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sunnydaisy1 · 4 years ago

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The Coffee Stain On Your Shirt

PETER KAVINSKY X READER

A/N: This is so fluffy i think i need to puke. I should stop procrastinating by watching videos of Kavinsky saying woah woah woah and acc do my work. Anywayy hope you enjoy :)

You were standing by your locker, books and papers messily arranged as you grabbed the stuff you would need for 1st period. Down the hall, Peter Kavinsky was walking along beside his lacrosse team, laughing and joking about the party from the weekend. You and Peter had been partnered up for a English project at the start of the year and this caused you to form an unlikely friendship. You didn't hang out outside of school but you would consider Peter someone you could wave at in the halls or chat to briefly. This made the fattt (cross out) tiny crush you had on him a pain in the fricking ass. You weren't proper friends so in your mind you had no chance with Peter Kavinsky. Peter, on the other hand, thought you were one of the coolest and nicest people he had ever met and looked forward to seeing your face everyday. Of course you were completely oblivious to this fact because from your point of view Peter Grant Kavinsky was way out of your fricking league. Peter noticed you sorting through your locker, admiring the cute red skirt and white top you had picked out for that day. He grinned as he saw your furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on finding your chemistry textbook. Peter had zoned out from his teammates conversation, his focus trained on you. "Urm ill uh see you guys later." He said absent-mindedly, already making his way over to you. The lacrosse team looked at him confused, shaking their heads until they noticed where he was headed and their puzzled looks were replaced with knowing smirks before they walked round the corner. "Hey Y/L/N." You heard a voice say and looked up to see a mop of curly brown hair, recognising it instantly as Peter Kavinsky. "Oh hey Peter." You said back, wondering why he was leaning on the lockers next to yours. "Wanna walk to chemistry together?" Peter asked, his eyes watching your face with a wide smile. "Oh... yeah sure." You replied, confused why he wanted to walk with you when he had other friends in the class. Peter grinned, making your face heat up a little. "I just got to uh find this textbook and then we can go." You said slowly, huffing with frustration as you couldn't seem to locate it anywhere. Peter nodded, leaning on the worn locker next to yours, enjoying watching your annoyed face which he thought was adorable. He glanced into your locker and noticed a green corner poking out from the middle of the papers and books and he leaned in past you, pulling it out carefully. "There you go." Peter said, handing you the green textbook. "Ah, thanks Kavinsky." You frowned, trying to think how you could miss that. "No worries." He returned as you packed the book into your backpack. You looked up at him with a bright smile after closing your locker and Peter felt his stomach flip. "So how was your weekend?" Peter questioned as you started to walk slowly down the hall, brushing past yawning students. "Alright, my sister broke the couch though." You said, making Peter widen his eyes at you. "Wait what? How?" You chuckled and dodged a teacher carrying a pile of books, pressing yourself into Peter's side accidentally. "Uh sorry." You said before returning the slight distance between you. "Basically she was trying to train Milo (your dog) to army crawl and she was running along the couch and then she jumped off the arm and it cracked." Peter laughed beside you, making your heart flutter at his chuckles. You beamed, too distracted to notice the boy in front of you as you turned the corner. "Oof." You groaned as he collided into you and you felt your top start to spread with wetness. You looked down to see the boy had spilt coffee all over your white shirt, leaving a large brown stain. "Oh jeez dude I'm so sorry." The boy in front of you said. You shook your head, "uh its okay I'll go clean it up." The boy gave you a sorrowful look before walking away, leaving you beside Peter with coffee starting to soak your chest. "I'm gonna go clean myself up Peter, I'll see you in chem." You said, walking in the direction of the toilets. "Woah woah woah, no wait I'll help you." He blurted out, following after you in the corridor. You gratefully smiled at him and walked to the girls toilets, "Uh Kavinsky you might wanna wait outside." Peter smirked placing a hand on the door, "Nah I'll come in I've been in here before." You made a disgusted face at him, "Creep." Peter chuckled and followed you through into the thankfully deserted bathroom, "it's not like I spy on girls in here." You raised your eyebrows at him, "righhttt." Peter shoved you playfully and grinned, "piss off y/l/n." You cheekily smiled at him and walked into one of the toilets, grabbing some loo roll before walking back to the row of sinks Peter was standing beside. You turned the tap on and wet the paper slightly before trying to dab off the coffee stain, managing to draw out some of the brown smudge. You continued to furiously dab the splodge but it wouldnt budge, leaving you with a watery brown stain spread across your chest and stomach. "Great." You said sarcastically, pulling your shirt out slightly as you wiped at it. "Here." Peter said, reaching out to you with another wad of wet tissue, placing a hand on your lower back as he gently tried to sponge up the stain on your stomach. "Tryna cop a feel Kavinsky?" You teased, trying to disguise the rapid beating of your heart as he touched you softly. Peter blushed and you grinned, rubbing at the stain going over your boobs. "What? No no no." He said, releasing his hands from you. "I'm joking Pete." He seemed to relax a little when you said that, his lips tugging into a smile, "You're mean." You beamed and wet the tissue again, "You're the one who was tryna touch my boobs." Peter rolled his eyes, discarding the pile of mangled tissues in the bin, "You're impossible y/l/n." You chuckled and looked back in the mirror, sighing when you looked at the lighter brown stain still visible on the front of your shirt. "Urgh this isnt coming off. I'll have to go to lost property for a new shirt." You said grumpily, the clothes in lost property hadn't been washed in years and mainly consisted of pe shirts from 20 years ago. Lovely. Peter raised his eyebrows at you, obviously questioning your plan for a lost property outfit. You sighed and looked in the mirror again, there was no way you could continue wearing this shirt. "Yeah I know lost property is grim but what other choice do I have?" You said, washing your hands of coffee juice. "You could wear my hoodie." Peter suggested and you scoffed, "No you'll be cold." Peter shook his head at your refusal, his mind racing with thoughts of you in his hoodie and how cute you would look. "Nah I'll be alright, I'd rather you wear this than some smelly shirt y/l/n." Peter replied, already taking his hoodie off. You laugh and watch as he pulls the navy hoodie off his body, shirt lifting up as he did and revealing his toned abs and waist. You feel your face heat up and quickly look away from him. You look back to Peter again as he hands you the shirt, a knowing smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Thanks." You say, feeling the soft fabric of the hoodie. "Urm I'm gonna need to take my shirt off." You announce, looking into Peter's chocolate eyes. At once he flushes and his eyes go a little wide, "Oh yeah uh right." He turns round to face the wall and you quickly peel your sticky shirt off, putting it on the edge of the sink before you pull Peter's hoodie over your bra. "All good." You say and he turns back around, an large grin instantly filling his face. Peter's stomach flips at the sight of you, his sleeves passing your fingers slightly. "Peter this is huge!" You laugh, putting your arms out to show him. He chuckles and shrugs, "You look cute." At once you blush and to hide your burning face you turn to the mirror to try and tuck the front in somehow. That's when you notice the large white lettering on the back. "Peter." You say, looking at him from the mirror. He hums in acknowledgement, looking up at you. "This has your surname on the back." Peter pretends to look round as if he didn't know and then gives you the biggest cheeky grin, "oh yeah." "Dude I cant wear this, people will think it's weird!" You said, worrying about the rumours that would spread round school. Peter picked up your shirt, folding it neatly, "well it's either my comfy hoodie or some sweaty shirt." You huffed and tugged on the sleeves slightly, "Ugh I'll wear this. Thanks Peter." You said and he smiled at you, leaning against the wall now. "Can I have my shirt now?" You asked, seeing that Peter had it tucked in his hand. "I have a plastic bag in my locker we can get it after 2nd period." He replied and you dropped your outstretched hand, chuckling, "so you're gonna carry my shirt round all morning?" Peter grinned and nodded, "yep." You roll your eyes playfully at him and reach for your backpack in the corner. When you sling it on your shoulders and look up, you see peter has his phone out and is taking photos of you. You frown and stick your bottom lip out slightly, reaching for his phone, "Stopppp." Peter chuckles and takes one more photo before tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Come on or we'll be late." He speaks up and the bell rings for class seconds later. You follow him out of the bathroom, walking quickly to chem. You both scoot into the class just in time, the teacher arriving mere seconds later. Sitting down in your seat, you glance to Lara Jean beside you. "What?" You ask, confused why she had her eyebrows raised at you and a smirk on her lips. "Whos hoodie is that y/n, you smell like man." She replies, leaning in to smell you again. "Peter Kavinsky's." You whisper back, taking out your notebook and pencil case. "Wait what?!" Lara Jean says loudly, making a few people turn to look at her. "Sshhh, i know i know," you say in reply to her shocked face, "some guy spilt coffee on my shirt this morning and Peter gave me his hoodie so I didn't have to wear a lost property shirt." Lara Jean looked at you sceptically, not convinced of Peter's motive to help you at all. She couldn't count the number of times Peter had come up to her or texted her asking if you were going to a party or the game or if you fancied anyone. "Sureeee." LJ replied, "I think he just fancies you." You scoffed and chuckled, "no he doesn't Lara Jean, he was just being kind." She gave you a look which said 'really?' before turning back to her work. A few seconds later when you thought you had finally escaped her teasing words she spoke up as she absent mindedly copied a table from the textbook, "yeah that's why he hasn't stopped looking at you since you came in together." At once, you whipped your head around to see Peter looking at you directly, his pen tucked behind his ear and chin resting on his hand. You noticed your white shirt neatly placed on the corner of his lab desk. He grinned at you which made you shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. Peter sighed as he watched you turn back, loving the way his surname looked across your back, wishing he could see you in his hoodies everyday. "That doesn't mean anything." You whispered, not believing Lara Jean's words at all. The rest of the day passed by ever so slowly and you were exhausted by the time you and Lara Jean reached her car. You were having movie night with her and Kitty this evening so she was driving you three home. "Gen's making evil eyes at me across the parking lot." You speak up, leaning on the side of LJ's car while you waited for Kitty. Lara Jean turned round to see Gen standing by the school entrance with some of her friends, watching you with a large scowl on her face. She burst out laughing, turning to her car and unlocking it when she noticed Kitty coming across the parking lot, "Yeah cos she's jealous that Kavinsky has the fattest crush on you." You rolled your eyes at her comment, "Peter doesn't like me Lara Jean." "Yes he does." You hear a voice say and turn back around to see Kitty beaming widely at you, "Nice hoodie you have there y/n, i really like the lettering on the back." You narrow your eyes at her and she grins wider, cheekily scooting inside the backseats before you could attack her. You sighed and walked round to the passenger side, buckling in and putting your bag on the floor by your feet. "Oh crap." You say as LJ pulls onto the main road, "I forgot to give him the hoodie back and he still has my shirt." Kitty bursts out laughing, making you whip round to her, scowling immensely. "Just text him saying you'll give it back to him tomorrow and i'm sure he'll do the same." LJ said, glancing at you with a smirk on her face in the front mirror. You nod and pull your phone out, scrolling down to Peter's contact and texting him, 'sorry kavinsky, is it okay if i give you back your hoodie tomorrow once ive washed it?' A few minutes later, you get a reply, 'yup, same for your shirt.' A second later another text comes through, 'see you tomorrow y/l/n' with a smiley face. You grinned to yourself and listen to the music playing out the car's radio. The following morning, you walk nervously to find Peter, his hoodie folded neatly in your hand after it got washed last night. You spot him standing with Greg by his locker, his hair messy from early morning practice. You smile fondly and walk over to the pair, smoothing out your striped pants. "Oh hey y/n!" Greg says, leaning alongisde Peter's locker. "Morning Greg, sorry I just came to give Peter his hoodie back." Peter turns to you, a wide smile on his face. "Thanks for letting me borrow it yesterday Kavinsky." You say, handing him the soft hoodie back somewhat reluctantly. "No worries, here's your shirt back, my mum managed to get the coffee stain out." You grin at him and your face heats up slightly from Peter's warm gaze. "Oh thanks!" You reply, taking your now clean shirt back. "You know I think you look better in my hoodies." Peter says, tucking his hoodie into his locker and cheekily grinning at you, referencing to the white sweater you are wearing. "Shove off Kavinsky, you're lucky your cute." You retort back, heart hammering and completely oblivious to Greg's amused face watching the both of you gaze longingly at each other. You spot Lara Jean and Chris in the hall ahead so turn to walk away, smiling at Peter and Greg, "See you later Kavinsky." Peter gives you a nod and a cheeky smirk, watching as you walk away. "Dude you're so whipped." Greg states, looking at Peter's love filled face. "Yeh i know." Peter replies, leaning back against his locker, his eyes trained on you.

