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emilyoftheshadows · 4 years ago

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Are we going to ignore the inhaling of narcotic drugs going on in the corner?

Enjoy some more angsty rowaelon vibes! This drabble is more intense than my other two pieces and probably the most angst I have ever written.

TW: depression, drug/alcohol abuse, death, gun violence

~~~~~

Aelin looked good tonight. No, correction, she looked fucking hot. The dress hugged her thin figure, the hot pink color sure to make her stand out in any crowd. With her loosely curled hair running down her back and a disguise of makeup to cover the darkening circles under her eyes, Aelin was ready to face the crowds.

The most rambunctious groups came out Friday night. The clubs become filled with young drinkers like Aelin, ready to let loose after a long week. Not that it mattered what day of the week it was anymore. Aelin could barely keep track as it was. Between last night's drunken adventures and the shroom endeavors the night before, time blurred together.

Her apathy for her life was at an all time high, and Aelin couldn't find it in herself to give two fucks about her safety. No, she was out for a good time, even if the cost was a high price. She wanted more good times, more distractions, more haziness, more everything. Want was too weak of a word...Aelin needed these distractions in her life. Because if she took the time to re-evaluate her life circumstances, she would crumble beyond repair.

So instead of feeling the emptiness of reality, Aelin decided to live in the fullness of fantasy. With her intentions in mind, she turned to Dorian with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He smiled back with drunken enthusiasm, already 4 shots in due to his notorious pre-gaming. Yes, even events he attended involving the consumption of more alcohol still required this ritual. Ever since Aelin had dived into her partying streak, Dorian had been stuck to her side. While they were not dating by any means, he was a good fuck buddy and a great party companion. With the same wild side as herself, they had a partnership that benefited them both.

Tonight, they walked into The Vaults, instantly greeted by the smell of sweat and liquor. The club was grimy at best with an even grosser owner, but they sold pints by the dollar and had a tendency to skip id checks. For this exact reason, Vaults was filled to the brim with patrons creating a chaotic image. Arms pumped up in tandem with the bass, bodies bumped into one another as people found the rhythm of the music; partners danced on each other, lost to the world around them. Aelin saw it all and became fascinated by the scene in front of her. She craved the anonymity that came with jumping into a random crowd. Aelin reveled in the thought of losing herself tonight, just like she had every night since he was ripped from her life.

Dorian released Aelin of her trance, pulling her to the expansive bar on the side of the room. Waving down the attention of the bartender, Dorian yelled over the sounds of the club.

"Ace, what are you feeling tonight? Shots, beer, cosmos, you fucking name it. Everything's on me tonight!" Oh yeah, it was an added benefit that Dorian had money to burn. His father did something or other, Aelin couldn't remember. It wasn't pertinent to her, therefore she couldn't care less. But because of his fathers funds, and Dorian’s unlimited access to said funds, Aelin didn't have to pay for a thing when they went out.

"Surprise me!" With that said, Dorian turned towards the bartender ordering god knows what. Aelin took this time to check her phone, noting the date. June 9 2021, 365 days after she had lost her greatest love. The reason she needed to drown her sorrows with booze and bodies. Because the day Sam had died had been the last time Aelin truly knew who she was anymore.

With a margarita set in her hand, Aelin tucked her phone back into her pocket determined to take back control of her thoughts, and continued to lead Dorian into the depths of the club. As much as she hated to admit it, Aelin frequented Vaults on a weekly basis. The club attracted a crowd she usually didn’t interact with in her day to day life, creating a safe space where Aelin could go as wild as she wanted. The seating area they now stood in contained multiple clusters of partygoers, some more distracted than others. It was then that Dorian took a certain interest in one group over the others.

With a hefty laugh, Dorian commented, “Are we going to ignore the inhaling of narcotic drugs going on in the corner?”

Aelin couldn’t help but join in his laughter, because as she turned her head to the left, she saw a girl arranging lines of white powder on the table in the middle of a much larger group.

“You know what, you are absolutely right Dorian! How could we ever miss an opportunity for a nice high?” Aelin could barely hear her own words over the noise, but noticed the glimmer of mischief reflected in Dorian’s eyes as well. She took that as a sign, moving closer to the group until she was in the center of the cluster with Dorian stuck at her side. With a raised eyebrow, Aelin gestured with her eyes to the powder and back up to the girl organizing the substance. Her hair was white as snow, piercings dotted along her ears and face. She glanced up at Aelin, the girl's pupils already blown out and bloodshot. With a lazy smile she handed Aelin a card to line up her own serving.

Three lines later, Aelin was feeling more awake than ever. Her heart felt like it was skipping a beat, her nerves were on edge and her emotions were heightened. She looked over, glad to see Dorian was enjoying his time with the white-haired girl. But Aelin was done lounging around. No, she needed to move with the crowd in the center of the club. With her eyes locked on the floor, Aelin stumbled her way into the group of dancers, easily moving to the beats of the music. As she spun in circles, whipping her head around, a flash of silver hair caught her eye. Many eccentric characters liked clubbing at Vaults, so it wasn’t unusual to see colorful hair, odd piercings, or questionable life choices. But, Aelin had a feeling that this character would be worth the search once found. She finished her rotation and gained her bearings. Her eyes focused after a few moments, immediately setting out to find the topple of silver hair she had only seen moments ago. With a cursory glance, Aelin couldn’t find her target and quickly resigned in her search. There were many more people and many more ways to distract herself tonight.

Aelin started to move her hips to the lull of the music once more, raising her arms up, reaching for her lost lover in the sky. She felt the haziness of the drugs and alcohol overcome her senses, finally enjoying the night's events. Men and women surrounded her, Aelin’s own sweat mixing with others around. Arms became entangled, hips grinded against a partner, and lips kissed in sync with the swaying of movement.

As Aelin became a part of it all, she imagined Sam was dancing with her…... as a boyish face appeared right in front of her, his usual outfit sculpting his body just right : a button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and a pair of nice jeans matched with one of his many shoe choices. His arms wrapped around her waist, Aelin’s right resting on his shoulder, her left hand entwined in his tousled brown. She looked into his beautiful eyes, finding the light she loved to see shining back at her. Aelin felt her mood lighten, finding comfort in the arms of her love that she had missed for such a long time. God, she had missed this feeling, this unexplainable comfort she felt in his presence. Sam twirled Aelin around herself, his arms coming to wrap around her middle, his hands- grabbed her hips from behind.

Aelin came to her senses, shoved back into reality. Rough hands pulled her back into a tall, muscular frame. The mysterious man behind her had a pungent odor, wafts of his smell acting like a tether to her more sober self. Aelin turned to catch a glimpse of the man, only to see Arobynn Hamel himself. The man was almost twice her age, not to mention the owner of The Vaults, and a notorious man whore with a keen liking for younger girls.

Aelin immediately became uncomfortable. There was too much going on. Between the lights of the club, the music’s heavy bass, and the unwanted sensation of the man behind her, she was ready to get out. She maneuvered herself out of his grasp, turning around and making a drinking motion with her hand. Instead of accepting her departure, Arobynn grabbed her by the waist and crashed their bodies together. Now encircled in his arms, Aelin truly had no escape. Her mind was on overdrive, her body kicking into flight or fight mode. Arobynn’s hands wandered down to her ass and up the length of her body.

He continued to grope her assets with unnecessary fervor, never loosening his grip on her body. Aelin tried shoving the man away, only to be greeted by an ugly smile and a beady pair of grey eyes. Fear kept Aelin in her place, the man staring back at her only more encouraged by her lack of willingness. As they danced, Aelin frantically looked around for help. Anyone who could help her get out of this situation now. Her vision was blurred with tears, her eyes barely able to distinguish anything around her. Then, like magic, Dorian finally appeared and yanked Aelin out of her partner's arms.

"You motherfucker what the hell are you doing??" Dorian was enraged at Arobynn's actions, his bloodshot eyes bulging out of his head as he yelled each word.

"Well, before you so rudely stole my partner, we were having a really good time dancing with one another." Arobynn's eyes wandered to her at that comment, his misguided intentions clear as day.

"A good time?? Huh? A good time when the girl you're dancing with is crying because she can't stand your very existence? Yeah that sounds fucking wonderful to me!" Maybe it was the powder they had both inhaled earlier, but Dorian was more aggressive than usual. Without missing a beat, he swung at Arobynn and clocked him dead smack in the face.

Arobynn was caught by surprise, losing his balance as he teetered backwards from the hit. Blood dripped from his nose profusely, a bruise forming beneath his eye. Arobynn looked back at the man who had caused this pain, and snarled in anger.

As he ran to Dorian, tackling him to the ground, all Aelin could do was stand there frozen in time. She heard screaming, maybe her own, as the men fought on the floor. There was so much noise around her, the sound of fists connecting with bone, the music still blaring in her ears. There was so much blood --- so much blood around her, on her, on him. Aelin sat on the floor, her phone beside her as the paramedic updated her on the ambulances location. But she couldn't listen, no, she was too busy watching the man she loved disappear right before her eyes. Sam's body was pale, the gaping gunshot wound in his abdomen leaking too much blood too fast. Aelin cradled his head as he struggled to breath, soothing him with little sayings and comforting noises. Her tears fell on his face as she kissed him, not able to let him go. He needed to be okay, he needed to respond to her sayings, he needed to tell her he loved her, he needed to survive. But as Aelin looked into those brown eyes, there was no light left within them anymore. Aelin couldn't help the sobs that escaped her. Her body wracked violently as --- she was shoved by the fighting men.

Arobynn and Dorian were battered and bruised, the men equal in build and skill. They were breathing hard, looking at one another with hate etched in their features. Then all of a sudden, Arobynn lunged at Dorian unexpectedly, leading him to swerve right into Aelin as she --- fell to the floor. Her head hit the blue sofa they had bought only a week ago, their apartment a new venture they had bought together. They had spent hours setting up their new home, hours of that work now destroyed as their apartment was wrecked beyond repair. Sam was in front of her in an instant, his body taking the impact of the shot meant for her. Blood splattered on her body, and Sam's fell to the ground with a thud. Aelin looked up from her position in the ground to see a hooded figure dash out their front door, backpack open and filled with their precious items. Aelin didn't even care about her missing jewelry, only worried about her love splayed out on the floor , blood pooling around his frame. She heard screaming, screaming coming from --- a beautiful red haired woman approaching the duo. She pulled Arobynn's arm, dragging him away from the other bloodied man on the floor.

Dorian was in bad shape, his face swollen with cuts and scratches dotted all along his arms and legs. All Aelin wanted to do was go to Dorian's side and help him, but as she looked at his splayed body she lost all her intentions. All she could see was her love on that floor. All she could see was Sam's blood draining from his body.

Aelin felt lightheaded, the events of the night, combined with the various substances in her body exhausting her beyond belief. She walked away from Dorian to go find a place to sit, slowly losing reality once again. As she fainted, Aelin saw a tall tanned man rushing towards her. His sharp features contrasted the soft concern on his face and in those emerald green eyes. Aelin hit the floor with a soft thud, watching the man attached to that luscious silver hair run to her rescue.

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vampiresuns · 4 years ago

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Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva

Anatole has changed a bit as a character since i was around the first time, so he’s getting re introduced. His open to make friends.

art by @elizastarkart

Name: Aelius Anatole Radoševic De Silva. He has two surnames because his mother is latina. He is a mixed Latine-Slav, with family that is all latine, vesuvian, and slavic. People he’s friend’s with call him Anatole (russian/greek pronunciation, he doesn’t acknowledge the French one). Only people he has a strictly professional relationship with, and his uncle call him Aelius.

‘Aelius’ means sun, while ‘Anatole’ means sunrise. He’s fully aware of this, he chose his name himself.

His nicknames are:

‘Nana’ is the most common nickname, and the one most people use.

His mother calls him Lilito, Nana, Nanito, Toly, Tolito, Tortolito.

His father calls him Lily or Lilu.

Toly, Tolytoly or Tolito are nicknames used by his maternal grandmother, his aunt, and his Vesuvian family.

He will not mind if you want to call him Toly, but you cannot call him Lily/Lilu if you’re not his father.

Asra came up with Nanatole, which he doesn’t like but lets Asra call him anyway. Asra also came up with Nana Banana and that is absolutely forbidden.

Family: on his father’s side both the Radošević, who are slavic (yugoslavic, specifically), and the Cassano, a prominent Vesuvian family who has had a hold of the Consulship for years.

On his mother side, the De Silva.

His father’s name is Vladislav, but everyone calls him Vlad, he’s an alchemist, a polymath, and works in what is most similar to biochemical engineering. He has one bother, named Valeriy, who you, however, might now as Valerius. Vlad’s biggest personality trait is being head over heels in love with his wife, and adoring his son more than he thought it was humanly possible to care about someone.

His mother’s name is Louisa De Silva (if you want to add her mother’s surname, it’s Lascal). The L-o-u spelling was a registry mistake she never changed. She moved half across the world while her native country suffer a military-civilian dictatorship to study Medicine. She swore never to go back as long as vestiges of said dictatorship remained in the country. She has two sisters: Paris, who lives in Vesuvia, and Alma, who remained with her parents out of her own choosing. Her medical experience include having been a volunteer war doctor. She didn’t change her surname when she got married.

The Radošević (pronounced Radozheveech) and the Cassano have been entangled families by friendship for generations upon generations, with some marriages between them. Notoriously: Vlad and Val’s father married a Cassano, Matilda, and his bother Mircea, Anatole’s great uncle, also married a Cassano: Florentino. Mircea’s brother and Matilda Cassano died when Vlad and Val were children still, so him and Florentino brought them up.

The Radošević are an overall eccentric family (think the european Addams family), whom are noted for: one, their self-sufficiency/self-preservation, which comes out in a very ‘eccentric people of the world unite’ manner. They appreciate people with character. Two, their leanings towards trades/professions, they do not conceive not doing anything (work hard to play hard). The Cassano, while sharing the quirk, they add the zest for life. It’s like they grabbed the Radošević and told them “you have forgotten how to live and we will remind you how.” Both of them are ridden with racially ambiguous bastard you cannot kill in any way that matters. They simply refuse to. Someone (either the courtiers or Lucio) compared them to roaches, they took it as a compliment.

This will tell you a lot about Anatole’s character.

On a last note, Anatole’s an only child. He has a good relationship with his parents, albeit marked by a sense of distance, solely because he was privately tutored from age 15 and on, which required him to travel a fair share. He was an argumentative teenager, but always cherished whenever he could see his parents. The older he gets, the closer they all become.

Favourite Food: Cake

Favourite drink: Coffee, in general.

Favourite Flower: Iris

Birthday: Nov 1st

Age: 29 (I calculate his age as if he had been born in 1991)

Zodiac:

Sun: Scorpio

Moon: Virgo

Rising: Libra

Mercury & Mars: Scorpio

Venus: Virgo

Patron arcana: Strength & Ace of Swords

Strength

Upright: inner strength, bravery, compassion, focus, Reversed: self doubt, weakness, insecurity

Ace of Swords

Upright: breakthrough, clarity, sharp mind, Reversed: confusion, brutality, chaos

MBTI Type: INTJ-A

Gender: Transmasculine, but Nonbinary. Uses He/Him pronouns only

Orientation: Identifies as NBLM.

LIs: Julian, Muriel, @ilyamatic‘s Andrico, @thelazaretmakesmesad‘s Vishal.

“The sun-like strategist with a solution for everything, and a whole lot of hope in the future.”

More details under the cut!

Physical appearance:

art by @lesbianarcana

5′4. As you can see in the sprite down below, while he’s slim but with muscle, out of doing a moderate to high level of physical activity. The man has a nice waist and inherited his mother’s hips, which he’s very proud of. He likes his legs and his butt the most about himself

Dark brown eyes, long eyelashes. His hair is naturally black, but he dyes it blond.

Has a mole over his right eyebrow, on the left side of the bridge of his nose, and on his left jaw. He has freckles.

An horizontal scar on his nose, which he got by getting hit with a wooden scaffold square in the face. His nose wasn’t broken out of sheer dumb luck. He has a smaller cut on his cheekbone, which was done by a fencing sabre which lacked the proper tip protection/button. It was done onto him by someone else.

The nose scar is how he met Julian before the plague, as he was the doctor which cured his face.

He has several tattoos:

Right arm: A rapier on his inner forearm. Over his elbow he has a black work band, and over it the words ‘THE SUN IS MY UNDOING’ in all caps, circling his arm.

Left arm: a snake wrapped around his forearm, near to the wrist. The Odyssey quote ‘let’s have a toast to the incompetence of our enemies’ under the inner crook of his elbow, and a floral half sleeve.

Chest and Torso: AMOR OMNIA VINCIT over where his heart is supposed to be. He has laurel leaves on the base of his waist.

Legs: ‘o serpent heart hid with a flowering face‘ in his upper, inner thigh, like really up his left inner thigh. A floral anklet on his right ankle.

Languages Spoken: Too many. He speaks nine languages.

Magic Specialities: His magic is connected to both light and languages (it is a play on words with ‘logos’) so he is both adept in photokinesis — he is able to create and manipulate sources of light — and language related magic — which includes incantation and language manipulation. He learns languages as a faster rate than most people, and while he cannot speak or literally understand a language unless he learns it, his magic allows him to intuitively grasp the meaning of words that are being spoken to him.

This capacity also makes him very good at recognising hidden intentions in people. This is not an ability that he broadcasts having, and when he later succeeds Valerius as the Consul, it is something which aids his diplomatic work but he keeps private.

His words tend to carry more weight sometimes because of his magic, something which he can’t always control — it depends on many factors — so he tries to choose his words carefully and with consideration.

His familiar is a Raccoon, named Antu.

Occupation: While he did study magic and is in touch with his magic, he studied politics, diplomacy and international relations. By trade, and out of will to help people, he is a political analyst and, later in life, a Statesman.

Personality/Trivia:

Willpower or Stubbornness? Depends how you look at it. Passionate, generally devoted, hopeful, independent and sometimes defiant. He is a people-oriented introvert. Competitive, but not aggressively so.

Smarter than he gives himself credit for. Overall charming, even debonair.

Curious by nature, hates having his decisions taken for him.

He is proper, sometimes even distinguished, but he is feral. A firm believer in being kind and compassionate with people, until you cross him one too many times, then nothing will make him taint his vindictive wrath.

Is he humble? For the most part. His humbleness comes from knowing his own limits and knowing he’s not infallible. He does have, however, a good deal of pride in himself and trust in what he can do, and he doesn’t like being underestimated.

He’s not particularly loud, though when the chatterbox is on, then it is on, specially if he’s nervous. He is often never still.

