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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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The Strings that Bind Us: Chapter Two

AO3

Marinette dances around her apartment, feeling lighter than she’d felt in years. She had dinner on the stove, a movie on the table, and her boyfriend of two weeks coming over in ten minutes. Honestly, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. She grins when she hears the knock at her door. Quickly pulling the pan off the heat, she rushes over to the door, nearly falling on her face in her rush. Without even checking the peephole, she throws the door open and grins widely at Bruce. He smiles back at her and she kisses his cheek quickly.

“Hey, dinner’s almost ready.” She says, tugging him in and closing the door.

“You really didn’t have to cook tonight, we could’ve ordered in.” He says, and she turns to him, wrinkling her nose.

“Bruce, I’m honestly worried that all you ever eat is takeout.” She says flatly. He just laughs, and shakes his head.

“Mari, I can assure you I don’t always eat takeout.” He says, snaking his arms around her waist. She raises an eyebrow, giving him a softer version of her Ladybug stare. He just grins and leans down, kissing her gently. She instantly melts into the kiss, standing on her toes to try and deepen it. Just as he lifts her up, the timer goes off and she groans.

“I’m going to throw that damn thing out the window.” She gripes, giving him a quick peck before jumping down and pulling the pan with the steamer off the heat. “Could you grab some plates?” She calls over her shoulder, focused on moving the dumplings out of the steamer. She smiles as she does, the familiar feeling of working closely with someone she cares about washing away all of her worries. She grins as she feels Bruce’s arms wrap around her waist again as he nuzzles his head into her neck. She just hums in content, dishing out the dumplings and veggie stir fry. She could honestly get used to this.

---

Marinette blinks sleepily as she sits up on the couch, trying to figure out when she fell asleep. Glancing around, she smiles tiredly at Bruce.

“C’mere.” She says, reaching out for him. He chuckles.

“I’ve gotta go, Mari.” He says softly and she whines.

“No, don’t leave.” She asks, smiling in success as he sits back down next to her. She leans up against him, almost back asleep when he says:

“I have to go love, but I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Well that’s not gonna happen. She pushes herself back up and forces her eyes open, frowning at Bruce’s laugh.

“If I sleep, you’re gonna leave.” She says with a pout. Bruce kisses the top of her head and she melts into his touch, eyes fluttering shut and- NO. Stay awake.

“How about I come back in the morning and we can have breakfast together?” He suggests and she sighs, leaning against him again.

“Fine, but I’ll get you to stay sometime. The nightmares always stay away when you’re here.” She says sleepily. He says something, but she doesn’t process it before she’s asleep again.

---

“Bruce, hi?” Marinette says, blinking in confusion at her boyfriend.

“Hey Mari, you didn’t forget about breakfast, did you?” He asks with a teasing smile. She frowns, as she tries to remember when they scheduled that. Her eyes widen when she realizes he definitely asked her last night. When she was half asleep. And had no filter.

“Oh my god, please tell me I didn’t say anything too embarrassing last night.” She begs, hiding her head in his chest. He chuckles.

“You mean besides the proposal?” He asks. She gasps and jumps away.

“No, I didn’t- did I-” She stammers out, pausing when she realizes he’s barely holding back a smile. She narrows her eyes. “You are an absolute ass, Bruce.” She says, glaring at him. He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry love, it’s just so easy to tease you sometimes.” He says, leaning in to kiss her. She huffs, but kisses him back, the butterflies exploding in her stomach. After a few more dizzying kisses, she pulls back, taking a deep breath.

“So is there a reason for our random breakfast date?” She asks, trying to decide how she should dress as she was still currently in her pajamas.

“I actually thought we could talk about a few things.” He says, with a small wince. Her heart drops.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She asks, terrified of his answer. His eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically.

“No, oh god no, Mari, I- I just wanted to tell you some more things about me, let you decide if you want to get out now.” He says, and she lets out a sigh of relief before jumping forward and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s neck.

“As long as you aren’t secretly a super villain, you couldn’t get rid of me.” She assures him, sighing as she feels him relax. She steps back and grins at him. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I thought that maybe we could drive through somewhere and grab something quick, then go to my place?” He suggests, and though it sounds simple enough, she can see his nervousness.

“Bruce, if you don’t want me to-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I want you to be in my life. I’m just worried that you’ll see me differently.” He says and she kisses him quickly.

“Well let me go get dressed so that we can go and maybe reassure you that I’m not about to run for the hills.” She says softly before rushing back to her room to get dressed. Her mind runs through a million different scenarios as she gets dressed, but she honestly can’t think of one where she would just leave him. Minus the whole villain thing. That was the only deal breaker she could think of. Shaking her head, she grabs her purse before walking back into the living room and grinning at Bruce. He smiles back and grabs her hand, but she can practically feel how nervous he is. She raises an eyebrow as he opens the car door for her.

“Do you not like it?” He asks, and she snorts.

“Bruce, honey, I have no knowledge on cars except this one is shiny. And a different one than I’ve seen you use before.” She says, grinning as she manages to make him blush slightly.

“Oh, uh, well. I like this one more, and thought it would help with the conversation.” He says and she raises an eyebrow. How would a shiny car help with a conversation? She just gets in the car, frowning at the person across the street taking a picture of them. Once Bruce is in the car, the person walks away and she narrows her eyes.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but that person definitely just took a picture of us.” She says, surprised that instead of getting angry, Bruce just sighs.

“Marinette, how much do you know about the Wayne family?” He asks.

“Well, I know that they own Wayne Enterprises and that Wayne Enterprises owns a lot of Gotham. And they do a lot of charity work, but that’s about it.” She admits, grinning sheepishly. She’d meant to look into it more after Bruce told her he works at Wayne Enterprises, and especially after she heard a customer talking about a recent attack on the building, but she’d forgotten and now she felt like an idiot.

“My last name is Wayne.” Bruce says, and she just shrugs.

“Okay, so you’re related to the Wayne Enterprises people?” She asks, and he sighs.

“Mari, I am the Wayne Enterprises people. I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of the company.” He says and she suddenly understands. It’s just like when she was in lycée and Adrien got nervous around people who knew he was an Agreste. Her amazingly sweet, smart boyfriend was worried about what she’d think about him now. She reaches out and grabs the hand that he had left between them, squeezing it tightly before smiling.

“And my last name is Dupain Cheng. My parents own one of the most successful patisseries in France. I adore you, mon cher, because you’re you. Not because your last name is Wayne.” She reassures him, he smiles at her softly and she laughs. “Look at the road, Bruce. I’d rather get where we’re going in one piece.” She says.

“There’s something else, Mari.” He says. She hums and raises an eyebrow. “I have two sons.” For a moment she panics. She didn’t know anything about being a mom, the most she’d been around kids was when she babysat throughout school. Before she can let herself spiral, she takes a breath. He wasn’t asking her to be a mom all of a sudden, he was just telling her. He was opening up.

“How old are they?” She asks, grinning at the wide smile he gives her in return.

“Dick is 18 and recently moved out. Jason is 13.” He says and Mari frowns. Was Bruce a teen dad? He hadn’t mentioned their mom, did he do it all on his own? That must’ve been extremely stressful. It couldn’t have been easy. And the company? It- “I can see you panicking, love. What is it?” He asks, frowning.

“You must’ve been a teenager when Dick was born! Did you do it all on your own? How in the world could you run a company and be a father so young and-”

“They’re both adopted.” He says, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

“I was so concerned for little you!” She exclaims. “I felt so awful that you had so much responsibility so young.” She admits and he chuckles.

“Trust me, even if I had been a teen parent, I wouldn’t have been alone. Alfred would have been there for me.” He says.

“Alfred?” She asks.

“Technically he’s the Wayne family butler, but he’s more like a father to me than anything else.” Bruce explains and she grins.

“He sounds amazing.” She says and Bruce smiles awkwardly.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to introduce the two of you. Today.”

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#brucinette #maribat bruce wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat #maribat fanfiction #maribat ao3 fic #ao3fic #maribat ladybug #maribat batman #MaribatHalloween21 #maribatoctrp21

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years ago

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I didn’t so much fall in love- It kicked me in the face Chapter Three

The Wayne Manor was exactly what Marinette had come to expect after years of knowing famous people. It was expertly decorated, but it had an almost somber feel to it - it matched Gotham’s general aesthetic.

Also meeting expectations was the Wayne family itself. Marinette had done her homework, taking hours to research each member long before setting foot in Gotham. It was clear that they had been warned to behave, but chaos still bubbled beneath their calm facades, she could see it in their eyes.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, allow me to introduce you to Masters Bruce, Richard, Jason, Timothy, and Damian.”

Marinette nodded to each in turn, her hand unconsciously tightening on Leo’s. She took a steadying breath. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my son Leo. If you’re interested, I made some macarons for you, as I do for most meetings with my clients.” She set the box on the coffee table. “I would recommend eating them in the next day or so.”

Tim looked like he was going to faint, and it was then that Marinette noticed the harsh bruise on his jaw - almost like he’d gotten kicked. Surely it had to be a coincidence, there was no way…

Damian huffed, and the entire family seemed to stiffen. When he spoke, his words were sharp, acidic. “You’re meant to be a seamstress, not a baker. Besides, what kind of professional brings a child to a business meeting? Is his father too worthless to watch him?”

Everyone in the room froze, and Marinette could feel the warmth drain out of her. She felt eerily similar to when Tikki used ice powers, in fact. There was no way for her to know, but when she spoke, Marinette’s words carried the weight of an avalanche.

“You yourself are legally a child sitting in on a business meeting, Monsieur Wayne, and I did not object to it because I trust your father to parent you how he sees fit. I could explain to you that other than myself, my only options for Leo’s care are my parents, who are busy preparing for my mother’s surgery while running the most successful bakery in Paris, or my friends, who are all dealing with professional lives of their own. I could explain that, but I shouldn’t have to, because he is my son, and I will raise him as I see fit. And I’m a fashion designer, not a seamstress. This isn’t the seventeenth century.” She paused, staring the offender down. “Do you have any further objections, Monsieur Wayne?”

A small part of her glowed in satisfaction when Damian ducked his head. “Do as you must.” She missed the way that Tim blinked owlishly, exchanging surprised looks with Dick.

Instead she straightened her jacket, murmuring a few comforting words to Leo before finally letting his hand go. “I prefer getting to know my clients before I actually begin, it helps me make the perfect piece. Does some-”

“I’ll be first,” Jason said, shoving Dick out of the way.

“Perfect. If you’ll come this way, Monsieur Todd, we can sit…”

*************

The satisfied look on Jason’s face was more than a little disconcerting to Tim. He didn’t really feel like hearing the woman who’d occupied his mind for the past day, so he turned his attention elsewhere. He still needed to come to terms with the fact that she had gone head to head with Damian and come out on top after all.

Leo was scrutinizing one of the paintings on the wall, a tiny version of MDC herself. He had the same dark hair, light freckles on pale skin, and wide blue eyes…

No. Please no. Tim glanced subtly at Bruce. Surely he wouldn’t try to adopt either parts. Marinette was an adult with two living parents, and Leo had Marinette, so they were safe, right?

Regardless, that would be an issue for another time. Tim found himself crouching next to Leo. “That painting is of Monsieur Bruce’s parents,” he said in French.

The child switched his soulful eyes to Tim’s face, his expression serious. “You know French.”

“Yes, I really like languages, so I learned as many as I could,” Tim said, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Your name is Leo, right?”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

“You can call me Tim. Are you enjoying Gotham so far?”

Leo thought hard for a moment. “Maman and I had a lot of fun today, but yesterday was a little scary, the way it sometimes gets in Paris.”

He desperately wanted to ask Leo more about the scary things in Paris, but it wasn’t fair to ask a child. Instead, Tim let the boy pull him around the parlor, asking questions about anything he found even remotely interesting.

“And that is the trophy Dick, my oldest brother, got for gymnastics in seventh grade,” Tim explained, hefting the boy higher up so he could see the object in question more clearly. “That’s the ribbon Jason got for a creative writing contest, and Damian’s martial arts trophy. A couple of these belong to Bruce…”

Leo stared at the glass case like it would afford him the answers to the universe before looking up to Tim’s face. “Where are your trophies?”

“What?”

“Everyone else has trophies. Where are yours?”

“That’s… I mean, I have some, I just didn’t think they were very important,” Tim said with a shrug.

“But families should be together,” Leo said with wide, unblinking eyes. “That’s why I wanted to come with Maman, even though it made your brother be mean to her.”

Tim smiled, pushing down the barrage of emotions fighting within him. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Your Maman is a very smart lady.”

“Maman is the smartest,” Leo said solemnly.

“You must be right again,” Tim said conspiratorially. “She’s also the best at making clothes.”

The boy’s face didn’t change in the least, there wasn’t a trace of a smile, but he slowly patted Tim’s cheek. “I like you.”

“That’s high praise.”

TIm golted, his cheeks flooding with color when he found himself next to Marinettte. She was smiling kindly when she said, “Thank you for watching Leo, that really wasn’t necessary. But I didn’t know you spoke French. That’s very impressive, Mr. Drake.”

“Call me Tim, please. And you’ve caught me, I have a deep love of languages. It’s helped in this position, though,” he said with a smile. “Business transactions are a lot easier when you don’t need a translator.”

“I’ve also found that to be true,” Marinette said, lips quirked. “It’s finally your turn for your consultation. We can do it with or without Leo, whatever you would prefer.”

“Leo and I are friends now, of course I would need his opinion!” Tim said, just barely noticing that he was still holding the child. “After all, I need his help making sure that I have the best suit at the entire Wayne Gala.”

That actually coaxed a smile out of the boy, and the resemblance between him and his mother had never been stronger. Marinette looked surprised, but her eyes were warm. “A lot of designers despair over men’s fashion, you know. People lash out whenever you stray too far from the traditional designs, and no one can really reinvent the suit. While it doesn’t let us exercise as much creativity and freedom as women’s fashion, I actually love things like this. Men’s suits are all about attention to detail - how I can work to show your personality in an appropriate but memorable manner. Do you have any specific requests?”

Against his will, Tim felt his face heat up, doubtlessly turning as red as his vigilante suit. “I fully admit that I was the one who originally commissioned you. I even had to fight Damian. And yet, I haven’t thought about the specifics of what I might want until now.”

Thankfully, Marinette laughed. “You’d be surprised at how often that happens. That’s perfectly fine. I just didn’t want to leave out anything you desperately wanted. Do you have a specific color for your suit in mind?”

“Black?” Tim asked helplessly. “I’ve followed your career for a long time, Mademoiselle, but that doesn’t mean that I know anything about fashion. I just know that your fashion seems… magical.”

Marinette’s lips quirked upwards, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “That’s an interesting comment. I have a proposal for you, Timothy Drake. If you have any pressing requests I will include them, but I want to keep yours a surprise.”

Tim swallowed, completely unprepared to deal with the sparkle in her eyes. “I trust you.”

“The exterior is going to be a neutral color because you’re a business man who needs to keep up appearances. That means the most fun we’ll get to have is with the lining. Any opinions?” Marinette asked. “I only bring it up because it’s the most flexible part.”

“I don’t know, I think all of my suit linings are black or gray,” Tim said, slightly distressed.

Leo stared him down with serious eyes before saying, “Maman, the inside needs to be red. Ladybug red.”

“Ladybug? You want me to look like a beetle?” Tim asked.

Marinette smiled slightly at his comment, but her eyes were fixed on her son. “Are you sure, mon cher? Ladybug red?”

“That’s what he needs,” Leo confirmed.

Thinking about his brothers’ laughter if he showed up in a polka-dot suit, Tim asked again, “Ladybugs? Are you sure, Leo?”

“Oh, not the bug,” the fashion designer assured him, finally breaking eye contact with her son. “She tries to keep her existence quiet, but Ladybug is one of Paris’s heroes.”

“She’s the best hero,” Leo said solemnly. “But you’re nice like she is. You need to have red like she does.”

There was a strange look in Marinette’s eye that Tim couldn’t quite decipher, but she smiled nonetheless. “You should feel honored. Once someone back in Paris asked me to make something in Ladybug red, and Leo hid the fabric so I had to make it in a slightly different shade. He must really like you.”

He wanted to say something, anything. Tim had never felt so… he didn’t even know how to describe it. He had spent his life building it into what he had wanted it to be, propping himself up with his accomplishments. He stood alone in his skyscraper, trying to catch up to Bruce and his brothers, but Marinette and Leo had violently dragged him down to the ground, standing outside with everyone. Maybe his family had never been as distant as he thought.

Or maybe the caffeine withdrawal was finally getting to him.

Taglist:

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64 @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood

Note:

Damian’s going to be a jerk in this. Beware.

#maribat #timinette #marinette x tim

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mythologyfolklore · 3 years ago

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We're adopting you, sign the papers - introduction

(A/N: A modern AU for Arthurian mythology, where Arthur is a temporarily blind pop star, the Knights of the Table Round are his band, body guards and friends. Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot are in a romantically supportive polyamorous relationship (there are not enough threesomes out there). Morgan Le Fay doesn't dislike Arthur, she's just not so fond of Guinevere (doesn't hate her either, though). Mordred (Arthur's nephew, not his son) is a scarred teenager with abusive parents, who has a parental relationship with Arthur and Gwen. Also, Morgan and the Lady of the Lake are still Fae and Merlin is now one too, because why not, and Avalon exists. And Mordred is transgender. Deal with it.)