#peter #peter kavinsky #peter kavinsky imagine #peter kavinsky x reader #kavinsky #tatbilb #tatbilb2 #to all the boys ive loved before icons #to all the boys ive loved before #to all the boys ps i love you #to all the boys #imagine #fluffy #imma puke this is so sweet

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supimjustwriting · 3 years ago

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Snowman

Xingqiu and Chongyun

Summary: Xingqiu was known to be the perfect son. Prim, proper, smart, a model citizen some might say. Though with those titles people forget that he’s still young. An early teen who just wants to explore the world and learn about all sorts of things. Read every kind of story. Make a story of his own. He doesn’t want to be trapped into a mold his family created for him. Xingqiu wanted to be Xingqiu. With that thought. The ocean haired boy made a wish that snowy night.

“Now we’ll simply add this and you’ll be complete,” Xingqiu wrapped a matching charm around the snowman’s waist with a proud smile. “What do you say Chongyun? Ready for an adventure? A duel perhaps? Maybe we can -” a familiar voice dragged him away from his thoughts, making a huff of frustration escape his lips.

“My lord, your mother has requested your appearance. It’s an urgent matter regarding her health,” the servant’s eyes carried a heavy gloom, a frown appearing on their lips as they watched the young master return to autopilot.

“Of course. I’ll be there right away,” the navy haired boy responded, sheathing his blade before leading the messenger back to the estate.

Time truly does march on without a care for others feelings. Xingqiu thought to himself, his footsteps gently crunching the snow beneath him. Upon reaching his family estate. The boy took a deep breath and pushed the main gates open.

Each step felt heavier as he approached his mother’s bedroom. He can’t help but want to curse at the servants that avoided her room as if merely looking at the lady of house could make them fall ill as well. Harsh coughing echoed into the hallway causing Xingqiu followed by a doctor and nurse to rush into the room.

Eyes filled with concern, a nurse gingerly began to lay Xingqiu’s mother back onto her bed, “my lady. You’re in no condition to sit up yet. Please just continue to rest.”

“Xingqiu, how are you doing?” a gentle voice strummed at the boy’s heart, ignoring the nurse's plea to lay back down. “Now, now Ai. I just wish to greet my son. Is that too much to ask?” The older woman smiled warmly at the nurse, arms outstretched to pull her son into a reassuring embrace. “ Back to the matter at hand. I’m sorry for summoning you. It was getting late and I couldn’t help but worry. May I ask what you were doing?” The woman pulled away slowly, tucking some stray hair behind her son’s ear.

“I was simply training with the rest of the students at the dojo. I promise it was nothing special,” Xingqiu smiled softly at the frail figure, leaning into their touch.

“Is that so? I thought I heard a little bird tell me that a boy who looked just liked you tried sword swallowing. Is this true?” She asked with a knowing smile. A chuckle escaped her lips at Xingqiu’s reddened cheeks but was quickly replaced by a coughing fit causing both parties to jump into action.

Wordlessly the Guhua member handed his mother a cup of warm tea, earning a hoarse thank you that didn’t quite match the looming shadow that blanketed his mother.

“Mother?” The woman opened her lips, only to be dragged back into a slumber. Eyes fluttering closed as if in a peaceful dream. Ai placed her hands on the boy’s shoulders giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for visiting her. I’m sure she’ll love to talk to you again once she wakes up.”

‘If,’ Xingqiu wanted to correct but instead he pressed his lips into a thin line before hastily leaving the room.

It was the cool touch of snow caressing his face that snapped him back from his stupor. Gazing up at the culprit. Golden eyes met with icy blue ones.

“You scared me there for a second, Yun-Yun. For a moment there I thought I actually ran into someone. I’m glad it was just you,” the bookworm admitted, readjusting Chongyun’s stick arm back into place. “There, now you can’t go poking me again,” a choked chuckle escaped his lips.

“Yun-Yun… What am I supposed to do? I don’t think she’ll make it this year. She keeps saying that she’s fine but I’ve seen the blood. The doctor's faces. The smile that paints her lips when I say that I’ll help support this clan and help my brother.”

Xingqiu kneeled before the snowman, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. “I want to tell her the truth but I don’t want to break her heart either. I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?” Slowly something began to pat his head as if telling him everything will be okay, Gazing back up. Snowyun’s branch arm was tangled in the male’s hair.

He couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape. “If I didn’t know any better I would bet you’re trying to comfort me. But you’re right. Just like you,” Xingqiu once again stuck the branch arm back into place. “Things will change for better or for worse. Will telling her the truth welcome spring or shall it continue a harsh winter? Thank you Yun-Yun. I believe I know what to do now.”

“Mother?”

All she needed was to hear his tone of voice to usher the nurses out of the room. With a smile upon her lips, Xingqiu’s mother patted an empty spot beside her. Gently she held her son close to her chest, running her fingers through his hair for what felt like the first and last time.

“I-”

“No matter what you choose to do in life. I promise that I’ll always be with you Xingqiu. It’s okay to be yourself. Travel and do what you love. Not what this clan wants. Xingqiu all a mother wants is for their children to be happy. So, may I be selfish and ask you to smile for me one last time?” Xingqiu forced a smile, feeling the warmth of his mother slowly fading away.

Finally he was free from his lies. With the buds popping out from the dirt a new year began followed by a new chapter to his life.

#Genshin Impact #Genshin Impact Xingqiu #Genshin Impact Chongyun #Chonqiu #Xingyun

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thathopelessromantic · 3 years ago

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Reckless Good (6/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Fic Rating: Explicit Chapter Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku Note: Thanks again for your amazing support so far! I really appreciate all of you and your comments have been making my weeks since posting <3 This fic will be going on a short hiatus...I'm not sure how long it will be but July has been shockingly busy this year and has only continued to get crazier so I need a little more time to write more of this fic

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Beginning/Chapter One: (x) Previous Chapter: (X) TDDKBB2021 Companion Art: (X)

It’s been three days since the debriefing, and Shouto hasn’t been able to think about much else besides the weirdness of everything that happened in the meeting. Even now, standing under the scalding spray of his shower, he’s going through the motions, but his mind is in the hallway outside the conference room with Ingenium.

“I’m sorry about lying to you regarding Architect,” Ingenium had said solemnly. They’ve grown and their costumes had both changed since then, but without his helmet on, head bent to discuss something quietly, Shouto was reminded of the in-class exercises they used to do in high school. Off to the side in a hallway, as if creating a strategy. Somehow adult-Ingenium had gotten even more serious than his high school counterpart. “I know it was wrong to mislead you, but I knew he meant no harm. I knew he could help with Kou.”

“How?” Shouto had asked, but even then he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“…I’ve worked with him before,” Ingenium admitted. “I know the law, but he…he just wants to help people. And he does good hero work.”

Ingenium couldn’t say afterwards if he thought Architect would still somehow help the case. He knew he would want to, but with more people involved, and more people who knew he had been there before, it would be harder. Shouto can’t articulate exactly why, but somehow knowing he might be what brings more scrutiny towards Architect makes him feel…guilty? It’s not his fault that he didn’t know, nor is it his fault Architect is technically doing something illegal, but he feels guilty anyways.

Shouto’s phone chimes just as he steps out of the shower. Even before he checks it, he knows it’s a new text from Midoriya. While Shouto has thought of little else but the weirdness that had transpired at the debriefing for the last three days, Midoriya has acted as if it never happened. He had been quiet the rest of the day afterwards, but the next day Midoriya had picked up their text chat where they had left off as if nothing had happened. The few times Shouto tried to broach the topic of Midoriya’s behavior at the debriefing, his contacts with heroes, the vigilante Architect, anything from the debriefing, all he got was an abrupt subject change or radio silence for a few hours. After a day and a half of the back and forth, Shouto gave up pushing the subject. For now.

Shouto slings a towel around his hips and grabs his phone off the counter. There’s a new picture attached to the message. Midoriya’s scarred hand holds a large navy book out in front of the camera. The sidewalk serving as a background and the blurred edges of the image suggests he was walking somewhere as he took the picture.

I found a copy of the book!! The text underneath reads.

Shouto can’t make out any title in the picture, but he knows what book it is anyways. There was only one they had really discussed in-depth that would warrant such an excited text. It was an early study of dual quirks. Apparently, according to Midoriya, some of the information and conclusions they came to is now outdated but it is still considered one of the best introductory texts for understanding how dual quirks come about with inheritance. He had been suggesting it to Shouto practically since they had started their text conversation.

Another text comes in before Shouto can come up with a reply.

I can keep this copy in my office, if you would like to come by for it sometime.

Shouto wouldn’t mind going by the professor’s office again. It wasn’t that far out of his way, and it would be a good excuse to see him and talk to him some more – either about quirks, or whatever the hell was going on at the debriefing in an environment he can’t escape so easily. But as he mentally goes through his schedule thinking of a time he might be able to get there, it would be at least another week, if not two.

Shouto grimaces, running a hand over his face.

between normal wrk nd this new case itll be a while…

Of course I understand you’re busy! Oh unless you wanted to read it sooner

Shouto glances at the time. He still has almost two and a half hours before his next shift starts. It would be enough time. Probably. Depending on how long it takes to get Midoriya to agree. He has an idea but he knows Midoriya isn’t going to like it.

are u in musutafu now?

Yes. Of course! I could drop it off at your agency!

i was thinking just my apartment

Shouto puts his phone down to find something to wear. He doesn’t usually wear normal clothes under his uniform, but he figures he has a little while before he needs to change into it. He expects to get a flurry of messages protesting his suggestion as he finds and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, but a full three minutes pass before his phone chimes with another message. It just reads: what, lacking even Midoriya’s usual proper grammar and capitalization.

Shouto snorts. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.

im at the hospital on guard today and ill be out of the office the next few days. it would be quicker

That does set off the flurry of texts he expected the first time, Midoriya insisting that wasn’t necessary and he didn’t need to read it that quickly and a few that just said no a few times. The texts are still coming in, the notification that he’s typing still lit up on the screen, when Shouto presses the phone icon next to his name and starts a call.

