to reply to his father’s original question.

“Of course she’s worth it, Father.”

His father eyed his determined demeanor, noting his vehemence.

“There’s something you should know then, if you intend to cross the wall.”

Stunned silent for a second time, Klaus blindly reached behind him to grasp the back of a chair, spinning it around to sit in.

“My mother?” Klaus repeated hoarsely. The enclosed space of the attic now seeming much to small for the emotions swelling within him.

Stepping around to the table, Ansel nodded, setting down a basket and pulling out a white flower, still perfectly preserved and a thin, silver chain.

Running his eyes over them, Klaus noted that they appeared exactly as his father described them. Neither of the two were much for pranks (that was more Kol’s purview), certainly not one like this, but he still picked the chain up, making his own cut with a knife from his belt. It severed with ease, slithering back together in a glow of light. Klaus dropped the chain with nerveless fingers, it was true?

Klaus took a moment to process that thought, the idea of his mother. Oh, he had always known that his father’s wife, the woman who bore Rebekah, Kol, and Henrik, was not his mother. Neither was Elijah’s, his father’s first wife and dearest love. Klaus had always felt a little less for that, though he said nothing. And now his father tells him he had stories to tell of her. Magnificent stories that had little to do with liquor fueled trysts. Or at least not only liquor fueled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, managing to keep all but a trace of bitterness from his voice.

To his credit, Ansel appeared regretful. Reaching over, the man picked up the flower and tucked it into the button hole of Klaus’ lapel. He smoothed the collar as he gathered his thoughts.

“At first, it was because you were too young to understand. And then, because I didn’t want to hurt you.” His father looked up, knowing him well and expecting his fury. “I see now that I failed. And I am sorry for that. But can you honestly tell me you would be happier knowing your mother existed so close, but beyond your reach?”

Klaus stood abruptly, pacing the small space. “Well, we’ll never know now, will we?” Running a hand through his short curls, he huffed, torn. He refused to say it, but perhaps his father was right, his thoughts now vacillating between Tatia and his mother. He intended to travel beyond the wall anyway, surely…

“One last thing,” Ansel added, reaching for a cylindrical wrapped package from the basket. “This was left as well. It’s addressed to you and I never opened it.”

Klaus frowned, reaching for the package, accepting the olive branch. Unraveling the parchment he saw it was a letter rolled around an odd black candle.

My dearest Niklaus,

Please know, I only wanted the best for you, and had my mistress allowed it, I would have kept you in a heartbeat. Perhaps that was selfish of me, wanting to raise you where you would have been the son of a slave. But know that I did and do love you dearly. And as such, it is my dearest wish is that we will meet someday.

I’ve enclosed a candle in this letter as the fastest way to travel is by candlelight. To use it, think of me and only me.

I will think you of you every day, for always,

Your mother

Klaus arched a brow, pointedly reading the last part aloud. He watched Ansel’s shoulders slump, took some pleasure in his retribution, but ultimately relented. His father didn’t know.

“Do you have a light?”

His father looked up, still apologetic, and struck a match, taking his question for what it was. Until Klaus returned, they would let the matter lie for now.

As soon as the match touched wick, igniting it with a small tongue of flame, golden light enveloped him. It was an odd sensation, traveling by candlelight, seeming to float at a standstill and move rapidly all at once.

Before he could take the time to process the feeling it ended, and Klaus collided with a blonde woman. The force of the impact sending them both crashing to the ground, he on top.

“Mother?” He asked hesitantly. She was blonde and blue-eyed, as he was, but she appeared fairly young, maybe his age or a few years older. Certainly too young to be his mother in England, but perhaps that wasn’t the case in Stormhold? Did magic make people age slower?

The fallen star had passed out not long after glaring at the necklace, head still pounding with the force of the blow and then the fall. When she woke again, it was sheer spite that had her fastening the jewelry around her neck. As if she would give it the chance to whack some other poor, undeserving star about the head. Perhaps, she could destroy it somehow? Grind it to dust?