He’s known he has ADHD since he was seventeen.

Likes dancing.

He fences, almost every Radošević fences/sword fights, and he will let you know at the slightest chance. Which can be either him simply being hyper-fixated in fencing, him flirting, or him letting you know that if the occasion rises, he’s armed.

Friend shaped, lover shaped if you’re daring enough.

He wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t like something.

Speaking of which: he doesn’t like abuse of power, the Court, injustice, supremacists of any kind, unkind, hurtful and selfish people in general; he doesn’t like red meat (he says it tastes like metal or dirt), narrow minded people, incompetence, specially when displayed by people in positions of power, and purposeful apathy.

A mastermind archetype, but he draws his power from connection. He does not conceive a life not lived with others.

A bit of a bastard, he enjoys a good laugh.

He plays the piano and the harp, he sings, he cannot draw, he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol (which doesn’t really stop him), he likes the opera because he likes watching other people’s drama without being dragged into it, and his favourite season is winter. Also likes playing chess, reading, coffee, flowers, a well tailored outfit, learning, languages, the sea, mysteries, winter, a well laid argument, collecting quills, music, winning, knowing he loves and is loved in return.

When he was 7 he bribed his dad for more dessert, and he ate so much he vomited. His sweet tooth hasn’t gone anywhere, it is alive and well.

Perceptive little bastard, will knife cat you for the sake of it. He has a way more present sense of humour than what he comes across.

Would call himself a ‘trans masculine Mary Poppins’.

He is closest to his parents, his uncle, my other ocs Leonore, Medea and Sabine, his cousins Amparo Cassano and Milenko Radošević, Natiqa, Asra, Portia and Nadia.

If he liked women, he would be paired with Nadia. The possibility both terrifies and fascinates me.

@ilyamatic, @viviae, @gaybirdwrites, @arcanaprentiss @apprenticeofcups

#the arcana oc #the arcana mc #aelius anatole

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gateway-to-glimmer · 4 years ago

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The Twin Peaks Guide to the Occult

A Modern Conceptualization of Magick

I personally don’t believe in magick as most other people do. I see magick as a word for an unexplained variable. I see it as a creative metaphor for things that don’t have an exact definition. I see it as an informal way to question the components of reality. I see it as a way of consciously controlling and understanding your personal psychology.

I often contemplate on narratives, like Twin Peaks, that affect me in a profound way. Shows or books or games that make me feel nostalgic, unsettle me, make me question things, make me long for a different reality. I take that vivid emotional experience and question it. I relate the fictional narrative to my internal and personal experience of the world. I speculate on myself, on others, on the world around me, and redraw my conclusions again and again. This gets me thinking; dreaming; creating. It helps me to understand myself and develop a more nuanced understanding of the world around me. That is what I am attempting to teach here in this guide. I practice from a purely psychological model.

The Components of Narrative

When we watch or create a narrative, there are several main areas that we fixate on. This is likely due to our systems of memory specializing in certain types of data. We have a strong sense of place; we have a strong sense of knowledge for other worlds and their social culture; we have a strong sense of characters and elements that relate to ourselves; we have a strong sense of narrative and time; we have a strong sense of symbolism, theme, and mood. These components are easily linked to our systems of memory; we pay attention to information related to: semantic memory (knowledge of another world, of customs, of information specific to that fictional narrative); episodic memory (we preferentially pay attention to autobiographical details like narrative, character relationships, and places, which also draws on the mind’s preference for separating and compartmentalizing knowledge and functions related to person and place which we see in depersonalization and derealization; this also draws on our ability to engage in social cognition;) associative and emotional memory as well as our linguistic faculties (symbolism, communicative metaphors;) and so on.

In summary, the core components of a narrative are as follows. These components are informed by the way our brain interacts with and stores sensory input. Information is stored along several predictable axes, and it is through these cognitive functions that we are able to interact with and reason about the world.

+ Plot

+ Theme, symbolism, and higher meaning

+ Character

+ Setting and knowledge about this other world

We store memories of fictional stories in a similar manner to memories of real events. In this manner, we take in what we watch and introject our own version of it within ourselves. The way in which we internalize and relate to other narratives is hugely personal and can be used to understand and change elements of ourselves.

A Momentary Existence in the Form of Twin Peaks

To begin, set aside some time where you won’t be disturbed for 30 or more minutes. Try to use the same time for this series of contemplation. When we practice or perform something at the same time over a number of instances, we associate that time with that state of mind. This is useful for developing a distinctive state of mind dedicated to one topic. Thoughts related to that time become abstracted and elaborated from our daily thought process and take on a profound feeling of significance. We use these elaborated states of mind as lenses to modify or artistically translate aspects of our personal psychology.

Some people like using a state dependent memory cue before they engage in any type of occult working. Using cues is useful. It signals to the mind that a specific mental state or behavior is about to occur. Much like practicing at the same time every day, using cues like this can strengthen the resulting ritual state of mind, and can be used to disconnect and reconnect significant thoughts from the self.

Some people use a specific outfit or jewelry just for occult workings. Some people only practice at a specific time of day. Some people use a certain scent of incense, engage in a certain arrangement of rituals, meditate, draw or reflect on a specific symbol, or visit a specific internal place. Some people create different cues for specific rituals and topics. Other people use substances, psychoactive or not, as cues.

When contemplating subjects related to Twin Peaks, I use an internal space themed after Twin Peaks. When we visit a specific place in our mind, particularly if we immerse ourselves in our sense of that place, we modify our sense of time and place. This acts as a powerful state dependent memory cue, and thinking about that internal space brings the atmosphere of Twin Peaks and the topics it inspires us to think about to mind, vividly and immediately. This is useful for some things, particularly in identifying patterns in one’s thoughts.

After watching the show through without analysis on one occasion, begin these series of mental rituals. Begin by spending 10-20 minutes each night in an internal space themed around Twin Peaks. Pick an area that you thought had a particularly Twin Peaks-esque atmosphere; a place that inspires a sense of wonder or nostalgia related to the show. Visualize yourself in this space. Model each of your senses in that place. Walk around and explore for the amount of time you have set aside. Develop a keen sense for this space inside your mind.

Dreams

Dreams have a huge significance in Twin Peaks, and it wouldn’t be right to neglect paying attention to them. Agent Cooper often takes insight from his dreams in the show, and although some of the magick and wonder of his interpretation of his dreams can be explained as a trick of the availability heuristic, as the show goes on dreams increasingly become a window into the beyond - things that lie just beyond understanding and articulation.

Maintain a dream journal as you begin this series of mental exercises and contemplation. After watching the show through for the first time, or if you have already seen the show before, begin rewatching the series starting with Fire Walk With Me. I didn’t truly appreciate this show until the second time I watched it. I loved it the first time, but the true beauty of it didn’t become evident to me quite as keenly on the first vs. the second viewing of the show. Personal preference, I suppose.

A Contemplation of Themes

One of the greatest strengths in engaging in the mental exercises taught in occult traditions is that they allow us to engage with ideas in a novel way. Twin Peaks is a show that is particularly known for having a strong symbolic element to its narrative. Twin Peaks speaks in an artistic and metaphorical way to the viewer, and pausing to think about the subjects it tries to convey is a meaningful exercise.

So where does ritual come into things?

Continue your re-watch of the Twin Peaks. In this post, we will contemplate certain themes and characters through a ritual practice. By engaging with these ideas and reflecting on the mindset of the various parties in this show, we develop our ability to critically reason and engage with ideas in a creative way.

Before contemplating or modeling an idea or character, always begin by taking a few minutes to meditate in your internal space that you set aside for these rituals [as discussed in part 1.]

Death

Death is one of the most prominent themes that is explored in the Twin Peaks show. The show starts with the death of Laura Palmer. This show explores the world of professional death, life ruining secrets and the threat of their exposure (via the police or witnesses to crime,) suicide, homicide, and the inertia of death and the effect it has on those that survive in its wake. This show also portrays the converse of death - protection from death, guardianship. We see this in the miraculous saves or in the courageous detective work of people like Audrey, James and Donna, the Twin Peaks police, and Agent Cooper.

We watch the show explore different types of death. Ben Horne loses his land to Catherine and, accordingly, his power. He suffers a psychotic break in reaction to this. The loss of sanity and power could be considered a form of death. Lovelessness is a theme that several characters experience, notably in the various entangled romances in the show. Nadine and Ed have a fantastical and tenuous relationship where they feel alienated from each other by their fundamentally different ways of perceiving the world; Norma is terrified of her ex-husband and estranged from Ed. Alienation and mismatching perceptions of reality locking people into their own personal realities is another form of what could be considered death that is explored in this show. Josie is trapped by her past and is never truly free. Accidental deaths happen. We see conspiracy to commit murder, with Ben Horne calling a hit and the ensuing process of people involved- from the people who look the other way to the hitmen- in making someone disappear.

These are the main points of action in the show. Events involving death.

Take a few days or weeks to contemplate on the events involving death portrayed in this show. Set aside 20-30 minutes to meditate on these ideas. When you contemplate on these ideas, imagine yourself in your internal space. Create an object that symbolizes your contemplation of this subject. This will help you to remember your thoughts later and will help keep you grounded in your thoughts as opposed to zoning out. Think about the ways in which death is explored in this show. Think about how they relate to your current life and your past experiences. We have all dealt with death in some form or another.

After contemplating this theme of death, take another few days to reflect on this atmosphere. What eerie emotional feeling is associated with death, both in this show and outside of it? Take this emotional feeling and translate it into wispy colors of black with glittering, rainbow sparks. Take this feeling and translate it into different forms, places, animate it as a character. What would this feeling be like if it had a personality? What kind of place comes to mind when you reflect on this feeling, what kinds of things happen in this place? It may take multiple tries for an answer to come. Learning to manipulate your feelings and translate them into other forms like this is helpful when trying to write stories or generate ideas.

The Summoning of Spirits

Summoning is such a quintessential part of magick practice. This has been the case historically as well as currently. What is summoning? It is a particularly involved way of communicating with the self, and of picking and choosing aspects of our memory and personality that we then give animation to. We create a spirit within ourselves with these dimensions. The mind is incredible - particularly in its ability to model and to imagine. We are limited only by the boundaries of our imagination and memory.

Below is a method to summon entities. It is particularly easy to give animation to elements of our memory that we have a defined stereotype of. The characters of a show, people we know in person and have a long relationship with - drawing on our internal stereotypes of people we have a strong “sense” of is one of the easiest ways to develop an animate point of consciousness within our mind’s eye that can be talked to and influence our behavior in a way that feels abstracted from our main sense of self.

This can be used for many things. Gaining perspective. Modeling character interactions in a work of art - imagining and then modeling what will happen next in a story you are writing. The abstracted nature of these animate characters we can create in our mind lends themselves to spontaneous psychological effects and moments of inspiration - things that feel somewhat outside of our control. This adds variability to our thoughts. It’s also just a fun practice and it is interesting to play around with the mind and what it can do.

A Consideration of Character

The interactions between the various parties in Twin Peaks in addition to the general social context of the town serves as one of the main points of interest in this show. Twin Peaks presents a compelling and immersive community of characters. Understanding and analyzing their motivations is a good place to learn the general logic behind the idea of entity contact or summoning spirits.

For this summoning ritual, the only materials needed are your imagination and a quiet space. Enter your mental space that you set aside for considerations related to Twin Peaks and, perhaps, your studies of the occult more broadly. Model all of your senses in this space; attempt to immerse yourself as vividly as you can in your internal reality. This is now your entire reality; repeat this idea to yourself as you disavow information offered to you from your circumstances outside of your mind’s eye. Let go of daily life concerns, unpleasant physical sensations, and so on. All there is, is the internal world.

There are two main divisions in types of spirit work. Perceiving the other consciousness outside of yourself (evocation or summoning), and perceiving yourself as becoming this new consciousness (invocation or possession).

A third type involves hallucinating the other consciousness. A study of imposition (learning to consciously create hallucinations), which is outside of the scope of this post, can be used to provoke this third type. It is similar to the other two types but with a slightly different focus. A fourth type involves altered states such as dreams or the use of entheogens. A fifth type uses a ritual or other external cue. These latter three types are all different ways to obtain one of the former two types of entity experiences.

It is furthermore possible to integrate or transform the resulting abstracted consciousness into the self to change the self in the direction of that integrated consciousness. By being forced into direct contact with the consciousness as it integrates, the main self decides its own answer to the internal conflicts encountered by that consciousness.

External places and ideas have a type of consciousness to them, although it is experienced slightly different by the magick practitioner. This is likely due to the way the mind remembers information. It remembers information along certain axes. We have a division in our place vs. our person memory and the way we handle perception related to these two things.

Some people find it easier to shapeshift into a new consciousness. Other people find it easier to animate a consciousness that feels separate from themselves. Repeated attempts to access and animate the same concept/character increase the elaboration and complexity of the resulting spirit/animated and abstracted aspect of the self.

While in your internal space, visualize the character you wish to model. Imagine their appearance, their mannerisms. From there, it becomes a matter of modeling their mind. Focus on your internal stereotype of that person, focus on your sense of that other person, your feeling when you think of that person.

Route 1:

Draw your sense of that person into yourself. You become that person. Everything you do is checked between your logic vs. that other person’s. Everything in this trance state is done in the shape of that other person. All of your thoughts are this other person. After 10-15 minutes, more or less if you want, you can stop.

Route 2:

Imagine that other person separate from you, either in your mind’s eye or outside of yourself in your physical location. Have a conversation with that person. Model what they would say. After 10-15 minutes, stop for the day. At first, it will feel awkward and as though you are talking to yourself via a puppet, but after enough times it will become more natural and automatic, and you may find yourself slipping into that alternate perspective or hearing its internal logic comment on what you do throughout the day. Don’t forget to regularly remind yourself of the division between yourself and this part of your memory/personality/perception.

If you want to reintegrate with this abstracted sense of self, reverse the process. Take the feeling of that self and integrate it with your main sense of self. Visualize a picture, something symbolic, maybe of colors mixing to become a new color. Blue and red becoming purple. Keep reminding yourself that the only voice you hear inside your head is yours, and this is your thought process. It will quickly integrate into your main sense of self.

Don’t forget to come up with a cue that signals the beginning of a summoning/possession session and a cue that signals the end of it. Clean compartmentalization of behaviors and mental states is essential for a particularly vivid psychological experience.

Bob, Leland, and Mr. Robertson

Leland is one of the most compelling characters of the show. We see aspects of his psychology expressed indirectly in the events of the show. Leland, as Bob, is a character that affected the lives of not only his daughter, but of his co-workers and the people he engaged in criminal activity with. The various moves he makes to cover his second life are found peppered throughout the show; 25 years after the events of his daughter’s death and his subsequent suicide, his attempts to cover-up Bob are still being discovered - like with his attempt to hide his daughter’s journal entries in the police station that is only discovered in the third season.

Leland is one of the most interesting characters from this show to model, least of which being the wealth of information the show contains on his character. Leland is implied to have been a user of cocaine, and that fire was his metaphor for the high of cocaine. “Fire, walk with me.” Leland’s relationship with Mr. Robertson from his childhood is left mostly in the shadows; was it a sexual relationship? Did he witness Mr. Robertson kill someone? In either case, the psychological impact of Mr. Robertson on Leland’s childhood changed him as a person, leading to his possession by Bob in the show. It is a wonderful metaphor for the process of introjection itself, and how traumatic experiences and individuals can seem to haunt us for the rest of our lives. Not only did Leland find himself personally haunted by his experience with Mr. Robertson, but the way it affected Leland as a father to Laura affected her as well. Bob is a terrific metaphor for the psychological affects of these cycles of inherited trauma.

The Duality of Leland Palmer and Laura Palmer

Laura and Leland were similar and opposites in many interesting ways. There is an important contrast between the two that is worth considering. Laura and Leland both had difficult upbringings; Leland’s implied traumatic past and the implied trauma Laura witnessed from living in Leland’s household with its particular demands (his involvement in organized crime and drugs, and so on.) At the same time, it’s heavily implied that this makes them similar in some ways. Leland has a difficult time controlling his behavior, up to the point that Ben Horne calls for his murder (it is implied that Bob’s possession of Leland and his subsequent suicide may have been a metaphor for the psychological effects of Leland dodging Bob Horne’s hit) because he’s attracting too much attention. Leland was a man who could call a hit or kill a prostitute for fun, and it was implied he regularly practiced both things. Laura was not this sort of person at all and wanted to bring him down after discovering these things, making them opposites in a sense; however, this was Laura’s own approach to death, and it could be said this was how Bob manifested in Laura. Death by prison isn’t much better than death by hitman.

Sleep, Dreams, and Realization