In a big mansion near the Welsh town of Newport, Lancelot was standing at the hearth, cooking and making tea for Arthur and Guinevere, who were out for groceries. No thanks to the Table Round, the previously stuffed fridge had gone empty within less than a week, so his two lovers had gone out to refill the supplies. And Arthur's half-sister Morgan was coming along to help, because there was going to be a LOT of stuff to be carried.

Lancelot silently prayed that Gwen and Morgan would not engage into a spat like they did almost EVERY TIME THEY WERE TOGETHER!!!

The water boiled and the Frenchman poured three separate cups, Darjeeling for Arthur, peppermint for Guinevere and coffee for himself. Also a glass of vodka for Morgan, because nothing cheered the crazy, headstrong Fae up like hard alcohol (she didn't get drunk easily either, so Lancelot wasn't too concerned).

Just as Lancelot had set the table in the living room, someone rang at the door. He frowned; there was no way they could be back so quickly.

“Coming!”, the brunet Frenchman called out, before setting down the tablet and going to answer the door. One the way he picked up his gun; one could never know if it wasn't some stalker here to creep on Arthur or Guinevere. Or him, for that matter.

But when he looked through the spyhole, he sighed in relief and opened the door to reveal a flaxen-haired teenage boy with silvery eyes, who was wearing an over-sized grey hoodie and worn-out jeans and looked like he had run the whole way here.

“Hello, Mordred”, he greeted kindly, but his smile vanished instantly, when he saw the kid's state: his face was flushed from running, he clearly couldn't breathe and was on the verge of passing out and his eyes were red and filled with grief.

“Hey … Lancelot”, he gasped hoarsely, “Is … uncle …?”

“Come inside first”, Lancelot said and supported the boy's weight with one arm. “Warm up and catch your breath, before you faint on me!”

Mordred was too out of breath to protest or agree. He just let the older man help him into the nearby kitchen, only to collapse before they even neared the table.

“Merde!¹”, Lancelot cursed and laid the teenager down on the floor.

“I'm really sorry for this”, he apologised, then stripped the younger of his hoodie and shirt, then undid the bandages around his chest (bandages! Why was the boy not wearing a binder?!), before administering first aid.

At last Mordred's eyes fluttered back open.

“What …”

“You fainted!”, Lancelot snapped – and instantly regretted it, when he saw the other wince. He sighed and continued more gently: “Pardon. I mean, you collapsed and fainted, because you couldn't breathe. Come on. I'll help you into the living room and you can lie down on the couch.”

Lancelot had to help him put his shirt back on, because Mordred was still a bit too out of it. Then he helped him into the living room and onto one of the couches, then folded the boy's hoodie and placed it on the table.

“Stay here and breathe deeply”, he told Mordred, “I'll be back.”

And hurried back into the kitchen, this time to make the other some hot chocolate, heat up the tea for Arthur and Guinevere and gather his own nerves and thoughts.

This was the third time this week that Mordred had run away from home. It was nothing uncommon (unfortunately) and often Mordred's older brother Agravaine would be with him, when things became too much at their parents' home.

Lot and Morgause Orkney led one mess of a family life. Lancelot didn't know details, but it had to be awful. When their eldest son Gawain had left home, he'd taken Gareth and Gaheris with him (they had been nine and seven at the time). But he hadn't been able to take Agravaine and Mordred with him too and neither had forgiven him for leaving them behind.

The two never specified, what happened at home.

Lancelot wished Mordred and Agravaine would trust them enough to tell, but to pressure the boys into doing so would do no good.

He sighed and returned back to the living room to bring the boy his hot chocolate.

Mordred smiled just a little bit, when he accepted the cup.

“Arthur is out shopping with your aunts Gwen and Morgan, they'll be back soon”, Lancelot informed the flaxen-haired boy, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“Until then”, the Frenchman continued and put a chair next to the couch, “you and I will have a little talk, jeune homme.²”

Mordred tensed up, clearly afraid. It made Lancelot's heart crack a little.

“Easy, mon cher³”, he cooed. “I'm not angry. It scared me a bit, when you suddenly dropped back there, but I'm not angry. I promise.”

Mordred relaxed and finished his hot chocolate.

“Still though. We need to talk about your bandages.”

“I …”

“Listen, I know you have … uhm, what's the English term for it?”

“Gender dysphoria?”, Mordred supplied.

“Oui! That! Anyway, I won't pretend to know how that feels like. I can imagine that your breasts make you uncomfortable, but … bandages?! Sacré, Mordred, mais á quoi pensais-tu?!⁴”

“… English please?”

Lancelot sighed in frustration; sometimes his brain refused to supply even the simplest English phrases or words, so he'd say it in French instead. He took a deep breath to sort his mind and remember the translation.

When it came to him, he tried again: “I said: Dammit, Mordred, jus what were you thinking?! Surely you must know that there are binders for that and you use bandages to flatten your chest?! That's dangerous! I have seen the scars where they cut into your flesh! They were so tight they cut off your air supply too! You're lucky I knew CPR, because an ambulance wouldn't have made it in time! You could have suffocated, Mordred! Are you aware of that?!”

The flaxen-haired boy let out a small whimper.

Lancelot sat next to him on the couch. Then he hugged the younger tightly and they both cried.

After they had calmed down, Lancelot gave Mordred a pack of tissues to wipe his face.

“I will make us both some tea”, he said. “Chamomile is good for the nerves and we need it. Do you want more hot chocolate?”

Mordred nodded, smiling. “Yes. And thank you, Lancelot. You're an amazing uncle.”

Lancelot couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

It was nothing new, that Mordred and his siblings called him “uncle”, but being reminded that he was seen as part of the family felt good every time.

At first the children of Morgause had been apprehensive towards this outsider. But after seeing his loving and functional relationship with their uncle and aunt-in-law and how genuinely he cared about them all like they were his own children, they had quickly warmed up to him. And before he had known it, he was part of the family. One day Mordred's oldest brother Gawain (who was only twelve years Lancelot's junior) had just strode up to Lancelot and declared, that he was their uncle now and there was nothing he could do about it. The younger four Orkney brothers had followed suit (it was one of the few things they all unanimously agreed upon) – to their uncle Arthur's great delight and their parents' chagrin.

Lancelot gave Mordred another brief hug and went to make more tea and chocolate.

With chagrin he noted, that his coffee and Arthur's and Guinevere's tea had got cold and he had to warm the latter two up for the second time (his coffee could stay cold, he didn't mind that). Oh well, at least the stew hadn't burned, while it had been left by itself.

As he came back into the living room, he saw that Mordred was reading one of his uncle's books.

“What are you reading?”

“A collection of poems by William Blake”, Mordred replied. “I want to get better at reading Braille, for uncle Arthur.”

“That's sweet of you. He'll appreciate it.”

Arthur had gone blind ten years prior and hired Lancelot for help. They had become friends quickly. But then Lancelot and Guinevere had fallen for each other, complicating things. After a year of secret and shameful pining, they had chosen to come clean in front of Arthur – both of them loving him too much to want to go behind his back. To their surprise he had taken it well, especially after Guinevere had assured him that she loved them both equally. That was how they had ended up in a polyamorous relationship. Along the way Merlin and Morgan had offered to magically restore his eyesight, but Arthur had made clear, that he didn't want to rely on their magic to fix everything. Instead he had adjusted to his blindness, acquired books in Braille and learned to read them. But he was going to have an eye surgery in a few months and hoped that soon he'd be able to see his wife again and “get to know Lancelot's colours”, as he'd put it.

Back to the story, Lancelot had just turned off the stove and Mordred had struggled through the Auguries of Innocence⁵, when they heard the front door open and close, two women's voices bickering and the next moment three people came into the room, each of them carrying two heavy, over-stuffed shopping bags.

First a tall woman with purple eyes and purple extensions in her long raven hair, clad in black from head to toe and with an air of mystery around her. That was Morgan Le Fay.

Then a petite woman with auburn hair and brown eyes, who was struggling with her bags. That was Guinevere.

And finally a stocky man with short flaxen hair (just like Mordred's), who evidently had no problem with the heavy bags, but clearly relied on the voices of the two women to orientate himself.

“We're back~”, Arthur announced.

Lancelot laughed: “Bienvenu⁶. I just finished dinner, so bring the stuff into the kitchen and sit down with us.”

Arthur immediately listened up. “Us?”, he echoed.

Now Mordred quietly spoke up: “Hello.”

The older man beamed: “Mordred! What a nice surprise! What are you doing here?”

“'Sup, nephew!”, Morgan said flatly, though her eyes betrayed her pleasant surprise.

Guinevere greeted the boy with a smile.

Mordred smiled weakly and waved back, but apparently didn't want to speak. So Lancelot waited, till they all had stored the food, then chose to brief Arthur on the situation: “He came about half an hour ago and looked like a complete mess, but he didn't tell me what the matter was, so I made him some hot chocolate.”

The boy only lowered his head, sighed and hid his face behind his long and messy flaxen hair.

Arthur stopped smiling, felt his way over to where his nephew's voice had come from and found him, carefully feeling down his arms and crouching down before him.

“What happened, Mordred?”, the blind man asked concerned, “You're so quiet. Who hurt you?”

Mordred mumbled something that sounded like: “My father.” Then he bit his lip, obviously trying to hold back a sob.

Now Morgan stepped forward, her brows furrowed, but her eyes soft with concern.

She knelt before him and asked him to show her his arms.

Lancelot wanted to object, as it was obvious that the teenage boy didn't want to do as she said, but there was no arguing with Morgan Le Fay.

Her nephew hesitated, before rolling up his sleeves, revealing direly bruised and scratched arms. Guinevere looked deeply disturbed and hurried to get a first aid kit to tend to the bruises and cuts.

Mordred winced, as his aunt-in-law applied the disinfectant to the sore wounds. Once she had finished cleaning them, she allowed Morgan to magically heal them.

“There”, the Fae said. “Can't do anything about the psychological hurt though, that's old man Merlin's thing. Shit, Mordred, what did your father do to you?!”

“I …”, the boy swallowed, “… he hit me with a chair. Kicked me some. Choked and punched me … called me things …” He trailed off.

“Does this happen a lot?”, Arthur questioned, frown increasing.

“… Yes.”

“And your mother doesn't intervene?”

“Never.” A sniffle. “She thinks it's right … that he disciplines us, my brother and me.”

“Where is Agravaine anyway?”

“He's staying over at one of his friends”, Mordred told his uncle. “I have to call him later and tell him I'm here.”

“The phone is all yours”, Arthur offered and his nephew mumbled a thank you.

Then Lancelot asked tentatively: “What about the cuts? Why did you do this to yourself?”

“…”

“Sweetie”, Guinevere spoke gently. “It's awful enough that your parents hurt you. Why do you feel like you have to hurt yourself too?”

“…”

Lancelot felt his heart crack.

He had known that it was bad, but he never would have imagined that it was this bad! What more happened at Mordred's “home”, that he was too ashamed and Agravaine too proud to mention? How long had they gone through this and none of the four adults here had known?!

Guinevere sighed sadly: “Why didn't you tell us sooner?”

“Because I … I …”

The rest was cut off by a whimper and Mordred curled in on himself, sobbing hysterically. Arthur embraced his nephew loosely, mindful of his state. Guinevere, Lancelot and Morgan made it a group hug.

They waited until he had calmed down, before letting go.

Arthur cleared his throat: “I think that's enough questions for today. Either way you're staying here, Mordred. I know you're not comfortable with hiding away here, but we're not letting you go back there. I will not stand for that. Not with how terrible people they are. One should expect that Morgause – my own sister! – would've had the common sense and decency to dump that scumbag and take you with her. But no, she just stands by and lets him hurt you and your brother in the worst ways possible. That's unforgivable. You deserve better, Mordred. I promise, you do.”

Mordred sighed shakily. Clearly he wasn't believing it.

Lancelot deduced, that the boy had been made to believe the opposite for pretty much his whole life, that his parents had drilled into him, that he was worthless, useless and whatnot. Agravaine likely had to deal with the same shit.

This was wrong, so terribly wrong.

Family was supposed to be a safe haven, loving, nurturing and supportive. Not … this.

The Frenchman felt his blood boil and it took a lot of self control not to show in Mordred's presence just how angered he was.

Instead he took a deep breath and stood back up. “It's dinner time. We're having stew. Later you can call your brother and we'll give you a room where you can sleep. You must be tired. We also should find you some spare clothes, since you had none with you.”

The boy shuffled awkwardly at the reminder, that he had run away from his parents' home without thinking to pack spare clothes.

“We'll worry about that later”, Arthur decided. “Personally, I'm starving!”

“As usual!”, Morgan scoffed.

“Oh shut up, you eat more than I do!”

“Hey, magic takes a lot of energy! I need to eat as much as possible to keep my magic and body functioning!”

“Excuses! You just don't want to admit, that you have a black hole for a stomach!”

“You take that back!”

“Never!”

Guinevere chuckled: “When you two are done, let's sit down and eat already, before dinner gets cold.”

Later, after Morgan had washed the dishes (meaning she had magicked them clean and levitated them back into the cupboards), Guinevere showed Mordred one of the guest rooms.

“One of your cousins was here for a visit last weekend”, she said and handed him pyjamas. “These are Yvain's. He's your age and currently at boarding school, so you can wear his spare clothes for now. You take a nice, relaxing bath and get some rest. Tomorrow we will get you new clothes. The ones you wear are atrocious.”

“And good binders”, Morgan added, “Lancelot told us about the bandages and you gotta stop. We'll find some binders that won't cut off your air supply at the slightest physical activity. What do you say?”

Mordred swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, smiling weakly.

“Sounds good”, he mumbled.

Guinevere smiled gently and gave him a hug, before handing him the phone. Then she and Morgan left to give him privacy, while he talked to his brother.

Mordred took a deep breath, before dialling Agravaine's mobile phone number.

A few anxious seconds later, a gravelly voice answered the phone: “Hi, uncle Artie. What's up?”

“Aggie, it's me.”

“Momo? What are you doing at uncle's place?”

“I …”

Three seconds of trying to come up with an answer were too long, apparently.

Agravaine started freaking out: “Mordred, what happened?! Are you okay!? Are you hurt?! Wait, of course you are, that's why you're at our uncle's place! Shit, answer me, what's wrong?!”

“Bro.”

“Are Artie, Gwen and Lance taking care of you? Are you in pain? Who hurt you?! I will fucking kill-”

“Agravaine!”

“What?!”

“Calm down. I ran away, but now I'm safe at our uncle's home. Our uncles and aunts fixed me up.”

Mordred heard Agravaine sigh: “Alright. But still, what happened?”

He was hesitant, but he also knew, that he couldn't lie to his older brother.

“Father happened. He got mad and beat me up.”

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Then: “He whaaaaat??? That's it, I'll murder him! … My friend here says he'd help me hide the body and get rid of the evidence.”

“Aggie, no! He isn't worth going prison for murder! And our uncles and aunts promised, that I won't have to go back there and neither will you. They'll sue him, Arthur said.”

“… Fiiine. Say hi to them from me.”

“Will do.”

“Love you, little bro.”

“Love you too. I'll get some rest. You and your friend have fun.”

“Thanks, bye. I'll come by tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Mordred hung up and went to return the phone.

He was looking forward to a warm bath and a good night's sleep.

1) "Merde" - French: "Shit!" 2) "jeune homme" - French: "young man" 3) "mon cher" - French: "My dear" 4) "Sacré ... mais á quoi pensais-tu?!" - French: "Damn it ... what were you thinking?!" 5) The Auguries of Innocence is a moralistic poem by William Blake that was published after his death. 6) "Bienvenu." - French: "Welcome."

A big thanks to @saemi-the-dreamer for her help with the French. <3

#arthurian mythology #king arthur #lancelot #guinevere #morgan le fay #mordred #agravaine #tw: child abuse #tw: self harm #tw: gender dysphoria

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years ago

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Flufftober Day 21

Disclaimer! I was planning a 100 word Drabble and I got quite carried away and ended up writing an entire one-shot fic. My thanks to @otherworldsivelivedin and @penpanoply for the positive feedback and the encouragement to post it, so here it is. Read the fic at ao3!

October 21 prompt: “I don’t understand” (Boyfriend Material)

Oh! You Pretty Things

Luc, mon caneton. You and Oliver are free Sunday, yes?”

I try to remember if we actually have anything planned for Sunday, other than a good shag and French toast. Maybe followed by another shag.

“Uh.”

“Magnifique. You shall come to Judy’s.”

“What?”

“Judy’s piscine. You must come see.”

“Listen, Mum, I know you two have been friends for a long time, but I draw the line at anything involving Judy pissing.”

“Do not be so silly. Put me on the shouting phone.”

“Speakerphone?”

“Oui.”

“Fine,” I huff as I switch my mobile over. She’s given up talking to me it seems.

