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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

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𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

You looked beautiful in the sun- all two of them.

Word Count: 2006

Requested: Obi Wan heated fluff on Tatooine. Delivered. (I hope)

apricity. PRONUNCIATION: (a-PRIS-i-tee)/ the warmth of sun in the Winter.

Obi-Wan did not know what had happened to you, after.

He could recall your last meeting, however. He could recall it so vividly. It was the day before he was sent to Utapau, and the day you had been sent to the other side of Kashyyyk to assist Master Yoda. Your Clones, who you were immensely proud of, had painted their armor differing shades of camouflage green with little white markings and a bright green streak down their right arms. Even your closest confidant, Commander Syphers, had modified his appearance to match both the jungle of a system, and your lightsaber.

He had approached you while you and Commander Syphers were nudging at each other while giggling at something. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember what. When you had seen him, a big grin came over your face. You told him your clones had planned something special for your birthday (which was the next day) and that they were all very excited to participate in battle. This was followed with applause from the soldiers on the gunship, and you beginning to walk away from Obi-Wan.

“You’re not even going to wish me a happy birthday?” you said with a smirk, walking backwards. Obi-Wan didn’t remember what he had said. He could only remember you rolling your eyes, and your final interaction towards him being a playful salute as your gunship lifted up into the air.

Obi-Wan had not realized that Order Sixty-Six had been executed on your birthday- and possibly you along with it- until much later. You probably hadn’t even gotten to see or experience what your men had done for your birthday. They had already turned on you.

He had been so focused and finding Anakin after, that he had completely forgotten about you. It wasn’t until his first night on Tatooine that you began to suddenly bombard his thoughts, and he was forced to assume that you had died.

So this did not explain why you were standing in front of him.

Obi-Wan understood that this was no trick of the suns, nor the heat. The clouds were fluffy in the baby blue sky, the sand mustard and deep, and the plains infinite and distant. You were there, clear as day, in the middle. You didn’t look real, but you were. If anything at all, Obi-Wan Kenobi would’ve described you as surreal.

You were dressed in a grey cloak and poncho, with the hood up and your makeshift face mask pulled down so he could see and confirm your whole face. Your hair color, which was peaking out from the bun by your neck, had not changed. Your eye color, eyebrows, lips, nose- hadn’t changed. Despite a few sunspots, the shadow of a scar on your collar bone, and the hollow look in your eyes, you were you. And you were real. And you were alive.

“I thought you were dead,” Obi-Wan said. It was the first words he spoke to you since you had come into his little hovel, and it sounded like a confession of some kind. He knew he shouldn’t have felt silly for it, but he did. He felt ashamed for not having faith in you, even though he knew you wouldn’t have cared much about that. You would’ve understood- you did understand.

“Me too,” you said. Your thumb rubbed against the clay cup of a warm liquid Obi-Wan had made for you. It was comforting to know that even after tragedy, the man’s manners were unbreakable. “How long have you been here?”

“About nine months,” Obi-Wan guessed. His hands rung together in thought and nervousness. You noticed his voice was so much more soft now, like whatever authority he once had had been shaken. You knew, with a deep sadness, that this was because he didn’t feel he was worthy of authority anymore. It was a shame, because you would’ve followed him anywhere. That’s why you were here now. “How did you find me?” he asked sincerely, his eyes crinkling as he thought about all the options.

“Master Yoda wasn’t the only one who could see things,” you told him. This too sounded like a confession. Holding his eyes a second longer, you averted them to the table and your cup. “Is he...?”

Obi-Wan took in a silent, shaky breath. “No,” he promised. “He’s alive. On Dagobah, I believe.”

You nodded your head in understanding, looking anywhere but Obi-Wan’s eyes. He was disturbed that you were not the same person as you were, but he didn’t blame you for that. He wasn’t the same person either.

But you were, at one time, a rather charismatic person. Intelligent and cunning, you were known for your sarcasm and quips. Obi-Wan liked that about you. You were refreshing to be around. Although you two were not the closest, it was a treat working together, and Obi-Wan was sure there was a mutual respect. Now it wasn’t the same. You were more serious, more sad and lonely. You were like a shadow of what you once were.

“May I ask...” You looked up at Obi-Wan’s words. He knew he shouldn’t have asked, but he was not a man to just leave his words hanging. “What happened? On your birthday?”

Your eyes fluttered shut sharply. “I apologize,” Obi-Wan said quickly.

“No,” you ushered, talking over him slightly. “No, I...just...” you inhaled. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m back in that moment, when I can’t breathe. And I just feel like I’m dying.” Obi-Wan gave you a moment to compose yourself, deciding against placing his hand over your own comfortingly. After another breath, you spoke again. “It was during one of the attacks,” you began. “Wookies everywhere, Seppie scum all around- we were winning. I was looking over it when I heard him say something and then...” your eyebrows scrunched together, almost in confusion, as you recounted the memory. “He raised his gun at me.”

Obi-Wan found himself leaning forward as he listened to your tale. He understood what you meant about the feeling. He could imagine the rocks falling all around him and the breath leaving his lungs as he was shot down. But Cody didn’t look Obi-Wan in the eyes, no.

“Who did?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. He felt like it was such a forbidden thing to ask, and maybe it was. But this also felt like an interrogation, and it didn’t feel right to let it hang.

“Syphers.” Maker, he could hear your voice breaking.

“And, what about your birthday?”

You shook your head softly, and in the most lost and confused voice, you told him: “I don’t know.”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

You were always there when Obi-Wan would wake up. When he stretched his muscles, and wandered outside to watch the twin suns rise into the sky, you were there. Whether sitting or standing, you would watch him when he watched you. Sometimes, he could’ve sworn you had tears in your eyes, almost as if you were saying that you couldn’t believe you had finally gotten to see the sun again.

In the beginning, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought you were simply exquisite in this way.

Your light colored outfit was simple and contrasted the orange and red light of the world. It seemed distant and far away to think that you were someone the Jedi once knew, almost as if you were from a past life. Although, he supposed that you were. But you were a woman, a companion, someone he trusted with everything inside of his chest. Obi-Wan knew, at least, that there was one person in the world who understood.

Soon enough, the Jedi would realize you were more than just exquisite- you were beautiful.

You always had been an attractive woman, though Kenobi supposed he had not given it much thought in the past. There had never been a reason, nor opportunity to until this point. You were a colleague. Now you weren’t. You had bonded through the pain of Anakin’s betrayal, which had become Anakin’s last favor for his old Master.

Obi-Wan was beautiful too, in the mornings. When you looked over to him, the suns always cast an orange glow across his features, which looked sorrowful. Although he had begun developing tired wrinkles from focusing everything into the force, he had remained the same Kenobi you had always known. Thoughtful, methodical, and handsome.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The love that grew between the two of you was unsaid for a while. It was all just a poem, a hazy dream that only seemed to become hazier. The mornings that you shared with him wordlessly seemed to melt into nights, and when you had finally begun accepting food from him, dinners.

You would tell Obi-Wan about your life before the Jedi, and the Master you wondered about so much. In turn, he revealed how he had cradled Qui-Gon in his arms while he died, and Satine’s death sometime later. You were not jealous at the latter, instead admitting you had fallen in love one of your men- a Clone named Ace who had died on the battlefield. That was the first time you had held hands.

In the low light of the candles and the dry wind that came from the window, Obi-Wan put his hand over your own tentatively, sharing the pain. It did not seem as heavy as it had been before, and it didn’t take long to melt into his touch.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

In the nights, Obi-Wan and you began to sleep on the same blanket. You did not sleep for a long time, instead looking into his eyes and wondering, wondering if you were supposed to die that day. You became hyper aware that you were glad you hadn’t, because then you wouldn’t have been with Obi-Wan now, who was becoming the only thing in the world that brought you peace.

The mornings became shorter. The way he watched you in the tangerine light never seemed to last long enough. Obi-Wan agreed.

Following the mornings, the days without his touch and his dialogue seemed to become unsatisfactory. On those days, all food tasted like ash. The blanket you shared seemed scratchy. All the stories you would think of telling him didn’t seem worthy anymore. All you wanted was him in his entirety, even his pain. More than that, you wanted his peace, and he wanted yours.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

You could not recall how it happened, because everything up to that point didn’t seem to matter. Obi-Wan didn’t mind. All he focused on was you and your skin, and how the horizon contrasted your back and the suns made the tips of your hair buzz in different shades.

The both of you were completely naked, you on his lap with your chests pressed together. Your face, which Obi-Wan had accepted as a work of art, was buried in the crook of his neck. Your eyes watched the view behind him, quite literally watching his back while your fingers dug into it so he didn’t turn to dust.

Similarly, Obi Wan held you as close as he could while he watched the suns rise. Your skin and aura had seemed to fall together, creating a golden glow that he deemed worthy of defining you. Your core- your heart along with your sex- seemed to be a part of him in the best way. You were not Satine or anyone from his past life, you were the trusted companion who understood. And quite frankly, neither of you could fully recall if he was inside of you or not.

Whether he was or wasn’t didn’t matter. Obi-Wan was a part of you now. You didn’t want that to stop, and Obi-Wan had become too lost and guided by you to stop it.

But that moment in the sand as the suns rose into the heavens above, and the two lovers entangled as they watched the air all seemed very much like a painting, in which the artist had decided to paint over something very sad, with something very sunny.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin @haztory @laorme34

#obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan imagines #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan fluff #obi wan smut #obi wan angst #obi wan fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fan fiction

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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years ago

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Switching Sides: Part 15 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉@theshove 👈

👉@kamyru 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 14 is right here! Happy reading :)

And I just want to thank everyone that’s been consistently reading this fic, I know it’s a slow burn but I think it’ll be worth it :D

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature, Abuse, Kidnapping, Torture.

~~~~~~

Early the next morning, I dressed in my loungewear to go to Juna's apartment. She had an outfit of her's waiting for me; I didn't own anything pink like the dress code she wanted. Grabbing a quick bite from the canteen and a coffee, as I have now remembered the difference between tea, I get the train to her apartment.

"Katsumi! You're here!" Juna bounced towards me, or as best she could under the weight of her almost grown baby, and stole the cake box I was balancing in one hand, holding my bag to my side with the other.

"Sorry I'm late, the metro was hectic." I sighed, kicking off my shoes as she shuffled back to the kitchen counter. There, I saw Kanto hurriedly putting up bunting. When he saw me, he directed his gaze to the space under the stairs where a set of drawers sat. Curiously, I stepped towards it, opening the top draw while Juna was distracted and found the ring I wanted. Pulling it out, I slipped it into a pocket in my bag.

"Your dress is in the bathroom if you wanna change!" Juna called over her shoulder as she pulled a box of strawberries out of the fridge, planning to chop them up.

"Sure thing!" I called back, knowing my way around the apartment since I lived here for months.

The dress in question was somewhat short and pastel pink. There was an upside-down triangle cut out of the back, the top half was tight and anything below the top of my hips was flowing. It was surprisingly comfortable, even if I felt like walking cotton candy.

"Told ya you'd like it!" Juna squealed in joy when she saw me emerge with a light blush on my face.

"It's not horrific." I pouted and went to help decorate the small balcony outside to escape her complimentary pestering.

~~~~~~

Once the arrival time for the party came around, more and more people started showing up. I didn't even think to ask my sister how many people were coming, but I sure as hell didn't think it would be this many people. There were so many, I was getting a little warm and the number of times I had to dart out of the way, getting my earring caught in my hair in the mad rush, I decided to put it up. I was bestowed with the job of answering the door so, when it rang again, I jumped up with a sigh. Because I was so used to seeing faces I didn't know, having everyone comment on how alike my twin and I looked, I was shocked when all the instructors showed up on the other side.

"In-Instructors, you made it?" I blushed when I saw them all in their casual clothes, instantly anxious when I remembered the outfit I was wearing. They all obeyed Juna's wish of them wearing pink or blue, all of varying degrees of severity, except for one. Can you guess who it was?

"Com... Come in. You can leave your shoes here." When I realised I had been staring, I jumped out the way to let them in. ‘God, Katsumi. Keep your cool!’ I internally screamed as I watched them filter in. Then, I directed them to the food when Juna finally approached us.

"Detectives, I'm so glad you could make it! I hope you enjoy yourselves. There's beer in the fridge, so have at it. There's plenty to go around!" Seemingly much more used to the instructors than I am, or she's just more sociable, Juna had a bright smile on her face. "Detective Kaga, you're not wearing blue." She frowned at the one person in the room not giving in her wishes.

"Juna, please." I begged her not to embarrass me as Kaga 'tsk'ed to himself. Then, he extended his hand to her, which held a paper bag. She took it and looked in to find a gift.

"Kaga, this is so cute! Look at it, Katsu." She squealed at the small bear with beady black eyes. It was kinda adorable and I blushed at the fact my sternly faced mentor had gifted it. The tag still attached to it said it was a nanny cam. My embarrassed and confused gaze fell to him and he sneered.

"My niece liked it."

‘Is he... pouting?’ It was almost too strange to tell with the faint blush on his face. ‘Is he already drunk? Wait! He has a niece?’ My blush deepened as I imagine how Kaga might act with a child to know her so much to know her favourite toy.

“Did none of your friends come?” Soma interjected my thoughts from beside me, seeing as Juna had gone to Kanto in the kitchen. I almost jumped out of my skin, but only because I was scared he could read my mind.

“Oh, no. No they… They were busy.” I quickly made up a pathetic lie, not wanting to throw Naruko under the for being afraid of the instructors. “Anyway, can I get you guys any drinks? Like Juna said, we’ve got beer, soda, water?” I listed off a few options so I could just escape this cluster of men, and even more people started to swarm us at their appearance.

“How does Juna know such good looking, young men?” A very forward older woman instantly clutched Instructor Goto’s arm, either drunk or that was just her rich nature. I instantly started panicking again.

“U-Um, Miss, they’re my bosses. Please… Please let go of him.” I was frantic as the instructor looked increasingly uncomfortable because of her flirtations. Almost everyone here was Juna’s work friends or spouses of, so they were all high standing members of society, not anyone I ever expected to mingle with.

When the woman just wouldn’t let go of him, I decided it was time to amp it up a gear. “Actually, I think your husband was talking to the composer’s daughter by the bathroom.” I gestured to an older man and a girl around my age talking up a storm on the other side of the spacious room, and the woman almost simultaneously stormed over.

After profusely apologising to Goto for what he already had to go through after just arriving, with the instructors still around us, Shinonone expressed how shocked he was that I could diffuse the situation somewhat quickly.

“I used to work in a club downtown. It was part of my job to get a feel for relationships in the room. O-Of course, you saw me working.” I was almost sweating with how nervous I was, remembering how rude I was to the instructor when he didn’t even know it was me at the time. Ayumu smirked at the memory of the interaction, and probably what I was wearing then too.

Luckily, Juna called me away to help her with something before I could be teased further.

~~~~~~

Later on in the party, I felt the need to step outside and take a breather, so I headed to the balcony and was surprised to find no one there. It was spring, the weather; surprisingly warm, and the flowers Kanto had been growing for Juna were in full bloom.

With my elbows resting on the railing, I suddenly realised what Kaga being here means. "I passed." I gasped, my heart filling with pride and doing a little dance to try and expel my joy. A rush of relief flooded over me and I don't think I've been happier than that moment. Not just relieved, but happy.

"It's been a while since I've seen that dance." A man's voice spoke up behind me and I turned in curiosity. For a moment, I truly believed it was one of my captors, but my vision quickly corrected it to Noburu. My heart raced as I saw him standing in the doorway, eyes wide. I hadn't seen him in a month. I was never told of him visiting. I was a little angry, he hadn't even texted me. But, above all else, I was scared. He sent alarm bells ringing in my head as if he really was the captor that fed me. That stood by and watched as I deteriorated into a heap of weeping bruises.

"No...Noburu. What are you doing here?" I panicked, stepping back and finding the railing block me from going over the edge. In an instant he was in front of me, holding my face as tears grew in my eyes.

"I missed you so much. I went to visit but you freaked out. I was so worried." His face was so close all I could see was him as he held my cheeks, his fingers extending into my hair, which I had let down again. I struggled, the image of that man seared in my brain.

When he saw me trying to get away, he crashed his lips on mine, taking my breath and any words I wanted to say to reject him. I tried to tug on the hands that kept me in place, but he wouldn't let go. His grip was vice-like. When he parted his lips to breath, I was able to whimper out "stop".

After I said that, he went to kiss me again, but he was pulled off me by someone yanking on his collar. There, holding the bewildered Noburu, was Kaga, rage painting his face. Embarrassed and afraid, I covered my mouth to hide my tears and sobs, darting by them, careful not to fall in my short heels as my legs shook.

~~~~~~

Bored out of my mind with all the aristocratic assholes Katsumi's sister was friends with, I decided to find the servant I found so fun to tease. My gaze flew around the room to find women surrounding most of the men from the PSD, except Goto who looked as bored as I was. Then, my gaze found the glass balcony doors and the woman I'm looking for. She was talking to a man, someone who looked dishevelled and not belonging to this group of people. Then, I noticed the tremble in her lip and her wide, astonished eyes watering out of... fear? I decided to head over and check if everything was alright.

When I opened the door, the man pounced on Katsumi, holding her face as he kissed her. A feeling in my stomach lit up my jealousy and anger as I watched them, but Katsumi seemed to be responding. I couldn't really tell when his hands were covering most of her face and his body was covering the rest of her.

As I turned to leave, I heard a low, high-pitched sound.

"Stop."

I spun around in a second, storming forward and gripping the back of the man's collar before yanking him off, possibly choking him in the process. I glared at him before checking to see if Katsumi was okay. Tears were falling down her face and the lipgloss she had on was smudged. Her hair was a mess and her knees were cowering a little. When she noticed what happened, her hand flew to her face and she ran back inside.

"Dude, what the hell?" The man who assaulted her frowned and my enraged glare returned to him. That was when I noticed it was the guy Katsumi used to work with at that club. I remembered watching her bend over the bar to talk to him, noticing how high her dress rode up her thighs, just shy of flashing everyone there. I growedl, remembering how much trust she must have had to talk to him the way Ayumu said she did.

"Get out or I concave your face." I threatened, dropping his collar. He was angry at first but when he saw how likely it was for me to do it, he ran to the front door.

~~~~~~

Stepping out of the bathroom, having cleaned myself up and calmed myself down enough to stop crying, I got to work; cleaning up the bottles and cans surrounding the room- mainly to distract myself. The party was still in full swing and I didn't want to ruin my sister's special moment. I could suck it up for now. All I wanted was for Noburu to be gone.

"Hey, idiot." A quiet voice erupted from behind me as I grabbed a few glass bottles from the counter in the kitchen, which was pretty vacant. I quickly recognised it at Kaga.

"I don't want to talk about it," I grumbled, not caring who he was in that moment.

"I kicked him out." He announced.

‘At least that's a relief.’ I sighed, feeling my tears return as I remembered how he had touched me. I trusted him. If he knew I had a breakdown the last time I had seen him, why would he still do that?

"Okay. I still don't want to talk about it." I complained, moving back and forth from the bin and the sink with trash and dishes to clean up later.

"Katsumi," Kaga said, but I ignored him, no matter how much him saying my name made my heart flutter. "Hey, moron." He grabbed my wrist as I dropped a few wooden skewers into the trash and spun me to see him.

"I'm not going to talk about it because I’ll cry. I'm not going to cry at my sister's baby shower." I gritted my teeth, returning his stern glare to try and make myself feel tougher.

"Why are you crying then?" He smirked and I sneered, noticing the wet drop roll down my cheek. I rushed to catch it with my unclaimed hand.

"He looks like one of them. Or he reminds me, anyway." I pouted, looking away from my instructor as he continued to hold my wrist. I'm sure he could feel my pulse race as my fear returned, mixed with the excitement of how close he was. I struggled to control my emotions when his grip tightened. I wasn’t intimidated. It was almost comforting, encouraging me to spill my guts right there in my sister's kitchen.

Suddenly, I was pulled towards him and enveloped in warmth and his scent. Slightly smokey, although whatever cologne he used did a good job of covering it up. I tried to look up from the chest I was being pushed against, but his hand settling on my head forced my gaze forward. My heart was pumping blood to my cheeks at an alarming rate and it was so loud I couldn't hear his. The pent up frustration I felt towards Noburu broke free from the weak dams I put up and my tears fell fast. My fist clenched on Kaga’s chest, angry that I had let someone I hardly knew so close. Before, I would have never gone out 'dates' with someone I enjoyed the company of- although I didn't really think of them in that way. I would have closed myself in my home, trying to keep to myself, not wanting to grow connections in case my father found me and I would have to leave everyone I had grown to love. It made it harder to justify how much safer I and those people would be if I left. I was mad at myself for letting go.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat in the doorway of the kitchen. I darted back, making sure to turn my back to wipe my eyes before turning back to cleaning, pretending like nothing had happened. "Juna wants to cut the cake." It was Ayumu who spoke up, walking over to the fridge, between me and Kaga. Too afraid to talk in case my voice wavered, I nodded and walked out the room, heading to the table everyone was surrounding.

~~~~~~

The party pretty much drew to a close after the gender reveal. It's a girl, but no one's surprised. Juna had been going on about it for weeks. Even before they could tell what the gender was.

"I'm gonna have a little Katsu of my own!" Juna cried with joy as she sat in front of the pile of gifts in front of her.

"At least give her a similar name. It'll be confusing if you give her the same as mine." I complained, picking up the wrapping paper she threw around the room. Thanks to my silent moment with Kaga, I was able to calm down enough to act normal for the rest of the party. All the instructors had gone home and it was just us and Kanto.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kanto asked as I walked into the kitchen with a trash bag in hand. He was cleaning the dishes while Juna enjoyed herself to her heart's content. I nodded, hoping I wasn't giving any signals that said otherwise.

"Well... I, um... I saw Noburu earlier." His voice was low, scared that if he told me he'd set me off again. I froze mid-way picking up the trash and recovered as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, he... He kissed me." My own voice was also low, afraid that if I said it aloud it would cement the end of our friendship. Kanto spun around to look at me and I tried to stop frowning. "It's fine... Kaga got him off me before I could spiral." I bit my lip, continuing my cleaning to distract myself.