The thought gave her pleasure, pleasure she used to buoy her mood as she stumbled to her feet, a dull ache crawling up from her ankle and shin. She grunted, displeased as she staggered on newfound legs toward the lip of the crater.

Far, far from amused when something else collided with her.

For the second time!

AN: For those of you are familiar I’m sure you recognize some changes and some direct quotes. We’ll see how it all pans out...Seriously, this time I promise there will be more. *Coughs* No promises on when.

And for those of you keeping track these are the current fusion characters:

Tristan Thorn: Niklaus Anselson

Still half siblings: Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Henrik

Dunstan Thorn: Ansel

Slave/Princess: Una: Esther

Mistress: Dahlia

Victoria: Tatia

Yvaine: Caroline

Witch Queen: Unnamed for now, can you guess? ;)

Sisters: Ayana, Qetsiyah

King: Mikael

Primus: Tristan

Secundus: Alaric

Tertius: Stefan

Quartus: John

Quintus: Finn

Sextus: Damon

Septimus: Lucien

“New” daughters

Dua: Freya

Tria: Aurora

As you can see I’ve taken some liberties with how they’re related to one another. And because naming your kids their birth order in Latin was a bit too on the nose, it’s now part of their title rather than their name. I hope you guys enjoy this one! Even if it was a bit light on the actual Klaroline

[satire-please]

TimDrakeWeek 2017 Day 2: Childhood/Adulthood DamiTim

Excited to try this with @iphoenixrising, @the-all-seer and @rahndom if they still want to jump and do a day. :D So far it’s been really fun.

Damian outgrew Tim in his fifteenth year.

In that summer to be precise. Though the sun baked the concrete to the point that everyone stayed inside to not fry to death...it had been a very dark summer for Tim.

Damian hadn’t been subtle at all. Anytime Tim stopped by the manor for a chemical analysis, a briefing from B or retrieve a casefile the current robin would stand side by side next to Tim. Look, compare and smirk. In June the brat was about to the bridge of his nose, by August...he was a hair taller.

“A centimeter is more than a hair I believe, Drake.”

“It’s the width of your pinky, now stop gloating.” With a hand, he pushes Damian back slightly. The teen’s been bad with personal space lately. Crowding him against walls before a mission just to prove heights is rude, dude. It’s almost as if the assassin is relishing the fact that now he can look down on Tim physically as well as emotionally.

“I’m just admiring my new perspective. This angle is surprisingly pleasing to me.” See. Tim doesn’t even know why he’s pissed. He should have been resigned the moment the tiny hell child announced Bruce was his father.

Still the fact itches. “Look, I know oxygen is thinner up there, but could you try not to lose too many brain cells?”

“I’ll try, though the weather up here is quite lovely.” Oh Alfred’s Apple Pie, Damians learned puns. Now Tim has to murder Dick. Especially when the smile Damian gives has a touch of fang. “Now come along, father needs us.”

The boy, ‘cause height difference or not that’s what he is, turns away dramatically after beckoning Tim to follow him.

“Worst. Summer. Ever.”

Dick of course makes it worse, “Who’s my shortest adorable brother?” He coos obnoxiously. Like one of those fat women making baby noises at their pet dog. His palms squish either side of Tim’s face and Tim swears to all higher powers that if Dick tries to rub their noses together he’s gonna bite him. “You are! You’re officially the shortest ruthless vigilante in the family now. I should twitter about this...to everyone.”

“If you don’t get your hands off me right now, I’m going to string you in your underwear somewhere for Bab’s viewing pleasure again.”

Dick’s fingers fly off his face as if it’s scalding. “Awwwwww, you don’t have to get that vicious Timmy.”

“I’m always this vicious, you dick. One day my pain will be yours and on that day I’ll will  remember this moment and you will be sorry.” Tim promises with spite.

Dick coyly presses a hand over his heart, "Oh Timmy, my darling petite–omph,” Dick could dodge the first strike to his thorax, but not the second. But still he wheezes out, “That would never happen!”

It happens.

