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crimsonophelia · 4 years ago

Note

hi! could i request for an imagine involving childe and a gn reader? the reader is childe’s longtime childhood friend who’s more or less been in love with him since they were young—and they document the extent of their feelings in a diary (complete with embarrassingly detailed paragraphs planning out theirs and childe’s wedding, gushing over every little thing about him, incidents where they felt petty and jealous over childe showing interest in someone else, etc etc.) that they accidentally end up mailing to childe in liyue thinking it was the book they bought him as a gift.

when they realize the mix-up, they try to make a run for the post office to stop it from being sent to him, but it’s no use—it’s already been shipped out and sent off. how childe ends up responding, doing, or reacting is completely up to you! (i apologize if this request was a little long aha; i hope you have a wonderful day!)

featuring: childe x gn!reader

warnings: none

published: april 22 2021

form: imagine

a/n: thank you for requesting!! this is so cute~~ i love wholesome, bashful childe www

you couldn’t believe it. oh my god, you were such a huge, fucking idiot. how could you have gotten the letters mixed up with the bank documents??? the whole point of keeping your ridiculously embarrassing letters to tartaglia separate from the rest of your documents was just so something like THIS could never happen!

the eleventh fatui harbinger had requested a few copies of official documents from northland bank to help zhongli with some funeral parlor legal paperwork, and you happily obliged, jumping at the opportunity to be of help to the boy you’ve admired for so long.

but for some reason, you were feeling particularly airheaded today. the night before, you had written yet another “letter” to tartaglia in your diary, much like the countless other sheets of paper clipped together, filled with endless words of yearning that will never be read by their intended recipient. you wrote:

“my dearest ajax,

i hope life as a harbinger is going well. i quite miss when we were back in snezhnaya as children, but i suppose i should thank celestia that fate brought us back together in liyue. i still cant help but to miss you each and every day, though. it feels like its been so long since we last got together and talked. i remember last time we had an actual conversation was at wangshu inn— was it three, no, four months ago? i cant quite recall. you looked so lovely, as usual. your smile never fails to make me laugh, especially with that one crooked tooth. i still love to bully you about that, you know. hopefully we can meet again soon, sincerely. im tired of being just friends, tartaglia. not when you look at me like that, and not when you always love to put your arm around my shoulder and pull me in to you every time we meet. i dont know how you feel about me—sometimes it appears as if you might feel the same, though i can never be sure. but i digress. life is rather lonely without you, and yet i manage to get by, somehow.

always yours,

[y/n]”

you tucked the letter amidst the stack of all the others, confident that they would never see the light of day. but somehow, somehow, your foolish, sleep-deprived brain mixed the letters in between the documents from the bank, and now tartaglia would know everything. all your foolish musings over the years, fawning over his rogueish charm like a child, yearning for your friend with such humiliating naïveté. this cannot happen. you have to get to him before the mail can, somehow. he was currently staying at an inn nearby the funeral parlor—there’s gotta be a way to be quicker than the mail deliverer.

you hurried out of your office and hailed the first rickshaw you see lined up on the street, and ordered him to drive you to the inn, as soon as humanly possible.

upon arrival, you leapt out of the seat, tossing an indiscriminately large fare at the driver before stumbling onto the sidewalk, almost dropping your things. slamming open the door to the inn, you reach the front counter. asking breathlessly, “which room is mr. tartaglia staying in?”, you hurry to the room the doorman indicates to be the fatui’s residence.

but before you get the chance to even look for the room, you turn the corner and slam into a taller body. to your dismay, you look up and see the face of a shocked tartaglia looking down at you, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. shit.

shit shit shit. this cannot be happening right now. maybe he hasn’t read the letters yet? slim chance, though—he’s always been nosy.

“[y/n]...” Childe looked at you with a pained glint in his eyes. he reached out for your arm with his free hand.

ah. so he knew.

you tried to jerk away, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarassment and the pressure that always comes before tears. things are never going to be the same again. all because of my stupidity.

you felt yourself colliding with the wall of tartaglia’s chest again, as he abruptly dropped all he was holding. a pair of arms wrapped themselves assuredly around your waist, so familiar, yet so foreign. not able to hold yourself together for any longer, you let yourself go, crying into tartaglia’s chest, your voice racked with harsh, humiliating, childish sobs.

“why did you hide it from me for so long?” you felt tartaglia whisper into your hair, his breath grazing your scalp. his warmth was so delicious, something youve been craving for so long finally being satiated.

looking up, his usual charming smirk was much more sad, almost guilt-ridden. “i care about you so much [y/n]. you know you can tell me anything, right?”

gasping for air, you felt so ashamed for making such a scene in front of him. “i was so scared, ajax. scared that i would drag you down, or scared you would leave me behind.” you couldn’t bear to meet the pained gaze of the boy yoy so hopelessly fell in love with.

his rough hand smoothed over your hair, comforting you like he used to, back when you two were children in snezhnaya. drawing you effortlessly closer towards him, until you felt his lips plant a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

“you know i love you, [y/n], don’t you? i always have and i always will.”

you clung on to him tighter, fearing what the world might return to if you ever let go. you couldn’t let him slip through your fingers, not again.

“i don’t want you to suffer because of me anymore, my dear.”

a/n: to clarify YES THIS IS A HAPPY ENDING READER AND CHILDE GET TOGETHER i just didnt wanna go any further and do a complete 180 on the tone lolol i hope this is okay!!

#childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #childe headcanons #childe imagines #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia headcanons #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #childe fanfic #childe fic #when will i stop writing angst

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

The Doctor Is In

Stephen Strange x reader

Bruce Banner x reader (platonic)

warnings:

a/n: hey! idk how to build stairs guys. i didnt feel like researching it. i dont care if it’s wrong. leave me alone. part 2/2.

prompt:

Out (1)

There was no hope of Stephen coming back. Every truth you had to face was harsher than the last. Even when you got home and realized that Wong was among the vanished...and he didn’t fix the stairwell.

Maybe the stairwell was a good thing. It gave you something to focus on in these hard times. Sure, it’d been a month since the incident, but that still wasn’t enough time for the world to heal. That meant that contractors were hard to come by. But the roof would have a tarp over it for some time. No way you’d deal with that.

So you took a trip to the hardware store, you stocked up on wood and nails, lacquer and wood stain. Anything else you needed for the project. Anything to keep you busy.

There were so many sleepless nights. You hated being alone in Sanctum, hated being alone in your bed. Every so often you would nap on the couch, but then you’d get right back to work. Weeks on end you spent on the stairwell. How long will you stick around while I talk about the stairwell?

Doctor Banner called you from time to time. His voicemails were kind, heartfelt, but you couldn’t stop now. The gutted stairwell from a couple weeks ago was coming by very nicely. As nice as it could when worked on my an amateur. Alright, it looked awful, but you couldn’t stand using a ladder to get to the second floor.

As you were staining the wood, you played a message from Bruce:

“Doctor L/N, it’s Bruce. I hope you’re doing alright, but you know that if you’re not, I’m here for you. All the remaining Avengers have kind of...gone their separate ways for the most part, they’re pretty broken up about everything. I just want you to know that because you don’t...have to be strong right now. I understand if you can’t be. Just call me back whenever you can? I want to make sure you’re alright. We’re survivors, we should stick together.”

Bruce hadn’t known you long, but he was still a great person and friend. You should call him back, but if you lost focus, you may lose yourself. So you continued to wipe against the grain of the fresh stairs and moved to the next step. And the next. And the next.

The last step was the lacquer and seal. You were scared to finish up. What would you occupy yourself with once this was over? You thought about the answer until the very last step and admired your shabby craftsmanship. It’ll do. Or maybe you should tear it all down and start over? While you were thinking over your newest thought, your phone rang again. Bruce Banner.

“Hey, Bruce.” You answered the phone as you normally would and sat on the floor in front of your work.

“Y/N?” Bruce asked in disbelief. “Y/N, hey! How are you? I don’t know if you’ve been getting my calls..?”

“I have.” You quickly replied.

“Oh.” He quietly nodded to himself.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You realized your mistake and knew you may have come off as a little rude. He’d been nothing but kind to you, but you’d just realized you were alone today.

“No, no! It’s okay! I understand, don’t worry. What have you been up to?” His effort to start a conversation may be successful this time around.

“I fixed the stairwell. All of it. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. I just finished a few minutes ago.” You felt awkward talking to him. Not because of him, not at all. Just because you hadn’t really had any human contact in a while.

“I didn’t take you for a carpenter, Doctor.” Bruce was genuinely surprised with your skillset, you could hear it in his voice.

“And you still won’t once you see the job I did.” You actually managed to let out a chuckle. You didn’t know you could still do that.

“Oh, I hear ya loud and clear.” Bruce laughed, too. I wonder if he was having the same thoughts as you. “Y/N, do you want to go out to lunch like, now? I could use some company, maybe you could, too.”

“Yeah,” you checked the time on your watch, Stephen’s watch, and realized you worked through the night and day, “text me an address, I’ll meet you anywhere. See you soon.” You hung up pretty quickly, only to get ready ASAP. You were sort of covered in “stair supplies” and smelled like...not good. You’d take a quick shower, put on some clean clothes, and take off. Unfortunately, the stairs weren’t dry, so it was another round up the ladder.

—————

You finally took a trip back to your bedroom and shuffled through the closet filled with your...late husband’s clothing. It still smelled like him, surprisingly. You wondered just how long it would last. You hoped it’d be forever, but you grabbed your own clothes and quickly got dressed, then checked your phone to see that Bruce was running “a little late.” It’s okay, you were, too.

You took a seat on Stephen’s side of the bed and decided to snoop. Did it count as snooping if he was no longer here? You knew that he didn’t keep secrets from you, so what was the worst you could stumble upon? Books, books, and more books. But some were important books, ones detailing mystic arts. Maybe...maybe it was time to pick up a new skill. You stuffed the book in your bag and decided to head out now before you got too comfy in an actual bed.

—————

You and Bruce sat at a booth in the empty diner, awkwardly gazing over the menu while trying to stir up some conversation. It’d been a while since either of you had visited someone, you didn’t even know what to talk about.

“So, home renovations, huh?” Bruce asked while peaking over the fold of the laminated list.

“Something like that.” You sighed and set yours down and aside. “I know what I’m getting. What about you?”

“I just need a minute.” The only noise besides your bland conversation was the rustling of dishes in the back, which didn’t last for long. “Got it. A burger. That’ll do it.” Bruce announced and got the attention of the waiter.

Ordering took a second, but soon you and Bruce were alone again and ready to talk.

“How are the other Avengers? I know you said they went their separate ways, but...” You inquired and were surprised to see a smile crack on Bruce’s face. “What?”

“At least I know you listened to my voicemails.” He chuckled and took a sip of his iced tea. “They’re dealing with it. I don’t exactly know how. Nat’s staying at the compound, I’m sure she’s glad to have a home again. Cap went out on his own. Thor went back to his people. Tony and Pepper are trying to separate themselves from the world, I think. I don’t blame them. That’s all I know.” You stayed silent, but nodded along to his outer thoughts. “You alright?”

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You started. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, leave you hanging. I just still don’t know how to take this. I keep thinking about what Stark told me when he came back. His whole ‘this will all make sense soon’ thing. Nothing about this makes sense to me.”

“Well, Strange was different, wasn’t he? He had that Stone, he had those powers, he might know something we don’t.” Bruce explained to you, an attempt to comfort you. “We’ve tried everything, y/n. Maybe it’s time to wait, maybe in time you’ll see that he sacrificed himself...for you.” You teared up at the scientist’s words and quickly wiped your eyes as the food was placed before you. “Thank you, sir.” Bruce said as the waiter walked off. “Hey, y/n? It’s okay that you’re hurting. I get it. But please don’t act like you’re alone. I’m gonna be here for you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled while hiding your wet eyes, “Me, too, Bruce.”

—————

When you got stressed out when you were younger, you threw yourself into your studies. Maybe that was why you were such an accomplished scientist. But what studies did you have now?

You had a library full of knowledge. It wasn’t your usual knowledge, but it would suffice. Now, the book that you’d snagged from Stephen’s bedside was a bit advanced for you, but that was okay. You had options.

Where would you even begin? This place was bigger than you remembered. Was this another spell? Did you know what you were talking about? Stop thinking, y/n. Start reading.

You picked out a book. You just ran with it. You recalled stories from Stephen. You remembered you needed the ring. What did he call it? Song ring? Sink ring? Slink ring?

Sling ring.

Not a problem, you could find one. Sanctum probably had tons. Maybe in Stephen’s study? You wished you had asked him more about his arts before, you just didn’t get it at the time.

One was stashed in a drawer. It was Stephen’s ring. The one he used himself. And it was the only one you could find, so it’d have to do. And so you got to studying.

The first time the air sparked by your hand was magical. Literally. But it made you feel something for the first time in nearly three months. And that was just the beginning. It felt like you were carrying on Stephen’s legacy in a way. You’d never be “Sorcerer Supreme,” but you didn’t have any intention of that. You just wanted his memory to live on, even if it were through you.

So you’d practice and you’d learn and you’d practice and you’d learn. You’d see Bruce whenever you could, and he soon noticed your mood change.

“I’m glad to see you happy for a change.” He told you while you walked through the park.

“Yeah, it feels great.” You told him while watching construction vehicles cleaning up the debris that had been lying around for months.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with the ring?” He looked at your hand and you lifted it closer.

“Oh...it’s Stephen’s.” You simply stated.

“Is it like a wedding ring?” He took a closer look and let you laugh it up for a quick second.

“No, no!” You shook your head at the ridiculous question. “I might as well show you. I haven’t told anyone yet, but that’s because you’re the only person I talk to.” You stopped in your tracks and shooed him back to give yourself enough space. “Ready?” Bruce looked terrified, but nodded a response and watched you raise your hands ahead, concentrating on the small portal you had began to open. Bruce recognized the opening since he’d fallen through it before.

“You’re one of the sorcerers?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I just started learning!” You exclaimed with a bright smile. “I needed something to get me through this all...and I wanted to protect Sanctum like Stephen and Wong had always stressed doing.”

“That’s...amazing, y/n. Self-taught magic? By a scientist, no less. Look at you go!” Bruce had a knack for being supportive. You were glad that he crashed through your roof and into your stairs.

“Thanks, Bruce. Maybe in time I’ll be able to cast a spell that fixes my roof.” You shrugged.

“Oh? Come on! I said I was sorry!”

—————

And then five years went by. Flew by, actually. You’d become a skilled sorcerer and used your skills around Sanctum. There wasn’t much to do here on Earth. It was a bit quiet.

Bruce was still a close friend of yours! You’d advised him in his quest for balance. He was no longer at war with himself.

The roof was fixed! You had Bruce spectate your very own spell to repair the damages he’d inflicted, but all was forgiven.

Then one normal day you got a call from him.

“Hey Bruce! How’s it going?” You answered, even though it interrupted your meditation.

“Can you meet me at the diner ASAP?” He sounded a little off, but still upbeat, so you opened a portal and stepped through to find yourself right out front. It was easy to spot him through the window, but there were others with him. Avengers.

“Hey, all.” You took a seat beside an unfamiliar one. “Hi, I’m y/n.” You told him as a plate of food was set in front of you.

“I ordered you your favorite. Hope you’re hungry.” Bruce smirked at you and let you get to it.

“So, it’s been a while, huh?” You asked the two Avengers across from you.

“It has.” Natasha sighed. “I wasn’t aware you were...also a sorcerer.” She began.

“I had a lot of free time.” Last they saw you, you weren’t as cool, calm, or collected. They were glad that you’d found peace. “I have a feeling this isn’t a social lunch.”

“I’m sorry to pull you from your calm, Doctor L/N—” You cut Steve off.

“Y/N is fine.” You replied.

“Scott here,” Steve motioned to the awkward man sitting alongside you, “was stuck in the Quantum Realm for some time, if you’re familiar. He thinks that there’s a way to...to undo what Thanos did.” You peered over at Bruce and watched him shrug as your heart started to beat faster and stomach started doing turns. You hated the thought of getting your hopes up, but you still dearly missed your husband.

“What can I do?”

—————

You had a hand in opening the dozens of portals around the ruins of the Avengers Compound, but you weren’t the only one. Stephen, Wong, and hundreds of other sorcerers were assisting to bring an army to combat the troops of an outdated Thanos, and you were so close to Stephen.

Using your magic to create a pathway to the sky, you leaped from step to step to get a clear look of the battlefield. And to let Stephen see you. He did. And so did the cloak.

You’d never used your powers to fight, so you’d have to step it up out here. But you knew Stephen wouldn’t let you get hurt. And you believed that you could handle this yourself.

“Y/N!” Stephen called to you as he flew to your altitude and held you in a special embrace that you’d nearly forgotten the feeling of. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Are you kidding me, Stephen?” You chuckled through tears that you just couldn’t hold in, tears that dragged through the dirt and dust on your face, clearing small lines down your cheeks. “I have missed you every day since the moment you left. I am so glad to have you back.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, y/n. I truly am. But I knew that you would manage without me. You always have.” He explained to you in such a heartfelt way, admiring your capability to still be standing in the air.

“You knew I’d become a sorcerer, didn’t you?” You cocked a brow and watched him smirk.

“I had an inkling.” He joked with you as the firefight below was still rampaging.

“It’s very unprofessional of you to be talking to your s/o during times of crisis like this.” You chuckled and broke your spell to fall back to the ground, stopping yourself before it was too late in what could only be described as a “superhero landing.” Now that you were on the ground, assistance was required for your own side of the battle.

You and your fellow sorcerers had to defend more than anything. Shields popped up across the battlefield in an effort to keep your people alive. There were too many close calls and you wanted to survive long enough to go home with your husband.

“Y/N, over here!” Stephen beckoned you to the flood that would have made this fight much harder, and you were delighted to defend alongside him. The cloak rushed to you and gave you a fast track to the edge of the water, you couldn’t help but that it for it’s kind service. “Ready?”

“Of course.” You lifted your palms and motioned towards that water, redirecting it and keeping it at bay for the time being. “I love you, Stephen.” You remembered to tell him.

“I love you, too, y/n.” He replied with his focus still on the flood. “And I’m proud of you. So very proud.”

“Couldn’t have done it with you.” You joked and stabilized the rushing waters, giving you a true load-off before the end was clear. Dust passed through the sunken hole you all stood inside. Dust of your enemies that had finally lost. You and Stephen stared at each other in disbelief, yet couldn’t help but run into each other’s arms. “This is real? We won?”

