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scatorcciogf · 8 months ago

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hear me out.. angsts/fluff fic with nat. R comforts her after her dad di3s!!? She tries to push r away but ultimately gives in.

¬ warnings: cursing, depression i guess? mentions of death/suicide and past abuse, established relationship between reader and nat + gn!reader

you've only been with nat for a few months now, but you already feel like you know her to her core. not because she talks much about herself — god knows how difficult it is to get her to open up — but because you've gotten good at reading between the lines when it comes to her.

she oversleeps when she's feeling down. she bites at her lip when she's bored; she bites her nails when she's anxious. she provokes and picks fights at school when something happens at home. she plays more aggressively at practice when she's feeling insecure. she tries to get into your pants when she's frustrated.

you don't know what the hell it means that she hasn't been to school in three days and won't pick up your calls.

you assume she's just sick the first day — but you still find it weird, considering she was fine when you saw her yesterday. you get very concerned on the second day, especially when nobody picks up the phone five times in a row. you're worried sick the third day, and you decide to pay her a visit.

as you walk to your car, it does strike you as a possibility that she is just sick, and that you're being dramatic, but you can't risk it. if something happened to her—

"hey, uh..." you hear lottie's voice as she stops you in the parking lot, her hand on your shoulder. "i heard about natalie's dad today. is she... how is she?"

her dad? "what are you talking about?"

her expression shifts from one of concern to one of realization. "you don't know?"

"nat!" you shout, banging on the front door of her trailer. "nat, come on! open up!"

you've been trying to get her to let you in for a few minutes now, getting more desperate as time passes. your hand started hurting sometime between the third and fourth time you knocked, but the pain seems insignificant compared to the possibility that you'll finally get to talk to her.

"nat! baby, please. please, i need to see you. i need to make sure you're okay. please."

there's a sound on the other side; someone walking to the door.

"nat?" your voice is softer, gentler.

she doesn't respond right away, and you assume she won't at all. you're about to call out for her again, when you hear her unlocking the door. when she finally opens it, you're faced with a starved body and the most tired eyes you've ever seen.

"oh, honey."

she's still silent when you pull her in for a tight hug. she remains still for a moment too, until she weakly hugs you back, her face buried in your shoulder. you don't let go until she moves away first, minutes later, leading you to her room.

you wouldn't say she's a very neat person in general, but the place is messier than you've ever seen it be. there's a dozen cigarette bums on the floor next to her bed — since when does she smoke inside? — and the rest of her room is covered in various junk, ranging from actual trash to stuff like her clothes. you swear some of the shirts on her bed are her dad's, too.

she doesn't have to tell you anything for you to understand the breakdown she's been having for the past three days.

both of you sit on the bed. your eyes are fixed on nat; nat's eyes are fixed on the floor. you gently take her hand into yours, stroking it with your thumb. you wait until she speaks up first.

"what have you heard?"

"it doesn't matter. i want you to tell me what happened."

"are they saying i shot him?"

you hesitate, unsure how to respond because yeah, that's what lottie implied. but lottie heard it from mari, who heard it from her parents, and you don't consider that a very reliable source of information.

"because i almost did. not that it matters that i didn't, anyway. i'm still the reason he's dead."

her voice breaks a little when she says that, and your heart does too.

"nat, look at me." you say, bringing one hand to her cheek so you can turn her face towards you. "it's not your fault."

she laughs humorlessly. "how the fuck would you know, anyway? you don't even know what happened."

"it's not your fault." you repeat firmly.

she clenches her jaw, but the look in her eyes is more sad than frustrated. it takes her a while to start talking again. it's in a much quieter tone.

"he was getting really pissed off about something so fucking stupid." she begins. "he, uh, hit her again. like, nearly drew blood."

her breath hitches. you wait for her to continue.

"i just couldn't bear it anymore, you know? it was like something had snapped in me, and i... i went to get the gun. pointed it at his head." her voice is becoming shaky now. "but the fucking safety was on. and he took it from me, and— and he accidentally fired it off."

you barely blink, or breathe. you just stare at her, your own eyes welling up as you watch tears rolling down her cheeks. you want nothing more than to hold her in your arms forever, making sure nothing bad ever happens to her again.

"nat..."

she continues. "and it's not like he didn't deserve it, you know? he's the worst person i've ever met. and the most stupid one too, i guess, because how do you accidentally blow half your head off? but i still feel so guilty and so... i don't know."

you shake your head. "you can't feel guilty about this, baby, please. i know it's hard but you need to listen to me when i tell you it's not your fault, okay? please."

she looks away again, and you know it's going to be difficult to actually get through to her, but you're not giving up so easily. you drop your hand back to hers, grabbing it a bit more tightly this time.

"why don't you stay with me for a while? it can't be healthy for you to dwell here."

"my mom—"

"should take care of herself." you interrupt her. "i want to be here for you right now and i can't think of a better way than getting you out of here."

"being somewhere else won't make it easier for me to talk about it."

"and you don't have to. we can just... i don't know, cuddle and finally have that movie night date we've been talking about. i'll even cook dinner for you."

she snorts. "yeah, no. you'd burn the kitchen down."

you roll your eyes fondly, lightly smacking her arm. "is that a yes for the other things, at least?"

"yes."

you smile and pull her in for a kiss. it's gentle, more intimate than any other moments you've shared throughout your relationship so far. she pulls away after a few moments, leaning into you as you wrap your arms around her.

"come on then," she murmurs into your shirt, "let's pack my things so you can take me home."

#sorry this didn't turn out longer! i hope it's similar to what u had in mind #it's also definitely more angsty than fluffy...#but fuck it we ball #🩹 — angst #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets

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callslips · 4 days ago

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omg the pure joy that just brought me ahhhh i need more. can i request an angry first kiss in the wilderness?

Yes, you may.

Lottienat drabble time!!!

Rated 17+!

Features: Lottienat angst, Lottie POV, making out, light petting, choking??? tw for blood (visually and textually)

I think i played around with the timeline a bit? Time for a rewatch!

Word count: 1242

you bleed how I bleed (but don’t let that mislead you)

Nat’s mad at her, and not for the first time Lottie has little to no idea why. She tries to help, she tries to offer comfort, she tries and tries and tries, and yet nothing is ever enough. She tries to protect Nat, and even that is enough to upset her. Travis accepts her offerings with thanks - a welcome reprieve, but arguing with Nat is like arguing with a bull. She’s stubborn, headstrong and fierce and worst of all — Lottie admires all of these traits and more.

It’s why when Nat finds her, blood dripping from the self-inflicted wound within her palm, she’s not surprised at the ire that follows.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Nat yells - or, it’s less of a yell than it is an exhausted exclamation.

Lottie watches as if in a sort of trance as she clenches her hand and the blood drips from her palm onto the marking she’d carved into the cavern of a tree. “I just want it to be enough,” She tries to explain, “I don’t want anyone else to - to get hurt.” To die, is what she means, but it’s too raw — everything is too raw. It’s not at all what she wants to say, but she never seems to say the right thing when it comes to Nat.

In a moment her wounded arm is snatched away, the cut stinging with the removed pressure.

“Fucking - acting like this is not going to do anything, Lottie! Can’t you see it? We’re going to fucking die out here, and instead of doing shit you’re worshipping something that doesn’t even fucking exist. It’s just us, and we have to - I don’t know, we have to do something, and you think this is the answer? Hurting yourself?”

Lottie whimpers, blood crimson as it drips onto the snow. “I’m protecting us. It will see that I’m offering myself, and it won’t hurt anyone else, and everything will be okay-“

“Nothing about this is going to be fucking okay! Jackie’s dead - she’s in a fucking meat shed, Lottie. It’s just going to get worse, and you acting fucking crazy - pulling everyone into your bullshit, that’s not helping.”

“It’s not bullshit! It was in me, and It’s in you too. You just can’t see It yet.”

Lottie sees Nat shove her before she feels it, amazed at the aggression. It’s in her, she knows it. “It’s shit like that! You’re scaring people, Lottie! There is no ‘It’! There’s just you, and this shit you’ve made up to cope, and people actually believe you. Do you know how insane all of this is?”

Stumbling a little from the push, Lottie uses her uninjured hand to brace herself against the tree moments before impact. She can’t help the grin that spreads across her lips, the shudder that racks through her when she’s pushed again, back hitting the tree harshly.

Nat’s pissed, cheeks red with cold and something else - eyebrows furrowed and fangs bared like a wild animal. Lottie hadn’t intended to get her to this point but it was always an inevitable, their butting of heads. Still, it fills her with a giddy sensation, pulls a manic laugh out of her. “I told you,” Lottie couldn’t wipe the grin off her lips if she tried. “It’s in you. You just have to set It free, Nat, and you’ll understand. All of it.”

A hand wraps around her throat threateningly, though there’s no pressure behind it. Nat’s looking at her incredulously, using an iota of strength to pin Lottie to the tree - it’s not like Lottie would fight back anyway. “You’ve officially fucking lost it.”

It’s the closest Nat had chosen to be to her aside from the pre-hunt ritual. It only serves to make Lottie more giddy, to broaden her grin.

“What’s so funny?” Nat asks irritably, now beginning to apply pressure. Lottie’s limp arm proceeds to drip blood onto the snow as if emboldened, scarlet and beautiful.

Lottie licks her chapped lips and doesn’t miss the way Nat’s eyes flicker down. “You’re shaking.” Lottie laughs, though it’s a little choked through the grip on her neck. “You’re scared It’s in you. It’s too late.”

“That’s not why I’m shaking,” Nat says, malice behind every word.

“Then why?” Lottie asks, though she’s almost positive she knows the answer.

“I fucking hate you.”

Then lips are against Lottie’s, cold and chapped and bruising, dripping with unbridled rage. It’s not innocent, it’s not sweet, Lottie’s certain it’s not how Nat has kissed Travis.

It’s quick - Nat pulls away as if she’s been burned, hand leaving Lottie’s throat as if she’s finally come to. Lottie levels her with a sickly-sweet smile. “How much?” She ignores the heaving of Nat’s chest, the way she’s biting her lips as if in restraint. “How much do you hate me, Nat?” She takes a brave step into Nat’s space, uses their height difference in an almost demeaning way.

Maybe Lottie is a little unhinged. That doesn’t make It any less real.

The act spurs something in Nat, something raw and animalistic as she yanks Lottie down by the cuff of her winter coat and kisses her again this time - more assuredly but just as fueled by anger. This kiss burns, and Lottie can’t help but hiss as she realizes Nat has bitten her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. It smears against the both of their lips and quickly warms the kiss, the pain shooting through both Lottie’s hand and now her lip nothing compared to the euphoria of seeing Nat let go.

The kiss turns filthy, blood mixing with saliva as it turns open-mouthed, the taste of iron tinging both of their tongues.

Lottie feels Nat push her back up against the tree with her free hand, the bark rough even through the fabric of her clothes. Her bloodied hand dangles uselessly, though she doesn’t hesitate to tangle her free hand in Nat’s hair. Nat started it - she wasn’t backing out so easily.

It’s impossible for Lottie not to moan into the kiss, not when it’s this dirty, this angry. Nat’s lips are insistent, the pressure behind them making Lottie’s newly-attained wound sting even more. It doesn’t help when Nat bites again, when she dips her hand under the fabric of Lottie’s layered clothing to dig furious nails into her skin.

“Nat,” Lottie moans, sensations building until this isn’t enough, until she needs something more.

“Shut the fuck up.” Nat growls against her lips, nails pressing harder as their tongues resume their dance, Lottie’s dangling hand itching to paint Nat red with her blood.

Obediently, Lottie fights the whimper that threatens to bubble in her throat. There’s something about this Nat that isn’t like her usual self, that sends a little shock of fear down Lottie’s spine. It may be inside all of them, but within Nat It’s vicious, scathing and unrestrained.

Nat’s hand climbs Lottie’s side, scratching at the skin until she skims the underwire of Lottie’s bra. At this Lottie can’t help but murmur a “Please,” thighs clenched tight as Nat toys with her, Nat’s own sadistic grin pressed against Lottie’s lips.

When she pulls away their lips are connected by red-tinged spit, Lottie breathing heavily while Nat, aside from the flush in her cheeks, looks strangely collected - pleased for once, even.

“We should head back - get your hand wrapped up.” Nat says, like she cares.

Lottie, briefly, understands this ‘hate’ feeling.

Notes: first drabble on here ….i hope you enjoyed anon <3 if not you’re free to stone me

#this was so much fun #i hope its okay #guac writes #lottienat #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #lottienat headcanons #tw nsft #yellowjackets fanfic #lottienat fanfic #guac answers #guac hcs #lottie matthews #lottienat drabble #teen lottienat #tw blood

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sadaveniren · 8 months ago

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Thank you for your post about Doris coming back, I totally agree with you!

But I wasn’t here then, so I’m kind of curious about the stunt. I’ve heard that people meant that Louis chose her himself as his stunt and they were actually friends? Is that right? And did she really admit in some interview that she was a beard?

Sorry if my questions is stupid, you don’t have to post if you don’t feel like it 😊

🥰 no problem and despite my eye rolling at certain anons there are actually no stupid questions, especially when you are coming at it from a place of not being here.

People (me included) believe Louis more than likely chose her as his choice for a stunt girl. We think he “auditioned” a couple of girls, Alycia being one of them, and ultimately chose to go with Danielle. No one actually knows why he picked Danielle over Alycia.

There was talk that they were friends and they got along, and Danielle did in fact watch/spend time with Fizzy, the twins and the younger twins in 2016, which retrospectively we can assume was because Louis, Lottie, their grandparents etc. were caring for Jay. That like. Is a fact. Danielle spent a lot of time with the family. So it is very possible she became good friends with them.