"I'm sorry." Is all I hear Kanto mumble as I escape the room.

~~~~~~

That night, I returned to the dorm but found that I didn't want to sleep yet. My mind was racing, the ring my mother left for us in my fingertips as I sat on my couch. I looked for an engraving in the inside of the band. Nothing. The clear crystal, which I'm sure was a diamond; too small for me to tell if there was anything odd going on. There were several smaller ones dotted around it.

"Could it be to do with the make? Well, it's not like I can tell." I sighed. I hardly wore jewellery anyway. I was hopeless trying to find clues. "Maybe the detectives on the case discovered something?" I got up and made my way to one of the common rooms to use a computer.

It was the dead of night, so silent I thought I might have gone deaf. Luckily, the hallway lights were always on. Pulling out a chair, I brought the file up before I even sit down. The notes say that they found wording embedded in the jewels. Nano-sized. But they couldn't make any sense of it.

"Juno charges towards Juna, aiming for Katsu."

‘Well, that's not cryptic all.’ I sighed, slightly stunned to find both my and my sister's names. I decided my best bet would be to look up the meaning behind our names.

‘As a boy's name, Katsu means victory. Juna means woods and south. Could there be a battle in the woods or something?’ I frowned my brows, feeling wildly out of my depths and kind of silly for looking such things up on a school computer. Looking up the address of the murder, I looked at Google Maps because I knew I wouldn't be able to travel anywhere anytime soon. I dragged the picture south as far as I could, but nothing caught my eye.

The woman murdered, my mother's friend, it seemed, was found in a lake just outside Tokyo. Surrounded by woods.

"Oh?" I gasped when I s awthat there were cabins for sale in those same woods. They had been around for years, it seemed, and a community had been made there. With a small supermarket and diners, it looked like a 20 person village.

"Could she..?" I led off, wondering if my mother could have moved there to hide. "No, she'd be too close." But the fact irked me in a way that I wanted to check. There was a link to the real estate agents website. There, I found a phone number. Without thinking much, I called it, not considering how late after office hours it was.

"Thank you for calling Juna Estate Agents. We are always happy to answer your questions, but you've caught us after office hours. We open at 8 am every day, so please don't hesitate to ca-!" I hang up before the woman's voice on the voicemail can finish.

‘I shouldn't be doing this.’ I think. I know. I shouldn't be tempting myself with the idea. It would only get my hopes up and I'd only come crashing down when I exhausted all the leads I might find.

"She's dead." I reminded myself, pushing my father's questions to the back of my head, and turned off the computer.

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday came around and I was particularly exhausted. The last two nights had been the worst I had had in a while and I almost fell asleep cutting my own hair.

Heading to the cafeteria, notebook in hand, looking down at the floor, I was almost sleepwalking. Thankfully, I was pulled out of my dream-like state by a certain excitable morning person.

"Katsumi, you look so cute!" Naruko squealed upon seeing my now short hair. It was cut just shy of my shoulder, hugging the ear I pulled it behind. My hair was still white, too scared to dye it again in case I messed something up. Juna was always the one that did it for me and I didn't want to bother her.

"Thanks. It's easier to maintain this way." I laughed uneasily, hiding the true reason I prefered it short. My 'uncles' liked pulling on my hair. It’s hard to grab when it's like this. With a skip in her step, Naruko pulled me into the cafeteria.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I asked as we sat down, putting my heavy eyelids to the back of my mind.

"Chiba bought me a gift just because. It was so cute." She squealed, holding her cheeks as if her smile hurt. I cocked my head.

"Why’s he buying you gifts?" I asked before taking a spoonful of cereal.

"Oh shit, I didn't tell you?" She gasped and I shook my head, still chewing. "We're dating."

Instantly, I started choking at the gasp of air I took in when she told me. She asked me if I was okay and I put up a singular finger to tell her I'd just need a minute to recover.

"Si-Since when?" Taking the napkin she held out for me, I quickly wiped the milk covering the sides of my lips. I tried to ignore the fascinated stares of the male population around us.

"Hmm, a couple of months, I think? You'd have to ask him, he's the one that keeps track of it all." She waved of her unbothered-ness and continued eating as if I hadn't almost just died. "That reminds me, how was the party?"

Blushing, I tried to push the memory of Kaga holding me to the side as I reported how utterly bored I was for the rest of the event. "Her friends are all musicians, so they were mainly talking about their next concerts. Someone asked Juna if she was returning to the orchestra and she started balling." I forced a chuckle, really feeling sorry for my sister who couldn't accomplish the dream she wanted. She would have to settle to play for us and her daughter when she's old enough to play herself. I was sure Juna would push the joys of playing an instrument on her, or any future children she intended on having.

"What about the instructors?" Her wiggling eyebrows were enough to tell me she thought something kinky happened. I blushed but said I didn't notice because I was so busy. "You sure?" She dragged out her question, sliding into the seat next to mine, peering into my face. I stuffed my mouth with the rest of my cereal and jumped up, pointing to the door like I was in a rush to get to class. "You can't hide from me, Katsumi! I'm trained for this!"

~~~~~~

At the end of the day, I was sitting in the Instructor's Staff Room as usual, but couldn’t concentrate on my work. In the silence, my mind kept trailing to that clue my mother supposedly left for me. ‘Should I go looking for her? What if I end up leading someone to her? Could she be alive?’

As I thought, I didn't notice Kaga talking. Suddenly, I feel a blow on the back of my head and I jumped. "What're you spacing out for?" He glared down at me and I blushed an apology. When I tried to go back to work, he grabbed the arm of my spinning chair and directed it towards him, pinning me down by grabbing the other side.

"Are you still hung up on that kiss?" He whispered, his face incredibly close, gaze so strong I felt like I couldn't look away. "I can give you one if it helps you forget." The smirk on his face told me he was teasing, but I couldn't help my imagination run wild.

‘He's your instructor, Katsumi” That's not appropriate.’ I told myself off and shook my head 'no'.

"What're you spacing out for then?" He kept interrogating me, making no move to back down.

"I... I didn't get much sleep last night." I muttered, scared if I talked too loud I would stutter over every word.

"You have your pills. Take them." He demanded and I looked away, embarrassed I needed help to even sleep. I felt pathetic. When I didn't respond, Kaga stood up straight and returned to his office. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and returned to work, completely forgetting about any possibility of finding my mother.

~~~~~~

Working away at my desk, trying to distract myself from any thought about the woman sitting just outside my office, Ayumu stormed in with a stern look on his face.

"Someone keeps accessing a case file on the database." He dropped the papers on my desk after making sure the door was closed behind him. I looked down and found a solved case from over a decade ago. "I looked at the security cameras pointing at the computer used and guess who I found." He slapped another sheet down with a dishevelled and tired-looking Katsumi pictured on it. My brows furrowed at this suspicious behaviour.

"I'll deal with it." Wanting to be the first one to hear her explanation, I slid the files into my desk. Ayumu's brows flickered together before he realised what I said. I glared up at him, daring him to argue, but instead, he excused himself, walking right back out the door as fast as he came in.

~~~~~~

"I can't believe we were caught making out on security cameras!" Naruko, almost giddily, cries out after telling me an instructor had confronted both her and Chiba about inappropriate behaviour in the common rooms. Apparently, they were getting hot 'n' heavy before escaping to her room and they got caught. Although, that's not the part of the story I was fretting over.

‘I would have been caught sneaking on the computers in the middle of the night. Are there rules against that?’ I have to stop myself from pulling at my hair as I freaked out. Kaga or Ayumu would have gladly said something if I was doing anything wrong. ‘Should I come clean before they need to? No, that's a horrible idea. I'd be admitting my own guilt.’ I shook my head at my internal conversation, Naruko too self-absorbed to realise. She was walking to me the Instructor's Staff Room before lunch because I was tasked with delivering some papers to Kaga. ‘Oh god, what if this is an excuse to get me here?’

~~~~~~~~

At lunch, Katsumi knocked on the door of my office. Her head peeked in first, her short bob only leaning slightly. I found that style on her so sexy. Her white hair against her fair skin. Her neck on display for every man to see. I had to stop myself from staring her into the ground as she approached my desk with light steps, scared for some reason. That's when I remembered the case file she was caught staring at.

"Instructor Akiyame asked me-."

"What were you doing looking at these?" I cut her off, pulling the papers out and dropping them in front of me as she put the stack she had down. She froze, staring at the first page like it had just threatened her life. I watched her gulp, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear, giving herself time to think. She couldn't look at the glare I had on my face and I couldn't say I wasn’t amused. She'd been caught and she knew it, thinking she could just magic her way out of here by not answering me? No way.

Standing up, I walked around the desk to meet her gaze. She stumbled back, but I could tell she wasn’t terrified. Not like that guy at the party. Her eyes were wide, but not with fright. It was almost curiosity that pulled her in. She gulped again as I cornered her into the desk.

Just as I was about to ask again, she announced her reasonings. "My... My mother was a witness in that case." She bit her lip, turning away and her hair fell, blocking my view of that innocent guilty expression. I was almost annoyed that I got to miss it. I knew she had more to say, the absence in the movement of her chest told me she's holding her breath, waiting for me to push her further.

"She left me a ring before she ran away. It was a piece of evidence." She continued to report as I dropped a hand either side of her on my desk. She leaned so far back she might as well have been sitting on the surface. I looked down and her thigh in the tight trousers of the academy uniform widened as she pressured backwards.

"I thought she was dead... But my... My father kept asking me where she was... So I got curious." Her voice was trembling now, so I knew she was remembering her time in that underground torture chamber. My eyes narrowed, heart-stopping when I heard her frail noises. It angered me that she had to go through that. For her whole life. And it angered me that I didn't try looking for her when she didn't show up in the hotel. I had an inkling that something was up. A body can't be incinerated like that, no matter how much of the building went up in flames. I should have followed my instincts, but I let Ishigami's facts get the better of me. Our Chief even had to talk me down. I was so angry at her for running in. It was such a stupid move. Even still, I remembered her saving me. Even if some people told me it could have been a hallucination caused by the lack of oxygen I was getting because of all the smoke I had inhaled. I never let Ishigami change my actions. So, why did I then?

It was even harder when we found the woman at the club who looked just like her. The only thing that was different was her hair colour and the way she acted when we were far from her. She was comfortable, completely in her element as she pushed that guy into the bar. She almost seemed bored by the constant string of criminal activities in that club. I almost believed it wasn't her when she stood on the foothold of the stool and bent over the bar to get close and personal with the bartender, her dress just covering her most discreet place.

Yet, I saw the fluster on her cheeks when she turned to confront the suspicious man in the club she was meant to protect. I’ll be honest, I didn't think she had it in her to entice a man like that. On purpose. Not like the way she's intrigued me. Her unconscious movements and reactions to the way I treated her was a force that I hadn't enjoyed before. I always found myself wondering how far I could push her before she got mad and stormed away, not afraid to take the work I had given her before I even finished my demands.

I backed up when I heard her sniff. Her arm darted in front of her eyes so I couldn't see and I started to feel guilty that I was the cause of it.

"I keep telling myself that she's dead, but I can't help thinking that she's out there. I even called this estate agent, using the clue in that ring, but it was too late at night and I backed out." She was pouring her heart out to me as she cried, still hiding her true pain from me. I sighed, wrapping my arms around her because it seemed like it helped her. She grabbed the sleeve of my arm. Not to push away, but to help support herself.

‘Moron.’ I wasn’t calling her one, she was perfectly allowed to be reacting like this. She was a broken girl who went through a traumatic event. I was blaming myself for feeling the feelings that I was. I noticed the way she bit the tip of her thumb when she was stressed, not because of an interrogation tactic, but because her frowning brows looked so cute. I noticed the way she lifted her glasses onto her head the second she could because she got so annoyed by them. I noticed the way she could just brush Ayumu's teasing off and how she had grown so used to all the men in the academy talking to her. She had calmed down since the beginning of the year, when she couldn't even sit down on a bed next to me.

Now that I think about it, maybe that was for a different reason as well? She was always so cautious, so willing to prove herself to everyone else, I wondered how she would react if she knew how I felt? How I thought about her at night when I finally got a moment of silence away from Four Eyes or sudden changes to my schedule.

My gaze fell to the back of her neck, exposed under the hair that floated over her shoulders and I was angry with myself that that was how I reacted in the moment. It wasn’t appropriate and not okay. And, even though I say that, I couldn't help but be happy that I was the one that could hold her. I was the one that could back her up into a wall and tease her. She wouldn't tell me off, not like she did to Ayumu when he got too personal. I was the one that knew how her outdated sense in music calmed her down. I might not have known how much she was struggling, but I knew how to help her.

~~~~~~~~~

As I stood in Kaga's arms again, I couldn't help but think how safe I felt with him. His arms were so strong and his chest was hard but soft. The heat radiating off him would otherwise be unbearable but the way his breath blew on the back of my neck as I cried into him, it was tolerable. The cigarette smell mixed in with cologne didn't bite at my nose the same way my father did, he only ever smelt like the acidic stench cigars gave him. The glares he gave me were more encouraging than anything, daring me to do better. The way he held me on missions may be temporary and full of the facade we were trying to portray, but my heart raced every time. Sure, whenever a guy got into my personal space I'm embarrassed, unused to a towering figure that could be kind and protective, but with Kaga, it was different. I didn't know how, but it just was.

However, embarrassment quickly consumed me. I'm reminded of how unprofessional this was. I was meant to be a student learning to be a detective. Not a little girl who cried every time she got in her head.

Taking a deep breath, I drew back and Kaga eased his grasp but didn't fully let me go. I looked up at him with an uneasy gaze and there was a look in his eyes that I didn't recognise. It was almost scary. He was the devil Instructor, so who's surprised? But this... This was different. It was the look he had when he pulled Noburu off me and I wanted to run away from it, too ashamed for him to see me act so deplorable.

Inching back further, he seemed to come to his senses and let me go entirely. The cool rush of loneliness almost made me miss it. Almost.

I was about to apologise for how I had been acting when the school bell rang, signally the end of our lunch break.

"Moron, don't just stand there, get moving." Kaga’s expression had turned into a scowl again and he hit the side of my head with the papers I had previously set down. The light hud reminded me of how he hadn't done that since I returned. Had he been holding off until he knew I was completely healed? And he insulted me, something he had also been easing back into. I likeed the push of encouragement and my tears dried quicker than I would have liked. It was so childish to calm down so quickly. Almost like I was having a tantrum and someone just gave me a piece of candy. With the knowledge of that, I blushed and bowed before running out of the office, having dried my face on my sleeve.

#voltage fanfic #voltage games #her love in the force #hlitf ayumu #hlitf goto #hlitf ishigami #hlitf kaga #hlitf soma #hlitf shinonome #hlitf fanfic #hlitf #crime #oc #ooc #mafia #mob #police #detectives

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xbellaxcarolinax · 5 years ago

Text

Forging a Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 11- Arvid/ The Sacrifice

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 4160

Warnings: Some violence.

10- Requests

AN: Thank you guys for the notes and reblogs 😊

...

Gold.

Something about the yellow metal was hypnotic, causing both wealth and greed.

Ivar and Arvid had watched her work in tense silence, not being able to take their eyes off the shinning metal in her delicate hands. Her fingers worked tirelessly in the way her father had taught her. It was meticulous and tedious, far from the stylings of deadly weaponry.

Floki was quite pleased.

It looked beautiful on Helga, decorating her pale collarbone like a queen. She should be a queen.

Helga's smile was brighter than the summer sun as she lightly touched the pearls embedded in the gold.

"My husband put you up to this?" She asks her, bending down to the young Moorish girl now in her care.

"Floki insisted." Artemis nods

"Tanaruz, look how pretty the gold shines." The child stares at the necklace uninterested. The poor girl appeared so lifeless and Artemis watches her with sad eyes. She didn't deserve such sadness, no one taken away from their home deserved it.

"And who is this?" Ivar asks, crawling over to the girl. He reaches a hand out towards her as a friendly invitation, but the child let's out a shrill scream in reaction. She was so frightened that her screaming didn't sieze until Ivar pulled away completely.

Helga reacts immediately, pulling the girl to her side and rocking her back and forth in comfort. Floki sighs, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration as Ivar casted him a look of confusion.

Artemis watches the girl cower into Helga's skirts, the tears spilling from her eyes like waterfalls. If she recalled correctly, the girl was from Moorish Spain, which meant she spoke the language of Arabs. Many Moorish merchants often flocked towards the south of the Mediterranean, selling their silks and spices.

The language was difficult, so much more that the northern tongue.

Artemis had grown up hearing it, her father and brother almost fluent from their travels selling their work, and she was able to pick up on it here and there. She wouldn't be the best, but she probably knew enough to speak to the scared girl.

She closes her eyes for a moment, searching her mind for basic words, and when she opens them, Ivar was watching her in confusion.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I'm thinking."

"Well do not hurt yourself." He snorts. Artemis let's a smile slip at his teasing, getting down on her knees beside him so that she may attempt to speak with the girl.

"Your name is Tanaruz?" She tries in her broken Arabic, immediately feeling Ivar stiffen beside her. The child's watery brown eyes looked at her in awe, but she remains silent, nodding her head in response

"Artemis." She points to herself, smiling at the girl. Helga watches their exchange with keen eyes, absentmindedly petting the girl's dark sleek hair.

"How do you know my language?" Tanaruz asks her timidly, trying to shrink away from Helga's touch. She reminded Artemis so much of herself, scared and alone.

"Your people trade with mine." Artemis tells her, searching in the folds of her cloak to produce a shiny red apple. She offers it to the girl with a smile, watching in satisfaction as she grabbed hold of it without hesitation.

"Helga is kind. She will treat you well." Artemis speaks as best she could. Helga smiles now that Tanaruz was calmer.

"So, you can speak other languages?" Ivar asks, teasily yanking at one of Artemis's curls to get her attention. She scowls, turning to look at him and his little grin.

"Not very well," She mutters, "I can barely speak yours properly." Ivar chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"You have a terrible accent." He replies, grinning when she scowls again, but it was just for show. Both Floki and Helga watch their exchange with wide eyes, shocked at the playful nature they had with each other.

Artemis rips her eyes away from Ivar's teasing ones in favor of looking back at Tanaruz. She leans forward, holding out her hands encouragingly to her. Tanaruz hesitates but finally lowers the apple to her lap to grasp her hands. They were so small and cold, and she shook like a frightened rabbit.

"Do not be afraid." Tanaruz blinks at the statement, twisting her body round to look up towards Helga and Floki before glaring at them.

"They killed my mother," The girl begins, "And took me away from home." Artemis was stunned into silence for a moment. She licks her lips and sighs, lowering her head in sadness for the girl. Tanaruz was traumatized, and she had every reason to feel resentment.

"What does she say?" Floki asks with arms crossed. He was growing tired of the interaction. This must have been what he meant about losing his patience.

"She is distressed. She says her mother was killed." Artemis answers, her eyes never leaving the girl who had tears in her eyes again. She squeezes her little hands in comfort before turning to look at Ivar. He was not at all invested in the situation, but his interest only peaked whenever Artemis let the foreign language tumble from her lips.

"Do you have a god?" She asks Tanaruz, and the child nods, moving away from Helga to get a better look at the girl who spoke her language.

"Allah." She says.

"Pray to him. He will give you strength." Tanaruz sniffles, looking up at Artemis through her thick lashes. After a moment she nods, turning back to bury her head in the soft wool of Helga's bodice.

"What did you tell her?" Helga asks frantically, her large blue eyes inquisitive.

"I told her you are a kind woman," Helga smiles at this, "And that she should find comfort in her god."

"Her god wont help her." Ivar snorts, taking one last look at Tanaruz before crawling to the door.

"Perhaps not," Artemis sighs again, moving to stand, "But she is young. She needs comfort." Ivar grumbles, before looking to the older couple.

"I hope Artemis has pleased you in her work. Floki, Helga?" Helga smiles and nods, gripping at the gold around her neck lovingly. Floki waves his hand aimlessly, but he offers Artemis the smallest of smiles, a genuine one that she'd never seen before.

"The Chrisitian is talented, that much is evident."

Ivar smirks, pride swelling in his chest as he glanced at Artemis. She was looking at Tanaruz with such sad eyes, and he knew she sympathized for the girl.

They leave the humble home, and Ivar decides he wanted to sit by the beach before heading home. The hood of his cloak flies off his head as the winds grew stronger at the waters edge. Artemis trails behind him, plopping beside him when he motions for her to sit.

"You gave the girl an apple." He says, eyes following the crashing waves.

"I did." She looks down towards the sand that surrounded them, grabbing a fist full of it and watching as the wind drags it away from her skin.

"Did you take it from the kitchens?" He asks, though his tone wasn't angry, "Stealing is very bad, you know." The words were said in a childlike form, and he finally turns to look at her. His cloak was large on her but she wore it faithfully, something that seemed to bring him great satisfaction.

"I would never steal," She stresses, scooping up more of the cold grainy sand into her hand, "Prince Ubbe gifted it to me."

"Ubbe?" Ivar voices his confusion, pursing his lips. He lays back against the sand, bringing an arm behind his head to comfortably watch the passing gray clouds, "Ubbe gifts you things now?"

"Only apples when he can." Ivar hums, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the frigid wind nip at his skin. He breathes in the cold salty air, exhaling through his nose like a little bull. He then moves his head to the side, glancing at Artemis shivering viciously despite the warm cloak he'd given her.

"You cannot handle the cold." He says, reaching up to brush his fingers through the fur at her collar. She flinches slightly but does not move away, finally bringing her gaze to his large fingers and then to his eyes.

"The cold does not exist in my home. Only the heat," She looks up at the gray sky and the lack of sunlight, "And the sun."

"Sounds terrible." Ivar snorts, pulling his hand away. He sits up, squinting when the grains of sand whip against his face. He sighs with a roll of his eyes when he sees Artemis burrow her red cheeks into the warmth of the fur.

"You're like a baby bird," He says, "Weak and fragile." He turns over onto his hands and stomach, smiling at her unamused look.

"Come on, baby bird. Time to go home."

...

Artemis would not miss the winter.

That much was clear when the frost began to melt, and the spring flowers slowly began to bloom. The hills were now turning a luscious green, along with the forests and mountains. Norway was a land full of life in the wild. The birds came back to sing their song of rebirth, and the deer pranced in between the trees. There was beauty that Artemis did not wish to see at first, but she could not deny it anymore.

The harsh winter winds slowed into a chill breeze. Thick furs were required less, eventually stored away for the next winter to come. The usual stews were cooked less as the cold nights turned pleasantly cool.

She noticed that Ivar enjoyed the change in seasons. For one, he could crawl about better than he could in the snow, but his most preferred way to travel was now on his new chariot. That was Floki's surprise for the crippled bastard those weeks ago, but he couldn't test it properly until the snow melted away.

She had always compared Ivar to a child when it came to certain areas of emotion, and his wild antics and anger only proved it to her more, but when she'd watch him on his chariot pushing through the newly blooming trees, she all she saw was a man ready for war.

Ivar was practically at his happiest, beating the reins on the back of the white mare that galloped ferociously over the dew coated grass. His usual brooding features were smoothed over with that of contentment, that even the helmet he wore could not hide his beaming features.

Ivar would often interrupt her chores in order to accompany him to his chariot practices, whether it was her practicing her mending with Aria, or at the blacksmith's shop where he knew she preferred to be. After crafting Ivar's precious axe and Helga's gift from Floki, the people of Kattegat began to flock to the forge, requesting minisucle items such as a silver candle holders for a wealthy home, or iron nails and tools for the average farmer.

Then she began getting issued gifts.

They started out small, in the form of an extra meal or bath. Then they increased in value. She was given a comb made of bone, similar to the one Margrethe had let her use long ago. Ivar claimed her wild hair needed taming. Then she was given a fleece blanket. It was of simple construction, nothing special, but the material was nice, andn he wouldn't have to sleep blanketed in her cloak anymore.

Despite the gifted items, Ivar never gave her anything personally, his pride wouldn't allow it. He preferred to send a thrall in his place.

One of the last items was one she was surprised to see. It was a golden cross pendant belonging to one of the monks of the monestary before he passed. It was the only connection she had to home, and Ivar had allowed her to have it. When she tried to thank him humbly, Ivar would brush her off and send her away.

"He's a pining dog, can't you see?" Arvid tells her with a laugh one day as she sat repairing weapons for the other princes. Hvitserk's axes and daggers were particularly worn out from his first raids in the Mediterranean. Even Bjorn had given her his weapons for repair.

"Pining? The only one pinning here is you, Arvid," Artemis couldn't hide the smirk from stretching over her lips.

They often danced around each other, a flirtatious battle that would remain unexplored. There was a flame there, that much was true, but it would not evolve. It was nothing more than a platonic friendship.

Her long braided hair fell over her shoulder when she turned to look at the young blacksmith, a slight blush dusting his pale cheeks, but there was an amusement in his blue eyes.

"You mean to tell me that you do not see those things he gives you as lovesick gifts? Ivar has always been angry and stubborn, but I've never seen him like this. I've known him my entire life."

"Don't be ridiculous. Ivar has always hated me." Artemis responds, passing her finger over a nick on the tip of Ubbe's dagger. It was a simple fix, but Arvid was a great distraction.

"Oh? If that were the case, then he wouldn't have threatened me at the point of his axe." Artemis stops her movememts, quickly glancing at Arvid who quietly stoked the fire. The fire blazed as roughly as the beating of her own heart.

"What do you mean?" Her voice rose an octave as she voiced her confusion fiercely.

"What I mean is," Arvid begins, bending down to meet her eyes, "That Ivar sees me as a threat upon winning your affections." He placed his hands upon her small shoulders, holding that charming smile that made her pleasantly nervous.

"Which also means," He continues, "That if he were to see us now, he'd kill me."

Arvid had always adored her eyes. He gazed into them until he settles on her lips. He was so close that he could almost hear her little heart hammering in her chest.

He smiled, moving forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips, the soft muscle moving against his instantaneously. It wasn't passionate in any way, but it was soft and kind, a simple caress of lips that could leave anyone wanting more. It was nothing like Sigurd's ale covered kiss, desperate and messy. Arvid's felt like a farewell.

Artemis enjoyed his kiss more than she thought she would, and she took in a shaky breath when they pulled apart. Her eyes fluttered and her lips remained pursed, until she heard Arvid's deep chuckle.

"I thought I'd do that now, as I'll probably never get the chance to again." She says nothing, clearly not understanding him. Arvid stands, turning from her to stoke the fire that began to diminish.

"What are you talking about?"

Arvid offers her a sad smile, running a hand through his dark hair that curled just below his broad shoulders.

"I am to be married," He reveals with a shrug, "It is time for heirs, and father has chosen a suitable wife." Artemis sighs, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a distraction, but she offers Arvid a timid smile.

