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#who wants to put money on me backing out and becoming a recluse again
cyncerity · 1 year
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alien terrarium au!!
here it is! i said it’d be today, so it’s done! 1 min before it becomes tomorrow!
minor thing, tho: this is extremely unedited. like, there are a lot of things i post that aren’t edited fully, but i didn’t even fully read this one in one sitting. but i’m not free again until this tuesday or wednesday, so i’m not gonna make you guys wait that long lol
basically it’s midnight and i’m way too fucking busy so i’m gonna post it and edit it when i have time to later in the week. if you wanna wait for the fully edited version, ignore this until i specify that I edited it. if you don’t care, i hope you enjoy! this has been an on again off again thing for a few weeks and i’m so glad to finally have it like 95% done :)
tw: soft safe vore, unconventional vore ig?
“We have to cut our losses here. We don’t have enough to fund this any longer, and there’s no one we can reach out to for more money. We can’t risk this getting out.” “Fine, I- I know, it’s just…this is a breakthrough. We can’t afford to give up now.” “We won’t. We just need some time to get back on our feet is all. Besides, he knows what to do now…” the scientists turned their heads to the one way mirror they stood behind. A little boy, barely a teenager, sat behind it on his bed, his eyes glassy and unblinking, turned a glossy pearlescent white. Their project, practically their life’s work. Well, the container for it, anyway.
***
Wilbur heard the three scientists come into the room, and somehow registered one of them motion vaguely with their hand despite his eyes being effectively turned off, which meant they wanted him back in their world. Ugh. Still, he cut off his thoughts with his practically other half, eyes beginning to function again and the scientists approaching him as they saw his eyes shift back to the colors they were supposed to be.
“Wilbur, what we’re going to tell you is very, very important, so you have to listen carefully. It’s your life at stake if this goes wrong. And his.” The one in blue said, gesturing to Wilbur’s torso. Well, that was certainly a way to get his attention. Wilbur didn’t say a word, though; the green one didn’t like it when he ‘sassed them,’ so he instead scooted back and placed both arms protectively around himself and his…what did they call him once, ‘cargo’? He was sure he heard Green call him a ‘parasite’ once, which was rude. Still, they must have noticed his panic, cause the orange one responded immediately. “It’ll all be ok, things will just have to change for a minute here. You’re…youre not going to be able to stay here for a while.” “What?!” Wilbur said, unable to restrain himself. The green one went to speak up but was silenced by blue, who just whispered something about him being ‘scared’ and how this was ‘probably a lot to handle.’ Yeah, no shit it was!
“I get this is a huge change, I do, but it’s necessary for now. We don’t have the necessary resources to keep taking care of you here. We need to find a way to keep you safe and healthy, both of you. You’ll be staying somewhere secure while we find somewhere more reclusive to hide you. We don’t want anyone finding out anything and putting the two of you in danger.” Orange said, sitting next to Wilbur and rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. Right. Right, he had a purpose. And if part of his purpose was to survive without his caretakers for a short while, he could do it. If it meant safety for his stowaway, he could do it.
“You doin ok, bud?” Orange asked, and Wilbur nodded slightly. Orange was his favorite of the main three. He was always nice, and even gave him extra treats when he was behaving! “When do you think you can be ready to leave, Wil?” Green asked, crouching to be at level with where he sat. “Whenever you need me to be, sir.” Green smiled and ruffled his hair. Wil always tried to be extra good for Green. It’s not like he didn’t like him, it’s just that Green was more likely to yell at him if he messed up. “Good kid. We’ll leave tomorrow morning and introduce you to who you’ll be staying with. Try to get some rest.” He said, smiling before leaving and leading the other two out with him.
***
“Sam! Hey buddy!” Dream said, jumping out of the side of his van and running over to his old friend. “Dream! How’ve you been?” “Pretty good, you?” “Doin pretty good myself.” Sam replied, pulling Dream in for a hug. “So, who’s this kid you found?” “Calls himself Wilbur. We found him a few months ago, but we’re a bit short on money right now and can’t handle another mouth to feed. He won’t stay here for long, promise, just till we find a more stable income.” Dream hated to lie to an old friend, but he couldn’t afford his secret to be leaked. “I’m always lookin to help out, especially for a friend. Anything I need to know about him?”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd one, but that’s what we love about him.” Dream chuckled, hoping his friend was still oblivious. “He disassociates a lot. Like, constantly, and tends to get really upset if people try to mess with him when he’s like that. He also doesn’t do a lot of physical activity. Bruises take longer to heal for him, he gets sore easily, and his immune system doesn’t handle cuts well. He’s not very talkative, and he’s got some weird scars all over him. We think the two are connected, but we don’t know what this kid has been through.” Dream finished, and Sam nodded solemnly. Great, he was taking the bait. He was less likely to ask questions if he thought he was prying into the past of an abused child.
meanwhile, in the van…
“We found you abandoned. You’re just staying here until we get more stable jobs and can afford to feed you again. If he ever asks you about where you came from, you look away or change the subject as quickly as possible. You don’t know why you disassociate. You don’t know where the scars came from. Never do any of your caretaker necessities for him in front of Sam. He can’t know. Got it?” “Got it. He’ll never know.” Blue nodded back. Orange had just kind of been pacing in the van as Blue gave him the rundown again. Green came back to the van with a hand out towards Wilbur, giving him a reassuring smile.
Wilbur was about to take the hand before his arm got tugged and he was pulled into a hug from behind. A gentle one, obviously no one wanted to risk damaging what was inside of him, but a hug all the same. He didn’t get many of those. When the person pulled away he saw it was Orange, who was smiling proudly. “You’re gonna be fine kid. We believe in you. I’ll miss you, ok?” Wilbur just smiled back and nodded. “I’ll miss you, too. We both will.” He said before taking Dreams hand and walking outside with him.
***
It had been an…odd week with Wilbur in Sam’s opinion. Firstly, he’d been way more interested in things like trees and grass than any normal child would be, but refused to touch them. He also spent 95% of his time in the guest bedroom with the door locked, never making a sound. Who knows, maybe the kid just liked to sleep. He refused to play any sort of physical game, like Dream had warned him, but he seemed overly cautious of anything that could hurt him. But he wouldn’t pry, that wasn’t his job. His job was to take care of the kid until Dream, George, and Sapnap could take him back. Right?
That’s what he was supposed to do, but somehow, against all logic…he knew this kid. The giant brown eyes, the curly brown hair, his face shape, it was all so familiar. But why?
Until it hit him.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat, immediately racing to his computer to see if he was right. And his suspicions were confirmed, against all odds. There, on his friends facebook page, was a photo of him and his young son. His young son who was Wilbur’s age. His young son who used to have an identical twin brother who went missing when he was just a few years old.
Sam knew Wilbur’s face because Wil wasn’t the only person he knew with that face.
Sam wasted no time calling. He must’ve called 12 times before someone answered, which was fair given the ungodly hour, but this was urgent. “What the fuck, Sam…” and groggy voice answered. “Mate, it’s, like, 4 in the morning, what could possibly be this important-”
“Phil, I think I found your son.”
***
Breakfast was different the next morning. Wilbur walked downstairs only to see two strangers sitting at Sam’s table, one an adult and one a child around his age. The adult looked about as old as Sam, which was to say a bit older than his scientists. He had blonde hair and kind blue eyes, and was wearing a dark green sweater jacket over a white button up. The other had long pick hair pulled back into a loose messy braid and glasses almost reminding Wil of his own except square instead of circular. He wore a simple pink hoodie and dirtied jeans and surprisingly clean white sneakers, but he must have been staring, cause soon the kid looked over to him and-
Wilbur’s breath froze.
Why…why did this kid have his face?
At this point, the man had looked over to, and immediately shot up from where he was sitting, knocking over the chair he was sitting on in the process and making Wilbur flinch. “Orpheus?” Wilbur stared blankly for a few moments before the man rushed him, barely giving him time to react before he was pulled into a hug.
Not a gentle one like Orange knew to give. Not one given by someone that knew why so few people were even allowed to touch him. A lung crushing, tight hug that was unbelievably painful after so much time with such infrequent gentle touching. He rarely found his mind drifting back to his the feeling of cargo in him, given that he’d lived most of his life with him and had gotten used to the odd sensations, but now it was impossible to ignore. Everything in him, everything that had been worked on so diligently, everything that had been removed and replaced and rearranged to make him perfect for his purpose, and his stowaway inside were being crushed. His purpose, the thing he’d been raised to protect, his only true constant in his life, was being crushed. It was the most horrifying downpour of fear he’d ever felt.
Wilbur screamed.
He screamed bloody murder as the adult let go and backed away, eyes wide. Wilbur vaguely noticed that both the strangers were crying, but he didn’t care. Wilbur only stopped screaming once his air was gone and now replaced by jagged breathing and spasms in his lungs. He felt like he was about to collapse as his vision darkened and his limbs began shaking. He needed to know if he was ok. If he wasn’t, Wilbur would never forgive himself. He needed to know.
“Kiddo, I need you to take deep breaths, ok, I think you’re having a panic a-“ “Stay the hell away from me! All of you!!” Wilbur screamed, voice hoarse as he smacked Sam’s hand away and ran up to his guest room and locked the door. He sat on the bed with a thud and tried to stop his shaking, but couldn’t spare much time for that since he had to make sure his cargo was still ok. He needed him to be ok. God, he was still just a kid, even younger than Wilbur. He can’t have let him get hurt.
He tried to take deep breaths and reached his mind out to some foreign instinct he knew. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how it came so easily, but it was such a central part of his brain that he could find it with ease. The second he got close to it, his whole body relaxed involuntarily. He hadn’t done that, which only meant…
“Oh, Tommy, thank god.” Wilbur sighed out loud, though the rest was said just to Tommy in the special way only they could communicate. He felt Tommy slow his heart rate more as he felt like he was being sucked away from his body into a void that words couldn’t possibly describe. “Wilbur!” a voiced called out. It hadn’t come from anywhere, just everywhere, like Wilbur’s did when he was here. Wherever ‘here’ was. He didn’t really know. It wasn’t like a darkness or white area, it was just…nothing. Not a nothingness that couldn’t be seen, but felt. Devoid of anything that could make it describable. Wilbur liked to joke that it was the emptiness in Tommy’s brain. “What was all that outside? You know i’ve got se-“ “Sensitive hearing, I know. I was being loud. Sorry.”
Wilbur could basically see Tommy huff and roll his eyes, despite the fact that he’d never seen Tommy at all. He knew every detail of his little brother friend, and Tommy knew every detail of Wilbur. Despite neither of them being able to see in their respective nothings, somehow they could sense every “move” (aka the movement they imagined themselves making since they didn’t have bodies in the nothingness) the other made in the void. Also Tommy can sometimes see through Wil’s eyes to look at reflections, but he rarely does that. Green doesn’t like when he does that.
Still though, he knew Tommy. He may not know what he looks like perfectly, but he knew Tommy. In an odd sense, he knew his details, but never what he truly looked like. He could list the facts of how Tommy was, but he had a feeling of deja vu whenever he tried to imagine a face or any detailed image of his body. He never could, he just knew the facts, like he’d seen Tommy but the detailed image in his brain had been removed and blurred beyond recognition. It seemed kind of unfair to him, given that Tommy knew exactly what he looked like because of the shared vision things and mirrors existing.
Still, though, he knew the pale white-blue of his skin the bright blonde of his hair and otherworldly accents. The shining, almost glowing iridescence of his eyes and the strange markings found on his body. He was mostly humanoid, which had initially shocked Wilbur and the scientists. Orange had warned him once that since they had no idea what Tommy was, something inhuman and vicious could easily rip through him. It scared him a little, but at that point he’d seen Tommy’s egg once and had grown monumentally attached, lethal beast creature or not. But Tommy was humanoid, except for one thing; he didn’t have legs. Rather, he had a long predominately red scaly tail like a snake.
When Wilbur was first getting used to Tommy’s being in there, the hardest thing to deal with was one: the odd feeling of scales against his sensitive organs and two: Tommy was almost always cold. How he could stay shockingly chilly in almost 100° Wilbur didn’t know, but that’s probably a big factor on why Tommy couldn’t be in open air; he’d freeze to death. Or his aversion to any form of light (maybe that was an understatement: a dim lamp 2 rooms over could kill him). But besides that, his unnatural colors, and a few other random snake-like features, Tommy was far from the horrific deep space lovecraftian monster he or the scientists were expecting. He was more just a little person who also happened to be a snake from space. No biggie.
“I- I don’t know what happened down there. There’s…there’s these two people, and one looks exactly like me and the other called me the wrong name and rushed to hug me and I panicked cause I thought he hurt you. You’re not hurt, are you?” “I’m right as rain, mr. human man. I’m sturdier than you think. Er, well, you’re sturdy and I’m in here so yeah I’m good.” Tommy responded, letting out an unearthly mix of a rumble and a hiss as he did. Wilbur liked Tommy’s weird alien noises, it comforted him. He sighed. “Still, I should’ve been more careful-“
“No you shouldn’t have! Stop bein a..a uh…” he paused for a minute to mumble a series of his weird Tommy noises before starting again. “what’s the english word for someone who takes blame for no reason and thinks that they need to solve every problem ever cause somehow everything is their fault?” “I think you’re talking about a martyr complex.” “Stop have’n a martyn complex!” Tommy yelled back, making Wilbur laugh. He pressed a hand against where he felt Tommy within himself, in one of the open areas that had been cleared just for him. Tommy pressed back and started to purr, a common reflex for him when he was happy, excited, or just needed to comfort Wilbur.
Even if Wilbur’s and Tommy’s consciouses were in the nothingness, they could still feel their body’s and move a little bit, even if it was more difficult than when they were awake. Wilbur liked to think of it as the same type of gesture that his scientists would do when they rubbed his hair or gave him a side hug, something he would love to try but could never do with Tommy. He thought Tommy deserved to have his hair played with or to be hugged, but it could never happen. But the pressing in, the only amount of intentional contact they’ve ever had and could ever have, worked just fine as a replacement. Something comforting and quick to show he cared. Of course, Tommy knew he cared, they’ve lived together (well, one within the other, but same difference) for most of Wilbur’s life and all of Tommy’s.
“Still, though…i don’t know what to do. Sam hasn’t had anyone else over, i don’t know what they’re doing here.” “I’d say good old fashion spying, then. See if you can get closer and make out what they’re saying.” “Good idea-“ Wilbur said, beginning to break off the connection before Tommy shouted out. “Wait! Aren’t you gonna let me see?” Wilbur rolled his eyes and somehow, in a way he couldnt describe, let Tommy’s weird telekinetic force into his mind. He opened his eyes and he was back in his room, the nothingness vanished and his body back in his full control. He looked to his mirror and sure enough, the shiny white gloss that overtook his eyes when talking to Tommy had confined itself to just Wilbur’s pupils. He’d given Tommy access.
“There, is that better?” Wilbur asked quietly, unable to respond telepathically when not in his weird zoned out state. The lack of that void didn’t seem to pose an issue for Tommy, though, as Wilbur heard an enthusiastic “Yup!” mixed with a few alien chirps echo through his mind as a response. Wil nodded to his reflection (and Tommy by proxy) and went to the stairs. He probably didn’t need to go down, he just needed to be able to hear them.
***
Ok that was, in hindsight, a bad decision.
“‘Dad?!’ I have a dad!? And a brother!?!” Wilbur whisper yelled, pacing back and forth across his room. With Sam and the now-not-so-much-strangers still talking in their kitchen, he figured it’d be safe to talk outside of the mind void. Tommy, meanwhile, laid himself against the front of Wilbur’s storage, rubbing circles into the walls to try and calm him down. “Maybe that’s not so horrible! I mean, you’re not an orphan! That’s normally a good thing, right?” Tommy said skeptically.
“Maybe it would have been 9 years ago! But now I have you!” Wilbur said, stopping to sit on his bed and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t know them. I don’t remember them at all; you’d think if they were a good family to me I’d at least recall that they existed. But I don’t. How could I ever trust them with knowing about you?” “I…I don’t know. But…you have a dad, Wil! And a brother! That’s not something you can just ignore! Neither of us know what it’s really like to have a family, maybe…you could learn for the both of us?”
Wilbur sighed. He knew Tommy was right. And they’d both wondered where their families were; if they missed their sons, if they even wanted to give them up in the first place, what ever happened to them. Wilbur always felt awful because Tommy would likely never know. The odds that his parents were even still alive were slim, and it’s not like he ended up on earth with very specific instructions on how to take care of him by accident. But Wilbur had never thought his family could show up, either, yet here they were.
“What do we do about the trio?” “You know how I feel about them. Let’s see if those two are any better.” To be fair, Wil did know how Tommy felt about them; he didn’t like them at all. Tom didn’t like the tests they ran on him, he didn’t like what they put Wil through in order to do tests on him, he didn’t like how they treated his big brother caretaker as the less important one in their experiments, and he didn’t like how damn nosy they were. That part even bugged Wilbur. How the hell did they expect Tommy to be able to explain so much about what he was? He’d never met anyone like himself either, he’d been hatched on earth!
“Well, at least we know them. They’re predictable, and we know they have our best intentions at heart. Our. They know how to help the both of us and I- I don’t know if I can do all this alone.” “Wilbur you haven’t been alone since the day I was born. You’re not gonna start now.”
“What if something happens to you and I don’t know how to fix it? It’s my job to make sure nothing bad happens to you. I couldn’t live with myself if I let myself get caught up in some familial adventure and you ended up getting hurt because of it.” “I get it but don’t you think that’s unfair?” Wilbur paused. “Wh..what do you mean ‘unfair’?” “We’re kids. You’re a kid. It sucks for you that I’m your responsibility, it’s unfair that you gave up your childhood to keep me safe. But you can get it back, some of it, at least. Just…see if this can work out. If not for you, then for me. I hate seeing you put yourself on the back burner like this, Wil, I hate it. I can’t stand that i’m the reason you can’t have friends or play or be a kid. But this could change that. If it can’t, we’ll go to whatever lab the trio puts us in next. I’m sure they’ll be sooo thrilled that you’ve met your family.”
“Tommy don’t say those things about yourself.” Wilbur said, hugging his arms around himself. “I chose to take care of you, and I’ve never regretted it. Not for a second. You’re worth everything I willingly gave up, ok?” He heard a disgruntled noise in response. “Fine, we’ll come back to this conversation later. For now…ok. I’ll..I’ll give them a shot-” He heard Tommy cheer with a mix of wooing and trilling that he made when he was excited “-but Sam obviously knows the trio, so i’m sure he’ll tell them about my family at some point if he hasn’t already.” “I figured, but what are they gonna do? They can’t take you if you want to stay.” “Emphasis on if I want to stay, remember?” “Got it, bossman.”
“Wilbur?” He heard a voice outside call while knocking before the door opened a crack. “Were you…talking to someone..?” Sam said, poking his head in through the gap a bit. “Uh, no, I just..uh..kinda talk to myself sometimes. But I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” Wilbur said, trying to move past his previous conversation as quickly as possible. The less Sam questioned why he was talking to an empty room, the better. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, I just…don’t like being touched.” Not exactly true, but if it would keep the blonde guy and his clone from touching him it could be the truth for a while. Sam just solemnly nodded. “I’m sorry, I told him about you and how you were just kinda found with no memories, but…I don’t think he believed that your amnesia was as bad as I told him it was. I don’t think it hit him that you really didn’t know him until you ran off…Wil, he’s-” “He’s my dad, apparently. I was eavesdropping, i heard you talking downstairs.” Sam stared wide eyed for a second before he nodded solemnly.
“I know this must be a lot. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by calling them here, you obviously didn’t expect to meet your long lost family while you stayed for the month. But…I’ve been friends with Phil for a while. That’s the blonde guy, by the way. He…he didn’t take losing you well. I was there for him when he and Techno were grieving and it..it was horrible. They were so broken.” Sam said, eyes beginning to shine from unshed tears. “I can ask them to leave if you want, I understand if-“ “I don’t want them to go.” Wilbur interrupted, almost mad at himself that he’d let Tommy talk him into this. “I want to meet them. I want to see what they’re like again.“
“Really? I mean, you can, but I just thought-“ “I’ve made up my mind. Can I meet them again?” “Y-yeah, yeah, absolutely.” Sam said, leading Wilbur out the doors down the stairs. He heard Tommy make a few more excited chirps before he started purring again. Like always, it put Wilbur at ease a bit. He followed close behind Sam down the stairs and back to the kitchen, where he saw the pink haired boy leaned over the blonde guy, who was sitting at the table with his head on his folded arms. The pink haired boy’s head snapped up from where he’d been comforting his father as Sam and Wilbur re-entered the room, eyes narrowing at Wilbur like he was a rabid animal. In the awkward silence, Phil looked up, and it almost pained Wilbur too see his red cheeks and puffy eyes. He really hadn’t meant to hurt the guys feelings, he just panicked. They all stared at each other for a moment before Wilbur realized that they were probably waiting for him to speak up. Great.
“Uh…I’m sorry for screaming at you, Mr. Phil. I don’t do well with…surprise contact. You just scared me, is all.” The man just continued to stare back at Wilbur for a moment. “You…you really don’t remember me, do you, Orpheus?” Wilbur looked back and took a deep breath. This may have been for Tommy, but he had to stand his ground here. “I’m going to say this once, and only once cause I don’t think you can handle hearing it a second time, ok? You think you can handle this?” Phil looked a bit confused at the annoyed tone but nodded, prompting Wil to continue. “Good, cause here it is: I don’t know who Orpheus is. I don’t know who he was. All I know is he’s not me. Maybe he was, but not anymore. So maybe your grieving wasn’t in vain: because he is in fact very much dead.”
Wilbur paused as Phil’s face fell and tears started to run down his face again. Even the pink haired boy had started crying. He tried to ignore it. “My name is Wilbur. If you want to know me, not Orpheus, me, I…I’m willing to try to connect with you again. I don’t mean to be heartless but I need you to understand that if you want me back, there will be no prior standards for me. I won’t try to change how I am now to be the person I used to be for your amusement, because frankly? I couldn’t give less of a shit about what you want, because I don’t know fuck all about either of you. If you came here to find the son you lost, I’d suggest leaving. Any questions?”
Shocked silence filled the room. Phil stood silent and still as tears poured down his face, his clone even started to cry when he saw Phil crying, and Sam looked like he’d just watched a bomb go off. Wilbur just stood at the center waiting for something to change. For Sam to send him to his room, for Phil to break down even worse or for him and his son to deem Wilbur too different and abandon him (again), but nothing was happening. ‘Way to sugarcoat it, Wil.’ quietly played in his head, as if Tommy was afraid he’d somehow interrupt the group despite them not being able to hear him. He’d elbow himself in the gut later, that’d probably look really weird if he did it now.
“…Do you want to come home with us?” Phil said after a few minutes, shocking Wilbur. “Do you want me to?” Phil just nodded and wiped a few more tears from
his face. “Even if you don’t remember us, you’re still my son. You always will be. I’ve missed you so, so much Wilbur.” He said, kneeling to be at eye level. Wilbur just sighed. “Ok, then…let’s go home, I guess. I didn’t come here with much, I can just go with you now?” “Really?” Phil said, surprised but seemingly excited. “Oh, o-ok then! I thought you’d want a few days but, uh, sure! As long as Sam is ok with that?”
“Oh yeah, Sam!” Wilbur interrupted, turning to face the man who’d just kind of been standing silently, clearly unsure of what to do in the situation. “I need you to tell my guardians what happened. They’ll
probably understand, but they’ll also want to meet my long lost family
since they raised me and all.” ‘More like interrogate them and possibly file a restraining order so they can never take us again, but same difference I guess.’ Tommy chimed in unhelpfully. Wilbur ignored him. “Give them Phil’s address asap so they know where to find me. Also give me their phone numbers, i don’t remember them.” “Wait, guardians?” Phil chimed in, lightly tapping Wilbur on the shoulder with a concerned look. “You have legal guardians?”
“Three college aged guys, yeah. But I wouldn’t say legal,” Wilbur explained, “they just kind of took me in when I was lost without my memories. They tried to find you for a few years but gave up after a while. I couldn’t really give them any info to go off of.” “Oh…do they treat you well?” “Yes.” ‘No.’ Wilbur and Tommy said at the same time, though obviously only one was heard. “That’s…that’s good, i guess.” Phil said quietly, then it was back to the awkward silence. Godammit, Wilbur hated silence. Was it gonna be like this all the time with Phil?
“Well then, let’s get a move on.” Said the pink haired boy who Wilbur had only remembered was in the room when he spoke up. He’d been pretty silent, but at least his tears had dried. That was better than Phil was doing. “And you are?” Wilbur asked. “Technoblade, but most people call me Techno.” he said, holding a hand out. Wilbur just stared trying to figure out why he was doing that. Was it a high five? Sometimes orange would give him a high five when he did a good job testing, but why was he doing it sideways?
Wilbur smacked his hand quickly and pulled away, smiling awkwardly. Techno just lowered his hand and stared. Shit, he was wrong about the high five, wasn’t he?“Ok…” Techno said, “we’re gonna have to re-teach you some stuff, aren’t we?” “Uuuhhh…maybe.” Wilbur said quietly as he heard Tommy laugh at him. Asshole.
