PAIRINGS: Tim Drake x Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT: 981
SUMMARY: Tim attempted to prepare you a spectacular birthday breakfast, but it seems you couldn't even remember your own birthday.
A/N: Happy belated birthday, Yinny @yintous !! I know this is late, but I finally got it done! This is my first time writing for Tim, so heads up... 🥹
Well this didn’t go as excepted…
It was your birthday, a day of which you’d assume to be carefree, without explosions, your nerdy boyfriend by your side, and- did I mention void of any explosions?
Yeah, well… That was the opposite of how your day seemed to start.
Your morning began like any other; the light gleaming from the curtains poked at your eyes, signaling you to finally awaken from your beauty sleep. Your arms stretched below the headboard, pulling out all tension and aches from your prolong slumber; out of habit you reached over to the opposite side of the bed, your hand searched for the radiating warmth that would usually hug you every morning, yet you were welcomed by the cold silk sheets. This prompted you to take a good look at your surrounding— and you were alone? You looked towards Tim’s desk, only to find it empty as well.
That’s when you bubbled out of the early grogginess of sleep, scanning the rest of the room for any sign of your boyfriend, you concluded that he wasn’t here, maybe he had work? but you found the cleanness and tidiness of his desk to be very odd. Usually there’d at least be a single neglected cup of coffee, yet his station was absolutely clean. Before any other assumption came to your mind, you heard an alarming crash come from down stairs.
Without a second thought, you scrammed downstairs in shorts and a tank top, leaving your fluffy slippers behind; barging into the kitchen, you found your pancake splattered boyfriend in a cute apron among utter bloody chaos.
“I know this looks bad, but it’s all part of the process!” You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself, because you were pretty sure that leftovers of egg yolk should not be on your mahogany cabinets…
“Tim, babe, what on earth are you doing?” “We both know you can’t cook,” you stated plainly, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You didn’t have to say it like that,” scratching the back of his neck with a small pout on his lips, “Just wanted to give you breakfast in bed.” He admitted bashfully, refusing to look at you straight in the eyes.
You didn’t have it in you to sass him any longer, your heart simply melted at the gesture, “timmyyyy!” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “That’s so sweet of you!” You swayed with him back and forth, smiling at his embarrassed face, “but what’s the occasion, babe?” you were about to leave a kiss on his lips, when he stopped you midway, covering your mouth with his hand.
“You don’t know what today is?” He questioned looking absolutely offended, did you forget a special anniversary? You didn’t think so. Responding to his question with a shake of your head, he face palmed at your forgetfulness. “What am I going to do with you…”
“Well, you could-”
“It was a rhetorical question.” He interrupted before you started suggesting strange things.
In a single motion, he securely held your hips and effortlessly lifted you onto the only clean area of the counter top. “It’s your birthday,” he reminded you, although he still could not believe you’d forget your birthday, it’s not like you ever forgot his.
“Oh!” You had completely forgotten, with all the busyness that’s been going on with school and the regular chaos your surrounded with everyday, your own birthday had completely slipped your mind.
A long sigh left Tim’s lungs as he rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his forehead on your bare skin; “Sorry, Timmy,” you caressed his head, gently combing his hair, “did I ruin the surprise?”
He shook his head ‘no’, “Not like this mess was getting anywhere.”
“Don’t say that! I’m sure your food will taste amazing!”
Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you unamused.
“Ok, maybe just slightly burnt… But I can help you-” You tried to offer before he cut you off, “Nope. You are staying right there while I finish this breakfast.” He was determined to serve you a birthday meal.
“But-”
He left a quick kiss on your lips, “No, buts. Just relax and look pretty for me. ‘Kay?” It didn’t seem he was waiting for an answer, since he quickly left you in red cheeks and a pounding heart, as he continued to go back to whichever task he hadn’t exploded yet; he had such an effect over you, he could say or do anything and you’d be a puddle on the floor, and you knew he was taking advantage of said power.
While swaying your legs in the air, you observed a very focused Tim trying to decipher how much flour he was supposed to add to the batter; you really wanted to help him out, but you didn’t have the heart to do so against his wishes, so you complied to become his counter top princess.
I mean there was a reason Alfred banned all the boys from entering the kitchen, and the mess that was marked on your regularly white ceiling is proof of why.
Hours went by as the two of you spent your time in the kitchen, and even with the unfolded chaos in your home and the strong smell of eggs and burnt flour, you never felt a happier birthday than right now.
There was light banter, and your play-to play commentary of Tim’s every move, along with a whole ton of snuck in kisses, this moment felt like a warm wrapped present that’d you would only get once in your life and you wouldn’t mind the leftover flour you’d have to wash off later or the massive wake of destruction that would probably take hours to clean, if it meant to be in the moment with the lovely boy of your life.
For my amazing friend @lisellelascelles as part of my bday fic gifting.
Another animal au, this time with squirrels lol.
I'm Nuts For You
Summary: Bilbo is a red squirrel raising his favourite cousin's last living kit after her death.
Thorin is a grey squirrel who loves his family but feels something is missing.
