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prettyboy-asmo · 3 years

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Spending time/showing affection to GN!MC (Brothers+Side)

I’ve had terrible writers block lately so I decided to just do some general HC about how the boys show affection/ spend time with MC to hopefully get back into the swing of things.

MC is gender neutral and most of the hcs are written with romance in mind.

pure fluff

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a busy Demon, so He’ll take any time with you he can get, Even if it’s just the both of you sitting in the same room, working on your own things.

He cherishes the moments when you can both do nothing together- a moment to relax with you. When you get that rare moment with him, he likes to be close to you, sitting close enough your shoulders are brushing or his head in your lap or you on his lap- it doesn’t matter

He also likes taking you out on occasion- a nice dinner, maybe some sort of show, symphony, theatre, if you like it he’ll go. Getting to see you dress up more than usual and knowing his brothers won��t be there to barge in.

He’s not overly touchy in public, but he’ll usually keep a hand resting on your back around others.

He’s not as verbal about his affection around others either, but when it’s just you two he tends to be far more open with it.

An absolute favorite of his, however, is when you get to fall asleep together. He’d never, never admit it to anyone else but getting to fall asleep cuddling you is the best thing for him. Especially when it’s you holding him, when he doesn’t have to worry about anything else besides feeling content in your arms.

That’s also when the verbal affection becomes more open as well, soft whispers as you drift off to sleep.

Mammon:

When Mammon wants to spend time with you, he usually invites himself into your room and just throws himself on the bed. It doesn’t even really matter if you say anything or not, he’ll scroll his D.D.D. until you finish whatever you were doing and pay attention to him.

If you take too long though he will start to complain.

If he wants your attention and he has something he needs to do like a modeling shoot, he’ll drag you along.

No matter what it is though, Mammon is always touchy (Despite how much he denies it) things like a hand lingering on your shoulder, fingers interlaced, leaning on each other's shoulders- he likes to be touching you in some form.

In public he’s just as clingy, his arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you close to him, (you should want everyone to know you’re with the great Mammon, after all.)

Loves movie nights with just the two of you. It usually ends up with his head on your shoulder or lap, fingers running through his hair.

He won’t outright say he wants headpats or your fingers in his hair, but he’ll take your hand and place it on his head without a word (he also won’t make eye contact when he does, poor boy is blushing so hard)

He’s definitely not as verbal with affection. Though if he notices you’re stressed or having a bad day he doesn’t try as hard to deny his feelings and he’ll remind you how much he cares about you.

Levi:

Obviously, Levi loves being able to marathon Anime or spend hours playing video games with you.

At first, it’s you who has to initiate any sort of physical contact. It starts slow, sitting closer together, leaning against him, small things. The more you hangout and the closer you get however, the more used to the idea he gets.

Eventually, anime nights are spent cuddling while watching whatever show was chosen, and more often than not you find yourself in his lap when you guys play video games While he can still end up a blushing mess sometimes, he’s more comfortable asking for physical contact.

But it’s not just anime and video games. If you show any interest in cosplay he’ll jump at the chance to create costumes together. If you don’t know how to do something, he offers to teach you.

As you grow closer, he also grows more vocal with his affection, tells you how happy he is to spend time with you or how glad he is that you actually like him and indulge in his hobbies as well.

If for some reason, you both end up going out in public together, he seems far less hesitant to give physical contact. Usually it’s just him holding your hand (sometimes he’ll absentmindedly swing your hands back and forth)

He also enjoys when you simply sit with him while he plays video games- whether you’re cheering him on, watching him progress through plot, or even doing your own thing on your D.D.D. the fact that you choose to spend time with him is enough to make him feel fluttery in the best ways.

Satan:

Another one who enjoys the quiet moments with you. He likes to sit with you while reading, just sharing the same space as you is nice.

He also likes reading to you, and while he’s not very touchy in general he likes to have you close in those moments- especially when it’s you in his lap, leaning back against him and your head on his shoulder or you lounging with your head in his lap.

As cliche as it is- He’s a sucker for cafe and bookstore dates. He likes to see what kind of books you’ll take interest in, offer his own suggestions and ask you about your favorites, he gets to spend time with you and learn about you at the same time.

Will find a cat cafe to visit with you or an animal shelter. Lucifer won’t let him get a cat but he can at least enjoy them this way- and since it’s time he also gets to spend with you it’s even better.

He will absolutely tell you how much he cares for you. He ends up being far more verbal than physical when it comes to affection- he says his fair share of cheesy things (You gotta love it though.)

Like Lucifer, around others his hand is usually sitting light on your back.

He’d also love murder mystery dinner theaters and the like. That includes watching true crime documentaries/ unsolved mysteries with you.

Asmo:

He loves to pamper you. Spa days with just the two of you- offering you new products to try for hair/skin/etc.

If you let him do your nails he will be absolutely over the moon, even if it’s just a clear coat of polish.

Asmo is naturally a very touchy person- it’s one of the main ways he shows affection. When you’re spending time together, he’s almost always touching you in some form. Draping an arm over your shoulders, holding your hand, resting his hand on your arm- whatever you’re comfortable with.

It’s not just touch however. He has no issues telling you how much he loves spending time with you, he’s very vocal about everything he likes about you, how much he cares about you.

As much as he likes to stay in for spa days, he also enjoys going out with you.

Loves to drag you shopping. He loves picking out outfits for you, asking you what kind of style you want and going from there, it’s one of his favorite things to see your eyes light up when you try on his suggestions.

Will also take you out to the Fall and to some parties. It’s true he thrives off the attention of his fans, but when he takes you with him he’s far more focused on you than his followers.

He can get extra touchy in public. He wants everyone to know you’re with him. Even if he does interact with his fans, the conversation often swings back around to you and him- “Aren’t they just wonderful? I picked out their outfit myself, it really suits them, right? Don’t we look so cute together?”

Beel:

Beel cherishes any time he gets to spend with you. No matter what it is he’s excited to be able to share his time with you.

If you like to cook or bake though, he will absolutely be more than eager to offer his help or keep you company in the kitchen.

If you accept his invites to the gym, whether you do your own workout routine or film him so he can see his own form later, He’s glad to know you're willing to spend that time with him even though he can’t turn his full focus on you.

Also, while it’s not really spending time with him, if you come to his practices and games he will be so happy. He’s like an excited puppy and he’ll always thank you for supporting him after he’s done.

Will 100% give you piggy back rides whenever you want. Sometimes he will insist on it, especially if you seem tired or you're somewhere crowded enough that others keep bumping into you.

He does enjoy cuddling up with you, especially when you end up using him as a pillow or clinging to him- he got used to that stuff with Belphie and he’s glad that you feel comfortable enough to be that close to him.

A demon of few words, but he does have little actions that show how much he adores you. The most common one when you’re relaxing together is when he lifts your hand in his own, sometimes laying his palm against yours, sometimes playing with your fingers, sometimes simply interlacing your fingers and giving a soft squeeze.

Sometimes though, he’ll bust out an “I love you,”- usually the most random times, if you’re sitting with him while he raids the fridge, walking to classes, studying together, sometimes he just has to say it.

Belphie:

Napping together is his favorite, hands down. He’ll take any chance he can get to snuggle and nap with you.

He’s not one for high energy activities for obvious reasons, but he’ll never turn down a movie night or binge watching shows with you.

Love it if you read to him. He finds your voice soothing and relaxing, so being able to close his eyes just listen to you is nice.

Laying together in the planetarium is something he’d never even dream of turning down.

He’s naturally very touchy. Leaning against you, wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, he just likes to be as close as possible to you.

When it comes to verbal affection, it tends to come in the form of teasing comments. Though, when he’s just waking up expect sleepy whispers of affection.

Around others he’s even more clingy than usual. Hanging around your shoulders, holding on to the fabric of your shirt, sometimes his tail will make an appearance and curl around your middle.

Similar to Beel, he has little unconscious actions of affection. Tracing patterns along your arm/leg when you’re cuddling, nuzzling his head into your hand if you run your fingers through his hair, most often though is when his tail curls around you or drapes over you.

Barbatos:

Another busy demon, but he always makes sure he has extra time to spend with you.

Outings to markets and joining him on shopping trips is pretty common, and it usually includes a meal at a cafe or nice restaurant.

He will gladly let you keep him company while he’s baking or cooking- he’ll even teach you some recipes if you show interest.

While not outwardly affectionate by nature, especially in public, he will keep a hand on your shoulder in crowded areas and he makes it clear that you’re with him.

If you want to cuddle, he’ll oblige, but he usually won’t initiate it- It’s not that he doesn’t want to or that he doesn’t like it, He just likes it better knowing that’s exactly what you want.

He does like to hold you when you lay together, both arms and tail around you- he will absolutely bury his face in your hair/ neck.

You can also expect plenty of gifts-sweets he’s made, little things he sees that he knows you’d like, flowers, etc.

Even though he’s pretty reserved, his gestures make sure you know he cares about you and is thinking about you.

Diavolo:

Busy, busy, busy. There’s always something going on that he’s supposed to be doing, but Diavolo always has time for you.

It doesn’t matter what it is- The fact that he gets time with you is enough for him.

He does like to treat you to fancy dinners and such, though, in fact, he just likes to treat you in general.

Diavolo also is very liberal with gifts, though it’s not just small things. Anything he sees that he thinks you’d like, things that remind him of you- anything is fair game. He doesn’t really have to worry about price, and honestly, he’d want to get you the best of what you enjoy anyways.

Very big on both physical and verbal affection.

He loves to be touching you in some way, holding hands, an arm around you, you leaning against him- he has absolutely no reservations or hesitations about pulling you into his lap or into his side at any time.

He will melt if you run your fingers through his hair or lay your head on his shoulder/chest while you’re relaxing.

He’s absolutely not shy about saying ‘I love you’ or any other sort of affectionate thing, public or otherwise. (He will blush though, especially if you return his words.)

He doesn’t need to, but in crowded areas he will keep your hand in his or an arm around you.

Solomon:

If you’re willing to sit with him while he does research, that’d be great- if you're willing to help that’s even better.

He also enjoys taking you to cafes or simply being able to talk a walk with you- the change of pace is nice and your presence is something he can bask in.

He’s also the teasing type. Snarky comments and bold flirting- He likes to see what it takes to make you blush. He’d also get a kick out of it if you tried to make him blush. It’s not as hard as he thinks, though, some genuine words of affection and he’s blushing like mad.

He will try to cook for you. Once.

In public, he’ll let his arm drape over your shoulders, making sure to keep you pretty close to him. He’s got a protective streak to rival the brothers- he’s got plenty of experience with Demons, after all.

If you show an interest in something, he will be willing to teach you about it.

Man is a sucker for massages. Will melt into a puddle if you rub his shoulder/back. He also won’t hesitate to return the favor. (He’s surprisingly good at it- Won’t admit it’s because Asmo taught him.)

Simeon:

His favorite is little tea dates or picnics with you. A nice calm atmosphere and pleasant conversation with you is just what he needs to relax.

He also likes to tease and flirt, but the second you retaliate he’s a blushing mess.

Will absolutely take you to plays/musicals/ performances. Being able to share his interests with you is wonderful.

He will for sure write love letters. It doesn’t even matter if you write any back, it’s easiest to show his affection and how truly deeply he cares for you in writing.

He’ll be overjoyed if you sit with him when he writes. Sometimes he’ll even bounce ideas off you or ask if something sounds okay. He values your input above all else.

He’s most shy about touch. He’s honestly not as used to it and it flusters him pretty easily. That’s not to say he doesn’t love it anyways.

In fact, having you simply tucked to his side leaves him smiling and feeling warm.

He also likes to be held, especially if you’re sharing a bed. Feeling absolutely loved and cared for in your arms is the best feeling he’s ever had, and he won’t hesitate to tell you that.

#obey me hc #obey me!#obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #self indulgent fluff lol #obey me fluff #affection

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angstyaches · 3 years

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Half of All Bus Rides

There was interest expressed in motion sick Payton, so here they are! It’s quite long and I’m not adding a cut because cut fics don’t seem to get as much interaction for some reason.

CW: motion sickness, anxious sickee, emetophobia (secondary character who does not actually see or experience the emeto), burping and a little hiccupping, heavy on the stomach noises.

___

Countryside and highway flashed by as though the bus had been doing two hundred kilometres per hour instead of the eighty-five it was actually doing. Payton’s head was spinning at almost the same speed, and they were drinking deeply of the dry air from the vehicle’s air conditioning system, drawing breaths deep into their lungs before slowly letting them go.

They certainly did not feel sick. Nope. There was no way that motion sickness could possibly be hitting on their first trip with Autumn as their girlfriend. Their stomach must have been clenching from nerves. Of course; a five-hour long bus ride was a big deal. Sharing close quarters. Needing to be funny and interesting, while also being careful not to annoy her. Yeah, it was just a lot of pressure and Payton was overthinking.

“I still think it’s weird,” Autumn mumbled, her head tucked against Payton’s shoulder.

They looked at her, grateful that her eyes were shut so she wouldn’t see how washed-out they inevitably looked. “What, baby?”

“You know. Lucy.” Autumn gave a dazed shrug. “It’s weird that we know nothing about the relationship, and yet here we are, going all-expenses-paid because of someone she’s sleeping with?”

Oh, right. The two of them had been talking about Lucy’s mysterious romantic life before Payton had spaced out. They made a low sound in their throat that they hoped would convey agreement as well as finality. They were too dizzy and uncomfortable to keep making conversation, but they knew that if Autumn tried to keep talking, they would force themself to keep up.

“Is it okay if I go for a little nap?” Autumn’s voice sounded tiny, and it made Payton’s heart flutter.

“Go ahead,” they said, trying to settle their own head comfortably against the headrest.

Every time she woke from dozing, her head was a little lower on Payton’s torso, until eventually her ear was pressed right against their stomach. It was much more comfortable than their chest, where the clasp of their dungarees had been digging into her head.

Next time she woke, it was to a symphony of gurgling, but it was so soft that it barely drew her out of her nap. She simply stirred, eyelashes fluttering open and closed again, nuzzling her cheek instinctively against Payton. The noise started up under her head again, which made her frown and shift again. Why was her pillow rumbling so angrily?

Payton seemed to sense the disruption in her sleep, because they touched her head gently. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, P. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Autumn didn’t exactly believe them, but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it either. Maybe breakfast had just left them feeling a little gassy, and talking about it would just embarrass them for no reason. Still, she tucked herself up even smaller and wriggled her head into Payton’s lap, in case the weight of her head was making things worse on their stomach. She tucked her knees up to her chest, checking that her feet weren’t obstructing the aisle.

She settled down, though she had no intention of falling asleep again. She made a little happy sound as Payton stroked some hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Then, Payton propped their elbow on the armrest to support their chin, and seemed to fall into a light sleep themself.

Autumn was wide awake though, staring at the offensive-to-the-eyes bus seat upholstery and listening to Payton’s belly churn and slosh non-stop for about five minutes. It really didn’t sound good, but Autumn didn’t want to disturb Payton in the middle of a nap. A particularly deep rumble seemed to stir a lot around in there, so much so that it stirred Payton too. They shifted in their seat, prompting Autumn to lift her head from their lap.

“Sorry,” they murmured.

Autumn frowned, resting a hand on Payton’s stomach. “For what?”

“Disturbing you while you were slee–” Payton’s eyes widened slightly as they turned their head. Their belly jumped under Autumn’s palm, sending a gurgle up into their throat so that they burped and then hiccupped deeply against the back of their hand.

“How..?” Their gaze fell downwards as they noticed the pressure being applied to their stomach. “How’d you know my stomach was upset?”

Autumn raised her eyebrows in helpless confusion. “Baby, I could hear it bubbling away next to my ear. You couldn’t hear any of that?”

“Oh. No. I could feel it, but I didn’t realise it was being loud... Mmm.”

Payton sighed as Autumn rubbed her hand back and forth across their stomach. They tried for a grateful smile too, though it was watered down by the nausea that was draining every other aspect of their appearance and personality. All they could do was prop their elbow on the armrest again and cradle their head, eyes squeezed shut.

“I suppose I should have mentioned that I get motion sick on, like, fifty percent of all bus rides.”

“It’s okay,” Autumn chuckled. “There was a fifty percent chance you’d have gotten away with not mentioning it, huh?”

“I guess.”

Autumn slipped a hand inside the front of their dungarees, so her palm was on the fabric of their t-shirt. She massaged a gentle circle into their belly, paying close attention to Payton’s reaction. They let out a wince and brought a hand up to still hers, and she brought it to a stop.

A couple of silent beats passed, where Autumn’s hand cupped the slight outward curve of Payton’s stomach, and Payton’s hand hovered on the outside of their dungarees like a supervisor to Autumn’s. Autumn was just starting to think that everything had settled down, when the peace was broken; deep in Payton’s gut, something shifted and caused a lengthy rumble that was audible even to ears that weren’t right beside it.

“You heard that, right?” she teased softly, hoping to get a response out of Payton more than anything.

Their chin was almost touching the clasp on their dungarees, their mouth in a tight line as they swallowed so hard that Autumn saw their throat move. Any hint of playfulness dropped away and she sat upright, taking her hand out of Payton’s dungarees.

“P?” she asked.

Payton pressed the back of their hand against their mouth without opening their eyes, sitting forward in the seat. When they spoke, their voice was dripping with notes of queasiness, like they were on the verge of letting out a constant stream of burps.

��Can you see if someone’s got a plastic bag or something?”

Autumn nodded, feeling her throat tighten with sympathetic anxiety. She started to slide out of her seat, but paused when Payton touched her arm.

“Don’t let Lucy know I feel sick.”

Autumn frowned. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, trust me.”

A few rows down, Lucy was asleep with her arms folded across her chest and her head resting against the window. Beside her, Donnacha had headphones on too, and his eyes were closed, but Autumn could tell he was awake by the way his thumb gently tapped against the edge of his phone, keeping time with whatever he was listening to. He squinted at her after feeling the tap on his arm.

“Yeah, what’s up?” His voice smacked of impatience as he tugged his headphones down around his neck.

“Do you have a plastic bag or anything that I could take?” Autumn crouched next to his seat and kept her voice low. “Payton’s not doing so good.”

Annoyance or sleepiness or whatever it was, it vanished from Donnacha’s face. “No. Sorry, I’ve got nothing.”

Autumn nodded across Donnacha’s lap. “Do you think Lucy’s got anything we could –?”

“No, no, no, don’t tell Lucy,” Donnacha hissed.

Autumn huffed lightly. “Payton said that too.”

“It’ll start a whole thing.” Donnacha waved his hand. “Um, I think there’s a rest stop coming up, if Payton can hold on until then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, should be in the next…” Donnacha looked out the window. “Five or ten minutes or so.”