“How could this happen?” Tim vindictively snickers at Dick’s cry when Damian hits seventeen. A month away for a mission and now he’s reduced to whining that Damian's not the right size to cuddle anymore. "He doesn't fit under my chin anymore." He sobs, tucking Tim under said chin tighter as Tim repeatedly attacks his kidneys. "And he keeps dragging me along if I hug him from behind. Like my weight doesn't even matter!"

"Ha. Serves you right." Tim twists around to slap his hands on Dick’s face, “Who’s the second shortest vigilante in the family now? It’s you, Dick. It’s you.”

“You’re so meeeeeeeeeean.” Dick wiggles his head closer until their noses smash together, “What did I ever do to get brothers as cruel as you?”

“It’s in your namesake, Dick.” Tim starts struggling in earnest to get away from the clingy hero. He is not a stuffed animal and would very much appreciate if his ‘siblings’ treated him less so. “Or it’s karma. Take your pick.”

Dick grumbles and childishly cheats by using his legs to make the hold more difficult.

Yet as Tim contemplates his fate on the floor in this horrid octopus grip he actually has to admit...Damian has seemed to mellow out?

“Did you forget who’s the senior vigilante here? Just because you inherited B’s monstrous height doesn’t mean you’re any less of a brat Damian.”

Damian taunting sweeps his arm towards the entrance, “My apologies, age before beauty, then again with your delicate bone structure perhaps you would account for both.”

Tim freezes. Is Damian...flirting with him? He shakes his head, nah. Headgames must be another thing the boy’s gained from his crazy family tree.  Lately, or not lately, it’s been a gradual thing really, Damian and Tim have done more missions together.

“For efficiency sake.” Damina justifies. As the two of them all a frightening team when they apply their talents together.

Tim skill in logic and ability to place the clues in interesting ways, Damian’s assassin training that makes him a martial arts vistoso. Few enemies can best them when they fight together.

But something's off. Tim can’t nail down the thought with proof yet but…

“Timothy?” He jerks towards at Damian. “Timothy it is time we made our way to the burrows.”

“Timothy? What happened to Drake?”

Oh my dear. It that a slight blush Tim recognizes on Damian’s face? “I have realized that it might be considered rude to refer to you in that manner. After all, you do not call me Al Ghul, do you?”

This is true. “I suppose.”

But later, Tim realizes much later to his faulty skills as a detective, Damian still says Grayson, Todd and Brown with the other members of the family.

Like  “Timothy, I’ve brought us some rations. Just because we are reduced to wait for this scum to leave his pithole does not mean we must do it in discomfort.” It’s just a sandwich. But it’s one from one of Tim’s favorite cafes. Tim doesn’t know what to think of that.

Damian’s grown into his father’s monstrous bulk. Still shy of B’s height and an inch or two below Jason yet still informidable. His wide shoulders and dark tan skin have earned him the title, “Sheik” by various gossip magazines.

Not that Tim really pays attention to that sort of stuff.

Nor doesn’t he pretend not to know of how they dub them, “Fire and Ice.” whenever they endure an event together.

"What's going on?" Tim asks bemused. Damian and Kon stand off in the commons area. Kon with his arms crossed in front of his chest, while Damian casually tosses a batarang up and down with one hand. Kon is definitely taller, but there's something deadly in Damian's stance. Like a snake coiled to strike.

"Pissing contest." Cassie says  gleefully, grabbing a fist of popcorn before shoving the bag at Tim. "They've been at it for 14 minutes now and it's glorious."

Suck, diplomacy with the Titans and Dami has always been iffy. Once you attack their 'bird' you tend to go on their people-okay-to-drown-at-lunch list. It's a big list. Garth was excited to announce that Tim's list was currently the largest.

"Why didn't anyone get me?”

"Because it's about you." Bart hooks his elbow through Tim's and supports him, which is completely unnecessary, to limp and slouch on the couch. "The dude just showed up demanding to see you, that Bats needs your mad skills with forensics and crap but Kon thinks, it'd be nice if you were off crutches before getting broken again you know?"

"I'm not broken."