In the show, sleep states, different lives (which could be a literal metaphor for other personality states and sides of ourselves, or it could be taken at face value as an exploration of other universes,) altered states and changes in behavior due to drugs (Leland’s transformation into Bob was often accompanied by drug use), and dreams are prominent elements of the show. I personally have always felt this show uses altered states of mind to show that life itself feels as wonderous and discontinuous enough as though we are traveling through other timelines, and I have felt this show is wonderful at indirectly conveying subtle and nuanced psychological states in an artistic manner. That is very occult in and of itself.

While considering this final topic- of the esoteric, that which is hidden, the unexplained variables that direct our existence and the form of our reality, the investigation of the mysteries,- attempt to do so while under the influence of different states of consciousness. I would never tell you to do something illegal, but if you already use drugs or other substances that alter your mind, try seeing how their addition changes your thought process as you consider these topics.

Attempt to contemplate these topics during sleep states. There are three significant sleep states: light sleep, which can be entered via hypnosis on the edge of sleep (watch or imagine something move back and forth) or by meditating with the eyes closed and waiting for light sleep to begin. The change in mental state is accompanied by a deepening vividness of thoughts, a difficulty remembering thoughts later on, and a randomization of thoughts.

Deep sleep is truly immersive. In light sleep, we still feel as though we are in our body, even if we may have learned to block it out. In deep sleep, we feel as though our dreams are our entire reality and have no further sense of our body. We go through the process of sleep paralysis to enter this stage, which many people feel as vibrations. Meditation through light sleep, which is easiest to do if you do not engage with your light sleep stage but continue to stay focused on nothingness for 10-20 minutes as you phase into deep sleep. Then there is REM sleep dreams, which are the most vivid and disconnected from the ordinary principles of reality. Most people learn to wake themselves up during REM sleep. This is easiest to do by making a dream journal, identifying patterns in dreams, and learning to distinguish dreams from reality with these patterns. In addition, regularly asking yourself “am I dreaming?” and then trying to do something that is only possible in dreams (like flying, or looking at a scene and then looking back (dreams have a continuous nature to them so scenes change in between viewing them in dreams as we cannot hold a consistent model of reality) and seeing if it is constant or changing) to check to see if you are dreaming. Eventually, if you do this often enough, you will begin to question if you are lucid while you are dreaming. It becomes a consistent habit. This is how you attain lucidity, by learning to distinguish dreams from reality and learning to automatically question which one you are experiencing at the moment.

Realization is different from the other techniques mentioned. In realization, we bring our internal world in focus while we are immersed in our daily life. We learn to keep an intermittent eye on our changing thoughts and ideas inside of our head. We learn to notice when something in our daily life reminds us of a pattern or theme for something else (in this instance, Twin Peaks) That is the final exercise. Learn to keep the mental space you’ve developed for contemplation active in your daily life. It will run and exist and form connections and insight as you go about your day. Question anything that reminds you of your internal world and wonder why you are reminded of that. By keeping our internal mental space active, we bring the atmosphere of that place into our daily awareness. This leads to a deepening of the vividness of our emotions, and bathes our experience in a distinctive atmosphere - a changeable frame that is updated in response to our thoughts and experiences.

The esoteric

Twin Peaks is an especially fascinating show because there is a mundane explanation for all of it. That explanation generally boils down to: the supernatural or weird element of the show is used as a curtain so to speak, a metaphor for different forms of death, organized crime, the compartmentalization of the personality and other nuanced psychological experiences, and the unexplained element of the world. Bob could be a metaphor for the murderous instinct within Leland, and within others, that is especially prone to being released while under the influence of substances like cocaine. Dougie/Cooper’s weird experiences in the third season could be a metaphor for the personality compartmentalization between someone who has a job, a family, and an organized crime life. Many of the weird elements could be explained as a metaphor for some unseen element of Ben Horne et al’s organized crime empire.

I think that’s what Twin Peaks- and an occult consideration of this show- teaches us above all else. There is wonder to be had in life. Even if that wonder is ultimately explainable, isn’t real life fascinating? Isn’t explaining the unexplained a sublime pleasure - one that reveals more questions after the answers. The great investigation is a recurring theme in this show. Cooper’s investigation; understanding the details of Laura’s murder which are never fully shown; investigating Cooper’s disappearance from society. The great investigation is a recurring trope for a reason, and this show deconstructs it for what it is: the investigation of the unknown, an investigation launched, ultimately, because of our inherent anxiety of death. Curiosity, passion, wonder, and a bold exploration of mystery are foundational human experiences that make and break us. They are life.

The way we interpret the world is our own personal framework. There is no higher guide than yourself. There is no accountability to anyone other than yourself. If you choose to hold something above you, it changes the way you relate with external reality on a fundamental level. That may not be bad; this could be a way of inspiring oneself to work towards a higher ideal.

Garmonbozia

In Fire Walk With Me, we see this word. Garmonbozia. A word that supposedly symbolizes all of the world’s suffering and torment. The snuff film. Likely this may be a metaphor for people’s fascination with watching death and misery, a comment on a regularly occuring element/fascination/fixture of human nature.

The things we focus on. When we read something into a show- and this can take many forms, it can mean that we relate to something, that something attracts our curiosity or derision, or we see a message from a higher power about something relevant to our life- we are communicating with ourselves. We are projecting our own internal world, our own systems of meaning onto the external. We truly cannot touch the external. We are captive within our internal universe, creating within ourselves to approximate some sort of means with which we may affect the world around ourselves. We never truly break free from our trapped consciousness, but the way we relate to and interact with the world creates an impression that lives in and of itself. It lives in the chain of reactions that are caused by every action. It lives in the way our actions affect the personal development, in whatever big or small way, of all who perceive them.

Our internal universe, our memory, and our interactions with the external world completely define ourselves. The world we see when we engage with or create a work of art says everything about that person. We understand the world entirely through this projection. Being intimately familiar with the way we project our internal world onto the external world can give us insight into ourselves. Why do we relate to that element? What gives us meaning? What provokes this or that response? What themes call to us?

Twin Peaks is an incredible show. It plays ambiguity wonderfully. People tend to see very different things into the various twists and turns of this show. Understanding your personal symbolism gives you power over meaning itself.

#twin peaks #pop culture magick #chaos magick #discordian #left hand path #occult #witch #witchcraft #hedgewitch #dream work #lucid dreaming #astral projection #magick #pagan

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diamondsaregold · 5 years ago

Text

“Unraveled” – Robin x MC

Pairing: Robin (M!) x MC (F!) The Nanny Affair, Choices

Rating: T Summary: After walking in on a private moment between Sam and MC, Robin is forced to make sense of his jealousy and comes face-to-face with an unbridled truth—his burgeoning affinity for her. A conversation between the two at the company picnic makes clear that their entangled feelings are more real than both of them could have ever imagined. A/N: Well, we saw a lot of Robin’s angry face in the last chapter—so much that I began indulging myself in the fantasy that seeing MC with Sam made him jealous. Somehow the fact that this is a “one-LI book” (fingers-crossed that this could change, although the fact that M! Robin is Bradshaw in a Wig makes this fantasy highly unlikely) only makes the idea of Robin more enticing. Please enjoy this introspective re-imagining of Chapter 10, starring a grumpy, jealous Robin coming to terms with all his feelings. Also, it’s been awhile since I posted on Tumblr, hello! I’ve missed you all. Life has been treating me well and I hope it has for you too. Sending virtual hugs your way.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775095

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

Robin knew he was being childish.

The annual company picnic was a well-earned break for the team at Dalton Enterprises, a rare opportunity for his colleagues to enjoy the New York sunshine and decompress from their hectic work lives. At the park, flocks of employees gathered around gingham picnic blankets while chattering away; around the corner, a queue of people lined up at the stalls to pick up their complimentary lunch from the gourmet caterers, personally requested by Sam. On everyone’s face was a beaming smile.

Everyone, except for Robin.

Sitting on a blanket on the edge of the park, Robin stormily surveyed the chipper scene about him. After picking up his sandwich (some sort of fancible concoction of tuna and high-end mayonnaise) and grudgingly thanking the staff, he had stomped over to an empty picnic blanket. He did his best to swerve around employees looking to start a conversation with him and cut off any exceptionally friendly colleagues with terse one-word remarks.

No doubt, his foul demeanor at the company picnic was drawing curious looks from his colleagues. As he unwrapped his sandwich, he caught the next group over murmuring in low voices while shooting surreptitious glances at him. He couldn’t blame them for gossiping. It was unusual for him to depart from his charming self, let alone at one of the most anticipated social events in the company. On an ordinary afternoon, he’d be walking through the park, darting in and out from different groups, trading jokes with all the employees he passed by. After a lifetime of being second-best to an over-achieving brother, Robin took care to maintain his sociable persona—it was the only thing he had going for him, after all.

But after what he had seen that afternoon, he honestly couldn’t care less about his image. It was a scene that had been burned into his mind for the past three hours. Robin stared down at his uneaten sandwich, losing his appetite as he recalled.

There they stood—just a few feet apart from each other, clothes slightly rumpled, faces flushed and breathing hard. Sam and his nanny, caught seconds away from (or perhaps seconds after) what appeared to be a secret rendezvous at work. Upon Robin’s incredulous interrogation, she had haltingly explained that they had been “discussing work.”

He couldn’t resist an eye roll. While he certainly wasn’t the genius that Sam was, Robin was no fool. He wasn’t blind to the flush on his older brother’s face, the way his body was angled towards hers even as they stood far apart and avoided Robin’s eyes. What gripped him wasn’t a smug glee that his uptight, perfect brother had finally gotten caught with a woman (his nanny, no less) at work—it was the stab of pain Robin felt.

Staring at her, with the collar of her shirt crumpled and hastily smoothed down (by who, he wondered), her lips slightly parted, Robin felt a coil in his stomach twisting and unraveling. It lasted for a second, before boiling away and leaving rage in his wake.

He had snapped at them, scolded them for their inappropriate behavior at work, before stomping off. The rest of the day Robin had spent stewing in his office, glowering at any employees who attempted to speak to him.

Now under the sunlight of a perfect New York afternoon, Robin was continuing to mope around at the picnic. He had a scowl etched into his face during all of his exchanges with her, as he made sure to throw out snide comments about the state of her relationship with his brother, much to the bewilderment of their colleagues. The flash of annoyance on his brother’s face almost made him feel better, until he saw the hurt on her face.

Great. If his day couldn’t get any worse, now he was being a colossal asshole to her.

Why was he so angry? Robin bit into his sandwich, not tasting anything (guess those gourmet ingredients Sam loved weren’t doing their job; he gave a silent shoutout to his taste buds for tapping out). As he chewed on the tasteless lunch, he sifted through his memories.

It wasn’t like their flirting before had meant anything to him. It was just a game to both of them.

The first time he saw her at Sam’s apartment he was immediately intrigued—a bright-eyed graduate with a sharp tongue, shaking her head amusedly with a raised eyebrow as he introduced himself with his usual lilt and charm. It was a warm exasperation that sang, “I can handle you,” not a reaction Robin was used to receiving. When Sam wasn’t looking, he appreciatively took in her pin-straight, stylish attire, the gentle sway of her hips as she walked across the living room, the pucker of her lips when one of the boys said something unsavory. He found her attractive, incredibly so, but he also caught the heated glances she and Sam shot each other.

And so Robin shrugged off his crush. He wasn’t one to commit anyways, especially not to a woman he had just met. From a young age, he had lived by an unspoken rule that whoever Sam wanted was out of his bounds; any woman who liked his brother wasn’t going to like him anyways. He felt a snide joy too at the revelation that Sam, the straight-laced, faultless CEO, engaged to a woman he harbored no love for, was on the brink of jumping ship for his pretty nanny. Talk about tabloid perfection and PR disaster.

It was Robin who had continued to flirt with her for the expressed purpose of seeing that unbecoming scowl on his brother’s face every time he winked at her. They played the “Make Sam Jealous” game, a form of entertainment that Robin had enjoyed for as long as he could recall. This particular round with her, however, was far more pleasurable than any he could remember before. A breeze swept through Central Park, fanning across Robin’s steadily warming face, as he remembered that night.

At the engagement party, he had whisked her away onto the dance floor before suggesting teaming up to make him jealous. The rush when he slid his arms around her waist, hearing her tinkling laugh as he pulled her close and Sam’s distracted stumbling on stage, was more potent than any childlike glee at pissing off his brother. Robin found himself enjoying this secret plot as a treasured chance to drink in the little details of her—the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, the crinkle of her nose when Sofia began her drawling speech, the mischievous gleam in her chocolate eyes that he had learned early on was an indicator of a devious idea.

When she leaned in and whispered, “Kiss me,” Robin had frozen under the headiness of her gaze. For a split second he forgot that they were playing a game. That she, one of the most enchanting women he’d ever met, presently asking him for a kiss, wasn’t his brother’s nanny. That it wasn’t his brother, who was currently standing (glistening, like a goddamn vampire) under the headlights on the stage, that she wanted.

As Robin stared down at his sandwich, perfectly intact except for the single bite he had taken, he felt that coiling sensation return to his stomach. He shot to his feet, almost stepping on a neighboring group’s picnic blanket in his rush to get out. “Sorry,” he muttered, before hurrying off the lawn, dumping his mostly uneaten sandwich into the nearest trash can.

Weaving between the groups meandering about the food stalls, he made sure that he had jogged a safe distance away from the rest of the party, before pressing his hands into his forehead and letting out a groan.

What was he thinking? Falling for a woman that didn’t—couldn’t—want him. He couldn’t have entertained affections for any other single, available woman in the world? Robin scowled at the couple walking across the street from him, swinging their hands between them as they strolled.

Typical. He always wanted the things he couldn’t have.

The sound of a soft, familiar voice caught his attention. Robin turned around to see the woman that had been occupying his mind for the past few hours. There she was, standing several feet away from, presently ordering food from one of the stalls.

He watched as she read over the menu, scrunching her face as she read over each item. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the skin of her shoulders. She looks good in plaid, Robin mused, as his gaze trailed over her legs and her jean shorts, different from her usual formal outfits he saw her in. Usually, she looked so prim and serious; the only tell of her spunk was the flash in her eyes, which only appeared when he said something vastly inappropriate (and hilarious, so he thought). Here, in her casual attire, she seemed far more at ease. With her windswept hair and her summery top rippling gently, she looked like a vision—the perfect nanny, he thought wryly.

When she took her order—vanilla ice cream, he noted with curiosity—from the vendor, Robin shook himself out of his outfit-induced stupor. Vaguely, he considered that it might be a good idea for him to stay away from her, but when did he listen to good ideas? Raking his fingers through his hair quickly to smooth it down, he stuffed his hands into his jeans and strolled up to her.

“You’re a hard woman to catch alone, you know?” He kept his voice as smooth as possible, trying for an air of friendly detachment.

When she whipped around, he caught the wariness in her face, for a second, before it dissolved. Ah. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, after the temper tantrum he had been throwing for the entire afternoon.

Her voice was careful, measured. “I wasn’t aware you had been trying.” Her eyes darted away, as if she wanted to escape his prying gaze—or, as if she were searching for someone else.

The thought stoked a lance of rage within Robin; he felt as if he were walking in on her in the lab again, clothes disheveled, only feet away from his brother. Crossing his arms, he stepped forward and met her gaze head-on.

"After what I saw at the lab, talking to you is all I've been able to think about." His words spilled out in an agitated rush, as he struggled to hold back the question burning in his stomach.

“What the hell is going on between you and Sam?”

Her forehead creased, but she didn’t look away. Robin noted that her eyes glowed hazel under the sunlight. “You want the truth?” Her voice was level and low, just as business-like as how she composed herself whenever Sofia was terrorizing the house or the twins were bickering again. "I admit I find him attractive. But that doesn't mean I can't respect boundaries."

She was too calm. Far too calm. Robin swallowed the wave of bitterness, edged with a smoldering anger, rising in his throat. "It didn't look like there were any boundaries when I walked in on you two in the lab,” he bit back, ignoring the flush of heat spreading across his cheeks. “Care to enlighten on what precisely happened before I entered the room?”

At his snide remark, her face morphed into a scowl; she crossed her arms defensively (good, he preferred anger to the hurt on her face). Two could play this game, he supposed. “That is none of your business,” she retorted, as her cheeks flushed to mirror his own.

Unbelievable. “You made it my business when I saw you with Sam, alone, in the lab!”

“You know what they say about assuming, Robin.”

God, even when she was angry, he loved hearing his name fall out of her mouth.

Robin stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Look.” He mulled over his churning thoughts and rubbed a hand over his forehead, exhaling heavily. “Sam is a great guy. Maybe, in another life, you two could’ve been great together.” He forced the admission out, despite the ache that accompanied it. “But in this life, he has a family and fiancee that he’s responsible to. Whatever is going on between you two needs to end.”

Her gaze drifted to the floor as his words reached her. “The last thing I want to see is you getting hurt,” he continued on, feeling a hitch in his voice as he attempted to steer away from the less gilded version of the truth. “I was onboard for making him mad when I thought he didn't want me sleeping with his nanny. I didn't know I was making him legitimately jealous.”

He swallowed, before continuing on. “I thought it was just some innocent flirtation between you two. But it’s not, is it?”

It was the realization—that there was a deeper connection between her and Sam, a bond that he was not privy to—that twisted the knife further into his side. Judging from her inability to meet his eyes and the slow hunch of her shoulders, he guessed that it was hitting her too.

This wasn’t a fantasy. It was real.

Robin’s words, for once, were all dried up. There was nothing he could summon up to dissolve the tension that had formed between them, an impenetrable barrier of “what-ifs.”