“Great. Thank you.” Autumn wrung her hands as she straightened up, holding onto the back of Donnacha’s seat to keep the bus’s motion from swaying her. When she returned to her seat, Payton had their head against the back of the seat in front of them.

“No bag,” she said softly, scooping the back of Payton’s neck into her palm as they rested their head on her shoulder. “But we’re making a stop in a minute. We can take a little walk, go to the bathroom, get you some Sprite, maybe.”

Payton groaned weakly.

“Think you can hang in there for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

____

Autumn checked the time as she lingered at the base of the stairs that led to the rest stop bathrooms. They still had a little time until the bus was scheduled to leave again, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous when she had no way of knowing how Payton was doing. Her heart lifted a little when she saw them emerge, slowly making their way down the steps.

“Hey, baby,” Autumn sighed as she pulled them into a hug that was only returned half-heartedly. She rubbed gently at their back. “Did you get sick?”

“No,” Payton muttered miserably. A tight belch gurgled high in their chest, and they pulled back a little, rubbing at their breastbone. “My stomach’s churning like I’m on a boat, but nothing’s coming up.”

Autumn put a hand on Payton’s tummy in sympathy. While she traced a little circle just below their ribcage, she felt a rumble develop under her fingers, and heard it too; it sounded like a tiny helicopter trying to take off, and it somehow must have succeeded, because suddenly Payton was letting out another belch against the back of their hand.

“Sorry,” Payton mumbled after, putting their own hand on the spot where Autumn had been massaging.

“Don’t be.” Autumn chuckled quietly as she watched Payton press on their stomach again, coaxing up another belch. “Is that helping?”

“It’s doing… something,” they admitted, though that ‘something’ might not necessarily have been good. Judging by the way the colour in their face was changing again, it might have been the exact opposite.

Autumn was about to ask for clarification, but that was when Lucy appeared, sauntering over from the direction of the convenience store.

“Alright, losers?” she asked, sunglasses flashing in the sun as she stirred the straw in her iced coffee. “Bladders empty and ready to go?”

Autumn smiled tightly. “We’ll catch you up, Lu.”

“I was going to ask if either of you wanted to swap seats for a bit?” Lucy asked, rolling her head to one side. “Donnacha’s so boring on long trips. I want to chat.”

Autumn felt Payton tighten their grip on her hand, nervous energy heightening as they silently pleaded with her not to leave them.

“Maybe a little later,” Autumn told Lucy. Sweat tickled the back of her neck as she scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t draw attention to Payton and their washed-out face and shaky hands. “We – we were going to nap a little for the next part of the ride. I really didn’t sleep well last night.”

Even though her sunglasses were practically opaque, Autumn could tell Lucy was rolling her eyes. “Fine. But one of you owes me. Can you at least recommend some music for me to listen to? I’ve already burned through my playlist.”

Autumn glanced quickly at Payton; this was the kind of thing they were usually more than happy to step forward for, an opportunity to talk about music while also helping out a friend. Her heart sank when she saw that their eyes were glazed over, like they hadn’t even heard what Lucy had asked.

“Sure,” Autumn piped up, untangling her hand from Payton’s and reaching for her phone.

Payton felt their body sway a little at the absence of even the tiniest bit of support from Autumn. The girls leaned in to look at Autumn’s phone screen, but the whole scene seemed burnt-out in Payton’s vision, melted and warped in the afternoon sunshine and the smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes.

“No! None of your weird show music,” Lucy was saying to Autumn, and that was when Payton would usually have kissed Autumn on the head and told her that her show music wasn’t weird.

If only their belly hadn’t been hurting too much for them to focus.

They were shaking, feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, as the three of them slowly made their way back to the bus.

“Here.” Autumn handed Payton a bottle of Sprite as soon as they had both settled back into their seats. “Take some little sips.”

The sips were good, at first; Payton hadn’t realised how parched their tongue was, or how much their throat had started to hurt in the process of trying to throw up in the bathroom. The bubbles gave the illusion of cleaning out their oesophagus on the way down, making them feel like tiny sponges were scrubbing them clean on the inside. It was a good feeling, and they were feeling a little more confident about this leg of the journey already.

“You good?” Autumn asked as the bus began to pull away from the stop.

Payton nodded, stifling a fizzy burp that was just a direct result of the Sprite bubbles. They held the closed bottle against their knee and closed their eyes, humming lightly in response to Autumn laying a hand on their leg.

They barely moved for the next twenty minutes. They weren’t sleeping, but Autumn seemed to believe that they were, because Payton heard her take her book out of her bag and attempt to quietly turn the pages every so often.

However, under the still surface, Payton felt worse than before. The bubbles they thought had helped relieve the nausea were still forcing burps up their throat, growing tighter and tighter every time, bringing Payton closer and closer to tasting the sludge left over from their breakfast.

“Baby?” Payton pried their eyes halfway open, finally letting a hand rest on top of their churning belly.

Autumn looked up from her book, eyes wide and concerned. “Are you going to be sick?”

Payton nodded, and Autumn whispered “shoot” under her breath, hurrying to dump snacks and bottles of water into her handbag, so that she could hand Payton the plastic bag from the convenience store.

Leaning forward with the bag open under their face, Payton tried to thank her, but only managed to make a noise – which sounded a little like “mmmrpphl” – before there was a stream of something hot and soupy rushing up their throat and dripping into the bag. Their diaphragm lurched violently, like it was getting revenge on their stomach for some unknown past transgression, and the vomit burned their chest and tasted horrible. On the bright side, by the time it was falling out of their mouth, Payton was able to stay relatively quiet, with just the occasional cough or shallow belch slipping out.

“Sorry,” Payton mumbled when they were given a chance to breathe, thinking of the passengers in front of and behind them.

“Don’t worry, baby, nobody’s paying any attention.”

Payton reached out to touch Autumn’s leg, ending up squeezing her knee quite hard as another wave of nausea dragged their stomach contents up and out of them. If they were squeezing too hard, Autumn didn’t let them know.

The retching finally turned into quiet, dry coughs. Payton scrunched the top of the bag shut because the smell was keeping their stomach from settling. They rested their forehead on the seat in front, feeling like they could black out for the rest of the bus ride.

“Hey. You feeling better?” Autumn brushed her fingers across the small of their back.

Payton gave a heavy sigh through pursed lips. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Autumn seemed enthused – or maybe just relieved – at this response. She gently pried the plastic bag out of Payton’s grip.

As soon as their hands were free, they rubbed at their eyes with their knuckles, brushing away pained tears that had sprung up with the nausea. They then folded their arms across their belly, feeling it settle into a dull knot. It hurt, and was far from comfortable, but Payton would have taken it over the churning and gurgling any day.

Autumn saw the difference on Payton’s face too, as they sank back in their seat with their eyes closed. The tension that had drawn their eyebrows together, that had made them clamp their lips tightly shut, it had all melted away. She finished tying up the bag and considered cuddling up to Payton’s side like she’d done earlier, but she really didn’t want to disturb them or tempt fate again.

Instead, she went back to her book, taking Payton’s hand when it rested casually on her knee again a few minutes later.

___

They were some of the last off the bus, thanks to Autumn making sure that Payton took their time in moving. Colour had returned to their face, but they were still exhausted and their hands trembled a bit as they got ready to go.

The sun was almost all the way down, and Autumn had to squint in the fiery-orange light to see where Lucy and Donnacha were standing, waiting for them.

Lucy shuffled over with her sunglasses in her fist before they could reach her. She was shuddering visibly and shaking out her arms, like she was covered in bugs that she was trying to get rid of.

“I think – no, no, I know someone threw up on the bus! I could smell it. Donnacha kept telling me I was crazy.”

“I never said you were crazy,” Donnacha yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “I said ‘Lucy, shut up and let me sleep’.”

She scoffed and tossed up her palms. “You guys didn’t notice it?”

Payton swallowed, guilt piling on top of their lingering stomach ache. Next to them, Autumn tilted her head and hummed.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” she said, quickly putting her hands behind her back to hide the trash bag that she planned on disposing of at the first bin she came across. “I’m sorry about that though, Lucy. Does – does vomit really bother you?”

“Do not get me started.” Lucy waved her hands, which indicated that they should all take the statement literally, and not get her started. “I want to go. When are they going to open the luggage compartment? I’m dying for a wee.”

As Lucy turned to direct a larger portion of her complaining in Donnacha’s direction, Autumn pulled Payton a little closer by the waist, and they leaned their face into her neck.

“Hey, in theory, if it’s only half of all bus rides, the trip home should be a picnic, right?” she whispered, grinning as Payton jabbed her lightly in the side.

#sickfic #OC sickfic #motion sickness #motion sickness fic #emeto #emeto fic #emeto sickfic #sick boys #long fic #my OCs #sick Payton #caretaker Autumn #Payton and Autumn #non binary OC

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Road Trip to Nowhere

Chapter One: Midnight Music

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,104

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

To celebrate Santiago finally returning home from the states, you decide to do something a bit unorthodox. Pack all the necessities into one minivan and road trip across the United States with no plan and no destination. Will you find something cool? Who will commit a murder first? (Probably Will) Will you all even survive? Let’s find out, shall we?

You sighed, resting your dominant hand on the steering wheel. You and the rest of the boys were on a road trip without a real destination. Santiago was finally back in the country and you were celebrating by packing everything you needed into your minivan and driving all over the United States with no plan. You’d just left the Miller’s house in Indiana in the morning, and it was now nearing midnight. The open road was before you, but you hadn’t passed another car in a while.

Frankie heard you sigh and looked over, smiling. “Sleepy?”

“You wish Morales,” you whispered back, grinning. “Check on Reyna and Santi for me?”

Frankie twisted, looking back to see his best friend and his baby both dead asleep in the middle row of the van. “Sleeping like, well, babies.”

“So sweet,” you cooed softly. “And the Millers?”

“I assume doing the same, considering we can’t hear either of them,” Frankie said. “They took the morning and afternoon driving shifts, and they’re exhausted.”

You nodded. “Yeah, they did. How’re you holding up, speaking of shifts? Do you want to sleep before you take over from me in an hour?”

Frankie reached across the center console and took your right hand off the wheel, lacing his fingers with yours. “I’m used to be a military pilot,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “I can drive on two days of sleep deprivation.”

“He’s done it before too,” Benny piped up sleepily from the back. “Damn fool.”

“Go back to sleep Benny,” you said softly, switching the radio station. “We’ll wake you for breakfast. You have the afternoon shift tomorrow, so you can nap all morning if you really want.”

Benny nodded, falling back against Will’s shoulder and immediately falling asleep again.

Frankie stifled a yawn, smiling slowly as you hummed to the radio. “This song is cute.”

“I’ve heard it a few times,” you said, blinking away the blur of headlights from another car. “Reminds me of you.”

“Really?” Frankie asked.

You hummed, nodding. “Yep.”

Silence lapsed over you two, and the gentle music was the only sound beside the rumble of the car and Santiago’s slight snoring. It was incredibly peaceful, especially on the straight roads where you could really see the stars illuminating the Indiana night sky. The occasional far-off howl of a coyote would remind you that you were still in the middle of nowhere, USA, just how the boys liked it.

When midnight passed on the clock, you began to look for a gas station. “Frankie?”

“Wassup?”

“Should we stop to sleep for the night?”

Frankie shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “But if you wake Will, he isn’t going to go back to sleep.”

You grimaced, pulling into a gas station and parking. “Damn. I guess it’s just us and the road until tomorrow night. Want me to run in and grab you some coffee?”

“Just us and the road,” Frankie agreed, getting out so he could switch with you. “Yes please.”

“Alright,” you said, getting out of the car. “It’s a 7-11, so don’t go expecting gourmet coffee.”

Frankie laughed, grabbing the gas pump and beckoning you closer. You stepped towards him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You know me,” he murmured against your skin. “If it’s got caffeine and tastes even remotely like coffee, I’ll drink it.” You felt him slide the money for the coffee into your back pocket, and you stood on your toes to get a better angle in kissing him quickly.

“Be right back,” you promised, walking away to get the coffee.

It wasn’t hard. At nearly 1 AM, you were the only person besides the underpaid teenager working the register in the store. You filled the biggest to-go cup they had with something you knew Frankie would like and headed to the counter to pay. The teenager didn’t even say much as you handed him the money and thanked him with a smile. Sliding the change into a tips jar, you left the 7-11 to find Frankie already settled in the driver's seat.

You handed Frankie his coffee through his window and opened one of the back doors, nudging Santiago, who was still sleeping.

“Up and at ‘em,” you said, gesturing to the passenger seat. “Your turn. I got Fish some coffee. If you beg hard enough, he might share.”

Santiago grumbled something in Spanish and changed to the front of the car. You heard him and Frankie exchange a few words, still in Spanish, and Santiago took one sip of Frankie’s coffee before leaning back, almost immediately falling asleep once he had put his seatbelt on. You sat in his seat in the middle row, Reyna’s car seat across the small aisle to your left.

During the exchange, Reyna woke. You hadn’t known her mother, so you had no idea what she’d inherited from her, but to you, Reyna looked like a spitting image of the baby pictures of her father. You lifted her out of her car seat and put her in your lap while you got situated in your seat. She gurgled and started to cry, but when she realized she was in your lap, she calmed, cooing and laying her head over your heart.

You smiled, holding her close and humming to the radio. Reyna gurgled softly, falling asleep against your chest. “Aw, Frankie, your daughter has trapped me.”

Frankie glanced back before pulling out and laughed. “She loves you more than she loves me, I swear.”

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” you said, patting Reyna’s back and feeling your own eyes droop. “Reyna, baby, you’re putting me to sleep here.”

“Just accept it,” Frankie said, eyes on the road. “I swear she’s magic like that.”

You smiled, kissing Reyna’s soft brown curls. “I used to hear a simple song,” you sang softly along with the radio. “That was until you came along. You took my broken melody, and now I hear a symphony.”

Unbeknownst to you, in the front seat, Frankie was smiling, glancing back at you and Reyna, watching your eyes close as you succumbed to sleep, not even managing to finish the song before you succeeding in not only keeping Reyna asleep but putting yourself to sleep as well. He knew it wasn’t safe for Reyna to sleep in your lap in the car, and he knew that in a few minutes, he’d have to stop to take her from your arms, but for now, he left her to sleep where she wanted, finishing the song softly when he realized you could not.

“And now I hear, a symphony.”

A/N: Hey guys, Dewey here. This series is going to be different from my other ones because I will eventually run out of locations for these dorks. So, if you have any locations you really want the gang to visit, like small attractions, big attractions, weird small town stuff, of just something you think would make a good road trip stop, comment it! I would love to send these guys on the wildest trip I can, so help me out and send them somewhere super awesome.

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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lyssismagical · 3 years

Text

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @fancyxparker @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #michelle jones #mjpeter #spideychelle #if you want #platonic or romantic idc #irondad and spiderson #irondad fic #spiderman #iron man #tw mental illness #tw depression #tw university #lmao i feel like i need to include that just in case other people don't even want to hear about it anymore #tw dissociation

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Reset: Jay Walker x Reader

-inspired by my own hardships, as nearly all my writing has been

-we all know Jay is smart asf and a deep thinker. He may seem dumb sometimes, but he's really a nerd at heart and that's why I love him.

Summary: You're tired of life, playing hero, everything. It hurts to keep going and you're falling apart, but you can't stop. Jay is there to cheer you up.

A sigh escaped your lips and your shoulders slumped as you rolled out of bed. Midday naps were supposed to make you feel energised, not tired and achy from sleeping in uncomfortable positions. It was hard to imagine being able to leave your room, much less make your way through the monastery for a late lunch.

Today was your day off. No training. No chores (it was Lloyd'd turn). And no running atound saving the day (unless someone called). You wanted to lay back down and cuddle close into your warm sheets again, but your head hurt from sleeping too much.

The door creaked open. Jay peeked his head in, allowing a bright smile to cross his face. "Had a nice nap?" You rubbed the gunk out of your eyes and smoothed any kinks in your hair. "Not really," you replied with a yawn. "My head hurts." Jay pushed the door wide and made his way across the room. It closed behind him with a soft click. The bed dipped as he settled by your side, affectionately bringing you close to his chest.

"Do you want some water? Or tea?" He ran his cool hands through your hair, gently untangling the tight knots. "You know what, I'll go get some." He began to stand but you firmly caught his wrist and pulled him back down. "Stay." you quietly said. "Please." Jay settled and leaned back against the headboard. You stayed like that for a few moments, with Jay running his hands theough your hair and you leaning against his chest.

"You know," Jay began, "if somerhing's wrong, you can tell me right? I promise I won't tell anyone." A light laugh escaped your lips and it could have been like a symphony. "It's not that bad Jay." He dropped his hand with a troubled frown. You blinked, lazily meeting his electric gaze. "What?"

"You're doing it again." he noted.

"Doing what?"

"Lying that you're okay."

You mimicked his frown and flopped down on the bed, intertwining your fingers with his. "I'm just...tired. That's all." Jay shook his head. He flopped down next to you, shifting his weight onto his side so he could clearly see your face. "What's making you so tired (Y/n)?"

You shrugged as best as you could while lying on your side. "A lot." That simple phrase held more weight than you thought it would. It reverberated, leaving the room in complete silence. You began to wonder if Jay would be mad, or freak out like he used to do when you both were younger. He was cute like that, always joking, always talking at the speed of light...

Time changed you both. Of course, Jay still smiled and joked, but he wasn't the same Jay you first met. The weight on his shoulders was as much as yours. It kept his mind from wandering like it used to, and maybe that was because if it did, old memories no one wanted would rise from the grave.

You wondered what it would have been like if you both were normal teenagers, free from the weight of this realm on your shoulders. Even if you didn't want to see it, you had changed too. It was harder to keep a smile on your lips, tougher to joke about the little things, and almost impossible to sleep with an empty head.

You were tired, not only of the weight you carried, but of all the things you knew you wouldn't have.

All the things you knew you couldn't have.

Those thoughts made you feel numb. You wrapped an arm around Jay, pulling him closer like you would a teddy bear.

"What would it be like to...to be normal?" you quietly mused. Jay thought for a moment in pire silence, knitting his brows together and humming as if it'd make the answer come faster. The silence refused wear thin.

"I don't know," he finally said. "But I'm not sure I'd want to be normal."

"Why?"

"We're all passing down legacies that've been around for centuries." he said thoughtfully. "I like to think of us as protectors of that power. If we don't keep it safe, then wouldn't we have another villain on our hands? I don't know about you, but I am done with evil people." You smile a little, appreciating the lightness in his voice. "That's true."

"And if we were normal, we'd have to go to school. Then we'd have to figure out college, and student debt. I can be smart, but I know I'm not that smart. And beside that, who wants to be stuck to a desk all day doing paperwork? I'd take scrapes and broken bones in a heartbeat. Paperwork is an absolute no-go!"

