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wizkiddx · 3 years

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Blurb req- Tom and the reader on a private jet hungover? just pure fluff?

fluffy requests are well and truly open ( bcos I adored writing this ahah) and let me know what u think , I am deff not a writer so any feedback or tips would be v appreciated :))

summary: tomhollandxactress!reader - a wrap party followed by an early morning flight and a grumpy Harry, what could possibly go wrong?

warning: mentions of alcohol and sickness

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The remorse. The regret. It only made the pounding in your head even worse. Why those two 1.5 litre bottle of Bacardi had been brought out was beyond you. Why the you six of you had then decided to empty said bottle was even more of a mystery. It wasn’t like any of you had needed it, you’d all been more than ‘merry’ prior to the cheap rum and coke.

Hence the state of you, Tom and Harry as well as your manager Davey and Tom’s team of Rachel and Andrew. All having made very little effort with your appearance - joggers and hoodies all round, with you and Rachel also sporting sunglasses because you were simply smarter than the boys. Thankfully, this wasn’t a big trip that fans knew about, this was you and Tom moving location under cover - the studios didnt want anybody to know that either of you made a feature in this film, so everything was under the cover of darkness. Which to be honest you were not complaining about. However, you were complaining about the fact the flight had been scheduled to leave at 7 am the night after your wrap party though.

The two of you had just wrapped your most recent and most ambitious movie to date - hence the massive celebrations last night for just surviving and getting it done. It had been the most intense 3 months of your life, there had been times you’d cry for hours on end, times you just wanted to quit fully knowing you’d never be hired again for leaving a multimillion dollar company in the lurch.But you all, somehow, had survived. So celebrations were in order of course but perhaps not as far as you all managed last night?

Your whole convey appeared to have travelled to the airfield in absolute silence, no one particularly fancied hearing anyone else’s voice- which to be honest seemed quite fair. You’d ridden in a car with Tom and Harry, with you resting your head on Tom’s broad shoulder - which had obviously made Harry gag, rolling his eyes. Bless Harry, really he was the only reason you and Tom had got together, after getting sick of the mutual pining he’d been forced to live with during the previous 2 projects you’d worked on together. But now, having had to put up with the two of you being so ridiculously loved up for the past 3 months - understandably a bit of distance from you and his brother was overdue.

One of the flight attendants busied themselves loading your luggage, whilst the pilot asked you and Tom for a photo. Of course, you weren’t going to say no however you did have to cringe at how rough you both looked. His teenage daughter certainly would be less excited to see that her Dad hadn’t met Tom Holland and Y/n Y/l/n. Instead he’d met the zombified, undead and rougher frauds. Still you smiled as much as you could, wincing when you removed the glasses and the early morning sun pierced your restricted pupils. God it wasn’t your day.

The guy didn’t seem to mind though, excitedly hurrying off onto the plane to settle in the rest of you - leaving just you and Tom outside on the tarmac.

“Poor guy, we look like shit.” You murmured while taking a step closer to lean slightly into his side.

“Speak for yourself love.’Tom snickered into the top of your head, after pulling you completely into his chest. This wasn’t normally allowed, your relationship still wasn’t public and both of you intended on keeping it private for as long as possible. But you were in an otherwise empty field in the middle of nowhere (somewhere in Georgia) before 8 am. It was actually quite nice to feel your boyfriends arms round you in the outside world, especially when you felt this shit. After a few moments you pulled away, arching back at Tom’s pouty face as you motioned it was time to get on the plane.

“’S too late you know.” Your brows furrowed at his half formed sentence, facial expression only demanding him to explain more. “They all have already taken the good seats… Harry basically sprinted on so he can hog the bed thing.” In response it was your turn to pout, groaning as you fell back into his chest again. Yes, this was a complete first world issue, a private jet paid completely by your bosses was not something a lot would moan about. Truly you were grateful for everything you had in life, but with the worst hangover of your life when the opportunity of lying down for 6 hours instead of being stuck in a chair had manifested itself… well of course you felt robbed by your almost brother Harry.

Chuckling at your reaction, he gave you an extra squeeze before leading the both of you up the stairs to the cabin. Sure enough Harry had completely and totally claimed the longer couch at the far end of the plane, lying on his stomach with his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Rolling your eyes at the predictable situation, you didn’t miss Davey laughing at your sorry state - nmaking you throw daggers at him in your eyes.

Davey was your second father, the relationship between the two of you far transcended any professional working one. Which is why the two of you acting like this was very much a norm and not rude at all. He had also got the next best seat in the corner with the most leg room which he clearly loved to show off.

Unsurprisingly then you and Tom ended up squashed into the corner with your legs crumpled up together in the small space floor space. The brunette opposite you didn’t seem to mind so much but that was because he had an adaptational advantage. He could sleep anywhere and everywhere , whenever he wanted. On set if he was tired? Just take a ten minute power nap on the floor. Bored of a long car journey? Just conk out against the window. It absolutely infuriated you, as no matter how hard and how exhausted you were - it was rare you could get any further than a light doze. Even before the two go you got together, having a best mate that could skip all the boring bits and was immune to jet lag… you can see how that makes you want to punch him square in the face.

After a short safety talk from the pilot and flight attendant, the plane whirred into life and you were up in the air. Although in your current state, it would be reasonable to assume the beauty of flying had somewhat rubbed off - you were certain it never would. No matter how many flights you took across country ,and in fact continents, for work; you’d never get sick of watching the view below you. It was perfect and breathtaking and took your mind off the pounding in the back of your head for the first 20 minutes.

Until the need for sleep took over as either you need to be unconcious or you were going to vomit - which you really didn’t want to do at 40,000 feet in a tin box. Trying to rearrange your limbs to get comfier you accidentally knocked Tom’s leg rather forcefully, causing him to jump half out his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly as he tried to get his baring as to what was attacking him - quickly answered by your guilty look.

“You okay love?” His voice was slurred, sounding almost sleep drunk - but perhaps was just actually still a little drunk. You’d only headed to bead last night at 4 am and had to be up at 6 - which isnt very long for your poor kidneys to try and process the stupid amount of alcohol you’d both happily been chugging the night before.

“Feel shitty and cant sleep.” You weren’t in the mood to white lie - honestly some sympathy from your beautiful boyfriend seemed like a dream at the moment. Tom’s idea was better though.

“C’mere then.” His arms outstretched, you immediately jumped into his lap - the two of you shifting about to get comfortable till you were sat side on to him, your bum and back leaning against the arm rest of the chair with your legs going over his thighs and pressing against the wall of the plane. Pulling you closer to his chest, Tom took a deep breath as he pressed his chin against the crown of your head; your face now nested into his chest.

Nothing needed to be said as the two of you melted into each others bodies, the slow and deepening breathing enough to prove to each other you were both incredibly contented in that moment. More than that you felt safe- you’d admitted to Tom some weeks ago that you had never ever slept better than when he was beside you. Yeh it was cringey but sometimes that’s allowed right?

… well not to Harry. Because as the plane was about to begin it’s descent, the pilot had tasked Harry (who had slept off the worst of the hangover and had spent the last 30 minutes of the flight scoffing at how adorable the two of you looked fast asleep together) - even after Rach had scalded him and had taken a photo of the two of you on her phone.

Causing Harry to ,ever subtly, wake the two of you up by throwing his half empty water bottle over your heads.

Safe to say, Harry very nearly didn’t leave that jet alive.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #harry holland

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ofallthethingsinlife · 3 years

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Lucifer Morningstar x Suicidal!Reader

Word count: 1391

WARNINGS: suicidal behavior, heights, happy(ish) ending though

If you are having suicidal thoughts or considering hurting yourself, please reach out to somebody or at least call a hotline. You are loved.

It was a long walk up to the top of the building. Twenty-three floors, to be exact. I decided against the elevator for several reasons; one, interacting with other people wasn't really my forte, especially at the moment. Two, I mean, come on.. who wants to be trapped in a little metal box? And three, on top of it all, they play that horrendous music that drives anybody who has to go up or down more then a few floors absolutely crazy.

Anyways, I made it up to the roof of the building (the home of one of LA's many all-powerful corporations, to be honest I don't remember its name anymore. That is, if I ever bothered to learn it in the first place.) And if there had been any doubt in my mind about what I was about to do it was far gone now, if only because there is no way in hell I was walking back down those twenty-three flights of stairs.

Hell. I wonder if I'll go there, when this was all over. I sure hope not, but I might deserve it. I've never been the religious or faithful type, but a recent string of events made it clear that the burning place was, in fact, real. I've always found it odd though, even before I knew lucifer, what a bad rep the devil has. I mean he punishes the nasty people who go to hell, which makes him good, right? He just ended up being the poor bloke who got assigned the job.

A loud honk from far below shocked me out of my thoughts. I'd been up here, leaning against the door I entered the empty roof of the building through, way longer than I thought.

"Shit, somebody might notice that I'm missing soon," I mumbled to myself after glancing at my watch, it was nearly seven-thirty. I internally cursed myself for losing track of time, though it was one of my bad habits, and I should have expected it. What I did not expect, though, was somebody replying to the words I spoke to myself.