What if she weren’t his brother’s nanny? What if they had met first? The knowledge that Sam probably mulled over these possibilities before as well, that they were both pining after a woman that they couldn’t have, only left a bitter taste in his mouth.

At the lull in the conversation, her head hung down. They were silent for a few moments, before she spoke quietly. There was an edge of desperation to her voice he had never heard before. “I don't know what to do.”

“I’d make a suggestion, but I know you wouldn’t listen.” It wasn’t a snide remark—he meant it. Robin had seen enough of her fierce resolve to know that she made her own choices. Once she made up her mind, she would listen to no one. It was one of the qualities he admired most about her. Her hair slipped in front of her eyes, and he suppressed the urge to sweep it back for her.

She locked his eyes on him, and he suppressed a swallow. Gaze trailing over her collar and neckline, he took note of a gold necklace he hadn't seen before; he wondered if it was a gift from Sam. “I just wish I could go back to a few weeks ago,” she murmured, twisting her hands together. “Before this all blew up. Before I had all these things to consider.”

“Like last weekend’s engagement fete?”

She let out a laugh, a chiming sound that Robin tried to commit to his memory. “I have to admit that party was the highlight of my month.”

He grinned, besides himself, and leaned in closer. “What, conspiring with me to make my brother jealous?” He tried to hide the bitterness from his voice.

Clearly, it didn’t fool her. Her eyes softened as she peered up at him.

It was her eyes that first drew him to her—a gaze that never wavered. He was enchanted by the way she looked at people—at strangers, at the twins, at Sam too. How quickly her eyes shifted, from deep and reflective, to sparkling and joyous, to furious and flashing. She was never afraid to be vulnerable, to be honest, or to take a risk that might leave her reeling. She wasn’t like him; she didn’t have to hide behind layers of charming one-liners and flirty comments. She was real.

She took a breath. “Actually...I was thinking about dancing with you. That was my favorite part of the night.” His mouth fell open slightly, and she paused. “Thanks for kissing me, by the way. It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing. I didn’t expect you to play along.” Maybe it was his imagination, but he could’ve sworn that her eyes gleamed when she made the last statement.

For a guy who prided himself in easily making friends and charming the living daylights out of strangers, Robin had spent his entire life dutifully preventing people from becoming too close to him. He was accustomed to covering up his feelings when they became too strong for him to paper over with charisma. When a relationship entered serious territory, he’d hit the panic button—irritate his girlfriends enough to get them to dump him in public, to cause a scene that’d distract himself and the world from what was turning over inside of him. It was better to keep them away than to let them down eventually; it was inevitable, given his own history of dissapointment in his family.

Robin had already accepted the fact that he would never be number one in anything—but he’d be damned if he would be last. He wouldn’t be made a fool by anyone or anything.

Yet standing in front of her, on a picturesque day at the park, Robin found himself questioning everything he believed in. Amidst the tangled threads of attraction, the rocky waters of company protocol and forbidden relationships, there was something pure about the moments he had spent with her. When he had whisked her away from Sam at the engagement party, murmuring conspiratorially into her ear, “You look like you could use a break,” he saw the visage of his honeyed words slipping away. Sam and the engagement party could have erupted into flames for all he cared. All he wanted, in that moment, was to hold him in her arms.

There was a yearning, growing within him, that he couldn’t hold back now.

“You know I didn’t kiss you just to piss off Sam, right?”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, at his sudden admission. Robin should have taken that as a sign to bite his tongue, but the train couldn’t be stopped anymore.

Ever since Robin was young, his father had always chided him to slow down. An audio recording of him yelling, “Be more careful, Robin!” could have very well been the soundtrack of his childhood. Unlike the cautious Sam, Robin was naturally reckless, always seeking out thrills to the dismay of his image-obsessed family. Try as he might to tamper his impulsiveness though, his efforts were never enough for their father.

The one time that Sam had ever been impulsive in life was when he had stolen her away for a private moment only hours ago—before being interrupted by Robin, no less. It was she who had driven his perfect brother to put his career and his livelihood on the line

Robin was beginning to understand why Sam had been so careless over these past few weeks, so apparently willing to risk everything he had ever worked for. It was her.

He stepped closer, gazing down at her. Breathing in her scent, he drank in the gentle curve of her face and her neck, framed by her windswept hair. He imagined Sam standing in the same position just hours ago, before his lust-addled brain banished that thought.

He was already standing on the edge of the cliff; he knew he may as well jump off.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Her lips parted, and he was descending, diving, drowning into the pool of her eyes.

Leaning down, Robin brushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, revelling in the softness of her skin. She was so close that he could count all of her freckles, see that her lips formed the shape of a heart. Perfect.

Finally, finally. All he could register was the aroma of her soft floral perfume, the dim memory of their last kiss a week ago, an ache that Robin didn’t realize was throbbing in his chest for too long, begging for release.

He was a fool, but he didn’t care. Robin saw her eyes flutter close, before his followed suit—

“Hey, come see Mickey cannonball into the fountain!”

They leapt apart, putting an appropriate amount of space between them just before Mason came sprinting up to the pair. His hair was sopping wet, leaving Robin afraid to see the state of Mickey’s. The other twin in question came hurtling over only seconds later, his button-up shirt completely drenched, presumably from their antics in the water. Despite the storm of desire rattling his brain, Robin couldn’t help but stifle a derisive snort at the thought of Sam’s exasperation later.

The twins paused, suddenly taking in the two of them, standing awkwardly apart from each other. Mickey’s head tilted in confusion. Robin thought sheepishly back to how he had behaved likewise only just hours ago, when he had walked in on his brother in the same position that he was now in. Caught red-handed with the nanny.

“Hey, did you two get into a fight?” Mickey’s face was far too innocent to know the stabbing truth that his question held.

Robin forced a smile, straightening his back. “Of course not, kiddo. You’ve got one of the best nannies in the world.” Both of their faces perked up at this. “I could never fight with her.”

His gaze flitted over to her, standing a few feet away as the twins reached up to grab her hands, ever the reaffirming picture of the perfect nanny. Her cheeks were still flushed and he read the tangle of confused feelings written all over her face. She was staring at him again with that shining gaze again, vulnerable and open as the first time he met her. Because of him.

His stomach twisted. So much for not wanting her to get hurt.

Robin took his leave before she could say anything in response—he didn’t want to hear what she had to say about him in front of the twins. He wasn’t sure if he could put on a smiling front any longer. “I’ll see you guys later. Be nice to your nanny.” He turned as his throat constricted, and hurried off.

Shortly afterwards, he called a limo to take him home, citing exhaustion as the reason for his early departure from the picnic. His colleagues told him to get some rest; his father, unsurprisingly, said nothing. Before he stepped into the car, he caught sight of her, next to Sam on the lawn. He ignored the lance of pain upon seeing them stand so close together.

He caught her eye for a second, but before he could be drawn into the faint glimmer in her eye, he forced himself to walk away and get into the car.

As the limo pulled away from Central Park, Robin stared blankly out the window. His agony was laughable—it was Sam that was supposed to be held back by this forbidden romance with her; he was the one that was already engaged. Yet here Robin was, the perpetual second-best, always left behind, trapped within the same snared feelings. He found some cruel relief in the knowledge that both he and Sam shared the same predicament.

Was it love at first sight? For him, and for Sam, too? He laughed bitterly; what a twist of fate that he and his perfect brother had the same weakness—a woman they could not have. No matter what happened, Robin knew for certain that they were all going to be hurt.

Thinking of what she had said that afternoon, about her wish to go back to last week, Robin wished he could rewind time too. To not rejoice in the stolen moments where she wasn’t occupied with Sam and the twins, to not stay in the office alone with her as he inched closer and closer, to not pull her to his side on the dance floor as he felt the pit in his stomach sinking deeper. Maybe if he could have stayed away, he would be able to retrieve his heart from the snare of her bright gaze.

Or maybe—Robin could’ve charmed her first, before his brother got to her. Maybe then, she’d be sneaking away at the office to be in his arms, not Sam’s. Maybe they would be sitting on a picnic blanket together at Central Park, enjoying a perfect afternoon. Maybe, when no one else was looking, he’d be pressing her against the side of the stall, kissing her over and over again until he was intoxicated from the scent of her.

As the sky darkened steadily, Robin watched the cityscape pass in a blur. He already knew where this fantasy would end. This wasn’t his story. But he was in too deep and there was no hope of getting out.

#the nanny affair #robin flores #robin x mc #mc x robin #tna #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #nanny affair #choices fanfiction #choices nanny affair #choices fanfic #tna robin #robin tna #pixelberry #my writing #somebody get robin the abc book of feelings

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delimeful · 5 years ago

Text

be unbroken or be brave again (1)

here it is! an AU ive been working on for a while that i am publishing today, 12/19, for our favorite emo nightmare’s birthday! :D hope you enjoy!

warnings: blood, mention of illness and murder, injury, roman is a jerk but he’s just being an idiot, hurt/comfort

Virgil frowned, studying the tracks on the ground. Horse hooves, but more importantly, the treads of heavy boots. The same boots that had been following them from a slowly-decreasing distance for months now. He sighed, scuffing his own bare foot against the ground.

The hunter was gaining ground too fast for comfort.

If he had been alone, he could have lost the human easily. Would have lost him on day one, in fact. The reason his kind were so hard to track was because of their ability to take off and vanish into thin air, after all. Assuming they weren’t too busy starting massive fires, that was.

Still, he wasn’t alone, and he had no plans to reveal his true self to the one person alive that tolerated him, so walking it was.

He turned to circle back around to camp, his leathery wings fluttering once on his back. It was dumb of him to let the glamor down in the open like this, but he couldn’t help but want to release the spell whenever he got the chance. It was taxing, hiding a bunch of his true features all the time, even in sleep. He would put it back up before he got to camp, but for now his horns and scales would stay, the same deep violet purple as his wings and tail.

Those features were undoubtedly the reason the hunter was after them in the first place, probably to harvest his parts or slay him for the greater good or whatever nonsense Knights were always spouting about their reasons for murdering a whole species. He grit his teeth, fangs pressing into his lips near hard enough to cut.

He was used to such treatment, but Patton was perfectly human, and now he too was in danger because of Virgil. He should have taken more measures to hide their trail, shouldn’t have let the hunter catch his scent. Maybe he should have killed the last few that came after him. He imagined the look on Patton’s face if he ever found out and shook his head to dismiss the thought. He was as soft as ever when it came to humans, and he’d continue to be that way until he inevitably died. Probably his mom’s fault.

… Whatever. He’d make up some excuse to get him and Patton on the road again, take some shortcuts to lose their pursuer, and be more careful in the future. Lesson learned.

A scraggly-looking tree he had marked earlier reminded him that he was getting closer to the clearing, and he quickly touched the stone between his collarbones to re-cast the glamor. It settled onto him like a heavy cloak, his senses becoming slightly muted, and he made sure to check his reflection in one of his daggers before moving on.

The clearing was fairly quiet, shielded from view by thick brush, but he could hear the soft movements of someone shuffling about in the dirt. Patton had already gotten back from gathering kindling, then. He pulled the canteens from his bag, to show that he had completed his own task.

“Hey, Pat, I found a river near-” His voice cut off as he realized that the man crouched in their campsite wasn’t Patton.

He was tall, with heavy leather armor covered in red sigils over every inch of him, kneeling in the dirt with one hand brushing the footprints that the two occupants had left in the camp. The same exact thing Virgil had been doing only minutes ago. Unquestionably a hunter by attire alone.

The Knight’s head had snapped over to look at Virgil the moment he’d called out, and now they were frozen in a silent staring contest. Virgil let his gaze dip slightly to the sigil on the Knight’s shoulder, and paled at the sight of it. It was the Faerin coat of arms.

A Knight from the Faerin Kingdom, known far and wide to be the most vicious and merciless to Dragonwitches. A Knight from an empire that he knew didn’t care about collateral damage any more than the dirt under their feet.

A Knight that could hurt Patton, if the human got back to camp while Virgil was fighting him.

Without another thought, he bolted, the canteens dropping to the ground as he fled. There was a yell behind him, and he felt a wave of relief as the sound of footsteps took off behind him, a glance over his shoulder confirming that he was being chased doggedly. The Knight was taking the bait. Patton would be safe.

Now all he had to worry about was saving his own skin.

He sprinted through the forest, twisting and ducking in case the Knight had projectiles. Maybe he didn’t even have to fight him. If he could outstrip the guy, he could double back and lose him, go back to the camp and get Patton and book it-

Twang!

He barely had time to register the thin, near-invisible wire he’d plowed through before something heavy and rough hit him head on, knocking him to the ground. He twisted around and dropped the glamor, trying to flare his wings and tail to get the offending object off, but it only got him more tangled in the metal netting. The trap- for what else could it be?- was weighed down at the edges by solid metal balls, so he couldn’t even rise to his feet to try and keep running.

In a moment of desperation, he reached for the power of his other form, the one already snapping for control like a cornered animal. Nothing. The metal burned unnaturally against his skin, no doubt enchanted for the very purpose of holding him.

Loud footsteps made him still for a moment, and he summoned up a hateful glare as the Knight approached with an air of casualness. The bastard didn’t even seem out of breath.

“Gotcha.” He said, voice arrogant, and Virgil snarled inhumanly at him between pants. “Oh, don’t be like that. Not my fault you were too slow.”

He stepped closer, ignoring the threatening growl building in Virgil’s chest, and grabbed the upper arch of his left wing, entangled firmly in netting. He jerked away anyways, trying to thrash the limb, but the Knight’s grip held firm, fingers digging into the delicate flesh. “Let go!”

“In a second, in a second.” The Knight’s face fell into a frown, deepening the longer he stared at the wing he was pulling on. “I suppose they look black in the right lighting…” He hummed, releasing the wing and circling back around to face Virgil from the front with a speculative gaze.

Virgil’s lip curled up into a sneer. With the focus on his wings and scale color, this guy had to be a skinseller. Perfect. Just what he wanted to deal with today. Not.

The Knight flipped an ornate dagger from hand to hand, wandering slowly into range. He threw the dagger into the air with a frankly unnecessary amount of flair, and Virgil followed the shine of the blade carefully. “Committed any notable atrocities lately, monster?”

“Nothing more atrocious than that outfit.” Virgil shot back, voice rough and gravelly. He eyed the distance between the Knight’s hand and his teeth speculatively. Just a bit closer...

The knight placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture of offense. “Honestly, you must be delirious with stress to think I look anything other than fantastic.” He cast a judgmental eye at Virgil’s own appearance. “Maybe delirious with heatstroke, under all that black. I wonder, does the color of your terrible clothing choices carry over to your true form, beast?”

“Bite me,” Virgil spat, and then lunged at the Knight’s nearest hand, dagger be damned. The longer he kept this one occupied, the longer Patton had to realize something was wrong and get out of there.

Unfortunately, the Knight was quicker. His target was yanked out of biting reach, and then fingers promptly wrapped around one of his horns and tugged, driving his face into the ground. He grunted in pain as something in his nose gave way with a pop, and warm blood started to drip down over his mouth.

“Nice try, Bitey,” the Knight said, ignoring the low, rumbling growl radiating from Virgil’s chest. He planted the dagger in the dirt, inches from his bloody face. “Now, how about you make this easier on yourself and tell me the scale color of your little friend you meant to meet back in that camp? What was their name… Pat?”

Virgil stiffened, his tail lashing back and forth as much as it could while so entangled. “Fuck me and my big mouth,” he mumbled incoherently into the ground, grimacing at the taste of dirt.

“What was that?” the Knight asked, pulling him upright so he could breathe properly again. Virgil cleared his throat a few times as though about to speak, and then opened his mouth and spat a mixture of blood, mud, and spit directly into the Knight’s face.

The Knight dropped him like a hot potato. “Ugh, come on!”

He sounded so disgruntled that Virgil couldn’t help but laugh hoarsely from where he was laid out on the ground. “Too gross for you, Your Highness?”

The hunter stiffened, pausing in the process of wiping his face to stare at Virgil with surprise. Virgil’s lips curled up slightly, vindicated by the hunter’s reaction. Got it in one.

He bared his fangs in an unfriendly smile. “You think you’re being subtle? I’ve met plenty of hunters, and only idiots and nobility wear Faerin’s crest and finery like a badge of honor. Congrats on fitting in both categories.”

The Knight scowled at him, hooking a hand in the wires and hauling him up by the shirt. Virgil managed to brace himself just before the Knight slammed him up against a tree, and he hissed a pained breath through his teeth as the bark scraped against his back and the soft in-between flesh of his wings.

“And how many of those hunters are still around?” the Knight asked, deadly serious as he pressed his other arm against Virgil’s throat and leaned forwards until they were only inches apart. “How many did you kill? How did you slaughter them?”

Virgil almost rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, struggling to breathe through the damn bloody nose. If he’d killed those hunters, there was no way this idiot would have ever caught wind of him, let alone tracked him down like this. Knights were all the same. They only heard what they wanted to hear.

“Come on, you already know. I did what you’re supposed to do with trash,” he rasped, inhaling deeply enough to make his lungs ache from the pressure. A purple haze began to leak from his lips. “Burned it.”

The Knight’s eyes widened, and he leaned back as Virgil clicked the sparkscales in the back of his throat and ignited a breath of deep purple flame directly into the hunter’s face. He held it for as long as he could, his exhale finally sputtering out seconds later.

The Knight stared back at him, unimpressed. His eyebrows were slightly singed, but the rest of him remained completely intact, courtesy of the protective charms embedded in his armor. The sigils glowed and pulsed like hot coals. “Did you really think that would work?”

“Nah,” Virgil admitted, and then drove his knee into the Knight’s groin with all the force he could muster. “But this will.”

The Knight made a noise that sounded like a mix between a mouse’s dying squeak and the wheeze of someone getting all the air punched out of their lungs. Virgil grinned with immense satisfaction at the way his skin paled to the color of spoiled milk, and then took advantage of his loosened grip to slam his forehead against the Knight’s with a resounding crack.

“Freaking ow!” the Knight recoiled, finally letting go of him to step out of range. As soon as he was released, Virgil’s legs gave out from under him, leaving him collapsed at the base of the tree trunk. He had planned to try and stay upright, maybe make a grab for the dagger or even just make some progress on untangling the net, but…