"Your leg begs to differ." Raven materializes beside him from the shadows. She really should teach Tim how to do that, he's just saying. Raven digs into the popcorn bag still in Tim's possession to get a satisfying crunch. "If I recall correctly, you shouldn't even be out of bed."

Damian whips his head to their direction, "Timothy is this true?

Crap. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Says the idiot whose tibia is in three pieces.” Kon grumbles straightening his back to make himself even more imposing to the intruder, but Damian’s eyes are glued on a different target. He drops the posturing act to walk to Tim and falls to a knee in front of him. Carefully, he lifts the neon pink cast, ‘cause real men wear pink, that’s littered with inappropriate comments from his team.

“Yes, that does seem to fit into the category of a ‘big deal’ Timothy.” He chides running his fingers over the names on Tim’s calf.

Tim bristles. “It does not. Besides, even benched, grown-up vigilante here, I can still do casefiles and computer work just fine, what does B need?”

“Hmmm, my father needs another to look over a heist note the Riddler is fond of making. Yet perhaps I should turn to different source.” Damian looks around and fishes for a marker on the coffee table. He gently lifts the limb to rest on his thigh, begins to write.  “Maybe one that will allow himself to heal properly.”

“Damian. Al Ghul. Wayne.” Where’s his crutches? He’s going to beat this twerp over the head. Give him something else that’s broken to worry about. Bart buries his face into Tim’s shoulder to muffle his snickers. It doesn’t do much. 

Dami finishes adding to the mess of ink before nodding to himself. “I’ve decided. I’ll give you the datapad after you gain an hour of rest.” He says staring up at Tim without compromise.

“What? No.”

“Or I’ll put Alfred on the com and inform him of your unfortunate situation.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Only if you consider it to be so.” Why yes Tim considers it to be so. Motherhen Alfred is a terrible nightmare to behold. No one can escape his clutches once he knows a Bat is harmed, doesn’t matter how old you are or where you are, he will find you. He will drown you in blankets, food and sedatives. And he has full access to the Tower. Garth is very fond of his vegetarian alfredo pizza.

“He’s got you there, Red.” Kon calls out, hands on his hips with a smug expression. The tension that once electrified the room is gone, but Tim almost misses it. Then maybe everyone in the room would stop ganging up on him.

“Do we agree or disagree?” Damian presses.

“We agree that this is shameless blackmail and I hate you.” Tim hisses out.

Damian’s voice turns warm and satisfied. “Good. Now let’s get you back into bed.”  He then worms his hands under Tim’s knees and lower back and lifts. Like Tim weighs nothing at all.

“I have crutches. Like right there. Cassie get my crutches.”

“Nope. Red’s room is on the top floor, by the way.” She has a hand pressed to her mouth, grinning like a loon. As if the best sight she’s seen all day is Tim carried like a princess. Then where’s his tiara, dammit?

“Thank you.” Damian gives a curt bob of his head and turns to go with the fussy man. The last thing the team sees is the elegant black scrawl on their Rob’s cast.

Please protect this foolish treasure - Damian

Yeah, maybe the Titans can trust their bird in these hands….just maybe.

It all comes to a head during a mission, they almost get caught in an explosion. Why can’t clowns stay away from fire? And Damian had tackled him to the ground and covered him against the flare of heat that licked their backs.

In the rubble, Damian lifts himself to stop crushing the smaller man. Their faces are close, Tim notes with his heart in his throat. They breath the same air and Damian's eyes flicker to his lips. To the inch barely separating them, all he’d would have to do is drop his head...just a little for them to meet.

“Damian?” The boy, no man in question drags his gaze to meet Tim's stare.

“Tell me to stop.” And slowly, achingly, he closes the distance between them. Tim can't move. Doesn't dare to as Damian kisses him gently. Almost excruciatingly so. It's a barely a press, so hesitant though it lasts for several long seconds...or years, Tim can't tell. Damian doesn't close his eyes the entire time and Tim is hypnotized, can't break the hold of that connection even when Damian reluctantly pulls back.

