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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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Merlin goes home for a little while, determined to enjoy a well-earned vacation;

Camelot immediately falls apart, with the sole exceptions of Guinevere and Gaius.

Merlin knows Arthur really well.

Which just means he knows exactly how to get him to let his servant go home for two weeks to visit his mother and relax a little:

“You just don’t want me to go because you know you can’t cope without me! Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine, but you’ll struggle just as much there as you would here because I refuse to act as your servant in my own home.”

Arthur turns red, looking outraged as he loses the ability to speak. Merlin turns around before The King can see his satisfied smirk, tidying around the prat’s chambers with exaggerated annoyance as he just waits for the inevitable-

“Fine! Go! See if I even notice that you’re gone! Honestly, Merlin, the running of the Kingdom will probably end up going smoother without you here to mess things up, you bumbling idiot.”

Merlin grins to himself before schooling his face back into annoyance and turning around with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly:

“Fine!”

The servant decides that he’d better leave, what with the way he was struggling to keep the victorious grin from his face, so without waiting for a response, he “storms” from the room, slamming the door behind him as dramatically as he’s able when he hears Arthur yell:

“FINE!”

Merlin sets off at the beginning of the next week. Gaius had raised a disapproving eyebrow when his ward had told him how he’d gotten Arthur to agree to such a long vacation, but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the elderly physician thought it was funny.

Gwen and Morgana make sure to see him out of the castle gates with big hugs, and whilst all of the knights were meant to be training, it came as no surprise to anyone when Gwaine slacks off for half a candle-mark to say goodbye as well. Mordred shoots him a quick goodbye across their mental link as the servant walks away from the city, after promising Merlin that he would warn him if anyone was in any serious danger (”Serious danger only, Mordred, I mean it. If I get called home because Arthur is throwing some sort of tantrum, then I’ll act out your destiny for you.”).

Merlin’s journey goes smoothly. The world was hovering in the junction between Spring and Summer, but with a little magical manipulation, the Warlock had no trouble staying warm and keeping his feet beneath him on the uneven path. Unsurprisingly, the young man is a lot less clumsy when he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his magic locked away so tightly.

Two days after his departure from Camelot, his mother is greeting him outside her little house with a long hug and a wide grin, stroking a hand through his hair as she welcomes him home.

Coincidentally, that’s also about the time things started going to shit for everyone else.

It was just after noon when Elyan had to be carried to Gaius’ chambers, his whole body juddering as he struggles to draw breath, the lack of oxygen from his throat closing up mixed with the panic making his brain go fuzzy.

Percival holds him up from one side and Leon holds him from the other, the two of them bursting through the physician’s door just as Elyan’s eyes roll back in his head. Gaius looks up suddenly, obviously startled by the abrupt intrusion, but he swiftly focuses, eyes wide and assessing as he quickly points them to a patient pallet:

“What happened?”

The two knights lay him down as carefully as they can before standing out of the way as Leon forces out an answer, trying to catch his breath between words:

“I don’t know, servants brought lunch out whilst we were training so we stopped to eat and he just started... wheezing. We thought he was choking at first but he said he couldn’t breathe. Has... has he been poisoned? We stopped everyone from eating.”

Gaius had gathered a handful of odd looking dried leaves the moment Leon mentioned the food, recognising the symptoms of an allergic reaction and putting two and two together immediately. He crushes them in his hands quickly, knowing he didn’t have time for a proper mortar and pestle as he shoves the crumbs into Elyan’s mouth, following through with a vile of something green and gross-smelling

He massages the odd concoction down Elyan’s throat as best he can around the swelling, and lets out a relieved smile when the knight’s eyes blow wide open and he chokes slightly before swallowing it all, grimacing at the taste but breathing deeply as his airways open again.

Leon and Percival let out similar breathes of relief when Elyan begins breathing again, chuckling breathlessly at his disgusted groan. The door bursts open again before anyone can say anything, and Arthur strides in, his flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes implying he had sprinted across the castle in his panic.

He spots Elyan on the pallet, his deep breaths interspersed with the odd cough, and his eyes widen even further as he looks to Gaius for an explanation:

“A servant told me something was wrong, what happened?!”

The King loses a little of the tension in his shoulders when Elyan waves a thumbs-up in his vague direction, but still looks frantically between the two knights and the physician as he waits for an answer. Percival wordlessly moves to Elyan’s side, running a hand up and down the man’s arm as Leon looks to Gaius expectantly:

“He had an allergic reaction, likely to nuts in the food. He should be fine, but he needs a day or two of rest, and to come back to me immediately if his throat swells again.”

Arthur sags in relief, nodding his approval of Elyan’s needed bedrest, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he lets out a knowing noise:

“Of course! I forgot about his allergy, it hasn’t been an issue since we were kids.”

Gaius nods knowingly and begins reorganising the jars he had knocked over when the knights had startled him:

“Hmm. I imagine he watched what he ate carefully when he was travelling, but Merlin keeps an eye on all of your food now.”

Leon frowns slightly as he tilts his head in confusion, but Arthur beats him to the punch, asking incredulously:

“What do you mean, Merlin keeps an eye on our food?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, holding in his smirk as he slowly replies:

“Well, Merlin is usually the one to bring food out to you when you train, is he not? And on days he can’t he always speaks with the kitchen staff to double check what food is going where. Sir Elyan is not the only one with an allergy, My Lord. Merlin always makes sure any food the seven of you are given is safe. He has a tendency to check the Lady Morgana’s meals as well, whenever he’s able.”

Arthur is too taken aback to reply, his mouth hanging open, but that is when Percival looks up from his place at Elyan’s side, a confused frown on his face:

“Why?”

Gaius doesn’t manage to hold his smile in at that, looking between the three knights, and Elyan, who has just about managed to regain his breath:

“To avoid situations like this, I imagine, and to check for poison. It’s not uncommon for assassins to try and lace the royal’s food with something or other.”

Arthur finally shuts his mouth, only to open it again, speaking slowly:

“So... Merlin checks all of our food?”

Gaius nods:

“Religiously, Sire.”

Leon and Percival just shrug, adding it to their list of Weird Things About Merlin That They Should Be Grateful For, and Elyan smiles goofily from his place on the bed (whether it was the lack of oxygen or something funky in the vial, the knight didn’t know, but he was definitely still feeling a little... odd), but Arthur just frowns deeper, muttering a distracted “Take it easy.” to Elyan before walking stiffly from the room.

The King makes quick work of the journey back to the council meeting, desperately trying to persuade himself that this was nothing to do with him not being able to cope without Merlin. Elyan was the one not coping, clearly. Merlin was still wrong and stupid and Arthur hadn’t even noticed that he was gone until Gaius brought him up (a lie, he missed him terribly, but shhh).

Leon and Percival look to Gaius in confusion when Arthur had almost stormed from the room, and the Physician simply smiles again, the amusement shining clearly in his eyes:

“Merlin persuaded Arthur to let him take a holiday by heavily implying that he couldn’t cope with Merlin’s absence.”

Percival snorts with laughter and Leon raises an eyebrow as he grins:

“Arthur took that as a challenge then, I suppose? Two days in and we’ve already got The King sprinting from meetings because a knight has collapsed from an allergic reaction... because Merlin wasn’t here...”

Gaius just nods, and Percival mutters an amused:

“This will be entertaining.”

Arthur steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the next mini disaster, a few days later, was also down to Merlin’s absence.

Ok, so maybe it was because Merlin wasn’t here, but ultimately, it was Gwaine that messed up, not Arthur. So it didn’t count.

The knight came back from a night patrol that he’d taken with The King with an infected gash on his arm. Arthur grins teasingly as he describes to Gaius how the knight had tripped on a loose cobblestone and scratched his arm on the sharp edge of a stray cart at the beginning of the patrol, and Gaius hums disapprovingly as he unwraps the scrap of fabric Gwaine had used as a bandage:

“Did you not have any medical supplies in your pack? Or did you think it best to let it get infected so I had to wake an hour before dawn to deal with it?”

Gwaine swings his dangling legs back and forth from where he sits on Gaius’ table, pouting sheepishly as he admits:

“I looked, but there wasn’t anything helpful in there, usually the armoury-hands have them stocked up for the patrols, I guess they missed mine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s seeming ineptitude, but his scolding is interrupted before it even begins when Gaius shakes his head in disagreement:

“Hmm. The servants that work in the armoury only tend to check the packs every few weeks, and even then they only check if they need any repairs. Merlin is the one with easier access to patrol rotas, so he’s the one who stocks them up on a day to day basis.”

Gwaine just nods in understanding, as if he should’ve expected that, but Arthur’s smile drops as he unfolds his arms, getting over his annoyed speechlessness in a matter of seconds:

“You’re telling me that Merlin, my personal manservant, is responsible for all the knights’ patrol packs?”

Gaius finishes cleaning Gwaine’s wound, muttering a quiet apology when the knight hisses at the first poke of the needle, speaking slowly as he focuses on making sure the stitches were neat and uniform:

“No, Sire. Technically the knights are meant to take care of their own packs, but Merlin is a paranoid man, he likes to double check things to make sure everyone has what they need. I suppose some people got used to having it done for them.”

Gwaine winces abashedly, making a mental note to remind the others to check their packs before their next patrols, but Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again and immediately accepting that this little incident was therefore Gwaine’s fault, and not down to Merlin's absence.

The voice in his head sounded a little doubtful, but he ignores it, choosing instead to chide his rebellious:

“Do try to pay attention to your own responsibilities, Sir Gwaine, I’d hate to see something terrible happen to you because you’re unable to complete your own simple tasks.”

Gwaine just sticks his tongue out petulantly, looking away from The King before he can see the blonde’s rolled eyes. Arthur huffs at his childishness, turning around to cover his grin and speaking over his shoulder as he walks from the room:

“You will be on time for once, Gwaine, training starts in a few hours and I want to see you bright and early.”

Gwaine just smirks, waiting for the door to shut behind Arthur before moving his sly, curious eyes to the physician in front of him:

“He’s missing Merlin, then?”

Gaius just gives him a knowing glance before looking back down at the now stitched gash, gathering bandages:

“I’d imagine so, though he’d never admit it. Merlin implied that Arthur wouldn’t cope with his absence,-”

Gwaine interrupts him with a laugh:

“Hence his insistence that it was entirely my fault?”

Gaius nods wordlessly, and Gwaine snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Arthur stalks back towards his chambers, eager to get out of his armour and get into bed; Gwaine had training in a few hours, but so did he, and he needed at least a little sleep. He purses his lips in annoyance as his gaze falls upon the clinical cleanliness of his room... George had been in then.

Look... Arthur being used to a slightly messy room did NOT mean he depended on Merlin. And Gwaine not being used to having to actually organise himself ALSO didn’t mean that Merlin was... ok. Maybe Gwaine relies on Merlin a little.

So that’s Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine, two of The King’s most trusted knights, who can’t cope without Merlin. But Arthur is doing just fine. It’s been half a week and he is just. Fine.

Just fine.

It was the next day that things began going wrong a little more... drastically.

George wakes Arthur up for training on time because of course he does. Arthur had found himself losing out on a lot of sleep without Merlin insisting he go to bed at a reasonable time, and waking him up late; Merlin had gotten into the habit of snatching Arthur’s paperwork away and holding it out of reach until The King agreed to go to sleep, and somehow manages to fit Arthur’s entire morning routine into half a candle-mark. George would never snatch away Arthur’s paperwork, and he takes so much longer in the mornings meaning Arthur has to wake up earlier.

Not that Arthur would ever admit to enjoying his and Merlin’s unorthodox routines.

Eight more days to go, and he’s fine.

At least... that’s what he thought until a nameless guard approaches the training field, waving him over from his spar with Mordred. Arthur strides over quickly, annoyed at the interruption and nodding at the guard to speak as he drinks from his water-skin:

“My Lord, Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel have arrived. I believe they’re waiting for your presence in the courtyard.”

Arthur chokes, managing to turn his head to the side just in time before he spits a mouthful of water over the guards face. He quickly wipes his mouth and turns back to the pour armoured man with wide eyes:

“That’s today?!

The guard nods hesitatingly:

“Yes, Sire, would you like me-”

He’s interrupted when Arthur shouts a hurried:

“Fuck!” as he drops his water-skin and begins sprinting up the field towards the castle, desperately trying to calculate if he had enough time to wash and change before they got antsy with waiting. Probably not.

Seeing Arthur’s panic and hearing his loud curse, Leon hurriedly approaches the guard, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he speaks with a frown:

“Gavin? Is everything alright?”

The guard, Gavin, looks to Leon with a confused frown:

“It would appear that His Majesty... misremembered the date of Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s arrival.”

Leon’s eyes go wide and he glances quickly to the castle as he rushes out an exclamation identical to Arthur’s:

“That’s today?!”

Gavin just nods again, and Leon drops the hand from his shoulder, letting out a loud:

“Shit!” as he recreates Arthur’s sprint up to the castle, knowing that he was expected to be at The King’s side when welcoming guests. He doesn’t pause, even when he shouts:

“Lancelot’s in charge!” over his shoulder.

The knights all look to each other in amusement, but Lancelot quickly takes charge, running drills as if he had been doing it his entire life and trusting that, whatever it was, Arthur could get things sorted. And if Arthur couldn’t get things sorted, then Leon would get things sorted. And if Leon couldn’t get things sorted, then Merlin would... oh.

He glances worriedly to the castle just as Leon falls through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his panic. Oh.

Arthur lets out the deepest breath of relief he thinks he’s ever experienced when he sees George ahead of him in the corridor; he gestures him over hastily, making the servant jog to keep up with him as he continues his fast pace down the hall:

“I don’t care how many other servants you have to pull from their duties, but I need the castle prepped for Halbert and Ethel’s arrival right now.-”

Arthur barely pays attention to George’s faltering step of shock, just stops suddenly in front of the door that leads down to the courtyard, turning to the servant and putting both hands on his shoulder as he stares at him intensely, face flushed and breathing harsh:

“I need you to do this for me, George. Prepare guest chambers, send someone down to show them to the right rooms, and make sure the Kitchens know they’re feeding two extra nobles for three days, starting today. If you can organise all of that in the next two minutes, I’ll give you a raise and a Godamn hug, you hear me?!”

George gulps, his shoulders tense, his face pale, and his breath frozen in his lungs as he meets Arthur’s frantic gaze with wide eyes. He gives a shaky nod, instantly turning and sprinting down the corridor without a word when Arthur lets go.

Leon skids around the corner, moving to stand next to Arthur with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath, speaking in a slight wheeze:

“I... I left Lance... in charge.”

Arthur nods in approval, pulling Leon to stand before holding his hands out to the side, presenting himself for inspection. Leon takes one last deep breath, smoothing the training tunic over Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to rub the dirt from his nose, and brushing a quick hand through his hair before stepping back and holding his own arms out. Arthur pulls a leaf from behind his ear, but is otherwise satisfied, and the two of them turn to the door, schooling their faces and stepping down into the courtyard.

Arthur has a calm, welcoming smile on his face, and Leon stands stiffly behind him, hand on the sword that he luckily had on his hip as he stares blankly ahead.

The nobles seem taken aback at The King's state of undress, but don’t say anything, covering their shock quickly. Arthur’s hoping that his friendly attitude will just give the impression that he’s...approachable and slightly laid back, as opposed to just an idiot who forgot they were coming because no one had reminded him.

Gods. Merlin can never know about this.

Thankfully, the next three days went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible after Arthur spent an hour rifling through his old mail to try and figure out the original reason for Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s visit (watching their eldest’s knighting ceremony, and discussing with Arthur the potential for their youngest to move to the city to become a squire).

He waves them off in a much more regal manner than he had welcomed them, and keeps his promise to George, upping his pay slightly; though he exchanges the hug for an awkward pat on the shoulder, which he thinks both of them were grateful for.

He’d successfully made it through nine days. Semi-successfully. He’d just about made it through nine days.

Five more to go. But Arthur was feeling fine about those five days. He’d double checked all his mail, and made sure to find out when his patrols were scheduled.

Which is... unknown to Arthur, where the next problem stems from.

Arthur wasn’t the one to rota the patrols, he really didn’t have the time to sit down with a list of names and hours and times and maps and organise everything fairly, it was difficult and time-consuming, but he made sure that Leon knew exactly how many hours he could give up for patrol each week.

Apparently, the communication between Leon and the council was normally handled by Merlin, who wasn’t there. So whilst Arthur was enjoying a solo patrol along the city borders at noon, waving at citizens and making his horse do tricks for giggling children, the council were sitting around the table, waiting rather irately for his arrival.

Now normally, this could’ve been easily dealt with, but when the same guard from three days ago gallops over to inform him of the problem and take over his patrol, Arthur was reminded rather suddenly that Merlin was always the one that came up with sensible sounding excuses.

(He also makes a mental note to avoid that guard forever out of embarrassment.)

This was one of the very rare occasions when Arthur simply glares the council into submission. Normally he likes to work with them; he hates to feel like they're just doing what he wants because they were kissing his arse, but he has no excuse other than “I forgot.” and he felt like that was worse than just.. acting like a bit of a dick for five minutes.

So... yeah. Merlin wasn’t there to reorganise the council meeting around Arthur’s patrol, and then also wasn’t there to come up with an excuse for why it wasn’t reorganised.

Arthur makes it ten days before he admits to himself that perhaps he relies on his manservant just a little too much.

Four days later, Arthur had missed another council meeting (despite his best efforts), Lancelot and Mordred had accidentally insulted some visiting Lord (and had therefore been told not to leave their rooms until he had vacated the city), and Gwen was no longer speaking to him, on account of The King being a dick without realising because Merlin wasn’t there to rein in his ego and... well... dickishness. That, and his crown had somehow gone missing between yesterday morning and now.

(If that last one had happened even a week prior, Arthur would’ve been adamant that it had been stolen or something else equally not-his-fault, but with how quickly he’d been made aware of his apparent bad memory and social clumsiness, he had every faith that he’d just misplaced it, and Merlin would know exactly where to look.)

Arthur was sitting on the courtyard steps, tunic unlaced at the top and hair a mess when his servant finally, finally walks through the castle gates. The King perks up slightly, but refuses to give Merlin the satisfaction of being run to, so forces himself to remain in place. He was especially glad that he’d made that decision when he saw Guinevere spring over to greet him. He has a feeling she won’t be all that... welcoming, at least not yet.

Merlin wraps her in a tight hug and Arthur forces down the swell of jealousy in his lungs, especially when he laughs brightly and pulls back to clasp her shoulders. Arthur sees Gwen’s face fall at a question Merlin had asked and he gulps, biting his lip when Merlin frowns and raises an incredulous eyebrow at her response. She points in Arthur’s direction, and The King’s eyes go wide as he rapidly stands, failing miserably at looking as though he weren’t staring in their direction. Guinevere rolls her eyes before giving Merlin one last hug and walking very deliberately in the opposite direction to Arthur.

Merlin marches towards him, slight annoyance mixing with a secret eagerness to check on Arthur speeding up his normal pace significantly. Before the servant can say anything, Arthur grabs his wrist, pulling him up the steps and through the castle without a word, tugging harshly every time Merlin opens his mouth to demand an explanation for himself or an apology for Gwen.

When they finally reach his chambers, Arthur quickly locks the door behind him, whirling on an angry Merlin with flushed cheeks and a desperate look in his eyes:

“I swear Merlin, I will never doubt you again, but Elyan almost died, Gwaine got an infection, Leon and I forgot about Ethel and Halbert, Lancelot and Mordred are essentially under house arrest, I missed two council meetings, lost my crown, and now Gwen’s not talking to me. You’re never allowed to leave me again.”

Merlin freezes in place, staring at Arthur with wide eyes and an open mouth for a few moments before he bursts into laugher. Arthur huffs, crossing his arms as his blush deepens, but waits patiently instead of demanding that Merlin stop. Honestly? He may have been laughing at Arthur, but it was still the most beautiful sound The King had heard in two weeks, and he’d definitely missed it. Which is... something to think about at a later date.

Merlin finally relents, his dimples showing prominently as he holds in another round of giggles at Arthur’s red face. The servant drops his pack to the floor, stepping forward and not giving Arthur time to move away before he pulls him into a tight hug, sighing contentedly at the warm contact:

“I missed you too, you prat. You’ll just have to come with me next time and we can leave Gwen and Gaius in charge.”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, finally wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle tightly and burying his face in the slightly taller man’s hair:

“I did. Miss you, I mean. And I also mean it when I say you’re never going anywhere without me again, this has been a nightmare.”

Merlin snorts, tightening his grip on Arthur as if he were trying to squeeze all of the stress out of him:

“Co-dependency isn’t the healthiest thing in the world, you know.”

Arthur just huffs, refusing to let go as he petulantly responds:

“I don’t care. I’m The King, I can do what I want.”

Arthur can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes, but the servant just laughs again and seems to nod in agreement:

“Hmm. That excuse is going to come back to haunt you one day. Heard you gave George a raise?”

The blonde tenses in embarrassment, now refusing to pull away so Merlin wouldn’t see his pink cheeks:

“Uh... yeah. He cleans too much and is shit at coming up with plausible excuses, but he did save my arse a few times.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, and though the man was usually rather touch averse, he found he never wanted the feeling to stop. He found himself hoping that Merlin felt the same when The King chuckles at his response:

“Oh yeah? Does that mean I get a raise for being good at excuses and bad at cleaning?”

THE END!!!

Literally wrote this in one day so... sorry if it’s bad😅

Had no clue how I was going to end it until I got there, my thought process essentially just went “Hugs? Yeah. Hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs.” :D

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out in full or remix it or whatever, go for it, just drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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raindancer2004 · 4 years ago

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Jane and the Wolf

Word Count: 4,831 Jane x OC Part Three - Final Part Warnings: Fluff, Angst, NSFW Jane is aged up

“How did things go sister?” Alec asked when he saw Jane and Sebastian once they left the throne room “It could have gone worse” She answered “Caius doesn’t approve of Sebastian being a wolf or of him living here. However, once I told them that if he is not welcome to stay then we will live outside of the castle in the city they agreed he could live here with me. This is his home now too” She adds smiling at her mate “Wow! You threatened to leave sister?” “It wasn’t just a threat Alec…I meant it” She answered him “Demetri vouched for me and I think that went in my favour” Sebastian added “How so?” Alec asks curious “Demetri offered to train me in my human form and it was agreed by Aro and Marcus that I am to report directly to Demetri with regards to training and when on missions” Sebastian replies “Well that’s good. Demetri is an excellent fighter with centuries of experience and I think the two of you will work well together” Alec agreed smiling “Demetri and Felix train the lower and transitory guards as part of their elite guard duties” He added.

The following morning Sebastian and Demetri made their way to the training room to find Felix and Santiago along with some of the lower and transitory guards. The guards all turn to look at Demetri and Sebastian as soon as they made it to the doorway and growls could be heard throughout the room “What’s a wolf doing here?” One of the guards growled low “This is Sebastian and he is living here at the castle as he is Jane’s mate” Demetri introduced Sebastian to the room, ignoring the guard’s comment and growls “BUT HE’S A DOG!” Another guard growls “ENOUGH!” Demetri shouts and the room falls quiet “Sebastian is a shapeshifter and can turn into a wolf at will, meaning he is not a child of the moon and nor is he a dog. He will be treated with respect as he is Jane’s mate” Murmurs can be heard throughout the room “Caius allowed this?” Matt asked “He was out voted two to one” Felix replied “Sebastian reports to me so if you have any problems with him, you come to me. Is that understood?” Demetri says loudly and the room is quiet and he smirks because he knows none of the lower or transitory guards are stupid enough to cross him.