"Too late darling, I already did. Playing hooky to watch the sunset, are we?"

I just about had a heart attack as I spun towards my previously unnoticed companion, who was leaning against the waist high ledge that ran along the edge of the building. I recognized him instantly.

The definition of tall, dark, and handsome, he was finely dressed in a well fitting suit that would have cost at least three months of my wages. The slightly flirtatious twinkle in his eyes was ever-present, but if I didn't know better I would almost say there is a hint of concern on his face. But this is Lucifer Morningstar we're talking about here, so that's absolutely ridiculous.

"For fuck's sake, you scared the shit out of me Luci!" I said, running a hand over my face and trying to calm my racing heart. I met Lucifer, the owner of one of LA's most fabulously sinful clubs, Lux, several years ago. An idiot at the club drugged my strawberry martini, but Lucifer caught him as he tried to sneak me out the back. We'd been friends ever since, and about six months after that first encounter I accidentally found out that the man was, indeed, the literal devil.

"If you must know, I just had a bit of a rough day and way taking some time for myself," I fibbed.

Lucifer gasped, looking at me incredulously, "You naughty thing! Did you just lie to me?"

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks and tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"I don't- I don't know what you're talking about," I sputtered as I walked to stand a few meters away from him, looking over the edge of the roof.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" Lucifer said, standing up from his perch, "You just did it again!"

"I did not!" I hissed, as my temper started to rise. I huffed and hopped up to sit on the meter wide ledge, crossing my arms in frustration. "Would you just mind your own business and leave!?" I snapped, my voice beginning to rise. The wind started to pick up, blowing my hair into my face. The sky had begun to darken with clouds a few minutes ago, and it looked as if it might rain.

"How about you come down from up there, darling?" Lucifer said, the concern now evident in his voice. "We can go back to the club. Talk. Or maybe moan. Something to get your spirits up," he continued, but his jokes didn't have their usual effect.

"What? Come down from here!?" I yell as I rise to my feet on top of the ledge.

"Darling, please-" Lucifer started, panic flashing across his face.

"What?" I snarled, "are you afraid I'm a little too close to the edge? Am I seeming a little unstable, luci?"

"Please, just come down from there pet," Lucifer hushed as he reached for me, his hands trembling slightly.

"No!" I yelled as a took a step away from him, an inch of my left heel now over nothing but twenty-three stories of polluted LA air. "I.. I just want this all to be over now. I need it to be over. I'm just so tired." I sighed, suddenly unable to find the energy to prevent tears from streaming down my face. As if on cue, the sky began to spit, coating the lenses of my glasses in tiny droplets.

"Darling, look at me." Lucifer demanded gently.

It took all of my energy to drag my eyes off of the broken concrete of the roof and up onto his face.

"Talk to me. What on earth could cause you to make this idiotic decision? Just tell me, and I'll fix whatever mess you're in. I promise."

"I can't, Lucifer," I cried hysterically, "I just can't! You can't fix it! Nobody can fix it! It's just me, and there's nothing that you or anybody else can do!" My knees threatened to give out under me as a sobbed, causing me to sway in the increasingly temperamental wind.

"Well, if that turns out to be true you can always just pop on back up here, can't you?" Lucifer said, trying to reason with me, "what's the harm in living a little while longer, just in the odd case that things improve?"

I've never thought about it like that before. I mulled internally, it would indeed be a shame if things were about to start looking up but I just offed myself. I guess I could come back later. The sky began to open up, the wind whipping the rain across my face so forcefully it stung.

I was interrupted from my thoughts when, before I could react, lucifer took advantage of absent-mindedness and quickly took those last few steps until he was close enough to grab me by my shoulders.

"It's time to come down from there, darling," Lucifer sighed, his grip gentle but firm on my upper arms, "Come on down."

Before I knew it I was off the ledge, safe on the cold, wet concrete of the roof. Lucifer pulled me into his lap, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades as I sobbed.

"You bloody idiot," he scolded gently, "you scared the hell out of me, and since I'm the devil that's really saying something."

I chuckled weakly at his joke, sniffling and wipping at my nose.

"I'm sorry for all this Lucifer," I said, exhausted and shivering from the rain and cold.

"Oh hush now. Nothing to be sorry for, well, besides ruining this fabulously expensive suit," Lucifer teased, pulling me tight against his chest. His hair was plastered across his forehead from the rain, and his expensive suit jacket was soaking wet. "I think it's about time to go home now though, darling, before we freeze out here."

Lucifer scooped me up gently into his arms, carrying my damp, tired form bridal style. Between the utter exhaustion plaguing my body and the comforting smell of Lucifer's now quite wet shirt, I don't think we even made it into the elevator before I conked out in him arms. Thank God too, because I don't think I could have stood listening to that stupid elevator music.

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #tw suicice #lucifer x y/n

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theres-a-goldensky · 4 years

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26 + 2 Various BL Series Fic Recs

Fandoms included in this fic rec list: Love By Chance, TharnType, Until We Meet Again, My Engineer, 2 Moons, HIStory3: Trapped (plus a bit of bonus Theory of Love and WHY R U?)

I’ve found a handful of good fics for all of these tiny pairings that I am newly obsessed with, and I thought I’d share them with you if you’re also looking for something good to read. Please, if you have recs of your own, point me in the direction of any other good stuff!

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

LOVE BY CHANCE / THARNTYPE

1. the count up series by sweetiejelly - Tin/Can - ~34,000 words, explicit - A fix-it fic post-canon where Tin and Can slowly work out their issues with some missteps and learning along the way.

So two weeks later, when Can first does it, Tin doesn't know what to do. For the longest while, he just turns off his phone screen. And then turns it back on.

good night, tin. it's been a while but i promised to say good night. so, good night, sleep well.

Every damn time the text is still there.

In the end, Tin deletes it.

The next morning, Can does it again.

good morning, tin. looks like rain today. don't forget your umbrella.

Tin deletes it.

The texts keep coming.

2. ** LBC Aftermath series by Mara - LBC/TharnType crossover- ~6700 words, mature - Were you too horrified by Techno’s ending in LBC? This author feels your pain and did her part to get some justice for Techno. This fic has zero sympathy for Kengkla, which I deeply appreciated. This will help you work out some of your anger. It features LBC!Techno and the TharnType versions of Tharn and Type. Mind the warnings, since this deals with the serious consequences of Kengkla’s actions.

Kengkla stayed at the house through the morning and Techno was so jumpy he nearly leaped out of his skin every time Kla looked at him or talked to him. Even though Kla had explained what happened and how he wasn’t upset to be dating, Techno still felt weird. He kind of wished he remembered what had happened. A guy should remember how he lost his virginity, right?

Kla grabbed him in a big hug and Techno froze, managing a weak grin when Kla pulled back to smile at him. “I’ve got to go home now. But I’ll call you later. Let me know if you go somewhere.”

“O-okay.” Techno stared as the boy let himself out the front door.

3. 5 + 1 by strokeofluck - Tin/Can- ~3600 words, rated general - This is a sweet story about the times when Pete sees Tin having feelings for Can.

Pete weighed his options as he glanced back and forth between Tin and Can. Can didn’t seem to be bothered by the whole thing, he even had a shy smile on his face. Or at least, Pete thought it was a shy smile, he had never really seen this kind of expression coming from Can before.

He could let this whole thing go, he supposed, but he didn’t really want to. It was time for him to finally say to Tin: I told you so.

“You were born in Bangkok,” he said, casting a wide net and hoping Can would find himself caught in it.

Can did.

4. That Testified Surprise by Mara - Techno/Tharn/Type - ~7000 words, mature - This is a LBC canon rewrite that stars the TharnType version of all three characters. Type realizes something is not...quite...right with Kengkla and invites Techno to stay with him and Tharn instead of going home drunk.

Pouring Techno into the passenger seat, Type sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled the phone out to check it, entering the passcode. (The passcode was the birthday of Thai national football team captain Siwarak Tedsungnoen, of course. Duh.)

Fuck, it looked like Nic had been either texting or calling every 20 minutes since they got to the bar. What was up there?

Scrolling back through the evening’s texts, Type scowled harder. Loving brother or not, this was fucking creepy. Going back farther, it looked like it was a pattern. Did the kid do anything other than pester his brother about his whereabouts?

THARNTYPE

5. everything he wants by minkit - ~5100 words, explicit - Type accidentally ruins one of Tharn’s shirts and agrees to do whatever Tharn wants to make up for it. Which means it’s porn stretched over the bare bones of a plot, and it’s great.

Tharn’s hands moved across the bed, slowly, inch by inch and it was frustrating because Type knew they were heading to him, but Tharn took his sweet time. And then they were covering his hands and Tharn’s face was mere centimeters from his and Type could barely breathe. It took everything he had not to lean forward and capture those lips that also belonged to him, but he had a feeling if he tried, Tharn wouldn’t let him. He had that look on his face and Type knew what it meant.

He knew he was in for a long rest of the night.