“What in the underworld is your skull made of?” he screeched, trying to blink away the spots in front of his eyes. It felt like he’d headbutted a concrete wall instead of a normal human. “Do you have rocks in there instead of a brain?”

“Me?” the Knight scowled, pointing at him imperiously. “What did you think you were going to achieve? Who in their right mind uses dirty street fighting without being able to run away after? You’re wrapped in a net!”

“Oh, I dunno,” Virgil really did roll his eyes this time, “maybe someone who doesn’t want to die?”

The Knight stopped short, and turned away to take a deep breath before facing Virgil again with a less harsh expression. “Look, I admire your tenacity,” he admitted. “I’m looking for a particular dragonwitch, and I doubt that you’re it. I don’t want to kill you. You don’t even have to tell me anything that would give me an advantage in a fight against your friend. If you’ll just tell me what they look like, I can escort you to become a protected citizen of Faerin.”

Virgil snorted. “Oh, so I can have my powers suppressed and die slowly of tar-lung working in some harvester mine instead?” And that was if an uppity Knight didn’t randomly decide to execute him for existing too loudly. Protected citizen, his ass. “I’ll pass.”

“Yes, your powers would be sealed for everyone’s safety. And dragonwitches can’t get tar-lung.” The Knight frowned at him in reprimand, and Virgil almost pitied him for his sheltered naivety. He’d be in for a rough time in towns after he passed the range of his kingdom’s influence. Everyone hated dragonwitches, but a fair few hated Faerin as well.

Oh well. Not his problem.

“Even if that was in any way appealing, I’m not the type to sell out my friends,” Virgil flared his wings one last time, as though the net would suddenly decide to answer his pleas and fall away. Instead, the metal only cut into his wings harder, and he dipped his chin to touch his soulstone, his glamor settling back over him and his aching wings fading into non corporeality. If the hunter wanted to kill a monster, he’d make himself look as human as possible.

He leaned his head back against the tree, tilting his chin up in challenge. Pinned behind his back, his hands trembled. “Be more merciful your kingdom, hunter, and give me a quick death.”

As expected, the jab at his kingdom made his expression darken with anger. Chauvinists. So predictable.

“I already offered you mercy, and you refused it.” The Knight pulled a broadsword from its scabbard with a scraping of metal, and Virgil clenched his hands into fists, keeping his gaze locked with the hunter’s. How was he planning to strike? The head or the heart? Could he dodge like this? For how long? Was there a point?

“I suppose we’ll see if your body will lure your friend out of hiding.” The Knight lifted his blade high, the tip poised to stab down through Virgil’s heart.

In the next moment, a human-sized blur dove out of the trees, tackling him from the side with a battle cry and knocking the hunter clear off his feet. They both went tumbling, the sword sliding across the ground far out of reach of any party, and Virgil stared at his savior in disbelief. Who would be stupid enough to attack a Faerin Knight within the kingdom’s borders, all alone-?

The attacker sat up from where he was half-straddling the Knight, twisting to check on Virgil. “Are you okay?” he cried, face strained with worry.

“Patton?” Virgil’s voice went up an octave, fear surging through him. He started clawing desperately at the netting again. “Patton, no, no no no you have to run! Get out of here!”

The human’s face furrowed in confusion. “Wha-?”

In the next moment, the hunter had surged up and reversed their positions, pinning Patton to the ground by his shoulders. Virgil lunged forwards and let out an inhuman screech as he toppled over, his struggles only making the trap tighten against his flesh further.

“Aha!” the Knight declared, and pulled a waterskin from his belt triumphantly. He tugged the cap off with his teeth and splashed the liquid inside all over Patton’s face.

Patton spluttered, completely unharmed. “Rude! What is the matter with you? Why are you attacking Virgil, he didn’t do anything to you!”

The Knight gaped, shocked enough that Patton was able to shove him off and climb back to his feet. “What- you’re human?”

Virgil tried to push himself into an upright position, his blood still rushing in his ears from the scare. “Patton, please, you’ve got to get out of here!”

Patton, the wonderful idiot, gasped at the sight of him, bloodied and bruised, and immediately headed towards him. “Don’t worry, Virgil! I’ll help you!”

Virgil resisted the urge to groan, and then tensed against the net again as the Knight grabbed Patton’s wrist to stop him. “Wait!”

“Oh, what now?” Patton asked scornfully, with the sort of this-better-be-good expression that would have had Virgil properly abashed for at least an hour.

The Knight barely faltered, a testimony to his bravery. “You don’t have to listen to this foul beast’s orders anymore! You’re free.” And there was a testimony to his idiocy.

“What foul beast?” Patton’s frown only grew more severe as the Knight gestured expansively to Virgil’s entangled form. He pulled his wrist free to jab a finger into Roman’s chest. “That’s Virgil, and I don’t know what ale you’ve been drinking, sir, but it must have gone sour, because he’s just as human as you and me!”

Virgil felt a chill go down his spine. Now that he wasn’t imminently facing the worst possible scenario (Patton dying), he had enough clarity to be terrified about facing the second-worst possible scenario (Patton finding out he wasn’t human). The Knight looked between the two of them, gaze settling on Virgil, probably easily reading the guilt written all over his face.

“You’ve been tricked,” he voiced his realization aloud, and held a hand up to stop Patton from going further. “Not to fear! I can prove my claim to you. I have an elixir that destroys any glamor upon contact. I’ll show you.”

Ignoring Patton’s protests, the Knight strode up to where Virgil was propped up on one arm, his lips thin with anger. Virgil leaned back as he knelt next to him and met cold eyes, knowing it was meaningless to plead but desperate enough to try anyways. “Please.”

“Were you planning on granting that man a merciful death when you got tired of toying with him, demon?” the Knight asked with a voice like ice. Virgil didn’t even have time to open his mouth before the waterskin was upended over his head.

The elixir burned as all human magic did, and as he hissed, his glamor cracked away like ash to reveal his slitted pupils, his pointed ears, his dark scales. All irrefutable proof of his true nature.

A sharp inhale made him look up, and he met Patton’s shocked gaze. “V… Virgil?”

The fear in Patton’s soft brown eyes was like a physical blow. He looked away, noting the way the Knight stood between him and Patton protectively. He’d retrieved his sword.

“You can see the truth, clear as day,” the Knight spoke gently, but his words were harsh. “This is no friend of yours. The monster was only pretending to be human to lull you into a false sense of security. It’s a… common tactic for dragonwitches that prefer to,” the Knight grimaced, “play with their food. I’m sorry.”

“Virgil? That’s not true… is it?” Patton sounded near tears, and though he’d had nightmares about this exact scene frequently, he had never realized the way it would hurt, to hear his only friend doubt him.

He opened his mouth, the words all on the edge of forming. Of course it wasn’t true! He would die before he hurt Patton, he would do anything to keep him safe. The very idea that he would ever devour his friend made him feel as though he was a second from throwing up.

All these defenses and more sprang to his mind, clamoring over each other, and yet-

His mouth shut with a click. What would happen if he convinced Patton of his innocence? What would the Knight do? What would Patton do, to protect him? If there was one thing Faerin Knights excelled at, it was killing innocents. He was still trapped. He couldn’t do anything if the Knight turned his blade on Patton.

He had to make sure Patton wouldn’t put himself at risk like that. He… He would do anything to keep Patton safe.

Even if that meant being the villain the Knight wanted to slay.

Virgil swallowed thickly, forcing away the desolation to focus on what mattered. If he had to put on a show, it would have to be convincing. Patton would never believe it otherwise.

He let the last scraps of the glamor fall away, let his face shutter off into something dismissive and uncaring. “So you got me. I just wanted an easy meal at hand, is that such a crime?”

The knight stood tall, proud of having broken through a monster’s disguise. He looked down at Virgil with disgust. “Eating people is and probably always has been a crime, yes.”

He shrugged with loose shoulders. “S’not my fault snacks are so easy to fool these days.” His eyes caught Patton’s again, and he forced himself not to look away from the heartbroken expression. “If you really thought we were friends, you’re even stupider than I thought. Looks like your family really did pick the wrong one to die for.”

Patton’s face crumpled immediately, and he let out a sob. The Knight stepped in front of him, blocking Virgil’s gaze. His eyes dropped to the sword in his hand, and he felt a twisted sort of relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’d just said those awful things, that he’d taken what Patton had confided in him and turned it into something sharp to hurt him with.

“Don’t worry. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else, anymore,” the Knight reassured Patton, and stepped forward with menace in every movement.

Virgil forced himself to stay still, squeezed his eyes shut and ignored his racing heart. He was silent as the prince raised his blade, compliant because if it meant it wouldn’t be turned on Patton then it was worth it. It would always be worth it.

He waited for the swing of the blade, the last thing he would ever hear-

Clunk.

The Knight made a strangled sound. Virgil’s eyes opened of their own accord, watching as the hunter swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then collapsed bonelessly onto the ground.

Just behind him, Patton stood, clutching a rock the size of his head in both hands. He was looking down at the fallen Knight with an expression that was just as stunned as Virgil felt, and dropped the rock to the forest floor with a thud.

He took an uncertain, wobbling step towards Virgil, and he couldn’t help but flinch back because anything Patton did to him right now would be justified, but it would still hurt-

-and then there were suddenly trembling arms around him, tugging him into a hug against a warm chest. He froze, body stiff. “Patton...?”

“You are a terrible liar,” Patton informed him wetly, “and you’re my best friend, you dummy. Human or not.”

His voice was thick with tears, hitching with every breath, but it was devoid of hatred or fury or fear that in that moment, Virgil had never heard anything so comforting.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, and then, as though the words had broken a dam of tension within him, he immediately started muffling his own strangled, hiccuping sobs into Patton’s neck. “I didn’t m-mean any of that, I swear, I just- I’m sorry for not telling you. I was- I was scared.”

“You were scared?” He could barely move his arms in the net, but Patton was doing enough clinging for both of them, limbs wrapped around him like a koala as he spoke. “When I realized that you’re actually a dragonwitch, I thought for sure that hunter was going to try and kill you! Again! That’s two murder attempts too many!”

Virgil made a sound that was half-chuckle, half-sniffle, and set his chin on Patton’s shoulder. “You’re really not mad?”

“Yeah. I’m not mad.” Patton stuck his hand under the net’s grooves and combed his fingers through Virgil’s hair soothingly, barely hesitating over the ridges where his horns met his skull. “It’s okay. I… I get it, Virge. I forgive you.”

The simple statement set him off again, which set Patton off again, and they went through a whole second round of tears and snot before Virgil felt coherent enough to speak once more.

“What are we gonna do with that guy?”

Patton pulled away from him slightly so they could both stare at the unconscious body of the hunter. The guy totally had a head wound. Looked like his thick skull could be defeated after all.

“Well…” Patton wiped a sleeve over his nose and then tapped his chin in consideration. “It’s been a while since we visited home. We could take him there. You could carry us there! Oh, we can travel places so fast now!”

Virgil gave him a flat stare, ignoring the flying comment for the moment. “You want to take a Faerin Knight. To our house.”

“Well, I’d feel kind of bad leaving him here with a nasty head wound like that!” Patton said, as though he wasn’t the one who had caused the injury. Or, more likely, because he was the one who had caused the injury. Virgil sighed.

“Yeah, okay, fine. But I’m not going to like it. And he’s definitely not going to like it. And I’m not babysitting him.”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #dragonwitch au #thats right lads B)#writing #my writing #im going to be flying all day so taglist will be added at a later date!#be unbroken or be brave again #buobba #queue

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temilyrights · 5 years ago

Text

in this space with you

Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Ellie and Reader stumble across Jack on a date. Jack assumes that Ellie and Reader are on a date themselves.

Word Count: 4422

A/N: This was meant to be angsty and then became fluffy and cute and honestly that never happens with my writing...Light angst, fluff, emotions, the usual. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated:) Enjoy!

Read on AO3

“This was a great idea.” Ellie praises between a mouthful of food. It was Tuesday evening and you already couldn’t wait for this week to be over. You’d caught a case in the early hours of the morning, and it’d been nothing but hell. Lying witnesses, cryptic descriptions of what the Lieutenant was working on. It just seemed like no matter what leads you followed someone was blocking your path. Everyone was frustrated but when it hit 8 o’clock and the leads were dying out, Gibbs had sent you all home.

Apart from home didn’t sound like the best idea, not when your mind was still spinning from the case. You’d noticed Ellie’s hesitation as well. Alcohol would usually be your go-to, but it was Tuesday and you needed to be sharp for tomorrow so, instead, you’d agreed on dinner. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you arrived at the restaurant and the smell of food filled your senses. Your mouth was practically watering by the time your lasagne arrived.

“So much better than drowning myself in alcohol.” Ellie laughs at your quip, placing her fork down to take a sip from her glass of wine, the glass stops inches from her mouth as her jaw hangs open in shock. “What?” You frown.

“Ok, don’t look now but Jack’s sitting at a table by the side of the room...I think she’s on a date.” Ellie’s voice drops to a low whisper and you swallow roughly as an odd feeling rushes through you, a mixture of disappointment and jealousy which has no right to appear. Ignoring Ellie’s ‘don’t look’ you turn around and feel your heart drop into your stomach when you see Jack’s hand entangled with a man’s as they sit across from one another. You kind of recognise him but don’t know where from and the fact you could only see the left side of his face wasn’t helping. You know you’re staring but can’t seem to get your head to turn away. Her hairs tucked behind one ear allowing you to see the smile on her face. She’s wearing the same beige blazer from work but instead of the matching slacks, she’s paired them with blue skinny jeans. “Y/N?” Ellie’s voice is full of confusion. You take one last second to take in the scene before plastering a smile on your face and turning to face the concerned blonde.

“Do you recognise him?” You ask, hoping Ellie will just pick up the conversation and let your odd reaction go.

“He works at the NSA. He’s the analyst we worked with last month.” You nod as you think back to the case. His name was Matthew? Michael? Marshall? Something boring and easily forgettable. You couldn’t imagine why Jack would ever even consider a date with the man. He was nice looking, sure, but he’d been dull and pompous as hell and definitely not good enough for Jacqueline fricking Sloane. “What’s happening here?” Ellie’s watching you closely, eyes examining you as she tries to work it out.

“Nothing.” You try to sound unbothered, shrugging as you return to your food but Ellie’s eyes just narrow staring at you until suddenly her eyes widen in surprise.

“You like Jack?” It’s said in a terrible attempt of a whisper. Panic rushes through you as you jump further upright in your chair.

“No.” It’s said too quickly, and your voice is like 3 octaves too high for it to be believable. “I-I’m just surprised Jack’s on a date with him of all people. Didn’t he drive you insane on the case? He was so far up his own ass I’m surprised he could see anything.”

Ellie snorts a laugh. “Sure, he was annoying but he’s handsome,” Your face scrunches up and Ellie rolls her eyes playfully. “He is! And maybe he’s nicer outside the office.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate suddenly no longer hungry.

“Oh wow, you really like her.” It’s a statement, not a question. The sympathy in Ellie’s voice makes your voice catch in your throat.

You cough in an attempt to clear it. “It’s just a crush. Harmless, I’m basically over it already.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told Ellie. You’d had a crush on Jack since the moment she’d turned up to NCIS 3 years ago and it’d only grown since so there was definitely no chance of you just getting ‘over it’ anytime soon (but you could dream).

“So, if I was to tell you that Jack and Mark were currently kissing,” Your head swings around, a blush covering your face when you realise the two of them were not kissing and were instead just chatting. “It wouldn’t bother you at all.” Ellie’s voice is full of mirth, a shit-eating grin on her face that just earns her a glare in response. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, but that’s only because now I’m thinking about it, the two of you, It makes sense. There’s always been something between you both, none of us really understood what it was, but this makes sense.”

“You’re reading too far into this. I don’t even know if Jack likes women, and even if she does...She doesn’t like me, not like that.”

“How can you-”

“Can we just drop this? Enjoy the rest of our dinner.” Ellie wants to protest but instead, she sighs and goes back to her food. You smile, taking a bite from your own food which is now slightly cold. “How was karaoke night with Nick?”

Ellie doesn’t try to protest again, instead, describing Nick’s terrible re-enactment of ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. It’s not long before you’ve both finished your meals and begin to make your way out of the restaurant. You’re too preoccupied telling Ellie about the lunch you’d had with your mother the previous weekend that you don’t notice that Ellie’s led you around the long way just so you have to pass Jack’s table until it’s too late.

“Jack, fancy seeing you here.” Ellie’s voice is gleeful. You glare daggers into the back of her head but she only smirks when she turns to face you. You were going to kill her.

“Ellie, Y/N.” Jack’s voice is full of surprise, her cheeks heating up as she looks between the two of you and her hand slips away from Matthew’s? Michael’s? You couldn’t remember his name and truthfully you didn’t care. Your glare has subsided, instead replaced with an awkward smile as you try to think of a way to hurry out of the restaurant and to the safety of your car. “What are you guys doing here?” Jack’s eyes narrow.

One of your brows raises, a smirk tugging at your lips. “We had dinner like one usually does when at a restaurant.” Ellie snorts. Jack’s eyes are still flicking between the two of you as if she’s trying to put together a puzzle she doesn’t quite understand. A waiter goes to pass you, your arm comes to rest on Ellie’s back as you move her closer to the table to allow him to pass. Jack’s eyes zero in on the contact, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Mark, Hi.” The man who you’d half-forgotten about speaks up, extending his hand to Ellie to shake.

“Right sorry, Yes this is Mark my-” Jack clears her throat. You shake his hand, probably gripping it a little tighter than you should as you plaster a smile across your face.

“Date.” Mark grins and honestly, you want to punch him.

“Yes. Date.”

“Well, we don’t want to intrude,” Ellie says as if that isn’t exactly what she was doing. “We’ll see you at the office in the morning.”

“Bye Jack, Michael.” It’s petty, and Jack will see right through it, but it’s worth it for the way he stutters to correct you. Jack’s eyes are narrowed but you just smirk at her.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Jack says. Mark’s hand reaches out, tangling their fingers back together. It makes your chest ache and you quickly avert your eyes, all your humour gone as you follow Ellie from the restaurant making sure to never turn back around.

Ellie starts talking the second the door shuts behind you. “I mean she totally likes you right? There was no other-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You cut her off, really no longer in the mood for this and cursing yourself for ever even suggesting tonight. You should have just gone home, maybe alcohol would have been the better option, probably would have hurt less.

“Wait, Y/N.” Ellie starts to follow after you, distress filling her voice.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You manage a small smile, which Ellie returns, before turning back and making your way to your car.