His brow furrows and it's a ridiculously adorable look on the oversized teen. “You did not tell me to stop.” He says confused.

“I didn't tell you stop period.” That earns Tim a cracked smile. It's so cute, Tim can't help but lean up to peck him square on the mouth. When Damian jerks to the side in surprise, He snorts and breaks into laughter.

His arms slowly squeezed around Tim’s waist, as if in disbelief that he was there in Damian’s lap. It was tentative, but definitely a conscious action.  Then reluctantly Damian unraveled his grip and cradled Tim’s hips in his palms. The fire blazed from yards away but the heat that races up Tim’s spine isn’t coming from the destruction. Then with barely an effort he lifted Tim straight up to place him back on his feet.

It’s casual, smooth and Tim hates to admit it...impressive.

“Are you alright, Timothy?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“A little singed, nothing more.”

“Okay, I have to know. Have you flirting been with me this entire time?” Tim asks blunt as a rock.

“Oh good.” Damian ducks his head away from the other vigilante, as if he’s too embarrassed to look at him. “I was becoming concerned that you would never notice my advances.”

A raspy voice buzzes in from the com, “Yeah, we thought the world would end first.”

“Jason if you ruin Dami’s confession, I will cut you.”  Dick hisses and Tim decides that the rest of this conversation is better done off grid.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere where there isn’t a raging firestorm or snooping eavesdroppers around.”

“Indeed.” Damian’s agrees warmly and when he wraps his arm gently around Tim, smiling down at him like that? Well, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind the height difference anymore.

Not at all.

[kpopscenarios4u-blog]

Maybe, Baby. - Part 1/?

Part O N E || *coming soon* Word Count: 3,159 Themes: AU, Family, mafia!yoongi Triggers: N/A A/N: I know I have a request waiting to be written but it’s on a hard topic for me to write. I will do it because I made a promise to myself that I’ll never turn down a request, but I wanted to take a break from writing the first part and write something a little different. This will be a series and it will have everything in it. It will range from fluffy to smutty-mcsmut smut, family to angst. I don’t know how many parts it will be just yet, we’ll see what happens. P.S - I know that their ages aren’t right - this is AU af.

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“Cali, I swear,” You groaned, rushing around the house and almost killing yourself as you tripped on some toys that your daughter had left lying around. “If you don’t get your bag and put your shoes on right now, you’re going to school in your slippers - without lunch.” Life as a single mother was always interesting, especially since your daughter had started elementary school. It was hard to believe that the tiny baby you’d had just shy of sixteen was now a ten-year-old who was her own person. “Okay, okay.” Cali grumbled as she grabbed her bag from the kitchen counter and made her way to where you stood in the entrance. She pulled her backpack on - taking her sweet time - before slipping her feet into her school shoes. Your daughter reminded you more and more of her father every day. Even after all this time, the very thought of your first love was enough to cause your heart to pang painfully.

Your traditional parents hadn’t been supportive when you’d informed them that you were pregnant and planning on keeping the baby. They’d let you stay in their house until you found a place to stay and since then you’d been on your own. You managed, however, and the two of you were much better off without your mother and father. Though it got lonely and you missed adult company, it had always been the two of you and that was something you wouldn’t change for anything.

With Cali safely dropped off at her Elementary school, you had to hurry to make it to your first class for the day. You’d decided to go back to school a year ago. Graduating high school at been hard enough with a young baby, but you had done it. Thankfully, you were blessed to have wonderful teachers who had gone above and beyond to help you out. You hadn’t even considered further education - though you had dreamed about completing your goals - until Cali’s 10th birthday. She was old enough to walk to and from school, especially when the school was only three blocks away, and you had formed an amazing support group in the city. It had been the support of Cali’s best friend’s mother who had finally given you the confidence to enroll at University.