When the two meet, misunderstandings ensue. Can Thorin court the flightly little red squirrel that has captured his attention, or will Bilbo refuse to ever see Thorin as more than just a threat?
And as always an excerpt:
Bilbo was stuffing his cheek pouches as fast as he possibly could, not even looking at what he was grabbing, knowing it would be good as everything from human gardens usually was, when he heard a noise. A noise that had him straightening up as he twitched his ears and head to sense the vibrations he was sure he had heard.
He was surprised when the largest grey squirrel he had ever seen appeared as if from nowhere. He was twice Bilbo’s size with a chunk missing from one of his ears and no fur on the top of his head. Bilbo felt as his tail started to move rapidly backwards and forwards, alerting the other squirrel to Bilbo’s agitation.
Bilbo stood there, almost frozen when the large squirrel lunged forward. Bilbo let out an alarm call, a noise that sounded like a scream, before he darted sideways, away from the other.
Not that the other squirrel let Bilbo go. Instead he chased Bilbo, his teeth chattering as he did so, chasing Bilbo up the fences and away from the food source. Bilbo ran.
He darted backwards and forwards, zigzagging on the ground before jumping up on anything that would give him the height he needed to get away as fast as possible.
Bilbo had assumed he would be faster than the other squirrel as he was much smaller and more agile, and yet the larger grey squirrel was on his tail the entire time.
Bilbo didn’t stop for a moment, not until he had reached the safety of the trees he had left to raid the human gardens. It was only after several more moments of headlong running that Bilbo realised he was no longer being pursued.
He stopped on the tree he had just run up, looking back the way he had come. The large grey squirrel was standing on the last fence, looking out into the woods, making sure Bilbo wouldn’t come back.
As if Bilbo would be that stupid. No, he had gotten what he needed for the next few days. Enough food to feed his kit and he would be more than happy to forage in the forest, far away from any ugly, giant grey squirrels who had obviously never learnt any manners from their dam, after all, a squirrel should know that when another runs, it means they have won.
Bilbo was not now, nor would he ever be a fighter, and so he had run and the other squirrel should have had the good manners to let him go, as all good squirrels would have.
It’s a Thursday, but Billy doesn’t get his birthday gift on Thursday, March 29, 1990 because by that time it would be too late.
No, Steve surprises Billy two weeks before with his present. Billy’s eyes light up like a child’s when Steve presents him with tickets to see Mötley Crüe in Fort Wayne, Indiana on March 21st. He hasn’t seen Billy that excited for something in a long time if ever.
They get a hotel room closer to the venue. Billy spends a lot of time choosing an outfit for the show, not just for himself but for Steve, too. Steve can’t be seen at a metal concert in a polo. It just isn’t right, so Billy let’s him borrow his leather jacket, skin tight jeans, and a band t-shirt so he can be “presentable” enough when they go.
The concert is high energy and chaotic and fun and Steve loves it about just as much as Billy does because he gets to see a side of Billy he hasn’t really seen before. Billy is carefree, grinning from ear to ear. Singing along to every verse. Joking around with the strangers next to him. It makes him fall in love with Billy all over again.
“Fuck, I love this song!” Billy shouts when they begin to play Looks That Kill. Steve is fairly certain Billy loves every song since he keeps saying it over and over, but the pure joy and excitement radiating off of Billy is infectious. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t typically Steve’s type of music because he’s decided he loves every song that makes Billy this happy.
After the concert, Billy’s gone to take a piss and Steve’s hanging around the venue waiting for him. A familiar looking guy bumps into him by accident with an “Oh, shit. Sorry, dude!” as his drink soaks Steve’s, well, Billy’s band t-shirt. The guy offers to make it up to him. Grabs him a new shirt and some official merch that he signs.
The guy is long gone when Billy returns. Billy notices the new shirt, and Steve explains the whole incident leaving out the part that the guy he ran into was one of the band members. He doesn’t need to know he just missed one of his heroes. Billy shrugs as they head out to the parking lot. “Least we got a free official tour shirt out of it, those things are fucking expensive.”
“We? Who says I’m giving this shirt up,” Steve teases.
“Well, it was my shirt that got ruined,” Billy teases right back, “so give it here, bitch!”
“No, no. I’m keeping this!”
They chase each other around the parking lot for a bit, laughing until they’re out of breath. Billy finds more creative ways to get the shirt off of him when they get back to their hotel room.
On March 29, 1990, Billy opens the glove compartment of his fixed up Camaro to find a Shout At The Devil cassette tape that’s been autographed by Nikki Sixx.
The one where it's a sitcom setting with a runaway bride. Friends-inspired birthday gift fic from Elle to Tammy.
“How did you and Mum meet, anyways?” Elsie asked, looking up from her homework and at her father as he bustled around their kitchen.
He stopped what he was doing for a moment, golden-hued eyes looking over at the curious ten-year-old seated there at the kitchen table. “You wanna know how your Mum and I met, do you?” he asked and she nodded eagerly.
“All right.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel before tossing it over his shoulder, leaning against the kitchen counter, a smile dancing over his lips. “It all started when…”
–––––§–––––
The last thing Bobby McKenzie expected to see when he showed up to his usual coffee shop for a cuppa and a check-in with his friends was a runaway bride.