You ignore the pit in your stomach. Try to block out the images of their hands intertwined and Jack’s smile. Try not to think about them back at the restaurant, about the possibility of them kissing, about Jack settling for some mediocre man that definitely doesn’t deserve her. You take a long shower, allowing your tears to mingle with the water and then put on your comfiest pyjamas, wrapping yourself in a blanket and settling on the sofa. You pick out a movie on Netflix and hit play, snuggling further into the pillows as you allow the film to distract you from your thoughts.

You wake up at 5, still on the sofa, having fallen asleep at some point during the movie. You chuck on your gym clothes, pack your stuff for the day and make yourself a cup of coffee before heading to work. It’s barely 6 when you arrive. You head straight to the gym, dumping your bag in the corner as you put in your headphones and crank your music up high and let loose on the punching bag.

You head up to the bullpen a couple of hours later, freshly showered and now donning a work-appropriate outfit, one that left you feeling confident and ready for the day. “Morning, Gibbs.” You say, smiling when you notice the man sitting at his desk. You put your bag away and take your own seat.

“You’re here early.” He comments, looking at you from his desk.

“Not really it’s already 8 o’clock.”

“And your car was already here when I arrived an hour ago,” Gibbs smirks, eyes curious.

You shrug. “Wanted to get in some exercise before work.” You walk over to Ellie’s desk, grabbing the case file you knew she’d had the night before. You flick through it as you sit back down, focusing on the folder and finding new leads instead of Gibbs’ interested eyes and the fact you could hear the elevator opening and the familiar click of heels making their way to the bullpen.

“Mornin’ Jack.”

“Good morning, Gibbs, Y/N.” You look up long enough to flash her a small smile before returning to the folder in front of you. You can feel Jack’s eyes flicking to you as she speaks to Gibbs. “Is Ellie in?”

That gains your attention, the way Jack’s trying to sound casual but it’s anything but. You look up just as Gibbs responds. “No. Why?” He’d noticed as well then.

“Oh, just wanted her opinion on something.” Jack swings on her heels, her voice too light. The elevator doors ding open again, Ellie and Tim make their way over, laughing.

“Good morning.” Ellie sings, she heads straight to your desk and hands you a cup of coffee. “Sorry for last night,” Ellie speaks quietly so not to be heard by anyone else.

“It’s fine, really.” You smile softly. “But thank you for the coffee.” You take a sip of the drink, humming in delight. Jack’s glaring at Ellie the whole exchange, watching your soft smiles and quiet words makes her blood boil, her hands grip so tightly on her bag that her knuckles turn white, but by the time you look at her she’s got a slightly strained smile on her face.

Jack points in the direction of her office. “Well, I should get to work.” She waves goodbye and starts to exit.

“Jack, didn’t you want to talk to Bishop?” Gibbs calls after her, halting Jack’s steps and causing Ellie’s head to perk up in interest.

“Oh, right yes, uh, are you alright if we go to my office?”

“Sure.” Ellie shrugs, getting up from her desk and following Jack from the room. Both you and Gibbs watch them leave, both confused by how Jack was acting.

Ellie returns about 15 minutes later. Her eyes are filled with determination as she hurriedly makes her way over to you, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you in the direction of the elevator.

“Ellie? What’s happening?” You try to protest, eyes wide in shock. Ellie doesn’t respond, just pushes you into the elevator as Jimmy exits.

“Hey, guys-” Ellie slams the close button, cutting off Jimmy’s words before hitting the emergency stop.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Ready to tell me what the hell that was about?”

“I think Jack thinks we’re dating.” Your mouth drops open and you can’t do anything but stare at Ellie in shock. “She got me to look over some paperwork, but she kept asking questions about last night and just us in general.”

“Like what?”

“Like if we did anything nice after dinner and if we have plans together anytime soon. She was trying to be subtle but when I told her we were planning a weekend away she looked about ready to snap the pen in her hands in half.”

“We aren’t planning a weekend away.”

“I know that, but she didn’t, and I wanted to see what her reaction would be,” Ellie smirks, shrugging. “I know I said I’d drop this, but Y/N I really do think she likes you.”

“She was literally on a date last night. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.” You roll your eyes, trying to stamp down the hope that you could feel brewing.

Ellie’s smirk only widens. “A date which I asked her about, and she said she wasn’t seeing him again!”

“Doesn’t mean she’s interested in me. What’s his face was dull as hell.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Mark! And are you serious? I swear to god if you don’t go and see her, I’m going to go tell her myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet?” You both stare at each other, waiting for the other to back down. There was just no way Jack liked you. Surely, she would have said something if she felt anything for you, she’s not the type of person to wallow in her feelings. Although she was more touchy with you, you’d always put that down to the fact you were good friends. You think about the way her head had rested on your shoulder when you’d been around her house the week before watching some shitty tv show she loved. You think about the way even at the office she always touched you in some way, a hand on your back, on your shoulder, on your arm and even occasionally a small grip to your hand before she let go. She didn’t do that with anyone else.

If you went and talked to her at least there was a chance to gauge the situation without admitting anything. You sigh, dropping Ellie’s gaze. “Fine.”

You glare at the blonde as she grins. “Yay.” She disables the emergency lock and presses the button for the next floor. “Now, go talk to her.” You get off the elevator, Ellie descends the stairs and you avoid looking at her, and the curious eyes you can feel on you from the bullpen as you make your way across the landing and down the corridor to Jack’s office.

You stop outside, wringing your hands before knocking on the door. “Hey.” Your small, unsure smile is reflected back at you when Jack lifts her head.

“Hey. Everything ok?”

You take a couple of steps into her office. “Yeah. I just wanted to speak to you about something.”

“Sure. Take a seat.” Jack signals to her sofa. You make your way over, kicking your shoes off as you bring your feet up, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head on your knees. Jack shuts her office door before making her way over, she pauses by the chair opposite you. “Are you here to speak to me as a psychologist or as a friend?”

“Friend.” Jack nods, bypassing the chair and taking the seat next to you on the sofa. A smile tugs at your lips. She isn’t wearing shoes, probably kicked off somewhere behind her desk like usual, so she crosses her legs, sitting sidewards so she’s facing you. You shuffle round to face her two, putting your head back on your knees. Jack’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern and you want nothing more than to lean over and kiss the worry away.

“What’s up?”

You chew your lip, noting the way Jack’s eyes momentarily focus on the action before she’s meeting your eyes again. It gives you a little confidence. “Ellie told me if I didn’t talk to you, she would.” At the mention of Ellie’s name, you see Jack’s walls slam up, her smile faltering and you realise Ellie might have actually been right. A smirk tugs at your lips. “I’m not dating Ellie.”

Jack’s eyes widen in surprise. You think you see a glimmer of hope shining in them but she’s looking away before you can be sure and when she meets your eyes again her walls are back in place. “Ok?” Jack says, prompting you to continue.

Your nerves come right back. The next step was going to involve you admitting to Jack that you liked her in some way and once that happened there was no going back, no matter if she returned your feelings or not. You don’t realise you’re fiddling with your fingers until Jack’s hand reaches out to cover them.

“Hey.” Jack’s smile is soft as she waits for you to meet her eyes, only continuing talking once you do. “You know you can tell me anything.” Jack’s thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of one of your hands.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head from your knees and moving to copy Jack’s crossed leg position. Jack pulls her hand away from yours but before it can retreat all the way back to her lap you cover it with your own and then very slowly link your fingers with hers, watching closely to see her reaction. Jack’s mouth hangs open slightly in surprise, her eyes darting between your eyes and intertwined hands.

You chuckle awkwardly. “You know, I was so content just suppressing these feelings...but then I saw you at the restaurant with your hands interlocked with his and suddenly my heart was in my stomach and all the feelings that were under lock and key came bursting out and all I wanted to do was steal you away from the douche, that by the way, totally doesn’t deserve to even be in like 10 feet of you let alone on a date.” Jack releases a watery chuckle along with a playful roll of the eyes. “But I couldn’t do any of that because I’m your friend, and friends aren’t meant to get jealous of their friends being on dates.”

“They aren’t?” Jack’s lips twitch into a smirk, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I missed that memo.”

“Yeah, I think Ellie would agree.” You tease, voice as quiet as Jack’s. Her cheeks prickle with heat but her eyes don’t leave yours. You don’t know when it happened, but you’ve moved closer to each other, Jack reaches out and cups your cheek. You instantly lean into the touch, loving the way Jack smiles and her eyes twinkle.

She hums. “I guess friends probably shouldn’t want to kiss their friends either.” You swallow roughly as Jack’s gaze falls to your lips before slowly making its way back to your eyes. “I suppose we aren’t just friends then.”

“Hmm...That seems like a theory that needs testing out.” Your eyes darken, tongue darting out to wet your lips in anticipation. With a laugh, Jack tugs you closer, your breath catches in your throat as she stops centimetres from your lips. Your heads are titled, her heavy-lidded eyes darting between yours and your open mouth in question. Your hand goes to the back of her neck and you close the last bit of distance. The kiss is soft and slow and, despite your slightly awkward crossed-legged positions, better than anything you’d ever imagined. Your hands tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck as you explore one another’s mouths. It’s over too soon, Jack pulling back slightly to rest her forehead against yours. You’re grinning like a maniac but you’re too happy to care.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jack breathes. Your cheeks heat up from the combination of her words and the intensity of her gaze. You pull her back in, placing a soft peck on her lips. Jack stops you from pulling away, releasing a breathy “Nuh-uh.” and bringing you right back to her lips. The kisses heat up as she pulls a throaty moan from you, tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. She finds her way into your lap, moans erupting from both of you as she grinds her hips down and cups your breast through your shirt.

You pull your mouth away, both of you breathing heavily. “Work.”

“I really don’t care about work right now.” Jack grinds her hips again to prove her point and you’re so tempted to say screw it but you know this case is important.

“You will when I inevitably get a message telling me to get my ass back to work.” And you weren’t about to start something you couldn’t finish. Jack sighs, knowing you’re right. She goes to shuffle off your lap, but you stop her with a hand to her waist. Jack brow raises, smirk back on her face. You take a moment to admire her. Her slightly ruffled hair from where your hands had been, swollen lips from your kisses. She was stunning.

“Y/N?” Jack asks, eyes softening as she reaches out to cup your cheek. “What are you thinking?”

“I like you a lot, Jack. I just need to know if this, us, is something you want.” Tears build behind your eyes as your insecurities rush through you. You needed to be sure that she felt the same things you did before you let yourself fly away on cloud 9...before you got hurt. Jack clicks her tongue, eyes unbelievably soft and full of emotion as she places a hard, passionate kiss against your lip. When she pulls back, she makes sure your eyes are open and on her before she speaks.

“Yes Y/N, I want this. I want you.” A tear escapes your eye and Jack wipes it away, leaving a kiss in its place. She moves to your other cheek, placing another kiss before capturing your lips again.

Jack’s office phone starts ringing, and she groans, placing one last peck to your lips before getting off your lap and making her way to her desk. “Jacqueline Sloane.” Your eyes trail over her body as she perches herself on the edge of her desk. She’s wearing one of her fitted pantsuits. It’s dark green with a white shirt underneath and honestly, it should be illegal to look that good. You couldn’t wait to get her to your house, have the time to explore every inch of her skin, see her laid out underneath you with messy hair and a satisfied smile. God, she was-

“Hey!” You jump as a lollipop hits you in the chest. “What was that for?” You pout, taking the lollipop out of its wrapper and placing it in your mouth. Mm, your favourite.

Jack puts the phone back in its holder. A brow raised as she huffs. “Oh, Please. As if you weren’t just undressing me with your eyes.” Your cheeks pink, as you make your way over to Jack. You pull the lollipop from your mouth, twiddling it between your fingers as you smirk.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you too well to let your innocent act fool me.” Jack pulls you to stand between her legs, hands resting on your hips.

“Oh no!” You fake gasp, humour seeping into your tone. “Can’t have you knowing all my secrets.”

Jack hums, her voice lowering to a sultry tone that makes your legs wobble. “Baby, I already do.”

“So not fair.” You mutter. 4 words, a sultry tone, and her smirk and you were already putty. Jack’s office phone rings again. She leans over and grabs the phone, keeping a hand on your hip so you don’t move away.

“Jacqueline Sloane.”

“Tell Y/N to get her ass back down here. She’s not getting paid to make out with you.” Gibbs' gruff voice rings through the phone. Jack’s head tilts back, pure laughter escaping her throat as your face heats up.

“I’ll send her down.” Jack doesn’t wait for a response, just hangs up the phone. A devilish smirk on her face when she faces you. “I think we should make that a game, how many times in a day can we make out without getting caught.”

“Make it a competition and add in how often we can distract each other as well.”

Jack’s eyes darken. “Are you prepared to lose? I happen to have quite the competitive streak.”

“Oh, I know. All the more fun.” Jack’s toes curl as you capture her lips, drawing moans from her throat as you nip at her lip. Jack’s hands tighten on your waist as she tries to pull you closer, but you pull out of her grasp, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “Got to go to work.” You place the lollipop back in your mouth, leaving Jack as her swollen lips hang open in shock.

“You play dirty.”

“Oh, baby.” You grin as Jack’s eyes darken, nostrils flaring. “You’ve got no idea.” You close her office door behind you, basking in her frustrated groan as you walk back to the bullpen with a skip in your step and a smirk on your face.

#jack sloane x reader #jacqueline sloane #jack sloane #ncis #maria bello #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #but i'm in this space with you #light angst #fluff #fem!reader

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justaniche · 5 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever...(accidentally) let someone meet Rebecca

heres the link to chapter 2 on ao3

let me know what you think and happy reading!

word count: 4,622

His talk with Devi shifted from the forefront of Paxton’s mind soon after he got home. Once he finally got home and was ready to collapse, Rebecca found her way into Paxton’s room knowing of his arrival despite his exhausted attempt to hide it and with her came several and I mean several sketches of clothing she had drawn and that meant Paxton had to wake up and fast.

One time, Paxton, following a long day, had fallen asleep an hour into one of Rebecca’s ventures to bounce fashion ideas off of him and he had to work for weeks to make up for it. He loved his sister to death, but he was so tired he couldn’t help it and now he learned to keep energy drinks in their house for moments just like this one. In a movement perfected with repetition, Paxton grabbed a bang energy drink from his side dresser and down it while Rebecca pulled drawing after drawing out of the roll she brought with her.

Paxton hadn’t gotten in as late as he had in the past today so Rebecca had time to show him a good portion of her ideas before they had to start their movie so that they could get some sleep. Rebecca showed him a golden dress with a sequence pattern going down the left side, a take on a plaid skirt, paired with a shirt, she even shows him shoes and accessories to go with each individual outfit among many more. Becca wanted to be a fashion designer and hoped to soon apply to fashion school but she had to complete her portfolio first and did not hesitate to enlist Paxton’s help to do this.

After Becca finished showing Paxton all she wanted for the night, they settled onto the couch to watch the movie that had caught Becca’s eye 2 days prior, After The Ball . The movie included an identity switch, a ball, and a touch of romance. It's a regular Cinderella tale with a twist, the protagonist was an aspiring fashion designer! Paxton could evidently see why it caught Rebecca’s eye. The movie ended rather quickly with Rebecca and Paxton engulfed deeply into the story although the latter tried to hide it. With the energy drink’s buzz leaving Paxton’s mind, his exhaustion followed and he was yawning despite himself. He and Rebecca exchanged goodnights and went to bed.

The next few days went off like normal, school was still new off of summer’s high and students and teachers alike needing time to bounce back, school work was nonexistent. The classes consisted of syllabi and classroom rules and expectations. This caused widespread boredom but fortunately, on this day, lunch approached rapidly and with lunch starting, Paxton found himself in the center of it all with his group of friends inside what students called The Hotpocket.

Lunch unfolded as it always did, after they finished whatever lunch they had that day the soft hum of their light discussions broke out into full-fledged banter and laughter. Accompanying that laughter was parts of the aforementioned group messing around and sometimes engaging in ridiculous activities. Today that activity was Trent and Marcus, another close friend of theirs, battling with their lanyards. They were being dramatic as ever holding their IDs like nunchucks and swinging them about. Paxton was entangled in a lighthearted conversation with Devin, stopping on occasion to eye Trent and Marcus and laugh at their behavior.

Paxton was looking away when he heard someone exclaim “Ow. Goddamn it”. The entire Hotpocket looked up to cringe at the scene that was, apparently, a girl getting, accidentally, slapped in the face with a lanyard. Paxton’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Did I just hit you?” Marcus asks tentatively

“It’s cool” The reply from the girl, Devi, came rather fast considering her reaction from just moments ago. She adjusted her grips on her backpack straps, “Hey, Paxton, can I talk to you?”

Paxton turned towards his friend, giving him a pat and chuckling through an ‘i’ll be back’ while shifting up to stand. “Okay,” his face straightened as he followed Devi out of earshot from his friends.

“So I thought I would follow up on our conversation from the other day and ask if you wanted to hang out later?” The sentence was cool leaving her mouth, none of the ever-building anxiety leaked from her words.

Paxton had to think quickly to what Devi was referencing but it came to him milliseconds later and he blinked through his realization, “Oh, oh, you mean, uh, like, have sex?” he gave a soft smile hoping to give off a comforting vibe despite the twinge of uncomfortableness brewing in his gut. “Sure, uh, maybe” he paused to think “after school today at my place?”

Devi’s calm facade seemed to shatter and the word tripped from her mouth, eloquence long forgotten, “Today?” Her mind blanked with panic for a split second and the words TOO SOON flooded her brain. She hadn’t expected this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s super soon, which is great.” Devi had a feeling she was more so trying to convince herself than anyone else. “Soon is great, it’s just…” an answer popped into her head, “I have orchestra after school today, so I can’t.” she had to stall, to prepare herself but couldn’t for too long. It was a miracle that Paxton had agreed in the first place. If she messes up he could change his mind so she mindfully finished “But maybe later this week?”

Paxton wanted to laugh but held it in, he opened his mouth to answer but just exhaled. His charming smile ever-present as he answered while backtracking returning once again to the Hotpocket effectively ending the conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He turned, striding away.

“Okay, great” Devi called, “We’ll compare calendars tomorrow or something. We’ll figure it out. Later, skater.”

Paxton had already begun to join Marcus and Trent in their makeshift game when he registered Devi’s continued speech, “What?” He asked but she tucked her head, shamefully, and walked away.