“Oliver, Luc is speaking nonsense. Judy has a new piscine and you must come in your Speedo on Sunday.”

“He’s not showing up in a Speedo, Mum. And most certainly not to do anything involving pissing!”

“Piscine is a swimming pool,” Oliver murmurs helpfully.

This makes things a bit clearer, but still not in any way appealing.

“It sounds like it could be fun,” he adds.

Fuck it all.

“See, it is a done deal as you say,” Mum chimes in. “Do not forget the Speedo, Oliver.”

“Mum, why the sudden obsession with swimwear?”

“Your boyfriend has style, mon cher. Oliver would not wear those ridiculous pantalons you insist on wearing to the sea.”

“They’re called swim shorts.”

“Pah, even the name is foolish. I do not understand you. All the gays they wear the Speedo. Why do you not want your boyfriend in one? He is attractive, non?”

“Well, yes, but you see . . .” I flounder as Oliver’s eyebrow goes up and his lips quirk. “Mum, that’s not the point . . .”

“Ah. I see now. You do not like the other men to see your Oliver like that. It is not good, the jealousy, Luc.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“There will not be gays to flirt with your boyfriend, mon cher. It is just Judy and me. I will make my special summer curry.”

“No, Mum, for the love of God, no.”

It’s jarring to realize that what I’d once considered to be the Mount Everest of my Mum’s culinary crimes was actually just a runner-up Mount Kilimanjaro--that she’d lulled me into thinking the special curry was the pinnacle of toxicity, while unbeknownst to me the summer curry had been lurking in the deeper waters.

I know I’m mixing my metaphors and I don’t care–they still aren’t as unfortunate a combination as any of my mother’s curry ingredients.

“Sunday, Luc.”

There’s an edge to Mum’s voice that promptly disappears as soon as she directs her words to Oliver again. “Oliver, do not let my son wear the pantalons. Take him shopping for a proper maillot de bain, oui?”

“Oui. A bientôt, Odile,” Oliver replies.

I end the call with a little more zeal than necessary. Meaning my mobile flies out of my hands and skitters across the floor.

“You can’t be serious about this.” I give Oliver my keenest glare. “Speedos and summer curry?”

“What is this vendetta against swimwear?” Oliver asks, boldly ignoring the curry issue, the smirk on his face threatening to raise my blood pressure by double digits.

“It’s not a vendetta.”

“Then?” He nudges my knee with his bare foot. It makes me weak under the best of circumstances but I do my best to hold onto my indignation.

“It’s nothing.” The words come out petulant. Lovely. I sound like a sullen teenager.

“It’s obviously something.” Oliver slides his toes under my leg. It’s unfair, it really is. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be averse to the thought of me in a Speedo.”

His foot burrows further under, his toes now brushing against the inside of my thigh and my brain is overwhelmed with an image of that v-cut of his diving down into a black Speedo and it’s all my mother’s fault, which really shouldn’t be something that’s remotely allowed to be in the same sentence with v-cut.

“It’s not you,” I say, with the inevitable follow up of “It’s me.”

“How so?”

“Ok, so I know Speedos are basically the required beach couture for our demographic, but it’s not ever been something I’ve felt works for, you know,” I wave a hand at myself, “me.”

“And why not?”

I stare at him. “Listen, I know for a fact you’ve seen me naked, more than once, so you should be able to figure that one out for yourself, Oliver.”

“I’m not following you, Lucien.”

Splendid. I’m going to have to spell it out. “I don’t have the . . . well, the physique to pull off wearing one.”

I also don’t have the confidence of middle aged, paunchy French men, but that’s beside the point.

His toes do this wiggle that’s borderline pornographic.

“Lucien.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t Lucien me about this. I’m not built for a Speedo and I damn well am not about to go prancing around in one at Judy’s blasted piscine.”

I give him a side-long glance.

He’s got that creased forehead look he gets when he’s thinking of how to politely reply to some asinine thing I’ve said. I’m intimately familiar with it.

“Look, it’s fine, Oliver. We’ll go to Mum’s disaster of a pool party, swim in whatever monstrosity Judy’s installed at her estate, bathe in eau de wet dog for a few hours thanks to the spaniels. Eat the blasted summer curry and deal with the inevitable intestinal horror show to follow.” I narrow my eyes at him. “But I draw the line at the Speedo.”

Oliver has the audacity to smirk at me again. “For you or for me?”

“What?”

“For you or for me? I understand you may have reservations about wearing one—reservations I find quite concerning from a body-image standpoint, which we should probably address at some point in time—but I will support your devotion to modesty, as long as you comprehend the fact that I, for one, would not be averse to the sight.”

He’s completely lost me. “The sight of what?”

There’s that soft look. I’m becoming intimately familiar with that one as well.

Then his toes start doing that wiggly thing against my inner thigh again and I’m not sure if I’m turned on or still quivering with righteous indignation.

Right, I’m turned on.

“Of you, Lucien. You in a Speedo. Or swim shorts. Or an oversized t-shirt and hedgehog pants.”

Oliver slides his leg fully under my arse and somehow unbalances me enough that I end up sprawled in a heap on his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt so I’m not about to complain, although I do let out an involuntary squawk as I thump against the broad and luxurious expanse of his pecs.

He brushes the hair off my forehead, tracing his fingertips along my jawline until he’s cupping my face with his hand. “Whether we go or not is completely up to you,” Oliver says, grey eyes intense, yet achingly soft. “But you could be clad in a caftan and you’d still be beautiful to me.”

I should just take the compliment. I should crawl the rest of the way up his chest and kiss him breathless.

I don’t, of course.

“That could be arranged, you know. James Royce-Royce has a lovely chartreuse caftan. I’m certain he’d let me borrow it for the noble cause of seducing my Speedo-clad boyfriend in full view of my mother and her barmy old harpy of a best friend. The spaniels will be scandalized.” I can’t help grinning at him.

He grins right back, a silver glint in his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ll have to disappoint you then.”

“What? How will you resist my boyish charm? I’ll have you know that caftan brings out the green of my eyes.” I bat my eyelashes.

“I’m certain it does.”

“Then what are you on about?”

“I’m afraid I must dash your hopes of a Speedo-clad seduction.”

“What? My caftan-clad allure isn’t going to do it for you after all?”

His smile widens. “Oh, I’m sure it will.” He leans down to press a kiss to the tip of my nose, which is one of the many ridiculously fond things he does that I’m becoming terrifyingly accustomed to.

Oliver tilts his head back, radiating amusement now. “I just don’t happen to own a Speedo.”

I drop my head on the pillow of his toned chest muscles and give a snorty laugh. “Whatever will my mother say?”

He gives a laugh as juvenile as mine as he replies. “Something very uncomplimentary about my pantalons, I’m sure.”

“We’re a disappointment to fashionable gays everywhere.”

“Speak for yourself.”

#flufftober2020 #fluff river #boyfriend material #luc o'donnell #oliver blackwood #odile O’Donnell #definitely not 100 words #this is a whole one-shot #my doc #my writing #Luc x Oliver

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whateverthedragonswant · 4 years ago

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A Saileen wedding on March 17th? Yes please

Wow. Two weddings in one month. I’m not sure I can keep upright with all of these amazing and fabulous celebrations going on. I have to be honest, I’m still recovering from Dean and Cas’ wedding on Valentine’s Day.

Rowena challenged me to a drinking contest, saying she could hold her own after 300 years. I thought I had it in the bag. Needless to say, I passed out in the corner after shot #whatever. But not before Charlie and I rocked out to “Walking On Sunshine”, which we made a shy and unsure Cas join us at the end. Dean rolled his eyes and resisted us calling him over but once the song ended and a slow one came on, he ninja’ed Cas away from us for a dance of their own.

I couldn’t stop snickering when Benny went on about his bromance with Dean in Purgatory for Crowley’s benefit after the latter had been going on about his summer fling with Deanmon. “And when I needed blood, Dean dropped everything to come running. Brother, I didn’t even really need to ask. He was just there. The worry on his face, mon cher...I hadn’t seen that level of concern since we were looking for the angel in Purgatory.” Crowley’s expression and Benny’s smug smirk was hilarious.

I briefly remember at one point making out with Adam in the corner with a very furious Michael watching us, there for everything. What a kinky son of a bitch that stuck up angel turned out to be.

Garth and Bess (when not running after the kids) might have asked Claire and Kaia when their wedding was going to be and we couldn’t stop laughing as we watched Claire unable to form words for once. And then Jody and Donna surprised us all by announcing that they were planning their own wedding for Mother’s Day.

Eileen, Jo, and I then may have drunkenly braided Sam’s hair while he was passed out at the table after taking on Rowena (before I did). Kevin may have handed us a can of hair spray and directed said braids, and then drawn a pornstache with a Sharpie on Sam’s face, making us all laugh as we took pictures. We scrambled away pretty quickly once Dean and Cas started to make their way over. (that reminds me, I still have to send Dean the pictures, he said he wants it for “leverage”?)

John tried to crash the wedding at one point but Bobby appeared out of nowhere and shoved him into a locked closet. Before anyone could react or Dean could notice, Bobby was back in his seat, watching the vow exchange along with the rest of us, ignoring any muffled yells coming from the back of the room.

I may or may not have hit on Anael who glared me down until I slunk away, feeling quite rebuffed, thinking I’d try my luck with Anna instead (I have a thing for gorgeous redheads okay? sue me), until I was pushed up against a wall and had a kiss planted right on me, followed by “I like Burberry, lots and lots of Burberry. Are you good with that?” At my shocked nod and stuttered out answer of “You’d look good in blueberry, it’s a nice shade of blue” she let out a ladylike snort and muttered “You’re an idiot” and then kissed me again. Apparently, Burberry is a very expensive fashion line and they make great handbags. I should know. In my drunken haze, I apparently charged about seven of them to my credit card. Bonus though, I have a date for the Saileen wedding and we now have coordinated outfits!

Jo told me that I burst out into sobs when Elvis’ “Can’t Help Falling In Love” came on and Dean and Cas danced to it, with Dean discreetly singing it to Cas as they moved. She said that I rambled on (something about Thursdays), asked Gabriel if he dug Elvis when he hit on me, and overall made quite the scene. I don’t really remember this so I can’t be that embarrassed but apparently Dean and Cas felt so bad seeing how upset I was (while not really understanding why) that they made a special request of the DJ and I danced with both of them, hugging them tight, to Elvis’ “Solider Boy”.

Sam talking with his Sharpie pornstache that no one told him about when he Eileen woke him up so they could leave was freaking hysterical. He didn’t care for the braids though. We may have gone a tad overboard:

Eileen sent a picture like this to me. Sam tried to grab my phone to delete it but Eileen snatched it up before he could and then sent the picture to the group chat so we all have it. Eileen’s my girl.

Watching Jimmy and Amelia be introduced to Kaia by Claire was sweet. They were genuinely happy and supportive, and kept talking about what a nice girl Claire found herself.

Ellen and Ash tried to kick us out of the Roadhouse at one point, upset that we were making such a mess that they would have to clean for events they had booked that week (apparently, rainbow confetti and glitter are a real bitch to clean when mixed in with cake, pie, spilled alcohol, and all the gay everywhere). Dean got really pissed, but before anyone could do or say anything, Jack growled “Not my dads’ wedding day, not my Heaven, and not my roadhouse that I rebuilt with my own two hands!”, went all wrathy, and whooshed those two into the closet with John and soundproofed the door so no one could hear the yells and banging on the wood. Dean smiled at Cas and jumped on the bar, yelling out “Now it’s really an open bar! Who wants refills?” Everyone rushed over and he laughed, helping Cas up next to him and kissing him hard. I don’t think I’ve ever cheered so loudly. My hands hurt for hours afterwards from clapping so hard. (and I may have helped myself to a few refills, like 5 or 6)

Jesse and Cesar showing pictures of their ranch and horses to Dean and Cas was adorable. Which turned funny as hell when Dean started talking about how he rode a horse as a cowboy that one time *insert Cas’ ‘here we go again’ expression here* and then showing Jesse and Cesar pictures of he and Cas in cowboy hats and their family trip to Dodge City.

Balthazar started the train on the dance floor and of course, I was the caboose. I have yet to go to a wedding where I don’t end up the goddamn caboose.

Cutting the wedding pie was very cute. Dean fed Cas tenderly and then Cas, at the last second, smashed the pie into Dean’s face which caused Cas to laugh. Dean’s face softened (I think, it was hard to tell through the pie filling) and when Cas started to lick off the pie, encouraged by the crowd, it led to a very pie-filled kiss initiated by Dean, and then followed by clapping, loud cheers, and whistles from Bobby. Jack and I exchanged looks and then we both made a break for the cake next to the pie. He got the two-bee topper and I promptly smashed cake in his face. A food fight then ensued and everyone got into it. Jack’s laughter and then us teaming up against Alex and Patience (we won) is what I remember most. We may also have snuck over to the closet John, Ellen, and Ash were locked in, opened the door on 3 and blasted them with cake, before closing the door and locking it again. As they yelled, we giggled and ran back to the party.

I think I glanced Benny and Rowena slipping out of the room. Which is interesting because Benny seemed to merely tolerate Rowena when he first met her. And it was even more interesting that Gabriel was slipping away with them.

Apparently, there was a trap door in the floor of that locked closet, that opened up and became an expressway to Hell, sending those inside straight down. Jack couldn’t stop grinning as he told me. I may have giggled and mentioned that we should turn up the heat. He didn’t say anything but laughed and snapped his fingers. I then pulled him onto the dance floor with me when “Locked Out Of Heaven” came on, both of us chuckling nonstop as we danced like idiots.

A very sweet yet polite slow dance happened between Bobby and Mary while they discussed how proud they were of the boys. Jody and Donna appeared next to them and they got in on the conversation, agreeing how happy Dean appeared to be and how silly Sam’s hair looked.

I changed Sam’s contact photo in my phone to his “new” one and keep texting him to call me since I might have a lead on a new case. When I pick up the line, unable to talk or breathe from laughing so hard, Sam gets annoyed and says “You guys suck” and then promptly hangs up. Every time. It’s still funny.

Dean overrode the settings on the group chat and made that same picture Sam’s avatar, chatting out “Sammy, time for a wax, no?” I nearly pissed myself laughing when everyone agreed that he should start with that villainous caterpillar above his lip. Charlie sure has a way with words. I then fell out of my chair guffawing when the words “Sammy has left the chat” appeared soon after.

Drinks were drunk, fun was had, and most of it I don’t remember. I can’t quite party like I used to but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop trying. Even if it has taken me almost a full week to recover. Now a wedding on St. Patrick’s Day -- we’re going to take this crazy fun and turn it up about 10 notches. More info on this post about the ceremony but hell yes, I will be there, liver and all. I can’t wait to see what Eileen does with Sam’s hair for this one (that was all her idea btw). ;-)

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okeymakeydude · 5 years ago

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Secrets are not allowed. [Support sandwich]

(Image from x)

Silence was the king.

Silence was a comfortable king and the people who were present knew it.

Calm and restful, two were lying on the shoulders of one and doing their business. They didn’t need to talk or maybe, they just didn’t feel like it.

They wanted to discuss the issue but at the same time they didn’t.

Someone had to rebel against the king sooner or later. Or now.

“So, we are doing this.”

“Ja.”

“But how?”

Silence was about to conquer again but the sniper was not going to give up.

“C'mon mates, i’m fair dinkum ‘bout it!”

The French and German looked at each other not understanding what he said but had an idea. They knew what he meant. Spy left the knife he was playing with and Medic his book about human anatomy on the table.

Both of them knew this topic would come up and it was now or never.

“If this is official. We gotta tell 'em.” Sniper was serious while he was speaking. He may be the most insecure of the three, but this time, he was different. “It’s our team. They know us very well.”

“Oh please, mon cher…”

“Including you Spy.”

Then he shut up. Because his words were right, it was true. The team doesn’t know Spy’s real identity, no one has seen him without his mask and very few know that Scout is his son. But his manner and personality? They know him like the back of their hand.

“If you all don’t remember, the secrets are not fucking…”

He stopped talking when Medic’s arm went around his neck to draw him in more. He was in the middle and had enough listening to them argue. He smiled at him and tried to calm down.

“Schatz, don’t be a baby. We have all the time in zhe world to tell them!”

“Tell what? That we are a couple?”

“ Ahem, a trio. Including me.” Spy interrupted, correcting him on the other side. “You’re not excluding me, are you?”

He was about to get angry when the German’s arm distracted him, the doctor without hesitation gave a quick kiss on the foreheads of his lovers and hugged them.

A few sighs were heard and silence was king for a few seconds, until a voice ended the conversation.

“Ve are together, ja? We all decided this and can’t back out.” Medic whispered softly, one could rarely hear him like that, and gave a smile. “We just have to wait for zhe perfect moment but for now, have to pretend zhat nothing is happening.”

The Australian and the Frenchman looked at each other this time, and nodded without saying anything. Maybe he was right.

But they were unsure of what he said afterwards.

“It’s not going to be that hard, right?”

[…]

And not only was very difficult, almost impossible to hide it. They had to watch every move with a magnifying glass and that was God’s work (If there’s one, of course), not humans.