Wilbur made his way to their car after grabbing his bag and saying goodbye to Sam. The packed into the car, and Wilbur was met with the silence again. Phil seemed…weary of him, to put it best. Like he was dam one bad storm away from breaking. Techno seemed more disinterested in him, just playing on a phone as Phil started to drive, never looking up at him. Well, he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence this time. He didn’t want to talk to them anyway.
Instead, he let himself fall into his nothingness, connecting with Tommy on the other side. “Well that went great!” Tommy said sarcastically. “I stood my ground.” Wilbur shot back. “I don’t want to be treated like some lost broken kid. I’m 13. I know what I’m doing.” “Well, I like them. They seem nice!” Wilbur wasn’t sure how to respond. Sure, Phil seemed like he wanted to care about him. Techno seemed…willing, at least, even if he was a bit nonchalant. But could he trust these people? They were the people who abandoned him and left him to almost starve to death in the woods as a toddler. That wasn’t exactly something a loving family would do, but they seemed happy to see him alive. Was it a mistake? How could they have fucked up badly enough that he got amnesia and almost died at the ripe age of 4?
But Tommy seemed so excited. As much as the scientists always tried to make sure it didn’t happen, Wilbur loved Tommy. He really was like a little brother, they’d grown up together. They’d both always been told that it would be for the best that they didn’t make that kind of connection in case something where to go wrong, but who else did they have? Tommy was family to him, and damn if he wouldn’t do anything to make the little boy happy. He sighed. “Yeah, well…let’s hope so.”
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featheredomen · 3 years
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guess which bitch has an appointment with a psychologist after thirteen years of putting up with whatever bullshit her mind has been pulling? this bitch
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vampiregirl1797 · 3 years
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The Starlight Stone
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GIF not mine.
Rhysand x Reader
Word Count: 4,898
Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.
Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.
Masterlist Here :)
Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.  
I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.  
He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.  
‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.  
‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.  
‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.
‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.  
He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’
I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’  
Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’  
I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.  
‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.
‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’  
‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.
‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.  
I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.  
‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’  
Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.  
Six Months Later
‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’  
His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.  
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’  
I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.  
I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.  
‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.
I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’  
She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’  
I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’  
She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’  
I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’  
‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’  
‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.  
‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’
‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’
She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.
For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.  
It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’
It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’
‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’
‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’  
She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’
I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’
‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.
‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.
‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.
I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.  
//
The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.  
‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’  
He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’
I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.  
I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.  
‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.
‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’
I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’  
‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.
‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’  
I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.  
‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’
He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.
//
I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.  
Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.
Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.  
I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.  
I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.
//
After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.  
My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.
‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?  
His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.
‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.
‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.
‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.  
He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’
‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.
His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.
‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.  
I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.
//
One Year Later
‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.  
‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.
‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.
‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.  
‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.  
‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.
We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.  
Home. This was home.
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Alternate Endings (Pt. 2)
Title: Alternate Endings (Pt. 2) 
Genre: more angst, possibly more than the last part. this is your warning. 
Pairing: Victor Nikiforov x GN!Reader
Notes: This is a part 2 to the previous part, and I still used the angst prompt list from the aforementioned previous parts to form this piece.
With that said, I think that this will be the only part following the first unless I can find some way to continue the storyline. I intend to keep the ending somewhat depressing and sad, so I guess proceed with caution due to such. 
If you want something similar to this for any other character, please let me know, though! I may also mention that this went from a drabble, to a scenario, and now borders on an imagine - I can’t help that I got caught up! 
Part 1
Below the cut! 
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You practically fell off the face of the Earth as soon as you left. 
Harboring all of the money you saved and deciding upon negotiations to make with your employer, you left Russia. You left Japan. You just...left. 
Travelling became a huge part of your life afterwards, and though many people had tried to regain contact with you, you ignored most of them - save for a few. Only Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuko Nishigori were available to your whims, but they were still advised to stay as quiet as possible regarding your whereabouts. 
You changed your whole appearance, changed your mindset, and even changed something as generally miniscule as your wardrobe. Still, as much as you did change and throw away, you couldn’t rid yourself of the many frivolous gifts that Victor had given you over the years. 
Some things you just can’t give up, but you knew that it would be fine. At the very least, you had something that would never let you forget about him. 
Victor, on the other hand, fell off the deep end. 
He had come across the note you’d slipped under his hotel room door and for the first time in a long time, he cried. A true mess was what Yuuri had come across, and as many times that he was able to help him through unconventional methods, this was nearly impossible. 
Victor didn’t leave Japan, but he did become so reclusive that even Yakov was extremely worried upon finding out about the occurrence from an offhand comment that Yurio made when talking to Yuuko over the phone before practice. 
Everyone around him saw the typically extravagant man become so dulled by misery that it became painful to watch. 
He didn’t even know where to start since he’d already tried to find you - looking everywhere that he knew you loved, everywhere that he knew you were often obligated to be at - but had failed to do so. 
It wasn’t until, when Yurio was free, that he overheard him and Yuuko talking at the front desk of the rink as Yuuri was warming up and he was getting his skates on. 
“Yeah, they’re in America right now. They just got a raise, actually - they were even thinking of dropping in when they get enough saved up,” Yuuko recollected, excitement dripping from her tone. 
“Well, they’d have to come by when Victor isn’t here. That would also mean that I’d be gone, but at least you could update me,” Yurio responded. He seemed more nonchalant about the whole thing, but Victor became hysterical. 
Granted, he did suppress what he could to eavesdrop further. 
“Of course! I am still a little worried about them, though - you remember how Victor had gone crazy trying to find them?” Yurio grunted in response. “Well, what if he decides to do something impulsive again and leave mid-competition?” 
The light-blonde teenager in front of Yuuko flinched at the thought. “That’s a good point...but we’ll never know unless it happens when it does.” 
A solemn chill fell upon the two, but the conversation split onto Yurio’s next routine and Victor left it to them. He stared wide-eyed, in pure disbelief, at the wall of lockers in front of him. 
“So they’re...(Y/n)’s in America....”
Ideas began to run through his head as the room became eerily quiet. Even Yuuri, who was sat in the corner and preferred a calm and quiet atmosphere, was perturbed by the sudden shift. 
“I know what I’ll do! Yuuri, skate if you want - I’m going to be out for a while,” Victor announced, generally resembling the flamboyant figure skating icon that everyone knew. 
He took his skates off and capped the blades, putting them into his bag and reaching for his cell phone and scrolling through listings. Katsuki was left dumbstruck, but he went on about what he was doing and decided to run through his routine a few times. 
Yurio had left by this point, and Yuuko was too far in the back to catch the tall man’s outburst. 
It wasn’t until the next day that he was extremely prepared and anyone who understood his issue was suspicious. Victor had hunted for every listing to America from Japan, and memorized the closest ones. Yuuko was the one person who was going to be there that he had to ask. 
“Yuuko, I must ask you something! Would you mind?” was Victor’s burning introduction, shocking the normally upbeat mother. She was a little taken aback at the bold attention grabber. 
“Mmm, yeah?” She tried to be as ‘typical’ as possible, considering that her suspicions were up now. She knew what was going on, she knew what Victor was burning for. 
“You said that you’ve been in contact with (Y/n), yes?” 
Yuuko deadpanned, eyes blank and dropping the facade that she was going to attempt to maintain. “I knew it. Listen, I know that you’ve been troubled since they left, and that they have been as well, but please - give them some more time.” 
Victor visibly deflated. He didn’t think it would work, really, but it was worth a shot. Maybe, just maybe, though.... “How about a hint? Is it hot? Cold? What is a landmark?” 
“No, Victor. Sorry.”
And he was back to his dejected being by the next hour. 
Victor was willing to annoy both her and Yurio, but gave up once they stood their ground with firm hold. “No. (Y/n) is fine, and they will come when they want.” It was always the answer, no matter who he asked. 
Daily, Yuuri would keep him company and skate to the best of his ability. It seemed to quench his troubles just a little bit before the up and coming competition season. 
Eventually, the Grand Prix rolled around again. Yurio was competing, as well as Yuuri, and Victor was there to maintain support for his ever-promising prodigy. 
Amongst the drama that had ensued, the two of them decided to take a break romantically and focus on the practice rather than devote too much issue to their worryingly stagnant relationship. 
It wasn’t until Yurio had pulled Yuuri aside when Victor was getting changed that he was let in on soem information that, had Victor heard, would send him into a frenzy. 
“(Y/n) wanted to me wish you good luck and let you know that they are here to watch. If you wanna talk, they’ll be waiting in the lobby.”
Yuuri almost faltered and told Victor, but decided against it. Your wishes were still high up, even if you two weren’t amazingly close. 
Sadly, Victor was still shaken and hurried. It was a large competition, and as much as he wanted to focus on the task at hand, you never left his mind. 
Over the year that you had fallen out of reach, he began to realize where he screwed up. Maybe he did like you at one time, but he let his own fears get the best of him and he fell to putting more of an interest to Yuuri. 
He truly loves Yuuri, but he truly loved you (romantically) at one point, and you slipped from his reach before he could manage to comprehend anything. 
So, upon making eye contact with a familiar pair of (e/c) eyes and an eerie copy of a blazer that he had given you as a birthday gift years ago, he was left idle. 
“(Y/n)?”
You sucked in a breath and shrugged, sighing afterwards and shaking your head. “Yep, it’s me. Hello, again, Victor.” 
Tears flooded his eyes as he ran to you, arms open and tight as his hug enveloped your frame. You didn’t reciprocate, not immediately at least. With obvious hesitance, you returned the hug, but pushed him away only a couple seconds later. 
“You’ve got a skater to support. We can talk later, okay?” 
“But, you’ve come back and-” 
“Victor. Go support Yuuri.”
He bit his lip, but nodded nonetheless and embarked to the rink. 
After the free skate, the next day’s events were prepared and everyone was sent out for the day. Yurio had caught up with you before heading to his hotel room, and Yuuri had popped in before he changed out of his costume, but Victor was most eager to meet you.
Upon seeing each other, yet again, in the lobby, the two of you parted ways but decided to meet at a restaurant in town. Yuuri would be dining with Phichit and some other competitors, and Yurio was with Otabek going sightseeing, so this was a prime opportunity. 
Silence loomed over the two of you, slow walking and sounds of nature overwhelming your senses. 
“So, you’re probably curious as to where I’ve been,” you began, breaking the tension as calmly as possible. You could have sworn that your heart was going to burst out of your chest if you let the quiet settle any longer. 
“Yes, (Y/n). I really have been.” Victor, for once in the time that you have known him, was quiet. He was never really afraid to speak to you about anything, but the way he was acting now let some of the more obvious pain show. 
“I’ve also been extremely worried. I never realized that you felt like that.”
You stopped upon the sentence, eyeing a nearby bench. Victor followed suit and looked down at you, eye contact being maintained. His gorgeous blue eyes were glassy and he appeared on the verge of tears. 
“(Y/n), darling, I never realized how much you actually meant to me. I was stupid. I- I really, truly did love you. I always thought that you were too good for me, though, so I tried to make the ideas disappear. It worked, but only for a while. I love you, (Y/n). Honestly, I really do, and...
“I don’t know how much longer I can endure this.” 
Your brows furrowed at his proclamation. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but you had always been drawn to his personality and how driven he was. You knew that he would do this, though, as he could also be notably daft regarding certain things. 
“Victor, I-.... Listen, I loved you at one point, but you found Yuuri. You found your match. You made your decision. Out of respect for you and him, I left. But I also did it to respect myself.
“I know my habits. I know that I can fixate, so I needed to get out of your hair if I wanted to feel better. So I did. I’m engaged now, Victor, and the person that I met is amazing. I thought that could have been you. But it wasn’t, and I’m okay with that now.” 
“You- you’re engaged?”
“Yes, yes I am. We haven’t planned our wedding date quite yet, but it is being discussed. The fact of the matter is simple: I knew what would happen if I were to stay, and as much as I love you, - platonically - staying here wouldn’t do me any good. Life comes, things change, and sometimes we just gotta give up.”
Silence fell on you two yet again, but it was interrupted by the slight sniffling coming from the tall Russian. 
“Victor, I came back not because I wanted to fight for your affection, but because I’ve been worried about you. I just want you to know that...I still do care for you, and I have still supported you and Yuuri. But what you want, what I wanted...that’s not possible anymore.” 
Pausing, you thought over your next words. Nothing was ever going to completely repair what was broken, but at the very least, you could try. 
“How about this? Here’s my new number,” you handed him a small slip of paper with the nine digits printed on it in your handwriting. “Let’s start talking again, and you can meet my fiancee sometime. Sound good?”
His mood nearly took a 180, but his demeanor was still sullen and sad. A weak smile crossed his face, and he responded in kind, “Of course. How about we go back to the group and enjoy dinner, though? You’re here again, and it’s more than I could ask for - but we have a lot of catching up to do.” 
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simplyotometrash · 3 years
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Some Obey Me Headcanons!
Part One!!
Lucifer
Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.
It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.
Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born. 
The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.
Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.
All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.
He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.
With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.
He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.
Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.
Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.
His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith. 
It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.
A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo. 
Mammon
Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.
He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money. 
But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.
But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.
He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father. 
His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.
After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.
He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.
He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.
He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished. 
MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.
He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.
Leviathan
He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.
He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.
The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse. 
He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.
He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is. 
The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.
MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.
They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.
He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself. 
But baby steps are needed.
He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.
He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.
His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.
He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore. 
Satan
He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.
All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother. 
Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.
As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.
He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.
He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.
These three are the middle children, they stick together.
He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.
The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.
Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).
He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.
He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.
His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core. 
Asmo
If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands. 
Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.
He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.
Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.
And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.
He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.
When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time. 
But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up. 
While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it. 
His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.
Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.
But MC wasn’t interested or affected. 
And that was what was most attractive to him. 
They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.
He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs. 
He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other. 
One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.
He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice. 
Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.
He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!
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mypoisonedvine · 3 years
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A Beautiful Little Fool | dark!Sebastian Stan x reader (The Great Gatsby AU)
well, The Great Gatsby entered the public domain today, so I thought I’d besmirch it with some filthy dark smut.  overall I did not put too much effort into relating my story to the plot or themes of the novel, just the setting and basic instigating actions, so don’t look too hard for an obvious allegory or familiar characters.  this stunning moodboard (and, best of all, the incredible edits of seb as gatsby) was made by @nsfwsebbie​ who was also so kind as to beta for me and be my sounding board, thank you so much!!
summary: a reclusive millionaire throws extravagant parties in hopes that his lost love will attend and he can get one more chance to win her back.  one can get used to getting whatever they desire, a little too comfortable with the idea that money can attain anything.
word count: 5.2k
warnings: smut (noncon/heavy dubcon), forced infidelity, a touch of breeding kink, period-accurate sexism (if anything it's a bit more toned down compared to 'period-accurate'), very slight yandere energy, obsession, one (1) slap
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all my works are 18+, if you are under 18 please do not read
I was within and without; simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
You could already hear the music and you were still a block away.  “Sounds like quite the ball,” Walter observed, and you clung tighter onto his arm as you walked with him along the damp pavement.  “Seems like the rumors might just be true about Stan parties.”
“All the rumors are true,” you informed him quickly, pulling your shawl up to protect your shoulders a bit better from the chilly evening breeze, “except for one.”
You took in a slow, deep breath as you observed the mansion from the outside; partygoers were mingling about in the yard and gardens, even though it was much too cold to be outside for very long, in your humble opinion.  Walter opened the door for you, being polite that way, but you found yourself hesitating before you stepped in out of the dark and the cold into the overwhelming light and warmth of his mansion.
You thought maybe you could avoid him, at least for the first hour or so of the party, but it was like he had been waiting at the door just for you to arrive, twiddling his ring-adorned thumbs in that gaudy tuxedo of his.
“Darling!” Sebastian greeted with a beaming grin, outstretching his arms (a cane in one hand, and a drink in the other) to wrap you in an embrace.  “You’re late!”
“Fashionably,” you defended with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug a little sooner than he seemed to want you to.  You almost forgot Walter was standing right beside you, and an awkward beat made you suddenly remember they ought to be introduced.  “Oh!  Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ve met my fiancé, Walter Penner.”
“Pleasure,” Walter offered his hand for a handshake, smiling warmly.  “Your home is stunning, I must say.  You… really know how to throw a party.”
Sebastian just shrugged like it was nothing before returning the handshake, but his cheeks were a little pinker than they were before— maybe it was just the draft you’d let in when you and your date had entered the front door.  “The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured, “I’ve been hearing so much about you from your lovely fiancée here, I’m excited to see if it’s all true.”
“Walter said the same thing about you, outside,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, and your date cast you a brief glare of embarrassment.
“She’s never been too good at keeping secrets,” Sebastian chuckled, “yours, mine, or hers.”
The negging comment made your cheeks warm a little, wondering if you should defend yourself, but Walter spoke instead.  “You must be used to it by now, I hear the two of you have been close friends since you were children.”
Memories of summer flashed in your mind, of green soft grass between toes and secret hideaways in trees and warm sunshine casting the countryside in a golden glow.  It seemed like that was all so far away now, the hilly landscape replaced with industry, the sun outshined by the electrical lights that seemed to cover nearly the entire mansion these days.  
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, tearing you from your train of imaginative thought and turning to address you, “you’ve known me since I was just a penniless dreamer with two good legs.”
You were a little surprised he was so comfortable admitting that he didn’t come from wealth.  Maybe some people thought it was more inspiring that way, but others would say that it was impossible for him to truly shed his place in society as a poor sharecropper’s son.  
But then again, they would say the same thing about you, and you’d become engaged to the wealthiest bachelor in Manhattan, as well as a man you were lucky enough to say you were truly in love with.
Sebastian let the two of you go and enjoy the party for a while, though you were sure you could feel his eyes on you all the while.  Walter went and fetched the two of you some drinks, while you waited beside a small statuette that Sebastian must have collected some time, tilting your head as you observed it.  He had an eye for art that you couldn’t relate to, although you at least understood why he might enjoy a bronze cast of a beautiful nude woman.
As some young women flocked in a group beside you, their conversation became impossible to ignore.  “He’s single,” one of them announced, “and fabulously wealthy.  The perfect man.”
“Yes,” another agreed, “but he’s so reserved.”
“I like that!” the first defended.
“I think you’d like anything about somebody who could afford to throw a party like this,” yet another accused with a smirk.  A fit of giggles made it seem like the rest agreed with that sentiment.
“You’re all just jealous because he was looking at me,” she frowned defensively.  “He’ll want a wife sometime, and I’ll be here waiting.”
You were almost compelled to butt in, but if you told them the truth they probably wouldn’t even believe you.  Some papers had reported that the elusive Mr. Stan was disinterested in dating or engagement, but usually attributed it to eccentricity or promiscuousness.  What they had not discovered was that he was still hung up on his childhood love, the girl next door who had captured his heart as a boy and never given it back— not for a lack of trying.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it, in fact you had returned his affections many years ago when he left to fight in the Great War.  It seemed that with you and Sebastian, it was always the right person at the wrong time; and maybe, deep down, you knew that Walter had been the wrong person at the right time, but your love for him was true if forced.  He didn’t make you laugh like Sebastian could, but in the end it was best that the two of you stay friends and that he finally take up any of the lovely girls vying for his affection.  Maybe some were only seeking his money… okay, maybe all of them were only seeking his money, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl worth his time in the bunch.  An ambitious man like Sebastian wouldn’t have much trouble forging a real connection with someone like the woman standing beside you know, gossiping about how secretive and handsome he was.
When the chit-chat stopped, you looked up to see what had garnered their attention… only to find Sebastian standing right beside you.  “I bought this in Sicily, thinking it was an original, but I learned recently that it’s a fake,” he informed you.  You furrowed your brow in confusion until he pointed forward and you realized he was referring to the statue you’d been staring at.  
“Oh!  Right,” you mumbled.
“I still keep it on display because as of yet, nobody else can tell the difference,” he admitted.  There he was lifting that façade again, letting his guests see a glimpse of the dirty truth he usually hid away.
“What’s inspiring this openness, Sebastian?” you asked him with a nervous giggle.  “Are you high on something?”
“Just your presence,” he returned with a flirtatious grin, “and a bit of opium.”
You knew he was joking, although the ladies eavesdropping nearby didn’t seem so sure.  “Yes, I think an opium addiction would suit you nicely,” you rolled your eyes, “to go with all this excessiveness you indulge yourself in.”
“I think I’ll just stick with the champagne for now,” he decided.  “Have you had some yet?  It’s exquisite.”
“Walter went to fetch me some,” you remembered, glancing out into the crowd to see if you’d find him there looking for you.
“Oh, perfect!” 
You weren’t sure what was perfect about that.
“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, in private, if I can,” he explained.
That idea didn’t sit right with you.  Even just speaking to him now without your fiancé nearby was a bit scandalous, but at least there were plenty of people nearby to witness to the fact that nothing especially untoward had occurred.  Being truly alone with him sounded much more dangerous.  “You can,” you replied solemnly, “but I can’t say that you will.”
“Please,” he whispered, just a hint of his desperation becoming apparent.  You nodded and he smiled back at you, guiding you across the foyer and up the stairs.  He grabbed a drink from a waiter and handed it to you as you dutifully followed him upstairs, glancing down over the banister at the merriment before he led you into his room, the sounds of the party fading to near silence behind the door as he closed it behind you.
"Do you like the party, darling?" he asked as you swallowed a gulp of champagne which tingled at the back of your throat and did less to calm your nerves than you’d hoped.
"Yes," you nodded, "your parties are always… lavish."
"It's all for you," he informed you with a gentle smile.  "All this: the music, the fireworks, the champagne—" he motioned to the glass in your hand— "it's all for you."
"For… me?"
He stepped closer with a chuckle, that light little chuckle that you’d grown to understand meant ‘oh, you silly little thing.’  “Of course.  Who else?  I love you, darling, I’ve loved you all my life— you know that.”
“And I’m engaged to Walter,” you reminded him. “You know that, too.”
His smile faded slightly, and you saw him trying to shake that anger that was always waiting just below the surface.  “Yes, I know that.  I’m not stupid—”
"You must be if you think this is going to work, that I’ll leave him for you because… because what?  You threw me a party?”
“I threw you a thousand parties.  Every single one, it was all a show— all the dancing and the small talk, I don’t need it.  It could just be the two of us, for all I care.”
“I could hardly imagine we’d finish all the booze…”
“Don’t joke with me.  Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You’re funny either way; you hardly speak with me, you hardly know me, and you think you love me.”
You gasped as he stepped forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.  A sharp sound made you understand that your champagne flute had fallen to the floor and shattered, but you didn’t see it because you couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes piercing through you as they burned with rage.  “I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you.  And you’re gonna love me, too.”
Protests died in your throat as the air was knocked from your lungs when he pushed you back into the wall.  He forced his lips over yours, holding the back of your neck so you couldn’t turn your face away.  Your free hand beat at his chest before it, too, was pinned by the wrist while he sighed and moaned against you, pushing his tongue between your lips.  A swift kick to the shin deterred him more effectively, knocking him back just enough to let you run for the door.  Your fingertips just barely brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before he grabbed you at the waist and pulled you back.  “Help!” you screamed hoarsely.
“Nobody’s gonna hear you,” he laughed, pressing his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck.  “The party’s too loud.”
He spun you around quickly, leaning in for another kiss.  “Walter!” you yelped, purely out of instinct, but he stopped you with a hand clamped over your mouth.
“How dare you say his name,” he hissed.  “How dare you bring him into my house?”
You couldn’t answer with his strong fingers holding your mouth shut, but you could mumble indistinctly as you began to cry.
“Has he fucked you?  Hm?” he interrogated coldly.  Afraid of giving no answer at all, you hesitated before shaking your head.  Sebastian smiled a little bit as he let his hand slip down from your face, his expression softening.
“He’s… he’s a real gentleman,” you explained weakly.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Sebastian chuckled incredulously.  “Never thought you’d want someone so… traditional.”
“He treats me right,” you continued.
“That can’t be true, if he hasn’t taken you properly,” he smirked.  “God, you don’t even know how good you can feel, do you?  Poor girl.  I have half a mind to throw you over that bed and show you right now.”
“N-no, Seba, please, you wouldn’t,” you stammered anxiously, watching his eyes drift from your own down to your lips, and your neck, and your chest.  You knew the plunging neckline was a bad idea.
“You haven’t called me that since we were children.  I miss that, when you still cared for me.”
“I’ve always cared for you, it’s you that pushed me away,” you reminded him.  “But it’s okay, we’ll be close again, like we used to.  We’ll be friends.  Just… just let me go, we should go back outside… your guests are expecting you.”
“What was that game we used to play back then?” he wondered aloud, ignoring your suggestion entirely.  “It was your favorite.”
“Ch-checkers?”
He grinned, more devilish than before.  “No… it was ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”
You looked away, wincing at his mocking laughter as he held you a little tighter; the back of your dress was rather low, meaning that his rough hand was stroking your exposed back which made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up.
“Do you still remember how to play?” he purred as he spun you back and tossed you onto the bed.  You tried to sit up but he was already on you, reaching under your dress to grab at your pantyhose.  
“W-wait,” you whimpered, but he had already found your undergarments and begun to pull them down your thighs.
“These legs,” he growled, “god, I can’t get enough of ‘em.  You know what you do to me, sweetheart?”