He threw a hand up in the air as if to prove his point. "Then we'd have to think about rent, and textbooks, and don't forget about wasting away in an apartment and answering to a boss. I don't know how normal people do it."

You knew he was right. Last time you all had to live in Ninjago City, it was straight-up a disaster. Having the monastery and the Bounty was a huge blessing. There was no rent to pay and absolutely no worries about going to work everyday. Here, you could see the mountains, the birds, and smell fresh air. It wasn't possible to have such luxuries in the city.

"You're right." you agreed. Jay raised a brow. "But?"

You sighed. "Sometimes it's tiring. It...it feels weird when we don't have any crime to fight. It gives me so much time to think, but then I start to wonder about what could have been better. Someone's always getting hurt, someone's always going missing, and I won't say any names, but it's worrisome. It's tiring and..."

Jay met your gaze. "You know, my dad used to tell me this when I wasn't feeling my best. He said that sometimes it's good to sit down and breathe. He called it 'resetting' and I think that's something you need to do." Jay pursed his lips together. You didn't need to be telepathic to know he was thinking hard. "Jay--"

"Stay here, I'm going to get something." You wanted to tell him you didn't need anything, but how could you say no to that cute face of his? Jay sprinted out of the room, leaving the door ajar as you sat up in bed. A few moments later, he came back with paper facial masks and iced tea. The glasses clicked as he set the tray down by your bed, the liquid swaying with the floating pieces of ice.

"I bought these masks for you. Nya said you like this brand, but since there's two, I'm going to do it with you." There was a bright smile on his face as he ripped open one of the packages. You peered up at him. "What kind is it?"

"This one's aloe and," he held the other one up, "this one's honey. Which one do you want?" You scanned the packages, weighing out the options before choosing (your choice).

It was nice to sit back and enjoy a cup of iced tea, much less alone with Jay. The soft bed seemed to blanket you like a cloud. Warm...bouncy...

You closed your eyes. It was nice and quiet, save for the occasional joke Jay threw out. But it wasn't like you minded. It was, after all, part of his charm.

"Feeling better?" Jay suddenly said. You nodded and took a sip of your tea. "Yes. Much better."

"What a shocking revelation." You shared a laugh together. It was short, yet sweet, warm, and filled with love. You pecked his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you more."

#ninjago jay #lego ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago x reader #i'm so sorry #but i'm on mobile #hope u enjoy #plz reblog

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boonki · 3 years

Text

falling in love in a-one, two, three

also found on ao3 here

Obi-wan is grateful that he’s able to blame the flush of his cheeks on the wine cradled in his hand when Anakin strolls in through the grand entrance. The crowd parts for him naturally, his azure silk top with puffy, long sleeves and tight-fitting black pants allowing him to fit in amongst the senators and royals, the force creating the tiniest golden shimmer around the edges of Anakin’s honeyed curls. Anakin lifts his head to scan the crowd, a note of recognition passing through his features when he locks eyes with Obi-wan. He looks ethereal, a sight to behold--

“Come here often?” Anakin teases, lifting an eyebrow at Obi-wan, who is undoubtedly staring at him, blushing at him, even. He’s had far too much wine.

Obi-wan blinks hard, the lovely image of Anakin shattered entirely, and purses his lips, shooting the man a withering glare. “The symphony? Why, yes, I do love coming here in all my copious free time. I frequent the symphony hall in between naps and walks in the park.”

“It’d be a great place for a date, too. You should invite Ventress next time.”

Obi-wan raises an eyebrow. “Yes,” he hums, “maybe the music will quell her homicidal tendencies.”

Anakin snorts at his sarcasm, and their attention shifts to skimming the crowd, cataloging each and every face mingling in the swarm of people.

The council had sent them on a diplomatic mission to steer a neutral planet into siding with the Republic. Separatist forces are growing stronger day by day; no planet has the privilege of remaining passive if the Republic is to win the war. However, before anyone could edge around the topic of politics and war, the Queen had insisted on inviting them to a symphony, followed by a ball to celebrate the Republic’s successes in the war so far. The festivities seem frivolous to Obi-wan, and a waste of time, but citizens do need joy, semblances of normalcy to cling to in the midst of dread, he supposes.

The chimes signaling the beginning of the symphony ring out, loud and heavy, and Obi-wan and Anakin regard the ceiling, noting the noise.

“Time to find our seats, it seems.” Obi-wan murmurs, letting his hand fall into the small of Anakin’s back as he guides them to the right entryway, trying to ignore the firm muscles barely concealed underneath the impractically thin top. An usher stands at the entrance, scanning the tickets as guests filter in.

“You still have our tickets, master?” Anakin holds a hand out, and Obi-wan, a little too tipsy for his own good, almost grabs it with his own before realizing Anakin is asking for his ticket. Force, what is in this wine? Obi-wan rifles through his pants pocket and procures their matching set, handing one to his former padawan. They are seated side by side, so it doesn’t really matter which one he took. The usher barely gives them any thought, grabbing their tickets, checking them in, and handing them back without so much as a peek at their faces.

And then they are inside, and Obi-wan feels the surge of emotion flood through Anakin at the sight of the symphony hall. The ceiling is painted with scenes of the planet’s most impressive wonders and heroes, gold flakes etched into the perimeters of the creature's faces. A massive chandelier hangs brilliantly from the center of it all, illuminating the hall with a golden, hazy, twinkling light, casting dim shadows into the corners of the room. Despite its massive size, the place feels intimate, cozy. Obi-wan already wants to pull at his collar, unused to wearing anything but Jedi robes or armor, let alone elegant civilian clothing. But the mission had necessitated delicacy, and the natives of the planet respect elegance, refinery, so it was important to the mission that they look the part. Anakin had laughed when the council had passed that along: “You’re a perfect fit for this, master. Maybe you can brew them a cup of tea while we’re there.”

Obi-wan nudges Anakin’s hip, using his chin to signal that they’re holding up the flow of traffic. Anakin takes one last look around the room before gliding forward, checking his ticket one more time for the location of their seats. The lights darken not too long after they’re seated, the tranquil hum of conversation fading in anticipation. Obi-wan allows a glimpse over at Anakin, who is pretending very hard not to be excited. But Obi-wan knows him, can see the way Anakin’s eyes are a little too wide, his back a little too tense, his presence in their bond a little too electric.

A quirk of a smile catches his lips. Anakin has never been to a symphony before, has he?

A piano starts out in soothing, rhythmic undulations, washing over the crowd in whispers of comfort, followed shortly by the deep tones of a cello. Obi-wan closes his eyes, soaks in the feeling of peace, contentment, stillness. For the most part, where it counts, he is a good Jedi, proficient in wrangling in his emotions and being a lifeline of calm to those around him. But there are two things that grabbed his heart, sunk their greedy little fingers in and never let go: Anakin, and music. There is no one alive that knows this about him, for he could never live down the embarrassment, let alone the retribution of the council. And yet, he loves.

If he had been standing, he would be swaying in time with the waltz.

He leans into Anakin’s brain a bit, tugging on their bond, just enough to snag glimpses into his emotions, but not so much that Anakin would be disturbed by his presence. A wave of contentment, heartache, longing, love, washes over him. In surprise, Obi-wan cracks an eye open at him, peeking at his face.

Anakin is completely smitten. His fingers tap in time to the music on his thighs, a light smile ghosting his features, eyebrows furrowed ever so, his gaze cemented on the group of musicians on stage. Obi-wan fights the urge to brush his curls behind his ear, instead gulping down the rest of his wine in one go. Anakin does take note of him then, shooting his master a bemused look, which Obi-wan counters with a jump in his eyebrows and a daring smirk, feeling blood rise into his cheeks at their eye contact.

Siths hells, they are never going to make it through the night.

Correction: he is never going to make it through the night.

Obi-wan isn’t quite sure what’s gotten into him, but he isn’t going to fight the warmth that seeps through his bones, the pervasive happiness that comes so rarely these days. ( Love? Maybe.)

As they settle back into the music, Obi-wan’s mind wanders. He supposes it makes sense that Anakin never had the chance to come to a symphony before, or hear real music like this live, given that the music at the temple was rather limited and generally missions had them frequenting dive bars and nightclubs. It’s a shame, Obi-wan thinks, Anakin deserves so much more than he had been given in life, and Obi-wan is suddenly filled with tender softness for the moment laid out in front of him. He wishes he could bring the man more happiness like this in the day to day grueling onslaught of war. Obi-wan wonders how often he’ll be able to sneak them away to events like this before the younger man, and the council, catches on. He’ll need a good excuse. Thankfully, half-truths and omissions are his specialty.

He tips his head back, letting his presence in the force extend out around him, and treads through all the input: the crest and fall of the music, the wine churning in his stomach, Anakin’s warm glow through their bond, his own thumping heart, threatening to beat in time with the music and fall more deeply in love with the man in a-one, two, three. Anakin’s proximity in his mind is like a fire, incandescent, and Obi-wan leans into it, catching fleeting images of Anakin’s thoughts: a shuffling of people, quick steps, a warm body pressed against his. Anakin wants to dance. Flashes of auburn, sturdy hands and strong arms, crinkly grey-blue eyes-- oh. Anakin wants to dance with him.

No one could pay Obi-wan to release his emotions into the force right now. They’re all his to cherish.

__________

“No one ever taught you how to waltz? Maybe I did fail you, my dear padawan.” He says this with fake disappointment, mirth cushioning the words.

“Oh right, dance lessons in between ‘saber training and sorting the libraries, the usual.”

They’re lingering by the drinks, another glass of wine somehow finding its way into Obi-wan’s hands. In theory, they’re surveying the crowd again, taking mental note of who is dancing with who, what intel could be floating around the room. In practice, they are patiently waiting to join the throng of moving people, looking to find an excuse to join in on the festivities for a moment or two. Obi-wan had suggested Anakin find a pretty senator to charm and Anakin had mumbled something about not actually knowing the steps into the rim of his glass.

“Fighting is another form of dance, and dancing can be another form of fighting. Never underestimate the usefulness of a good dance in politics.”

“Alright master, next time we see Grievous I’ll offer my hand to him for a waltz.”

This earns a genuine bark of laughter from Obi-wan, surprising them both, and Anakin doesn’t even try to hide his smug grin. Obi-wan turns to him, setting his wine down on the nearest table and offering a hand out to the man. “Come on, then. It’s not hard.”

Anakin’s eyes widen almost comically, gawking at Obi-wan like he had just suggested they fly blindfolded through an asteroid field. “Here? Right now?” He looks around self-consciously.

“It’s a good time as any, and if we’re to go on future missions like this, I will not have you kark up negotiations just because no one ever taught you how to dance. Now, come.”

“Language, master.”

He levels Anakin with a stern glare, giving a come-hither motion with his hands, and watches with pure amusement as the man steps closer. Anakin holds his hands out in front of him, glancing over at the crowd to find an example of what he should be doing, where they should go. Obi-wan takes his mech-hand and rests it on his lower back, grabbing the other hand in his right and holding it up in the air, letting his left settle on the firm corner of Anakin’s shoulder.

They’re awfully close.

“So I’m going to step backwards with my left and you step forward with your right-- yes, just so-- and then it’s just like walking, right, left, right, and then I’ll step backwards with my right and you-- precisely .” They both chuckle when Anakin manages to step on his feet a few times, but always a quick learner, he picks up the steps after a few minutes of practice. However, Anakin’s upper body is terribly rigid and all wrong.

“You’re learning a dance, Anakin, not combat training, loosen up.” He leans into Anakin’s space, a giant shit-eating grin on his face. He can tell how bewildered Anakin is. Obi-wan doesn’t know if it’s truly the wine or the fact that he’s dancing with a man that he should not be in love with. “Try to woo me.”

Anakin stills, gaping at him, the faintest blush tinging his cheeks, barely visible on his naturally tan face. For once, he doesn’t have a clever comeback. “I have been.”

“Not with this posture, you haven’t been. Listen, slide your hand down a little farther and hold your shoulders up, and for forcesake, Anakin, relax .”

Anakin ignores him. “Trying to woo you, I mean.” He swallows the spit in his mouth, still staring at Obi-wan’s face, not moving his hands or shoulders at all.

Everything in Obi-wan tenses, unsure of the seriousness of his statement, and he steps away from Anakin, aware of the residual heat lingering where Anakin’s hands had been. The entire room narrows down to the press of the floor into his feet, the way the belt of his pants sits a little too tight, the scratchy hem of his shirt collar, the faint prickle of sweat on his brow.

He looks so eager, so intent, and Obi-wan knows he’s being truthful. What that means for the both of them is a different matter entirely; there will be the council to deal with, the war, force, this is hardly the time to start a relationship, especially with another Jedi- Anakin, of all people. Obi-wan forces the anxiety down, neatly shutting it away in a box to be dealt with later. With it gone, hope, optimism, euphoria blooms in his heart, a whole bouquet of joy growing into a meadow in the hollow of his chest.

With more courage than he thought he had, he offers out a hand.

“As have I,” he says. “Care to dance?”

Obi-wan has seen the man take on armies, a Sith, the council’s discipline with a grin on his face- the Hero With No Fear - but right now, Anakin is staring at the hand hovering in the air between them with the fear of death in his eyes.

Anakin takes his hand gingerly, leads them out onto the floor near the edge of the dancers, and Obi-wan gazes at where their hands meet, following the line up Anakin’s arm to his strong shoulders, the back of his neck, his dark curls. He’s quite caught off guard when Anakin turns to meet him, drawing him in close and waiting a beat before pulling Obi-wan into the rhythm of the waltz.

Everything is a blur, and Obi-wan feels like he’s floating, feet moving in time to the cadence of his own heart. Distantly, he catches brilliantly colored swatches of fabric, open smiles, and rare pearls of genuine laughter from the crowd swirling around him. There’s no time to think about how he and Anakin must look and what will get back to the council, so Obi-wan simply moves, letting himself be washed in the radiance of his dance partner, soaking in the happiness bleeding across their bond. Emotion swells in his chest as he glides, and he finds himself inching closer to Anakin with each step, until they’re flushed together, chest to chest.

They move together as if they are one person, drifting across the floor seamlessly. This is better than joint meditation, better than sparring, better than fighting off enemies back to back, because Anakin is so close to him, and Obi-wan can study the grooves of his face, the gleam in his eyes, the fullness of his lips. They’re both a little out of breath from the quick steps of the dance, and Anakin’s cheeks are tinted red.

He looks so beautiful like this.

When the song ends and the crowd slows to a stop, Obi-wan holds onto Anakin, who is staring down at him, something tender in his eyes.

“Have you been properly wooed, master?” Anakin asks gently, teasing.

Instead of answering, Obi-wan surprises them both and leans in to press a chaste kiss on Anakin’s lips, pulling away before Anakin has time to respond.

“I’m not sure I have sufficient data on the matter. Another dance would surely help me decide if you’ve done it properly or not.” Obi-wan schools a fake look of contemplation on his face, and if his hands were free he’d be running fingers across his beard.

Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Six years of trying and you still need another dance.”

“You’ve had feelings for me for six years?”

“Pining for six years and another dance, unfortunately.”

“Careful not to step on my toes then during this next one then, we can always make it seven years and counting.”

“ Master.”

“I’m only kidding.” Obi-wan tightens his grip on Anakin, leaning into him a little bit, reveling in the way Anakin’s eyes dip down to his mouth and back. “I promise I’ve been properly wooed .”

Anakin’s smile is blinding.

#obikin #obi-wan/Anakin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #idiots in love #obi-wan is drunk #anakin learns to dance #boonki writes

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

There is something inexplicable about thunderstorms that calm him.

Maybe it is the sound of heavy raindrops hitting against the metal roof on the house or against the window panes. Maybe it is the flashes of lightning that brighten the darkened sky or the rolls of thunder that echo and create a natural symphony that is felt down in his very soul. When nestled at home and when the storm isn’t frighteningly bad, he enjoys sitting in his bedroom with the curtains pulled back and the blinds raised, simply watching and enjoying how still everything else seems while nature erupts in anger and sadness and all of the emotions in between.

Beyond that, the rain is often perfect napping weather, and really, what more can a man ask for than a Saturday afternoon storm that will ease him into a much-needed sleep?

The kitchen light above him flickers ever so slightly, and Killian stands from his stool where he was reading a novel to walk to the other side of the granite countertop to turn on the coffee maker. He can feel sleep dragging at the corner of his eyes, and while he would like the nap he was just thinking of, coffee is calling his name more right now. As it percolates, he thumbs through his phone, checking his emails. It’s a bloody Saturday. Why the hell is he being forwarded emails for a client that is not his? William has got to stop doing this. His clients are not Killian’s, and Killian doesn’t work on weekends unless absolutely necessary.

“If you pinch those brows any tighter, you’re going to get wrinkles, Jones.”

“You say that like I don’t already have wrinkles, love.”

Emma shrugs and walks further into the kitchen, moving around him to open the fridge. She’s in a pair of her small, black running shorts and a t-shirt he believes they got from a concert they went to on their first anniversary. It’s faded and stretched out, and it could not be more well-loved. Her own brows pinch as she looks inside the fridge, but he dares not make a quip about her getting wrinkles. “Do we not have cheese?”

“If you didn’t buy it, we don’t have it.”

“Well, damn.” She slams the door closed, and he sees that even without the cheese she was looking for, she’s come out with a yogurt. “I swear I put it on the shopping list. Did you not see that?”

“It’s was your week to do the grocery run.”

“It was not.”

“It most definitely was.”

Emma groans and rips open the yogurt before grabbing a spoon out of the drawer to eat it with. “I may be remembering something about it being my week, but I’ve obviously screwed the pooch on that. I’ll go tomorrow…wait, tomorrow is Sunday, which means it’s your week so – ”

The coffee maker beeps behind him, and he turns to pour himself some into a mug. “We could always try something revolutionary like going together.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t be getting all crazy like that.”

“I’ll try to hold it in. You want a cup?”

“That’s like asking if I want my lungs to still be able to get air. Of course I want some.”

Killian nods and grabs another mug out of the cabinet for Emma’s coffee. He walks toward the fridge for her creamer, pouring it in until the coffee is nearly white itself, and then he hands it to her as she sits on the edge of the counter. She nods her head in thanks, and all he can really think about is how her coffee is not going to mix well with her yogurt.

Emma has never cared about things like that, though.

“Remind me that I need to get tampons when we go to the store tomorrow.”

“Why do you always say for me to remind you instead of putting a reminder on your phone?”

“Because you’re more efficient than a reminder on my phone.”

Another roll of thunder cracks outside, the house shaking the slightest bit, and Killian decides to take his cup and walk into the living room, settling down on the couch with the curtains open so he can watch the storm while Netflix plays on the television. He’s got absolutely no clue what it’s on. Emma must have started some new show, and he’s sure he will somehow get sucked into it the more she watches it. That’s what always happens, even if he misses a few episodes and Emma has to give him a verbal run-through because she can’t be arsed to go back to the episodes he hasn’t seen.