The phone starts to ring. And then continues to ring for so long, Shouto thinks he’s going to go to voicemail, when Midoriya suddenly answers. There’s a shuffle on the other line for a moment.

“Entro-er, Todoro…hello?” Midoriya says.

“Hello, Midoriya,” Shouto replies.

Shouto’s simple greeting seems to knock Midoriya out of his stupor, because he immediately jumps back into his protests, picking right back up where he left off in his texts. Shouto waits until he has to stop to take a breath.

“I figured you would really frown upon me texting you my address, so I thought I’d call. Do you have something to write with?”

Midoriya sputters for a moment before he sighs. “You…yeah, go ahead.”

Shouto blinks in surprise. He really expected more of a protest than that. Still, he rattles off the address before Midoriya comes to his senses and changes his mind. Midoriya has him repeat it once, just to be sure he copied everything down correctly.

“Okay. I guess I will see you in a few minutes,” Midoriya says, sounding resigned.

Shouto almost laughs at the tone. “You don’t actually have to bring it to me if it’s any trouble. I can get it from the office eventually.”

“No, I don’t mind and it’s not that far out of the way actually,” Midoriya admits. “I’m a little concerned by your complete disregard for privacy or self-preservation but otherwise, it’s no trouble.”

“‘A lack of self-preservation and privacy’ is pretty much in my job description.”

Midoriya sighs. There’s some quiet mumbling Shouto can’t make out through the phone before Midoriya seems to give up on arguing the point for the moment and says his goodbye.

Shouto plugs his phone in by the bed to charge until he has to leave. Monarch and Momo still haven’t let go of the last time his phone died while he was on duty and he’s sure even being away from the agency for the next few days won’t save him from their ire if it happens again.

Shouto is still toweling off his hair when there’s a knock on his door. He glances at the clock on his wall, but even without the visual confirmation, he knows it has only been a few minutes since his call with Midoriya had ended. It was unlikely he found his apartment that quickly. He throws the towel over the bar in the bathroom and grabs a t-shirt on his way out of his room.

He opens the front door, expecting to see one of his neighbors in the hall. Instead, it is Midoriya staring at him from the other side of the door. He looks almost the exact same as the first time they had met with his thin, crooked wire frame glasses and oversized leather satchel hanging at his side. Though he had replaced his ill-fitting cardigan with a Froppy sweatshirt and a jean jacket over a button-up. Midoriya’s eyes scan over him quickly, pausing briefly at his middle before jumping back to his face and then to the space next to his head.

“Hello,” Midoriya manages quietly.

Shouto tugs the bottom of his shirt the rest of the way down.

“Hello. I…wasn’t expecting you to find the place so quickly,” he replies simply.

“Um, yes, it was closer than I realized too,” Midoriya finally looks him in the eye again, only to look away a moment later to bow his head. “I’m sorry, I should have announced myself somehow.”

“It’s fine, Midoriya. I’m glad you didn’t have to go too far out of your way.”

They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both seem to remember themselves and try to speak again.

Midoriya fumbles with the leather bag at his side, searching for the book. “Right, I’m sure you need to finish getting ready for work-” he starts to say.

At the same time, Shouto steps back, opening his door further. “Would you like to come in?”

Midoriya stares at him in surprise for a moment before his gaze jumps to something behind Shouto, brow furrowing.

“Todoroki, do you live alone?”

“Um, yes?” Shouto glances over his shoulder but doesn’t see whatever it was that Midoriya must have seen.

He turns back around, but Midoriya is still staring hard at something in the distance.

“Midoriya, what did-"

A loud crash of breaking glass cuts off the rest of Shouto’s question. Midoriya reacts a second before him, grabbing Shouto’s arm and throwing them both down the hall, away from his door as flames erupt in the apartment behind him.

They tumble to the ground. Shouto lands hard on his back as they roll for a moment, the floor below him and Midoriya landing heavily on top of him knocking the air from his lungs. One of Midoriya’s hands cushioned his head in the fall, but he pulls it back quickly as if Shouto burned him.

Midoriya quickly lifts himself up, carefully checking Shouto over. “Are you alright?”

Shouto nods, not yet ready to try speaking again. The sound of a vicious fire cracks behind them and the smell of smoke is already starting to fill the hallway. Whatever was thrown has a fast-moving fire and Shouto can feel the heat even from a few feet away.

“Will your fire alarm alert the authorities?”

Shouto pushes himself to a sitting position . “Don’t have a fire alarm,” he chokes out. They really need to move. “They go off too easily.”

Midoriya stares at him for a moment like he’s lost his mind before realization dawns. “Right your quirk would probably make that a pain. Okay, I’ll call for help. But we need to get as many people out as we can before they get here.”

Shouto climbs to his feet, using the wall to hold himself up for the moment. Everything seems to feel okay, so he doesn’t think he’s injured, just winded. Midoriya looks worried but he still scrambles to his feet a moment later.

“I can get my upstairs neighbors out,” Shouto says.

“I’ll help everyone below evacuate,” Midoriya offers before Shouto has barely finished speaking. He takes off for the stairwell, glancing back at the last second. “Be careful, Todoroki.”

Shouto stares after him for a moment, incredulous. ‘I’m the pro in this situation,’ he wants to remind Midoriya. ‘And probably marginally more fire-resistant than you.’ “You too,” is all he manages instead as the stairwell door swings shut behind Midoriya. Faintly, Shouto remembers another time he watched a civilian run head-long into trouble, but he brushes off the otherwise long-forgotten memory. It was so long ago, he’s not sure what dredged up the old memory, but dwelling on it won’t help anyone right now.

Shouto forces himself away from the door and his desire to go after the apparently reckless, mysterious, crazy-overachieving civilian he just let run into danger and heads for his closest neighbor. There are only three apartments on each floor. The one next to him has been empty for months, and usually both of the Fukudas were at work during this time of day, but he pounds on the door just to be safe, calling for them both. Smoke is finally beginning to fill the hallway and he knows it will only be another minute or two before the fire itself begins to crawl its way out of the apartment too.

Shouto breaks through the door, calling for either of the Fukudas to answer as he darts through the handful of rooms laid out in a mirror of his own familiar apartment. Satisfied that it is empty, he goes back to the hall heading for the stairs. He can feel his right side rapidly growing colder as his quirk tries to regulate his body temperature. The overheated air burns his already sore chest as he runs.

Shouto is already shouting as he reaches the next floor, hoping to alert as many of his neighbors as he can. One door opens as he throws himself down the hall, an older woman looking at him suspiciously through the crack in her door. For once he’s thankful for his unique appearance because he sees recognition dawn on her a moment later, even without his hero suit.

“A fire started on the floor below, I’m trying to evacuate everyone on this floor and the next, if you have anyone home with you, get them!”

The woman nods in understanding, throwing her door open and running back into the apartment calling for someone. Shouto goes to the next closest apartment, banging on the door and calling for anyone who might be inside. The door to the apartment next door opens and a man looks out.

“What is all the racket about? They went to their parents for the week, no one is in there.”

“The apartment is empty right now?”

The man glares at him, but Shouto pushes on before he can start an argument with him. The first woman comes out of her apartment with her grandson and a small dog in tow. “Sir, there is a fire on the floor below. We’re evacuating everyone.”

The man still looks like he wants to argue, but a moment later the sound of sirens grows louder as help arrives on the scene and that seems to be enough to convince him to cooperate. The three tenants follow him up the stairs to the last floor. Two of the three doors are already open, the tenants looking out obviously wondering what all the noise is about. The woman and her grandson greet one of the two women, immediately filling them in on what’s going on. Shouto goes to the last door.

“She’s at work,” one of the women calls to him. “She lives alone. Except for a cat.”

Shouto nods his thanks for the information. “I’ll go in to get the cat. Do either of you have a window that faces the front of the building?”

The other woman raises her hand. “I do!”

“Please take everyone into your apartment, clear a space in front of the window if necessary and I’ll be there in just a moment.” Shouto instructs. He waits just a moment to make sure everyone is complying before he forces the last door open. The cat in question makes itself known immediately, rushing to the door crying for attention before it realizes he is not their owner. The cat turns tail and darts deeper into the apartment.

Cursing, Shouto uses ice to create a small blockade in the hall that leads to the bedroom and bathroom, limiting the cat’s escape routes as he darts after it, sliding across the hardwood floor leading into the hallway. He catches himself on the wall just as the cat skids to a halt before the ice, trying to turn quickly but the floor is more slippery than its accustomed to and Shouto manages to grab it as it struggles to find its footing. He gets a few heavy scratches across his arms for his trouble, and the cat does its best to escape his hold, but he manages to get it out of the apartment. He wishes he had his tool belt on him, where he might have something that could contain the cat better, and make it easier to transport, but even if the fire-resistant fabric had lasted this long, it wasn’t worth it to try and get back into his apartment for it.

He rejoins his neighbors in the other apartment. Along with the three from the first floor, there are the two women from this floor, one of whom clutches a still-sleeping baby to her chest. From the window he can see the ambulance and two fire engines that have already arrived. And based on the sounds in the distance, the police and at least one more ambulance would not be far behind. Someone offers to take the disgruntled cat from him as he throws open the window.

Smoke is billowing from a window on a lower floor, obscuring his line of sight for a moment as the winds shift. Shouto swears under his breath, he can feel his neighbors growing anxious behind him, but he knows he needs a clear shot of the ground for this to work. It takes a few minutes for the view to clear enough for him to see a good landing place. By then a few people from the lower floors have started to evacuate, and he can see the first responders meeting them as they come out. He can’t tell from here if Midoriya is with them yet, though he has a feeling the answer is no.

Pushing his concerns aside for the moment, Shouto takes a deep breath to focus. Even after all these years of playing catch up, he still has a much better control of his right side than his left, but the overheated air is already putting a strain on his right side as it keeps his body cool. He creates an ice ramp, or perhaps more accurately a slide, from the window to the ground besides one of the fire engines. It’s as far as he dares to go to keep the slide from being too steep without also becoming too thin. He reinforces the part connected to the building and as much of the underside as he can from where he is to keep the fire from melting it down.

He turns back to his gathered neighbors. The adults gathered look unsure at best, if not down right afraid, but the young boy looks excited.

“It’ll be cold going down, but you should be perfectly safe,” Shouto promises. “Who’s first?”

Shouto helps the first woman up to the window. Once she is down safe, the woman with her baby goes, climbing up by herself first before Shouto hands the infant off to her. The young boy volunteers next before his grandmother can stop him, scrambling up to the window and then asking Shouto to hand the dog up to him. The older woman goes next, clutching the terrified cat tightly to her chest as she disappears down the slide.

Shouto waits until the older man safely reaches the bottom after her before he prepares to go down himself. Taking one last look back before he drops, he sees the smoke begin to curl around the edges of the apartment door.

The fire chief stops Shouto first once he’s down, thanking him for his help evacuating the civilians and asking about the conditions inside. Shouto gives as much information as he can about the fire and where it started. He ignores the concerned expression the chief gives him as he explains how it began. He knows it seems like an attack, and a targeted attack at that, but he doesn’t want to focus on it just yet. Eventually, the chief figures he’s gotten as much as from Shouto as he’s going to for the moment and sends him off towards the paramedics.