She blew through the quiet coffee shop like some sort of tornado of tulle and silky white fabric, her dark brown, rained-on ringlets hanging limply around her face, hiding it from sight as she stumbled over to the counter. Bobby couldn’t hear what she was saying to the barista, but then the man gestured vaguely to their group and she turned around, finally giving him a good look at her face and––
Wow.
He just stared at her for a moment, unable to do anything but gawk. She was beautiful. And not beautiful the way that he’d described other girls as being beautiful, but beautiful in the way that the starlets of the fifties were beautiful. A sort of classic beautiful, like she’d walked off of a soundstage alongside Marilyn Monroe. Striking blue-grey eyes, full lips, high cheekbones flushed pink from the rain.
He was so busy looking at her that he hardly noticed Priya untangling herself from Ibrahim’s side, rising to her feet, her own eyes wide.
“Elena?”
The woman in question––Elena––let out a sigh of what sounded like relief, hurrying over to where Priya stood. “Oh my gosh, Priya.” The two embraced, Priya catching Bobby’s eyes over Elena’s shoulder. He arched a dark brow at her but she simply gave him a look like I don’t really know what’s going on, either.
“I’m sorry for just barging in like this but I-I didn’t know where else to go and I knew your building was near here and I-I remember you posting this place on your Insta and I just––” She seemed to realize that they were other people around, Bobby, Noah, and Rahim all three watching her curiously. “Oh. Um. Hi everyone,” she said, sounding a little nervous as she cast those stormy eyes around their little group.
“Elena, this is Rahim, Noah, and Bobby,” Priya said, gesturing to each of them one by one. “Guys, this is Elena. She and I grew up together in Manchester.”
“Here,” Bobby said, leaping up from his chair so she could take a seat. “That uh, dress looks a little heavy.”
Elena gave him a grateful look as she sat down before he disappeared over to the counter, ordering her a cuppa which she accepted with a smile that had his insides warming up. “Thank you,” she said softly, taking a long sip. She didn’t say anything else, and Bobby could tell that they were all thinking the same thing, though it seemed that no one was ballsy enough to voice it.
“All right, I’ll bite. What the hell is going on, Elena? I mean, I’m thrilled to see you but it’s been years. What are you doing here?” Priya asked, and he watched Elena visibly deflate, placing her cup on the coffee table in front of her before she tucked her shaking hands back into her lap. Bobby was struck with the sudden desire to hold them tightly in his own.
“I’m sorry. I should have gotten in touch with you sooner it’s just…I mean, after we drifted apart to go to different schools I kept wanting to reach out and then when I moved here I thought I finally would but I got so caught up in all of this stupid wedding planning and after today I just didn’t know where else to go and––”
“Whoah, whoah, just relax,” Priya said, putting a gentle hand on Elena’s arm. Any agitation that had been on Priya’s face melted away in a matter of seconds. Bobby could tell there was a lot of history between the two of them; enough, he hoped, that Elena wouldn’t blow out of town as quickly as she’d appeared. “Okay, how about we get you back to my place and out of this dress and you can explain everything then?” she suggested, and Elena gave a tentative nod.
Less than an hour later, the five of them were seated in Priya and Rahim’s living room, Elena out of her wedding dress and in one of Priya’s sweaters and a pair of leggings. Bobby had made her another cup of tea, not really knowing what to do with himself but just knowing he wanted to do something for the distraught pretty girl in his neighbor’s flat.
The distraught pretty girl who they’d all learned had been engaged to and moments away from marrying none other than Lucas Koh of Koh Enterprises.
“I just…I guess I felt like I was going to be marrying his life, not…him,” Elena said, tugging gently on her lower lip with her teeth. “It was all about how we looked, how the rest of the world perceived us. And yeah, the designer clothes and the bags and the Bentley were nice…” Her voice trailed off and she got a bit of a faraway look in her eyes. “Okay, they were really, really nice…”
She sighed and shook her head. “Anyways, the point is, I didn’t want to marry a company, I wanted to marry the guy I met at Uni.” Elena tugged at her full lower lip with her teeth, the skin reddening beneath her touch. “And today, there were so many photographers and journalists there and I realized that just marrying him wasn’t going to be possible. So, I panicked and I ran.
“He’s a nice guy, Priya. But I don’t love him. Not the man he is today, at least. I love the boy I met when I was nineteen and trying to figure the world out. The boy I met when I had just lost my Mum and he fit into my life so perfectly. And I know it’s because of the pressure that his parents put on him, but I can’t allow myself to be crushed under that pressure, too. I want better for myself. And if that means struggling through life while I find my footing, I’m okay with that.”
Bobby couldn’t deny how impressed he was by this woman, a woman who had run from safety and security because she had put herself first and had done what was best for her. He didn’t know many people who would have done the same had they been in her shoes.
“You’re not going to struggle, Elena. We’ll help you,” Priya said, reaching over to give her hand a small squeeze. “You can stay here until you find a place to stay. We don’t have a spare bedroom but the couch is––”
“What about my place?” Bobby interrupted, his face heating when everyone turned to look at him. “I just… Well, I’ve been looking for someone to take the spare bedroom since Gary moved out. It’s furnished already, too.”