That said there was also plenty of evidence her and Louis did not get along. For starters, she didn’t actually spend as much time with him personally as she made it seem. She played very well at pretending but after the breakup and finding out Cliff was, at the time actually Louis’ dog - who Louis got for himself from one of Danielle’s uncles friends or whatever - made some things we saw over 2016 look different. For example a lot of times we thought Danielle was with Louis would be because Lottie to Calvin showed a video of Cliff. We thought Cliff was Danielle’s dog, therefore if Cliff was there Danielle was there. But with the new knowledge that Cliff WASNT Danielle’s dog we realized in videos where we ONLY saw Cliff and not her little red dog, or herself, Cliff was probably just chilling with Lottie or Calvin in the house alone.

Because they were somewhat red carpet official if you think about it - aka going to events together - we also got them talking about each other and lemme clue you, both of them very clearly never talked to one another. Louis memorably said he had no clue what Danielle thought about racing when they were AT A FORMULA 1 EVENT and had FLOWN THERE ON A PRIVATE JET. Like y’all were up there in that thing, going to an event, and y’all couldn’t even make small talk enough about the event you’re going to to be able to answer something simple like “what do you think they think about this”. Not to mention Danielle and her “oh I sympathize with the stalkers they just love Louis so much” like the two of them were very much not on the same page.

Finally is the fact that we also got reports that Danielle trying to kiss Louis in front of the fans and him pretty aggressively pushing her away. Thats… that’s always the big one for me about whether or not they were friends.

As for her confirming being a beard, no she never did that. Or if she did I sure never heard about it. And also any paid beard worth their salt would NEVER admit to being a beard while the person they bearded for is still closeted because that’s called outing someone and that’s Very Fucked Up.

#answered

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igniting-quill · 2 years ago

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Hiiiii

So for the fanfic writer ask thing (definitely didn't forget what it was called), i'm asking you about, surprise surprise, your arc 6 fic haha

Her captain, unbelieving, leaned forward until her forehead almost slid up against Beryl’s. Remeny’s electric blue eyes glared at Beryl. The red-head did her best to pull Beryl’s defenses apart. Cute as the captain was, Beryl didn’t break. “Seriously. I didn’t cheat.” Beryl said, her tone taunting, beckoning her captain to make that accusation. She used a hand to push against the captain’s shoulder to give them a bit of distance. Remeny continued to back away, eventually slumping into her chair while Beryl continued, “After all, I’m not as vile as you are. I’m not going to be shoving my playing cards anywhere else… suspicious” “You're making fun of me.” “Yes Remeny, because using your cleavage to hide your playing cards is not as clever as you think. Especially when you’re drunk out of your mind and have terrible sleight-of-hand.” The sky pirate captain, a legendary leader who single handedly led her crew through numerous successful feats of crime, shut her mouth, scrunched her nose, and pouted at the insult. Beryl's smile grew wider. “It’s just the truth, captain.” "Ahhh— you're so smart Beryl!” Remeny said as she swiped the stack of cards from the table and aggressively shuffled them for the next round. “That’s why you're our crew’s quartermaster. Now, if I was quartermaster, we would have all been dead a long time ago.” That was such a Remeny compliment. After all, it was rare to hear something so humbling from someone with such a big ego. Beryl chuckled goodheartedly as Remeny passed out the cards for their next game.

Okay so ... This is just... Impressively in-character, i just... Wow. Like you know that meme that's like "he would not fucking say that"? Yeah, well this is "they WOULD fucking say that".

anyway i guess this is an ask so how did you manage to read these characters' minds and how can i do it /j

Yes! The question I’ve been waiting for!

Lea is asking about a writing ask which I reblogged here.

Onto my complementary below the cut, SPOILERS by the way. If you want to read this for yourself first, check it out on ao3 here.

First of all, you’re compliments are so nice haha. I don’t think I can give you the best answer to how I managed to “read these characters' minds” lol, but perhaps you can clean something from what I write down here.

Some background before I get into the scene itself.

I had this structural idea for this fic, which was done sorta well (I had no idea how to do it for Solas). I think we’ve both heard of the “life flashing before your eyes” before death, and here I wanted something like that for Beryl. But her life consists of her pirate crew, and finally in this fic, herself. Each flashback scene consists of a memory of a member from the crew: Remeny, Lottie, Kipp, and Kix (a small one for Salas, if you want to count that).

I had different “triggers,” some more obvious than others, to initiate a flashback. In the one you chose, the flashback with Remeny, begins with Remeny collapsing in real time. Each other time a flashback occurs, someone is either dying, or in the case with Kipp I just had his flashback sequence come as Beryl was dying herself… I couldn’t find the perfect place hahaha. Additionally, each flashback ended with an ominous reference to death in some sort of way. I mean look: if DM Gus didn't nerf his combat (good choice), Death is what would have happened for everyone in a TPK.

And well, I like to think of my fanfic of the version in which DM Gus didn’t adjust. The player characters in my fic have trouble speaking, continually take “cold damage” from the water, and Beryl ends up dead.

Alright, let me transition into the section you asked about specifically.

I was thinking of what would fun moment could link Beryl and Remeny together, and I immediately thought of the scene that happened during canon Arc 6. Them playing cards, (I think?) Remeny winning, and Kix doing this preprogrammed Beryl vs Remeny scoreboard. This means that Beryl and Remeny? They have HISTORY with this. They fucking love playing cards against each other, and they’re like rivals about it. So I had to choose that as the backdrop to Beryl’s flashback with Remeny.

But any memory with Remeny would be a moment filled with chatter/teasing/roughhousing/accusations but in the best way possible. Like, in the way that you’ll call your best friend a “Bitch” and roast them, but it’s all in good fun and you don’t actually mean the insults. (We see how this dynamic is bad during Arc 6 Episode 6, but most of the time this is the extent of how far Remeny will go.) So I had to have Beryl and Remeny banter. Of course the first thing Remeny would do if she lost would be to accuse Beryl of cheating.

Now, this next part I’m going to talk about is funny, because it wasn’t until talking with you/ reading your fics (of course other people were part of this too) that I started seeing Remeny/Beryl as a like. Ship ship. Which is stupid, because they literally have all the pieces and parts that would make any large fandom squeal with delight (gay rivals to lovers!). Although this fic is posted without any romantic pairings, I really leaned into that. This scene was meant to be read as possibly romantic. My treat for ya ;)

That’s why Remeny leans forward, and they’re foreheads are touching. It’s tension: are they going to kiss? Her eyes, I nearly settled into the fanfic trope of overembellishing them, but I think electric blue is exactly the vibes I wanted. In my head, I think Remeny wants to kiss and is pushing her luck… that is before Beryl pushes her captain away, and that’s why when Remeny relents she’s slumping in her chair (Like “dammit Beryl, a kiss just this once?” / “No. Kissing me won’t make me get rid of your loss.”)

During this physical moment, they keep up that friendly banter I was talking about earlier (in fact this banter continues throughout this whole section haha). The best thing for Beryl to do is bring up one of Remeny’s past cheating schemes, because let’s be honest Remeny’s definitely cheated before, and is smart about it. Like, Remeny is being hypocritical for calling out Beryl for cheating when the captain has done it before. But of course, I mentioned they’re rivals with inside jokes right? So Beryl’s going to choose the most embarrassing moment she can muster which for the writer (me) I had to ponder a bit. So like. What the fuck would Remeny do?

Of course it’d be cheating by hiding cards with her boobs.

And like, damn that’s a good roast, so Remeny let’s Beryl have it (captain cannot think of anything else to roast Beryl back and concedes that Beryl won without cheating), and in her lack of a comeback she also admits that Beryl’s smart: that’s why she wins in cards (and wins Remeny’s heart but also this isn’t explicit).

And finally, my odd foreshadowing of death to end the flashback. “Now, if I was quartermaster, we would have all been dead a long time ago.” ← that’s what I mean.

But it felt too cruel and ominous to end the flashback there. I mean, that’s not what the memory felt like! I didn’t want to warp it like that when the current “present” scene was so tragic, so I ended it off with them continuing onto another game. Past Beryl and Remeny are having a great time. And that’s what makes their deaths feel worse.

Thank you so much for asking! This was incredibly fulfilling and I appreciate your choice of my fic haha. Now, onto my sad irl responsibilities :p take care everyone!

#If We Go Down We Go Down Together #ask #fanfiction ask #Arc 6 of Unprepared Casters #The Glacerian Trail #UC Arc 6 #writing ask game #thanks for asking lea :)

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years ago

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Igniting Our Feelings–Phillip Carlyle

Phillip's POV

I glanced around backstage, my eyes stopping on Y/N going over the new routine with the other dancers. When she looked over at me, I quickly looked away.

I bit my lip when I turned and instantly ran into W.D. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

"What?" I asked, my breath getting caught in my throat.

"How long have you had a crush on Y/N?"

"Well. . . I haven't. . ."

"And how long has she had a crush on you?"

"She has a crush on me?"

"And why won't you tell her?"

"It's complicated," I stuttered.

"But it's not," W.D. scoffed. Suddenly his expression changed. He shook his head, his knowing smirk turning into an angry glare. "Listen here, Carlyle. I've known Y/N a long time. She is a great girl. You not wanting to be with her because of your social standing is a smack in the face. Especially to her. But let me should warn you. If you hurt her, I'll end you."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed somewhere else. I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair. I froze when I heard the song Y/N does her signature solo to start playing. I looked around before deciding to go watch.

I slipped into the crowd unnoticed and sat in an empty seat. I smiled as Y/N started doing her famous routine. This dance, without fail, has always gotten a standing ovation.

Y/N effortlessly did her dance, seeming like she was floating. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face as the song ended and the crowd jumped to their feet. I slowly stood up, clapping with the audience.

My eyes glanced away from Y/N to see W.D. smirking at me. I cleared my throat and looked away, walking backstage.

Throughout the show, W.D. constantly caught me staring at Y/N. It was like every time I looked at Y/N, W.D. was there. Each time he caught me, he scoffed and shook his head before walking away.

As soon as the show ended, I walked backstage. I bumped into someone, instantly looking into the disapproving eyes of W.D.

"You're pathetic."

"I don't know what you mean," I stuttered. I cleared my throat when W.D.'s glare darkened.

"Phillip," he said, clearly losing his patience. "You don't realize it, do you?"

"Realize what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"By keeping your feelings to yourself," he sighed, "you're actually hurting Y/N."

My heart sank into my stomach. I couldn't shake what he said to me as I walked up to Barnum's office. I went through the books and went over the finances for over an hour with one horrible thought bouncing around my head.

Was I really hurting Y/N?

I jumped when the door was aggressively pushed open. I looked up to see W.D. standing in the doorway, completely out of breath, and covered in soot.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The building's on fire."

* * * * *

I helped Lottie out of the building, my lungs burning from the smoke. I looked around, trying to take a headcount.

"Is everyone okay?"

I turned around to see Barnum jogging over to all of us standing safely across the street from our building. He checked with a few people as he made his way to me.

"Are we missing anyone?" Barnum asked, glancing around the crowd. I looked over to see W.D. already staring at me. Everything slowed down when W.D. said the last thing I wanted to hear right now.

"Y/N's still inside."

Without a second thought, I ran inside. I ignored the screams behind me as I darted into the burning building. I looked around, almost every inch of the building was on fire.

"Y/N!" I called out. "Y/N, where are you?"

I continued to search for her, moving around the burning building parts. The longer it took for me to find her, the more my nerves jumped. The smoke made it hard to breathe, but the panic of not finding Y/N made me hyperventilate.

I turned around and headed to the girls' dressing room. I shielded my face when a beam fell.

"Y/N?" I called out again. "Y/N, please. Answer me."

"Phillip?"

My heart jumped into my throat and everything seemed to quiet down when I heard Y/N's broken voice. I searched around the room, failing to find any sign of her.

"Y/N?" I said again. "I'm here. Give me a sign of where you are. Please."

"I'm over. . .under. . . I don't know," she finally got out.

My head snapped over to a fallen beam that shook. I ran over and could barely see Y/N underneath.

"I'm here," I said, not bothering to hide the relief in my voice. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears and terror.

"Y/N," I said softly as I knelt down closer to her. "Just hang on, alright? I'm going to get this off of you and then I'm going to get you out of here."

"Okay," she said softly, her voice shaking.

I hesitated before standing up and grabbing the beam. After changing my grip several times, I was finally able to lift it off of her. I moved it to the side, placing it down far enough away from her.

The second it was on the ground, I ran to her side. I knelt down and pulled her into my chest. As I held her close to me, I felt her let out a sob.

"It's okay," I whispered. "I got you."

I completely forgot about the building around us as Y/N tucked into my chest. She took a shaky breath as she grabbed my shirt, pulling herself even closer to me. I looked around, seeing the building on its' last legs.

"Come on," I whispered. I stood up with her still in my arms. I gasped when Y/N's legs gave out, instantly catching her.

"I got you," I soothed. "And I'm not going to let you go until we get you out of here."

I leaned down and picked her up bridal style. I carried her like that through the building and outside. As we walked out, people yelled and EMTs rushed towards us.

My heart was beating against my chest as I watched them lay her down on a gurney and check her vitals. I didn't look away as someone walked up behind me and put their hand on my shoulder.

"She's going to be okay," Barnum sighed. I moved my shoulder aggressively out from under his hand.

"Don't," I warned. Before I could stop myself, I jogged after the gurney.

"Can I come with you?" I asked. The EMTs looked at each other in debate. "Please? I need to be with her."

"Sure," the older EMT sighed.

"But we need to work so please stay out of the way," the younger EMT said harsher.

I got into the ambulance, sitting as close as I could to Y/N without getting in the way. With shaking hands, I reached over and grabbed her smoke-covered hand.

* * * * *

I paced back and forth in the waiting room, unable to sit still. Whenever I heard a door open, I jumped. Y/N was back with the doctors as they ran tests to make sure the smoke didn't do any damage. The longer it took for them to come out and give me an update, the more restless I got.