Every day they suffered from not being able to show their true feelings. Only the night was a truce as long as no one intervened.

But it wasn’t enough.

Sniper had to put up with the urge to give his loved ones a morning kiss and, stay professional. Medic in his checkups had to do the same and stay serious, that killed him, and Spy? he was another story.

The team was already suspicious of their actions and even Scout asked if anything was going on. Of course all three responded with an excuse;

“Can’t a mate worry ´bout his team?”

But no one expected Spy, the most cautious and inexpressive of the three, to be the one making the mistake they had been avoiding for so long. One that attracted everyone’s attention.

Medic had been seriously injured in the battle, he went straight to Engie’s dispenser to heal faster. Sniper was wondering whether to go to or continue his work, but he didn’t think too much about it.

Spy appeared near the wounded man.

“Are you okay, mon amour?”

and time froze when all the members looked at them.

Maybe none of them knew French at all but some words they do understand and those two were one of them.

Medic smiled at him and was about to respond, until he noticed the look on everyone’s face and closed his mouth. He had never been so nervous. What do I say now? Spy thought as he saw his mistake. Ready to say something, even the stupidest thing to get out of this situation but Engie was the first to take the step;

“Do i look like a mule, boys? i can´t carry this whole dang team!” Then he hit his sentry hard and grunted. I look at the team again. “Do I have to repeat?”

They responded only by nodding and others by shouting a battle cry before returning to the battlefield. The younger one seemed to refuse to listen, looked at Spy, and without a word, ran to Demoman. The Frenchman was about to disappear and continue with his work, until the engineer’s hand was placed on his shoulder. He still had something to say.

“Meeting after round. i want to see y´all there.” He turns toward Sniper. “That includes you, buddy. Understood?”

And again, without words to say. They agreed.

[…]

“Secrets are not allowed, guys. Y´all should know that.”

And they knew it. They knew it very well and yet they played dumb. Knew this moment would come and they knew they had to tell the truth.

But they didn’t know they were too unsure to say it.

“Argh! They’re up to something!” Soldier shouted, pointing at them. “Traitors!”

“What!?” Sniper stood up from his chair, annoyed by his accusation, and responded. “We are not bloody traitors.”

“Well, during this time you’ve been acting weirder than usual!” Scout attacked with his words. He’s the one who kept a close eye on the supports’ actions.” What the hell is going on.”

Before anyone else spoke, Engie snapped his fingers and that made him the center of attention. Thanks to him, the meetings were no more violent than they are, and the situation could be calmed down.

but even he seemed very serious.

“"We are a team and in teams there has to be absolute trust between everyone. Yeah?“ Engineer spoke in a calm voice despite his gaze, sighed and continued. "I trust y´all but I need that trust to be…”

“We are together.”

Medic and Spy looked at the bushman. His body was shaking, his hands hidden under the table continually touching and yet he was the first to reply. They were surprised. The German doesn’t hesitate to give his hand with the intention of reassuring him.

“What do you mean…?”

“Eh, um, with your permission to explain clearly…”It was the Frenchman’s turn to speak now. “We–”

“… are boyfriends!”

and the last one was Medic, who raised his arms with the one of his loves.

Then silence was king again but this time, it was an uncomfortable and unpleasant one. Some looked at others, some opened their mouths to say something but nothing and that, only worsened the atmosphere.

Demoman looked at his bottle.

“Oooooh i must be drunk!”

“This is America and that´s unmerican, you maggots!”

“Boyfriends? That´s weird, dude!”

It was going to be an argument until Heavy’s voice was heard.

“If they’re happy, Heavy is happy too.“He said determinedly as he crossed his arms. “Not a problem.“

Pyro immediately nodded and began to clap his hands, making it clear that they were on Heavy’s side and that they agreed. They looked at the three lovers and gave thumbs up. A laugh was heard, one that came from the engineer and who smiled.

“Ha hah! Y´all scared me. Is that what y´all have been hiding all this time?”

“But Engie! We can´t…!”

“Son, Ya gotta respect it. Love is love, whether you like it or not.”

He had managed to bring the situation under control to a stable one. The trio looked at each other and couldn’t help but smile, their team accepted their relationship and that, was all they wanted. There’s no team without comfort. But his gaze turned to the engineer who cleared his throat, he had something else to say.

“But before we conclude this conversation. I want to make sure everyone agrees, three in particular.“ He looked at the youngest one. “Scout?”

“Okay, okay! it´s fine! Dah!”

“Soldier?”

“Are they communists?“

“No, they’re not. Solly”

“Oh! it´s okay then!”

“Demo?”

He was about to call him again until he heard some snoring and saw how he had fallen asleep with his head on the table. He shrugged his shoulders and got up.

“Well, i’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled softly before looking at the rest. “Dinner ain´t gonna make itself, c´mon boys!”

And without saying anything else. Because nothing needed to be mentioned anymore. Everyone forgot about the problem and went back to being the most important thing, a team.

There were no longer any secrets between them.

And the supports were no longer afraid to show their feelings. They can be themselves.

master list

This was requested by @x-efflorescence-x

I hope you liked it as much as those who read it.

This is the first time I make this kind of request so I’m sorry for the mistakes and if there are any (which I’m sure there will be haha), you can correct me.

Thanks!

@tf2butgay

#tf2 #Team Fortress 2 #request #tf2 writting #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #sandwich support #support sandwich

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kaiserin-erzsebet · 5 years ago

Photo

Story under the read more

France was lounging comfortably against Scotland’s bare chest, comfortably sore and content. There was a rough hand in his hair playing with the tangles. His gaze wandered to the other side of the room where his shirt was hanging over a chair.

There was also a tartan sash and kilt on the floor just beneath it. One of them had undressed carefully, and it had not been Scotland.

He was always so pleasingly enthusiastic, but no one would accuse him of being a careful or meticulous man. He had always been that way, even since they were young.

France was tired and his mind started drifting back to when they had met. He had always been a romantic, and he felt like he had been struck by lightning when he had seen the tall, rugged Scotsman. They had been teenagers, virginal and cautious with each other. But it was such a precious memory.

He had known Scotland before he ever knew England, and had been surprised that the two were so different. He had always wondered what they had been like as children, and what had made them like that.

Scotland said, his accent thick as it always was when he was relaxed, “What are you thinking about, my love? You have that look on your face.”

France looked up at him, and saw the tender smile on Scotland’s lips. He questioned, teasingly, “What look is that?”

Scotland’s calloused thumb moved down his cheek gently, and Scotland answered his question, “That look when you are thinking hard.”

France kept his eyes on his lover’s face. He said, “I was wondering what your childhood was like. I don’t think you have ever told me. What did you do before I met you?”

The other chuckled, and it made his chest move slightly. France could feel the vibration of his laughter from where he was laying. Scotland said, “It was a lot of helping my mother take care of children.” France responded, “Was Arthur really such a terrible child?”

He could imagine that England had been a little tyrant, since he was so demanding as an adult. France had never had siblings, but he imagined that England had been spoiled because he was younger.

He felt another chuckle through Scotland’s chest. Then Scotland said, “He was not terrible. Just a touch of colic; he would fuss often. But, I helped with all of them.”

France turned his face towards him with an air of confusion. He thought their family was just Scotland and England. But, he knew that he must be wrong, and the realization made him feel foolish for not realizing sooner. He asked, trying not to sound like he had never inquired into the family life of a man he had dated for more than a century, “How many siblings do you have?”

He looked up, and his blue eyes met emerald green. He saw a strange realization dawn on Scotland’s face as well, one that he had never said anything about it before either.

Then, he started laughing. He said between peels of laughter, “Three. I guess I never mentioned the little shites enough! They aren’t all pains in the arse like Arthur.”

France was greatly intrigued by the idea that Scotland had more brothers that he liked better than England. He often talked about his frustration with his younger brother when he was around France, since they had a shared enemy in England. But, he had never mentioned another brother.

Scotland contained his laughter, and said, “Have you never listened to Arthur’s titles? His monarch is the ‘king of Ireland, Wales, and France.’”

France smirked. He usually didn’t listen, because he did not enjoy listening to English monarchs act like they had won the Hundred Years War. He said, “Mon cher, I usually do not listen when your brother opens his mouth.”

Scotland ran one hand through his hair and said, “Then I guess I should tell you about the rest, from the beginning.”

He paused and started talking again, “My mother was the scourge of Rome. She lived unconquered North of Hadrian’s wall, and dared Rome to try to reach her.

She was always kind to us, but I knew the kind of terror she could create when she went to battle. I remembered that whenever she was mixing woad paint, it meant that she was going to kill some legionnaires.

Once she showed me a golden eagle standard she had taken as a trophy, and I thought it was one of the most incredible things I had ever seen.

She married our Saxon father after I was born, and he decided to settle with us instead of traveling back and forth from the continent. I do not know if it was always her name, but our father lovingly called her Æthelflæd.

I don’t know when Rome disappeared, but it was some time before the wedding. After that, there was no enemy to fight for a while, and we became a family. I was the first, and not long after the marriage, my mother told me that I was going to have a little brother.”

He paused for a moment, and a genuinely sweet smile appeared on his face. France knew that whoever he was about to mention was very dear to him. He continued,

“That was little Aodhán, who came into the world squalling more loudly than I thought a person that small could. He’s the isle of Ireland.

Arthur calls him Aedan now, like he calls him Alistair. Arthur always spoke such shite Gaelic, and he doesn’t want to try now. He has found versions of our names that are not so hard for his tongue.

I was so pleased to have a baby brother, and I thought it was so wonderful that we looked alike. They said, that Aodhán and I inherited her hair, and her fire.

I would like to think that we also inherited her conviction to not stop fighting while a tyrant occupies our soil. I fully believe that Aodhán will never accept occupation quietly. So, I hope that Arthur has the stomach for a fight.

Then, a few years later, she told us again that we were both going to be big brothers. That time it was Alwyn, who was a small baby. He represents Wales”

He paused a moment to chuckle again, before he said, “He’s still small. You would think that he is younger than Arthur from the way that he looks, but he is not.

Fate has made him eternally 17 it seems, and I think he is quite bitter about it. Every time someone mistakes him for Arthur’s younger brother, I think he is going to finally lose his temper. But he’s more reserved than the rest of us.

And for years, it was the three of us together. It was a long time before Arthur was born.

I have heard people say that Arthur is not my father’s son, and they are right. But, they also say that he is Rome’s son, and I know he is not. He was born long after Rome vanished.

His father was that raiding viking. His golden hair is a testament to that. He got that from his father, and apparently also the desire to take from those around him.”

He stopped talking and let out a long sigh. This part of the conversation was familiar to France, who often listened to Scotland talk about his troubles with England. He said, finally responding to Scotland, “Do you hate him?”

The other shook his head, “I don’t, and I never could. I held him in my arms when he was born. I sang him lullabies when he was crying. He’s still my little brother, even if he is being a right tyrant now.”

He sighed again and said, “I love them all, no matter how much they are arseholes to me.”

France smiled at him, thinking of how sweet it was that he could be so caring, no matter how much he endured from Arthur. He laid a soft kiss on the man’s chest and said, “Thank you for telling me”

---------------------------------

APH Britannia and her sons aesthetic (with their names and their meanings)

#APH England #aph scotland #aph ireland #aph wales #APH France #a bit of the auld alliance in there #since they are another one of my rare pairs #scotfra

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melodiouswhite · 5 years ago

Text

Live forever - Ch. 03

(A/N: This chapter involves transphobia, conservative Catholicism and a normally nice character being a dick)

All was well for a while.

He and the Flamels travelled around Europe and it was fun, despite the trouble they ran into from time to time.

Thirty years after meeting, they were in England and staying with the famous alchemist John Dee.

He wasn't an immortal like them and they had no intention of sharing their secrets (or even their real identities) with him.

But he was interested in the Englishman's books, so he copied them, whenever Dee wasn't there.

A lot of it contained knowledge of alchemy as well as black magic. Many of the notes were disturbingly accurate and he made note to seize Dee's books as soon as the man passed away. No one but him should ever see all the dark knowledge hidden in there.

He didn't trust John Dee as far as he could throw him.

That was hypocritical, as he himself was a quite shady figure, but he couldn't help it.

“Why so glum, young man?”, Dee questioned one morning, as they were having breakfast.

He smiled innocently. “Oh, nothing major, Professor. I just have those moods from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about.”

That was a half truth, as he did have mood swings quite often. The fact that they almost always came with intense abdominal pain one week every month didn't exactly help either.

Dee and the Flamels had already begun to suspect things, which made him even more careful than he already was.

Perenelle seemed to be especially suspicious, which made him nervous. After all, she was a very astute woman. But she remained silent, which he was grateful for.

It had taken even himself quite a long time to come to terms with what he was. So long to realise that he wasn't insane (at least not in that regard), not a phony, not possessed by a demon.

And if it had taken him so long, how would the Flamels react, once they actually found out? Sure, they had accepted his practising of black magic and even his preternatural gifts.

However … despite being alchemists (a very unhallowed profession) and comparatively tolerant, they were pious – and very Catholic. In fact, they had already run into a lot of trouble here in England for just that. But that wasn't the problem. Even though the Flamels were far ahead of the times, they were still children of the 14th century and that leaked through from time to time. Especially Nicolas could be rather … judgemental sometimes (Perenelle not so much, she was just a bit prudish).

They were just your average, clean-cut old couple.

An immortal, average, clean-cut old couple practising dark alchemy.

Which made the whole thing even funnier.

Nevertheless, he was determined that they shouldn't find out, lest he'd lose the only friends he'd ever had.

Of course they found out, because that was inevitable, when you spent decades living with two immortal alchemists.

Predictably enough, he had forgot to lock the door one day and even more predictably enough, the Flamels had burst in on him getting dressed.

Just as he was in the process of binding his chest, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel stumbled in.

“Jean, you won't believe what – WHAT THE HECK???”

He hurriedly covered himself, but it was already too late.

Perenelle didn't seem very surprised.

But her husband promptly flipped his wit. Before he could throw a fit, however, she put a hand on his shoulder. “Let us leave, so he can dressed in peace.”

“He?!?”, Nicolas hissed, but a look from his wife silenced him and she pushed her husband out of the room.

The younger man, now finally alone again, sank onto his knees and ruffled his hair in distress.

“Fuck …”

He took longer than usual to get dressed, to buy himself time to come up with the explanation he now had to give them. After a few minutes, he gave up. They probably wouldn't listen to him anyway, so why bother.

At that opportunity, he also began to pack his things.

With the way Nicolas had just reacted …

When he finally came downstairs, the Flamels were sitting at the table, looking at him expectantly.

He sighed and sat down.

“I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“Absolutely”, Nicolas agreed coolly. “When were you planning to tell us that you're a woman?”

His eye twitched. “Never, because I'm not a woman!”

The blond opposite him inhaled sharply. “You're still trying to keep that up, after we have seen it?”

“Nicolas, let him explain …”, Perenelle began, but her husband cut her off (which wasn't like him at all): “Stop calling her a 'he', Perenelle, when-”

Now it was the German necromancer's turn to cut the other off: “Since when do you snap at your wife for using the correct pronouns? I am not a 'she'! I never was!”

“Yes, you are!”, the Frenchman snapped back, “Look, I have no problem with a female alchemist or a witch – I wouldn't be married to Perenelle, if I did – but stop pretending to be a man! You're not one!”

“Yes, I am!”, the younger one snarled angrily, “I'm just as much of a man as you are!”

“You actually believe that?! You're either possessed or confused!”

“Nicolas!”, Perenelle protested, but it was too late now.

Both men were blinded by anger and unwilling to listen to her voice of reason.

“So this is what you think? That I'm a madwoman blinded by the Devil into believing to be a man?! Or that I didn't like the miserable life as a woman and chose to crossdress, so I would finally have rights and male privileges?! Well, I have tidings for you: I am mad, but not in that regard! My mind is perfectly sound! Is it my fault that I was born into the wrong body?!”

Nicolas Flamel's eyes narrowed: “The Lord doesn't make mistakes. If He chose for you to be a woman, then-”

“Well, if God doesn't make mistakes, then this was a really cruel joke on his part!”

“How dare you defile the name of the Lord! Speaking of names, what is your real one?!”

“This is my real one! Johann Georg Faust is my actual name and I don't give a damn, if you like it or not!”

“Oh really?! Well, I don't believe you anymore, after you have lied to us for decades!”

“Nicolas!”, Perenelle tried again, but was – once again – ignored.

He stood up, furious. “I wasn't lying! I didn't tell you, because I knew you would react like this! Why do you anyway?! You have never minded my sorcery or necromancy or my telepathic or prophetic abilities and you're making a fuss over this?!” He opened his arms wide and gestured at himself. “Fine, I have a woman's organs! So what? That doesn't make me any less of a man! Why do you insist that it does, when your wife accepts it, like a reasonable adult?!”

Nicolas took a deep breath: “Well, not everyone can have Perenelle's angelic patience! But it doesn't change the fact that you hid this from us. Speaking of which, how can you be so calm about this, Perenelle?!”

The brown-haired woman shrugged: “I have known. Figured it out decades ago.”