6. You’ve Got Mail by perthbysaint - ~7800 words, explicit - Type sends Tharn nudes at the most inconvenient times.

A selfie? From Type? Tharn was thanking all of his lucky stars as he happily taps to load the image. The picture loads and Tharn’s phone slips from his suddenly lax grip. Convinced he couldn’t have just seen what he thought he just saw, he picks his phone up hastily and stares very intently at the picture.

It’s a mirror selfie, obviously taken in a changing room, but that thought comes secondary to thighs. Type is holding the camera in front of his face to take the picture, shirt clenched in his other hand and pulled up slightly to show off the shorts. The fucking shorts. He had seen Type in his soccer gear before and yes, Type has most definitely asked for the wrong size and Tharn is more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his whole life. The shorts are riding up so high they can’t cover more than a few inches of skin, Type’s smooth, powerful thighs on full display. On the inside of his left thigh, there’s a tiny purple mark peeking out from under the bottom of the shorts. Tharn knows exactly what it is because he was the one who left it there just two days ago when he sucked marks into Type’s thighs for a half-hour before he slung Type’s legs over his shoulders and ate him out until Type was sobbing fat tears and begging Tharn to let him come.

7. pet names series by LokelaniRose - ~50,000 words, explicit - A series of post-episode fics that gives us the sex that the show only hinted at, starting with the shower scene.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

2MOONS SERIES

8. ** The universe where we do not commit reckless, unlubricated buttsex by startledoctopus - Forth/Beam - ~8700 words, explicit - This is a great story about Beam giving in and trying to seduce Forth the same way he seduced all of those girls in his past. This Forth is great, and the story retcons their first time to something far more pleasant for Beam.

"We're heading into a unit on disorders of the spine and I need to review my basic skeletal and muscular anatomy. But it feels stupid to keep studying these weird-looking diagrams and drawings." None of this was, strictly speaking, factual, but an engineering major wouldn't know any different. Beam gathered up all his bravado, walked behind Forth, and began rucking up his shirts as if this were completely normal.

"What! I..."

"Shut up, I need to look at a real back so I know what I'll be looking at as a doctor." Forth let him take the shirts off, glancing back at him several times but giving in meekly to Beam's stern look. Forth shuffled the papers some more.

"All right. Okay, um...Ah!" Beam smirked at Forth's reaction as he ran his thumbs down the nape of his neck.

9. Good Things Come To by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~4300 words, explicit - Kit gets drunk and reveals more of his feelings for Ming than he probably means to.

"Hmm." Kit closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest. "Ming, Ming, Ming. Do you know your name's a kiss? I'm kissing the air everytime I say 'Ming'!" Kit pops his mouth and it pops Ming's mind a bit. "And then I think about kissing you. Why do you make me think about you so damn much? You're so annoying, Ming. No one's ever..." and Kit leans to the side, almost like he's going to conk out or throw up, only to straighten back up. "... made me this crazy."

Oh shit. Ming doesn't know what to do with all of this information. He knew somewhere deep down that Kit likes him. Kit's eyes can't lie. Kit's mouth can't either, the cusses coming out whenever he's keyed up and flustered, and then there are his kisses.

10 + 11. ** how to fail flirt your way into his heart (a guide by Kit) and a little conversation (and a little action please) by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~30,000 words, explicit in the second part - This story makes a tiny plot divergence. It has Kit put a little more effort into finding out if Ming is really into Yo and then from there, it loosely follows the plot of the show with some key differences. I really enjoyed this.

"Can I have your number?" Kit mentally face-palms. Why? Damn Pha. Damn Beam. Just damn everything, ugh. He has never flirted in his life. Pin asked him out, okay? He doesn't know how to do this. "I'm Kit, Phana's friend," he says, trying to make it less weird.

"I'm Ming. And of course, P'Kit!" Ming flashes him an easy grin and holds out his hand.

Oh right, the phone. Kit shoves it at Ming, nearly hitting him in the chest. Great, he's acing this.

Ming smiles at him, bemused or confused, probably both, and brushes his hand, totally unnecessarily, over the back of Kit's hand as he takes the phone. "In case of emergency, right?" Ming looks up at him from under his lashes and boy, this nong is brazen.

12. ** In Control series by LokelaniRose - Ming/Kit - ~27,000 words, explicit - Kit struggles to tell Ming that he wants something other than the careful, gentle sex they’ve been having. Ming discovers that Kit has some anxiety and panic problems. He also discovers what helps him feel better. [spoilers: these two things are connected.] I love how attentive and caring Ming is throughout this series. The anxious Kit also rings true to the character we saw on the show.

But now that Kit is fretting over things, he might as well fret over this as well. So Ming is great in bed. And let’s be honest, Kit probably isn’t. He hasn’t had a hundred previous partners – okay, tiny exaggeration, but still – and doesn’t know all the fancy moves and techniques and tricks…and just like everything else, in bed Ming is somehow casual and sincere at the same time. He never seems to want anything except what Kit wants, is always happy to do whatever, to take his time making slow, gentle love to Kit. Kit knows that he always comes at least – he secretly really likes it when Ming comes, he’s not quite sure why – but what if there’s more that Kit could be doing, to make it better for him? If Kit was better in bed maybe it would make up for being a shitty boyfriend in other areas, one who can’t be nice in public or talk about his feelings.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

13. another nightmare fic by itsmylifekay - Win/Team - ~2300 words, not rated - Team tries to sleep without Win and it doesn’t go well.

Team’s room feels suffocating, the air too thick and the space too dark and the covers sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths are too loud in the quiet, but the quiet itself is deafening. It reminds him of the water. The muted sounds. The frantic pounding of his heart. (The same one he feels now echoed in his chest.)

Flashes of the dream come back to him unbidden.

Everything is too dark, too bright, no way to see what way is up or what way is down. He’s trapped. Can’t get out. Can’t breathe.

14. ** Different With You by blackrose9212 - Win/Team - ~6900 words, teen - It’s open swim week, which means that the swimming club offers free lessons to any of the students who would like to participate. Team doesn’t understand why his teammates hate it so much - until he does. Great jealousy in this one from both sides.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy gushes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to join your group. Auntie said there needs to be at least three people, and no one was sitting across from you two. I’ve been paying attention so I already have ideas. Is that okay?” Team watches as he pulls out his books and drops them onto the table, pushing them a little farther out so they’re nearly touching Win’s notebook.

Team shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. I don’t think Win has been paying attention so I’m glad you have an idea of what’s going on.”

Win hits him lightly at the back of the hand and Film giggles behind his hand. “Oh, no, P’Win looks very smart. I’m sure he’s been listening.” He looks at Win and smiles a little, blushing when Win gives him a smile back.

Team looks between the two of them. Then back at Film, who’s watching Win leaf through his literature textbook like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, and then past Film at the table he left from, where he sees three boys, laughing behind their hands and making cooing faces.

15. seven hundred thirteen by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~6800 words, mature - Win spends two years abroad in England, and he and Team have to navigate a long distance relationship. It’s very sweet and written very true to life.

“I kind of hoped you were going to show up at the airport tomorrow morning and chase the plane,” Win says. He kisses Team’s hair, lingering there to memorize the fresh, clear scent.

Team says, “Is it weird that I thought about doing that?” and Win feels him smile against his shoulder.

It’s late, nearly nine thirty, and Win had plans of how to spend tonight that can’t be realized anymore. He wanted to invite Team to dinner with his family. He wanted to play video games with Team and View. He wanted to talk about London with Waan and Team. He wanted to include Team in his family’s warmth in some small way, to make him feel less lonely.

He can’t do any of that now but he still wants to sneak Team upstairs and have him in his arms all night. He wouldn’t, but he wants to. It’s been a month since he moved off campus permanently, and weeks since he was last able to spend a night alone with Team.

16. ** You Can Cry by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~19,600 words, mature - Win goes missing while on vacation with some friends. Team is left at home trying to handle it. I like the way the author built up to the accident happening. They did a good job creating tension and showing us exactly how Team felt about Win. And spoilers, this story has a happy ending.

“You’re going to fail out of university,” Team tells him. “You’re not really going, are you?”

Win rolls onto his side and perches his cheek on his hand. “What if I say yes?” he asks. “Will you miss me?”

Team’s warning look is more venomous than usual. “Not at all,” Team says, and Win smirks because that isn’t true and they both know it. “You still shouldn’t go. What if you miss the flight back? You’ll fail out and I’ll break up with you for being a dumbass.”

The very recent phenomenon of Team acknowledging that they’re a couple has its usual melting effect on Win’s heart.

2GETHER

17. ** Love Songs on Our Skin series by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~15,700 words, explicit - A soulmark AU where Tine is born with the notes to a song that hasn’t yet been written wrapped around his chest. I enjoyed how Tine’s obliviousness in the show carries over to this fic.

Only Mr. Chic would have a song no one had ever fucking heard of permanently etched on his chest. For fuck's sake .