"Mr. Carlyle?"

I jumped and turned around, my heart jumping into my throat as Y/N's doctor walked over to me.

"How is she?" I rushed out.

"There was a lot of smoke in her lungs," he sighed. "We had to put her on a breathing ventilator to help get the smoke out. She needs to be on it for the rest of the night. I'll schedule for them to remove it tomorrow around 6:30 am."

"Okay," I stuttered, still having a hard time wrapping my head around everything he was telling me. "Is she. . . Can I. . . Are you. . . Is she comfortable?"

"Yes," the doctor said, a small smile spreading. "We gave her some anesthesia, so she should sleep until the morning."

He hesitated before adding, "I can take you to see her."

"Thank you," I sighed.

I played with my hands as I followed him back. When we got to a room, he stopped.

"She's in here," he said gently. "Normally, we don't allow visitors this late. But considering the circumstances. . ."

He let his sentence drop. Instead, he patted me on the back and walked to another patient's room. I took a shaky breath, gathering the courage to go in.

When I finally had the courage I needed, I opened the door, and what I saw scared me. Y/N was laying in the bed, connected to the ventilator. Her body was covered in smoke that looked like bruises and she had a real bruise over her right temple.

I walked into the room, sitting in the chair next to her bed. I scooted closer to her and gently took her hand in mine.

"I almost lost you," I said under my breath. "I almost lost you without telling you how crazy you make me."

I laughed at how weird it was that I was talking to her while she was asleep.

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows about my little crush on you. And by little I mean embarrassingly big. In fact. . ."

I looked at her, my eyes filling with tears. I leaned in and pressed my lips gently to her forehead.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N."

I sat back, still holding onto her hand. "And when you wake up," I said shakily, "I'm going to tell you to your face. Then, when you get out of here, I'm taking you on a real date and we are doing this. No more holding back."

* * * * *

I fell asleep in the chair, holding Y/N's hand. I woke up when I felt her hand squeeze mine. I looked over to see her looking at me. When I saw her beautiful Y/E/C eyes staring at me, I sat up straight. Y/N laughed when I almost fell out of my chair.

"Y/N?" I stuttered. "Are you alright? Do you need me to get the doctor? What can I do for you? Tell me, Y/N. Please. I want to help you."

"I'm okay, Phillip," she said softly with a smile on her face.

I let out a sigh of relief as I scooted the chair closer to her. I grabbed her hand in both of mine. I lifted her hand up to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Phillip," she said, her voice a whisper. I looked up at her, allowing the tears to stream down my face.

"All I can think about is the fact that I almost lost you," I said, my voice breaking.

"But you didn't," she reassured.

"There's something I need to tell you," I stuttered.

"Phillip," she cut me off. "I'm in love with you too."

I stared at her with wide eyes. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to find the right words.

"How did you. . . When did. . . What?"

Y/N looked down at our intertwined hands, her cheeks turning red.

"I don't know how to explain it," she said softly. "It's like I heard you talking to me when I was asleep."

I smiled as I squeezed her hand, making her look up at me. "I've read that's possible," I whispered.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. I felt her smile against my lips as she started to kiss me back. I finally let go of her hand and gently grabbed her face, our kiss slowly getting more heated.

Without breaking the kiss, Y/N grabbed my shirt and pulled me next to her. I laid down, making sure I wasn't hurting her as our lips moved in sync.

"Y/N," I gasped, breaking the kiss and started blurting out my feelings. "I fell in love with you the day we met. I know I should've told you sooner and I'm sorry I didn't. I don't care about what anyone else thinks. I want to be with you. I need to be with you. I need to be able to call you mine. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Phillip," she said, her voice shaky.

I reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She smiled as I laid us down, pulling her so she was laying on my chest.

"I want to do this, Y/N," I whispered. "No more holding back how much I love you."

#phillip carlyle #phillip carlyle x reader #phillip carlyle imagine #the greatest showman #the greatest showman imagine #zac efron #zac efron imagines

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years ago

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I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 2.3k

Author's Note: My apologies, writer's block got the best of me.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The European Theater

June 11, 1943

Lottie’s heart was restless and mournful once more, with every beat she couldn’t help but notice the splinters and cracks that had webbed their way across its surface. Without her two best friends, she could never be completely whole. She put on a strong, clinical face, of course, but there were countless times that her emotional turmoil seemed as real as any wound she’d become accustomed to treating. Months had passed since Dr. Erskine’s assassination. It had been months since she’d been relieved of her duties on Project Rebirth. Months since she’d been torn away from Steve. One year, five months, and twenty-nine days since she’d stood on a train platform, watching as Bucky faded from view.

It had been a rather grim day when she’d received orders that she would be shipped out to London with the SSR. The morning after Dr. Erskine’s tragic death, she and her peers had been summoned to take blood samples from Steve; they were under the impression that it was for continued research purposes. The five of them had been exhausted, nearly asleep on their feet from staying awake all night. They’d tried to sleep at first, but all attempts were abandoned when all they could see was the lifeless body of their mentor every time they shut their eyes. They had held a silent vigil, nestled in their own beds with wide eyes, waiting anxiously for daybreak.

Once their duties had been completed, they followed Steve into the dimly lit central command room of the SSR. The room had been buzzing with energy, with agents milling about and Howard Stark in the midst of it all, tinkering away at some machine. Lottie had looked to Agent Carter, expecting new orders regarding blood sample analysis and re-developing the serum by studying Steve’s cellular structure; Colonel Phillips came along to crush her hopes of continued research.

“As of this morning, the SSR has been re-tasked,” Colonel Phillips began, his gaze firm on the nurses, “The president has ordered us to eliminate Hydra on the front lines. Project Rebirth had been officially shut down, and as employees of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, you ladies will be flying out on a new assignment with us.”

Nancy was the first to protest, “But sir, you said you wanted an army of Super Soldiers—”

Colonel Phillips held up a hand to silence her, “Ms. Powell, we are in the thick of a war, we don’t have the time or the money to redevelop a serum. You are all under contract with the SSR; these are your orders. We’re flying to London tonight.”

All that the nurses could do was look from each other to Agent Carter, who graced them with a small, sad smile. She’d just received the orders as well; it must have been somewhat of a surprise for her.

“What about Steve? He’ll be joining us, right?” Colonel Phillips stiffened slightly at her familiarity with the Super Soldier, most SSR agents accepted their strong bond, but Colonel Phillips never wavered in his beliefs regarding the relationships between soldiers and their nurses.

“Given that Rogers is our only Super Soldier, he is an extremely valuable asset, not one to be thrown willy-nilly into a war. He’ll be staying stateside while we handle the dirty work overseas. Senator Brandt has offered Rogers a promotion, which he's already accepted.”

Frustration bubbled in Lottie’s chest, “So we spent over a year slaving away in that lab and creating the perfect serum for your Super Soldier just for you to toss our hard work aside? He is perfectly capable of being on the front lines!”

The thought of Steve being sent into the belly of the beast that was Hydra had almost made Lottie sick, but the thought of her hard work going to waste agitated her to no end. Going to war was quite literally what he'd been made for, this was the goal from the get-go.

“Ms. Green, we know perfectly well what Rogers is capable of. He has exactly what it takes to carry out his mission here in the states flawlessly.” He dismissed them without waiting for a response, reminding them to “Be ready for takeoff at twenty-one hundred hours.”

The rest of that day had been a flurry of hurried goodbyes and the packing up of what little belongings they’d brought with them. Letting go of Steve was nearly impossible. They bade each other farewell on the runway, the airplane stood in front of them in all of its aluminum glory, moonbeams bouncing off of its surface.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this to you all over again.” Lottie’s gaze was sorrowful, focused on her sturdy black shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye; his eyes always bore through her with an intensity she couldn’t handle at the moment.

“Hey, at least I’ll actually know where you’re going this time,” Steve half-joked. He nudged her foot with his own to draw her attention upward. His face had grown serious, “While you’re over there, make sure you keep an eye out for Bucky, alright? I haven’t gotten any word on where he is, but he’s with the hundred and seventh.”

Lottie knit her brows together and memorized the number. One hundred and seventh. One hundred and seventh. She would have to fight tooth and nail, climb every mountain and ford every stream, just to find James Buchanan Barnes once more.

But at the moment, she had to fight tooth and nail to get this Italian to sit still so she could properly disinfect and stitch his shrapnel-inflicted wound.

Shortly after their arrival in London, the SSR had shipped out to a base in Tunisia from which they could aid in Allied campaigns along the southern coast of Italy; there were plans to capture Sicily, but first, the Allied powers needed to station themselves on surrounding islands. So, they found themselves on the minuscule island of Pantelleria.

Unfortunately, the surrender of the island to the Allied powers was only achieved through 19 days of aerial bombardment. Lottie, her peers, and a small band of fresh-faced nurses had been left to deal with the casualties.

The mousy-haired nurse stood before a bedridden, red-faced man, whose plump fingers were wrapped around his thigh in an attempt to compress his wound. Lottie was armed with her newly acquired Italian-to-English dictionary, penicillin, bandages, and all that was needed to stitch up his wounds. She flipped through the pages of the dictionary; her mouth set in a firm line.

“Bisogno,” she began, gesturing to his freely flowing wound, “Pulire e cucire. Io aiuto.”

Half a dozen other nurses had attempted the same thing, all had offered to treat him, but the man had treated them all with the same oafish aggression that he was showing her.

“A fanabla! Non ho bisogno del tuo aiuto.” He used his free hand to wave her off, spittle spewing from his lips due to his intensely glottal speech. The movement of his deep brown eyes, how they flickered to and fro, indicated his increasing agitation in such a high-stress environment. Lottie genuinely understood his hesitation to accept her help; he and his kinfolk had just spent the past nineteen days trying to survive a deluge of attacks from the Allied forces. Why should he accept help from the very people who nearly destroyed their island?

Lottie gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her dictionary, “Prego, signore!” For once, she wished that Nancy would show up out of the blue to push her aside and take matters into her own hands, but there were far too many injuries for multiple nurses to work on the same patient at once.

“Lasciami in pace, cretina!” He growled, flinging his free hand out to knock her tray of supplies aside. Lottie stabilized the tray on his bedside table before any supplies could become contaminated, no way in hell was she going to spend another fifteen minutes re-sterilizing those damn syringes.

She’d about had it with the man. If she transferred him to another nurse, the SSR would surely doubt her abilities as a well-established nurse. Lottie would surely deal with more aggressive soldiers on the front lines. Forgoing any sort of decorum or professionalism, she pinned his free wrist down to the cot with her right hand, “Io aiuto. O tu morire.” The foreign words were awkward on her tongue and she didn’t sound nearly as assertive as she’d wished, but the Italian man finally gave in, grumbling what was probably an assortment of curses at her.

Lottie made quick work of removing the shrapnel that had embedded itself into the man’s skin in muscle. It was relatively easy, as she’d had enough practice that morning, dealing with what felt like dozens of injuries just like his. When the island had finally been surrendered, a bevy of nurses and medics had been flown in, Lottie and her peers included.

The Cadet Nurse Corps’ newly initiated training programs had been quite beneficial for such circumstances, but with such accelerate courses of study, many of the nurses were inexperienced and uncertain in their abilities. Thus, most of the morning was spent overseeing the work of the newer nurses; the advice was administered when needed and tasks were delegated to the older nurses when stitches were too tight and fingers too shaky.

The Italian man’s wound was just one of many, at this point. The only remarkable aspect of the interaction was his temperament. Sure, many other islanders had expressed distrust and dismay with the Allied forces, but they had at least been more eager to be treated for their injuries.

“Fatto presto, signore,” she murmured as she began the careful work of stitching his lacerations shut. Her Italian was dreadful, comprised entirely of juvenile phrases and briefly memorized words that could just barely communicate her intentions to her patients. She knew that she probably looked to be a bumbling idiot in their perspectives.

By the time she was finished, nearly every inch of her skin was damp with sweat— although the medic tent provided shade from the sun, its heat, combined with the body heat of so many civilians seemed to suffocate her. The air was thick, her curls clung to the nape of her neck, and her once crisp white dress had become damp and splotched with various hues of orange and blood, remnants of blood and dust.

The former nurses of Project Rebirth remained close, even after the termination of their research, they were often found huddled in one corner of the nurse’s tent, playing cards and smoking, or whispering gossip of their next assignment.

“How long do you think they’re gonna keep us here?” Mary glanced over the edge of her letter, looking to Gladys expectantly. Gladys was always in the know with these sorts of things, keeping quiet and listening in around the higher-ranking officers.

Gladys hummed in thought, rolling an unlit cigarette between her fingers, “From what I’ve heard, we might be heading toward mainland Italy soon. But I’m not sure.”

Lottie frowned, “But what about Operation Husky? I mean, we just bombed this damn place for a good base to capture Sicily.”

“Well, I’ve heard there’s a Hydra base on the mainland. These girls might stay behind for Operation Husky, but we’re better prepared for whatever Hydra has in store for us.”

Betty groaned, “I don’t care where they send us, so long as the soldiers aren’t great louts like these guys.” Lottie had to agree, the soldiers stationed with them in Tunisia and on Pantelleria had been rather uncouth. They drank far too heavily most nights, which typically resulted in uncomfortable interactions between the men and the nurses.

A voice piped up from the other end of the nurse’s tent, a girl of only around 19— her name might have been Nelly —smiled at them brightly over a newspaper, “Well wherever you go, I hope you get to see a USO show because I’d give anything to see Captain America!”

“Sorry, who?” The name was somewhat familiar to Lottie, but she and the other women had never shown particular interest in the USO. All that she knew was that their shows usually had chorus girls all dressed in short skirts and red lipstick, just what a soldier needed to see after what seemed like an eternity in hell.