Hurrying through the school gates, your feet guided you as if on auto-pilot toward your first class, you barely took in the other students milling around. When you’d first gone back to school, you felt so out of place. Everyone seemed so much younger than you when in reality you were only eight or nine years older than most of the other students in your classes. However, the further you got into the year, the less you worried about what other people thought. You’d almost completed your first year of university and, now, you were confident to just go through the motions to get by. With a million things on your mind, you barely noticed you were about to collide with someone until it was too late. With a crude omph, you crashed into the broad chest of another person. “Sorry,” You cringed, stepping back and reaching to grab your backpack that had slipped off your shoulder only to have a second person reach down and pick it up first. “I should have been paying attention.” You glanced at the person you’d run into first but kept the second person in your peripheral vision. You relaxed when you noticed that the first male was a familiar face. “Oh, Jungkook!” You breathed, relieved before realising that he was going the wrong way. “Class is that way?” You watched as Jungkook glanced nervously at the man who was currently holding your backpack. You looked at this person, too, sensing that something was off and your heart caught in your chest. “Yoongi.” You breathed, your hand flying to your throat. You saw the flicker of realisation cross his face, his eyes widening. Jungkook’s presence went completely forgotten as you and your ex stared into each other’s eyes. “Y/N.” His tone wasn’t that dissimilar to your own. It was as if you were staring into the eyes of a ghost from your past. “How... How are you?” “I’m fine, thanks, how are you?” The pain in your chest was almost unbearable. You and Yoongi shared the same birthday. Your mothers had struck up a friendship during birthing class and had met again when they were both in labour. He had arrived first at 7:30 in the morning and you had followed almost three hours later at 9:19 am. Despite your families being worlds apart, the two of you were as thick as thieves. It was only natural that your friendship developed into something more, culminating in the two of your losing your virginities to each other. Not long after the two of you had slept together, Yoongi and his family were gone. They’d packed up in the middle of the night and moved. Two months later, you’d discovered that you were pregnant. “Yeah… Wow…” He let out a nervous laugh and moved to hug you. Just to be near him, you accepted his hug, the two of you lingering a little longer than necessary. The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled you both out of your haze.

“Hyung, weren’t you saying that we had somewhere to be?” Jungkook grinned, looking between the two of you, incredibly amused. As if a switch had been flicked, Yoongi’s personality changed. Gone was the young man you had grown up with and in his place was a domineering, chic adult. The change in him shot right through you, causing a long forgotten feeling to awaken in your lower belly. “Aren’t you staying for class, Jungkook?” You asked, turning your attention completely to the younger man for your sanity alone. He looked nervously at Yoongi before shaking his head. “I have somewhere to be, could I borrow your notes later? You have my number, yeah?” Nodding, an easy smile spread across your face. Jungkook was the next oldest in your class. At 23, he had a good four years on most of the other freshmen. Despite the four-year age gap between the two of you, you’d struck up a fast friendship and were as close as two university friends could be. Nodding, you tried to remember what your schedule was like. “I have about an hour free before tomorrow’s class - will you be back then?” You asked, still trying to ignore Yoongi but feeling his heated gaze on you. “We could get coffee? I can hang back after class because I have to get Cali to dance lessons.” “Cali?” Yoongi spoke up before Jungkook could get a word in. Your heart lept up into your throat, why had you mentioned her? Yoongi had no idea about her. Before you could think something up, Jungkook was speaking. “Cail is Y/N’s daughter.” They two of you had done a group project together, back in your first semester, and you had shared that information while trying to co-ordinate your schedules. Jungkook and Cali had never met, thankfully. You were quite protective of her - not that you thought Jungkook was a bad person. There was no hiding who her father was, however, and now you knew that Jungkook knew Yoongi. That would have opened up a whole can of worms that you were not prepared for.