Sebastian watched the demonstration given by Demetri and Felix and was paired up with Louis “I’m not training with him” He growled and Demetri shot him a glare before replying “That’s fine you can spar with me then” Louis’ face paled as he knew he was in trouble as Demetri wouldn’t show any mercy. Matt stood up “Come on Sebastian, I’ll spar with you” He said nodding to the other training mat “Thank you” Demetri said low to Matt as they passed him. Louis soon found himself minus an arm and a leg and his face was cracked “Next time I tell you to do something, maybe you’ll listen” Demetri growled low and Louis nodded the best he could. “He’s brutal!” Sebastian said to Matt, whilst nodding at Demetri “Yep. If Demetri says jump, you say how high or there’ll be consequences. He’s an experienced fighter and one the of the best we have, hence he and Felix are in charge of training us when they’re not on missions” Matt replied “Did he train his mate, Lily?” Sebastian asked “Yes. He and Felix trained her. He didn’t trust anyone else with her” Matt answered smiling “He’s incredibly protective of her, has been since she was human. He threatened to rip us apart or throw us in the dungeons if we harmed her whilst she was human” Sebastian raised an eyebrow “I’m not joking. No one went anywhere near her... just in case” Matt chuckled “So how come you’re training with us? I thought you shifters were able to kill our kind easily?” Matt added “We are, but as I’m living here now and will be in my human form mostly, it was decided that I needed to learn to fight vampires in my human form and I have been told to train with and report to Demetri” Sebastian answered.

Matt and Sebastian sparred together “Don’t hold back, I won’t hold it against you if you pull out an arm in training” Matt said “You sure?” “Yes. I know that I can’t remove limbs from you and I have to watch the power of my punch but this is all about you. You need to learn to fight us as a human so come on…fight me” Matt held out his hand and curled and uncurled his fingers beckoning him forward “Here boy…there’s a good a little doggy” He baited him smiling and was surprised at how quickly Sebastian lunged at him tearing an arm out of it’s socket in one swift movement and before Matt could react he followed through with a punch, square to the jaw, knocking him off his balance “Well done Sebastian” Demetri praised sounding impressed “Yes well done” Matt agreed rubbing his jaw “I knew baiting you would work” He laughed picking up his arm and reattaching it quickly.

Sebastian heard some the lower guards being rude about him as he moved about the castle and did his best to ignore it as he was not going to act like the animal they accused him of being. Although when Jane heard them and their comments she would pain drop their ass whilst she threatened them “Say one more thing about my mate and I’ll have Demetri rip you limb from limb slowly, only to put you back together myself so I can torture you again before watching him rip you apart again…and then I’ll burn you myself. IS THAT CLEAR?!” “Y-yes…J-Jane” They stuttered out, Jane smiled and walked away “Using me to threaten the guards ay?” Demetri smirked leaning against the wall “They’re scared of you…so yes” She replied “And anyway…you love ripping vampires apart” She added “Only when needed Jane…I don’t do it for sport” He answered back with a smile.

Sulpicia and Athenodora had requested to meet Jane’s mate Sebastian as they were curious about the newest member of the family. Aro agreed on the condition that Demetri and Felix were present when Jane introduced them to Sebastian. Caius disagreed but his wife and his brother overruled him “It would be rude my dear if we didn’t meet the newest member of our family…after all we are the Queens” Athenodora said smiling “Yes dear” Caius replied, sounding defeated, Aro and Sulpicia choked back a laugh. An hour later Jane, Sebastian, Demetri and Felix enter the wife’s tower to meet the Queens. “Hello my dear, I am Sulpicia, Aro’s wife and you must be Sebastian?” Sulpicia introduces herself “That’s correct mi’ lady. It’s very nice to meet you and you must be Athenodora, Caius’ mate? It’s nice to meet you too” Sebastian replies, bowing his head and smiling at both of them “That’s correct Sebastian” She replies smiling “He’s very handsome Jane…and the wolf smell…isn’t entirely unpleasant either” Sulpicia commented “Er…thank you…” He replied and smiled at them “He smells different to me than he does to the rest of you” Jane answered smiling. They spent some time talking together “I totally approve Jane. Make sure you hang onto him” Athenodora smiled at her “Thank you mi’ lady, I will.”

A few weeks later and Sebastian was on a mission with Demetri, Felix and Alec to deal with nomads who were arguing over territory with some newborns. “You do realise as nomads you don’t have any right to stake a claim over territory?” Demetri asked not quite believing he had to so “Yes...but we have stayed around this area for a few months now and have drawn no attention to ourselves until these stupid and reckless newborns showed up” One of the nomads answered him “WHO ARE YOU CALLING STUPID?” One of the newborns growled loudly “YOU!” The nomad growled back and before the guards could act the nomads and the newborns began fighting “I say we let them fight it out and take care of whoever is left” Felix suggested low in Demetri’s ear “Sounds like a plan” He replied and they stood and watched as vampire limbs were torn off and discarded over the field. After a few minutes there were four newborns and two nomads left “Right now you have had your temper tantrum, we’ll deal with the rest of you” Demetri said with a smile and he, Felix, Alec and Sebastian quickly took care of the six remaining vampires before burning all of them. “Marcus was right, Sebastian’s wolf does compliment Demetri’s gift” Felix says smiling “I was impressed at how fast he is in his wolf form; I mean that newborn didn’t stand a chance once he started running” Demetri added proudly “Well, it’s all thanks to you Demetri, you said we were to deal with the rest of them and off he took and I was glad of the run honestly.” Sebastian replied.

Sebastian had been in the castle for about two months when he finally earned Caius’ acceptance. The queens were partaking in their weekly stroll in the castle gardens when one of the new transitory guards attempted to harm Athenodora whilst she was admiring the roses Jane and Corin had planted for her, happy to see they were still being tended to even after all this time. Sebastian heard a scream and found a guard had his hands around Athenodora’s neck and was trying to remove it and judging by the sounds of china breaking, it seemed like he was succeeding. Sulpicia turned when she heard her sister scream from the other side of the garden and flashed to see what the matter was but when she saw what was happening she knew she couldn’t help but was relieved when she saw Sebastian running towards them “Please help her” She begged and he shifted into his wolf form and jumped at the guard being careful not to harm Athenodora, although she did fall onto the grass when he grabbed the back of the vampire’s top with his teeth and pulled him off her. Sulpicia helped her up and they watched as Sebastian quickly tore the vampire limb from limb before running and standing protectively in front of the Queens when he smelt more vampires approaching them, growling at them in warning.

Santiago and Alec stopped a few feet away and Sebastian calmed down instantly sitting down on the grass in front of the Queens “Why doesn’t he change back?” Santiago asked “I’m guessing his clothes shredded when he shifted to save the Queens, so if he shifts back, he’d be naked” Alec replied, watching as Athenodora knelt down and stroked Sebastian’s fur “Thank you for saving me” Sulpicia knelt down to stroke him too. “What is going on here? Why is he in his wolf form?” Caius shouted “He saved your wife from being beheaded by him” Sulpicia replied pointing to the guard who lay in pieces “Oh…well…why hasn’t he shifted back?” “He’ll be naked if he does my love” Athenodora smiled at her husband “Well let’s all go inside so he can get redressed. I’d like to see him afterwards” Caius replied “Santiago, Alec bring those pieces to the throne room too” “Yes master” They replied.

Once Sebastian was dressed he made his way to the throne room, half expecting to be told off for shifting in the castle and in front of the Queens no less. “Ahh Sebastian…so nice of you to join us” Aro greeted with a smile “Afternoon sir” He replied holding out his hands and showed Aro what had occurred. Aro now had the full picture having looked into the memories of the Queens also “It would be appear brother that that guard went for your wife and Sebastian here saved her without a second thought after hearing her scream” Aro said looking at Caius “I had to shift Caius or I wouldn’t have been able to stop him from beheading Athenodora” Sebastian said quickly looking at Caius “I know and I would like to thank you for saving her” He got up from his throne and shook Sebastian’s hand “You didn’t have to save her but I am very grateful that you did” He added “That’s where you are wrong sir. I did have to save her, she is not only your wife, but also one of the Queens of the vampire world and a member of my new family; a family I promised to protect when I first arrived” Sebastian answered and Jane couldn’t help smiling with pride at her mate “That’s true. You did say you would only shift inside the castle to protect Jane and by extension us if the situation called for it and you have stayed true to your word” Aro replied “Thank you Sebastian for saving me. I appreciate it too” Athenodora smiled at him “You’re very welcome mi’ lady. I’m just glad I was nearby at the time” He replied smiling back at her “You are officially one of us and you will be given our crest to wear and a mid-grey cloak. You will also accompany the Queens when they take their weekly stroll in the gardens as we clearly have to reassess the other guards” Caius said looking Sebastian “Thank you sir, truly. I’m honoured that you trust me to protect the Queens” He replied. “I think he’s just won over his harshest critic sister” Alec whispered low to Jane “I knew he would eventually” She replied low.

“Santiago I am going to ask that you partially reassemble our friend here so I can find out who he is working with as he is clearly not loyal to us. Chain him up in the dungeon when you are done” Aro asked “Of course, Felix would you give me a hand?” Felix nodded and passed him one of the dead vampire’s hands “Here you go” Felix smirked, everyone in the room tried and failed to choke back a laugh “Really? You know what I meant Felix” “I know but I couldn’t resist” He chuckled, before helping move the pieces to the dungeons.

Jane had the following night off and spent it with her mate in their room. Once the film ended Sebastian got off the sofa and got down onto his knees and gently opened Jane’s legs, running his hands up her thighs moving her skirt up towards her waist, Jane lifting up slightly to help him. He placed a kiss to her lace covered clit before removing the obstruction with his teeth, a light growl escaping him as he did so “Hey, I liked those” “I’ll buy you new ones sweetheart” He replied, before he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked gently “Oh” She breathed out and she felt him grab her hips and pull her towards the edge of the sofa, giving him better access to her. He licked and sucked her clit as he eased two fingers inside her; her leaning back with her eyes closed, one hand holding his head in place between her legs. He withdrew his fingers from her and put them in his mouth tasting her “Mmm…you taste so good” He then slipped his tongue deep inside her and she gasped “Seb” He growled and it vibrated against her and he felt her tug on his hair “Oh…god” He withdrew his tongue and licked from her entrance to her clit and the feel of his tongue felt a little rougher than she expected and it made her hurt in the most delicious way possible and warm sparks flushed through her, a knot forming in deep in her belly. He slipped two fingers back inside her, curling them and returned to sucking on her clit, albeit a little harshly “Yes! Oh Seb” She cried out as his tongue and fingers worked together to tip over the edge “Come for me…now” He growled low before sucking on her clit harshly again as he added a third finger and curled them inside her hitting that spot just right and Jane came undone hard “OH GOD!” She screamed, her eyes squeezed shut and her thoughts went hazy, all she could do was buck her hips up his face as he continued to lick at her clit as she came down from her high “That was….” “I know sweetheart” He chuckled “Although, I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to take you and make you scream my name as you come undone beneath me” He whispered in ear, she smiled and nodded as she looked into his lust blown eyes.

Sebastian removed his sweatpants, Jane noticing he had no boxers on “Saves time” He winked at her as he lifted her from the sofa and laid her down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace and kissed her passionately; one hand cupping her face, her hands going to his shoulders pulling him closer as her legs wrapped around him. He slid inside her stilling for a moment allowing her to get used to him and he rested his forehead to hers before pulling away and kissing her again; pulling almost all the way out before slowly sliding back inside her, her eyes closing and her lips forming an ‘O’ as a breathless moan leaves her. She felt full in the most delicious way as he was long and thick and he filled her completely; being with him felt right and she knew he felt the same when he growled low in her ear “You feel so tight and…a little cold but in the most amazing way, sweetheart” He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her neck leading down between her breasts; taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked it gently, lightly flicking it with his tongue “Ahh” She moaned and her back arched up into him and he smiled against her skin as he continued to suck and flick her nipple whilst rolling the other gently between his thumb and forefinger. Her hands made their way down his back a little before moving back towards his shoulders, lightly scratching him with her nails, eliciting a light growl from him and he thrusted into her a little rougher “Seb” She cried out and he thrusted into her again rougher still “Fuck…you feel good” He growled as one hand ran up her thigh moving her leg a little higher allowing him to fill her deeper “Oh god! Don’t stop! Please…don’t stop!” She cried out, he continued to thrust into her harder and deeper as they both neared their release; her nails dug into his shoulder and her toes curled against his skin as she came seeing dots behind her eyelids “SEB!” She screamed out and he felt her walls clench around him pulling over him the edge as he emptied himself deep inside her, a loud growl escaping him and he continued moving within her riding out their orgasms together. “Oh…Jane” He said against her skin as he buried his head into the crook of her neck “You were…amazing” She breathed as she came down from her high “So were you…my love” He replied low, a little breathless. He kissed her lips gently and gently pulled out of her, holding her in his arms for a few moments. He then picked her up and carried her into the bathroom and turned the shower on, helping her climb inside and gently washing them both. “I love you Seb” “I love you too.” He fell asleep with her cuddled up against him; his arms holding her gently against him, her eyes closed as she listened to his steady breathing and his heartbeat.

“I hate sharing a wall with them!” Alec grumbled as he entered Felix’s room after hearing his sister scream out her mate’s name “You know I could hear them in here too right…she’s pretty vocal…and your room’s between mine and hers” Felix replies smirking “You and I are switching rooms” “Why?” Felix asked “If I have to hear a couple having sex that good, I’d rather hear Lily screaming out Demetri’s name than hear my sister screaming out Sebastian’s. It’s weird” “Got it! To be fair Lily isn’t as loud as Jane” Felix replied “Even better then” Alec responded.

About a week later and Aro calls the four elite guards, Lily, Santiago and Sebastian into the throne room “I have a mission for the seven of you. You have to go to Forks to deal with an issue regarding a possible newborn army and there’s also a rumour that someone is telling people about us. We cannot have that…the person is a mate of said vampire and they are to be turned. You should know the guard that attempted to kill my wife was working with an old enemy of ours, so be careful in case they show up” They all nodded “You know our laws and what is required of you. Keep safe” Marcus added. They nodded again, bowed their heads and left the castle.

They arrive at the field where the Renesmee confrontation took place and notice Jake and a few members of his pack standing opposite them, almost as if they are supporting the possible army of newborns. Sebastian feels torn, almost, when he hears Max in his head “You need to stand with us” “Why?” Sebastian replies back telepathically “They killed the second mate of one of the leaders of these newborns and that is against their laws is it not?” Max replied “I don’t believe you” Sebastian said “The last mission we went on we just cleared up the mess made by some newborns and nomads who were fighting over territory” He added.

Meanwhile, Vladimir stepped up beside Jake “I had the pleasure of a second chance at love…until one of you killed them for no reason” He said as his eyes travelled over the six Volturi guards and Sebastian’s wolf form “We haven’t seen you since the confrontation over Renesmee Vladimir. What game are you playing and why have you involved the wolves?” Demetri asked “I am not playing a game…my second mate was killed by one of you and I want my revenge!” Vladimir growled low “Luckily for me, you and Jane have both bought your mates along with you…” Vladimir smirked at Demetri and Jane “YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER!” Demetri roared out, pushing Lily behind him, Sebastian growled loudly in response to being threatened “We know nothing about your ‘second mate’ and certainly haven’t killed her” Jane said “He worked at the castle and I have it on good authority he was killed by one of you” Vladimir replied looking at the guards.

“You need to choose which side you are going to back” Jake growled “I know my place Jake and it’s beside Jane. I will take you down if you try and harm her” He responded. The vampires unaware of the silent conversation taking place between the wolves.

“He? Your mate was male?” Lily asked stepping forward to stand by Demetri again, although he kept a hand on her as he moved to cover half of her “Yes, my second mate was a he. What of it?” “The only male guard at killed at the castle recently attempted to kill one of the Queens and was taken down before he succeeded” Lily replied and realisation flashed through the Volturi’s guard’s faces as they remembered Caius’ warning about an old enemy.

“See Seb, they admit it! Jake growled “They haven’t admitted to killing anyone. Lily just said a guard was killed for attacking the Queens” He replied.

“WHO KILLED MY MATE?” Vladimir yelled “I WANT TO KNOW!...NOW!” “Sebastian did” Jane replied proudly “He saved our Queen in the process” She added smiling and Vladimir growled and lunged for her. Sebastian and Felix both moved to prevent him from getting to Jane; Felix tackled him to the floor and Sebastian ripped his head off. Alec held his hands out and his black mist removed the senses of the newborns and the other wolves. Once Demetri and Felix had torn Vladimir limb from limb and set him alight, Alec started to pull his mist away from the newborns one by one allowing the other guards to dismember them too. This left the wolves alive and Alec pulled back his mist fully allowing the wolves to see the bonfire and the purple smoke that filled the air as the vampires burnt.

“Your leech will pay for what you did…you weren’t meant to get involved Sebastian” Jake growled and went to attack Jane but Sebastian defended her and they fought, growls and snarls filling the air along with the smell of blood. Jake had pinned Sebastian down and was about to bite his neck when he collapsed in pain under Jane’s stern gaze “Felix” Felix stepped forward and glanced at Lily “He’s your niece’s mate…” “He went after Jane’s mate and would have killed him if Jane hadn’t got the chance to intervene. Do it and…I’ll explain it to my family. Come on Dem…we have to pay them a visit” Demetri nodded and he and Lily made their way to the Cullens.

Felix snapped Jake’s neck and threw him on the fire “And them?” He asked nodding at Max and two other wolves “Kill them. If they support Jake, they are a threat to Sebastian…to us” She replied and watched as Alec’s mist re-surrounded the wolves, missing Felix and Santiago as they killed and burnt them. “Sorry Sebastian” Jane whispered as she stroked the fur on his head “I couldn’t let them live…they posed a threat to you and us. I can’t lose you” Sebastian nodded and licked her hand. “Gross” Alec murmured.

“Lily, Demetri…what a pleasant surprise” Esme greeted them warmly with a hug “You may not say that once you hear what I have to tell you mom” Lily answered low “Come in and we’ll talk” She replied and they made their way to the family room, the others were already there. “I know why you’re here and it’s ok” Alice said low and Edward nodded “Just tell us straight…is Jake dead?” “Yes” Demetri answered low looking at Edward “You need to know why he was killed” He added and nodded at Lily “There was an attempt on Athenodora’s life by one the newer guards and Sebastian killed him, saving her in the process. Aro discovered after having him partially put back together that he worked with an old enemy of theirs but didn’t tell us who. We came here to deal with a possible newborn army and found Jake and three other wolves standing beside Vladimir and the newborns” Lily paused and looked around the room seeing surprised looks on their faces “Jake knew about Vladimir’s plan to kill Athenodora and didn’t warn us…in fact he and a few of the wolves from his pack actually backed him and watched as he tried to attack Jane. Vladimir was killed and burnt. Jake didn’t like that and went for Sebastian, resulting in Jane and Felix dealing with him in order to save Sebastian. I’m sorry but as Demi said Jake is dead and I’m assuming so are the other three wolves along with him” Lily added, Demetri held her to his side protectively “We’re sorry Ness” Demetri said sympathetically “It’s ok…you did what you had to and thank you for coming to me personally” She replied “I appreciate it” “You’re not upset with us?” Lily asked “No, Jane did what she had to in order to protect Seb…and anyway Jake’s been weird ever since Seb imprinted on Jane. He’s been distant and not been around much…at least now we know why” Ness replied. Lily and Demetri nodded.

The guards and Sebastian returned to the castle and went straight to the throne room to inform the Kings of the outcome of their mission. “I’m sorry about Jake, Lily but I am glad the threat has been dealt with and you have all returned safely” “I wasn’t a big fan of Jake anyway Aro, if I’m being honest” She replied.

Jane and Sebastian left the throne and made their way to their shared room and started to make plans for their eternity, agreeing to look into adoption in the future “If Lily and Demetri are able to adopt and raise a child in the future…then so can we Jane” Sebastian pulled her into arms and held her close, Jane hummed in agreement “Thank you for saving my life today. I love you more than you know” “I’ll always save you and I love you too, so very much” She replied smiling, feeling happy that she was finally getting her happy ending.

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {13}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst,

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Partially Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13: Lucy You Got Some ‘Splainin To Do

-Vixen-

The hotel suite was dark and quiet; the only sound that could be heard was the soft moans Ella made as she slept. She was exhausted, and it showed in her behavior. You had to deal with hours of tantrums, screaming, shouting and food throwing until she’d tuckered herself out and passed out after her bath. A bath that left you drenched because she kept slapping her hands in the water, creating mini tsunamis all aimed at you. She wasn’t even two yet, and you were getting an excellent taste of your future. Now you sat in the second bedroom on the bed. In front of you was a massive set up of empty ice cream bowls and tens of possible toppings along with several bottles of bourbon.

“So, let me get this straight,” Nexus began before she paused for a few long moments. She took a deep breath and started again. “Almost three years ago we went to Vegas for Kami’s birthday; you disappeared for two days there. We all thought you were so drunk you couldn’t find your ass. Turns out not; instead you’d gotten married to Chris Evans, thee Chris Evans. Then before you can say Mrs. Evans, you get divorced, fuck him one more time just for fuck's sake, come home not breathe a word of it and then have Ella and keep this all a secret?”

You let her cliffs notes sink in. This was the first time you’d ever actually thought about it from a storytelling point of view. This story was bat shit crazy and incredibly unbelievable. You had nothing to say now though, because it was your reality. This was your life. You bit your bottom lip and nodded your head.

“Uh-huh.”

“Holy—Shit, Vixen! Holy fucking, what the fuck, shit!”

You pinched your lips and waited until she was finished. This was a normal reaction you assumed. It had to be right? Your sister finds out you secretly married a celebrity who you then divorced. You then had said celebrity’s secret baby.

“Really, Vix? Oh my god. What the hell!”

“I know, I know, I know; I fucked up. I shouldn’t have disappeared that night,” you began before Nexus cut you off.

“What? Who gives a shit that you disappeared? You lied to me for damn near three years Vix! We don’t lie to each other. We’ve always told each other everything.”

She was right, and you felt like a world-class asshole. You’d always felt guilty about it.

“I know Nex, and I’m sorry. Really I am. I signed this NDA, and I couldn’t talk about it and--,”

“Wait, like an actual NDA. Something mistresses have to sign?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Come on Vix, was I really going to run to the tabloids and sell your story? I’m your sister. That excuse is bullshit!”

You took a deep breath and sighed out. It partially was.

“I couldn’t tell anyone, Nex. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t breathe a word of this to mom or dad. If they would have found out I married someone without them there then got divorced they would both die of a heart attack on sight. I couldn’t.”

“Wait, Ella. Oh my god.”