Nelly ambled over and tossed her newspaper onto Betty’s bed, which the women usually crowded around. None of the women spoke as they took in the headline: “The Star-Spangled Man’s European Tour.”

“What the hell?” Betty broke the silence and held the newspaper up to the light, squinting at its front page. The mouths of the other four nurses were agape, they were at a loss for words as they processed the fact that the culmination of their hard work was being brandished as some sort of cheery mascot for the war effort.

Lottie felt a righteous anger building within her. It was one thing to separate her from one of her best friends for the sake of pursuing separate missions, but this? This was a joke. Laughable, really. She could only think of the late nights, the early mornings, every moment of their time at Camp Lehigh had been dedicated to perfecting the Super Soldier serum. Now that they had their Super Soldier, they decided to waste his talent and their hard work. It was a slap in the face, a punch to the gut. Lottie could only hope that Steve would be reassigned after his European tour; he was destined to be more than just a show pony, she was sure of it.

#40s!bucky x original female character #40s!bucky x ofc #40s!bucky #40s!bucky x reader #1940s bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

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mable-stitchpunk · 4 years ago

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What are the friendliness levels of the Can't Go Home Again animatronics?

I’m going to do this just like I did with the aggression level and rate them on “Kindness” and “Bar of entry”, then use those to calculate how friendly they are. With 1 being completely unapproachable and 10 being excessively cuddly.

I’m going to cover most of the main animatronics like last time. Let’s begin!

Marionette

Kindness: By far, Mari is one of the most gentle and forgiving animatronics. Not only does he adore children, but he stands apart as one of the animatronics most willing to trust and be social with adult humans. He has also shown himself to be empathetic with other animatronics, offering them extra chances even if they hurt him as long as they show a little turn-around. He holds a lot of guilt at hurting others, whether they are human or animatronics. There is a point where Mari can be pushed ‘too far’ and will shut someone out, but that it a far point to reach.

Bar of entry: While Mari tends to be quiet and distant with strangers- those he trusts enough to show himself around- it’s not too difficult to break through that exterior. What seems like aloofness is actually caution, and unless Mari has reason to believe the stranger is a threat he will eventually open up, and he is loyal and protective of those who he opens up to.

I would say that Mari hits a high 9 right away. His caution keeps him out of a 10, but he is still one of the friendliest animatronics of the group.

Foxy

Kindness: While having a gruff exterior and not being afraid to confront those who wrong him, Foxy is a kind person. He might put on a loner persona at times, but Foxy craves friendship and is disappointed that he doesn’t get more of it. He’s good with children, but more wary of adults until they prove themselves. He’s civil with other animatronics, opening up to them slowly, but can hold onto a grudge for some time. On the flipside, he has been known to readily comfort others, and feels remorse when he steps out of line.

Bar of entry: As said before, Foxy doesn’t trust adults as readily as Mari does, and the same goes for other animatronics. Foxy particularly separates himself from other animatronics, though this could be because of the past bonds he has share with most of them. It should be noted, however, that Foxy opens up readily to overtly friendly animatronics and humans.

I would give Foxy a high 7, maybe an 8. The only major thing pulling down his score is his lack of trust in others. Which makes sense considering his past.

Security Puppet

Kindness: As expected, Lottie would be the most socially adapt of the animatronics in this list. Being that she acts more as a human would, she has an easier time speaking to them than the others (originally had). She’s typically nice to people off the bat, even if it is an animatronic she’s wary of- to keep the situation defused. She can be socially awkward at times, but it doesn’t get in the way of her ability to communicate with others. She empathizes with others, shows protectiveness even over strangers, and is more willing to try and understand more than blame.

Bar of entry: Lottie doesn’t hold as much suspicion for people unless they give her a reason to. A little more wary around animatronics, but not enough to engage unless she knows that they are going to become aggressive. If she knows someone is safe (not going to tell anyone about the animatronics) she will typically open up to them.

I would put Lottie definitely at an 8. Only under Mari because he’s a little less cautious than her around animatronics.

Baby

Kindness: Baby is not as callous as she appears, but she can be very abrasive and blunt. This only raises tenfold when approached by someone she has reason to dislike. Or not, as Baby has also been known to become jealous easily. This all stems from loneliness and a fear of abandonment, and frequently leads to her sabotaging any chance of friendship. Rarely she manages to find someone to open up to, and in these brief glimpses Baby is capable of showing someone else hiding under her exterior. Someone who doesn’t know how to show she cares but is capable of caring very deeply.

Bar of entry: It takes a lot to get on Baby’s good side. She doesn’t trust anyone right off the bat, and those she does trust she took years to open up to. That’s not to say that she isn’t capable of opening up to someone. Though she has had a history of being manipulative, it’s clear that like Foxy she opens up faster to those who show her genuine kindness- without pity.

Baby would be at about a 4. Very hard to crack that shell, but there is a soft center if you dig far enough.

Ennard

Kindness: Once again, Ennard is the odd one out. On first glance, Ennard seems to act incredibly friendly and charismatic to everyone, but this is actually a ruse. Ennard IS generally a friendly person, but it is almost impossible to tell how he feels about someone as he covers so much. As said in the danger post, Ennard is fearful of other animatronics- even if he is capable of overpowering them- so his ‘outward friendliness’ to them may be a show of bravado until he realizes that they are not a threat. He’s more guarded than he appears, but once he begins to love someone, he loves them with everything he has.

Bar of entry: Ennard is almost exactly like Baby in how little he trusts others right off the bat, he just hides it a lot better than she does. A lot of Ennard’s trust is gained through second-hand exposure, seeing someone do something positive for those he cares for makes him more willing to trust them. Ironically, he tends to open up faster to those who are clear and honest with their feelings.

Since Ennard’s such a strange case, I think I’ll set him at a 5.

Springtrap

Kindness: Aloof and distant, Springtrap actually hides a bleeding heart underneath a thick exterior he’s built up. Imagine Foxy if he trusted less and kept fewer grudges. He expects to be mistreated, so he doesn’t tend to hold it against anyone unless whoever it is did something he deems unforgivable. Though even in this case there’s flexibility. He doesn’t seem to hold ill will when people defend themselves against him. It should be known that Springtrap can have strong friendships with people, though there was only one person he truly got close to.

Bar of entry: Springtrap distances himself from everyone, always expecting letting them closer will bite back on him. This goes for humans and animatronics, even though he expects different things from them both. Becoming cordial with someone and becoming friends with someone are two different things entirely. Springtrap, in the best circumstances, can become cordial rather quickly, but that wall will stay up as long as he can hold it.

I think I might put Springtrap at a 5, but for different reasons than Ennard.

Minireenas

Kindness: When they attach to someone, they love them with all of their little hearts. Unfortunately, this means they can become protective and possessive over that one person. Though like young children, then eventually learn to adapt to others... Though they can be exceptionally fussy.

Bar of entry: Unless you’re their chosen caretaker, a woman, or make music box noises, chances are that you’ll have to seriously butter them up before they even begin to let you into their little circle.

The Minireenas are hard to place on the scale. Maybe a 6, since because of their childlike mentality they can be won over a little easier than some of the others. Wherever you would put ‘fussy children’ on the list.

Freddy

Kindness: Freddy is the kindest, raddest bear this side of the mountain! Ready to celebrate a birthday with his friends or rock out on stage, he’s everybody’s best friend!

Bar of entry: Everyone’s just a friend Freddy hasn’t met yet! Just come on down sometime and become Freddy’s friend too, and get exclusive access to the gnarly perks of the ‘Friendship Express Pass’.

Freddy is totally a 10. He’s the friendliest guy there is! He couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried.

#FNAF #Friendliness #CGHA #AFLH #Animatronics

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hczcls · 4 years ago

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hello hello hello !! it’s been a minute since i was in a group setting so forgive me for any mishaps, i am but a lost soul. anywho under the cut is a bit about my child lottie, she’s a mess and a thousand but love her anyways! hmu if you would like to plot or have any wanted connections you can see this child fitting in!

tw: alcoholism, drug addiction, death, grief, overdose, child neglect, child abuse, underage sex, porn.

APP.

( dove cameron, cisfemale ) - Have you seen CHARLOTTE HALE? LOTTIE is in HER JUNIOR YEAR OF STUDY year. The JOURNALISM MAJOR is/are 23 years old & is a SCORPIO . People say SHE is/are CHARISMATIC, INDEPENDENT, AGGRESSIVE and CRUEL. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that HAS A ONLYFANS. (mon. 25. est. she/her.)

AESTHETICS.

the last breath during a chilly night out, champagne flutes and forgotten cigarettes on bar counters. melodic laughter of a child unhinged, fur coats and ripped fishnet stockings, warm hands on cold bodies, spinning until your ears ring and your stomach curdles, the 3 AM headache from a long night out. the screeching sound of the electric guitar, broken glass scattered across an unkempt home, the hollowness of loneliness, blasting music echoing through empty halls, sandy hallways and discarded clothes, screened phone calls and short voicemails, stacks of medical bills and scattered chips of redemption.

- here’s her board!!

SYNOPSIS.

In short, Lottie Haze fits into the cliché realm of a spoiled rich socialite. Growing up the daughter of a famous rockstar did nothing for her humbleness, being the heiress of a family fortune made before her father in the fashion of famous Las Vegas casinos, Lottie was doomed to a life of narcissism and selfishness from the start. Her life is a blur before coming to Yates, she doesn’t delve much into her past and doesn’t stand for the curios pokes and prods from her fellow peers after they watch all the documentaries about her past. Drug abuse, life on the road, the death of her mother, her own overdose at such a young age before being plucked out of her father’s arms. Lottie doesn’t think about it, doesn’t speak about it, but it’s all there, edited from time to time on Wikipedia. Famous for being nothing but the child of the rich, Lottie’s a lot more than meets the eye, but at paper-thin, she’ll allow most to think she’s the typical Instagram influencer, rich, pretty girl plagued with basicness and ignorance.

HISTORY.

Charlotte Haze’s parents weren’t good for each other. It wasn’t a healthy relationship; it wasn’t made from start dust and fairytales. It was a match made in hell, two selfish souls uniting in a mix of tequila and heroin in the back of the Stillborns’ tour bus. Ricky Danger was her father, a name coined from the mind of a self-indulging teenager with too much time on his hand and brain clouded with too many pills. When Jeanette Haze, daughter of a multibillionaire hotel and casino owner, told him the news of their child he was excited, not thinking of the dangers and responsibilities that came along with a child born of wedlock and on the road. Charlotte couldn’t remember a time in her childhood when things were normal, nothing was the cookie-cutter dream house that most children fantasize about, they had no real home, she had no real toys, no friends her age, everything was clouded with smoke and glamour, money and gifts sent to her by her grandparents who couldn’t gain control of their wild daughter and her idiot of a boyfriend who was too busy dragging their toddler all over the world with them.

Her mother died of heart failure when she was eight, something that happened so fast that she barely had time to register what it was. There were two funerals, the respectable one full of family members she’d never met who touched her blonde curls, cradled her chubby cheeks, told her how much she looked like her mother and the one thrown by her father. Where men all spoke highly of her departed mother, where alcohol was passed around, stories were told, and the friends she grew up with made her smile and laugh, instead of feeling lost and alone. Lottie was too young to know what was going on behind closed doors, too sheltered from her grandparents to know that they were doing everything in their power to take her away from her father, who simply brushed the death of her mother off his shoulders, and carried on in life, numbed by booze and drugs. This lifestyle wasn’t something a child should grow up in, an idiot knew that, but Ricky didn’t see a problem with it, he didn’t see how damaging it was, he didn’t care, and once he thought Lottie was old enough, he shared it with her.

Charlotte was 11 the first time she got drunk, 12 the first the time she smoked weed, 13 the first time she had sex, and fourteen when she first got addicted to cocaine. The list grew as she did, the perfect little star on the road, the daughter of the world’s ‘best’ guitarist, the lead singer of The Stillborns. He was so proud of his girl, he loved her more than anything, and she lived to make him proud. She could remember the concerned looks from tutors on the road, her father hiring them to make sure he could keep Lottie at his side, having her learn from the strangers when she could, paying them off not to speak about the things his daughter was involved in, and everyone turned their head, said nothing. Charlotte didn’t know any better, the life she lived was all she knew, all she loved. Sex, drugs, and rock & roll, just like her mother, she was truly the perfect girl, just like her father had wanted her to be.

That all changed when she was seventeen. when one night her father must have misjudged the dose he helped her shoot into her veins. Ricky had had his fair share of overdoses, his own, his buddies, even the one that put his wife into cardiac arrest and took her from him. Though when his daughter started to convulse, he couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything but push her onto her side and dial 911. He left her in the dutiful hands of his band manager and a family friend before he left her alone to wake up in the hospital with no clue what had happened, no idea where her he was, and an onslaught of CPS agents, police, and paparazzi.

It was all that was needed for her grandparents to finally get custody of Charlotte, proof of her father’s neglect, proof of his horrible influence of the young girl. Lottie waited for him, waited for him to show up at the hospital, show up at court, show up to fight for her, but he never did. He never called, he never wrote, and when Charlotte was moving in with her grandparents in their little ranch in Las Vegas after spending months in a rehabilitation center, she still heard nothing from her father. The tides changed then, Charlotte realized she couldn’t go on living the way she had, the way her mother had, so rather than wait until the day she was eighteen to go back to her old life, she made a new one, or at least she tried to. It was a twisted Cinderella story, at least that’s how the news showed it. The once tragic life of a child of rock & roll turned into the sugary sweet life of a beautiful Instagram star, Charlotte Haze coined a new life for herself, with the watchful and worried eye of her grandmother.

PRESENT.