“In a way.”

—————

Stephen and you dressed in all black were standing in the back yard of your savior. Tony had given his life to give others a life. You were just sorry that it had to be him.

Bruce stood alongside you with a long face and an injured arm. It was time for you to be there for him like he’d been there for you.

“Thanks for bringing back my husband, Bruce.” You whispered to him while holding Stephen’s hand tightly. Over the past few days, you just couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“Oh, yeah? That was nothing.” Bruce playfully answered through his sorrow.

“How’s your arm feeling?” You asked him, making sure the sling wasn’t twisted up an any way.

“Not the greatest, but I’ll be okay.” He assured you and watched as you leaned your head onto Stephen’s smile with a sense of relief. “I’m really happy for you, y/n...”

“But?” You raised an eyebrow with a hint of worry.

“But you better still hang out with me.” He smiled at you and you even heard a chuckle escape Stephen’s lips.

“You can count on it, Bruce.” You lifted a hand for a fist bump and collided your knuckles with his, even if they were a bit oversized.

“Shall we get going, dear?” Stephen asked you while he hooked his arm around yours and opened a portal home. You waved goodbye to Bruce and went on your way, stepping right into Sanctum as the way closed behind you.

“So you really meant it, huh?” You asked your husband while setting your belongings down.

“That I love what you’ve done with the place?” Stephen laughed at your oncoming smirk and walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you forward to kiss the top of your head. “Of course, dear.”

“Even the stairs?” You peeked your head up to look at your husband and watched his smile grow. You’d never bothered casting a spell to properly repair them. Maybe you were just too proud of your work. Maybe it was a reminder that you got through these five years on your own terms.

“I do.” He leaned down to kiss your lips. “It adds character to this place.”

“More character than the magic?” You prodded at him.

“I think you mean ‘sorcery.’” He corrected as you leaned into his chest and slightly swayed back and forth, taking in his presence for the 50th time since he’d come home.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

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pupandangelscoffee · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR, DANGEROUS LIKE SNAKES

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley x Reader

Genre: Action, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of being shot, mentions of being attacked, jumping out of window (no death), mentions of deaths in the past, inappropriate language

Synopsis: When Buck and Eddie agreed to do an undercover job for Athena, they didnt expect to meet someone like you

Wordcount: 2387

Taglist: @enterprise-medical

When Athena had come to Bobby with the request to allow two of his firefighters go undercover to a rather inclusive underground dance club, he had been against the idea. For one, he didn’t want to put Eddie or Buck in danger, but most importantly, he knew how reckless those two could be and he didn’t want them to risk being caught up in anything more dangerous than their everyday work. But after some persuading from both his wife and the two men in question, he had given in.

That is exactly why they are now standing in the door of your dance studio, eyes following your every move as you lead the group choreo, believing that you had yet to take notice of them and Athena. However, when you send them a smile through the mirror, Buck feels his breath get stuck in his throat. Eddie chuckles between his friend, feeling how the other stopped breathing for a moment while Athena shoots the young male a quick glare. “Remember, Buck, this mission is extremely important. Do not compromise it by sticking your slong where it does not belong,” she hisses as you finish up the dance and make your way over to them. “So, these two are the ones I am supposed to take with me?” You ask with a rather hushed voice, looking them over before raising a brow at Athena. “Listen, Athena, I respect you but with those clothes, they will stick out like a pink elephant in a black room.” You state blankly, earning an offended scoff from the two men and a small chuckle from Athena. Before any of the three could even reply, another girl walks up behind you and wraps her arm around your waist. “Hey babe, who are these two flamingos?” She asked, studying the men from head to toe before chuckling at their appearance. “Did you pick them up at the circus?” She added, making you giggle and shake your head before retorting “nah, I found them outside the clown school. Apparently, they got kicked out for looking too much like a giraffe that drank too much paint.” While the two men look incredibly offended at your comments, Athena tried to bite back her laughter. “Do we have to work with them? They are mean.” Buck whines softly, looking at Athena like a puppy that was just kicked.

Shaking your head a bit, you turn to look at your friend. “Okay, Marie, you will help these two gentlemen find some new clothes, okay? Afterwards Marcel and I will see how well they can dance and help them learn some moves, so they won’t stick out like a wedding dress at a funeral at the party tonight.” You instruct her, earning a small nod before she rushes off, dragging the two dumbfounded men along. “You will take good care of them, right? Otherwise I may lose my husband, they are like sons to him.” Athena explains causing you to nod with a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, Athena. I will watch over them like my life depends on them. I just hope that Travis won’t figure out what we are trying to do. I would prefer not getting shot again.” You state before sending her off with a wave.

An hour later, Marie returns with Eddie and Buck, both looking more like they would belong to your scene than being model citizens. At this point, you had discarded your shirt and Buck had to do everything in his willpower not to stare at your chest. “We are back, and they finally don’t look like tropical birds in a crowd of crows.” Marie informs you, smiling at you through the mirror before grabbing her bag and waving goodbye to you, rushing out of the practice room. Turning to the men, you introduce them to Marcel before instructing them to show you some of their dance moves. To your surprise, Eddie was rather good at an assortment of dance styles, whether it was just basic salsa or some sort of break dancing, he was doing well enough that you didn’t have to fear for him to stick out unnecessarily. Buck, however, well he was a completely different story. You wouldn’t say he couldn’t dance, he could, but The Sprinkler and The Carlton would not be received well in any club, especially not one as exclusive as the one you were planning to take them tonight. While you managed not to burst out laughing, Marcel was on the ground, crying from the laughter that was ripping through his body. “Please, please do not do that when we are out tonight.” You beg gently, trying to not let the laughter get out that you were trying to keep down, eyes flicking over to Eddie, who is very amused by his friend’s interesting dance style.

You end up taking some mercy on the poor man, stepping closer to him, and placing his hands on your waist. “Just follow my lead, darling.” You say softly right as the music starts before starting to lead him, giving him a gentle smile as he stumbles a few times. After a few hours of showing him random dance moves that would be acceptable in the club, you hum in succeed. “Great, imma go shower and then we can head out.” You state before grabbing your bag before heading to the shower.

The smell of sweat and alcohol are the first things that hit Eddie and Buck when they finally get to enter the club. You had introduced Eddie as your boyfriend and Buck as your friend from a few states over to get them access to the club and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart sting when you introduced Eddie as your boyfriend instead of him. Weaseling your way through all the bodies, you lead the two boys over to the table where your friends are sitting and to sell the illusion of dating Eddie, you sit down on his lap. Buck quickly averts his eyes as he feels jealousy raise in him, though it dies down as soon as the waitress brings over a tray of shots. Quickly, all of you grab one and down it before your friends stand up as your group’s name gets called out by another group of people. Frowning a bit, you get up as well, whispering a threatening “stay here or I will make sure neither of you have sex ever again” to the two men before following your group to the middle of the dance floor. Of course, the one night you bring in firefighters to a club that has seen more deaths than necessary, is the night your group gets challenged to a dance battle. You figure that they must be new around the club, because your group had a reputation build up about how you didn’t come to play. “Basic rules, whoever gets the loudest cheers gets to stay, the losers leave.” You state, smiling at what you assume the leader to be as you reach your hand out for a handshake. Your opponent nods and takes your hand, shaking it before both of you resume to your positions in your groups.

Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie both stood up, trying to see exactly what was happening. Buck is the first of the duo to end up climbing onto the table to get a better view, becoming completely entranced as he watches your group – especially you – start to dance. Holding his breath, he watches as the crowd goes wild for your group after the battle is over, only releasing the breath once you are back safely at your table and on Eddie’s lap. Eddie quickly wraps his arm around your waist, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty shoulder, clearly enjoying the fact that he got to play your boyfriend for the night.

Both of the men nearly forgot why they were with you and your group of friends in the first place, having a wonderful time and probably a bit more alcohol as they initially planned, though making sure that they were sober in case anything happened. And sure enough, after dancing, drinking, and talking for nearly two hours, three rather big men came up to you three. “Travis wishes to see you.” One of them states, motioning for you three to follow them, which you do. Once you enter the room where Travis is waiting, the bodyguards leave as Travis waves them off. “I see you brought some new friends, Y/N and you didn’t even bother introducing them to me. That is rather rude, ya know?” Travis states as he pulls out a clear bag of some white pills. “Why don’t we show them what real fun is?” he adds, mistaking your smirk for an agreement though quickly frowning as you take a picture of him holding out the pills. “You see, Travis, I don’t think the police would be very happy if I allowed their men to take some of your shit.” You state with a hum as you walk over to him and pat his cheek while Eddie takes out the handcuffs that he had hidden in his pocket. However, before he could get close enough to arrest Travis, the man dropped the bag and ran off. Sighing a bit, you take your heels off before chasing after him, knowing the club like the back of your hand.

A small scream, courtesy of Buck, could be heard when you jump out of the second story window, as he fears. Though when Eddie starts laughing while looking out of the window, he slowly walks closer and the scene in front of him was rather amusing. Not only were you absolutely fine, but you had also managed to catch a very bewildered looking Travis, who did not understand how you were able to cut him off and pin him against the metal fence, since he had been so far ahead. “Oh, this is Julie,” you whisper before slamming his head against the fence again before looking up at the boys. “Are you gonna come arrest him or do you want to continue playing pretty creepy dolls?” You yell up to them, causing the two to spring into action.

Soon enough, Athena shows up and takes Travis off your hands, not even questioning why he has a cut on his face. “He deserved it.” You state with a shrug before turning to Eddie and Buck to thank them and wish them a goodnight. “So, you think we are pretty, huh?” Buck teases before you can even say a word, causing you to giggle. “I said pretty creepy if I remember correctly, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Evan.” You reply before giving him and Eddie each a soft hug and a kiss on the cheek before grabbing your heels and walking off into the night.

It has been a few weeks since the boys last saw you and even if they didn’t want to admit it, they actually missed you. So much actually, that they drove past the place that you took them to, only to find it completely abandoned. Through a stranger, they found out that after Travis was arrested, the whole place fell apart and people just stopped showing up.

So, the surprise was real, when they hear your voice after coming back from a call. Racing up the stairs, they find you and Chris dancing with one another. “Well, what is going on here?” Eddie asks, immediately regretting that his voice came out a little more on the hostile side, but it was his father instinct kicking in as soon as he saw Chris standing without his crutches and only holding onto you. “Well hello to you too, Edmundo.” You state, quickly handing Chris his crutches before grinning and leaning down to his eyelevel. “You wanna show your dad what you learned?” You ask softly, getting an eager nod in return. So you step back and turn on the song that Chris had requested, watching Chris take the “stage” and showing off the dance moves that you had managed to teach him while the 118 was at the call. Meanwhile, the whole team joined you, all of them watching the young boy enjoy himself. “You have a very cute and sweet son.” You whisper to Eddie before walking over to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water, one for you and one for the young boy. “Dad, what do you think of my moves?” Chris asks innocently as he sips from the water bottle that you hand to him opened already, allowing you to pick him up and set him on the couch besides his father. “They were really good.” Eddie smiles, looking at you in amazement before ruffling Chris’s hair. “What are you even doing here?” Buck asks you, the smile on your face faltering. “Athena said it would be the safest if I change back to being a paramedic instead of a dance instructor, especially since I was attacked twice last week.” You add the last part in a whisper, not wanting the kid to hear.

Though you couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked faces of everyone except Bobby, who had been informed by Athena that you would be joining his team, because somehow none of them expected you to be a paramedic. “I finished the training 3 years ago, right after High School. However, I preferred dancing and it paid very well, so I never actually went to the firehouse.” You explain quickly before Bobby added “they will be joining us starting next week”. Huge smiles break out on Buck’s and Eddie’s face as they realize that this means they get to spend more time with you, almost like their wishful thinking has actually worked. A definite bonus was that Chris also seemed to really like you, so perhaps they could make things work.

But with your past? Would it come haunt them as well? Would it bring any of them into danger? Would it put Chris in the line of danger? Could they actually win your heart though? Only the future can tell, but the two men hope that their future is with you by their side.

#eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley #eddie diaz imagine #911 fanfiction #9 1 1 fanfic

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chemicallady · 4 years ago

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Daddy is home

Greg Sanders x Reader

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading this. If you want some fluff with just a little sadness, you're in the right place.

Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader

Category: Mostly fluff with a little piece of angst. Family slice of life for Greggo.

Content Warning: none

Summary: Reader is use to feel Greg absence.... but what about is own children? And Greg? What's more important? His job or his family?

*****

You are use to feel Greg absence, almost every night and, sometimes, even for days. It wasn't a big deal when you two started to see each other. You were a grad student, looking for a PhD out of town - searching for a new experience- and he was a lab tech at the crime lab in Vegas. Your relationship had worked for 5 years while you were in Salt Lake City, even if you constantly missed him so much and viceversa. He spent a lot of utahns weekends at your apartment and you came back in Nevada for every break.

After your PhD graduation you came back to Vegas and he proposed to you. It was an hard time, Warrick was dead, he had printed is first book on Vegas history and you just settled down at UNLV. You had lived togheter two months and then he proposed. Of course you said yes and the two of you had a small cerimony at the Eclipse, Catherine's casinó. It was an intimate cerimony, with your friends and co workes and relatives from Norway and (your hometown/country.)

You had worked hard on your post doc as a teaching assistant and a researcher and he has continued his job as a csi. You have always prefered working at night the days you didnt have any class, in order to be awake when he came back home in the morning.

It worked since you discovered that you were pregnant. Both of you were so excited to become parents, it has always been something that you desire, having your own kids. Start a family.

After Bjorn birth, by the way, everything changed. You have started to work in the morning and sleeping at night in order to provide the best standard of living for your son. And, after two years and half, Jodie came to the world, complicating thing but coloring your life even more.

You constantly miss Greg, of course. You miss your youth with him, the mornings spent in making love with jazz music in the background before a lazy afternoons sleeping in his arms. The days he came to the University after job to pick you up.

But both of you love your family.

It's stil working.

Because you love him and Greg loves you more than anything.

More than that, he is born to be a dad. He was scared as hell, but he perfect fits that role.

Even more, he is methodical.

He is really good in keeping job separating from his personal life, even if his coworkers are his family. And yours as well.

☆

...But is hard for kids to understand why dad is never home. Especially for Bjorn, who is the eldest. He has started to notice this situation in the last weeks and you have been scared of this moment since you gave birth to him.

《 Why daddy can't come today?》

You look at your baby boy, feeling really sorry for the whole situation. It is his first baseball match with the pre school team as a player in the field from the first minute and it means a lot to him.

Bjorn's really smart for his age, he understand that his parents jobs are important because is a duty... But is natural that he feels so betrayed. He is still too young to even imagine how demanding is Greg's job.

《Because daddy has a case》, you try to explain with a soft voce, caressing his blonde hair with two fingers. He seems totaly like his father in this moment. 《He has to catch this big bad guy and-》

《Why uncle Nick is not catching him for daddy? Just for today! 》

《Because they work togheter, sweetheart... you know that. We already talk about daddy's job...》

Not in a specific way, of course. Greg is more like a super hero to Bjorn.... he is too innocent and young to know how cruel and horrible could be the world sometimes.

《It's not fair. He never came to see me play》

《That's not fair... you know that daddy is so sad for this... he ask me to shot everything so he can see it as long as he will be home!》

That doesn't help.

《And I'll be already in bed》 he snuffles, before running in his room, nearly cry.

You don't know how to manage this. Both of Greg and you are really indipendent.... that's why your wedding is so strong, because you don't need the other around one all the time.

But for Bjorn is different. He needs his daddy as he needs you. Most of that, he wants to make Greg proud of him, shows him how he has improved thanks also to their weekend practices on Sundays.

You are still thinking about a solution, but Jo start to cry from her playbox.

You have to speak with your husband and decide what tell to Bjorn, togheter.

He deserves a good explanation.

☆

It's late when Greg comes home.

He is surprised when he notice that the kitchen lights are still turned on. You are sitting at the table, looking at your laptop as you can't really see it.

《 y/n, baby?》, he calls you, waking you up from your thoughts. 《Are you ok? It's like 3 in the morning, sweetie.》

《Yeah, I was looking over some notes from next week semenary when I realised how late it was, I decided to wait for you to come back.》

《Thanks, after a couple of double shifts, I really need to speak with my wife》, he says with a smile, before kisses your lips and take a sits next to you. 《I've missed home in those last two days.》

《Have you slept a little?》, you ask worried. When a case is so demanding, the team works till they are exhausted. 《Did you have a propel meal?》

《...I ate two sandwiches Dr Robbins' wife made for us.》

《....there is some roast left. I'm gonna warm it for you and then I'll put you in the bed at least for nine hours, bright man》

He laughts a little. 《Yes ma'am.》

You stand up, caressing his hair, after place a kiss on his head. 《Tell me about the cause. Was that bad?》

《More like a nightmare....》

He starts talking about the brutal abductions he was working on those last days. In the meanwhile you are cooking for him. You open a good bottle of wine your father sent to you last week and prepare a couple of fine glasses. Is not a problem for you when Greg talks about his job. For some unknown reasons, it grows on you during the years togheter. You also have helped the team sometimes with you competences. It's quite normal for the two of you speaking about your day. It helps to split away the stress and find always your connection. And is always reliving for you see that even if the job is so demanding physically and emotionally, Greg can totaly handle it. Not only. He loves is job. Even in dark days like this one.

《Poor girls....》, is the only thing you can say, while you're watching your husband eat like he was starving. 《No one deserve this kind of fate...》

《Think at the parents 》, he observes, moving his elbows quickly. 《If someone would have done something like that on Jodie, I'd went mad.》

You stop thinking about the case immediately.

《Sorry for the unhappy connection.... but if you are not too tired, we need to speak about our boy.》

Greg looks at you surprised. 《What about him? Bad day?》

《Yes》, you answer, surprising him even more. Bjorn is really talented in sports, unlike his father. 《He played 10 minutes than he had an argument with the coach and spent the rest of the afternoon warming the bench.》

This is unusual. Bjorn is a good lad. Always smiley and obedient at preschool. Teachers love him because he is so good and he knows a lot about science and stuff even if he is four. Mom is an academic, a college professor and daddy is a scientist. How could be different? He is also responsible and he always take serious the baseball trainings. That's the first time he disobey this much.