He answered his own question rather quickly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to where he was kneeling on the bed— pressing the back of your thigh against the hard shape tenting his trousers.  You grimaced and looked back up at the ceiling, but he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your face back down to look at where he was hovering over you.  
“No, no, darling, don’t look away,” he cooed, “I want you to see this.”
He lifted your leg as he turned his head to the side, never breaking from your gaze as he started to kiss your skin, moving up your calves and dipping lower to reach your inner thigh.  You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you felt it sending shivers up your body as he moved closer and closer to somewhere he was very much not supposed to be.  “Seba,” you whimpered, not sure what you were pleading with him for but hoping it would get through to him anyways.
He just smiled wider, letting his teeth nip the delicate skin just beneath your hips.  You yelped a bit before biting down on your lip to keep quiet; you knew that if someone walked in now, you wouldn’t be able to say that he’d forced himself on you… not when you were lying back and letting him do this to you.  
Just when you thought his mouth couldn’t get any closer to the part of you that was suddenly throbbing of its own accord, he pulled back and pushed up your dress even more, growling at the sight of you spread wide for him.  “What a gorgeous pussy, darling.”  It didn’t seem like a sign of approval though, when he brought his hand down against it with a harsh smack, forcing you to cry out and throw your head back.  It hurt, at first, but then it felt so oddly good and you couldn’t explain why.  When he did it again, the pain and the pleasure were even more intense than the last time, making your legs quiver a bit.  “Oh, you like that,” he realized proudly.  “You’re getting so wet already.”
He hit you again, and again, until you were sobbing and begging for him to stop— not just because he was hurting you, but because you knew if he didn’t stop, you would reach your peak and that could not happen under any circumstances.  You couldn’t like this.  If you came, he would be able to tell so easily; he was literally staring right between your legs, there was nowhere to hide from him.
“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned, “I need to get a taste of you.”
You, being foolish and innocent in these regards, thought he was going to kiss you again.  In a way, he did; he grabbed your thighs tightly as he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your aching, swollen sex, moaning loudly as he explored you with his tongue.  Your eyes shot wide open, your hands reaching down to push him away only to falter halfway through and dig into his hair instead.  Between his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, it was like you couldn’t keep track of all the ways he was touching you.  Each moan from him vibrated right through you, until you were moaning even louder.  It was shameful, and your heart ached to know you were betraying Walter like this, but you were lost completely in the throes of pleasure that Sebastian was giving you.
Forcing your eyes shut only made the feeling more intense as your hands tightened into fists, gathering the satin-y through beneath you in your clammy palms.  But opening your eyes and looking back at him wasn’t much help either, with the way he was staring back at you so intensely.  You’d never seen his eyes so dark before, not in all the years you’d known him, and it made your skin crawl.
He stopped briefly to catch his breath, his prideful smile glistening with your arousal; it was awfully lewd, and you hated how attractive he looked all disheveled and hungry like this.
“You really ought to be spoiled,” he decided, his voice deeper and rougher around the edges.  “It’s a waste if nobody’s making you come like this every day, getting a taste of this sweet little cunt.”
That word made you wince, and you realized you were more offended by what he was saying than what he was doing, oddly enough.
He got back to it with more vigor than before, pushing his tongue into you as you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming.  How could something so wrong feel so thoroughly right, so perfect?  You hated him just as much as you loved him in that moment, and you wanted him to stop just as much as you wanted him to keep going.  The tricky thing was that you didn’t get to decide if you loved or hated him, or he stopped or continued.  Your body and mind were his playthings, pliable to whatever he wanted to take from you.
Apparently, he wanted to take more from you; when he had pushed you to your peak against your wishes, and done so much more easily than you would’ve liked to admit, he sat back and tossed away his jacket, freeing him to shirk his suspenders and unbutton his trousers.
“N-no, Seba, you can’t—” you whimpered mindlessly, attempting to crawl back away from him on the bed.
“You’ll let me devour you until you come, but don’t want me to get mine, too?” he grinned.  “Greedy little girl.”
He grabbed you and pulled you back down into him, gripping the neckline of your dress and tearing it down the front in a few quick rips.  You fought back but it was laughably useless, your strength nothing against his.  
“I hate when you wear things like this— things he bought you,” he explained with a snarl.  “These pearls, too, he got you these, right?”
There wasn’t even time to answer before he grabbed the string and snapped it, sending the pearls flying everywhere and rolling across the floor.  You felt more naked without them than you did without the dress.  Still, you felt especially naked when he pressed his hips forward and his length slid through your folds.  “No,” you sighed, “no— stop, it’s not funny anymore.”
“Funny?” he grimaced.  You yelped when he grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back up at him with wide, watery eyes.  “I love you.  You hear me?  I love you.”
“I know,” you sighed shakily.
“Say it back,” he demanded.  “Say you love me, too.”
“I can’t,” you shuddered, crying when he released your jaw to slap you harshly across the face.
“I’m sorry that I had to do that,” he sighed.  “I don’t think it’s right for a man to strike a woman, even if it’s with an open hand, but you need to get some sense into you.  I know you love me, darling.  You just need to say it.”
That false impression of mercy faded quickly when you only responded with silence.
“Say it!” he yelled, dripping with rage.
“I love you!” you finally cried, and he made swift work of reaching down to push his cock right up against your entrance, driving forward with brutal force.  Your back arched and your head fell back, your hands gripping at his half-buttoned shirt— some kind of silent plea that he slow down a bit, perhaps.  It didn’t seem to work, each thrust deeper and faster than the last already.  The only sounds now were his quickening breaths right beside your ear, his skin slapping against yours, and your weak little cries that you choked out each time he pushed himself all the way into you.
It stung and burned inside you, just like your eyes stung with fresh tears and your chest burned with some incomprehensible storm of emotions.  You wouldn’t call anything about this a relief, and yet there was something cathartic about it as well.
“He’s not gonna want you once he knows what I’ve done to you,” he whispered in your ear, tickling your leg as he pulled it to wrap around his waist.  “Once he knows I’ve taken your innocence, made you mine.”
You whimpered as sobs made your chest convulse, but said nothing; you knew he was right.
“He’s not gonna want you once I’ve knocked you up.  Nobody will… but me.”
You started to struggle underneath him, pushing at his shoulders helplessly.  “No, you can’t— you have to stop.”
“You’ll make such a beautiful bride, darling, especially if you’re already showing,” he grinned, bringing his hand to rest just below your bellybutton— just over your womb.  “I’ve dreamed all my life that you’d carry my child,” he admitted wistfully.
Crying did more to egg him on than anything, it seemed, as you barely managed to speak enough to plead with him not to finish inside you.  Maybe you were naïve, but not so much that you didn't know how easily you could become pregnant if he didn't pull out, or how quickly your engagement would be broken off and your reputation ruined if that happened.
He ignored your denial and moved faster, running his hands all over your body with a few brief detours to grope your breasts and pinch the hardened nipples.  
As his lips attached to your neck, you felt his teeth sink into your skin as he sucked just by your pulse.  “Don’t,” you whimpered, “you’ll leave a mark.”
“Good,” he mumbled, breaking away from his work at your neck to teasingly nibble on your ear.  “It’s no trouble to me if everyone knows what I’ve done to you.  I want them to know.  Don’t you think they saw us come into my room?  Maybe if you moan loud enough they’ll get to hear you coming for me.”
It should’ve made you try even harder to stay quiet— and it did, it just didn’t work at all, and soon your moans were echoing around the room as he smiled down at you.  “Close again, already?  You’re so sweet for me,” he praised, somehow angling his hips just right to hit the most sensitive places inside you, your walls rippling and convulsing around him.
“You have t-to stop,” you breathed, holding the waves of pleasure back with everything you had.
“I can’t,” he groaned, “you feel too good.  It’s okay, darling, just let go…”
He continued with a string of whispered praises, but you couldn’t hear it anymore as your body began to erupt in jolts of pleasure, your arms and legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around his neck and hips, respectively.
“Keep going,” he encouraged gently, “you sound so beautiful when you come, darling.”
But the sensation threatened to consume you, burned you from the inside out until you couldn’t take anymore.  It was overwhelming to the point that you lost all control over your words, needing this to end more than you needed to preserve any dignity you had left.  “Please,” you sighed, “please come, Sebastian…”
He laughed a bit, kissing your ear again.  “Sweet girl, I knew you’d come around.  Want it inside, darling?��
You shook your head, he laughed again.
“Yes you do,” he sing-songed condescendingly, “you want to have my baby, don’t you?  Wanna leave that awful man and be with me, like you should?”
He must’ve known there was only one way to get you to agree to that.
“Remember, darling,” he whispered, “it won’t end until you say yes.”
“Yes,” you choked out, “I want to be with you, Seba, I want your baby— just please come and get off of me.”
He grinned and fucked you faster, the slapping of skin so loud now that surely anyone in the hall would hear it.  His own moans were quiet but desperate, breathless as he started to pump and flex inside you, his warmth coating your insides as he groaned your name weakly.  He laid on top of you, motionless, for quite some time until finally sitting up and pulling out; unfortunately, you were too weak to do much with that freedom, just laying there and staring up at the ceiling as numbness chilled your extremities and fogged your mind.
“You just stay here and catch your breath,” he instructed gently as he gave you one last kiss before sitting up, readjusting his trousers and suspenders before finding his jacket on the floor to put back on.  He circled the bed to look out his window into the gardens, seeming much too relaxed and satisfied with himself.   
“W-Walter,” you remembered suddenly.  “He’ll be looking for me.”
“Hm, doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian frowned, “I can see him now, having quite the conversation with a fine young woman.”
“What?” you shivered, sitting up to look at him as he stared down into the yard.
“I’m looking right at him, darling.  I figured you knew about his… reputation…”
You did, but you never really believed it; the papers lied about Sebastian all the time, so surely rumors about your fiancé could be just as unfounded.
“I need to go,” you decided as you jumped up off the bed, trying to cover yourself with your torn dress.
“Sweetheart,” Sebastian cooed sympathetically as he looked back at you, “where are you gonna go dressed like that?  Or, should I say, not dressed like that?  I know my parties can get a little wild, but we try not to have any nudity.”
You hated that he was right; you were trapped here, until you found some way to dress yourself.  And frankly, leaving his room dressed in different clothes than when you came in was nearly as bad as leaving his room naked.
“I’ll get you something to wear, just give me a moment, alright?” he offered, stopping to give you a peck on the forehead before slipping out of the door and back into the party.
He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind him, closing his eyes briefly to stabilize himself before putting on a smile and rejoining his guests.  A lot of people tried to stop him on his way, congratulated him on the party or asking him mundane questions, but he shrugged them all off as he continued his search for Walter Penner.  He found him looking rather lost somewhere by the west wing of the house, a drink in each hand.
“Two at a time, I like your style,” Sebastian boomed as he patted Walter on the back affectionately.  “The drinks, I mean.  I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.”
“Good,” Walter chuckled, “because it isn’t true— about girls or drinks.  The second glass is for my lovely fiancée— you haven’t seen her, have you?”
“Oh, I believe I have,” Sebastian put on a face like he was thinking about where he’d last seen her.  “She was just leaving.”
“Leaving?!” Walter pshawed.
“Yes, she said she’d forgotten something she had to do and scurried out the door.  I tried to stop her, but you know how she is when she gets her mind on something.”
“Hm,” Walter frowned.  “I suppose I’m meant to go looking for her.”
“Take a coat, it’s cold out there,” Sebastian offered.  “And if you see her, do tell her I give her my best.”
“Always,” Walter nodded, setting his drinks down and merging back into the crowd as he navigated out of the party.  Sebastian hummed a little tune to himself as he made his way back to his room; he could hardly wait to see you again already, tell you all about how your unfaithful betrothed had run off with one of his more promiscuous friends, but he had to be careful not to run too fast on his bad leg.  He figured you wouldn’t believe it, truly, but you’d give in to the story anyways if it was reason enough to justify your affair with him.  You had a talent for accepting whatever reality served your purposes best, and he was happy to give you whatever you wanted.  He figured you’d want an extravagant wedding, too; that would be easy enough.  
Ascending the stairs and resting his hand on the knob to open his door, he braced himself to see you there and finally know you were his— and only his, forever.  All he’d ever wanted, just on the other side of a door.  If a poor boy can become a millionaire in spite of everything, and he can finally get his girl in spite of a pesky engagement, then maybe anything’s possible. It was you that had told him since he was a boy that dreams were just dreams and couldn’t come true; such a fool you were, a beautiful little fool— the best thing a girl can be, and now that you were his girl, he intended to cherish your foolishness rather than attempt to educate you. Because truthfully, you were a smart girl, and only a fool for him.
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delicioussshame · 3 years
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In the never ending series of “things that aren’t wips because I can’t, I have to finish something before starting something else”, have this thing I posted as a wip before, featuring a version of PIDW where LBH collected his harem... differently, with guest star NYY.
Luo Binghe immediately recognises the man dressed in cultivator garb as Yingying’s shizun.
Beautiful and serene, she said. The perfect image of an untouchable immortal, dressed in white and pale greens. Always holding a fan of exquisite manufacture.
But more than her vivid descriptions of her shizun’s loveliness, he remembers what she said next.
She’d been lying on her side, her long cascading hair not managing to hide her luscious curves.
Luo Binghe had known she wouldn’t be ready for another round just yet, and so had been pleased to listen to her lighthearted pillow talk.
Today’s topic had been her exasperation with her shizun’s lack of sex life.
“Sometimes I can’t believe how obtuse he is. Liu-shishu has been courting him for years, and I don’t think he ever noticed. And don’t get me started on the sect master! All Shizun would have to do is bat his eyelashes and the sect master would drop everything to worship him! But no, he never takes him on it. For a while I thought maybe Shizun just preferred women, but more than one female disciple has tried her hand at him, all to no avail.”
Luo Binghe could imagine the type. Cultivators could be lofty. They think they’re above the needs of the flesh.
He always enjoys teaching them how wrong they are.
If the demonic part of his heritage revels in desecrating those pompous righteous cultivators, no one else could tell. Luo Binghe was too good at his chosen hobby to let his personal feelings interfere.
“I love and respect Shizun more than anyone. Without him, I would never have become the kind of cultivator who can afford A-Luo’s company. So I am motivated by filial piety and nothing else when I say that I have never met anyone who needs to get laid more than Shen Qingqiu.”
Luo Binghe had laughed. “Oh? Is Yingying going to replace me with her old teacher?”
Her scandalised look had sent him into another bout of laughter. “A-Luo! I would never!”
“Then why is she telling me this? Does she want me to take care of him?”
Ning Yingying had stared at him, a glint in her eyes. Luo Binghe could see the plans form in her head as she spoke. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would do wonders for Shizun, and I know A-Luo loves breaking people like him.”
Luo Binghe had blinked, inwardly caught off-guard. He wasn’t blind. He knew Ning Yingying was a lot more observant than she appeared. It wasn’t the first time she had made that kind of comment. “Yingying knows me so well. Should I be worried?”
She had swapped at him. He could have easily evaded the blow, but he didn’t bother. “A-Luo doesn’t have anything to fear from me. But honestly, if I sent Shizun your way, would you take care of him? I really think he could benefit from it. And Shizun is very beautiful! Many will definitely be jealous if they ever find out.”
Luo Binghe had nothing against the idea of taking a peak lord to bed. He bet Xin Mo would love to feed on such high-quality cultivation. “I would be honored to entertain your teacher.”
He could tell from the way she had brightened he was about to be thoroughly thanked.
She had paid him too, both for herself and for her shizun’s future visit. Generously enough that Luo Binghe had wondered if he should praise her filial piety to her shizun.
She didn’t lie either. Shen Qingqiu really is exquisite.
Not as handsome as Luo Binghe himself, but nobody is. “You must be Shen Qingqiu.”
“Luo Binghe, I presume.” Luo Binghe cannot quite decipher the look he’s being given, which is rare enough to catch his attention. He’s pretty certain there’s some attraction there, but the rest? Trepidation? Outright fear? Disdain? Excitement?
He’s sure he’s going to find out. He gestures for Shen Qingqiu to sit down as he moves to prepare tea. He could have one of his servants handle it, but Luo Binghe has always preferred taking care of things himself. That personal touch has seduced more than one client, if they didn’t visit him only for his food.
Shen Qingqiu drinks the offered tea in silence before he starts talking. “If you would please tell me your fee, I will be refunding Ning Yingying a corresponding amount. I am sorry for wasting your time, but I have no interest in procuring your services.”
Ooh, that’s cute. If Luo Binghe wasn’t an expert at perceiving the signs of physical attraction, he might even believe him. Shen Qingqiu is interested, he’s sure of it. He’s just a prude, like Yingying said. “Yingying won’t accept it. Why refuse her most thoughtful gift?”
“My disciple should put her money to better uses.”
“I assure you, employing me is money well spent. You could find that out yourself.”
Luo Binghe bites back his amusement as the man stumbles, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t… a credit to your profession. Please don’t take it personally. As I said, I have no interest in finding out myself.”
“But how will it look if you were to leave without finding out? My reputation will be hurt.”
“How could something this insignificant hurt the reputation of such a famous courtesan?”
Luo Binghe grins. “So even renowned cultivators have heard of me? Nothing bad, I hope?” And where did an isolated scholar like him caught wind of such lowbrow rumours, huh?
The sigh he’s answered with does not cloak a hint of amusement. “How many of the sect’s disciples have you seduced? You even managed to steal away Liu-shidi’s little sister, whose beauty and virtu are known across the land. Of course I have heard of you. More than I would have liked, if I am allowed to be honest.”
Ah. He should probably have expected that. Cang Qiong is full of eager young men and women. Apparently, Shen Qingqiu isn’t such a recluse that gossip doesn’t reach him. “I see. Still, you must have heard good things, or you wouldn’t have come into my parlour.”
Red is a good look on the man. Luo Binghe feels the first stirrings of desire rise into him. He just knows Shen Qingqiu would be stunning, lying despoiled on those formerly pristine robes, trying to discover what he’s begging for more of.
Not to mention he can almost hear Xin Mo purr. What a feast Shen Qingqiu will be.
Time to press on.
Luo Binghe reaches for the now empty cup of tea he’s certain Shen Qingqiu drained without tasting, making sure to caress the fingers still holding it with a touch just light enough to possibly be accidental, if one were very dumb or very blind. “Let me serve you again,” he says as he pours more tea with deliberate grace.
Instead, Shen Qingqiu rises from the table. “Don’t bother! I am obviously wasting your valuable time. If you won’t share with me how much Ning Yingying paid you, I will compensate her otherwise.”
Like Luo Binghe is letting him leave like this. “Would you have me waste the tea already prepared?”
“Drink it yourself! Surely it’s nothing compared to your usual breaches of propriety.”
Damn it. Luo Binghe miscalculated. Shen Qingqiu is too spooked to be open to further advances. Really, what a prude, to be so destabilised by a simple brush of hands.
If he can take a step back and defuse the tension enough for him not to leave… “You seem in such a hurry. Do you think I force myself on my visitors? I’m hurt.” As if he ever needed to use force to have someone.
Well, never without their consent, at least.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem like he’d be into that, but then again, people can surprise you.
“I’m not scared! I just have no reason to be here any longer. Thank you for your time. I’ll be leaving my student in your care.” For a moment, there’s a glower in his eyes that Luo Binghe wouldn’t mind seeing more of. “Be good to her, or my next visit will be far less pleasant.”
Aww. Shen Qingqiu cares! How cute. “So I have to get a bit rough if I want to see you again?”
His outraged face almost makes him laugh. “Don’t you dare!”
“Or are you looking for an excuse for our paths to cross again? I assure you it’s unnecessary. I’d welcome you anytime.”
“I will keep that in mind,” says Shen Qingqiu absentmindedly, already crossing the door.
Luo Binghe lets him leave. Obviously, this will be going nowhere today.
Really, he’s offended. He cannot remember someone rejecting him so blatantly, ever. Worse, Xin Mo will be cranky. A treat was dangled in its metaphorical face, and then was cruelly taken away before it could have a taste.
He can’t let this humiliation stand.
He won’t have to. The delicate fan Shen Qingqiu came with, red spider lilies on a stark white background, is still on the table, forgotten in his haste to leave.
Luo Binghe’s customer service is impeccable. He’ll be returning the abandoned item himself.
It’s not like finding the peak lord of Qing Jing will be a challenge.
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jaskiersvalley · 3 years
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I've been doing nothing but read your fics for three days straight and I am in LOVE with your wolf pack fics. I love me some happy witchers and their bard.
I’m always so humbled when people read my stuff :) Thank you for coming along on this odd ride of who the heck knows what’s going to come next. But I am right there with you on happy witchers and their bard. So have some more :D
To say Jaskier was pissed off was an understatement. Nobody sent him packing with such cruel words. He would prove to Geralt that he was better than that. In fact, he would prove to the whole world! Revenge was a dish best served with a delicious side of “I told you so” and what was the point Jaskier had been trying to prove over the last 22 decades? It was that witchers weren’t the terrible, heartless creatures that the world liked to demonise them into. Well, maybe Geralt was but the others didn’t have to suffer because of his buffoonery. That left Jaskier with only one choice. He returned home to lick his wounds and prove his very own point.
It started, like many things, as an uphill struggle. Gone was Jaskier the bard and his place was taken by Julian Alfred Pankratz Viscount de Lettenhove. His parents had wanted him to take a more active role in ruling the lands and that was exactly what he was going to do. But on his own terms. The decree went out that no witcher was to be turned away. Payment was to be prompt and fair and, of course, it would be subsidised by the Pakratz treasury. If word got out that a witcher was shunned or shortchanged, that particular village or town would be paid a personal visit and not a good one either.
Word started trickling back. Witchers were suspicious at first. Some outright refused the offer of a decent bed and a meal, opting to kill the creature in the area and flee with a bigger than expected pouch of coin. However, it seemed that a few more intrepid witchers sniffed out the area and deemed it ripe for the plucking. One corner of the Lettenhove lands even seemed to get a resident witcher. At first, the locals were wary but, it turned out, they could only see a witcher a handful of times doing very human things like fumbling a pouch or staggering back injured before they bonded. And suddenly, a cat witcher found himself a home. Not only that, allegedly he had a friend in the shadows, elusive and rarely seen. A rare sighting or two could confirm he was grumpy, suspicious and more likely to pick a fight than accept any kindness. Jaskier would put money on the fact that it was a wolf.
The fortune of one cat meant another was bound to turn up to try and get in on the good fortune. It was just as well Lettenhove was big enough and this cat took the southernmost corner which also happened to be the warmest. Surely nothing to do with the viper witcher that scouted the area before settling in too. So now Lettenhove had three, possibly four witchers who didn’t seem inclined to move on to other contracts. In fact, the settlements nearest to them seemed to be doing a great job of finding contracts for them - not all monsters but a witcher’s might was definitely needed in the fields when the ox were being stubborn and rumour had it, the wolf was quite impressive if let loose in a forge.
A messenger came pleading for help on a sunny afternoon. The wolf witcher had dragged another one into the village but seemed aggressive to any who came near and tried to help. Even the cat was no use, seemingly preoccupied with tracking down a human companion of the injured wolf. Without hesitation Jaskier jumped onto a horse and rode hard and fast, heart breaking already. Surely Geralt hadn’t found another human companion so quickly. Even worse, he hoped that the companion wasn’t dead, he didn’t want Geralt on his own again.
It was an odd relief to see a mop of dark hair than white. Not that Jaskier ever wanted anyone to be hurting but he still did hold a torch for Geralt despite his cruelty. While he wasn’t allowed near the injured witcher, Jaskier could make an educated guess that they were Lambert and Eskel which earned him a sliver of trust. He was allowed to get things from the local healer and apothecary to help Lambert care for Eskel. Even better, Lambert finally accepted a room at an inn that he could carry Eskel to. If only that had been all the drama. Jaskier didn’t expect the cat to come into the village at a pull gallop, a body slung across the horse’s back. Thankfully the healer got there before Lambert and the human got carted off with worried cat in tow.
Jaskier only left when he was confident everyone was healing and was staying put for the foreseeable future. The little he gleaned of the unusual group had his heart warming up though, glad that even out on the harsh Path, they had each other.
Of course, Jaskier’s act of generosity had consequences. Two more vipers, another cat and allegedly a griffin also took up residence throughout the lands. Which meant that contracts around the continent were being left unfilled. Witchers had plenty of work throughout Lettenhove and were well compensated for it, they had no reason or need to go further afield into harsher conditions. However, it gave Jaskier a business opportunity he just couldn’t resist. Especially when the messengers started trickling in, begging to borrow a witcher. There was no obligation for any of the witchers he considered ‘his’ to step in. But Jaskier made his home the middleman for contracts. He could negotiate pay, accommodation and other sundries for his witchers before they were offered a contract. Funnily enough, cats were the most likely to venture out, needing the change of scenery. While reclusive and prickly, it seemed that Lambert had found himself a new stomping ground he was reluctant to leave. Sometimes Eskel headed out, feeling the need to do good but never again was he chased from a village without pay, food and rest. The one time a viper was run out, Jaskier blacklisted the whole region for contracts until the king himself came to ask for forgiveness. Watching someone regal apologise to a bewildered witcher may have been the inspiration for Jaskier’s next ditty.