College seemed like something that would be good. A set routine, a new chance at life, a way to start over… sure she didn’t do the best at school on the road but was that her fault or the environments. It would be something normal, a true school environment she never got to experience. Vermont was far, but with some tears and lots of convincing, she was able to get them to agree to let her leave. , and they made sure to give her everything she needed to get on well, with a few standards she had to meet at least. Music would always be apart of Charlotte’s life, even if her father wasn’t, so she figured journalism would be good for her, getting to explore the lives of all the musicians and artists but while also keeping a safe distance from the true lives some lived on the road, not wanting to break her vow to herself, to avoid any and all triggers to her past.

She’s been sober for a while, though the bumps of life have given her a few setbacks, relapsing is part of the process, after all, at least that’s what she told herself each time she embarrassingly returned to her NA meetings or faced the disappointed look of her grandmother who controlled her allowances, basing how much money she fed to the spoiled girl by how stable her life seemed to be at the time. Lottie was going to live her life for herself, she did what she wanted, how she wanted it, though she put on her best appearances for her grandmother, after all, it wasn’t like she was actually going to get a job to support herself, not when she had all the money she could ever ask for in her namesake alone.

SECRET.

Lottie is used to having things handed to her, she’s used to being able to spend her money frivolously, with no care or worry of consequence. But when her grandparents cut her off and the cash flow stops coming in, there’s not much for her to do to keep her materialistic life up. Sure she could get a job on campus, work at a book store, the coffee shop, the record store… but Lottie doesn’t like to work… and she has little patience for tedious things… and so her genius idea was to make money off doing the one thing she never got bored of, sex. Lottie has a secret camgirl/porn account that she earns extra cash from, it’s not something she’s ashamed of at all, but she doesn’t want it getting out on account of her old money grandparents and her widely known father, the last thing she wants to be is a cliche, even if she’s happily living as one.

TLDR.

So basically, Lottie’s got a tricky background, she’s rich af, spoiled af, bitchy af, and kind of just does what she wants whenever she wants. She’s up and down with her sobriety, views everything pretty cockeyed, considering she doesn’t want to trigger herself into using again, but will down a bottle of Grey Goose with little consideration of the consequences. She’s got a lot to hide still, gets her inheritance from her grandparents and that can be easily toyed with, considering they view her life with a magnifying glass. Connection wise she’s open to anything, hookups, passed hookups, ex’s, FWBs, frenemies, best friends, she’s bi and ready to cry so please, love her.

#yatesintro #about

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ofcorpsesarch · 5 years ago

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𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍 . | 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍 . | 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 .

the younger of the twins , grady is technically a day younger than grice as grady wasn’t born until 12:02 am. by nature of seeing them together , however , most people tend to think grady is the older of the two. he’s the one who takes charge and leads the way and is very levelheaded has always been that way. the boys were raised first by their father and then their uncle after the father went to prison when they were seven years old. their mother left when they were a year or so old.

their father’s side of the family has roots that run back to the early days of the so called southern mafia a ramshackle , transient group of criminals with no hierarchy and nothing particularly unifying about them other than that they all committed crimes. after carrying out an assassination on a mayor in northern mississippi , their father was caught , convicted , and sentenced to death for his crimes. the boys then went to their uncle’s farm and spent their youth working on it while attending school.

while their uncle had connections with the group as well , grady and grice weren’t as exposed to it as they had been while around their father. they knew some of the local players and had an idea of how things worked ; on a handful of occasions , they helped their uncle with a few things until his wife found out and tanned all of their asses for it.

upon graduation from high school , grady and grice ( nicknamed by locals as gravy n rice ) accepted full rides to mississippi state university to play football. with grady as the quarterback and grice as a wide receiver , the two became known for connecting on every pass thrown. immensely competitive with each other , grady and grice were often found working out together in their free time in their efforts to one up each other.

over winter break of their junior year , grice was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend’s stepfather. the man , nearly beaten to death by grice , later passed away after spending two days in coma at a local hospital. found guilty by the jury , grice was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

while in college , grady met his future wife charlotte ‘ lottie ’ hurst. she was studying law at the university of mississippi and they met through mutual friends and began dating. they married shortly after completing their undergraduate degrees. when lottie began the law program at ole miss , grady moved to oxford and earned a master of business administration. open her graduation from law school , they moved to grady’s hometown of biloxi , mississippi.

grady and lottie ended up raising grice’s three daughters themselves : cheyenne , sierra , and dakota. cheyenne and sierra are twins.

in the early 2000s and over the course of a few visits with grice , grady reconnected with his father shortly before he was executed by the state. what came from these were the beginnings of plans to restructure the southern mafia into something more functional and organized. utilizing a combination of contacts from both sides of the track , the twins began aggressively executing their plans. by the mid to late 2010s , they had managed to overhaul and course correct the whole operation into something respectable and resembling the structure of the italian mafias of the north.

though things are still in their infancy , what the twins have accomplished from both inside the prison system and outside is both remarkable and profitable. thanks to grady’s connections , they have legitimate businesses to cover the illegitimate aspects of things. they cover everything from gambling and drugs / gun running to extortion , murder , robbery , and arson. grice controls things from within the prison and while the brothers are presented as equals , grady is the official kingpin.

grady and lottie have an open relationship though neither brings anyone they happen to be seeing around the other. the only time things have gone badly is when a man lottie was seeing started stalking her. grady killed him and fed his body to his uncle’s hogs. as far as the public is concerned , they have a normal relationship. lottie and his nieces are grady’s biggest trigger ; threatening them will get someone killed faster than they realize.

lottie is aware of what grady does for a living , including the illegitimate aspect of it. she , in fact , knows every aspect of the entire organization and helps to keep it on course. she , currently , works for the district attorney’s office.

grady has several political and judicial figures in his pockets across mississippi , alabama and louisiana. their reach extends further across the south , but that is his immediate territory / concern. he also has informants at every level of law enforcement in the state of mississippi.

all three girls know , to varying degrees , that their family has criminal connections , but they chalk it up predominantly to it being grice and their grandfather’s side of the family due to how grady and lottie maintain things. grady is careful to keep them removed from as much of it as he can.

cheyenne and sierra attended the university of alabama as cheerleaders ; cheyenne works as interior designer out of mobile , sierra is working towards her phd in electrical engineering.

dakota dropped out of college and currently works at one of the casinos as a casino host. she lives in the guest house on grady and lottie’s property.

out of anxiety , grady often picks the skin around his thumbs raw. lottie has pushed him into trying both medication and therapy , but nothing deters him. he often does it without even realizing.

ever since he and his brother moved in with their aunt and uncle , grady has faithfully attended a baptist church twice on sundays.

he owns several horses and carves time out of his morning every day to go and ride , sometimes with dakota in tow. his horse is a buckskin quarter horse named duckie as so named by dakota. he also owns a deaf black pitbull named judge that accompanies him almost everywhere.

he’s an avid fan of bow hunting.

#ii. / headcanons . » grady warren .#//me taking the southern mafia and saying fuck u n making it my own ? yes #//country boy i love youuuuuu #//jon bernthal as a slight redneck is what i deserve #//its his damn energy 50% of the time anyways

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husbandits · 4 years ago

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Ohh maybe a few headcanons or a scenario in which Arthur gets heavily injured and Lottie tends to his wounds?

lmao, this is from so long ago that @ytoshinori doesn't even post this blog anymore...

anyway! i wanted to focus on one of the scenes towards the end of the theoretical Lottie!fic where they separate from the gang, and uhhh, that ended up being a bit too much to get onto, so instead we're gonna get some author notes, babes

She's been noticing how exhausted he's been of late, trying to stick up for him and get him some time to rest

Trying to force him to rest, when he gets the chance

It's hard, with the chaos in the gang starting to ramp up, and Dutch and Hosea and Strauss having things for him to do, and...

it's just getting to be a very busy time, in general

Not to mention that Rhodes is also a bit different of an environment than they're used to, and she's at once very much in her element and pulled away from the rest of the gang

running around, doing her own one-man schemes

And then the treaty with the O'Driscolls falls through, and there's no sign of Arthur

Immediately she's on edge, but when Dutch says it's fine, he'll be back, she grits her teeth and takes him at his word

Gives Arthur a few days to prove her gut instinct wrong, to have just gotten pulled into some sudden business out there, unable to send word just yet

A few days, just a little more time, until the panic is is overwhelming and she's suddenly certain something's gone wrong

Without a word, furious at both the other gang members and herself, she sets out, early in the morning

it's not hard to find where the exchange took place, the vantage point Dutch likely had Arthur

To find his horse still wandering nearby, reins pulled free from the tree they'd been tied to

At that, the warning bells she's been ignoring for days on end are at full alarm

Blackberry, ever the loyal mystery, is somehow able to track him down, and from there she finds the O'Driscoll camp where he's being held

The ambush waiting for her at the camp is daunting but largely avoidable as she makes her way up- she hasn't made a name for herself with the rival gang yet, and they're anticipating a fiery rescue consisting of all the loudest, most aggressive members of the gang, not one sneaky intruder and her nearly silent horse (Blackberry is left to himself a bit from the edge of camp)

It's not clear, at first, where they're keeping him, but when she sees Colm coming out of one of the only intact buildings in the area, she decides that's a decent place to start

When she finds him, hanging by his ankles and bleeding out from his shoulder, her breath catches and she freezes in horror

It isn't until he moves, swinging his leaden body back to try to get some momentum, that she's brought back to action

goes to grab his arm, struggling for a way to help him down, her head only coming up a bit past his chest

It takes a lot of work to get him down, and there's no way for her to do it without dropping him to the floor, murmuring apologies and s after the fact, before helping get up, untie his hands

After that, sneaking him out of the camp is less of a stealth endeavor, and more speeding their way out to the horses, stabbing and strangling anyone who sees them and breaking into the closest thing to a sprint Arthur can manage when sneaking stops being an option

Afterward, when he's safe up on Mozart, whole body slumped back into her chest, and they've finally shaken the last of the O'Driscolls from their tail, Lottie finds herself able to relax for the first time in a long while, relaxing her grip on the reins, untensing her shoulders

Instead of heading back to camp, she turns the other way. Heads back out to a secluded cabin back by Valentine, calling for the big shire to follow

The pair spend the next few weeks there, as Arthur recovers; Lottie doting over him for the first time. He's delirious the first few days, half-certain he's still being held captive, half-barely able to discern what's going on at all, and then after that insistent that he needs to get back to camp and make himself useful, though he's still too weak to push too much

(ideally, this would contrast with an earlier part where Arthur helps her recover from a hunting trip gone wrong, but who knows, rlly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur x oc #arthur x lottie #charlotte armstrong #rdr oc #headcanons #thx bby!#my ability to grok lottie comes and goes so i tend to push the asks i get abt her back until i feel capable again #sean--macguire

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rayfollowsfromhere · 5 years ago

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Sapphic September Day 5

This one is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite so far...

There are several staples to small town living. The most famous of which is, of course, gossip. Invariably, the central hubb for that gossip is one of two places: the hairdressers or the bar. Unless it's a Sunday, then it's the church.

Given that it's Saturday, and 8 a.m. Eleanora places her bet on the hairdressers. The all-night Google shows only one in Odora. A renovated brick storefront on Main Street that goes by the name of Lottie's. Established 1882, according to both google and the chipper story on their website.

Eleanora found the place exactly where it was suppose to be, in all of its red bricked glory. The best bit was that it was directly opposite the sheriff's office. This gave Eleanora the perfect opportunity to wave cheerfully at Deputy Gomez through the window before crossing the street.

The deputy glared at her. It was the perfect way for Eleanora to start her Saturday.

"Making friends I see," Sheriff Jones called out from his window as he parked his cruiser in front of his office. The floppy haired teen from yesterday jumped out before he finished.

"The internet says you're a mind-reader." The boy accused her with a pointed finger and a squint.

Eleanora raised a brow and looked over the kid's shoulder at the sheriff. The man had his head in his palm. Eleanora shrugged and met the boy's squint with one of her own, "Which part of the internet?"

"Yelp." The boy crossed his arms, chin jutting out as he watched her. Her lips quirked up. "So?"

"Well…." Eleanora drew it out, watched the kid's eyes widen slightly. With a chuckle she finally shook her head, "Nope. Can't read minds." She crossed her arms and attempted a thoughtful expression, "Yet."

The teen snorted, "Lame."

"Agreed." Eleanora grinned, "Reading minds would be cool."

"Don't encourage him," the Sheriff's hand dropped onto his son's shoulder. "Please tell me you didn't ask to come with me just for that?"

"No," the teen's eyelashes fluttered briefly.

Eleanora's lip twitched. "Whatever you say, kid." She watched the sheriff ruffle his son's hair before walking into his office.

"Don't step on any toes, Bond," the sheriff called over his shoulders. "That goes double for you, Beaureguard."

The teenager's entire face scrunched up and Eleanora failed to hide her snort. His eyes narrowed on her, "Your name is Eleanora, you don't have any room to talk.

"Oh, no, trust me," Eleanora's voice went a little high as she tried not to laugh, "You're winning 'worst name' from now until eternity." He huffed, crossed his arms, "What do people actually call you?"

"Beau." He sniffed, shoulders rolling back as he raised his chin. She gave the kid extra points for his dramatics.

Eleanora nodded, nose scrunching slightly, "Yeah, that's better." She looked both ways down the street before she started to cross, "See ya later, kid."

On the other side of the road, the boy was again standing next to her, "Are you going to Lottie's?"

"Yes~" Eleanora stopped at the door, eyes narrowed on the teen.

"But you have shorter hair than I d…" He trailed off once Eleanora pinned him with a bland expression. Her eyes stayed lidded, "I mean! You could probably do with a trim or..."

Eleanora clapped a hand over his mouth, "You should stop talking, Beau, or I will use your full name." He nodded and her hand slipped away.

It turned out that Beau had not crossed the street just to mock Eleanora's short hair, but to visit a young woman with dueling afro buns. One pink. One blur.