~~~

Succeeding lunch, the day sped up considerably. With the commencement of the last class of the day and everyone going to their lockers and then out the door, Paxton was joining them. Today there was no swim practice so Paxton was, thankfully, headed home early. That was his thought until of course his English teacher thought now would be a great time to talk to him about his supposed “lack of participation”. This normally would be something that Paxton would care about and attempt to contemplate but not now, not today when he was getting an early day to relax and who knows what else with this extra time.

It was probably 15 minutes max, but to Paxton, it felt like a lifetime. He was at his car door about to get in as someone called him from his right.

“Hey. I can actually come now. The scheduling conflict I had cleared up.” Devi stated, hands gripping her bookbag’s straps.

Paxton didn’t miss a beat, a split second earlier and he would have cut her off. He found himself buzzed with some semblance of happiness for the company. “Cool. Get in.”

“Okay.” Devi smiled and hurried t0 the passenger side of the car and climbed it as Paxton got settled and they set off.

When they got to Paxton’s house, he got Devi inside before his phone rang and he left the garage to answer the phone. The conversation was rather brief and as it was concluding Paxton re-entered the garage still speaking Japanese into his phone. He hung up.

“Sorry. That was my grandpa,” Paxton clarified, “Can I get you a drink?” he was already making his way over to the mini-fridge he kept in the garage before she could answer. He knew how these matters, if not handled carefully, could easily tip from comfortable to awkward if he didn’t mind sharp, and that was the last thing he wanted with Devi.

“Sure. Do you have any chocolate--” Devi stopped, rather abruptly, when Paxton spun around to face her, beer in hand. She grabbed it despite herself. “Ah. Beer. You read my mind.”

“All right. Well, my mom will be home soon, so...better get to it” Paxton gave a half shrug before stripping off his shirt from the bottom. If there was anything about himself that Paxton was securely confident in, it was his physical appearance. Being that Paxton was a swimmer, he could not afford to think about how others would feel about his appearance at every opportunity. Giving into potential insecure would only throw him off mentally during swim practices and comps, Paxton resolved himself a long time ago that it would help no one. So he tended to, or at least tried to, not think about it every time he showed a part of his body. Plus it’s not like any girl he was interested in who got far enough with him complained, thus taking off his shirt was no big feat and he did so without hesitation.

Devi was sort of freaking out at this point but was doing a great job of not showing it. That was until Paxton’s shirt came off. The beer she was sure she had a good grip on slipped and hit the floor with a thud. Paxton’s eyes followed it, slight confusion on his face but he didn’t comment.

“Oh.” the urge to explain the state of his chest took over, “Just so you know, I have to shave my chest for swimming, so the stubble might, like irritate your skin a little bit.” He lifted her limp hand to his chest for emphasis moving her hand to feel, he looked down following their joined hands, and then looked up making eye contact with Devi. He gave a small smile and she gaped.

“Oh, God”

Her mouth opened and closed for a few moments before her brain reconnected with her mouth. She had just touched the chest of Paxton Hall-Yoshida! Fab and Eleanor were gonna flip! But wait, her mind was now at red alert at the close proximity between her and Paxton that she’s just now processing. And so she did what any normal person would in her situation, she panicked.

“You know what? I just remembered. I have to go home,” She snatched her hand back like it was on fire leaving Paxton surprised and his hand hanging in the air as she patted his shoulders for good measure, “because I have a package coming that I need to sign for.” she nodded trying to regain her composure, it wasn’t working.

Paxton nodded and chuckled as he and Devi switched positions in her attempt to get to the door, he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Word?”

“Yeah, It’s medication for my mom’s...polio.” What the heck Devi? Polio, really?

Paxton could only nod through Devi’s hidden meltdown.

“Yeah, so…” She slowly retreated to the door through her word vomit when she misstepped and a sharp pain spread at the base of her leg, “Ow. Goddamn it!”

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Paxton’s stance broke as he rushed forward to the injured girl. She leapt back before he could reach.

“Yep, yep. I’m fine” Devi’s aim to reassure fell short as Paxton’s concerned eyes looked closer.

“Are you sure? You’re...bleeding.” he gestured to her leg

“It’s chill. I’ll see you tomorrow” humiliation ate at Devi’s very being. She had majorly fucked up, in various departments and she was out the door before Paxton could utter another word.

Paxton was extremely bewildered and it showed on his face. With Devi gone the garage fell silent. Paxton stepped back from the door, considered his options. He could go after her or stay home and like she said, see her the following day. He weighed it and decided against trying to catch up to her. She really did seem like she just wanted him to think she was fine and to leave it alone, he wanted to respect that. His gaze swept the floor before it landed on the theorized perpetrator. It was sharpish, in a box on the floor, and sticking out in his direction; one of Paxton’s old swim trophies. He crouched down with a sigh as he picked up the award and rolled it around in his hands examining it. At the very tip was a trace amount of blood, where it had punctured Devi’s cafe. Paxton could not help but think about how strange that was, try as he had to make the whole interaction go as smoothly as possible there was no predicting that and therefore no thwarting it. With the knowledge that there was nothing Paxton could do to help the situation with Devi gone, Paxton shrugged his shirt back on and proceeded with his day.

~~~

Contrary to what Devi said and to what Paxton thought, Paxton did not see Devi the entire school day. He found himself expecting to see her somewhere but always fell short when she was nowhere to be seen. The end of the day came and once again no practice, coach explained it as a new regime he was trying out, sorting out on days and off days and said it would vary until he decided what worked. Paxton was restless after two days and decided on a run after he got home.

He was finishing up his 2-mile run when he saw Devi pacing in front of his house, he ran up behind her. “Sup,” he panted, her response was a scream as he had seemed to startle her. He smirked faintly, “I’m just finishing up a run,” Paxton began. He wanted to get her talking, particularly about why he found her in front of his house talking to herself. He was vaguely relieved to see her but ignored that.

“Okay, cool” she crossed her arms, her demeanor chill. “So do you need to stretch or something, or are you good to just go into your garage and have sex with me?” The words marched from her mouth clear and confident. Let us take a minute to appreciate both the awkwardness of that sentence and applaud the boldness of it.

“Um…” Caught off guard Paxton frowned deeply into his shrug, “I’m good to go to the garage.” She struts passed, her head held high, and as soon as she did Paxton swiftly lifted his shoulder to sniff his armpit, reassuring himself that he did in fact not smell. He pivoted and followed her inside.

Unfortunately, the blind confidence coming from Devi’s words did not translate well into action. That is how they found themselves sitting on Paxton’s couch, Devi’s arm along the back of it, their vicinity too close to not be at least talking and the tension was building. Paxton looked to her for a move and Devi jumped on it.

“So, here we are…” she weirdly stroked from his collarbone down, the tone from outside back on, “about to pleasure each other.”

Paxton did not know if he should be weirded out by her word choice but Devi was proving, with every meeting, to be not like any of the other girls he tends to interact with. He nodded vaguely but when she tapped his nose twice he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from coming together, what exactly was happening?

“But before I can rock your world, I need to freshen up.”

Paxton couldn’t decide if Devi did not see anything wrong with this whole situation or if she was choosing to ignore it, that decision would dictate how he would respond so he needed to figure it out and soon.

“Can you point me in the direction of the ladies’ room? I wouldn’t wanna pee in the middle of doing it.” One point for ignoring the problems, zero for not seeing them. There’s no way she didn’t realize how that sounded coming from her mouth but her face gave no emotion but certainty.

Paxton wasn’t sure if he should respond to the second part but did anyway although the words came slowly full of apprehension, as he lifted his finger in the direction of the bathroom. “Yeah, that’d be bad. First door on the right.”

“Thanks” With that Devi was gone.

Paxton breathed a sigh of relief, he couldn’t think properly with her here. She came back on a new day seemingly ready to have sex despite yesterday’s debacle. The odd opening word choice might have been endearing had it not been followed by a tense silence and more questionable sentence phrasing. It was quickly bordering on uncomfortable but awkwardness was a natural occurrence in sex so this was not a real reason to bail. He just had to wrap his head around her way of speaking and this would be fine. Paxton repeated this in his head, this will be fine.

Several minutes had gone by and Devi had yet to return. Paxton got up from his position on the couch to find her, she really should not have gotten lost. He checked the bathroom to no avail and stopped confused then he continued down the hallway when he heard voices coming from Rebecca’s room.

“I’m Devi. It’s nice to meet you.” Paxton turned glimpsing into Rebecca’s room to see her shaking hands with Devi. Irritation started to build in Paxton’s chest.

“What are you doing?” He directed at Devi but didn’t wait for a response before addressing his sister, “Becca, I thought you were at work.”

Paxton walked deeper into the room, “I switched with Lisa. She gets her braces off tomorrow.” Rebecca explained, satisfied with the answer he received, Paxton turned back to Devi.

“You said you were just going to the bathroom. What the hell?” The irritation was quickly turning to anger at Devi having met his sister. If people knew about Rebecca things could turn ugly, fast.

“Wait. Are you mad at me or something?” The disbelief Devi felt was clear on her face, what was the problem here?

Paxton simply didn’t respond, the budding anger brewing substantially at her attempt to play coy. He walked clear out of Rebecca’s room without a word, his expectation was clear, she was wearing her welcome thin, and she was to go with him outside.

“Why are you sneaking around my house and talking to my sister?” Paxton was comfortable to let his annoyance into his voice with his sister out of earshot.

“Was I not supposed to? I didn’t even know that you had a sister.” Her voice was soft as she tried to get him to understand the genuine misunderstanding but it was far from working and Paxton was too cross to see reason right now. Come on Devi, read the room. Paxton saw this as a jab,

“Oh, you think I’m hiding her now, because I’m embarrassed of her or something?” It was definitely a question but he certainly did not want a response. Seeing someone with his sister sent Paxton into a sort of panic mode. Devi was going to go to school and tell everyone all about his sister and hell if he wasn’t going to get in a lot of fights defending her.

“No, I didn’t say that,” Devi stated, slightly defensive at the attack.

“Okay.” He didn’t believe her for a second as he looked away trying to gather himself, he wanted her out now. He shook his head as the words came out his mouth spiced with venom, “I don’t think this is gonna work. All right, you should probably just go.”

Devi felt the air forced from her lungs leaving her speechless, she knew there was nothing more she could say and honestly couldn’t find the words either way. She gave him one last look before leaving.

Paxton went inside, not stopping to see her go, so many emotions flowed through him but most of all he was scared. Scared of what people would say and all because he didn’t think to make sure Rebecca wasn’t home before he invited Devi inside. He was scared because he loved his sister and could not deal with people and their ignorant words and dumbass opinions but he was helpless. Paxton could not stop people from talking, couldn’t stop Devi from sharing. And Paxton hated feeling this way, the powerlessness ate at him because he was meant to always take care of his sister. So he bundled the emotions up into something he could control, aggravation, and directed it at the person who triggered the emotions, Devi.

~~~

The day passed and Devi and the situation with Becca plagued Paxton’s mind. He was upset, yes but he was also rational enough to know that he couldn’t completely blame his feelings on Devi but he was at a loss. He had accused her and gotten mad entirely too quickly. He now felt stuck between his emotions and the urge to talk to her, to say what? Paxton wasn’t sure as of yet but he couldn’t speak to her, he didn’t know how to.

~~~

Morning classes were a bore especially considering Paxton’s mind was not exactly on task so he found himself once again immensely thankful for lunch’s social reprieve. Paxton was surrounded by his friends and he could almost forget that something was bothering him. That was until the person Paxton was consciously avoiding called to him.

“Paxton, can I talk to you?”

The liveliness among the group died briefly before light laughter spread between them. Paxton’s energy dropped but it did not climb with the rest of his friends’. Paxton looked over, face straight, his eyes met with the expectant Devi. She sort of looked how he felt but he couldn’t compel his body to make a move. His eyes dropped from hers unable to maintain the contact with shame stewing over his behavior. Without a word to Devi, Paxton turned to his friends and continued to converse.

~~~

There was a chance although slight that Paxton held on to that he would not run into Devi during lunch. That did not work out. There was no chance that he could go to their shared history class and not be at a close distance seeing as he sat in front of her. He sat in front of her trying to focus but his mind was racing and he was dumbfounded.