A grizzled wolf turned up on Jaskier’s doorstep, assessing and shrewd. He never did leave as Vesemir’s talents were put to good use with negotiations and also information gathering. Overall, Lettenhove was becoming a force to be reckoned with. Crime was at an all time low, the people were happy and witchers were beginning to be treated better throughout the continent. Yet there was no sign of Geralt. Slowly, Jaskier stopped hoping.
“He’s a stubborn ass. Should have started a new school just for him,” Vesemir grumbled one evening. “School of the Mule.”
It had Jaskier snorting a halfhearted laugh but his still pined. Months went by and other regions began to take inspiration from Lettenhove, offering their own versions of protection for resident witchers. It both filled Jaskier with pride and dread because now Geralt could settle somewhere else. The continent was vast and the safe havens were cropping up thick and fast.
Whispers started up. An elusive witcher had been spotted to the north. Nobody quite knew what he looked like, yellow eyes flashed from below the deep hood of a cloak. That was ruined by reports of Lambert tackling the mysterious witcher and Eskel piling in. Vesemir only smiled as he listened to the messenger relay the happenings while Jaskier’s heart thumped hard in his chest.
“Stubborn idiot. But also a loyal wolf.”
There were only four wolves in existence and Jaskier already housed three. Which meant the fourth could only be Geralt. His hopes and dreams were brought to life by the thumping knock on the door. Opening it, Jaskier regarded Geralt coldly.
“I have come to apologise,” he said as a blonde head poked out from behind him curiously.
“Only six years late.”
“My head was stuck so far up my ass, it took this long to get free.”
As much as Jaskier wanted to hold a grudge, he was also relieved Geralt was alive and well. Even better, he had his child surprise in tow.
“You have a lot to be making up for. But come on in.”
The rest, they say, is history.
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fridayfirefly · 3 years
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Cowboy Like Me
Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3
Masterlist
Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time
Now I know, I'm never gonna love again
Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.
As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.
Never wanted love, just a fancy car
The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.
Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.
"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."
"Bruce Wayne is the best?"
Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."
Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.
Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.
"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.
Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear
Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.
Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.
For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.
"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."
There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.
Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."
"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."
"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"
Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?
"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."
Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."
"I travel."
Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"
"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."
Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."
"Perhaps."
Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."
Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."
Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.
"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.
Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"
"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"
Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."
"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.
"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.
"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"
"Diana-"
The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.
"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."
Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.
Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love
"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.
Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."
Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"
"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."
Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."
"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."
Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"
"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."
Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."
"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.
Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."
It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.
The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.
As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.
"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.
"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.
Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."
"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."
Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."
"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."
Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."
For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."
Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."
Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."
"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."
"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.
"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."
"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.
"I would like that," agreed Marinette.
"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."
"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.
Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.
As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.
Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."
"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.
And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.
And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up
Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.
In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."
It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.
Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.
Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.
In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."
Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.
One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.
Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.
"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.
"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."
Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."
"And what did you want?" asked Diana.
"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."
"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"
Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."
"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.
Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."
As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.
Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon
Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."
Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.
"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."
"I couldn't," protested Diana.
Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.
Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."
Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.
Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me
Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.
The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.
As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.
Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."
"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."
"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.
Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."
Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."
The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.
"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.
"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.
"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.
Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"
Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"
Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."
And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.
@maribatmarch-2k21
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spideypoolbigbang · 3 years
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SPBB 2020 Masterlist
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 Artist: Cheermione 
 Rating: Explicit 
 Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence 
 Word Count: 28,511 
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Author: Jennicide — AO3 and Tumblr
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Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
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Artist: TheLazyDrawer
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
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Artist: @violettavonviolet 
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Implied/referenced homicide, implied/referenced character death 
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Rating: Teen
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Title: To You
Co-Authors: AnGoose — AO3 and Tumblr; Y_ellow — AO3 and Tumblr
Artist: PastaPapi — AO3 and Twitter and Tumblr
Betas: Atem — AO3 and Tumblr; Water — AO3 and Tumblr
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 13,653
Summary: Deadpool’s quest to make best friends with Spider-Man is a strange and convoluted thing, made all the more complicated by the letters he keeps finding in his safehouse. They’re all addressed to “Ben, Love Peter.” And they’re all just a little too on the nose regarding Spidey’s personal problem of the month. Wade isn’t going to say no to a little extra insight into how to woo his very best Spider-Friend, though.
Or, five times someone mistakes Wade’s crummiest safehouse as a post office, and one time Wade plays the sexy-mailman part in this (emotional) porno and hand delivers a letter to Spider-Man.
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Title: Lost in a Shadow of You
Author: @lunastories​ (AO3)
Artist: @ah-geee​
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 34,514
Summary: Peter always suspected he’d be a shitty fisherman, but after some rather unfortunate events in New York force him to be a recluse in a secluded coastal town, he can say for certain he sucks at this. Fortunately for him, the resident cryptid, one Siren known as Wade Wilson, is around to save him from himself. Misunderstandings and shenanigans ensue when Peter’s ‘thank you for saving my life’ gifts are mistaken as ‘please have babies with me’ courting gifts by the Siren. Only time (and some low-key therapy) will decide if they figure their shit out.
This is a story of two monsters who despite all the odds, find a home in each other.
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Title: Heatwave
Author: TimidTurnip [Ao3 | Tumblr]
Artist: VictoryThorn [Instagram | Tumblr]
Rating: E
Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 16,911K
Summary: Peter can handle anything life decides to throw his way. He didn’t freak out at all when Wade professed his love, the heat wave isn’t turning him into a puddle of goo and he’s totally got a firm grasp on his finances. And Wade… he just wants to know why Peter won’t date him, even if he has to push a few boundaries to find out.
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Title: Snippets Through Time
Author: Lalapaya | Tumblr: @manyfandomsnotime​
Artist: 343EnderSpark | Tumblr: @343EnderSpark
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 9,668
Summary: Peter Parker has to face the normal tumultuous daily routine of being the only child of a famous billionaire philanthropist and a historic icon. The one to help him through this is his best friend and partner in crime Wade Wilson. But what to do if this said friend suddenly becomes the target of affection?
A few excerpts of Peter Parker’s life growing up with Wade Wilson as his best friend and Iron Man and Captain America as his fathers.
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Title: Nothing Gold Can Stay
Author: cheekysstyles (tumblr)
Artist: aquamerryne (insta)
Rating: M
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Word Count: 30k
Summary: A year and a half ago, sixteen year old gymnastics prodigy Peter Parker left in the middle of the World Championship competition, costing Team USA a chance at a medal. After one too many run-ins with the law, Peter gets an ultimatum: return to the sport he left behind or end up in juvenile detention.
When he arrives at X-Force Gymnastics, an elite gym owned by Wade Wilson, Peter is unprepared to rediscover his love for the sport and to confront the very thing that made him quit in the first place.
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Title: A Mate Most Begrudging 
 Author: Vixen13 (Twitter) 
 Artist: Gensyz 
Rating: Explicit 
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 
Word Count: 46,189
Summary: It’s the height of the Gilded Age in America where everyone is searching for a new life and a new fortune from booming industry to the colonization of the wild frontier. Wade Wilson is a disgraced alpha trapped in the in-between of east and west, high society and labor, recluse and shunned. Though he’s convinced himself that he’s just fine on his own, others are more than happy to meddle in his perfectly quiet life before he loses his grip on reality more than he already has.
Peter Parker is a down on his luck omega who needs money fast. Knowing that laying tracks is a quick ticket to a short life, he let himself be talked into joining the mail order omega program. He’s careful about the alpha he chooses and determined to carve out a life for himself with a handsome stranger. But the shock of his alpha’s appearance is nothing compared to the slamming of the door in his face as Wade declares he has no intention of mating with anyone, especially not some gold-digging omega tart.
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Title: Three Steps to Inferno
Author: @waterme-stories (Ao3)
Artist: @atemy (Ao3)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Word Count: 31,399k
Summary: On August 26th, 1934, Gwen Stacy brushed past the doorman at the Ritz-Carlton, walked into the dining room, and set herself on fire.
With the city plunged into pandemonium, I didn’t think twice before I hit the pavement: both as private eye Peter Benjamin Parker, and behind the scenes as The Spider, New York City’s most notorious vigilante. The criminal underworld cowered at the sound of my name and the shadow of my webs — but there were some parts of the Big Apple’s seedy underbelly that I couldn’t begin to imagine…
(A Spideypool Noir Mystery)
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Title: Mutable Materials 
Author: @ciceqi (AO3) 
Artist: @nhrive (AO3) 
Rating: Mature 
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; warnings for Temporary Character Death, Suicide, Insectophobia 
Word Count: 12,853
Summary: Ever since the field trip that hijacked everything from Peter’s genetic profile to his daemon’s shape, he’s had to hide his entirely-too-recognizable daemon from the world.  He doesn’t expect to come across a man with an embarrassment of daemons, or maybe…no daemon at all.  Is Deadpool as delusional as everyone thinks?  He’s certainly been helpful, but how long can that last if his reality hinges on the existence of a daemon no one’s seen in years? 
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Title: A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Author: @mscaptainwinchester​
Artist: cottonclover
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Canonical Character Death, Physical Abuse (Alluded To), Emotional/Psychological Abuse
Word Count: 21,551
Summary: This is the Disney Cinderella AU no one asked for. In a faraway kingdom, in a comfortable cottage in a comfortable village, Peter Parker grew up with two wonderful parents who loved him very much. And then those parents died, and he was left to life with his stepmother Liv, and her two terrible children, Jessica and Eugene. His happy home turned into an unhappy life of servitude with no end in sight.
An invitation to a Royal Ball reminds Peter of a long-dead wish to see the palace his mother told him stories of, and he becomes determined to attend despite the protests of his miserable family. With the help of his new fairy godmother, a little bit of magic, and a whole lot of hard work, his dreams of visiting the palace and finding his very own Prince Charming will come true. Or will they?*
*They totally will. What kind of Cinderella story do you think this is?
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Title: Thanks for the Memories
Author: Actionpackedlips
Artist: Moemai
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content, Canon Divergence
Word Count: 50,461
Summary: What if Mysterio never outed Peter?
Deadpool comes back from a mission to find his favorite Spider-Man, his only Spider-Man, the boxes so helpfully remind him, missing. Specifically, kidnapped. Mysterio’s remaining crew were brimming with the need for revenge after their leader’s death, and so they vowed to use updated B.A.R.F tech to learn Spider-Man’s specific superpowers in order to harness it for themselves; another failed attempt to continue Mysterio’s grandiose plans of becoming the best superhero ever. With the help of the Avengers Peter is found, connected to a device not even Tony has full comprehension of.
Deadpool valiantly volunteers to be hooked up; death was a regularly scheduled program for him, after all. He’d guide Spider-Man to a subconscious level that was safe to be extracted from, and (total bonus!) hopefully win his favor as Spidey’s knight in shiny leather! But once Deadpool enters, his deepest, darkest, repressed memories are on display for him and his friendly neighborhood spider to see. Deadpool fears not only what Spider-Man will think of him after it all, after everything he sees, but just what he’ll have to relive in order to rescue the man who not-so-secretly holds his heart.
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Title: Paradise Awaits
Author: bisexualbarry
Artist: doctoring
Rating: Mature
Warnings: canon typical violence, minor character death
Word Count: 32k
Summary: “For those who prove worthy, paradise awaits…”
Fifteen years after assuming his childhood best friend died, jaded treasure hunter Peter Parker comes out of an early retirement when Wade Wilson comes back into his life. Now fully scarred and clearly hiding secrets, Wade drags Peter back into the thrill of searching for legendary pirate Captain Henry Avery’s lost treasure.
Fighting for their life from the Shoreline mercenaries chasing after them, Peter and Wade continue the dangerous search of a pirate treasure worth 400 million, at least. It’s too bad their ex-partner, Harry Osborn, wants them dead to take the treasure all for himself.
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Title: Ducks!
Author(s): Devral
Artist: LordAvon
Rating: Teen
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 7,994
Summary: After a fight with Peter, Wade goes stomping through Central Park. He stumbles upon something extremely unexpected. He’s not ready to be a mama!
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Title: Puppy ex Machina
Author: riseofthefallenone ( Tumblr | Ao3 )
Artist: Jennicide ( Tumblr | Ao3 )
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 83,044
Summary: A year after his divorce, Peter is trapped in a depressive cycle and still not quite over Mary Jane. When she shows up at his door, begging him to watch her dog for a week while she leaves town, he can’t really bring himself to say “no”. No one was expecting that little Pomeranian to turn his life around and help him realize that his friendship with Wade has been teetering on the edge of something more for a while.
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Title: The Fourth Wall
Author: RansomNotes (Ao3)
Artist: thelazyartist (Ao3)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Word Count: 13k
Summary: Between college and his side jobs and his alter-ego, Peter barely has the time to sleep at his apartment, let alone spend any time hanging out there, which works out since it’s a cheap and empty and depressing apartment, now that he and Ned aren’t roommates on-campus anymore. So hearing his rude loudmouth neighbor through the wall all the time shouldn’t matter much, except it’s classic Parker to somehow make friends with the crazy guy next door, to the point he’s actually sad to leave his crummy apartment. But Peter seems to have a real penchant for bad company, since he’s spending all his free time with someone he’s never seen, only heard through the wall, and spending most of his patrolling time with someone else crazy, since Deadpool showed up recently and somehow monopolized his time as Spider-Man. It’s probably just a phase. Everybody goes through a fall-catastrophically-hard-for-separate-but-unavailable-people phase, right?
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Title: In Which Peter Finds Hope
Author: ladyamante (AO3)
Artist: Areon (tumblr)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, sexual content, Past child abuse
Word Count: 62,245
Summary: Peter just wants to relax after last year. He hit a rough patch, and Deadpool helped him get through the worst of it. After identity reveals, therapy, and a few explosions, things have finally started to settle down for them both.
But just as Peter’s getting into the swing of things, a strange man with a metal arm shows up claiming to be a time-traveller. He says Peter is the only one who can help him save mutant kind.
Peter finds himself pulled from his home and dragged through different dimensions as he and Cable search for the key to their survival. Meanwhile, they keep running into different versions of Peter’s boyfriend. It seems that everything connects back to Wade. Cable thinks it’s just a coincidence, but Peter is sure there’s a deeper reason behind it all.
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Title: Whether By Accident or By Design 
Author: crookedswingset 
Artist: thelonebamf 
Rating: Explicit 
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Temporary Major Character Death (Wade), Sexual Content, Cannibalistic Symbiotes, Blood and Injury, Secret Identity, Body Horror
Word Count: 188K 
Summary: Peter is about to graduate college and become an officially licensed Pro Hero. Too bad he’s already burnt out. Years of operating as an illegal vigilante with a supposedly subpar Quirk will do that to you. But just as he’s about to quit altogether, he meets actual Pro Hero Deadpool, a reformed villain who works hard to make sure others don’t follow in his footsteps. Despite this achievement, Wade’s just as jaded as he is and has completely given up on making things better.
As their relationship deepens, Peter realizes he is not quite ready to give up on being a Pro Hero, a resolve that is tested when a new Pro Hero agency comes to town and takes over. The so-called “Guard” is a group of four eight-foot men with eerily similar Quirks—and they have no intention of making nice with New York City’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
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rjhpandapaws · 3 years
Note
Soooo you don't have to spoil anything but I would love to read a lil story about Elijah's and Gavin's childhoods together, and how that relates to them now
//OkI!
They didn’t get together like this often, and Gavin was starting to remember why. On the rare occasions he came to visit Elijah he was reminded of how different they had become. Elijah was still just as much of an oddity, he now had the money to fund all of his strange interests. He was waiting in the living room for Elijah to finish whatever he was doing, he knew he was welcome to go into the office, but he didn’t like the charade Eli used when he was working. He was here to visit his brother, not the eccentric billionaire Elijah Kamski. He missed how it used to be. They both did, back before Elijah’s mind put him on the fast track to fame and fortune. When they could just be kids.  Before the were divided by titles like boy genius and his problem child step brother. That’s why Gavin had wanted to start doing this. To give Eli a break. They usually just talked instead of getting into trouble, but it was still nice. At they very least with time Elijah had stopped holding it over Gavin’s head that he was technically the older brother. They were step siblings with only a couple month between them, but for a while after the wedding Elijah never let him forget it. Back then it had been something that drove Gavin up a wall, it was never something he thought he would look back fondly on, but here he was. They had just started to get along when Elijah got put on the gifted track and bumped up a grade.
He was pulled out of his head by the heavy clunk of Elijah’s office door shutting, “God I hate video calls.” He said in way of a greeting. “What happened to just uploading a still of your face and talking.” Gavin quipped. “So that didn’t exactly go over well.” Elijah replied, “Apparently a picture of me in an open silk bathrobe “is not business attire,” like, excuse you it’s my company, I think I can answer a call in a bathrobe if you call me at seven am thanks.” “Ah yes, the struggles of being a groundbreaking entrepreneur who does is best work in between the hours of ten at night and one am.” Gavin remarked dryly. “Okay, fuck you Gav.” Elijah laughed, “So what’s the plan.” “Are you in the mood to go out at all?” He asked and Elijah gave him a look, “Alright, staying in it is. We could order lunch or something I guess and catch up.” “That works, I just don’t really feel like dealing with anymore people right now.” Elijah admitted. “That’s fair. Got any place in mind or do you want to wait until later?” He continued. “Later.” Elijah replied.
They got the small talk out of the way. Gavin remarked on Elijah still being single,and he was relentlessly teased about still not getting in a relationship with Richard. It was nice. Once Elijah dropped his business persona it was almost like they were kids again. This is what exactly what Gavin had missed most when Elijah had graduated and made his way out into the world. They wound up ordering from a pizza place that Gavin wouldn’t have even looked at given how expensive it was. They were sitting on the edge of the deep red pool with their feet in the water as they had lunch.  “I still can’t believe you did this,” Gavin said and kicked his feet in the water for emphasis, “It reminds me of the time we filled the inflatable kiddie pool with Kool Aid every time I look at it.” “The magic of red tiling,” His brother laughed, “Red Kool Aid would have been too sticky, but I had remember our greatest moment some how.” “Your greatest moment,” He remarked, “I began a reign of terror one you started high school.” “Don’t worry, I heard all about it.” He replied. “Why can’t things be that easy again, I miss it.” “Because we’re adults now.” Gavin grumbled, “With responsibilities and all that.” “Speak for yourself.” Came the half joke response, “But seriously Gavin, we should do this more often.” “i can’t come out here all the time, maybe try visiting me every once in a while yeah?” He pushed. “Maybe. But I worked hard for my title of recluse.” He teased. “I can and will push you into this pool.” Gavin threatened.
“You wouldn’t-” Elijah didn’t get to finish because Gavin made good on his promise, “You are the absolute worst.” “And yet, you keep inviting me back.” He grinned.
(Prompt from this list)
@irrelevantbutfabulous
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oceannocturne · 2 years
Text
Spoiler-filled emoting about the new Batman movie (IT WAS SO GOOD YOU GUYS LIKE SO MUCH BETTER THAN I EVEN DARED HOPE FOR)
You can totally see this going from ‘let me list a few things to rant about on tumblr dot com tomorrow!’ to ‘I am having Emotions and must Express’
'Being Vengeance isn't enough. I need to be hope.'
Getting called out for being rich and privileged
HUSH money to a journalist named Elliot...
Penguin having to waddle
Bludhaven
Seeing that violence isn't enough (when crazy radical says 'i am vengeance')
Bruce slowly self-destructing - he's someone i could see relating to Tim's own spiral and wanting to help Dick (also if this is what Bruce was like when Dick came along he would TOTALLY relate to Tim re:trying to stop Bruce from killing himself). Alfred being worried about his self-destruction, trying to help this poor kid not be afraid by teaching him fighting, both of them feeling guilty for Martha and Thomas's deaths
The significance of the kid being the first one to take his his hand
Selina getting her own fleshed-out backstory and arc!
Bruce telling her that killing would make her just as bad as them...he's holding her back because he doesn't want her to lose herself, and i could totally see him trying to have the same conversation with Jason years later
The way the other fatherless kid kept popping up in the narrative and subtly influencing Bruce's action - making a beeline to save him from the car, accepting his help at the stadium. The way Bruce went to the memorial when he's barely shown his face in public for years, almost certainly just because of the connection and empathy he felt for that kid
Bruce assuming the worst in people, and Selina naming that and not outright rejecting him for it
Bruce saying 'youre not my dad' one minute and then having a very repressed Bat-emotional breakdown at Alfred's hospital bed when confessing he cares about Alfred and us as scared to lose him as he was scared after losing his parents
Bruce is a person who loves so deeply and wholeheartedly. It's why he's so repressed, because he's scared of attachment that will hurt him again.
The Batmobile and motorcycle were SICK AS HELL
Built-in grapple gun? So cool.
Video-game tech like the contact lens things? Also rad.
Going around in a hoodie and baseball cap with the grease paint still around his eyes? A+
'Why here?' 'Because I couldn't get you to go there.'
Having staff other than Alfred! A novel concept. Bless this poor woman working in a gothic-nightmare-tower for a well-known recluse.
Edward Nash or whatever? Cowards. It's Nygma
Bruce doing actual detective work! Huzzah!
In the end! Gotham citizens! Recognize him as a hero! As their personal hero! (Or like at least start to)
The guy at the funeral calling bullshit on the Renewal program and on the Gotham elite right to Bruce Wayne's own damn face
All the times throughout the film honestly where people call out Renewal and you can see rusty gears start turning behind Bruce's eyes. Slowly. Slowly turning.
Also going from 'I don't care about my parents' company Batman is the Wayne legacy' to actually going through his dad's Renewal files (B Bruce Brucie-boy why'd you put the whole dramatic chain and padlock on their door my dude). Like you can totally see! Him starting to move in a new direction! You can see him becoming the Bruce that will donate to infrastructure and welfare programs just as much as he hunts down clues and criminals!
I'm just so emotional about the growth in this move like. Yes it's dark as hell. But there is a message of hope at the end! Of moving through grief and not letting it define you! Bruce never gets a 100% answer on who killed his parents. He gets two stories and two 'probably's and then Falcone dies. But by the end you just Know he's going to throw himself into revitalizing the company and pledging all kinds of donations to rebuilding Gotham. He's learning to move beyond not fearing death and beginning to find meaning in life. And y'know, after the city is finally stable and Bruce has run himself ragged, maybe Alfred buys him some tickets to a circus that's come into town, as a way to take a breath after all his hard work...
Also all of Selina's wigs A++ loved them all
Weirdly, Bruce wandering vaguely through the Manor in ragged sweatshirts and those dumb bangs? A Mood. My poor son. Someone give this man a Robin. Or like, a lollipop.
Rat With Wings = Pigeon my Mom ALWAYS said this growing up and now I feel Vindicated #newyork #eastcoast
Bruce having his whole setup in an abandoned Wayne subway tunnel and living in a tower in the city? Refreshing. Original. Solid.
His expressions??? Like when people write about Bruce's smiles being a twitch of his mouth I'm like. Yes. But also I have no idea how to visualize that. But now I do??? Like 90% of the movie he's clenching his jaw and then at the end with Selina his face his somehow softer, even though it's the same expression. He's feeling emotions again!! And somehow Rob Pattinson took what I always figured to be fictional hyperbole and made it real!!!
Oh and going back to the hope thing, like the guy he saved at the subway station at the beginning of the movie was
Also the Riddler calling him out on how Batman is his true self...like I don't know if he was right or not, if what Bruce does as Batman is his 'real self,' but Bruce was definitely on the path of letting 'the mission' consume him
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Do you think they would actually enjoy the modern world? Or would they want to stay in their current time period?
Hm, well, I think that may vary depending on each suitor if I’m honest! (I’ll be excluding Sebastian from this one, only because he is a modern man and I wager he would want to stay in the mansion in order to finish his thesis) 
Under a cut bc it’s a long boi:
I think for people like Arthur and Theo, for instance--who always seem to live in the fast lane--it might not really prove much of a problem. They would continue enjoying the night life and move with their busy schedules. Tl;dr: (For them? Same shit, different day)
Vincent would likely be doing just fine given how Theo often provides assistance in places where he struggles; to promote his art, to spark intrigue in the general public and benefactors. He might be a little overwhelmed by the influx of stimuli that comes with the modern era, constant noise and interaction and movement--perhaps worry that people are losing their ability to live in the moment. (Not to mention what’s being done to the environment...) There might be a learning curve/adjustment, but I think Theo would help him ease in. Plus, it would be a little easier to promote his art given the less stringent restrictions on public exhibitions. He’d still have to work for his fame, but at least the van Goghs wouldn’t have to live in constant unease in the proximity of the cutthroat academy.  Tl;dr: (Mixed feelings, but tries to stay positive about modern times)
Dazai is more familiar with this kind of life of quick turmoil and breakneck speed, if anything he falls back into his old coping mechanisms--hello writing, drinking, and smoking. An overwhelming influx of information and suffering would probably be hard for him to manage, despite how expertly he hides it. I think I would be worried he would lose himself in the dismal reality of diminished connection with other people. Yes I’m shoving him into therapy, I want him to start living for himself and taking care of himself ffs
That isn’t to say there aren’t happy possibilities for him, just that I think he really needs to heal first. I could see him very happy in a kind of writer’s circle with people he loves and trusts; less expending his energy in a desperate attempt to fill the void and please others, more cultivating his own happiness... Tl;dr: (Positive potential, but honestly part of me thinks the past quieter/simple/rural life suits him better...he still loves meme culture tho, he finds it so expansive and creative)
Isaac is in a similar boat as Dazai, I think! He has wonderful potential as a mentor and professor, and living in a world that has a little more patience and respect for genius might help encourage him to put himself out there. That being said, I think the pace of life would exhaust him though--he is very much the kind of person that prefers to keep to himself and just puzzle and tinker. Baby boy just wants to do equations, build little inventions, and read up on the recent discoveries in astrophysics (BRUH WHEN THE IMAGE OF THE BLACK HOLE CAME OUT HE FORGOT HOW TO B R E A T H E) Napoleon is the only reason he eats anything healthy or on any kind of regular schedule s m h. Tl;dr: (Not a lot changes, honestly? He was reclusive then, he still is now--he just has more toys/academic resources. If anything he might get a little too lost in his work because of it, somebody please make sure he’s eating/sleeping/socializing;;;)
Poor Jeanne is SUFFERING. Please release him from this nightmare he is begging. Jk jk, I don’t think it would be too bad for him--but I do think that he would have the aforementioned problem of too many stimuli and too much interaction. I think he would ease into it a little with Mozart’s help; he would just be awkward and wooden until he got the hang of it. Most people just find him quirky in an amusing way, and don’t think too hard about it. I’d wager he’d probably become literate at this point because of the abundance of resources and necessity to read/write (okay but imagine this baby with a little kid workbook iM GONNA CRY!!! TAKE ALL MY CRAYONS JEANNE). 