"She's too cool to be your friend," Eleanora looked at Beau with a shake of her head. Beau blushed crimson and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I am," the girl's grin nearly split her head as she giggled, "But Beau helped me with the dye, so I made an exception.

Eleanora leaned on the counter. The girl sat behind it with a tablet on her lap, "Please tell me you're not Lottie, at that point I will be too intimidate to talk to you."

The girl continued to preen, "No. That's my great-gran or something. I'm Zora."

Eleanora smirked and turned on the counter to look at Beau. He wrinkled his nose. Eleanora rolled back to face Zora, "I'm Eleanora. I'm investigating Oriana Davies' death."

"Oh," Zora's smile fell and she looked over at Beau with, "Isn't the sheriff suppose to so that?"

"Dad says she's helping cause she's Dr. Davies' friend."

Eleanora wrinkled her nose and pushed away from the counter, "Friend might be overstating it, but Domi did ask for my help."

Zora mouthed Domi's name with a furrowed brow before looking up at Eleanora, "My mom's first appointment is Mrs. Wick, she went to school with Miss Ana I think. Did you want to stay to talk to her?"

"That's why I'm here," Eleanora tilted her head to side. She gestured her thumb towards Beau, "As the kid has informed me, I don't have much use for a hairdresser."

Zora eyed her short hair with a poorly concealed smile, "I could probably think of something."

Eleanora narrowed her eyes on the teenage girl as Beau started snickering behind her. "If you even look at gel while touching my hair, I will scream."

-.-.-

Mrs. Wick - call me Laura - was a willing chatterbox with a new hair color on her agenda so she had plenty of time to answer questions. Eleanora loved her.

"Ana and Frankey have been together since junior high. Really, she should have broke up with him ages ago." Laura gestured with her hands as Zora's mother, Stella, painted on a new shade of red.

"If you ask me, she was too scared to leave, and Frankey was her scapegoat," Stella threw in as she dipped her brush in the dye gel.

Laura hummed, "Agreed." Eleanora leaned on the armrest of the chair opposite the two. She rested her chin in her hand as she listened to the two women theorize about Oriana's relationship.

"Was she interested in anyone else?" Eleanora's gaze flickered back and forth as she followed Stella's brush strokes. Zora was still eyeing her hair with a sparkle that promised trouble and Eleanora was avoiding eye contact.

Stella and Laura both froze briefly. Eleanora's eyes focused on their faces. Laura bit her lip, "Well. In high school there was this guy she liked, she never talked to him though."

"He was a real charmer, but a jerk," Stella rolled her shoulders and continued painting. "He only lived her for a year, was staying with his grandparents or his uncle or something."

Eleanora's eyes hardened on Laura's as the woman tried not to fidget, "He come back around recently?"

"He moved back last month," Laura swallowed, her lips pursed even as her eyes focused above Eleanora's shoulder.

Stella's hands stilled, "Is that who moved in to the Lawn house?" Eleanora's eyes flickered to her now. Stella turned to face the teens by the counter. "Zora, why don't you and Beau go grab a soda down at the general store?"

"O-kay…" Zora's face pursed like she'd eaten a lime, but she hopped from her chair and pulled Beau out the door.

Eleanora sat up straight as Stella, very aggressively, dipped her brush in the dye again. Laura turned a wary eye in her direction.

"Stella?" Eleanora leaned forward, elbows on her knees, "Something to share with the class?" Stella huffed.

"Amity Lawn. Sheriff Jones, the one before Emmett - he had the boy thrown in jail for attacked another student." Stella started painting a new strip of hair. "The other boy ended up a vegetable from what I heard." Her eyes flickered to Eleanora, "Amity tried to hang him from a tree."

Eleanora straightened, "That sounds like something to look into then." Stella nodded and continued to apply the red dye. Laura's eyes were wide as she sat there, mouth agape.

#sapphicseptember #sapphicseptember2019 #daily writing challenge #the life and times of a writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #writblr

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jovialyouthmusic · 6 years ago

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Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal romance AU

13 Frozen Out

Charlotte has a lot on her mind and Drake feels an icy blast.

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn choicescommunity @darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @flowerpowell @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @gardeningourmet @katurrade @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo @silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @annekebbphotography @missevabean @cora-nova @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @ritachacha @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @ritachacha @choices-fangirl @debramcg1106 @goirishsunshine

13 Frozen Out

The following morning Charlotte got ready to go out skating. She loved it normally, but this morning she would be expected to skate with each of the suitors. As her father was still feeling unwell however, it would be very informal.

Maxwell loved skating too, and he was her first partner. They chatted and joked, and she felt ready for the social onslaught. Next came Neville, only barely able to stay upright on the ice, so mercifully their turn was short – Charlotte ‘accidentally’ knocked him over and he had to retire.

Rashad was surer on his feet and it was actually quite pleasant to talk with him. Milo, on the other hand, was a competent skater but his conversation was dull. Tariq had an immaculate pair of skates but could barely move in a straight line and hung on to Charlotte for dear life whilst trying to pretend he was fine. Next was Anton. Naturally he was a superb skater.

‘Your highness, may I say how wonderful you look’ he smiled, offering her his arm ‘You are very graceful, you must have had an excellent trainer’ He laid his hand on hers and she was relieved to find there was no spark this time – maybe it was the ice, maybe it was because her hormones had calmed a little – it didn’t matter, she was immune to his charms today.

‘The only training I had was through experience’ she answered ‘I spent many winters visiting Lady Olivia, and we loved to come out onto the ice. I fell a few times before I learned how to stay on my feet’

‘How charming’ he replied, ‘My father insisted on my having the best trainer available, and I worked very hard to live up to his standards’ Charlotte’s gaze wandered over to the other side of the lake, where Olivia and Brad were skating together, laughing and smiling. She wished the formal part of the day was over, though she had put time aside later for her race with Drake, who had not showed up yet, and she was worried about his outburst the night before. Anton was still singing the praises of his dead father, and she set her face into an expression of appreciation.

On the other side of the lake, Brad waved to Charlotte, and she waved back, not noticing the resulting frown passing over Anton’s face. Brad launched himself toward her and sped across the ice swiftly. He smiled a greeting

‘Your Highness, Lord Severus’ he said politely, and started to skate around them in circles. ‘I believe it may be my turn to accompany your Highness’ He turned as he skated round them and ended up skating a complete circle backwards before coming to a halt beside her, kicking up a little flurry of ice chips as he did so. He saw a scowl pass over the Lord’s face before he smiled and bowed slightly. Charlotte gave Brad her arm and Anton skated away.

‘Where did you learn to skate like that?’ the Princess asked as they smoothly glided over the ice, matching each other’s rhythm.

‘Edinburgh’s pretty cold in winter and we lived close to a Loch that froze every winter’ he explained ‘My Dad bought a pair of second hand skates for me and I spent hours out on the ice, racing my friends and generally messing about’

‘More or less like me’ said Charlotte. ‘Livvy and I had such fun and Maxwell came to join us sometimes’

‘Oh yes – how about Drake?’ he asked. ‘He usually features in your childhood stories’

‘Livvy was very young when she lost her parents, Drake didn’t appear for another few years and he didn’t visit Lythikos until – until he was made a ward of the Crown’ She explained ‘He also preferred skiing – we’re having a race later, we do it every year’

‘That sounds fun’ he grinned ‘Is he not coming to the lake then?’

‘No, you have me all to yourself for a while’ she smiled, holding on to his arm.

‘Heh – all to myself, with dozens of other people on a frozen lake.’ he laughed. They chatted for a while, then his expression changed, and he grew serious.

‘I’m sorry I got you into trouble with Drake yesterday’ he said, ‘He was pretty angry’ Charlotte sighed

‘I can’t understand why’ she said ‘He has to accept that I’ll be – branching out a little before I choose my future husband. I’d only ever been with him, and it’s not like we were exclusive, I know he’s been with other women, and from what he said, none of them were virgins’

‘So what is it with you two – friends with benefits?’ he asked, and she looked thoughtful.

‘I suppose that’s the closest explanation’ she replied ‘but it’s a pretty unique situation. Up till now he’s been my only option’ Brad leaned closer to her

‘Well your highness, I’d be very pleased to continue our – lessons, and broaden your experience’ he said in a low tone. Charlotte gripped his arm as she felt her knees go weak. She kept her balance as they continued skating amongst the others.

‘That’s - a generous offer’ she replied, ‘but I don’t know if or when I’ll get the opportunity. I’m not sure how Drake would take it either, after last night’s upset’ Brad pursed his lips.

‘Like you said, he can’t expect you to be exclusive – unless that’s what you want?’ He squeezed her hand ‘I’m sorry, perhaps I was out of line. You know where I am if you want to take up my offer, but perhaps you should talk to Drake too’ At that point, Olivia skated across to them.

‘Sorry to interrupt Lottie Lou, but it’s time for lunch. Put this hunk down and come and help me make small talk over the fondue’ Brad looked uncomfortable, made a little bow and skated off to leave the two women together.

‘Livvy, you’re such a tease’ laughed Charlotte ‘He’s terrified of you, you know that?’ Olivia shrugged

‘I know, it’s such fun’ she grinned archly ‘Did you see how well he skates? I’ve never seen such a natural. If you don’t want him sweetie, I’ll have him.’ The two women skated to the edge of the lake and made their way to the Dining hall set up in a chalet at the side.

‘Sorry Livvy, he’s still a contender as far as I’m concerned’ replied Charlotte ‘Any news on getting his claim to the Earldom sorted out?’ Olivia scowled

‘Bureaucracy in England is a nightmare. Every time I think I’ve got somewhere, I find I have to contact yet another government department and they all take an age to reply. It’s progressing, but slow as molasses’

‘That’s a shame’ sighed the Princess. ‘Anton keeps trying to impress me, but he just succeeds in being boring. If I hear one more time about how perfect his father was, I’ll scream’

‘So how do you feel about Rashad? You’ve not mentioned him before’ Olivia unlaced her skates, put on her high heels and shrugged off her coat. The Princess followed suit and they walked though to the hall where the other guests were waiting for the staff to start serving lunch.

‘Oh he’s alright I suppose, pleasant, but dull, though not as dull as Milo.’ The Princess had to stop there, as everyone was waiting for her to be served first, and then the buffet would commence. It was time to juggle eating with circulating and paying attention to the guests. Lunch was over when Bastien appeared at her side and coughed to get her attention.

‘Bastien – is there something that needs my attention?’ She asked, and he nodded

‘Princess, your Father asks that you attend him as soon as possible’

‘Is he feeling better? I can go along after dinner tonight’

‘I fear I have not made myself clear, your Grace. He wishes to see you now’

Charlotte entered the King’s suite and was shocked to see that he was still in bed.

‘Father, you’re still feeling unwell?’ she asked, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. It made her recall happier times when she was little and was allowed to go into the Royal bedchamber after breakfast to see her parents, even though her father had been cool toward her ever since her mother died.

‘I am, my dear, and that is why I’ve called you to my side. What I am about to tell you is in strict confidence. Only my doctor and Bastien will have any knowledge of the information I share with you now.’ Charlotte felt uneasy, and shifted uncomfortably

‘Father, you’re scaring me’ she said in a small voice. He looked tired, his eyes drooping for a moment before he gathered himself together

‘Charlotte, there’s no easy way to tell you this. I’m dying’ fear struck into her heart, and she let out a little cry. He held up his hand ‘There’s no use being emotional about it, it won’t change anything’ he said as she moved closer to him.

‘Dying – what – what do you mean? Is there nothing…’

‘Nothing can be done my dear, I have a very aggressive form of lung cancer. I’m told I only have months to live.’ Hot tears spilled down Charlotte’s cheeks, and she took his hand to kiss it. She loved him despite everything, despite his coolness and his aloof unforgiving nature. He suffered her touch for a few moments before he took it back. His tone was gentler when he spoke again.

‘This is why I’m pushing you, my dear. It’s imperative that I leave my country with a strong leader. I urge you to make the right choice, to find the right man to support you and share the burden you will have so very soon.’ He looked at her softly and grasped her hand with his, holding and patting it fondly. ‘Don’t cry child, I’ve had a good life, and I’ve loved two very wonderful women who served our country well. Make me proud, be strong and rule well’

‘I – I can’t believe it Father. How long have you known?’

‘Before the social season started, I knew I wasn’t well, but I’ve only been told this last week that it’s terminal. I’m sorry my poor sweet girl, I wish I could take this burden from you. It’s imperative that you keep this secret – tell no-one. It could be very bad for national morale. I will do my best to make things appear as normal as possible. I can use the excuse of Regina’s death to take a back seat. You may have to stand in for me on a few occasions, but I will do my best’ He lay back and closed his eyes. ‘If I rest now, I will be strong enough for the ball tonight. I will see you then, my dear’ and the audience was over.

Later, Charlotte managed to get away alone to the top of the ski slopes, where Drake was waiting. He did not look in the best of moods and she was still stunned by her father’s news.

‘At last, I thought you’d never get here. Were you busy with our British friend?’ he couldn’t resist accusing her, but her eyes flashed with anger. She couldn’t believe that he was being so petty, though she knew he was ignorant of her mental turmoil. His jealousy was the last thing she needed.

‘Drake, you aren’t the only suitor - I have to engage with everyone, you know that’

‘But not like that!’ he growled, and the unfairness of it all hit her like a wave.

‘Why not? It’s the first opportunity I’ve ever had to be intimate with anyone but you!’ she snapped ‘Should I go to my wedding night without ever having anyone else touch me? It’s not like I’m your only conquest. How many women have you been with?’ Drake opened and closed his mouth. She had never been so forthright – they had never discussed their relationship; he had fulfilled her needs and counted himself lucky. He knew that what they had shared so far was lust – but was there love too? Did they both want the same thing? She was still waiting for an answer and he didn’t have one.