Her eyes were wide with shock as it all finally sunk in.

“Vixen. Is he Ella’s father?”

Again, you sighed. With her answer, Nexus leaned back against the headboard and stared out just as stunned as you were.

“I mean I knew it was some white guy, I mean she has blue eyes and damn near blondish hair, and she is much lighter, I figured that was the reason why you hadn’t told me who her father was because you were embarrassed he was white but this—this takes the cake, Vix. Chris Evans?!”

“I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I totally understand her name now. Kristella. We all wondered where the hell you got that from.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“It just fit. Once I saw her, it was the only name that fit her,” you defended.

“So, he doesn’t know he has a daughter running around.”

It was not a question. She knew you down to the science; she knew he didn’t know. No doubt she didn’t approve. Your mind went back to just a few hours ago. Magazines, TV, and memories didn’t do him justice. The years had been very kind to him. He looked taller, his shoulders looked more defined and broader, his hair longer and redder, and his beard was much more filled in. He looked so damn good, so masculine, so damn daddyish. You closed your eyes and ran through the encounter again. You almost laughed out loud because you hadn’t been in LA for a month and one of your biggest fears had played out.

“Wow Vix, this is insane.”

“I know.”

The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes longer. Nexus trying to absorb all the information you’d just laid on her and you just obsessing over how damn hot he was and how much your lady parts must have missed him to come alive during the most terrifying moment of your life—next to when you found out you were pregnant.

“What’re you gonna do?”

You snorted because it was a ridiculous question. What did she think you were gonna do? What were your options here? You let a rush of air escape your mouth as you shrugged.

“I mean you have to tell him, right? He has a right to know that Ella is his. Ella has a right to know her father. Right, Vix?”

You didn’t dare speak; shit you couldn’t even think. This was a lot. Your entire world that you’d built—carefully built for the last near three years had crumbled in seconds, and you watched as it did. You needed a second. You gripped your head and closed your eyes.

“Nex, I need a minute. I just need quiet!”

The silence that filled the room next was deafening. You quickly got up and hurried to the bathroom where you paced the marble floor back and forth and again and again until you were dizzy. Then you sat on the sink and clutched your legs to you as your head spun round and round making you even dizzier. You couldn’t think you could barely breathe. You found yourself hyperventilating. You knew it was a panic attack, and that made you panic even more. You hadn’t had a panic attack since finding out you were pregnant with Ella. The door to the bathroom opened and in came Nexus.

“Slow breathes, deep slow and shallow breathes you remember like Lamaze. Breathe with me.”

She began the pattern of breathing you’d done during Lamaze classes and through your labor, and you slowly followed. The first few minutes were torture because as you fought against the panic, it rose even more. The more your mind flashed on Chris’ face and then the tiny near replica of Ella’s it never faded.

“You’re thinking too much. Clear your mind, Vix, think of nothing. An open field, flowers, look at the flowers Vix.”

You looked at her and glared. It as an inside joke between the two of you ever since you’d watched the episode of The Walking Dead where the character Carol told the little girl Lizzie who’d just gotten bit by a zombie to look at the flowers so she wouldn’t see as Carol shot her in the head. The two of you were horrified by the scene but strangely couldn’t stop laughing after it. You were not laughing now.

“Okay, too soon for a laugh maybe,” Nexus added. You rolled your eyes and continued trying to find your center. You learned that most people went their entire lives with panic attacks, and it wasn’t something you outgrew. You were over it.

After almost ten minutes, your breathing returned to somewhat normal and your thoughts were less erratic. Nexus turned off the water in the tub and turned to you.

“You need a bath; it’ll help. Come on.”

She helped you down off the sink and then walked out the door as you stripped and climbed in the steaming hot water. You sighed, closed your eyes, and sunk deeper into the water. A few moments later, you heard Nexus’ footsteps.

“Just what the doctor ordered, a stiff drink.”

You looked and saw she held the bottle of rum out to you. You smiled, seeing the brand of the most potent rum you’d ever had in your life. You took it and quickly took a few gulps. It burned like a son of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

“Yeah, you get some alone time with Wray & Nephew, and I’ll be the sober adult in case Ella wakes up. Take your time.”

That was the last thing you heard before you drowned your sorrows and any coherent thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

“She’s in LA. She’s in LA. She. Is. In. LA!”

He’d barely moved from the makeup chair since “cut” was called for the day. He couldn’t think and move at the same time, so he just sat there and thought about everything. Not only events from the last few hours but years ago. He was so useless after seeing her that when he went back to filming, he forgot or flubbed most his lines, dropped or fumbled props necessary to the scene or flat out zoned out. It was a mess; he was a mess. The director had no choice but to call cut early.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He shook his head and looked to see Anthony standing there with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer. He took a deep breath in and stood.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

He walked past him and led the way through the set to the parking area. As he approached his car, he patted himself down, looking for his keys. When he couldn’t find them, he groaned and dropped his head back.

“Missing something?”

Anthony shook his head and nudged it signaling him to come.

“I got you. Come on.”

He walked to the passenger side of Anthony’s fancy McLaren. Anthony revved the engine with a broad smile spread across his face. Once he got inside the car, Anthony sped off not caring about any speed limit. They drove in silence, and Chris was grateful for it. Silence meant he could think and put into some sense what was happening. He never expected to see you again. He hoped he would, but never expected. His mind jumped to the night in the restaurant when he swore he saw you based off a tattoo; he began to think that it was really you. He’d thought time and time again what he would say if he did see you again, and each time he thought about it; his selections were different. Once it was a cool “hey.” Another time it was a cocky “Couldn’t stay away, huh,” several times it was no words at all and just stripping you right then and there, and more times than not it was silence pretty similar to earlier.

“At least I said her name.”

Before he knew it, Anthony turned off the engine in front of his house. He sighed out and rubbed his forehead, not sensing Anthony’s eyes on him. He could feel the headache pounding away behind his eyes and knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. He groaned loudly and dropped his head back.

“I was going to give this to you as a birthday gift, but it looks like you need it now. So, let’s take it inside, crack it open, and by the time you pour your third glass, you spill what’s got you so stressed,” Anthony proposed.

He sighed again but didn’t protest. He needed a drink.

Once they got inside, they got comfortable on one of the couches in front of the cliff at the back of his house. The view was the selling point, and he was grateful for it on nights his thoughts got the better of him. He quickly downed one glass dark whiskey and then a second just as quickly. He slowly nursed the third, but Anthony didn’t pressure him to speak. He didn’t know why he’d never told him; he was by far closest to him and Seb than any others in this town but he’d kept this part secret. He felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket and took it out to see Lita’s name across the screen. He groaned again and gulped down the rest of the whiskey then poured another.

“Slow down you’ll regret it tomorrow,” Anthony cautioned.

“Shit after what I’ve been through I should know better than to touch alcohol ever again.”

“What does that mean?”

He rubbed his face and then raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it messier than it was. He tried to find the words for several minutes but realized there was no easy way to say it or any gentle way to break it. He snorted and laughed loudly. Anthony looked at him as if he’d lost his mind and he might have finally lost it.

“Is this a white people thing? Y’all laugh out the blue at random shit in your head? If so that’s called schizophrenia.”

He laughed harder and keeled over, trying to catch his breath. Finally, he stopped and took another breath.

“Three years ago in Vegas when we went, remember?”

Anthony nodded.

“Well three years ago I met a woman in the casino, got drunker than I’ve ever been in my entire life and married her; then had the best sex I’ve ever had in my life to come to LA and get Sherman started on a divorce, then we had that same incredible sex again here before she disappeared with the night.” He snorted again and began laughing. “Earlier that woman—.” He couldn’t stop laughing; the humor of this finally hit him. “That woman was the woman I married in Vegas and then divorced,” he finished.

Anthony sprang to his feet.

“What the fuck! You lyin’!”

Chris laughed louder.

“Naw, you lying. What! There’s no way.”

“I swear, hand to God.”

Anthony stood there, gaping at him. He was shocked of course. If Anthony were the one telling him this now, he would be surprised.

“Wow, wow, wow. Man that’s—wow!”

He nodded and downed his fourth glass of whiskey. As he reached for the bottle again, Anthony beat him to it and poured himself another.

“Three years ago? Man, you stayed quiet. You didn’t speak a word about this.”

“I know. I couldn’t believe I’d been so reckless, so stupid, so---,”

“So unpredictable. Well damn, Chris! You who plans almost everything, you who have always had a plan and a list of the woman he wants, you who does not commit, you! You!”

He narrowed his eyes at Anthony getting the undertone of his words.

“I mean; I mean no disrespect, but damn this is a fucking shock.”

“I know.”

Anthony paced in front of him as he thought about everything he’d just heard. Chris sat there with his hands steepled under his bearded chin, and he also thought about things.

“Wait, wait. Rewind go all the way back. You said the best sex? Really? Ever?”

“Ever man. Ev-er!” He enunciated to get his point across.

“You mean ever three years ago right, not ever three years after.”

“I mean ever in my life.”

Anthony looked confused.

“What did she do? Don’t tell me. Wow. I’m still trying to wrap my head around you having a quickie Vegas wedding with a random woman. I mean did she have anything on the list?”

He nodded slowly. Anthony’s eyes bugged.

“What! What did she have besides the beauty? She is gorgeous!”

“She is. She was then, and she’s even more now.”

He felt a tug of something he couldn’t place, but it felt similar to what he imagined regret felt like.

“She was funny, kind, honest, down to earth, smart, spontaneous--,”

“Spontaneous? That wasn’t on the list before,” Anthony interrupted.

“Shit it’s on it now.”

“Wow, and you divorced her? Why?”

It was time for him to look at Anthony like he’d grown two heads. He couldn’t be serious.

“You’re not serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious. If I met a woman who was all of that which is just the tip of the iceberg I’m assuming and gave me the best sex of my life I would not be so quick to change my situation. I would have stretched it a little, saw where things led.”

He had thought about it. When they were sitting in Sherman’s office discussing the divorce, he first thought it when she spoke up that she didn’t want any of his money or compensation for her time. He’d thought of it again at dinner watching her eat her tacos without caring what he thought or if she was cute. Then he thought about it again when he’d rolled on her in his bed and looked down into her beautiful eyes. He had thought about it.

“I wasn’t at the right time in my life. Do you remember me three years ago? I couldn’t spell monogamy or commitment, especially with everything in my career. It would have never worked,” he said.

“Or is that what you tell yourself?”

He scoffed and poured another drink.

“Okay, okay so let’s go through this like the thirty-seven-year-old adult you are. Look at this with those eyes,” Anthony suggested. He groaned because he didn’t want to. He’d avoided looking at things with his eyes.

“Ah, you don’t want to. You’re scared.”

“Scared? No, I am not scared. I’m a grown man; I am not scared.”

Anthony scoffed and shook his head.

“Damn liar! Is she the reason why you’ve literally been passing on every woman I, Scarlett, or Seb set you up with? Is she the reason you have this list? Did you create this list with all of her attributes? Are you looking for her in every woman you’ve met since?”

Damn. This was the reason he didn’t tell him shit. Anthony was good at seeing through people and situations, he was like a damn private investigator and always got down to the bottom of things. Always. He didn’t want him getting to the bottom of his things because that meant he would have to do some serious introspection. He stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff and took a deep breath. He stared out over LA but saw none of it. He was too lost in his head.

“She’s in LA.”

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but he felt Anthony’s hand on his shoulder. He sighed before he spoke again.

“Did you want to see her again?”

“I’ve thought about her a lot. In the last few weeks, I’d started wondering more and more about her.”

“So you want to see her again?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No. She’s your ex-wife.”

Anthony laughed and bent over to continue laughing. Chris nodded and laughed along with him.

“Man, I thought the day I found out you got married would be the day you got married.”

“I know.”

“Yo mama gonna kill you!”

Chris snapped his head to look at his friend with a serious and terrified expression on his face.

“Don’t you dare breathe a word.”

Anthony zipped his lips and smiled.

“Okay time for the Mackie Advice of the day. Ready for it?”

He sighed and prepared for what he knew he was going to say.

“Go ahead.”

“Eh-em. Okay. Go find that woman, you know her name, you know she’s in LA, use your power and find that woman.”

He didn’t say anymore, and Chris looked to him surprised that was the end of it.

“That’s it?”

“What was that, more you say? Okay. Find her, tell her you fucked up three years ago. Tell her you’ve been celibate because of her and then marry her again.”

He rolled his eyes and walked back inside the house, ensuring to grab the bottle of whiskey.

“I don’t know why we’re friends,” he said.

“Come on, Chris, what? I didn’t say anything wrong. I didn’t say anything you probably haven’t already thought and anything that’s not true.”

“I have not been celibate.”

“Really?”

Anthony gave him a look that looked similar to those memes he’d seen of Thor with his face scrunched up. He rolled his eyes.

“For the first almost year or so after Vegas yeah you were a real man whore, you got around but discreetly. Then after that, you became harder to get into than the MET GALA unless you had that plate fee,” Anthony pointed out.

“I grew and learned and became selective.”

“Of course, nothing wrong with it, but it’s still true.”

He shook his head because while it wasn’t entirely accurate, it was close.

“I’m gonna get up outta here but think about what I said,” Anthony said as he walked to the door.

“Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Don’t finish it all tonight, she looks like she likes whiskey,” Anthony said before he walked out the front door.

Alone at last Chris looked around his home and he could literally see your ghost floating around mirroring your movements and path from your last night together. He’d followed your ghost around more times than he cared to admit. Tonight, he decided to follow it once more. He walked toward his bedroom behind the cloudy floating image of you. Once inside, he sat in the corner in the chair and watched the movie of the two of you play out again as he sipped the whiskey. He paid close attention to every touch, every kiss, every moan and paused on your smile and the last moment before you disappeared.

He did have regrets, and he wondered if you did too.

TagList:

@sarahboseman @texasbama @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired@theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess@thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia@zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites@hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh@lunaerly @theoutereffect@twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism@maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere@laketaj24 @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne@loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711@geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829@chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http@madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn@dolphinpink310 @wonderbell @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97 @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@sweettea-and-honeybutter@thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld@cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger@amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu @cherrystainedlipsbaby

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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queenmaracasandlove · 5 years ago

Text

You’re My Best (Sex) Friend - Roger Taylor x F!Reader - Part IV

Word Count: +:- 2800

In the last chapter: Y/N and Roger had an amazing night after Queen’s concert on Christmas Eve but they have decided to keep their feelings for themselves. Roger wants to wait until the end of the tour and Y/N doesn’t believe it it’s mutual. Warnings: (Minor) angst in this one.

A/N: This chapter is not as full of action but the themes in it are really important to me. Hope you life it !

Part I Part II Part III Part V

MASTERLIST

Permanent Taglist: @reedusteinrambles

It had been more than a month now that Roger and Y/N had seen each other for the last time. He was in the middle of a tour in North America and she had been casted as a member of the ensemble in a West End musical. Y/N was still living in Roger’s flat and had made a few alterations to it, making it more welcoming, something worthy of a good homecoming. It’s been also a few months now that they had realise their true feelings for each other without saying anything about it. Roger wanted to wait until the end of the tour to ask Y/N on a date when she had decided to move on, or at least try to.

Y/N was coming back home after her Thursday evening show and she was exhausted. Although she was usually drained after the performance she was spending more and more time backstage every night because of one particular person, and came back very late. But she knew that nobody was waiting for her anyway. She had mixed feelings about it, not sure of what to do. She was afraid of letting herself go and to let him go at the same time. She was pouring herself a glass of water when she heard the telephone ringing. Only a few people knew she was living here and according to the time she immediately guessed who was calling, her heart starting to rush inside her chest. She quickly picked up.

“Y/N?”

She immediately recognised his raspy voice on the other end and she could not help but smile. She was so happy to hear him, delighted he would take the time to call her just to small talk.

“Roger? How are you?”

“Great, although knackered. And you love?”

“I’m great too. Tell me, where are you tonight?”

“I’m not sure but I think it’s Cincinnati. Can’t keep up really” he laughed

The phone calls were never long but they were always good. They usually exchanged on their daily lives for a few minutes before going back to it. Y/N started to think that maybe she should mention the person that was in her mind, now almost as often as Roger but she wasn’t sure. She found herself ridiculous. She could speak to him, he had always listened and she knew he would not judge her. But what she wanted wasn’t advice, it was more than that...

“Are the guys doing okay?” she asked

“Yeah. I’m trying to get on Brian’s nerves as much as possible. John finds it funny and Freddie barely cares”

“Sounds fun. Don��t be too bad okay? You’re already painful without trying too hard.” she added, able to picture the scene in her head perfectly

“Ah. Ah. Very funny.”

“You know I’m right that. I almost miss your shitty behaviour sometimes” she sighed

“So how do you deal with the pain of being away from me? How’s the show? Made any friends?”

“Well…”

Y/N felt her throat drying by the second. She had convinced herself that she had to move on and forget him. But she wanted to be sure, that she was not missing out on something. Christmas Eve had been very confusing but nothing since then had made her think that it was in fact different from their previous nights together.

“Yes. The show is doing amazing and I love it. Each night is different even if it’s the same show. And um… One of the dancers, Linda, she wants to go to the cinema with me next Monday, it’s our day off…”

“That’s great!” he said

Y/N was quite surprised by his answer. It came from the bottom of his heart. She was not sure he had understood well what she was implying.

“Yeah. I’m not too sure about it. Maybe now is not right time to…”

“Just go for it Y/N! I’m not gonna be around for a bit and I know you already have other friends but one more is always good. You sure need someone around.”

“Well… Guess I’ll give it a go then. But I don’t want just to fool around anymore, so if there’s a chance for it to be serious I…”

There were screams and loud noises over the phone, preventing Y/N from finishing her sentence. She wanted to tell him that she wanted a real relationship now and that if things started with Linda she would not stop when he would come back. That their little business would be over and that nothing else would be possible anymore. There had been times since the beginning of their friends with benefits thing where one of them had been involved in a relationship and they had stopped, starting again when both of them were single. But this time was completely different. And things could not go one the way they were anyway.

“I’m sorry love I have to go, soundcheck is about to start. Enjoy the movie. I miss you too.”

Roger hung up the phone before going back to the dressing room where his bandmates were waiting for him. He was upset that the phone call had been so quick but he was happy that Y/N managed to have a social life outside of work. He had convinced her to stop working at the hotel saying that it was useless and that she could stay at his place until she found somewhere affordable when he came back. In his wildest dreams she would never leave.

During the lonely hours on the tour bus he had confessed his feelings for Y/N to his friends who had all been supportive. Of course they all suspected it, apart maybe from John who wasn’t paying attention anyway more focused on his newly born son during the past few months than to everybody else’s love life. Freddie thought it was stupid of him to wait whereas Brian had been surprised by Roger’s patience and consideration. He wasn’t just a ladies’ man, he had had a few girlfriends, but he had always gone too far too fast. His feelings had to be very serious this time for him to be so careful.

“So, how’s Y/N?” Freddie asked

“Great! One of her colleague is taking her to the cinema next week.”

All the boys stopped what they were doing to look at him, surprised. That’s exactly why Freddie had said waiting was a stupid idea, because Y/N would probably go on with her life and find someone who was smart enough to ask her on a date without waiting.

“Are you okay with her going on a date?” John asked, suddenly curious

“It’s not a date, she’s called Linda and she’s a dancer in her production. I was very happy when she told me about it. I encouraged her to go.” Roger replied, confident

There was an uneasy look between Brian and Freddie and Roger noticed it. She was her best friend, he would know about it right? According to his confused look he did not.

“What?” he asked

Brian was trying to find the right way to put it but Freddie was not that considerate.

“She’s into girls too Roger. You’re fucked.”

Roger frowned, not sure he had heard it right and turned to Brian who nodded a little, confirming Freddie’s words. The news was a complete shock. He did not care that she was bisexual, that wasn’t the point although he did not understand how he could have not known that. They were supposed to be friends, that’s the kind of things he should have been aware of.

“When… How?”

“You did not remember when she was with Chris?” Brian said

“How was I supposed to know he wasn’t a fucking dude Bri?” Roger answered

“Maybe because her name was Christine and she came to the pub quite often?” John added

Roger was boiling. He was completely mad. Mad at himself for being so stupid. Of course now he remembered. Y/N had been very shy about giving them details about Chris, her partner at the time, it was right at the beginning of them starting to know each other. There was a girl who was often there also, Christine. And she suddenly stopped coming one day, after that Y/N was quite sad for a while. But for some reason Roger had never been able to put two and two together.

Before he could throw a tantrum they were all asked to go on stage for soundcheck. John was the first to leave the room, tapping on his friend’s shoulder on the way. Roger shrugged, feeling completely lost but followed him . He understood now, why she was so private about seeing other people. He knew she saw people from time to time but it’s not like they were going to talk about their ex-partners while sleeping together. And he wasn’t dumb, he knew that it was the seventies and that was not something you could talk about easily.

Roger wasn’t blind and he knew about Freddie, everybody did. But nobody said anything, it was not their business and they would support him no matter what. If he ever felt like telling them they would listen without judging, because there was nothing wrong. Roger was also aware that lesbians were less under the radar of the restriction laws but that did not mean they were safer in this stupid world. He understood her silence but he had just made a big mistake.

Roger banged his drums harder than ever during rehearsal without missing one beat, he rarely did and in fact was pouring all his heart in what he was doing. The first news was surprising, the upsetting one was that he had just old Y/N that it was okay for her to go on a date with Linda. He doubted she was asking for his approval but he knew he had just blown up his chances to try anything with her, worse than that, if this thing worked out, it would mean that they would not even been able to go on with the type of relationship they had before.

He knew it would not be fair to call her back and tell her not to do anything. She was free and she should do whatever she wanted to. He could only hope that he would still have a chance after the tour.

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

Roger had not call for almost a month and soon it would be the end of the American leg of the tour. Y/N had been worried but understood that the band had other things to do. She had phoned Mary to have some news but she did not have much more information than Y/N, she was also pretty upset about something but did not want to say what. This comforted Y/N in her decision to try and erase any dream of a love relationship with Roger. In fact Linda had helped her quite a bit to do so. From the first day they had met they had known, they had noticed this little spark between the two of them and Linda had made the first move.

They had gone to the movie theatre together, and went for an ice-cream afterwards. They had hold hands during the film and that was it. Y/N was still confused, and she did not want to pretend like everything was fine. So she had told everything to Linda, how she had fell in love with one of her best friends (with whom she was occasionally hooking up) and how she wanted to get over it. Linda had listened, first like a friend would and then she had been honest. Was she pleased to know that Y/N’s heart was partially taken? Absolutely not. But Roger was away and Linda and Y/N were together in London. So they decided to give it a go.

They saw each other every working day but they made a rule not to behave as anything else but colleagues or friends at work. The show business world might have been more open minded than the rest but still, no need to risk being unsafe. Tonight was their fifth date, they had gone to an underground lesbian club and Y/N was really excited. Linda was much more aware of the events and parties of the community than she was. There had been many drinks and much dancing.