“That’s really sweet, Bobby, but I don’t have any way to pay you––”
“Don’t even worry about that. Any friend of Priya’s is a friend of mine. Plus, Priya makes a rubbish cup of tea in the morning. No offense,” he said, shooting the brunette a grin. Instead of a look of even mock outrage, she was just smiling at him.
“That’s really kind of you, Bobby,” she said before turning her attention back to Elena. “What do you say? I know it’s a lot all at once but Bobby’s just across the hall from us, and I work from home a few days a week so I’ll be close by if you need anything.”
Elena was quiet for a moment, no doubt taking it all in––considering the day she’d had, Bobby couldn’t blame her for taking some time to think it through––before she turned around and fixed those gorgeous eyes on him. “I think that sounds wonderful.”
–––––§–––––
They fell into a sort of routine after that. Elena was actually a wonderful flatmate, though he didn’t know why he’d been so surprised at that fact. He’d assumed she would want to keep to herself, or perhaps even spend the majority of her free time over at Priya’s. Instead, she made an effort to get to know all of them. She asked Noah for book recommendations and bonded over her secret love of superhero films with Ibrahim. She and Priya fell back into their decade-long friendship as if they had never been apart, spending their evenings sipping glasses of wine and painting nails and doing all the things they’d loved doing when they were growing up.
The frazzled, engaged socialite who had ditched her fiancé at the altar and appeared in their favorite café had turned out to be one of the loveliest people he’d ever come in contact with. He’d thought she was beautiful that day he met her, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how wonderful she really was. She was funny and thoughtful and kind. Easy to talk to.
Elena insisted on trying to cook dinner (emphasis on the trying) for him when he got home from the bakery every day as a sort of thanks for the tea he always made for her in the morning. They’d sit at the small dining room table and talk about their day; she was so curious about the bakery he ran and had no shortage of questions about it. One night, over a meal of spaghetti (they’d had it 4 nights in a row but he refused to tell her he was sick of it considering how proud she was to have made it), he decided to bring up an idea he’d been stewing over for a few days.
“You could come with me tomorrow, if you’d like? I don’t have any big catering orders to do so it should be a pretty typical day. I could even show you how to make a few things,” he suggested, and she brightened as if he’d just told her he was taking her to the Bahamas.
“Bobby, I’d love that,” she said, and the smile that she gave him made his insides feel all gooey. God, having a crush on a woman who’d just upturned her entire life wasn’t one of his finer moments, but he couldn’t help himself. He never got crushes like this, he’d always had a horrendous habit of just assuming the girls in his life saw him as a friend and nothing more. But with Elena…with her it just felt different. And of course, the one time it did feel different was with someone he absolutely couldn’t have.
Because as much as he liked being around Elena, she’d just gotten out of a 4-year relationship. She didn’t need anyone coming in and trying to romance her, especially not someone who was controlling her housing situation. It would be beyond manipulative of him to try anything with her. So, he’d be keeping all of those gooey feelings firmly inside and be the friend she needed right now.
But standing there in the kitchen of his bakery the next morning, flour dusting her nose, a bright smile spread across her face as she rolled out some pastry dough, he knew that would be a nearly impossible task.
“So, Bobby, how’d you get into baking?” she asked, and he smiled, partially grateful for the distraction.
“My grandmother. She was always baking up a storm whenever I’d come to visit and I was always running around, driving her up the wall. One day, she got so tired of yelling at me to take a seat that she just stuck me on a stool next to her at the counter, put a spoon in my hand, and told me to mix,” Bobby said, his tone turning a bit more wistful, his smile soft. “I spent every visit with her on that stool until I was big enough to reach the counter on my own.”
“That’s really sweet,” Elena said, glancing over at him for a brief moment before focusing her gaze back on the pastry dough.
“I started working on opening my own bakery when I was eighteen. I worked every odd catering job you can imagine to save up the money I needed, and she cheered me on the entire way. When I was twenty, she passed away. She left me the rest of the money she knew I needed to open this place up along with her recipe book. That’s why this place is called McKenzie’s. To pay homage to my family, especially my grandma, because I wouldn’t have this place if it weren’t for them.”
When he looked at her again, her gaze was fixed firmly on him, something in her blue-grey eyes that he didn’t quite recognize. It sort of felt like she was almost looking through him, not like he wasn’t there and she was looking past him but like she could see into him. It should have unnerved him but he honestly didn’t hate it.
He’d gone through most of his life with people ignoring him and looking right past him, past the goofy, joking around sort of act he always had going on because he was “too much.” Too loud, too boisterous, too silly for them to want to get involved Sometimes, even though he’d known Priya, Ibrahim, and Noah for years, he sometimes still got the impression that they didn’t always quite see him.
A girl he’d known for less than a few weeks shouldn’t have been able to, that was for sure.
“That’s really lovely, Bobby. I’m sorry that you lost her, but I mean…God, I have to imagine she’d be proud of you if she could see this place now,” she said, and he nodded.