Shouto dodges them for the moment, finding the neighbors he helped down first to make sure everyone actually made it down unharmed. Everyone seems okay, the baby somehow still blissfully asleep and the young boy excitedly asks Shouto if he can go down his ice slide again some other time. One of the first responders found a carrying case for the cat until they could get ahold of its actual owner. He recognizes a few of the other neighbors gathered around from the lower floors. A few have shock blankets on and one person is perched in an ambulance with a paramedic attached to an oxygen machine, but there don’t seem to be any major injuries.

Midoriya is arguing with a paramedic, insisting someone else is in more pressing need of care when Shouto finally approaches one of the ambulances.

“What’s that saying about doctors being the worst patients?” Shouto asks.

Midoriya jumps, startled by his arrival, though he quick recovers from his shock to glare at Shouto.

The paramedic throws his hands up. “Entropy, please try and talk some sense into him. This is the fourth time he’s refused care.” The paramedic turns back to Midoriya and waves a warning finger at him. “I’m running out of other patients to look at.” He warns before storming off.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Shouto asks once they’re alone. Midoriya mostly looks okay, his glasses are missing and he’s a little sooty and disheveled, but Shouto figures everyone probably looks about the same in that regard.

“Nothing,” Midoriya starts to say as someone nearby loudly clears their throat over him. Midoriya scowls. “I think I might have landed on my hand funny earlier, but it’s fine, probably just sore.”

Shouto frowns. “You should at least have someone look at it, just in case.”

Midoriya opens his mouth to argue but a ringing phone cuts him off. He fumbles with his phone for a moment, struggling to pull it out of a pocket with his opposite hand. He winces as he finally pulls it out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s a video call.” Midoriya doesn’t elaborate anymore. He shifts around before he answers, holding the phone up at an angle that keeps his arm and the ambulance mostly out of the camera. He pastes on a bright smile. “Hi, Eri.”

“Oh Izuku, are you okay? I heard you were involved in a fire. Are you injured? What happened?” Dr. Aizawa asks in a rush, her worried face fills the screen. Red eyes move quickly, obviously taking note of Midoriya’s disheveled apperance.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. We’re not sure exactly how it started yet,” he lies. “But no one was hurt.”

“Where are you? I’ll go-”

“No,” Midoriya cuts her off. “I’m fine and I’ll come by the hospital later so you can check me over yourself if you’re really that worried, but I’m fine. And I want to make sure someone is keeping an eye out for Kou.”

“You think this has to do with her?” Dr. Aizawa asks, surprised.

“I’m not sure yet, I would just feel better if I knew there was extra security around her.”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “Okay, Izuku. I’ll make sure someone has an eye on her at all times. I’ll call you later to check up on you.” She says. “And I’ll know if you don’t let the paramedics check on you so don’t even try it this time.” The call ends before Midoriya can refute her last statement.

“I’m supposed to be taking the next shift on the hospital,” Shouto realizes. “I still had another two hours before my shift began when you arrived, but I should let someone know.”

Midoriya offers Shouto his phone. Before Shouto can step away, the paramedic returns with his arms crossed.

“Ready to cooperate?”

Midoriya looks miserably over his shoulder at Shouto but lets the paramedic force him into a seat.

Shouto calls Momo on her private number.

“This is Creati.” Momo answers stiffly after a single ring.

“Momo, it’s Shouto. My phone is…I don’t have my phone right now. There was just a fire-”

“At your apartment building. I know I just got the alert. Are you okay? You were still home, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m fine. No one was injured, but they’re still putting out the fire and I’m pretty sure my apartment is gone. It started there.”

Momo takes a long time to reply. “Your quirk?” She finally asks, but she sounds like she already knows the answer.

“No. I think…It seems crazy, but…” Shouto hesitates. He lives on the third floor, but crazier things have probably happened to him. “I think someone threw something through my window to start it.”

Momo curses under her breath. “I was afraid of that. You haven’t heard from anyone else, yet, have you? There was another attack, across town. Not a fire, but a building came down. A few civilians were hurt, and…”

Shouto tries not to lose his patience with Momo as she hesitates.

Finally she sighs. “The latest report from the police just came over the radio. Mr. Smith was one of the only heroes in the area. He was severely injured while helping trapped civilians. Paramedics rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago. No one’s sure of his status yet.”

“Fuck.” Midoriya was right. “This is about Kou. The girl from before you have to-”

“I know your schedule, Shouto.” Momo interrupts. “As soon as I got the alert I let them know you might have been targeted. Someone has already been assigned to your guard shift and they’ve added extra security to the hospital.”

Shouto feels himself relax for the first time since the fire began. If there’s one thing he can count on, it’s Momo to be on top of things. “Thank you.”

Momo replies with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now? Do you need anyone else at the scene?”

“No, everything seems pretty well in hand for now. But if you could let my mother and sister know, that would help. They’ll see it on the news eventually, but even if my phone survived the fire it will probably be a while before I can get it to contact them myself.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure they know you’re alright. Can I contact you on this number again?”

Shouto glances back at Midoriya. He’s, miraculously, still sitting in the ambulance doors letting the paramedic wrap his hand, but he also managed to call over one of the firefighters to discuss something about the attack. “Yeah, you can use this number again.”

“Let me know when you learn something more.”

“I will.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Shouto.” Momo says just before she ends the call.

Me too, Shouto thinks, looking around at all the people gathered in front of the apartment. He and Midoriya had managed to get everyone out, but if Shouto had been alone he might not have been quick enough. Hell, if he hadn’t been answering the door at just the right time, he might not have been able to save anyone at all. He would probably be right beside Mr. Smith in the hospital. I just wish it could be said for everyone.

Shouto returns to the ambulance, passing the cell back to Midoriya. Midoriya takes one look at his face and knows.

“You heard about Mr. Smith too?”

Shouto nods. “Creati already sent word to the hospital for extra security and for someone to cover my shift watching Kou.”

Midoriya cracks a small smile. Other than the one he wore to briefly pacify Dr. Aizawa, it’s the first smile Shouto thinks he’s seen from him all day. And bizarrely, it puts him at ease for a moment, lifting some of the weight of the attack.

“Remind me to send her a huge thank you gift when we finally get out of here,” Midoriya says, and even though Momo is just doing her job in her own efficient, overachiever way, he knows Midoriya is serious.

Midoriya moves over, offering the extra space for Shouto to sit down. Another paramedic almost immediately descends on them, finally checking Shouto over for shock, smoke inhalation, over-extended quirk usage, and other injuries. Other than the handful of cat scratches that they clean and bandage, he comes out with a clean bill of health. Midoriya is comparing their injuries, complaining that his “bruised wrist” didn’t need more bandaging than Shouto’s cuts, but while his tone is light, his eyes keep focusing on something in the distance, his attention obviously not on their conversation. Shouto can practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he thinks.

The fire chief eventually joins them as the fire dies down and more of the firefighters exit the building for the last time. “Thank you again, Entropy, for your help evacuating tenants before we arrived. And…Midoriya, was it?”

“Dr. Midoriya,” Shouto corrects when Midoriya simply nods. Midoriya elbows him in the side, but Shouto ignores the jab.

“Dr. Midoriya, thank you for your help as well. That was very brave of you. A number of the tenants I’ve spoken with were extremely grateful for your assistance.”

Midoriya shrugs a shoulder, as if he had truly done nothing of note. “I’m just glad I was in the right place to help, at the right time.”

“Do we know anything else about the fire yet? Or the building?” Shouto asks.

“The fire is mostly out, we just have a few more people inside checking for any hidden fires or areas that weren’t extinguished completely the first time. As for the building…it will take a little while longer to properly assess all the damage but the third floor where it started, and the second and fourth floors, took the most damage. At the very least it will be a day or two before it’s safe for the tenants to move between the floors to get their things.” The chief explains.

Shouto expected about as much, honestly he was prepared to hear worse, but it doesn’t make it easier. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The chief nods. “Of course.”

Shouto turns back to Midoriya as the chief walks away. “Can I borrow your phone one more time?”

Midoriya politely, but unnecessarily, turns away as Shouto crafts a text to Momo.

the tenants will b displaced for at least a few days. can we do smthing abt accommodations for them?

It only takes Momo a few seconds to reply.

Of course. Send me the number of people and their contact information and I’ll take care of everything.

A second text comes in almost immediately.

Will you need something too? You could always stay with me and Kyouka. Or I’m sure your mother would be happy to have you for a few days.

Shouto stares at the message for a moment. “Shit.” He hadn’t been thinking about himself. Obviously he couldn’t stay in his apartment. But he wouldn’t want to be housed anywhere near his neighbors, in case whoever attacked tried again. But that would put his friends, or family, in the same line of risk.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya finally turns back, looking over Shouto’s shoulder. “Was there another attack?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, sorry to worry you. Momo just reminded me I’ll need a place to stay for a while. I don’t want to risk a hotel or some public housing, if they try to attack again…”

Midoriya doesn’t need him to finish his thought before he nods in understanding. “And you don’t want to stay with your friends or family for the same reason. There’s too much of a risk they will try to target you again.”

Shouto groans, running a hand over his face. Maybe Midoriya was onto something with all his concerns about ‘privacy and self-preservation.’

“Stay with me.”

Shouto’s head shoots up. He thinks he had to have misheard, but the serious expression on Midoriya’s face suggests otherwise.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. No, you should stay with me.”

Shouto feels like he was just transported to a parallel universe. He was actually fairly confident his role as the only one to suggest ridiculous things in this newly-started relationship was already established.

“I-No. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.”

Shouto ignores him. “I can stay in the dorms at the agency.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes. “That’s an extremely short term solution, at best. And a huge risk. If these villains have kept close enough tabs on you to find your personal apartment and attack it, it would be child’s play to figure out you were staying in your office, with a publicly available address, and target it too.”

“You would still be at risk,” Shouto says, baffled as to how Midoriya somehow managed to miss that very important fact. “The same way Momo and Kyouka or my family would be, I can’t put you in that position.”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, deadly serious. “You are not a very social hero. It is common knowledge who you are close enough with to consider a friend. And your family has been in the spotlight for years. Staying with any of them is an obvious and dangerous choice. I’m a nobody. No one knows me, no one knows you know me. Also my house is…private, secluded. Even if someone does eventually figure out you’re there, it will take much longer than any of the other places. Enough time that we can come up with another plan.”

Midoriya reaches over and takes the cell out of his hands. “Now, unless you have a more convincing argument, I will text…” he looks at the phone for a long moment as he trails off. Shouto has no idea how he can casually insist on Shouto staying with him and in the same breath be visibly uncomfortable texting a different hero. “I will text…Creati and tell her you have a place to stay. You should go collect everyone else’s information for her.”

Shouto stares at Midoriya in disbelief while he pointedly ignores him and struggles to craft a text to Momo. He only finally moves when Midoriya all but shoves him off the ambulance step, claiming to be unable to type while he was being watched.

“I…can’t make sense of you,” Shouto finally admits. Midoriya has baffled him basically since the moment they met and he’s beginning to think he might never fully understand him.

Midoriya looks up from his phone with a curious expression, as if surprised by Shouto’s admission, before it transforms into a smile Shouto has never seen before, but that he wants to pull from him again and again.

“I like to think that’s just a part of my charm.”