“You’re way too beautiful to be real Y/N.” Linda said “I can’t believe that stupid rockstar never fell for you”

Y/N’s hands were around Linda’s neck and she was thirsty for her every word. Linda was not afraid to say what she thought, she was not ashamed of her feelings and Y/N could tell she really cared about her and so did she. So she slowly kissed her lips and it felt great, it felt sweet and needy at the same time. Linda was right, Roger had not been able to see more than just a body in her (being a friend was something else) and she deserved to be in love with someone who did. Although it was only a spark for now she believed it could become something else.

It was so good to be able to kiss another girl and not worry about it. Y/N smiled during the kiss, making it more passionate as her hands were getting lost in Linda”s hair.

“Should we go back to my place?” Linda asked

“I would love too”

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

Roger knew he was acting childish but he did behaved like he was used to anyway. He had not called back since Cincinnati, not even to tell Y/N when he was coming back. He was too afraid. He felt so stupid for telling her to go on a date with someone else but he had no right to be jealous. The boys had convinced him to enjoy the rest of the tour and not to worry about it. He would stay true to his first decision, wait until he was back to London. Although he was planning to ask Y/N on a date as soon as he would be back, without waiting for the end of the tour. If it wasn’t too late.

He would have less than ten days before going back on tour for another month but it would be the last leg and then he would be home for good, at least for a few months. All he had to do was to prove to Y/N that he was worth the wait. For hours he had thought about was he was going to tell her. The plane journey had been a torture and he had barely slept. The problem was, he didn’t realise that the world did not stop turning while he was away. That was often the case for people who were traveling, the feeling that everything would be the same as it was when they left.

He almost ran up the stairs to his flat, he wanted to hug Y/N, to make love to her and tell all the things he should have ages ago. How much he had missed her, how much he had fun, how much he wanted to share all his best memories with her, how much she meant to him, how much he loved her. He even had bought a scarf for her, a nice one that he had scene in Chicago and that immediately made him think of her. In fact he had went to a record shop in New York and asked for the latest vinyls from Musicals and had bought five of them because he knew she would love that.

He finally arrived in front of the door and took a deep breath in. His hands were almost shaking as he put the keys inside the lock.

“Y/N ! GUESS WHO’S BACK!”

But there was no answer. It was the middle of the day, maybe she was out he thought. He took the time to look around him, so many things had changed. He could smell her perfume in the clean flat. Some flowers were on the coffee table and there was a new plant next to the window. She must have nosed around his things because there were pictures on the walls. He put his bag on the floor to look at them. Some with his family, his friends, his bandmates and with her. He did not remember the one in the middle, Y/N and him after the Christmas Eve concert, his arm around her waist and hers around his neck, smiling and happy as ever. If only he had told her that night. He sighed, more impatient than ever to see her again. He would unpack waiting for her. Going to the bedroom he saw the paper on the counter with her lovely handwriting and the smile he had on his face immediately disappeared.

“Hello Rog’, You’ve probably been really busy because I had to call Mary to know when you were coming back… I decided to go to Linda’s place for the week so you could rest, her number is next to the phone if you have time to call. Can’t wait to see you (whenever) ! I’ve missed your stupid face. Love, Y/N (the best friend/flatmate in the world)”

#queenmaracasandlove #You're my best (sex) friend #queen #queen imagines #roger taylor #ben!roger x reader #roger x reader #roger taylor x reader #borhap #bohemian rhapsody

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with BERNADETTE “BUNNY” DU PONT, who is TWENTY-ONE years old. She is often called BIANCA by the CAPULETS and works as their SOLDIER. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

She wants the world on a silver platter, wants it wrapped around her finger like the prettiest of diamond rings. She was raised to believe she’ll have it, too, a little pearl of a girl who could play her parents’ HEARTSTRINGS like a harp but never quite learned the meaning of the word no. Born to a successful banker and his beautiful wife, she was everything her parents wanted her to be and more: apple-sweet like her mother, intelligent like her father, and pretty, above all else. She was perfect in their eyes, a darling doll of a daughter they could pose and dress to their liking, and they doted on her relentlessly. Bastian and Eleanor Du Pont CULTIVATED in their daughter a taste for the finer things in life, a hunger for delectable desserts and dreamy dresses that would one day prove ravenous. They planted within her the seeds of luxurious ambition in the hopes that their beautiful little flower might bloom, and bloom she did. Bernadette Du Pont, who came to be called Bunny for the bumbling way in which she pronounced her own name, grew to possess a wild sort of elegance, a BRAZEN sort of poise that best befits spoiled brats. She was Verona’s SWEETHEART—soft, gentle, all sugar-spun locks and eyes a brilliant shade of greed, and she would bring her family a gilded sort of glory for it.

Where her sister was sensible, responsible, slated to one day take over the family company and carry on the Du Pont legacy like any good daughter should, Bunny seemed to have been born for the sole purpose of being ADORED, and no one had ever done it quite so well. She collected hearts like trinkets, put them on a shelf for all the world to see—look, but don’t touch, for of the many skills she’d been dutifully instructed in (French, ballet, art, all things a cultured lady ought to know), she’d never been taught how to SHARE, and like most children given the choice, she didn’t care to learn. It’s often been said that men cower before that which they call beautiful, and the same could be said for her, so afraid were they to let such a pretty little thing go without. She perfected the art of getting what she wanted, of honeyed persuasion and batted lashes, a talent that served her well in nearly all of her endeavors—both work and play. Little Bunny Du Pont graduated at the top of her secondary school class with the help of a soft-spoken boy too INTELLIGENT to know any better, but—which was more—she did so draped in chiffon and pearls, the taste of strawberries and cream and self-satisfaction on her pink lips.

But the ruin of sweetness is rot, and her dazzling smile hid sharp teeth, as beautiful things tend to do. She’d been taught all her life that appearances were paramount and to be perfect was to be loved, and somewhere between layers of SILK and hours of etiquette lessons, the Du Pont darling learned how to deceive. Deception had always been so easy for her, making farces and forgeries that no one would think to bat an eye at. She started small, little replicas here and there, before delving into the wonders and intricacies of such a career calling – which only served to make her that much adored and valued within the ranks of the rotten underworld. Her parents knew not, though, for she was still their little angel, the CROWN jewel that would one day grace the arm of a man from a family every bit as powerful as hers, but her halo was that of rehearsed innocence, of the elegance that comes with keeping one’s own secrets and the thrill of allowing them to see the light. Kissing is only fun when it’s tongue in cheek, after all, and aren’t all vices the same? She indulged in them all—courted her peers and her father’s colleagues by day and each of the seven deadly sins by night—and her doting parents were none the wiser, blinded as they were by her airy laugh and coy smile. She was their muse, their golden child, but even gold can tarnish, and saccharine girls can turn SOUR. Thus, tempted by greed and the rush that came with doing what she knew she shouldn’t, she easily fell into step with the mob her father served and never looked back.

A war is no place for girls like her, precious princesses raised on silver spoons, but there’s a WICKEDNESS about her, a sort of hunger that no amount of sweet things could satisfy, and while it won’t make her bulletproof, it’s made her bold. She wants adoration, her name whispered in hushed tones, and little by little—laugh by laugh and trick by trick—she’ll get it. She wants the world even if the blood feud in Verona splits into two, and she’ll have that, too, for the outcome of the war is of little consequence to a child who’s only ever known loyalty to HERSELF. Imagine then, her righteous anger and bitterness when a little whelp of a Montague snatched such tantamount adoration within her mob away with nothing more than an outstretched hand. She had done nothing, had turned away with a sneer, a little glimmer of rot within her gleaming for a few shining seconds – but that is not what the rest of the world saw, no. They saw a little Capulet girl being aided by a little Montague boy. The world had granted her so much and razed it in a matter of seconds. Little do the gods of Verona know that they will meet their ruin at her hands, for she is hungering for retribution. People scoff at entitled children—roll their eyes at the hellish tantrums they throw, but they often forget the ease with which they get the object of their heart’s desire. Hail your kings, but watch the brats CONQUER.

KATARINA DU PONT: Sister. The Du Pont girls have been known since infancy for their looks—ivory skin, golden locks, eyes like sparkling emeralds. It’s been said that their father’s wealth and their mother’s blood flows through their veins, a combination as enticing as it is deadly, but Bunny knows the truth—that Katarina’s eyes are green not from prosperity, but fromenvy—and she revels in it. She’s stolen any and all attention afforded to her older sister since the day she was born, and few things bring her more pleasure than the knowledge that she is—and probably always will be—the favorite daughter, a notion she’s loath to let Katarina forget. Bunny mocks the older girl for her rigidity, and Kat ridicules her for her immaturity, but Bunny has played her part exceptionally well; no one would ever believe the woman who cried bitch.

CYRUS SLOANE: Intrigue. He’s the spitting image of the type of boy her father wouldn’t approve of, shunned by his family but arrogant enough to remain in their midst, and she likes him all the more for it. His attention is hard to come by and harder to keep, and she likes that, too—let it be known that she rarely turns down the occasional worthwhile challenge. She’s found she rather enjoys his company, and she seeks him out whenever she’s in the mood to cause a bit of trouble—often. It’s not often she finds someone who can keep up with her mischief and match her taunts with some of their own, after all. They’re a match made in hell, a cast-out boy-king determined to reclaim his throne and a spoiled princess who knows only how to take, and peace should rue the day they laid eyes on each other—if it doesn’t already. The West might have survived Bonnie and Clyde, but Verona won’t survive them.

JULIANA CAPULET & MAEVE PETRE: Faux friends. “You are the company you keep.” Such was her father’s reasoning for nudging his youngest into a friendship with his colleagues’ daughters, a contract not nearly as eternal as marriage but equally as binding. It was only fitting that the children of three of the most powerful men on the east side of the Castelvecchio should be inseparable, and for the first decades of their lives, they were. Tea parties, braids fastened with little pink ribbons, frosting-filled sleepovers—they had it all, the triumvirate of daddy’s little princesses, but as they’ve aged, Bunnyfound the two girls leave a taste in her mouth that’s far too sweet, even for her. Between Maeve’s goodness and the way the Capulets seem to dote on Juliana for no reason other than her last name, she can hardly stand to be around them for a few hours, but luckily, a few hours are all that’s really required of her to maintain her pristine image. Who said nice girls couldn’t have fun?

BORIS KOVROV: Disturber. Bunny has carefully cultivated the lessons she has learned from watching people. She has learned – through quite meticulous means – how to make her position in the mob all the more advantageous. However, the one man who has managed to keep his true desires well hidden is Boris – who she has seen time and time again. Yet, she has never gotten any closer to hearing the whispers that turn about in his head. He is as guarde as the pearly gates of heaven, letting few enter and none leave. But Lucifer made it through, and so shall she. For a man who holds all the secrets is dangerous indeed, but the man who gives none away? Well, he might be something to fear greater than the judgement of the Lord himself.

Bernadette is portrayed by ELLE FANNING and was written by BREE. She is currently TAKEN by DAPHNE.

#lsrpg #literate rp #rpg #bio rp #mafia rp #w #tw #t #bernadette du pont

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some-cookie-crumbz · 6 years ago

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Buck Wild

Buck Wild - Kidge Week Day 4 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge; very light Jidge Summary: After disappearing for two years, Deputy Keith Kogane has returned to the small town of Kerberos, intending to pick his life back up where he’d left it. But two years is a long time to be gone and a lot can happen. With time, people and circumstances change; especially matters of the heart. Minor Trigger Warning: Mention of Murder/ Wild West Justice Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Rolling into town after being gone for so long had left a variety of different feelings thrumming through him. Once the town had been in sight, he’d felt the need to double check his saddlebags every few minutes, frantic to make sure everything he’d needed to bring was on his person. Mostly, though, he just wanted to head to the edge of town, flash the goods, and get back to where his life had been back before he had to duck out. As he carefully steered Midnight onto the road leading into town, nodding his head at the familiar faces he spotted in pacing, he felt unease settle in. Some of them leaned into each other, swapping scandalized whispers and wondrous gazes. He had expected there to be a bit of scandal, given how long he’d been gone, but was there more? Had more things happened while he was away?

He decided he needed to get himself a tall pint of liquid courage before he headed out to his destination.

He made sure to take the bag with the majority of his goods with him, just in case. Sheriff Shirogane was good about keeping the rustlers and ranglers out of town, but he knew that anything could happen, plus he’d been been gone for a decent amount of time, too. Sometimes people with less than savory intentions made their way into the peaceful town of Kerberos. Hell, that was part of the reason he’d disappeared in the first place. He carefully tossed the strap of one bag along the back of his stool at the bar and ordered himself a pint of beer.

He had chugged down about a glass and half when the saloon doors creaked open and he heard a long whistle. “Well, well. Look what rolled in with the tumbleweeds,” A familiar voice called.

A small smirk turned up his lips and he turned in his seat, tilting the brim of his hat up and nodding at the newcomer. “Been a while, Matthew,” He hummed.

There was little to no warm in the other’s eyes, though, as he came to a stop just beside his seat. “Any reason ya came back, Kogane?”

He blinked then scowled, calmly picking his drink back up and taking another quick swig. “An awful odd way to treat the man who’s gonna be your brother. Know I’ve been gone, but for good reason,” He said while reaching for his bag. He flipped the top open and tossed a white hat on to the bar counter. It was a bit more tattered and grimy than the last time he knew the other man had seen the hat, but the golden band should be evidence enough.

Matthew took in a sharp breathe as he gawked at the hat. “Ya didn’t,” He mumbled.

He pointed to the hat. “Damn well did. Got little trinkets from the other three in that lily-livered cowards group, too,” He said, rummaging through the bag and dropping the other items down for him. A tattered bandana with a splatter of blood on it. The fancy leather reins that one of them had most likely pilfered from another one of their victims. The belt buckle of a furious-looking cat. “I’m a man of my word, and I promised ya’ll I’d see to it myself that Lotor and his gaggle got hanged for what they’d done.”

“Ya said three, yeah? Thought he had four others in his group,” Matt commented as he picked up the belt buckle to examine.

“One of ‘em turned on ‘im and helped me out a bit. Thought burnin’ the ranch was a step too far,” He shrugged before chugging down the last mouthful of his drink. He’d always been good at holding his liquor, so he had only a light buzz going that left him feeling good. He shoved the glass back over at the bartender and dipped his head in gratitude. “‘Preciated she thought as much. Ya’ll didn’t deserve any of that just because Samuel declined to sell to the spoiled brat.”

Matt let out a small hum od acknowledgement before setting the belt buckle back down. “Well, we’re much obliged ya cared so much. However,” Matt sighed with a shake of his head, looping his thumbs through his belt loops, “ya ain’t gonna be no brother of mine.”

He tensed and scowled. “The Hell ya mean by that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Matt said with a small shrug. “Ya ran off and ain’t been back in two years! Never even sent her a letter! Ya ran off even though she begged ya to just stay! It broke Katie’s damn heart, Keith, what ya did. Did ya really think she’d be sittin’ pretty waitin’ on ya?”

Keith swallowed hard before shaking his head, a small, sad smile turning up on his lips. “I’d be a fool to say yes. Girl can be as sweet as a Georgia peach, but as ornery as a rattler,” He said, his voice softening with affection. It was the fact the little lady was a such a spitfire that had first stoked the flames of interest in him, when he’d shown up looking to get hired as a ranch hand for her family and she told him he could only be considered if he could lasso their most volatile horse before her. He’d just narrowly managed to beat her and then, with a less than gracious attitude, she let him into the house for a formal interview with Samuel himself. From there, things between them slowly moved along. The more he got to know her, the more he realized that there was no other woman out there that could ever hold his heart like she did. He spent as much time as he could building up Kat’s trust in him, cultivating the relationship between them, done all he could for over a year to prove to Samuel and Colleen and Matthew that he’d be a good man for Katie.

And then he’d rushed off a mere week after receiving their approval.

Ruthless Lotor, one of the worst outlaw’s in the west, and his gang had come in to town, using their power to try and impose their own rule over the townsfolk. Lotor had waltzed on to the Holt family ranch and started demanding they pay for his “protection” in the way of a cut of the profits. Samuel, well-versed in how to deal with snakes in the grass like Lotor, had made a civil approach in turning the outlaw down. Between himself, Matthew, and Keith, he figured they had more than enough power to keep their own land safe.

And then Lotor, like a child throwing a tantrum, had set the ranch on fire.

They’d been luck in that only the chicken coop burned down, the barn roof was smoldered off, and about half their crops got burned down. They had, however, lost all twenty of their chickens, three of their cows, and two of their best stallions. He’d been furious as he and the Holt’s worked frantically to put out the blaze and take inventory of all that was lost. He had promised her that he’d make Lotor pay for what he’d done, that he’d bring her the bastard’s hat as proof once he did.

She begged him to just let it be, to stay. They’d taken a big hit from the fire and they’d need as much help rebuilding all they’d lost. But then, the next morning, he’d slipped away while the Holt’s slept. He left behind only a note telling her that he’d keep her word and be back as soon as he could.

He couldn’t blame Kat for being furious with him, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to move forward with being courted by someone else.

Matt chuckled and nodded. “Ya ain’t wrong,” He said before sighing again. “Wish ya hadn’t run off, though. Ya’d be more fun as a brother than the current option.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, getting ready to flag the bartender down. He needed something a lot stronger to deal with what had just been dropped on him.

“Ya certainly have a bit more in the way of entertainment value than the Griffin boy,”

Keith froze, violet eyes widening, before he wheeled around while snarling, “Griffin is courting Kat?”

Matt seemed a bit startled. “Y-Yeah. Griffin’s been trying to make a name for himself and build up his own funds. After you left, we had a position on the ranch open, and he stepped in so he could start saving up. He’d been courting Kat for a good few months now,” He explained, jumping back a bit when Keith swept up the items with one arm and shoved them back into the bag.

“Well, guess me an’ Griffin are gonna have a nice long chat,” He growled before heading outside.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #Kidgeweek #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

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mikauzoran · 5 years ago

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Adrienette Drabble: Daisy Chapter Thirty-Two: Game

There’s a Daisy Chapter Thirty-Two: Game

(It’s baaaaaaaack. ^.^)

“It’s good to know that you haven’t lost your skill,” Kagami remarked condescendingly as she removed her mask to reveal a sly, fox-like smile. “I had been concerned.”

“I mean, I did go for a run on Monday,” Adrien snorted, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s not like years of training are going to instantly evaporate just because I spend a few days moping in bed.”

Kagami clicked her tongue reproachfully. “My mother would disown me for neglecting my art like that.”

“I’m sick.” Adrien shrugged dismissively.

“In my family, mental illness is viewed as weakness and inferiority,” she countered ruefully. “Be grateful your father is so lenient and understanding.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, relenting as he rested his mask against his hip. “He’s really stepped up lately. I am grateful. A couple years ago when I asked to see a therapist, he told me it would be disgraceful to talk about private family matters with ‘one of those charlatans’, and when I started having panic attacks, he insisted that I was just fatigued from all the work…. He’s come a long way.”

Kagami nodded, beginning to pack up her equipment.

“…Do you think I’m weak?” Adrien wondered.

Kagami paused, her head tipping slightly as she considered her response. “…I think it takes a very strong person to admit to their weaknesses.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I think you’re admirable.”

A pleased blush slowly rose in Adrien’s cheeks. “Thank you. I admire you too, Kagami.”

She waved away his compliment. “Flatterer. I’m commandeering a guest room to shower and change. You should do likewise, and, then, as a reward for your fencing skills not deteriorating despite your negligence, I will allow you to take me to lunch.”

Adrien frowned. “I thought you said that I couldn’t pay for your meals unless it was a date.”

Kagami shrugged. “Those were the old rules, and they have outlived their usefulness. I no longer have any delusions about the two of us ever being a couple, Adrien. You’re sweet, and I’m glad of your friendship, but now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I can see plainly that we’re not meant to be.”

“O-Oh.” Adrien shifted uncomfortably. “…Did I do something wrong?”

Kagami shook her head. “I did. I decided who you were without really knowing, without consulting you. I acted on assumptions and incomplete data. I apologize.”

Adrien opened his mouth to apologize in turn, but Kagami cut him off: “Whatever you’re about to say is superfluous. If you’re about to tell me all is forgiven, it’s unnecessary because I know you forgive me. You forgive so easily, Adrien—too easily. If you’re about to apologize and try to take some of the blame onto yourself, that too is unnecessary because, like I said before, you are not the one in the wrong.”

Adrien smiled softly at his friend, silently thanking her. “If you say so,” he replied aloud. “…Do you like Chinese food?”

Kagami raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I would not be opposed to trying Chinese food if that’s what you really want, Adrien, but we can’t tell my mother. She doesn’t approve of commoner food.”

His soft smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “You can just say I took you to La Bauhinia or Shang Palace at the Shangri-La.”

Kagami rolled her eyes. “Devious boy. Go shower.”

Wednesday evening, several hours after Kagami’s departure, Gabriel stood in the doorway as Adrien finished a spirited rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the piano and Plagg crooned along.

“Your playing has improved in these past few weeks,” he observed, clapping reservedly.

Adrien gave a start and turned on the bench to smile sheepishly. “It’s more incentive to practice when you’re playing something you want to be playing—no offense to Ravel.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“And yet you were playing Ravel’s Une Barque sur l’Ocean the other day,” Gabriel hummed.

Adrien shrugged and tried not to blush. “That one’s been stuck in my head for some reason.”

Plagg snickered.

Adrien swatted halfheartedly at the kwami.

Gabriel nodded, ignoring the interaction. “Do you like Queen?”

Adrien shrugged again. “Select Queen songs. Bohemian Rhapsody and The Show Must Go On. There was a lot of Queen music featured in the show Elise and I watched yesterday, so…”

“I’m the one who requested Bohemian Rhapsody,” Plagg spoke up from where he was lounging on the piano. “I like Queen. Did you need something, Gabriel? If not, you should come over and play a piece with us.”

“Maybe later,” Gabriel excused himself, actually intending to make time to play with them at a later date. “Monsieur Lahiffe is in the foyer. I told him you did not wish to see him. He asked to appeal the matter with you. Are you still upset with him?”

Adrien held out a hand palm down and wiggled it. “I think I’m going to be hurt about this for a long time, even if I’m not actively upset. Right now I’m playing hard to get and seeing what he comes up with as far as grand gestures to win my forgiveness. He snuck into my room the other day, and that was kind of impressive.”

Gabriel frowned. “How did a teenage boy get past our security system?”

Adrien waved away Gabriel’s concern. “Magic. Don’t worry about it.”

Gabriel doubled down in the concern department. “Wait. Actual magic, or is that just a figure of speech?”

“The magic of friendship,” Adrien clarified, getting to his feet. “Let’s go hear what Monsieur Lahiffe has to say for himself.”

Gabriel reluctantly followed his son, hanging back to observe the confrontation.

Nino was waiting in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. When he saw Adrien up and dressed, he smiled. “Hey, Mec. Looking good.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you into my bedroom, Nino,” Adrien snickered, stopping at the top of the stairs and crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do this to somebody else,” Adrien hummed, looking down imperiously at his friend.

“Dreams really do come true sometimes,” Nino snorted, not enjoying being in Adrien’s usual position.

“This is kind of a power trip,” Adrien mused, standing more erect. “…So I hear you asked to appeal your case?”