Can you imagine this mofo at a Starbucks??? Tall and stoic, dark and debonair (EVERYONE IS S W O O N I N G), and he just asks in a light tenor “can I have a mocha with eight shots of expresso” with a completely straight face. “Sir, that could kill you” “Don’t worry, I’ve been dead a long time” And he just moves to wait for his order. 11/10 cryptid I could watch an entire show just about his daily adventures
He works with Napoleon a lot given their similar skillsets. They coach kids at high schools that have fencing teams (it’s really REALLY cute bc if they’re on the younger side, Jeanne will very dramatically lose bc he wants to encourage them and the kids are delighted--but the parents are INCHES from laughing so hard they’re in tears). Otherwise, he mostly takes up gigs as a security worker/bodyguard, only really works for the money. He prefers to spend his time in ways that feel meaningful if he can, so don’t be surprised if you see him in foster homes and in social working spaces. He has an uncanny understanding about him, a kind of silence/patience that doesn’t stifle; it makes the kids/teens calm down in milliseconds. They really listen when he does talk, and he sets good and clear boundaries--he knows how to be firm when it’s required. He gives them the structure and placid grounding they’ve never had, and really pays attention to what’s important to them. Brings them little things he notices; brings flowers to the one that likes to draw, brings CDs (he is bad with technology, but they usually only have access to older/outdated stuff anyway) to the one the one that struggles to write with white noise in the house, brings little plushies to the ones that lose theirs. He’s simple but solid, and he finds a lot of meaning in helping kids overcome the similar kind of struggles he faced.  Tl;dr: (Steep learning curve, but he just sees it as all the same really--just more work to be done with the literacy requirement and adjustment to technology. Will be resistant at first, but when he gets accustomed and starts finding people who are important to him, he wouldn’t want to change anything/go back. But will admit there are some days he just wants to go to the most remote place he can access and just live there for a month with no human interaction whatsoever; people are inefficient and insufferable sometimes)
Mozart’s life honestly doesn’t change much? I feel like he would easily be able to keep composing and continue releasing his work as per usual. Given his quick capacity to schmooze and say what people want to hear when he must, he’d be more than able to network his way into success. I think the only thing he might struggle with now and again is inspiration, given the world operates on a very surface level in the modern era sometimes. Profound insight and depth are not quite as cultivated in many ways, and he can struggle to find something that just sparks motivation/novelty in his mind, makes him start composing at breakneck speed. He reads a lot and watches some TV shows/movies when he’s at really low inspiration levels, the kind of guy that sneers at Game of Thrones--but finds things like BBC’s Sherlock more passable (wants intrigue and complexity, doesn’t much enjoy the sensationalized drivel). When Arthur finds out he loves ATLA he about falls off his seat. “It’s a children’s show.” “Yes it is, with a remarkable level of depth and craftsmanship, what are you trying to say?” He begins to find a kind of rhythm in his composing, and Jeanne and Dazai often drop by with so many crazy stories he finds himself filled with music anyway LMAO Tl;dr: (Same as Isaac, really just keeps doing his thing without being impeded, and he enjoys the luxuries/conveniences of the modern era. Will be slightly resistant at first because of how alien some of the changes are, but will fall into the habits/customs slowly and surely. Fine with it, will whine a bit at the growing pains tho)
Leonardo actually canonically owns a bar, and does that really surprise anyone? He really enjoys the excitement of meeting new people and hearing about their myriad histories, the influx of cultures/languages/experiences. It’s a nice but lowkey place, people stop for a drink, listen to some good music--chat amiably and relax after a long day’s work--before heading out. There are regulars and people that just stop for that single day; tourists, vacationers, so on and so forth.
When asked, many people note a sleek black cat with sharp eyes that led them to the bar... Tl;dr: (Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Prequel, adapts well to the modern era because of centuries of experience but also...he’s so tired...somebody please hold him I can’t watch him live like this, lord jesus)
Optimally, I see Comte filling his time with myriad pursuits; ranging from philanthropy, indulging in art/music/theatre (often a benefactor as well), and keeping track of his chirren (they may exist more independently now, but he still worries about them ;-;). Otherwise nothing much changes for him, still goes to galas and fancy gatherings, still enjoys fashion and spoiling people, still seeks to occupy himself with social interaction and care-taking--if he doesn’t have a family of his own. He’s basically just that meme that’s like DON’T LET THE EXISTENTIAL DREAD SET-IN. DON’T LET IT SET-IN!!!!!!!!! Tl;dr: (Not to repeat myself but also Don’t Let the Existential Dread Set-in: The Sequel, literally just desperately trying to fill the void please somebody help him he also just needs to be held fuck’s sake, I’m going to drag him kicking and screaming into happiness--but otherwise has no great trouble adjusting to the modern era. I feel like he would have a more minor form of what Dazai struggles with, maybe a lack of personable connection that he once had; fewer chances to be himself and relax. Also probably worried about the increasing unhappiness and turmoil building in the world in general...)
Napoleon is similar to Comte in that he often checks up on Isaac and Jeanne from time to time, and does the aforementioned fencing lessons with kids. He also takes a lot of basic security positions--for venues, concerts, museums--you name it. He dislikes the idea of sitting behind a desk a lot, so he prefers to do a lot of different things; he even cooks from time to time at the restaurants  that know him very well. One gig he particularly enjoys is battle choreography for movies/theatre! He tends to stay away from anything too historically close to his era of origin, but he has fun coming up with realistic (smaller scale) hand-to-hand combat scenarios and duels. Tl;dr: (This era doesn’t feel like too much of a change. It’s a little more intensive in terms of pace, but he manages to keep up pretty well, it just exhausts him from time to time--and he usually goes on trips or hikes to unwind when he needs to like Jeanne LOL they do not go to their happy place, they go to their high lonesome place).
Shakespeare also continues to do his drama thing, organizes troupes on tons of different levels--from community level to more intense, skilled groups that re-enact his own work. His life doesn’t change all that much beyond a new form of theatre logistics, and he adjusts to the technology fairly easily out of necessity. He’ll stop by Vincent’s place from time to time to show him recordings of his latest shows, but otherwise is almost always on the move. Tl;dr: (So long as he can keep following his greatest passion, he doesn’t really mind the changes in how theatre happens--he doesn’t have any sizable issues with the modern era.)
Ability with technology (phones mostly):
Arthur: more than capable, well-versed, loves to do everything on his phone no prob--maybe lives a little too much on his phone (Vine/TikTok/Youtube can kill his productivity RIP) also yes he has a fidget spinner on his desk, no I will not be taking any constructive criticism at this time
Theo: yes but with a lot of cursing at first, had to do it for work and now looks down on anyone that can’t keep up with him (except for Vincent)
Vincent: knows the basics, taking and sending pictures, writing things in notes for later, texting (tho sending emails is a little harder for him); he does his best but he can be slow. Really really enjoys the paint programs on his iPad for when he’s on public transit, but he starts setting alarms after he gets the hang of it (he’s missed his stops before because of it LMAO)
Leonardo: what kind of stupid question? Man knows how to pick them apart and put ‘em back together for crying out loud, uses it like a pro--comes to him naturally, and he’s the guy that keeps coming up with ways to jailbreak Apple products and thwart their money-grubbing tactics. Catch him playing Minish Cap on his emulator on the way to work, brah
Comte: just vibing, keeps up with the times easily since he’s been doing it for so long, much like Theo uses it to keep in touch with the people around him--he’s the “prefers to call instead of text” sorta guy though, he worries about losing emotional subtleties and he likes to hear people’s voices. Doesn’t do anything special on phones, more just a tool; will read/listen to podcasts/does have emulators (courtesy of Leo) and enjoys playing Pokemon when he’s bored
Jeanne: types one finger at a time, it will take a while--but he’ll get there (deleted all his contacts by accident once and Mozart was just. HOW.) He barely knows how to use a phone, and it’s a steep learning curve for him
Mozart: purely functional when it comes to his phone, refuses to rely on it beyond the necessities that only tech can do (for instance, sending emails or reading articles or uploading compositions) he still writes his music before making more polished digital copies. He will sometimes listen to pieces digitally, but prefers to play them in-person; he feels that a lot of the soul in a piece is lost despite the convenience
Dazai: you absolute fools. you baboons. why would you ever give him this kind of power. it is 3AM and he has been on a wikipedia trail spanning hours, started with Cleopatra being the seventh in her line with that name all the way to cotton candy being called “daddy’s beard” in French. please help him he hasn’t slept in years. Also probably binges anime and manga lbr. He’s the one making vine references every other second, always up to date on the memes^TM
Isaac: also mostly uses it as a tool for research and calculations; it’s a way to keep track of information. He also likes to play background music while he’s working, so he finds the device nice and convenient--plus less having to go around pestering people in-person. he does start to get interested in coding and tinkering with apps/programs eventually, too
Shakespeare: finds it a delightful little contraption, so useful because it lets him jot down ideas as they come to him quickly, and he can edit his texts much more easily with digital interfaces. also likes that performances can be recorded, because now he can analyze his staging more efficiently--it gives him a good sense of what needs to be adjusted, and encourages him to keep streamlining/try new concepts
Napoleon: likes it because he can keep in touch with people more easily, the kind of guy to drop a line before checking on a friend. he really likes to look up recipes and find out more about cooking techniques he’s never encountered before. Isaac starts making an Instagram account just to show Napoleon’s impeccable plating, and Napo gets quite the following without knowing for a while
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songtoyou · 3 years
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Epiphany - Part Four
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Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,080
Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery. Swearing and self-doubt.
Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  
A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write and upload this chapter. I have not been feeling so good since I posted that last chapter. Lots of anxiety keeping me from doing things such as write. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I wanted to write about Aunt Janet. I felt that the show didn’t really tell us much about her except that she took care of the kids after the events of Hill House in 1992. 
Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.
Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.
I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.
Tag list: @morningstar09
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~Aunt Janet’s House – 2002 ~
“Luke! Hurry up, or you’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Janet yelled up the stairs.
“Luke! Come on!” exclaimed Nellie. “I’ll go check on him.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” said Janet. Her youngest nephew often worried her, especially since it was the tenth anniversary of Olivia’s death this past summer. Janet started to notice that Luke became more recluse and stayed up in his room. The only person Luke would interact with was Nell, which was not surprising to Janet. The twins only managed to become closer as they got older.
What really began to cause Janet to worry was catching Luke steal money from her purse. She asked him what he was doing and why he was stealing. However, Luke could come up with a pretty decent lie about needing money to buy flowers for Olivia’s grave.
In truth, it was to buy beer. Luke had taken a liking to the barley and hops beverage. It helped him feel numb and not worry about anything. Unfortunately, Luke had one too many beers last night and was paying for it. Nellie found him headfirst in the toilet regurgitating the contents of his late-night beer binge.
“Eww, gross. What is wrong with you?” asked Nellie. She pinched her nose as the stench of Luke’s puke was overwhelming.
“What does it look like! I’m sick! Tell Aunt Janet that I can’t go to school.”
“Luke, come on. You have missed too many days already. They’re going to hold you back another year if you miss any more school,” Nellie argued while searching through Luke’s drawers and closet for clothes.
Luke managed to get up from the bathroom floor when he felt it was safe. He rinsed out his mouth to relieve it from the after taste of throw-up.
“Come on! Get cleaned up and put these on,” ordered Nell and shoved Luke’s clothes in his arms.
Luke groaned and plopped down on his bed. “Nellie…I can’t go to school today. I’m too sick.”
“Well, your sickness is also making me sick, but I managed to get up and ready for school today. Now move it! I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall to the waste side. Do you hear me, Luke?”
“Fine! I’m getting dressed!” Luke yelled to get Nellie off of his back.
No matter what occurred between them, neither twin could ever hate the other. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidante. They had to be. Especially now that they were the last two left in Aunt Janet’s care. As soon as their eldest siblings turned eighteen, they hightailed it out of Janet’s house for college.
Luke slowly trudges down the stairs with his backpack slumped on his shoulders.
“Hey, there he is,” greeted Aunt Janet. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?”
“No! No breakfast,” Luke replied with his head on the table.
However, Nellie pushed a plate of dry toast in front of him and told him to at least nibble some bites. “Here’s some orange juice. Take slow sips. The last thing we need is you spewing junks in the toilet again,” whispered Nellie while Aunt Janet was in the kitchen. She would not out that her brother was hungover. That last thing Nell wanted was to cause any more trouble for Luke.
She knew why Luke did not want to go to school, and it had to do with, what else, their family. Some of the kids at school saw Luke as an easy target to bully and terrorize. The topic of their “messed-up” family was their go-to whenever they wanted to antagonize Luke. Nell often found herself a target for bullies but could stand up for herself a lot better than Luke.
With the anniversary of Olivia’s death, the bullies made it their mission to torment Luke about growing up without a mother or father. They would push him against the lockers, knocking his glasses off his face, and trip him in the hallways. It was too much to handle, and Luke was tired.
Leaning back in his chair, Luke re-read the words on the computer screen. His instructor loved the essay he turned in and advised him to expand upon it. Luke pushed aside his reservations about exploring his past traumas through writing. It was a better outlet for Luke to help cope and tackle past stressful life experiences.  Not only did Luke have support from his instructor and you, but his counselor at Banyan Treatment Center, Rob, also supported the idea of using expressive writing as a way to heal.
Luke could not deny that writing helped clear his head. Something he learned while being in rehab back in Los Angeles. It allowed him to face things from his past that he had pushed aside. However, Luke had some reservations about how much he should…open himself up when it comes to sorting out his past events. There were still things that Luke was not quite ready to face.  
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Oh my God!" exclaimed Luke. "It has been a month and a half since we have seen that movie. It would be best if you got over the ending. It happened. There is nothing you can do about it."
"I can't, Luke. It was total bullshit!" you yelled back furiously.
Luke calmly said your name to get your attention. "Listen to me; we don't even know if Steve Rogers actually stayed back in time to be with Peggy. He may have…"
"Then where did he go? Huh? He just up and left his friends who he just got back. Steve and Peggy never even dated! They kissed, that is it. Yes, there was an attraction that each had for one another, but that was all it ever way…an attraction. They are a 'what could have been' type of couple—the movie completely throughout all of Steve's character development…right out the window. Whatever, I'm over it," you stated, throwing your hands up in defeat.
You and Luke were driving to his Aunt Janet's house for a visit. He mentioned to you about wanting to visit his aunt for some time but had not gotten around to it. You were surprised that he asked you to come along.
Luke mentioned that Shirley and Theo were too busy to come with him and did not want to go alone. You agreed on the condition that he drive since Aunt Janet lived an hour and a half away from Wilmington. Lately, your anxiety has been going up and down, so you were not comfortable being at the hands of the wheel, especially on the freeway. You did not understand why you had such anxiety these past few days. You chalked it up to being nervous about your final project at school. The assignment was to create a self-portrait. It should be simple enough, but of course, the art instructor wanted students to "think outside of the box" and not have it be a regular standard portrait of themselves.
Each draft you came up with was of you in some state of turmoil, whether it be you depicted on a gurney getting resuscitated from your heroin overdose or lying in a pool of your own vomit. You could not understand why this particular project was giving you such a hard time. You were three-years sober. You had a steady job and gone back to school. Your relationship with your parents was better than ever. So, why the thought of a self-portrait brought upon negative thoughts about oneself?
You mentioned your troubles to Luke, and he was very sympathetic. While he was now 206 days sober, there were times where he felt…like the achievement did not mean much.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked him while on the way to Aunt Janet's house.
"It's just…this isn't my first rodeo when it comes to recovery," Luke began to say. "There is always this little voice in the back of my head that…"
"That it is only temporary. I have that little voice too. I'm not too fond of that little voice. Three years sober, and there are times where I still feel like a total failure. I shouldn't, but…I can't help it," you revealed to Luke honestly.
"Thankfully, there is another little voice in the back of my head that gives tells me that I'm doing a good job now and then. It's just that positive little voice has been a tad quiet lately," you added.
Luke could pick up on the little defeatist tone in your voice, and he did not like it. You immediately felt his worry about you. "Hey," you said to get his attention and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me, okay. I'm fine. I have my fears like every recovering addict. It is nice to talk to someone about it, particularly someone who understands, you know. That helps."
Silence soon filled the car, but it was not awkward. You never had awkward or uncomfortable silences with Luke. For some reason, Luke was one of the few comforting presences in your life. Regardless of all of the hardships he has gone through in his life, he offered a sense of hopefulness. With his 6'3 stature, Luke really came off more like a gentle giant. It was like he did not view himself as this grown tall man, but probably still felt like that little kid hiding under the bed from the "Tall Man" at Hill House.
"Luke," you said to get his attention. "Are you happy?"
"No," he replied immediately, then clarified when he saw the look you gave him. "I mean, am I happy that I am over 200 days clean, then yes I am, very much so. But…I don't know, there is a small part of me that is scared to be happy…to be content in fear of something going wrong."
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When Luke pulled the car into Aunt Janet's driveway, the older woman immediately came out of the house to greet her youngest nephew.
"There he is, my little boy," she said and wrapped her arms around Luke, which he reciprocated.
"Hi Aunt Janet, how are you?"
"I'm fine, darling. How have you been?" Aunt Janet asked, pulling away to get a good look at Luke. He looked much better than he did at Nell's funeral.
"Good. I'm doing good. Everyone is doing…fine," Luke replied, then turned towards you. He introduced you as his friend and not his sponsor to his Aunt, which kind of surprised you.
"So nice to meet you," said Aunt Janet taking your hand. She motioned for you both to follow her into the house. "I hope you both are hungry. I made an array of sandwiches and salads for lunch. Luke, I also made your favorite…chocolate pecan pie bars."
"Thank the Lord because he was hoping you would make them on the car ride here. It was all he talked about?" you teased.
"Once you have one, then you will know what I am talking about," Luke responded with a smile.
Aunt Janet lead you both into the kitchen.
"Can I use the bathroom to freshen up?" you asked her.
"Oh yes, dear. It is down that hallway, the first door to the right," told Aunt Janet as she showed you where to go. "Luke, you should probably wash your hands first," she added.
"Yes, Aunt Janet," he said and went to the sink to wash his hands.
When you were no longer in earshot, Aunt Janet stood beside her nephew and said, "Your friend seems really sweet."
Luke could not hold back his smile, "Yeah, she is genuinely nice. She's fun to hang out with. We have a lot of the same interests. Shirley and Theo have met her as well," he mentioned and shared that both of his sisters really liked you.
Aunt Janet turned her head to see if you came if you were around the corner. When you were not, she leaned over to Luke and said, "Very pretty too. She'd make a lovely…"
"Aunt Janet, she is just a friend. I can't date her anyway. She's…they say you shouldn't date anyone while still in recovery."
"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Janet said as she placed the food on the kitchen table. "You are becoming the man I always knew you could be."
Luke would be lying to himself if he denied that there was some form of attraction that he had for you, both physically and emotionally. He knew that the feelings that he was slowly developing towards you could be considered wrong. You were his sponsor…a dedicated one at that too. It would not be right for him to act on any attraction he may have for you—no doubt, that you would not reciprocate them, which would be disappointing to Luke.
"Better to just suffer in silence," Luke thought to himself.
"Don't you want a girlfriend? A family of your own someday?" asked Aunt Janet.
"Yeah…maybe. Someday. I'm just learning to take care of myself without drugs in my system. There is no way I can be a dedicated father or husband to anyone… at least not right now. I am still a work in progress," Luke admitted to his aunt. "I do like…" But Luke stopped when he heard your footsteps approaching.
"Oh, my goodness. The pictures on the wall… I'm assuming the little kid with glasses is you, Luke."
The three of you sat around the kitchen table with your plates stacked with delicious food.
"Luke was the absolute cutest kid. He had a little lisp as well," Aunt Janet shared. "I have more pictures of the kids if you would like to see them?"
"Yes," you replied ecstatically.
"No," Luke disputed, "We are in the middle of eating."
"We can multitask. Let's see those pictures," you asserted gleefully while Aunt Janet got up from the table.
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With a belly full of food, the three you were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking tea, and eating Aunt Janet's yummy chocolate pecan pie bars. You already looked through three photo albums that showed Luke and his siblings' younger years.
"I wanted to take as many pictures as I could of the kids. They hated it, but I told 'em they would appreciate it when they got older," expressed Aunt Janet. "Here's a picture of Nell on her wedding day. That's her husband, Arthur. Sadly, he passed away a couple of months after they got married. But…they are together now."
You looked at the photo of the young couple. Nell looked very much like her older sisters and her mother. You could tell that there was a kindness about Nell just by looking at the picture. She was the type of person to go above and beyond for her family and even strangers. Luke would say that Nell was just that type of person to care about everyone, no matter who they were or where they came from.
Luke did share with you that one of his biggest regrets was not going to Nell's wedding. He said that he tried, but Shirley told him to leave. Luke said that it was for the best and that he was in no right state of mind to support his twin the way she deserved on her wedding day.
Thankfully for Luke, Nell understood and held no hard feelings. She never did when it came to her other half.
Aunt Janet began to sniffle, and when you looked up from the photo, you saw the older woman dab her eyes with a napkin. Out of instinct, Luke grabbed his Aunt's tiny hand and squeezed it with his as a way to show support. Just as he was Aunt Janet's little boy, Nell was her little girl. She was the one to raise them, take care of them, and guide them into adulthood.
None of the Crain children were perfect; they were far beyond that notion. However, there is no denying that if they did not have Aunt Janet take care of them and love them, they could have been worse off. Luke had the overwhelming feeling of guilt encompassing him at the moment as Aunt Janet tried to hold back her tears.
You instantly looked up at Luke. You could feel his sense of guilt towards the way he treated his aunt while growing up. He looked over at you. It was a silent conversation you both were having between one another. You mouthed, "Do you want me to go?" so he could have this moment alone.
With a shake of his head, 'No,' Luke spoke up to get his aunt's attention. "Aunt Janet…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for all the Hell I put you through while living here. You did so much for Nell and me, and the others that I…shit all over it. I stole and lied to you like it was my job. You deserved better. I just want you to know that…me getting hooked on drugs…well…that was…no matter what had happened…it was my choice to go down that path of destruction. I love you, Aunt Janet, and I am so appreciative of the sacrifices you made for my siblings and me. I wish that I weren't such a fuck up…"
"Oh sweetheart, no, you are not a…fuck up," Aunt Janet interjected and continued, "Not at all. I love you so much that…I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Your childhood is in the past. It happened. It is a part of you. The fact that you are continuing to remain clean after all that has occurred…well, that is something you should be most proud of. It shows that you are dedicated to your sobriety and turning your life around. No one said this process was easy, but you stayed the course and continued to make good decisions. As I told you earlier, you are becoming the man I always knew you could be."
"Now, I'm going to cry," Luke giggled as he dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "I didn't mean to turn this into a sob fest, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I put you through and that I love you very much, Aunt Janet."
Aunt Janet emerged from her seat to wrap her arms around her nephew and kiss the top of his head. It was a sweet moment to witness.
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luminescencefics · 4 years
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the light inside
Natasha Reynolds is trying to figure her life out. She’s newly single, behind her deadline for her newest book release, and currently stuck in her best friend’s house while her home office is being renovated.
Harry Styles is just trying to complete this project. He’s in the midst of his own home renovation, but when he steps foot into Natasha’s townhouse, he finds that there’s more to life than just trying to rebuild.
A oneshot about starting over, learning how to cope, blonde haired toddlers, and finding the light that shines inside of you.
written for @majorharry​‘s 20k fic celebration
prompt #27: “your hands are soft,” prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that,” prompt #33: :”I--I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
harry/ofc, 8k
Natasha Reynolds is losing it.
She’s currently sitting in the half-finished nursery of her best friend’s unborn child. It's the only room in Ellory’s home that has some semblance of quiet, and that is exactly what Natasha needs considering she’s about three weeks behind her workload. Her inbox chimes with a notification of a new email, and Natasha sighs, ignoring it as the red number on her laptop screen grows from forty-six to forty-seven. No doubt they’re all from her editor. And, no doubt that if she doesn’t respond in the next hour, her phone will start to ring incessantly.