#bnha #mha #tddk #tododeku #tododeku big bang 2021 #midoriya izuku #todorki shouto #fic #rita writes #7.16.21 #fic: reckless good

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itismissswann · 4 years ago

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@sonofirishseas

The former pirate turned slowly to address her. Of course, all his movements these days were slightly on the slower side, as it was troublesome to get his crutch to cooperate on cobblestones. Hector regarded the woman and the child in her arms with cool amusement.

“Mrs. Turner,” he greeted, tipping his hat to her politely. He had not forgotten the wedding ceremony he’d preformed for the former Ms. Swan to one William Turner; now ill-fated captain of The Flying Dutchman. “Seems the fates have conspired cross our paths once more. I can’t say it is unhappy chance meeting.” He offered her one of his wily smiles beneath his neatly trimmed facial hair. He did indeed look a different man these days; older certainly and more harrowed for his recent experiences, one leg gone now below the knee. But he was not poorly off. Far from actually; well dressed in a fine tailored suit and frock coat…sporting the uniform of an Admiral. In the King’s navy. Quite the turn around, to be sure.

His eyes slipped from hers to that of the boy’s. “Hello young master,” he said, moving a bit closer. “And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?”

The sudden meeting had happened so quickly, that she had failed to notice the wood that had replaced a part of his leg. She was wondering what was a more frightful sight to see. Him abandoning piracy to serve the king, or him missing a limb.

Her eyes dropped towards her son who’s expressions wasn’t able to hide the astonishment and the slight horror that had overwhelmed him. “It’s only proper of you to introduce yourself to him, Henry.” She encouraged the boy knowing he was in need of a push or two to actually let a few words slip through his lips.

After a long silence she offered the former captain of the Black Pearl her full attention. “My apologies, he seems a bit overwhelmed. His name is Henry. I’m sure he’s pleased to meet you too.”

It felt strange, the formalities out of place. His tidy appearance making the experience even more uncomfortable. Though, something made her fingertips tingle. Her curiosity reflecting in the hue of her eyes. “I would love to continue this conversation. Care to walk with me? I need to take this gentleman to school.” She was happy to still see wind-stirred waves in his eyes, somehow certain this appearance was nothing more than a facade. “What brings you here,...” She paused, unsure how to properly address him, “If I may be so bold to ask.”

#Barbossa & Elizabeth #@sonofirishseas

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jonahswife · 5 years ago

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Gardenia Reed

Here she is! Mostly copied directly from my notes lmao picrew link

“Bold of you to think this sword is just for decoration.”

General

Full Name: Gardenia Reed

Reason for name: She’s as pale as the actual flower

Nickname: Nia

Reason for nickname: Gardenia is too long so Nia replaced it for use in training, combat, whatever. Shorter and Sweeter.

Age: 24

Sex: Female

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: Red Territory

Birthday: September 21st

Species/Race: Human

Blood Type: O-

Occupation: Soldier

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Social Status: Regular Citizen

Relationship Status: Doesn’t Matter

Status: Alive

Appearance

Body Build: Small but muscled

Height: 5”2

Skin color: Pale, literally a ghost

Hair style: Pigtails or Down, In a braided bun for combat

Hair color: Lavender

Eye color: Red

Distinguishing Features: Her red eyes, freckles,birthmarks that resembles a tree on the base of her back and one that looks like a splotch on her inner wrist

Preferred Clothing: Anything really, from dresses to suits she’ll wear anything so long as it’s not too revealing. Greatly enjoys wearing coats and boots, however, and will almost always have a new pair of boots for each day.

Accessories: Hair Ties, her stud earrings, a backup pair of gloves to handle her sword, a pin of a swan.

Health

General health: Extremely Healthy

Posture: Proper with her higher ups, lax and casual with the other lower ranking soldiers and friends.

Any physical illnesses?: Bold of you to assume she lets herself get sick

Any mental illnesses?: Anxiety.

Mental/Emotional State

Archetype: The Orphan

Act before thinking/Think before acting?: Acting Before Thinking

Emotion-wise, generally: Feelings? Fake. She feels very intensely and is prone to understate how she’s really feeling a lot, a lot of white lies.

Conversation

Way of speaking: Extremely formal to superiors and informal to her friends and people in the same class, however she is prone to forget formalities if she’s surprised or extremely tired.

Common conversation starter: “So, what’re you up to?”

Swears?: Sometimes

Likes/Dislikes

Likes: A good night’s sleep, sunny beaches, petrichor, pianos

Dislikes: Smoke, sour foods, the smell of blood, not working

Hobbies

Humming Playing Music Dancing

Habits Stretches a lot Biting her nails Tapping her foot

Strengths/Weaknesses

Strengths: Quick, dexterous, Kind-hearted, Strong-Willed

Weakness: Easily surprised, Average Strength, Dishonest, Stubborn

Secrets

An extremely talented songstress, Gardenia is able to use magic. However, while she can use magic in its regular form she is rather unskilled. She, like her brother and sister, is skilled in vocal magicks. By using specially made instruments or their voice they are able to influence peoples’ emotions/feelings/thoughts and ultimately their actions. Gardenia’s older sister still sings, but Gardenia had sworn it off after her father’s death.

Fears

Becoming Mute Her family dying Fire Snakes

Dreams/Goals

To sing for the happiness of those around her To be able to do so freely Having a nice garden to read in A pet bird, honestly.

Favorites

Food: Arctic Roll

Color: Navy Blue

Animal: Birds

Number: Fifteen

Holiday: Christmas

Season: Spring

Time of day: Midday

Type of art: Paintings

Genre of music: Opera, Classical

Genre of literature: History, Romance

History

Born as the youngest of three, Gardenia Reed was the last child in the family and one of the most treasured. From the start she was gifted with magic potential rivaling her father, and she quickly became a favorite of the family. However, their entire existence would be kept a secret from her father’s employer, their real family name is a secret left only to the three siblings. As the favorite of the family, Gardenia would perform duets with her older brother Raphael, leading them to develop a close relationship. Things grew tense years later, however, when their father met an unfortunate end in an “accident.” This led to Beatrix fleeing to Black Territory for unknown reasons, leaving Gardenia and Raphael alone. Gardenia and her brother both soon agreed to continue to withhold their talents and enlist in the Red Army as soldiers, as a sort of method to divert themselves from the tragedy.

Personality

Gardenia wants to be known as little as possible. Thus, she never actually gives a lot of information away. The biggest fan of white lies, Gardenia will only give enough to sate the base of their response and will get defensive if pushed further. All of her antics however, stem from her constant anxiety that someone will find her and her family out, which greatly influences her regular interactions. When she is not being prodded, Gardenia is very amicable, and shows no cruelty to others. While many pin her as someone who looks unapproachable, she tends to drift into making friends easily, but greatly respects differences in power. Gardenia tends to value work above all else, and holds a fierce reputation for wanting to visit the infirmary as little as possible, if at all. This overworking sometimes leads to fatigue, but she is always making sure it is covered later on, as she greatly values her health. In her eyes, as long as she is doing something, then she is happy. When playing, however, is when Gardenia is most truthful with her emotions, and never shies away from sharing herself through song- the problem is getting her to actually play/sing.

Family

Emilie Reed (Mother)

Alexander Reed (Father)

Raphael Reed (Brother)

Beatrix de la Lune (Sister)

Trivia

Beatrix took the family heirloom (a harp specially made for conducting their form of magic) with her to black territory.

If they sing too much they can quite literally sing themselves to death, and it had happened to Gardenia’s great grandfather once before.

Since they are not taught how to use magic normally, the Reed family is unable to use magic in combat except for their songs.

Gardenia claims all of her unique traits stem from albinism, this is fake and she’s a filthy liar.

#Ikerev #Ikemen Revolution #OC #huge lore dump on my baby #I based her on drakenguard don't kill me #Every fic i've written has had nia involved btw #LMAO #THIS WAS MY INSPO FOR ALICE

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thethespacecoyote · 6 years ago

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I wrote something quick about modern AU Kylo taking care of a sick and pregnant Hux. Nothing more than that, just some light fluff.

Crackers, ginger ale, acetaminophen, tissues, Kylo repeats in his head, though he has it written down in his phone as well. He’s trying to map out the grocery store in his mind, to preemptively determine where everything is so he can get in at out as quickly as possible. He pulls his car into park and yanks up his hood to shield himself from the rain, getting out the driver’s side door once he stuffs a brightly-colored reusable bag into his jacket. It’s made of some kind of flimsy compostable material, and while Kylo is pretty sure it’s not going to melt in something as common as rain, he’d rather not have Hux complaining that he ruined one of his favorite grocery bags.

He jogs across the parking lot, managing to dodge most of the puddles but soaking his tennis shoe on the last one, just as he ducks under the store’s awning. He frowns at the squelch as he takes each step, realizing he’ll have to throw the unfortunate shoe into the dryer later, lest Hux complain about him tracking rainwater through the house.

He grabs a green plastic basket from besides the entrance, shuffling through the rest of the late-night, last-minute shoppers. They don’t have the exact brand of diet ginger ale Hux likes best in the large, one-liter bottles, so Kylo settles for a six pack of little cans rather than opting for the full sugar variant. He knows too much sweetness leaves Hux feeling a little queasy, and that’s the opposite of what he wants for his mate, especially given the circumstances.

Thankfully, the supermarket carries the type of crackers Hux had written down for him, the little, flake-like variety people liked to float in clam chowder. He’s been meaning to make soup lately, thanks to the weather, so Kylo grabs a couple cartons of chicken stock, noodles, and a bushel of celery as well. Hux may bitch at him later for digging into their grocery budget, but Kylo can’t imagine he’ll say no to a fresh bowl of home-made soup considering his condition.

Oddly, Hux has become a little more pliable in areas thanks to the pregnancy. He’ll complain more about Kylo not using a cologne he likes or preparing breakfast in a way Hux has currently deemed untenable, than whether he spends over their monthly allotment, priorities shifted to immediate needs rather than long-term planning. Perhaps not the best change, considering how much preparation is needed for a child, much less two, but thankfully Hux hasn’t gone over and completely lost his meticulous edge, if his recent spate of baby-proofing is any indication. What’s more, they’re blessed with family on Kylo’s side that could be convinced to lend a hand should the couple ever find themselves in a trying spot.

The tissues and painkillers are easy finds in the first aid and home care aisle, and soon Kylo’s jogging back to the front registers, eager to get home. The cashier, a tired-looking but otherwise pleasant beta, shoots him a small knowing smile, no doubt detecting the scent of needy, pregnant omega clinging to his jacket, as she arranges his purchases into the reusable bag. Kylo’s grateful she doesn’t introduce any unnecessary small talk apart from a quick “thank you, have a nice night” as he snags his groceries and makes his way back to his car.

All he can think about right now is getting home to Hux.

Rainwater slats off his windshield, not looking like it’ll let up anytime soon. Thankfully, he’s not far from home, and before long he’s pulling into their garage and entering inside, relaxing in the change in warmth. He sheds his jacket, hanging it on the little peg on the door, leaving him in only his shirt.

Millicent mews softly, hopping off her customary roost on Hux’s empty armchair and coming to greet Kylo at the door. Though he’s eager to tend to his mate, he takes the time to peel open a fresh can of food and drop it into her bowl, knowing Hux would become upset if he left her to go hungry. He pets her for a moment as she eats, rubbing where the fur fluffs up around her little red collar, before unpacking the groceries and putting the perishables away in the fridge.