“Yeah,” Nino sighed. “Dude, call your dad off.”

“Nope,” Adrien chuckled. “I’m taking the high road and trying to suck it up and be mature about so many other things in my life right now. You get to deal with the childish temper tantrum.”

Nino inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “Lucky me.”

Adrien bit his lip. “…How’s Marinette?”

Nino smiled sadly. “Hanging in there. Throwing herself into her work at the moment. Inside, she’s a mess, but she’s putting her game face on and going out there and getting things done.”

Adrien nodded, unsure how to feel about that. Part of him wanted her to be a complete and utter wreck. Part of him didn’t want his Lady, his Princess to feel anything like the pain he was going through.

“You should write me a sonnet to prove your undying friendship,” Adrien remarked offhandedly, turning to head back to his room.

“How about a limerick?” Nino bartered.

“Am I only worth a limerick?” Adrien pouted, passing his father and slipping back into his sanctuary/cage.

Ten minutes later, Carapace opened Adrien’s window.

“You came prepared this time,” Adrien chuckled as he plugged a second controller into the game console.

Nino sighed as his transformation dropped. “Dude, you’re worth this.”

Adrien paused, letting the words warm his chest while simultaneously trying not to let on. He looked up expectantly at Nino. “So, where’s my limerick?”

Thursday, Wayem came over to play through Adrien’s collection of board games.

“You know, I haven’t even played three quarters of these,” Adrien muttered, getting down a copy of The Settlers of Catan.

“How come?” Wayem looked back over the couch to arch an eyebrow at his friend.

Adrien shrugged, coming and setting the game down on the coffee table. “I’ve never had enough players for most of them. My father has only relented in allowing people over the past month or two. Before that, I had no one to play them with.”

Besides Plagg, put Plagg was hard to convince to play and often had to be bribed to participate and take the game seriously.

“Some of them I was able to play multiple roles myself, but…with strategy games or games like Cluedo, for example, looking at another player’s cards is cheating, and it’s difficult to plot and scheme against yourself. I mean, it can be done, but…it’s really not as much fun to screw yourself over.”

“I need to take you to a board game café,” Wayem realized.

Adrien blinked. “That’s a thing?”

Wayem winced. “Next week we’re getting some of the others together and going to Dernier Bar avant la Fin du Monde. I’ll bring some of my friends too. You’ll love it. Do you think your dad would let you go?”

“I think he could be convinced, especially if Elise goes. He’s somehow gotten it into his head that she’s a responsible adult,” Adrien chuckled.

Wayem cracked up. “Does he know she smuggles in Pop-Tarts?”

“Shhh!” Adrien shushed urgently through laughter, frantically waving his hands. “The walls have ears around this place.”

Wayem shook his head, looking down at the assortment of games on the table before them. “So what do you want to play first? Is there one in particular that you’ve always wanted to play but’ve never gotten to?”

Adrien bit his lip, scanning the lineup. Tentatively, he picked up the box of a game that neither Plagg nor his father would ever deign to play with him. “Exploding Kittens?” he asked hesitantly, peridot eyes wide and overflowing with hope.

Wayem applauded. “Good choice!”

Friday, mid-morning, Chloé, Kagami, and Elise came parading into Adrien’s room without warning.

Adrien jerked up from where he was lying on his stomach on the couch reading volume two of Seven Days. He hastily snapped the manga closed and shoved it under the couch before his friends could see.

Plagg, who had phased into the couch at the sound of the door opening, snickered at Adrien’s expense.

“Guys,” Adrien whined in frustration. “A little privacy? Could you please knock?”

“Your father said we could show ourselves in,” Chloé snorted. “Why? Were you looking at porn or something?”

Adrien’s already rosy cheeks exploded in a flood of scarlet. “No! I was just researching!”

“Oh?” Chloé snickered as she approached. “And what’s that?”

“Something personal. Relationship stuff,” Adrien huffed.

Kagami and Elise looked on sympathetically, knowing from experience that Chloé would not back down until she was satisfied with the answer she received.

Chloé bent behind the couch and felt underneath.

“Chloé!” Adrien squeaked, ducking down and reaching for the book.

Her hand found it first, and Adrien was left to blush in horror as his oldest friend began to flip through.

“It’s a comic book,” Chloé observed, looking disappointed. “There’s not even any nudity. Why were you so embarrassed to be caught reading this?”

“No reason. Give it back?” Adrien asked hopefully, holding out his hand with a nervous smile.

Chloé turned to Kagami, and Adrien’s heart sank. “What language is this in? Can you read it?”

Kagami blinked as the book was thrust into her hands. “…It’s Japanese.” She flipped through perfunctorily, and her eyes widened just a touch. She closed the book.

“It’s just a teenage love story. He’s being overly sensitive,” Kagami reported, her tone of voice informing the others that this was the final verdict as she strode over to the couch and handed the book back to Adrien who was a blush personified.

He took the manga without meeting Kagami’s eye. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

With a sigh, Kagami switched to Japanese. “You’re researching relationships between men?”

Adrien shrank, replying in a small voice in Japanese, “I am.”

Kagami pursed her lips. “I’ve heard that these kind of manga are not realistic representations of same-sex partnerships. They’re mostly for the entertainment of women. You probably shouldn’t base your expectations on them.”

Adrien returned to French with a bashful smile. “That’s kind of a relief. Thanks.”

Kagami gave a decisive nod. “Friends,” she tested the word out on her tongue. “Friends look out for one another.”

Chloé turned to Elise. “What just happened?”

Elise chuckled. “I don’t speak Japanese, Lemon Drop, but I’m guessing they had a friendship-solidifying moment.”

Chloé snorted. “When do I get to have a friendship-solidifying moment with Kagami?”

Elise shrugged. “Not with Adrien?”

Chloé waved Elise away. “The friendship between Adri-chou and me is like bedrock.”

Adrien’s bedroom door opened once more to admit an annoyed-looking Gabriel Agreste. “I’ve just been arguing with Monsieur Lahiffe about his admittance. Adrien, would you care to weigh in on the matter?”

Adrien pursed his lips. He slipped the manga back under the couch and stood. “He can come in since there are others. Keep giving him a hard time when he comes alone until further notice.”

“Very well,” Gabriel sighed, turning to call over his shoulder. “Monsieur Lahiffe? You’ve been given a special dispensation.”

Nino trotted up the stairs and eagerly made his way into Adrien’s room, announcing, “I wrote you a limerick.”

Adrien blinked. “For real?”

Nino nodded. “It’s rubbish, but it technically fits the definition of ‘limerick’. I’m not a poet, Mec.”

“I know you’re not,” Adrien snickered. “That’s why I asked you to write me a sonnet.”

Nino frowned deeply. “Is this like that story you told me about the moon chick who sent her suitors out to fulfill impossible requests?”

“Kaguya-hime?” Kagami cocked an eyebrow at Adrien who shrugged.

“The main difference is that Kaguya-hime meant for her suitors to fail,” Adrien explained. “I’ll be very pleased if Nino succeeds in winning my forgiveness.” He turned to Nino expectantly as Adrien took a seat on the piano bench, crossing one knee over the other. “Limerick?”

Nino cleared his throat.

“There was a young man named Agreste whose best friend was a real pest. The friend was a snake. He made a mistake, and their friendship was put to the test.

“I told you it was rubbish,” Nino concluded. “But there’s your limerick.”

Adrien and the girls applauded politely.

“I’ll take it,” Adrien decreed, looking pleased.

Elise chuckled. “Candy Floss, you’re being mean torturing him like this.”

“And torturing us by extension,” Chloé snorted. “That was painful to listen to.”

“He did his best,” Kagami allowed.

“I’m not being mean,” Adrien protested with a pout. “I’m practicing holding a grudge with someone who I know won’t hate me for it, someone I know I won’t lose just because we have a fight. My therapist said it was unhealthy to avoid conflict by disregarding my own feelings and always folding like I do just because I’m terrified people won’t like me and will leave me if I stand up for myself. I’m practicing engaging in conflict in a safe environment,” he explained.

“He’s fine,” Nino assured, waving the girls off. “I can take it. Our friendship is stronger than this, so don’t worry about it. …Anyway, as a bonus, I wrote a haiku,” Nino informed, lightening the topic of conversation once more. “Do you want to hear that too, or have you had enough of my poetic buffoonery?”

“I’m game,” Adrien decided, making Chloé audibly groan.

Nino stood up straighter. “I feel deep sadness and regret for hurting you my beloved friend.

“How’s that?” Nino shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Now, that was sweet,” Elise cooed.

“The syllables were correct,” Kagami remarked.

“Too sappy,” Chloé sighed.

It took Adrien a moment to formulate his response. “You took the time to come up with that for me?”

Nino replied with a wide-armed, what-else-was-I-supposed-to-do shrug. “I thought you’d appreciate it, even though I suck at poetry…I mean, since I can’t even begin to write a sonnet for you.”

Adrien pushed himself up off the piano bench and tackled Nino in a crushing hug. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you putting this much effort in…you thinking I’m worth it.”

Nino smiled tiredly, returning the hug. “Of course you’re worth it, Mec.”

“Bleh,” Chloé grumbled. “The bromance.”

“I think their friendship is beautiful,” Kagami remarked, coming to stand between Chloé and Elise.

Chloé gazed sidelong at Kagami. “…I guess there are some nice things about it…. Would you want to have a bromance?—Hypothetically.”

“I think it would be nice to be that close to someone,” Kagami affirmed with a wistful smile.

Chloé made a mental note.

“Does this mean that all’s forgiven?” Nino wondered as he and Adrien pulled apart.

Adrien laughed, smacking Nino on the arm playfully. “Hell no. You stabbed me in the back. You’re going to be groveling for a loooong time.”

Nino’s face fell, but he took the news in stride. “Yeah. Okay, Mec. I get it.”

“I love you,” Adrien sang, winking as he made a little heart with his hands.

“I freaking love you too, you sadist,” Nino muttered, giving Adrien a shove that was half playful, half letting out some of his frustration.

“Okay!” Elise announced, calling the meeting to order. “Nino was going to show us how to play Dungeons and Dragons today, if that works for everyone?”

“Princess Celestia of Monte Carlo steps in a bog, and a Rodent of Unusual Size bites her ankle,” Nino reported.

Chloé let out a bark of indignation as she rolled her die. “…Two.”

The entire party winced collectively.

“It tears your dress,” Nino informed her.

Chloé shrieked.

“I’ll try to kill it with my arrows,” Adrien proposed, rolling his die. “…Six?” He looked up uncertainly at Nino.

Nino shook his head. “Princess Luna of the Night Elves fires an arrow and wounds the beast but misses the vital organs. Now the Rodent is angry.”

“Crap,” Adrien sighed. “Sorry, Princess Celestia.”

“You tried, Princess Luna,” Chloé assured, patting him on the knee. “It was a good shot.”

“A lot better than when you accidentally impaled my medicine bag when we were fighting the orcs,” Elise sighed. “Can I heal her?”

“I would wait until we defeat the monster and can get her to safety. Dungeon Master, I’m going to attack the Rodent,” Kagami announced, rolling her die. “…Twenty.”

The group collectively gasped.

Elise let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” Nino chuckled. “Musashi the Warrior from the East makes sushi out of the Rodent, gallantly pulls Princess Celestia from the bog, and carries her in his arms out of the Fire Swamp.”

“My hero!” Chloé sighed, clasping Kagami’s hands in her own.

Kagami smiled shyly, a pleased blush colouring her cheeks.

“Why does Musashi always get the girls?” Adrien grumbled.

“Is Princess Luna interested in girls?” Elise teased.

“Princess Luna is lonely and confused and thinks other people are pretty in general,” Adrien reported with a toss of his head. “She is keeping her options open.”

“I’m going to heal Princess Celestia now that we’re out of the Fire Swamp,” Elise chuckled. “Musashi, if you and the princess could please stop gazing longingly into one another’s eyes for a sec?”

“If we must,” Kagami giggled, enjoying the theatrics.

Elise rolled her die. “Twelve!”

Nino nodded. “Princess Celestia is fully healed.”

“What about my dress?” Chloé demanded. “The Rodent ripped it, right?”

Nino’s brow crinkled in a bemused frown. “Who do you think Elise is, Ladybug?”

“Why not?” Elise urged. “Everett has been training with monks on the tops of mountains for the past forty years. Why can’t he heal the dress?”

Nino considered briefly before giving up. “Okay. Whatever. Roll for the dress.”

“Thirteen,” Elise chuckled, pleased with herself.

“The dress is good as new,” Nino decreed.

“Good because that dress is made out of spun gold,” Chloé snorted. “My daddy had it commissioned specially for my sixteenth birthday.”

“It’s not very practical for adventuring, Chlo,” Adrien remarked. “Maybe you should go shopping when we reach the next village.”

Chloé gave a snort. “Like your chainmail bikini is any more practical?”

“It’s not a bikini,” Adrien whined. “It’s a halter top. Why would anyone go adventuring in a chainmail bikini? I’m wearing actual pants.”

Gabriel cleared his throat from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your campaign, but, Adrien, your phone is…I believe the phrase is ‘blowing up’, and I thought you might want to know so that you could have the option of answering.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he got up off the bed where they were all seated and reached to take the phone from his father. “…Marinette?” he inquired in a small voice, half filled with dread, half with hope.

Gabriel shook his head. “Luka Couffaine.”

Adrien fumbled the phone but managed to catch it before it could hit the floor. “L-Luka?”

“Isn’t that Marinette’s boyfriend?” Kagami whispered to Chloé.

“Why is he texting you?” Chloé arched an eyebrow curiously.

Gabriel frowned. “I did not mean to invade your privacy, but the phone kept buzzing, and I thought it might be important. That does not appear to be the case, but…I took pity on Monsieur Couffaine when I happened to glimpse some of the messages. It made me appreciate the fact that they didn’t have texting when I was young. That way I couldn’t text stupidity that I later regretted to your mother. All the inane things I said to her had to be said out loud, and I find that that dramatically cut down on their number. Monsieur Couffaine is not so lucky. Perhaps you could put him out of his misery?” Gabriel suggested. “If you wish. If not, I can take back the mobile.”

“What does he say?” Nino wondered, confused by this development.

Adrien looked down at his screen to find nearly twenty new messages from Luka.

They started out casually enough for two people who hadn’t texted in two years with, “hey how r u doing”, “this is luka by the way”, and “i hope this is still your number”.

Things quickly snowballed after that: “i was worried about u”, “im sorry i didnt know about what was going on”, “i hope youre ok”.

“Why are you blushing?” Chloé demanded.

“I’m not blushing,” Adrien grumbled defensively. “He was texting because he was worried about me. It’s sweet of him. I appreciate it.”

The downward spiral in the texts continued:

“sorry im so stupid of course youre not ok”

“im sorry i hurt u”

“im really really sorry”

“for a lot of things”

“sorry if u dont want to hear from me”

Adrien’s heart clenched. He’d been wondering the same thing: Luka had expressed interest in renewing their friendship at Chloé’s graduation party, but would Luka even want to hear from Adrien after finding out about the complicated mess between Adrien and Luka’s girlfriend?

“i couldnt stop thinking about u”

Adrien’s heart fluttered.

“sorry for texting u in the first place”

“i miss u angel”

It had been a long time since Adrien had last heard that nickname. It brought back all kinds of memories from the summer he had spent sneaking out of the Agreste Mansion and practically living on the Couffaine houseboat. The guitar lessons with Luka, cooking with Rose, asking the Capitaine’s advice and listening to her wild stories, trading snark for snark with the surprisingly witty Juleka…movies and giving each other hell…teasing relentlessly, snuggling when Adrien was feeling down or unwanted or just because…talking late into the night and early into the morning…whispers in the dark, secrets and laughter and finally feeling like his feet had touched down on something solid. Feeling like he belonged. Feeling like a part of a family. Five months of happiness…until Gabriel had found out and ripped it away.

“god i wish it were possible to unsend things”, Luka’s text barrage continued regretfully.

“just ignore me”

“please please ignore me”

“im so sorry for bothering u”

“please take care of yourself”

The last message made Adrien smile. Luka still cared. Somehow, despite the ugly relationship drama with Marinette, despite the way things had ended between Luka and Adrien two years prior with Gabriel’s threats, Luka still wanted Adrien back in his life.

“What’s he say, Mec?” Nino cautiously inquired.

The flickering emotions on Adrien’s face made Nino uneasy. Surprise, delight, a pleased blush, a nervous smile, conflict, guilt, apprehension, an intrigued look, a charmed smile. The fact that Adrien was having so many varied, complex reactions to texts from the boyfriend of the girl Adrien was in love with did not bode well. Adrien was making the face he usually wore when he had his very worst ideas.

Adrien shrugged, waving dismissively. “He just wanted to check in on me, but he wasn’t sure I’d want to hear from him.”

Adrien’s thumbs started moving in a blur as he typed, “Hi, Orpheus. <3”. He figured his old nickname for Luka would quickly dispel the musician’s anxiety.

“Can’t talk right now. I have company over.” he explained and then added, “Thanks for worrying about me.” with a broad smile, a warmth building in his chest that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a long time…since things with Marinette imploded…since he’d lost his Lady.

“What are you grinning about?” Chloé accused, feeling like she was being left out of a joke.

“Nothing,” Adrien insisted, looking up from his phone. “It’s just nice to be worried about by people you thought hated you. I’m just…I’m happy he doesn’t hate me and still wants to be friends. We used to be close, so…it’s like when you and I reconnected, Chlo. This feels like I’m getting something I lost back. I’m happy.”

Gabriel pointedly looked away. He understood Adrien’s longing for his old friend and Plagg’s reasoning that the boy could be good for Adrien, but Gabriel was still against his son renewing an acquaintanceship with the Couffaine boy who had been such a bad influence in the past, especially now with the further complication of the boy’s relationship with the girl Adrien was in love with.

Adrien turned to his father. “I think I’m okay to keep my phone now. Thanks so much for babysitting it.”

Gabriel frowned down at his son. “You’re sure?”

Adrien nodded. “In case Luka texts me back. I’ll let you know if I change my mind and need you to take it away again if it proves to be too much of a temptation.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but a tremendous jolt cut him off, rocking the house and nearly knocking both Gabriel and Adrien off of their feet.

Car alarms started to scream.

Nino cursed.

“An earthquake?” Elise wondered aloud, voice high and wavering.

“Akuma,” Adrien breathed, running to the window.

“That’s impossible!” Gabriel argued, a step behind his son. “I didn’t—I mean…Papillon has been dormant for nearly two months!”

“There!” Nino pointed, coming to stand at Adrien’s side, one hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“That’s a sentimonster,” Gabriel gasped, mind whirling. “Why would…? Why is…? Why?!”

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrienette #Adrien Agreste #Kagami Tsurugi #Nino Lahiffe #Wayem #Chloé Bourgeois #Elise O'Leary #Gabriel Agreste #Plagg #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

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poppo911 · 7 years ago

Text

D-Day Jitters (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: To the bride

Word count: 3k-ish

Also on FFN

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

"How's Major—uh, Riza—doing, anyway?"

"I… don't know. I hope she's doing better than me. She always did."

"…you don't know?"

Nobody is in their correct mind on their wedding day—she reminded herself over and over, like a mantra chanted inside those sacred temples of her mind.

Rebecca Catalina had always had the honour to be one of the very few people who had seen the notoriously stoic Riza Hawkeye in her ups and downs. She had been there (much to her amusement) during Riza's extremely rare hangovers. She had always been the one stroking her blonde hair, patting her on the back while she wept silently into her shoulder. Heck, Rebecca even managed to handle her best friend after she came back from the nightmare called Ishval (though she rather kept that particular memory at bay.)

But not this. Never this. And it was driving the brunette crazy.

Which was exactly why she was there, one hand on her hip while fiddling a mascara with the other.

"Rebecca," she said sternly.

Inhale. Exhale. Keep your composure. "No. And you can keep glaring at me like that for the next one hour because, you know what, my answer would always be the same; hell no. Yeah, go fight me."

Riza wanted to pull her hair in frustration, but doing so will utterly destroy her hairdo those stylists had worked on for hours. Covering her face with her hands, and the make up Rebecca nearly finished would be at stake. Thus she opted to curl her fingers into clenches in an agonizingly slow motion.

"You can not strip a sniper of their firearms!"

"Sorry, Major—scratch-that—Miss Hawkeye, but you are stripped of your right to handle any kind of firearms when you resigned from the military five weeks ago."

"But I still retain my gun certification!"

"Then I'm revoking it!" Rebecca retorted, the words I'm-so-done-with-this plastered on her expression, "Well, at least for now. And don't give me your lame but-I-have-to-watch-his-back-from-dangers angsty bullshit. You reviewed the goddamn security algorithm yourself. Just so you know, the budget allocation for today's security system is at least twice bigger than the total amount of money we spent for your grandpop's entire inauguration ceremony. So, no. Gun certification or not, you're not bringing anything beneath your gown."

Her face fell, shoulders slumped in defeat. Rebecca was afraid she was going to cry uncharacteristically, but honestly, better now than after she applied the mascara. Smeared make-up, she can touch it up in a few minutes. But smeared mascara? Catalina was willing to delay the entire procession instead should that happened.

Sighing, she made her way to sit beside the former officer. As silly as it was, if there was anything Riza would seek comfort in everytime her anxiety decided to make an appearance, it would be her guns and whatever came with them. Rebecca couldn't blame her for that—she had seen how her best friend clinged into her sniper rifle as if her entire life depended on it (in a more serious notion, it really did.) She had even considered to let her carry just one to the altar, for everything seemed to much for her friend (and for her, too, frankly speaking) to handle. Dammit, I almost had let her, she internally confessed.

But Rebecca Catalina was experienced in breaking many rules—more than enough for her to know not to break this one.

"C'mon, Ri," Rebecca softly called out to her, poking her arm in a playful manner. "You're just nervous. You can do this, okay?"

"It's just… wrong. I feel as naked as a newborn," she mumbled.

"Oh, you absolutely will, Dear. Tonight after everything's wrapped up. And that flame boy of yours would be more than pleased."

"Rebecca!"

"Yeah, sorry, sorry," chuckling, she snaked an arm around her waist, "I mean, the sexual tension between you two is sometimes too palpable I can't help but to bring it up now that it's not really illegal anymore! Say, are you sure you guys had never fucked before?"

Riza looked at her in dismay.

"Even if I did—which I did not, anyway, not while I was working under his command—" not while I was working under his command, the ambiguous context that came with it didn't go unnoticed, "—I wouldn't narrate them the way you did yours, Beck."

"Hey, what's wrong with that?"

"You don't know," Hawkeye made an audible sigh, "you don't know how hard it was for me to look at Jean in the eyes everytime I talk to him during work hours when you guys first started dating. He thought I was mad at him or something."

"How could—oh… No. No way, you naughty, naughty Rizzie,"

"As if it was my fault. Your description was way too graphic, for your information."

Rebecca bursted into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. But I succeeded, didn't I?"

"At what?"

"Making a nervous bride forgetting her wedding day nerves, perhaps?"

Her lips curled into a small smile as Rebecca hummed in approval beside her.