《What happened y/n? Oh, no. Let me guess.》 You look him cover his own face with a hand. 《He is mad at me, isn't he?》

《Yep babe, he is really mad at you. And at me as well. By now, I think he is mad at the world because you didn't come today.... I explained him that's not your fault, but...》

Greg sighs 《But it is my fault. When he born I swore to God that I'd be a good father even if my job is.... the 70% of my life.》

《But you are》, you say with a stubborn tone in your voice. 《You are a good father. It was just and unfortunate Saturday. He have never missed a game before. You'd be there if it wasn't for the case. 》

《I know but he deserves more than all those 'if' statements. 》 You look at him, feeling the heaviness of this thoughts. 《I should stay in the lab.》 He finally says and you realise a long sigh. This is not going to be an happy conversation, not with your regretting husband weak moment. 《The moment I met you, I knew you were the one. I wanted to start a family before changing job, work on field. It was a stupid decision. If I continued to work as DNA tech we would have more money and more time to spend all togheter.》

《.... I throught we were out with 'if' statements.》

《Y/n, honey-》

《Don't you dare 'honey' me, Greg Sanders.》 You stop him. You keep his hand in yours and smile. 《You are an amazing father. One day, when he will be older and wiser, he will understand. Now is easy to handle the situation. If you spend a day with him, he'll forget about it. Is just a kid, G.》

Greg seems not satisfied. He feels like an idiot, not thing about how mad is son would be noticed his absence. But he also trust your judgement. He always says that you are an amazing mom and even more, the best of wives.

So he smiles back.

《Maybe you are right.》

《Maybe?》, you ask with an ironical tone. He stand up and comes near to you. He offers his hand and you keep it, staning on your feet.

《Sorry Dr Sanders》, he replies, while you are wrapping your arm on his neck. 《You're completely right y/n. I'm already planning an afternoon, just for boys.》

《He'll love it》, you reassure him, before asking for another kiss, with more passion. You both find a good arrangement so you can clean the kitchen and try to sleep at least three hours.

.....or maybe do something more interesting with you husband, who seems to have plans, looking the way he is lifting the t-shirt of your pijama....

You are use to feel Greg absence, that's true.

But when he comes back, well.... that's the moment you realise how much you actually have missed him. And how much you love him and be loved in return.

○Fin○

#greg sanders #greg sanders x reader #greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders imagine #csi fan #csi fanfiction #csi x reader #csi #csi crime scene investigation #csi fic

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kunoichi-ume · 4 years ago

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For the WIP sampler: while I'm curious about Noara's death, I'd much rather hear about her adventures!

Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and I��ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Sure you don’t wanna hear about Noara dying? About Torian getting there just in time to be too late to save her, but early enough to get to say goodbye? To say an edited version of the Mandalorian wedding vows because even if she doesnt know it he won’t make her lie to him (about raising children together I mean)? About Noara asking if now she can sleep, just for a moment, and Torian knows it will be longer?

No? Okay.

Actually writing her dying at all was a writing exersize that @cinlat sort of dared me to do, sort of a “you never know your character until you put them through ALLLLLL the hell” thing cause I don’t really plan to kill Noara. (Sith Noara however... her days are numbered.)

Noara’s adventure log started when I felt I didn’t really know Noara well enough to keep writing I’ve Got You and was kicking myself for starting the fic so far into the canon story so she wouldn’t be able to grow through her experiences as I worked on her (instead she had to be a finished product and that was bugging me so much!) so I started on Tython and getting into her head from the start.

Have a couple snippets, cause the start of this post was rude I know. They are a bit on the long side, but other than @cinlat who I am pretty sure I shared this doc with, odds are no one else will see this fic if and when I pick it up again because it was more character study than anything but damn if I didnt have fun with it.

Noara’s thoughts as she arrives on Tython to start her trials:

This was the farthest from home she had ever been, not counting wherever she had been before the Jedi brought her to the enclave she’d been raised in. Now she’d left the only home she’d ever known to prove her worth and, hopefully, pass her trials. If she didn’t her dreams of traveling the galaxy and helping people would be gone. She’d be stuck in a research position or raising crops or something else equally unfulfilling even if she understood the necessity of it.

Failure wasn’t an option, not for Noara.

If all the times she had snuck out of her academic classes were any indication, she wouldn’t enjoy life as a scholar.

And the first time she takes a life, even if it’s a Flesh Raider determined to kill her is a big moment for her too:

Noara followed the rock formations, giving her on side where an ambush was less likely, and rounded a corner to see exactly what she had worried she might when she heard their name. Three of the reddish-pink rough skinned creatures crouched on the ground feasting on dead bodies. To make it worse two of the bodies were Jedi and one was their own kind. Flesh eaters and cannibals. That image was going to stick with.her.

Adjusting her grip on her sabers, wishing she had weapons as real as this fight was going to be, she stepped around the rocks and crouched slightly. Pulling the Force around her, she leapt, propelling herself the considerable distance between her and the Flesh Raiders. They reared up as she landed, one coming at her with a training saber it probably stole off one of the dead Padawans, while the other two drew blasters.

Reacting quickly, she blocked the first Flesh Raiders first strike before Force pushing it away to buy her time to deal with the other two. As it stumbled away, she slashed her blades at the two firing at her. They knew how to use the blasters, but their aim was horrendous. They hadn’t had these weapons long and she was easily able to sidestep their shots and cut each across the chest with the electrified edges of her blades.

The creatures cried out, horribly gargled sounds by their misshapen mouths, as they fell. An angry cry behind her reminded Noara of the third Flesh Raider and she turned just in time to block a strike aimed at her skull. Before the beast could react to her quick movement, she stabbed it through the gut with her other weapon.

It fell, dead, at her feet and Noara had to yank her training saber out of it’s ribcage where it had gotten lodged. She turned her sabers off and frowned at the blood, a sickly brown color, that clung to them. She wanted to clean them but had a feeling this wouldn't be her last fight and that it would be a wasted effort.

It wasn’t until the smell hit her that what she had just done really sank in. She’d killed them, hadn’t even hesitated. Noara waited for the regret, the sickening guilt her masters had told her would accompany every life she took, but it didn’t come. Just relief that it was them lying on the ground and not her and the familiar thrill she always felt when sparring. She’d assumed that it would be different in a real fight, that it would be less exciting to win when it meant something else died but it wasn’t.

That thought scared her, because she knew how it sounded. It went against everything Jedi stood for and were taught. Taking a deep breath, she pushed all of that away to meditate on later. She was in a dangerous situation and there were other Padawans depending on her.

And younger Noara might just have an attitude problem, but ya gotta admit the Flesh Raider problem on Tython was seriously mismanaged...

When Noara answered her com a small image of Knight Weller, bending down to brace a wound on his leg, appeared. He looked her image over in relief. “You’re unharmed, good. A Flesh Raider shot me in the leg while I was rescuing some Padawans. No idea where they got blasters, but they know how to use them. I’ve been evacuated to a medcenter but the fighting isn’t over.”

Noara sighed but bit back the comment she wanted to make. For a planet that should be full of some of the galaxy's best warriors they were pretty bad at crisis management. “Will there be reinforcements coming? I’m up to my neck in monsters here.”

Weller nodded. “Some are already there, but they keep pouring in. We need to stop them at the source. Padawan Unaw Aharo found a cave the Flesh Raiders tunneled through to get into the valley. I need you to go and make sure they don’t get more reinforcements through it.”

Noara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her patience was wearing thin, the handling of this situation left much to be desired and her understanding was that all Jedi on Tython were meant to be taking their trials. How any could be at that point and defenseless was beyond her. As far as she had seen, she was the only competent warrior on the whole planet but she wasn’t near arrogant enough to think she could take on every Flesh Raider out there on her own. “I don’t know how much I can do on my own, but I’ll do whatever I can to push them back and see if there is a way to seal the tunnel.”

“You won’t be alone for long,” Weller reassured her. “Master Orgus Din is on his way as well. We need to end this conflict before anyone else gets hurt. Find the cave along the east mountain ridge. May the Force be with you.”

His image winked out of sight and she huffed in annoyance. It had been a few hours since she had been sent into the field to fight the invaders and they were finally sending a member of the council to come help? What were the Jedi Masters doing while Padawans were being captured and killed? So far all she had learned on Tython was that she was lucky to have finished her combat training on Naboo before making the journey, being sent here without it could have been akin to a death sentence.

Master Doran had warned her the trials would be difficult when he tried to talk her into putting them off until she was a little older, but somehow Noara didn’t think this was what he meant.

And then her day just gets worse and worse when she gets to the cave and has to face the rogue Jedi commanding the Flesh Raiders:

The rogue Jedi lunged at her, swinging his lightsaber toward her neck.

Noara just managed to dodge the blow, stepping quickly back. The second swing she caught with one of her training sabers, the blue energy blade crackling against the metal.

“You think to defeat me with those toys?” He laughed, pushing her back with his superior strength and leaving marks in the ground where Noara tried to keep her footing. When most of his weight was committed to pushing her, she dropped to the ground, ducking under his arm and slipping behind him as he stumbled past her.

Using a move Master Doran always called reckless, she leapt into the air. Using the Force she propelled herself across the cavern to where his Flesh Raider backup was. Noara knew that if she wanted a glimmer of a chance to get out of here alive, she couldn’t face all three of them at once. Landing between them, Noara pushed the Force in a ring out from her body and knocked both away from her and to the ground. Stunned, neither stirred. She turned just in time to block the rogue Jedi’s attack with her training sabers crossed in front of her. He pressed forward, forcing Noara to step back again.

Obviously he had an advantage in both size and strength over her. She was going to need to be faster and cleverer. Before he could make her step back again, Noara kicked him in the gut. Not letting up when he stepped back, she followed him, pushing his lightsaber away from her with one of her blades and hitting his sword arm as hard as she could with the other. He dropped the saber with a sharp cry.

Noara turned, releasing one of her training sabers to call his weapon to her. Before she caught it he tackled her, his shoulder digging into her gut. As they tumbled to the ground she lost her grip on her other weapon. She was never much of a grappler, her creche mates had often wiped the floor with her in unarmed spars but she had learned enough to know she couldn’t let him pin her. They landed hard on the ground, rolling a few times before he had straddled her waist and punched her in the face.

Lifting her hips off the ground, Noara tried to throw him off but he was too high on her torso for that to work. Leaning forward he pinned her with his weight and wrapped his hands around her throat. Clawing at his fingers, she turned her head back and forth, trying to find a way out of this before remembering she was still armed. Pulling her leg up as close as she could, Noara blindly reached for her boot. Each of her boots had a dagger hidden in a discrete sheath inside the boot.

Noara’s chest was on fire as she gasped for air and her vision was starting to dim. Reaching out to the Force for strength, she managed to grab the dagger’s hilt and pull it out of her boot. Without hesitation she stabbed him, driving the dagger into his side. He cried out in pain, releasing her neck and she was able to breath again. She ripped the dagger out of his flesh as he fell off of her. Running on pure adrenaline she followed him, burying the bloodied dagger hilt deep into his chest.

Blood gushed around her hand and when he coughed it left bloody spots all over his face. “Killing me changes nothing,” he gasped wetly, “long live the new order.” The rogue Jedi took another gurgling breath before going limp under her and she felt his life force fading.

Pushing herself away from his corpse, Noara tried to breathe through the pain in her chest and throat.

“Look out!” Aharo cried, making Noara turn her head just in time to see the two forgotten Flesh Raiders approaching her.

The dagger was still in the dead man’s chest but she spotted the lightsaber lying on the ground. She pulled it to her hand, activated it and threw it at them. With the Force she controlled it’s trajectory to strike them both. The Flesh Raiders fell to the floor, making similar death rattles to the ones she had heard all day.

For a moment Noara didn’t move, leaning on her hand to keep herself upright while she waited for the next attack. When it didn’t come she slumped on the ground let out a shaky breath. Aharo, holding his gut, limped over to her.

“That was amazing, I thought we were dead for sure,” he said, dropping to his knees next to her. “Are you alright?”

Noara nodded where she lay. “Yeah, I think so.”

#wip snippet game #oc: Noara Starspark #storyknitter

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lo-55 · 4 years ago

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Revel Ch. 8

Rancorous Relationships

This was the part that Tori was not looking forward to.

The sun was warm on her back, heating the thin blue cloth of her short sleeved shirt and warming her black pants, so thick they looked like a skirt. Even for fighting she was dressed to draw the eye, to look the lady with a thin rapier in hand and her hair piled high and tight.

Gemma, ever the rebel, stood before her in plain fatigues. There was a broad sword in her hand, contrary to the thin rapier that rested familiarly in Tori’s. She hadn’t held it since before the wedding. She could already feel the familiar grip, the way it pulled at her delicate skin.

She had only a few minutes to win.

They stood in the courtyard, with only a small audience. Tori was thankful that he husband and Brulee weren’t a part of it. She didn’t want them to see this sight.

Gemma made the first move. She always did. The long tip of the halbird lashed out, sweeping by Tori’s head as she stepped to the side. She was light on her feet, graceful and quickly, and she managed to doge Gemma’s attacks for a time.

The younger princess chased her across the yard, cornering her until she was forced to block and parry. Gemma had her on the ropes from the start, forcing her around the yard until she had to fight back. She swung her sword, twisting out of the way of another sweep of Gemma’s. She thrust, getting within inches of stabbing Gemma in the stomach before she was forced backwards again by a shining streak of metal. Their weapons may have been dulled for the practice yard, but to be hit would still hurt.

Tori knew well from her own experience.

Gemma was stronger than her. Her hits were harder, leaving Tori’s hands tingling with each block.

Tori spun to the side, avoiding when Gemma brought the flat end of her spear up to smack Tori in the chin. She kept many of the same tactics. Some things never changed.

Tori felt like she managed to keep up for longer than usual. Something in her spurned her on, and even when her palms started to burn with the friction of sword play she stayed true, arching out of the way and slice in at Gemma’s powerful defence.

Gemma was stronger of the pair. She was stronger of the all the Imperian royal family, and all of the military too. She hadn’t gotten where she was on nepotism. Her sister was a vaunted warrior, and when she attacked it was hard enough to make Tori’s ears ring.

Rapiers were no good for real blocking. The blades were small and thin and against something like a broadsword they’d just as likely be damaged as hold steady. So Tori coudln’t really block. She could deflect, change the rate of momentum and the angles into something that suited her better.

In the end, the whole world was angles, force, acceleration, friction, inertia. Math.

She could see it in her mind’s eye. The curves of the blade, the speed they moved at, the angles she needed to work with and move around and alter for herself.

She could see the way Gemma set her feet, moved on her heels, lifted to her toes. She could see how close her elbows were to her ribs, how her shoulders bunched and curved.

She could see where Gemma was going to strike.

Tori was startled by a strang, foreign fire in her ribs. It burned through them, etching unto the bones her will.

She pushed back.

Gemma was forced to take a step or risk being cut above her eye. They flashed, darker than Tori’s own. Tori had never put up much of a fight. She didn’t see a reason to. Let Gemma be the general, the warrior, the fatale one. Tori was pretty, just pretty, and that was enough.

The ache in her ribs disagreed.

Tori ducked a sweep of a spear, dropping down to kick Gemma in the foot in the talus. Her sister stumbled, tried to stab down where Tori had been and knock her aside but for one Tori twisted away, was up before she could be struck, and thrust the dull point under Gemma’s arm.

It pricked her shirt, where the seams kept the sleeves. If Tori had really been trying to kill her it would have pierced through her arm pit, and Gemma would have died.

Instead, Gemma lunged backwards, bringing her spear between them to knock Tori’s long blade away, and that was the final push to end the fight.

Blood dripped from Tori’s rapier.

She lifted her left hand, above her head, and announced, “I give up.”

Gemma was staring at her like she was some alien life form, while her handmaids converged on her like a tidal wave. Aelia took away her sword to be cleaned and set aside while Daria and Flora took hold of her hand. Madelle stood back at the edge, making four of her six handmaidens. There was a strange look in her pretty blue eyes. She, too, watched Tori as thought she was something new and interesting.

Tori’s skin crawled and she felt sick with the attention.

Daria prodded her sword hand, bleeding now with broken blisters and missing skin. It would heal within the week, and there wouldn’t be any scars to show that she had been injured in the first place. She knew this, they all did. It was not the first time it had happened.

It always happened. She had to end fights fast or the friction would rip her skin from her muscles, destroy the precious fascia that held her body together.

Tori let herself be escorted away, back inside. The fire in her ribs ebbed away until it was but an ember left and Tori had to wonder, what had come over her?

The night was dark, but it held no terrors for her.

The darkness hung around her like a cloak, familiar. Warm, was not a word she normally used to describe the night, but with a massive body sharing the bed with her it felt apt now. Tori soaked in the heat for a long time, awakened by the panging in her injured hand. She didn’t want to wake Katakuri. He’d been so on edge ever since they’d come to her home. He’d been on edge since their wedding night.

Tori wished she could set him at ease, but she didnt know how.

She wanted to tell him that he didn;t need to hide so much from her. She already knew . Buth that involved too much exposition for her to say. She wasn’t willing to tell all that she knew. She wanted to unwind his scarf and see his face and-

And what?

Tori let out a soft breath.

She sounded like a child. Wishes and wants, she was so spoiled.

There was an ache in her heart. She had wished, quietly, privately, and so very desperately for something out of this match. Something she had never had, and never would here.

The silly wishes of a child when she was a woman grown.

Tori held many secrets. She held the secrets of her mind, she held the secrets of her soul, and she held the secret of her heart, too.

Her hand ached.

Tori sat up in the darkness. She didn’t light a lamp, staying true to her promise. She did slid out of the bed quietly onto the floor, barefoot and quiet. Her night gown hung around her in a shapeless mass and she moved across the floor like a phantom. She fumbled with the doorknob only a moment before slipping into the next room.

Attached to her royal apartments were three rooms. A dressing room, a bathroom, and her closet. It was the dressing room that she entered.

Only when she was securely inside did she light a lamp. Madelle lept the first aid kit elsewhere, but Tori didn’t need the whole thing. She only needed what she knew to be in her go bag.

She, her sister and her brother had always been raised to be ready to leave if need be. They had hidden passages and mapped escape routes, and all of them had bags ready to go. Bags with money, food, water, plain clothes, and medicine. It was from this that Tori took a small jar and new strips of bandages.