‘Charlie…’ he began but dried up. She shook her head, anger still showing in her eyes until she pulled her goggles down, the line of her lips thin and stiff.

‘See you at the bottom’ she said savagely, and set off abruptly

‘Hey, hold up’ he shouted, and set off after her. He could tell by the way she moved that rage was driving her, and it scared him – not for himself, but in fear that she would forget her own safety. She was going at breakneck speed, and he needed to keep her in sight. Her tracks smoothly ran from side to side of the piste and he noticed she was getting dangerously close to the edges of the safe zone. He pushed himself on as her figure shrank, getting further and further ahead. ‘Charlie’ he shouted, ‘Slow down, you’re going too fast’ and fancied that her voice drifted back to him saying

‘Not fast enough’ He gritted his teeth and drove himself past his own safety limit, desperate to catch up. Her figure started to get closer and he shouted again.

‘Please Charlie – I’m sorry. Slow down, it’s dangerous’ He saw her face as she turned to look back at him, and suddenly she hit a bump on the slope and struggled to keep control, her skis leaving the ground. She flew for a few feet before landing awkwardly, managing to slew sideways to slow her speed and stop, kicking up a flurry of snow as at last he caught up with her. She was visibly trembling as he slowed down and came to her side, angling his skis to come to a stop, and dug his poles into the soft snow. Her face was pale despite the cold air, still a little redness in her cheeks.

‘Are you okay Princess?’ he asked with concern.

‘No thanks to you!’ she gasped ‘If I hadn’t turned when you shouted, I wouldn’t have hit that bump’ He took his goggles off and brought his face close to hers, hands on her shoulders. Her breath made little clouds in the cold air.

‘I’m sorry Charlie, it was wrong of me to get angry. You’re right, I need to…’ he took a breath ‘I don’t own you, if you want to…’ he couldn’t find the words. ‘I won’t stand in your way. But I don’t want you to get hurt. Please promise me you’ll be careful’ She shrugged his hands off her and didn’t answer for a while, obviously still angry with him despite the shock.

‘Careful? I’ve been careful my whole life’ she laughed ruefully ‘you don’t get to tell me what to do.’ She dusted herself off and stamped on the snow ‘We’d better get to the bottom of the slope – I’ve duties to fulfil and people to talk to. You can set off first if you like – knock yourself out, you get the win this year’ He stood and gawped at the Princess, astounded at the change in her. She glared at him and motioned with her head for him to go. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. She was right, he couldn’t tell her what to do – she would be Queen soon. He was afraid of pushing her any further. Reluctantly, he turned and made off to the bottom of the slope alone.

Later that evening some of the guests gathered in the Chateau lounge in front of a roaring log fire, hot chocolate and mulled wine flowing freely along with spiced biscuits and Lythikos ale, which no-one but Olivia was drinking. Maxwell and Brad had set up a friendly rivalry on the ice earlier, trying to outdo each other with fancy moves and were talking enthusiastically about the day’s events. Kiara and Penelope were talking with Rashad and Neville, and Anton and Milo were having a discussion on vintage cars. Olivia and Charlotte circulated amongst the guests and Drake stood alone nursing a whiskey and gazing sullenly out of the window.

‘Why don’t you go and chat with Drake, sweetie?’ asked Olivia ‘I’ll cover for you for a bit’ Charlotte frowned

‘No, I’m too angry with him’ she replied ‘He thinks he can tell me what to do, who to see and what I do with them. Let him brood, I’ll do as I please’ Olivia raised her eyebrows

‘Well he must really have pissed you off, you’re not usually so – focused’ she said, ‘What was it that tipped the balance – that outburst last night over Brad?’ The Princess nodded; even though that irritation had been superseded, she couldn’t tell Olivia what was really bothering her.

‘Yup. He needs to back off, stop telling me how to live my life.’ Olivia looked over at him

‘You mean we have to endure Mr Grumpy?’ she sighed ‘You know he broods and sulks like a champ. He’s bringing down the whole ambience of the evening’

‘Well then he can go sulk somewhere else’ Charlotte huffed ‘Hey Walker’ she raised her voice, so the others could hear ‘Is something bothering you – is the whiskey not up to your standards?’ Drake’s head whipped round, and his lip curled. Before he could think to moderate what was about to come out of his mouth he spoke.

‘The whiskey’s the only thing keeping me in this room. It’s the company that’s not up to my standards’ he said with barely supressed rage. The whole room went silent, and Drake coloured. He looked at his watch and put his glass down, turned to the room and made a deep bow. ‘If you ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I have somewhere else to be’ he growled, and left the room. Olivia gaped at the Princess.

‘Well, you really pressed his buttons’ she breathed ‘Are you sure you wanted to do that?’ Charlotte nodded, tight lipped.

‘Sorry Livvy, I think the evening’s more or less done’ she said. ‘I’m going to my room’ and she left, going in the opposite direction to Drake.

Olivia was taken up with damage limitation after that and roped in Brad’s help to try and lighten the mood, but it was no good, the guests started to drift off to their rooms. She thought she knew where Drake had gone and was pretty sure Charlotte had indeed gone to her room, so she told Brad to see to the stragglers and dressed to go outside. She went out across the terrace and deeper into the wood, following his footsteps in the snow – as she thought, there was just the one set.

‘Look little sis, look up’ Drake pointed up at the shooting stars ‘Make a wish and it will come true’ Little Savannah clapped and smiled at the meteor shower. Every year since that first time, he had brought her to see them, and every year she said her wish had come true. Last time though she had smiled sadly and said it was a story for children and turned away toward the house. Three days later she had gone without a word, leaving him wondering where she had gone and why she had not contacted him to let him know she was safe. He and Bastien had done their best to trace her, but the trail went cold at a hotel in Spain.

Drake stood with his back to a tree, gazing up at the night sky when he heard footsteps in the snow. He turned to see Olivia approaching.

‘Hi Livvy, shouldn’t you be entertaining your guests?’ he growled

‘They all pretty much left, and Brad’s covering for me’ she replied.

‘I’m just peachy thanks, you shouldn’t worry about me’ Olivia walked close to him and laid her hand on his arm.

‘But I do, you shouldn’t give up so easily. If you meant nothing to her, she wouldn’t be so upset’ Drake looked up at the stars again.

‘You know why I’m out here’ he said ‘I was hoping she’d follow me at some point, but I think I burned that bridge’ At that, a streak of light swept across the sky, then another and another. Olivia caught her breath at the sight of the meteor shower.

‘It’s always a pleasure to see’ she breathed ‘Last year we were watching with Savannah’ Drake groaned.

‘I know, and I wish she was here now. She’d know just what to say to sort things out. She sure chose a bad time to disappear.’ Olivia patted his arm again

‘I’m sorry Drake’ she said sadly ‘You’re right, she’d be able to see straight’ Drake grimaced

‘Where did it go wrong?’ he said, and turned on her, anger flashing in his eyes ‘It was your idea to bring someone else in. It wasn’t supposed to be like this’ Olivia threw up her hands defensively

‘Hey, I stand by it’ she said ‘Give it time – when she cools down, she’ll start to realise. Time apart is not time wasted, trust me. She’ll realise what she’s missing soon enough.’

‘I hate this charade’ he said ‘I’m not even sure how I feel any more. You might as well gift wrap her and hand her over to your English almost-Earl. Or Anton.’ He stepped away from Olivia, scowling ‘I’m off to my bed – via your drinks cabinet. I hope you have a good stash of Whiskey’

‘Fine, Drake, go sulk. That’s something you never had a problem with. But you need to work out how you feel about Lottie before it’s too late’ She snorted. He made a dismissive gesture and stomped off. As he got closer to the terrace, Brad loomed out of the snow, just starting to fall. He glared at him.

‘I hope you’ve not come to be my cheerleader. Go talk to Olivia, I’m not in the mood’ and he carried on into the house. Brad continued on to Olivia.

‘What the heck was that all about? Is he still pissed about me and Lottie?’ he asked her

‘I’m afraid so. He’s never had to share her with anyone except me, so he’s finding it difficult.’ Brad looked confused

‘Share her – with you? Are you saying…?’ Olivia rolled her eyes

‘Share her friendship you idiot. My sexual escapades always feature a real live breathing hot blooded male. What I meant was, he’s never had to share her with someone with a dick – or a talented tongue, as Lottie tells me’ she smirked ‘Would it be cheating, do you think, if you gave me a little demo?’ Brad backed away from her

‘Hey, I’m not just hetero, I’m monogamous too. I’ve heard about some of the little parties that go on here in private, and I’m not up for it’ he protested. Olivia followed him, backing him up against a tree.

‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you? Unlike poor dear Lottie, I’m not a virgin. I’m up for anything darling’ Brad’s face was a picture of fear and doubt, but he managed to slide out of Olivia’s grasp.

‘I – err, not right now, Olivia’ he gulped ‘I think that would be rather – complicated, don’t you?’ I – umm, I think one or two guests were still up when I left the Lodge, I’d better get back and make sure everything is okay’ Olivia pouted.

‘Oh very well, I’ll come with you. Wouldn’t do to let them raid the wine cellar while the hosts are cavorting in the snow.’ She started back to the house, but Brad hung back for a moment. Olivia turned and held out her hand for him ‘I wouldn’t want you to slip, sweetie’ she quipped, and he reached out to take it. He exchanged a startled look with her as he felt a small electric jolt at the contact of skin to skin, and followed her back to the Lodge, bemused as the snow started to fall thickly.

#drake walker #drake x mc #liam x mc #olivia nevrakis #trr #choices trr #trr drake #trr choices #trr fanfic #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #charlotte's choice

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flowersymbolism · 7 years ago

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Flowers of Spring - Chapter 10

AUTHORS NOTE: Guys. This is it. The end. I am so, so grateful for each and every person who took the time to read the story we wanted to tell. I’m sure Alex will make a post giving her two cents, but I wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank-you. Thank-you so much for reading, liking, reblogging and experiencing our story. I want to thank you for falling in love with Lammermeier as much as I did (I love him a lot.) I want to thank you for all the times you’ve said ‘how dare you?’ to us. I want to thank so many people who have given us feedback as we’ve written this. I feel like I’m at an awards ceremony. One last thank-you! I want to thank our beautiful pals @riyis @skeletonmelodies and @stupid-sea-pigeon for validating us. @obsessive-introvert for being wonderful and supportive. @thatsilvermagic for being them (Thanks, lke. Sorry we killed you.) And thank-you Alex, the other half of flowersymbolism, @flew-off-with-whizzer-brown for being an amazing co-writer and sister. You’re gonna grow up to do great things, kiddo. We’ve been told a few times how canon this story feels, and we couldn’t ask for a better compliment than that. So, I hereby present to you, after my ridiculously mushy and unnessecary authors note, Chapter 10, the finale of Flowers of Spring.

Yours, forever and always, Lottie.

It was as if everything were in a haze. Hanschen threw the letter down on the bed, his knees failing him as he found himself falling onto the bed. He sat, shaking, unable to understand why this had affected him so. He was going to leave her. He didn’t want to be here. So then why was his world slowly crumbling around him? This was his fresh start. Suddenly his regret, remorse and guilt was overcome by a new emotion. An emotion Hanschen hadn't felt since childhood, not truly. A hint of it arose when his son, for the first time, had used his words against him, but it had never bubbled to the surface until now.

Hanschen felt rage.

He was angry at himself, angry for being careless and ruining things again. He was angry at his son, his stupid son, for taking things too far and getting kicked out for good. He was angry at the world for letting a villian who stole the life of a child go unpunished. He was angry at the man who had tore his family apart with his soft curls and brilliant smile. He was angry at his damned wife for once again ruining everything he wanted. He wanted to leave, and of course she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He grabbed the nearest object to him, a book laid on the bed, and threw it, hard against the wall. It hit the wall with a thud, clattering to the floor and falling open. Hanschen stared at the book, just for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet.

Hanschen hurried out of the room, not realizing until now that he was crying. He aggressively wiped away his tears with the heel of his palm, taking the stairs two at a time. He stormed through the hallways, straight to his study, and looked around for a moment. Darting over to his desk, he grabbed a single item: the letter. The last remaining letter he had saved all those years ago.

He clutched it in his hands, and seemingly for a moment, his anger disappeared. But he soon stuffed the letter in his trouser pocket and headed back out of the door. He moved quickly, at the front door in a second, coat in hand and then around him. He was out the door in a flash, the only things on his person a wallet and that precious, precious letter.

He wasn’t thinking, he knew he wasn’t, but somehow he could bare to spend another minute inside that house. He didn’t know where he was going, but his legs seemed to, and so he followed his heart - or his head, at this point he couldn’t tell which - all the way down the country lane he lived on. Neighbours watched as the distressed, messy and frantic Herr Rilow moved down the road and out of sight, in the direction of the train station.

The air helped clear hard, calm his range, but the distress remained. He was broken, or so he thought, never to be fixed. His family had discarded him, like a broken toy that you were once so fond of but now only see as trash, something to get rid of. Something that no longer belonged. Hanschen no longer belonged in that house. The ghosts that haunted him deserved better than his presence. He missed home. That was not his home. Home was garden parties, and soft kisses, and books, and joy, and love. The house he left was filled with nothing but silence, and remorse, and the weight of every mistake he had ever made. He filed through them in his head, Sofia, his angel, Robert, his pride, his joy, Lammermeier, and sweet, sweet Johanna.

Ernst.

All these lives, ruined. Because of him. He thought of all the lives ruined by others, ruined by fate, and cursed that he too would suffer the same fate. Wendla. Moritz.

Max.

The childhood faces he could barely remember but who’s memory pressed against his chest like a cold, dead weight.