Still, he waves it off, and he tries not to look too closely at other people's marks. Tries being the key word. He doesn't envy the elegant watercolors of a guitar pick and an open novel he catches sight of on the wrists of some couple's interlinked hands when he's in town. And he certainly doesn't envy the dude he once saw in a coffee shop with the words " I hate you " scrawled across the back of his neck. But yeah, okay, he might be a little jealous of the people who are lucky enough to have something as simple as their soulmate's name on their skin. That definitely isn't fair.

"Why couldn't it at least have been a Scrubb song?" he asks the mirror as he wipes it clear shower-born condensation. The mirror and him are well acquainted with this conversation by now. In fact, the mirror sees the stupid mark more than anyone, so it might as well put up with his equally stupid questions. "It could have been 'Together.' Just think of it, how romantic it would be to meet some cute girl's eyes after bumping into them at a concert, my favorite song playing . . ." He draws a nail over the winding bars of the music on his chest, frowning. "That would be so much easier."

18. Drown Your Sorrows by HyacinthsSoul - 2gether/Theory of Love - Sarawat and Third meet at a bar and bond over being in love with oblivious men.

“No, he’s an angel,” Sarawat says. “Unfortunately he’s a very stupid, very straight angel.”

“Mine’s stupid too,” the other man admits. “But definitely no angel. I’m Third, by the way,” he adds, offering a slender hand to shake.

“Sarawat,” says Sarawat. “Can I buy you another? I think we’re drinking the same thing, although I can’t remember what it’s called.”

20. ** Your Body Is My Instrument by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~12,000 words, explicit - This fic does a good job doing what, in this reccer’s humble opinion, the series failed to: showing Tine attracted to Sarawat. There’s great first time sex and some fun sexual tension. Plus, we get to see them switch off, which is extremely rare in BL. And most importantly: hand kink.

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, innocently enough for a guy whose first words to him were, “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kiss you till you drop.” So, you know. It starts kinda like that.

They’ve been officially dating for a grand sum total of three days and altogether not that much has changed. Except that Sarawat touches him more now. Normally this would be fine, no big deal, right? But Sarawat has magic, evil hands, and apparently all he has to do is glance Tine’s way to deduce the exact right places and ways to touch Tine to drive him up the fucking wall.

And the worst part is it’s almost never the same place or the same way twice, and the only warning Tine ever gets is that sneaky little glint Sarawat gets in his eyes just before he does it, the bastard.

MY ENGINEER

21. Cool Boy(friend) by HyacinthsSoul - Ram/King - ~22,000 words, explicit - So this is technically a WIP, but each chapter feels like a completed fic without a cliffhanger or anything. This is a very sweet, comfortable story about King and Ram getting to know each other as their relationship develops.

In the selfie King sends, he’s holding up a full shot glass while someone’s arm reaches into the frame to hand him another kind of drink, something tall with a straw and a paper umbrella. Ram frowns. Whose arm is that? The person is wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, which doesn’t match what any of their friend group was wearing, and the engineer bar doesn’t offer table service.

Frowning, Ram looks back through the previous photos until he spots a detail he’d overlooked before: a red-shirted man at a neighboring table. He’s visible in the background of two or three pictures taken by Tee, and in each of them he’s staring intently at King.

Not that it’s any of Ram’s business. Not that he cares.

HISTORY3: TRAPPED

22. it’s too late (to turn back now) by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~7200 words, general audiences - Canon divergence fic where Tang Yi pushes Shao Fei away after he saves Hong Ye in order to try and protect him. Shao Fei reacts to that about as well as you’d expect.

“Tang Yi, what do you mean-“

“I think you’ve fooled around for long enough,” Tang Yi interrupts, his voice cold, nothing like the man who had dabbed at his lips with a cotton bud last night, the man who had smiled at him when he made the cannon joke.

“You’ve disrupted my life, and the life of my family and friends in the past few weeks, Meng Shao Fei. This has gone for long enough,” he continues, unwavering. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Take a good rest here in the hospital, and I’ll get someone to pack up your things back at the house. Jack will deliver it back to your apartment.”

23 + 24. ** just waiting, waiting (on you) and between you and me by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~16,000 words, general audiences - These are stories about how Shao Fei and the rest of the gang deal over the years when Tang Yi is in jail. Found family fics are my jam, so I loved this.

The thing is, it’s been almost three months of this. 90 days, give or take. 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. And more than 7 million seconds of this — not having Tang Yi at his side.

Shao Fei wonders for a moment if he will ever stop seeing Tang Yi in every corner of the house. When he comes down the stairs in the morning, some part of him expects to see Tang Yi standing at the kitchen island with a bright smile, asking him if he wants jam with his toast that morning. Shao Fei sees Tang Yi in that apron he loves, cooking at the stove when he fixes himself dinner, alone in the spacious kitchen. Seeing Tang Yi’s favourite blue bathrobe, Shao Fei can almost see Tang Yi leaving the bathroom, his hair all wet and falling over his eyes.

25. amuse bouche by sarahyyy - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~2400 words, general audiences - This is more of Jack seducing Zhao Zi through food and attention. So basically an extension of the show. Mother hen Jack is the cutest.

“Jack?” Zhao Zi murmurs blearily. “Why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jack shoots back, herding Zhao Zi back into the house. He checks for Zhao Zi’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Fever?”

“Just the flu for now, I think?” Zhao Zi says.

Jack purses his lips. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had some bread earlier?” Zhao Zi says, but he also looks shifty enough that Jack mostly takes it with a grain of salt.

26. Absolutely Nothing Goes Wrong by anon - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~4500 words, teen - This is an AU where Zhao Zi is the son of a rival mob boss, but he’s still, you know HIMSELF. And when his father says he’s useless, he decides to prove him wrong by seducing Tang Yi’s second-in-command. It’s absolutely adorable.

The man pulled him by the arm, resisting Zhao Zi’s attempts to unhook his claws without causing a scene.

“Hey, stop grabbing me!” he shouted, as the other man played deaf.

“While I admit this is a very loud bar, I didn’t think it was quite so easy to mishear what this young man just yelled straight into your ear,” a newcomer who’d witnessed their conflict said lightly as he walked up to them. His words were accompanied by a wide, almost chilling smile. Zhao Zi blinked once and the odd peculiarity of that smile vanished, leaving just a regular smile in its place. He must’ve just been imagining things under the harsh shadows of the dimly lit bar.

AND +2

Because I’m shameless, I’ll add my own two fics to the end, if you’re interested.

WHY R U?

27. Sorry A Thousand Times - Fighter/Tutor - ~3200 words, explicit - This is a canon divergence for the series finale. I needed more catharsis after the intensity of episode 12.

Tutor narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He took a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you listen?” he asked. I don’t know how many more times I can bring myself to say it.

“Only once,” Fight said and then added, “if you mean it.”

Tutor crossed his arms over his chest and said, “What makes you think I don’t mean it now?”

The corner of Fight’s mouth turned up and he took a step closer. Tutor stumbled back until he was stopped by his legs hitting the edge of the bed. Fight reached out a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over the line of Tutor’s jaw.

Until We Meet Again

28. Dream On - Win/Team - 8900 words, explicit - Takes place alongside show canon, so that we see how the bed sharing began and how Win and Team’s relationship developed over that year.

“Do you want to do well tomorrow?” Win asked, throwing one of his legs over both of Team’s.

“Yes,” Team said as he did his best to put some space between them on the tiny mattress.

“Then you need to get some sleep. I’m helping.”

“How is this helping?” Team demanded.

“Would you stop…” Win said, shifting closer every time Team pulled away. “Five minutes, Team. Just be still for five minutes, okay?”

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kindkindling · 4 years

Text

thinking about my feelings never did me any good

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

pairing: mason/nb detective (Billie Vale)

rating: T

warnings: none? some anxiety, but nothing to write home about

word count: ~2k

summary: The detective accidentally spends the night in Mason's room and almost has a conniption over it.

ao3

Coming back to consciousness was a slow affair.

The first sensation to return was a familiar dull ache radiating from their lower half, a pleasant reminder of the evening's activities. Revelling in it for a few moments brought a smile to Billie's face that was really a bit embarrassing in just how wide it was, so they shifted to hide their face into their pillow. That, however, brought on another sensation that was more surprising - this wasn't their pillow.

The smile drained as Billie slowly lifted their head back up and opened their eyes. It took a few moments for their eyesight - poor at the best of times, honestly - to focus enough to discern that this was not the usual location of their... encounters with Mason.

This was, in fact, Mason's room.

A gentle shifting sound drew their attention, and they turned to their side to see Mason laying on his stomach, shoulderblades falling slightly as he exhaled a breath in sleep.

It was really quite something to see. His face was turned away, cheek pressed into the pillow, which was somehow both a disappointment and a relief; but now that their eyes had adjusted to the dark, they could see the defined slopes and curves of the lean muscles in his back. His freckles were a little harder to spot, and they couldn't have stopped the unconscious lean forward to refine their vision even if they had tried.

A bit closer, they could see the clusters of dots all across the wide expanse of tanned skin, and the smile that had dropped before returned with a vengeance as they let their eyes roam to their content.