Emma follows him into the living room, her coffee cup in hand, and she settles down on the other side of the couch, pulling the soft knit blanket from the corner to wrap it around herself as she watches the TV.

The afternoon passes slowly, neither of them bothering to do much of anything. At one point, Liam calls, and Killian chats with him for awhile, Emma adding in her own few words, but other than that, the two of them do nothing but watch television – he now knows that it is Poldark and Emma fancies the actor in the show – and eat the leftover Chinese food they ordered for dinner Thursday night.

“This is not going to go well,” Killian points out as Poldark lies to his business partner, a string of lies that are obviously adding up to a dramatic season finale.

“Hush. Don’t ruin it.”

“How am I ruining it? I feel like anybody with eyes would bloody know that it’s not going to go well.”

“Yeah, but – ”

And then there’s an elongated beep as the power gets out and the room goes nearly black with the overhead lights going out and the television glow no longer illuminating the room.

“Well shit.”

“Maybe it’ll come back on soon. Sometimes it flickers.”

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles, tossing the blanket off of her, “maybe. But maybe – ” there’s another crash of thunder and lightning, and Emma jumps – “maybe it’s a bad thunderstorm, and I’m about to get sweaty as hell because we don’t have air-conditioning. Plus, I really need to see what happens in my show.”

“Do you want me to call the power company and see if it’s a neighborhood shortage?”

“No, no. I’ll just wait it out.”

When the waiting ends up being an hour, Killian ends up calling. It is indeed a neighborhood power shortage, and they’re sending a truck as soon as they can. The storm is apparently bad enough that they’re backed up all across the city, so Killian takes that as them not having any power until the morning at the earliest. So he goes to the storage closet and pulls out a myriad of tea candles and the lighter before illuminating the kitchen and the living room with candles and a few battery-powered lanterns. There’s nothing he can do about the heat, however, since he cannot open any windows without letting the storm inside, so he strips off his t-shirt, folding it and putting it over the back of the couch until he goes upstairs to put it in the hamper.

He sees Emma eyeing him now. She’s not very subtle about it with the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and he has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

“You’re totally using the lack of air-conditioning as a reason to go shirtless,” she laughs.

“This is my home. I theoretically pay half the bills. I can walk around whenever I want without a shirt.”

“Eh, I feel like there are definitely some exceptions to that.”

Killian smiles and shrugs before reaching into the pocket of his joggers for his phone. He thumbs through the apps until he gets to his Spotify, hits one of his playlists, and the soothing sound of Bing Crosby plays through the speakers. Emma always groans when he plays older, softer music, but deep down, he knows that she likes it.

Holding out his hand, Killian stretches his lips into a wide smile while Emma eyes him from the couch.

“What are you doing?” she laughs.

“We have to pass the time. I’m asking you to dance with me.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she says, even as she leans forward.

“You like dancing, Swan,” he insists, “especially when you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

With a shake of her head, Emma reaches her hand out until it’s firmly grasped in his and he’s pulling her off the couch. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her waist. Occasionally, he’ll take her hand in his and twirl her out and then bring her back in, making her tilt her head back with laughter until he can capture that laughter with his mouth, kissing her until both of them are left wanting for breath.

“We should do this when the kids are home,” Emma murmurs into his shoulder where her head is now resting, cheek soft as ever against his skin. “I think it would really gross them out.”

“What? Their father without a shirt and their mum in nothing but her knickers? I don’t know why that would scar them at all? They seem to always love any public displays of affection that we show.”

“I’m not in my knickers,” she teases.

“But you could be,” Killian automatically bites back, and he can feel Emma’s smile in his skin.

“Last week Liam asked me if I could stop kissing you at his games.”

“Did he really?”

“Mhm. He said some of his teammates were, and I’m just quoting him here ‘obsessing over how hot is mom is.’ I swear he nearly threw up when he had to say it.”

Killian chuckles and runs his hand up the smooth skin of Emma’s back before moving his fingers in soothing circles, the ones he knows that she likes. “I mean, I personally think that you are the most attractive woman on the planet, but if my teammates were talking about my mum, I’d be disgusted too. For a myriad of reasons.”

“You have teammates?”

“I’m hypothetically pretending I’m fourteen and in Liam’s position.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs. “Well, yeah, it’s really kind of creepy, but we apparently have to make ourselves unattractive and stand six feet away from each other at his baseball games.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Shut up.” She pulls back from his shoulder so he can see the bright, beautiful green eyes that he fell in love with eighteen years ago. “I say that we sneak behind the bleachers and make out. You know, embarrass him even more.”

“That’s evil, love.”

“Yeah, well, one day he’ll be in the same position of embarrassing his kids. I think it’s a right of passage. He and Amelia will understand one day.”

“I hope so.” Emma presses up on her toes a glides her lips over his, soft and sweet, a contrast to the heat that is beginning to burn in his belly. “But for now, maybe we give them a pass some days and keep to embarrassing them at home.”

“I like that idea.”

Killian kisses Emma until he knows that she’s dizzy, heat burning in both of their bellies and gooseflesh rising on his skin, and while earlier, he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was take a nap, now all he can do is think about laying his wife down on the sofa and kissing every inch of her skin with rain pounding down around them and sweat slicking against his back. The house is sweltering, the summer heat and humidity seeping through its very bones, but he and Emma have no issue with it as Killian’s tongue runs along her inner thigh and then closer to the center still.

When they were younger, this was a constant, insatiable thing. Their nights and mornings and weekends would be filled with this, with not being able to get enough of each other in between living life, and while there are times when Killian misses that, he knows that his life is so much more full now. And, really, he can never get enough of Emma, even if that means something a little different now.

He has been with her for nearly twenty years, and he has seen several different versions of her. From closed off and hurting to open and loving, from a fearless woman who would do anything she wanted to a fearful mother who wasn’t sure if she could be a mother at the same time that he wasn’t sure that he could be a father, hurts and scars terrifying them and holding them still in the moment of life when two lines showed up. And the fear has never really changed, but much like Emma, it’s developed and twisted and become adaptable to their lives now. Growing with her has been his greatest honor, and Killian would not change it for the world.

Emma is who she was always meant to be, and it’s a beauty of a sight to behold.

Emma gasps as her hips buck up, and he presses his arm down across her stomach to hold her still against the cushions. She curses like a sailor then, and he smiles into her before continuing to give her the pleasure she so deserves. It goes on like that for what feels both like ages and not enough time, the heat continuing to accumulate and the thunder consistently rolling, and when Killian slides into Emma in warm stretch of heat, he doesn’t focus on any of the world around them.

He only focuses on her and the smile on her face and the way that she makes a joke that has his stomach aching in a whole new way.

It’s slow and lazy, and they could spend the rest of the evening like this if they wanted to, but there are such things as aching backs and tired bodies, so eventually they do find themselves curled on the couch, breaths heavy and bodies exhausted, and the two of them really should shower. This lack of air-conditioning is a killer.

“If I melt into the couch right now, can you clean me up before the kids get home from my parents’ tomorrow?”

Killian chuckles into Emma’s back and presses his lips there. “Of course. Though, I think if we wanted to scar them, this would be the ultimate way.”

Emma snickers and rolls away from him, standing from the couch and reaching down to grab her t-shirt to pull it back on. It immediately clings to her skin with sweat, and she groans, her lips downturned before they tick up into a smirk. “Do you want to go take a shower and then go to bed? I think if we hurry, we can fall asleep before ten.”

“Sounds like the dream, love.”

Everything with her is.

#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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boundbycronus · 3 years

Text

This is the fic for the Obey Me Secret Santa, @eleanorthearchangel is my recipient, I hope you enjoy and that you have a great holiday.

The avatar of sloth couldn't help being sleepy, especially on a day like this where the sound of rain pittered and pattered against the roof of the House of Lamentation, a peaceful symphony that made it impossible to stay awake. Added to the peaceful sounds of rain, the warmth of his favorite pillow beneath his head and tucked beneath his arms like a pet, along with the scent of lavender, a gift from one of his older brothers, this was the absolute best way for Belphegor to spend an afternoon. Perhaps with one major revision: if he was in his own room. The attic was comfortable, not that Belphegor had noticed that Lucifer had tried to make it as homey as possible, but it wasn't the same as napping on his own bed.

More than his own bed, however, he missed his brothers. Lucifer had confiscated his DDD, so he couldn't even talk to Beel or Satan. Hell, he wouldn't even mind Levi or Asmo's rambling on about things he didn't care for. Just something to break up the monotony of his days. He at least knew by the clock in the room how much time had passed.

"When I get out-"

"You won't get out," Lucifer held up his hand. "I will not allow you to commit treason and jeopardize Diavolo's plans, Belphegor."

That was several days ago, but Belphegor still had dreams about it- at least was if he wasn't dreaming of taking a nap while Beelzebub offered the brothers food so they would all calm down and just enjoy being a family. How was it that Beelzebub hadn't found him yet? Hadn't realized how near his brother, his twin was? What magic had Lucifer cast that made it impossible for any of them to find him?

With each passing moment, Belphegor's hatred and anger made his blood boil. Even napping was becoming boring - something he never would have thought to be possible - but even still it was something he could do to pass the time.

"Hey, Belphie!"

Belphegor looked up at the distant, though familiar voice, of his sister as she ran towards him and gave him a tight hug.

"Hey," he rustled her hair. "Did Dat let you go early?"

"Nope! I finished up with my training awhile ago, but you were over here sleeping! I want to go see the humans again!"

The angel shook his head with a grin; of course Lilith wanted to visit the human world again, he knew there was a specific human she wanted to see.

"You're too young for dating," he bumped her shoulder playfully.

"I am not!" Lilith puffed up her cheeks. "I'm well over a thousand years old!"

"Mhm, you're the baby of the family."

"Shhh! That's Luke, not me!"

Her laughter was music to his ears, but like every dream, it was short lived. The sweet, bell like laughs became cries of pain and overwhelming sadness as his comrades, his sisters and brothers, dropped like flies on the battlefield as their wings and weapons clashed. The pain in his chest as his breath failed him when he saw that she was falling, just out of his reach. His own wings, injured and useless, made it impossible to make it to Lilith in time, when he saw Beelzebub, clad in battle worn armor, flying close to them

"Lilith," Belphegor had thought at the time, closing his eyes. "Save Lilith."

Until his body was suddenly hit by the cold hard chestplate of his twin; he had been rescued, but he could see her falling below.

He jolted awake from the nightmare, eyes burning though he had not been crying. He glanced around the room as he often did these days hoping that he would find Beelzebub nearby, but of course he was still in the attic. With a groan, he pushed himself up to sit and stare at the books that Lucifer had provided- of course the eldest would have given him textbooks and homework instead of something actually enjoyable. Throwing them wouldn't do anything besides earning him yet another long winded lecture from Lucifer; the last thing Belphegor needed was for Lucifer to taunt him further about his imprisonment. Despite that though, a burning sensation was running through his arms and urging him to knock them over.

Usually, Lucifer was here by now to try and keep the avatar of sloth company, though he wasn't very good at that. He simply made Belphegor even more upset about the current events. Even so, the avatar of pride was never late. With a grunt, Belphegor stretched his arms way above his head before he thought he heard the second born, Mammon. It didn't sound as though he was in the house, but he was very clearly upset or annoyed at something.

"Probably just mad Lucifer forced him to pay a bill or something," he said aloud. His own voice felt unnatural to him now. He had been refusing to speak to Lucifer, and he had been determined that he absolutely would not start talking to himself like some kind of crazy demon; yet, here he was.

"May as well...see what he's mad about," he told himself, hating how much he was craving hearing a voice, even if it was his own.

Walking towards the small window in the attic, floorboard creaking slightly with each step. Despite knowing that Lucifer had likely placed some type of magic on the room so the others wouldn't hear anything, he felt that heart stopping anxiety fill his chest, desperate for his twin to hear the sounds from the room and save him. But as he drew closer, his focus began to shift as he heard another voice speaking to Mammon, one he had not heard in tens of thousands of years. She appeared human in this moment, except she had this shine to her that could only be from the Celestial Realm- hers was one he was certain he would never see again. Yet her short stature, the pink rose toned locks, and the sound of her voice made Belphegor's heart stop. So, Datenshi was the student being sent to live with his brothers?

A smirk began to paint his features as he felt a sense of calm flow over him, the gears in his mind turning as he considered ways he might manipulate her. If Lucifer thought Belphegor was going to sit idly by for an entire year when this incredible opportunity just fell into his lap, he was stupid and wrong.

This was certainly going to be a fun game.

#obey me secret santa #obey me belphegor

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nonsensicalobsessions · 4 years

Text

Aiden’s Story

from Symphony without Strings

It was bad.

They had all been sitting down to breakfast when Tom’s phone rang. That in itself wasn’t alarming. It was the way Tom’s face froze, his eyes quickly flitting to Liam, Aiden, and Liam again as he gracefully rose from the table to take the phone in the privacy of his room...and the determined, bright voice Tom assumed as he shut the door...

He knew it was bad, the way Tom tore out of the small apartment they were all sharing close to Sloan Kettering, before he’d managed a bit of breakfast, before finishing his tea, still sitting, steaming in his cup at the kitchen table.

Liam looked at the abandoned cup and plate, and his lip wobbled. “Papa left awf’lly quick, Aiden. Do you think Mama’s gotten really really sick again? Like she was in London? Because she was doin’ so good yesterday...she was, Aiden, she was...!”

Aiden crouched down so he could look into Liam’s eyes. “Your Mama was doing very well yesterday, wasn’t she? So let’s hold onto that. She was so happy, we haven't seen her that happy in a long time. She was able to play for us, and with us, and your Papa made sure she didn’t wear herself out, so it isn’t anything like that,” he was quick to add. “Maybe she does need some extra cuddle time, just like Papa said.”

And if it was worse than that, Aiden would make sure he began to take yesterday’s memories and cement them in the little boy’s mind, so he would have them forever. Because that is what Aiden did. He made sure that things lasted, whether they were memories, or decisions.

He was the one that kept things together. And he knew it.

His role began the day he found Merry crumpled on the floor outside the ladies’ toilets in the music building at university. He didn’t realize it at the time, but when he held her hand and said that he reckoned that he would step in and act as the baby’s father, as well as Merry’s mother and friends, it was the first step on the journey that was leading him to this apartment on this nippy autumn morning in New York.

He helped her keep her health together and keep going to school during a difficult pregnancy. Cheered her and supported her as she gave birth a hell of a lot faster than she wanted to, without any pain relief, even as she wept and cried out for some Tom guy right when the contractions were at their worst. Yelled when she accepted her Doctorate degree...and looked at her right when Liam was a year old and instinctively knew something was very, very wrong with his dear friend, and all but forced her to see a doctor. When she began chemotherapy less than a week later, he immediately stepped in and began caring for an energetic and bright toddler who was confused as to where his beloved “MarMar” was, as well as who this strange man who had burst into his life unexpectedly and seemed like he was planning on staying for awhile.

Despite his own mother’s vehement and violent disagreement, Aiden doggedly found employment close to Merry. He knew he was in it for the long haul, however long that haul may be. He was terrified it wasn’t going to be long, at all. Merry’s father passed, and Merry’s mother made it clear she didn’t care if Merry did, as well. Merry’s grandmother, bless her soul, had also passed, hence the animosity...but that was another story. At least Merry was now financially independent, and would not have to worry about her hospital bills, or Liam’s care. Merry immediately set up a trust for her son, and hired Aiden to be Liam’s tutor, caretaker, and guardian, with a much better salary and benefits package than he could ever hope to get with his experience and degree in any other environment. He was promptly installed in their household, and was a part of the family.

He was also Merry’s power of attorney for everything: financial, medical, parental...

In short, he held her and Liam’s lives in his hands.

He and Merry held many emotional conversations about this. Especially about her living will and desire for final arrangements as her health continued to deteriorate.

For all Merry was desperately reaching for any and all possible experimental treatments to prolong her life, hoping for the miracle that would prolong her life with her son, she was also practical in other regards.

“Aiden, I refuse to be kept alive by artificial means should it become clear it is my time to go. It would be unfair on you and Liam. I beg of you, if or when my quality of life is so poor I am no longer living but existing, please...let me go, my friend. If I get to a point where my mind is gone, let the body go as well...don’t have my son be tethered to a shell...”

The two of them sat with an attorney and crafted highly specific Living Will and Advance Directive Orders, in the event that Merry would be unconscious or otherwise unable to specify when she would want medical care and therapies to cease. Aiden was her designated medical healthcare proxy. There was a very rigorous set of definitions of what was considered necessary care and what was not, and when she would be considered past hope. For example, should she begin to experience multiple organ failure, all life support would be withdrawn, and she would be allowed to pass away in peace. “Life support” itself was given a set of definitions—unnecessary and invasive tubes removed, as well as machinery. A strict set of “do not resuscitate” orders were drafted. “Multiple organ failure” was considered three major organ systems vital to life shutting down.

Merry was driven, and exhaustive. Aiden was silently impressed. She was always very precise in her approach to her beloved music, which is partly why she was such a brilliant student...but it was the way she put so much of her soul into the whole of the piece that made her such a phenomenal musician. For this, Merry was the student: laser-focused, leaving nothing to chance. All she wanted was to be able to die with a modicum of dignity, in as little pain as possible, while keeping her wits about her as long as she could.

She had her funeral planned and all the money ready pay for the entire affair—a grim set of work, but she was determined that should it be necessary, no one be burdened at the moment of crisis. She kept insisting that there be as little fuss as possible. Aiden had to keep gently reminding her how funerals were for the living, and as she would be past caring what would happen, she should let him be a little more involved with these decisions. Merry was unaware of the DVD he had created that her son would dub The Secret Mama Movie that would, if necessary, serve in part as a video and retrospective at a memorial service. Merry and Aiden spent one never to be forgotten weekend going through photos and videos together, getting drunk on wine, tears, and laughter, putting together things Merry said she would like used for the service, and then it was all put away in a box that Aiden prayed fervently he would never have to open. It was placed in the very back of his closet, on the top shelf, in the very back corner. It was placed in an old Amazon delivery box, sealed with silver duct tape, but only one layer. Aiden figured if he had to open it, he wouldn’t want to have to fight with it very hard. On it, he simply wrote, “DO NOT OPEN UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.”

Aiden hand-carried the box from Baltimore to New York to London back to New York, along with the thumb drive and thin sheaf of paperwork. He never made a move without the papers and thumb drive, and while the box didn’t technically need to go to London with him, he wasn’t sure how the trip was going to go, and thought it might be best to have it with him. Just in case.