Natasha’s life never falls out of order. She has always been a woman with a plan, ever since uni, and that mindset has paved a road of success for her that she never thought she would achieve at this early an age.
Right after uni, she drafted about twenty query letters and sent them out to various publishing agencies throughout the Greater London area. She had been penning her mystery novel series her entire last year of university, and with a stroke of luck her first book was being edited and published before Natasha could turn twenty-five.
The first book was a success. It became an even bigger hit overseas, and not long after was her agent proclaiming that she must develop a second book. Three more books and three and a half years later, the Midnight series was finished. It allowed her to travel the world, meet fans of the book, and earn enough money to own property in Mayfair.
But now that her series was complete, her editor and agent were begging for Natasha to release a new book. Natasha wanted to branch away from the mystery genre and come up with a brand new book, one that would not be developed into a four-part series.
And, considering her newly single status, it made sense to venture into romance.
As of lately, Natasha feels like she has bitten off more than she can chew. Sure, she loves writing. And sure, her relationship imploding definitely gave her the push she needed to start writing again. But she’s suddenly at a standstill—battling a difficult case of writer’s block.
On top of all of that, she’s been sequestered at her best friend’s townhouse because her home office was currently under construction. Natasha usually plans for these things, and she definitely would not have decided for her writing space to be completely transformed while she’s trying to reach her deadlines. But her ex-fiancé ended things abruptly and that office was the only space in her home that he had called his, so it only made sense to completely tear it down and start fresh.
If only the timing was appropriate.
Just as Natasha began writing the eighteenth chapter of her unnamed novel, she starts to hear high-pitched giggles get louder and louder down the hallway. She can hear the gentle thud of feet, and not long after is the door to the nursery thrown open.
“Tasha! Come play!” Maude calls from the doorway of the room.
Her hair is in wild curls and her cheeks have a gentle flush to them, no doubt from running away from Ellory and trying to find Natasha’s hiding spot. Yesterday, Natasha was hiding in the guest bathroom to get work done and it only took a few hours before Maude heard the toilet flush and suddenly found her.
Today, it only took an hour and a half.
“Hi Maude,” Natasha says with a small smile.
“Why are you in sissy’s room?” Maude asks, hobbling towards Natasha’s spot on the enormous bean bag chair in the corner of the room.
“Trying to get some work done. Where’s mummy? I thought you guys were supposed to be baking shortbread?” Natasha asks, tearing her eyes away from her computer screen and looking at Maude who has now become eye level due to the bean bag’s relativity to the carpeted floor.
“We did! Come see!” Maude’s sticky hands reach out towards the screen of Natasha’s laptop, and before her fingers can make a mess of it, Natasha slams it down with a gentle click. Maude starts giggling, reaching for Natasha until her forearms are sticky from flour and egg.
Sighing, Natasha follows after the three year old. There’s no way she’ll be getting any more work finished today.
Ellory looks up from the oven when she sees her daughter dragging her best friend into the kitchen. She gives Natasha a look, laced with an apology and a bit of pity. Ellory knows that Natasha is struggling. Her personal life has been shit the entire year, her workload is only increasing, and now her home is in a state of disarray.
“Maude, love, what did I tell you about bothering Auntie Tasha?” Ellory asks, her ivory hands resting on her cocked hip. She’s giving her daughter a pointed glare, but Natasha knows that it’s no use. Maude always finds a way of getting out of trouble.
“Sorry mummy. I just wanted to show Tasha what we made!” Maude says, holding her arms up so she can be placed on her chair by the kitchen island. Natasha just shakes her head a little, wordlessly telling Ellory that it’s okay. She wasn’t really being productive anyways, to be fair. Baking with her best friend and her daughter sounded better anyways.
“Any progress on the book?” Maude asks, pouring Natasha a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle on the stovetop.
Natasha just shrugs before slumping down on the chair next to Maude. “I’m still stuck on chapter eighteen. Diane’s going to ring my neck.”
Natasha’s editor Diane was nothing but a terrifying presence in her professional life. Granted, she was phenomenal at her job, and without her guidance the Midnight series would probably never have become the success it had, but Diane struggled with understanding how Natasha worked.
She knew about the break up. She knew that her life was in shambles. But Diane pushed through all of that. She was a career-woman first, and didn’t believe in distractions. Therefore, she continuously pushed Natasha to write.
Sometimes, Natasha just needed to breathe.
“You’ll get there, Nat. You just need to find some inspiration,” Ellory offered kindly, resting her hand on her baby bump.
Ellory was always ten steps ahead of Natasha. Starting in secondary school back in Hammersmith, Ellory was already thinking about where she wanted to apply for uni. Although they went to different schools, they still kept in touch. And while Natasha was struggling to finish her final exams and finish writing book one of her series, Ellory was falling in love with Isaac and already planning her wedding.
That happened four months after graduation. Isaac was in finance and came from a wealthy family, and not even a year later, Maude was born. Natasha was still living in her tiny flat in the center of the city, far too cramped for her liking. She was in the middle of writing book two, so her royalties from the first installment hadn’t come in yet. Ellory was already planning Maude’s first birthday when she encouraged Natasha to stop being a reclusive author and start dating, and that’s when she met Will.
Will was smart and posh and worked at the same office as Isaac. He was a career-focused, well-mannered, completely tailored gentleman, and for some reason he took a liking to Natasha’s abnormal life. They were the same age but he felt eons ahead of her. His flat was in a luxury building with a doorman, he owned more suits than he did casual clothes, he drank bourbon like her father did, and he never tried to understand why Natasha wanted to become an author.
He never pushed it though, and he never really tried to understand Natasha either. After she meets his family and they announce that their cousins are to be married, things began to change. Will’s family was very traditional, and when they found out that Natasha and Will had been together for two years and were still living in their own separate flats, Will hired a realtor and they started looking at homes in Knightsbridge and Belgravia, and they all felt too regal for Natasha’s taste. One afternoon when she’s visiting Ellory and newborn Maude at their home in Mayfair, Natasha comes across a dated townhouse that was for sale. It had crown molding and exposed brick, a dated fireplace and exposed beams that showed the true character of the place. With book three finished and her bank account expanding, Natasha puts a deposit down and they move in a week later.
Not even a year later, Will proposed. At the time, Natasha thought it was everything. She finally felt ready, and she thought that her and Will would be happy together. But then after that he started getting colder, and their relationship started feeling more rushed than ever before. She couldn’t even remember what she loved about him in the first place, and whenever she would ask him why he wanted to marry her, his response was always, “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”
Natasha was unhappy. And when they sat down a week after they had already mailed their wedding invitations to their guests, she told him that they shouldn’t get married. She expected Will to put up a fight and beg her to reconsider, but instead he gave out a deep sigh of relief.
A week later he moved out.
And three months after that he was engaged to another woman.
The ringing of the timer rips Natasha out of her thoughts and she laughs quietly when Maude starts jumping up and down in her chair, clapping her sticky hands when Ellory announces that the shortbread is finished.
“Tasha! Will you help us decorate?” Maude asks, grinning up at her mum’s best friend with wide shiny eyes.
“Of course,” Natasha responds, placing her arms under Maude’s armpits and lifting her off the chair and sits her on the granite countertop near the shortbread that’s resting on the cooling rack. Ellory lays out different colored icing, yellows and pinks and blues, and Maude greedily sticks a finger in the pink bowl and brings it up to her mouth when Ellory isn’t looking.
Maude starts to giggle when Natasha raises her eyebrows comically, before copying the three year old and digging a pointer finger into the blue bowl. Maude’s giggles grow louder when Ellory grows suspicious, but Natasha stays quiet, smiling at Maude as if they were sharing a secret.
Midway through icing the shortbread cakes, Natasha’s mobile begins to ring from the island. She groans, knowing that it’s probably Diane asking for an update, but when she gets closer she notices that the number isn’t one she has saved into her contacts, so she brings the phone up to her ear and offers up a quick hello.
“Hi, is this Ms. Reynolds?” a deep voice asks. It’s low and guttural and Natasha instantly recognizes it as the voice of the contractor currently redoing her home office a few streets away.
“Yes, this is she,” she says professionally.
“Right, this is Harry, we’ve spoken a few times before about your renovation. I just thought I’d keep you updated. The desk was delivered later than expected so we’re running a bit behind schedule,” Harry says.
Natasha groans because of course things were running behind schedule. It seemed to be the theme of her life these days.
“Sorry?” the voice asks, and Natasha slaps a hand to her mouth, realizing that her groan came out much louder than expected.
“Nothing. That’s fine, you can stay as late as you can in order to have everything back on schedule. I really would hate to push the completion date any further,” Natasha explains, ignoring the look Ellory gives her from the other side of the kitchen.
“No problem Ms. Reynolds,” Harry responds kindly.
“Thanks for the update,” Natasha says, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call and placing her mobile face down on the countertop.
Things really weren’t going her way.
***
Normally, Natasha leaves Ellory’s house by four o’clock the latest, and by four oh five, her house is void of contractors and construction workers and painters. Ellory offers for Natasha to stay for dinner, but after Maude throws a temper tantrum and Ellory grows increasingly tired from her pregnancy, Natasha decides to just head home. She could avoid the noise of the downstairs office by hiding away in her bedroom on the floor above, and she probably should respond to the growing number of emails in her inbox.
When Natasha arrives at her townhouse, she can already hear the erratic hum of the numerous power tools from inside the office. A large white van with Styles & Co. is parked right outside her front door, with a black pick up truck parked behind her parking spot across the street. Natasha unlocks her front door and is immediately hit with the smell of sawdust.
She closes the door a bit softer than usual so her presence would stay undetected. But while she slips off her flats and discards her jacket in the foyer, she hears the heavy sound of boots come closer and her head snaps up.
In front of her is a tall man with broad shoulders. His brown hair curls over the tips of his ear and stands taller in different areas around his head, most likely from pulling on the strands out of frustration. He has a thin layer of stubble surrounding his mouth and chin, and his green eyes are wide, searching her face the same way she was searching his.
“Ms. Reynolds?” he asks, and his voice has the same timbre as the one she was speaking to on the phone a few hours prior. She cocks her head to the side in surprise, taking in his long jean-clad legs, brown toolbelt, and white henley rolled up at the sleeves, revealing black ink etched onto his tan skin.
“Uh, yeah,” she responds, her mind growing a bit foggy.
He smiles in front of her, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, wiping his hands on the tops of his thighs and extending a long toned forearm.
Natasha is a bit dumbfounded for once, because she figured the Harry she was speaking to on the phone for the past week and a half was someone much older. His deep voice reminded her of her father’s, and she had never come across a contractor so handsome in her entire life.
“Hi,” she responds after she realizes his hand has been extended a bit longer than normal. His eyes stay on hers as they shake once, twice, before her hands retreat back to her sides.
“Your hands are soft,” he says offhandedly, and she’s not entirely sure if he meant to say it outloud. His calloused hands are rough from his work, and when she looks into his eyes with a smile, she can’t see any ounce of regret or embarrassment.
“Thanks,” she says, shouldering her tote bag a little higher on her body.
“We’re almost done for the day, Ms. Reynolds,” Harry explains.
“Natasha’s just fine,” she responds, and she feels even warmer when she hears his Northern accent echo her first name to her.
She likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.
“D’ya want to see the progress so far?” Harry offers, hoping she’ll say yes.
Against her plans of retreating in her room to stare blankly at the whiteness of her screen, Natasha nods and follows Harry out of the foyer. The hallway splits in two and he takes a left, bypassing the staircase and entering the back part of the house where Will’s office used to be.
The room is much brighter due to the lighting fixture only having light bulbs without the lampshades. Natasha explained to Harry on the phone that she wanted the room to not be as cold and uninviting, and when he recommended painting the chandelier, she agreed instantly. White tarps were placed over the original hardwood flooring with paint buckets and rollers placed haphazardly around the room. Two other burly men were on the far side of the room near the big bay window, sanding down the large wooden desk and attaching different pieces to the furniture to make it the focal point of the room.
“Wow,” Natasha announces breathlessly, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with wide eyes. It was such a contrast from what the room was before, and she could feel the weight on her shoulders growing lighter and lighter.
“It’s not nearly finished,” Harry says from behind her. Natasha just shakes her head, realizing that he probably doesn’t understand how much this room transformation actually means to her.
“Oi! ‘Arry! Where’s the cabinet?” One of the voices calls out. He’s older than Harry and has a few wrinkles surrounding his face, but he has kind eyes. His accent makes Natasha smile, and when he looks up he gives her a grin in return.
“Got distracted by the pretty lady, I reckon?” He repeats, and the man to his left cackles. Natasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see the flush creep up Harry’s neck, and she giggles a bit to herself.
“Enough of that, you two. Finish up and I’ll go grab it from the garden,” Harry says, his voice thinning as he retreats towards the back entrance of Natasha’s home where most of the furniture and supplies were situated.
“It looks great, guys. Thank you for your hard work,” Natasha says to the two men, watching as they stop their previous tasks and give her matching grins.
“No problem, lass. Reckon you’ll write another bestseller in this room, aye?” The darker haired man says. His accent is much deeper than the previous man and Harry combined, and Natasha laughs a bit when he mentions her writing.
Before she could respond, Harry is back heaving a large cabinet in front of his chest. Natasha jumps to the side, shocked at how strong he actually is. His long arms were wrapped completely around the piece of furniture, with his large hands fanned out over the doors in order to keep them from opening. He grunts as he places it on the floor in front of the two other men, standing up and wiping his brow with sweat.
Natasha really needed to stop staring.
She coughs to herself, averting her eyes even though she can feel the two other men’s gazes from across the room. She’s sure if she looked over they would have amused looks covering their faces.
“Right. Anybody need water or anything? Tea?” Natasha asks kindly, praying deep down that nobody actually needed anything and she could make herself a brew and hide away in her bedroom for the rest of the evening.
“We’re good lass, thank you,” the older men say, before grabbing a power drill and getting back to work.
“I’m all set, thanks though, Natasha,” Harry says, standing right in front of her. She really wished she didn’t love the way her name sounded leaving his mouth.
“No problem. I’ll leave you boys to it,” she announces, nodding her head before turning on her heel.
Before she enters the kitchen, she chances one last look over her shoulder, and she’s met with bright green eyes and a boyish grin.
She skips making her tea and runs straight upstairs, closing her bedroom door with a loud thud.
***
The next morning, Natasha wakes up much later than expected. After Harry and his crew had left, she went downstairs and made herself a late dinner. After an explosive phone call with Diane, Natasha managed to write two chapters that definitely were not up to her standards. It took her much longer than usual to write, and after a cup of black coffee that she only saves for emergencies only, she couldn’t fall asleep.
She wakes up to the sound of power drills and the smell of paint.
Ellory has called her twice already and texted her enough times to earn an eye roll from Natasha. She knew she was expected over there two hours earlier, but she needed rest. She responds as she’s traipsing down the stairwell in boy shorts, a tank top, and an old flannel button down. Her hair is in a bun and she hasn’t bothered putting her contacts in, and it’s only once she reaches the bottom of the stairs when she realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.
Harry’s standing before her, green eyes blown wide. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s from her thin tank top and lack of appropriate undergarments, or if he’s just shocked to see her in general.
“Natasha—uh, hi.” He sounds breathless and she just gives him a tired grin, noticing the same two guys from yesterday hauling in different materials from the back garden. The door is open and the chill November air settles into the ground floor, and Natasha crosses her arms over her chest subconsciously.
She hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but she watches his pupils dart down for a millisecond before shooting back up, and her cheeks start to flush.
“Morning Harry,” she replies. “Want some tea? Coffee?”
She starts walking towards the kitchen without waiting for a response. Natasha can hear the heavy clunking of his boots, so she can only assume that he’s taken her up on her offer. He only responds once she’s filled up the kettle and turned the burner on.
“Uh, coffee, black. If you have it,” he asks cautiously. He’s leaning on the doorframe of her open kitchen, unsure if he should step further into the room. Natasha just nods before turning the coffeemaker on, adding grounds to the appropriate compartment and waiting for it to heat up.
She turns around then, resting her tailbone on the lower cabinets of the kitchen. Harry saunters forward, before sitting down on the barstool across from her, resting his arms on the countertop. She waits for him to say something.
“Figured you’d be at work or something,” Harry says after a beat.
“Slept in, I suppose.” Natasha shrugs, pivoting on her heel and grabbing two porcelain mugs from above and placing them on the granite.
“Sorry if we woke you,” Harry says, watching as she pours his coffee before grabbing her tea bag and pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into her matching mug. He thanks her quietly when she places his mug in front of him.
“Nonsense. I should have been up hours ago,” Natasha responds as she’s steeping her tea.
She watches him idly as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. Without thinking, her eyes drift down to his left hand, second spot in from his pinky finger. It’s bare, and she squints under her glasses to try and see a tan line in the place where a wedding band should be. Maybe he doesn’t wear it while he’s working, she thinks to herself.
Harry of course is watching her, and he doesn’t need to mimic her inquiries in order to make an educated guess that she is in fact single. The foyer is filled with women’s jackets and high heeled boots, and in the two weeks he’s been working on her office, there’s been no trace of a man coming and going.
He doesn’t say anything, though. Just continues to let her stare.
“Will you be here all day?” He asks finally, watching as her brown eyes dart up to his face. She doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s been caught.
“Probably. The glory of my profession—I can permanently work from home,” she offers with a hint of amusement, and Harry laughs softly to fill the space.
“Well, I’ll make sure we stay out of your hair,” he says, taking a large gulp of his coffee and standing up from the chair.
Natasha just smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”
Harry smiles back. “Cheers for the coffee,” he says, grasping the white mug in his hands and exiting the kitchen before taking a right and following the hallway down into the office.
Natasha goes back upstairs and writes three more chapters. When she checks the time and realizes that it’s a little past noon, she goes downstairs and hears silence. She enters her kitchen and prepares a small salad, and when she finishes to clean her plate, she notices the white mug resting on the drying rack.
She smiles for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.
***
Natasha and Harry have fallen into the habit of having tea and coffee together each morning. She starts staying home to finish her book, ignoring Ellory’s questions on what suddenly has changed for her.
“Inspiration,” Natasha would respond, offering nothing else.
They don’t really talk about much, her and Harry. She tells him about her book and he tells her about his house that he’s almost finished renovating in Chiswick. He tells her that he grew up in Cheshire and she tells him that her family home is about a thirty minute drive away. They don’t talk about the reason why she’s remodeling the office or why Harry is the only thirty-two year old Natasha knows who isn’t engaged or married.
Harry estimates that the remodel should be finished in about a week’s time, and Natasha somehow feels a bit sad about that. At one point she schemes of a way to delay the remodel, to ensure that Harry will be around for a bit longer than seven days. But she knows she’s ridiculous. She knows he probably has way better things to do than hang around her house in Mayfair.
One afternoon after she’s finished writing chapter twenty-nine, she hears a loud bang from the room below her. Immediately she flies down the stairs, takes a sharp right, and enters the office with wide eyes. In front of her, the coffee table that was supposed to be where the seating area would be is in shambles. The glass covering has cracked, and she checks the white tarp for spots of blood.
Rory and Gareth, Harry’s workers, are swearing at each other. They obviously figured that the glass would stay intact from the shipment center they ordered it from, but when they opened the box, they found that it was in twelve different pieces. She notices Harry in the corner, frustratedly pulling at his hair.
“Everyone okay?” Natasha asks, mainly directing the question at Harry. She can sense his annoyance from the other side of the room.
“We’re alrigh’, Natasha. The fuckin’ idiots who packaged the table clearly did a terrible job at it! It’s fuckin’ fallin’ apart!” Rory says loudly, his voice getting louder with each curse that passes his lips.
“It’s fine, I’ll reorder another one. Just please be careful when removing the glass from the house, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Natasha orders, watching as Rory and Gareth reach into their back pockets to retrieve gloves. They start picking up the glass shards slowly, before placing them into the cardboard box.
Harry just watches her, feeling the frustradness leaving his body. She’s very gentle, and watches the guys like a hawk, ensuring that they don’t get injured. Before they’ve finished, Harry announces that they can go and take their lunch break. Rory and Gareth thank him repeatedly, announcing that they need a smoke after the table debacle.
“I made too much stir fry, if you’re hungry,” Natasha says once the boys have driven off to eat their lunch in the park.
“Starved,” Harry replies with a grin. He follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen, admiring her long legs under her leggings. The jumper she’s wearing is big and warm, and his eyes latch onto her right shoulder, watching as the fabric hangs revealing smooth white skin.
Natasha fills up two bowls and they sit at the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen near four windows. He watches as she slides her glasses up her forehead, resting them like a headband in her dark hair. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time.
“How’s the book coming along?” He asks after a few bites.
“Surprisingly, not as terrible as I thought. I’m actually right on target to finish it on the deadline,” Natasha replies. And it’s true—she’s gotten more writing done in her busy townhouse than she ever did in Ellory’s home, hiding away from Maude in closets and unused bedrooms.
“That’s great. You didn’t want to wait until your office was finished?” Harry asks, and Natasha can almost feel the follow up question coming.
“Didn’t want to fall behind schedule,” she replies quietly, waiting for him to just say it.
“Why did you decide to do a full renovation right before your deadline, then?”
And there it is.
It’s not like she still cares for Will. Because those feelings for him have been left in the past. Although it took her a little while to fix her messy heart, the sudden news of his brand new proposal practically catapulted Natasha into officially feeling nothing for him. But, whenever she tells the story to somebody, she’s always hit with a pitiful look. Everyone always tells her the same things: I’m so sorry, and, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel, and, you’ll find someone much better than him.
She didn’t want Harry to look at her that way. She didn’t want to hear her name fall from his lips at the end of one of those sentences.
“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Natasha says, deflecting.
Harry pauses, knowing.
“Didn’t mean to overstep,” Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender.
Natasha just shakes her head, takes another bite, and racks her brain for anything else to say to take the attention away from herself and her failing relationship.
“So, what about you? Where are you hiding the ring?” She asks, noticing the way Harry practically chokes on his chicken and rice.
“Sorry?” He’s completely confused.
“Your wedding ring. I assumed you didn’t work with it, which is smart, because it’ll practically get ruined with all the hammering and sawing you do. Plus, you’re always on the phone in hushed conversations, and Rory and Gareth are always talking about the pretty girl you never shut up about, so I assumed…” Natasha’s voice trails off as she notices the pained look fall across Harry’s face.
For the first time in a long time, she’s said too much.
“Why do you assume I’m married?” Is what Harry chooses to ask her.
She’s grown quiet, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re in your thirties. And you’ve recently renovated a home in Chiswick. Most people who live in Chiswick plan on having children to fill those rooms up.” Natasha suddenly starts wondering if her logic is flawed.
The pained expression on his face grows bigger, and she watches as he gently places his fork against the glass bowl, seemingly finished with his lunch.
“I was in a relationship. We were together for awhile, and I was planning on surprising her with the house in Chiswick because I was ready for the next step. She wasn’t. She left and I spent a year renovating a house that had three bedrooms next to a school by myself.” He stands up, walking halfway towards the door before turning around and looking at Natasha.
“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He says, anger radiating off of him.
Natasha isn’t sure how to respond.
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Harry says sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the tiled flooring. “You never bothered to ask.”
And with that, he walks out the front door and she can hear the tires of his car skid away.
Natasha spends the rest of the night holed up in her room, typing and retyping chapter thirty. It stays unfinished.
***
Three days goes by and Natasha feels absolutely horrible. She tries to avoid going downstairs as much as she can, because she knows the second she sees Harry’s face she’ll start feeling even worse. She sneaks out the front door when she knows they’re working in the back part of her house. Instead of going to Ellory’s, she walks and walks around London. She ignores her emails, ignores her book, and starts analyzing why she’s so messed up.
It was horrible of her to assume that Harry was married. He’s spent the past few weeks drinking coffee and chatting with her, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend in a long time. All of her other friends were Will’s friends, sans Ellory, so when they broke up and he left, they stopped inviting her around.
Harry was the first person who actually tried to get to know her. And Natasha kept continuously keeping him at arm’s length. She didn’t want him to ask the questions that everybody else asks, but thinking about it all now, she knows that Harry would never look at her the same way the rest of them did.
She was forced into a world she didn’t fit into. She was simply Natasha, a girl who loves to write, can sometimes forget to make her bed, and always puts too much sugar in her tea. She ignores her scary editor and she can only make stir fry and scrambled eggs, and she spent the last few years of her life feeling vastly insignificant compared to Will and his elitist friends. She shouldn’t have made assumptions about Harry, because that’s what people have been doing about her for the better part of her twenties.
There’s a reason why her writing increased tenfold when things were going well with Harry. He was kind and beautiful and inspired her, and now that things are shit, her writing has been horrible. She’s having trouble connecting words into sentences and she knows that’s because she needs to set things straight with Harry.
When she gets to her front door, she doesn’t even stop to pull it shut completely. She’s on a mission, her legs dragging her down the hallway before she can even peel her trainers off her feet. She enters the room without saying hello to Rory and Gareth—instead she eyes the curly headed boy in the corner, leveling shelves before she calls out his name.
She watches his body turn rigid. Rory and Gareth look between the two of them as if they know too much. They try and get back to work, but Natasha can feel their eyes on her. Harry lowers the leveler and looks at her with a blank look on his face.