“I think she would be, too,” he said before he straightened a bit, clapping his hands together, the need to keep the mood nice and light nearly as strong as his need to breathe. “All right, I think it’s time to show you how to get these tarts made so we can get them into the oven, what do you say?”
“Let’s do it.”
Elena was a great student, never shying away from making a mess or a mistake, allowing Bobby to guide her through the steps though she was adamant about doing it on her own. He could see how badly she wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of doing something like this, something a little messy and dirty and not at all glamorous (though Bobby would argue that baking could be plenty glamorous thank you very much).
When her first tart finally came out of the oven, a little crooked and the filling spilling over the crust ever so slightly, she looked like she’d just discovered the secrets of the universe, her expression so filled with awe that it had that gooey feeling rushing back at him full-force. He had to imagine he’d had the same look on his own face the first time he’d baked something by himself.
She set it down on the work table there in the center of the room and they hardly let it cool before cutting into it, Bobby sliding the larger slice her way though he didn’t have to slide it very far, the two of them practically shoulder to shoulder as they stood there. He watched carefully as she picked up her fork, cutting a decent-sized bite for herself before lifting it to her lips.
Her eyes widened to the size of saucer plates and she made a muffled sort of squeal behind her hand. “Oh my god! I made this and it tastes good! And I made it!” She laughed, big and loud and beautiful, before throwing her arms around him. “Bobby, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, punctuating her last “thank you” with a quick kiss on the lips.
It may have been quick, but Jesus Christ it felt like he’d been electrocuted in the best possible way. When she pulled back, he simply looked at her a bit dumbstruck, taking in the blush creeping up her pale cheeks, those blue-grey eyes wide with surprise as if she could hardly believe she’d done that.
“I-I’m sorry. Just uh, got a little too excited I think,” she said, ducking her head for a brief moment, her brown hair hanging around her face to hide it from sight.
Bobby cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn’t sound as flustered as he felt at that moment. “Hey, a perfect tart is something to be excited about,” he said, keeping his tone light; the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was upset with her for kissing him. She lifted her head and he swore that perfect smile of hers that she offered him shot right through his heart like Cupid’s freaking arrow.
“Perfect tarts and nice first kisses?” she asked, laughing a little nervously, and he felt his own cheeks flush.
“W-w-well yeah. Yeah, first kisses are-are something to be excited about, too. Yeah, definitely. For sure, for sure, for sure,” he rambled, silently cursing himself for not knowing when to stop talking. “You uh, you thought it was nice?”
“I did,” Elena said, gently biting her lower lip. “Did you?”
“Yes,” Bobby said, probably a bit too quickly, and she laughed a little. “I just uh, wasn’t expecting it. Not that that’s a bad thing! Surprises are great. Like surprise parties, surprise gifts––I’d call a successful soufleé a surprise because you never quite know how it’s going to turn out and––”
“Bobby.”
“Yeah?”
“I liked that you kissed me. And I like you. And I think that you don’t want to tell me that you like me, too, because you’re letting me live with you and you think it’d be weird and manipulative if you tried to make a move on me.”
He blinked at her. “That’s so creepy, how did you do that?”
“It’s called women’s intuition and it never fails. Especially where men are concerned.” She leaned against the work table, tucking a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ear as she did so. “I think it’s sweet that you’re so worried about me, I really do. But there’s no reason to be. Yes, my relationship was four years long. But I fell out of love with Lucas way before our wedding. It just took me until being there at the altar that it all really came crashing down around me. And you know how I’m so certain about that? Because the way I felt just now, baking this silly little tart in this kitchen with you…Bobby, I never felt this good the entire time I was engaged to Lucas.
“I’m not saying I want to jump headfirst into anything, but I also don’t want to let my past relationship be the reason I miss out on anything. Especially not where a Scottish baker with a heart of gold is concerned.”
“Heart of gold, huh? Nothing about my razor-sharp wits and incredible sense of humor?” he asked, feeling a grin creep onto his lips.
“Don’t forget humble,” Elena said, and that got a laugh out of him. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of her, close enough that he could see the flecks of silver that sparkled in her eyes, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Yes, of course. Very humble. The humblest. Literally the most humble person to ever humble, if you will.”
“Would you be less humble if I asked you to kiss me again?” she asked, and he reached forward, brushing the flour off of her nose that had been there all morning long.
“Probably.” It was all he said before he leaned forward and kissed her.
–––––§–––––
“So wait, Mum almost married someone else? Really?” Elsie asked, just as Elena breezed through the front door the way she had into that coffee shop fourteen years ago, only this time she had grocery bags dangling from her arms instead of piles of tulle and fabric.
“What did Mum do?” she questioned as she made her way into the kitchen, depositing the bags on the dining room table as their six-year-old son, Malcolm, trailed behind her, adamant about being able to carry the jug of milk all by himself.
“Dad was saying that you almost married someone else!” Elsie cried, like it was the greatest crime her mother could commit.
“Almost,” Elena said, emphasizing the word as she dropped off the last of the bags, taking the milk from Malcolm and setting it inside the fridge. “But I didn’t and me and your Dad lived happily ever after, the end,” she said, leaning over to press a quick kiss to the top of her daughter’s head.