"You would have been a suitable match, if you were a free woman," Arvid's eyes follow the crackle of the fire, wiping his brow when the sweat began to build, "But I see now Ivar intends to keep you for himself."

Artemis continues her work, putting on the leather gloves and standing beside him. She let's the flames lick at the dagger with a pair of pincers.

"The prince intends to keep me as property, he has made that quite clear."

Ivar was master of fickleness, a character that no one could read. He wasn't particularly kind to her. Sometimes he'd reprimand her without reason when he felt he was being too soft-hearted. She had grown used to his sudden outbursts against her.

"Do not fool yourself, silly girl," Arvid laughs, giving her a crooked smile, "Ivar isn't alone in his affections." Artemis snorts.

"You've gone mad."

"I only say what I see," He replies, eyeing the cross about her neck, "There is a fondness there between you."

"He finds me useful, you mean."

"You lie." Arvid accuses.

"I do not!"

"Your eyes wander over him."

"I..." Artemis hesitates, the metal pincers threatening to snap in her deadly grip. She would be in such denial to lie and say her eyes have not wandered towards the youngest prince.

"My eyes do not wander." She finally says, removing the dagger from the fire and plancing it on the anvil. She does nothing but stare at the bright colored metal.

"You're lying." Arvid taunts, moving away from her as if he were truly bothered. Perhaps he was.

"Ignorance does not suit you, Artemis," He concludes with a sigh, "But ignorance is bliss."

...

She pricked herself with the needle again, cursing in her language before sucking at the bead of blood forming on her fingertip.

"You must learn patience, Artemis."

Artemis watches the redhead's skilled hands move quickly, bone needle going in and out at a rapid pace.

"I have no patience for needle work." She groans, dropping the fabric onto her lap. Aria sucks her teeth.

"If you intend on helping, then pick up the banner and try again." Artemis huffs, picking up the thick fabric, working her already sore fingertips to the bone. Aria was on a mission to help her with her terrible sewing skills, but it has proven to be a challenge.

"This is not my strongest point," She says, tongue sticking out slightly as she brought the fabric close to her face. She had lost her place and now had to find her way back to the previous stitch. Such a tedious task.

"You can't thread a needle but can easily beat metal with a hammer? What sense is that?" Aria snorts, putting down her work to flick Artemis on the forehead. The action made her laugh, swatting Aria's hand away.

"We all have our strengths."

They worked in silence for a while, both glad that it was not their turn that day to milk the cows or deal with the stable animals. The female thralls of most households were to report to the Great Hall, helping in the last minute preparations for the journey ahead, which meant the mending of many sails and banners.

Queen Lagertha was currently out checking on the fortifications. The snow had caused some damage, but not enough to cause alarm, and she believed spring would be kind to them.

"There will be a sacrifice soon, you know." Aria speaks above a whisper, stopping her movements. She seemed extremely excited about it.

"A sacrifice?" Artemis blinked, her blood running cold, "An animal?"

"No. A human. The Queen will choose someone of strong faith in their gods and sacrifice them. It is to gain favor for the army to succeed in England."

Artemis was left completely speechless. She's heard of such practices, but she'd put it to the back of her mind. Oddly enough, no one ever talked or mentioned human sacrifices, not even Ivar.

"You've gone pale," Aria laughs, reaching forward to place a hand on Artemis's cold cheek, "Are you unwell?"

"I do not know."

"Are you not familiar with sacrifices?"

"Of course not," Artemis hisses. Her hand were shaking and her chest felt tight, "Your people sacrifice?"

"We do. The Druids perform sacrifices every solstice," Aria explains, confused as to why Artemis was reacting negatively, "It is something that must be done if we are to please our gods, is this not the Christian way?"

"No!" Artemis squeals, catching the attention of the others in the hall. Embarrassed, she clears her throat and lowers her head until the stares stop and the isolated conversations began again. She notices the way the Queen's most trusted warriors watched her. If she remembered correctly, the fair haired one was Torvi, who she now knew was Bjorn's companion and mother to his childern. The dark haired one was Astrid, rumored lover of Queen Lagertha herself.

They were both beautiful and fierce, shieldmaidens in their own right. Artemis did not want to cross paths with them. They did not trust the weapon making slave that belonged to Ivar the Boneless.

"No," Artemis repeats quite breathlessly, "It is not the Chrisitan way," She pauses, "It is not the moral way."

"But it is the Pagan way. That is what the Chrisitan priests call my people." There was no kindness in Aria's voice when she spoke, mostly resentment, "The whole of Ireland has almost turned to the Christian religion, but a few factions remain faithful to the gods. These sacrafices must be done, Artemis," Aria says sternly, "They must be done if things are to return to normal,"

"But you do not believe in the same gods."

"No, I do not," Aria agrees, "But I will pray to my gods on the night of the sacrifice, and I hope they will hear me."

"And what will you pray for?" Artemis asks, bringing her eyes back to her mending. She hears Aria sigh.

"A better life, I suppose."

...

The drums were beating loudly, reverberating into the star filled sky. Torches were lit and hung around the center, illuminating the very center of the city. The air around them was ominous, and a shiver ran down Artemis's spine.

There she was, the Queen, looking as beautiful as ever to perform such a heinous act. Her ceremonial dress was bone white, but it would soon be covered in the blood of an innocent man. The sword in her hand glimmered as she placed the tip of it on the stomach on the man. He was a Jarl, and a willing participant. It was courage that Artemis had never known.

"Do not look away," Ubbe warns her, his blue eyes watching as the queen stabbed the willing sacrifice cleanly, "You will offend the gods." Artemis watched unwillingy, her nails pressing deeply into her palms.

Blood poured out from the man, the tip of the sword now visible from the other side of him. The Jarl did not scream, nor whimper in pain, but the blood kept flowing.

Artemis looks beside her as the brothers watched in fascination, Ubbe being the only one to reprimand her. Margrethe was in between Ubbe and Hvitserk, gripping their arms in anticipation. She seemed to be enjoying the scene. Sigurd was just as attentive, but he must have felt her gaze. He catches her eyes, staring intently at her for a moment. It was as if he were searching for something, but finds nothing. He motions for her to look back at the bloody scene with a jerk of his head before turning away.

Suddenly the crowd began to chant along side their queen:

For a good year and peace, may Thor watch over us

Artemis felt a knot forming in her throat, watching the pagan priest collect the blood in a golden bowl, sprinkling their faces with the thick crimson liquid. She immediately makes a noise of discomfort, closing her eyes at the sensation of the warm blood gliding down her face. The image was already engraved behind her eyelids. The sight of the dying man would be permanent.

The sacrificed man was dead, and placed upon the ground as if he were in a deep slumber. The fires burned long into the night as the people worshipped and prayed to their gods.

Helga moves to her side, grabbing her hand in the little comfort she could offer. Tanaruz burys her face in Helga's skirts. If Artemis was frightened, then surely Tanaruz was as well.

Shs feels the familiar tug on the hem of her dress, and she slowly lowers herself to her knees to meet the wide eyes of her crippled master. His eyes trace over her blood spotted face, immediately taking note of her frown.

"Are you afraid?" Ivar smirks, his own bloodied face quite fearsome in the light of the fires. He seemed calmer than ever, completely in his element when surrounded by death and blood.

"Are you afraid of our ways?"

She remains quiet, not sure how to respond. She wanted so much to hide in that moment. She wanted God to save her. She felt a loneliness like no other. A sadness reaches her dark eyes and Ivar's amusement faded at her frightened expression. She sniffles, little tears streaming down her cheeks, smearing the blood in their path.

"I am afraid." Ivar hears her whispered words despite the loudness of the drums. She wipes her nose with her sleeve, not meeting his eyes.

"Veikr," He sucks his teeth, "Stop your crying, baby bird. My legs ache and I wish to have ale. Let us go,"

...

Veikr- Weak

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog

#ivar #ivar imagine #ivarfanfiction #vikings #ivar lothbrok #ivarxofc #alex hogh andersen #vikings ivar #hvitserk #ubbe #sigurd #helga #floki

85 notes · View notes

justcallmehitgirl · 6 years ago

Text

Good Woman Part 4 (Peter Parker x Female Reader Smut)

Summary: Peter knows he’s getting in too deep.

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: smut, language, fluff, and some angst.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I meant to get this chapter out sooner, but I’ve been bar prepping during the day so my writing has been limited to my nights. I’m excited to see where this story goes so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are about to get interesting is all I can say for now. As always, thank you for reading! Your support really means a lot to me and inspires me to continue writing.

(4/21/20): I fixed some typos, grammar mistakes, character inconsistencies, etc. from my original posting. I also made some stylistic changes.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE // PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / STORY PAGE

“You wanna come over and watch ‘Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ after school? I just downloaded it yesterday!” Ned exclaims, bouncing on his feet excitedly.

Peter glances over, readjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder as students hastily brush past them towards the entrance doors, signaling that it’s the end of another day.

He gives Ned a half-smile. “Sorry man, I can’t today. I gotta work on some stuff.”

Ned’s eyes dart around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, “Spider-Man related stuff?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, just academic decathlon-related stuff.”

Ned knits his brows. “Academic decathlon? But you haven’t been to practice in weeks.”

Peter massages the back of his neck, his forehead creasing. “Yeah about that, I talked to Mr. Harrington and I’m stepping down from the team—”

“Dude, you can’t! You’re the only one who aced Physics, you can’t leave us!”

“Relax Ned, it’s all good cause I’ll be helping out with coaching instead.”

Ned knits his brows. “But Y/N Y/L/N’s in charge of coaching?”

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting up with Y/N after school.”

Ned stops in his tracks, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

“Wait, I think I hallucinated for a second. What are you doing after school?”

“I’m meeting up with Y/N.”

“Holy shit, you’re seriously going to hang out with Y/N? When did you start talking to Y/N?!”

“Chill, Ned, it’s not a big deal,” Peter shrugs, continuing to walk forward as Ned follows.

“Not a big deal? She’s one of the prettiest and smartest girls in our school. And you were just saying how hard you’ve been crushing on her for years.”

“Shhh, Ned! Besides, that was like a month ago.”

“So you don’t like her anymore?” Ned asks, raising his brows.

“I never said that.”

“So you’re in love with her?”

“Ned,” Peter groans. “It’s complicated.”

“How? When? I need details, Peter!”

Peter licks his lips, contemplating whether Ned should know the entire story.

“She just sat next to me in art class the other day and we started talking and then she asked me for help.”

“I can’t believe she asked you for help. You know she doesn’t give any guy at this school the time of day, right?”

“Gee thanks, Ned. And so what? She has a right to spend her time as she wants. She’s a busy person with a lot of responsibilities. She wants to go Ivy League you know.”

Ned just shakes his head. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes, stopping outside the doors of the library.

“I’m meeting her here.”

“You are one lucky dude.”

If he only knew, Peter thinks.

“Let me come with you,” Ned beams, tugging on Peter’s arm.

“What? No way!”

“C’mon, I need some entertainment this afternoon since you’re bailing on me.”

“Ned. . .”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.”

Peter playfully shoves Ned’s shoulder. “Thanks man, I’ll see you later.”

Peter heads inside, taking a quick look over his shoulder to see Ned still watching him intently. He motions for Ned to leave, who throws his arms up in mock frustration as he walks away.

Peter scans the library, his breath quickening as his eyes land on you. sitting at a table by yourself. You’re sitting alone, your chin resting on the palm of your hand with your eyes cast down at a textbook. Peter’s eyes are wide as he gazes at you for a few moments, admiring your serene expression. He’s become so used to being with you alone in the confines of your cozy bedroom, where it’s just the two of you wrapped up in each other, that it’s a bit jarring seeing you in such a similar state in public.

His hands feel clammy, imagining how to interact with you outside your bubble. He wonders if you’ll figure it out. Peter knows you’re smart—he’s sure you’ll figure it out eventually. But lately he’s been wondering what sort of image you’ve built in your mind as to Spider-Man’s true identity. He wonders if you think he’s some sort of suave Tony Stark-type, or a rugged Steve Rogers.

But he knows for a fact that you’ve probably never considered it could be him: Peter Parker. Peter Parker from Queens with no parents and no money who lives with his aunt in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. The same Peter Parker who spilled milk all over himself in the third grade, got teased every day in middle school, and was too much of a coward to tell you to your face how much he likes you.

Peter frowns and wonders if he’s actually jealous of his alter ego—his alter ego who got to hold you, kiss you, and touch you all over. He thinks he’s going crazy. But he knows that even though him and Spider-Man are one in the same, one got to call you his while the other would only ever pine for you.

The more he ponders, the more he just wants to turn right back around, walk out of the building, and watch “Batman v. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” with Ned. He briefly thinks it’ll be easier to just make up some excuse to stay away from you at school.

But there’s a part of him that simply aches to be around you as himself and give you the things that Spider-Man can’t. His heart pounds, silently hoping that maybe one day he will.

Peter draws in a deep breath and rakes a hand through his hair before continuing towards you. He grips the strap of his backpack. “Hey.”

You look up and smile, eyes bright. “Hi Peter.”

Peter gulps, tugging on the collar of his shirt as he slips into the seat across from you. “What’re reading?”

“U.S. Government,” you respond, lifting it up to show him the red, white, and blue cover like you’re Vanna White.

He chuckles lightly and unzips his backpack to take out his laptop. “Who do you have?”

“Mr. Grant. He’s tough, but he really prepares you for his exams. Plus,” you lean in close, voice hushed, “I think he’s secretly a softie, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you taking U.S. History now with Mrs. Taylor?”

Peter nods, booting up his laptop.

“Focus on the chapter takeaways at the end of each section. That’s where she usually gets her exam questions from. Oh, and try to volunteer a lot. She usually bumps up your grade if she sees you making an effort.”

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” Peter smiles.

“Of course,” you smile back and close your textbook. You both just smile at each other for a moment before you blink, looking away to start up your laptop. Peter clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he looks back at his computer screen.

“So, I was thinking,” you continue, “that we could go off of Mr. Harrington’s practice questions first. Then we can look online and compile some of our own. I found a bunch of older questions that they’ve asked in the past which we can use as a guide or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah definitely. I mean, I defer to the expert.”

“Great. Oh!” You reach down to dig through your backpack. “I brought index cards. I usually write the questions down on them so it’s easier to go through later.”

You fish out a few unopened packs before reaching across the table to offer them to Peter. He reaches over to take them, fingers lightly brushing against yours.

“Sorry,” he blushes, gripping the index cards tightly in his grasp.

“You’re fine,” you wave. “Thanks again for helping me with this. I was thinking about it more, and I realize I may have cornered you into it. I can be a little pushy.”

“Not at all,” Peter blurts quickly. “You didn’t corner me into it and you’re not pushy. I’m happy to help, and I’m pretty glad I can apart of the team in some way so I guess I should be the one thanking you for asking me.”

You smile. “We’ll call it even then. I feel the same too, by the way. I really miss being on the team if I’m being honest.”

“Why did you quit?”

You sigh heavily and shrug. “My course load is more intense this year so I had to make some changes. Plus I tutor after school so that’s absorbed a lot of my time.”

Peter cocks his head. “You tutor?”

“Yup, sixth and seventh grade math at Queens Rock Middle,” you beam.

“That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I feel like I’m really making a difference in their lives, which is pretty rewarding.”

“Yeah, I. . . uh. . . I wish I was helping people like you do,” he says lamely

Well, besides saving New York from impending doom from time to time, of course, he thinks.

“Well not to sign you up for something else, but they could always use more volunteers.”

Peter squints his eyes playfully. “I feel like you have a secret agenda going on here.”

“Of course, I need to groom a protege to take my place. It’s part of my evil master plan.”

“I doubt you have an evil bone in your body.”

You raise your brow. “Wanna bet?”

You eye him deviously, and Peter gulps—feeling a wave of tension blanket over you both. You suddenly laugh.

“I’m just kidding! Lighten up, Peter,” you tease.

Peter gives you a lopsided grin. He watches as your gaze lowers onto his mouth. Your smile falters.

He furrows his brows. “What?”

You blink and look away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I was just thinking we have a lot to get through this afternoon so we should get on it,” you murmur, voice tight.

Peter simply nods in response, mouth settling in a hard line as you turn your attention towards your computer screen.

You sit in silence for the next hour. Peter chews on his bottom lip while occasionally stealing a few glances over at you. You keep your eyes cast downward, attention fixed on scribbling down questions on the index cards laid out in front of you. He watches as a piece of hair falls over your face, and he clenches his fist to stop himself from reaching over to tuck it behind your ear.

“Hey Y/N.”

You both look up. Peter’s eyes immediately narrows while his jaw tightens.

“Hi Brad,” you greet, voice even and stoic. Brad’s eyes dart between you and Peter before settling on you, ignoring Peter entirely.

“So, are you ready for the Calc test on Monday?”

You give a half-shrug and respond, “I think so, although I’m struggling a bit with derivatives.”

“Same,” Brad breathes, throwing his hands in the air. “I was struggling like crazy when Mrs. Park was first explaining it."

You chuckle, “Agreed.”

“Well, if you’re still struggling with it, w-would you maybe want to study together this weekend? I’m a big fan of study buddies.”

Peter grips his pen tightly, feeling it start to snap in his hand. He wants to shout, Back off, Brad. She’s mine. Peter immediately admonishes himself—recognizing that such an outburst would be entirely weird and inappropriate. He knows you aren’t his, or even Spider-Man’s. You didn’t belong to anybody.

“Oh that’s so nice, I really appreciate the offer, Brad. But I prefer to study by myself. I’m not really great studying with other people, tend to get too distracted and stuff.”

Peter can sense that you notice Brad’s look of defeat so you add politely, “I’ll definitely let you know if I change my mind though.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m free whenever.”

You nod and plaster a smile on your face. Peter’s forehead creases as he watches Brad continue to gawk at you. You blink and smack your lips together. “So. . . um, me and Peter have to get back to writing up questions for academic decathlon.”

Your voice shakes Brad out of his stupor, face flushing. “Oh yeah sure, I’ll. . . uh. . . see you later.”

He waves awkwardly and hastily scurries away. You shake your head and continue working.

“I think he likes you,” Peter pipes in, eyes cast down as he busily scribbles on an index card.

You glance up, nose crinkling. “Brad? No way.”

“He was practically drooling over you,” Peter remarks.

“You think so?”

Peter purses his lips. “I’m sure of it.”

You smile. “Brad’s not a bad guy.”

“Are you. . . like. . . interested?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “No, not at all. Brad’s nice, but I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbles.

“Plus, just between us, I—I’m already seeing someone actually.”

Peter perks up at your response, but he keeps his eyes cast down. “Really? Do I know him?”

“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.”

“College guy, huh?”

You laugh. “Umm… no. Well, I don’t think so actually.”

“Is it serious?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, he sounds like a really lucky guy.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you beam, a flush creeping on your face as you turn your attention back to your index cards.

Peter quickly glances at you while the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

—

Peter does not move at first, body pressed near your window as he observes you.

You’re lying on your bed, a pillow tucked under your chest as your eyes scan your computer screen. He takes in the sight of you, from your oversized sweatshirt to your form-fitting black leggings. You toy with a lock of hair, the light emanating from the computer softly illuminating your face.

Peter finally lifts his hand to lightly knock, watching your head jerk in his direction. You smile brightly, waving your hand to motion for him to enter. He obeys, pushing open the window and slipping inside. You quickly shut your laptop close, moving it aside. You sit up as he approaches you, lifting up his mask to give you a kiss.

“How are you?” you ask against his lips.

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tease.

“I can’t help it, I’m with the girl of my dreams.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“Me? Not at all.”

You shake your head and look away bashfully.

“Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking at him. “I want to show you something.”

You tilt your head, and he grabs your hand. You stand up, and he leads you towards the window, gently tugging you along as he pulls his mask back down. You turn your head, and quickly glance over at your bedroom door. Will your parents notice that you’re gone?, you think. Would they freak out? Call the cops? Should you risk it?

But those thoughts are quickly squashed by the warm feeling in your chest as you bend down to crawl through the window, his hands lightly grasping your hips in support. As your feet land on the fire escape, your body straightens, your eyes looking up at the night sky.

Peter stands beside you, and you turn, brows quirked. “Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he pulls you close to him. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Hold onto me,” he whispers, voice hot and soft against the shell of your ear.

You loop your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you breathe.

You glance down, body tensing and bottom lip trembling.

“Are you okay?” He runs his arms over your hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Ready?”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

Peter peers down at you, his voice soft and soothing to compensate for his covered face. “Hey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You reluctantly nod and Peter exhales deeply. He takes a few steps backward before leaping off the fire escape, your face immediately burying in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes tightly. Your hair whips in the wind as Peter swings over the bustling city below, your grip tightening around his shoulders as you let out a surprised shriek at he momentum.

“Don’t be afraid!” Peter shouts, glancing down at you.

You breathe in deeply before lifting your head and opening your eyes. You blink as you hesitantly looks down, your eyes roaming over the cars zipping through the streets, the lights shining from street lamps, and the crowds of people drifting down the sidewalks.

“Everything looks so tiny,” you murmur, awe transforming your face.

“It’s cool, right?”

You look up, your eyes glistening as you nod excitedly. He grins underneath his mask, tightening his hold on you as he continues swinging from building to building. Your wide eyes dart around, mesmerized by the sight as you clutch him close as your heart beats wildly.

Neither of you had been in love before, but the thought crosses both your minds: “Maybe this is love.”

He feels you nuzzle your face against his chest, your body still and relaxed as you continue absorbing the sights and sounds surrounding you.

Peter eventually slows his movements, spotting a good place to stop and rest.

Once his feet meet the rooftop, you untangle yourself from his arms, jumping up and down exuberantly.

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I can’t believe you can do that all the time!”

“It’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Does it ever get old?”

Peter shakes his head. “No way, sometimes I’m just jumping out of my skin to get out here. To be above the ground, it makes me feel like a bigger part of the world.”

“Thank you for this.”

“I know I can’t give you much right now, and I can’t take you out on dates dressed like. . . this, but I wanted to show you a little piece of my world.”

“I really appreciate that.”

You pause for a moment, your forehead creasing before you continue, “Do you think you’d do this forever? The whole superhero thing I mean?”

“I honestly I don’t know. I feel like I should though. You see, when you can do the things that I can do and you don’t and then the bad things happen. . . they happen because you didn’t do anything to stop them.”

“That sounds like quite a lot to carry on your shoulders.”

Peter gives you a half-shrug. “You get used to it.”

You nod before looking away, your head tilting as you gaze up at the dark sky.

Peter watches you, your mouth

“It’s quite a sight,” you murmur.

His eyes never leave you as he responds, “It is.”

You hug yourself, your body shivering as a cool autumn breeze envelopes you.

“Cold?”

“Just a little.”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you close as he strokes your back. He feels you relax against him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his suit.

“My brown-eyed boy,” you hum softly.

You both begin swaying to the tune. Peter’s movements are a little clumsy, but your smiles encourage him to continue, even extending his arm to spin you around, earning him a giggle.

He slides his hand down your back, his fingers brushing against your bottom. As he starts to move his hand, you look up.

“You don’t have to stop. I like it when you touch me,” you whisper.

Peter licks his lips, feeling the familiar heat rising in his belly. His eyes dart around the empty rooftop over to the surrounding buildings.

“But. . . “

You take his hand, placing it over your covered center. He tilts his head, pulling his mask above his mouth as his throat bobs.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care. I want you,” you say, your voice husky.

Peter just nods dumbly, gently grabbing the back of your neck to press his lips against yours. The kiss is slow and soft, his hand resting below your ear as your breaths mingle. You press into him, your heart beating rapidly in tandem with his. Your tongues dance for dominance, the intensity building as your hand travels down his spine, his body quivering from your touch.

You pull your mouth away, turning your body in his arms to press your back against his chest. He runs his hands along your body, feeling his way from your waist up to your chest. You turn your head to kiss him again, moaning in his mouth as he massages your breast through your sweatshirt.

Your lips fall away from his, your mouth gaping as his other hand hovers over the waistband of your leggings.

“Please,” you whine.

Without missing a beat, he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his teasing fingers making you tremble. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder as he runs his fingers over lips, parting them slowly. He start to massage your clit, your wetness trickling onto his hand to help his movements.

The hand massaging your breast snakes underneath your sweatshirt, your nipple hardening instantly under his thumb. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him.

You grip onto his forearms as you rock against his hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Your eyes flutter open, your eyes fixed on the stars above you.

His fingers briefly leave your clit as he pushes them inside you. Your face flushes as your tight opening clenches around him, his touch drawing even more slickness from your folds.