But Riza quickly shook her head as the somber mood started crawling back in, "I don't know if this was really for me, Beck. Even if it was… I don't even know if I can pull it off,"

"You? Can not pull it off? Ex-fucking-cuse me, but have you seen this?" Rebecca stood up and moved to stand behind her friend's sitting figure, turning her to face the full length mirror on one side of the wall. "See? If this was not for you, you wouldn't had spent the past months wearing yourself out preparing for this moment…"

She was quite a sight, really. And Rebecca didn't say that merely because she was a supportive best friend who would say anything to relieve her anxiety. A bun wrap decorated with pearl beadings held her silky blonde hair in a messy updo. The brocade hugged her curves perfectly, with intricate floral embroideries around her waist. Downwards were fabrics layered into a ball gown. Big brown eyes, and plump, red-tinted lips—that Mustang guy sure was a lucky bastard, she pondered.

Though she did take pride on her make up work (Rebecca had been the one dolling Riza up in nearly all occasions requiring such attires—like hell she was going to let someone else doing it for her big day,) she admitted, it was the bride herself contributed the biggest to make her looked radiant.

The brunette looked at her perplexed eyes reflected in the mirror, all the way down to her neckline, her ball gown, heels, trains, then back to her face—"Riza Mustang, the First Lady of Amestris, and, despite the strict upbringing I know you will apply, still a no less good mother to her children, and—oh,"

Rebecca decided, then, that she didn't want smeared make up as much as she didn't want smeared mascara.

Careful not to destroy anything—except her make up, sadly, for it was already in a dire need for a touch up—she pulled her friend in a tight embrace. Suddenly it was just like the old times—her face on her shoulder, hand patting her back in silence. I'm sorry. Please. You're okay. I'm sorry.

If she was being honest, Rebecca preferred to deal with Riza throwing tantrums or giving her icy glares that could freeze furnace. She hated being in this position when her seemingly-impassive friend clearly showed her distress, yet told her nothing.

She knew what made her upset, but at the same time, she did not. She understood how she might felt, but she also couldn't relate.

Just like this one.

Riza's place had always been in that one spot casted aside where nobody could notice her. Whether it was on a watch tower with her scope, or two steps behind Mustang's back, she worked best from where she couldn't be seen. Then all of a sudden, she was shoved into the center of attention. She was expected to be there with him in the spotlight, instead of lurking in the shadows he casted.

Too sudden. And certainly too many eyes are watching.

A sane Riza Hawkeye would had handled it just fine, a goddamn rational she was. Maybe with several adjustments at best, Rebecca corrected herself. Yet she knew, the Riza Hawkeye who had spent the past few months preparing for something this big mostly by herself (damn the Fuhrer and his presidential duties) is far from a sane Riza Hawkeye.

Yeah, let alone the one being covered nation-wide with thousands of guests—arranging a wedding itself was already a hassle, if her friends' testimonies were to be trusted. In hindsight, they were.

Rebecca had been occupied by her own job in the office that she only managed to keep tabs on her and offered her suggestions via phonecall frequently—and even that was enough for her to recognize the extent of Riza's distress. Catalina was glad her commanding officer compelled to her… request, when she asked for a two-weeks leave. God knew she was willing to break yet another rule should that snobbish superior officer of hers did otherwise because Lord, I'm not gonna leave this poor girl alone any longer.

She understood.

But she didn't. Both at the same time.

So she just sat there, trying her best to offer her friend some comfort. Riza had rarely been the one to talk her problems through—not with her, at least, she begrudgingly admitted—and Rebecca knew, under this condition, the only thing that could soothe her was a good night sleep in amiable silence. And by the following morning, she would be back to the reasonable, no-nonsense Riza Hawkeye.

The problem? They had to be ready in less than an hour. So a good night sleep was off the options.

Rebecca was cursing her helplessness in silence when the door clicked open.

A rather bulky woman with long, curly black hair appeared from the threshold, making her way to where they were sitting at in a deliberate gait. She was wearing burgundy dress inside a furry coat, she noticed, flashy necklace decorated her neck down to her chest. Rebecca was about to deem her outfit too eccentric—even by her standard—for a formal ceremony (which already spoke volumes, really) if she hadn't been busy being intimidated by said woman's presence. This middle-aged lady was not from the military, that was for sure—but why does she look strangely familiar?

"Am I interrupting something here?"

Riza's shoulders tensed up for a second as she recognized the voice. "No, Madame Christmas," she answered, her hands frantically searching and grabbing for anything she can wipe her tears off with. (Rebecca noticed she considered using her own wedding gown for that. It was a fortune she didn't.)

Hold a sec… that Madame Christmas?!

The woman's voice was raspy when she called out, "Rebecca Catalina, is it? The bridesmaid?"

She nodded.

"Let me handle her," she continued, "you go get that—" pointing at her bare, make-up-stained shoulder, "—thing fixed."

"I—right away, ma'am," taking a good look at the bride's recently messy face, she corrected, "uh, actually, I'm sorry but… it seems that I have to redo this one first,"

If she was any less dignified, the Madame would have snorted.

"And by 'her', I was also referring to that. It's alright. Those girls had to learn to do their nightly make up from someone, after all."

Rebecca paused for a moment, considering what to do next before she stood up from her seat in a swift motion. She gripped Riza's shoulders to give her a semblance of reassurance. Their eyes locked—it was as though hers were saying I will see you later and good luck with this combined.

She left the room after hovering around the door threshold for a little longer than what was necessary.

Madame Christmas collected everything she required to do her face at the other side of the room in silence. It wasn't long before she was already seated in front of her, a whole box of cosmetics in her hands.

If she dared to describe it, Riza thought, she would say it was really… awkward.

Yes, they had met each others from time to time for years already. Be it arranging a coup d'etat or a wedding, the Madame had been a great help. But Roy had always been there—frankly speaking, it was more like Roy and his mother, and then she was there in the background, giving her occasional remarks. This woman had already had her respect for quite a long time. Riza knew her very well.

But apparently, still not well enough for her to become comfortable facing the Madame one-on-one.

"Spill,"

The word came rather unexpectedly—well, not that anything was within expectation, as far as the Madame was concerned. Riza only managed to give her a confused blink in response.

"I didn't work as an information broker for nothing. Now is the chance for you to tell me what troubles you and let it all out, before I decided to point them out one by one."

Madame Christmas continued to do the younger woman's face as she waited for her to speak her mind out.

Wipe this part off. Several strokes of brush here.

Seconds turned into minutes, yet her face remained impassive—funny, really, with those trails of tears on her cheeks—a perfect mask to cover whatever turmoil existed beneath. Christmas quietly sighed; Roy wasn't exaggerating anything when he told her that his (former) adjutant was very, very private, keeping her thoughts and feelings close to her chest.

Chris Mustang finally decided to give in before minutes turned into hours.

"My son is very fond of you, you know,"

She did.

"Whenever he came home for a short break during his alchemy apprenticeship, his stories mostly consisted of my master's daughter this and my master's daughter that… and he did that for years. I knew you like your tea with two spoonful of sugar and no milk years before we actually met."

The words tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

"Even in his academy days, he still liked to recount the letters his master's daughter sent him in his writings. Not once, not twice… quite frequent, in fact. But his master's daughter suddenly vanished into thin air when he was shipped off to war." She paused for a while, scrutinizing her face to the tiniest details, "…I will drop this subject here. Neither of us would like to talk about that now.

"My point is, whether it was his master's daughter, or Elizabeth, or Captain Hawkeye—you two have been together for a long time. As bothersome as it is, this whole marriage ordeal shouldn't bring any difference."

In her mind, Riza was mulling those words over. But for not too long—eventually she found herself lost in her own train of thoughts. Why is she here now? Did Roy send her? Or was it Mrs. Gracia? She wasn't sure of what to say next—

As if she was stung by a wasp, Christmas suddenly drew herself away from her, her eyes narrowed. Much to Hawkeye's bewilderment.

"My Roy-boy can stand there dumbfounded, thinking that his bride had left him at the altar because I am not letting you go if my whole speech just now actually turned into a monologue. I don't really talk much—show me some courtesy for my efforts."

It took every attempts she had to keep her brown eyes fixed on the Madame's.

"I'm sorry, Madame. I didn't want to make your job any harder by talking and moving my face," she finally reasoned.

"Still not a good enough excuse. Try again."

"I—"

Madame Christmas' gaze was unfazed.

Riza swallowed a lump she didn't know had been forming behind her throat. Her eyes frantically searched for anything, anything except the Madame's eyes, to look at, like a chameleon with a den of snakes preying on it nearby. It was when her survival instinct kicked in (was it due to a fight-or-flight response?)—

Don't move. Stare at a fixated point. Breathe deeply three times. Something the military taught to the new recruits to keep their fear under control.

Accordingly, she did as such, and thank God and whatever good up there, it worked.

"I… I'm sorry. This isn't me. People told me it's just the cold-feet but…" she cleared her throat before her sentence turned into nonsensical ramblings, "it's not the wedding per se… but the changes that follow. I don't think I'm ready for it. I can't help but to keep second-guessing myself."

The woman looked at her in an unreadable way. She continued to do her job as she quietly spoke, "Like I said, Riza. Despite everything, nothing much will change. And you knew what you're into when you both made this decision,"

"I know, Madame," the sensible Riza will kick herself later for interrupting the Madame, "we know the consequences. It's just… unnerving, to put it that way. The change. I've been a soldier for years. I've been hiding behind his back, watching it, for as far as I can remember.

"But today onwards, there will be only ceremonial duties shoved onto my plate. Organizing and attending official ceremonies, charitable works, campaigns—he's already used to doing public services, and suddenly people expect me to be there with him. Or to be there on my own. It's overwhelming."

There. She said it.

(Just then, Riza understood how Madame Christmas managed to maintain her business for tens of years.)

She nodded in understanding.

"I see," came her reply, "Amestris is a rather conservative country. It was a wonder your grandfather managed to get through without having one," Chrismas paused and smudged the corner of the eyeshadows using her finger, "looking at Mrs. Bradley, and the one before her several years prior, it can't be helped that the people perceipt their First Lad—"

"Don't say those words," Riza cut in. "…please," she added, as an afterthought.

The elder woman quirked her brow. So that was why, she assumed, but compelled to her wish nonetheless.

"Change is indeed frightening," she voiced after a while, "but we never know what lies ahead. Change is not always bad. The biggest thing that altered my life abruptly happened more than thirty years ago after learning about my brother's, and his wife's, unfortunate demise."

Riza thought she knew where their conversation pointed to. But she also thought it would be wiser not to say anything.

"I took the toddler they left behind under my care. In retrospect, it was nowhere near any propriety—I had been running a small hostess bar by that time. Not an exactly fitting environment to raise a kid, obviously. But we adjusted. It wasn't easy, I remind you, but I accepted the way it changed my life. You know him, and you know how he was—is a pain in the arse to deal with.

"But it was altogether the best decision I ever made—Amestris wouldn't have their incumbent Fuhrer if I did not,"

Using her fingers, Madame Christmas lifted Riza's chin and turned it slightly to the left-and-right, admiring her work for a moment before she went on.

"You look like you still got something to say. Spill it out. We don't have much time left."

Hawkeye prided herself on her ability to hide most of her thoughts, but she swore, this woman in front of her secretly possessed a psychic ability.

"I—" she paused as the Madame smeared more lipstick, "Just something every brides thinks of when they are doubting themselves. I… I don't know if I really can make him happy—"

Christmas pressed the powder puff on her cheek with a little more force than what was necessary.

"Happiness is something you have to work on. Both of you have to actively make the efforts. Don't make my boy's job harder with that negative attitude of yours."

Putting everything back to the box, she dusted her hands clean in a satisfied manner. "There. It's all done."

Riza turned to face the mirror and she admitted, the Madame wasn't lying when she said something about teaching those girls to do their make up.

She was about to open her mouth, thanking the madame, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning back, Madame Christmas was looking straight at her—yet, strangely, it didn't feel as intimidating as she thought it was.

"I've never been good with emotions, but do you feel better?"

More than better, she wanted to voice. As someone who preferred to internalize her problems and feelings a lot, she didn't know how talking them through could actually make her relieved. She felt like a heavy load she wasn't aware was there had been lifted from her shoulders, a figurative stone chained onto her leg, weighing her down, suddenly became nonexistent.

A glowing smile graced her lips as she finally said, "I do, Madame. Thank you very much. I owe you this—along with everything I can't mention one by one."

"Take good care of my son and we're even," she replied in a-matter-of-factly while standing up from her seat, "I think it's time. Your grandfather had been waiting for quite a while."

The retired general came out from behind the then-closed door, walking in with a smile plastered on his old face.

"Not too long ago, Chris. Captain Catalina wouldn't let me in until she was sure you're done already," how insubordinate of her, he murmured.

Christmas shrugged, "just make sure you do this right," she said. A brief seconds passed before the woman decided to make her way out, "I will be on one of the benches,"

Grumman merely shook his head. Same old, same old. "Now this is weird… handing off my granddaughter to a man who's been with her way longer than I even know her." She threw him an apologetic smile.

"Let's go, shall we?" He called out, offering his hand to his only remaining bloodline.

"Yes, Sir." Riza accepted his hand in a proper stance. Just like the rules instructed.

She couldn't see it as they were walking out of the room, down to the hallway, but from his voice—disheartened, with a tinge of disappointment he tried to conceal—Riza knew the elderly man holding her hand was already making a face.

"I told you to call me just Grandpa, Riza. I'm even retired now—no excuse left for you to keep calling me that."

Change is not always bad.

Riza let out a small smile and shook her head,

"One step at a time… Grandfather."

Do you guys know how hard it was to write Madame Christmas? Well, I didn't, until I re-read and re-write this chapter a million of times, yet I still feel I can't do her character justice. Sorry. I'm sorry sobs. Please do tell me where I went wrong DX

"I hope she's doing better than me. She always did." Newsflash Roy-boy, she was not, and that's the irony of this chap lol. I hope Riza wasn't too OOC here, but if she was, uh, may I use that 'nobody is in their correct mind on their wedding day' excuse?

Yes, I still tagged this fic as incomplete, just you wait… *winks* and if I ever posted any third chapter at all, maybe that one will be the last.

Thank you for reading! :D

#royai #fanfiction #royai fanfiction #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #rebecca catalina #madame christmas #fma #fmab

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lyannas · 7 years ago

Text

i cannot keep the night from coming in

“I don’t understand how you can be cross on your wedding day,” Branda scolds her as she smooths the wrinkles of Lyarra’s gowns. “You’re marrying Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North-- and what did I get? A weak-willed, pale excuse of a husband. A southron lordling.”

Over the course of the past few days, it occurred to Lyarra that her sister had been bitter and enraged for a long time before she travelling north for her wedding. She was jealous, perhaps, but it was more likely she felt cheated of a husband worthy of her, of a first daughter. Their parents had passed Branda off to a strange man in a foreign land, but now gave their second daughter to their own kin, a man who ruled the entire North alone. Lyarra understood her sister’s bitterness.

“Say the word, sister, and tonight I will slay your husband and spirit myself away so you may have our cousin in my place,” Lyarra told her solemnly.

“You have always been full of stupid ideas. Mother and father let you fill your head with nonsense and childishness, but not me. I was always the good one. I always followed the rules. Yet somehow, they loved you more.” Branda pulls away from her sister. “Go on, then. Who knows how long you’ve kept them all waiting at the heart tree now.”

Lyarra did not think much of marriage, or her husband, on her wedding night. Rickard snored softly beside her, having already taken her maidenhead quietly and with dark, serious eyes. He did not speak much, but Lyarra hoped that would change. When the mood was right, words were the most beautiful things two bodies could share-- and Lyarra had a lot of words.

What consumed Lyarra’s thoughts that night was the gorgeous chestnut mare she had caught sight of in the stables, whose coat glistened in the moonlight and who stood tall and proud. She slipped on her husband’s discarded clothes, pulled on his boots, and ran to that mare, rode her until dawn broke despite the ache between her legs, and returned to bed happy. At the end of the day, that was all Lyarra aspired to be: happy.

Her husband did not like that. She came to learn that he did not like a great many things. He did not like loud women. He did not like that she knew how to wield a sword. He did not like his wife riding horses without reason, and in men’s clothes no less. He did not like to argue, so he ended conflict quickly, and harshly. He did not lay a hand on her, that much she would grant him, but his words did not sting any less.

“I am your husband, and you are my wife. You will obey me. You will do as I say. You will present yourself as is fitting of a Lady of Winterfell, or you will suffer.”

The first dozen times a fight broke out, Lyarra always stood up for herself. She matched him word for word, insult for insult, threat for threat. This was not a choice on her part-- she was the daughter of the man they called the Wandering Wolf for good reason, and the woman of a proud mountain clan. She was a Stark from the moment she was born-- and she had what her husband called, disdainfully, the “wolf blood”. When rage was upon her, or sorrow, or joy, her world filled with color, and she chased it until it all melted away.

Her husband did not like words either-- or at least, he grew tired of exchanging them with her. Instead, he took things. He took the key to her chambers and let her sit in them, locked away, with meals brought to her throughout the day. He took away her riding trousers and boots. He took away her father’s sword, and forbade her to carry another. He took away her dignity, though he could not take her pride.

Still, it was no way to live, and she so desperately wished to live. Thus, Lyarra relented. She hid her teeth, retracted her claws, and promised to be a good wife, and true. If it was a soft, quiet woman he desired, she would become that. A wolf had to adapt to be accepted into the fold, after all. Adapt, or be killed.

Lyarra has dreams. She dreamt of the simple pleasures she knew as a girl, of being foolish and wild and free.

Most of all, she dreamt of running barefoot in the snow. It was so vivid she could almost feel it, feel the biting cold pinching the soles of her feet, feel the chilly wind in her hair and upon her face. She was always laughing in that dream. No one chased her, and she was happy.

Their son is born, and he is perfect in every way.

Brandon comes into the world screaming, and that was how he would display every displeasure for years after. It irritated Rickard, but Lyarra delighted in it. She could see it in him from now, in her little Brandon, the wolf blood the boy’s father so despised. It coursed through his veins and promised to destroy those who would suppress it. It thrilled Lyarra; it frightened her, too.

“You’re a fighter, like my mother,” she whispered to him once as he suckled at her breast. “But you’ve a pair of lungs just like my father-- strong. That’s good. That’s very good. But you must be careful, my little one, for strength alone is not enough. Patience is important too-- and the hardest thing to learn.”

They have another son that they name Eddard, and he is everything that Brandon is not. He did not possess the same fire as his brother, nor the same fickle temperament. There was no wolf blood in this boy, but that does not disappoint Lyarra. The two would balance each other, and together, they could rule the world. They were boys, after all, and the world was made for them.

Thus, she did not weep when either son was born-- but a river poured from her eyes when Lyanna came into the world.

Lyarra never wanted a girl-- she never wanted to give birth to something so strong and hear the world insist that it was fragile. She did not want to give birth to a girl who would chase after her brothers, a girl that would scream with delight when she caught sight of a horse, a girl that was fussy, and sweet, and playful, and could throw a tantrum better than any other child Winterfell had ever seen.

Lyarra did not want a girl who carried a touch of the wolf blood.

She could see the disapproval in Rickard’s eyes from now, how deeply he frowned at the innocent, willful, boyish antics she pulled. She could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out how to crush it all.

“How can you send your firstborn son away?” Lyarra snapped, turning on her husband. With most of the demands he made, she kept quiet and relented. This one, she could not. “He is only a boy-- he needs us.”

“He needs men who’ll push him and make him into a man himself,” her husband returns stoically. “He cannot stay here, with everyone regarding him as their little lord and with his mother coddling him.”

“He is a child. Children are meant to be coddled,” she said fiercely. “I can tell it’s not something you ever knew as a boy, else you would be a kinder man than you are now.”

“What use does the Lord of Winterfell have for kindness?” He scoffed. “House Stark did not survive because we were kind. Our line did not continue because we were gentle.”

“No-- it continued because a man learned that there is a time for fighting, and time for kneeling. When have you ever learned to kneel, my lord? When have you ever learned that there are people behind you who would be glad if you would bend for them, rather than stand against them?”

“I cannot expect a woman to understand this, much less one that has lived in the mountains and never learned to be civil,” he said, practically spitting out the word ‘woman’. “Your heart is far too soft towards the boy-- all the more reason to send him away, lest he too adopt the tender heart of a woman.” He scowled, then turned away from her. “Lord Dustin and I have agreed that he’ll foster the boy once he reaches his eighth nameday. That’s two years more of you coddling him.”

“Then I have two years to make him a better man than you shall ever be,” Lyarra returned boldly. “Then when he returns to us a man grown, I will undo Lord Dustin’s work and teach him again him how to be a good man.”

It is Brandon who comes up with the nickname “Ned” for his little brother.

It catches on quickly, and it’s an easy word for Lyanna’s childish tongue. Lyarra calls him Ned too; with her son’s face was always so sullen and serious, a name like that was the perfect fit.

She even heard Rickard call him “Ned”, once. It is a mistake he does not repeat twice.

See, my boy? She thinks, smiling at her eldest son as he played with Lyanna on the floor. All manner of men will learn from you. They have nothing to teach you.

Her mother dies when she is with child a fourth time.

Rickard forbids her to travel, leaving her mother to be buried without family to attend to her. For a few brief moments her world is filled with crimson-- “If my mother knew what manner of man she had married me to, she would have killed you,” she recalled saying. “A man so unkind, cruel, heartless, stupid--”

It had earned her locked doors for a week. It was one thing to be confined to her rooms when she was childless, but another when one of her sweet babes sat at her door and sobbed when she is told that she cannot go in to see her own mother.

Lyarra promises herself that she will not lose her temper again. She did not need Rickard’s approval, but her children needed her.

From that point on, her world is painted a somber grey.

When the door to her room finally unlocked, Lyarra escaped to the godswood. “To pray,” she explained to her husband. “To atone for my foolishness.”

Her mother taught her more than how to carry a sword. When she reaches the heart tree, she sheds her gown, her skirts, her smallclothes. Summer was still upon them, but the air carried the slightest chill that made her shiver.

She knelt before the heart tree, but did not pray. She found the dirt closest to the trunk, the purest earth and the most extraordinary, and sunk both hands into it. They emerged with fistfuls of dirt, which she rubbed first on her arms, then her legs, her hair, and her breasts. On her face she traced the symbols her mother taught her, signs of the old gods that the children of the forest invented to strengthen their prayers. She did the same on her rounded stomach-- signs of protection, of strength, of humility. Then she clasped her muddied hands together, and whispered a short, powerful prayer.

She sunk into the pool before the altar, submerging her whole self in its warm waters. Below the waters, she prayed, and prayed, until the dirt dissipated from her body, until her body demanded breath.

When she was dried and dressed again, Lyarra was surprised to feel warm water on her face again. She touched her cheeks, felt another drop of water roll from her eyes to the tip of a finger. Through bleary eyes, she looked to the heart tree. The tree was weeping too, though it's tears were red.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I always hated crying alone.”

Her fourth child, her third son, is named Benjen.

She knows he is to be her final child-- she sacrificed the chance to have another in her prayers, for one had to give in order to receive.