“I don’t think I’d like having a different dad,” Elsie said, wrinkling her nose, and Elena laughed as she sat down next to their daughter, running her fingers through her dark curls as Malcolm clambered into his mother’s lap.
“I wouldn’t want you to have a different dad, either,” Elena said, gorgeous eyes flickering over to Bobby, her smile soft, before she focused her gaze onto the papers laid out in front of Elsie. “What do we have here, hm?”
And as Bobby stood there, watching his wife wrap their son up in her arms, giggling with Elsie over math problems, he couldn’t help but smile.
It was Inosuke's birthday yesterday, and I just had this very silly idea. I know I am a day late, I started yesterday but I was just too tired! It's short, and very silly, but I just wanted to get this out of my head still. Please pretend it's still the 22nd. Enjoy!
2nd person, GN reader.
“I will show them. Me? Unable to get some herbs from the village and return before sunset?”
Inosuke interrupted his own thoughts to laugh out loud, triumphantly holding up the herbs in his fist, not caring that there was no one there to hear or see his victory just yet.
He was never one to back down from a challenge, if anything, he’d be the one creating challenges even in situations where no one had even challenged him at all. But if he had taken a few seconds to think, it was a little bit of a strange situation. Fortunately for you, Inosuke rarely took any time to think at all.
- ---------------------
You so desperately wanted to throw Inosuke a surprise birthday party, but it was so hard to keep secrets from him, mostly because he spent a lot of time with you, and would immediately notice if you were trying to shake him somehow. Unless…
You had managed to get the word out to a select group of people, they would get supplies and help you set up the party. You had planned a date and a time. You had no missions. Everything was going according to plan, except for one thing: setting it up would be absolutely impossible without Inosuke noticing.
You had been wrecking your brain all day to find a way to make him leave for just a couple of hours, and then it hit you all of a sudden. There was only one way to make him do something: tell him loudly you didn’t think he could do it.
Plan in mind, you went outside to where he was training, sighing dramatically as you sat down. This caught his attention, although he did not stop training at all, instead just turning his body slightly to make eye contact (or so you assumed, you had no idea what way he was truly looking with his boar mask on) and tilting his head, urging you to speak.
“We ran out of medicinal herbs a little while ago, and I only just remembered when checking the pantries. I know the shop is going to close in a little while, it is impossible to get to the village and back in that time.”
You shook your head dramatically, really putting emphasis on that last part, hoping that you weren’t overdoing your acting.
“Y/N! Do you know who you are talking to? I, Inosuke, king of the mountains, will run to the village and back before the sun even starts to set!”
You had him right where you needed him, but you decided to add one more little push.
“Are you sure?” You frowned a little in pretend disbelief, “the sun will set in less than two hours.”
“I am sure! And I will prove it to you, right now!”
---------------------
He had gone off without even double-checking exactly which herbs were needed, and you had been able to start preparations for the party. It didn’t take too long for your friends to arrive and help you set up, putting up decorations and filling the table with food, all Inosuke’s favorites. You couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside, you wondered how Inosuke would react, he probably wouldn’t have had many birthday parties before in his life. For a moment you hoped he at least knew it was his birthday, and wouldn’t think this was some type of ambush.
“He’s coming!”
Those words from the one on lookout were enough to silence your thoughts and all the party guests, turning off the lights and patiently waiting for the king of the mountains to arrive with the herbs, ready to surprise him and start the party.
As expected, he slowed down when he noticed the house being completely dark. Dropping the herbs, he reached for his swords, suddenly completely focused and ready to attack whoever was causing whatever was going on. You shut your eyes for a second, hoping desperately that no one would get wounded in the reveal.
He walked up to the front door, looking around at every step, before charging in loudly, never one for subtelty or slow action. The room being filled with light and people the second he got in, momentarily startled him enough for someone to push his arms down a little, just so no one would get a sharp saw blade in their face.
“Surprise!!”
Inosuke was confused for a second, looking around wildly, mask moving as he took in all the people, the decorations, the food, before -supposedly- landing on your beaming face, walking up to him. You only knew for sure he was looking at you once he spoke up.
“Y/n? What’s going on?” A party?”
“A surprise party, for you! Happy birthday Inosuke!”
You made use of his surprised stupor to carefully grab either side of his mask, tilting his head so you could place a kiss on the snout of the boar face. The sound he made underneath the boar head made you doubt your decision for a split second, until you noticed the steam coming out of the little fluffy ears.
Loud laughter errupted all around you and you moved to remove the mask to repeat your earlier action properly.
Back in October on her birthday, I promised @kmomof4 a bday fic, and even offered up a sneak peek, but it has pathetically taken this slow writer another month to finish and post said offering. (Let’s not even talk about how long @itsfabianadocarmo has been kept waiting on the story I hoped to write for her birthday...)
At any rate, Krystal has always been kind enough to show love to my little French Revolution-set CS au, and it’s largely due to her that more than a single drabble of it exists at all. Here for her belated birthday gift, I offer at last the conclusion to “A Private Revolution”. Hope you enjoy, my lovely friend!! :)
(A link to the start of the story on AO3 can be found above ^^^)
Summary: On the eve of Revolution, when it seems his whole world is falling down around him, nobleman Killian Jones is given a wonderful reason to keep fighting for his life.