“Do this feel good?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod. “You make me feel so good,” you moan. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

He removes his slick fingers from inside you, and you softly mewl. He continues caressing your clit, finger rubbing in steady circles. You tighten your grip on his arms, body tense. You grind erratically against him, his hard length nestled between your cheeks.

You start to babble incoherent words, filled with breathy gasps and moans.

“I want you to come for me,” he whispers, quickening his movements on your clit.

He places his lips on the side of your throat, licking and sucking your pulse point. You cry out loudly as you start to shake in his arms as you cum. He slips his fingers back inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him. He rocks against you, increasing the pressure against his crotch.

His lips leave your skin, head falling forward as his orgasm follows. He grunts, thrusting against you in short jerks as he releases.

He holds you firmly against him, cupping your pussy in his hand as his thrusts slow. Your body slumps against him, He turns you around in his arms to softly kiss you, as you practically melt in his embrace.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” you smile dreamily.

He smooths his hand over your hair. “You’d be the first.”

“You’re just being modest. I bet you get all the ladies in real life.”

Peter chuckles. “Maybe in a different life.”

“In a different life, huh? Well maybe in a different life I can say that I met you somewhere? Like when those couples say they didn’t meet on Tinder or something.”

He smiles. “Okay, where did we meet?”

You bite your lip. “Umm, how about on the bus?”

“The bus?”

“Yes, ‘Speed’ was one of my favorite movies growing up so I thought it was kind of romantic that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock got together at the end.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. He strokes your lower back. “Mental noted. Please continue.”

“Okay, hmm. . . how about I was coming home from school one day. All the seats were taken so I had to stand. . . but then you saw me and you were such a gentleman that you gave me your seat. Then we introduced ourselves, and you complimented my sweatshirt, which happened to be my favorite Mickey Mouse one.”

He hums in approval as you continue, “And then you saw the math book in my hands and—”

“And we talked about your love for math,” he finishes.

You look up and grin widely. “Yes, exactly. And then I noticed your Star Wars shirt and we talked about how I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movies.”

“Wait, how have you not seen the new Star Wars movies?”

“I’m a sucker for the originals. I still refuse to watch the prequels.”

“Blasphemy I tell you,” he teases. “But please, keep going.”

“But alas, we arrived at my stop so I had to leave, but you followed me even though your stop was blocks away. You walked me to the doorstep of my apartment building and then we exchanged numbers.”

“And we texted all day and night,” Peter murmurs.

“And then I saw you on the bus the next day, and the next day, and the next day. And then you finally asked me out.”

“I like our story.”

“Yeah, me too,” you yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. It’s getting late and I gotta get out of this suit,” he softly laughs, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

You knit your brows together, opening your mouth but the words fall from your lips as realization dawns on. You glance down at his crotch, your cheeks reddening.

“Are you sure you can take me home in that. . . state?”

“I’m not sure, this has never happened before,” he blushes.

You bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping your mouth. You place a chaste kiss on his lips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ready?”

You nod as he pulls his mask over the rest of his face. You inhale deeply as he leaps from the building your body still buzzing from your orgasm. You close your eyes, resting your head against him as the wind rustles through your hair.

Once Peter lands on your fire escape, he nuzzles his face against your hair before easing you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you.

“When will I see you again?”

He strokes the side of your face, closing your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know. My patrolling schedule is. . . unpredictable.”

“Okay,” you smile weakly, shoulders slumping.

Peter bows his head, wishing he could wipe the disappointed look from your face. “In our story, I take you to my favorite pizza spot.”

"Go on.”

“And then we get ice-cream. . . go to Astoria Park and sit in one of those benches to watch the sunset.”

“Does this date end with a goodnight kiss at my front door?”

“Sure. . . then I can awkwardly explain to your parents why I’m kissing their daughter.”

“My parents would love you.”

“They would?”

“Mhmm, as long as you don’t tell them that we sneak around at night, of course.”

He laughs. “Sounds fair.”

Peter wants that more than anything. He craves normalcy with you wants—he wants to meet your parents, walk you home from school, take you to the movies. He wants you to hang out with him and Ned and show you all the Star Wars prequels. He wants to call you his.

Peter closes his eyes, hoping this never ends. But soon another thought creeps up in his mind that makes his throat feel tight and chest hurt. He frowns, instinctively clutching you closer in his arms.

He knows that everything ends eventually.

Tag list: @thatpeterparkerfan / @professionalphangirluniverse / @julimelodi / @sighharrington / @merelymarianne / @soloseb / @superspideyy / @babyjesuscat / @stardust-ghost / @oh-annaa / @iloveyouironman / @nyeddleblog / @bloominess / @itsjust-evalyn / @shawnmendes-thewriter / @cotton-octopus / @ghostofdrfluke / @imofficiallyobsessed / @charismas-world / @f1zzy-izzy / @kissykissykissykissykissy / @thepeterfuckinparker / @ahajalen1 / @vhgirlforever / @sargentjamesbarnes / @icecoldghost / @space-princesssss / @undiadeestos / @teenageeggsneckpasta / @ lindabanri02222 / @franbway / @5sosuperntaural / @spookyanairwin / @spideyluke / @writing-panda-uwu / @yanderepeterparker / @tomshufflepuff / @slutforbuckybarnes / @mindset-jupiter / @mutuallynotmutual / @maybemona

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takingcourage · 5 years ago

Text

Strangers on a Train

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Note: No murderers or psychopaths here -- just some goofy fun with my favorite mind reader. It’s also woefully unpolished, so please forgive any mistakes that may appear. Real life has conspired against my writing efforts lately.

This piece was written for day 16 of the July Choices Challenge (Journey). Thanks to @julychoiceschallenge for the prompt and @krishu213 for the request! : )

That woman looks kinda familiar. Is she on something I watched on TV lately?

Drawing a staccato breath, Arden raised a hand to her cheek to make sure the wig was still secured. The long wavy locks tickled her ear with the movement, but they remained in place. While her hand was raised, she pushed the horn rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose, pausing at the tip as her finger slid down.

They'd left the house less than an hour ago. Had they already been discovered? Surely not yet. How pathetic.

She cast her eye in the direction of the voice, careful to train her focus on the shifting advertisements on the screen behind. The man she’d overheard was turned the opposite way, his own interest given fully to a blond woman making her way toward the stairs.

Phew.

"Here," Jaime interrupted, passing the slick rectangle of paper into her palm.

"Thank you," Arden answered after a beat, hoping that the Southern drawl sounded more natural to other ears than it did to her own.

He raised a brow. Sure you wanna keep this up?

Arden's chin jutted forward a fraction of an inch as she skimmed information on the ticket once more. The journey was only fourteen hours long. Most of that time, they'd be sleeping. Once Cassidy picked them up from the station in the morning, they'd be back to their normal selves.

You're right. Stupid question, Jaime amended as he shuffled closer.

She caught the sleeve of his jacket with a small smile. “I may not get any sleep. I have a mind to stay up and look out the window all night.”

Jaime chuckled as he slipped his fingers between hers. “We’ll see. Once we start moving, you may be lulled to sleep.”

“Maybe,” she wavered skeptically, glancing back down at the ticket in her other hand. Compared to the joy of traveling, sleep just didn’t seem very important.

As was the case with so many of their schemes over the years, this whole situation had begun with such an innocent start. Jaime had been the one to suggest that they turn the trip for Chris and Meta's wedding into a weekend excursion. She'd latched onto the idea, especially after realizing how easy it would be to make the journey by train.

From there, the plan had just sort of run away with her. The thought of reminiscing with her college friends had made her realize how much she’d changed in the years since she’d dropped out of school. Thinking about those changes led her to wonder what it would be like to assume another identity for a few hours.

Her persona had to be something fun -- something that would make her completely unrecognizable. Posing as an odor tester from Georgia was the perfect challenge to keep the trip interesting. She’d be able to shed the disguise well before the wedding festivities began, and none of the other passengers would ever be the wiser about having sat across the car from one of Northbridge’s rising celebrities.

Sucking a small breath as she handed off her ticket and ID, she let it out again slowly when she was given approval without incident. It was a good thing her license picture was from so many years ago. Age and a haircut had done a lot to change her features in the meantime, leaving her with a portrait that looked as unlike her normal appearance as it did today’s variation.

Smothering a giggle in her coat collar, Arden stepped up into the car and peered down its length. She shuffled forward in the narrow aisle, swinging her tote back in a gentle arc toward her stomach. It had been months since she’d been in a crowd of this size without feeling positive that someone would recognize her sooner or later. While she didn’t begrudge the loss of her anonymity, there was something novel about being an unknown entity again.

A gasp broke through her thoughts, followed by a quiet curse that no one else heard. Impulse turned her head toward the middle-aged traveler behind her.

It’s all down my shirt! I can’t believe I did that. I can’t show up at Pat’s tomorrow with tea stains!

"Oh, bless your heart,” Arden cried softly, meeting the man’s light blue eyes. “Do you reckon we can find some towels over yonder?”

Jaime had already released her fingers and was making his way toward the nearest lavatory. His thoughts carried over his shoulder as he traveled. Good grief, Arden. You can pull off an accent and a wig, but you can't pass as eighty.

She channeled her laughter into a sympathetic smile that was just a bit too high up on one side. Surveying the situation before her, she commented, “Oh, those lids ain’t worth a lick, are they? They’re just no good at all. Always leaking and making a mess.”

The tea-stained passenger regarded her curiously before repeating his attempt to snap the lid back into place. “I’d have to agree,” he said finally, motioning to his saturated polo.

“Here,” Jaime passed a small pile of paper towels over her shoulder. The man accepted them with a grateful nod and began dabbing at the affected fabric.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir!” Arden called as she followed her husband further down the car.

“So much for keeping your head down,” Jaime mumbled, more to himself than to her as they settled into their seats.

“What’s the point of doing this if I can’t interact with people? I want to see what the world is like through another perspective.” Straightening in her seat before her impassioned whisper could draw too much attention, she glanced up to smile at those who were still boarding.

“You’re going to be doing this all night, aren’t you?”

She tittered at his fond accusation and reached into the tote for her book. “Tomorrow too.”

_____

“Hi, I’m Elizabeth.”

Though she’d practiced giving her middle name, the syllables still seemed to clutter her tongue. Compared to what she was used to, it was much too long and unwieldy to feel natural.

“Gina.” The young woman across the table smiled eagerly, though Arden could sense the tinge of discomfort as they slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“Nice to meet you, Gina. I’m Jaime. Sure you don’t mind us joining you for dinner?”

Her head started bobbing from side to side. “No! Not at all.”

“Thanks.” Arden tilted the menu up to read the contents. “Is this your first time taking the train?”

Gina leaned forward to answer. “No, I use it to go home for most college breaks. It’s a little old fashioned, but I love it,” she admitted with a faint blush. “This is my first time going home since the start of the semester.” I hope my parents are getting along this time.

Arden had to bite her cheek to avoid reacting to the stray thought. Brightening, she lowered her menu to look Gina full in the face. “Any tips for first-time travelers?”

They fell into easy conversation, trading thoughts on every topic from Gina’s school to Jaime’s latest projects around the city. Eventually, talk drifted to Arden’s assumed profession. Her delight at getting to show off her research mingled with the risk of making a misstep.

“What’s your favorite smell?” Gina questioned with unfeigned interest.

“Hmm,” Arden pondered, settling the fork back onto her pile of rice pilaf. “My favorite category is woody scents.”

Jaime nudged her with a discreet elbow as she elaborated. Is this Arden speaking or Elizabeth?

She warmed at the question, grateful she was sitting close enough to make out the traces of cedar and pine embedded in the denim of his jacket. But as appealing as her husband was, she wanted to know more about the young woman sitting across from them.

“What did you say you were studying?”

“Molecular biology!” The woman’s thoughts started bouncing off one another like heating atoms.

Arden couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since the last time someone had asked about it with genuine interest. She took another bite of her roasted chicken to show that Gina was free to continue talking.

“I just submitted a proposal for my capstone. It’s about the...” she chattered excitedly, using words that threw Arden back to long afternoons of sitting through Chemistry 101. Even so, she was grateful when Jaime’s insightful series of questions kept Gina talking through the end of their meal.

“I’ve got a ton of reading to get through this weekend,” she explained after their dishes had been cleared away, ”but it’s been so fun talking. See you for breakfast in the morning?”

“Definitely,” Arden confirmed before the other woman returned to her seat.

“You make friends everywhere, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes at Jaime’s undertone and gathered her tote bag. “Like you have room to talk. You’re friends with everybody.”

“Almost everybody,” he corrected. I’m pretty sure I still owe Alec Burdock a talking to.

Try as she might, Arden couldn’t contain her laughter as she followed him out of the dining car.

_____

Toothbrush in one hand, Arden used the other to raise a grateful wave toward the train attendant. “Thank you! Goodnight.”

Snapping the sliding door shut behind her, she turned into the roomette to face Jaime. Already changed into his pajamas, he held out a hand to welcome her into the bed.

“Are you Arden again?”

With a nod, she reached up to peel the wig away from her forehead. The fake hair hadn’t been uncomfortable, but it was still an incredible relief to strip away the excess layer and feel the cool air at her hairline.

“Let me help,” Jaime offered as the back caught on the hair at her neck. His steady hands made short work of the tangle, and he passed her the full wig within moments.

“Thanks.” She smoothed out the strands before placing it carefully on an overhead shelf. Lowering back to the mattress, she reached behind her to unzip the top of her dress. His fingers were there to replace her own within moments. “You’re very accommodating,” she praised while pulling the garment over her head.

“Of course.”

“And you were right about me sleeping,” she disclosed, tugging her pajama shorts up around her hips. “I’m exhausted.”

Jaime simply nodded and welcomed her down onto the makeshift mattress after she turned out the light. She curled close, breathing a tranquil sigh when his arm encircled her waist.

“Arden,” he breathed into her temple, hardly audible above the ambient sounds of the rails beneath them. "I'm glad you're you."

“Me too,” she whispered, her knuckles idly trailing the dusty line of stubble at his jaw. Snuggling into his side, she reflected on the day’s events.

Tonight had been fun, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to the morning as well. Yet, the charms of her own life outweighed those of any other. She’d never trade it for anything.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #julychoiceschallenge #wishful thinking #jaime lewis #jaime x mc

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gayforheadphonesgirl · 6 years ago

Text

Falling Back Into You (Chapter 3)

(A/N): I’m back with Chapter 3 of this SingleMom! Alex imagine. I’ve been having writer’s block so it took a bit longer than expected. This is a pretty long ass chapter. Not proofread in any way. Hope you guys like it!

Being the best friend that she is, Kelley quickly made her way to Alex's house after their phone conversation about (Y/N).

Kelley had always seen the pair act differently around each other, even during their younger days in the USWNT.

So she wasn't entirely surprised that Alex was currently pacing around in her own living room while the former Utah Royal looked on amused.

"Maybe you're just really excited to see her after all these years?" Kelley offered, but not exactly believing herself.

She had always thought Alex and (Y/N) would've made a good couple in another life.

They were like, each other's 'one that got away' as far as Kelley was concerned.

"Maybe... but I'm worried about how warm and fuzzy I feel inside when I'm with her. Especially when she's interacting with Mia" Alex exclaimed, running her hands through her hair.

"She's nice, she always makes people feel warm and fuzzy" Kelley said, shrugging her shoulders.

But Alex still looked frantic. Kelley wondered if a person could be too old for gay panic, because it seems like Alex is having it right now.

"Besides, Al. So what if you have a crush on (Y/N)? I'm pretty sure she feels the same way" Kelley said.

Alex blushed furiously at the thought that her feelings might be reciprocated.

"Wh-what makes you say that?" Alex said, sitting down on her couch next to Kelley.

"She picked up your kid from school, she bought you food... twice! That's like the greatest love language of all: FOOD!" Kelley said. Alex manages a laugh at her friend's logic.

"She's like that for everybody" Alex said, not wanting to get any hopes of something more than friendship with (Y/N).

"No, Al. She's got a real soft spot for you and it seemed to trickle down to Mia, too" Kelley said, smiling knowingly at Alex.

"Did you know she played soccer with Mia today? She pretended she was a goal keeper... She was wearing oven mitts for goodness sake! Why did I find that adorable?" Alex said, once again exasperated at her newly surfaced feelings.

Kelley chuckled and placed her arm around Alex's shoulder and pulled her for a side hug.

"You, my friend, are having gay panic. Bi panic, specifically" Kelley said. Alex groaned.

"Really? In my 40s?" Alex said.

"Better late than never, I suppose" Kelley said before bursting into laughter.

"Shhh! Don't wake Mia up!" Alex said, moving to shush Kelley with her hand.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry" Kelley said, stifling her laughter.

"So, are you nervous for Friday?" Kelley asked, leaning back on the couch.

"Very. Plus... I may have invited her over for dinner next week" Alex said, almost whispering the last part.

"You what? Oop. Already planning date night, are we?" Kelley teased. Alex once again blushed madly.

"I-it's not a date. It's just a thank you to her for picking up Mia today" Alex said, covering her reddening face.

"Alright, Al. If you say so" Kelley said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Alex groaned.

"I'm too old for this" Alex said. Kelley laughs and straightens up.

"Well, Al... It's pretty late. I gotta get back to Cassie or I'm sleeping on the couch tonight" Kelley said, moving to stand up. Alex looks at her friend and nods.

"Thanks for coming over. I just... I'm not really used to this feelings thing anymore" Alex admitted. Kelley smiled and gives her a slight push to the head.

"I'm glad for you Al. This will turn out better than you expect, I promise" Kelley said reassuringly. Alex doesn't exactly believe her but hums in agreement anyway.

"Thanks Kell. See you Friday. Bring the whole gang, will you?" Alex said.

"Sure you won't want (Y/N) all to yourself?" Kelley teased as she walked towards the door. Alex throws a pillow in her direction but the former Utah Royal quickly dodged it and stuck her tongue out.

"Goodnight, Kell. Drive safe" Alex said, smiling. Kelley waves before heading out the door.

For the first time today, Alex is left alone with her thoughts and feelings.

She lets herself fall into the couch and sigh.

She was pretty fucked.

---

Friday came too soon for Alex's comfort. She had mixed feelings about today, she was beyond excited, don't get her wrong.

It's just that she was also incredibly nervous about seeing (Y/N) with her realization that she may have feelings for her former teammate.

Her phone dinged with a text from (Y/N).

Hey, what time does Mia get out of school? I promised I'd hang out with her before we all go out for drinks tonight.

Alex couldn't help the smile that graces her features.

We'll be at home at 4pm. Alex typed out her reply.

(Y/N)'s answer was almost immediate.

Great. I'll drop by then. See you later, Al.

The sound of her university soccer players entering the pitch pulled her from her thoughts.

Right, she had work to do. She pushes the thoughts of tonight at the back of her head and started on her day.

---

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was mulling over what to wear in her loft. She wanted to make a good impression, not just on Alex but on all her other friends.

Her watch read 2:30pm. She had about an hour before she needed to leave.

She stared at the pile of clothes she had laid down on her bed. A button up and a jacket would be too formal, but a shirt would be too casual.

She settled for a navy blue mandarin collar button up and black slacks. Just sleek enough to pass off as someone who had their shit together.

Being the basic lesbian that she is, she didn't take long in getting ready and had about 15 minutes to spare.

But a light bulb lit up in her head. Grabbing her wallet and keys, (Y/N) dashed down to her car and pulled out of her driveway.

In record time, (Y/N) found herself in front of her favorite flower store: Freda's floral emporium.

Stepping out of her car, (Y/N) entered the store. She was greeted by the store's owner.

"Why, it's good to see you (Y/N)!" Freda greeted. (Y/N) smiled and headed on over to her.

"Good to see you too, Freda" (Y/N) said, pulling the elderly woman for a hug.

"It's too early for mother's day, isn't it? And it isn't Gloria or Ariel's birthday" Freda said, commenting that (Y/N) only usually came on those occasions.

"Well, it's not for family this time, Freda" (Y/N) said shyly, scratching the back of her neck.

Freda's eyes light up and she almost jumps for joy.

"Oooh! Is it for a special girl?" Freda said, already leaving her post in the counter to help (Y/N) look for the perfect bouquet.

"Sorta, yeah... Damn, Freda. This seems like I'm back in high school again" (Y/N) said, chuckling at how young and aloof she feels at buying a girl she likes flowers.

"Never too late to find love, I tell ya!" Freda said, already picking out her best flowers for her favorite customer.

"She's just a friend though, I doubt she feels the same way" (Y/N) said. Freda abruptly stops what she's doing and stares at (Y/N).

"Oh I think she'll change her mind with these flowers I'm making. Besides, who wouldn't want a piece of you!" Freda retorts. (Y/N) blushes and playfully nudges the older woman.

"What? It's true! Oh if I only had a daughter, I would've set her up with you a long time ago" Freda said, arranging her newly picked flowers for (Y/N).

"You flatter me, Freda" (Y/N) said, laughing at the woman's antics.

"There! Perfect. Any woman would fawn over this!" Freda said, handing (Y/N) a beautiful bouquet with roses and a single sunflower in the middle.

"Wow, this is amazing Freda" (Y/N) said, inspecting the flowers. She gives it a sniff and almost sneezes.

Bad idea, she thought.

"All in a day's work" Freda said smugly. But (Y/N) had one more request.

"Oh Freda, can I get a bouquet of daisies? For her kid?" (Y/N) said, wanting to surprise Mia as well.

If Freda was a bit taken aback at (Y/N)'s love interest having a kid, she did a good job of showing it.

"Ah, don't worry. Freda has got you covered!" She said, scurrying again to pick out daisies.

"Thanks, Freda. You're the best" (Y/N) calls after her, still looking at the bouquet in her hand.

She hoped Alex would like it.

In no time, Freda walks back to the counter with a small daisy bouquet in hand.

"I know I'm the best" Freda said, smiling proudly at (Y/N).

"How much for the two bouquets, Freda?" (Y/N) asked, setting Alex's flowers down to pull out her wallet.

Thumbing through her bills, she pulls out a 50 bill.

"Just 30, the daisies are on the house" Freda said. (Y/N) looks scandalized at the thought of not paying everything she owed.

"I refuse to let you go bankrupt, Freda!" (Y/N) said, pushing the 50 bill.

"I won't. Just promise me you'll get me as the flower supplier for your wedding!" Freda said, handing (Y/N) back a 20.

(Y/N) flushes but takes the change.

"I'll let you know, Freda" (Y/N) said, chuckling. She picks up both bouquets and walks out of the store.

"Thank you, Freda!" (Y/N) calls out.

"You're welcome, kiddo! Get her!" Freda said. (Y/N) smiles and heads on over to her car.

It's already a little bit past four when (Y/N) finds herself at the Morgans' doorstep.

She takes a deep breathe, and knocks on the door with both bouquets in hand.

"Just a minute" Alex called from the other side. (Y/N) shifts in her place, a bit nervous.

Alex opens the door with a smile so bright (Y/N) thought she was going to pass out.

"Hey" Alex said.

"Hey yourself" (Y/N) replied. They momentarily just stare into each other before (Y/N) gets back to her senses.

"I-uh, these are for you!" (Y/N) said, putting the bouquet forward. She doesn't miss the bright red blush that graces Alex's features.

"Wow... this looks amazing (Y/N)" Alex said, taking the bouquet.

"And these, are for Mia" (Y/N) said, showing the simple daisy bouquet. Alex smiles even wider at (Y/N).

Why does she have to be so thoughtful? Is this romantic? Is she trying to be romantic? A flurry of thoughts racing in Alex's head.

"You're so sweet" Alex said. She turns a bit to call for her daughter who was in the living room.

"Mia! Auntie (Y/N) has something for you!" Alex said. Mia quickly jumped up and ran over to the front door.

"For you, m'lady" (Y/N) said, crouching down to Mia's height. The girl takes one look at the flowers and squeals.

Mia takes the flowers and envelopes (Y/N) in a hug.

"Thank you Auntie! They're amazing!" Mia said, running inside to put it in a vase.

"Please be careful with the vases, baby girl. Do not hurt yourself" Alex called after her. She looked back at (Y/N) and invited her in.

"If you keep on giving her stuff, she's gonna be expecting it every time" Alex said, smiling at (Y/N).

"Then I'll do it every time" (Y/N) said grinning back at Alex. Alex felt the blood rush to her face and she hides behind the bouquet.