“What?!”

“Think about it, mon cher mari¹. How skittish he is, that no one should see him naked. The mood swings and abdominal pains he has once a month and how he always washes his clothes himself during that time frame. And how desperately he has been looking for a way to change into another human change too, rather than just into animals. How defensive he is towards ambitious women, crossdressers or effeminate men – basically towards everyone who doesn't act like the broad masses do. How he drinks cold and strong waters to make his voice deeper. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Her husband's eyes twitched. “So … everyone but me has known that she is actually-”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a she!”

He threw his arms up in frustration. “You know what, I give up. I'm sick of trying to explain myself to you, if you refuse to listen.”

Angry and upset, he went back upstairs and finished packing his things.

Just as he had finished packing, Perenelle came in. For a few seconds she looked surprised, that the room was suddenly so empty, but then she realised: “You're leaving?”

“Yes”, he hissed and put his gloves on. “If your husband won't accept me anymore, I don't see any reason to stay.”

“My husband will come around”, she tried to placate him.

“Not in the near future”, he muttered and slid into his fur cloak.

��Please don't leave”, she pleaded, “It won't be the same without you. You're like a son to me and once my Nic has calmed down and gets a clear head, he will be more open and accepting, I know it. He always is.”

But the German alchemist shook his head. “He doesn't want me to hang around anymore and I don't want to deal with his intolerance. I'm returning to Germany.”

The Frenchwoman realised that she wouldn't persuade him to stay and gave him a tight hug.

“I believe that you're a man”, she told him.

Something about that made his lower lip tremble and his eyes sting. But he composed himself and hugged back.

“Has anyone ever told you, that you're the best of women?”

“My husband tells me all the time”, she chuckled.

He smiled and let go. “Well then. À bientôt², for we will meet again someday. Say goodbye to your husband from me. Oh, and if you plan to stay with Dee until he dies – which will be in another ten years³ – please be so kind and burn all of his books on black magic. They mustn't fall in the wrong hands. They're in a hidden chest in his study, under his desk. You'll have to push it away and look under the floorboards.”

She nodded. “Will do.”

“Thank you. Good luck, Perenelle.”

Then he left.

It was only weeks later, when he was standing on the rail of the ship from Dover to Calais, that he allowed himself to hurt.

As he looked back to the English shore, something strange happened: he wept.

Huh. I have never cried before.

---

1) mon cher mari = French: my dear husband

2) À bienôt = French: See you then/see you later.

3) John Dee died in 1608 (or 1609, it’s not quite clear).

#dr faustus #johann georg faust #nicolas flamel #perenelle flamel #john dee #tw: transphobia #tw: religious discourse (kinda)

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todorokiaimee · 5 years ago

Text

Blues In The Night 16. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Previous Chapter | Chapter Song

“Yikes. I didn’t think The Colonel would lose his top like that,” Mei muttered as she looked through racks of clothes. She had taken Aimee Christmas shopping with her at the mall to help get her mind off of things. Although, her ulterior motive was to get all the new gossip on Aimee’s love life without the worry of Shoto overhearing.

Aimee scoffed as she examined a sweater, putting it back on the rack with a sigh, “Obviously, I’m mailing Daddy his gift this year. If he wants to stew, he can stew by himself.” She was still so angry with her father due to his rude behavior at dinner. She hadn’t spoken to him since, ignoring his calls and messages. She did make sure to post a picture or two on social media every so often so he wouldn’t send out the national guard to look for her.

“Oh, so you’re spending Christmas with The Todoroki’s this year then?”

The ravenette shook her head, walking over to her friend who had now wandered over to an electronics store. “Actually no. Shoto said that they don't really celebrate at his house so we’re just gonna do a little thing at his apartment. I’m bringing Mochi along and everything.”

“Aww!” Mei gushed, giving Aimee one of her bone-crushing hugs. “How cute and domestic!”

“Mei!” Aimee giggled, struggling to free herself from her friend’s hold. Once she had broken loose, Aimee walked over to a display of electronic gifts, twirling her curls around her finger. “Now I just have to figure out what in the world to get the man for a gift...”

Clapping her hands excitedly, Mei cheered, gesturing to herself, “Give him one of my babies! They’re one of a kind and kick ass!”

“No offense hun, but your babies are also very likely to explode,” Aimee said apologetically as she shook her head with a smile. “Also, Shoto isn’t really a gadget guy, other than his spaceship car.”

“Hmm…” Mei tapped her chin in thought as she walked to stand next to Aimee. “You can’t go wrong with a leather wallet… Or maybe a nice watch?”

Aimee’s large eyes filled with sadness as she shook her head solemnly. “I’m sure Shoto has much nicer wallets and watches than I can ever hope to afford.” She bit her bottom lip as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “He has to have those things custom made so they won’t be damaged by his ice and fire.”

Christmas with Shoto was becoming a lot more stressful than she had originally thought. What do you give the man who has everything? The man who wants for nothing. What does she have to give on just a teacher’s salary? He gives her the world and what can she possibly give him?

“Hey,” Mei interrupted her thoughts with a pat on her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Let’s keep looking.”

_______________________________________________________________________

It was Christmas eve and instead of enjoying the office Christmas party put on by the sidekicks at his agency, Shoto was trapped in a meeting with the missing person's task force. Dozens of photos of victims lined the bulletin board and unfortunately, not much evidence accompanied them. Shoto held his head in his hands as the other heroes continued to discuss the gravity of the situation.

“I’m sick and tired of this guy sneaking past us,” Eraserhead mumbled over his cup of coffee.

“You’re always sick and tired,” Shinsou snickered.

“Someone else was taken last night,” Endeavor announced to the room, adding another picture to the board. “Yoshimoto Bokkai, age 22. Quirk: Size Shift. He can change the size of his body at will.”

“To be taken right at Christmas, that’s so sad,” Deku mumbled, writing notes in his journal. “His poor family must miss him terribly.”

Shoto sifted through the file in fount of him with a quiet hum. “The file says he’s a runaway living on the streets. I doubt he would have seen his family anyway.”

Aizawa nodded as he leaned back in his seat, “That’s probably what made him an easy target.”

“Do we have any leads?” Endeavor asked the room, taking a seat at the table. “I’ll take any sort of whisper at this point.”

Deku stood, a hopeful smile on his face as he held up a file, “Well, we did happen to get some super grainy footage from a security camera nearby. It caught a shadowy figure leaving the scene.”

Shoto’s ears perked up at this new information. He turned to his green-haired friend, his low voice carrying a new sense of urgency, “A shadowy figure? Let me see. Do you have a still?”

Midoriya handed him the file, his green brow quirked at his friend, curious of where his train of thought was going. Shoto opened the file and studied the footage still intently before letting out a low growl. It was just as he feared. He had seen this figure cloaked in shadow before. He’d know those black tendrils anywhere.

“Do you have something to share with the class, Todoroki?” Aizawa deadpanned as he sipped his coffee.

“This guy…” Shoto mumbled. “I think it might be the same guy that attacked Aimee and I on our date.”

“This guy,” Shinsou interjected, gesturing to Shoto. “Dude gets a girlfriend and it’s all he can talk about.” His smug smirk was knocked off his face with a swift smack to the back of the head by Aizawa. “Ow! Jeeze.”

Choosing to ignore Shinsou, Shoto continued, handing the file to Endeavor to look over. “He must know we’re investigating. For him to lash out like that we have to be getting close.” Shoto then turned back to Midoriya, a determined look on his face, “Any luck on identifying him?”

Deku shook his head, a grim look cloaking his features. “Unfortunately no. We can’t find any quirks like that registered in the Japanese Quirk Database.”

Son of a bitch! Shoto cursed under his breath as he clenched his fists. If his guy really is connected to the disappearances, then he knows what Aimee looks like. He had to protect her. He made a vow.

Bringing him from his thoughts, Shoto felt a large hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw his father, a determined look on his face as he addressed the room. “Finding this guy and his identity is key to solving this case and giving these families some peace. Especially if he’s after one of our own now,” He paused, giving his son’s shoulder a squeeze. “Keep pounding the pavement. Dismissed.”

With a heavy sigh, the duel quirked hero rose from his seat and exited the room, walking down the hallway towards his office. He waved weakly at a few of his sidekicks, happily celebrating and dancing to Christmas music. He just wasn’t in a party mood, given this new information. Walking into this office, Shoto set his eyes on Aimee, sitting pretty on his desk. She was dressed in a forest green sweater dress with brown thigh-high boots, her long soft curls cascading over her shoulders. Shoto watched her in the doorway for a moment as Aimee continued to talk to a few of his sidekicks as they merrily munched on some of her homemade beignets she brought for the party.

“Ah Aimee, my love. Aren’t you popular?” Shoto said with a smile as he walked over to her.

“Shoto!” Aimee’s brown eyes lit up at the sight of her beau, a bright smile warming her face. “I thought this was supposed to be an office Christmas party, so why are you still working?”

Shoto chuckled, cupping her face with his hands. “Unfortunately, crime does not take a holiday.” He kissed her forehead softly before clearing his throat, looking around the room. “Alright, everyone take a beignet and clear out. I need to talk to Miss Faurie alone.”

The sidekicks shared a couple of knowing looks to each other before heading towards the door. Shoto moved to hold the door open for them, nodding politely as they left, a few donning a faint blush. Once everyone had left, Shoto closed the door behind them, before walking back to Aimee, pulling her close by the waist.

“Uh oh, am I in trouble Mr. Todoroki?”

“Are you trying to get me flustered at work with that dress… these boots?” Shoto breathed, his hands gliding over the soft curves of her body.

“I just wanted to look good for you, mon cher.”

With a light chuckle, Shoto picked Aimee up bridal style, earning a surprised squeal from the dark-skinned beauty. Carrying her with him, he sat down at his desk, Aimee resting in his lap. “You always look delectable.”

The pair shared a lingering kiss before Aimee pulled away, lightly brushing his bottom lip with her thumb. “Thank you, cher.” She paused, reaching for the two coffee cups she left on his desk. “Here, I brought us some coffee from our place.”

Shoto smiled, taking the cup offered to him. “Thank you, love. I owe that coffee shop a lot, seeing that’s where I met the love of my life.” He placed a kiss to her neck as he gently ran his hand up and down her plush thigh.

“Oh stop! You’ll make me blush.” Aimee gushed, giving his chest a playful smack.

While taking a sip of his coffee, Shoto caught a whiff of Aimee’s coffee, piquing his curiosity.

“What did you get? It smells different than usual.”

“Gingerbread latte, it’s off their seasonal menu. Have a sip.”

Aimee offered her coffee to him, Shoto taking a small sip.

“Too sweet.” Shoto grimaced handing her back the cup.

“That’s why I got you your usual americano.”

“Hmm.” Shoto hummed before giving Aimee’s ass a squeeze. “But I do love this sweet americano.”

“Eww so cheesy!” Aimee laughed as her lips pressed against his. Soon their playful kiss turned into something more passionate as they both placed their coffee cups back on Shoto’s desk to hold each other close. The pair continued to explore each other's mouths, soft sighs escaping their lips when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Ugh, who is it?” Shoto grumbled in between kisses.

“Your Father,” Enji said from the other side of the door.

“Go away.”

“Shh, Shoto don’t be rude.” Aimee giggled, smoothing Shoto’s hair and wiping smudged lipstick from his mouth. “Come on in.”

Opening the door, Enji walked into the room, his hands behind his back. “Ah, well hello you two,” he greeted with a small smile. He fought the urge to avert his eyes as looked at his son with his girlfriend still on his lap, looking like a mob boss. “Aimee, I was hoping I would catch you.”

“Oh, is something on your mind?” Aimee smiled at the man as he shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“We uh, heard about your falling out with your father. Even though we don’t really celebrate Christmas, the family and I wanted to get you a little something.” The burly redhead revealed the wrapped box he was hiding behind his back. “You’re always welcome at the Todoroki estate.”

Aimee stood from Shoto’s lap, walking up to his father with a grateful smile. “Oh, you didn’t have to Enji,” She gushed as he laid the box in her hands.

“We wanted to.”

“Should I open it now, or wait until tomorrow morning?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Now then!”

Enji chuckled as he watched Aimee tear the wrapping paper off of the box. Opening her gift, she held up an elegant purple kono kimono with a gold floral print. “Oh, Enji It’s beautiful! Thank you so much!”

He smiled as Aimee continued to admire the soft fabric. “I got your measurements from Shoto, so it should fit perfectly.” Setting the box down on Shoto’s desk, Aimee then captured Enji in a tight bear hug, her face buried in his chest. He tensed for a moment before melting into her touch, patting her head awkwardly like she was a small child.

“Are you trying to show me up, old man?” Shoto asked with a small smirk, watching the scene before him.

“If I am able to show you up, then you deserve it.”

“Anyway,” Enji said while gently pulling Aimee off of him. “I’ll let you two get going. Enjoy your holiday. But first,” he paused leaning down to whisper into Aimee’s ear. “I heard you brought beignets. Are there any left?”

Aimee laughed giving the man a wink before grabbing a tupperware from Shoto’s desk. “I saved one just for you.”

“I knew you were a keeper,” Enji pat her back before grabbing a beignet, walking back towards the door. “Thanks and have a good night.”

With Enji out of the room, Shoto stood form his seat, grabbing his coat before placing a kiss to Aimee’s temple. “Come on, my love. Let’s go home.”

After first swinging by Aimee’s apartment and collecting a few things as well as Mochi, the couple entered Shoto’s luxury penthouse apartment. Looking around the living room, Aimee’s jaw dropped in awe. Todoroki had decorated his place with elegant Christmas decorations. His fireplace mantle was lined with frosted garland, stockings hung with care. Fresh poinsettias were placed all around, giving off a lovely scent. But the most stunning thing was the tree. It was 7 feet tall at least, tastefully decorated in blue, silver, and gold, making it look like a winter wonderland.

“It’s nothing spectacular, but I did my best for such short notice,” Shoto hummed.

“Shoto, it’s perfect. You did good boo,” Aimee giggled to herself as she sat down her cat carrier.

“I also got a few things for Mochi so his stay would be comfortable as well,” Shoto said as he gestured to the new cat bed, scratching post, and litter box in the corner.

“Thanks, cher. Why don’t you let Mochi out of his carrier and let him get acclimated while I unpack and get changed?”

The hero nodded as he knelt down, watching Aimee disappear from view with her bags. Looking into the carrier, he saw Mochi curled up in the back. Carefully, he opened the gate of the carrier, waiting for the fat cat to make his exit. Only, he never made a move. “Mochi?” Shoto said softly. “You can come out now.” He was only met with a hiss from the cat, and he knew better than to try to pull him out. “Aimee?” he called over to her. “He won’t come out.”

After a few moments, Aimee returned with a bag, kneeling down to take a look herself. “What’s wrong, little man? Here kitty kitty kitty.” Mochi let out a quiet meow, still refusing to come out. “He gets nervous around new places and people. Luckily, he’s very food motivated.”

Aimee stood and reached into her bag, pulling out a bag of cat treats she packed for Mochi before returning to the carrier. She held one out where the cat could see, calling his name, “Mochi. Here kitty kitty kitty.” With a treat in his sights, Mochi timidly made his way out of the carrier, claiming his prize with a happy meow. “There you go. He’ll loosen up eventually.”

Shoto nodded as he stood, helping Aimee to her feet as well. It was then that he noticed her red plaid pajamas, a reindeer silhouette placed right on her chest. “These are new. I like them,” he smirked, taking her hand to give her a twirl. “Festive.”

“Thank you,” Aimee grinned. “I got you a matching set as well. I figured it would be cute and Christmasy. It’s laying on the bed for you.”

“I’ll get changed then.”

As Shoto made his way to the bedroom to get changed into his matching pajamas, Aimee took the presents she got for him out of her bag. She carefully placed them under the tree, giggling at how barren it looked. Such a large tree needed more than just six gifts underneath, but Aimee made a rule that they were only allowed three presents each. Otherwise, she knew Shoto would buy her a whole store’s worth of gifts.

With Shoto now dressed in his pajamas, the couple curled up on the couch. Shoto wrapped his arm around Aimee as she turned on her favorite Christmas movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas. Shoto smiled as he watched her happily sing along to the music, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“I thought this was a Christmas movie? They’re singing about Halloween.”

“That’s the beauty of this movie. It’s both!”

The couple continued to watch Christmas movie after movie until Shoto noticed his shoulder was a little heavier than before. Looking down, he saw Aimee fast asleep, her lips slightly parted as she snored softly. A soft smile pulled at his lips as he kissed the crown of her head. Sleepyhead. Ever so carefully, Shoto pulled Aimee into his arms bridal style, carrying her into his bedroom before laying her down on the soft bed. After tucking her in, the hero turned out the lights before slipping into bed beside her, pulling her back close to his chest. “Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams.” With a kiss to her cheek, he closed his eyes, loving this quiet moment.

The next morning, Shoto was awakened to the soft kisses of Aimee’s lips all over his face. She giggled as his lips pulled into a smile, only opening one eye to peer up at his love. “May I help you?”

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, mon cher!”