Her dressing room, for some reason, had a window and a window box that let in scattered moonlight when she drew back the curtains.

This high up, she could only barely see the sea, black in the night in the distance. More than that she could see the greenery of her home, the late nearby, and the rest of the palace spread about.

The sight is familiar but the darkness warps everything, shadows cloaking the world around her.

Tori looks up when something moves to her side. Out of the other room comes the towering form of Katakuri. There was a light on behind him that cast long shadows across his face. Tori repressed a grimace. She’d been trying to ensure that he stayed asleep. And she had failed.

Katakuri looked her over, his eyes stopping on her hand. They shot upwards.

“You’re injured,” he said. She swore she could hear a frown. Katakuri had gotten his scarf wrapped around his face but it was low, low enough that she could see more of his scars than normal. She said nothing about it.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head. She had done it so many times in her life, she knew how to take care of burst blisters. This was just a side effect of her ‘blessing’ or whatever one might call it.

Katakuri can to her side. He knelt down until he was level with her and she saw his hands move towards her before they aborted the mission. His eyes flickered to her face. Tori felt a smile cross her lips, unbound by falcities. It felt so strange, not to have her face hidden behind make up or her hair pinned elaborately. Liberating, perhaps.

She offered him her injured hand.

He took it, carefully, peeling away the old bandages with practice that told her that she was not the only person here with practice patching wounds. They fell to the floor, revealing the damage beneath. Fluid leaked out from where the skin had torn away and gaped now. Tori knew, consciously, that the best way to heal blisters was to push the skin back down and leave it there, even after they had opened. But she had never grown out of the childish habit of ripping the skin right off. It’s not like it would scar, and infections were easy to combat. But, from the furrow in Katakuri’s brows and the twist in his cheeks, it was likely he agreed with Madelle’s futile scoldings that she needed to cut it out.

“What happened?” he asked. Tori felt her cheeks heat. Katakuri was a vaunted warrior. She didn’t want to tell him she had lost a fight so pitifully to her younger sister.

“They’re just friction blisters. They will heal,” she assured. It felt nice, to have his hand encompassing hers.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” He didn’t sound annoyed. Something else. She didn’t know what to call it. She looked at their hands instead of his deep eyes. His were so much larger than her, calloused and hardened from work. Scars crossed silver across palms and fingers.

“It’s barely anything,” she assured. Her smile grew with his concern. It felt… nice. “ I was just changing the bandages. I didn’t want to wake you,” she told him quietly.

Without asking her Katakuri reached for the small jar of antibiotics. Tori watched him spread it across her palm and carefully replaced the bandages he had removed.

His quiet voice surprised her.

“You can tell me things. You know.”

She didn’t know. But it made her feel strangely light to be told. When her hand was wrapped she turned it over to grasp a hold of his, smiling up at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. We should go back to bed, don’t you think?” she stood, still holding his hand.

“Victoria,” it was the first time she had ever heard his name pass from his mouth. It hummed beneath her skin, echoing around them in the small space. She squeezed his hands.

“Tori,” she said quietly. “You can call me Tori.”

He nodded, slowly, and the pair of them went back to bed. Tori shut out the lights and waited for Katakuri to finish taking his scarf back off. When he laid down, she sunk into the bed next to him and took his hand once more under the blankets. He stiffened at first before relaxing again under her soft touch.

“You know,” she began, quietly. “You don’t have to hide your face from me, if you don’t want to.”

She was pleased when he did not tense up once more or try to leave. Nonetheless he shook his head, no more than a vague movement in the darkness and the hush of his cheeks on the pillow.Tori didn’t press the issue. It would come, in time.

She closed her eyes and let sleep wash over her, hand in hand with her husband.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #katakuri #charlotte Katakuri #katakuri x oc #oc #victoria di Imperia

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years ago

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The Diary of Riley Brooks

Entry Two

Wacky Drabble #8: Help me with this, would you?

Coincides with TRH Chapter 13

Some strong Language

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Drabbler Tags: @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @sirbeepsalot @jovialyouthmusic @romanticatheart-posts @stopforamoment @dcbbw @jessiembruno @katedrakeohd

Additional tags; I have no idea who is on my permanent tags list anymore😬 I didnt exactly keep up with it 😭 I'll do better. So please let me know so I can get that sorted out.

@ao719 @hopefulmoonobject

September 7

I'm having a baby!

As I sit here trying to let that statement fully sink in, I think about where I was just one year ago today.

I had always dreamt of meeting my Prince Charming, never really expecting to find him. Liam made me realize that fairy tales do exist and sometimes wishes do come true. That sounds so cliche, yet, I don't know any other way to describe what we share together.

He is my heartbeat, my every breath, my reason for existing. Our love is built on passion and longing, his touch excites me and his very presence heats my core. Our bodies joined together, whether fierce or gentle, is pure, unadulterated magic. Liam is my warmth and sincerity, my goodness and truth.

In the depths of my belly, I am carrying the greatest symbol of that love, a part of him and a part of me, a tiny creature that will forever bring us joy.

I spent much of the reception, anxious to find out if I was indeed pregnant. As I wrote yesterday, Savannah admitted to taking a pregnancy test, as well. For whatever reason, possibly one I don't want to ever know, she placed her negative test in the bathroom drawer. Due to Madeleine's incompetence and unwanted presence for this event, she, too, put my test in the drawer. Is there some kind of weird Cordonian tradition I am unaware of that says these test work better in drawers? And why did Savannah leave hers in there? The damn thing was negative. In light of his objection, I have a strong feeling, Mr. Chuck knows more than he is letting on.

Freaked the hell out by Savannah, I knew then, I was the one who was pregnant. I needed air and a moment to think, far away from all the yee-haw bullshit. I sent Liam a text, asking him to meet me in a clearing by the house, I had a surprise for him. Within seconds, he approaches me with a flirtatious smile, looking as if he was ready to fuck me six ways from Sunday. I love that man and I'm always more than willing to participate in his freakish, outdoor sex fetish, but, this wasn't what I had in mind.

After I tell him we are a having a baby, he sweeps me up in his arms, gently placing me back to the ground. His happiness was written all over his face, until it wasn't. He went into Liam mode, panicking about the need to baby proof every room at the Palace and Valtoria. As much as I loved his cute response, I wanted tears dammit. I wanted him on his knees, crying his eyes out, unable to talk, worshipping my stomach. Mick Jagger said you can't always get what you want, but, sometimes you get what you need....well, I needed a sobbing, shaking Liam, is that too much to ask?

We discuss when to tell our friends and because I'm a petty, evil bitch, I decide we should tell them right in the middle of Savannah and Bertrand's reception. You propose at my wedding, I announce the equivalent of the second coming, in the form of my sacred child, at yours. I couldn't care less for the rest of the wedding attendees, but, seeing Hana, Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand delight in our news was exciting.

Afterwards, Liam wants to celebrate in private, which means, we might talk some, but, he still has every intention of getting off tonight. We head upstairs and I was correct in my assumption, he wants to celebrate making the baby by doing what we did to make it. He is a wet panty dropper for sure. And while some ride Harley's and horses, I propped my little pregnant ass on my own stallion and rode him hard. If Barthelemy weren't already out of his coma, me screaming Liam's name when I climaxed, would have awakened the old coot for sure.

If my panties weren't already off, after he sang a lullaby to our baby, that for sure would have melted them away. If he keeps this up, we'll have our own 20 Kids and Counting reality show.

I should have stayed in fucking bed this morning. At breakfast, Bertrand greeted us in kind, while Stick-It-In-A-Drawer Savannah, reminded us all that we are not at court. Why is she still here and not on her honeymoon? Then Leona tells me I can't have a cup of coffee....bitch, I was downing shots like no tomorrow just three days ago with Liv and Hana in Auvernal. This queen will drink a cup of coffee if she damn well pleases. My baby is probably going to come out with two heads.

Like the lovable, little genius he is, Maxwell suggests everyone buys the baby a gift. Guess who further suggested we get these gifts from the local country general store? The same damn place that was using a priceless saddle as a fucking hat holder. I can't even write her name anymore. I have to wonder, why I have been playing second fiddle on Hee-Haw Hell to her during this trip.

So the gang and I pack into our vehicle and head back to said store, where I can share with all of Cordonia that the royal crib was purchased at Wild Chester's Gear and Steer on Bootleg Road. I watched Maxwell fawn over socks, Hana recreated painful memories of lonely tea parties, and Drake...well, Drake's little wooden horse was quite adorable.

I get a call from Olivia, who somehow managed to escape earlier from this shithole than I did. I thought we were amigas now Liv? She actually cried when I told her Liam and I were expecting. I don't know what the hell she is doing in my bedroom, but, if Livvie needs something there, I'm more than happy to help a girl out. She asked me for the most valuable thing in my room, I lied to her and told her it was the royal sceptre. If she only knew the value of the dildo I had in my nightstand....that better be exactly where I left it when I get back.

Back at the ranch, Liam says the five most beautiful, glorious words I have been waiting to here for weeks.....We're almost ready to go....Hot Damn!

Bianca asked me if I thought I could get away without saying goodbye...I already knew the answer was, no. If she only knew how hard I tried about twenty times since arriving to cut tail and run. And damn that heartless, nazi, Leona, she for real dissed my husband! Bitch, I will snap you in half over Liam.

Just when I think I'm finally in the clear, who in the blue fuck put me on a plane for the next 10 hours with Frick, Frack and Kiara?

Liam, I love you, but, damn you! I'm nauseous, tired, moody, and pissing buckets every 10 minutes, carrying your child, and you thought this was a good idea.

I blame pregnancy brain for my decision to tell these three our big news. I'm not the greatest at charades, Im not even the smartest person in the world, but, I swear to God, these three may quite possibly be the dumbest morons I have ever met. They guessed I was full, I was bloated, gluttony.....fucking gluttony???? Yes Penelope, the big news I wanted to share with you is I'm a glutton. Maybe a glutton for punishment, deciding to interact with you three. More guesses included, American Football, and a common pirate jig....one of these women is an ambassador and the other my communications director. I'm a waitress from Brooklyn, and my word, I'm truly baffled by the sheer stupididy I had just witnessed. I turned to Liam, pleading with my eyes, help me with this, would you?

As bad as those three were, out of no where, the most incompetant, security guard on this planet, appears right before me. I didn't have time to worry about her, because apparently, the bane of my existence just scheduled a press conference to announce my pregnancy. I haven't seen a doctor to even confirm yet, what the hell Madeleine. One of these days, I am gonna beat that green goblin's ass down.

Cordonia, I'm on my way and can't be there soon enough.

Riley

#wackydrabbles #liam x riley #liam x mc #trh fanfic #trh #choices trh #trh liam #trh mc

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flowerpowell · 6 years ago

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Meet-Cute (Drake x MC)

PART FIVE

A/N: So… after almost three months part five is finally here. Does anyone even remember this series?? I’m sorry it took me so long but also thank you for your patience! I hope this part will bring you the answers for questions you had after part four! I dont own the characters, they belong to Pixelberry. As always, feedback is much appreciated!

Rating: PG-16 (nothing bad but just in case)

Word count: 2050

Tagging: @agent-bossypants @mysteli @gardeningourmet @annekebbphotography @mymandrake @butindeed @walkerduchess @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicessa @violinist3121 @blackcatkita @jlouise88 @innerpostmentality @tmarie82 @darley1101 @littleeeepeach @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @traeumerinwitzhelden @jovialyouthmusic @nikkis1983 @notoriouscs @melodyofgraves @zaffrenotes @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @rhymesmenagerie @emichelle @drakesroyalromance @drakewalkerisreal @mrsnazariowrites @furiousherringoperatortoad @lynne1993 @drakesensworld @iplaydrake @thequeenofcronuts @confessionsofabrokegirl @xxcaptainchrispowellxx @carabeth @ao719 @gibbles82 @be-still-my-aching-heart @symonde @choices97 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore ♥ (I’m sorry if I’ve missed out anyone, it’s been so long and I forgot who asked to be tagged!”

“Because they all think I killed Liam,” Drake said avoiding Riley’s widened eyes.

“You….WHAT?” She couldn’t believe it, maybe she misheard something?

“Killed Liam,” he answered calmly finally risking a glance at her. She was shocked.

“Wait, what do you mean you killed Liam?!”

This didn’t make any sense, they were friends! And even if something changed, Drake would never kill anyone. Never.

Or would he?

How much could change since she last saw him?

“I know what you’re thinking. But for the record, I didn’t do anything. I was apparently the last person who saw him alive so I was accused of his death.”

“Wait, wait, stop!” she waved her hand, shaking her head trying to understand. “I’m not following. Liam’s dead? You’re accused of his death? What the heck happened in Cordonia since I left?!”

“A lot of things, actually. You wanna know everything or just the key points?”

“Everything, I have time,” she replied wrapping herself in a blanket and making herself comfortable.

“Well,” he sighed running his hand through his hair, “it all started the day you left. You weren’t in your room so I assumed you were somewhere with Hana or Maxwell. I tried to call you but you didn’t answer. And then I saw the letters. I read mine and when I realized you were really gone I ran to find the others hoping they’d know more. But they didn’t, no one knew anything and we all were surprised to learn you decided to take off. We started looking for you, in the middle of the night, knowing you couldn’t be far away. I don’t know where you spent the night but you hid well, no one, not even the royal guards, could find you. Anyway, Liam was furious. He blamed me for your disappearance and to be honest, I blamed myself too. Liam shut me off completely, I think he was still hurt after I told him about us. I hired a detective to find you but he couldn’t find anything. When we came back to Cordonia, we started getting ready for Liam and Madeleine’s wedding. But he didn’t want to marry her. He was getting rebelious, didn’t want to listen to us, to anyone. His father was getting worse too. And then, Bertrand told us they had found Tariq. And if you think everything got better you’re wrong. It only made Liam more upset. He was free of Madeleine but the only person he wanted to marry, that is you, was gone. He blamed me for his ruined future, for his ruined chances for marriage. We barely spoke since then, I lived in my cabin, far from the palace to avoid him, or anyone for that matter. I sent another detective but still nothing. I called Daniel a few times but he swore he never saw you. Finally, Liam’s father died. There was an attack in the palace and I think it was Liam who was targetted. A few weeks after, Maxwell told me what a mess Liam was. He didn’t talk to anyone, he barely eat anything. I decided to visit him, I was his friend after all and I cared for him. He wasn’t happy to see me. He told me to get out, I could see he was drunk and tired with everything. I told him I was worried but he only shrugged and said he was doing perfectly fine.”

“Liam… we’re worried about you, you don’t go out, you don’t talk to anyone, you–”

“I. AM. FINE.”

“Liam… I’m concerned..”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken MY woman, if you’re so concerned!”

“She wasn’t yours! And it’s not my fault she had feelings for me!”

Liam snickered, “Of course. She loved you so much that she left.”

“Liam!”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you ever again!”

“Liam, we’re friends, please,let’s talk.”

“I do not want to talk to you! You have taken away everything from me. You have taken the only chance for love I had. You took her, you made her leave, you–”

“Liam, please–”

“GET OUT! Get out before I do something I shouldn’t do as a King!”

“Our meeting didn’t go well, he yelled at me and I decided to leave before we both say things we would regret. That was the last time I saw him. And unfortunately, the last time he was seen at all. Somewhere around three in the morning I got a call from Bastien saying Liam was found unconsious and people claim I wanted to kill him. They heard us arguing loudly and the camera footage clearly shows me as the last person who came into Liam’s room. Bastien told me they were going to investigate me and advised to hide somewhere until they find the real reason for Liam’s condition. He didn’t believe I did it, neither did Savannah, Hana, and Maxwell. And then a whole lot of mess happened. Liam was pronounced dead and I guitly. Bastien gave me fake passport and helped me get out of the country and I’m glad he did because I would be in jail now. No one wanted to listen to me, they all assumed I did it because I wanted to be with you. Some people claimed I killed you too. After I left, I still got updates on the situation and guess what. Your press secretary, was not, in fact, a press secretary, but a fucking pretender to the throne in case the King of Cordonia died childless. And since both, Liam and Constantine, were dead, Anton, that is Justin for you, was pronounced a new King and Olivia, who was his wife according to the will, a Queen.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

“Anton put Bastien and some other royal guards in jail for not taking enough care of Liam and issued a wanted notice after me. No one was safe with him, not even his own wife who suddenly disappeared. Anton accused me of kidnapping Olivia and promised to find me. Now, he’s ruling alone and I think that was his plan all along. I have no idea where Olivia is but I’m sure her kidnapping was his doing. I went to the States to my mom, already changed my name, but they came there looking for me too. I was wandering across the U.S. in hope to find you, find anyone who didn’t hate but after ten months I gave up. You didn’t want to be found for a reason. I remembered I obtained a degree a couple of years before and decided to start teaching. Went to England and was lucky because they needed a history teacher after the previous one had to go on a sick leave. And here we are,” Drake finished sadly.

“Wow,” was all she could say in that moment. She didn’t know how to comment on that, so much information is so little time.

“So… Liam’s dead?” her eyes welled up with tears. “And Justin, I mean Anton, is the King now? With Olivia as his wife but she disappeared? And Bastien’s in jail? What about Maxwell? Hana? Betrand?”

“I don’t know, I didnt want to contact them in case someone caught that and they would be in trouble,” Drake shrugged nonchalantly and Riley felt angry he was so calm about it.

“And that’s it? You just ‘don’t know’? Never tried to look up for any information about them? You talk about it as if you don’t care at all!” she yelled at him and he winced slighly.

“I do care!”

“Liam is dead and you’re telling me as if it was nothing, no emotions, nothing!”

“What am I supposed to do?! Cry in front of you? Get drunk? It’s been a year, I already did all of that before.”

Riley shook her head and got up, slowly collecting her clothes. “It’s too much for me, Drake. I need a moment. I can’t believe you’re here while they are all…there. I can’t believe you don’t care.”

Drake stood still watching her getting dressed. She looked at him with this well-known disappointed look in her eyes. “You won’t say anything? Won’t start another argument? Yell at me about how wrong I am?”

“Nope, not doing that,” Drake answered walking up to her and putting his shoulders around her, locking her in his embrace. “I’m not arguing with you ever again and I’m not letting you go ever again either. You’re staying with me.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheeck and she rolled her eyes. “Gee, you’re no fun when we’re made up. I can’t even tease you! What have I done!”