Now he was pacing as Liam happily played with a friend, waiting to hear from Tom to see how Merry was faring. He had received a confirmation that Merry was battling what they had feared, cytokine release syndrome. He and Tom spoke briefly during Liam’s nap, to coordinate how they would handle talking to Liam, as well as having someone be with Merry as often as possible. Aiden knew Tom would want someone with Merry 24/7, but it would be difficult. Liam would not take well to Tom disappearing from his life, nor should he. Tom would not want to distress Liam in that manner in any case.

So, Aiden would make sure Merry was not alone when Tom was back to make sure Liam could have his time with his beloved Papa. Not that this was a hardship. He did not want Merry to be alone either. If she was improving, that was one thing. If she was holding her own, but critical, no one would wish for her to awake but semiconscious, with no one to help ground her.

If she was deteriorating...

It would be a cold day in hell before Aiden would have Merry slip away from everyone unnoticed. No, by the gods.

It took a little bit of doing, but Aiden worked it out with a neighbor who was happy to sit with Liam while Aiden headed to the hospital to meet with Tom, have a quick exchange of information on both sides on how the day went on both sides of the hospital walls, and Tom would head back to the apartment for the night, and Aiden would remain with Merry.

The first night was difficult. Aiden had met Dr. Kelly Florence before, been introduced as her medical proxy, power of attorney, and keeper of her Advance Directive Orders and Living Will papers. He had already visited her numerous times before now.

But he was not emotionally ready to see her in such poor physical condition, even though he had tried to prepare himself as much as he could, and had seen her very ill in the past. But this was different.

He spent most of the first night holding her hand, talking to her.

“Merry? It’s Aiden, love...Tom is back with Liam, and I’ll be with you tonight. You don’t have to worry about a thing, so just relax, and rest. We’ve got this in hand, Kelly has got you full of the good drugs, she caught thus in plenty of time, so just take it easy...can you squeeze my hand? Let me know you’re in there?”

Her hot, small hand was lax in his, but it was so soon. Not even twenty-four hours yet. He was sure once she’d been on the medication for twenty-four hours, she would be so much better.

She wasn’t.

The second night, Aiden was so exhausted from not having had any sleep to speak of he spent most of it in the recliner chair he had dragged to her bedside. As before, he held her hand, and began the evening by talking to her of Liam, trying to find some sign Merry was still in the fight. Tom was distraught when they had met hours ago, saying how difficult it was to get Merry to respond to anything he did or said throughout the day, and her fever was proving resistant to controls as well. Liam had been a handful on the home front, picking up on the residual tensions of the adults, and was clingy or recalcitrant by turns.

Sometime before dawn, Aiden was awoken by a soft hand, gently shaking him awake.

“Aiden? It’s Kelly. Can you wake up for me, please? I would like to speak with you...”

He sat up with a crash, and winced, immediately checking to see if the noise he created when he flailed wildly in the chair had disturbed Merry. Kelly was resting between them, and immediately set about soothing him. “Relax, Aiden. She’s still very much out of it. I wish I could have left you to sleep as well, but I wanted to speak with you...”

His eyes bleary, Aiden checked his watch. “Kelly, Tom will be here in about an hour, and you could catch both of us then, ‘n’ not have to repeat it all...you know he’s gonna ask you to go over it all again, ‘n’ then some,” he yawned.

“No, Aiden.” Her voice was sober. “This isn’t a conversation for me to have with Tom. This is a conversation for just you, and me.”

It was a testimony to how very tired Aiden was that he didn’t understand what Kelly was trying to say. “Izzit ‘cause ’m here right now?”

“No, Aiden...it’s because Merry is now beginning to approach multiple organ failure.”

Aiden’s breath caught in his throat, and his blood froze. No. No. Kelly could not, could not be saying what he just heard. His pupils dilated in shock, terror, and the first crashing wave of what promised to be a punishing, cataclysmic tsunami of grief. Merry had come so far. Her body could not be failing her now. She had come so close to getting her last chance for life, love, no, for all of it...!

“What...what exactly are you saying?” He managed through gritted teeth.

Kelly’s eyes were very red and she was unashamed of the tears welling in them. She was never a doctor to lose her compassion, even though she had to retain her objectivity to survive and function.

“The fever is so high, Aiden. Her kidneys and liver are showing signs of severe strain and have since the onset of this damned thing. Now it is becoming very hard to maintain her blood pressure and her pulse becoming erratic. She is not rousing to anything but the most painful stimuli. She is not showing signs of overt pain, Aiden. We will continue to press on as we have been. But the terms of her living will and advance directives are very clear. I know she trusts you implicitly to make the best call for her. There are no decisions to be made right now, and if there were I would strenuously urge you to wait and reflect upon them. But...and I say this to you in the strictest of confidence...she asked you to make this decision for her if need be. Not Tom. You, Aiden.” She paused. “In any case, Tom is not ready to face a decision of this magnitude. Nowhere near ready...no one is ever ready, I suppose, to say goodbye to a loved one, but Tom...”

Aiden reached out blindly, and grasped Kelly’s hand. “I know what you’re trying to say, Kelly...I even asked Merry, once, if she wished to transfer everything over to Tom, and her exact answer was, ‘Oh, God, no.’”

They sat and looked at Merry in silence.

“You need to prepare yourself, Aiden. The time may come for you to...make a final act of love for her. It will be something I know you will carry in your heart for the rest of your life, and affect the relationship you have with Merry’s son, and her son’s father. You need to be aware of what her status is.”

“She isn’t in any pain?”

“She is not, Aiden. We are constantly assessing her. I give you my personal promise I will not have her suffer. She has suffered enough.”

Aiden nodded, his throat so choked he could not speak.

Kelly wordlessly took him into her arms, and let him cry.

When Tom arrived an hour later, Kelly had left word she would speak with him later about Merry’s condition, and Aiden was in the bathroom, having just taken a quick shower. Tom failed to notice how worn Aiden looked, simply because he was so exhausted and worried himself.

“How is she? Any better? I saw Kelly’s text, I couldn’t tell if Merry was any better or worse from what she wrote,” Tom immediately began.

Aiden shook his head. “She’s the same as yesterday, Tom.”

His face showed his clear disappointment. “No better at all? I’d hoped...”

Aiden reached out and grasped his hand, and squeezed it. “I know, Tom. I know.”

Tom reached out and hissed at finding Merry’s face still so hot as he lovingly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Has she responded to anything? Have you spoken to her about Liam?”

“No, Tom...she is sleeping so soundly. I am simply letting her rest.”

Tom latched onto this idea quickly. “You’re right, you’re right, of course...she needs her rest. I won’t disturb her. I’ll simply sit and make sure she isn’t alone...”

Aiden gave Tom a quick, one-armed “man-hug” and left.

The following day, Aiden was settling Liam down for his afternoon nap, and allowed himself to check his phone—again—in the hopes of an update.

From Kelly:

Regret to inform you data indicates you are closer to having to make a decision.

With feet made of lead, he walked to his closet, and pulled out a box that had a single layer of duct tape sealing it shut, and opened it with his pocket knife. He needed to go through it all, one more time.

When he opened the sealed lid, he was surprised to find a envelope bearing a seal with Merry’s monogram on the back. “What...Merry...? This is not supposed to be in here,” he muttered, and carefully opened it. “Merry, I beg of you, I cannot take any surprises right now, woman, I can’t...”

Inside the envelope were smaller envelopes: one, her distinctive handwriting instructed, “To be read before you have to decide” and the other, “To be read after the decision has been made, and done.”

Aiden looked at Liam, sleeping peacefully not four feet from where he stood, trying desperately not to fall apart, and noiselessly left the bedroom, so he could sit in the bath with the door locked, his back against the door.

He opened the “before” letter, and saw it was dated long before he knew who Liam’s father was, but after they had settled the living will and other legal papers for her end of life wishes:

“My dearest Aiden:

“If I know you like I think I do, you are wondering how on earth I got these letters into your box after you taped it shut. To which I have to say: really, Aiden? Only ONE layer of duct tape? And here’s a hint that will serve you well in the future...ALWAYS tape the bottom shut, as well...”

Aiden grabbed the box and flipped it over, and sure enough: he could see where Merry had skillfully cut open the bottom layer of tape and covered it over again so it looked undisturbed upon a cursory glance from the top. He had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the peal of hysterical laughter that was threatening to erupt from his mouth. “Honestly, Merry...”

Her letter continued:

“I am also willing to bet you are worrying yourself into a misery, trying to decide it now is the right time, or if you should wait...what is the best thing to do? What would I want? Are you rushing? Should you get another opinion? Are there other options?

“...and worst of all...

“How are you going to look Liam in the eye and tell him someday that you made this choice?

“Well, here are the answers for you, my dearest friend, because I cannot bear to think of you in such pain:

“—if you are even looking at this letter, then yes. Yes, it is the right time. Because you love me so well, you would never even think about making this decision otherwise. What would waiting accomplish? Prolonging it another day? Two days? A week? To what purpose? If you can come up with a real answer to what waiting will accomplish, then, perhaps, yes, put it off a bit...and that is the best thing to do. But if there is no reason to wait, then there are no real other options. No other opinions. And someday, you will look at Liam in the eye, and tell him you made this decision because you loved me so well, there was no other choice to be made.

“The last night you expect me to be present, if you feel that guilt will eat you alive for the knowledge of it, spend it with me one last time, playing tunes you know that I’ve loved hearing you play so well. Then kiss me, and know I will be watching over you until we meet again, and meet we shall.

“Love never dies, Aiden. And while I may not have been able to give you the same love I have given to Tom...it is because I gave it to him first, and once given, could never be taken away. Nor would you ask me to do so, for once given, can never be taken away in the full measure. You deserve so much better than an abridged version. You deserve nothing less than the full score.

“And I do love you, Aiden Forsythe. Thank you for everything that I have written above, but most of all, thank you for having been my friend, and for this one last favor. You are, and always have been, the one who has held me up, held me together, and most importantly, held and will continue to hold my beloved son Liam as I no longer able to do so.

“Meredith Skye”

The letter fell from between his nerveless fingers. He sat, for many moments, simply breathing, for he was able to do nothing else.

His phone beeped, and he looked at it.

From Tom:

Aiden, I don’t...she won’t open her eyes to look at me anymore. Kelly says she isn’t hurting, but...she doesn’t respond to my words or touch, and not even the incessant shrieking warnings from these machines jar her, and you know how she hates those sounds...was she this out of it last night?

Aiden responded:

Tom, I am bringing my violin to play for her tonight. I think that will help her, a lot.

Tom texted back immediately, much heartened by this idea. He was certain Merry would respond to that.

Aiden rose, found his violin, and began tuning it.

He arrived at Merry’s bedside, carrying his violin and a vast amount of coffee. Tom was seated at Merry’s side, his head resting on the bed next to where he had clasped her small hand in his. Merry’s skin was pale, almost grey, whereas Tom’s was flushed.

“Tom?”

Tom awoke with a start, and his head turned towards Merry’s face without even thinking about it. Seeing she had not moved, he sat up slowly, and began to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, Aiden...yeah, Kelly said they could shut those alarms down, there’s a central bank...no sense in giving both of us headaches and shredded nerves...so I guess I fell asleep.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I brought a lot of coffee, help yourself, I know for a fact it’s better than what’s available in the floor machines...”

“Ah, no, thank you. I hope once I get Liam settled for the night to get some sleep myself. If I have a load of caffeine, I won’t rest a wink.”

Both men conveniently ignored the fact that neither would be able to truly get a decent’s night rest.

“Liam getting to sleep for you alright then?”

“Not too badly,” Tom lied. He had been holding Liam in his arms until his son fell asleep, which was wildly contrary to his normal good sleep habits. As to who was being comforted by this new arrangement, it was difficult to say. Once Liam was well and truly enjoying the sleep of an exhausted preschooler, only then did Tom get up and leave his son’s room.

“Good, good...”

Tom looked wistfully at Merry. Aiden could tell he did not wish to leave her side. Did he know, somehow? Did he have a sense, an intuition his beloved Mozart was slipping further and further away from him?

“Liam is waiting for you, Papa Bear,” Aiden prompted him gently. “He can’t wait to tell you all about his walk this morning...the keyword to take away from the adventure is what Merry doesn’t know...” he stopped. He had been about to joke, in the camaraderie of men against women, nay, fathers and uncles and suchlike against mothers, that what Merry did not know would not hurt her, but found he could not continue. Abruptly, he turned away to look out the window. “He had an exciting morning,” he concluded.

This time, it was Tom who gave him the one-armed hug, before departing.

“Merry, your son is fine,” explained Aiden, before he turned around to look at her on the bed again. “It’s a well known fact boys need to eat at least a pound of dirt in order to grow. Scientific truth. Look it up.”

“I can vouch for you.”

He turned his head to see Kelly leaning against the doorframe, a tired smile on her face.

“Kelly, do you ever go home?”

“Oh, Aiden, didn’t you know? Home is where the heart is, and my heart is here.” She approached him carefully. “I saw Tom leave. I have not given him fact and figures, and he does not know to ask for them. He asks me general questions and I give him general answers. I have not lied nor misled him...but I have not been as painfully honest as I could have been, either. I will give him the unvarnished truth tomorrow...I am holding hope, for one more night. If it is foolish of me, then he at least has one more night of it...and if it is not, then why disturb him? He is already in torment.”

Aiden nodded mechanically. “Is there any hope, Kelly, or...?”

She held her hands up. “Aiden, I am flooding her poor body with everything I think she can withstand at this point...because there is nothing left to lose.”

Again, he nodded, and opened his case.

“Bless you, you sweet darling,” Kelly sighed. “Are you going to play for her, then?”

“I will keep it down,” Aiden promised, as he began to apply rosin to his bow.

“I’m not worried about the noise.”

“Then Kelly, I plan on playing for her all night through...a concert for one.”

The doctor’s eyes softened. “Of course. I should have realized. I will make sure you have the privacy you require.”

Aiden played...

Old favorites. Folk tunes, such as “Ashokan Farewell and “Scarborough Faire.” Older melodies, as Merry always had a soft place in her heart for Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge over Troubled Waters,” “April Come She Will.” The newer tunes that he always gave her a hard time about, but now had tears coursing down his face, as he played them as tenderly as with as much love as his fingers could convey, like “The Prayer” and “You Raise Me Up.” But it wasn’t until he started pieces from her beloved Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit films that he felt his heart truly begin to break. She loved them so much, but could barely play or listen to them after she broke with Tom, she had confided to him. She had played them for Tom...and now, Aiden was determined to play them all for her, as many as he could, even as his fingers protested as fiercely as his heart did. It had been years since he played so many pieces at once. But by the gods, he was going to play them for her...May It Be. Into the West. In Dreams. The Last Goodbye...as many as he could manage.

The tears were streaming down his face as he bowed The Last Goodbye when the door came open, and Kelly came in, waving strips of paper at him. He dropped his bow, upset. She’d promised him privacy. This was his chance to give something back to Merry, something she’d given to Tom and not enjoyed since, and now he was giving it back to her, and now it was spoiled...

Kelly was...throwing her arms around him, before he could even set the violin down. “Aiden! Aiden, you bloody miracle worker! Ever since you started playing, her numbers started improving, I swear to God, it’s like a miracle! You need to see these numbers, it’s...her blood pressure, pulse, her temperature, you need to see these numbers, Aiden...!”

“She’s showing signs of improvement, then?” Aiden was refusing to believe.

“Aiden, I’m saying the only decision you have to worry about for the immediate future is what you’re going to play for an encore.”

His face broke into such a wide smile, it is a wonder it didn’t split his face into pieces. “Oh, that,” he said. “Piece of cake.”

First he hugged Kelly until she squealed.

Then he broke into a gentle but spirited version of “Considering Hobbits” as dawn began to break across the horizon...

...and he saw Merry stir a bit, and give the slightest of dream smiles.

He bent down, and kissed her forehead. It was still hot. She still looked quite ill.

But he knew she was still in there.

“Love you, Skye,” he whispered fiercely. “There and back again.”

When Tom came later, he found Aiden running his hands under cold water.

“Aiden, your fingers!” Tom whispered, aghast. “What did you do, man, play all night long?”

“She seemed to like it,” Aiden replied nonchalantly.

“Did she wake up? Say anything?” Tom asked eagerly.

“Nooo...but I thought I saw her smile,” Aiden answered honestly.

Tom never did learn how close he came to losing his Mozart over those few days. Aiden never mentioned to Merry how he played his heart out that night, thinking it might be his last chance to be alone with her—knowing full well if Kelly was to break the news as they knew it to Tom the following day, it would take a bomb to dislodge him from her side, even if it wasn’t her last night drawing breath.

A year later, however, there was a changing of the guard. Aiden was formally relieved of his duties as Merry’s medical proxy, not that there was the overwhelming need there had been before, as Merry’s condition had improved drastically from Dr. Kelly Florence’s treatment, and she had never looked back. Merry refused to say the word “remission,” in fact she would become very touchy and cross if the word was used in front of her, but the truth was she had not had a reoccurrence of leukemia in over a year at this point.

Aiden, Tom, Liam, and Merry were living comfortably together, an odd family arrangement by any definition, but it worked and suited them perfectly. For awhile Merry needed to stay close to Sloan Kettering, but as time passed, she was no longer required to come in as often, and she was obviously growing stronger and healthier. Tom would come and go as his jobs required it, and it was during one of his absences Aiden approached Merry with the idea of having Tom become her proxy, instead.

“Merry, I am not saying I no longer wish to be your voice,” he earnestly explained to her. “But think about it. I am aware...well aware...of how very close you and Tom are,” he teased, for the sheer joy of watching her face color as he made his voice more suggestive and leered at her like a caricature villain.

“Stop it,” she muttered. “You came back very early, and Liam was at a sleepover...”

Aiden playfully bumped her shoulder and continued, “Just think about it. I will be your proxy until the end of time if you wish. However, as the situation has changed, I wanted to let you know I was open to the idea if you wanted to rethink things. I believe Tom could handle things better, since you’re now...”

“Don’t say it,” Merry interrupted him, pointing her finger at him.

He held his hands up in the air. “What I was going to say, Madam, was you are now enjoying a state of health where if such a decision had to be made, it would either come as a complete shock to everyone involved, because you had your head locked in some musical clouds and stepped in front of a bus, or else we had a long lead time, and we were all starting from the beginning again...in short, like anyone else in the world. No corporate knowledge required.”

Merry sat back on the sofa they were sharing, looking at him for a long moment. Liam was asleep, and she and Aiden had started watching a movie that had lost their interest about half an hour into the viewing. She tugged at her hair, a short curl that barely covered her ear, a nervous habit she had acquired now that her hair regrowth was just long enough begin to annoy her instead of be a source of wonder.

Aiden batted her hand away. “Knock it off, Shirley Temple.”

Merry growled at him, “I’ll show you Shirley Temple...” and tackled him.