This... was not something they ever got to see. Not Mason's back - that was something they had seen quite a few times by this point - but him just... peacefully resting. Billie was something of a heavy sleeper themself, so after a few rounds of fun, they would always be conked out until morning - by which time Mason was always long gone. And with that thought came a realization that felt like a bucket of ice water being poured over their head.

Mason never stayed. That was the thing, he was very clear when they began this... engagement that it was just sex. No feelings, no complications; and Billie had tentatively agreed, against their better judgement. Mason was rather good at getting Billie to go along with what were almost always bad ideas, seemingly without even trying very hard; an admittedly almost obnoxious level of professionalism had helped to keep any shenanigans out of their office at the station, but anywhere that didn't require Billie to prove themselves worthy of the duties given to them were less than safe.

Really, they should have been more concerned about how easy it was to let themselves be swayed by those pretty, stormy eyes and the way he would move towards them with a very definite, singular purpose in mind and how he had a way of making any room feel twenty degrees hotter even when the rest of Unit Bravo were still in the room Mason please. But being concerned about it would mean having to actually think about it, which Billie was adamantly and actively refusing to do, because thinking about it could only complicate things.

Thinking about it would lead to thinking about how, despite how their pulse would race and their ears would burn, they never felt safer than when they were in his arms. About how more than once they've caught themselves getting distracted at work, remembering not how he smirked down at them in bed, eyes dark and gleaming, but how he grinned when they had actually joined Felix in teasing Ava about her attitude for once.

("I'm just saying! He's not entirely wrong," they defended Felix. "You can be a little... uptight."

"I believe that's a bit hypocritical coming from you, detective," she had commented dryly, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I'm aware," they had said. "But that doesn't make it less true."

Nat had chuckled quietly from her book, and the bark of laughter from Mason had Billie mirroring his grin.)

None of that was fair to Mason. He wanted simple. He wanted uncomplicated fun. He didn't want feelings that would make things messy or their jobs harder and that was understandable. It was bad enough that Billie found so many moments of their day spent just remembering things like how his hair felt running through their fingers as they scrambled for purchase; if feelings got involved and things went south, there was no way the rest of Unit Bravo or their work would be unaffected, and staying in his bed after sex would be... crossing a feeling line?

Emotions really weren't their strong suit.

Thinking about their feelings, which unfortunately often ran counter to what was obviously the objectively correct course of action, was bad. Nothing good would come of it, so they shoved it down and locked it up and only occasionally allowed themselves to listen to the rattling of their heart inside its cage.

Steadfastly ignoring their pounding heart, Billie tried to stop their mind from running away and panicking about feelings they refused to consider by figuring out just what they were actually going to do about this.

So, the facts.

One. Mason never stayed. Therefore, Billie shouldn't stay either. Easy, nothing to even contemplate here. Frankly, they've probably stayed too long as it is, staring at the arrays of freckles on his back, lingering on one cluster before slowly dragging to the next, tracing the line where the sheets met his hips -

Stop. Next.

Two. Mason was asleep, and Billie was awake. Therefore, now was the optimal time to leave.

Three. In order to leave, they need to first find their glasses. Where were their glasses?

Billie had only been in here once before, when Mason was recovering from the Trappers' assault, and they hadn't exactly been paying much attention to the decor at that time. Reluctantly, they tore their eyes away from Mason's back and scanned the room.

They had come in the door and Mason had abruptly shut it behind them and crowded them against it. They had... spent some time there (don't think about it don't linger his hands cupped their ass and squeezed as he dragged them against his-)

Nope, obviously not there. A table? Dresser? When had they taken them off?

Shit. There was also another problem, even if they found the frames. It simply wouldn't be possible for Mason to sleep as heavily as they do - personal idiosyncrasies aside, his hypersenses would undoubtedly register them poking around his room.

Reconsider fact three. Are the glasses necessary? They could leave without them. Well, they couldn't leave the warehouse; while they did keep a spare pair in the glove compartment of their car, they had walked here today to enjoy the last remnants of spring's cool breezes before summer's annual onslaught began. But they could retire to their own room for the rest of the night at least, allow Mason the privacy he always afforded them, and inquire politely in the morning proper. That would be an awkward conversation in and of itself, but...

Yes, that seemed the safest bet. Least chance of waking Mason, greatest chance of avoiding an "Oh hey, didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep" conversation, absolutely no chance of acknowledging how god, they really didn't want to leave at all, he was so warm next to them -

Right, time to go.

With a firm resolution not to look back and start counting each freckle to delay this any longer, Billie pulled the covers back and shifted their legs off the bed. As soon as their feet touched the floor, they felt a tug and the world shifted and suddenly they were back on the bed and looking at the ceiling?

"Quiet down." Gruff, gravelly - oh. Mason was awake. Well, shit.

"I didn't say anything," Billie whispered. Mason had pulled them back from the edge of the bed and had turned so that now he was on his side and had one arm slung across their middle, pressing them alongside him. They could feel the drag of his stubble as he buried his face in the space between their shoulder and the pillow, and try as they might, they couldn't stop their ears from burning in response.

"Didn't have to. Heart's pounding a mile a minute."

Ah. So much for their carefully considered plan. But now, with his arm around them and his breath warming their skin, they were finding it harder and harder to start a new thread of logic to get out of this.

They looked down at his arm. The freckles that had dotted across his back spread here as well, and after a moment's hesitation, they brought one hand up to gently run their fingers across them, trying to find a recognizable pattern. They could feel Mason stiffen for just a second, then relax again with a only a huff as commentary. Not wholly unwelcome, then. Tolerated, at least. Was that was this was? Was he just tolerating this intrusion into his space, would it mean he would be less likely to allow Billie in again? Maybe not, he was never very picky about where they had fun before, but this was different, surely? This had to be a bad idea, they couldn't let themself be swayed into this like all the times before, this could be ruinous, this thing that they have was already tenuous and vague at best, this had to be crossing a line -

There was a growl and another tug and suddenly Billie was on their side, facing away from Mason, pulled in tight against his chest with both arms and legs tangled together. The tension Billie felt was keeping them from fully appreciating the position, though that did nothing to stop the flush from moving from their ears to their cheeks.

"What did I tell you?"

They let out a breath they hadn't known they were holding. Then took another, and gathered their courage. Bite the bullet.

"Sorry. It's just..." They rearranged their own arms until they could hold onto Mason's more comfortably. "...Is this really okay? Me... staying?"

They felt a scoff behind their head, gently displacing a few wisps of hair.

"Where would you even go?"

Ugh. This was taking more courage than Billie allotted for. "I could go to my own room. You don't have to let me stay here if you don't want to."

There was a long, long moment of silence. Long enough that Billie started to consider cutting their losses and writing off that pair of glasses entirely, really, they could just run home, pack their bags, move to the city, change their name; they would miss Unit Bravo and Tina and Verda and maybe even reminisce about Douglas and his stupid, shitty phone one day, but it would be better than dealing with the fallout of this.

But while Mason may be a tease, he never fails to follow through. His grip tightened just a bit.

"I never do anything I don't want to, sweetheart. If you don't know that by now, you aren't half as smart as everyone thinks you are."

A flush of warmth flowed through them that had (almost) nothing to do with the added heat from Mason's embrace, even as they let out a small huff of indignation. It wasn't the most tactful way to say it, but it still answered the unasked question. Do you want me to stay?

With that worry taken care of and any other thoughts or feelings on the matter resolutely shoved back where they came from because we are not going to screw this up right now no thank you, Billie finally settled back against Mason's chest.

"Okay then." They could feel a shadow of a smile at the edge of their lips, the muscles barely twitching before they also settled as they let their eyes close again. "...Good night, Mason."

"'Night."

It didn't take much longer for Billie to fall back asleep, Mason's arms around them, legs entangled, and the ghost of Mason's lips resting on the back of their neck for the rest of the night.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc fic #i can't believe i managed to write this and get sick of it in the same day #take it away. please.#sea's OCs #twc m

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squiddybeifong · 5 years

Note

Can I ask for Damirae: You asked me whether I had a crush on someone, then cried when I said I did (because I'm crushing on you). It seems unlikely that either would get drunk, so maybe dami's on some heavy pain medication? Please? I really want to see Damian act like a overemotional dork in front of all his friends and family (who might not have noticed his crush). OOOOo, I wonder how Raven would react after he's conked out....

Morphine

on ao3 here:

–

He was an idiot.

His condition was stable and hopefully the morphine would keep any pain she couldn’t take away at bay, but he was an absolute idiot. Pushing her out of the way and getting beamed with half a car in her place was Jon-levels of impulsive; Raven bit back a sigh as she tried to ignore the Kryptonian’s nervousness from the common room. The team-up was a success but he didn’t have the invincibility to take this kind of damage willy-nilly.

Raven readjusted her spot in the chair before her legs could fall asleep, still carefully keeping watch over him. She was hopeful with the recent shift in his emotions that he’d be waking up soon, but she kept muttering about his haphazard idiocy under her breath.