“Morning, Merry Christmas,” Shoto mumbled with a smile.

“What do you say we make some pancakes before we open presents?”

“Sounds perfect.”

After completing their morning grooming routines, the couple went to the kitchen to make breakfast. With jazzy Christmas music playing through the room, Aimee made fluffy pancakes while Shoto sliced fresh fruit, Mochi weaving between their legs, hoping for dropped food. With the food ready, they ate in comfortable conversation, often interrupted by Aimee singing along to the music, not that Shoto minded. He loved listening to her sing.

“Gift time!” Aimee cheered as she gathered their now empty plates, putting them in the sink.

“Only if you open yours first.”

“Deal!”

Taking her hand in his, Shoto lead Aimee into the living room before sitting down on the floor next to the tree. He handed her a thin box with a gold bow, a soft smile on his lips. Upon tearing the wrapping paper, Aimee gasped “Oh my God… this is Hank Mobley’s Blue Note 1568 Album. This must have cost you a fortune.” This rare jazz vinyl record sells for $5,000 at least on eBay.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course, I love it.”

“Then it was worth it.”

Next, Shoto handed her a red envelope. He waited patiently as he watched Aimee open it. He was loving watching her eyes light up with each surprise. He was suddenly regretting following her three gift rule.

“Beyonce tickets! Oh my God, these are amazing seats!” Aimee gushed, holding them to her chest. “Why do you spoil me so?”

“You did say you’d do anything for Beyonce. Perhaps I’ll call a favor in on a rainy day.” Shoto gave her a smug wink before handed her a small rectangular box wrapped in silver paper. “Okay, last one.”

After discarding the wrapping paper, Aimee sucked in a breath at the sight of the blue velvet box in her hand. Upon opening it, she gasped, marveling at the delicate necklace inside. It had a thin gold chain and a simple diamond pendant that sparkled. Not too big so that she wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing it, but not too small either.

“Oh, Shoto…” Aimee sighed, her eyes glowing.

“Do you like it?” Shoto whispered.

“It’s beautiful,” she smiled. “Would you do the honors?”

Shoto nodded, taking the necklace out of the box. Gently, he draped the necklace around her neck, kissing the back of her neck once it was clasped. “There,” he said as Aimee turned to face him. “It really suits you.”

“Thank you, mon cher,” Aimee smiled as she touched the necklace, before leaning in to capture his lips with hers in a passionate kiss.

Pulling away gently, Shoto rested his forehead against Aimee’s, a warm smile on his face, “May I open my gifts now?”

“Oh…” Aimee dropped her eyes, a worried look washing over her face. “Your gifts were so wonderful now mine feels lackluster.” She bit her bottom lip before mumbling, “I should have put a price cap on you as well.”

Todoroki sighed, cupping her face in his hand. He knew that Aimee had a tendacy to fuss over money, something he had never had to experience, but the gift itself wasn’t really important to him. He just enjoyed the surprise, that she thought of him. “No matter what they are, I’m sure I’ll love them because they came from you.”

With a nod, Aimee handed Shoto a small box, wrapped in green and red striped paper. After opening it, Shoto pulled out a thin mesh pouch. It was filled with lots of different spices and herbs along with other things. Shoto smiled weakly, not sure what to make of this gift. “Oh. Thank you for this… tea?”

“It’s not tea, it’s gris-gris,” Aimee giggled, shaking her head. “In voodoo culture is a charm to help keep you safe. I made it myself. I thought you could attach it to your hero suit belt. Then you could be six pee-pee man.”

“How do you even know about that?” Shoto blushed, with a pout.

“The internet is forever baby.”

“Even so, thank you,” He smiled, examining the pouch in his hand. “It’s very thoughtful. I’ll wear it on every mission and patrol.”

Aimee then handed him another gift, a pink blush growing on her cheeks. Shoto eyed her suspiously as he opened it. It was his turn to blush as he held up its contents: satin red lingerie. “Oh. The gift that keeps on giving,” Shoto smirked, locking eyes with his beloved. “Will you model this for me later on?”

“Of course, but first…” Aimee handed him another gift wrapped in blue and silver paper. Shoto tore the wrapping paper off to find a navy and grey striped scarf, a darker verison of his eyes.

“I crocheted it myself,” the ravenette explained, watching him carefully.

“Really? I never saw you working on it,” Shoto hummed as he felt the soft yarn between his fingers.

“I did it while you were on patrols or during my planning period at school.”

Shoto smiled at the thought of Aimee hard at work crocheting this handmade gift. It wasn’t perfect, perhaps its one of her first projects, but that made it even more special to Shoto. Wrapping the scarf around his neck to model it, he could smell Aimee’s signature scent of coconut and cocoa butter lingering on the scarf. “It smells like you. Thank you. I’ll wear it every day.” Leaning over he placed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “What would you like to do next?”

“Actually, I have one more gift for you.”

“But you said only three gifts each.” Shoto said with a quirked brow.

“I know what I said. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t even wrap it.”

“You can’t even follow your own directions.”

“Just close your eyes and hold out your hand!”

Shoto did as he was told with a smirk on his lips as Aimee giggled as his expression. Getting up, she walked over to her purse, digging something out before placing the object in Shoto’s hand, “Okay, you can open your eyes.” Opening his eyes, Shoto looked in his hand to see a silver key on a cat keychain. “I know you hate that I leave the door unlocked for you. Now I don’t have to.”

A gentle smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he gripped the small key in his hand. His peace of mind, another small measure to help keep her safe, was the best gift he could have asked for. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered before pulling Aimee into his arms, capturing her lips in a loving kiss.

After cleaning up and giving Mochi his christmas treats and presents, the pair spent the rest of the day relaxing on the couch together, watching more Christmas favorites. With Aimee tucked into his side, Shoto chuckled as he watched Mochi run around the room trying to catch a red laser dot. “I may get a few pounds off of him yet,” Shoto muttered as he moved the laser around the room. “Is there anything else you want to do today, my love?” he asked, turning to his beloved. “I want our first Christmas together to be everything you want it to be.”

“Hmm…” Aimee thought, tapping her chin. “Actually, could you take me ice skating again?”

“Oh,” Shoto’s face fell as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I wish I could, my love but it’s Christmas day. The ice rink is probably closed.”

“No, I meant on your ice,” Aimee smiled, playing with the collar of his pajamas. “Like when you first kissed me. When you asked me to be yours.”

“Put your shoes and coat on then.”

After quickly getting dressed, Shoto making sure to put on his new scarf, he took Aimee’s hand, leading her out of the apartment. Climbing a flight of stairs, they reached the roof his building. Aimee wrapped her coat tightly around her as she watched Shoto use his quirk to coat the roof in a layer of ice. With a soft smile, Shoto once again outstretched his hand to Aimee, “Take my hand.”

“Yes, sir,” Aimee smirked as she slipped her hand into his. Holding her hand, Shoto gently guided her onto the ice, pulling her back to press against his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist to keep her steady. The hero effortlessly glided over his ice with Aimee securely in his arms, just like he did before months ago. Aimee laughed as she held onto him tightly, loving the feeling of the cool air whipping through her hair. The feeling of flying. “Weee! This never gets old!”

Shoto chuckled as he looked down at her. He lived for that bright smile, and especially that laugh. Wanting to hear more, he swiftly picked Aimee up bridal style, spinning around effortlessly on his ice. “Shoto!” she squealed holding him tightly as her chest began to jiggle with laughter. He couldn’t help is own laugh as he gently let her back down on her feet, holding her close before capturing her lips in a kiss.

As he slowly pulled away, Shoto stared into Aimee’s large brown eyes and he saw the world. He thought of all the things they have gone through in the past few months. He thought of all the sacrifices she made for him. He thought of how his family had adopted her as their own. He thought of the advice his mother had given him. What am I waiting for? Who cares if it’s early? I know she’s it for me. Caressing her face his hand, Shoto opened his mouth, ready to say what was on his heart, “Aimee?”

“It’s snowing!”

Breaking his train of thought, Shoto looked up to the sky. Sure enough, while he was lost in his thoughts, it had started snowing. “Hm. So it is.”

“I’m sorry, I interrupted. What were you going to say?”

Shoto looked down at Aimee as white snowflakes began to fall against her black hair. She smiled up at him expectantly as he took a single curl between his fingers, watching it bounce back into place before letting out a soft sigh.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, mon cher.”

“Let’s get you back inside. It’s quite cold out.”

As Shoto lead Aimee back inside, an arm around her waist, he smiled to himself. What’s a little longer? He thought as he placed a sweet kiss to her temple. I still have to get the ring after all.

Chapter 17

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kat-sucky · 7 years ago

Note

hey hey hey!! can i please have Bakugou listening to his s/o singing (he can either catch s/o or them just singing to him) Je t'aime by Kelly Sweet? I just found the song and im in love :) thanks!!! (also, check out the song! its so peaceful~)

A/N: Here you go! Nice and angsty.

He’d been graduated for a few years now, aged some, and his heart had hardened. Since the first year at U.A., the entire class had experienced danger after danger, effectively shaping them into trained rescuers and merciless fighters. He had spent the past few years moving around the country, spot to spot, disaster to disaster, hotel to hotel, empty apartment to empty apartment, but nothing really seemed to completely occupy him anymore. His mom still called from time to time, her voice gentler than it had ever been. Sometimes he liked to pretend it was because they were both maturing, tempers finally reigning into a controlled heat, but other times he thought it was because she was afraid of what she had almost lost. After all, not every mother’s son goes through the worst graduation in all of Japan’s fine history.

His calloused hand set down his medium sized, worn black suitcase with the explosion iron-on stickers. The wheels had scratches from each flight, which always made them scrape along the floor instead of turning. Because of that, he had resorted to simply carrying it single armed. It only contained the bare essentials. Clothes, costume, hygienics, cellphone. He didn’t need much to survive, and that was all he was doing with his life. Survive, survive, survive.

His crimson eyes glances to the mirror lining the outdated room of the familiar apartment. It must have been built sometime in the seventies, he thought, he always thought that when entering this sacred space.

He looked worse for wear, with small scars boasting about his victories and battles. His hair was still the same pale lion’s fur hue, spikey and bristled. He was a little more tan from so much time spent outside training or patrolling. His shoulders were defined, broad, and rounded at the joints where his deltoid bulged. He had the body of a warrior, no fat, no softness. He had only hardened muscle and skin that had bled and healed countless times. His sleeping schedule was less organized than his junior high years, and the result was slightly pronounced darkened circles resting under his red gaze. His face, it had that same scowl on it, his teeth no longer bared in a ferocious smile.

[Y/N] would laugh at me if she could see me now. He grimaced, glancing away with a stinging feeling in his heart. She would tell me to go take a shower, and let her cook dinner. Then she would make me wash the dishes.

Instinctively, he glanced over to the tiny kitchen area, immaculately clean from the last time it had been entered. Then he noticed the thinnest layer of dust over everything. He would have to dust it, but the thought made his stomach clench, because he knew there would be no extra help. Not that he needed it. Perhaps it more due to the fact it was so… dead in here.

Like her.

“Je t’aime, je t’aime.”

Wryly, he smiled to himself. If he focused hard enough, he could still hear her soft singing. With a voice of a nightingale, [Y/N] was always able to make anything sound sweet. She had been sweet to him, and he always liked to reminiscence about those old, golden days of being a kid.

He could easily recall when they’d be sparring, and the sweat on her skin would make her look angelic in the sun. She wasn’t a student in the heroics course, but she always wanted to make a difference in the world. Her talent had lain in designing gear, and she was the one who came up with the concept of his refined grenade gauntlets. She would always ask to spar as an excuse to spend more time with him, under the pretense of wanting to see his costume in action. He knew she hated taking the hits, and once he felt like he knew her enough, he had started to go easier on her. Eventually, the sparring sessions devolved into just easy chatter, walking her home.

And every time she left the opportunity for him to make the move, the courage he always held in his chest, the eternal flame of his youth, died before he could make the move. The words of affection died before they fell from his lips, a curse of his rough nature.

“Thank you for walking me home, Bakugou.” You said softly, untangling the both of your hands, secretly relishing the feeling of his rough hands against your own.

“It was along the way.” He grunted, looking away from your peaceful gaze. He hated how you would look at him like that. So calm, unafraid of him. It always made him feel like you understood, maybe you did. It always left allure, like you knew things he never would, like you saw the world differently from everyone.

“I know.” Was your reply. It was the 34th time he had walked you home. You counted each time, and dreamt of these conversations. You had fallen hard for this unyielding, stubborn, and aggressive boy from the class 1-A.

You leaned up/down and gently, briefly, pressed your lips to his cheek, and ran inside the safety of your apartment before you saw his reaction.

Unbeknownst to you, he was staring bewildered at your fleeing form, hand touching his cheek. He couldn’t even yell expletives, he was speechless.

Even now, thinking about it, he felt your warm touch.

He was laying down on your bed now, technically his now, having bought the place. He couldn’t think of it as anything but yours though.

He closed his eyes, immediately plagued with the everlasting vision of the last hour of your life.

“Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour

I am forever yours.”

Your head was laying in his lap, blood leaking from your lip. Your eye was swollen, burnt, and tears were freely flowing from your glassy [eye color] gaze. They were locked on the grief-stricken crimson gaze of your best friend. Your voice, now wobbly, came out softly to him. It wasn’t the first time you sang to him, always this song, but you knew it was the last.

“Sweet dreams, sweet dreams mon cher

You’re always in my prayer.”

“Stop, [Y/N]. The paramedics are on their way.” He said roughly, squeezing unwanted tears from his eyes. The raw feeling of grief was hitting hard, knowing you weren’t going to make it. Everything he wanted to say was in his gaze, translated through the desperation, horror, and abandon in his watery stare. “Just hold on, please.”

Please, he begged.

“Softly, sweetly

Wrapped up in heaven’s arms.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his nose falling to touch yours.

All around you were flames, bodies, and pools of blood. His classmates were watching from the distance in sorrow for him, sympathetic, pitying. Some were even just as hurt as the civilian students they tried to save. There were so many casualties. The stadium was utterly destroyed. Beams had fallen, the ground was cracked, dust hung in the air. The flames cast a silvery gray orange light all around. In your stomach, a large shard of metal stuck through.

“Sailing, soaring over the moon

Gathering stardust.”

Don’t leave me. I need you.

“Be still, be safe, be sure

Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour.”

His lips wobbled with unsaid words, everything he’d been holding back threatening to break through.

“Wishing, praying, all of your dreams come true.” Your hands shakily reached up to his face, wiping away his tears. You found his hard to focus, but he strangely stayed clear in the middle of your fading vision. “Please remember, where'er you are my heart is with you.”

“[Y/N]!”

“Sweet dreams, sweet dreams mon cher

Always in my prayer.”

“Stay with me!”

“I am forever yours.” You paused to kiss him softly, then falling back. Your energy was fading fast. “Je t'aime… je t'aime….

…toujour.”

And by then, it was too late. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. How much he loved the way your hair looked in the sun, under the moon. How bright you looked when you were focused, or laughing. How much he still wanted to walk you home, down the aisle.

“FUCK!” He screamed, his grip white on your hand.

The day he had always dreamed of, becoming a real hero, became his worst nightmare.

His hand slowly slid across the wetness on his cheeks. It was morning now. He felt heavy, but his lips felt lighter than ever.

To no one in particular, he murmured, “Hey [Y/N], I never got to say this ‘cause you made like a bitch and died, but.” He had to swallow. “I think I love you.”

Though he was alone, he could have sworn he heard your laughter, and that same, sweet, knowing:

“I know.”

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #katuski x s/o #bakugou x s/o #bnha x s/o #boku no hero academia x s/o #katsuki bakugou x s/o #reader insert #je t'aime

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years ago

Text

Prince and the Introvert

Not the pride fic I intended on, but oh well.

Have some lovely remile.

Read on Ao3

—————

Emile was never one for going out. He was content with staying home, reading a book, drinking tea and doing absolutely nothing else, but his brother was going to pride with his best friend and his boyfriend and he asked Emile to join him, and…

Who was he to say no to his brother?

Logan was always more of an extrovert than Emile anyway.

So that was how and why Emile Picani, psychology student and introvert extraordinaire, found himself in the middle of Disney World, running around with his brother's boyfriend because his brother does not see the point of Disney World (he was also a very bad liar).

"So we're going to go on Space Mountain first," Patton said breathlessly as he dragged Emile with him. "Because Space Mountain is important. And then we'll do… umm… yeah, I didn't plan much further than that. But we have to go on Space Mountain!"

"Patton, please breathe. You really need to."

"I'm sorry I'm just so excited!"

"I know, me too!"

By the time they were done with their third round on Space Mountain, Logan was already quite sick of it. He joined them for the third round, so he couldn't complain, but…

"If you two try doing that again, I will tie you both up."

"Kinky!"

"Do you even know what that word means, Patton?"

"Kinda…?"

"Finally!" Roman Prince, wearing his well-known and well-loved red and white letterman jacket, along with shorts and a golden pair of sunglasses, was sprinting towards them. Oh no… "I thought I'd never find you guys!"