“Can I talk to you, please?” She asks, and she’s pretty sure he only agrees because he can hear the desperation in her voice.
He follows her out into the back garden, past the tools and materials and into the verandah. Most of the time she sits here with a book and a warm mug of tea and forgets about the world for awhile. But now, she’s hyper aware of Harry’s eyes on her frame, and suddenly she feels much smaller than usual.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, brown eyes meeting green.
“Natasha—”
“No let me finish.” Harry’s lips shut tight and he nods slowly, watching Natasha take a deep breath in and out.
“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. The reason I asked you to renovate my office was because it used to be my fiancé’s. It didn’t work out, it was all too much, and then a few months later he was engaged to someone else.” She pauses, waiting for the look of pity, the awkward apology, the acknowledgement of her sadness.
Instead, his eyes are focused on hers. And she continues.
“I wasted too much time with him. He made me out to be this person I wasn’t, and whenever I was with him, I felt inferior. It felt like I had to dim my shine so he could glow the brightest for the both of us. I was so stupid, ya know?”
Harry doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t expect him to.
“I chose this house. Our agreement was that he got the office. But when he left, it took me a while to figure myself out. And then when I heard he was getting married, I changed everything back to the way I wanted. I got new linens. I bought new mugs. The last thing was the office.” Her eyes are downcast, staring at her Nike’s. She knows that Harry probably wasn’t expecting her to unload all of this on her, but she needed to do it.
Suddenly, she sees the toes of his leather work boots touching her black trainers. Her eyes shoot up and Harry is standing right in front of her, closer than ever before, and he’s looking at her so intensely and she feels warm all over.
“Thank you for telling me that,” he says so softly that Natasha has to lean in to hear him.
“I, uh—you’re welcome. I should’ve told you that a few days ago, to be fair,” Natasha replies, her cheeks feeling flushed.
Before he can say another word, or possibly step a few inches closer so their lips are touching, Gareth calls out Harry’s name and she can almost hear the whine lodged in his throat. He looks as if he doesn’t want to leave, as if he’s anchored down to the flooring of the verandah, but Gareth calls out again and Natasha just tells him that he should go, and their warm bubble is suddenly popped.
That night, Natasha writes three more chapters and has the best sleep of her life.
***
Before Natasha can even comprehend, it’s the last day of the remodel. When she wakes up, Harry is waiting for her by the foyer like usual. She makes him his black coffee and she drinks her tea, and just before they part ways until the afternoon for lunch, Harry asks her if she could step out for the day until they were completely finished.
“Are you hiding something from me?” Natasha asks, cocking her head to the side and trying to persuade Harry into telling her. She hates surprises, and was never fond of them growing up. So whatever Harry had up his sleeve, she wanted to know.
He just gives her that grin of hers she’s grown to love. “No more questions. I’ll see you at five.” And with that, he places his hand on her lower back and shoves her gently towards the stairs.
“You’re infuriating,” Natasha says, lying through her teeth.
“And no peeking on your way out!” Harry shouts from the back of her house.
Natasha begrudgingly obliges, deciding to spend the rest of her day at Ellory’s house with Maude. For the first time in a while, she goes over without her laptop. Instead, she brings a children’s book for Maude, and the three of them spend the afternoon playing games and running around. When Maude goes down for a nap and it’s just Ellory and Natasha lounging on the sofa, Ellory finally acknowledges her good mood.
“What’s got your spirits so high? Or should I dare say, who?” Natasha just laughs, shaking her head to try and distract from the growing redness creeping up her neck and settling on her cheeks.
“It’s nothing, El. For once, I’m just letting things happen without planning beforehand,” Natasha explains, this time actually believing herself.
“Well, I for one am excited,” Ellory says, grabbing her best friend’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. No matter what happens in Natasha’s life, she’s always been grateful for Ellory’s love and support. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.
With four creeping up, Natasha starts getting anxious. Maude overheard Ellory and Natasha talking about the renovation, and she can sense her mother’s excitement in the air. She starts begging Natasha to let them come see it with her.
“Of course, Maude. You’re always welcome at my house.” Maude grins and wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, and just like that, she feels her anxiousness settle.
Ellory wraps Maude up in a trench coat, and the three of them tread over towards Natasha’s townhouse. Natasha keeps clicking the lock screen on to check the time every thirty seconds, and Ellory just stays quiet, eyeing her best friend suspiciously. Maude is positioned between the two, her small hands grasping one of Ellory’s and Natasha’s.
When they reach the front door, Rory and Gareth are settling into the white Styles & Co. van on the street. Natasha walks up to the window, knocks gently, and waits for Rory to push the button to lower it.
“Miss Natasha,” Rory says with a smile. Natasha grins back, and there’s no denying that she’s grown fond of these two men the past two weeks.
“I guess this is it, boys,” she says sadly, watching as Gareth gives her a knowing look.
“I’m sure you’ll see us around, lass.” Natasha just rolls her eyes, because of course they know that she’s grown extra fond of their boss. They have been watching them for weeks now, laughing to themselves and saying more with just looks between the two of them than words ever could.
“Thanks again for everything,” Natasha says sincerely.
Rory just grins, reaching out and giving her forearm a squeeze. Words aren’t needed.
“Auntie Tasha, come on! Let’s go see!” Maude calls out impatiently from the front steps. Ellory is still holding onto her hand, but her eyes are on Natasha with an amused look.
Natasha walks by them and reaches for the door, feeling Maude wrap her tiny arms around her left leg. She grins down at the toddler before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the foyer, discarding her coat and boots at the door.
“Five on the dot,” Natasha hears from down the hallway. She starts to smile immediately, hearing Maude ask Ellory in the background who that voice was. Ellory looks just as confused as her daughter, and suddenly, Harry is in front of them.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a light patterned button down shirt, opened enough so that Natasha can see his thin white tank top underneath. For the first time since knowing him, he’s wearing Chelsea boots instead of his work boots. He looks even more handsome dressed up, and Natasha can’t help but blush when looking at him.
“Who’s this?” Ellory asks, although she can already tell that this is the boy who’s made her best friend unequivocally happy these past few weeks. Harry extends a hand in greeting, and Ellory looks at Natasha with a smirk on her face.
Maude is hiding behind Natasha’s leg, hand still wrapped around her kneecap.
“Maude, do you want to say hello to my friend?” Natasha whispers, watching as Maude’s big blue eyes look up at her, then over to Harry, then back to her.
She nods before walking in front of Natasha. Harry crouches down so he’s eye level with Maude, and Natasha can’t help but feel the swell in her heart.
“Hi there, I’m Harry,” he says, gently sticking his hand out to shake.
Maude wraps two of her hands around one of his, shaking it up and down a few times until she giggles quietly. “Hi Hawwy. I’m Maude.”
“That’s a pretty name. How old are you?” he asks, grinning when her personality starts to shine through in front of him.
“Fwee! Auntie Tasha says I’m the best fwee year old she’s met,” Maude announces, and Natasha grins down as Harry’s green eyes meet hers.
“I’m sure your Auntie Tasha is right.”
Maude begins to babble and Ellory reaches out to grab her hand, shushing her so that Harry can show them the office. He leads the way, and Natasha starts feeling butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s from Harry or the office or both, but she can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears.
Just before the office comes into view, Harry stops short and Natasha almost runs right into his back.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry starts, “but I found some boxes in the storage room and I figured an author should have a library so, I sort of took the liberty of making you your own bookshelf.” He looked bashful, but curiosity was eating her alive, because she knows exactly what boxes Harry’s talking about.
They were the culmination of her favorite books since she was a child. Collecting books was what made her want to write her own, and her tiny flat in the middle of London was filled to the brim with them. But when she moved into the Mayfair house with Will, he only offered her the bookshelf near the kitchen nook that only held about fifteen novels. She had kept the rest stowed away in the storage room, allowing them to fill with dust, unused.
When Natasha steps around Harry and the office comes into light, she’s floored. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in awe, and she can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.
The original brick flooring that Will had covered up in favor of a more traditional hardwood look was finally given the light of day. Surrounding the wooden door on each side was an archway of bookshelves, curving around the door. It had seven shelves on each side with an eighth over top in the middle, each filled to the brim with all of Natasha’s books.
“Harry…” Natasha is not one for stunned silence, so this is a first for her.
Harry looks sheepish as Maude ogles at the sheer amount of books. “Mummy, is this every book in the world?”
“In Natasha’s world, my love,” Ellory responds quietly, watching her best friend in awe.
Natasha walks through the door and the room is lighter than anywhere else in the house. It reminds her of the verandah in the back garden that she’s grown to love, filled with white wood and green plants. The coffee table has new glass, the love seat and matching chairs are tan and pale yellow respectively. Her actual office desk is white and vast and exceptional. Her laptop and desktop are placed up top, with her best selling books framed on the side. A giant blush pink office chair sits on wheels with her favorite bay window behind her.
She’s absolutely floored. Maude being the toddler that she is runs straight into the room, gasping at everything in awe. She tries to climb on the desk chair and Natasha can see Ellory begin to scold her daughter, but all she can think about is Harry.
Harry.
She turns around and he’s right where she’s left him. His bashfulness has grown to sheepish, and with one enormous grin, she runs towards him and engulfs him in the biggest hug she could muster.
He leans back, surprised at the gesture, but then his strong arms snake around her back and settle on her tailbone. Her arms are locked around his neck, and she can feel him bend down and breathe into the crook of her neck.
“I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” she whispers, her lips falling over the swallows tattooed under his collarbone due to their height difference.
“You’re welcome, Natasha.” There’s her name again, falling beautifully past his lips. She removes her hands from his neck and leans back so she can look into his deep green eyes. They’re standing close to each other again, just like they were in the verandah, but this time they both have no desire to let go.
“The bookshelf—I just. It means so much to me. I don’t know how to repay you,” Natasha says breathlessly.
Harry just smiles softly. “You deserve it, Natasha. You don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for you.”
Before she could react, Maude suddenly appears below them, her tiny fist tugging at the bottom of Harry’s jeans.
“Do you think you could make me a bookshelf, Hawwy?” Maude asks shyly.
Natasha looks at Ellory, and for the first time in five years she actually feels something. She feels excited, she feels hopeful, she feels as if everything is starting to make sense to her. And Ellory knows this, and she looks at her best friend with the warmest smile she could muster.
Harry is crouched down in front of Maude. “Of course I can. Whatever you want.”
Harry looks up and Natasha is giving her a look that he hasn’t seen before. He can feel Maude giggle excitedly in front of him, her little hands leaning on his thighs, but all he can think about is Natasha and her brown eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he jokes, standing up and wrapping his arms around her body again.
“I can’t help it, I’m just really happy,” Natasha replies, feeling the light inside of her burn brighter than ever before.
And for the first time in a long time, Harry can feel it too, and together they shine brighter than the sun.
164 notes · View notes
sixtyeightdays · 4 years
Note
Timinette social media or timinette with being underappreciated?
i am so sorry this took so long but i hope you like this! :)
i kind of strayed off topic a little and its a little mess so im sorry for that but i hope this is okay
this will have some bruce bashing so uh yeah 
theres also tim and jason brotherly bonding because i am a sucker for brotherly bonding fics.
also, tim, mari, chloe (basically the parisian folks) are 16. jason is 19, dick is 23, and damian 13.
-
Timothy Drake Wayne had had his issues with his own self worth before.
Unlike everyone else in the family, he hadn’t been born into the family, or even been chosen to be part of it. This did sometimes result in a severe drop in Tim’s confidence levels, but he always managed to bring it back up.
Eventually, Tim found that the best way to deal with it was just to accept it. Not act out on it or anything. No, it was best to just accept it and be on his way.
At first, he had fought the unwanted thoughts invading his head, but appointing him as CEO of Wayne Enterprises had been the final straw that broke the camel’s back.
If they didn’t want me in the family, why would they make me CEO of Wayne Enterprises? Tim thought.
But then it pushed itself into Tim’s mind.
Because they don’t want you at the manor.
Tim shoved the thought away and shook his head, looking out the plane window.
Just.. accept it. There’s nothing he could to but accept it. He had no one to talk to either.
Damian would probably jeer at him and call him a weakling. Tim didn’t really need that. Bratty little 13 year old, that one. Besides, Damian wouldn’t care about it anyway, probably just tattle on him in hopes of getting Red Robin benched permanently.
He had contemplated talking to Dick about it for a while. After all, Dick was the ever so helpful Golden Boy. But then he decided against it. Of everyone in the family, Tim would never expect Dick of all people to understand issues with self worth. Dick was told very often that he was loved, wanted. Dick would probably tell Bruce anyway, and that was the last thing Tim wanted.
Jason.. well he was busy. He was always busy. Regardless of how his and Jason’s relationship had drastically improved, he wasn’t ready to open up about this. Don’t get him wrong, Tim was glad that he and his old hero had started to make amends, and now Jason had barely any qualms in calling Tim his brother, and that he could call him whenever he wanted. It made a rush of warmth erupt in his chest whenever he heard it.
But, he just didn’t feel ready to talk to him about it. To anyone about it.
Now, it was Monday morning and he was on his way to Paris in the Wayne company jet, because some rich designer named Gabriel Agreste requested some sort of business partnership.
There was also a designer called MDC that Tim was very interested in meeting. He was a huge fan of her work. He had checked out her website and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of her work, especially since she had no employees and made everything herself.
The fact that she was Jagged Stone’s honorary niece had also contributed to Tim wanting to commission a MDC original.
He had contacted her a before the plane left, and lucky for him, she had decided to meet him at his hotel on Thursday after lunch to discuss and take measurements
It was partially why when Bruce asked him to go to Paris, he didn’t fuss. He didn’t even protest about how being in Paris would affect Red Robin’s patrol. He had just nodded and left.
It had been a very last minute decision, and he hadn’t even had time to tell Jason about it. He had left a few hours after Bruce told him about it.
Tim sighed, leaning his head against the cool window of the plane, taking a sip from the coffee mug he held in his hands.
He admittedly zoned out for the rest of the journey, but in his defense, there was only an hour left on that flight anyway.
Stepping off the plane with his baggage, he made his way to the exits and after checking out of the airport, hailed a cab to bring him to his hotel, Le Grande Paris.
He may or may not have also zoned out on his 15 minute long ride to the hotel. Tim felt bad for the very nice taxi driver whom he had ignored, and gave him a very generous tip. After all, it wasn’t like he needed the money.
Judging from the wide eyed and awed glance the driver shot him as he left, the driver appreciated it very much.
Walking into the hotel lobby, checking in and waiting for the room key to be given to him, Tim already knew he was going to turn down Gabriel’s offer.
His research had shown that Gabriel was a recluse and hadn’t left his house in years. His assistant, one Nathalie Sancouer went on appointments with him on a call. He was also seemingly cold to his only son, which didn’t fly well with Tim, especially since the son was the same age as him.
He was expected to finish more work in Paris, especially since there was no rogues to disrupt anything.  
He was not expecting a petite bluenette to crash into him and change his outlook on life.
The girl who bumped into him blushed profusely and apologised while two blondes, a girl and a boy laughed behind her.
She shot the two a playfully stern look, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes had the same glint Selina had when she saw Bruce. Playful, yet deadly. It was amazing how fast the blondes shut up.
“I’m Tim.” He shook Marinette’s hand, slightly charmed by the blushing girl.
“I’m Marinette. Are you checking in? I can escort you to your room. I know this place like the back of my hand.”
Tim was startled. Marinette did not seem to have any idea that she was talking to CEO of WE. She was talking to him like he was Tim. Just Tim. He was intrigued by the girl. The way she said her sentence, she wasn’t boasting or showing off, she was stating a mere fact out of politeness and the kindness of her heart.
You don’t see that around much anymore, Tim mused. It was like a breath of fresh air.
He nodded in acceptance and showed her the room number on the key that he was given before she had bumped into him. Her eyes widened.
“Well, looks like you’re on the floor I was already going to. Chloe lives here. Her father runs the hotel, and all the penthouses are on the same floor.” Marinette waved her hand at the blonde girl who was laughing earlier.
The girl stuck out a hand. “My name’s Chloe, the pleasure’s all yours.”
Tim’s lips curved into a smile as he shook her hand. “I’m Tim.”
Chloe pointed to the boy next to her. “That’s Adrien.”
Tim recognised him. He was that Agreste boy. The son of Gabriel Agreste, who he was supposed to meet on Thursday. Tim vaguely wondered if Adrien was going to be there for the meeting.
Tim didn’t like it when people announced out loud that he was a Wayne. So he didn’t do that to Adrien. Tim just shook his hand with a smile. Adrien smiled back, and Tim could see that gratitude in his eyes.
Tim nodded and his mind drifted to Marinette. She seemed rather nice, and she didn’t seem like the type of person to take advantage of rich kids. He decided to ive her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, Chloe and Adrien trusted her, so he was willing to be open minded about this.
Besides, on the unlikely chance that she was trying to suck up to rich kids, Tim could very easily sue her, or at the very least, scare her off.
Marinette, Chloe and Adrien took the lift up with him, the four falling into an easy banter. Tim was very glad he had become fluent in French a few months prior to going on this trip.
Once they reached the outside of Tim’s suite, however, Marinette turned to Tim.
“Do you, maybe wanna join us after you put your things down?”
Tim grinned. “Why, I’d love to.”
-
It was the right thing to do. The four of them had a blast, and Tim knew now more than ever that Marinette genuinely liked the company of the two blondes and that she wasn’t just using them. He didn’t think she was, but it didn’t hurt to check.
They had hung out together, from that afternoon to late in the night, to around 9 maybe? Tim wasn’t sure. Tim felt a warm rush of joy flow throughout his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hung out with anyone that weren’t using him for his money or weren’t his family.
The four had become really close and the three Parisians probably knew more about Tim that his whole family did put together at this point.
Tim couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose so freely.
It was funny how it worked. Tim didn’t know why, but he had the comforting feeling that they could be trusted. Sure, they hadn’t known him for long, but he felt a sense of comfort with them, more comfortable than he’d ever felt with Bruce, hell, more than even Alfred.
Tim didn’t tell them all of his secrets, obviously, Red Robin being one of them. But it was okay. Unlike Bruce, who would research and pry into his business, Chloe, Marinette and Adrien shrugged it off.
“We’re all entitled to our own secrets.” Marinette had told him.
It made Tim wonder what kind of secrets the three were keeping, but he brushed it off. If he didn’t have to spill his secrets, the three didn’t either.
Eventually, night fell, but only Adrien left. Tim had looked to Marinette questioningly, and she just shrugged.
“His dad needs him back. I told Maman I was staying over with Chlo tonight. It’s not a school night after all.” She shrugged.
It was funny how much Tim trusted the three. He trusted them more than he trusted Bruce, at this point. Even if the trust he had in Bruce wasn't much to go on, it was surprising how easily the ex-Robin trusted the Parisians. But then again, life worked in strange ways, and this may have one of its strangest yet.
But Tim didn't protest. He rather liked the Parisians and like he's said, he trusted them. And from the looks they all gave him throughout the day, fulling of laughter and openness, he knew without a doubt that they trusted him too.
Among all three Parisians, Tim had bonded with Marinette the most.
Firstly, while the three were a formidable trio, Chloe and Adrien, it seemed, were childhood friends. They were extremely comfortable around each other, and it wasn’t like they were trying to leave Marinette out. They included her in everything they could, but the noirette occasionally bowed out and let the two friends do their thing.
Secondly, Tim was pretty sure that the two didn’t normally have so much childhood games. He was pretty sure they were making some of them up on the spot.
If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say Adrien and Chloe were trying to set him and Marinette up.
Marinette. The amazing little bluenette that crashed into him and changed his outlook on life.
Yes, he had only known her for less than a day, but they just clicked.
Marinette had tried not to, but it was obvious that her self esteem was at an all-time low, much like his. When Tim had asked Chloe and Adrien why when Marinette was in the bathroom, they had filled him in on how a girl named Lila at their school was bullying her and spouting lies about her.
“How bad are her lies?” Tim questioned.
“She saved Jagged Stone’s kitten from a airplane runway.” Chloe said.
Tim spit out his coffee.
“She misses months of school to be in Achu to work with Prince Ali for Go Green campaigns.” Adrien continued.
Tim didn’t know Achu or Prince Ali very well, but he was pretty sure the prince only did Helping Children Campaigns. He took a sip of his coffee.
“Her latest one? I was dating Damian Wayne, but he and his brother fought over me and now I’m dating Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises!” Chloe said the last part in a nasally, simpering tone that was obviously meant to be Lila’s voice.
Tim choked. Lila was 16! Damian was 13! Tim mentally filed a reminder to sue this Lila girl. Also, his love life was rather pathetic. He hadn’t dated since Stephanie. Lila’d would probably do a better job going after Jason if he weren’t with Roy. Wait, no. Jason didn’t like psychopaths. Or maybe he did, Tim wasn’t too sure.
“That was pretty accurate.” Adrien looked slightly impressed.
Tim shuddered. What kind of sicko had a voice like that?
Marinette had come out of the bathroom at that point, and all three of them effectively shut up. She looked concerned and asked Tim if he was okay and why he was so pale.
He shook his head. “I’m cool, cool, cool.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to be suave and Marinette laughed.
Tim’s expression softened at the melodic sound. Chloe and Adrien exchanged a look before smirking at Tim.
Marinette had subtly complimented him a lot over the span of a few hours, and Tim had felt his confidence level slowly rising. It made Marinette smile.
Tim had returned the favor, and by the end of the next day, he and Marinette had almost as many inside jokes as Adrien and Chloe did.
(Chloe had walked Adrien to the door, and Tim and Marinette had hid from Chloe in Tim’s suite, giggling at Chloe’s playful irateness.
Tim had a great time.
He had also managed to finish most of his work beforehand.
He, along with Chloe and Adrien, had gone to Marinette’s house on Wednesday, and the four of them had spent the whole day in a peaceful silence doing their work.
Chloe and Adrien had finished their school work early and had copied their work into Marinette’s workbook. Tim had smiled at the sight because he was rather happy that Marinette had friends who were willing to do this sort of thing for her.
Marinette had spent the whole day working on several commissions, sketching the designs and sewing them out. Tim had been shocked by how many different types of fabric the bluenette had in her closet. Chloe and Adrien had shot him a look that said “get used to it”.
Tim was pleasantly that no one had disturbed him while he was doing his work. they had all done their own work respectively, and even when they were done, like Chloe and Adrien, they had kept quiet and didn’t make any noise to disrupt Tim and Marinette, apart form their whispered chatter.
In Gotham, Tim would almost always be interrupted by rogue attacks or his brothers and father. It made it almost impossible to finish his work on time, and resulted in many overtimes and no sleep.
Marinette’s parents, a happy baker couple who’d persuaded Tim to call him Tom and Sabine instead of Mr and Mrs Dupain Cheng, had stocked them up with a steady supply of pastries and amazing coffee. It was probably expected, they did own a bakery after all.
Tim swore that the Dupain Chengs’ pastries could rival Alfred’s.
While Tim was looking at Marinette work, he was taken aback by her efficiency and quality of her sewing. Normally, one jacket would take a day to make, including handmade embroidery. Marinette had done it within two hours from scratch.
Tim was tempted to commission her, but it seemed that her plate was already full, so he didn’t. Either way, he had come to meet with Gabriel Agreste and possibly MDC.
When they were all done with their work, after spending practically the whole day in Marinette’s room from 9 in the morning to 6 in the evening, they decided to go get dinner.
Tom and Sabine bid them goodbye heartily before turning to their customers and pulling a tray out of the oven.
Tim had met Chloe and Adrien’s significant others. A rather cold girl named Kagami, and chill looking boy named Luka. (Tim thought that Kagami and Chloe, and Luka and Adrien suited each other and balanced out perfectly.)
Originally, Tim had thought that Luka was dating Marinette. After Luka had hugged Adrien, he had turned to Marinette and called her ‘his Melody’. It didn’t help that she called him ‘her Harmony’.
Tim totally did not feel jealous.
But then Marinette groaned and nudged Tim in the ribs. “I guess we’re fifth wheeling.”
“Aren’t you dating Luka?” He pointed to the green haired boy.
Chloe and Adrien clutched their stomachs, laughing, while Kagami and Luka smiled. “Nope. Mari-hime is single.’’ Tim swore the fencer stared into his soul.
Tim was not afraid to admit that Kagami scared him more than the Joker did. Okay, maybe the Joker was a far stretch. Killer Croc or Two-Face maybe.
Luka leaned down and gave Adrien a peck on the lips. The model blushed and Luka grinned, exposing two slightly sharp canines, much like a snake’s.
It was currently mid November, so it was pretty cold. But Tim didn’t see why Mari was wearing a layer of heattech, a long-sleeved sweatshirt, a hoodie, and her winter coat, plus her hat, earmuffs and gloves.
She looked like a puffy marshmallow. A very pink, cute marshmallow.
Luka had shot him a ‘it’s better not to ask’ look and Tim wisely kept quiet.
They had a great time at dinner. Tim and Mari had an amazing time. Tim wasn’t entirely sure about the others, he was too busy paying attention to Mari.
The crinkle of her eyes when she smiled, the red flush from the cold dusting over her freckles lightly, the bluebell colour of her eyes.
He didn’t notice the ‘he’s so whipped’ looks from everyone else. Luka shrugged.
“Well who doesn’t like Melody once they meet her?”