This was new, this aspect of their relationship. Aiden had never known feisty Merry. Playful Merry. Non-pregnant, non-puking Merry.

Healthy Merry.

As they wrestled and battled for dominance with throw pillows, they were all while mindful to keep their laughing and smack-talking volume to a dull roar lest they awaken Liam and then it would be hours before they get him back to sleep. Aiden easily pinned Merry under two sofa cushions and smugly declared, “I win, Shirley,” and leaned back gently on her as she threatened him with dire retribution if he did not release her immediately...and “stop calling me Shirley!”

As Aiden allowed her to fight her way out, he reflected it was a good thing he had never met this Merry, because if he had, he would have fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with her, and it would have been soul-rendingly painful when he realized she could have never seen him as anything more than a friend.

But then, as he observed her crawl and snarl, he realized something even more profound: he never could have met this Merry, as she had not yet come into being. This Merry was the result of everything that had come before, and he was just happy to be a part of her life now, in whatever capacity, whatever role he could be.

Merry settled the cushions back to their proper places, and ignored Aiden’s irritating smirk. For all that she had been laughing and growling and playing the game, her mind had never thinking about the proposition Aiden had posed to her.

Aiden had a definite pattern of behavior: he would think often bring up a serious topic he was uncomfortable with, and then deliberately clown around afterwards to lighten his tension and the general atmosphere.

As he had just done.

But why would this make him so uncomfortable? It shouldn’t, for all the reasons he just brought up. If anything, he should be happy. Relieved. Merry knew, logically, she was doing so much better. She knew her relationship with Tom was rock-solid. She knew that Aiden was also comfortable and confident with his place in her life, as well.

“Aiden,” she said, pinning him with her best “Mama” stare, “fetch me the box.”

“Box?” Aiden parried, immediately beginning to sweat. “What box?”

“Oh, don’t even, Aiden. The box in your closet with the duct tape all the way in the upper right hand corner.”

Aiden’s sweat was cold now. “How do you even know about...”

“Because that is where you’ve always kept it, Aiden. It’s at the very top in the corner, so no one can see it, and it’s on the right because it’s your dominant hand. So go.”

Confused but still feeling caught, Aiden did as “Mama” told him, because none of the males in the home was immune to the Mama-voice.

Once she had it in her lap, Merry flipped the box over and pried up the tape. She did not worry about being neat, and the tape came up leaving strips of the cardboard hanging from it. She seemed to take fiendish glee in the messy job. She did not want this to be a clandestine affair. She wanted this box to be as visibly opened as possible.

Aiden opened, then closed his mouth again as he realized what was about to happen.

Merry went straight for her envelope...and found it open...and found one missing.

“Oh, Aiden,” she whispered compassionately. “So, it was like that, then.”

She set the box aside, and opened her arms. For all that Aiden was taller, he still curled into her hug to rest his head on her shoulder. “When?” was all she asked.

All Aiden would say was, “Honey, the cytokine release...you were very sick. Kelly...she never told Tom how bad you were. But she did tell me, as your medical proxy, that you were...it was bad, Merry.”

Merry was very still, looking ahead of her at nothing, her eyes fixated at some point in the distance that only she could see. “Did you violate any of the directives?”

“No! I never had to make any decisions at all. But, we came close, Meredith Skye. Closer than I want to think about. When Kelly told me that you were getting to the limits stated in your living will, I opened the box. I wanted to read through everything one last time, to make absolutely sure I knew exactly what you wanted. Imagine my surprise when I found this envelope waiting for me that I hadn’t put in the box to being with...”

Merry’s face smiled, very slowly. “Did it help?”

“Gods, yes...Merry, I don’t think I could have faced everything without it. As it turned out, you began to improve that very night, but...the letter made a huge difference.”

Merry squeezed her dear friend tightly. “I am glad, for the obvious reasons, that you didn’t have to make any decisions...but also because you didn’t have to carry that burden. I am so sorry, Aiden. So, so sorry to have put you through that.” Aiden could feel her tears, as they fell into his hair.

“Don’t cry, Merry,” he pulled himself up, and wiped her face. “I am honored to have been the one who has been there for you. The letter you wrote me...I’ve read it until I can recite it, and I will never lose it. And I am not leaving you now. I will still always be here for you. You understand me, don’t you? You get me...right?”

Merry looked into Aiden’s anxious eyes, the same anxious eyes she looked up into almost a decade ago, in the hallway of the music building, outside the women’s bathroom...the same eyes that were terrified but resolute when her water broke, terrified but tender when she had to give that horrible last push to bring Aiden into the world, determined when he all but shoved her into a car to get her to a doctor’s appointment, unwavering when they signed the sheaf of papers in from of them...unhesitating when they boarded a flight for London.

“Yes, Aiden, I get you,” she answered.

They sat in silence for awhile, not sure what to say next, before Merry looked at Aiden, and grinned.

“You’ve always been the one to ‘get me,’ and now it’s your turn.”

With that cryptic statement, she stood and kissed his head, and told him goodnight.

Once she was in bed, she received her goodnight video chat from Tom: “All well back at home then, Merry?”

“Yes, Tom. Miss you dreadfully, and can’t wait until you are home as well. Only three more sleeps!”

Tom looked at his phone and laughed at her phrase, knowing well this is exactly how she phrased it with Liam earlier when he was tucked in...he hated missing bedtime/storytime with their son, but he had a shoot that couldn’t be avoided. “So, how many things is he racking up to tell me when I return?”

“Heaps,” Merry responded cheerfully, as she pulled and tugged at the blankets to get them just as she wanted. Tom sighed happily, watching her build a nest. How he adored this woman...

“We all are, come to that,” she added. “Liam has stories...and so do I. Even Aiden has stories. And we’re all going to share them.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Tom saw Merry was sleepy, so her added, “but for now, I think it’s bedtime for all little cellists. Goodnight, Mozart.”

She blew him a raspberry, and then blew him a kiss, as he laughed and ended the call.

Aiden probably wouldn’t tell the full story, but it was time he told his nonetheless, Merry decided. He needed to tell it, so he could close the book, enjoy peace in his heart with the closure, and begin to find his own story.

Tagging: @winterisakiller @ciaodarknessmyheart @villainousshakespeare @alexakeyloveloki @tinchentitri @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @theheartofpenelope @sabine-leo @wegingerangelica @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @jessiejunebug @scorpionchild81@theoneanna @blacksuitofdoom @mishaandthebrits @rjohnson1280 @ms-cellanies @noplacelikehome77 @toomanystoriessolittletime @catsladen

#aiden's story #A Symphony without Strings #Nonsensical Writes #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #look Christine I did a thing

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darkhymns-fic · 4 years

Text

Promise Me a Sweet Dance

Nobleman Lloyd only had eyes for the clumsy maid named Colette. But that just wasn't how things worked in Meltokio. Could he ever hope to get her attention anyway?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Kratos Aurion Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, Day 5: AU/Crossover day! I decided to go with a Nobleman/Maid AU I made with @frayed-symphony ! We're actually in the middle of making a mature doujin with that same concept that you can check out more here! This story takes place before the events of the doujin.

“It’s simple, my most pitiful bumpkin. What you just gotta do is sell yourself! Allow me to demonstrate.”

Zelos would always go the extra mile to save his friend from disaster. And he did so with a generous sweeping motion with his arms, flicking back his braided hair, his dark frock moving as gracefully as his body. From seemingly out of nowhere, a red rose appeared in his right hand, illuminated by the rays of the sun. Then he finished it all off with a wink. “Soon enough, the hunnies will be falling all over you!”

No response. Nothing at all.

Zelos decided to do away with his professional winking, opening both eyes instead so that he could look clearly ahead. “Yo, Lloyd!”

The garden grove just in front of Zelos’ mansion was pristine, and a bit gaudy. A perfect quiet place to invite any of the proper ladies to tea, with its expensive outdoor furniture, the tables and chairs seemingly molded out of gold, with even silken umbrella above it to shade such ladies’ soft skin from the sun – but he had sacrificed those opportunities to instead train his best friend in the art of courtship.

And there he was, head on the white table, taking advantage of that expensive shade! If it weren’t for his fine clothes, he could have easily been mistaken for the gardener himself, sleeping right on the job. “Mmph…five more..”

Zelos’ eye twitched. He threw aside the rose, peeved that no one had even been around to see him do that amazing trick! “At least don’t drool on the stuff! That’s an antique!” He paused. “I think.”

Lloyd muttered right out of his stupor, blinking into the brightness of the sun when his head left the comfortable shade. “Muh…?” He rubbed at his eyes, yawning so wide it took up half his face. “Did ya say something?”

“I was giving you a lesson for the past twenty minutes! Have you really not been paying attention?”

Zelos never knew he could be heart-broken by such a stupid face, the guy’s brown eyes so wide in its innocence. “I thought you were just telling me one of your weird stories again…So I took a nap.”

“I’m not appreciated at all by you…”

Lloyd waved away his friend’s complaints as he stood up. “I already gotta go anyway. You can tell me more about uh, all that stuff later! I’ll even drink a whole bunch of coffee to make sure I’m awake.”

Zelos sighed. “Whatever. You know, if it weren’t for your old man and those clothes, you’d just be like any other peasant boy!”

Lloyd frowned. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.” His white jacket still chafed his neck at times, and the whole outfit felt too heavy to wear on a hot summer day! The cuff links sometimes weighed down his sleeves, and the silken fabric that sat just beneath his neck could feel suffocating, especially in the humidity. What he wouldn’t give to wear some looser clothes. The only thing he liked about his jacket were the red collar strips that extended from his neck, their edges inlaid with metal clasps. It was probably the coolest part of his stuffy outfit.

Zelos sighed. “Seriously…if you told me that you were born in a log cabin out in the boonies, I wouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Why don’t you just go play out in the woods if you want to so much?”

“Sounds better than being stuck in the palace all day…”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, my young friend.” Zelos turned from Lloyd with extreme huffiness – an act that one could only achieve with practice. “Being in the company of Princess Hilda compares to nothing else…”

“I guess so if you usually just hang out with me all day.”

“I have other friends!”

This, Lloyd highly doubted. “Well, go find them! I’m leaving now!” And just as Lloyd was rushing off, ready to jump a fence or two as it beat having to politely walk through the upper streets of the city, Zelos whistled.

“Hey, hunny, didn’t forget about the party, did you?”

Lloyd froze in mid-step, the sun beating down on his thick jacket. He groaned, turning back to face Zelos. “I told you I don’t like those.”

Zelos was grinning. “Not like you have a choice, you know. All the important noble families have to be there.”

“That’s why it’s dumb.” At that, Lloyd’s frustration resurfaced, taking some of it out on the leering Zelos. “Everyone just talks down at me while I’m stuck inside that room for hours!”

“Ah, but you forget one important thing. A lot of pretty girls go to these.” The grin grew even wider, it was almost scary-looking. “This can be your big chance!”

“Ugh, they don’t pay attention to me anyway with you around.”

“Ha! I knew you were jealous. That’s why I was trying to teach you earlier! After all, picking up women is a professional art-”

“T-That’s not the point! I’m going for real this time!” And to make sure he’d stay true to his word, Lloyd used the table he had just sat on as leverage, stepping on its surface to use its height and vault over one of the fancy green hedges that lined Zelos’ garden.

“Lloyd! Don’t dirty my stuff like that! Barbaric!”

But Lloyd had been done listening, cutting through other noble’s gardens as a shortcut back home. His mind was swirling as he ran. Besides…I only want one person to pay attention to me…

Lloyd always avoided going in through the mansion from the front door. There were servants there, ready to open the door for him or take his shoes, or any other number of awkward things he didn’t want to endure. As he snuck across the lawn, crouching low to avoid any eyes, he eventually made it to his bedroom window.

The houseplants on its sill, ivy leaves reaching up for the sun, always let him know he was in the right place. The mansion was so big that he still got lost, especially from the outside where every wall looked the same. He didn’t want to make the mistake of accidentally jumping through the window of his dad’s room again.

With an energetic whoop!, Lloyd grabbed the windowsill and leaped inside with barely a thought. He at least knew what his room looked like! Kinda big, with his dresser pushed to the right wall and his bed near the back. There were also one or two wardrobes, but he only filled the second one with projects he had learned to make from a local craftsman in town. And maybe a few non-noble clothes here and there…

What he didn’t expect was to leap right into the maid who was busy cleaning up the space before him.

“Aah!”

Her cry of surprise was the only thing that warned Lloyd before he practically barreled straight into her. She had been kneeling somewhat, probably sweeping up the floor when he had just appeared. His legs wobbled as they tried to find their footing to avoid her, but then the maid stood up, apparently moving to the exact same place he had been retreating to.

“Colette!” he yelped before stumbling with her, both falling flat on the floor.

“Ow…I’m sorry.” The girl wriggled underneath the boy’s weight, her maid cap half-askew. Its ribbons were already entangling themselves into her hair as she shifted. “I messed up.”

Lloyd had to take a few seconds to get his bearings and lean up. His hands were placed against the floor, lifting his body with a groan. “Agh, how did you mess up though? I was the one that just crashed into you.”

From her position, Colette looked up with a smile. Her green maid dress was also now much more wrinkled, some of the front already covered with dust – or had that been from her dusting his room earlier? “Heh, well I was supposed to be finished with my shift today, but I took a long time cleaning things…I dropped the dustpan a few times so I had to keep re-dusting…”

“…Okay, that makes a bit more sense,” Lloyd said. He looked down at her with a grin, enjoying the sight of her smile, the way her braided hair unraveled from her cap slightly. He then noticed where his hands were, just a few inches from either side of her head.

Even then, it took him a long time to sit up, reluctant to leave her. She still smiled as he did so – maybe she had been too worried to tell him to move. “Er, anyway, I’m sorry too,” he said, standing up and reaching out a hand for her to grab.

Colette hesitated at first, then reached for it. He pulled her to her feet easily, eliciting a small giggle from her. “It’s okay, Master Lloyd. I’m fine!”

He scratched at his hair, the nervousness in his chest growing. “Just calling me Lloyd is fine…”

“Oh? But…it’s not right if I do that though, isn’t it? Or Master Kratos might get upset.”

He sighed. His dad would be a weird stickler for this stuff. “Guess so… Well, how about this? You can say all that master stuff when he’s around but when it’s only me, just call me Lloyd!”

“Hm, well if that’s your order for me to do so, then okay!”

“It-it’s not an order…” This hadn’t been the first time he had asked her to call him by his name, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He decided to give up. “Um, forget it.”

He looked again at her dress, its front red ribbons also a bit messed up because of their earlier fall together. “You know, I don’t really think my room is that dirty anyway. How come you stayed so late?” Usually Colette would leave by mid-afternoon, retreating back to the servants’ quarters of the home.

“Ah, I took a bit of time earlier feeding Noishe in the stables today.” Which meant that she had spent a lot of the time both petting and hugging the giant dog. “And also, I just wanted to give it my best! I know I haven’t been doing so well lately, so I want to prove myself!” At that, Colette stood up tall, confidence in her being. It made Lloyd smile. “Sorry, maybe this is a bit weird to tell you…”

“It’s not! I’m not your boss.” Lloyd gave a thumbs-up. “Just my dad…and uh, maybe by extension I’m supposed to be. But, just barely.” Yeah, that made sense.

She smiled back, looking brighter then he usually saw her. “Sorry, I hope Master Kratos will forgive me for last time.”

“Honestly, he should have dodged pretty easily from that pie you dropped onto his hair,” Lloyd recalled, remembering one time at dinner when Colette had tried serving the dessert. “And he wasn’t even mad, so don’t worry!” Even if his dad never really reacted to much in general…

It had just been one month since Colette had started working for the Aurion household, but she wasn’t like any other person he had known. She was flighty, she dropped her fair share of dishes, and she seemed like she would be better at handling weapons instead of a broom (remembering quite clearly when Colette had nearly socked him with the broom handle one time on accident – it had been strong enough to punch a hole in the wall). She was just different.

And he liked her a lot. He wished he could just tell her. Yet he wondered if there would be any point to it if she didn’t like him back. At least not how I like her.

Colette glanced toward the window Lloyd had jumped through earlier and stiffened. “Ah! It is getting late…I should go.” She bowed before him, then stopped in mid-bow to do a curtsy instead. That only made her feet confused somehow, for she began to wobble before she was done in either action. “Ah!”

Lloyd caught her just in time, one hand on her waist, while the other grasped her hand. “Careful! You don’t need to do that either for me.”

Colette looked shy then, glancing to the far-right wall. “If that’s what you wish…”

“That’s not-” he started, then stopped. His hand rubbed her waist, then let her go when he realized what he was doing. “Sorry. Um, see you tomorrow, Colette.”

Trying to right up her cap again, Colette turned to Lloyd. Her smile seemed more natural this time, less practiced. “Yeah…see you tomorrow… Master Lloyd.”

When she left his room then, shutting the big door behind her, Lloyd let out a long breath. He really, really liked her.

And he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

Lloyd had completely forgotten all about the party until his father handed him the invitation, the paper dangling in front of his face.

“Your friend Zelos handed this to our doorman,” Kratos intoned. His neat and prim frock of white and grey looked too classy sometimes, along with his purple neckerchief. Though staring at that always made Lloyd’s neck itch. “Seems as if you’ve been avoiding these lately.”

“Eh, you can throw that away.” Lloyd leaned back up from his chair, seated at his antique desk that was already riddled with scratches and marks. Any other noble would have gasped at the sight of such needless damage. (Lloyd just liked to draw and he sometimes pressed the pen too hard on the table). He was dressed in much easier clothes this time, a black thread-worn shirt and rolled up trousers while his noble outfit was thrown into the corner somewhere.

“It’s prudent for you to fulfill your duties,” Kratos continued, still holding the envelope high. “You have responsibilities.”

“For what? Watching Zelos get drunk again?” Lloyd turned away. “I’m good.”

“I’m not asking you, Lloyd.” And with that, Kratos let the envelope fall onto the desk. “You need to understand that you cannot always do as you please.”

“Argh, but what’s the point of these stupid high-class parties?” he argued. That’s all he and Kratos usually did. Ever since his mother passed, it had been hard to find much common ground with his dad since. “I thought you didn’t like those either!”

Kratos closed his eyes, shook his head. “It’s important to make yourself seen as reliable – relevant, even. The world does not cater to you for shutting yourself away.”

“I know that! And that’s not what I’m doing!” Lloyd turned away, refusing to look at either father or envelope. “I’m not like any of them. All they to do is talk down on me because of…”

Kratos’ eyes shifted. Lloyd recognized that look. A small warning. “Lloyd.”

But instead, Lloyd shook his head “Ugh, but you should get that! After all those people would say about mom! Why should we deal with all their stupid rules?” He stopped, held his breath. Dammit.