He still didn’t know what to say. The reasons to simply ignore her compiled, her meeting Becca, his anger, his reaction, and now him disregarding her at lunch. He was making this worse instead of better, he knew this but he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. He hated being mean to people, he hated to leave things unsettled, but this time was different. He couldn’t get a grasp on the words that would make this better, so he chose not to say anything at all.

~~~

That night Paxton laid down, progressively his pent up energy was coming to a head and it was coming out as restlessness. Once he had gotten home, Paxton ran until he was spent but still he was unable to relax. He had done a series of activities including various workouts, watching movies, and cooking but nothing was untangling the knot he felt in his chest. The complete stress he felt at being a jerk to Devi. Paxton had to do something. He felt okay at first but it has gotten so much worse in such a short span of time.

He had to talk to her, and not tomorrow, no he needed to apologize tonight, right now. So he grabbed his keys and started to walk to Devi’s house. Thinking about it in a way that makes sense, he would have reached her sooner had he driven but Paxton wasn’t thinking. He was going totally on emotion and that was causing him to act rashly. He made it to Devi’s house relatively quickly and he rang the doorbell before processing a thought. When his finger released the doorbell, he took a breath that finally felt like it entered his lungs. Within moments a woman was answering the door,

“Hello?” she began, despite the door being wide open. She appeared suspicious of the unknown young man who stood at her door at this hour. “Can I help you with something?”

“Um...yes I am sorry to bother you but is Devi home?” He realized at that moment the strangeness of his request and how it could be taken considering when he had shown up.

“Hold on” The woman disappeared, leaving her door open and Paxton again was left to wait.

Paxton took a breath to help calm himself then turned to face the door upon hearing the shuffling of footsteps and was relieved to see Devi at the door.

“Hey”

“Hi”

The greeting was short as they both caught sight of Nalini Vishwakumar, Devi’s mom, leaning along the top of the staircase, eavesdropping not so subtly. Devi could not have her mom listening in. Devi did not know what this conversation would entail but given the nature of her past talks with Paxton, her asking him to have sex with her after all, she could not have her mom hearing that. She would very possibly kill her.

“Let’s talk over here” Devi offered, walking outside and shutting the door behind her. Once they were at a safe distance, Paxton let what was bothering his mind spill out.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for yesterday. I’m just kind of protective of my sister. She used to get bullied pretty bad...even by people I thought were my friends. I guess I’ve always been a little too protective. Like, when my parents first adopted her, I used to sit by her bed every night with a Nerf gun. That’s why our cat only has one eye now.” Paxton finished slowly, slightly embarrassed that a funny story had turned into him admitting to mistakenly hurting their family cat.

Paxton did not know why exactly he was sharing so much with Devi but it felt nice. It started to seem to Paxton that he did not think about every word when it came to Devi. It was weird but it was nice to share this with someone.

“Paxton, I would never make fun of your sister. She’s super fashionable and way cooler than me.” They were sharing a laugh at that blatantly honest remark when Devi’s mom knocking on the window interrupted them.

“No laughing.” She warned

“Mom!”

Paxton had to interject, recalling something Devi had said in his garage, he lifted his hand in greeting. “I’m so sorry about your polio, Doctor Vishwakumar.”

“What?” Nalini shot back but she didn’t care for an answer and that showed when she let the curtain fall.

“Well, thanks for the apology. If we’re cool, should we meet in your garage tomorrow?” Devi’s tone was hopeful but Paxton had other plans. He made a face.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore. It just got weird, you know?” He felt a lot better and his voice took on a relaxed feel.

Despite the disappointment Devi felt, she played it off, she scoffed “Yeah, sure. I was gonna say the same thing too.”

Paxton smiled and Devi gave a small one back, “Okay.” His words felt final and they knew their conversation was coming to an end. “Well, uh...I’ll see you at school.”

Paxton, pleased with the way the talk went, began his trek home and Devi dejectedly retreated back into her house. Paxton was once again walking away from Devi, but this time there was a difference. This time, Paxton looked back.

#never have i ever netflix #never have i ever #nhie #nhie fic #nhie season 1 #netflix #netflix original #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall-yoshida #paxton is baby #Paxton is soft #nalini vishwakumar #fanfic #nhie rewrite #season 1 rewrite

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shaekingshitup · 5 years ago

Text

unintended part two

A/N: ALRIGHTY FOLKS! WE ARE BACK WITH SOME MORE ACTION FOR MR. JACKSON! As of now, the face claim for the reader is going to be Keke Palmer

But, if you’re anything like me. All I did was just post a picture of someone who wishes they were you and in this fic with you and Trevor Jackson haha. Whatever floats your boats friends. Please note that echoic memory is a real thing. It just doesn’t work how I described it haha. More like echoic and As always thanks to @glittermakesmesmile for giving me the first feedback and confidence to even post these things. Also big shout out to @twistedcharismaaa who helped me challenge myself to write more even if I don’t feel like it. So, this series will hopefully get some more chapters coming soon!

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

Pairing: Trevor Jackson x Black OC

Warnings: NONE

Word Count: approx 2500

HERE WE GO!

^ Jayden’s Song Association Fit

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

“Let me take my Black ass to the restroom while we got ourselfs a break. ROCKSY, what’s that cam’ra lookin’ like? We need another battery?”

“We’re good. Jayden, you want a snack?” Roxy redirected at their latest arrival. Jayden tried to sneak a look at the biggest one in the room and failed. He smiled at her. Her glance had caught both of them off guard and it made him feel giddy. It was the most beautiful and natural response she'd received from him-or anyone for that matter- in a while.

“I’m good.” she said hiding her own bashfulness behind her steely exterior. She maintained eye contact with Trevor. Roxy opened up a cabinet to pull out an assortment of Lays and refill the chip bowls that Trevor had demolished when he’d shown up

“ Imma keep tryin. Venmo? Paypal? Zelle? CashApp? Damn, I can get it to you in Bitcoin if that’s what you prefer.”

“How have you done on the game so far?” Jayden again completely ignored his attempts to repay her. She wasn’t concerned about a few extra dollars.

“I’m doin alright so far." He also refused to break contact first "So far Song Association has been the easiest game for me to navigate today.” Jayden blinked and conceded for now. Motivated by his win Trevor strolled over to the living room where she was admiring some of Terrell’s music selection.

“Clever.” she tossed over her shoulder as she reached for a vinyl. In one swift motion, Trevor had taken it from her mid-review.

“Al Green?” He smirked. “ You’ve got taste J. Let me guess.. uh, track 5?”

“What?”

“That’s your single. I see it. No worries though. We can work on that.” he said just as he caught a glimpse of Terrell returning back into the room. Trevor placed the album back in her hands and returned to his stool, readjusting his mic.

“Alright, Mr. Jackson. YA READY?! No more stoppin’ this midnight train to Georgia.” Terrell hollered. Jayden giggled at his silliness as she glanced at the tracklist for Al Green’s Greatest Hits.

Track 5: Tired of Being Alone

Damn he cocky. Jayden thought. At least it wasn’t in an overbearing manner. It was a little endearing. He seems a little goofy. That smile was very telling. But she wouldn’t show that just yet. Sitting back in her audience of one, Jayden watched them continue to play.

“If I gave you the word “Never” what hits your mind?” Terrell asked the singer. Trevor starts going into a Jackson 5 single that Jayden honestly didn’t know. But, she knows that he is DOING IT. Her eyes go wide as his Michael impression is spot on and before she can even register her own body's movements, she's vibing with it. Music always had a way of helping her with her emotions and channeling a less.. “feisty”,as it had been put earlier, connection with herself and the rest of the world. She was moving around in her seat and doing her best not to spill her coffee over herself or her new friend’s floor.

"Oh shit!" she said clamping her hand over her mouth immediately. That was louder than she expected. Especially since it hadn't meant to leave her head at all. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"AHA HA" Roxy guffawed. "I tried to warn you. Don't worry Jayden. We'll fix it in post anyways"

"Jayden you good girl. I had the same reACTion the first time I laid my eyes- I meant my ears on Trevor" Terrell stated taking a very pointed sip from his mug. Everyone knew he'd meant what he'd said the first time and it was causing them all to try not to break into laughter so they could push forward.

"Yeah. Very natural response J. Hakuna matata" Trevor confirmed. Jayden playfully rolled her eyes.

"What's the next word? He's a lil too comfortable" she spoke up.

Terrell nodded at Jayden and refocused on Trevor. "WAY. w-a-y"

Without hesitation, he bursted into song. It was another that Jayden was sadly unfamiliar with.

What is in this man's repertoire?

Soon enough Terrell explained that it was an original off of a project called Rough Drafts 2. At once Jayden grabbed her phone and opened her Spotify app. Creating a new playlist, she glanced up at the boys and locking in on Trevor she came up with an idea. "Thotful n Tired 💭" she titled it. She was adding damn near his whole discography when her ears perked up at the fact that he had an additional 200 unreleased singles on his computer at home. The more time spent in his presence the more the question of "Who the hell is this nigga?" rose in Jayden's mind.

Trevor responded to Terrell all the while staring at Jayden and answering her unspoken question as well.

"So any fans that live in L.A. and you wanna just come and listen to new music not recorded.." he trailed off leaving an open invitation for Jayden and the rest of LA.

He really just said: Come find out

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

Jayden was both relieved and saddened when Trevor was finished with his Song Association. In a very short time, she'd learned a lot about this person she'd never even heard of until that afternoon. As his song had promised, he truly had her beggin for more. The way they interacted and the feelings she felt towards him had grown quickly but it was familiar. It seemed as if they'd already done this dance before. Jayden was trying to figure out how to rationalize this to herself but she couldn't. It was the way that she and Trevor had silently held private conversations in a room with others. Even as they were learning one another, a lot of the pieces already seemed to be connected.

Trevor was filming his spot for Terrell’s outro. It took every ounce of restraint in Jayden not to cackle out loud when he said “I think we’re gonna queue the rain right now. Mm hmm. You feel that? This is not a joke. It’s a motion in your ocean.”

Trevor had made her feel a range of emotions in their time together. Jayden had laughed, she’d pondered a topic or two she’d never fully considered, she’d felt sexy and above all else- she felt noticed. Truly seen. It was a lot. But, the girl was a hustler by nature. So, she was keeping up with each curveball that day had thrown at her.

“Imma run to the restroom” Jayden announced. She wasn’t certain why she felt the need to do so. But it seemed far more courteous than roaming through Terrell’s halls.

“Alright we gotta get ready for you when ya done Miss Jayden!” Terrell called out.

When she returned, there was no Trevor in sight. Just Roxy and Terrell. Jayden wasn’t disappointed for them being there. Although she was a little put off that Trevor had exited so quickly and without saying goodbye? She wasn’t about to let that show though. Sure, she really thought she’d felt a connection with him. But, she wasn’t going to let it get in the way of the single calendar event of her year- outside of her birthweek of course.

“My turn?” Jayden asked as she returned back into the kitchen where the green screen was.

“Mmmhhmm” Terrell affirmed “I just gotta follow you to this res’room. I dun broke my damn seal. Plus, we waitin on Trevuh to finish his call.” As if he heard his queue, the front door opened and Trevor came back in.

“Oh.” Jayden let out. Trevor studied her as Terrell turned towards his restroom. Roxy was on the balcony getting some air and making a call of her own.

She was feening her cool, unbothered mask. But that one syllable had given her away. “What? You thought I left?” he asked.

“I mean you were gone. So, yeah.” Jayden said shrugging her shoulders and throwing her wrist back dismissively.

“Huh.” Trevor stared back quizzically. “I can’t do that just yet. One: I don’t think it’s fair that you got to see mine and I don’t get to see yours and two: I still need to figure out a way to make sure we’re even.”

“Ahh. So you’re stayin?”

“I got a little extra time. Plus, this is definitely worth it. But look, promise me something real quick.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Since you’re so gung-ho on not taking back the money which is owed to you. Let me pay my debt another way.”

“What if I like the notion of Trevor Jackson being forever indebted to me?” The smolder he returned to her made her feel that someone had pressed play on Puddles again. But she simply crossed her arms and cocked her head at him. They were in yet another staring contest.

Trevor let a beat pass as he wound up his pitch in his mind. “Aight, how about-

“Okay. I hope ya’ll enjoyed.. Ya break,” Terrell trailed off as he walked in on the tension that occupied the room. Jayden took a small step back from Trevor. She hadn’t realized that they were all in each other's personal space.

“Yup. I’m ready.” Roxy re-entered from the balcony and grabbed the mic Trevor had used earlier that day to affix to Jayden. “Feel okay?”

“It does.” Jayden said. All of a sudden all of that calm she’d felt left her. She was getting the nerves again. She wasn’t certain if it was because of the game she was going to play or the one she’d been entangled in since she’d laid eyes on Trevor. He himself was still trying to figure out this woman. She had a hard exterior and a beguiling sexual energy that he couldn’t detach himself from. When she sat on that stool allowing Terrell to compliment her outfit and introduce herself a little bit, she radiated. She also had a pretty good voice too for a Shits and Giggles winner.

“I’m mad at you” Terrell said.

“Why?” Jayden

“I hear it. I hear that there in ya throat box. You got them vocals.” Terrell said. “Why you hidin?”

“Ohmygod. Hush. I can hold a tune here and there. But I don’t know about them vocals. I don’t know how to control it.”

Terrell squinted his eyes. “I don’t believe it. Sing that song again. Because you got the emotion. I can tell you feel these songs here. You haf’way there but you too worried about sounded perfect. Let that go.”

Jayden was quick to adapt. She took that advice from Terrell and moments later you could hear the difference. Closing her eyes she tried again

Have you ever found the one

You've dreamed of all of your life

Do just about anything to look into their eyes

Have you finally found the one you've given your heart to

Jayden tried her best not to get into her head about fucking up and pushed the nervousness down within her. Because when she became tense it would lock up her voice and she would miss her mark altogether

Only to find that one won't give their heart to you

She exhaled from her nose and smiled because she’d clearly sounded better than the first time

Have you ever closed your eyes and

Dreamed that they were there

Jayden opened her eyes and stopped. She may not have control; but, she knew her limit

“Now I know you didn’t stop.” Jayden picked up some of the liquid courage Terrell had fixed her. Her coffee was long gone by this point. She couldn’t keep the fear at bay. She didn’t want to make that big of a fool of herself today and have her voice crack like a pre-pubescent teen.

Trevor was taking it all in. She was a whole party when put on the spot and she easily gave off a coolness that made you certain to never cross her. She was not one to be played with. But it was obvious that music opened up another avenue to Jayden. Trevor had seen it when their roles were reversed. She was empathetic to the emotions of whichever song he sang.

Her music taste was eclectic as well. She’d come through with country, gospel, r&b, showtunes and she seemed to have every Chicago rapper’s discography down pat. Trevor was genuinely impressed by her ability to copy and paste an artist’s essence into her own. She was fucking up the game and had songs for every word Terrell threw her way.

“RIGHT R-I-G-H-T” Terrell announced. Jayden glanced a look at Trevor and then she gave her undivided attention to Terrell.

Just stand right here

Let me show you what I'm about

To do to that body

And come down here

Let me show you where to touch my body

Let the foreplay begiiiin

Bet you never had this before

Cause once I go iiiiiiin

I'm gone have you begging for more

Boy, I'm talking right now, right now, right now, yeah

Right now, oh

Can we make some love right now?

Jayden laughed and when she’d finished, there was silence. It was like someone had pressed the mute button in real life. Then the room erupted with noise at once

“UH UH”

“hOw?”

“Whoa whoa whoa” all crashed on top of each other.

“What?” Jayden asked.

“WHAT?! This heffa really just said WHAT? TUH!” Terrell hollered.

“Wait. You said you’d never heard of Trevor before,” said a very baffled Roxy.

“Before a few hours ago, no. I hadn’t.” Roxy said. Jayden gave a shrug in Trevor’s direction.

“But you just sang his song?” Roxy asked

“Yeah. Because I heard him sing it earlier.

“You mean to tell me, that you heard this negro sang that song one time half an hour ago and you committed it to your memory?”

“Yes. I have perfect echoic memory. Obviously I don’t always process this in a way where I can duplicate it perfectly. But, I can mimic it pretty close.”

Trevor finally spoke up. “So when you hear something you can pull up that audio in your mind and not only play it back for yourself but you’ve trained yourself to be able to mimic it almost dead ass spot on?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much it.” Jayden said as if she’d just read rattled off the day’s weather report. “You’re pretty sharp.” The compliment rolled off of Trevor in his astonished state of mind. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Damn” he muttered looking at the screen. “Aite y’all, that’s my cue.” I gotta head out. Just as his mother had done, Trevor said goodbye to everyone individually. He saved Jayden for last. “Good luck Jayden. It was nice meeting you. Matter of fact, let me get your info so I can follow up with you to see if you really get that perfect score” He offered his phone out to her with the keypad pulled up.

“Oh, you already know that I came to win today.” she tapped some buttons and gave him back his phone. Looking down, Trevor realized that she’d followed herself on his Instagram account. She smiled but her eyes only said one word:

Checkmate.

---

TAG LIST: @twistedcharismaaa @mygirlrenee @glittermakesmesmile @sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy @shewrites02 @ghostfacekill-monger @raysunshine78 @shewritestheblues @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @fd-writes @eyeknowmywrites @thadelightfulone @yoyolovesbucky

Imma update my tag list and this fic soon y’all. Hold me to it.

#shaekingspeaks #trevor jackson #black oc #trevor jackson x oc #fics n shit #Terrell Grice #song association

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years ago

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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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