"I'm... gonna go put this in water. You can join Mia in the living room!" Alex said, before hurrying away from (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked weirdly in the direction where Alex had bolted but shrugged her shoulders.

Alex rushed into the kitchen and got one of the vases kept in the cupboards. She takes a moment to control her heart before putting the bouquet in water.

She places the vase next to Mia's and shoots Kelley a text.

She brought me and Mia flowers, FREAKING FLOWERS KELLEY!

Kelley, who was already on standby next to her phone since Alex had said (Y/N) was already on her way to them was able to see it immediately.

The former Utah Royal lets out an honest to God 'Awwww' while on her way to the bar they'll be meeting at.

She quickly types out her reply.

Ohhhh girl, she's definitely into you!

Kelley's reply does nothing to quell the blush on Alex's face. She groaned and rubbed her hands on her face.

"Okay, Alex. You can handle this. It's just a crush" Alex said to herself quietly.

She was three-time world cup champion, she can definitely survive having feelings for her friend.

Right? Right.

When she walks back in the living room, (Y/N) and Mia are deeply immersed in first-grade math homework, sitting on the carpeted floor.

Mia was chewing on her bottom lip and looking intently at her textbook.

"How about this Auntie, what do I gotta do?" Mia said, (Y/N) looks over to where she's pointing and proceeds to try and teach the girl what she needed to do.

Alex looks affectionately at the pair and silently walks to take a seat in the couch.

(Y/N) looks up at Alex and grins.

"Gays can't do math" (Y/N) mouths. Alex couldn't help but laugh and shake her head.

She pulls out her phone and snapped a photo of the scene before her. She contemplated putting it on social media, but thought better to ask (Y/N) first later.

(Y/N) continued to help Mia with her homework with Alex simply watching them.

She was mesmerized at how natural it looked to see (Y/N) with Mia. Maybe it was her crush talking, she didn't know.

"Mom look! I finished my homework so quick!" Mia said, lifting her textbook for Alex to see.

"That's great, baby. I'm proud of you" Alex said, walking over to sit on Mia's other side.

Anybody could've taken a look at the three of them all huddled up and think that they were a happy family.

"Can we watch soccer now?" Mia said, looking up pleadingly at her mother. Alex smiled and reached for the remote.

She flipped the television to ESPN just in time for an NWSL game. With Mia engrossed in the action, Alex took the opportunity to talk to (Y/N) quietly.

"Look at you and Mia" Alex said, showing (Y/N) the photo she took. (Y/N) turned and beamed at the photo.

"Wow that looks really nice. I love it" (Y/N) said, she takes Alex's hand to pull the phone closer to her.

They both ignore the electricity that they felt when their hands touched.

"Will it be alright if I post it on Instagram?" Alex said. (Y/N) lets go of her hand and she misses the contact immediately.

"Sure, why not" (Y/N) said, smiling. Alex draws back her phone and opens up social media.

"What's your handle? Do you even have Instagram still?" Alex said, already typing out the post.

"Yeah. I'm not a grandma. I just don't use it a lot" (Y/N) said with a laugh.

"Is your handle the same?" Alex said. (Y/N) nods.

Not long after Alex posted the photo, (Y/N)'s phone started ringing with notifications.

"Her new favorite Auntie" Alex's post read.

"I love my new title" (Y/N) said, chuckling. She spotted a comment from Kelley and Allie.

K: Hey no. She cannot dethrone me that fast! A: Well, I'm pretty useless when it comes to homework so she can have that part of the job.

"Oh I forgot to ask, who among the girls are going to make it tonight?" (Y/N) said, scrolling through the comments.

She noticed a few fans commenting about their 'ship' coming alive after all these years.

There isn't a ship when it's unrequited, she thought.

"Kelley, Allie, Krashlyn and Preath all said they would come!" Alex said.

"Nice" (Y/N) said, her excitement of seeing her old teammates bubbling inside of her.

"Some of the younger ones are still busy with the NWSL season so they couldn't make it" Alex said.

"I totally get that" (Y/N) said. The pair was a little bit startled when someone knocked on the door.

Alex looked over her shoulder and stood up.

"Must be the babysitter" Alex said. (Y/N) nods and puts her arm around Mia who was starting to doze off after the game finished.

Alex walked to the front door and opened it.

"Hey, Greta. Thanks for coming " Alex greeted her usual baby sitter. The teen smiled and walked inside.

"Hey, Alex. No problem. Anything for sweet little Mia" Greta said. The pair walked into (Y/N) carrying Mia who was already fast asleep to lie on the couch.

(Y/N) looked at them and put a finger to her mouth to signal them to be quiet.

Alex swore she had never seen anything more adorable. She quietly made her way to Alex and Greta.

"Out like a light. Must've been the math" (Y/N) said, chuckling.

"(Y/N), this is Greta. The best baby sitter in town" Alex said, motioning to the teenage girl next to her.

"Hey Greta. I'm (Y/N)" (Y/N) said, offering her hand to Greta. But the teen just gaped.

"... (Y/N)? As in (Y/N) (L/N), USWNT legend?" Greta said. Alex laughed and linked their arms.

"The one and only" Alex said proudly.

Greta couldn't believe her luck. The number of football players she had met because of her babysitting job with Alex Morgan.

She almost thought it was a scam when a craigslist ad for a babysitter was listed under the soccer star.

(Y/N) laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her neck. Alex looked knowingly at Greta.

"Why don't you take a photo with her?" Alex said, nudging (Y/N).

"Would that be okay?" Greta said hopefully. (Y/N) nodded and smiled.

"Sure. It's kinda funny how you know me" (Y/N) said, moving to her side. Greta gave Alex her phone and squealed.

"You're like one of the greatest of all time" Greta said happily. (Y/N) blushed and swung her arm over the teen's shoulder.

"Thank you, but I'm not" (Y/N) said, chuckling. Alex snapped the photo and handed Greta back her phone.

"She's humble like that" Alex said, grinning at (Y/N).

Greta thanked (Y/N) for the photo and proceeded to look after the sleeping Mia.

"I'll go get ready" Alex said, motioning she'll be going upstairs for a bit. (Y/N) nods and lounges around in the kitchen.

She's busy scrolling through her phone when Alex emerges from the top of the stairs. As if by instinct, (Y/N) looks up and her breath is caught in her throat.

Alex looked stunning in a striped dress that hugged her curves just right (A/N: Just imagine her wearing the dress she has on in her vogue shoot on Instagram. I don't know how to describe it lmao).

"I feel like I should've dressed up more" (Y/N) said, still gawking at the former Orlando forward as she went down the stairs.

"Please. You don't look so bad yourself" Alex said, and with a surge of courage threw a wink at (Y/N)'s direction.

(Y/N) blushed at the comment and followed Alex like a lost puppy as she gave Greta a few more reminders before they went on their way.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Her vitamins are in the usual cupboard and bedtime is at 9:30pm please" Alex said. Greta nodded her head. Mia was still out like a light on the couch.

(Y/N)'s heart warmed as Alex bent down to kiss her daughter goodbye.

"I got us a Lyft so nobody has to be the designated driver" (Y/N) said, grinning at Alex as they made their way outside.

"Smart. What about your car though?" Alex said. (Y/N) shrugged.

"I'll bring it home once I've sobered up enough. Would you mind if I leave it here?" (Y/N) said. Alex's mind raced at the possibilities of (Y/N) having to come by her house after drinks.

"Not at all" Alex said. (Y/N) beamed and offered her arm, Alex smiled and accepted, linking them together.

It didn't take long for the Lyft to arrive and they were off to the bar.

Both women were buzzing with excitement at the thought of reuniting with their friends.

"I wonder if Kelley can still hold her alcohol like she did when we won the World Cup back in 2019" (Y/N) thought aloud. Alex snorted.

"Oh she definitely still can. She's a 21-year-old frat boy stuck in a 40-something's body" Alex said. (Y/N) laughed.

"God I can't wait to see them. I feel bad for not really staying in touch with you guys all these years" (Y/N) said sadly, looking down at her hands.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Life happens. You're here now right?" Alex said, taking (Y/N)'s hand and squeezing it.

(Y/N) offered her a smile and felt infinitely better. They spent the rest of the ride still holding hands.

Neither of them acknowledged the other's disinterest to let go.

The only time (Y/N) finally lets go of Alex's hand is when she has to pay the driver once they arrived.

They thanked the Lyft and went inside the bar. Kelley had immediately spotted them and began waving wildly from her seat.

"Alex! (Y/N)!" Kelley said loudly. The pair whipped their heads in her direction and laughed at the woman.

Still the same Kelley after all these years, (Y/N) thought. They approached Kelley with wide smiles.

Once they were close enough, Kelley attacked (Y/N) with a bear hug.

"How long has it been (Y/N)!!!!" Kelley said, squeezing the living life out of (Y/N).

Alex couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her two friends.

"Nice to see you too, Kell. Now let me go before I pass out" (Y/N) said, chuckling.

"Oop, sorry" Kelley said with a cheesy grin. They take their seats while waiting for the rest of the gang to show up.

They had talked about (Y/N) being intrigued with Mia during her camp that eventually led to her reconnecting with Alex and the rest of the team.

Kelley nodded along like Alex hadn't already gushed about it to her.

It took about 15 minutes before the rest of the gang showed up, Allie had arrived with Preath while Krashlyn came as a couple.

"Still the third wheel, I see?" (Y/N) said to Allie with a smirk. Allie rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, (Y/L/N)" Allie replied. (Y/N) laughed.

The group of friends easily fell into conversation once they were settled down with drinks.

As per usual, Ashlyn was the one documenting the whole thing and posting it on her Instagram stories.

"When I heard about the social work you were doing, I checked it out on the internet. It seems amazing" Christen told (Y/N) with the whole gang nodding their heads in a approval.

"Thank you. That means a lot, from a CEO like you" (Y/N) said with a smile, talking about their successful re-inc company.

"We really missed you, man" Tobin said. She was one of (Y/N)'s closest friends on the team, if not the closest.

"I know. I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch" (Y/N) said shyly. She really felt bad.

Alex reached out for her hand under the table and squeezed again. (Y/N) glanced at her and smiled for the comfort.

"It's fine. We barely realized you weren't there" Ali said jokingly.

"Yeah... who is she? I don't know her" Ashlyn said. The mood lightened with Krashlyn's antics.

"Alright, enough with that emotional shit. It's time for Never Have I Ever!" Kelley said, raising her shot glass filled with tequila.

"Still the college frat boy, are we Kelley?" (Y/N) said, laughing.

"Of course. That's like my brand" Kelley said.

The game started out pretty simple, with most relating to soccer practice when they were still in the USWNT.

Everyone on the table was surprised when Christen took a shot after the Never Have I Ever faked being sick to skip practice.

"What? I'm human too" Christen said defensively. Kelley, Ashlyn and Allie gave her approving looks.

"Let's make this interesting and because I want Preath and Krashlyn to take more shots" Allie said. Clearing her throat.

"Never Have I Ever fallen in love with a teammate" Allie said. She narrowed her eyes at the two couples as they groaned and took shots.

Alex wondered if she should take a shot. Was she in love? It was just a crush right?

But what was surprising to everyone was when (Y/N) slowly took her shot glass and downed it in one go.

"Oh my God?" Allie said, looking at (Y/N) at disbelief. Alex felt a feeling of giddyness and jealousy bubble up inside of her at the same time.

Who did (Y/N) have feelings for? But at the back of her mind, she was really hoping it was her.

"What?" (Y/N) said, a blush creeping up on her face. Alex was also looking at her. She couldn't tell what the other woman was thinking.

Could she see right through me? (Y/N) thought.

"Spill" Ashlyn said. Allie and Ali (lol) nodded in approval.

Tobin and Christen glanced at (Y/N) worriedly, obviously knowing who it was.

"Nope" (Y/N) said, taking another shot.

"No fun!" Allie said, pouting at the other woman.

"Maybe next time" (Y/N) said, risking a glance at Alex's direction. She was playing with her shot glass, seemingly deep in thought.

The game continued on for about 15 minutes more before they grew tired and simply settled on sharing stories.

(Y/N) felt happy that her friends were still all so successful. She missed them so much and really meant it when she said there would be a 'next time'.

Before long, it was deep into the night. With kids waiting on them at home, Krashlyn and Preath excused themselves.

"See ya. Everybody just get a Lyft or an Uber please. Stay safe" Allie told the two couples.

They nodded before saying their goodbyes and heading out.

"Hey. Until what time can Greta watch Mia?" (Y/N) asked the more than tipsy Alex next to her.

The forward was feeling a bit woozy, already leaning her head on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"She can watch her until 10pm I think" Alex said. (Y/N) looked at her watch and it was already past nine.

"It's past nine. Do you want to head back already?" (Y/N) said. Alex checks her phone and nods lazily.

"Alright. I'll get us a Lyft. I still gotta get my car at your place" (Y/N) said. Alex hummed in approval.

She sends a weak glare at Kelley and Allie's way when they wiggle their eyebrows at her while (Y/N) was busy with her phone.

After a few minutes, their Lyft driver had arrived and (Y/N) helped Alex get up.

"It was really nice getting to catch up guys. Let's do this again soon" (Y/N) said, looking at Allie and Kelley.

"Definitely" Allie said. (Y/N) smiled before assisting Alex out.

Alex spared a look at Allie and Kelley before they headed out the door. Her two friends winked at her and gave her a thumbs up.

She laughed and flipped them off. The Lyft ride home was filled with comfortable silence, both of them buzzed enough to just enjoy each other's company.

When they finally arrived, (Y/N) walked with Alex inside. They find Greta waiting in the living room.

"Hey. Mia's already asleep upstairs" Greta said, standing up and gathering her things.

"Thanks, Greta. Sorry we were out a bit late" Alex said, looking apologetically at the teen.

She shrugged and smiled.

"Mia's an angel, it's no problem" Greta said. Alex handed her the payment and she headed out.

"Are you sure you're sober enough to drive?" Alex said, turning her attention to (Y/N).

"I guess so" (Y/N) said. She wasn't drunk, but she definitely wasn't completely sober. Alex scrunched up her brows.

"That's not good enough. Why don't you stay the night?" Alex offered without thinking. They both blushed at the prospect.

"I-i mean, if you want" Alex said. (Y/N) smiled.

"I'd love to" (Y/N) answered. Alex grinned.

"Great. I'll just check on Mia. You can freshen up in the bathroom in my room" Alex said. (Y/N) nodded.

(Y/N) headed to her car to get a spare set of clothes she always kept there for emergencies.

She mentally thanked herself for doing that because she would definitely not look good in Alex's clothes.

Maybe the other way around would work, she thought. The image of Alex wearing her clothes entered her mind and she blushed.

"Great now that's stuck in my head" (Y/N) grumbled to herself.

She went back inside and stopped in her tracks when she realized she didn't know where Alex's room was.

She sighed and pulled out her phone. She really couldn't call out for Alex if Mia was already asleep.

Ok I just realized I don't know which one is your room. (Y/N) typed. She pressed send and waited for a bit before Alex's reply came.

Oh shit yeah, sorry. Second door to the left upstairs. Alex's text read.

(Y/N) made her way up and walked to Alex's room. But the sight of Alex and Mia caught her eye in the room before Alex's.

Mia was fast asleep, hugging a soccer ball plushie with Alex stroking her hair.

(Y/N) smiled to herself and proceeded to enter Alex's room. She helped herself to the bathroom and freshened up.

She was just about finishing up when she heard the door open and close, meaning that Alex was probably already in the room.

(Y/N) walked out with her worn out Portland Thorns jersey and shorts. Alex chuckled at her wardrobe choice.

"What? It was the only thing I had in the car" (Y/N) said defensively. Alex laughed and approached her.

"I think it's cute. It still suits you" Alex said, looking up at (Y/N). The latter swore she could get lost in those blue eyes forever.

"Why thank you" (Y/N) managed with a smile. Alex smiles back and proceeds to side step her way into the bathroom.

"My turn" Alex said, closing the door on (Y/N).

Having nothing to do while waiting for Alex, (Y/N) looked around the room. She noticed Alex's soccer trophies on full display on a shelf next to her study table.

She also took a peek at the framed photos on the wall. Their World Cup victories, including the 2023 one that (Y/N) wasn't a part of, club pictures from Orlando, a few photos of her and Mia.

(Y/N) smiled, looking at Alex's face on the photographs. She swore that smile could light up a whole room.

(Y/N) is brought out of her thoughts when Alex walks out of the bath. (Y/N) looks up at almost passes out then and there.

The former Orlando star is wearing nothing but a tank top and short shorts and she really doesn't want to stare so she avoids looking at Alex in general.

"I-uh, I'm going to head down Al. Good night!" (Y/N) stuttered out, making a beeline for the door.

But Alex grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop.

"Why?" Alex said, her eyes a bit glassy still because of the alcohol.

"So I could sleep in the couch?" (Y/N) said, almost as a question.

"You could sleep here with me. I mean, the bed's big enough for the both of us" Alex said. (Y/N) was putty in her hands, especially with the tinge of hope she could hear in Alex's request.

"Are you sure, Al? I wouldn't want to intrude on your personal space" (Y/N) said. But Alex is already dragging her to the bed.

"You won't. I promise" Alex said. (Y/N) can feel her heart pounding when they get settled.

She tries to focus on her breathing, it was just Alex. Friends do this all the time right? Right.

"Will you cuddle me?" Alex said. Even in the darkness of the room (Y/N) could see the sparkle in Alex's eyes.

She couldn't really say no to that.

"Okay" (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around Alex. The latter buries herself in the other woman's arm. Feeling warm at the contact.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)" Alex said, smiling contentedly. If it was the alcohol or (Y/N)'s embrace, she didn't know but she felt the most calm she's ever been in years.

"Goodnight, Al" (Y/N) said, still trying to keep her pounding heart at bay.

To be continued.

#uswnt #uswnt imagines #alex morgan #alex morgan imagines #singlemom!alex #falling back into you

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honestsycrets · 6 years ago

Text

Soiled IV: Not Alone

❛ pairing | hvitserkx reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | reader meets jonakr’s family and readies herself for this marriage. hvitserk doesn’t intend on letting it happen.

❛ warnings | mention of death, forced marriage, mention of kidnapping.

❛ sy’s notes | interaction with hvitserk will be heavy next chapter.

As an orphan, you had limited expectation for your wedding day. But, if someone asked your ideal marriage, being kidnapped by a rogue Swede was probably not anywhere near the top of the list. His sisters bumble around you, fussing about this woven pattern or that pattern. Which crown to set upon your head, a family heirloom, dressed in bright flowers.

“The red goes with her skin,” says one.

“No, no, no! That one will make her look-- look hungry!”

“Isn’t she going to be hungry when she sees him undressed, Kvikr?”

Now your face feels the same as that red linen the girls light up into laughter, hopping around you with the beautiful, regal linen. You inhale when they bring a tight leather cincher around your waist, pulling it taut for the illusion of a beautiful frame. The one known as Kvikr leads a necklace over your head, fastening it before she would offer you her hand, turning up your chin. A stray few tears dabble down your full cheeks.

“Now, none of that.” She says. She arranges your hair evenly, tsking as she took a look at your dreadful, plain face. Kvikr calls for the makeup needed to brighten you up. You glance up as she lines your eyes with kohl.

“Jonakr isn’t a bad man.”

Had she said what was on your mind by mind reading? Or simply based on the fact that you were being forced into marriage? Idly, you look down to her bracelets. The tent offers no way of escape. It’s composed of a strong fabric, held up by large poles. Even if you made it out of here, where would you go? Would you hide in a bog?

“I don’t know what else I could possibly think of him.” You say with certainty. “He kidnapped me from my home.”

From what home?

“Men take prizes,” she says. “You happen to be one.”

The concept of being a man’s prize was foreign to you. Thora, if you had to say, was Hvitserk’s prize. You were… a little cock warmer. Somewhere to keep him well cared for when Thora was busy with her family. So to hear it, you’re obviously conflicted. From outside, you hear another voice speaking with the guards posted outside the tent.

“May I come in?”

A slender man pushes away the flaps to the tent, sweeping in without so much more than those few words. Kvikr rolls her head upon her neck, stopping and focusing her head upon the newcomer. She lowers the hand with a bit of rouge.

“Valtýr, you could wait.”

“Why would I wait, sister? Jonakr already saw our bride.”

You don’t recognize him from the boat. His clothes are finely woven town his chest, long deep brown hair framing his playful blue eyes. A finely trimmed beard sculpts his jaw and chin, a few stray strands catching as he strides in confident steps toward you. The man grasps your shoulders, abruptly shifting you around to him. His voice is honied, leaning his head in to smell the honey soap that Kvikr washed your hair with.

“She’s pretty. Well-worked, but pretty,” he simpers.

“Of course she is pretty,” Kvikr insists. “I heard a prince had her.”

“A prince? He brought me a prince’s toy.” the man remarks, pulling up into a smile with lines from the force of his expression. He lifts from your hair, looking to his sister. “Mmm, I like the sound of this. I had no idea.”

“You?” You chirp, though you honestly do not want to know his answer.

“Of course you do. Yes, a prince, Valtýr. A Ragnarsson.” Kvikr begins to walk away to her sisters. They disappear outside the tent.

“Mmm, even better.” Valtýr, or so he’s named, lifts his knuckle under your chin, playing a small game with making you look at him when you look away. Your chest tightens. Suddenly remembering you need to breathe, you do. He laughs, a hearty rumble, and steps back. His hand pats the metal belt that straps along an increasingly fine tunic. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to me.”

“I thought I was… marrying Jonakr.”

“You’ll be marrying both of us.”

You feel your stomach double, throat tightening as if you were reacting to the words as if they were food. Your eyes then settle upon his chest. A snake with two heads on either side of the body they share, constricting an orb. Vilja.

“Why?”

His mouth twists. You expect him to speak, to tell you just as Jonakr had. In his place, he offers his arm out to you. You take it.

“Now don’t worry about that. It’s your wedding day, lovely.”

He steps out of the tent with you, and you find Jonakr standing there, his broad chest clothed in a murky dark brown tunic that matches a lazy pair of trousers, stuffed into lazy boots.

“You could have at least worn something that wasn’t all brown?” Valtýr nitpicks.

“Why do I care what you think? Are you the bride?” Jonakr bites, looking over to you. His voice sounds worlds away from Valtýr’s own, unsure with the need your confirmation. “What do you think, (Y/N)? Should I go change my tunic?”

“No, it…” you ponder, looking to the man who stole you away. You let the thought fall away. His eyes crinkle, bright with your words. “It looks nice.”

“See the bride said it looks nice.”

“Sadly.”

Hvitserk’s boots slosh in the bog. His hand tightens around the grip of his sword, slick with the blood of foreigners. A portion of the women, so said a few young children, were hauled off to Birka. It was the information he hoped for but… as he thought of it, of coming here, he didn’t know what he expected.

Would you come home with him? Or would he have to make you.

It would be cruel. He squashes through water, pulling himself up into the forest. His righthand man for this trip, a man by the name of Vesteinn squashes beside him.

“The children say the fleet that attacked Kattegat as traders came to find a woman for two men.”

“Two men.”

“Yes,” Hvitserk hears him say. “The king wants his sons to marry.”

“Sons?” He asks though it is more of a statement. Vesteinn makes a small nod, turning his creased eyes toward him.

“Like Ubbe and you, they love each other and don’t want to split households. So the elder prince was meant to go raid for a woman to bring them children and make a proper home before receiving his father’s crown.”

Or what used to be. Hvitserk turns his eye away from Vesteinn, gnashing his teeth together. One Swede was bad enough. Two? Two defiling you, sweeping you away from the safety of Kattegat for breeding and loving that they had no idea how to provide?

It sickened him.

“Do we know who the woman is?” Hvitserk breaches the line of trees, extending his sword so that he might usher his men to stand down.

“No, my prince. Only that these men were stalking long before the raid.”

They targeted you. He scans the town of Norsemen, locating arranged tents. Temporary structures that would hold for a wedding. By now, men would be defiling their woman of choice. He could set his men, the ones not guarding their settlement, upon the town. There were more families there, more single men that would be taking their wives. Attacking the town, however, meant more to Hvitserk. It would send an irrevocable message to the men that they would not be mowed over. Or so he told his men.

The only thing he cared about-- was you.

“Do you take these princes as your husbands?”

The waters were still. They lapse, smooth and gentle on the shore. It’s flat here, the ground… tranquil. Your eye settles on the waves that pull in and splash down upon the flat ground of the island. Puffy trees line around the shore and, maybe it would obscure your vision, but there was a clearing. Flowers line a structure, your cheeks sprinkled with blood from the blessing of three large animals.