Part Four
by: @snowbellewells
Darting through shadows, over downed branches, and empty grasping limbs that caught at her hair and cloak, Emma Swan dashed as fast as she could through the obscuring forest, praying she was not making more noise than those who followed. She could hear the lumbering of their heavy boots on rough terrain, as her pursuers shouted reports to one another. It seemed to her own ears that every rasp of breath through her lips or snap of a twig underfoot was magnified in heartstopping volume, sure to be the sound which gave her away, despite the much heavier and louder sounds of her enemy in pursuit. At the moment, she could do nothing else but fervently hope that impression was a product of her own panic and not the truth of the matter.
She had just hurtled over a narrow gulley before the ground sloped upward to a higher plateau. Nearly tumbling to her hands and knees, Emma righted herself - lungs screaming in protest and painfully crying for breath. She forced herself onward, shaking the moment of weakness from her thoughts and willing her trembling legs to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The rise was gradual, and she had long since come to recognize the sign that the encampment she sought was nearing. Just a bit further, and she would be safe…
Though she had managed to slip into the revolutionaries’ base and retrieve the maps and documents they sought, Emma had known it was only a mater of time before the absence of such important papers was discovered. As if to reassure herself once more of their presence, she traced her hand over the rolled bundle she had stuffed down the front of her bodice before momentarily closing her eyes and offering up thanks to the Lord that she had managed to reach the surrounding trees before hearing the rebel leader’s voice at her back, bellowing for his men to hunt down a thief.
“Halt! You there!” a far-off voice sounded, coarse and demanding as the terrifying rabble of which its owner must be a part. The sound was nothing like the sedate and genteel tones she had heard spoken in the quiet halls and grounds of the estate they had left behind - the place which had been as a second home to her all her life. Nor did it even resemble the more raucous, but still good natured, tongue used in her family’s modest cabin on the border of Jones land. Those comforting echoes of her father and brother joking by the fireside, complemented by her mother’s laughter crinkling her lovely, rounded cheeks and warming the small space even more than the flickerings in their hearth could do, seemed further away from her present than Emma could bear. No, these calls were the war cry of the monsters who had overtaken countrymen she would once have viewed as brethren. She could hear their muffled tread along the forest path off to her right, making her skin crawl with apprehension as they seemed to gain ground despite her nearing destination.
Far from pausing as demanded, she somehow found the reserves to put on one more burst of speed. Though she could hear those voices coming frighteningly closer, the first telling the others that he had seen a flash of green which moved too quickly to have been a waving branch or grasses amid the dried browning landscape of the countryside as it edged from autumn into winter.
She was just nearing the rockface which, when rounded, led toward a frozen riverbed and beyond to the temporary base of her allies atop the growing rise, when suddenly, arms gripped her with startling force, jerking her into a hidden enclave in the rock, one that - even with her newly-acquired familiarity to the area - she had not seen, nor even known existed.
Firm, calloused fingers pressed over her mouth, smothering the angry yell that rose in her throat, and a muscled arm circled her waist tightly, immovable as steel, making escape impossible. Eyes wide, Emma fought her unseen assailant’s hold; bucking against his implacable force and clawing to break free. Until, incongruously soft lips brushed against the shell of her ear and an almost crooning tone from a voice she could never mistake, broke through her alarm. “Calm yourself, ma tigressa. Emma, ‘tis only me.”
Her body went limp with relief, collapsing against his wiry frame and the support it offered, even before he removed his muffling hand from her mouth, assured now that she no longer meant to cry out. “Killian…” she breathed, her terror melting away in an instant. On ordinary occasions she chafed at his overprotectiveness, trailing her steps to make sure she was safe, no matter how often she reminded him bluntly that she knew how to handle herself. If he were not often gone on scouting missions when she was sent into nearby towns to spy and listen for news of the insurgents’ movements, or when they needed her light-fingered touch to procure something when the bonds of military protocol did not allow such leeway, Emma knew she would have been forever tripping over Killian’s shadow as he watched over her anxiously.
But after the breathless mission from which she was returning, Emma could not deny the comfort it brought her to see him facing her, pulling her to safety in his arms as they both vanished into the unseen crevass out of their enemies’ view. Her heartbeat was still thudding rapidly against the walls of her chest, eyes wide with near-panic she quickly attempted to calm and hide. Though she had been determined to run for all she was worth, she’d not been at all certain she would escape them in time and return to see the gleaming blue depths of his eyes full of mischief and love once more.
Leaning into his steady warmth, she allowed herself the tiniest shiver of realization at how close she had come, resting her forehead against his sternum and breathing out a steadying huff of air while his lips brushed the top of her head and his arms held her, wrapping his dusky brown cloak around the both of them for further camouflage until their surroundings were truly clear.