Her hands kept flicking over everything; lifting his lids to check his eyes, prodding to ensure his IV was correct (even though it’d been perfectly in place the last four checks), running her fingertips over the monitors’ as she reread their signs, methodically pulling the bits of frayed edges off the cot’s blankets, fiddling with her rings and the singed ends of her hair when she ran out of IVs to occupy her mind with.

Sitting directly across from her, Jason wasn’t too concerned. No, with an arm slung over his chair and one boot resting on the cot, his hoodless face was calm as he alternated between checking his phone and stealing glances at his unconscious brother’s face.

He ran a glove through his hair as a message came in, a relieved sound coming from the back of his throat. Raven glanced his way, “Oracle received everything?”

“Yep.” Red Hood slid his phone back in his pocket and reclined in his seat until it balanced in the air, crossing his legs as they set on the blankets. Raven rolled her eyes and shooed his boots off the cot with a flick of magic. Snorting as his chair slammed back down, Jason crossed his arms and glanced at Damian’s face again, “Now all we need is for baby bat to wake up and I can get outta here.”

She hummed at that, biting back a “Think of the devil” as Damian’s nose twitched.

Raven hurried to lean over him, holding down his hand so he couldn’t accidentally pry the IV loose as he shifted again, “Damian?”

His chest heaved as he took in a deep breath, groggily grumbling as he was regretfully pulled back into consciousness. It took him a minute, but eventually olive eyes creaked open and Damian squinted at the light. He closed them again as the mage wiped his lashes clean, a lopsided grin forming when Raven pulled back and the fluorescence haloed her head.

The swordsman tried to let out a giddy laugh and hissed at the pressure against his ribs. Raven put a hand to his side, her brows jumping nearly to her hairline as he drawled out, “Heeeey.”

The mystic paused, her head tilting to the side. Jason snickered at the sight of Damian being anything but his uptight, sober self and brushed aside the pointed look Raven aimed his way from the corner of her eyes. He decided to wait a bit longer before leaving; this was shaping up to be quite entertaining.

The empath took a calming breath, trying not to react to the equal parts happiness and confusion that was radiating off him. Her eyes were concerned as she got his attention –even though a tiny part of her knew full well that she’d have it the whole time he was in this state, “Damian.”

His brows furrowed and he reached for her, “Why are there three of you?”

“That might be the concussion talking,” Raven hummed out. Her hand angled his face up to check his eyes again, “Sorry if I’m a blurry mess.”

“Don’t worry, Hiyati,” The swordsman’s head lolled as he relaxed against the pillows, leaning his cheek into her palm. “Even blurry Raven is too pretty to be a mess.”

She felt Jason’s sharp spike of amusement before she heard his bark of laughter and flushed. Raven cleared her throat as she pulled her hands away, the clink! on her fingers bringing Damian’s gaze to the jewelry.

“Oh!” He sloppily pointed at her hands, “Can I see?”

The demoness blinked once and, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to indulge him and his intoxicated curiosity, gave him her left hand. Still far too out of it to conceal his features, Damian ogled at the silver and onyx that graced each of her fingers. He almost let go as he leisurely turned to stare at her. His pupils wide, he squeezed the tips of her fingers and Raven’s brows jumped to her hairline as he pouted (actually pouted! Kory must’ve ordered some strong morphine) and sadly brought her hand up to his face again.

Damian rubbed his thumb against the braided obsidian ring that she rarely took off, dejectedly sighing out, “You’re married?”

“No.” She tried to keep her face stoic as her teammate perked up at the news.

“Then do you…” He hesitated in that faux ‘the idea juuuust came to me, honest!’ sort of way only inebriated people could believe was believable, “Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Jason casually laced his fingers over his stomach and lounged in his seat, wishing he had a bucket of popcorn. Mindlessly, he pondered the ethics of calling Alfred so he could hear the clusterfuck alongside him and whether or not that was something the butler would approve, but ultimately decided against it.

Raven ignored the anti-hero’s amusement that danced over her empathy, sheepishly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she shrugged Damian’s way. She decided he deserved the truth, especially in this state. The mystic bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating for just a second, “I do, actually.”

“Oh…”

Her head tilted at the bursts of sadness and amusement that mixed into her empathy, knowing which of the two Bats she could realistically question on their emotions, “I– Damian?”

He sniffled and brought her palm back up to cup his face. Tenderly gazing up at her, the ex-assassin had that same despondent look that Titus wore whenever they left to go on missions without him. Raven felt her heart tumble end over end; she’d never seen Damian this open before, yet alone to the point of tears. If he noticed their audience’s snickering he didn’t seem to care, especially not with the forlorn, heartbroken way he whined (what in Azar’s name was going on? Should he be on a smaller dose?) out, “I was hoping you didn’t have a crush on anyone.”

At the awfulness that was teenage confessions opened up into the room Jason, shit-stirrer that he was, couldn’t help but pipe up, “But if she didn’t have a crush on anyone she couldn’t have a crush on you.”

Raven let out a quiet, horrified little sound at him pointing out the obvious and at her patient perking up at the idea, not knowing if she could lie to Damian. Confused, bright, hopeful, somewhat glassy olive eyes settled on her and her lips twitched. Scratch that, there was no way she could lie to him; not about this and not when he was in this state.

So instead, she rationalized that placating him would be enough for now.

Putting a hand to his forehead, Raven chanced running her fingers through his hair. He let out a lovestruck coo and her words came out a tinge more blunt than she anticipated, “Go back to sleep.”

Jason let his head fall back, laughing and declaring them “Idiots” to the ceiling.

Leisurely trailing her hand down to cup his cheek again, the goth ran her thumb over his cheek and traced the shell of his ear. Her shoulders relaxed as Damian’s lethargy sunk into her mind, glad that he wasn’t too bothered with his confessions and still-fractured bones. Damian sunk into her touch, sighing as he started slipping back to sleep. Raven kept rubbing soothing circles under his ear as his breathing evening out and a fond smile curled her lips, her calm exterior hiding just how much she was screaming inside at what Damian had all but admitted.

Once he was asleep, the mystic let herself enjoy a few more seconds of ease before she realized exactly what she was doing. Catching herself, she pulled her hand away and snapped her head to the other side of the cot, worried about how much of that Jason saw. Raven flushed as the Bat merely raised a brow at her.

Running a tongue over his teeth, Jason smirked and held up his phone, “Alfie wants to know if you’d like to stay over for the holidays?”

She shifted in her seat. His emotions were saying that Alfred’s request was serious so she nodded, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously when all her answer brought was the man innocently texting his grandfather back. Raven crossed her arms, disbelief slipping into her voice, “No teasing?”

Green eyes shot up to her face. “You’re the girlfriend I hardly know. I’m gonna mock the shit outta him,” Jason jerked a thumb his brother’s way, his grin wide and all-knowing, “But you’re safe. For now.”

The Titan let out a quiet harrumph at that, not quite sure how to respond. She watched as the anti-hero finished sending out his message and stood, cracking his neck as he pulled his leather jacket back on. The dark pine ring of his eyes were muted as he considered her for a moment. Jason’s gaze flicked between the two teens and he aimed an honest-to-Azar smile her way.

It brought some hope that Damian’s actions weren’t just from the morphine, but she was still hesitant. There was mischief on Jason’s face as he drawled out, “D’you know what hiyati means?”

Raven’s lips pursed. She shook her head. Jason smirked and tucked his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He kept glimpsing at his tiny, only-partially-homicidal brother and Raven couldn’t tell how much of this was him being genuine as he advised, “You should look it up sometime.”

Chuckling, Red Hood slipped his helmet back on and started towards the door. He casually tossed over his shoulder, “Later, Birdie. Let Lil’ D know all the Bats’re gonna know about this by the time he’s up.”

Unsure what to say, indigo eyes flicked from Damian’s face to the closing door and back again. As the quiet of Jason’s aura leaving filled the room she leaned back in her chair and tucked her legs up underneath her, alternating between fiddling with her rings and watching Damian as he rested. The braided obsidian on her ring finger kept reminding her of his pout and Raven sat up, taking a few minutes to read and reread the monitors to keep herself occupied. Jason’s words kept chipping at the edges of her brain and the demoness rested against the side of the cot.

Making up her mind at the steady rise and fall of Damian’s chest, the goth pulled out her phone. Her face fell at the sheer amount of new messages that Dick and Kory (but mainly Kory) were sending her, all built from the gossip Jason must’ve sent out to the adults’ group chat.

Shaking her head and hoping that Damian would be awake when the rest of the team found out about the rumor, she quickly typed ‘hiyati in english’ into the search bar. With all the machines the med-bay’s reception wasn’t the best, but a few long seconds later her eyes widened as the translation popped up.

Raven glanced at the swordsman again and smiled down at herself.

#demonbirds #damirae #damian wayne #raven #jason todd #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #they are d o r k s and i l o v e them #really hope ya like this!!!

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years

Text

Separate

As Lloyd starts on his journey to look for the Cores, he finds it much harder than he anticipated. He's not used to traveling alone, without her voice by his side.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: It's Colloyd Day!! To celebrate, I wrote a collaborative fic with the wonderful writer, Lil-Samuu, with both of us writing different sides of the same story, hers from Colette's perspective and mine from Lloyd's. This was a fun idea for such a special day!