He chuckled in response but his face fell slighly when he realized something.

“You know we have to keep this private, right? No one can know or we’ll both be kick out.”

“I know,” she sighed, “and you can’t be kicked out because that would cause a scandal and you have to avoid scandals so no one can find you. Maybe we should just get back to hating each other again?”

“No!” Drake pulled her closer, trapping her in his arms. She laughed.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered into her hair before placing a soft kiss on her temple. “It’ll be hard but we’ll manage. If I managed to hide my feelings towards you well enough that even you thought I didn’t have any for you causing you to leave, then I think I’ll be good with hiding them before the rest of the world too.”

“We’ll see about that, Mr Stagger.”

~~~~

He wasn’t joking. Hiding what was between them was hard.

Riley had to remind herself not to smile or talk to him. Luke was getting suspicious and was constantly studying her face during the classes. She cursed herself for choosing psychology as her major because that made her classmates only more observant.

Drake was trying too, he never complimented Riley on the right answer but decided to let go of bombarding Luke with difficult questions.

Not being able to spend much time with each other wasn’t easy either. Riley had classes when Drake had breaks and vice versa. Evenings beloged to her hanging out with her uni friends and Drake could only message her. They met up for weekend trips only, far away from the campus, where they would make up for the lost time and simply, where they could enjoy each other’s company.

They never came back to the conversation from weeks ago, Drake seemed to have dropped the topic but Riley couldn’t stop thinking about it.

During her evenings alone, she tried to find any information about what happened on the Internet but there were not many articles and she was sure then those that were left, were somehow controlled by Anton. She wanted to call Maxwell or Hana and ask them but she knew it’d only cause more problems. She needed to know some more but she didn’t know how.

On one Monday evening, while she was thinking of some ways to obtain information, her phone rang and she smiled seeing who was calling.

“Spenc! How are you, sweetie? I miss youuuu so much! I wish you would come here already!” Nadia kept talking on the phone and Riley could almost see her pouted face.

“I’ll be home in a few weeks, remember? Besides, you have other friends too, they can keep you company.”

“I do. But I miss you anyway. I’m dying for some new gossip! How are you and Luke? Does this awful professor stopped treating you like this? In my opinion he was jea-lous! Anyway, have I told where I am going in a few hours? To the embassy! For dinner, can you believe it?? I wish I could say ‘I made it!’ but it’s not me, Damien, you remember my friend, helped the ambassador solve a complicated case that’s been going on for ageeees and he invited us all to thank him. I’m so excited! I wish you were here!” Nadia was chattering when Riley was hit with an idea.

“Nadia… Your friend Damien, he’s–”

“He’s single, yes!”

“No, I didn’t mean it like this.”

“Oh, good, cause I think he might be into my cousin Kai!” Nadia said relieved.

“He’s a private investigator, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“And if I, hypothetically, hired him to work for me, internationally but in total secret, could he do that?” Riley asked biting her lip. She had the idea but she wasn’t sure if that would help.

“Hypothetically, yes. He’s the best and he would solve any case in no time! Is everything okay?” Nadia asked suddenly concerned.

“Nadia… do you have a moment? I want to tell you a story of a beautiful country Cordonia and of a girl named Riley and how everything changed from a fairytale to a nightmare.”

#trr #the royal romance #choices #choices trr #drake walker #drake x mc #drake walker x mc #playchoices #its been 84 years #whooooops

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nowhereiswhereibelong · 5 years ago

Text

73 Questions

I mas tagged by: @mrs-machinegun-norris about two centuries ago sorry

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

• 5

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

• #sadbicht

• Cause I'm a bad bicht you can't kill me, only I do that

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

• Aaron Taylor-Johnson

• Colson Backer

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

• The crazy bisexual is on the loose

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

• That I cant handle silence

What’s your wake up ritual?

• All my cats and family yells at me till I roll of take my meds and stare at the wall till I'm late

What’s your go to bed ritual?

• Make sure I cleaned the litter box and that my cats have food and water then is up to bed and reading anything and everything till I fall a sleep

What’s your favourite time of day?

• Night time (I get the zoomies), or when I'm home alone

Your go to for having a good laugh?

• I really like comedy and some that make me laugh even when I watched 1000 times: John Mulaney, Daniel Sloss, Russel Howard and Sarah Millican

Dream country to visit?

• As many as I can! I have an extensive list

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

• Last semester 3 professors at university were really supportive and understanding and I didnt expect them to be so kind or belive in me that much.

Heels or flats/sneakers?

• Sneakers everywhere all the time for any given reason

Vintage or new?

• Vintage bits and pisses of different eras but late 80s early 90s give me live

• And I'm obsessed with 70s buildings dont know why

Who do you want to write your obituary?

• An creative stranger - go nuts dude freak people out

Style icon?

• dont have one I guess

What are three things you can’t live without?

• My cats

• My phone

• My guitar

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

• I'm crazy about mustard

• My dad always says anything salivary can be better with cheese and anything sweet be better with chocolate - not that far from the truth

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

• Elvis Presley

• Jane Fonda

• Janis Joplin

What’s your biggest fear in life?

• Failure

• The dark

Window or aisle seat?

• Window: you can look at the view, it's better for sleeping and during the day sunlight for reading

What’s your current TV obsession?

• A have many, it's a problem, but right now mind hunter

Favourite app?

• Instagram and tumblr

Secret talent?

• I like to lie to myself and say acting but maybe just weirdly good at pretending to be good at things (ain't that the joke huh)

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

• I would say it was dumb, stupid and streamly dangerous but when I was 16 a friend and I went to some guys house in a very weird neighborhood and lied to our parents about it and only 1 other friend new (also our taxi couldn't find the house). We meet those two guys at a friends party and they said that they were throwing one and that we should go, and our dumb selfdestruting alcohol hunting minds though, why not. It was not a party. It was just a hang out with us and one other guy and to this day I dont know how we left at 7am (the only way to get out of there was the first bus because uber wasn't a thing yet and me and my friend were to scared of what kind taxi driver we would find) unharmed and not sexually harassed, given that one of the dudes that our friends new more hated me for a few months for not putting out for him, cause you know, men.

• I'm absolutely sure they wanted a sex party that didnt happen. But I did show my unasked skills of knowing every single black veil brides lyrics.

How would you define yourself in three words?

• Anxious

• Laud

• Loyal

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

• The stolen 80s tshirts from my dad

• High waisted shorts

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

• A comfortable pair of jean shorts that you feel pretty in

Superpower you would want?

• To stop time

• I get to anxious trying to time manage and it just snowballs from there. And sleeping in without being always late.

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

• Machine Gun Kelly (I stared listening to his stuff a few months ago)

• But always and forever is the passion that moves people

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

• Be/do to other people what you wanted to be done for you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

• It's not just on your head it's a real thing, you're lot alone, and it ok to need help.

A book that everyone should read?

• Harry Potter: that even thou I have read multiple times it still is amazing and full of symbolism that people brush through some times.

• Women who run with the wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

• My older sister made me start this book and its absolutely live changing and I belive should be obligatory to all women in this world. This book is a live long work by this psychologist and through miths, legends, folk tales and stories she puts together what she calls the wild women archetype and what is the feminine instinct is and how those tales teach us about it and how to have a healthy relationship with her.

What would you like to be remembered for?

• For being kind

How do you define beauty?

• It's an powerfull force within

What do you ~love most~ only love about your body?

• The shape of my eyes

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

• Listening to music and dancing around

Favourite place to view art?

• I dont understand sorry

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

• Static supernova

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

• Guitar and piano cant choose only one

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

• My planned ones:

• Orca

• Felix felicis

• Tree

• Mother earth

• Penicillin allergy (I dont trust nobody)

Dolphins or koalas?

• Dolphins

• Did you y'all know that orcas not only aren't whales but belong on the same family as dolphins?

What’s your spirit animal?

• Orca

Best gift you’ve ever received?

• My cats (even thou there are rescues they're my little special gifts from nature)

Best gift you’ve ever given?

• On my best friend wedding my friend and I gave a performance as siluetes (it was private beach and all the light were off and we had the car headlights behind us) I played the song you are in love by taylor swift while she did an beautiful performance on silks the song represented their relationship and how she shared it if us in a very sacred way and the silks was a representation of her herself and how the 3 of us saw in the last few years her transformation from a very broken person to the women she was born to be.

• Yes we were crying the hole time but was the most genuine and beautiful think I ever done so yeah

What’s your favourite board game?

• Dix it, its awesome go play it pls

What’s your favourite colour?

• Petrol blue

Least favourite colour?

• The color of lentil soup my mom makes it looks like a baby have serious digestive problems

Diamonds or pearls?

• Diamonds of the symbolic value of "the pressure that could've break us made us into diamonds insted"

Drugstore makeup or designer?

• Drugstore makeup, the one I know that are real brands hauahauahs

Blow-dry or air-dry?

• Air-dry

Pilates or yoga?

• Pilates even thou I must prefer sports mostly

Coffee or tea?

• My blood is coffee at this point

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

• Wolrd, because English is not my first language and specially in an American accent the pronunciation of wolrd if simply the worst and is absolutely obnoxious and unsettling.

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

• Dark

• But my absolut favored is a 70% cacao white chocolate. It's incredible but I only got to buy it twice :(

Stairs or elevator?

• Stairs, I also love to sit on them

Summer or winter?

• Winter. I only like heat if I'm inside very cold water

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

• If nutrition value doesn't matter, ice cream

A desert you don’t like?

• Orange cake. Bad memories and I vomit every time I try to eat it.

A skill you’re working on mastering?

• Singing and playing the guitar

Best thing to happen to you today?

• I think I made a online friend :D

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

• That I'm kind

Favourite smell?

• Buttering sugar

Hugs or kisses?

• Hugs i Iike to be permanently attached to some people at times

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

• Domestic violence

• Parenting

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

• Today I was trying to play this song called Ronan and cryed my eyes out like all the other times I tried before It's a song of child cancer in the mother's perspective

Lipstick or lip gloss?

• Lipstick

• I'm a red matte lip stan

Sweet or savoury?

• Sweet

Girl crush?

• Billie Elish

How you know you’re in love?

• The only time I think I've been in love I only realised it because they left and I didnt understand why i was severely hurt by it and changed the way I created all relationships after that. And then it hit me

• So pain and heartache.... yeah that's depressing as shit

Song you can listen to on repeat?

• When the sun goes down - Arctic Monkeys

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

• My own self but not a anxious depressed mess just to feel what it's like

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

• That I dont need to make decisions

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uriurijihoonie · 6 years ago

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wedding booth │ l.jc

pairing: dino/chan x reader genre: fluff, high school!au word count: 2,166 warnings: none

A/N: the scenario actually happened (but altered some parts) lol that’s it and i’m still getting the hang of writing how I used to aaaahhhh can you please send your thoughts about my writing ):

Valentine’s Day; for some, it’s a day full of excitement and expectations, especially if you’re in a relationship. The dreading moment of waiting whether you’ll be surprised by a confession from your crush who also likes you, a date by your significant other or the most-awaited yes from someone the suitor pursues.

In your case, you’re neither of the three; you don’t have a suitor, much less a boyfriend, and your crush doesn’t have any interest to you at all.

But still, you’re hoping something worth remembering will happen to you for the rest of the day.

As you entered your designated building, different booths were set up in the lobby. There’s the photo booth, an open stage for people who wants to sing or dedicate a song, a mailbox booth and even a fancy marriage booth.

The college council went all out for this day, huh.

“Chill out, Y/N, we’ve got you, you’re getting married to Chan today,” your friend whispered in your ear as she draped an arm around your shoulder, to which she also removed as soon as you nudged her by your elbow.

“Don’t do it please, and if anyone hears you I swear,” You trailed off as you start to descend the stairs, “besides, he will be pissed if you do that to him.”

“Oh come on, he isn’t a killjoy, I know it.”

“Well, he doesn’t take any interest in me at all, besides it’s so random for me to be suddenly paired up with him; he’ll get clues,” You argued, walking through the hallways of your designated floor.

“That’s the point, Y/N,” you saw your friend roll her eyes at you, in which you flicked her in the forehead, “but that’s not what I intend to do, idiot.”

You entered your classroom and as cringe-y as it may be, your eyes automatically turned to where Chan was, and as if you’re being blessed today, it was a sight where he’s laughing real hard you can hear his melodious laugh ringing like soothing bells in your ears, making you smile automatically as you reached your seat, which is just right in front of him.

“Don’t intend for him to know, huh,” you can hear sarcasm in your friend’s voice as you reached for her to smack her, which she evaded with a laugh.

Classes soon started and everything about today is going well like what a normal day is like. Soon you were given ample time to go to the lobby and check out the booths, in which you easily dragged your friend to try out the photo booth.

As soon as you finished taking the shots you bought from the booth, screams and hoots were heard and soon, a crowd of people filled the other side of the lobby.

“Someone’s getting married,” said your friend. Curiously, you tried to make your way through the crowd, immediately smiling when you saw it was your two teachers who’ve been shipped by a lot of students were getting married at the booth.

“It’s Mr. Kim and Ms. Jung,” you grinned, snapping a few photos of your teachers who clearly have interest for each other.

What would it be like if Chan and I were—

You immediately stopped your train of thoughts as you move away from the crowd, shaking your head furiously as you remove any visualization from your head.

If you were to be completely honest, there’s a slim string of hope that your friend will really sign you and Chan up for the marriage booth, and who are you to fool yourself that you don’t want it to happen.

Even if it’s just fake, I’ll take it. Sheesh Y/N, you’re embarrassing.

Feeling heat rush through your cheeks and the unstoppable grin on your face, you shake off the feeling as you made your way back to your classroom, opting to read a novel you always bring with you.

Just as you turn the novel to its next chapter, one of your classmates entered your classroom, “Yah! Chan is getting married at the lobby!”

You felt as if an ice cold bucket of water is being dumped on you, your heart beating fast as you thought of your friend actually signing you up.

But that’s impossible, she’s with me all day and—

Looking back at her seat behind you, your friend is missing and just then, she barged into the room, shouting your name. “Y/N! Come with me, quick!”

There’s no time for you to escape and as soon as she dragged you down the stairs, your screams of protests were unheard as you were being led by your friend.

You saw the crowd being your classmates and you didn’t know if you should be glad you can hear their affirmative screams and hoots towards you, but their screams cannot beat the loud thumping of your heart as you can feel how it races fast.

“Ya! I told you not to do this!” You grumbled as you were dragged on the makeshift aisle, a flower crown with a veil being put into the top of your head.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” she giggly handed you a bouquet of paper flowers and linked your arms, as if she’s your guardian for the ‘wedding.’

“C’mon Y/N, look at your ‘groom’,” she nudged your sides as your hands got sweaty, heart beating at its fastest rate, and if it’s still possible for it to get faster, your heart still accelerated as soon as your eyes met Chan’s, and seeing his eyes turn to crescents as he grin shyly and looked down to fix his suit (provided by the booth) made you smile, too.

At least it looks like he’s fine with this.

Your friend guided you as you walked through the aisle, and if it wasn’t for your arm gripping your friend’s, you would’ve cascaded on the floor as you feel your legs giving up.

As soon as you reached the makeshift altar where Chan is waiting, all noise seemed to drain out as you focus on this moment alone; Chan going to your side as he’s smiling shyly, faint hues of red painted his cheeks, but despite his own embarrassment, he still greeted you, “Hi, Y/N.”

As much as you wanted to greet him back, all you managed to do was to give him a shy smile of yours, averting your gaze to the person in charge of the ceremony in front of you.

“Good day, family and friends, we are all gathered today to witness...” all the sound drained out once again. This is really happening.

Your thoughts cut off when Chan nudged you, making you look at him, “Are you okay? You look kinda pale, Y/N.”

You wanted to utter a sentence this time but your malfunctioning self still got your tongue tied, that you only managed to give him a nod, which made him frown the slightest, “Are you bothered by this?Is it because of me?”

“No, no, I swear, no!” You blurted out, good thing the person in front of you is still not over with his spiels. You sighed, “I’m just... I’m sorry since you’re being dragged into this chaos.”

Chan laughed at your word choices, which made you smile too because did I just managed to make him laugh?

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Chan slightly faced your direction, still sporting that smile of his which you love so much, “Because I’m actually happy that it’s you.”

Before you could say something, his hand reached for your flower crown and fixed it in place. Giving you one of his smiles again, he turned back to the front, in time for the question from the person in front.

“Do you, Lee Chan, take Y/L/N Y/F/N, to be your wedded wife, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”

The person gestured for the ring that laid on the table. Looking down, you saw Chan taking one, as his other hand gestured for yours. Shaking, you held his palm, taking in just how soft his hands are and the gentleness of his hold on yours.

Leaning closer to the mic, you heard Chan say, “I do,” before he slipped in the ring on your ring finger.

The fast thumping on your heart returned. Taking deep breaths to compose yourself, you focused on looking at the ring left as you heard the person say his question, “Do you, Y/L/N, take Lee Chan, to be your wedded husband, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”

You can see your hands trembling as you take the ring, and you lost count how much you’ve been breathing deeply. But when you look at Chan, who’s smiling at you, everything felt at ease.

This was definitely a moment to remember.

Leaning into the mic, you said, “I do” as it’s now your turn to slip the ring in his finger.

Afterwards, the cheers you drowned out became louder once more, and as the person in front finally said the words “you may now kiss the bride,” all the nervousness and trembling came in to you all at once, and tripled when Chan carefully lifted the veil covering your face.