"Salutations, Roman," Logan managed to say as Roman tackled him in a hug. "And also Virgil, and Remy."

Well now, that was a new name.

"Salutations to you too, nerd."

The new name had bright pink hair, a dark pair of aviators, was dressed only in black and held a cup of Teavana in one hand while texting with the other.

Emile was very sure they've never met before.

"Remy," Roman said once he released Logan. "This is Lo's boyfriend Patton, and Lo's brother Emile! Em, Pat, this is my older brother Remy. He's joining us today because he's too juvenile to go to pride alone."

"I refused to believe there was anyone more immature than Princey, and then I met Remy," Virgil filled in.

"Why, it's always a pleasure to meet gorgeous people." Remy smiled and… did he look at Emile? "Enchante, mon cher."

Huh, yeah… not an awkward situation at all. Having a very attractive person just… look at you like that. Absolutely not.

He totally wasn't jealous of the way Logan held Patton by his waist, kissing his hair every couple seconds (that was new development for the day). Or the way Virgil and Roman seemed to be inseparable when together. He did not envy all his friends who were in steady relationships, happy and loving and…

No. Absolutely not.

"Yeah… you too."

Okay, what was that.

"Here, have a lollipop," Virgil whispered to him. "It's orange."

"Thanks."

Needless to say, the lollipop didn't help in the least.

—

Remy had no idea Logan Picani had a brother. And what a satisfying moment it was when he found out.

Emile was the cutest thing, with his pastel pink hair and bright red cheeks. His glasses were adorable, his outfit was ridiculously cute, this whole boy was just incredible and Remy did not know what to do.

And then he started sucking that lollipop.

"Can we go to Splash Mountain next?" Patton – Patton? The boy in the light blue shirt, with the cat hoodie tied around his shoulders – jumped, breaking the moment.

"Let's pass through the Haunted Mansion first," Roman broke in. "So Virgil could be satisfied. And then we can go to Splash Mountain!"

"Yeah! Let's go!"

"I'm sitting this one out," Remy's fairy boy said. "And Splash Mountain."

"Emile, there is no need to sit out the Haunted Mansion, you've been through it many times before. And Splash Mountain won't kill you."

"No, but it would make me wet, and it's about just as bad, Logan."

How… how could this guy be real?

"Want me to stay behind with you, gorgeous?"

"…no thanks. I'll be fine."

Alright then. It was going to be a challenge, and Remy was totally down to it. He was a Prince, and if there was a thing Larry Prince taught his sons…

…it was not to piss off their mom.

And not to back down from challenges. That too.

—

"Just a heads up," Patton said the moment they got to the Haunted Mansion. "My brother asked to join, but I had to tell him to stay home because he has homework and stuff, so if any of you see an emo teen in a dress and yellow glasses please let me know, okay? I'll kick his ass back home."

"I'll kick his ass for you," Roman announced as he ran towards the line, dragging his boyfriend behind.

When all of them were gone, Emile finally allowed himself to breathe…

"Do you want a churro, angel?"

Oh, no.

"No, thank you, Remy. I'll be alright alone."

"Come on, babe… just a churro."

"No, thank you! Quite frankly, I…"

"You what?" Remy raised an eyebrow. And for some reason…

Emile started feeling like he fucked up.

"Why do you insist on flirting with me so much?"

"…I flirt with everyone. It's basically my language at this point. Would you like to learn it?"

And he continued. Remy kept going. Until Emile found himself pressed against Logan's back in the line to the Haunted Mansion.

Well…

"At least let me give you my number," Remy whispered to him as they got in the elevator. "That is all I want."

"After this ride."

"Thank you. May I buy you a churro after this ride?"

"…yeah."

—

Emile was back home past midnight. Exhausted, happy, and in need of a glass of water. He took off his blue pronoun bracelet the moment he walked in, put it on the stand, and…

And his phone pinged.

'Daddy: sup bb <3<3'

Emile… did not know how to respond.

'Daddy: its remy. how you doin boo? got home safe??'

…Emile Picani, psychology student and introvert extraordinaire, just got himself into a world of trouble.

'Em: yes, thank you. I'm going to go shower now. Gn Remy!'

—

Six months later

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" Patton was screaming at the top of his lungs. "You have one hour of daylight, then you can say night-night, I'll be over here!"

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" Roman completed him.

"I will never get why you two still sing that song," Logan scolded the two, laughing over his book.

And then Emile's phone started ringing. And Roman immediately snatched it to check.

"Wait…" The actor almost threw the phone back at Emile. "But I thought you didn't talk to your dad anymore?"

'Daddy is calling…'

"Hey Remy," Emile answered, fiddling with their purple pronoun bracelet.

"Wait, Remy?!"

"I think we just scarred your brother for life, sweetie."

And as if on cue, Roman fainted.

—————

Tag list:

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @asleepybisexual @winglessnymph @illmamnim @adoratato @anony-phangirl @itsthemoooooooooon @em-be-lievable

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #remile #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #meet cute #disney world!!#emile has a lollipop obsession yall

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dantesunbreaker · 7 years ago

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My Sunshine: Lion x Fem!Reader

This wasn’t a request, I just saw this prompt and really wanted to write something for it. Lion’s singing doesn’t actually translate to the same words as the song in English, but this was something I found on Youtube and I thought it sounded well enough.

At first it didn’t seem like it would be a difficult mission. Simply get in, secure the biohazard container, take out the hostiles, and get out. But nobody was expecting the sheer number of men they had protecting the building. Bullets fly everywhere, explosions go off at a near constant rate all around, and there seems to be no sense of order to the chaos happening around them. It isn’t even possibly to count the deaths and injuries for either side of the fight because there is too much going on.

Y/n doesn’t even remember how it happened, but she ends up lying on the ground with a broken leg that leaves her unable to stand. Painfully she manages to drag herself out of the open to a secluded corner, hoping that it will prove a good hiding spot until one of her teammates can come to her rescue. Not that they will know to come looking for her. Earlier she had been knocked to the ground by an enemy, and her headset and radio were smashed as they struggled against each other. So she is unable to contact anyone. Not that she thinks there will be anyone that can come to save her anyways. It could be that everyone else is in a position very similar to hers.

Leaning back against a wall, Y/n tries to keep her leg immobilized as best as possible. While doing so, she doesn't realize that an enemy has spotted her, and she is completely defenseless as her rifle rests on the ground beside her. It is a rookie mistake. The kind that gets you or even others killed. A bullet hits the ground just inches away from her leg. Y/n knows this won't end well as she looks up to see several terrorists at the end of the corridor aiming down their sights at her. So she closes her eyes, not wanting to see the end.

Several guns fire all at once, the sound echoing around the room. Yet Y/n never feels the biting pain of a bullet. Instead she hears something drop to ground with a heavy thud. Cracking one eye open, Y/n sees the two gunmen lying lifeless on the ground. However, the over six foot tall man standing only a few yards from her with his back towards her truly captures her attention. A whimper leaves her lips as she watches him fall to his knees, rifle dropping from his hands. One of the man’s hands goes to his abdomen.

“Olivier,” Y/n calls softly, voice dripping with worry as she shifts her body in attempt to get closer to him without moving.

Lion shoulders off his large backpack, letting it fall with a thud before he further lowers himself so that he can sit on the ground, legs spread out before him. Turning, he looks over at his lover with a pained smile. There is a large pool of blood across the glaring yellow material of his suit centered around his stomach. She can’t keep herself from letting out a gasp.

“No,” she doesn’t want to believe it. Despite the pain, she pulls herself across the floor to rest beside him, throwing her arms around him tightly. There are tears in her eyes. She knows what this means. “You can’t do this to me, Olivier. Why would you do that? Why would you risk your life like that?”

Even though it brings him more pain, Lion chuckles at her as if she asked the stupidest question he ever heard. “I thought that would be obvious mon amour,” he situates himself so that she can lie comfortably at his side. “I love you. I’d risk anything if it meant you were safe.”

“I’m sorry. I should have done better.” Shaking her head, tears rolling down in rivers over her cheeks, she rests her head against his shoulder. It shouldn’t have to end this way. Whimpers turn into sobs as Y/n tries to curl herself around Lion.

She is afraid to lose him. After all this time together she isn’t sure that she can survive being alone anymore. All the time spent in Lion’s apartment trying to help each other cope with the sins of their pasts would just be a waste. Trembling fingers grip at Lion’s suit, unwilling to let him go.

“Hey, shhh” Lion’s voice is still so soft and soothing as he shushes her, “it’s okay.” One of his hands moves to wipe away her tears, even though more simply take their place. “You’ll be okay mon cher.” He knows that he won’t make it. There is too much blood. If that doesn’t kill him, then he is sure infection will, being certain that some internals were ruptured.

“No, you can’t die on me like this!” Y/n is suddenly in a panic, desperately trying to staunch the blood flow with her hands as she breathes heavy. She won’t let him give up without a fight.

However, Lion moves slowly, grabbing both of her hands in one of his, looking into her eyes with such a peaceful smile. It takes a few seconds, but Y/n eventually understands. Lion has already accepted his fate, and he doesn’t want her to try and help.

“Just breathe,” his voice is so calm, as if he doesn’t know that he is experiencing his last moments of this life. But he does know. In his last moments he wants nothing more than to comfort his lover.

Y/n shouldn’t fear his death. Lion knows that one day they will meet again in another life, in a better place that is unhindered by the pain of this world. Doing his best, he manages to sit himself up against a wall, pulling Y/n carefully into his lap. She looks so small and delicate in his arms. Numbness has spread up his limbs, making it difficult to move, but he does his best to hold her tightly against his chest. It feels like his touch is feather light, unable to actually keep her in place with his own strength, but Y/n holds herself in the position.

When her tears still do not stop, Lion presses the lightest kiss against her temple as he parts his lips. “Tu es mon soleil, mon petit soleil,” he starts to sing softly, recalling the tune of a song she once sang to him. “Tu rends heureuse quand je suis triste.”

It doesn’t stop the tears, in fact it makes them come faster. Yet she presses her face against his chest and wraps her arm around his waist, holding him as tight as she can. It doesn’t hurt. He can’t really feel anything anymore, but he appreciates the gesture. Lion continues to sing, even when it begins to grow difficult to carry on the tune. He can feel his energy slowly drain away with each passing moment, but he stays strong for Y/n.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Y/n shifts a little in his arms before she begins to sing along with him, looking up to see the soft smile on his face. “You make me happy when skies are gray,” she continues to sing even after his eyes close and his own singing stops. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” As she finishes, she rests her head over his chest, sobbing as she listens to the silence.

Hours have likely passed by the time everything has calmed down, the mission over and the terrorists eliminated. Thatcher is the one to walk down the secluded corridor is search of the missing operators, spying their crumpled forms in the middle of the hall. It isn’t until he gets closer that he realizes what he is seeing. As much as he may have not liked Lion, it doesn’t keep him from feeling the pain of loss. The man was young. Too young to die like this. Y/n was too young to have to lose someone like that as well.

“Come on, Imma get you outta here,” Thatcher kneels down beside them, looking Y/n in the eyes, noting the dried tears along her cheeks. “We’ve got a medic on standby that can take care of that leg for ya.”

Gently, Thatcher has to untangle Y/n from Lion’s stiffened limbs in order to lift her off his body and hoist her up into his own arms. She makes a strangled moan of discomfort, but then presses a hand flat against the older man’s chest, asking him to wait.

“We can’t leave him here,” Y/n’s voice is dry and cracked, the words making her throat hurt just to say. But she won’t leave unless Lion goes too.

Thatcher has removed his mask, so Y/n can see the serious look in his eyes as he looks directly at her. “I’ll come back for him, I promise. First I need to get ya out of here though.” She gives a nod, resting her head against his shoulder. The look in his eyes told her that he would keep his word.

She has cried too much to have any tears left, but she watches as Lion’s crumpled form slowly fades from view as she is carried away. The pain in her chest is something she has never experienced before, and she wishes that it would simply go away. Why was life so cruel to take the life of a man she loved so dearly?

The funeral happens only a few days later. Everyone comes, including Doc, and even Claire and Lion’s son, Alexis. Y/n pays them no mind though. She sits beside Montagne during the ceremony, holding his hand tightly in both of hers, leaning her head against his shoulder for comfort as she tries to hold back tears. As things wrap up, and people prepare to depart, Montagne helps Y/n stand, seeing as her leg is wrapped in a cast. Softly she hums under her breath as she places a flower over Lion’s casket.

#rainbow six siege x reader #rainbow six siege fanfic #rainbow six siege #r6s #r6siege #lion x reader #lion #r6s lion

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radreactions · 7 years ago

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Dream Daddy/Mummy

Written by @saintlyguy who was inspired by a dating sim called “Dream Daddy.”

*Warning - Imminent cuteness ahead!*

Ada: The bumbling mom who’s first priority is to protect her child. Although Ada is fully capable of looking after her child and teach them common sense, she’s not the best cook or cleaner. When she’s not extinguishing the oven fire she started, she’d ask help from her neighbor Codsworth, even for babysitting while she works as an arithmetic (probably for NASA to uncover some hidden figures). Although her house isn’t the most organized place, Ada provides a safe environment for her child despite her doubts and flaws.

Cait: At first, she’d have cold feet; to think she of all people could raise a child on her own. She would need to gradually warm up to the idea, at first being frustrated with providing food and bed for two. Despite her callous personality, Cait would refrain from yelling at her child and forbid herself from laying a hand on them. Coming from abusive parents, Cait would want to be the caring mother she never had. She would need PLENTY of help from Nate/Nora, considering they’re much more experienced in parenting as well as etiquette. That means less drinking (few shots a week don’t hurt), stop getting into (as much) fights and to cut back on swearing. Overtime with assistance of her friends and a swear jar, you could see Cait walking through Sanctuary Hills with her kid in hand. Eventually she would begin to teach them how to fight. She would kinda be like Black Canary in the Injustice series.

Curie: The apex mother; plenty of love, hugs, kisses, cuddles and snuggles. Her child would be pampered emotionally and prepared educationally. Curie would homeschool her child, so well that they will most likely study abroad on scholarships. Mama Curie will always ensure that her child eats healthy, properly maintains hygiene and above all feel as if they can always turn to her for anything. She would do the “Get Out” challenge across a playground in order to kiss her child’s boo-boo. Whenever her child accomplished a feat, no matter how small (especially during potty-training) they would be met with a small applause and a kiss on the forehead. Mama shines especially when taking care of her sick child. “Rest mon cher, Mama will nurse you back to health.” No doubt her child will grow up into a reflection of her selflessness.

Danse: Military dad. Disciplining his child so that they could be much better and stronger than he is. Also the dad to walk around in buttoned shirts with rolled up sleeves. He’d be especially involved in his child’s health and well-being. Willing to spend any expense for his child’s pursuits, so long as he finds them practical and morally sound. An example would be when he closed the door on a recruiter from CIT. “Damn Institute.” Despite his mildly overprotectiveness, Danse’s child will always have a shoulder to cry on; arms to hold them; a rock to lean on. As a baby his child would always be willing to sleep on his broad chest or be carried in a baby harness. Many admirers of him would envy the child for being the apple of his eye.

Deacon: The cool yet irresponsible dad. Always looking for creative ways to have fun with his child; taking them out to conventions, festivals, arcades and amusement parks. He would even go so far as to design his child’s room to their liking; if they love Batman, his child would be sleeping in their own Batcave. How does he afford all this? “Don’t you worry your little head, nothing’s too much when it comes to my little one.” However the father and child would always be covered in bandages, since safety isn’t always taken into account; like that time he dressed up as Bane so that his child could defeat him as Batman/woman, which ended with Deacon having a broken nose and a missing tooth.

Dogmeat: No one, NO ONE will ever harm his puppy. You looking to harm Pupmeat? You will hear the most intimidating snarls and barks in your life. Here’s a translation: “Motherfucker you lay a hand on my pup, I will bite your genitals and ass off. Afterwards my pup and I will tear up your skin. Afterwards, I’m gonna shit in your mouth and leave your corpse to the maggots.”

Gage: Similar to Cait, Gage would have no idea how to handle fatherhood. At first his only concern would be providing basic needs. After seeing how fussy his child can be without any attention, he began to take into account their wants. This would be annoying to Gage as he began to carry his child wherever he went. Soon he became a much more responsible father; telling bedtime stories and teaching his child what he knew. He would however know to give them space here and there so that “They don’t grow up to be a pussy.” As much as he loves his child, if they were to go do something stupid, he wouldn’t be afraid to throw his slipper at them.

Hancock: The ghoul would want to pass on his ideals of freedom onto his child in order to help improve the world, but first he would need to change the man in the mirror first. No more chems. For real. He’d ensure that the vices of Goodneighbor would not corrupt his child; they would be the diamond in the rough. His child would have much freedom in how they express themself; clothing, identity and interests. Anyone would dare bully his child would feel a knife poke into their back as they’re dragged back into an alleyway for a discussion. “‘Boys can’t wear dresses/ Girls can’t wear suits?’ You and I need to have a talk.”