Everyone else shrugged. “Fair point.” Chloe muttered, burying her head in the crook of Kagami’s neck.
Suddenly, screams broke out from nearby. Marinette immediately ceased talking and whipped around to face her friends. Tim looked very confused at her actions but looked worriedly to where the screams were coming from.
Suddenly, the floor rumbled and they all looked up to see baby August, who had been akumatised into Gigantitan again.
Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Luka and Kagami immediately herded Tim back to Mari’s house, where they hastily climbed up the stairs to the loft.
“Tim, stay here.” Kagami ordered.
“What is this?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s an akuma attack.” Chloe shrugged, looking not at all fazed.
Actually, Tim noticed, none of them looked fazed in the slightest.
“This is maybe August’s 7th time getting akumatised?” Luka said. “He’s relatively harmless though. It happens a lot.”
“Wait, where’s Marinette and Adrien?” Tim questioned, suddenly noticing that they were missing.
Kagami, Luka and Adrien exchanged a glance. “They’ll be fine.” Chloe waved offhandedly, logging into Marinette’s computer to turn on the live news from Nadja Chamack.
“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” A pink haired lady was standing abnormally close to where Gigantitan was. Tim felt slightly worried for her.
“I’m Nadja Chamack, and we’re here at another akuma attack. It seems to be just baby August, however, so don’t worry. Ladybug and Chat will be here soon enough!”
Tim was appalled at the lengths this woman was seemingly willing to go to to get the scoop.
Noticing his expression, Luka smiled. “Don’t worry, Tim. She’ll be fine.”
“How do you know that?” If Tim let this happen, he was very sure that Bruce would murder him for a) getting that lady killed b) not helping. “I have to help!”
Chloe pushed him back into the chair where he was attempting to rise. “Sit down.” She ordered.
Tim didn’t want to, but he was interrupted by Nadja speaking again.
“Ladybug and Chat Noir are on the scene!” The camera view zoomed into a pigtailed girl in red and black spandex with a blonde boy in a leather catsuit. Tim vaguely wondered if he was Selina’s kid.
Tim’s eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw the two of them run up the side of the Eiffel Tower, with no grappling hook, no vault, nothing, before flipping off of it like a well oiled machine.
It was obvious that the two trusted each other to a deadly extent. They worked like two parts of a whole piece. 
August swatted Ladybug away with a wave of his hand, flinging her into the Eiffel Tower so hard it dented.
Panic seized Tim’s stomach when Nadja Chamack was trampled on by August, effectively crushing her. When August lifted his foot, Tim looked away.
Chloe, Kagami and Luka did not look fazed, and Tim wondered why, before standing up again. Chloe pushed him back down.
“She’ll be fine, relax. All of Paris have probably died at least, what, 9 times?” Kagami stated, crossing her arms. She levelled Tim with a steely glare and Tim cowered in his seat.
How did the League not know about this?
Suddenly, the person holding the camera cheered, as swarms of Ladybugs flew everywhere, fixing damages. Tim noted with relief that Nadja had reappeared in front of the camera, looking slightly confused but otherwise fine.
“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Tim staggered to the bathroom, and right when he was about to puke, two thuds landed behind him. Tim could see a green and pink light flash and he turned around to see what it was.
He was just in time to see Ladybug and Chat Noir detransform, leaving Adrien and Marinette, looking stunned.
That was it for Tim, he hurled.
And Marinette was there, brushing his hair out of his face and holding the back of his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way. Adrien had edged out of the room, while an unfamiliar voice was chortling.
When Tim was done, he washed his mouth with shaky hands, and Marinette looked at him sympathetically and with a slight trace of fear. It was almost undetectable, but Tim had spent enough time with Cass to know when someone was scared, no matter how she tried to hide it.
Tim didn’t want Marinette to feel scared of him. He wanted her to feel safe around him. He shakily spun and engulfed her in his arms. Her body relaxed tremendously as she hugged him back.
He was taller than her by a only few inches, so Marinette’s head was comfortably buried in Tim’s chest. Tim was thankful that none of his vomit had gotten on his shirt.
“I like you, Mari. So, so much.” Tim confessed.
The bluenette he was holding wiggled in his arms, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.
“I like you too, Tim.” Her quiet voice broke into Tim’s train of thoughts as he panicked.
“I know, you probably don’t like me back but-- wait, what? You like me too?” Tim knew his voice had cracked but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I do.” Marinette confirmed, stepping on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Tim’s face flushed and Mari giggled.
“Does that mean you wanna--?” Tim blushed even more.
“Yes.” Marinette was obviously enjoying the way Tim was suffering right now.
“So.. it’s official?” Tim asked hopefully, looping his hand with Marinette’s.
“It’s official.” She grinned.
Adrien had interrupted them at that point, and after Tim changed into one of Marinette’s designs, a black, long sleeved shirt with ladybugs at the side, she and Adrien had explained about the miraculouses.
Chloe, Kagami and Luka revealed that they were also miraculous holders, but they were temporary heroes, even if they got to keep the miraculous on hand.
Marinette and Adrien were joint Guardians of the Miraculous, and they were something called true holders. The Ladybug and Chat miraculous were two halves of a whole, Adrien had explained. He and Mari were also the only permanent miraculous users chosen by the previous guardian, while Chloe, Kagami and Luka were chosen by Marinette.
Tim was then introduced to the some of the kwamis (Pollen, Tikki, Plagg, Sass and Longg), who referred to Marinette and Adrien as Guardians.
Tikki referred to Marinette as Mari, Plagg referred to her as Pigtails. Tikki referred to Adrien as Adrien, and Plagg referred to him as ‘kid’. It didn’t take a genius to know who wore the pants in their relationship.
Then, Marinette and Tim’s newborn relationship was brought to light, and Tim was sufficiently scared from the shovel talks given by the Parisians, as well as the kwamis. Marinette had laughed at him, and he had pouted for the rest of the night.
“I wield the power of Destruction in my hands so if you hurt Pigtails, I’ll cataclysm you. I sank Atlantis, so don’t try me.” Plagg’d scornfully stated.
Marinette had berated him and told him that Plagg really needed to stop sounding so proud that he sunk Atlantis, while Tim went pale and was reminded of his secret.
“Uh. Guys? I have to tell you something.” Tim wrung his hands together nervously. “You know how in Gotham, there are vigilantes?”
They nodded.
“I’m.. one of them? I’m Red Robin.” Tim squeaked.
There was silence, but then everyone, bar Marinette and Kagami burst into laughter.
“Only you, Melody, could create a love square with only two people and still somehow fall in love with a superhero.”
Mari flushed and Tim looked confused. “Who..?”
Everyone pointed to Adrien. He shrugged.
“M’Lady and I are soulmates.” He winked, intertwining his and Marinette’s hands.
“But we’re platonic soulmates.” Adrien dramatically let go of Marinettte’s hand. “Adrien had a crush on Ladybug. Marinette had a crush on Adrien.” He explained further.
Realisation dawned on Tim and he fell back into Marinette’s lap as she groaned at the way Adrien worded it.
“You suck.” She deadpanned.
Adrien had the gall to grin at her. “I’m also the one you share a soul with.”
She rolled her eyes.
Everyone had a nice laugh, but they all fell asleep rather quickly. It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting day for all of them.
The next day was Tim’d meeting with Gabriel Agreste. Tim wasn’t sure if the others knew he was Bruce Wayne’s son, but he figured if they didn’t he may as well surprise them.
So Tim left a note for them, and left 15 minutes prior to the meeting at 9, leaving the his friends in Marinette’s room.
hey guys, i have a business meeting at 9. i’ll come back as soon as i’m done, which will be 10? latest. i’ll probably be back before you guys wake up. i hope i will. bye for now. see u mari <3 love, tim.
His friends. Tim’s heart warmed. This was the first time he had made friends that weren’t his family, or superhero buddies.
Tim arrived at Agreste Manor at 9 on the dot, ringing the doorbell.  An electronic camera shot out from the wall and Tim jumped.
The person behind the camera opened the gate, and a buff man escorted him into the Manor, where Gabriel was waiting.
He was standing at the top of the steps, looking down at Tim. He inclined his head, and Tim followed the elder Agreste into his office.
The meeting went faster than expected. Tim had been expecting Gabriel to persuade him, but he had let Tim go. Instead of the half an hour meeting Tim was expecting,it was only twenty minutes.
Gabriel had offered a partnership with the Waynes in which he’d design for them, and they’d sponsor him. Tim had politely declined, and Gabriel looked slightly put out, waving to the buff man to escort him out.
Adrien had walked into the manor as soon as Tim reached the center of the room. Adrien stopped short.
“Tim? What are you doing here?”
Tim pointed to behind him, where Gabriel’s office was. “Business meeting.” He repeated, and waited for Adrien to connect the dots.
His eyes widened. “You’re Timothy Drake? CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”
Tim nodded. Adrien’s eyes widened before he smirked. “Have you told Mari?”
“I was gonna tell her today.”
“Nah, she has a meeting at like 2, with a client.”  
Tim frowned, but then shrugged. “I’ll tell her before.” He decided. “I have a meeting at 2 too.”
Adrien nodded and smiled. “Treat her right.” He said, before entering his room.
Tim smiled, even after Adrien was out of sight. “I will.”
-
Tim had a few hours before his meeting with MDC. He made his way back to the bakery, where he was greeted with a peck on the cheek by Marinette.
“Chloe went back to the hotel, Harmony and Gami have school, and Adrien had to go home.” She beamed. So cute.
Marinette and Tim spent the few hours eating lunch in Mari’s room and watching Netflix, judging the shipping potential between the Brooklyn Nine Nine characters.
They had agreed that Teddy was boring and annoying, Jake and Amy were a power couple, and Rosa was a badass .
Marinette really liked Gina, Tim preferred Holt.
Soon, it was time for the meeting. Tim and Mari both had to go back to Le Grande Paris, so they opted to walk there together.
“Who are you meeting?” Tim asked curiously.
“Some CEO named Timothy Drake.” She replied.
Tim stopped. He turned to Marinette.
“Timothy Drake.” He repeated. Marinette gave him an odd look. “Do you know him?” She asked.
“You’re MDC?” Tim’s voice came out strangled and Marinette looked taken aback.
Understanding dawned on her and she stared at Tim. “You’re Timothy Drake?”
He only nodded.
They stared at each other for a minute but then burst out into laughter, causing a nearby mother on the phone to shoot them a nasty look.
After the initial shock wore off, the two had continued to the hotel. They were on the way, anyway, and they could always either visit Chloe or stay in Tim’s suite.
Marinette giggled as she worked, deftly taking Tim’s measurements.
“Normally this takes forever,” Tim remarked, peering over Marinette’s shoulder and watching in awe as she drew out the design for his suit.
Within minutes, it was done. Tim was amazed by it. It was a simple suit, but the colours she encorporated into it as well as the designs made Tim extremely happy. It managed to capture his essence, and look stylish at the same time.
She’d even drawn a design for the tie! (instead of blue, it’s red)
After about three hours of Marinette working in Tim’s suite (she had gone home and gotten the fabrics and used the sewing machine she always leaves in Chloe’s room), as well as Tim finishing his remaining paperwork for WE, the suit was done. Tim was awed by it.
The suit jacket was a nice, velvety maroon colour that was reminiscent of Tim’s Red Robin suit and Marinette’s Ladybug suit. The inside was a black colour, as another tribute to the colour schemes of Tim and Mari’s secret life.
The tie was the same deep red colour of the suit. What Tim loved the most about it, however, were the tiny coffee cups sewn on it. “A personal touch.” Marinette had said.
There was also the letter T embroidered on the back of the tie and the lapel of the suit right next to the MDC emblems.
“What do you think?” Marinette asked nervously.
“I love it!” Tim lifted Marinette up by the waist, spinning her in the air. She laughed with joy and he put her down but still in his arms.
He cupped his cheek and Marinette’s hand wrapped around his neck. Simultaneously, they leaned in and their lips met in a chaste kiss.
Marinette ran her free hand through Tim’s hair as Tim’s free hand pulled her closer to him by the waist.
Suddenly, the door burst open and they jumped apart. 
It was Chloe, smirking wildly, her phone camera raised.
It didn’t take a genius to know what happened next.
Mari and Tim chased Chloe around the hotel to get her to delete the photo. Chloe crowed loudly that she was going to send the photo to Adrien, Luka and Kagami.
(Mari and Tim did catch her but Chloe had already sent the text.)
The six friends had a buttload of fun the next few days. Occasionally incorporating their work into the mix, Tim had never been so on time to hand in his paperwork.
On Saturday, a few hours before Tim was supposed to go to the airport to get on the Wayne private jet, the six were in Chloe’s room. 
The only sound that could be heard was the faint chatter between Chloe and Kagami who were talking together, the soft strums of Luka on his guitar and Adrien next to him constantly dying while playing Subway Surfers and him raging not-so-quietly. Tim’s head was leaning on two pillows in Marinette’s lap, typing on his laptop which was propped up on his lap while Mari’s pencils scratched against the paper in her sketchbook.
It wasn’t exactly silence, but it was peaceful. An almost silence, if you would.
Until a phone blared to life. 
Everyone jumped as the shrill sound of Tim’s ringtone pierced through the peaceful almost silence.
Tim cringed. “Sorry!” He called. 
He swiped the accept button without looking to see who it was, mildly pissed off.
“What?” He snapped into the phone.
“TIMMY!” A familiar voice burst out. Marinette jumped and dropped her sketchbook on Tim’s face, glaring at the phone. Tim pulled the phone away from his ear, and put a finger to his mouth before pushing the speaker button.
“Tim? You okay?”
“Apart from you bursting my eardrums, I’m fine. What do you want, Jason?” Tim answered dryly. He wasn’t sure if his irritation could be heard through the phone but Jason picked it up.
“Not very nice to your favorite brother, now is it Timmy.” Tim could imagine Jason wagging a finger sarcastically in his face.
“Learned it from you, Jay. But seriously what do you want? I’m kinda busy.”
“You may wanna put your coffee cup down for this.” 
Tim sighed and placed it on the floor.
“Now what?”
A bang was heard from outside and all of them, bar Tim and Mari (Tim was way too lazy to get out of Marinette’s comfortable lap, and she couldn’t get up with him in her lap) rushed to the door to see what was happening. 
Some people had burst into Tim’s room across the hall.
Three guesses who.
“What are you doing, dumbasses?” Chloe’s exasperated voice rung out.
A man with a white tuft in hair was standing in the doorway turned around, phone in hand. He hung up on the call promptly.
“We were looking for our brother, Tim. The receptionist said he was in this room. Have you seen him?” An older man walked out of Tim’s room, with several others hot on his heels. 
The shortest one was dark-haired and had green eyes, the other was a girl with chopped dark hair, an arm wrapped around a taller blonde girl’s waist. There was also a redhead in a wheelchair. The other two there were males, one was an near bald elderly, the other had blue eyes and dark hair and was rather tall.
That was six of them, Chloe noted. She and the others exchanged a look, debating whether or not to let them see Tim. After all, they could be lying and were kidnappers or something.
They obviously noticed the look. The tall one with blue eyes spoke. “You know him! Where is he? Did you kidnap him?”
Adrien choked trying to hold in his laughter. Luka patted him on the back calmly.
A tsk came from the inside of the room. Chloe looked back. Tim shrugged. It was her room, after all.
Chloe bit her lip, looking torn between letting them in or kicking them out. She looked to Kagami for help, and she nodded, but then inclined her head toward Chloe. Basically, ‘I think you should, Tim seems to know them. But he may not want to see them. Your call. Your room.’
The guy with the white tuft looked ready to barge in the room.
Chloe huffed and opened the door wider. She and the other stalked back to their seats with the echoing sound of ‘ridiculous, utterly ridiculous’. Everyone outside exchanged looks, and entered.
They were not expecting to see Tim in a girl’s lap, that was for sure.
Instead of the greeting they were expecting, Tim merely turned his head to look at them before huffing and returning his gaze to his laptop screen.
Marinette laid a hand protectively on Tim’s head and started running her fingers through his hair. 
If they weren’t shocked before, they definitely were now. Their eyes practically bugged out of their head at the sight.
“Replacement?” Jason cautiously asked. 
Tim huffed, much like Chloe, and Marinette ceased her ministrations. Tim whined, but Marinette levelled a glare at him and he sat up.
Marinette muttered softly, “I can see why your self confidence is so low.”
“Nah, Jason’s one of the nicer ones. It’s teasing.” Tim assured her. The girl only pouted and fell back into her seat, picking up Tim’s laptop to read what he was working on before Tim’s family rudely barged in.
Jason looked slightly touched.
Tim sighed and crossed his arms. “What are you guys doing here?” Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka slowly inched around Mari and Tim. This did not go unnoticed by the Waynes.
“We came to visit you, Timbo!” The tall one said.
Tim pinched his nose. “That’s Dick. Barbara. Cassandra. Stephanie. Alfred. Bruce. Damian. Jason.” Tim pointed to each of them in turn. 
Luka spoke up. “I’m Luka. That’s Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Marinette.” Marinette shifted when her name was called, exposing the laptop screen to the Waynes. Their eyes widened when they saw the bold letters ‘Murders and Muggings: Patrol Recap’. 
Dick coughed into his hand, jerking his head towards the computer. Tim rolled his eyes at Dick’s attempt at being subtle.
Jason and Stephanie snickered. Dick looked offended. 
Dropping all pretence out the window, Tim deadpanned. “They know my secret. Didn’t tell them about yours, though they’ve probably figured it out already.”
“You should’ve told us beforehand, Timothy!” Bruce looked like he was a second away from yelling. A steely glare from Kagami stopped him from doing just that. Cass looked at her in approval.
Marinette bristled at Bruce’s tone, but did not move from her seat. This wasn’t her battle to fight-- it was Tim’s.
Bruce pinched the end of his nose. “I’m disappointed in you, Timothy.” 
Despite knowing Bruce was going to say that, Tim winced. Jason looked pissed and opened his mouth to say something, but someone else beat him to it.
“How dare you.” Marinette’s quiet voice shook with fury as she stood up. Tim squeezed her hand and let go. Adrien, Luka, Kagami and Tim instantly surrounded Tim, forming a protective circle around him.
“How dare you. Tim is the most wonderful person I know. Other from the idiot I share a soul with, my Harmony, my Dragon and Queenie, he is the only person who is genuinely kind and caring. He is the sweetest person I know and if you think you can step into our turf and belittle my boyfriend, you have another thing coming.” Marinette snarled.
Adrien stood up, stepping forward to stand next to Marinette. “I’ve only known Tim for a few days, but he means a lot to all of us. Like Marinette said, you will not step into our turf and be rude to our friend.”
“You underestimate how much power we have here.” Kagami moved over to the other side of Marinette, eyes flashing. 
Chloe stood next to her. “I can very easily kick you out of this hotel, out of Paris, even. Tim is my friend, and we will not stand here and let you talk shit about how he disappointed you.”
Luka stood up, moving next to Adrien. “Like we said, Tim means a lot to us. You have no idea how much he does for all of you. He deals with your stupid company paperwork, even though he’s only 16 and it should be your job. He spends more time helping you on patrol and fighting rogues than paperwork but you scold him because he can’t finish as much as you’d like?”
Marinette’s normally warm blue eyes that were so full of love were now completely devoid of emotion. “That isn’t parenting, Bruce. That’s toxic.” She spat out Bruce’s name with so much loathing and hate, that he unconsciously took a step back.
Tim was very touched. No one had ever done that for him before. No one had the guts to stand up to Bruce Wayne or Batman. His eyes watered and he hastily wiped them away.
Bruce’s eyes flashed, and he strode forward. “I think you underestimate my power.” He spread his arms. “I’m Bruce Wayne. I can kill your career in a heartbeat. I can make sure you are never hired by anyone, nor will you ever be able to make a name for yourself. I’ve almost died before. Damian and Jason have. We deal with things you guys can only dream of. Sure, your father may be the mayor of Paris, Chloe, but I can easily kick him off his position of power. Don’t fuck with us.” 
Marinette’s eyes flashed with surprise at Bruce’s declaration that Jason and Damian have died. Ignoring Bruce, she turned to Adrien, who was squinting at Damian. 
“Do you want to heal them of the Lazarus pits? We can, after all. We’re Creation and Destruction.” Marinette spoke in the Guardian language.
Adrien side eyed the Waynes and nodded. “Even if Bruce is a bitch, Jason and Damian don’t deserve to live like that.” 
Marinette and Adrien looked behind them, past Tim, to where the Kwamis were hiding. Plagg and Tikki nodded. After all, they could always wipe the Waynes’ memories if they weren’t willing to keep it a secret. The Waynes didn’t know what they were saying. Jason stifled a laugh when Adrien caled Bruce a bitch, but the Waynes instantly went on guard at the sound of Jason and Damian’s names (since their names can’t be translated).
Marinette and Adrien turned back to Tim and the others folded, closing the gap that they had left, so no one could lip read or learn from their body language what they were about to do.
Marinette and Adrien walked a few steps back, a few steps in front of Tim but a few steps behind the others. They smiled reassuringly at Tim. They weren’t going to hurt Jason or Damian. Tim nodded. He trusted them.
Tikki and Plagg zipped over to them and phased into their joined hands. Adrien and Marinette smiled to each other closing their eyes. They channelled the Guardian energy, Creation energy and Destruction energy. 
They lifted their raised hands, and as if on command, Chloe and Kagami stepped aside, allowing the green and pink swirling energy in their conjoined hands to shoot towards Jason and Damian. The beam split halfway, hitting both Jason and Damian.
They braced themselves for pain, but they didn’t feel anything. They looked around, and saw the energy. The green colour of it was one everyone instantly recognised as the Lazarus Pit madness.
They could do nothing but watch as more and more green colours was sucked out of Jason and Damian before swirling upwards and over their heads into a ball of green energy.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the green stopped escaping them, and Jason and Damian could feel an immediate relaxation of their feelings. It was like there was anger and negative emotions buried into a pit of their minds, but they didn’t notice that it was there until it was gone.
The green energy ball was now as as big as a bowling ball. It churned once, and started shrinking. Something was compressing it and forcing it into a smaller ball. With a sizzle, it split into two. A pink ball and a green ball, the sizes of an apple.
However, the green ball wasn’t the Lazarus color green. It was a warm green, the colour of emeralds. Despite that, within both the pink and green shell had a green ball, the toxic colour of the Lazarus pit inside. It swirled around in their respective prisons, but couldn’t break free.
The balls of energy slowly drifted towards where Marinette and Adrien were standing with serene looks on their faces.
The pink shell hovered in front of Marinette, while the green one hovered in front of Adrien. The pink and green encasing the Lazarus green broke apart, and the pink and green energy shells flew into their conjoined hands.
Marinette and Adrien opened their eyes. They weren’t eyes anymore, just glowing eye sockets. Marinette’s were pink, and Adrien’s were green. The same colour of the shells, the others realised.
Now what was left were the fizzling balls of the Lazarus pits, its toxic green giving off an eerie glow.
Marinette and Adrien held up their free palms, and the balls rested on their waiting hands.
They looked to each other and seemed to be communicating before the plunged the balls into their chests.
Their whole body glowed for a second before lifting the two up in the air. The Waynes, Luka, Kagami and Chloe jumped when they started talking.
“This hurts.” Marinette admitted. Her face did not show any kind of discomfort. Adrien grinned. “Yeah, it does.” His didn’t either.
They shared a laugh before the green and pink faded, and the two plummeted onto the carpeted floor. Just before they hit it, the green and pink glowed softly again, allowing the two to land gently on the floor, feet first.
The light faded completely and Marinette and Adrien collasped in the chaise behind them, unclasping their hands and panting slightly. Plagg and Tikki zoomed out of their hands as soon as they separated and didn’t even bother hiding.
They plopped themselves on their chosens’ heads and all four of them began to nap.
“Did they..?” Dick uttered in disbelief.
Jason and Damian could only nod.
“Lazarus. Gone?” Cass pressed.
They nodded again.
“Forever?” Bruce croaked.
“Yep.” Marinette’s exhausted voice came from the chaise. Everyone spun to look at her. Chloe ran to her room’s kitchen, bringing out some honey, cookies, camembert, chocolate and eggs.
The active kwamis zoomed out form their hiding spot and got to work on their food. Marinette tiredly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling. Tim caught her. Marinette smiled gratefully at him, and gently scooped Tikki off her head. She reached over and got Plagg too. 
She nudged Tikki with her finger and placed her next to the cookies. She didn’t bother to wake Plagg up; he’d wake up as soon as he smelt camembert. She placed him down, next to Tikki and they woke up, lazily nibbling on their foods.
Mari let out a breathy sigh and swayed on her feet. She curled up next to Adrien and started to snore.
Dick frowned. If she was dating Tim, why was she so cozy with Adrien?
He moved to wake them up.
Suddenly, he stiffened and fell to the floor.
Pollen stood behind them, antennae still poised after stinging Dick. “No one wake the Guardians up.”
Muffled protests from Dick on the ground.
“They share a soul, Dick, being next to each other recharged them faster.” Tim explained.
“They what now?”
-
well yes thats it. 
i kinda got sloppy at the end because i spent almost 8 hours on this, and its only 8k words. im kinda proud of it though lol
no there will probably not be a part two, although i may upload this on ao3
anyway i hope you liked this !! <3
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