“Ya, what do you think you’re doing?” All your reservations for Chan escaped you when he finally lifted the veil off, but he just smiled at you. “Just trust me.”

With wide eyes, he carefully tucked some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. Is he serious? What the heck is he really serious about--

It was all cut off when he gently pulled you close to him by your arms and engulfed you in the warmest of hugs.

Taking this as an opportunity, you hugged him back, the grin forming on your face becoming wide as ever. Hoping he wouldn’t feel it, you snuggled in his chest for the tiniest bit before letting go.

Signing your supposed “marriage certificates,” you were then led into the photo booth for remembrance of your “marriage.�� You didn’t know how it went but you’re sure you’re giving the most flustered look you can give. After giving you your claim stubs for the photo, Chan was about to approach you...

but then you felt the continuous vibration of your phone close to your head.

Opening your eyes, you glanced around to your surroundings. I slept at the library? You wondered. Sitting up, you reached for your phone, and all the continuous vibrations were made by the messages and missed calls from your worried boyfriend.

Opening his recent message which contained “Please tell me that you just fell asleep in the library again, baby. I’m worried,” you sighed guiltily.

You were about to reply when a familiar figure sat in front of you, and a sheepish smile went on your face as you saw Chan’s pouting face, “You could at least text me that you’re in the library.”

“I’m sorry, Channie,” you gave him one of your pouts too, as you reached for his hand across the table. “I was planning to send you a text but I got engrossed into reading.”

Ah, really,” he sighed exasperatedly, but then gave you a relieved smile as he brushed his thumb on your knuckles, “Just don’t make me worry again, baby.”

“Of course, baby. I love you,” you cooed, taking your intertwined hands close to your cheeks, but yelped when both the cold band around your fingers came into contact with your skin.

Looking at your hands, you laughed at how you’re still wearing the silver rings you got from your high school’s marriage booth three years ago, and how you just dreamed of it a while ago, “You’re still wearing this?”

“Of course, I tell the girls who try to flirt with me that I’m married-- hey! What’s wrong?!” Chan laughed as he avoided the crumpled paper you threw at him.

After you both calmed down, you intertwined your hands once again, brushing your thumb on the cold metal band. “Tell you what, I dreamed of our wedding on that booth three years ago...”

Clearly, it was how your relationship started and bloomed. You didn’t forget how Chan also confessed to you that he likes you when he overheard you and your friend talking, and how you thought of escaping as soon as you knew he was listening, but you were glad he caught up to you..

“Someday, Y/N, maybe in another three or four year’s time...” Chan mumbled, making you hum. “What is it?”

“I’ll change these rings into real ones.” Your smile faltered for a bit, seeing how the glint in Chan’s eyes are nothing but seriousness and something you’re really grown to seeing; love.

“You’ll... say yes, right?” His eyes now hinted that of fear and nervousness. You wanted to take those emotions away from him.

And seeing how you smiled and squeezed his hand, Chan never felt more reassured than before.

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

Text

And All The Queen’s Men {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 5486 words. Okay wow. Please bare with me, this is a long one and also a bit of a different one. Written in the style of a Rolling Stone article. Finished it at 7am. Prompt & support from the lovely @ginghampearlsnsweettea

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

Warning: Minor character death, in both senses, it’s a baby, it’s not graphic it’s just mentioned, but just thought I should let you know.

And All The Queen’s Men: how the lines blurred between Queen and and the Queen of Jazz Rock.

An article almost two years in the making, after their last tour, which I was invited along to in order to write the initial article, the rock sensation Queen split, a decision, I am lead to be believe, was instigated by front man Freddie Mercury, and though Giselle Jones had continued to make music, even before her very public, on-stage breakdown, her lawyers had me keep the article to myself. Now, with the band’s reunion, and Live Aid having been a massive success with both powerhouse musical names coming back into the public eye, I’ve invited them back to my office for one last interview, but mostly to beg them to let me publish this article.

Which, obviously, they allowed.

It’s 1985, and with them all sitting in front of me, I feel a sense of deja vu. There are some changes, of course, Roger Taylor’s hair is shorter, Giselle Jones is wearing jeans and a sweater rather than her well-known cocktail dress, but John Deacon’s still smiling at me, Brian’s looking about the room, perhaps seeing if anything’s changed, and Freddie Mercury’s draped casually on the left of the only non-Queen member of the bunch.

But before I get into the past two years, maybe I should take you back a bit, to when Giselle and Queen began collaborating.

Giselle Jones began in the late sixties as the front-woman of a swing band in a thirties theme pub known as Modern Glamour. Tall, elegant, with a voice like honey, she had a small following of regulars that frequented the pub, but had kept her passion from music from her family, claiming she was merely a waitress at the establishment, since her father was an executive at EMI, and she didn’t want to seem like the subject of nepotism.

However, one fateful day, her father brings music industry giant to the pub for lunch, hoping to catch Giselle at work and introduce her, but as you know, they both got a lot more than they bargained for. Foster sees potential in her, and offers her a contract if she’s willing to modernise her act, and as we all know, she does.

When Giselle releases her first album in 1970, Velvet Roses, which would be the first and only “Jazz” record to hit the Top 40 charts for that year, Queen are still playing pub gigs around London, though they’re looking at recording their first album, which would eventually get EMI’s attention, but that’s still not for a while. At this point, they’re the biggest fish in a very small uni-pub pond, and they need the means to grow. So out goes the band’s van, for one night in a recording studio.

“Like, in retrospect, of course it was the right decision.” Taylor leans against the back of the sofa he’s sitting on in my office in 1982, voice contemplative and fingers locked together as he looks into the past. “But I was twenty-two at the time, selling my van was a big deal.”

“A big enough deal that you wrote a song about it.” Giselle adds, sitting beside him in the middle of the sofa. Deacon hides a smile though May doesn’t hide his snort of laughter.

The smirked remark is at odds with her look. While the boys are all in various states of brightly patterned shirts and jeans, looking casual and comfortable; Giselle wears white, sequinned, off-the-shoulder gown that hugs her figure and hits the floor, a slit in the thigh where her leg crosses, dark skin a stunning contrast to both the white fabric of her dress, and the leather of my sofa. Hands folded in over her knee, there’s not a singular hair out of place where she’s got it slicked back; I can’t look at her directly, she’s so focused and well put-together that it’s like staring at the sun.

The contrast has always been apparent in their various works, though Mercury has, in the past, cited her as an early inspiration for his desire to add a certain classical gravitas to rock and roll, and though she hasn’t publicly stated anything, the amount of covers Giselle has performed lived could fill an album. And now, here they are, about leave for a double-billed tour of the US, which I have been asked to join.

But their connection goes back much further than this, all the way back to 1975, to the release of the smash-hit single Bohemian Rhapsody That very same year, Giselle releases her fifth single, Dinner and a Show, a lyrically dissonant, heart pumping anthem that’s a metaphor for the way any type of review fuelled her, since it meant people were talking about her work.

You serve yourself on a platter; your putrid delights, / yet how can I refrain? / You don’t come to flatter, you don’t want to go / so come on baby, / don’t you know? / You’re treating me to dinner and a show.

Giselle’s usually silky performance is turned into a masterclass of vocal gymnastics as she slides easily from the rough intensity of rock and roll, to the smooth purr of jazz as she sings about eating critics for breakfast.

They say a free mind makes the meat so tender / now you’re on the menu and I’m a big spender

The song itself comes as a response to her former manager about how her “aggressive” move to music that more stylistically rock and roll was alienating older audiences, though Foster, still her producer at the time, was pushing for her to skew to a younger audience, and it seemed as though he had gotten his way.

The real change, however, was the B-Side of the record. After speaking to Jim “Miami” Beach, Queen’s lawyer, regarding potentially covering one of the band’s songs, Giselle reveals that she was eventually told to just ask them directly.

“I gave Miami a letter that basically explained that I’d like to cover one of their songs for my new album,” Giselle gives me a thin smile, and I feel like I’ve done something wrong, even though I’m assured by Brian that her public persona “is just like that sometimes”.

“- and I thought it was a joke! I said ‘yeah, sure, what’s the worst that could happen’.” Mercury laughs, leaning forward elbows on his knees and eyes shinning with amusement. “I did not believe for one second that Giselle, Giselle-” repeating her name for emphasis, his hand comes to quickly rest on hers where she still has them perfectly still on her knee, a moment of solidarity, “wanted anything to do with us. Hand Held Heart had been at the top of the US charts for almost three whole weeks the year before.” Letting out a long, wistful sigh, Mercury sits back, still grinning, though he’s got this far away look on his face now.

“So we’d been stuck on a farm, recording A Night At The Opera for weeks with no outside communications, ” May fills in where Mercury’s faded into his own memories, and Taylor slings arm around Giselle where she’s actually relaxed somewhat, hands now in her lap. Curiously, she doesn’t shrug him off. “And when we get back, it turns out that she’s put a jazz cover of Jesus, yeah, that song from our first album, on the B-Side of her newest single.”

“Freddie practically had a heart attack.” Deacon adds, patting Mercury’s shoulder fondly.

In her own way, she was continuing the trend that Dinner and a Show had started, and that seven-inch single would bestow upon Giselle the title of Queen of Jazz Rock. It hadn’t been the first time she had acknowledged the band publicly, by the time she had released the single, her public persona had gained enough traction that, a few months prior to her recording of the cover, a reporter had asked if Killer Queen, Queen’s biggest hit at the time, had been written about her. The question had been caught on camera by the reporter after one of her tour stops in the Midwest of America; the footage is a favourite of fans, including myself, of the way she doesn’t even turn, simply calls over her shoulder, ‘they should be so lucky’, and she gets into her waiting car.

“I never took offence,” Mercury tells me, both in 1982, and 1985, as I bring it up both times to consolidate the origins of their musical partnership.

“You wouldn’t, you were all starry-eyed for her back then.” Taylor leans back to address Mercury behind Giselle’s head, but only when he says it the first time, in 1982.

“It was a bit of a dig at us,” Deacon agrees with the drummer, nodding before shrugging. “A lot of good came out of it, though.” The others seem to agree, but Giselle herself has stayed quiet. For the first time since the interview started, she looks away from me, gaze dipping as she seems inclined to speak, though she takes her time to weigh up her words before she says them, wondering exactly what will and will not be printed.

“It was a bit of s**t thing to say. I was twenty-four and I panicked, I had to keep up my... this persona.” She gestures now to herself, breaking the entire physicality as she lets herself lean back, and I feel like I can breathe, seeing her act so human. Adjusting, she lets herself rest of the slightest of diagonals, shoulder to shoulder with Taylor’s arm still around her, now with Mercury petting her knee in solidarity.

Once in the tour bus, the difference between Giselle Jones, the woman, and Giselle, the singer and personality, becomes almost jarring to see. As soon as we get into the bus, she strips off the gown she was wearing, I turn away, though the others don’t seem to be bothered by it, May takes the dress to a waiting assistant by the door, and when I turn back, she’s in a pair of sweat pants and Taylor is tossing her shirt several sizes too big for her. For the first time since I’ve learned about her, Giselle looks comfortable, looks approachable and, for lack of a better word, non-robotic, taking a hairbrush from a drawer and flopping onto one of the beds as she brushes out the gel, apparently not bothering with a shower just yet.

“I showered this morning.” She seems to have caught my confused look, and explains herself. With her guard lowered in the familiar situation, her natural voice shines through, a rich, yet feminine alto, reminiscent of her singing voice. It adds to the list of things that add character to her beyond what her “persona” could ever convey. Or perhaps that’s the point.

The bus itself is almost too small for the five performers, and I’m certain it won’t fit me, but Giselle and I watch as they cram a blow up bed onto the kitchen table. It looks stable, and for the opportunity to experience living in such close quarters with such big names, I’d take anything.

“Sorry, darling, Paul takes the only spare bed.” Mercury informs me as I shimmy up onto the bed to test if it would hold. I had thought that the vehicle was at capacity, though it does make sense that the band’s day-to-day manager, Paul Prenter, would be travelling with them. That being said, I hadn’t realised there was even a spare bed, there was only five, perhaps none of them had wanted to be subjected to the blow up bed and decided to share instead.

When we finally get on the road, I get to finally see their true dynamics emerge. We all know the Queen dynamics by now, brotherly yet volatile, at times. I had worried for Giselle at times, the concept of living with four men (five if you count Prenter, who Giselle does not seem to, when I ask her about it, though I don’t think that’s a subject I should pry about, judging by the look on Taylor’s face where I can see him lounging at the back of the bus). However, I should have not have been worried; first of all, despite the youthfulness of their appearances, performances, and spirit, these are all men in their 30s, Giselle herself being 31 at the time of writing (1982), and they all have experience living with women, and with each other.

“First tour was a nightmare.” Deacon’s joined me on the blowup bed, is sipping tea as we travel along. “We learned real quick how disgusting close quarters can be.” He’s a quiet soul, but observant, and honestly I really enjoy his company. Anyone who can weather over a decade of rock and roll and come out as calm as him deserves some sort of recognition. “It’s much better now. Mostly.” He smiles like it’s an inside joke, but won’t elaborate. Giselle and Taylor refuse to clarify what he means by that, May just laughs when I ask him, directing me back to ask Taylor and Giselle, and Mercury calls them all gossips.

It’s something about the tour lifestyle that must bring out the childishness in them all, which comes out strongly during dinner. They shove my blowup bed into the sleeping quarters when dinner is served, and the five of us manage to cram into the tiny booth the bus allows. May, Deacon and Giselle are in charge of cooking dinner, sausages, potatoes, and peas, since apparently Prenter and Mercury have taken lunch duties, and Roger has put himself in charge of getting coffee and tea for everyone in the morning.

“We should really eat breakfast.” Giselle muses through half a mouthful of food.

“I do!” Deacon, next to me, comes back with, pouring some more peas onto his plate.

“You just eat cereal from the box, Deaky, that’s not breakfast.” Taylor counters him, which just causes the rest of the table to devolve into an argument about what counts as breakfast. Prenter, who has joined us for the meal, looks like he’d rather be napping or still driving, and makes quiet work of his meal.

Roger Taylor goes to sleep after me, and wakes up before I do, and I’m not sure how he does it. Or where he sleeps, the other beds seem taken. He wakes me up on the first morning by shoving my bed, which slides a few centimeters, but isn’t about to fall off it’s perch.

“You want coffee?” I’m barely functioning at this point, and his question baffles me. “Tea? Coffee? Deaky’s cereal? We got some left over sausages.” He lists off, probably due to my clear confusion, he seems exasperated, even though he’s definitely wearing pyjamas too. He’s still scowling a little when I tell him how I like my coffee, but he doesn’t complain, and it tastes exactly like I like it when he hands it over. The bus is stationary, so he can put the cups by the bedsides of those they are for, but interestingly enough he joins me on the table/bed.

I know the origin story of Queen, I think everyone does at this point, so I ask him instead about the subject of my article; how Queen got involved with Giselle.

“You wanna know how I met Giselle?” It’s not exactly what I asked, but he’s already thinking about it, looking past me to the sleeping quarters with a frown. He plays absent-mindedly with the chain around his neck, and with the ring attached to it. “I thought everyone knew about that, the whole thing where we hated each other from the start?” When I ask if it was true, he actually laughs, though it’s more a snort of derision, if I’m being honest. “Of course not. Mostly.” They all seem to like that word, I hadn’t taken them all to be vague.

“I told him to take a long walk off a short pier.” Giselle will clarify for me later that day, joining me as I take a smoke break at one of our bathroom stops, not that there isn’t a toilet on the bus, they just try to avoid using it as much as possible. She doesn’t smoke, claims she never has, but enjoys the company, while the boys are buying snacks at the gas station. I ask when it was, she gives me another thin smile, but not like it had been in the office. Here it’s the punctuation to an earlier joke rather than a judgement.

She tells me about how she actually met them all, recording her second album, after her 1972 performance on Top of the Pops, you know the one. It had cemented Giselle’s now iconic aesthetic of an off the shoulder, floor length sequinned gown, silk gloves, and bold red lipstick, dark hair falling victory curls, the whole look reminiscent of an old Hollywood star, though there was red glitter trailing from her lips, and on her gloves in a theatrical fabrication of blood. It had been a look inspired by her musical roots, and the theatricality of the then-popular glam rock, a movement which would inspire many of Mercury’s tour looks also.

She was twenty-one at the time, still “developing her persona”, when she found that the in-house recording equipment at EMI was being used by the then-still quite unknown Queen. Or rather, according to Giselle, just Taylor.

“He was packing up the last of his equipment, and he makes a pass at me, thinks I’m an intern.” We can see the boys leaving the gas station, Taylor himself heading the pack. “So yeah, told him to take a long walk off a short pier.” She laughs, seems to hold the memory quite dear. “That b******d has the gall to look me in the eyes and ask who I am.”

“Did he know who you were?” When I look at her, she’s still smiling, tipping her head to the side as the boys draw close. She seems to be paying attention to me, but not a lot.

“Yeah, told me later he was just pissed I didn’t throw myself at him. That’s why I said that, ‘they should be so lucky’ thing, actually, that motherf****r right there.” The way she says it, raising her finger to point at him, makes me think it’s a story she’s told before, one that he knows about.

“You talking about me?” Taylor yells, and Giselle is quick to answer that she is. “Don’t spill all my secrets.” It sounds like an order, but his smile says it’s not, it’s weirdly playful, a dynamic I didn’t expect from them, especially considering their history. I raise the point. She laughs at me.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Prenter calls for everyone on the bus, and Giselle doesn’t think to clarify once we’re back on board.

The tour, I should have mentioned earlier, is a double feature; Queen is promoting their album Hot Space, while Giselle is promoting her own, The Bend Before the Break. When I ask her about the album itself, she talks happily about a few of the songs, however when I bring up my personal favourites, Ache and Heaven Sent, she turns very quiet.

I will end up watching most of her performances, and to this day, I have never seen something as raw and spiritual as Giselle performing Ache.

The lights dim as the joyful Meant to Be finishes. On the studio recording, a double bass starts the song, long, grieving and angry notes that pick up in tempo as it’s joined by drums and a piano, and finally, her voice, low, bitter and seductive in equal measure. Here, there’s silence, as she gently croons the open lines, face illuminated by only a single gold light, as swirling red and purple lights move about the stage.