Yet, she finds herself wishing she had not chosen such an offering; none of her children had been named after her parents. There was no Arya or Rodrik among them, and there shall never be. Rickard had, as with all things, took ownership of their names as he had taken ownership of her.

“Promise me you shall be brave?” Lyarra asks of Brandon on his eighth nameday. On schedule, Lord Dustin’s men had arrived to escort him, their yellow banners flapping in the wind. She knelt in the courtyard, uncaring of the dirt that would stain her gown, wanting desperately to cherish these final moments with him.

“I promise, mother,” he returns in a grown-up voice.

“I will not ask you to be good,” she whispers. “For sometimes it is much better to be naughty. It makes you clever, and keeps your mind sharp.”

He grins, and the little glimmer in his eye swears he shall be anything but good.

“But do try to write, will you? If not for me, then for your brothers and sister?”

He rolls his eyes a bit. “Okay, mother. No promises, though.” He grins again, and Lyarra cannot help herself. She embraced him, and kissed him on the cheek.

Rickard exchanged some words with Brandon, a man’s words that were undoubtedly meant to frighten and brace Brandon. Lyarra didn’t care for what he said to him; Brandon would one day be a stronger man than him by far.

“Mama?” Lyanna’s voice seemed to tremble as she called to her. Her hands gripped her skirts. “When will we him again?”

“Not for some years, my sweet,” she answered sadly. “When he is a man grown, we shall see him again.”

“But he’s still small,” she returned, frowning.

“I think it will be a long time, Lya,” Ned said solemnly. ‘Lya’ was also a nickname of Brandon’s invention.

“Oh,” she said.

“Oh,” little Ben echoed at her side.

Lyarra mislikes Winterfell’s maester. He is a man who calls himself Walys, and she knew he was the reason for her husband sending Brandon away. She knew he was also the reason Rickard comes to her to say: “Eddard must be fostered too, soon.”

“No,” the words flew out of her mouth without thought. “What need is there to send two sons away?”

“A great need-- I shall not explain it to you again.”

“You did not explain it to me even once,” Lyarra returned, crestfallen. “It is one thing to send our boy to a northern lord, but another send the other to the South.”

“House Stark has found comfort in the North for too long. Perhaps it is time we looked south.” The glimmer in her husband’s eyes was a new and dangerous invention.

“Then send him to my sister’s husband,” she finds herself insisting. “She has yet to meet my children; she would gladly take Ned into her home.”

“Send him to House Rogers when I can send him to House Arryn?” Her husband snorted. “Steffon Baratheon’s firstborn has been sent to the Vale already-- the boy will be your goodbrother’s liege lord one day.”

Lyarra sunk down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. The castle felt empty enough without Brandon’s presence-- to lose Ned too meant she would not lay eyes on half her children for years to come. Yet what could she do? How could she fight it?

“We are building a future for our children, Lyarra,” her husband said. She felt the mattress sink where he sat beside her. In tender gesture rarely felt outside of lying together, he stroked her hair from the crown of her head to where it splayed over her back.

“You are building one for yourself,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Power is shifting in the Seven Kingdoms-- powers you do not understand, or have ever known,” he continued cryptically. “I would have our family be pushed to the top and not trampled underfoot.”

“You have pushed two of my children away from me, and decided their fates,” Lyarra said, ignoring his talk of power. “Will you leave the last two for me?”

“Lyanna is still too young to find a betrothed suitable for her, but I will hear your thoughts on who you think would make fine groom for her, when the time comes.”

Lyarra looked to her husband, horrorstruck.

Her dreams become more and more vivid.

The night before Ned was to leave her, she could feel the chill of the winter winds, the biting cold of the snow underfoot. It was so visceral she shivered in her sleep until she woke with a jolt. Outside the window, snow was falling. It was late summer snows, still too soon for howling winds and raging blizzards, but it was snow all the same. Lyarra looked to where her husband slept beside her, the sound of his snores ringing in her ears. She was reminded suddenly of laying eyes on her sleeping children when they were only babes who slept at her breast. The love she bore them was so strong in those moments that it would close her throat and burn her eyes as she wondered how she could ever protect something so small and needy. Those were moments she knew when they had been only weeks old; she had spent 11 years with the man beside her, looked upon him many times, and never felt anything similar.

She slipped out of bed soundlessly. Her bare feet scraped the warm stone floors as she past her children's’ bedrooms, down the stairs, and out of the castle. The cold embraced her like an old friend, urging her forward. Placing one bare foot in front of the other, Lyarra walked forward, her eyes closed and her arms open. Ice nipped at every inch of her, from the soles of her feet to the nape of her neck; it clung to her nightgown and the wet fabric hugged her bare skin.

It was greater than any dream she had dreamt. Ignoring the chattering of her teeth, she ran towards the godswood, not stopping until she found the heart tree, where it stood weeping at the sight of her. She fell to her knees and opened her arms, mimicking the bough of the weirdwood.

“I have a son who will leave me tomorrow, to a strange land with no heart trees,” she shouted, knowing that the gods did not care for soft-spoken demands. “I beg you to keep him at my side a while longer.” The wind kicked up, spraying red leaves across the sky. “I have endured and given up much. Please, please, give me this.”

She does not know how long she spent at the foot of the heart tree, praying until her breath went hoarse. She only knows that she makes it back to her rooms eventually, and fell asleep with the feeling that something fell had crawled inside her.

The next morning she was too weak to even rise. Even awake, it felt like she were in a dream. The room swayed before her eyes. Bile jumped up her throat when she tried to sit up. She felt hot, so hot, as if burning stones had been placed on every inch of her body.

“She has a fever,” the blasted maester stated the obvious. “It seems very grave, my lord.”

She did not care to look at Rickard’s face. She only managed to open her eyes for her sweet children at her side.

“Ned,” she whispered, reaching out to touch her son’s cheek. “You didn’t leave.”

“Are you okay, mother?” He asked, a frown in his voice.

“You’re here, my love. Of course I’m okay.”

How much time had passed since that day? She no longer knew. She drifted in and out of sleep, feeling no better than the day before. Her whole body felt as if it were aflame, but she did not have the strength to scream.

When she was awake, she saw her children. Ned, Lyanna, and Benjen all lined up at the edge of her bed, looking to her with wide worried eyes. She wanted to tell them it was okay. She wanted to tell them that the gods had come for her, that it was natural and expected. She had tempted them, after all. She had asked for so much-- yet they gave it to her, and now they came to reap.

“Momma, don’t go to sleep,” Lyanna’s little voice cried out to her once. “Momma, please.”

It was her little girl that tugged at her heartstrings the hardest. Her boys could grow up without her, learn to be men, learn to vouch for themselves. But her little girl? Who would watch out for her? Who would champion her? Who would protect her tender heart? Who would explain to her what it was like to be a woman? Who would assuage her fears about her first moon’s blood, explain to her that her body held power beyond a man’s pleasure, who would tell her how to be a woman and survive? Lyanna was too much like her. No one could teach her but her.

“My darling,” was all Lyarra could manage as reassurance. Lyanna’s little hands gripped her fingers even tighter as she fought back tears. A girl of five, yet so brave and strong. It only made Lyarra fear for her even more.

Her husband comes to her only one time that she can remember. He sat at the edge of her bed and held her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she thinks he said. He kissed her knuckles and left.

She is on the edge of a cliff when Brandon comes to her.

“Mother!” He shouted, rushing to her bedside. He clutched her hand between his own.

Lyarra felt her heart soar. “Brandon,” she whispered, the word alone pushing strength back into her. “Oh, my son.”

“Mother, please don’t die,” he said fiercely. “Mother, please.”

He had grown so much. He had shot up like a sprig, and grown wide in the shoulders. He was going to be tall and strong, just as she suspected-- handsome too. Her boy was handsome already.

“Brandon, promise me,” she murmured, the words pouring out of her by a miracle alone. “Take care of your siblings for me. Be their protector.”

He nodded vigorously, as if the strength of his promise would convince her soul to stay.

“Lyanna…” she choked out. “You must be her champion. Do you understand?” Thoughts replaced words now, her lips too tired to move. She is your only sister, my only girl. I fail her with my early death; you must live for her.

If he was puzzled at her request, he did not let it show. “Anything, mother. I’ll do anything.” He kissed the palm of her hand.

My son. My joy. I love you, I love you, I love you. Tell your siblings I love them too-- thrice each.

Lyarra smiled, and let herself slip away.

#gotfic #lyarra stark #rickard stark #brandon stark #ned stark #lyanna stark #branda stark #benjen stark #asoiaf #fic #warning: this is long and sad #i found it in my google drive and just finished it up #abuse tw #just in case

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lostinthemazecalledmyhead · 7 years ago

Photo

Part three

“Gorgeous.” Rebekah compliments you, not able to take her eyes off of you. “Don’t you think so Nik?” Klaus studies your appearance and gives you an flirtatious smile. “Just like you said, sister, gorgeous.” Klaus walks past you whispering in your ear. “Probably even more gorgeous without the dress.” Immediately your cheeks turn red and you hurry back into the dressing room to hide your red face. You were not giving him the satisfaction of letting him know his words did something to you, even if they were meant or not. It’s been a week now that you’ve stayed with the Michaelson’s. Not as a prisoner, although there was always a sibling by your side, but they said it was for your protection. Your mother didn’t mind you staying with your friends for a while as long as she got to meet them. And that’s why Elijah came up with the idea to host a family dinner at their house for your family to meet your so called friends. You could have been with worse people, you have to admit. But still they are all completely insane. Rebekah who is like a total girl can be a cold hearted bitch the next and kill people without feeling sorry. Elijah is different. He seems like a gentlemen and dainty in his way of killing, if he even did so. He was the peacekeeper of the family. Kol you didn’t got to see so much, but he seemed the most unstable of all. And then Klaus. He seems to think he is some kinda god, which he kinda looks like, but still. You are glad that they are on your side, because you really didn’t wanted to see what that other side would look like. “You know I can hear everything right.” You overhear Rebekah say to Klaus as you take the dress off. “I have no shame.” Klaus replies. You scoff. “I’ve noticed.” You mumble forgetting that they can both hear you with their vampire hearing. You hear Rebekah laugh. Without a warning she enters your dressing room. Quickly you cover up your half naked body. “Relax sister.” Rebekah looks at the other dresses hanging on the wall. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the centuries of being a vampire.” She adds with a flirty smile. You take the green dress she hands you and pull it over your head. “Why am I the one shopping for clothes anyway? It’s my family.” “Because I like shopping and I already have so much clothes and… you kinda need the makeover.” Rebekah zips the vintage looking dress up and studies you. “Even better than the other one.” You turn around and look at your reflection. “Whoah. It’s.. Stunning.” “Care to share the joy, love?” You totally forgot Klaus was still out there. You stick out your head. “No.” You say sticking out your tongue and ducking back in. “Let’s take it.” Rebekah smiles happily.

“Here let me take your coat.” Elijah takes your mothers coat and hangs it in the closet. Your mother gives you an approving look. Your little sister blushes as he calls her a lovely lady. You smile. Your family means a lot to you and it feels great to see them feeling so good. Except for your brother. He looks at Elijah with a skeptic glance. “Your dress is so pretty!” Your sister exclaims excited. Before you can say anything you hear Klaus’s voice behind you. “It’s your sister that makes the dress pretty.” You turn around to give him a ‘cut it out’ look. He kneels in front of your sister and looks into her eyes. “And you, love, look even more lovelier than your sister. But that is our secret.” “I’m sorry for the behavior of my brothers.” Rebekah comes down the stairs dressed in a long deep blue evening gown. My family was extremely underdressed compared to the vampire family. You watch your brothers face change. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad evening for him after all. “Now that everyone is here, I suppose we head to the dining room.” Elijah announces. Chatting with one another they follow Elijah. “Where is Kol?” You ask Klaus. “My brother won’t be joining us tonight, love. He has some other business to attend to.” Klaus answers keeping his voice low. By now you know that business with the mikaelsons couldn’t mean much good, but you decide not to worry about anything else that dinner tonight.

The evening went quite well besides from some inappropriate remarks from Klaus. Rebekah and Elijah did a very good job of seeming normal young adults. “I’m glad you finally introduced us to your new friends.” Your mother lingers on the patio while the rest of your family walks to the car. You close the door behind you and lean against it. “Me too, mom.” “It’s good to see you so happy.” She continues. You open up your arms and hug your mother. “I’m glad you’re okay with me staying with them. I know a lot of mothers wouldn’t allow that.” You let her go and kiss her cheek. “So, what about this handsome man, Klaus.” Your mother gives you an teasing smile. “Something going on between you two?” You sigh, but can’t help but laugh. “There is nothing going on between us.” You deny. “Well he is very handsome.” She pushes. “And he was eyeing you the whole evening in a way no one who’s just friends does. Besides a mother know when her little girl has feelings for a guy.” “Mom!” You exclaim a bit embarrassed. “Okay, yes he is very handsome and yes I’m definitely attracted to him, I mean which straight girl or gay guy wouldn’t be? But it’s more complicated than that.” Your mom knew that with that said the case was closed. She didn’t mean to pry and knew that if you really wanted to tell her, you would. With another quick hug she left. You shut the door behind you taking a deep breath. You had succeeded in making your parents believe that everything was normal in the household you were staying in and a lot of pressure fell of your shoulders. “Klaus.” You yell. The evening had finished and you wanted to make sure that Klaus hadn’t planned another training session for you. He had been helping you train your powers, but things sometimes got heated because you were both stubborn and things weren’t really going fast. “Yes, love.” With a smirk on his face he leans in the doorway. “You’ve been eavesdropping!” You exclaim angrily. “It isn’t really eavesdropping if you’re inside minding your own business.” Klaus says still amused. “For normal people it isn’t, but for vampires who can hear perfectly, it still is.” You push past him into the living room and let yourself fall down on the couch. “You’ve got to forgive me, love. But I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to know what your mother thinks of her future son in law.” Klaus takes a sip from his bourbon. “You are not her future son in law, buddy. You don’t even come close to it.” You sneer at him. “Who can resist a man who’s very handsome, who you’re definitely attracted to.” “Hold your horses, Casanova.” You say trying to find the right lying position. “You may have heard me say that to my mother, but what I didn’t tell her is what makes the so called attraction complicated.” Klaus sits down in a chair not letting the smirk leave his face even though he was getting less amused. “Amuse me, love.” “I didn’t want her to worry about the fact that behind your handsome features there is literally and animal. And that you’re personality isn’t the same as your looks. You’re an arrogant vampire with anger issues, who thinks he’s a king and everyone is just going to listen to him.” There you’ve finally said it. It is so much easier to say the things you like about people than what you dislike. “I am a king.” Is the only thing Klaus replies with. “No, you’re not, Klaus. You’re just a vampire, with wolf genes, that makes you different, not royalty.” “That what makes me different gives me the power to make people listen to me.” Klaus smirk has disappeared and his voice sounds dark. “That’s only because you threaten or torture them!” You exclaim. “You know what, Y/N? If you dislike me this much, leave.” Klaus sits back in his chair, his face matching his voice. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Klaus!” You sit up straight, showing him how annoyed you look. “All I’m saying is that you’re not that perfect, and who is anyways? Yes, my mother is enamored by you, but hell if she only knew you throw tantrums like a four year old, except you kill someone or hurt people who care about you when you do.” Klaus doesn’t look at you and just angrily stares at the fireplace. You give him a while to say something, but when he doesn’t you get up to go to your bedroom. “You’re just proving my point.”

#VD #Vampire diaries #The vampire diaries #Vd imagine #Vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #klaus imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson #rebekah imagine #elijah imagine #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals #originals #originals imagine #imagine #vampire

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regrettablewritings · 7 years ago

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Nevada ramirez for the ship thingy!!

Are … are you sure!? Asshole Nevada!?!? … Okay. I just hope you weren’t expecting as much sweetness as was in literally everyone else’s … Here we go

who is more likely to hurt the other?: Have you met Nevada Ramirez? … Actually, it’d be better if you didn’t. This guy is straightup nasty and has very few reserves to saying some mean shit. Unfortunately, sometimes the safety is off and you get caught in the crossfires, so to speak, and when that happens, he’ll feel awful about it. But he sure as hell won’t instantly display it (at the very least, not enough to his men.) He’ll apologize eventually and begrudgingly (even if he genuinely feels bad, Nevada is no good with apologies), but you’ve still gotta be one thick-skinned chick to put up with his crap all of the time.

who is emotionally stronger?: Nevada. There’s always the likelihood that his words have deteriorated your emotional state but even if we were assuming that he was sweet on you, it’d still have to be him: He isn’t called Trujillo for nothing. He’s had to fight tooth and nail and by the skin of his ass to get where he is today, and he’s seen and done enough fucked up shit for him to leave room only for the most intimidating of his emotions.

who is physically stronger?: Let’s be real here: he’s a drug-dealing thug, but he’s a 5′8″ drug-dealing thug who surrounds himself with larger, beefier cronies. Trujillo ain’t doin’ shit if he can help it. he’s already done his time doing the dirty work. Why do it yourself if you can have somebody else do it?

who is more likely to break a bone?: Nevada. Just because he’s not the strongest man on the block and because he usually opts out of doing shit for himself, he’s not above beating the ever living shit out of somebody if it’s real personal. Once he punched a guy so hard he broke the skin of his hand upon breaking the bone.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?: Nevada knows all kinds of words to tick you off. Hell, even when he’s trying to be good, he winds up saying something that makes you upset, which, in turn makes him upset because now he’s gotta figure out what the hell he said!

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?: Much to your shock … Nevada. Yeah. Big bad Trujillo. More than half the time, he’s the one who causes shit be it intentional or not. And on top of that, as much of a walking garbage can as he is, Nevada has a code of sorts to live by. And he truly does feel awful about hurting you, he just doesn’t want to admit it. He’ll honestly hold off apologizing, putting up the front that it’s your fault, but he honestly never expected himself to win over someone who could outwait him. He’s actually pretty proud because you know exactly what you want. He might as well reward you with some “please forgive me” gifts and a begrudged, embarrassed apology.

who treats who’s wounds more often?: Nevada’ll be damned if you get your hands dirty or if you get too tangled up in his shit. He barely even wants you touching him when he comes home with any signs that he’s had a rough night. But your stubbornness isn’t something he wants to invoke the wrath of at ass o’clock in the night, so he’ll huff and plop down and let you patch up his wounds.He should probably invest in a doctor specialized for gangs …

who is in constant need of comfort?: You do. Nevada is not exactly a kind man, so sometimes he may hurt your feelings even when he doesn’t mean any of it. In those cases, though, it’s too late because you’ve been convinced you screwed up. As such, Nevada’s part-time job alongside his full-time one of being a gang leader is to offer you consolation in his own special way. Make of that what you will.

who gets more jealous?: Nevada. Oh, sure, you get jealous of all the women he winds up surrounded with at his clubs, but you know that in the end, he doesn’t even want to do anything with them. Nevada, on the other hand? He trust you – he just doesn’t trust any of these other assholes who keep leering at you as you work the bar. There have been more than a few times that he’s caught somebody flirting with you and had them beat up for it.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?: You. You can’t even tell if Nevada is making an effort to change, to be honest. He always feels the same, always cruel and blunt, just plain mean. A relationship with him is not likely to be healthy by much, if at all. And Nevada is very much aware of this. He’d pretend as though he doesn’t care if you left but truthfully, he suspects that there might be a tantrum involved and his mood would worsen …

who will propose?: Nevada. He believes that if he puts a ring on it, then the pendejos who keep trying to grope your butt will piss off once and for all. After all, who’d dare to try and fuck a gang leader’s wife? (Really, though, the biggest reason is that you put up with him and there’s something inside of him that makes him feel as though he’s stronger because of you.) He winds up renting out an entire Michelin Star restaurant because you once mentioned reading about it online. He has the chef prepare some Nevada-approved meals (this man has a silver palate and you can fight me on this) and for once, he’s well-behaved. You know something is up immediately. You enjoy this side of Nevada, no doubt, but it’s just so off-putting at the same time and you can’t help but ask him what he’s got up his sleeve. In fact, you ask a lot. But the more you ask, the more exasperated Nevada becomes until he finally snaps and fusses, “I was trying to be all romantic because that’s what those jackasses do in those movies you watch when they wanna propose!” It’s a very Nevada proposal to say the least.

who has the most difficult parents?: I…am gonna venture to say that Nevada’s homelife might have been a bit rocky in some respects.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?:Surprisingly, Nevada does, but it’s mostly to show who you “belong to.” At first. It doesn’t take long until that’s just what he says, but really he just enjoys holding your hand. It’s one of the few normal things you can do as a couple.

who hogs the blankets?: Neither; Nevada simply lays on his back and pulls you up against him and that’s how the both of you stay warm.

who gets more sad?: You. Even if it’s not caused by what Nevada may say, what he does can easily stress you out just as much. Nevada also gets quite sad, but he’s not allowed to show it lest he risk damaging his reputation as a stone-cold killer.

who is better at cheering the other up?: This is a weird one because Nevada spoils you in order to cheer you up, yet, you are the only one who can make him laugh and smile so many times. You’re not even sure what it is about you that makes him happier than eating grouper. You ask, but all he does is shake his head and mutter something in Spanish, refusing to look at you while he still is laughing.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?: Neither. Nevada may say things that hurt, but he’d never lay a heavy hand upon you. And you fear what slapping Nevada even out of joy might invoke.

who is more streetwise?: Please! Nevada “Trujillo” Ramirez rules these streets!

who is more wise?: You are, in a person-oriented sense. Nevada is definitely a very intelligent person, but he doesn’t make much of an effort to understand empathy in the same way as you, often restriction his capability to interact in a non-aggressive setting.

who’s the shyest?: Definitely you, and nevada will poke fun at you for it. But God help the poor bastard who tries to make fun of you as well or take advantage of you … Also, if you’re shy or have anxiety, Nevada is more likely to keep you close to him in public settings or at large gatherings. He’ll say it’s because he wants to show everyone you’re his, but genuinely he doesn’t want you to have a panic attack or anything because the last time you did that shit, it nearly scared him into having one.

who boasts about the other more?: You can’t exactly go around saying that your boyfriend is a kingpin. But Nevada technically does the most boasting, even when you assume he doesn’t really think of you like that. In truth, he’ll only brag to those with whom he’s close because he doesn’t want to put you in jeopardy at the hands of enemies. It’s usually in the comfort of his own home or at a friends when they’re relaxing, drinking high-end scotch and smoking. He’ll bring up how good his “old lady” is and while he may throw a few jabs at her, he ultimately acknowledges that she’s probably too good for him before smirking at how selfish he’s being by keeping you anyway.

who sits on who’s lap?: Nevada loves having you sit on his lap. Like, seriously. What better way to show off his beautiful girl then to have her sit on his lap, showing that she is undeniably with him? He gets to have her, not you!

#i don't think i'll ever know how to work with Nevada #we know he's capable of love but??#it's very hard to determine how assholish he can be without promoting abusive relationships #i don't know if that's even possible for him . . .#nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez imagine #nevada Ramirez imagines #nevada Ramirez x reader #trouble in the heights imagine #trouble in the heights imagines #character hc meme #ship meme

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5hfanfiction · 8 years ago

Text

grabbing my heart as easy as a car ride

Lauren hails up the car as soon as she sees the same plate number the app is showing on her phone. It’s just another busy Monday in New York City. She has a very important presentation by 9AM, unfortunately, her car chooses today to let out a tantrum.