Now, with everything else taken care of, Kylo grabs the painkillers and pours the ginger ale in a tall glass of ice and walks to their bedroom, carefully nudging open the slightly-ajar door.

The lights inside are dimmed to the same setting he’d left them in, giving the sick omega less aggravation for his pounding headache. Kylo slips inside, the carpeting cushioning his footsteps as he makes his way over to the bed. He softly calls out his mate’s name as he crouches at his side, moving a nearly empty glass of water from the coaster on the nightstand to replace it with the ginger ale.

Hux lies on his side, fluffy blankets from all over the house piled high on top of him. His head pokes out of the nest, ginger hair mussed over his pillow as he nuzzles against it. His left hand clutches the blue baby blanket Kylo’s mother had bought for them, that Hux has decided to cover in his own scent rather than leave sitting in the dresser until one of the pups can use it. It’s a sweet little habit that Kylo doesn’t dare draw attention to, for fear that Hux will stop out of embarrassment.

He pets the blanket’s delicate fabric and watches Kylo through sleepy eyes, curious expression falling into disapproval as the alpha raises the bottle of painkillers, shaking it softly. Hux furrows his brow.

“It’s safe. I promise. And you’re only going to take one.” Kylo unscrews the top, jiggling out one little white pill into his hand. He settles on the edge of the bed and forces Hux to sit up, which he manages after no small amount of fussing and wincing. The folds of the bedcovers slid down to reveal the top part of his belly, where his navy sweater stretches out, just barely able to cover the swell.

Hux is in the beginnings of his third trimester and certainly feeling the wear of pregnancy, though neither he nor Kylo expected him to fall ill while carrying their twins. Yesterday, when Hux had first nearly lost his balance while pushing up from the dining table, Kylo had barely been able to stifle his panic long enough to call their doctor. When Hux’s fever and dizziness had only grown worst, he’d been right on the verge of calling an ambulance, and no doubt would have if not for the doctor’s willingness to make a house call. Kylo had paced the entire time, sensing Hux’s worrisome temperature and discomfort through the strength of his bond, and even after the doctor had assured him both mother and pups would be fine with a little rest and proper hydration, he’d still found himself so sick to death that he’d gone home from work early the following day to care for Hux.

Kylo finds sometimes his worry is cyclical, endlessly dragging him back down whenever he thinks he might be able to break free to the surface, and usually it won’t leave him be until he deals with whatever the issue is with his own two hands.

Ultimately, Kylo feels far less tightly wound when he’s close enough to his mate to ensure his wellbeing. Even the trip to the grocery store had left him a little bit frazzled, though now it starts to ebb as he can see Hux is fine, if a little annoyed at having to sit up.

Hux finally takes the pill with a sour frown, accepting the glass of ginger ale when Kylo provides it, though he takes only a small sip to wash the medication down. He sighs, shoulders slumping as he rests back against the pillows behind him. Kylo lifts his arm, brushing his knuckles against Hux’s forehead. The omega’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance, but he doesn’t have the strength nor interest to push Kylo away.

“I feel awful…” Hux whimpers, hand slowly, anxiously stroking his belly. Kylo knows his worry for their pups probably isn’t making him feel much better, so he tries to be encouraging and defuse some of Hux’s less rational worries.

“You’ll feel better after the medication takes effect. And I don’t think your fever’s gotten worse,” Kylo murmurs, pulling away his hand. “Though I can use the thermometer if an exact number might make you feel better.”

Hux shakes his head, knocking more messy strands free over his forehead. The omega would hate him for thinking it, but to Kylo he looks absolutely adorable, even while sick. The urge to wrap him up in a hug is so strong, Kylo can’t help but bow to it, and he leans in and carefully embraces Hux.

He huffs in protest, but otherwise relaxes into Kylo’s arms, resting his chin atop his mate’s shoulder. Kylo gives him a gentle squeeze, mindful of his belly and any lingering nausea, before he pulls away. But instead of rising from the bed he shifts closer to Hux, not eager to keep distance between himself and his sick mate. Even if the omega is contagious, Kylo’s always had a hardier immune system, and even if that weren’t the case, no virus could possibly stop him from comforting his mate.

“You’re a lot more noble than I’ve pegged you for,” Hux says and his voice, though soft, still carries that edge of acuity Kylo’s familiar with. “Venturing out into the pouring rain, buying and serving whatever your omega requires…a prince, you are.”

“I wouldn’t call it noble,” Kylo mumbles, brushing his fingers through Hux’s bangs, “more like common sense. What kind of alpha leaves their pregnant mate suffering on their own?”

“You’d be surprised. Plenty of lowlives out there…” Despite his malaise, Hux’s lips twitch up, leaning into Kylo’s touch. “Lucky me. I’ve managed to catch me a decent one.”

“Yeah. Hook, line, and sinker there.” Kylo deposits the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, freeing up one hand so that he can stroke Hux’s belly. Even through the thick, comfortable fabric of his sweater, Kylo can feel the warmth of the omega’s skin, of the pups growing within. He inhales, smelling Hux through the pall of sickness and the daily grime that would’ve usually been washed away by now, if Hux were well. Kylo wonders if he should try to give his mate a shower in the morning—or perhaps a bath, so Hux could lie down and relax.

“There’s one more thing I need, though.” Hux traces his fingers over Kylo’s knuckles, inviting. “I feel you can guess what it is.”

Kylo tilts his head—he wants to get started on the soup, so Hux can have something in his belly other than a scant sip of ginger ale before he falls asleep. Yet the scent of pregnant omega is so alluring, and he figures he deserves to indulge in a little reward, if he really is as noble as Hux says he is.

“I can.” Kylo moves carefully, not wanting to disturb Hux’s nest as he settles in next to him. He lets Hux tuck into his side, wrapping an arm about the omega’s shoulders as he rests his head against his chest. His curved belly rubs against Kylo, skin shifting slightly thanks to the movements of the pups beneath.

Hux, exhausted by his illness and the general toll of pregnancy, quickly falls back asleep, but Kylo remains awake, hand braced against the warmth of his mate’s belly as he listens to the soft patter of rain against the roof.

#spacetext #long post #kylux #omegaverse #mpreg #fanfic #sw

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cheekyharold · 7 years ago

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My Prince, Chapter Three

Read previous chapters here!

As we continued to walk down dozens of hallways and up grand staircases, William continued talking about the different aspects of the job. But I barely paid any attention because my entire body was buzzing over what just happened. Had I really just met Prince Harry? Was that real? William was acting like it never occurred. But I swear it did. I vividly remembered the pale blue button-down with white buttons and navy trousers he wore. I even recalled the way his sleeves were crumpled at the bicep from it being folded to the elbow and pushed further up his arm. It was too vivid to be made up.

“Did you hear me?” William asked, stopping and turning to face me. I wasn’t listening. “What? Sorry.” “I said,” he gave an exasperated sigh, “you don’t mind traveling, do you?” “Oh, uh, no, not at all.” “Good.” He turned and kept walking. “You will be expected to follow Prince Alfred on any and all official tours, as well as any formal family outings. If any of those events are to take place outside of the United Kingdom, you are expected to stay in the palace the night before to ensure you leave on time with His Royal Highness. Any questions so far?” “Um, just one.” It had been nagging at the back of my mind since I got offered the job, but now that William was mentioning international travel, it seemed worth asking now rather than later. “Go ahead,” William said stopping again. “Well, it’s just… my camera and equipment are sort of expensive and I don’t have the funds to replace anything if it gets damaged or lost. Will there be any insurance for my camera of lenses or anything?” “You had best hope nothing gets lost, Miss Pearson. But as for damages, that won’t be a problem–” “No? Oh good–” “–because you won’t be using your equipment.” I stepped back a pace. “I won’t?” William shook his head once. “The palace will grant you a newer, better camera and all the equipment needed. You will read it later tonight in the document I gave you as well, but any and all editing and work on the photos will have to be done on the grounds and not in any of your private living. This is simply for security precaution purposes. The palace and royal family cannot allow for the photos to be leaked prior to the press secretary agreeing on them. The computers at the palace are heavily guarded and monitored – practically impossible to hack.” “O…kay…” I said slowly, suddenly feeling so stupid for bringing my camera. “Wait – I’ll be staying in the palace?” I saw William give a hint of a smile – the first one I’d seen him ever give. It looked odd on him. “Yes,” he answered, “but only if Prince Alfred is to go away the next day on official or formal business.” I looked around the hallway we were currently in. Even for a hallway, it was the grandest area I could have ever laid my eyes on. And someday, I’ll be sleeping here, if only for the night. He continued, “The staff’s quarters are in the southwest wing of the palace, below ground. They're small, but they aren’t meant to be grand anyways. I have my own area down there – it really isn’t that bad, despite what some of the other staff may tell you.” “You live here?!” I gawked. The flash of a smile was back again, and this time I felt like he was a father smiling at his child learning to read for the first time. “I have to. I have to wake up before anyone else and I often go to sleep after everyone’s gone to bed. It’s just more convenient.” “Forgive me if I’m being too invasive, but do you have a family? A wife?” He must have been in his mid-fifties, but I couldn’t catch a glimpse of a wedding ring on his finger before he turned and began walking again through the hallway. “No, no wife nor family. I prefer the solitary life, though. This job can be quite demanding and I wouldn’t have time to be a proper husband or father. This job is my marriage, I suppose.” I was surprised he was opening up so much to me. Maybe his hard exterior I saw during the interview was just that – just for the interview, maybe to intimidate the interviewees. If that was true, it sure worked. Seeing him smile and say things like this job is my marriage didn’t fit the image I had of him during that interview. By the time we finished the tour of the palace, or at least the parts I was allowed into, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. We walked back to his office on the other side of the palace, down on the ground floor. It took us nearly fifteen minutes just to walk there, the palace was so huge. In each room we entered, I searched for a glimpse of Prince Harry again, but he was nowhere to be found. In his office, William offered me a chair and instead of sitting behind his desk, as usual, he sat on the chair beside me. “So – what do you think? You think you can handle this job and all it entails?” He crossed his legs and clasped his hands together in his lap. “I think so. The palace will give me a headache trying to remember where everything is and how to get somewhere, but in time I believe I can figure it out.” “Here,” he said, standing and walking to the other side of his desk. He rifled through some papers before handing me a packet – much smaller than the previous one, thankfully. “It’s a map of the grounds. I would carry it around with you for a few days, just to get the layout.” He returned to the chair and his previous sitting position. “Do you have any more questions?” I couldn’t get Prince Harry out of my mind, and now it was nagging at me the way he spoke to me. Again, like William, that image of Harry didn’t fit the one I’d had of him in my mind. He seemed so… cold, mean. Not at all like the soft-spoken, heartfelt man I pictured from all his photos and what I’d read about him (not that I’d read a ton). “Is Prince Harry always so… gruff?” That was the most polite word I could think of. William pursed his lips. “He must have been having an off day. I’m quite literally not allowed to speak ill of the royal family. And, now that you’re one of us, you’re not allowed, either. It’s another bullet point on the list I gave you. The last page of which, by the way, is a Non-Disclosure Agreement, which goes into effect the moment you sign it. Anything you see or hear within these walls or anytime you are accompanying the royal family, especially Alfred, you are contractually not allowed to say anything to anyone, no matter what.” I gulped. “Yes, sir.” He waved his hand. “I think we’re acquainted enough, or at least will be, for you to call me William.” I recalled Harry calling William Willy and dared not repeat that name for fear of upsetting him with all my laughing. “Well, if that’s it…” He stood and extended his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Pearson.” I stood and shook his outstretched hand. “If I can call you William, you can call me Carolina.”