“Woman,” Valtýr prompts. Jonakr holds the sword, while you hold an impromptu other, which is a joke as the day your father was ran through for the sake of Rollo the traitor.

“Oh--” you clear your throat, looking to the godi. “I--”

An arrow whizzes beside you and embeds in the wooden structure that you stand underneath. You jerk to the side, holding the collar of your dress. Valtýr yanks you to his chest, barking for a shield. Jonakr unsheathes his blade, hissing in a tongue that you don’t recognize to the men gathered. From the drop of expression on his face, you fear that there are fewer men than he originally planned for. A few stray men. The others are farmers who have most likely gone home after a long trip, not expecting the quick cutting ships designed by Floki the Boatbuilder.

Your eyes finally focus. Not on the man, bearing a shield, crouching low. But the man who strings an arrow in his well-corded arms. Your stomach flips. You hate that it flips, caught in pride of the sight of the man and his men. Your man.

“Hvitserk.” You whisper, picking up your skirts. Valtýr stops you short of going toward him, pulling you back. “It’s you.”

Valtýr gives Hvitserk a long, slow look, looking up and scoffing. “Who are you?”

“Hvitserk Ragnarsson. And she is mine.”

He never called you that before.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434, @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm,, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit, @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @glassythoughts, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass, @x-valhalla @dreaming-of-never-neverland

#Hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk/Reader #Hvitty x Reader #Hvitty/Reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #viking imagine #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #tw: forced marriage #tw: kidnapping #vikings #the vikings

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of LUCIEN. Admin Minnie: Goosie, I thought I loved Lucien’s bio and that it was the finest work I’ve ever read. But I was wrong. Your application for the very character you dreamt up, from your magical brain (and yes, inspiration from Shakespeare himself) is a whole new level I have genuinely yet to see from you. You have raised your own bar with this, truly. Lucien is every bit as human as he is an enigma; a man who walks among gods and demons, yet grieves like a small boy. He’s lost his family twice over, and I genuinely cannot wait to see what he’ll do next in your hands. Admin Rosey would also like to add: Julie what the actual -- this para sample is so impassioned I’m. In total awe. Wow. Again WOW. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Julie

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I just quit my job, so I’ll have more time to be online instead of working myself into the grave! I’ll still be working on our new house, however, so I’m hoping to churn out at least a reply a day if not more once I get threads kicked up.

Timezone | MST

Triggers | Infertility, miscarriage

How did you find the rp? | I’ve been here for a little over a year and you can’t get rid of me now, baby!

Current/Past RP Accounts | N/A

IN CHARACTER

Character | Lamprius / Lucien

What drew you to this character? | I think that Lucien sort of just clicks in my brain like a puzzle piece. As I was writing the app, I was like, oh no, I won’t be able to finish it in time, but that was obviously a fucking lie, because I word vomited about four-thousand words onto a google document for him, and it was the easiest time I’ve had writing in a while. I think his narrative and potential character arcs are so fascinating to me that there’s no way I could get him out of his head, even if I tried, and I want to see how far I can go with that.

Even moreso, I want to figure out what’s all the way underneath him, who he is at his core. At the end of the day, I think that Lucien is hiding from himself as much as he is from other people, and there’s something incredibly human about that. So many of us have difficulties looking at ourselves from different angles in the mirror, but Lucien looks every day from every angle and still struggles to reconcile with what he is, who he is, where he is. I think he could be a catalyst, if he’d only let himself be one, and writing that just plain sounds like fun.

There’s an additional mystery and mysticism to him that isn’t seen a lot in Verona save for within the neutrals. The Montagues and Capulets, try as they might, are not always able to hide their cards when they really, really need to do their best to not give themselves away. I’m thrilled at the very idea of playing someone who doesn’t always know what they’re doing, but everything about them is shrouded in so many facades and riddles that it literally doesn’t matter, so long as he looks like he does.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I THINK THE END OF IT ALL MAY LOOK A LOT LIKE THE BEGINNING: I’d like to establish how Lucien is handling the grief that comes with the death of the Witches. Grief does weird, bad, ugly shit to people, and the Lucien coming back to Verona isn’t the same as the one who left it, even if he wasn’t gone for that long. To him, Hecate, Circe, and Medea were family. His own flesh and blood, after working with them for over a decade. He lost all of them in a matter of mere moments, and I’m interested in seeing if maybe he could be swayed to favor the Capulets over the Montagues just on the basis that it was Damiano who orchestrated their deaths. To all of Verona, the Witches were gods among men. They were unattainable, out of reach - but to Lucien, they were real people with lives and stories and faces and names he never got to learn the full extent of.

I NEED SOMEONE TO REMEMBER ME: Lamprius isn’t an alias I think many in Verona are familiar with, but maybe it’s time that changed. It’s implied that Lucien operated entirely behind the scenes for the Witches, so while they garnered a reputation for themselves, he might not have done anything for himself in that particular area. As the city shifts, in order to survive, Lucien needs to change with it - so I’d like to explore ways in which the name Lamprius means something to people, something larger than just Lucien ever could.

I’LL BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME: I’m interested in exploring Lucien’s relationship with Ronan, because as far as I can tell, Lucien hates the guts of the man he’s literally married to. I don’t think it was always like that. At some point, Lucien looked at Ronan with eyes clouded over by love, and that was enough to trip him up. There are advantages to being married to a member of the mob - namely, being looked over as inconsequential. But I think Lucien’s made it clear he’s not a wallflower, even to the Montagues, and stirs up trouble when given the opportunity. What happened along the way to get them where they are now? What broke?

YOU WILL OPEN THE YAWNING GRAVE: I’d be super interested in following this thread of figuring out just what the fuck happened to the Witches’ bodies, and if they left anything behind for him beyond what they didn’t give him up front. This could be prompted through the help of another neutral character, or maybe a sympathetic Capulet or Montague (potential blackmail?) - someone with resources, who knows what the Montagues do with their dead. He dug them empty graves, but there are moments where he can swear he hears their voices, and knows that he hasn’t left them behind yet. Not fully.

JUST GIVE ME A GLIMPSE, I HAVE TO KNOW: Who has Lucien helped, over the years? Who among the mobs has come to him, unknowingly, and asked for a favor, a pardon, aid in erasing their debt with the Witches? He’s been the sole deliverer and courier of misfortune and warnings that no one could have seen coming save for the Witches, and Lucien has tied himself to Verona and its residents just as much as they did. I’d love to see characters wrapped up in past affairs interact with Lucien, if there’s any chance he might have saved their lives or hurt their chances of survival at the bequest of Hecate, Circe, or Medea. They weren’t immune to influence from the Capulets and Montagues, as much as they would have liked to be, and by default, neither was Lucien.

WHO’S A HERETIC, NOW?: I think, to some degree, there are a certain number of characters realizing that the life they are currently leading in Verona is not sustainable, and not quite as golden as they thought it would be. Lucien’s well aware of the fact he can’t do what the Witches did all on his own. He needs people to lean on, those who can aid him in moments of moral weakness and lead him away from this path of revenge that is very slowly coming to the surface. He needs a guiding hand to aid him in his hereticism, because I think if he tries to do this all by himself, he’ll literally go mad. This is, of course, at the discretion of the admin team and members, but I’d love to see where this route could go after a while.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Sure!

IN DEPTH

I. When he is seventeen he goes to the police and tells them his father has been shot dead -- unintentionally -- and demands justice. He can’t remember the feeling out of it but his body can recall that particular anxiety with relative ease. The way he’d stood, spine straight, jaw clenched, hands clenched into fists with nothing to aim at. He can remember shaking, and after getting home to a mother who had stress-cleaned the kitchen three times, nearly vomiting on the not-newly polished floor.

When he says it, the police look at him like he’d told them he had been the one to shoot his father, and confessed. He’s resolutely aughed out of the station. One cop -- a tall, statuesque woman with hard eyes and ashen hair, skin mottled with acne scars and what could be a broken nose or just a crooked one -- leads him out with a guiding hand on his shoulder. He is sweating. His hair is sticking to the back of his neck. It feels like the whole of him is trembling.

They walk a ways before she lifts her hand, and he comes to realize she has led him to a quieter back alley. A metal door creaks open and a man in a butcher’s apron carries out a trashcan of meat entrails and sets it aside. Lucien looks away, but not before he sees a cat leap down from its perch to feast on the newfound opportunity. It has a pink collar, sleek golden fur, and a tag that he can see even from here which says Helios. A strange name for an alleycat, even if it is well-loved.

It is then that he realizes this woman could kill him. He swallows, hard. She lets go of him and comes around to look him in the eye. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully.” Her eyes are all steel, brow set low. He nods, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“If you go after this dog it will bite you and it will not let go until you are dead. You might think you have the resources -- a dog-catcher, a shock collar, a knife, a gun, a leash. It won’t matter what you use, and it won’t matter how long you try. It will be pointless.” She keeps her words at a whisper, voice scratchy. It’s only then that he notices the long, horizontal, thin scar dragging across her throat, the peek of a blue-and-gold hints of a tattoo at her collar, script that reads CAPULET--

She doesn’t miss that he’s looking, and she grabs his face by her whole hand. “If you are smart, you will go home, to your sad little life, and you will sit and be miserable and die choking on your dinner instead of your blood. But you’ll be safe. Do you understand?” He nods, hesitant, and she shakes her head, tightens her grip. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” With the way she’s holding him it sounds more like I undershtand. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been so humiliated, shame and embarrassment burning bright in his chest.

She releases him, and Lucien stumbles backwards. He hits brick, feels cool clay against his back, and the woman leaves without saying another word. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, waiting for her to return and bury her teeth in him. She does not.

The cat, licking its chops, its whiskers dripping with the red of discarded carcasses, looks up and stares. He stares back.

II. He’s never been to the Roman bathhouse before, but with the sun gliding behind the mountains and settling in for the night, with the way the orange and gold glints across the stone, it looks like something out of a painting. When he steps through the doorway the torches are lit, guiding him further down the long main hall. There are sitting rooms to the sides, but no visible directions beyond the light licking at the wood-etched walls.

At the end of the hall, it splits off: women’s, and men’s. A golden-furred cat sits at the entrance to the men’s door. He opens it, and it slips through -- he follows, and is met with a pool of glossy-looking water. The architecture is beautiful: pillars spiral up towards the ceiling, and the whole room is like one giant flame, warm and welcoming. The water is -- steaming. The pool occupies the entirety of the room: there are only stairs into the water on one side, and stairs out of it on the other.

The cat winds its way between his legs and mrows. He kneels and scratches at the corner of its ears, and it purrs before wandering off into the dark, collar jingling as it goes. Lucien looks back at the water, and empties his pockets. When he sets his wallet on the floor, a door that hadn’t been there before on the other side creaks open. On the other side stands a figure, beckoning with an open palm. Fear leaps into his throat.

“If you cannot get around, then the only way is through. This is your first lesson..”

He kicks his shoes off and steps in. The water, at first, reaches his ankles. It’s pleasantly warm, and even clothed, it’s immediately tempting to derobe and stay in forever. He wades further into the depths, and when it reaches his waist, the edges of his brain feel pleasantly foggy. What was he here for?

The figure on the other side, robed only in shadows, waits.

The water goes no deeper. He keeps moving, feeling slow and sluggish. The water, which was warm before, is suddenly boiling. He looks at his hands and they are no redder than they were when he stepped in. The length of the pool feels infinitesimal, like he’ll never reach the other side no matter how much he wants to. Waves lap at the edge of the pool and move closer, foaming at the edges like ocean waves. There is something tugging at him, telling him to go back in. To lay down and hold his breath.

What is this?

He keeps going, though. When he places his foot on the first step up, something icy grabs at his left wrist, tugging him away. The figure waits and watches. The hand holding onto him tightens, even as he pulls. “Let go!” Lucien’s voice echoes around the room, loud, a little too high-pitched to convey peace. His head is swimming. His thoughts are swimming. He’s swimming.

The thing, whatever it is, pulls him under the water. He struggles against it, and though it is shallow, he cannot seem to rise the mere half-foot up out. It feels as though a thousand pounds are weighing down on his chest, individual pieces of steel. He kicks his legs. Not like this. Not like this! Black swarms at the edge of his vision. It’s a last-ditch effort, but he tries to set up regardless --

And wakes up completely dry, coughing, in a dark room. There is a mahogany table in the center, and three people gathered around it. They seem caught up in quiet conversation. Something about what to have for dinner? He rolls over, tries to stand, and finds he is too weak. He pukes, instead, and what comes out looks less like bile and more like inky-black ichor. Panic surges through him. He turns his head, at a strange angle, and looks at them.

They are all staring at him. He opens his mouth to speak and finds that words will not come out. Instead, there is only a strange croaking noise which spills out of him in a hurry. The tallest of them -- the one standing in the center -- smiles. “Congratulations,” they say. Their voice is a low timbre in their chest. “You made it through.”

III. For a man who so vehemently claims to hate Battista Tahan, Lucien’s husband seems to talk about him a fair amount. He’s not unused to idle chatter that Ronan likes to fill space with, but this is a new level of dedication to blathering words.

Lucien is staring out from the kitchen window and eating blueberries right from the pack over the sink. (Rinsed, obviously.) The gardener did something strange with the arrangement of the chrysanthemums and he can’t decide if he likes them or not. The sound of a lawn mower roars from nearby, and the front doors is open as the maid sweeps out the hall at the entryway.

Ronan is digging through the fridge. Judging by the sound, it’s probably the top shelf, where all their medications go. It’s only eight in the morning: he hasn’t taken them yet, if Lucien had to guess, but the details of Ronan’s routine are up in the air these days. He’s been spending more time at the apartment, unable to focus on his work at home.

The berries are good. Maybe if they planted roses instead of chrysanthemums next year? No, roses are difficult to dig out. He wouldn’t want to create that sort of problem for the next owner. He hates the color of roses, too, so there’s that.

“-I can’t even believe he asked me. I could have killed him right there. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry,” Ronan is saying.

“Mhm,” Lucien replies. Who decided blueberries needed to be called blueberries? What a boring name. He wonders what the name for blueberries are in Scandinavian.

“Are you even listening to me? I just said-- are those all the blueberries?” Lucien turns, looking at his husband. He’s leaning against the island countertop. It’s early enough in the morning that he’s only using a cane, not his brace. He needs a haircut, too, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Lucien frowns, pops another berry into his mouth and chews. Ronan watches the way his jaw works with obvious hunger.

Eugh. Disgusting. The berries turn sour in his mouth.

“Don’t you have a job to do? I remember you saying something about Camilla Grieco at dinner last night. And it’s end-of-month.”

“I don’t care,” Ronan replies. “Are those all the blueberries? I was going to eat those.”

Lucien nods. Ronan outstretches his hand, reaching. He’s not wearing his wedding ring this morning. He immediately feels like twisting his own on his finger, an unfortunate nervous tell. Lucien turns to face the window again. The gardener is watering the flowers with a beaten-looking can, a wheelbarrow sitting three feet away. She has a nice sunhat. He’ll ask where she got it, he thinks. He dumps the rest of the blueberries into the sink and flicks the disposal on.

For a blissful ten seconds, there is no talking. Just the churning of blades and working mechanisms. It’s wonderful. Lucien goes to exit the kitchen, gives Ronan a neutral look as he leaves. Ronan, to his credit, is not balking, because they’re used to each other by now, but he’s gripping the counter so tight the edge of his hands are turning white.

“Oops,” Lucien says. “I didn’t know.”

IV. His mother remarked often that as a child he did not cry. He was quiet, snuffled more than he did sob - even when he broke his arm, he didn’t wail, he sort of just… whined. Lucien did not learn that a lack of emotional vastness was something to be cherished in Verona until his father died, and he was able to hold his mother while she shattered and still managed to stand after.

It’s good, the Witches always said, but it’s only a start. Hecate was the best at expressing their displeasure with his wide-ranging array of reactions, even if by comparison Lucien’s face didn’t do so much as twitch. They made him stare at his own face for hours, smooth out any lines until there was nothing there. Just a blank mask. No name, no face, no personality, no humanity. Just a shell.

“That’s what you need to be,” Circe had said, “if you want to avenge your father. You cannot be Lucien when you pull the trigger, or you’ll miss.” And Lucien had believed them. He’d dedicated himself to being nothing but a body, wandering through crowds and negotiating deals and stepping back from the table when necessary. He doesn’t think he even smiled on his wedding day. He didn’t even cry when his mother- when she-

Nothing. Keep yourself drained. You are a vessel that holds nothing.

He’d thought it sounded melodramatic, all those years ago, just starting out. But it was true. Anger and sadness make your hands tremor, betray hatred. Happiness alludes to pride, which can cause the bottoms to fall out of deals before they’re ever solidified. In the end, nothing on the inside matters. It doesn’t matter what he feels about things, who he is buried all the way down in dirt. The land is barren. Nothing grows.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

The bodies of the Witches swing on stage and the crowd screams in terror. He hears a couple a few seats behind him chuckle. For a moment, he can’t process - it doesn’t make sense. Nothing clicks. And then he realizes that those are their bodies, their faces, their tongues lolling out of their mouths. That is Hecate’s bracelet. Medea’s ring. Circe’s necklace.

The world breaks out into violence but for Lucien there is no sound save for a murmur. A whisper at the back of his head. It suddenly makes sense. They’d burned all physical evidence of their deeds, workings, misdoings. They’d given everything they had to Lucien. Had they known they’d die tonight? Surely not. Hecate would have tried talking their way out. Circe wouldn’t have come at all. Medea would have accepted it, stoic. Resolute.

It’s bizarre. Lucien is still, but Montagues and Capulets bite viciously at each other’s throats and don’t let go. Men and women alike limp out of the theater, their pride wounded and hearts broken. All Lucien can think about, perhaps manically, as he stands in an empty room with only three corpses to accompany him -

Hecate had been so excited to wear those shoes.

Lucien cries when he cuts their bodies down and leaves them there. He cradles each of them, if only for a moment, because if anyone is watching, it will be his own undoing. Their bodies are still warm. He doesn’t know what the Montagues do with the dead they don’t care about, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll dig them up, if he has to.

“I’ll come back,” he promises. “I will.”

He doesn’t ever find their bodies, in the end. But he digs them graves, six feet deep, with his own two hands. It’s gruesome work. The headstones are the heaviest thing he’s ever had to carry, but they deserve recognition. In the end, Lucien doesn’t think they could have been faceless forever, even if they wanted to be. Once their stones are standing, overlooking the city the Witches gave everything to, he does the one thing he swore to them he would never do: he leaves.

INTERMISSION: Wait. Hold on. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t leave things in the air like that, would he? Where would he go? What would he do? That doesn’t -- it doesn’t make any sense. I need another drink. Do they have champagne in the lounge, you think? No, leave my coat there. No one will steal our seats, that way. Where’s my purse? Is the fifth act really the best place to put an intermission?

V. He returns in mid-February to a city in turmoil, ripping apart so slow it’s like watching molasses move across an angled countertop. Anywhere else, it would be over quickly, but in Verona, the black treacle grips to the granite like it has nothing left to live for. And it doesn’t.

It rains, on his drive back from the airport, and he likes watching the city lights glimmer off the asphalt. He doesn’t bother going home - he goes to the apartment instead. They still haven’t fixed the elevator, so he takes the stairs, bags in tow, and fiddles with the sticky lock on his door. When he enters, everything is covered in a thin sheen of dust. Untouched. Not a fingerprint to be found. It’s dead silent. It’s exactly what he wanted to come back to: proof that no one has done anything they shouldn’t have. Reassurance that things have truly stopped in Verona since the Witches were so mercilessly slaughtered.

The time’s come to get the wheel turning again. He digs through the cupboards to find something to make tea with, and then settles in. The first thing he does is call Loretta, to say hello after a long period of radio silence. It seems like the right thing to do. She picks up after the first ring, and a warmth in his chest blooms at the sound of her voice.

They discuss plans of action, movement, maps across the entire city. And then they talk about the Festival, and the turmoil between the Capulets and Montagues. This whole thing is ready to fall apart, but no one is willing to let it.

Worse, still: Verona isn’t ready to change. It never will be, in the end. Lucien knows that. It’s been set in its ways for too long. He’ll rend it apart, if he has to. He’ll break the bone if that means the limb will set itself right again.

Extras: A playlist, a pinterest board, an inspiration tag.

#accepted #accepted: lamprius

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mischiefs-hawk · 6 years ago

Text

Teacher, Nanny, Bride?

@theabsolutemagicpotato I hope you like it!!

At first, Gellert only hired Newton as a subtle threat to his older brother Theseus. Gellert had been in need of a teacher/nanny of sorts for Aurelius and Newton’s records showed a proclivity towards mothering. The thing with his case had made Gellert hesitant but the enchantments around it proved Aurelius to only not be able to enter the case without Newt nor any of the creatures’ escape.

Even so, according to Aurelius the beasts inside were all very nice. From Newton, the Magizoologist-to-be only said that his creatures were not dangerous.

It didn’t take very long however for the dynamic between the three of them to change, though. Aurelius had easily and quickly attached himself to Newt, likely seeing him as a mother that he’d never had before. Gellert, on the other hand, couldn’t explain his newfound attraction to the younger man.

Perhaps it was the way Newt had equally become attached to Aurelius, or the patience he showed the boy in all his lessons.

The most likely cause was either the damned clothes Newt wore or his fire. On some days, Newt wore these soft curve-hugging dresses. Nothing promiscuous or revealing but breath-taking in Gellert’s eyes. The scattering of freckles around Newt’s shoulders, the pale pink lips that so often contrasted with the blues, whites and sometimes greens that Newt wore. The smattering of scars, many years’ worth of working with dangerous beasts. All so he could study them!

Study them, how utterly bizarre. Though, Gellert had to admit people had thought gathering the three hallows was crazy too. Until he proved them wrong.

It was that, Gellert thought, that tied Newt so closely to him. Newt wanted to prove to anyone and everyone in the magical community and around the world how their lack of knowledge on magical creatures has been more detrimental as a while. If, Newt suggested, more people took an interest in magical beasts then they’d see they had just as much a right to live as any witch, wizard, or muggle.

The fire, the passion in Newt to defend his beasts was like a devastating incident- one you know you should look away from but can’t help but stare at it.

The issue then became, how best to tell Newt about all of it? He couldn’t very well just barge into Newt’s room and have his wicked way with him.

For the most part since “hiring” Newt, the young man spent much of his free time caring for his beasts or talking to his brother through firecalls. Not that Newt had much free time that is.

If Gellert were to ask plainly, it may come off as a threat. Newt was smart, after all. He knew he was also a hostage to keep Theseus in line.

How could he ask permission to court Newt, without Newt thinking it was a demand?

What Gellert didn’t know, however, was that Aurelius was much cleverer than people generally gave him credit for.

“Are you sure about this, Ari?” Newt asked, putting the dress in front of him- studying his appearance in the mirror. The little boy had brought a package with him that morning, oddly arriving to Newt’s room with a grin.

Usually, Newt went and picked up Ari for their lessons after he ate breakfast. Mr. Grindelwald, despite being exceedingly busy, always tried to share breakfast with Aurelius. The Magizoologist was well aware of why he was there and what kind of man Gellert Grindelwald was. The draconian laws he put into place and how he dealt with “rebel-rousers” and his own place as a hostage. He tried not to think about it.

It made his relationship with Aurelius’ father exceedingly more complicated. The fact that he didn’t really have a choice in being here made the possibility of a further connection exceedingly more complicated. It made the power dynamic incredibly unstable. Which wouldn’t be a good start.

Not that any of this was particularly good but that was especially not great.

“Uh-huh, Vati said it was for you.”

This wasn’t actually a lie, Gellert had told Aurelius he had purchased the dress for Newt with the intention of asking Newt if he was interested in being courted. Of course, Gellert hadn’t been ready to do it just then, and if he’d noticed that morning that the package, he’d been preparing was gone well…fortunately for Ari, Gellert had been much too preoccupied that morning.

The dress was rather beautiful, if Newt thought about it. The blue chiffon material was soft and smooth. It revealed much of his back and shoulders, the shoulders of the dress were a mix of materials. The top few inches were the same dark silk with the rest of the sleeve a sheer blue material that poured around his arms, pulled tighter around his wrists with a ribbon and strips of the cloth further criss-crossed to another bit of ribbon that curled around his pointer finger.

The top of the dress was held up by a kind of thick blue material around his neck, not unlike a collar, a bit of silver in the shape of a flower connecting the collar to the rest of the dress.