Longfellow: The outdoor dad; type to shop at North Face or Bass Co. Wears fishing vests and hiking boots wherever, whenever. Not shy about drinking in front of his child, although he would hold off on sharing a drink until they’re 21. Takes his kid camping/hunting/fishing once a year. Takes a cross-country trip with an RV to see wonders of nature. He would want to raise his child out of a metropolitan area, probably somewhere like the frontier.

MacCready: Duncan would have someone to share his interests, be it Grognak comics or mutfruit. The lucky kid would always have someone to watch the latest Marvel movie with, sometimes even going in cosplay; their favorite by far is Guardians of the Galaxy Vo. 2 (for obvious reasons for those who have seen it). MacCready is always willing to roleplay and even larp with Duncan, having plenty of cardboard to cut into whatever they need. Whenever he isn’t playing with Duncan, MacCready is out working his tail at two jobs; despite medical bills for Duncan, the father and son are able to live happily.

Nick Valentine (story time; Lego Batman reference!): After chasing a lead regarding the Mysterious Stranger, Nick returns to the agency for a new case in Far Harbor. Heading to the terminal, Nick researches a disappearance and how he’ll get there. “Fastest route to Far Harbor.” The terminal isn’t responding. “FASTEST ROUTE! Why isn’t this thing working?”

Dun dun duh! “Hello Mister Valentine. I’ve just taken away your terminal privilege.” GASP

“Lucky for me, I got a master password.”

“You mean “ellie_sucks.” Crap. “Nick, it’s time you start taking responsibility of your life and it starts by raising your daughter.”

“I’m sorry, I’m completely lost.”

“The young orphan you let in with you, she’s been living here for a while and I’m quite fond of her.”

“Well I don’t have time to watch a kid. Send her back to wherever she came. Or the orphanage if they still have any.”

“Mr. Valentine this will be great for you. Start getting you back with us socializing people. Let her into your life as you let me in.”

“As someone who doesn’t know how it feels to have a surrogate father, you shouldn’t be telling me how I should run my life, now lift the terminal lock.” Slyly, Ellie opens the door to allow the young girl in. “Ellie, what are you doing?!”

“Letting Piper into your life.”

“Don’t forget Nat!” a squeaky voice announced as the door closes behind Valentine’s new daughter. Wait. Daughters. Ellie may have let that detail slide.

Piper: Having an appropriate job to support her plus one family, she would live in a condo with her child and auntie Nat. Given her punctuality for news, Piper told the best bedtime stories; not ever needing to read from a storybook. Her child’s imagination would soar while their grammar and writing surpasses their classmates’. Nat would be competitive regarding who’s a better caretaker; Piper won this when she brought in Grandpa Valentine dressed up as Santa for Christmas. Eventually Nat will settle for second best; what child could resist Piper showering them with kisses and cooing “Who’s my little pearl? You are!”

Preston: A parent whose care almost rivals that of Curie, maybe even Nora/Nate. Preston would raise his child close to school, the park and their favorite restaurant. He’s the dad who would wear a funny apron while baking brookies for his child and their friends. He may not understand some of the songs his child enjoys, but he’ll put up with them so long as the songs aren’t derogatory; he was on the fence when his child would listen to The Fuxedos. Preston’s concern grew as his child grew. As much as his child understands, hearing “Another college needs your application” daily gets old.

Strong: The dad who wears the shirts that say stuff like “guns don’t kill, dads do.” Everybody wonders how the hell did anyone decide to have a kid with that guy. But they quickly change their minds when they see how Strong scared off some hoodlums with a single stare. He would always be the chaperone for his child’s school trips. Although he may not be that smart and has to use a flip phone, Strong makes up for it by providing safety for his child and their friends. Although no one dares to invite him to their barbeque, he’ll probably eat everything (but ensures to keep two whole steaks for his child.)

X6-88: Being cold on the outside and seemingly apathetic makes it hard to see X6 as a parent. None of his neighbors know his past, or where he gets his income, but this dad is able to provide organic meals for his child as well as get them pretty pricey outfits. Ever since they were a baby, X6’s child would wear gold Rayban aviators, similar to their father. X6 would ensure that his child’s posture and strut just exhausts power and regality. But what most people don’t realize, is that he doesn’t shy away from staycations in pajamas and having lightsaber fights with his kid once and awhile.

Nora/Nate: Fresh cookies baked in the afternoon, homemade costumes/cosplay, a robot butler and faithful dog. This household just gives off family vibes. Nora/Nate would ensure that Shaun would grow up into a person more grand than they are. They would be on top of everything Shaun is interested in. Their family would be the envy of Sanctuary Hills. If only.

Conrad Kellogg: Although this he scares most people, his wife and daughter, Sarah and Mary would feel safe in their bungalow near San Francisco. Although prefers to keep to himself and his family, Kellogg would always take his family out so that they may enjoy themselves and each other. But what’s secret to everyone, even to his family is a secret room where does some pretty shady business.

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monami-laurens-blog · 7 years ago

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Family Denial - Mullette

Author’s Note: Mon ami! Good evening! This took two hours to write and let’s just say it was totally worth it! Also my Jeddmads fic I Will Always Be Here will be posted soon! Don’t forget! If you want me to write so fic about your ship look at my list then send an ask! I’ll be glad to satisfy your needs! <3

Word Count: 2274

Warning: Small panic attack (it’s really not that bad), people hating on Laf and Herc’s relationship, a lil’ slap

Prompt: None!!

Hercules and Lafayette make their way up to the doorstep of Lafayette’s birth parents home. They traveled all the way to France, because Lafayette’s family in France were dying to meet Laf’s significant other. Lafayette was happy to bring Hercules to his family, but they don’t know that his lover was another man.

“Babe...I don’t know if I can do this” Hercules says, his voice low so no one but Laf could hear, “What if they don’t like me and they force us apart?”

Laf shoots his boyfriend with a warm and comforting smile, “Mon chéri, trust me, they’ll love you. I’m not sure if they are okay with people like us, but they are family they need to know.”

Hercules was still terrified, with all the eyes looking at him weirdly when they would do the things the so-called normal couples do. (Laf says they are the out of the ordinary couple because they are different in so many ways but still are meant for each other)

“Que dis-tu de ça (How about this), If they don’t approve we will walk right out and go back the hotel room.” Laf says, trying to calm Herc down. He could see in his eyes that even though Lafayette was comforting him there was still fear.

“No, we are going, it’s you family Laf. I can’t take that away from you just because I’m afraid of what they’ll think. I will just...try to stay calm.” Hercules says, taking a deep breath and sliding his hands into Laf’s.

“It will be fine because I’m here” Laf whispers into Hercules hear giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Laf rang the doorbell and was greeted by his older brother Michel. “Frère! Nous saluons le retour! je vous ai manqué! (Brother! Welcome back! I missed you!)” he said immediately grabbing Laf pulling him away from Hercules’s grip.

“Haha, je t'ai manqué aussi bien que je t'ai vu hier!! (Haha, I missed you too even though I saw you yesterday!)” Lafayette says with a small laugh. Hercules loved that laugh.

“Entrez, entrez! Mère et Père et très heureux de voir la jeune fille chanceuse! (Come in, Come in! Mother and I very excited to see the lucky maiden!)”

Hercules tried to say something but he didn't get to say anything because Lafayette dragged him in. He was even more nervous than before. Lafayette’s brother assumed that Laf was dating a girl. They will not approve of him, he was sure of it.

Both Lafayette and Hercules were seated on a couch while Michel went to fetch Lafayette’s parents. Laf squeezed his boyfriend’s hand as reassurance, but he barely got a squeeze back, instead Hercules flashed a fake smile on his face to hide the fear. Lafayette don't believe it one bit.

“Ahh, mon fils merveilleux! Comment vas-tu aujourd'hui? (Ahh, my wonderful son! How are you today?)” His mother smiled warmly going in for a hug.

“Je suis génial Mère, où est-ce qu'il est au travail? (I’m great Mother, where is Father is he at work?)” Lafayette asked, he didn't realize it but his hand had slipped out of Hercules’s again.

“Malheureusement, il était très impatient de voir votre amant, mais je lui ai assuré qu'il la verrait demain, alors je m'attends à ce que vous passiez la nuit? (Sadly, he is, he was very eager to see your lover but I assured him that he would see her tomorrow, so I'm expecting you to stay overnight?)”

“Bien sûr, Mère! (Of course Mother!)” Lafayette said, he sat back down on the couch and saw the fear upon Hercules face. He had forgotten that Hercules had learn French, so he knew that they were staying over. He wanted to comfort him, and talk to him about the matter but his mother started to speak.

“Maintenant, où est-elle? Michel, je parie qu'elle est belle! Cheveux courts, yeux bruns ... Chou, mon cher! Plus je pense à cela, plus je me (Now, where is she? Michel, I bet she's beautiful! Short hair, brown eyes..Oh dear! The more I think about it the more I get excited!)” Lafayette’s mother sat on a chair, her eyes were filled with desire to see the woman. She wanted the best for her youngest son after all.

Hercules sat there awkwardly, not knowing if he should tell them or let Laf tell them.

“Oh, je suis désolé d'être gros monsieur! J'étais très heureux de voir mon frère que je n'ai jamais demandé de votre présence! Quel est ton nom? Ou parlez-vous uniquement l'anglais? (Oh, I’m sorry to be rude sir! I was very excited to see my brother that I never asked about your presence! What's your name? Or do you speak English only?)”

“Je m'appelle Hercules Mulligan, et non, je parle français, je l'ai fait pour Laf (My name is Hercules Mulligan, and no I speak French I learned it for Laf)” Hercules said rubbing his legs with his hands so he could wipe off the sweat. Laf looks at Hercules with worry and starts to get nervous himself.

“C'est une bonne chose à faire pour un ami, M. Mulligan. Mais s'il vous plaît, fils ne me laissez pas souffrir, laissez-moi le voir! (That is such a nice thing to do for a friend Mr.Mulligan. But please, son don't let me suffer let me see her!)” Lafayette mother whines, she then straighten her posture and clears her throat because she realized that whining was unprofessional.

Lafayette then started to panic, internally screaming, he was getting light headed. He was afraid that they would disapprove of the relationship. Laf heard Hercules take a deep breath and held Lafayette’s hand. His mother’s eyes grew big and stood up.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur, mon fils est en relation avec une femme, alors je vous demande de lui enlever la main. (Excuse me, sir, my son is in a relationship with a woman so I demand you take his hand out of his.)” She could not believe his son was friends with people with this much disrespect. He was from America she should’ve expected it.

“M-Mother…” Lafayette said, looking at her with fear.

“Je suis désolé de vous l'abandonner Mlle, mais il est mon petit ami, alors j'ai tout le droit de tenir sa main et de le réconforter. (I’m sorry to break it to you Miss but he is my boyfriend, so I have every single right to hold his hand and comfort him.)” Hercules said with pride, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Lafayette’s mother was taken aback, her son was in love with another man? She didn’t want to make any rash movements. She would just wait until her husband came home and then would take care of the matter. Shen sent her eldest son a look that meant for him to keep quiet and to play along.

“Oh! Je suis vraiment désolé! Je n'étais pas au courant de ça! C'est donc la personne gentille et belle dont vous parlez ... Gilbert? (Oh! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t aware of that! So this is the kind and beautiful person you were speaking of...Gilbert?)” He was afraid that things were going to get messy if he spoke so he just nodded.

“Je suis désolé, mais je dois m'occuper de mon petit ami, alors avez-vous une chambre d'hôtes depuis notre nuit? (I’m sorry but I need to take care of my boyfriend so do you have a guest bedroom since we are staying overnight?)” Hercules asked, helping Laf stand to his feet.

“Descendre ce couloir (Go down this hallway),” Michel pointed in the direction they needed to go to. “La quatrième chambre à gauche est à vous. (The fourth bedroom on the left is yours.)

Hercules thanked Michel and made his way down to the bedroom. Lafayette mother then pulled Michel into the kitchen and her eyes were now filled with anger.

“Mon fils aime d'autres hommes … (My son likes other men…)” She turns around and slams her hand on the countertop. “Je vais parler à votre père ce soir afin que nous puissions voir ce que nous devons faire ... Je ne permet pas à une personne comme ça dans ma famille ... et si vous leur dites … (I am going to speak to your father tonight so we can see what we need to do...I am not allowing a person like that into my family...and if you tell them…)”

“Je ne serai pas mère (I won’t Mother)”

The two then went their separate ways, but on Michel’s way to his room he heard sobbing from the guest bedroom. He pressed his ear to the wall because he was curious, did Hercules make his younger brother cry?

“J'ai eu tellement peur ... Je ... j'ai gelé ... J'aurais dû leur dire ... mais … (I was so scared...I-I froze...I should have told them...but…)” Laf cried, hugging Hercules at the same time. He thought he was strong enough but he was wrong.

“Shh, babe, it’s not your fault...they approved. Don’t think it's your fault okay?” Hercules didn't know what urged him to stand up and just confess but he is glad he did it. He isn’t as nervous to speak to Laf’s father.

“I’m a mess...why do you care for me?” Laf whispered. Hercules lied Laf down on the bed and kissed him on the forehead.

“Because, you are my mess and it's my job to always clean you up..” Hercules says with a smile, “I’m going to get a water for you okay?”

Laf nods and snuggles up in the blanket.

Michel’s heart was warmed, they were perfect for eachother for sure. But it is not meant to be. Michel runs to his room before Hercules sees him.

The next morning, Laf woke up a bit earlier than Herc so he got to see the man asleep and he thought it was the cutest thing. He grabbed his phone so he could take a picture. But when he took it he didn’t realize flash was on, so the man awoke from his slumber groaning.

“What time is it?”

Laf smiles and hugs his boyfriend, “Temps endormi (still sleepy time), sorry for waking you. You just look too cute when you are asleep.”

“What can I say? I’m the cutest.” Hercules says smiling, he then slowly drifts back to sleep with Laf in his arms.

Laf likes that spot so he doesn't get up until he hears a knock on the door.

“Fils? C'est moi, pouvons-nous parler en dehors de la salle s'il vous plait (Son? It’s me, may we speak outside the room please)”

“Bien sûr père! (Of course Father!)”

Laf opens the door revealing his father, he steps out of the room and closes it quietly. Then faces his father.

“J'ai vu un homme dormir dans le même lit que vous, je suppose que c'est votre ami? La prochaine fois, je préférerais qu'il soit dormi dans une pièce séparée afin que vous puissiez avoir la vie privée. (I saw a man sleeping in the same bed as you, I’m assuming it’s your friend? Next time I'd rather have him sleep in a separate room so you can have privacy.)” Lafayette father says, stone faced.

“Eh bien, vous voyez père, ce n'est pas seulement un ami que l'homme est mon petit ami (Well you see father that is not just a friend that man is my boyfriend)” Lafayette was started to get nervous again but tried to remember the feeling when Hercules held his hand.

“Boyfriend ... Un homme avec un autre ... n'a pas beaucoup de sens pour moi fils...(Boyfriend...One man with another...doesn’t make a lot of sense to me son...)”

Lafayette was stunned, was that a joke? He wanted to disagree with his father, but he was caught off guard at the time for some reason.

“Aucun fils de moi ne fera un tel horreur que de rencontrer un autre homme. Si vous voulez toujours être connu comme mon fils, je vous suggère de dire à l'homme dégoûtant de quitter ma propriété et de rompre avec lui. (No son of mine will do some as horrid as dating another man, If you still want to be known as my son I suggest you tell the disgusting man to get off of my property and break up with him.)”

Lafayette eyes were filling with tears, his family didn’t approve of him. He felt like an outsider, and unloved. He looked at his father again, there was no pity in his eyes. That’s when he saw a hand slap him across the face.

“Êtes-vous sourd? Je vous commande comme votre père … (Are you deaf son? I command you as your father to--)”

Hercules then swung the door open almost missing Lafayette’s dad’s face. “Je ne vous laisserai pas lui parler comme ça! Ou le toucher de telle manière! Nous serons sur notre chemin, il suffit de nous donner un moment pour collecter nos biens (I will not let you speak to him like that! Or touch him in such a way! We will be on our way, just give us a moment to collect our belongings).”

Hercules brought Lafayette back into the room and he broke down. Tears streamed down his face, he tried to speak but it's seemed like gibberish.

“Laf, don’t cry...It’s okay that they don’t approve...we have George and Martha. Those are your parents not these homophobes…”

“Je pensais qu'ils nous ont vraiment aimés Herc ... Je pensais que nous serions acceptés comme qui nous sommes ... mais ce crime? (I thought they really liked us Herc...I thought we were going to be accepted as who we are...but that a crime?!)” Laf spat, still crying.

“Laf, you need to breathe, okay?” Hercules says into his ear.

Laf nodded, and did as told. By the time Lafayette was stable again. It was time to leave. No one stayed at the door and waved to them as they left. No one even said goodbye to Lafayette. He was hurt, but he knew his real family was at home with all his friends and his adoptive...or real parents. Laf grabbed Hercules hand, and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Thank you for always being the best boyfriend.” Laf said, he smiled. He wasn’t sad anymore. He knew he was loved.

#mullette #mullette fic #mullette fanfic #hamilton #monamilaurensfics #hercules mulligan #lafayette

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