He didn’t hear Kratos say anything at all at first. He thought he’d hear a reprimand, a hard shouting of his name. Lloyd knew he had messed up by mentioning his mother, but when he turned back, Kratos was already walking off.

“I have to be at the palace tonight. Do what you will. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” He turned down the hall, disappearing behind a corner, leaving the door open to Lloyd’s room.

Lloyd felt guilty and ashamed, as if he were a child. It was just frustrating. Everything was frustrating. But how could Lloyd stand there as everyone made blunt remarks about his mother being a commoner? How could he stand there and hear them talk so badly about both his parents like this? About himself?

The envelope stayed on his desk. He could just imagine Zelos’ smirking face as he handed it over. Ugh. Maybe he’s just trying to help…Maybe.

But why couldn’t he be just a normal person? Not this fancy stuff. Not this whole section of rules for a people that didn’t even care about anyone other than themselves. Why did he have to be a part of them?

Because if he didn’t then maybe… Colette would look at me. He blinked, wondering at himself. How…how did his thoughts end up there?

It was because she wasn’t working at the household today. Apparently, she had been called somewhere else. He didn’t realize how badly he missed her until now.

Taking the envelope in hand, Lloyd left his chair, reaching for his clothes. Maybe he did need to go. At least to get Colette out of his head.

Was this how Dad felt? he thought. Maybe one day, he could ask.

“Lloyd!! Bud! Hunny! You made it!” Zelos vaulted forward to grab Lloyd in a very touchy bear-hug. “The barbarian finally leaves his cave to join civilization.”

“Gah, get off me!” Lloyd shouted, shoving the guy away. A flock of women, dressed in high-finery, were standing just outside the great doors of the party hall, laughing at the scene before them. The building was reserved for such gatherings, looking close to a min-castle even to Lloyd’s view. Already he could hear the music drifting in from indoors. The same harpsichords, the same pianos and violins, all of them playing the same tune as last time…

“First off, rude,” Zelos said, wiping away the front of his coat. “Second, are you not happy to see me? Come on, let me show you the sights! And by that, I mean these lovely girls right here~”

Lloyd flushed slightly, which only made the girls laugh more. Half of them wore curls, and held fans to their faces. But something about their laughter also felt so biting. “I-I’m fine, I’m just here to stay for like a few minutes-”

“Aw, don’t be shy!” Then Zelos widened his eyes, as if hit by a lobbed Exsphere to the head. “Ohh, or are you trying to sneak off to meet someone? That’s it, isn’t it?”

Lloyd was now very, very lost to Zelos’ ramblings. “Huh? I never said-”

“Very proud of you! But first, you gotta at least drink up. Believe me, it makes the afterparties that much sweeter~” And with that same leering grin that made Lloyd’s discomfort grow, Zelos grabbed the boy’s arm, bringing him inside the building.

These places were always too big, always too full of people. Chandeliers were hanging above Lloyd’s, their lights so bright it made Lloyd blink. Much of the middle hall was wide, open for those who would dance with one another to the boring music, their high heels clacking against the polished stone. There were also dining tables in another corner of the grand room, laden with platters of turkey, beef stew, gravy and some other foods that Lloyd couldn’t pronounce too well.

This was probably the only thing Lloyd would like about a party, and he would have gone straight for the food if his route to escape wasn’t cut off. “H-Hey!” he exclaimed, his voice soon drowned out by the people milling around him. They were all dressed in clothes decked out in golden trims or frills, sewn with pearls or ribbons. Material as soft as velvet brushed against him way too closely when people introduced themselves to him, or Zelos mostly.

“A pleasure to see you! I’m the Earl of Sybak, and I wanted to speak with your family on possible expansion…

“I am of the Altamira Resort, speaking for Lord Regal Bryant! We have a few trading opportunities we would like to speak about with your father…

“Master Zelos! How cute of you to bring your busboy! You even dressed him up!”

Zelos was laughing so obnoxiously, Lloyd’s ears were hurting. “I confess, I do have a heart of gold. One must in these trying times.”

Lloyd tried to wait for an opportunity when Zelos and everyone else would stop noticing him. This eventually happened after about a half hour, and when he felt the time roll by, Lloyd carefully stepped away. Perhaps a few of the nobles tapped his shoulder, thinking he was just a more immaculate waiter that forgot his serving platter, but even these people, he eventually brushed off.

Well, at least there was food! Yet once he broke free from Zelos’ crowd, he nearly bumped into someone else on the way out.

“Uh, sorry!” he said reflexively, then took a moment to see who it was exactly.

Wearing small glasses perched onto a hook-shaped nose, the strange noble held a wine goblet in hand, swishing around the liquid as he spared a glance at Lloyd. He was strange because he has a weird smile, unlike Lloyd would usually see in people. “In a bit of rush are we?”

Beady eyes blinked behind those glasses. A wrinkle formed in the man’s forehead. “Ah, I recognize that family crest. Of the Aurion Household?”

Lloyd didn’t know who this person was, but his high-pitched voice wasn’t doing his ears any favors. “Er, yeah? Sorry, do I know you?”

A laugh, one that seemed piercing, yet no one around them both turned to look. Maybe this guy was a regular to these parties. “Oh, I’m just a humble man. Lord Rodyle. I once worked with your father many years back. Different times back then.”

Lloyd knew he wasn’t exactly the brightest, but he caught that particular word. “Worked?” he repeated back.

The man smiled, but there was nothing kind about it. “Of course, ever since that embarrassing incident, Lord Kratos has rarely spoken to us. Perhaps I cannot blame him.” A pause, just to make that strange smile on his face ever stranger. “All men have their weaknesses.

“What…what are you talking about?” Lloyd asked, knowing that to be a mistake.

The man called Rodyle hummed pensively, until he turned to the right, gesturing to someone. “Ah, just who I was looking for. You know more about the Aurions, don’t you? I’m afraid my memory is a bit rusty, hehe.”

Another man moved through the crowd, just past Zelos’ own bunch. This noble had eyes so dark they seemed to absorb whatever light passed through. His grey hair was slicked back neatly, with not even a stray lock out of place.

“Ah, that name… A name that’s fallen into disgrace.” The man turned to face Lloyd and whatever he had thought about Rodyle being unkind, it felt nothing compared to the feeling he got from this person instead. “And you are the offspring?”

Offspring? What the hell?

“…I have a name,” Lloyd said, voice low. “Give me yours and I’ll give you mine.”

The man chuckled, not nearly as piercing as his friend, but it slid through the air to settle inside Lloyd’s ears, like a serpent. “Amusing. But I suppose I must remember my manners. I am Lord Kvar, of the Asgard District. I happen to know this matter quite personally…and I know your name already, Lloyd Aurion.” He smirked.

Lloyd tried to not let the man’s voice get to him, especially as he addressed him that way. Even over a decade later, Lloyd could never help how the last name just…never fit him.

“Is there something you want from me?” he asked, even though his tone got just as low.

Kvar smirked, noticing it. “It just fascinates me. Ever since that one incident, I suppose it’s safe to say any business between our region and the Aurion holdings are null and void. I hold no more hopes on waiting around for the man to come to his senses.”

Lloyd was not liking where this was going. Zelos was still too busy talking with his hunnies to even notice that his friend was no longer standing next to him.

“But when a nobleman of his ranking goes for a lowly subject from my region, and does not even have the honor of giving me compensation, then I have the right to be a little peeved.”

“Oh, so true,” spoke Rodyle, sipping his wine pleasantly.

“And since that woman worked for me, it was only necessary I make sure to keep my reputation intact. She was quite willful for one of common birth, but that still did not save her from such frail, poor health.”

Lloyd clenched his fists. He had been so young when his mother became sick, but he remembered still. She had needed medicine, but the medicine had been locked in shipment in another part of the country, and once it could finally get through customs-

“It takes quite a bit of paperwork to get such valuable treatment. And with having such a busy schedule, I just simply could not find the time. The few clerical errors, I admit, did not make this easy, but important matters cannot be stopped for a lowly strumpet-”

“Shut up!” Lloyd shouted, then pushed this Kvar creep away from him. “Don’t you dare mock my mom!”

“Ghastly!” spoke Rodyle, one hand on Kvar’s shoulder, still smirking. “Is this how children are taught nowadays?”

“More like it runs in the family,” Kvar straightened, eyes narrowed. “That woman was the exact same way.”

Lloyd reached for his shirt collar, gripping it tight. “I said shut up!”

“Lloyd! What the hell are you doing?” He felt another arm grip his shoulder, making him loosen his hold on Kvar. Of course Zelos notices now. “Calm down!”

“Oh yes, take this boy away,” Rodyle sneered. “He just assaulted us after a friendly chat!”

Lloyd gripped his fists, marched towards both men. “I’ll show you friendly, you bastard-”

“Hey, enough!” Zelos pulled him back again, then smiled at the crowd that was slowly gathering. Even the music had stopped momentarily. “Just had one cup too many, nothing new here! Back to the festivities!”

“I didn’t even drink anything!” Lloyd argued, but Zelos was gripping his shoulder so tightly that it hurt. He moved him away from the crowd, neared to the back wall with its tall windows.

“Hey, I just saved face for you. You trying to ruin everything?” Zelos spoke in a whisper. “What’s your problem?”

“Those-” Lloyd gestured towards the direction of the men who seemed to have vanished. He saw other people instead; one man with unruly red hair and arms as thick as stairway banister, and a woman in high-heels that was with him, her eyes painted with dark kohl, an azure mink wrapped around her shoulders. They also briefly looked at him before turning away. “Wherever they are, those guys just started talking crap about dad and…” And are the reason mom is… He shook his head. “I didn’t ask you to help me anyway!”

Zelos sighed. “Hunny, you're giving me a headache.” He pushed Lloyd further towards the back of the hall. “Cool off in the kitchen. Have a couple of cookies. Just don’t mess up more than you have.”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m an idiot?” Lloyd said through another shove.

“Because you’re acting like one.” Any hint of the laid-back bachelor left Zelos’ voice. “Kitchen. Now.”

With that, Zelos patted his back then walked back to the main hall. Lloyd could already hear his loud voice greeting everyone again and apologizing for the interruption.

I’m always an idiot, aren’t I? Lloyd thought venomously. What did it matter anyway? I’ve never belonged here. Seeing a door ahead of him, he didn’t care where it actually led to. He reached for it, pushing inward. He just wanted to escape this suffocating party. This was so stupid…Why did I bother…

Then he heard a familiar yelp of surprise. “Aaah!”

Lloyd blinked, already moving forward with the door, unable to stop his momentum. “Colette?!”

This time though, there was a kitchen counter nearby, one stacked with an array of cakes, pies and other confectionary. The maid, Colette, leaned against it and caught herself. Lloyd did the same, though he was in front of Colette, hands reaching to grip the counter as he did so, leaning over her.

“Uh…” Lloyd blanked out, wondering what was happening suddenly.

“Lloyd!” She shook her head. “Sorry, I mean Master Lloyd! Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way…”

“You don’t need to call me- I mean, it’s not your-” He shook his own head in turn, still confused. “Agh, never mind. What are you doing here?”

“Oh…well, I’m working here for tonight.” She giggled. Lloyd noticed a few patches of flour on her cheeks, and some on the front of her chest too. “I was helping with some of the baking…and I was going to serve it too…”

“Wait, that’s why you’re not at home?” he asked. He finally had the sense to stop locking her against the counter and leaned back, hands slightly raised. “That’s cool… I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, only for fruit pies and cakes,” she said happily. “They’re my favorite so I learned how to make those. Everything else I just sort of burn, hehe.” She clasped her hands together, fiddling with her flour-stained fingers. “How come you’re here, too?”

Lloyd looked away in embarrassment, his voice getting stuck in his voice. “Dad said I had to… But I think I just messed up things instead.” He sighed. “I’ve never fit in with these people. I should have just stayed home.”

Colette looked at him silently, still fiddling with her fingers. He mentally kicked himself. Now he was just making her uncomfortable. “Sorry, um, I won’t get in your way so I’ll just-”

“I think it was right, what you did,” she said, raising her head to him. “What those men said. About your mother… That was wrong of them.” She flushed, nervousness moving through her hands again. “I’m sorry.”

Lloyd stared. He wasn’t even sure what to say. But he tried to anyway to not let the silence stretch on. “Uh, th-that’s okay. But wait…I was like half the room away and the room is huge. How did you hear us?” He’d get it if she just heard him shouting but the rest…

“Ah, I just have good hearing. Like, really, really good!” She stood on her tiptoes, proud of her ability. “At least when I focus on it. I heard them speak awful things… I know people who’ve worked for them before, and they’re…very bad. Like, there’s this man named Remiel who I briefly served and-” She flushed again, bowing apologetically to Lloyd. “I’m sorry! I shouldn't have said that.”

“No, don’t worry! You’re right, they were total jerks!” Lloyd grinned, and soon Colette was grinning back, moved by his reassurances. “I think I was still pretty stupid for trying to punch them…but man, I wished I could have.”

“Maybe one day you’ll be able to!” Colette said in full support.

“Uh, yeah sure! If you think I can!” That was so nice. No one had ever cheered him for punching a guy before! “Thanks, Colette!”

She nodded again, smiling, but he saw she was hesitating in something, mouth partly open before shutting herself down.

“What is it, Colette?”

“It’s just…” Another furtive glance. “I lost my mother too. Because of an accident. Um, I was too young to really remember but…just…I wanted to mention…”

Lloyd's first thought was to reach out to take her hand, the one that she had clutched at her right arm. But he stopped himself, not wanting to seem creepy or weird. Instead he said, "It’s okay. I’m sorry about that.” He looked away to the shut door, where the party was still going, where the music was still playing.

Another nod, the silence stretching between them. Then Colette raised her head up to him, the shyness still there, even as she looked at him so plainly. "Hey...do you wanna go for a walk?"

Lloyd thought he was just hearing what he wanted to hear, and it wouldn't be exactly the first time that had happened. But Colette was looking at him earnestly, even with the flour of her baking still all over her. There was the urge to wipe that away, but still he kept his hands at his sides. It wouldn't be right, would it? For a nobleman like him to just start doing that for a maid, even if she was…

He ignored such thoughts and smiled brightly at her. "Heh, sure. Lead the way."

It wasn't the first time Lloyd had ever been out here in the backyard of the large mansion where the party was held. He had gone here a few times by himself, bored of the people, of the music, and eventually, even the food. But he had never gone outside with someone else next to him.

It was an outdoor garden, more simple than Zelos' own, and this didn't have any wooden stables like the one back home (where Noishe would sleep in), but there it did have a cobbled pathway, along with a small fountain in the middle. The falling water was the only constant sound in the stillness - if he didn't count his heart pounding between his ears.

"I like to go out and watch the stars when my shift is over," Colette said to him as they walked, her black dress shoes clicking over the stone. Lloyd saw the brightness of her white stockings displayed against the night, and hastily tried to move his gaze away. But luckily, she didn't seem to notice.

"I do too. My dad actually would talk with me about the stars a lot!" A pause afterwards, the brief warmth from that memory turning chill. "He, uh, hasn't done that since mom died."

"I'm sorry," Colette said to him, and it didn't sound just like a repeated condolence like he would expect. It sounded like she really meant it, like she always did with her apologies, as if she was the source for all of the world's troubles. “Did she also like the stars?”

“I think so…” Something about the way she asked him too made him want to talk more, especially with the stars overhead. And it seemed like she would want to hear it.

“I used to live with my mom before we moved here. At this old town called Luin. Though I don’t remember much of it… Dad would live there too. But then she got real sick and…we just moved here. Her grave’s still over there.” When was the last time he’d visited it? It felt so long ago. “So uh…I haven’t always been a noble person, but I guess I still was one because of dad.”

“I see,” Colette commented, thoughtful with her words. “He must understand how hard it must be.”

But…did he? Lloyd wondered about that. “It's okay… so, uh, have you always lived in Meltokio?" he asked randomly. They stopped in front of the fountain, their warped reflections within its depths.

"No, I used to live in a small village called Iselia. It's very different from here." She said so with a nervous laugh, but it brought out a redness in her cheeks that Lloyd couldn't stop staring at. "So much more people! And you can't see as many stars...but I still try to count them when I can."

"Count them? How do you count all these?" Lloyd looked back up the stars, remembering brief explanations of patterns and constellations. He wondered if his dad remembered that too.

"I just start from one end of the sky to the next! I never finish before I get too sleepy."

He grinned. "We should try counting them together. I bet we could get the whole sky that way!"

"Heh, really?" Colette looked over at him with excitement - until something tempered in her expression and she turned away. "But you're so busy. I wouldn't want to keep you."

You could, he thought, and managed to stop himself from saying it out loud. "It would be nice to spend time with you," he simply said, wondering if that was any better. "I mean, if you wanted to."

Colette looked like she was struggling on what to say next, even as a smile sprouted on her face. "I would, but… I don't know how to act around nobles. And they always say we shouldn't."

"Who cares what people say?" Lloyd tried not to let his tone get too sharp. It wasn't Colette he was mad at. "I mean...isn't that why you invited me out here?" Or did you just feel sorry for me?

Colette clasped her hands together, still sullied with flour. "I'm not as graceful or as pretty like the noble ladies though. I can't talk as well as them… and I can't even dance like they do."

"Huh? What do you mean about dancing?" That had felt out of place from everything else she mentioned. "Did you want to dance?"

Something from what he said got Colette blushing much more fervently. It rushed to her ears half-hidden by her hair, rushed to her neck where the collar of her dress was slightly unbuttoned. Did that happen when she was baking earlier? "I-I've always wanted to but never learned how."

At that, Lloyd grinned, index finger pointing at himself. "That's fine. I can teach you!"

"Oh! You know how to dance?"

"Well, not really. But how hard can it be?" He had seen enough of high-class dances to get the gist of it. Just hold hands and move your feet in a small circle. Simple!

Colette looked eager, and that only boosted his confidence. "Okay! Um, I'm not sure if I have the right shoes for it."

"Don't worry about it!" Lloyd reassured, then walked up to her. He couldn't let his nerves get the best of him now, even his heart still beat pretty fast. "Just give me your hand here...and uh, your waist?"

Colette tilted her head. "How do I give you that?"

"I mean, like, I can just…" So much for nerves, but then he let himself reach out this time, one hand holding against the small of her back. His other hand held hers, then raised them both up, outstretched and to the side. "Okay, I think this is how we start."

Colette's face was still very red, but she wasn't moving away. In fact, with her free hand, she reached out to grasp his shoulder. "I think… this is what I'm supposed to do too?"

"Y-Yeah! Good call." He swallowed, stood up straight with her, then...had no idea what to do next. Shoot, I never paid attention to this stuff before…

Colette waited patiently before letting her right foot move to the side. "Maybe we do this next?"