While saying you were sorry, / you burned me from the outside, in. / Now I’m calloused all over, / And too tired to feel the sting. / But I feel the ache, / feel the ache / feel the ache. / I’ll still let you back in.

She plays the piano herself for this song, a skill, I later learn Mercury had taught her many years ago. It’s a song that tugs at your gut, gets you thinking about how you keep people in your life who aren’t the best for you. She ends the last chorus with a long, mournful wail that you feel in your bones.

I’ve never heard a crowd so quiet as when she finishes Ache, the penultimate song of her set list, unless you count encores.

The final song of the night is always Heaven Sent, a bright, headbanging anthem with the musical gravitas of a full jazz band. It was her single from the album, it topped most charts. You know the one. The radio won’t stop playing it.

Divinity with a neon glow / it hung above his head, / promoting his next show. / Didn’t even try to find my light, / just the darkness he’d bestow. / Heaven sent me the Morningstar.

“I was cheated on.” Was all she will say about the songs.

The others steer clear of those songs as well, when talking about the album, as well as the titular song, The Bend Before the Break, though Giselle claims she has moved on from the feelings associated in all three songs.

“I wrote them first on the album, I’ve moved on.”

Each of the boys seems very protective of Giselle at times, though Taylor is by far the worst. If I’m being honest, was weird to me, they’d been at each other’s throats publicly and professionally for almost a full decade after Giselle’s initial comment, however the vitriol had died down in the past few years, so I enquire about that about halfway through the six week tour.

“We set them up.” May is the first to answer, sipping tea with myself, Deacon and Mercury. Since both Giselle and Taylor adjourned to the sleeping quarters. I ask him what he means.

“They tell it better.” Mercury interjects, but May argues that they’re asleep anyways so it’s not like it matters. Deacon agrees with Mercury, but quiet enough that May ignores him.

“So by ‘79, we’ve collaborated together, us and ‘Zelle, I mean,” the nickname is mostly used by May and Taylor, though Deacon uses it on occasion, “a couple of times, and we love her, right boys? We love her-” looking around, both Mercury and Deacon are nodding along, responding to a story they’d both heard before, though it was interesting for my first time hearing it, “but Rog is about ready to stab her with his drumsticks, but that’s just how he is.”

“Threatened to stab me once.” Deacon adds the unnerving information with complete serenity, focused on his cup.

“Me a couple of times.” Mercury shakes his head, as if it were some schoolboy prank rather than a stabbing threat.

“Like I said, just how he is. So we decide to send them to a place where they can bond over complaining about everything else, apart from each other.” I asked how it worked out for them and I watch as their faces fall. This terrible blind date idea must have gone horribly. “They hate the restaurant, which is good, but he goes to leave and bumps the table, spilling beer all over her dress, which is bad,” well, obviously. He pays me no mind, “and she elbows him in the face when she’s putting her jacket on - still don’t know how that one happened - but he still says he’ll take her home because it’s late, except-”

“To preface,” Deacon jumps in here, adding a little more milk to his tea, “she hates I’m In Love With My Car.” The song? Deacon nods. “Rog wrote it.” I can connect the dots, but I’m still confused as to how that lead to them being friends.

“Friends.” Mercury actually laughs into his cup.

“He takes her home anyways, she tells him the song’s s**t bu the sentiment wasn’t far off.” May finishes, shrugging.

“It was a real nice car.” Deacon shrugged, before looking straight at me. “And she still hates the song to this day.” There’s an air of finality to his words that is entirely unwarranted. That isn’t the point of the story; how are they friends now? Did they hook up in his car? Is that what they’re implying, I feel like such a gossip asking these questions.

“Did they ho- ? Yeah, of course.” May laughs, and though it clears some things up, I’m still rather confused. It’s probably reading on my face, because it looks like something else is dawning on him. “You know they’re married, right?”

No. No I did not know. Now I feel like an idiot.

I wonder if The Bend Before the Break is about Taylor? I can sense I’ve touched a nerve when I ask, and Mercury abruptly changes the subject, though the air still doesn’t feel right. When I head back through the sleeping area to get a new pen from my luggage, I catch a glimpse of Giselle napping in her bunk, Taylor too, asleep with his arm around her. She’s even wearing a wedding ring. I’m kicking myself for not noticing sooner. The chain with the ring around Taylor’s neck makes sense now. A lot of things make sense now.

For the next four days I feel like I’m being shunned, I’m the last to be told about dinner and have to eat the leftovers, Giselle barely says two words to me, Taylor just keeps glowering, and someone let the air out of my bed on the second night. It’s childish, but it’s in line with what I expect from them, regarding this sort of issue, I’m just glad Taylor hasn’t poured my coffee on me in my sleep, or spat in it. He just didn’t make it, which I suppose is probably the safest option for me.

The only apology I can think of is to offer to buy them all drinks, but it works well enough, and the next morning I wake to a fresh cup of coffee, and a very hungover Taylor. At least he’s dedicated to his job.

The rest of the tour passes without further incident. I still stand by Ache as one of my favourite musical performances of the decade, though I don’t mention it to Giselle, and now that I know the dynamic between her and Taylor, I can’t stop seeing it. Honestly, readers, they’re all over each other, which is expected from a man of Taylor’s reputation, but it’s still a little jarring to see the two of them so cozy. I must have been blind not to see it before.

When we part ways, Giselle is a little stiff with me.

“You brought up some feelings that I just... hadn’t actually dealt with at the time, which f******d me up.” She tells me in retrospect, sitting in my office with the rest of the boys in 1985. Live Aid was a few weeks ago, and since they all returned to the spotlight, I asked if they wanted to come and reflect on the past few years. The one thing that hasn’t changed is the fact that Giselle still swears like a sailor.

“A lot’s happened in the past few years.” Taylor’s still very protective of her, and after everything that’s conspired, at least from what I know, it’s warranted. We talk about the band splitting, how it had hurt the band as a whole, and even Giselle, who was at the time seeing a counsellor with Taylor. I’m hesitant to broach the topic of their relationship, though they seem like a solid until now, sitting before me, holding hands and leaning against one another.

I ask if Giselle’s breakdown was due to the band splitting, though I’m hesitant if I’ll get a response. Her smile is sad, which is mirrored by the rest of the band. I can guess her response before she says it.

“No.”

You all know the moment I’m talking about, the last concert for her last album, as of this publication, Finally, Sunlight where she had receive pleas from the audience for an encore. When she came back out, part of her makeup had been smudged around her eyes, and you can hear her sniffle over the microphone. (”I’m so sorry, I lost someone close to me, I thought I could keep it together for one night.” Dabbing at her eyes, she sits at the piano and laughs, but there’s no heart in it. “But I’ve got five more minutes left in me, let’s go, Atlanta.”) The song she plays is Somebody to Love, a slow, soulful cover, and the audience is almost unanimous in their raised lighters and slow swaying. As she goes on, she just starts crying harder, missing notes, hands shaking; the extended ‘Looooord’ before the chanting becomes a desperate wail, a plea to the heavens, and she collapses onto the piano, sobbing audibly as the instruments all come to uncertain halt and lighters go down in confusion.

From the crowd, a single voice begins to chant ‘Find me somebody to love. / Find me somebody to love.’ and a single voice turns to a theatre, full to the brim, as they sing when she can’t, still crying against the piano. Lighters go up, and together the audience and the band finishes the song where words have failed her. It was televised locally on the night, and still brings me to tears when I watch it now.

“We lost our daughter.”

For those of you reading this who are shocked, I am too. Sitting there like a fool, not saying anything.

“I was on tour, and Rog was at home with her,” even now, Giselle is getting a little teary-eyed, not that I blame her. Both Taylor and Mercury have an arm around her, and May has a hand on her shoulder, Deacon sitting on the back of the sofa right behind her. A unit. A family. “I wanted to go home, she was getting really sick, and I know he was doing everything he could, but I just- I wanted to be there... but my label threatened to sue me for... millions.” It sounds like it’s hard to say, and she’s wiping a tear from her eyes. I offer her the tissues on my desk. “But I should have gone home. I should have been there by her side, I should have done more.” Taylor whispers something to her and she leans against him, taking comfort in him.

“I had to call her, tell her that... that she’d passed. The day of the show. She’d been so upset for week, ‘Zelle that is, and everything just-” Taylor manages to get a great handle on his emotions, despite his misty eyes and shaking hands. “We’re alright now though, see? Nothing can tear us apart.” Though his voice does drop, so I think he’s saying it more for Giselle’s benefit. I give them all time to collect themselves, stop to get hot drinks for everyone, and everyone finally seems happy enough to answer when I ask what’s next for them.

“Music, of course.” Mercury says, now holding what was Giselle’s free hand. The rest of the gathered musicians agree. I ask if we’ll be hearing any sort of collaboration between Queen and the Queen of Jazz Rock. Taylor snickers, pulling Giselle close.

“Yeah, but not in the way you mean.” He ignores the rest of the men’s shouts of disgust, as well as his wife’s own gagging noise, which I can see on her face she regrets as she covers her mouth with caution, before giving the okay.

“No, we’re okay, we’re good.” She assures everyone, before looking at me. “What he meant to say is that I’m pregnant.” She clarifies. Taylor is still grinning.

“Don’t be gross, Rog.” May calls from the other side of the sofa, and Taylor has the gall to look accosted.

“What’s next for me, after everything that’s happened, is family.” Giselle says over the sounds of her husband’s indignant huffs, though his expression turns soft at her words, and they ignore the ‘boo’s of everyone else as they kiss.

“Could you be less gross around company?” Deacon asks, still mild-mannered as ever. This seems to be the cue for the interview to end, as Taylor of Giselle-

“It’s Giselle Taylor, by the way, I’m sorry I hadn’t corrected you earlier.” She corrects me now, as [Roger] Taylor leads her out of the door. The rest of the band seem mildly exasperated at their antics, but still ready to answer my questions. After everything that’s happened, I’m a little overwhelmed, I’m not sure where to go from here.

Perhaps my next article will be on Live Aid.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #queen imagine #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #the angry lizard writes #bohemian rhapsody imagine

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cclaudias · 6 years ago

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desi adam hcs

his name’s adam because he’s an nri(non residential indian) and all nris are big white weebs, so his parents thought it would be “good for him“ if he had a white name that whites could pronounce.

he’s bengali but he doesnt know bengali at all. the only word he knows is mach, which means fish, and its hindi word is machli so...

also, you’re literally not bengali unless you can recognize the word fish in at least 20 different languages.

adam’s watched every single khan movie from the 2000s, like every other indian kid and when his 15 yo cringy romcom loving ass watched dilwale dulhania le jayenge he cried and obviously knew every song by heart.

adam in class, singing softly: ~Tujhe dekha toh yeh jaana sanam || Pyaar hota hai deewana sanam || Ab yaha se kaha jaye, hum || Teri bahon mein mar jaye hum~

shiro, who has a huge crush on adam and just needs an excuse to talk to him: that sounds nice. you have a really nice voice.

adam, blushing:

shiro, also blushing:

shiro, trying to make his pining ass less obvious: btw, what does it mean?

adam:

shiro:

adam: haha it’s in punjabi. i don’t know.

its in basic elementary hindi btw and its one of the sappiest most romantic songs ever.

when he first takes shiro and keith to india the first time its wild (its also their last time, Shiro's to terrified to go there again).

on their first day, everyone adam knew in india was there to greet them. his extended family, his relatives, his neighbors, his long lost family members. their house was so full people barely had place to move.

it didnt help that shiro was famous. he was the face of the garrison and all the children knew him. he had children attached to his arms for days. the smallest of them all, a 1 yo named aliya, gets oddly attached to keith. the baby’s adorable, but keith doesn’t know what to do with it.

aliya: *comes and stands in front of keith*

keith: *awkwardly smiles at her*

aliya: *bursts out crying and runs away*

keith: ????

aliya: *comes up to keith and stands in front of him again*

adam: i think she wants to to carry her.

keith, scrunching his face up in confusion: but why is she crying?

adam: you smiled at her.

keith: so?

adam, not having the heart to tell keith his forced smile looks hideous: maybe try smiling at her more - naturally.

keith: what do you mean?

adam: i mean stop acting so fucking emo all the time, your act’s frightening a baby.

keith, deadpanning with narrowed eyes: what act?

he eventually gives up and picks her up. she’s quiet at first but then she slaps him. he stares at her with his eyes wide open and she giggles and slaps him again.

keith: adam, she’s hitting me!

adam: i told you to smile at her properly, stop glaring at her.

keith, whining: but she’s laughing!

keith turns back to her and glares at her. she stares back at him, her thumb in her mouth. when keith opens his mouth to speak, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth stabs her drool-covered thumb in his eyes.

keith, dropping her immediately, with tears in his eyes: THIS IS WHY I DON’T LIKE BABIES!

adam watched keith avoid each of his cousins narrowly and decides that since this kid's his now, he'll have to face this family one day or another.

adam: keith, will you come with me for a minute? I need to talk to you about something.

keith and his naive non-indian ass, thinking: oh thank god he's getting me out of his family mess.

adam, leading keith to a room full of indian adults ready to smooch and hug him: oh hey guys, this is shiro's little brother keith.

every single auntie in the room, rushing to keith to pull his cheeks, smooch him and laugh: he’s so cute! omg his cheeks are so chubby!!! oof you’re so fair!! my god this boy’s so shy!

keith's never followed adam anywhere since.

shiro: keith, they were just being nice.

keith, on the verge of crying. again.: one of them slapped my BUTT shiro!

when they’ve settled in a few days later and met every single human being in kolkata they need to, adam takes shiro out to the marketplace. he’s not going to go to the mall and sacrifice his bengali pride even for his bf, so now their just walking along a really crowded street with millions of stalls put up all around them.

adam’s here to buy apples and chikoos but he wants to treat shiro to things he’s been longing to eat since his last visit to india.

they first drink daab (coconut water) and then then adam drags shiro to the sweets shop.

adam: this is where you’ll get the best things you’ll ever eat. we’re eating jalebis first because the rasgullas are sweet and it’ll lessen the jalebi’s sweetness.

shiro, surprised to see his bf so excited about sweets: i thought you didnt like sweet food.

adam: these are JALEBIS, takashi!!

when shiro bit into the jalebi, he knew why his bf loved it so much.

on their way out, shiro asks adam if they can have one of the food stuffs being sold at the stalls.

shiro: adam, we didnt to any food stall. they're literally the most populated stalls here.

adam, following his gaze to find a pani puri stall: takashi. babe. those are foods that can only be digested by indian stomachs.

shiro, completely confused, but now more curious: i wanna try some.

adam: im telling you. its a bad idea.

shiro, rolling his eyes: sure, sure. i think my stomach can handle this.

adam: takashi. remember when we were taught about avoiding street vendors in second grade.

shiro:

adam: it was made specifically for these.

shiro finally manages to drag adam to the stall.

adam: are you sure you want this?

shiro: why are you being so dramatic about this?! Yes.

adam to the vendor: bhaiya doh plate golgappe dena. (he asked for two plates of pani puri)

adam eats only one, but they’re fucking delicious and he’s never had them before so shiro ends up eating six. he keeps trying to feed adam who just shakes his head.

when they’re sitting in the auto rickshaw, shiro asks adam why he was so insistent on not eating those. adam just leans back and lays his head on shiro’s shoulder

adam: you’ll see.

and shiro did.

he had diarrhea for three nights.

shiro, just coming from the washroom and realizing he needs to go back in: why is it only at nights, though???!

adam, shaking his head: you’re in india, takashi.

when they’re in the airport (shiro: finally 😩), keith’s jumping around because he really needs to pee.

adam: can’t you hold it till the flight?

keith: i’ve been holding it the whole way!! i can’t!

adam, sighing: fine. the washroom’s that way.

keith comes back, more still than he should be after relieving himself, his eyes a bit wide.

keith:

shiro: what’s wrong? are you okay?

keith: the washroom...

adam, shaking his head: be grateful you’re at the airport. at least the washroom’s decent.

both shiro and keith looking at adam:

adam: what?! i told you to hold it till the flight.

shiro: what’s wrong with the washroom?

keith: it’s... not. very sanitary.

adam: *snorts on the water he just drank*

shiro and adam’s favorite date nights are at home (and its not because of adam’s stingy indian ass). they both make one indian and one japanese dish and adam loves this because it’s domestic and economical (he can’t help it. he’s indian. stinginess runs in his blood. its painful to use a dollor he knows may save him someday.) (he also knows there’s going to be no such day but its always good to stay safe).

on some nights when they’re feeling particularly romantic, adam will play some romantic hindi song and they’ll dance to it. now that shiro understands hindi, he’s almost spooked at how romantic these songs are.

they’re dancing to tum se hi one night and shiro has his arms wrapped around adam, whose hands are on shiro’s shoulder. adam then leans against shiro and rests his head on shiro’s shoulder, in response to which the other man presses a kiss against adam’s temple.

moments like these work as a stark reminder for adam. its in these moments knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with shiro. waking up for work with him in the mornings and spending the weekends watching crappy romcoms and slow dancing would just be a part of his everyday routine and there’s nothing he wants more.

when shiro pulls away, he’s a bit startled.

adam: is everything okay?

shiro, looking ready to shit: ah yea. just um, wow, we’ve been together for so long.

adam: *quietly raising his eyebrows at his bf*

the song ends then and adam’s surprised to hear the next song. his eyes widen as he turns to shiro.

adam: is that...?

shiro, nodding and laughing quietly: you lied to me. it wasn’t in punjabi.

adam, who was staring and the speakers connected to shiro’s phone, now whips his head back to shiro who bends down on one knee: shiro. what are you doing?

but he already knows what shiro is doing. and his heart’s racing and he somehow has tears in his eyes as tujhe dekha toh plays in the background.

shiro, pulling out a ring with shaky hands: adam, i’ve known and loved you for eight years now-

adam: you’re seriously proposing to me with thiS SONG??!!

adam doesn’t realize that his statement made shiro panic because he’s in the midst of asking god how he managed to find a man who thought any song from dilwale dulhania le jayenge would ever possibly make a good proposal song. once his holy conversation with god is over, he turns back to shiro, smiling and takes his hand to tug him up then proceeding to kiss him hard till they’re both out of breath.

adam: i’ll marry you but promise me to never choose a hindi song for the wedding. my cousins will be there.

#i have more but this is it for now ig #vld #adashi #adam #shiro #keith #adashi hcs #voltron #whatthehellmyra #for people who aren't desi #its ok to rb #myheadcanons

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madokasoratsugu · 6 years ago

Text

to good fortune and luck

[rod/lucette; post-canon (good end)]

summary: five blessings Lucette receives from the people dearest to her.(and the one blessing she'll never beg for.)

a/n: i really like them /chinhands/. i also really like lucette metaphorically giving the middle finger. as usual pls read on ao3 bc tumblr probs didnt catch all my italics and stuff lmao

read on ao3

“Lucette, you’re with Rod, are you not?”

Lucette’s hand comes to a perfect standstill. Gently setting the teacup back down on its saucer, she forces herself to meet Ophelia’s eyes.