The silver matched around the waist and the tops of the sleeves where it became more sheer. Around those areas, silver filigree danced around it.

Newt couldn’t help but think about how much a flower crown would complement the look.

“Hmm, I hope you aren’t tricking me, Ari. Pickett would be very upset if he couldn’t see you because your father fired me, or you were grounded.”

Aurelius just grinned, looking as innocent as an angel.

Newt didn’t say anything for a moment, brushing his hands down the material once more before offering his hand to Aurelius. The child had perched himself on the bed to wait while Newt got dressed behind a screen.

Despite his status as a hostage, Mr. Grindelwald had never treated him unkindly. Sure, he was officially there to be Aurelius’ Nanny, but that didn’t mean he had to give Newt such a nice set of rooms. Including a sunroom of sorts for his calmer creatures. Initially, Newt had avoided Mr. Grindelwald, as per his brother’s tearful instructions.

But no, he couldn’t think about ‘Seus now. He usually ended up crying himself when he thought of his brother, the way Theseus had clung to him. Promising that he’d find a way to get Newt back.

The day he’d moved into Nurmengard had been terrifying.

Aurelius had initially been just as nervous around Newt as he’d been around the boy. Thankfully, it was Newt’s creatures that drew the boy in, his fascination with them enough to allow Newt into his life.

And, of course, it’d been touch-and-go at first but eventually they found a nice rhythm.

Mornings were spent in the library, learning the basics of English and French. As well as Arithmetic and history. Teaching Aurelius history had caused a bit of a disagreement with Mr. Grindelwald.

Grindelwald hadn’t wanted Aurelius to be taught anything of the muggle world, seeing it as useless nor much of the wizarding world before his reign began. Newt had put his foot down at this, though.

“I-if you want Aurelius to believe in your truth, h-he needs to know it! If you lie to him now, hide things now, when he grows up and learns the truth, he will never trust you or your rule a-again.”

Newt had been terrified when he said that to Grindelwald, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and looking at the ground.

Grindelwald hadn’t said anything for a moment, and Newt was convinced he was about to die when the Dark Lord sighed.

“Fine.”

In the afternoons, Newt usually made lunch for Aurelius. This happened so Aurelius would not only become over-dependent on servants and house elves, but also so Aurelius would know a variety of recipes from a variety of cultures. After that, if Mr. Grindelwald didn’t take Aurelius for a magic lesson, or Mr. Nagel didn’t take Aurelius for a lesson on self-defense (actually hand-to-hand combat and basic swordplay which Newt had been very surprised about), then Newt would teach him about Magizoology.

That, initially, had been one of the reasons why Newt had been appealing as a nanny. He wasn’t the world’s only Magizoologist but apparently, he was the best.

Even if he stayed out of the limelight as much as possible, avoiding the fanatics and revolutionaries alike, Newt’s book had caught fire in terms of popularity.

Theseus had been very upset when Newt published his book, as it reminded the world that Theseus Scamander, an anti-anti-statute of secrecy advocate, had a baby brother.

Basically, Newt had put a giant target on his head.

Newt adored teaching Aurelius about his creatures though, mostly because he saw in Aurelius a lot of himself at that age. The same wonder and respect that had him dismembering Horklumps as a child.

Usually, Mr. Grindelwald would work late into the night so Newt ate dinner with Aurelius. If there was some kind of event going on, some sort of political thing or a celebration for Grindelwald’s victory, Aurelius would stay with Newt after making a short appearance. More often than not, they ended up in Newt’s case or the sunroom. If not, Newt would help bath Aurelius and take him to Grindelwald’s office to say goodnight.

Sometimes Mr. Grindelwald would take Aurelius to tuck him into bed, other times, Newt would do it.

As much as Grindelwald’s policies disgusted Newt, he couldn’t help the rush of emotion when he watched Grindelwald interact with his son. You could say whatever you wanted about Gellert Grindelwald, but it was obvious and undeniable that he adored his son.

The day Aurelius went behind his Father’s back to give Newt the gift early, they had stopped History a little early. Everything had become a bit too much for Aurelius, the discussion of the Wars scaring him a great deal. So, Newt thought it best if they end it there and go on with the day.

With Aurelius hand in his, Newt led the boy towards the kitchens when they ran into- almost literally- Grindelwald and an unfamiliar woman.

The huge floor to ceiling windows (enchanted so no little boys could fall out of or break) lit the hallways with bright sunlight. Reflecting off the Alps snowfall making everything almost blinding.

This blinding light bounced off the unfamiliar woman’s golden hair, her subdued pink dress and dark blue coat complemented each other very well. The woman was pure femininity, and for some reason, Newt felt a stab of fear looking at her. Fear and shame.

“Vati!” Immediately, Aurelius had run to Grindelwald, arms outstretched, clearly expecting his father to pick him up. Grindelwald grinned, picking up the boy and holding him against his hip. Despite Aurelius’ age, he was rather small and skinny. Grindelwald and Newt had worked together on making a diet that would make sure Aurelius stayed healthy.

Grindelwald said something in German, to which Aurelius quickly responded. German was both of theirs first language, but Newt had yet to grasp the unfamiliar tongue. The distant feeling that had been seeded from the appearance of the strange woman only increased at this.

“Ah, Newton this is Ms. Queenie Goldstein. I’ve hired her to take on some of the care for Aurelius. You see, there was some things I’d like to discuss with you privately…” Grindelwald continued on but none of it reached Newt.

He was being replaced.

This stranger was coming in and taking Aurelius away from him! And of course, why shouldn’t she? She’d make a much better mum- Nanny for Aurelius then Newt ever could. Newt was nothing.

He didn’t belong here. He was only here because of Theseus- Grindelwald didn’t care that Aurelius adored Newt and vice versa. He didn’t care about the hours they’d spent together going over Aurelius education, or quietly reading in the library long after Aurelius had gone to bed. Or any of it.

His heart was breaking. When he felt the slight sting of tears beginning to form, without another word, the Magizoologist spun on his heel and walked away.

He refused to let Aurelius see him cry, nor would he give Grindelwald and Goldstein the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken him.

Grindelwald felt like he’d been smacked in the face. Newt had walked away while he was in the middle of a sentence!

Even when they were arguing, Newt never had that look on his face. The utterly heartbroken one which didn’t even make sense to Gellert!

Why would he-?

“Vati? What’s wrong with Newt?”

“I’m not sure.”

To his right, Ms. Goldstein watched Newt walk away- an odd look in her eyes before a small “oh,” escaped her lips.

“He thinks I’m replacing him, that he’ll never get to see Aurelius again.”

“Was? Vati, aber es-!”

Before Aurelius said another word, Gellert gently put Aurelius down and promised he wasn’t sending Newt away.

“Remember, Kleiner? The dress? You stay with Ms. Goldstein and I’ll get everything sorted out.”

Gellert Grindelwald found Newt in the Solarium, idly brushing his demiguise’s fur. The small creature seemed to be trying to cheer Newt up as his tears dripped onto the silver coat.

The beast noticed Gellert first, his eyes flashing blue before slinking away and invisible. Newt, his back to Gellert, dropped his shoulders. Even without seeing the young man’s face, Gellert knew- could practically feel the emotional exhaustion radiating off him.

“Am I t-to return to my brother, then?”

“If that is what you wish.”

Newt glanced over his shoulder before curling into himself, his hand brushing away the evidence of tears.

“What is it you wish? Was I just something to play with until you found a socially accepted bride? Or was I really just that deluded and nothing that happened between us meant anything at all?”

Gellert gaped at him, looking completely gob smacked and confused.

“Liebling, let me explain” Gellert said coming to kneel before Newt. The German took Newt’s hands in his, the gentle action doing something to the Magizoologist’s heart.

“I hired Ms. Goldstein so you wouldn’t feel compelled to answer me one way or another. If you were under my employ, I feared you would feel pressured to answer how you think I would want.”

Newt felt the air in his lungs vanish, the room seeming to spin.

“I don’t understand.”

The German smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of Newt’s hair back. The red-gold hair as soft as silk in Gellert’s opinion.

“Liebling, I love you and I’d like to marry you. Aurelius already sees you as his mother and there are few people in this world who won’t just cower at my decisions. You have fire, mein Feuervogel, fire and love. Please let cherish you the way you deserve.”

The Magizoologist’s voice died in his throat and all he could do was nod.

Gellert had done awful tyrannical things to their world, but Newt couldn’t help it. He’d fallen for Gellert Grindelwald, but even more so with the family he’d found in Nurmengard.

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #fbawft #fbtcog #fbcog #fb:tcog #fb:cog #newt scamander #gellert grindelwald #aurelius dumbledore #just go with it #newt x gellert #gellert x newt #grindelnewt #where's albus?#who knows #queenie goldstein

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jawaharkrish-blog · 6 years ago

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Why Western Fashion is Getting More Tempting with Every Passing Day in India

Allen Solly. Hoffmen. Van Heusen. Sound familiar? Well, if you’re a western wear enthusiast just as much as I am, then you must have heard of these world-famous clothing brands. ‘AND’ (pun intended) you must’ve shopped from these and other stores till you dropped. Savvy, ladies? That said, the Indian apparel market is seeing a growing popularity for Western fashion, not only among women, but also amongst hombrés. Why? Read on to find out!

Such Trendy, Much Wow

Gone are the days when all an Indian woman preferred to clothe herself in was either a saree or a salwar kameez.

With leaps and bounds, the Indian fashion industry has always managed to keep pace with the cultural influence of Western countries and that of Bollywood. From bell bottoms in the 1970s to denim jackets in the disco era of the ‘80s, from crop tops and short dresses in the ‘90s to halter necks in the early 2000s, the western wear stocks of fashion stores in India have constantly evolved over the decades. As Indian people now interact more online and watch foreign web series (‘Gossip Girl’, anyone?), they, in turn, have continued to adapt to the ever-changing fashion trends. And with new trends being set almost every season, whether it’s a party dress or formal wear, these sure do make you look snazzy!

Makes it Easier to Carry Yourself

With more and more Indian women joining the corporate workforce today, an increasing number of them find it easier to adapt to their white-collar and blue-collar roles while wearing Western attire.

Unless ethnic garb’s your thing, you surely don’t fancy spending half the time in your office trying to manage your saree. Or even prevent your dupatta from falling off either of your shoulders (or both), for that matter. You know how challenging the corporate world can be, you don’t want to have to deal with an extra burden! Nah, as far as professionalism goes, Indian women prefer to wear Western clothes like shirts, suits, and formal trousers to work.

Dhotis and Kurtas in the Office? NO!

As for the men in India, most of those belonging to the younger generation tend to wear T-Shirts, jeans, and shirts, with formal shirts while at work.

Imagine the look on your boss’ face if you turned up wearing a Sherwani! Stereotypical much, but, well, that’s how it is, whether you like it or not. While women may still wear a kurti, salwar kameez or a saree in the office, men don’t have much liberty to flaunt their ethnic wear except during festivities like weddings.

It all depends upon your choice, of course. Nevertheless, the fact that Western wear is slowly becoming more popular in India can’t be denied.

#fashion india #Indian Fashion #fashion

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afterpinkdiamond · 6 years ago

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Sadie’s Song S2E17

Ever feel like a song was written exactly for you? Steven should feel this way about Sadie’s song because it’s really Pink Diamond’s song.

Steven is passing out flyers for Beachapalooza, marking roughly a full year since “Steven and the Stevens” and enters The Big Donut to ask Sadie to hang one in the window. She is nowhere to be found behind the counter, so Steven looks in the back room. Sadie is back there, stocking the supply shelves and singing along with the radio. She’s happy and having fun, unaware Steven is there. Steven interrupts her with wild applause and Sadie becomes immediately embarrassed and anxious. Steven explains his flyer mission and suggests that Sadie should sign up to perform! He’s very encouraging and Sadie is eventually convinced to try.

Sadie and Steven head to her house after she gets off work in order to plan the routine. Steven is impressed by her basement room and pile of stuffed animals. She says she doesn’t like the animals and offers to let him have one. He refuses and they start planning. Sadie wants to practice singing but Steven reminds her that she needs an outfit (due to his act two years ago making clothing mandatory, Yikes Steven.) She pulls out two options, initially rejecting a simple blue dress because it seems a bit much out of her comfort zone when added to the singing. Just then an upstairs door slams and Sadie tells Steven they can do this another time.

Barb comes rushing down the stairs into Sadie’s room, excited to give her a stuffed teddy bear. Sadie thanks her and casually throws it on the pile of stuffed animals Steven had noticed earlier. Barb asks what Steven is doing there and he spills the tea about planning a routine for Sadie to perform at Beachapalooza. Barb is ecstatic, jumping into action and pulling several old costumes out of Sadie’s closet, remembering all the things she was (briefly) involved in. What follows afterward is a montage to the song Sadie is planning to sing where Steven and Barb do everything while Sadie tries to escape. Including a full makeover. Sadie sounds incredibly anxious when they finish, asking her name not be on the flyer, prompting Barb to suggest a mystery guest theme.

Barb can fricken move it for a woman in a knee brace

That night at the show, Mr. Smiley is running the event, introducing various Beach City residents and their acts. Meanwhile, Sadie and Co. are behind the stage, prepping an anxious star to be. I didn’t want to mention it but Ronaldo’s act is a speech on Rock People and his chalkboard has what looks like a crude drawing of Peridot and the Diamond Authority’s 4 part emblem. I hate how often the Crewniverse lets him be just oh so close to the truth.

Mr. Smiley comes backstage and seeing Sadie for the first time, realizes she’s anxious about the show. He basically tells her to grin and bear it, doing nothing to actually help. Barb and Steven continue to get on her nerves with glitter and makeup brushes until Barb steps away to grab the emergency supply of glitter. Sadies sees the “cool kids” out in the crowd and overhears Jenny saying she’s going to be ready to film in case someone gets hurt. Lars is also hanging out with them and Sadie suddenly can’t breathe. She tries to calm down with Steven nagging her about rehearsing and messing up her makeup. He’s not listening to her and she eventually just dunks her head in the water cooler to wash off all the makeup. Steven is confused, and when he askes why she yells that he’s as bad as her mom. Barb comes back just in time to hear this. Sadie goes on to confess that she wanted to do this her way for once but Barb and Steven completely took over and wouldn’t listen to her. She details out other activities she wanted to try but was immediately pushed to excel in by her mom. Just as Mr. Smiley is announcing the Mystery Guest performance, Steven realizes he was the one who wanted to perform all along.

And so he jumps out on stage in Sadie’s dress and makeup to sing her song and do the routine he helped make for her. While he sings, Barb and Sadie have a heart to heart. The ending of the song, previously only partially heard, is then sung by Sadie in the back room of the Big Donut with Steven accompanying her on the ukelele.

Let’s talk about the song and Steven’s outfit for a second. First, may I point out the rose poofs on his heels that totally look like Pink Diamond’s pompoms. Second, the frilly collar and midsection cutout that is reminiscent of the details on Pink’s outfit. Third, the makeup star that was meant to hide Sadie’s scar. Later in season 5 when Sadie Killer and the Suspects forms, her makeup actually accents her scar, but her mother (or Steven) tried to hide it. The scar is from “Island Adventure” a mark of her mistake in trying to trick Lars into spending time together. Sadie didn’t want a gimmick for Beachapalooza, and she wasn’t comfortable dressed in a “girly” fashion and singing a cliche pop song. But when she does get the chance to do it her way, her music and her band is a huge hit!

The song Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star) sounds like a cliche pop song but really it sounds tailor-made for Pink Diamond. “I can’t help it if I make a scene/Stepping out of my hot pink limousine” directly foreshadows LFHTH. “ I'm turning heads, and I'm stopping traffic/When I pose, they scream, and when I joke, they laugh.” This sounds like the kind of mischief she caused on Homeworld before Earth. Telling jokes and generally being a nuisance to the other Diamonds. Scandalous mischief even. “I've got a pair of eyes that they're getting lost in/They're hypnotized by the way I'm walking/I've got them dazzled like a stage magician/When I point, they look, and when I talk, they listen” This sounds like Pink interacting with her court, especially the line about a stage magician which would seem to reference shattering herself in front of them. It’s also at this point that the song turns, the key changes as does the general pattern of the music. “Well, Everybody needs a friend/And I've got you and you and you” While this seems to be indicating a crowd in-song, pointing out three specific friends seem to refer to the rebel gems, perhaps Garnet, Pearl, and Bismuth before the rest of the rebellion with: “ So many, I can't even name them/Can you blame me? I'm too famous.” And the song finishes out with the singer failing very publically, “Haven't you noticed that I'm a star?/I'm coming into view as the world is turning./Haven't you noticed I've made it this far?/Now, everyone can see me burning.” just like Rose thought she won the rebellion until the damage attack from the Diamonds.

The song is clearly about Pink Diamond, and the episode focuses on how Sadie relates to that narrative in the context of her overly enthusiastic mother who pushed her far beyond her limits at the mere mention of having an interest in something. Barb wanted everyone to see how special Sadie is but never gave Sadie the time and space to figure out who she wanted to be and that strained their relationship, although Sadie being non-confrontational it mostly manifested as her hiding her lunches at work instead of enjoying them and acting ashamed of her mother. Rose was ashamed of her past for many reasons, but a lot of it came down to the poor child-parent esque relationship she had with the other diamonds, as evidenced by the Diamond Days episodes. This episode is full of foreshadowing about Pink without directly tieing to Rose or her backstory. It’s kind of masterful.

#su #steven universe #su recap #su analysis #Sadie's song #sadie miller #barb #pink diamond #rose quartz #cartoon #meta #fucking ronaldo

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nascent-chaos · 6 years ago

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Hello, sorry to bother you. First I wanted to say I love your story, it’s amazing and I love how you develop the plot, interactions and the reader herself. I wanted to ask a request, I’ve gotten stuck in a My Hero Academia binge and I was wondering what type of quirk would the reader have and how would the skeletons individually think about a world with quirks and the reader having a quirk. Thank you very much and I hope you have a great day :)

AAAAAAAAHHHH I luv this ask so much AND I LUV YOU SO MUCH AND YOU ARE SO AMAZING DEARIE!! ♥ ♥ ♥

Reed’s Quirk :: Petal

A mutant-type Quirk that grants Reed the ability to freely manipulate the blossoms growing across her body, as well as rapidly regrow them when needed.

Physical characteristics of her Quirk include a bushy collar of lush (if not slightly thorny) foliage dotted with ever-blooming flowers that drapes over her shoulders as well as similar foliage sprouting from her wrists. This can often be used to determine her overall health (flourishing blossoms and lively leaves signal good health, whilst wilting ones can suggest poor health or that she’s reaching her limit). She is capable of manipulating the petals of her flowers, firing them like projectiles at speeds that would allow them to cause significant physical harm to those not wearing substantial protection. By utilizing the plants growing upon her she is capable of receiving some sustenance through sunlight - though it’s not enough to fully sustain her by itself.

Sans :: At first he’s more than a bit nervous to find himself in a world where so many humans are walking around with so many different abilities, but he quickly grows accustomed to it nonetheless. Granted, he’s heard more than his fair share of tales about humans who’ve gone and used their Quirks for nefarious purposes, but he supposes you’re bound to get a few bad apples in every bunch.

As for his opinions on Reed? He’s actually very interested in her Quirk, harmless as it appears to be at first glance. When he realizes exactly how much damage she can deal with the aid of those frail-looking petals though? He can’t help but be a bit on edge around her for quite some time after that. Still, he sees the way she moves slightly differently from others, careful that she doesn’t accidentally stick his brother or the others when she’s forgotten to cut back her thorns and always fretting about the dropping leaves wherever she goes when she gets sick. Gradually Sans begins to accept the fact that she really is a harmless human, Quirk or no.

And hey! He’s more than happy to finally put all those plant-based puns he’s been saving to use!

Papyrus :: He thinks its amazing!! Look at all the heroes on TV, each with their own unique super power!! WOWIE!! What an amazing world to live in! Okay, granted, there are those few people with Quirks that don’t follow the rules and even go as far as to hurt other people, but they’re always dealt a heaping serving of justice!! As of late, he’s dreamed of what it would be like to have a Quirk of his own - he’d be so popular! … What? He can already use magic? Well, yes! This is true! But he’ll still idolize each and every person with a Quirk he comes across, and Reed is no exception to this. He thinks its amazing that she can create plant life from seemingly thin-air with such ease!! AND THE GARDEN HAS FLOURISHED SINCE SHE STARTED HELPING WITH IT!! Her Quirk suits her so perfectly!! Plus, the flowers blooming on her smell quite nice too!!!

Red :: It makes him nervous AF - and why not, when you have around 80% of the human population dancing around with fuckin’ superpowers?! He’s got only 1 HP and he still hasn’t learned when to keep his mouth shut and his temper under control, a fact that continues to land him in more bar fights than he cares to admit to. The only downside is that, in his AU, he could just knock the asshole’s lights out and call it a day, but that’s no longer the case here. Now he needs to worry about somebody suddenly spitting fire or acid at him, or zapping him out of existence or whatever other crazy shit a Quirk could let a person do. Damnit, was he dragged into the wrong alternate universe…

The first time he learns of Reed’s Quirk, he teases her for it - of course the shy little girly would have flower powers! His tune quickly changes when he finds out just how much of a punch her petal pack, and afterward he’s left with a newfound respect for the young woman. The first month or so takes a lot of getting used to as he’s still not completely accustomed to being around someone with a Quirk, but he seems to be one of the first ones to adjust to it, regardless.

Edge :: If he thought his own AU was bad, what with the high populations, then this one is a downright nightmare! Humans with abilities that could rival magic?! Absurd! Okay, admittedly he is highly interested in how exactly Quirks manifest themselves and there certainly is an endless variety to be seen, but his admiration for them doesn’t extend beyond that manner of curiosity. He sees those with Quirks as a threat, plain and simple.

So when Reed moves in with them? Well, he’s far from happy about it. Granted, her Quirk in particular hardly seems very intimidating at first glance and as time passes he starts to ease up around her a bit and will gradually begin to lower his walls. It’s clear to see she hardly thinks of her Quirk as an oddity the way he does - to her it’s another part of herself, as natural as breathing. In time, he comes to see it in the same light.

Stretch :: Stretch doesn’t exactly share his brother’s cheerful sentiments about those with Quirks. Okay, sure, the idea of so many people having what effectively amounts to superpowers sounds cool enough on paper, but in reality? Magic he can understand, but a Quirk isn’t magic and certainly doesn’t follow the same rules that magic does - and that comes off as a lot more threatening to him. He’s understandably a bit uncomfortable around people with Quirks, though he hides it masterfully. Hell, on occasion he may even ask a question or two if a Quirk really catches his attention, but for the most part he tries to keep a certain distance between himself and those individuals with such unique abilities.

As such, he’s a bit surprised when he first meets Reed. Initially, he’s a bit guarded around her, but it doesn’t take long for him to look past her Quirk and see her for who she really is. She makes it clear to him early on that she’s not one of those malevolent superhumans he sees on tv all the time and, in time, he even begins to find her Quirk somewhat fascinating.

Blue :: Surrounded as he is now by a world in which humans have Quirks, Blue’s excitement knows no bounds!! THIS IS THE MOST MAGNIFICENT THING EVER!! He gets overly excited each time he sees someone with a Quirk and isn’t above bounding over to the individual and launching into a thousand and one questions. What’s their Quirk? What does it do? How does it work? Do they like it? Do they use it in everyday life? It isn’t until Stretch all but drags Blue away that his endless slew of inquiries finally comes to an end.

So when he first meets Reed, you can bet he’s over the moon to hear a REAL LIVE HUMAN IS MOVING IN WITH THEM! AND!! THEY EVEN HAVE A QUIRK!!! He adores her Quirk and thinks it fits her to a T - she seems like such a gentle and sweet human!! Of course she would have a Quirk as pretty and as strong as she is!! The only thing that seems to knock his enthusiasm down a notch is watching her accidentally scratch herself with her own thorns once. He never realized just how careful she is when interacting with the others until after that.

Hickory :: When he first learns just what kind of AU he’s been dragged into, the Mutt isn’t exactly pleased. His world was shitty enough without humans running around with veritable superpowers. As untrusting of most folks as he already is he certainly isn’t really comfortable being around someone with a Quirk, although he hides his unease gloriously behind an indifferent attitude. Sure, there are going to be assholes who’ll abuse their abilities in this world, but he knows there’ll be just as many people who won’t tolerate that kind of bullshit either.