And then he’d reached the train station. He looked up at the building, blinking away tears that hung on his eyelashes. He knew this was where he belonged. He knew that whatever happened, he would end up back here. This was the first time, Hanschen realized as he stood there, taking in the weight of the situation, that he had visited the train station on his own volition. Every other time, something had brought him here.

A letter had brought him here. But not this time. He knew that whatever he chose, stepping into this train station would lead to the end of the line.

And so he stepped inside.

“Open it, father, go on, open it!”

The two eldest children watched their father with big eyes, sat around the fire. The presents under the tree had been unwrapped and the children were sat amongst the collateral damage. Well, all except one. In Hanschen’s hands sat a long, small, neatly wrapped box, with a brown label - ‘Love Santa Claus’. It certainly wasn’t his wife’s handwriting. His wife looked equally confused at the box, but his children waited eagerly, wanting to see what Santa had brought their father.

And so he gingerly unwrapped the box, being careful not to tear the paper too much. He slowly pulled the lid off the box, scanning the contents for a brief moment. A beautiful brass fountain pen lay in a cushion of velvet. Reflecting the light of the fire, it almost seemed to glow. He stared at the pen, feeling his cheeks flushing pink and hot. The children looked disappointed.

“What a beautiful gift,” Sofia said, cooly. Hanschen looked up at his wife, whose eyes were fixed on the pen. He instantly looked back down, to his lap, and closed the box.

“Yes, quite,” he said quietly, slowly pushing himself up off the floor to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I-” He faltered for a moment. “...I think I left one last gift in the study.” He moved out of the room, and as soon as he was safe behind the door of his study, almost collapsed against the desk. With a shaky hand, he placed the box onto his desk, sitting down on the surface and wrapping his arms around himself.

Ernst.

He’d forgotten about him. He’d received plenty of letters of good cheer and christmas wishes that he’d forgotten that he haven't received a letter in months. Because he wasn’t sending a letter. He was sending a gift.

Hanschen shook his hard violently, clutching his shirt sleeves tightly on his upper arms as he held himself. His life was going wonderfully, with his third child on the way and two more beautiful children around him. His loving wife, radiant and wonderful, and a home that he could call his own. So why did he hurt so much whenever he thought about the sweet boy he fell in love with all those years ago? Why would he shake, and cry, and hurt? He might never know. Hanschen picked up the pen one last time, opening the box, and noticed an engraving in the brass.

‘Yours, forever and always.’

Standing on the platform, Hanschen was faced with his life. In front of him stood every path, every road taken, and those he’d chosen not to go down, too. A million lives he could’ve lived, but only one he chose. He could’ve lost himself in the dreams of what could’ve been, but he chose not to. Now he had little choice. Now, he was at the end of the road, in front of him stretching out only the woods. For all Munich knew or cared, Hanschen Rilow was dead. He decided he liked that. As the train's whistle grew louder and louder, drowning out all other sounds, Hanschen thought of two men - the one who'd been here before, a passing shadow in his life, a mirror; and a man who was miles away, whose smile was the world's greatest treasure, a dream.

That smile. A smile so bright, so genuine and warm. A smile that ruined him.

His mind always seemed to wander back to Ernst. In the years they'd known each other, they'd spent more time apart than they did together, and yet his image was as clear as day in Hanschen's mind, every detail memorized: the pale freckles on his cheeks on which Hanschen left innumerable pecks. His dark brown hair, tousled by the wind. His voice, soft and warm, but which could also spit scorching flames, jeers and criticisms that you felt for days. The way he moved as though an orchestra was playing a tune only he could hear. Though it was in Hanschen's nature to blame others for his fate, he never could it in his heart to be bitter towards Ernst.

“Hurry up, Hanschen!”

The two boys ran through the streets of the small town in which they lived, schoolbags clutched tightly so as to stop them bashing into their sides, or other people. “If we don’t hurry, my father will have finished his sermon! Hurry!”

Hanschen lagged behind. Not because he couldn’t keep up, but because, quite honestly, going to church with Ernst straight after school on a Friday evening was not his idea of fun. His idea of fun was lazing about in a field of tall grass, with the beautiful dark haired boy tangled in his arms. But Ernst wanted church, and so he would go.

He realized, soon enough, that he had gotten distracted, and had lost sight of Ernst. Frowning, he picked up his pace, close enough to the church that he reached it within a minute or two. As he was running he cursed Ernst’s long, slender legs, for the first time in his life. Hanschen finally reached the church, and slowed his pace as he made his way up the gravel path.

Ernst stood in the doorway of the church, starting with sparkling eyes at what was happening within. As Hanschen got closer, he realized that Ernst was starting at his father, up in front of the congregation preaching something or other about loving thy neighbour, whatever that meant. Hanschen loved his neighbour and was chastised for it. He’d never understood what the Bible had that made it so special, but Ernst was borderline obsessed on learning the details, the lessons, the parables, the whole nine yards. Hanschen bet every penny in his pocket that Ernst could probably tell him what Jesus ate for breakfast the day before he was crucified. Ernst was absolutely set on becoming a pastor, and Hanschen, although unhappy with his decision, supported him. Especially when it meant getting to stare at his wonderful, freckled face and his gorgeous, wide, sparkling eyes just that little bit longer without him noticing.

The sermon ended, and Ernst turned, the biggest, most beautiful smile that Hanschen had ever seen. A smile that made his heart skip a beat. “Ready to go?” Hanschen asked, casually, although inside it was taking all his strength and willpower not to grab the poor boy there and then and place his lips on his neck and tell him how much he wanted him.

“Mhm!” Ernst nodded enthusiastically, his smile seemingly growing even more, which Hanschen had previously thought impossible until he’d witnessed it himself.

“Then let’s go.” He held out his hand for Ernst to take, and he almost did, but hesitated, his smile suddenly fading from his face. Hanschen quickly realized what he’d done, and shoved his hand into his blazer pocket. ‘You’re such a fool’ he thought to himself. ‘Be more careful.’ The two stared at each other for a moment, then Hanschen lifted his chin and turned on his heel, beginning to head off. His cheeks flushed and his body ached and he wanted so badly to touch the beautiful, starry-eyed boy, to feel his skin against his. And then, as Ernst caught up, he felt his fingers brush against his and Hanschen almost doubled over, the wind practically knocked out of him. How was he so affected by this boy? He was nothing like Hanschen had ever seen before. This boy who unbuttoned the collar of his shirt which exposed his neck and soft, warm skin dotted with freckles and god, he loved him. More than his Io. More than his Desdemona. More than his fleeting crush on the good-looking boy in his class who had caught his eye. He loved Ernst, more than he’d ever loved anyone. And this evening, at the vineyard, he would tell him.

The simple realisation struck him as more and more people filed onto the platform, and though the station was filling up, he felt as though he was the last man on Earth. God, I love him. It was then he felt the cold metal on his finger. His ring. His wedding ring. He twisted it around his finger, toying with the idea, before pulling it off. Hanschen held the ring in his hand, in a closed fist against his chest, feeling the cold, cold metal against his palm. The cold grounded him. Hanschen inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, taking in the ring of the engine, the rapid chatter and shuffling of feet. The soft tinkle of metal as the ring fell from his first to the tracks below. And the train grew closer yet.

He was prepared, now, to take the leap.

It was a pleasant afternoon, the setting sun bathing everything in a deep orange glow, the air hanging with the rich aroma of the flowers of spring. The well-trod path that lead from the church to the small house was once again being walked by Pastor Robel. He could’ve walked the snaking way home with his eyes closed. And sometimes he did, losing himself in the tranquility of pure silence, the few moments where he wasn’t expected to be anyone-not Pastor Robel, the pillar of support, not Ernst, the lover.

Years had passed since he’d last seen Hanschen, and in the predictable yet enjoyable motion of his life, that weekend stood out, the memory of it still as detailed as when it was first forged. He’d turned it over and over in his mind, much like how he did with Hanschen’s first letter, the cold, distant goodbye and that vineyard, 20 years ago. If nothing else, Ernst could always retreat to his thoughts, taking out moments in time and replaying them as one would take out photographs and read the notes scribbled on the back.

He did, however, come to as he reached his street. Looking to the right, he could see the Pfeiffers’ house, and, on the front porch, Kurt and Dieter were huddled over homework, scratching of pens interrupted every now and then by giggles and fingers fumbling to intertwine. Seeing them so carefree brought a smile to Ernst's face and he knew they'd both taken to heart his advice. All they needed now was luck, which he could only pray they'll have. Just before continuing on his way, he saw Mathilde come out of the house and set out lemonade for them, an easy smile on her face. How the Pfeiffers managed to live unperturbed by whispers or rumours was beyond him, but he could only be happy for them, despite having never had the luxury to do the same.

He turned right to reach his own yard, when he looked up and saw a figure on his porch. Ernst approached, getting closer so as to try and see who it was. A tall man, his back turned to him, and next to him two bags. His hair- golden, shining in the soft light of the sun. Ernst's breath was caught in his throat and a million thoughts raced about his mind, and he felt like everything inside of him, every cell and every drop of blood, was pushing him forward.

He couldn't remember moving his legs, he could've floated for all he knew. Now, Ernst was at the base of the steps, but the man with the golden hair was still lost in his own world and didn't notice anything. It must've taken Ernst years to untie his tongue, but eventually he did, and his voice broke as soon as he opened his mouth to say the name.

“Hanschen?” it was a mere whisper, but behind it were hidden a million unspoken words.

At that, the man was finally brought back to reality, and his head snapped around, coming face to face with Ernst, staring with wide blue eyes. That's when Ernst’s heart stopped. Blue eyes. Blue eyes. Blue eyes that weren’t Hanschen’s. He felt disappointment wash over him, though he knew, rationally, it was not this man's fault that he wasn't who Ernst had wished he was. Still, it took a lot for the misplaced betrayal to not show.

Ernst took a moment to look at him, and a suspicion was beginning to form in the back of his mind. This stranger, though certainly not Hanschen, reminded him uncannily so of him. The hair, the face… something he couldn’t quite decipher. Regardless of his confusion, Ernst spoke:

“Can I help you?”

It was then that the boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, and it dawned on him that he’d been silent the whole time. His face reddened and he looked down in embarrassment for a second, before snapping his head back up and answering:

“Hello, yes, you can. Sorry, I, um-” The boy seemed flustered. Embarrassed. Desperate. “I’m sorry to have showed up on your porch like this, but... but I need.. help. Are you Ernst-- Um, Pastor Robel?”

Ernst was intrigued, not knowing how the boy had learned his name, but decided to keep his questions for later. “Yes. And you are...?”

“I believe you know my father.” He swallowed, looking off to the side for a brief moment before looking back up at Ernst with those big, blue eyes. “My name is Lammermeier Rilow.”

#hernst #spring awakening #dwsa #deaf west spring awakening #flowers of spring #hanschen rilow #ernst robel #hanschen x ernst #fanfiction #sa fanfiction #fanfic #rise

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definegirlfriends · 7 years ago

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Hello everyone! Hope you all had a wonderful April! This rec is full of some new fics (for me), some old ones ive been meaning to read/re-read, and some new favorites! If you are interested I do have a larger fic rec already on my blog that is in the process of becoming much larger very soon! If you have any fic suggestions please feel free to send me a message! As always, everything will be listen in alphabetical order, under the cut. Happy reading!!

A Whole New World by backonefish (24k) : He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, imagining the notes he heard earlier are from a residual dream. He opens his eyes, and, nope. The music is still there. Notes of a song he could never forget clear as the confusion in his head. That is to say, they’re really not very clear. The more he strains to comprehend what the fuck is actually going on, the more he understands. Understands that what he’s hearing is piano keys, not a record of a song. Understands that whoever is playing the piano is really not very good at it, hesitance heard before each press of the key. Understands that his fucking neighbour is waking him up at – he fumbles with his phone on his bedside - 7:30 in the morning by playing Aladdin songs on a piano. Badly. Or- Louis has moved into his new apartment to start his new job as a teacher. Things would be great. If only his arsehole neighbour didn't wake him up every morning by playing piano. Shenanigans ensue. Like a very inadvisable kissing bet.

Found My Missing Piece by styleandsin (16k) : “@harrystyles followed you.” “@harrystyles liked your tweet.” “What?” He whispers in astonishment, because there’s no way. But he clicks on Harry’s profile and sure enough, the little grey “follows you” appears by his name. After taking a second to just stare at the screen, he quickly takes a screenshot and sends it to his sister. Lottie is one of the few people who would understand his shock. Niall would certainly just make fun of him for it. Louis and Harry are both fashion bloggers. Louis' been following Harry for years. Harry and his blog really gave him the confidence and the push to make his own. His sister and best friend have been making fun of his silly little crush on him ever since. But that's all it is, a silly, harmless crush because there is no way Harry knows who he is. Or does he?

Have Faith In Me by stylinsoncity (183k) : As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants. When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting... This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Hiding Place by alivingfire (365k) : Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance. Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart) by thedeathchamber (56k) : Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

Kryptonite by orphan_account (78k) : Harry Styles has enough problems as it is. Dealing with superpowers, teenage strife and his unavoidable awkwardness is hardly easy… But when he moves to the rural town of Smallville, he inherits a new problem: one that’s 5′7″, unbelievably feisty, and by the name of Louis Tomlinson

Seeing Blind by zedi (10k) : Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?” OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction (153k) : There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

Wild Love by purpledaisy (130k) : “Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense. “That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.” AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

7 Up by cherrystreet (51k) : Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse. * Warning does have a MCD tag please read with caution

#as always I encourage you to read tags to make sure you arent getting yourself into any triggering/uncomfortable topics for yourself #if you ever have any questions on what a fic pertains or a tag you arent sure about feel free to send me a message!#I feel like putting 10 fics on a rec is pretty decent #im a pretty slow reader so thats pretty much all I can read in a month anyways but I hope its alright!#mine #monthlyficrec #april fic rec #enjoy!

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