A mixture of emotions crossed Yoongi’s face before you couldn’t take the guilt anymore and averted your gaze. “You have a daughter?” He asked, if you didn’t know better you would have thought he sounded hurt. “A lot happens in eleven years, Yoongi.” You murmured, your voice just loud enough to be heard over the general noise of campus life. God, it had almost been twelve years since he’d left. “Apparently.” He growled. “You don’t wear a ring.” “No, her father left before I even knew I was pregnant.” You gathered your courage and locked eyes with him. Was that… It was almost as if he was gloating. “I’m not married.” “Hyung, we really have to go.” Your gaze left Yoongi’s once more. The look in Jungkook’s eyes said that he knew. You sent a silent plea his way, praying that he wouldn’t tell Yoongi. “We’ll do coffee before class tomorrow - let’s meet at The Hub at 12?” “Sounds good, I should probably get to class as well.” You turned and reached for your backpack but Yoongi held it just out of your reach. “Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question. “I have work.” You deadpanned, holding your hand out for your bag. He didn’t hand it over. “When do you finish class and start work?”

You didn’t want to answer. Yoongi had a way of figuring things out. He’d pry his way into your secrets and you weren’t sure that you wanted him to know about Cali. He’d left without a trace, too soon after giving yourself to him. You were hurt and that hurt made you slightly irrational. You and Cali had a nice life together and what if he tried to ruin it? What if he didn’t want anything to do with her? Just the thought of Yoongi not wanting to know the perfect child the two of you had created together was more painful than him leaving you all those years ago. “Y/N,” He pleaded as he stepped closer and handed you your bag. His hand wrapped around your wrist before you could pull away. “Please?” “If you’re back here by 4 o’clock, you can walk with me to my job.” You sighed, pulling your hand away. “I start work at 5, so we can grab a coffee on the way.” He gave you a small smile, his hand squeezing your wrist gently before he let it go. “I’ll see you at 4.” You watched the two of them walk away, Jungkook animated as he walked beside a stoic Yoongi.

It was hard to focus throughout your classes that day. Monday’s were your busiest day with classes from 9-4, followed by work from five until three in the morning. Normally, your last class being let out fifteen minutes early would have been a reason to celebrate but today it just filled you with dread. You took your time gathering up your things to delay the inevitable. Yoongi was waiting for you as you exited the building. He was early. You slowed as you neared him and he easily fell into step beside you. “How have you been, Y/N?” He asked after a while, his voice soft. “Has it really been eleven years?” “Almost twelve.” You stated, your gaze on your feet. “I’ve been alright. We manage.” “You have a daughter.” “I do, she’s the best thing I’ve ever done and the greatest person I’ve ever had the privilege to meet.” You smiled, your demeanor softening at the mere mention of Cali. “When did you… How…” You could see that he was trying to be sensitive with his inquiry. You steered him towards your favourite cafe and made your way to the counter. You needed a cup of tea to keep your nerves calm and your hands busy if you were going to have this conversation. You and Cali often came here on days when you were around to pick her up from school, it was close enough to your home, work, and both of your schools and the staff were lovely. As the two of you made your way to the front counter, you heard a familiar voice call out and the blood drained from your face. “Mum!” Stopping dead in your tracks, you looked around for the familiar face, only to see Cali bounding over followed by her best friend, Jia. Jia’s mother was sitting behind them at a table. As Cali came into Yoongi’s view, it was as if time was moving slower. You turned to look at his face, trying to think of a way to distract him but it was too late. You saw the look of realization cross his face. “I can explain.” You said weakly. Cali skidded over to you and hugged you tightly, not even registering that Yoongi was there. “I thought you had work tonight?” She asked, her words going a mile a minute. “We got let out an hour early because there was a fire at school, so Jia’s mum brought us here!” “A fire?!” You gasped, looking across at Jia’s mother who shrugged and gave you a look that promised to fill you in. “Are you alright? I do have work, but I ran into an old… friend on the way to work and we were going to get a coffee to drink on the way.” Cali nodded and looked around to see what friend you could possibly have other than the ones she didn’t already know.

When Cali turned and smiled at Yoongi, you could see the pain flicker across his face before he smiled warmly. They really did look so similar. “Hi Cali,” He smiled, holding his hand out to her. “My name’s Yoongi, your mum and I grew up together.” You watched as your daughter reached out and shook her father’s hand. “Hi.” She said softly before turning back to you. Your daughter wasn’t a silly child. You could tell that she knew who Yoongi was. It wasn’t often that you met a stranger who had your face. She was also incredibly sensible and knew that you would explain yourself later on. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Mr… Um, Yoongi. Hopefully, we’ll meet again.” “Perhaps the three of us could have dinner if that was something your mum wanted?” “That would be lovely.”