It’s more or less like his own universe, only the madness isn’t fueled by magic.He regards Reed with a fairly nonplussed attitude. Okay, so sometimes it’s a bit difficult to ignore her Quirk when she has a veritable bush growing out of her skin and she tends to leave a trail of dead leaves after her whenever she’s a bit under the weather, but for the most part he regards it all as being a bit more on the mild side of things. His initially neutral behavior around her begins to ease as time passes and he learns more about who she is as a person. You can bet he’ll never pass up the opportunity to crack a bad joke or a pun about her or her Quirk, though.

Black :: Black’s fascination with this new Quirk-filled AU is rivaled only by that of Blue’s. Unlike his counterpart, however, Black makes sure to keep his curiosity reigned in and isn’t as likely to go leaping off and launching himself into an hour’s worth of questions at the first person he sees with an extra limb or peculiar trait. Nope.

He’ll just storm up to the individual and demand to know what they’re able to do, then proceed to judge them on how useful or pathetic he deems their Quirk to be. On more than one occasion Hickory has had to step in to help remove his brother before he’s caused too big of a scene.

As such, when he first meets Reed he’s hardly impressed whatsoever by her Quirk. It seems utterly useless, in his opinion. What’s the point in even having a quirk if it’s you can hardly attack or defend with it? What good would her pathetic petals do if he’d tried to skewer her with a bone?! He regards her as a fairly pitiful weakling for the most part, though as time goes on he’ll take it upon himself to keep an eye out for her. After all, someone has to keep her out of trouble! It’s not like she’d be able to manage herself if something happened!

Dust :: He’s by far the biggest fan of this AU. One human without magic was enough of a problem for him, but now he’s in a universe where a vast majority of the population is walking around with what essentially amounts to super-powers?! N O. T H A N K. Y O U. It’s no surprise to see him get pissed off whenever he hears about another news clip about someone losing their shit and - ooh look, it was a person with a Quirk that just leveled half a block. Surprise surprise.

So when he meets Reed, you can bet he holds almost no trust in the girl. Who cares if the most he needs to worry about from her are a couple stupid petals flying his way? He knows better than to let his guard down around someone who appears harmless. Indeed, it takes him quite a long time before he’s willing to accept the fact that Reed has absolutely no intention of ever hurting anyone, and would never resort to using her own Quirk to harm another person unless the situation was indeed dire.

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misunderstood-shadows · 7 years ago

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Tommy Shelby: Season 3, Vignette 1

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst Word Count: 2312 About: Tommy Shelby and I were a thing. A big thing. Until he left for France. Watch through a series of snapshots at my life after he returns from the war. Requests are accepted. Edited/Beta-ed: No

The man on my arm hesitated as I tugged him into the church. Inside was mayhem. The groom’s side of the church were talking and laughing loudly. Towards the front, John was trying to quiet a crying baby. Ada’s son was sitting on the front of the railing, giggling as Arthur tickled him. The brides side, dotted with red uniforms and prim women, watched in distaste.

Up the front, Tommy was talking with Finn and Polly. To an outside eye he looked unhappy, despite the occasion, but I knew from the upwards curl of his mouth, he was ecstatic. On my arm, Jack adjusted his collar.

“Stop it!” I scolded, leading down the aisle to where we were seated with the Shelby brothers. “You look fine.”

“I am basically meeting your family, darling. First impressions and all that jazz.” He managed a smile for my sake. I patted his arm fondly. When they caught sight of me, Michael, John and Arthur let out hearty roar.

“Look who dragged herself from tea with the queen!” Arthur shouted, grinning. Detaching myself from Jack’s arm I embraced him. Over his shoulder, I noticed Tommy looked at me. I winked at him and his lip curled in the ghost of a smirk.

“Her majesty was not very pleased with me,” I joked. I was pulled down next to John and room was made for Jack next to me.

“How’ve you been?” Arthur asked. Karl reached for me, grinning as only a child could. I took him, carefully settling him in my lap. Try as I might to contain it, the smile on my face was genuine.

“Great. London is wonderful.”

John leant over. “Who’s the tosser?”

I mentally thanked the Lord that Jack was engaged in a conversation with Charlie, who was sitting on the other side of him. “Be nice. Jack. He works in parliament. He harmless, so be nice.”

John let out a laugh. “You, the girl of a respectable man. Who’d guessed?”

I whipped a hand out to smack him, which he easily dodged.

“No fighting.” I turned back to Tommy, readjusting Karl.

“Hi.”

His blue eyes were light and his face relaxed, perhaps the first time since his return from the war.

“Hello,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Tommy just looked at me, leaning carefully against the railing, smile on his lips. For a brief moment, the ruckus around us faded away and it was just us. Those long-lost butterflies reappeared in my stomach, but instead of making me ill, I felt warm. There was a pointed cough from next to us and the moment broke. On my lap, Karl cooed and reached for Jack’s tie.

“Oh, Tommy, this is Jack Henrikson. My fiancée.”

Tommy’s eyes hardened for a moment before he turned to Jack, offering his hand.

“Jack, this is Thomas Shelby.”

They shook firmly, Jack holding perhaps a little too tight onto Tommy’s hand. I saw the corner of Tommy’s mouth flicker in amusement and I tried to supress a grin. There was a cough from the vicar and Tommy excused himself. With a final smirk at me, he returned to his place at the altar.

After a minute, Grace entered, the sound of the choir boys filling the church. She looked a vision in purple, the lace veil carefully hiding her face. I would be lying if I didn’t feel some resentment towards her. But I was here for Tommy, for the family. It was no longer my place to resent his affections.

The service was beautiful, the photo quick and the reception merry. The house had taken my breath away when I had first seen it. Multiple stories, sprawling gardens, with stables and yards. It looked like a palace.

Jack whistled. “You said he is in the automobile business?”

“Among other things.”

“Maybe I should consider a career change.”

I hadn’t lied to Jack, per se. I had simply withheld truths from him, purely for his protection. Of course.

By the time the party was in full swing, the two families had nearly given up the pretence of unity. Grace’s family was in one room, full of clipped laughter and small glasses of sherry. As I walked past, some of the men looked up before quickly glancing away. They looked like mice in a snake’s nest.

The Shelby family and friends were a little livelier. The band played lively music and people danced and laughed without restraint. I noticed Arthur and John sneak a bottle of champagne off the table and sneak through a door the back of the room. Family meeting.

I patted Jack’s arm, pointing out Polly and Ada standing over the punch. He lead me over, intent on introducing himself.

Ada’s face broke out into a smile when she caught sight of me.

“Ada!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”

She grinned. “Good. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She nodded towards Jack. He awkwardly offered Polly his hand.

I giggled. “I know! I’m to be a married woman.”

She gasped. “Let me see!” she squealed. I looked around conspiratorially and slipped off my left glove. Under it, on my ring finger, sat a small gold band, set with a small diamond. Understated and elegant.

“Oh,” she sighed, studying my hand. “It’s so beautiful.”

I nodded. “It is. The man isn’t too bad either.” I suddenly noticed Polly had lead jack over to the drinks table, where he stood with a glass of whiskey in his hand. One thing Jack had never done was drink. Even if I had a glass or two, he only had water or juice. He said it was a personal preference.

Ada laughed, jolting me back to the present. “You seem happier.”

I smiled. “I am. London suits me.”

Ada let out a snort. “It most certainly does! Less than a month there and you had men falling over you.”

“I wouldn’t say that! I let them court me first, like a proper lady.”

She sighed. “You sound old. We’re both old. Look at us, me widowed, you to be married. What happened to the girl who broke Arthur’s nose when she was nine? I still feel like a child.”

I laughed. “You’ve had a child, Ada. I still find it hard to believe!”

A hand wound around my waist as Jack came to stand next to me. I could already smell the alcohol on his breath and a flutter of worry flew through me, but I forced myself to smile up at him before turning back to Ada. “Ada, this is Jack. Jack, this is Ada Shelby, Tommy’s sister.”

They shook hands. Jack opened his mouth to say something but the music quietened.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the butler called. “Dinner is served in the dining room.” He gestured through the door and we began to file out. Ten minutes after we were all seated, Grace’s family somewhat stiffly on the other side of the table, Tommy still hadn’t appeared. Neither had Grace. I raised an eyebrow at Ada who rolled her eyes.

I heard Arthur scrape back his chair and stalk off down the hall and up the stairs. Ada and I glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. There was an uncomfortable silence in the dining room, each side unsure of how to interact. That was until one of Grace’s cousins spoke up.

“It’s a lovely house,” he managed, blushing at the attention.

There were murmurs of agreement.

“I saw the stables earlier,” a cousin’s wife said. “They’re beautiful. Lovely horses as well.” There was another murmur, then the aunt across from me said, “So you grew up with the Shelby’s?”

It took me a second to realise that she meant me.

“Uh, yes. I did. The gypsy camp was next to my cousin’s farm.” Someone down the table snorted. “Something the matter, Billy?” I asked.

The offender turned red. “No, the, uh, whiskey went down the wrong way.”

I smoothed the tablecloth in front of me. “Aye, you really must be more careful. It really is very easy to choke to death.”

Jack tensed beside me and a deathly silence fell across the table. Thankfully, Arthur returned, announcing that Grace and Tommy were just with Charles. Sure. They would be down in a moment. Grace entered first, sliding into her seat at the head of the table. Tommy entered soon after, eyeing the rooms occupants. His eyes landed on me and an eyebrow raised. I smiled innocently. Jack swallowed loudly next to me.

Slowly, the conversation returned. I saw Polly avoid my eye, but glance repeatedly at two men sitting on Grace’s side of the table. Interesting.

Tommy was conducting business on his wedding day. I saw Grace’s face tighten when he slipped from the room and instantly knew. Taking advantage of Jack’s preoccupation with the bride’s uncle, I went over to her, looping my arm through hers.

I could tell she was worried by the way she leant on me slightly as I lead us into a quiet corner of the room.

“It’ll be ok,” I told her. “He’ll deal with it.”

“I know,” she murmured. “I just wish it wasn’t now.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She paused, as if she wasn’t ready to return to the party. We lingered on the outskirts, watching the dancers twirl on the floor. I noticed Michael with a beautiful young lady in his arms, and another glancing at them jealously across the room.

Grace coughed delicately. “Tommy told me about your history.”

I froze. “I beg your pardon?”

Flushing delicately, Grace elaborated. “He told me that you were sweethearts before the war. He told me everything. I just wanted you to know, so you don’t have to hide anything from me. The Shelby’s were your family first, and I don’t want to drive you apart.”

“I-,” I stuttered. “I hope you don’t think badly of me, being here today.”

Grace laughed. “Of course not! I sent the invite, did I not? I wanted you to be here.”

“You aren’t worried about me stealing him into the night,” I smiled to lighten the mood, not that Grace seemed to care.

“As horrible as it is, if Tommy chose to be with you, I would let him. He’s given up everything for his family, so if he wants to choose who he loved, he has my, and I assume your, permission.”

I nodded, raising the glass in my hand. “To the woman he chose, may your marriage be long and happy.”

She smiled, raising her glass and we clinked. After taking a small sip, Grace took a deep breath. “Anyway, you looked beautiful.”

I nodded graciously. “Thank you, though it is about to be ruined. I hear there is a race happening after the dance. I believe Arthur had requested my participation.”

Grace smiled. “I did hear Arthur and John betting on you winning. Give my family a fighting chance.”

I smirked. “I shall certainly try.”

She was pulled away from me by a cousin and lead somewhere through the crowd. Content for the moment to stand in the corner, I watched everyone milling around. Every now and then a snippet of conversation drifted towards me. Though the tensions between families was easing, the words ‘gypsy bastards’ still floated through conversations.

“I’m surprised you came.”

Tommy appeared in my field of vision.

I shrugged. “How could I not? A gypsy wedding is always worth it. Especially for the booze.” I gestured to the drinks table, currently with multiple clusters of both military and Shelby men gathered around it.

He hummed. “I hear Arthur has recruited you for the race.”

I smiled. “Your wife has instructed me to allow the cavalry a fighting chance. Their ego’s need the boost.”

Tommy Shelby didn’t laugh. He barely smiled, but right now, in the midst of whatever was going on behind the scenes, he let out one of the rare smiles. “Aye, it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to piss off the in-laws.”

From across the room, I saw Jack, still talking with the uncle that had walked Grace down the aisle. He turned to me briefly, smiling, before returning to the conversation.

“Jack seems like a good man.”

I nodded. “He is. A good man.”

“Not someone I thought you’d end up with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Grace told me, about how you’re a proper lady now. Living in the city, having brunches, fundraising for the poor children.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s just not what I thought you wanted. You always said you hated the city.”

“I did. But people change. I needed a changed. But look at you. A respectable, married man with a son. You’re living the dream, Tommy. Congratulations.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “How much does he know?”

“About what?”

“You know.”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think he deserves to know?”

“I think there is nothing for him to worry about. In two days, we are going to back to London. I’ll go back and live in the house with thirty more maids than we need, make brunch and run fundraisers for the poor children. I’ll marry him and maybe someday, if we want children, I’ll get the treatments Grace was having, and I’ll have a little blonde-haired baby who will look nothing like me. And I’ll try to forget about how the love of my life is living his dream with my best friend and their son. maybe one day that won’t hurt, but for now, this is all I can do. So, congratulations, Tommy. I am happy that you found your peace.” There was a whistle from outside the window. “The race is beginning. Shall I see you down there?”

I didn’t wait for an answer before I slipped past him and out the door.

Part 2

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction

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gothardjesus · 8 years ago

Link

THE DO-GOODER INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX

I was in eighth grade. It was a cold spring morning in Ohio. And, I was holding my mom’s hand in a human chain that stretched across the continental United States. We were ending hunger in Africa.

It was my first act as a do-gooder. And, it was the beginning of my conditioning by the Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex.

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex spun a particular narrative about the end of global poverty. It fed me a particular set of beliefs, assumptions, and notions about poverty and the poor. It prescribed a role for me in ending global poverty. And, over the years (a lot of years), it motivated me to take a set of actions that I now know were in many cases inconsistent with long-term sustainable development.

I was brainwashed. And, I am not the only one.

But, there’s an alternative narrative that is being put forward. It is not new. However, technological advances have made it easier for this narrative to compete with the communications departments of the Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex.

So, I thought I would take a stab at a rough juxtaposition of the two narratives:

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex is fond of saying:

“We are the generation that will end global poverty.”

“Teach a Man to Fish.”

“Be a voice for the voiceless.”

We like to ask:

“How can we end another’s poverty when we never had to end our own?”

“How can we teach a woman to fish when most of us don’t know how to put a worm on a hook?”

“Why not try listening?”

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex believes:

Laptops, play pumps, and solar cookers = Silver Bullets

Poor People = Good People

Barefoot Child = Poor Child

We believe:

Laptops, play pumps, and solar cookers = “Oy vey”

Poor People = People

Barefoot Child = Child who may prefer not to wear her shoes at that very moment

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex believes that solutions come from without, are top-down, and flow from male dominated panels in the conference halls of the Western World. We believe solutions come from within, are bottom-up, and flow from local communities.

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex believes in the Buy-One Give-One Business Modelas a way to end poverty. We do not (and this goes for RED as well). We cannot consume our way to the end of global poverty. Indeed, we believe that our current consumption patterns are part of the problem.

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex currently believes in “Girl Power!” We believe in “Woman, Man, Girl, and Boy Power!”

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex likes to say “You can make a difference over spring break.” We like to say that making a difference is an internal political process that is years in the making.

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex leaves a lot of people saying:

“No one is doing anything!”

“Something is better than nothing.”

“You have the ability to change the world. But, are you willing?”

We want to leave people saying:

“How can I partner with local leaders who are doing the heavy lifting?”

“Sometimes doing nothing is the best course of action.”

“What role (if any) do I have to play?”

The Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex elicits:

Sympathy

Hubris

Conviction

We want to elicit:

Empathy

Humility

Doubt

In the Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex narrative, the hero is usually a well-funded Western do-gooder. This narrative dominates our culture. It steals dignity from others. And, it needs to end.

In our narrative, we can only be sidekicks. This narrative is just beginning to gain traction. And, there is a coalition of educators and young people forming with the purpose of pushing back on the narrative of the Do-Gooder-Industrial-Complex.

We are striving for a fundamental and sustainable change in how our culture interacts, communicates, and articulates its relationships with those who are materially poor. Toward that end, we invite you to sign up for the Global Two Dollar Challenge.

We may be a small group. But, we are on the right side of history.

Which side are you on?

Shawn Humphrey, the Blue Collar Professor (@blucollarprof)

(Link: http://shawnhumphrey.com/dos-and-donts-for-do-gooders/the-do-gooder-industrial-complex/ )

#voluntourism #duggar family

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anoutlandishfanfic · 8 years ago

Text

Part Five: O Captain! My Captain!

Here’s the next installment! You can read the previous scenes here.

I stepped out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air and found the Fraser children had had the same idea.

Ellen and Willie were laughing as they expertly waltzed circles around Jenny and Brian, the elder pair trying to teach the younger the fundamentals of the dance and not succeeding overmuch. Marsali called out, what I'm sure she thought were, helpful suggestions as she stood atop a bench. Joan and Maggie beamed from ear to ear, twirling ‘round and ‘round in the only dance step they knew: excitement.

“Here, let me try,” I offered when a new song began and took Jenny’s place.

The teenager rolled her eyes melodramatically, warning, “Watch your toes, Mistress Claire.”

I winked at Brian whose brows were furrowed in determination, giving his nose a playful tweak. “Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.”

“I keep losing count,” he complained.

Marsali cackled with glee, “How hard is it to count to three?”

Giving her a look, I cut off Brian’s retort. “Then I'll count, you just move your feet. Ready? ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three.”

We shuffled about the terrace, song after song. Brian did catch on quickly with a more patient teacher and soon we even tried to throw in a turn. It didn't end well, crashing headlong into Ellen and Willie instead of changing direction.

“Again, again!” Brian begged as a new melody started up.

“But this is a foxtrot,” I tried to explain, “I'm not sure I know it well en--”

“May I be of assistance?” The Captain quite suddenly asked, taking me completely by surprise. How could a man that tall appear out of thin air without a sound?

My hand flew to my neck, my pulse beating erratically as I stammered, “I, ah, that is, you should teach Ellen. She’s a magnificent dancer.”

He looked slightly amused as he offered his hand, “She kens the foxtrot well enough.”

I turned to find Ellen dutifully teaching Willie the steps. “Slow, quick, quick,” her voice floated past as they danced by.

“Show us too, Father,” Brian urged, grabbing Jenny by the hands and pulling her back into the middle of the terrace. “How does it go?”

“May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing low. His hand was still outstretched and I took it reluctantly. Brian tried to emulate his father’s courtly bow and nearly fell over in the process. I heard the captain chuckle as he drew me closer, placing his left hand on my lower back and stepping into the dance.

God, he smelled wonderful.

A more than competent dancer himself, he guided me effortlessly around the veranda for a time before commenting, “I wanted to thank ye, Nurse Claire, for all ye’ve done for my children.”

“Oh, but they're so delightful that it's really no trouble at all, Captain, truly.” I rambled like a lovesick schoolgirl, making my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

How had I never noticed what a deep blue his eyes were? They were magnificent. Rimmed in long lashes that somehow were a lighter shade of auburn at their base, the glow of the ballroom made them gleam like precious gemstones. He smiled then and it took my very breath away.

He didn't speak again and, as I didn't trust my own tongue, I embraced the silence. I felt like he may think me staring at him, so I dropped my gaze. My left hand rested just beside his lapel and the sparkle of my mother’s ring caught my eye.

She and my father had died in a car accident when I was young, making the small cabochon ruby encircled in diamonds of infinite value to me. I wore it on my ring finger, as that’s where it fit the best, and I absently wondered what they would have thought of my dashing Captain Fraser.

My Captain Fraser.

He wasn't mine. He could never be mine. At least ten years my senior, he was completely out of my league in terms of social status, and a widower with seven children to boot.

The song ended long before I was ready, my heart aching as he stepped away.

Pull yourself together, Beauchamp.

Marsali suddenly appeared beside me, commenting loudly “Your face is all red.”

“Is it?” I asked lamely, scrambling for something intelligent to say. “I guess I’m not used to dancing.”

Brilliant, I mentally kicked myself, you’re bloody brilliant.

Footsteps echoed on the paved patio and I turned to see Lady Dunsany walking towards us with Ian in her wake. She was making an effort to hide her jealous rage, but the scathing tone of her voice and set of her jaw gave her away. “Why, that was beautiful. What a lovely couple you’d make.”

The light in the captain’s eyes disappeared at once and it had nothing to do with Ian blocking the glow from the ballroom. I caught the distracted glance he gave her as he responded, making me wonder if I had flustered him the way he had me. A hint of a blush crept above his neatly pressed collar and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

I felt three sets of eyes trained on me as I realized he had said it was time for the children to go to bed.

“Right! Yes!” I agreed, jerking to attention and tearing my eyes from his lips, “Let’s go, children. Come along.”

Turning my back to the adults, I quickly gathered the children into a clump, making preparations to leave the party via the garden next to the veranda. We would disappear to the east wing without disturbing the guests and in relative haste. I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole, but retiring with the children was the next best thing.

We were almost to the cobblestone path when a strong arm came around my shoulders and guided me back, “Jamie! Ye canna let the lass be tucked awa’ with the bairns for the night! She must come to the party!”

My heart skipped a beat at the discovery of the captain’s pet name. I knew his given name was James, and had assumed that he went by some sort of nickname with his family, but to hear it spoken aloud…

“Oh, but really, I can’t, I--” I tried to protest as we moved closer and closer to Lady Geneva and the Captain.

“Dinna fash,” Ian waved his hand in dismissal, then beckoned to Germain who happened to walk past, “Seat the lass next to me, will ye?”

The disgruntled butler looked to me and back to Ian, “If you insist, Mr. Murray.”

I broke the awkward silence that followed by pointing out the obvious, “I’m, ah, not dressed for it, Mr. Murray.”

Ian nodded, seeming to notice this for the first time, and grinned, “Ye have time to change, I’ll see to it.”

…

Lady Geneva had followed me up to my room despite my best effort to ditch her.

I opened my closet doors and stared stupidly at the clothing. All suitable for being with the children, even a few business formal outfits for if the occasion arose, but none would work for the dinner downstairs. “I’m not sure I have anything that would be appropriate.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Geneva spoke from behind me, sounding very condescending, “Where is that lovely little thing you had on when the Captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you?”

I spun around, “Couldn’t what?”

She smiled coyly as she stood next to me, “Come now, we are women; we know when a man notices us. You really are quite attractive, you know. The captain would hardly be a man if he didn’t notice you”

“I do hope you’re joking, Lady Dunsany,” I swallowed hard.

“Not at all.” She turned to me, eyes wide in mock innocence as she held a blue sundress in her hands.

Holyrood. I had wore the dress to Holyrood when she and the captain took the children on a tour of the palace. They hadn’t really needed me, which meant I had time to wander behind them and admire the place myself.

My mind replayed every interaction I’ve ever had with the man, searching for something that could have betrayed my feelings.

“But I’ve never--”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to, my dear,” she looked over her shoulder as she laid the dress on my bed, “There’s nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who’s in love with him.”

A woman who’s in love with him.

The air seemed to leave my lungs in a rush, “Is that so?”

“Of course! And what makes it all so nice is that he thinks he’s in love with you.”

“No,” I shook my head, “That’s not true.”

He couldn’t be in love with me.

Her eyebrows rose, “Surely, you’ve noticed the way he looks into your eyes... and you were blushing just now when the two of you were dancing.”

I’d always been told everything I thought showed on my face, but I had worked so hard to not give myself away. To love him from a distance, without his even being aware of it.

It seemed I had failed.

“Don’t worry, my dear, he’ll get over it soon enough, I should think,” shrugged noncommittally, “Men do, you know.”

I knew he would, but I wasn’t sure I could. Something deep within my heart told me that I would always love him.

So what now?

I couldn’t go on being a nanny to his children when he knew my feelings towards him. I couldn’t face him, couldn’t look him in the eye and see the truth.

What was the truth? Do I believe this woman? Does he really love me?

My heart sank as I realized that even if he did love me, we could never be together. We were from two completely different worlds, completely opposite stations in life. I couldn’t live in his and I would never ask him to lower himself to mine.

I have to leave.

I jumped, not realizing I had said this aloud, as Lady Geneva asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #sound of music au #o captain my captain

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