For Lil-Samuu's Colette-focused story, please read it here. This is connected to Lloyd's story and works well when read together! @frayed-symphony also drew amazing art for both stories, be sure to check!

---

Lloyd had never been a very good writer.

That simple fact was told to him by Professor Sage whenever she had the chance to. Much of that was complimented by a frown, trying to read over an essay he turned in that very morning while he looked several different shades of guilty. Clearly littered with incomplete sentences, some of them including just the wrong words by nature, it was hard to parse whatever he was trying to say.

Not like he didn’t try, but his characters would get a little sloppy, or merge into one another and make little sense of the sentence he attempted. It wasn’t the same as drawing or making figurines. Those things interested him, feeling like he could create something out of nothing, or just try to mold an idea that he had been holding inside his head. Then it was easier, then it was interesting.

This, writing, just wasn’t interesting to him.

“Gah, why does this stupid stuff matter anyway?” Lloyd had argued, his temper getting the best of him. At 12, he couldn’t control the rawness of his frustration. Though he wouldn’t have much better luck a few years later. “If I want to talk about something, I should just be able to say it! Writing it down takes way longer.”

“There will be times when you can’t just say what’s on your mind at that moment,” his teacher had patiently explained. “It’s good to gather your thoughts and put them down for someone to read later. What if they can’t hear what you to say at that moment? What if it’s easier to say what you want on paper?”

“No way! If I have something to say, I’ll just say it!” Lloyd was proud of his stance on this, hands on his hips, head raised high. Not even his low marks for the day could drag his spirits down.

Until one night, when he had to write a letter for Colette.

Suddenly, he had a chaos of thoughts to say, but no way to say them out loud. And no more bravery to do so.

As he stayed up on the night he would leave her, Lloyd tried to write her a letter, until the picture was clear in his head.

---

Despite the strange warmth in the air, Lloyd had somehow still caught a cold.

“Ah-choo!” Lloyd sneezed a bit loudly. With a sigh, he wrapped his cloak around himself, trudging through the snows before finally seeing the city gates of Flanoir. The spires of its cathedral pierced through the dark night sky, which glittered with so many stars and the brightness of two moons.

“I’d count as many as I could before, when Kratos helped me. But now I can only count a few before my eyes get heavy. But it feels so nice to do so all the same.”

And she would say that with the brightest smile on her face – to be able to sleep again.

Lloyd had barely gotten a full night’s rest since he left Colette.

“Agh, don’t… think on that now. It’s not helping any.” He clamped down on his muttering, trying to keep his lips from getting chapped from the wind. Also, it was kinda weird talking to himself like this? He never used to do it this much, but it had always felt natural before to say whatever was on his mind, knowing someone was with him to hear it. Sometimes he’d listen to how Colette would do the same, pattering off the names of dogs she found, or talking about the shapes she saw up in the cloudy skies, and he’d drink in the sound of her voice.

Each night was quiet and empty without her.

Lloyd finally made it past Flanoir’s entrance, dimly annoyed at himself for landing his Rheiard a bit far off from the city. But it’d be dumb to just get the vehicle out from his wing pack, fly it for like a minute, and then get off again! Even though his walk had been an extra 15 minutes because of it, but Lloyd was stubborn like that.

He kept making dumb little mistakes like this lately. A wrong flight turn at Sybak, then leaving half of his Gald at one town accidentally… and now here at Flanoir…

Lloyd’s satchel that he carried over his shoulder was light; he’d gone through most of his food, sometimes snacking in the middle of the night when he could barely sleep. He kinda wished the blessing of Martel gave him better self-control… or the power to summon infinite food… or something else that was cool.

“The power to summon doggies! All kinds from around the world!”

“Heh, yeah. That would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it? Kinda like my Sorcerer’s Ring that one time!”

Lloyd blinked, stopping in the middle of the street when he realized. Oh, now he was making up conversations between them…

Martel had said her power would protect him from the mental effects of his mission, but he was clearly already losing it! Needing something to do with his hands, he looked through his satchel, trying to remember what he needed. More food definitely, maybe some mittens (he still had a few Penguinist’s Quills), a couple of Gels, but did he even have enough money…? He kept searching, assessing, his hand brushing against something familiar, making him stop.

He held out what he found, the sky feeling heavy, yet the weight in his palm so light. Red-dyed gloves imprinted against the white, the contrast so strong in his eyes still.

He was losing it, or… he just really, intensely missed Colette. He thought knowing that she was safe now would be enough but…

It had been only a week or so since Lloyd had left Colette – not bravely, not with an explanation of any sort even. The air had been familiar in that part of Sylvarant, just near Iselia. Maybe that was why he had chosen to go on that very night. Colette wouldn’t be far from the town; she’d go back to her home, to people that would be there for her, when he couldn’t be. She’d be able to have a normal life to herself again, one that was denied from her; from the world, and even from himself.

He had already involved her in one dangerous mission with him. He couldn’t put her in another. That was what he told himself – what he kept trying to tell himself.

Lloyd did wish he hadn’t left her completely alone though. He had tried sneaking away by himself, but Noishe, who had tagged along with them for most of the journey, soon caught wind of his movements. The only way to stop the dog’s whining was to take him along, at least far enough to Dirk’s home. Maybe Colette would stop by there…

Someone bumped against his shoulder, nearly making him trip. Oh. Yeah, he was still standing in the middle of the street like an idiot. Clearing his throat, he put back the weight he held into his satchel and moved away, the antiquated buildings – yet taller and sturdier than most buildings back in Sylvarant – giving him a nostalgic sense. The snow fell more gently here than outside the city walls, probably because those same walls buffered the wind, leaving more pleasant but still chilly weather.

…Actually, it was a bit warmer here too, even more than he expected. That’s weird… The cloak now felt a bit too suffocating this way. He had to loosen it from his neck, giving himself room to breathe.

Things in the world weren’t right, not completely. From changes in temperature to a certain taste in the air. That was why one night, Lloyd had heard Martel’s voice in his head, telling him what he needed to do. He was supposed to search for the Cores. But, in all honesty, Lloyd had no idea where to begin. He had just… somehow ended up here. In Flanoir.

That had been another mistake. Why did he travel to this place?

---

In the cozy warmth of his room, the metal fireplace insulating him well against the cold from outside, Lloyd had nearly fallen asleep on his feet until he heard a soft knocking on his door.

Usually, Lloyd would conk out like a log once entering an inn room. Just the sight of a bed invited him to just lay down and close his eyes right away. The pleasant heat of the entire inn already had him yawning and stretching, the snows from beyond the building muffling most sounds.

But this time he stayed up. He expected something. There had been so much in his head, the snow gently falling.

She didn’t even have to say anything until she opened the door, her hair so bright –

---

Lloyd found himself at the inn before he knew it.

“Oh,” he said aloud, looking around like a gaping fish. He had just completely blanked out on his walk to here. How’d that happen? He rubbed his scalp, thinking on it a bit too hard.

“Oh! You’re Lloyd Irving, aren’t you?”

Well, that got his attention. Lloyd turned to the front, finding a man around his age, waving to him.

“Yeah! I remember you! You and your friends would stay here all the time like a year back.”

“Uh! Y-yeah, hey!” Lloyd waved at him, walking to the front past some dining tables, his boots making the floorboards creak. He felt so bad not remembering this person’s name… He did recognize the face though. The guy had short cropped black hair, a ready smile on his face. He seemed pretty happy to see Lloyd?

“Are your friends going to come by too?”

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me this time around.” Saying that out loud suddenly felt weird, as if the reality of everything had just now sunk in. No, no, he had known that all along. He had just been trying to push it away in the back of his skull, that was all. “For a, uh… a quick visit!”

The man behind the counter continued to smile at him. So, was he the receptionist? The innkeeper? Maybe the cook that just happened to be out here while the real receptionist was on break? Colette would probably remember… At the least, she might have remembered his name. Having gone with Lloyd around the world to name every dog she met, she learned and memorized most people’s names they came across too.

And maybe she would remember this person, especially after her and Lloyd had been rejected by so many inns at so many places.

But she wasn’t here with him.

“I could tell it was you. No one else wears so much red around here!” The guy kept laughing and talking, but it was hard to pay attention. Things didn’t seem right, like Martel had told him. Things just weren’t right.

And it was up to him to fix it.

---

“Those with the blessing of Martel can weather the mental drain of the Cores. So only you can take this mission.”

Yuan had always been blunt and straight to the point. At least at this moment, Lloyd appreciated it. After some rough first impressions, both had started to trust one another. Especially with the presence of Martel binding them.

Still, he had to ask. “Why doesn’t that include Colette though?”

Yuan raised an eyebrow. It was strange not seeing him wear the dark cloak anymore, his clothes more casual, his eyes less hard and bitter. The tree behind him was still a small thing, a sapling with the first hint of greenery, leaves beginning to sprout forth. He couldn’t see Martel, but he could sense her – despite not knowing what exactly she thought of his question.