For more soothing, silent minutes than Emma cared to measure, she huddled there with him in that break in the rocks. Little by little, the calls back and forth, the pounding of booted footsteps in pursuit, faded, moving further and further away. Still, neither of them stirred; Emma’s hands clutched tightly to Killian’s waist, her desperate hold giving away much more than she would wish. Yet, despite her lowered walls, he remained quiet, gently running his hand over her back, rocking them ever so slightly to and fro as the forest emptied to the two of them alone.
When at last she pulled away just enough to look at Killian gratefully and draw a ragged breath into her lungs, her handsome noble didn’t push, nor did he gloat. Instead, he offered her a crooked, endearing smile with twinkling eyes. “Now, now, mon trésor, missed me that much did you?”
He was allowing her to play off her fright, making light of it to put her at ease, but Emma found all that would cross her lips was the unvarnished truth. Meeting his gaze fully, she assured him, “Indeed, ma moitié. Indeed I did.”
~~~**~~~
It was well into evening by the time they once again found a quiet moment together. They had presented Liam’s superior with the maps and communications she had procured. Kudos, congratulations, and joyous celebrating had lit their camp as much as the flickering bonfire. With the newly acquired intelligence on the planned movements and targets of the rebels, it was fair to consider that they might at last strike a strong enough blow to slow the terrorizing rout plaguing their countryside. It was high time some sort of order was restored to all the innocent bystanders frightened and caught in the middle. Perhaps at last they had the foreknowledge necessary to see the work begun.
Hand-in-hand Killian and Emma made their way to a nearby clearing as the sunset burst across the sky in vibrant pink, orange, and gold. Barren and brown with fast-encroaching winter on its way, the calm and quiet of the open space, even without the tall grass and wildflowers of the field back home where they had lain under the sunlight and wide blue sky, was still a comfort. Anywhere which brought to mind the first time Killian’s tempting full lips had touched hers was welcome for how it returned to her the feeling which had fluttered within her chest as she realized for the first time that she loved him, body and soul.
Looking over at her with such warmth in his eyes, she felt that Killian must know what she was thinking and be experiencing that same fondness for the moment long ago, and gratitude that they were still together, despite how far they had come. Wordlessly, he brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing kisses to her knuckles before loosening his grip to spread the blanket they had brought out over the ground and following her in taking a seat.
Hardpacked dirt riddled with rocks and clods was hardly ideal, nor as soft a blanket as the clover and timothy they had once enjoyed without realizing how quickly it could all be taken away. Still, Emma found herself every bit as comfortable as she lay back next to her love and gazed up at the same blue sky, despite the miles between. A sharp, biting chill had entered the air, and she shivered slightly there on the ground, but not for long, as Killian pulled her in closer to his body, wrapping the the warm material around them both. Emma gratefully snuggled further into his side, thankful as she often was, for the heat which seemed to constantly radiate from his very skin. It was almost as though the gentle warmth of his character spread throughout his physical body and she could not help but feel it when she was near him. Yet the drop in temperature made it a trait she didn’t take for granted as she tucked her head beneath his chin, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. Idly she stroked her fingertips through the hair that covered Killian’s chest where his linen shirt opened loosely at the neck, almost mesmerized by the soft feel of those dark curls to her touch.
His long, sturdy fingers eventually came up to clasp her roving hand, and pressed it to his chest, held in his own, as if wishing to keep them there in such safety and contentment despite the danger and madness raging around them constantly in the light of day.
“If only it could always be like this…” Emma whispered into the curve where Killian’s neck met his shoulder.
Hearing his wistful exhale, Emma could only huff an amazed breath when he murmured, “Aye, mon ange, if I could stop time upon this very moment, I would do so without question.” Neither of them spoke or moved for several long moments, as if holding their breath not to alert the universe to whirling and set time moving around them once more. Emma was transfixed in her lover’s sea blue gaze, transporting her as it always had to a place where she only felt cherished, safe and loved. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she studied him, blushing and almost as nervous as she had been the first time she had shared with him her true feelings. Killian was a living, breathing work of art - and she knew her desire to touch him, to drink him in, must be conveyed plainly across her features.
Whether he read her desire or it was the sight of her lips bitten and then wetted with the tip of her tongue, Emma wasn’t sure, but Killian released a pained sort of groan in his chest. The fire radiating off his body, already a flame by which she ached to be consumed, flared hotter, and as he rolled them quickly, encasing her beneath his lithe framr, she felt just what was causing his discomfort.
Naturally opening to him as his hips settled within the cradle of her thighs, welcoming him as his delicious weight pressed carefully over her - not enough to crush, but for her to feel braced, protected, and held together. She clung to his wiry arms, savoring every shift and flex as it rippled beneath her touch. Though they might not be able to remain like this always, she would treasure each second as it passed. If she closed her eyes and allowed the sensations Killian’s teeth and tongue were causing to carry her away, Emma could almost believe they had returned once more to their familiar meadow. Instead of being separated from the people and places they knew and might not see whole again, she felt as if they a part of her again. In the end, nothing else which had been lost could matter, if she still had Killian’s hand to hold and a path to tread beside him. With Killian, she would always be at home.
Tagging a few others who might enjoy, or who have read the earlier parts: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @stahlop @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @wefoundloveunderthelight @donteattheappleshook