There is no judgement in her patient gaze, but no doubt either.

Lucette doesn’t allow herself a second breath, a second thought of denial to run through her mind.

“Yes.”

The spring breeze flips pages of a book Emelaigne left open on the picnic blanket. The owner is nowhere to be seen, having dragged her brother off to procure more baked goods.

“I see.”

Ophelia quietly smiles. It’s tinged with pain, and the expression cuts deeper into Lucette than she likes.

“Then I suppose i’ll have to dig out my wedding veil. It’ll need some work, but I hope you won’t mind. It’s always been a tradition in my family to pass down the veil as an heirloom.”

Lucette blinks. Her hand is shaking too badly to lift her teacup to her dry mouth.

“Of course not.” Lucette manages. She blinks harder, and tries to suck in a discrete breath. “Your lacework has always been lovely.”

Ophelia’s smile grows. It’s still dampened at the edges, but in Ophelia’s sudden embrace, it’s clear as day to Lucette that the grief isn’t directed at her.

Rather, it exists for her.

Not for the first time, Lucette mumbles thanks to her mother, who loved Lucette so deeply she suffered tenfold at the thought of Lucette ever, ever being hurt.

Who would support her, even if the world wouldn’t.

“When you get married to Rod - .” Emelaigne stops to sigh dreamily, and Lucette secretly loves it; the way Emelaigne uses her words, the way she says ‘when’ and not ‘if’, ‘married’ and not anything less.

“When the both of you get married, I want to arrange your bouquet.” Emelaigne flops backwards onto her bed, spreading her arms out above her.

A wide grin stretches on her face. “It’s the only thing i’m better than you at, so you can’t say no!”

Lucette laughs, pressing her hands into her lap. “Why would I?”

Emelaigne pulls herself up as abruptly as she laid down. “Maybe because you already have someone else you want to do it, or someone more qualified, or - .”

“Em.”

Emelaigne pouts. “Okay, okay. That means no one, right? Then i’ve called dibs!”

She pauses, eyes dipping to one side that hints at something else.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Lucette asks gently, prodding Emelaigne’s side.

“Well….” Emelaigne flushes.

She reaches to her nightstand, opening the drawer to reveal a matte silver box.

Handing it to Lucette, she motions for the auburn to open it.

White stargazer lilies bloom outwards, surrounded by artistic sprigs of lily-of-the-valley and baby’s breath.

Lucette slowly lifts the beautifully decorated golden barrette, wide eyed.

“I know I’m jumping the gun here, but.” Emelaigne clasps her hands before her middle, smiling hopefully. “It’s an engagement gift. I noticed your old one was fraying at it’s petals.”

“It’s lovely, Em.” Lucette breathes.

Every petal was angled with dedication, faux beads of water giving life to the mini bouquet.

“It’d look nicer if Rod would just propose already, so you could wear it.”

Lucette bursts into giggles, red faced.

She’s welling with embarrassment and childish glee unbefitting a princess, but with Emelaigne laughing by her side, Lucette cannot imagine herself as anything else.

“Take this.”

Fritz shoves a practice sword against Rod’s chest. He stands towering before Lucette’s door, shielding Rod from any passerby’s sight.

“Go back using the South staircase behind the kitchen. There shouldn’t be anyone using it at this time, but if there is, tell them you were having a private training session with me. If they try badgering you for any more information, just mention the name Varg.”

Rod nods once, before walking briskly away, immaculately dressed like Lucette is not.

She shuffles backwards in her nightgown, uncertain. It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her like this.

It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her secret lover sneaking out of her room either, but there’s that.

Still, all Fritz does is send her a reassuring smile. “We still have half an hour, princess. Plenty of time to get ready for breakfast.”

When Lucette next exits her room, everything is encased in silk, pressed out of sight with powder.

It takes everything in her to look at Fritz directly.

“With five minutes to spare. Let’s hurry, though.”

At the sight of Fritz’s warm grin, the coldness in her middle melts. Yet a chunk of ice remains as she stands before the dining hall doors.

A sick feeling grows in her. She doubts it’s the overpowering scent of syrup, this time.

Still, the sticky feeling of the silenced topic that hangs in the air tastes just like it, if only not as sweet.

“Princess, want to know a magic trick?”

Bewildered, Lucette turns to see Fritz drawing two strokes diagonally away from each other on his palm three times before he mimes eating it.

“I heard its a spell for confidence.”

The half-witch feels her face twitch with a smile.

“I can tell you that is not true.”

“But I can tell you that the fact that i’ll support you no matter what is.” Fritz says, knowing, understanding. “I hope at least that inspires confidence.”

Lucette stares at Fritz, at the streak of black that curls around one side of his face, the bright curve of his lips and remembers the way her silver knight had tamed his wolf just to serve by her side.

“It does.”

And Lucette pushes the doors open herself.

“Are you adjusting well to the Tenebrarum?” Waltz asks, grinning wildly.

“As well as you are to your role as magical advisor to the kingdom.” Lucette immediately replies, cracking a smile at their silly inside joke.

Waltz chuckles, patting the space beside him on the wide fountain rim.

“You look tired, little star.”

“Secrets are hard things to keep.” Lucette says, shaking her head as she sits.

“You’re doing quite well, for one of this magnitude.” Waltz says, stroking her hair, and Lucette allows herself to indulge in his pampering.

“Although I do have something that might help.”

Waltz pulls out a tiny drawstring bag, and tips out from it a pair of earrings.

Attached to delicate white gold clasps, the clear blue crystals capture shooting stars within streaks of white.

Lucette cannot hold back her startled gasp.

“They’re blue kyanite. It helps with balance, communication, and fresh beginnings.” Waltz explains. “Perfect for you and Rod.”

Putting them on, Lucette delights in the way they gently reflect the starry expanse above. “Thank you.”

Still, the thought of what Waltz’s encouragement entails makes her happiness falter.

“I just wish - .” Lucette says, words trailing off, full of unfinished thoughts and endless desires.

“So do I.” Waltz hums. “We all do.”

Lucette laughs at the philosophy, and Waltz doesn’t hold back his smile.

“But you’ll do more than that, won’t you little star?”

Lucette yelps as he picks her up, spinning her around once before settling her on his arm.

“You’ll grant your wishes, because that’s what stars do, with a little help. You’ll be happy, and you’ll shine like all stars deserve to.”

Waltz looks at her with such pride and fondness that Lucette laughs aloud again, a little breathless, a little choked.

Within the arms of her closest friend who never stopped believing in her, Lucette thinks that it’s time she repaid that with some belief in herself, too.

“You let your hair down.” Rod murmurs, twirling a loose lock with his forefinger.

“I am supposed to be in bed right now.” Lucette says, glancing at the high moon.

Rod smiles ruefully, in a way that implies she stay, in a manner that asks to be kissed.

So Lucette does, carefully, gently, and relishes in his returning tilt of his head.

Moving apart, Rod hesitates. His fixed stare on Lucette inspires a slight smile, a rising blush.

At that tender expression, he turns to take a plain box behind him on the window seat, resting it on his lap.

“I couldn’t get a ring.” Rod starts slowly, with eyes averted. “Not as myself. And I didn’t want anyone else to do it for me. So I….”

He opens the shoebox, and Lucette claps her hands over her mouth.

Intricate silver filigree vines twine up the heels and partway down the side of her glass slippers, with miniature stargazer lily blossoms by the counter, supported by well placed leaves.

“A silver sixpence in her shoe, right?” Rod says softly, smiling.

Trapped between a sob and a laugh, all Lucette can do is watch as Rod gets down on one knee before her, as his bandaged fingers cradle the glass heels, her hand.

The grip of their interlaced fingers hurt.

“Lucette Riella Britton, will you marry me?”

“I will.”

The words tumble out easier than she thought it would have.

Salty tears roll down her face, and she finds Rod tastes the same when he leans forward to seal the promise.

“I will.” Lucette breathes, again, pressed against the glass window as pleasantly cold as the heels on her feet.

“I took some liberties with the rhyme.” Rod confesses, running a hand through her long hair. “But I still wish I could have given you more.”

“This is plenty.” Lucette says, tilting her head up to look in Rod’s eyes. “This is more than I dreamed of. You’re more than I dreamed of.”

Rod kisses her on the jaw, just below her ear, and Lucette sighs helplessly.

“Don’t go back tonight.” Rod says aloud, this time.

Lucette thinks there isn’t any need to tell her that, not when her solace is already embracing her tight.

“I never intended to.”

And when Rod laughs, brilliant and jubilant and filled with infinite hope, Lucette feels on the verge of tears, on the verge of everything all at once.

But with his every kiss, every touch, Lucette finds herself coming back down, coming back to her tingling senses, coming back home to Rod.

Some secrets are worth keeping.

But in his embrace, Lucette thinks this is not a secret she wants to keep.

Not anymore.

The throne room falls eerily silent.

Genaro stares at Lucette and Rod, and their connected hands.

Lucette’s announcement has swallowed the atmosphere whole, echoing in the whispers of the maids, in the minds of all occupants present.

“An engagement.” Genaro finally speaks, laboured and confused. “With Rod?”

Lucette doesn’t answer the rhetorical question.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Lucette says, less of a challenge and more of a statement.

In the conflict of denying his blood daughter the only thing she’s ever asked of him, Genaro turns helplessly to Ophelia standing beside.

“Listen to them.” Ophelia encourages, and Genaro’s eyes grow wide at the realisation of being the only one left in the dark.

Genaro turns towards the pair again, expression somber.

“Lucette.” He tries again, brows furrowing.

Genaro sinks deeper into his throne, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I apologise. This is all...quite a lot to take in.”

Lucette does not tell him to take his time.

At the side of the room, Emelaigne shifts from one foot to another anxiously, while Fritz keeps a steady hand on his sword’s hilt. Waltz doesn’t tell him to let up, not when the sparks of a protective barrier dance upon the fingertips of his hand behind his back.

Genaro sucks in a breath.

“I cannot approve of this union.” He says heavily. “Not for the sake of Angielle.”

“You abandoned me for it, too.”

Genaro’s eyes fly open, taken aback by Lucette’s words.

“You misunderstand me, father. I have never asked you for anything. I would not start now.”

Weathered lacework chuffs at her wrists as she raises a hand to press against her chest, hair pinned back with nearly-alive sprigs of lilies and baby’s breath fastened by gold.

Her palm burns with borrowed courage carved with nails; white stars caught in blue crystals glinting as she holds her head high.

Glass and silver making a clean, crisp sound as she takes a single step forward.

Blessings don’t just belong in magic folktales, in old wives' tales; they come in words and gifts, and love.

“This isn’t me seeking your acceptance, father.”

Rod’s grip anchors her, reminds her who it is she goes home to, who it is that taught her what it meant to be loved.

Who it was that held her during her darkest hours, who became the light of her future.

“This is a declaration.”

#cinderella phenomenon #lucette riella britton #rod benedikt widdensov #waltz cresswell #fritzgerald aiden leverton #emelaigne widdonsov #ophelia widdonsov #cinderella phenomenon spoilers #melon writes

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i-am-your-dragon · 6 years ago

Text

Its time to meet the King of the dragons: Bio Roark

Human form:

Popsugar

Dragon form:

mywishlist.ru

Name: Roark

Species: Dragon

Age: over 600 years old

Gender: male

Sexuality: Straight

Looks: Roark is a 6'0"tall over 600 years old dragon.

In his human form he is a bald muscular man around 50 with wide shoulders, six-pack(Face claim is Bruce Willis) His eyes are bluish green with brown spot in his right eye, his nose is straight, his face masculin and his lips full. He clad his body in suits red, black sometimes grey without a fly or tie. His only jewelries are three massive golden rings with his kingdom sign and a ring with a drop of the a lock of his queen in it a gift to his 500 birthday.

His dragon form has three heads, three personalities, one is calm and polite it has ocean blue eyes, one is wild and rough one eyes dark golden and one is neutral and the leader of both deciding wich head to listen to has green eyes. Kinda like Angel and Devil on shoulder.

Scars: He has many scars from many battles with humans and other enemies. The worst is decorating his back after he was struck by lightning as child thought.

Clothing: Like said above he is wearing mostly suits and casual clothes like button up shirts, shirts and mostly long pants.

Weapons: He fights with one sword a gigantic one because if he fights he fights in his dragon form. Not that his human form is any weaker but he likes to scare his enemies with his gigantic sword and dragon form.

Personality: Roark is a strongwilled fair and calm ruler. He who would do all for his family and folk. He loves children and is popular with the kids on his island. Beside his age he is still a modern man and likes the inventions of humans. Even thought he rarelly leaves his castel to see them for himself because he need to keep an eye on his folk.

Relationships: He only fell in love once with his queen and had two daughters and three sons with her. Sadly the queen and princesses died on the virus who is killing the female dragons.

Thats why he is forced as the young male of his folks including his sons to search for a bride in his case a queen to safe his race.

Likes: -Roark likes fruits he has a weakness for sweet fruits like strawberries.

-He is satisfied when his folk is happy and trys his best to please them.

He loved his queen over all and his daughters and visits their graves every day.

-He likes to go climb the mountains on his island, it keeps his body beside the training with his much younger royal gards healthy.

-He is a romantic deep hidden inside and enjoyed to go on walks under the starlight with his queen or have picnicks under the moonlight.

He loves children and is a protective, strict big teddy bear father.

-Roark loves music and sometimes sings with his folks at little festivals. His voice is and and raspy voice makes the female dragons falling in love with him.

-He prefers baths over showers mostly using them at the evening to relax and think over the day.

Dislikes:

-The king of dragons dislikes lies! Honesty is important for him even if the truth could be rough. He would never lie.

-In many battles he surivived he took lifes but he hates to kill and only does it if there is no other way.

-Roark hates hunters and he knew they are still out there trying to find his folk.

-He dislikes any violence against woman and childrend punishes it mercyless.

-He cant stand it if someeone calls him old king. He does not feel old and always tells them to wait until he is over 1000. He does not planning to die anytime soon.

-Roark hates traitors and knows no mercy for them. Traitors are in his eyes are dragons who hurt humans who didnt started the battle. Killing out of hate who is sadly still living within the hearts of many of his people.

-Hurt one of his children thats how he sees his folk and you will feel his wrath. Mercyless he will hunt you down no mattr where you hide he will find you and take revenge for his child.

Background Story:

Roark was born over 600 years ago by Queen Regina as the youngest son of King Seoras. His older brother Neacal who was born to become king over the kingdom sadly was killed by dragon hunter as Roark turned 2 years. To soon his childhood ended four years later as his father left their kingdom for war. His days where endlessly filled with many lessons and hard training to make a strong king out of him. Only his mother took care of it that he sometimes could be a child and took him out on walks through his kingdom to be closer with the folks and learn from them as well. With eight years old he was almost killed by lighting striking him as he run away from the castle after a fight with his teacher. To his luck and all of his folks, he could be saved but a scar where the lightning hit him was decorating now his back. The young dragon king met his queen Rhiannon as teen when he was sixteen. She was one of the lady’s daughters who where friends with his mother. He just saw her and knew she was it. But she had eyes for another dragon at that time. That didn’t stop Roark to fight for her heart. First he tried to impress her with this title and spoiled her with gifts. But soon he realized the red haired beauty was not touched the slightest by it. Only as he showed her his true wild, kind hearted self he managed to win her over and after his father return he asked for the blessing by his and her parents. Three years later he married her and was pulled in to his first battle. He disappeared for one and a half year missing the birth of his first son prince Alasdair. In the war he lost many of his loyal men. It hardened him and almost filled his whole heart with hate. Only his queen Rhiannon could save him from it by introduccing to him his son Alasdair and only two years later making him the gift of twin boys Keane and Seoras. He soon began to teach them how to read, to fight and climb. His three boys are his pride. Alsadair is more like his mother while the twins come after their father. As the war with the humans became worse the dragons made horrible decision what still haunts Roark until this days. They find out that a human bride who was burn to ashes while giving birth made the dragons become stronger.

But the horrible act made the humans fight back with wizards and witches. Making Roarks father their traitor through mind control spell. His father and he had to fight but it ended as the father broke out of the spell and attacked the hunters. King Seoras found it end through their hands as many dragons.

Arman a dragon who kept his bride alive showed the dragons too late that human and dragon could live in happiness together. This made now King Roark decide to save the rest of his folks by calling one of the first dragons for help through a old wind ritual, after all was said that the soul of a dragon became one of the many colors fo the sky and can be seen carried by the wind. The dragon appeared in his dreams that night and showed him a island made grown on his bones and told him old forgotten words of a spell to hide this island from humans and any other beings. After he woke up in the deepest night he ordered his folk to build ships. He worked side by side with them driven by the hope in a better future for his kind. From over 40 big ships only 34 arrived safely at the island. Where Roark immedatly put on the spell like the old dragon told him letting his kind disappear for the rest of the world. Many, many years later the queen gave birth to his two daughters: Jovia, and Junia. The kingdom was blessed the folk started to grew more and more. But the king didnt liked how they where cut out from the rest of the world and decided to send young brave dragons out from time to time to visit the human world and keep an eye on them. Soon he danced on the weddings of his twins and after them his oldest son finally find his mate. It made the much older dragon King happy to see his family grow and his folk with them. Roark also decided to give festival every year for the many human brides who where killed so horribly by his kind. It was build a statue of the last bride who was killed in such a way and beg their forgiveness with flowers, salty pastery as symbol for the tears and red wine for the blood that flown. Sad songs will be carried through the whole island on this day. Also to remember how they forced the human to give away their beautiful virgins they have a special wedding ritual the dragon man is waiting on the island while the bride with her family is on a ship prepared clad in her white dress traditional jewelry. She is put in to boat to lay down and sing a song. An old song who humans sang to call the dragon in to their village to take away his bride. The bride and her family will sing it and the dragon male will take her with the boat in his dragon from to the island there they will be awaited by the priest. Roarks kingdom was growing through the inventations his spions brought to it and it seemed like he really brought his kind in to the perfect paradise... Sadly a few years ago a horrible virus started to take away the female dragons lifes. His heart broke as his queen and daughters fell to the virus. He himself carried them alone in his dragon form to their family grave to put them to rest beside his mother. Who was one of the first dragon women who fell to this horrible invisible death. As he saw the hate growing inside his young dragon men and his sons hearts, the dragon king decided to send them out in the world to find their happiness and see the human world for themselves. He gave them three months to find a bride or the cure for the virus.

But after almost the end of the third month he grew tired of waiting and decided to visit the human world himself.

To may find some help for his kind and a new queen.

#oc roark #face claim bruce willis #bio still working on it #pics google search

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