With Yuan, he could tell right away. “You’re thinking what I just asked was stupid, aren’t you?”

“Never said that.” Yuan frowned. “But why Colette specifically?”

“Because… she was with me when we both went to the tree. When we gave it a name!”

“When you gave it a name,” Yuan reiterated. “Remember?”

Lloyd sighed. “Okay… but we both promised we’d do anything to protect the tree from withering.”

“It was still you that made that promise. And Martel accepted that promise, along with the name you’ve chosen, as proof of the pact.” Yuan sighed. “Or should I go over the way such pact-formations work again?”

“I got it, I got it.” Lloyd held back another sigh. He had left Colette at a Church of Martel, her business with the priests allowing him time to visit this place with the World Tree. Even though she had been here before, even though she had heard the name he gave… She had asked of him to give it a name…

“Are you just looking for an excuse to not do this?”

“No!” Lloyd said back. “I never said I wouldn’t do it. I’ll find the Cores and keep Ratatosk from awakening them. If only I can.”

“That’s right,” Yuan said, now appearing to be satisfied. “Only you.”

He felt Martel’s own satisfaction as well, but in there, a small tinge of understanding.

Lloyd still wished for a different outcome.

---

“Do you want a room? Hello?”

Again, he had been thinking too hard on things, losing track of everything. If Colette was here, she’d have nudged him for spacing out. Or talked with the innkeeper/receptionist/chef? Lloyd still wasn’t sure…

“S-sorry. Uh, what were you asking?”

“Just wanted to know if you needed a room. We can probably give you a discount after all your stays with us! Like… like 10 percent max though.”

Lloyd thought on it longer, much longer than he meant to. The inn’s rooms were warm, but the place was already so warm, warmer than it needed to be. Any other time, it would make him fall fast asleep, but like before, his mind kept turning over and over.

When Colette opened the door to his room, he had felt those thoughts settle. But, she wouldn’t do that now. Because he left her.

“Um, no. That’s okay. I’ll be leaving already.”

“Oh? Then… why did you come here?”

Lloyd paused just as he was turning away, the words completely lost to him. There was a weight in his chest that was hard to get rid of.

“I’m not sure,” he said out loud, then left through the inn door. He still didn’t learn that guy’s name.

---

When Lloyd had left with Noishe to his dad’s home, part of him had been calm. Something about seeing the two-story house there, the vines climbing up the walls, the sun’s rays slanting over the creek that ran around his house, had been relieving. The dog happy-whined at the sight, already wanting to run towards the home, his large ears flicking with excitement.

Lloyd honestly felt the same. But he stopped himself from just running forward. Moving further out of the forest, he saw Dirk watering the garden, probably having been up since dawn doing all the other chores in the house – including taking care of what had been Lloyd’s own chores.

He could barely hold back anymore, so with a shout, he called out to him. “Hey! Dad!”

The dwarf perked his head up, his beard somehow even bushier than before. Noishe had rushed past Lloyd, ambling up to Dirk to get promptly petted on his furry head. “Lloyd! Haven’t seen ya in a while. Still holding up?”

“Yeah!” Lloyd answered a bit quickly, waiting for his dad to make the connection. The space around him was too prominent, the lack of a voice too clear.

“I don’t see Colette with you today. Is she back in Iselia?”

Lying is the first step down the path of thievery. And even though Lloyd had definitely lied before, that vow felt so much more vital at this moment. She probably was in Iselia at this moment, maybe even looking for him…

“Someone needs my help,” Lloyd said, a little rushed, but still convinced he had to go through with it. “I can’t have Colette involved in it. So… we need to be separate from now on.”

He inwardly winced, seeing the gears in his father’s head work, assessing the truth of his words. That was one other reason why he didn’t lie often. His dad could always tell when he did anyway.

“How long will you be gone then?” Dirk finally asked, stopping his petting of Noishe to cross his thick arms over his chest.

“I’m not sure. It might be a while. I… really don’t have any idea.”

“Have you told Colette any of this?”

A pause. “I did.” This one wasn’t a lie still, but he held back. He had a feeling Dirk wouldn’t approve of the way he told Colette.

But sometimes things couldn’t be said right away at that moment. Sometimes one needed to wait and gather one’s thoughts, suddenly all so mixed up. And sometimes, it was easier.

Dirk continued to visibly ponder over Lloyd’s words, the sun still shining brightly, despite a small chill in the air. The weather had been strange lately, like the hint of snow back in Triet. Lloyd didn’t have much time to pause and wander around anymore. But still, he had to come here, he had to have some closure in something.

His father looked him straight in the eyes. It didn’t matter that he was a few feet shorter – Lloyd always felt smaller in his presence no matter what.

“You’re doing what you believe is right and true, are you?”

“Yeah!” This he knew for sure, even though the pain of leaving Colette was still fresh. “Of course!”

“And you won’t go making trouble for people out there?”

“No way! I swear!”

Then, that bushy beard revealed a white, shining grin. “Then what are ya waiting for? Get to completing your tasks so you and Colette can travel together again.”

Lloyd blinked, feeling out of sorts almost. “You’re not mad?”

“Lloyd, you’ve done nothing to make me angry. I trust you. Just as I know that Colette trusts you too. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Right! I will!” Back then, his burdens felt lifted, at least for a moment. Still, he had one thing to ask. “Hey, Dad? If, um, Colette comes by…”

He paused, wondering if he had a right to say this. He had given her a letter, but was that enough?

“Go on, Lloyd,” Dirk said, his voice gentler.

“Can you tell her…?”

---

Maybe camping out in the snows was his way of punishing himself.

But still, the outside was not nearly as cold as it should have been. Either way, Lloyd wore his cloak, and if he buried his hands underneath the snows, they’d go numb with the chill regardless. He made the campfire by rote, soon finding the flames eat up the kindling, already melting the snow underneath it. Snowflakes still drizzled down, if not as fiercely as they once did a year ago.

“Could we still make snowmen like this? Or do you think it would melt too fast?”

“We could try! Just gotta speed through it! Whoever makes the fastest snowman wins!”

“Oh! What do I win then?”

“Hey, why are you assuming you’d win already?”

Lloyd sat against a big snowdrift, half burying himself in it. Here he was, making up conversations again. What would his dad think of him now though? He no longer felt as confident as he should have been.

In his satchel, there was little food and money. He had forgotten to stock up, already leaving Flanoir before even staying there for more than an hour. It hadn’t felt right, being there without her. Traveling all this time with her, and then suddenly an emptiness around him.

His hand had brushed against the snowbunny she had given him earlier in the city, its shape fitting into his palm. It was the one thing he made sure to never forget to leave behind.

“And I get to stay by your side, right?”

Lloyd shut his eyes, overwhelmed by the memory, the guilt, the need to have her seated beside him. And then he was overwhelmed by the reality that she would not be with him for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he said out loud to the fire, seeing the way it flickered in the darkness. The fire seemed to cast long shadows, longer than they should.

Lloyd raised his head. The clouds finally cleared, giving him a clear view of the stars.

There were so many new ones ever since the worlds reunited. People of both worlds now shared the same sky, the same stars, and the same moons. Sometimes he wondered, back when Tethe’alla was separate, how different the sky must have looked compared to Sylvarant’s. Or maybe it was still so similar. But with them meshed together like this, that distinction no longer mattered. Everything was now under one sky.

Colette was under this sky too. She seemed to like counting the stars with him.

There was one particularly bright star. It flickered like a candle in the pitch-black expanse above him. Looking up at that star made his head feel a little clearer. The tension in his neck seemed to dissipate.

Under this same sky, maybe Colette was watching this star too? Thinking that, at least a little bit.

The air was warmer than it should have been, but still Lloyd wrapped his cloak around himself, the empty space around him much too wide, much too cold. He’d do better tomorrow, figure out what he needed to do, where he needed to go, to finish his mission and get back to Colette.

It was just hard to get used to.

“I’ll come back, okay?” he said out loud, watching that same bright star. No one would hear him, not for a long while. But someday, she would.

It was nice though, looking up at the sky, at that star…

---

Dear Colette,

By the time you read this, I’ll have already left on my own journey. Sounds familiar, right?

I think I understand why you wrote me that letter back then. It’s not easy to do this. You look really happy when you’re sleeping, and I don’t want to ruin that with this. Or maybe I’m too worried to do that anyway.

This will be familiar too… I care about you too deeply to get you involved. Sorry, I’m just stealing your words at this point. I’m not good at this!

Even though… I wish you could be involved? But I can’t ask that of you. I can’t ask that of anyone.

But I can promise you though that I’ll come back! I want to protect this world, this world with Colette in it. And I want to keep staying by your side, too.

But for now, I can’t.

I’m sorry.

I was happy traveling with you all this time. Just with you. And I wanted to keep that going.

I’m sorry for leaving, and for telling it you this way. I hope you can forgive me.

But I’ll always I really feel like I I’ll miss you, Colette.

I’ll come back.

-Lloyd

#tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloyd #colloydday #fanfiction

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