You both made it out of the cafe without any other issues. It wasn’t until you were sitting in a park opposite your workplace that you finally spoke. “You left before I knew about Cali.” You whispered, watching a young family play on the grass. “I didn’t have any way to contact you, but I should have tried harder. You have to understand, I was so hurt when you left. I was fifteen and the only boy I’d loved, the boy who had just taken my virginity, had disappeared. You’ve got to think how that would seem to a kid.” “Dad got into some trouble with the mafia,” Yoongi said finally. “We had to leave but they caught up with us eventually. I didn’t want to leave you, Y/N. I’m not mad at you for not telling me about Cali. I’m upset that I wasn’t there for you. Your parents…” “They kicked me out just before she was born.” You admitted. “They let me stay until I had a job and a place lined up but then I was out. It’s not easy to find a job when you’re a heavily pregnant teenager. Do you remember the corner store down the road? The elderly couple that ran it gave me a job working the shift after school and let me stay in their spare room.” Yoongi listened intently to your story, his gaze on you the whole time. “I finished high school, lived there for a couple years until they both passed away. Their son wasn’t as accommodating and I was out. I didn’t have anything else for me there so I moved to Seoul.” “And you never dated?” “I didn’t have the time, I used to work three jobs before I started studying again, and Cali always came first. I didn’t want to start seeing someone, only for Cali to get attached and for them to leave.” “Three jobs, shit, Y/N,” Yoongi ran his hand over his face, looking older than his 27 years. “I should have been there.” “You couldn’t have known, Yoongi. It’s fine, I’ve made peace with it all.”

You drank your coffee in silence, waiting for the time when you would both have to go your separate ways. “I was serious before.” He admitted, breaking the silence. “I’d like to have dinner with you and Cali - if that’s alright with you.” “I’m… I’m not sure, Yoongi.” You sighed. “I meant what I said about no dating. It’s too hard when you have someone else to worry about.” “Then don’t think of it as dating. Think of it as Cali’s dad wanting to spend time and get to know his daughter. I assumed you’d be more comfortable with that situation if you were there.” He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. “Hell, I’d be more comfortable if you were there.” You weren’t sure how you felt about letting Yoongi back into your lives. You knew his father had been a very suspect character, but it seemed too easy an excuse. Surely, he could have let you know something was going on. He could have let you know anything that would have helped you get in touch with him. “I… I don’t know, Yoongi. Being a parent is like nothing you’ve ever done. You can’t just disappear when things get too hard. That girl loves harder than anyone I know, if she got attached and then you…” “I’m not fifteen anymore, Y/N.” Yoongi growled, offense written across his face. “I just want to get to know my kid. I want to learn that she loves harder or that she hates broccoli - everything - by myself. My life isn’t easy. It’s dark and messy and there’s not a lot of happiness in it, being with you and Cali could be that happiness.” “See, it’s statements like that that don’t help your case in being allowed near my kid, Min Yoongi.” You deadpanned. Just what the hell kind of life did your childhood love live. “Relax, I know how to keep my personal life and my work life separate.” “I need to know this kind of stuff if you’re going to come near Cali. What do you do for work?”

Yoongi was silent for the longest time. Fed up with waiting, you stood and gathered your things. “Well, it’s been great but I’m going to go.” “Wait!” Yoongi grabbed your wrist to stop you. “It’s complicated, but the short of it is that I work in law. It doesn’t have to be right away, get to know me first and then decide. Can I call you? Maybe meet up with you after work? I’ll drive you home.” “Jungkook has my number, ask him for it. I finish work at 3 am, so -” “Done, I’ll come and pick you up.” “You don’t have t-” “I’ll see you at three, Y/N. We can talk then.” Before you had the chance to respond he was up and walking away. With a sigh, you downed your now cold coffee and hurrying across the road. Just what had you got your family into?