"Right!" Lloyd instantly agreed, following her direction with his own. But wait, he had heard about how he was supposed to be leading instead. After a while, he wasn't exactly sure who was leading who anymore, but they were going slow in their circles, just inches away from the fountain.

They did this for some time until he felt something heavy on his foot. "Ouch."

"Ah sorry, I didn't mean to step on you!" Colette said with another apology. "I was trying to catch up."

"Am I going too fast?" he asked. He tightened his hold on her waist. "Sorry, guess I'm not as good of a dancer as I thought."

"Ah no it's okay! I think you're really good." Colette didn't sound like she was just humoring him, at least going by how much she was smiling at him. The moonlight highlighted her braided hair, her cheeks that were still a bit stained with flour. "I'm happy you could teach me."

"Well in that case… there's other dancing moves we could try!" Because while it was nice being with Colette, dancing in circles was already getting a little boring now. "Like um...doing a twirl!" Now how would they do that?

"Oh, I know what you mean! I think you're supposed to lead the other person like this." At that, Colette stepped back and somehow used their connecting hands to motion him to move away.

"W-Whoa," he could only utter as he found himself twirling out slightly, his red ribbons nearly hitting him the face (that happened a few times before and it did actually hurt) then twirl back into the position they were in before, his hand on her waist again. "Hey, I did it!"

"Hehe, yeah!" Colette said back, so proud.

"Though I'm not sure if it was supposed to be me...but whatever!" Then he thought up something else. "What about this now?"

"What about wha- ahh!"

Lloyd dipped her slightly, like he would see Zelos do with one of the random ladies he'd take out. But Colette was shaky, nearly making Lloyd lose his hold. He spread out his stance slightly so that he could hold her with more stability. He probably looked awkward but luckily no one was around.

"I had you, Colette! I wasn't going to drop you."

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Colette looked up at him, one hand clutching at his shoulder more tightly. The light of the stars reflected in her eyes. Blue…“I’m…not a very good maid, I know…I mess up so many things…”

“What? That’s not what matters. And I’m the one that just started a fight not even five minutes ago.” Lloyd smiled at her, still holding her close, the sounds of the fountain still drowning out most sounds. “Besides, being a maid isn’t all you are.”

“Heh, yeah?” she giggled. Her braid fell back, towards the ground. If any closer, it would have dipped into the fountain water. Maybe he should pull them up now. “Thank you…for doing this with me. No one really looks at me as anything but a maid.”

“Well, they’re wrong then.” He nodded, getting a better grip of her waist. “You’re Colette.”

Her eyes grew softer, along with her voice. “And you’re Lloyd…just Lloyd.” Was she closer to him? The stars were brighter now. “And sometimes you’re silly…”

“Hey…where did that come from…?” he whispered back, but didn’t say anything more when her mouth pressed over his. Or his pressed over hers? Did it even matter?

What mattered though was that she was kissing him, the seconds passing as the sound of the fountain continued on in its constant dance.

It had been brief. He pulled back gently, finding his own blush reflected in her cheeks again.

“Ah…um…” Colette started before laughing nervously. “I didn’t…mean to.."

“You sure?” Lloyd asked, before once again leaning in, his hand pressing more against her waist, to bring her closer. “Because I think I did…” When did he ever become this smooth? But it didn’t matter because he was kissing her again and she was doing the same, noticing him… She sees me.

And maybe he should have noticed when the sounds of the garden changed. Because he could hear more clearly of the people inside the party, along with its music.

It took him a moment to realize that meant that someone was opening the door to the garden from the house.

“Okay, bud, what part of just staying in the kitchen did you not get?! I know you're out here!" And there was Zelos' huffy whine, shoes going up the stone path. "You can stop moping now. Now let's get you back out there and-"

A pause. Lloyd turned to see Zelos blinking within the muted lights from the mansion's windows, dumbfounded. “Uh…mingle?” A beat, mixed in with the chirping of crickets. “Why are you standing like you’re about to do a split?”

“Ah!” Colette yelped, her body moving again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t-!”

Lloyd tried to warn her. “Colette, wait! I’m gonna- whoa!”

He tried to save them both by reaching out to the fountain. But that was his first mistake. The rim of the fountain was too low, so he couldn't really grab at it at all. Instead, his forward momentum had only brought them both towards the fountain…

...until they fell right in it too.

The calm of the night completely crashed along with the furious sound of splashing water. The water wasn't deep, both already sitting up, their clothes drenched, along with pretty much everything else.

"Agh! Colette! Are you okay?" he asked while coughing up water at the same time. "I'm sorry!" He couldn't believe how badly he had messed this up.

Colette was seated across from him in the fountain, until her body started to shake. She must have been cold now...until he saw her smile. Wait, she was laughing?

"That...that was fun!" She said between fits of giggles. And for some reason, it only made him laugh too.

"You have a weird idea of fun," he said back, even if he couldn't deny how much fun it felt like right now.

"And you're a mess!" she said pointing at him...then suddenly splashed him with more water!

"Hey! Well, so are you!" And then he did the same to her, watching as she tried to shield herself, her maid's cap drooping on her head. "Take that!"

Both were too busy playing that they had long forgotten about Zelos who stood there, confused and maybe a little irritated that they already forgot about him in the first place.

"You know what? Fine. Just have fun at your kiddy pool!" Witht that, he turned away. But both noble and maid showed no indication of hearing him, still busy splashing each other. He sighed.

"I guess he knows more than he's letting on," he said with a smirk, and left the two to continue their very weird way of having fun with each other.

#colloyd #tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2020

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niccage · 5 years

Note

bc things look best when asked from an ask ILL PROMPT MYSELF!! "i’m sick on halloween but told you to go have fun at the party anyway but instead you surprised me with a blanket fort, tons of candy and all my favourite scary movies" newt/geiszler GO

what a solid request thank you @newtgeiszlur

—

To Hermann Gottlieb, falling ill on Halloween morning was hardly a “worst case scenario,” nor would it usually have been of particular concern to him at all in years prior. In times of both earthly isolationist peace and great extraterrestrial war, Halloween had never been of much interest to him, and you would never catch him donning a silly costume at a work party while sipping plastic cups of a spiked beverage whose flavor could only be described as bottom shelf vodka and Red 40 while 50 other full grown adults did the Thriller dance on a cafeteria floor. No, missing such an opportunity would normally not be a loss for Hermann Gottlieb.

To Newt Geiszler, however, the only thing worse than himself falling ill on Halloween morning was his quasi-secret sometimes-boyfriend slash lab partner slash couples costume co-conspirator getting caught up with a nasty case of the flu in the early hours of October 31st, and yes, these were both worst case scenarios, and the latter was currently underway as they spoke, as he had been notified by a message on his laptop from a concerned Mako Mori that had stopped by his counterpart’s room in the preceding morning hours.

Newt had just walked in the door to Hermann’s Shatterdome apartment to see his partner in bed, swallowed by a massive white comforter and surrounded by menthol lozenge wrappers and real, bonafide handkerchiefs (because of course he would be too prim for Kleenex, Newt briefly considered) that had certainly seen better days. What appeared to be vintage Barabara Walters clips played at full blast on the small, crooked television screen that hung from his wall, though Hermann didn’t seem to pay it much mind, although he wasn’t looking at Newt, either, for that matter. His locked gaze seemed to only concentrate on the grey ceiling above him.

“I don’t even think I realized you had a TV in here,” Newt said, looking for the remote to turn down the volume. Not that the noise bothered him, but he knew that if healthy Hermann didn’t like any loud or obnoxious noises save Wagner’s symphonies, then sick Hermann probably wasn’t enjoying this, either.

“Neither did I,” grumbled Hermann as he slowly shifted his head to look at Newt. “Mako turned it on this morning when she stopped by to drop off the briefings from the pilot meetings last evening. I believe she thought it would help, but it seems as though the programming gets louder the closer we find ourselves to the noon hour and I haven’t been able to place the remote.”

Newt wasn’t having much luck placing it either, so he resorted to shutting the screen off manually before he turned his attention solely to Hermann. Though Hermann had perhaps never been the vision of youth, his face looked grayer than Newt had ever seen it with the exception of his nose, which held all of Hermann’s vibrance and redness within itself. He had clearly not had the energy to shower that morning and his hair still showed all his sleep in the way each strand went this way and that. Bedhead was a rare sight on Hermann, as Newt always slept later than him, so he tried to take as much of it in as he could while still maintaining the plot, which was that Hermann was sick and it was, very importantly, Halloween morning.

“How are you feeling?” asked Newt uncomfortably, knowing the answer already but not wanting to face the reality.

Hermann stared blankly at him while he removed a white handkerchief with blue trim from his bedside table and brought it daintily to his nose. “Wonderful,” he said dryly.

“So, should I assume you’ll be out of the lab all day, then?” Newt continued, awkwardly scratching at his pant leg while looking across the overall barren room at Hermann in his down feather cocoon.

“I would imagine that would be a yes, Newton,” Hermann sighed, clearly failing to understand the point of this conversation. “And all other activities that would have fallen within the jurisdiction of today.”

That was all Newt needed to hear for his face to fall, unwillingly and unintentionally, and he knew Hermann could see it, as his own expression untightened and turned to one of almost guilt. “I’m sorry,” Hermann continued. “I know you were looking forward to this evening,” referring to the Halloween party that Tendo had been planning since early July that featured a confirmed guest list of nearly every employee at the Shatterdome and was considered to be the biggest and booziest event of the year, save they unexpectedly close the breach or something similar before January. Not only had Newt been talking about it during their lab hours nonstop since who knows when, but he had even convinced Hermann to enter the costume contest with him as an obviously platonic Mulder and Scully. Newt had had his ginger wig sitting on his bedroom sink for months and had probably treated it more carefully and lovingly than he did his own (fucking awesome, if he did say so himself) hair.

Newt couldn’t bother trying to hide his disappointment on his face once it had already come out, so he just shrugged and gave a hint of a forced smile. “It’s okay, I promise. I can find something else to go as that doesn’t require a second person,” said Newt, and he really was trying to not sound as dramatic as possible but fuck, he really had been excited about this. He’d known that with the track he’d put together for the DJ to play when it was their turn to be up on stage paired with the sheer screen accuracy of the costumes that he had put together for him and Hermann, they really could have won that shit tonight, and now he was going to have to put together something last minute that just won’t be as good. Without Hermann.

Hermann weakly beckoned for Newt to sit beside him on his twin-sized mattress, to which Newt obliged. The closer Newt was, the sicker he could see that Hermann really was (not that he’d ever doubted him, but a scientist can hope, right?) and brought the back of his hand to his forehead. “Do I feel very hot to you?” said Hermann, mustering a smile with eyes that clearly showed how guilty he felt for ruining Newt’s evening.

“You know you’re always hot to me, babe,” said Newt, who was never one to resist an opportunity. Hermann began to chuckle but instead began hacking on something lodged in his throat. “Do I need to get you down to medical, though?” he continued, “Or like, get you a doctor up here or something?”

Hermann quickly shook his head to this while his coughing receded. “No, no, no,” he said, “I know I may not look very good but I do know this is no more than simply the flu, which I have dealt with many times in the course of my life and do not need to bother a medic about. Nor,” he continued between soft coughs, “need you concern yourself with me. I know you still have work to do in the lab today and that you’re going to skip all of it to focus on making a new costume for yourself tonight so that you can win that thing you’re so concerned about.”

Newt’s heart warmed at the way that Hermann pretended to not know exactly it was that he had entered them into this evening and he brought his hand gently to Hermann’s warm cheek as his fellow scientist shivered and curled more into his comforter. “Okay, okay,” he said, before he leaned down to kiss Hermann’s forehead as delicately as he could muster and got up to leave the room and let Hermann rest. “I’ll stop by later, yeah? Before I go tonight?”

Hermann nodded, pulling the blanket up tighter to his neck. “Please do, my darling. I’d like to see what awful thing you muster up for this evening.”

This got Newt to grin as he went to step out the door back into the apartment hallway. “Oh, you know it, babe.”

—

Hermann spent the following hours in and out of deep sleep, with his moments of reality largely consisting of blowing his nose, guzzling down the hot green tea that continually and magically appeared by his bedside every time he woke up (Newt was certainly one to hold onto, moments like this reminded him,) and staring at the grey ceiling of his apartment while fighting back feelings of both terrible congestion and infinite guilt for ruining Newt’s evening. Never would he have thought in his life that he would resent having a genuine medical excuse for not attending a Halloween celebration with his work colleagues, but Newt seemed to bring this side out of him more than he liked to admit. Hermann spent many of his waking moments over the course of the day considering how he could make it up to him, though he continued to draw blanks on how. This evening had really been something that Newt had clearly been looking forward to for weeks, and Hermann had just gone and blown it for him with no chances of rectifying it for him. He generally tried not to focus on his own instances of being a shit boyfriend, though he knew they were plentiful, but as he laid there between illness-induced naps, it sure was hard to not feel like the biggest asshole in their two-person K-Science division.

Even as much as he had somewhat been dreading having to parade onstage amongst other costumed eccentrics like Newt, the fact that he was doing it with his partner had made him resent missing this all the more. For the first time in his life, Hermann had looked forward to bobbing for apples and eating repulsive candy corns and listening to the “Monster Mash” play no less than seven times on the loudspeaker in an overcrowded Shatterdome cafeteria, all because he knew that the man he, for some unforeseen reason, loved with all his heart, would be beside him, and even if they hadn’t decided to reveal it yet to the rest of their coworkers, just Newt’s sheer presence made everything not only manageable, but something that Hermann looked forward to immensely and intimately.

The fact that Newt was now going to the event alone caused a slight tear to form in Hermann’s heart, as he imagined the handsome scientist in a dazzling costume that won the entire evening, surrounded by suitors of all and any genders that were as amazed and impressed by the mere existence of Newton as he was, and while he trusted Newt enough to know that nothing would ever happen between any of these admirers and him, it didn’t mean that his petty and insecure sides were very comforted by the thought.

Somewhere in the beginning of the evening, Hermann had begun finding it easier to delve back into consciousness as well as feeling more like an actual human being than a mere receptacle for influenza, though his ability to stand or breathe comfortably for more than a few seconds at a time continued to be limited. By 1900 hours, he heard a knock on the door, though didn’t bother asking who it was or telling it that it was free to enter, as he knew that if it was the only person he wanted to see that it would freely walk in regardless of any response he gave.

He was correct, and in walked Newt, not dressed in his typical lab clothes nor any clearly identifiable Halloween costume, but instead wearing simply an old Godzilla World Tour cotton t-shirt and a pair of green plaid pajama pants, which struck Hermann as odd.

“Does your party not start soon?” Hermann asked, unable to stand the obnoxious nasal quality to his own voice.

“Hello to you too, dear,” said Newt in a rapid voice, grinning from ear to ear as he stood in Hermann’s doorway, “and why yes, yes it does. Which is why I’m here, talking to you!”

Hermann raised an eyebrow as far as he could muster. “Then, if I may ask, why are you not in any sort of costume?”

Newt rolled his eyes as if it were obvious, “Again, that’s why I’m here! Duh! It’s in my room and you’re just going to have to come see it.” He began heading over to Hermann’s bed, clearly with the intention of helping him out of it and dragging him out of his room.

“What?” Hermann exclaimed, not following but at the same time entirely unsure of what he was missing. “In case you haven’t noticed, Newton, I’m not exactly feeling my best and would rather stay where I am. And if you cannot remove it from your room, how, pray tell, do you intend to showcase it at the party?”

Newt seemed entirely nonplussed by either of Hermann’s objections and continued helping him rise from the bed. “When I show you, it’ll all make sense. Can’t you ever just like, chill and let me handle things?”

Hermann, already exhausted after a day of battling various symptoms, caved easier than he likely would have in other instances and allowed his boyfriend to help him to the door. Fortunately, Newt’s room was just to the left of his own so they needn’t walk far to get to their desired destination. Hermann blew his nose into the lavender handkerchief that he had brought with him as Newt fiddled with the door until it swung open and he guided Hermann in without turning on the overhead light, and closed the front door behind them.

“You know, you may have consumed enough kaiju particles in your day to garner the ability to see in the dark but not all of us share the same genetic mutations,” Hermann griped as he stood in complete darkness while Newt scurried off to do God knows what.

Newt laughed while he fiddled with something near his bed, a good ten steps from the front door. “Come on, we both know that’s a myth and that kaiju can orient themselves so well in the deep oceans because they have fucking awesome hearing and anyways just give me a second, okay?”

Hermann, again too tired to argue, relented for the moment while he let Newt complete whatever it was that he was doing, until suddenly Newt seemed to find the outlet for which he must have apparently been looking, and the room lit up with small white fairy lights which cast a soft glow on a canopy of various blankets and quilts that had been hung from the back of table chairs over what Hermann presumed was still Newton’s twin-sized bed.

Unable to think of anything to say, Hermann stood open-mouthed and looked at Newt, whose glasses reflected the tiny bulbs that had been strung across the ceiling of the tiny apartment and whose smile showed how excited he was to merely be in this moment with Hermann.

“I couldn’t think of any costume nearly as good as the one we’d planned for tonight,” said Newt, who began to circle back around the room once more to get behind Hermann with the intention of wrapping his arms around his middle and pulling him close. “And honestly,” he continued, voice muffled as he leaned his head into Hermann’s back, “it really didn’t seem like it would be any fun without you there. So I figured we could have a night in and I could finally make the pillow fort that I’ve been dying to put up for you.”

Hermann began turning around in Newt’s arms and wrapped his own arms around the shorter man. “Newton, I’m not really sure what to say-”

“I’m not done yet!” Newt went on, abruptly ending their embrace and instead pulling Hermann over to the small bed that they had long figured out how to most effectively share that was now enhanced by a covering of various prints and fabrics. Newt guided Hermann into the soft cave, and once they comfortably settled in, Hermann realized that Newt had created a perfect hole in the fort to see the television screen as well as stocked the bedside table with all of the Halloween treats that Hermann had recognized seeing in the Shatterdome convenience shop. Newt quickly reached over to grab a box of allegedly “spooky” Mike and Ike’s as well as the remote. “I already went and predownloaded ‘The Fly’ (1986) partially because I know you get hard from not only ridiculous pseudobiology and because, like, fucking Halloween and all, but also because I know how bad you want to get in early Jeff Goldblum’s pants and I thought it might ease your way into recovery.”

Hermann scoffed but did not deny, and leaned further into Newt’s shoulder and tugged him tight. “I love you,” he sighed into Newton’s chest while his lover peppered his scalp with gentle kisses and pressed play on the remote. “Thank you, for all of this.”

Hermann could feel Newt’s lips pull into a smile by the way they moved across the top of his head. “I love you too, babe. And thank you, for being my-”

He tried to stop him, he really did. “Newton, please.”

“Boo.”

#newmann #newt x hermann #newmann fics #prompt #susan writes #mine #otp: infinite regress under duress

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