Pippa was home by the time I walked through the door. She set down her glass of wine and paused whatever was playing on her laptop. It turned out to be an episode of Black Mirror. “Oh my god, you’re finally back!” she exclaimed, running up and hugging me. “How was your first day? Tell me everything.” She went to the counter, pulled down a foggy wine glass, and poured me a glass. I set down my camera bag on the couch and began taking off my layers, which I was now thoroughly sweating through after walking up all seven flights of stairs. I took the glass from her before sitting on the couch as well and said, “I better get a FitBit for all the walking I’m going to be doing. The palace is huge.” I dove into extreme detail, from what I could recall, about the ornamentation of each room and hallways we went down, still sad I wasn’t able to capture any of it on my camera for her. When I got to mention the throne room, I paused and said, “You’ll never guess what happened then.” “The King walked in and kissed William on the mouth,” she said without hesitation. “No. What? That’s the first thing that came to your mind?” “Go on! Tell me! What happened?” She draped her arm over the back of the couch and curled her fist under her chin. “Prince Harry walked in.” “Fuck. Off.” “He bumped into William and called him Willy.” “Fuck. Off!” “And then he looked at me.” “FUCK. OFF.” “William told him who I was and I tried to bow – which I seriously need some tutorials on – and Harry was all, ‘She better know what she’s doing. The last one was utterly terrible.’” I exaggerated his overly sophisticated way of speaking for dramatic effect, but it got my point across. “What?” “Yeah! In the moment I obviously didn’t even care what he said, you know, because he’s a bloody prince, but then I got to thinking and he was a right arse. I asked William about it later–” “You did?” “–and he was like–” I shrugged, “–‘Guess he was having a bad day.’” Pippa rolled her eyes. “That’s no excuse to say that, honestly.” I turned more forward on the couch, staring at the screen where a black and white image of a woman was frozen with a terrified face. “I don’t know. I thought he’d be different.” I spun the wineglass in my hand and took a large sip. I told myself I’d only drink one glass – I couldn’t be hungover at work tomorrow for my second day. I continued filling her in on the rest of the day and showed her the huge packet William had given me earlier. I wasn’t sure if she was allowed to read it with me or not, but since I hadn’t signed any NDA yet, I figured it was fine. The rest of the night was us reading through the huge thing, with my signing the bottom of each page where there was a spot for my signature and date. I had no idea how I was expected to remember everything in it, like how I wasn’t allowed to call Prince Alfred by his name, only by His Royal Highness, as with his brother as well. That won’t be too confusing. After today’s encounter, I didn’t think I’d want to bump into Prince Harry anyways. Then when it came to the king I had to call him His Majesty. I could only take photos when Prince Alfred said I was allowed to take his photo, and I was never, ever to be allowed into his private chambers. Weekly schedules would be given to me about where Alfred was to be and when, since I was expected to follow him every day except on weekends. If there were overnight trips planned anywhere, I would be given a two-week notice, if not a month’s notice. If a trip is planned for outside of the United Kingdom, I was always expected to accompany Prince Alfred. Of course, there were some obvious rules, too – the days would start at 9 and end at 6 unless official business required me to stay longer, I was not allowed to date anyone on the staff, etc. By midnight, Pippa and I reached the NDA, which I read through thoroughly. Anything I saw or heard regarding the royal family was never to be discussed outside of the staff. Nothing I witnessed from the royal family was allowed to be discussed with anyone outside the staff. I wasn’t allowed to speak negatively about the royal family with the staff or anyone else I spoke to, especially the press. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to speak at all to the press. I was never allowed to take personal, private photos of any of the royal family on my own personal devices, nor allowed to post anything regarding them on social media. Essentially, to the world, I did not exist within the walls of the palace. “This is heavy stuff,” Pippa said, reading the contract carefully and yawning. She was a paralegal after all, with the aim of becoming a lawyer herself. “Tight, too. They’re good.” I took the packet from her and signed the bottom. Even if I did want to contest anything, and I didn’t, I’d have no way to win. So as the final paper was signed, Pippa and I both yawned in unison and said our goodbyes to each other before moving off to our respective rooms.

The next morning, William greeted me again and we walked into the office-looking area of the palace again. Against the walls were larger offices, like his. In the middle were long desks with computers lined along them. The office was small but in all, there were maybe two-dozen people in the center of the room, each in rows of six. “Excuse me,” William said, speaking up. “Everyone, this is Miss Carolina Pearson. She is His Royal Highness Prince Alfred’s new photographer.” I waved politely. “This is her second day, so she may need some help getting used to things. Please be gracious and kind. I expect you all to be very welcoming.” “Hi,” I said sheepishly, and a few said hello back. Everyone returned to their work again. William walked me to a desk in the second row, closest to the hallway we walked in from the front desk. He showed me to the computer on the end that happened to be right by his office. “This one will be yours. It’s updated with the newest Adobe Photoshop and other programs you may find useful. They’re all relatively straightforward but should you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. Oh, just before you sit down…” He motioned me into his office again and handed me a large, black bag. It was rectangular and I immediately knew what it was. I unbuckled the front clasps, unzipped the top, and gasped when I looked inside. It was a new Canon EOS 1DX, along with three different lenses and cleaning supplies, as well as a foldable tripod stand. I took out the camera gingerly in my hands, afraid of breaking it one way or another. “It’s… phenomenal,” I gasped, flipping it this way and that to look at all its features. It was so new, there was still a plastic film covering the screen on the back. “Inside you’ll find three spare batteries and the charging station. I know you handed in the rules and signed them, but I should remind you that this camera and its equipment are never to leave this palace unless you’re–” “On official business,” I finished for him, still staring at the camera. I popped open the memory card slot and saw there was already one in there. I found five more inside a small pocket in the bag. “If you wish,” William said, “you can test it out. I have granted you sole access to the White Drawing Room to get some practice shots in before coming back here and editing. I know Prince Harry’s photographer and Prince Alfred’s previous photographer preferred to do that.” I nodded feverishly. “Yes, please. That would be great, thank you.” We walked through the invisible door again into the White Drawing Room. The walls dripped with gold ornamentation that still took my breath away. The ceiling never seemed to stop rising. Just before William turned, he said, “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be back in an hour.” Then he turned and went back through the invisible door, closing it behind him. Setting the camera bag on one of the sofas, I began rifling through it, looking at each of the lenses and different light attachments. I put in one of the batteries, attached a lens, and turned on the beautiful thing. I glanced around the room, deciding what I should photograph first. My eyes settled on the painting of Queen Alexandra above the fireplace that William had pointed out during my tour yesterday. I took shots from multiple angles – from the side, down below, far away, etc. Something about the queen was ethereal; the way her shawl fell around her shoulders looked almost imaginary and translucent; her dress was as white as an angel’s, with a striking blue sash cutting across her bodice; diamonds dripped from her neck and in her hands, she held a string of pearls. In all, she was– “Beautiful, right?” came a voice beside me. I was so intent on the picture through the lens I hadn’t heard the door open. I gasped and saw a man with brown, tousled hair and round glasses. He was gorgeous. And Scottish, by his accent. “She is, yeah,” I replied, stepping back a pace from the painting. He turned his head to look at it, showing off his chiseled jawline. It was so sharp, it could cut a diamond. “That was the first picture I took, too.” “You’re a photographer?” His caramel eyes landed on mine and I could feel myself blush. “Jude,” he said, extending a hand. “I photograph Harry.” “You’re so young,” I blurted out, shaking his hand. Jude laughed but looked confused. “You are, too.” “No, I mean…” I fumbled. “When I was getting interviewed, William – Mr. Mastfield – made it seem like they only took, like, older applicants.” Jude shook his head. “I’m twenty-nine. I’ll take it as a compliment.” He grinned, exposing his white teeth where I saw his canine on his left side was indented slightly inward. “I’ve been Prince Harry’s photographer for five years now.” “Wow,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. Words escaped me. “William sent me up here to, I don’t know, show you the ropes, I guess? Just see how you’re getting on with the camera.” God, his Scottish accent only magnified his beauty. “I’m good, I think. I had a Canon EOS 6D from 2013. Thankfully this one’s also a Canon so they’re similar.” “Can I see?” Jude asked, holding out his hand again. I handed him the camera and he said, “You should really put the neck strap on. You’re making me nervous.” You’re making me nervous, too, I thought. My palms were sweating as he flipped through the photos. I hated other people looking at my work before I even had time to look at them. “You’re good,” he said smiling. He handed back the camera. “Though, soon you’ll have to photograph, you know, living things.” I laughed, probably louder than I should have. “Yeah, thanks.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I know William probably wants me to keep a close eye on you – he’s always wary of new-hires – but I always hate it when someone’s watching me work. I get too nervous.” “Like they’re always critiquing!” I nodded and laughed. “I promise I won’t break or steal anything. They have to check our bags when we leave anyway. Where else am I going to hide a golden candlestick holder?” Jude raised his eyebrows and shrugged with an insinuating smile. “I don’t want to presume. You know how to get back?” I nodded and we shook hands again before he disappeared into the wall. I took a few more shots of the ceiling and close-ups of the ornamentations of gilding on the walls before packing the camera carefully back into the bag. It was then I realized I was actually alone in Buckingham Palace – well, as alone as you could be with four cameras pointing at you in each corner of the room. I took an extra few minutes walking around the room, carefully inspecting each little item. Even the legs on the stands beside the sofa were ornately designed with leaves and vines, complete with tiny little cherubs at the feet. I kept my word to William, who was probably watching, and didn’t touch anything even though I was severely tempted. I walked back to the office through the little maze of hidden hallways. In all, I was probably gone for 45 minutes, but it felt like 45 seconds. I went to my desk (how weird is it that I have my own desk??) and flipped on the shiny, new computer. While I waited for it to boot up, I took the memory disk out of the camera and took Jude’s advice and attached the neck strap. He was right – couldn’t be too careful with this £3,000 camera, not even including the other equipment. I spotted Jude at the opposite end of the long table I was at and gave him a polite smile when our gazes met. I was definitely going to give Pip every detail about him. I could already see her wedding toast to us – “It was love at first sight in front of a painting of a queen, inside the lavish Buckingham Palace…” I had to look away before the smile became awkward and I turned my focus back to the monitor where I used the login details provided by William. I changed the password once I got on and immediately when to work on the photos I took. It went like this for the rest of the week – William “renting” a room for me to test out the camera and its qualities before coming back and editing the photos. At the end of each day, he took a look at the photos and nodded, telling me I did good work. He also took about an hour each day drilling me on royal protocols, since I’d be following and talking to the prince every day. By the end of Friday, William gave me Prince Alfred’s schedule for the following week, and he highlighted everything I was expected to attend. Beginning on Monday, where there was a fashion show for some French designer whose name I couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. I had never heard of them, but I also just recently learned that there was a difference between Louboutin and Louis Vuitton. “It’s right here in London, but as it is a Monday morning, you should plan to arrive at Kensington Palace early,” said William. I would be meeting Prince Alfred at Kensington Palace before going to the event, and my heart was thumping at the thought. During the weekend, which Pippa and I usually reserved for going out to dinners and maybe a pub or two, I stayed inside and worked further on my photography. “You’re so boring now,” she said on Saturday afternoon. “If I mess this up, I’ll never be able to get another job again.” “That’s not true! I’d definitely hire you as my wedding photographer.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, first you need a boyfriend and then a fiancé. I would need a job a little sooner than that.” Sunday night I went to bed at 8 so I was able to wake up by 5 again. I needed to be in Kensington by 9, which normally would take 45 minutes anyways, not even including Monday morning traffic. Plus I needed to stop at Buckingham to grab my camera. Thankfully, since I lived in Islington, Buckingham was on the way to Kensington. Well, at least in the same direction. “Morning,” Jude greeted me as I walked into the office. “Oh, good morning,” I replied, walking to my desk. Jude’s eyes followed me to my desk. “Are you going to this fashion show, too?” Jude nodded. “Harry is attending as well. So are King Henry and Victoria. It’ll be a royal affair,” he said, adding emphasis on the last two words. We both walked over to the locked cabinet where our cameras were held each night. I pulled out a key William had given me on my second day and unlocked the doors. The cabinet was actually closer to a walk-in closet. It held all sorts of odds-and-ends like brooms and cleaning supplies, as well as our camera equipment. We each signed out our cameras and each of the lenses we brought along on the sign out sheet inside the door before locking the room again. “Want to share a ride to Kensington? I’ll pay,” Jude offered as he was putting on his jacket. I tried to contain my smile and keep my voice calm. “Yeah, sure.” He ordered up an Uber, which we both took in silence to the Kensington Palace guard gates in the back. We got out of the Uber and flashed our ID badges to the guards who opened a smaller portion of the black gate to let us in. I’d been to Kensington Palace before – I felt like every Londoner or tourist had been to the palace. But the royal apartments in the back section of the palace weren’t open to the public. Jude and I walked the long pebble drive to where a string of black, sleek cars were parked. The walls of the palace weren’t anything spectacular – they were made of the same red masonry as the rest of the palace walls, but I could only assume the insides were a bit grander than the rooms open to the public. Both princes had their own separate royal apartments until Prince Alfred becomes king and has to move into Buckingham. Perhaps then Harry will inherit Alfred’s apartment. “And now we wait,” Jude said, pulling his camera bag closer to take out his own Canon. “Do we just… take pictures of anything?” Jude nodded and shrugged while attaching a lens. “Pretty much. I just think of myself as paparazzi, but classier. And silent.” Part of the bullet points on the huge rules packet was to not speak to the prince unless spoken to. “This,” Jude said, flashing his staff ID, “gives us free reign, basically, to take whatever pictures we can get.” I took out my camera as well, and I began taking shots of the palace and the cars, as well as the guards brandishing machine guns at the gates. I took close up shots of the pebbles that lined the drive, small budding flowers in the grass, and the naked branches of the trees. Anything to pass the time. “Carolina!” I heard Jude call from a few feet away. I glanced up at him and saw him waving me over. A crowd had started to gather of other staff members so I quickly walked over. “They’re coming. Okay so William is going to introduce you and you’re going to ride with Prince Alfred to the show. I’ll be with Prince Harry in another car. You’re not to speak to him, as you know, but you’re free to take pictures as you please. No flash. Got it?” My heart was racing. “Got it.” My palms were sweating furiously and I could feel my dress dampening under my coat. I put on deodorant this morning, right? I glanced toward the door where they were supposed to come out and saw William making his way towards Jude and I. He waved us over, saying, “Come, come.” We followed quickly and I hated that I was wearing heels on this cobble drive. My shoes kept sinking into the little stones, making walking even harder but William had told me I needed to dress up for this since it was a formal event. Pippa had loaned me a shift grey dress, which I paired with my old pair of nude heels. My hair was pulled into a low bun that was quickly coming loose and I stabbed fake pearl earrings into my ears that had probably closed up long ago. Even though I had my camera’s strap looped around my neck, I still gripped to the treasure tightly afraid of anything happening to it. When the two princes stepped out, both Jude and I immediately went to snapping away at them. This was the first time I had ever met Prince Alfred, and my heart was exploding with anxiety. If I didn’t make a good impression, I was as good as gone. Alfred and Harry shared similar hair tones and their eyes were the same shade of lime green. Alfred’s face was longer, though, and his chin was stubbled with facial hair. Alfred’s hair was also cropped shorter than Harry’s, but tonight it was gelled back, slick. Though they were both tall, Alfred was a hair taller and his legs seemed to go on for weeks compared to Harry’s. The both of them wore black suit jackets and black trousers, but Harry’s top two buttons were undone whereas Alfred wore a simple black bowtie. I snapped pictures of the both of them shaking different peoples’ hands before William tapped my shoulder. Prince Alfred was in front of us now, and we both bowed. I still felt ridiculous. “Your Royal Highness, may I introduce Miss Carolina Pearson? She is your new photographer,” said William. Alfred flashed a perfect smile and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Carolina.” I couldn’t form words, but I managed to look somewhat professional by shaking his hand firmly. Before I knew it, we were both stuffed into the back of one of the black cars, and we were off. I was completely alone with Prince Alfred. Holy shit.

#Harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #styles fanfiction #styles fanfic #drama #romance #fanfiction #fanfic #one direction #1d

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enzaime-blog · 7 years ago

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How I powered through 15 months without a heart

New Story has been published on https://enzaime.com/powered-15-months-without-heart/

How I powered through 15 months without a heart

Larry Lewis literally lost his heart on a July day a few years ago, but with his optimism and determination — and the expertise of the cardiac-care team at the Cedars-Sinai Heart Institute — the retired Marine Corps staff sergeant and educator is going strong today.

“On that day in 2013, I had a plane ticket to attend my wife’s family reunion,” Lewis said. “I was supposed to fly to the event after one last heart test. By the grace of God, I never got on that flight.”

For seven years, Lewis had been suffering from fatigue, insomnia and tenacious head colds — problems he knew were connected to his heart’s slow decline. When cardiologists conducted that test at the Cedars-Sinai Heart Institute, they determined he was suffering from complete heart failure.

Eight days later Lewis went into surgery to have a device implanted in his chest that would take over the job of pumping his blood. But when the surgeons removed a portion of his heart they discovered cancerous tumors in it that had been at the root of his health problems. To make things worse, the cancer had already spread to his lower intestine, diminishing his chances of survival.

Not one to be counted out, however, Lewis is living today at his home in Victorville, California. He has a new donor heart, he’s cancer free, and he’s in excellent spirits.

Larry Lewis chats with his surgeon, Francisco Arabia, MD, surgical director of the Mechanical Circulatory Support Program.

“Cedars-Sinai provided the boost of confidence for me to get through this,” Lewis said. “I knew the hospital’s reputation, and as I got to know the doctors and staff I realized that everyone was a consummate professional.”

But there was more to his survival than trust in his expert caregivers.

“I never felt that I had a chance to fail — it was not an option,” he said. “I’ve had to fight my whole life. That’s my personality.”

Indeed, the same steely resolve he tapped to pull himself from death’s door at age 50 had empowered him decades earlier to free himself from a potentially ruinous start to his adult life.

“I was ‘that’ kid, and I should be a statistic,” Lewis said of his teen years. “The places where I grew up and the situations that I was in. … Well, several people I knew then have been in and out of prison. Several are dead.”

Lewis was not born into a life on the edge of crime. His dad was a Navy man, his mother a stay-at-home mom. The family lived in Oakland, California, and his parents had a clear vision for their four sons, whom they sent to private school.

“My parents only had ninth-grade educations but they had unbelievably high expectations for me and my brothers,” Lewis said. “My mother was a beast with education.”

But when Lewis was barely a teenager, the family disintegrated. His parents divorced. His dad moved to Southern California with the two oldest boys. Shortly thereafter his mother suffered a stroke.

“At 12, 13 years old I grew up,” Lewis said. “I paid the bills. I went to the store with the food stamps. And we moved from the Oakland hills to the Oakland ghettos.”

Ridiculed by the kids on his new block for “talking proper,” Lewis had to learn how to play by the rules of the street. His mother eventually moved away to get care for her illness.

“I lost my identity because I didn’t have older brothers or a father to identify with any more,” Lewis said. “I was doing all the things you think teenagers do in the streets.”

He recalled a day when he was 18 and talking to a friend about what they were going to do for money after high school graduation.

“My buddy said, ‘I’m going to start slinging hard'” — selling drugs. “I said, No, I’m going into the military.

“I didn’t have anyone telling me I needed to do this, but I knew I had to escape the inner city. My father and brothers were military, so it was the family business. I had the presence of mind and the foundation to get out.”

Lewis would spend the next 20 years in the Marine Corps, where he served as an aircraft maintenance data systems analyst, a victim advocate for domestic violence, and a substance-abuse counselor.

After the end of his military career, Lewis threw himself into being an educator and teaching young people his brand of optimistic resilience. Already acting as a youth director at his church and a coach of sports teams, it was a natural transition to pick up a teaching credential and then master’s degrees in curriculum and instruction, and educational leadership.

“There are not enough African-American educational leaders — especially men,” Lewis said. “My job is to fight for kids who can’t fight for themselves. I understand the dynamics of their lives. I know that if those kids have an opportunity to thrive, they will.”

From 2000-11, Lewis was a teacher, assistant principal and eventually a principal in the Adelanto School District in San Bernardino County. His medical condition forced him to retire in 2011 from his position as principal of Desert Trails Elementary School in Adelanto.

Then came that critical July day in 2013.

After surgeons removed his heart, they implanted a SynCardia Total Artificial Heart. The device helps the sickest of the sick, replacing the lower chambers of the heart (the ventricles) and all four valves. An external driver powers the implant, enabling it to pump. It is a remarkable, temporary therapy for patients who might otherwise die while waiting for a heart transplant.

Yet, the device could do nothing about the fear Lewis was feeling.

“I was uncertain about my future and uncertain about my ability to come back from heart failure,” he said. “I felt fear, but I wanted independence. I was going to have to earn that.”

Lewis lived for 16 months with the SynCardia device. He said he drew strength from his faith, his love for his wife and children, and his desire to work again with young people.

He was actually back in the hospital at Cedars-Sinai when he got one of the most emotional phone calls of his life.

“They had a donor heart for me, if I chose to have it,” Lewis recalled. “I certainly chose to have it!”

When he awoke after his heart transplant, he felt a profound difference.

“When you wake up, you just know that you’re alive. You’re attached to about a thousand wires, but through it all you can feel that, in fact, there is a heart that’s beating.”

Lewis plans to continue mentoring youth. Although retired from teaching, his fond memories of serving students from myriad backgrounds has inspired him to start a group called My Brother’s Keeper through the church where he is an ordained deacon.

“The idea is that, yes, I am my brother’s keeper,” he said, “and I do have a responsibility to help the next young man to be successful, to navigate life and to move forward.”

Lewis said he also feels a responsibility to the donor heart beating in his chest:

“I need to make sure that I’m positive in the things that I do, to honor the person who I got the heart from.”

#Lewis was a teacher #military career #pumping his blood.#statistic #went into surgery #Transplant

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