It was going just fine. She was ready, make up done, dressed to impress, but when she started the engine it just wouldn’t. So she was left with no choice but to get one the fastest way she knows how – Uber. Only problem is, when she opens the door, a girl has already taken the front seat.

She got it right, she knows she does.

But why is someone else already in her cab?

She double checks the plate number and after a moment’s hesitation, she realizes she must have chosen carpool in her hurry, she opens the door on the back and gets in.

Another girl is occupying the seat beside her. Long brown hair, tanned skin, petite body. She could be pretty but Lauren’s mind is too caught up with her meeting later to really pay attention.

She takes out her earphones, plugs it on her phone, listens to music, closes her eyes, and focuses her mind on what she’s going to say to the oval table later.

A few minutes pass, the car stops and she opens her eyes to see the girl in front go out.

Now there’s just the two of them.

Since Lauren still has her earphones on, she doesn’t hear the girl on her side mumble something to her.

The other girl tries twice but fails both times to get a response.

A few seconds later, Lauren feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turns sideways and sees the brunette muttering something she cannot hear.

Lauren takes her earphones off, finally able to understand what the other lady is saying. “This is embarrassing but I forgot my wallet and my card’s not connected to my Uber account.”

It takes a few seconds for Lauren to fully process what the other girl said. When she does, she gets her wallet from her bag and takes out the bills the other lady needs.

Lauren remembers fleetingly a friend telling her the payment mode is now available so she doesn’t think much of it.

“I can give it back to you in your building or something. I can give you my number or you can give me yours so you can text me your add-”

“It’s okay. Your fare’s on me.” Lauren interrupts the crimson-cheeked girl. It’s not really a problem with her. She has a few dollars to spare.

“No.” The brunette now has her hands on her face, looking totally embarrassed. “I’ll give you back your money. I promise.”

Lauren squints her eyes. Now that she is taking a closer look at her, she undoubtedly finds her pretty. And cute. Like a panda.

The fare’s definitely on her.

“A cute girl like you shouldn’t have to pay for taxi,” Lauren says.

The girl’s face turns even redder and Lauren chuckles in amusement.

“Really, it’s not a problem.” Lauren adds.

The car stops again. This time, Lauren notices she’s already infront of her building.

“This is me,” she says to the other girl.

“Ahm, okay. Thank you,” the brunette mutters unsurely, smiling slightly.

“Have a good day. Bye.” Lauren gets out of the car.

And that is the day they first met.

The second time they see each other is not as embarrassing to the brunette as the first time.

“Look at her lowkey but this girl on the table at the corner is definitely checking you out.”

Lauren lifts her attention from her phone and looks at her friend sitting infront of her. “Stop with the matchmaking, Mani.” She scolds her.

“I’m serious. The girl on your right has been staring at you for a good ten minutes that we’re here.”

Finally with her curiosity piqued, Lauren looks in the direction her friend told her and sees the brown eyes she’s first gazed at a couple of weeks ago.

The girl from the other table sends her a shy smile which she returns.

“Oooh, you know each other.” Mani deduces from the interaction she witnessed. “She’s really cute. You better grab your chance.”

“I don’t really know her, Mani. I just – ” Lauren tries to explain.

“I remember I have a report I need to finish by this afternoon. I gotta go back now.” Mani doesn’t let her get in another word before she’s picking up her bag, standing, and leaving a couple of dollars on their table.

“Lunch is on me,” her friend gives her a wink before exiting the cafeteria.

Sure enough, only a few seconds after Mani walks out of the door, the brunette is approaching her on their table.

“Hi,” Lauren looks up to the owner of the voice. “Mind if I join you?”

“No. It’s okay.” Lauren replies smiling.

“I finally see you again.” The brunette tells her with a bright smile. Lauren squints her eyebrows at that, silently asking the other lady what she meant.

“I’ve been going here for the past couple of weeks hoping I’ll see you,” she explains.

Lauren smiles. “Is it still about the cab?”

“Yeah. I honestly sort of can’t get over it.”

Lauren doesn’t know what it is about the girl but she finds herself amused by her for the second time in a row. That makes her chuckle. “I told you it’s on me.”

“No,” the brunette blushes. Lauren notices she seems to do that a lot.

“Let me pay for your lunch.” The petite girl persists.

Lauren only picks up the money her friend left on the table. “You saw Mani earlier, my friend I was having lunch with? She paid for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Lauren mimics her, still laughing. “You’re funny.”

“I’m trying to repay you not make you laugh.” The brown-eyed lady replies embarrassedly.

“I told you it’s okay.” Lauren mutters gently.

“It’s not,” the other girl answers. Being stubborn.

For the next few seconds they just sit there looking at each other. The brunette probably thinking of a way to give the money back to Lauren, Lauren on the other hand contemplating what Mani suggested earlier. The girl in front of her is definitely good to look at, and she’s definitely Lauren’s type. Maybe she also likes girls and it will be a perfect idea to ask her out now that the chance has knocked on her doorstep without her having to do anything.

“How about I treat you to dinner some other time?” Before Lauren can act on her thoughts, she hears the brunette make the proposition.

Lauren is caught off guard, “Are you asking me out? Like on a date?”

The brunette blushes again but in a deeper red this time. “No, th-that’s not what I meant. But you can also look at it th-that way. You’re very pretty and I’d like to get to know you-”

Lauren laughs again, interrupting the other girl’s rambling. “It’s okay. I’d love to go out with you. But on one condition.”

“What is that?”

“You’ll have to give me your name.”

“Oh.”

Lauren laughs for the hundredth time that day. The brunette infront of her is definitely a funny one and she hasn’t even said a joke yet. “My name’s Lauren.”

The other lady is blushing again. “Lauren. You have a very pretty name… I’m Camila.”

“I like that name.” Lauren says, shifting in her seat? “So, Camila, when are we having that dinner?”

That settled how they’re going to see each other for the third time. In reality though, they are bound to see each other again a little earlier and it’s bound to be interesting.

“Is that the girl from the diner?” Mani asks Lauren who’s drinking from the glass of champagne she is holding. They are seated in the reception area of Ally’s wedding, their officemate and close friend.

Lauren looks at where Mani is pointing and sees Camila sitting beside a pretty blonde lady, a couple of tables away from them.

“Camila? Yes.” The realization makes her smile.

“Small world.”

Lauren doesn’t answer. She just looks at Camila, waiting for her to notice she’s in the same place and thinking if she’ll approach her once she does.

“She’s lovely. And you have a date with her. I’m straight but you hit the jackpot right there.” Mani teases her.

Lauren grins wider, not the slightest bit annoyed by her friend’s obvious teasing because she definitely agrees. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

A little later, the emcee of the event calls everyone’s attention for the most awaited toss.

“Alright. Time for the bouquet and garter toss. Now for the instructions, our bride and groom here are big supporters of the LGBT community so there’s a little twist to this game that we have. For the bouquet toss, we are inviting not only the single ladies but also those who identify themselves as female. Same goes to the garter toss. Male or female, whichever makes you comfortable, please feel free to join.”

The crowd applauds the little speech with some whistle here and then, showing support and approval for the newlywed’s idea. Lauren joining in on them, obviously, being an out and proud member of the community.

Her and Mani walks to the cluster of guests good-naturedly, not really caring if they catch the flowers or not. There Camila finally sees her and Lauren is gifted with the brightest smile she’s seen that day.

That is the first time Lauren sees Camila’s entire attire for the wedding and to say the least, the simple white dress fits her perfectly it almost takes Lauren’s breath away. So much so that even as she hears the emcee countdown to when Ally has to throw the bouquet, she doesn’t pay attention. And just watches as Camila stands a little in front of her, watches her as she raises her hands to catch the flowers landing directly on top of her. Even then, it barely registers to her as her mind is already drifting to how Camila will look wearing her own wedding dress.

“Yes! I didn’t catch it. Hate to break tradition and stay single cause I don’t have a boo.” Lauren hears Mani exclaiming beside her.

The emcee calls Camila onstage with them as the groom stands in the middle, ready to make the throw.

“Go hurry. Wouldn’t want some other guy getting your spot.” Mani prods her towards the group of guys and two other girls waiting for the groom.

Lauren doesn’t have to be told twice. Soon enough, Troy, Ally’s new husband, is throwing the garter at them and Lauren finds herself alone at the center, holding the garter in her hands.

Talk about chances.

She’s not complaining though. That’s what she’s hoping for as soon as she saw that Camila was the one who caught the bouquet.

She makes her way over to where Camila is, obeying like a child when the emcee signals them to proceed with the ceremony.

Lauren kneels infront of Camila and for the first time since the last couple of minutes, she feels the magnitude of what she’s about to do. How it feels too intimate because the girl she is doing this for is Camila.

And Lauren tells herself it’s not awkward. Camila sits on a chair, one leg over the other as Lauren poses to put the garter on her leg. It may have felt a little tense, or maybe that’s just Camila’s leg that stiffens for a little but then relaxes as Lauren holds her ankle to start getting her foot through the garment. It definitely feels normal, pulling the garter through Camila’s knee then her thigh, higher and higher, Lauren using her hand but wishing the emcee encouraged her to use her mouth instead.

When that’s done, Lauren feels her cheeks heating up but obviously that doesn’t mean she’s blushing. As she looks at Camila and sees her face is red, she convinces herself it’s probably because of the heat although winter’s coming and they’re starting to feel it in the drop in the temperature.

Lauren makes her way back to her and Mani’s table, trying to gather herself again.

“That looked hot. Can’t blame you if it got you both flustered.” Mani tells her with a smirk once she’s back on her seat.

Lauren tries to ignore her friend and the erratic beating of her heart from the encounter and just watches the rest of the program.

A little later, Mani excuses herself to go talk to some friends who are also in attendance and Lauren sees Camila sitting alone in their table and the green-eyed forgets her awkwardness. It makes so much sense for Lauren to just approach the brunette so that’s what she does.

Embarrassing or not, they completely forget what happened earlier once they’re immersed in their conversation. Lauren finds out Camila knew Ally from university and Dinah, the pretty blonde earlier, is her classmate and bestfriend. It doesn’t take long when they both decide they find each other fascinating, each other’s seemingly endless knowledge on every topic and how they voice their opinions so passionately.

They don’t notice the clock ticking as they talk and suddenly Mani’s walking over to them, telling Lauren she’s going home.

“Oh. I didn’t notice the time.” Lauren says, seemingly disappointed after looking at her watch and sees it’s already past ten in the evening.

Mani gives her a knowing smile. “Time flies when you’re having fun right?” She then looks at the girl beside Lauren. “Nice to meet you, Camila. Lauren can’t stop talking about you for the past days.”

The green-eyed blushes and opens her mouth to try and save face but Mani’s already walking away while saying, “Enjoy the rest of the night, will you?”

“I think I have to go home now, too.” Camila says after a few seconds, looking around searching for someone.

Lauren feels even more disappointed as she is hoping for a few more minutes with the brown-eyed girl. “I think I’m gonna go home now, too, then.”

They both stand up to head over to Ally and Troy to give them their best wishes and say goodbye that the newlyweds accept happily.

“Hi, Walz!” Lauren hears a slightly slurred voice say behind them and Camila lets out a groan at the same time.

The four of them turn to face the owner of the voice and Lauren sees it’s Camila’s bestfriend, Dinah. The blonde walks past them and gives the newlyweds a sloppy kiss on their cheeks, muttering a too heartfelt congratulations to each of them.

Lauren notices the look on Camila’s face that she thinks shouldn’t be there so she asks, “Are you okay?”

The brown-eyed looks up at her and answers, “Yeah. Just that I went here with her and she’s supposed to drive us back home.”

“Why don’t you spend the night here? We have reserved rooms for guests in case stuff like this happens,” Ally interrupts their conversation kindly.

“You’re emerald eyes.” Dinah blurts out out of nowhere. It takes a moment but Lauren realizes she’s referring to her.

Camila blushes.

“Of course, I saw you two on that hot garter thingy. I didn’t know you’re the girl Walz here has been babbling about the rest of the week until she tells me you’re the Lauren.”

Lauren cannot help but think that for a drunk person, Dinah definitely talks too much and cannot help the laugh that comes out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry, Walz.” The brunette continues, squeezing Camila in what seems to be a very tight hug. “I know you need to get home to Sofi. And I would never bail out on you.”

She then pats Lauren’s head gently. So much for formal introductions, Lauren thinks.

“I saw emerald eyes here talking to you and I knew you’d be well taken care of so I decided to drink the night away.”

As for what looks like to emphasize her point, she gives Lauren a loud smacking kiss on her forehead.

“Dinah, stop it! You’re embarrassing me,” Camila whines.

“And I love you, too, boo,” Dinah proceeds to give her a kiss directly on her lips which Camila dodges with her hand.

“You’re gross,” the brunette exclaims.

Dinah pouts, making the rest of them laugh, entertained by the drunken girl’s antics. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“Alright. Enough alcohol for you tonight, Dinah. Let’s get you to bed.” Thankfully Ally interrupts before Dinah could do anymore damage to Camila’s already ruined reputation, draping an arm around the blonde’s waist.

“Lauren, is it alright for you to drive Camila home?” Ally then asks the raven-haired girl.

The green-eyed wanted to say it’s perfect but resorted to a simple, “Yeah, it’s cool. Camz can go with me.”

Camila and Lauren both leave the reception blushing for two reasons. The nickname Lauren called Camila didn’t go unnoticed to them. And they’re together alone, for real, this time.

“I like it, by the way,” Camila breaks the silence once they’re inside Lauren’s car. “No one else calls me Camz.”

“It suits you,” the green-eyed replies, smiling.

They travel in comfortable silence, the pleasant sound of Lana Del Ray’s music keeping them company.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who is Sofi?” Lauren lets her curiosity get the better of her and inquires.

“My sister. My parents have a flight they need to catch very early tomorrow so I need to be home.”

Lauren chuckles, making Camila frown at her in confusion. “Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry. Just that I thought she’s your daughter and there’s a husband or boyfriend waiting for you to get home.”

Camila also laughs, finding humor in Lauren’s assumptions. “No. I’m very single and too far from having a child.”

“Good to know. For a while there I thought I was going out on a date with someone who’s already committed.”

“I would never do that.”

Lauren doesn’t reply. She simply looks sideways to Camila and sends her a warm smile as if telling her she believes her.

When they stop infront of the brunette’s apartment and as she’s about to go out of Lauren’s car, Camila hears the green-eyed mutter, “Uh, Camz, I have one more question.”

“What is that?” Camila inquires, stopping in opening the door to her side.

“Do you kiss on the first date?”

Camila is caught off guard with the unexpected question but still answers, “No.”

“So,” Lauren shifts in her seat to face her. “Technically this is not a date. And our first date will be next Friday.”

“Yeah.” Camila feels the familiar butterflies in her stomach whenever the raven-haired is around return.

“So maybe I can do this?” Lauren is now leaning in closer to her.

Camila just stares at the beauty infront of her, like she’s trying to decide if she’s really doing what she thinks she’s doing, looking into those beautiful emerald eyes down to her nose then to her lips, biting her own lips in the process before muttering a breathy, “Yes.”

And with that, Camila feels Lauren’s lips on hers for the first time in a kiss so gentle she is conflicted in calling it a real one. But then as if Lauren senses her need, she takes Camila’s bottom lip between hers that the brunette feels something inside her stir and she finds her arms linking behind Lauren’s nape as they deepen their kiss.

It lasts for a while, not long enough for what they both would have wanted but enough to leave them both a grinning mess as Camila gets out and into her apartment and Lauren to drive towards hers, already looking forward to the fourth time they’ll see each other.

As expected, they hit it off quite well after the third that they decide they wanted to see each other for a fifth time, and another, and another, and another until they see each other sharing a house, a bed, with rings on their wedding fingers looking back on that fateful first time they saw each other and the memorable ones that came after that.

*** A/N: 2 things: 1. I’m not from America or anywhere near so forgive me if I don’t get the facts right. 2. I didn’t go to work for an entire week so that means I’m bored and I pretty much had a lot of time in my hands so I ended up with this one shot… Well, I tried. xx

Wattpad: litaddict02

#UPDATE #one shot #AU #camren #romance fluff #submission #grabbing my heart as easy as a car ride

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kiribbeanplays-blog · 8 years ago

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Character Critiques - Machop Family

From brains and back to brawn, the Machop family is next to review!

Machop is one of the more difficult cases for me to review. As I’ve mentioned in past articles, my childhood had an incredibly strict definition of what makes a character worth even looking at. Originally, I didn’t care about Machop nearly as much as the fire-spitting not-really-a-dragon, Charizard.

Fortunately, my tastes have expanded as I’ve grown older. It took several years, but I’ve finally grown an appreciation for Machop and its evolutions.

Unfortunately, Machop still doesn’t rank very high in my book. It’s an okay design, but it’s cursed with artistic choices that make it feel downright clunky - at least to me, personally.

On paper, Machop’s core concept is highly amusing. It’s a child-sized, muscular lizard-man that can hurl a hundred adult humans without so much as breaking a sweat. A few Pokédex entries mention that Machop will casually use Gravelers as dumbbells (which are approximately five and a half times heavier than Machop). I love the mental image of a Machop plucking a confused rock monster from where it stands - not for hunting purposes, but just for exercising its muscles.

I have no problems with the ideas behind Machop. It’s the visual design that bugs me - but not even the entire thing. There are only incredibly specific details that I deem “clunky.”

Luckily, there are plenty of images I can use to illustrate my point. With that, I’ll go down a short list of what I think “doesn’t” work on Machop’s design, followed by what I feel is more fitting.

Firstly, I’ve never cared for Machop’s “vanilla” feet. What appear as short and stumpy limbs in Ken Sugimori’s art is actually the result of foreshortening. In profile, they’re actually boring, featureless loaves of bread that look like how I used to draw feet as a child.

The foreshortening accidentally creates a greater, visually striking shape. I think Machop looks more interesting with abstract, almost hoof-like feet. It’s a little bizarre, sure, but in a good way.

Secondly, while I don’t hate Machop’s general body shape, I also think it looks better in older artwork. There was a time Machop practically had a beer gut, with various degrees of exaggeration depending on the artist who drew it.

Especially with the Pokémon Pinball: Ruby & Sapphire sprite, I argue that Machop can look downright unsettling with such weird proportions. It injects an extra indescribable alien feel to the rest of its design.

Oh, and this Japan-exclusive Battrio puck? Everything about it looks bad.

This is by far the worst Machop art I’ve ever seen. I’m at a loss for words. Just… don’t make it look like this.

I may only have a couple (arguably minor) problems with Machop’s design. However, when this character is so minimalistic, every detail counts. A simple change of its feet or belly shape stand out sharper than a character with many smaller details.

Machop isn’t an awful design, but a couple personal gripes prevent it from being something I’d consider great.

Also, can we take a moment to admire Machop performing armpit farts in Diamond and Pearl?

If you’re going to make a lizardman monster, why not go all out and make it as humanlike as possible?

Machoke may simply look like a cartoony human wearing a lizard mask, but that could be taken as a complement. I grew up watching a lot of cheesy-awesome science fiction media, where monster designs like these are commonplace. Because of that, Machoke feels like a loving parody!

I mean, Machoke looks like something Captain Kirk or the Robinson family fought against. It’s brilliant!

Unlike with Machop, I have little to no complaints about Machoke’s design. It’s another simplistic design, but all the little details fit nicely.

I love how Machoke’s crest doubles as a mohawk. The triangular “Anime eyes” add to the cheesiness of its design in an endearing way. Most of all, I like how the red stripes on its arms help highlight its muscular build.

Although, those stripes gain a creepy factor the more I analyze them. Are they just red tattoos, or visible blood vessels? Or is it torn skin because Machoke is literally ripped?

Eugh, what an eerie thought. Since the Pokédex doesn’t go into detail about this topic, it’s safe to assume they’re just markings.

I only scratch my head over one part of Machoke’s design: the obvious belt and pants it’s wearing. I get that the belt symbolizes Machoke’s love for martial arts. From a lore standpoint, however, it’s confusing. Do all Machoke sew their own garments? Where do they get the belt from? More importantly, how does Machop spontaneously evolve pants onto its body?

Well, no matter the mystery, I’m kind of glad that Machoke isn’t buck naked instead. Based on personal observation, we humans instinctively get nervous when staring at nude, crotchless aliens that share the same anatomy as ours. I guess it’s because we’re such self-conscious animals.

Even if it breaks continuity, we have to clothe these fictional creatures to break the awkwardness. The blue cats in James Cameron’s Avatar are a perfect example of what I mean (they reproduce through their hair, which is always exposed. What exactly do they have to hide at the bikini line?).There’s no proof that Machoke’s belt was added for this reason, but I think it’s fair speculation.

Moving on from that overanalysis, there’s still discussion to be had in Machoke’s personality. At first glance, it’s nothing unexpected; as a bodybuilder, Machoke loves to constantly flex and showcase its muscles. It’s easy to assume that Machoke would be a hotheaded narcissist, right?

As it turns out, Machoke is quite a humble Pokémon. It loves to work out, but isn’t explicitly competitive. Its waistbelt is designed to restrain its full strength, or else it’d be an overwhelming powerhouse. This may suggest that Machoke always ensures a challenging but fair fight against its opponents. Despite its obsession with training, Machoke actually shows impressive sportsmanship.

In addition, Machoke takes immense pride and joy using its strength to help others. Most commonly, it lends a hand at construction sites. But other instances, such as the Anime, illustrate Machoke helping little old ladies carry heavy baskets around. I absolutely adore the “gentle giant” concept going on with Machoke!

I’m just about ready to wrap up this (surprisingly lengthy) review on Machoke. There’s just one more minor topic I want to discuss.

In the past, I’ve brought up how several idle animations for Pokémon were very different back in Stadium and Colosseum/XD. Machoke in particular has always stuck in my memory as having the most contradictory idle movement ever.

All that talk about Machoke looking tough, but actually having a sweet personality, is not illustrated here. The way it’s hunched over and swaying its arms makes Machoke look more like a gorilla. It feels more like a primitive killing machine, rather than a collected brawler.

Compare this animation to Machoke’s generation VI+ sprite:

This is one of the times I actually approve a stiffer, subtly-moving idle animation. Machoke is standing its ground, but also keeping that calm and modest demeanor talked about in the Pokédex. This feels much more in-character than the older animation. I’m glad that Game Freak went with this decision.

Machoke’s prominence in the games and TV shows has helped flesh out its character over the years. I may not think about this Pokémon a whole lot when discussing the franchise, but I can talk a surprising amount about its design. All in all, Machoke is a solid character.

I didn’t think things could get even more cheesy awesome after Machoke, but Machamp has proven me wrong.

This four-armed, duck-faced muscle man looks like it could show up as an adversary for WWE. It even has a rash fighting spirit to go with its looks.

Japanese culture seems to love comically muscled superheroes. Think of Alex Louis Armstrong from Fullmetal Alchemist and Hildebrand's father in Final Fantasy XIV. Machamp is another one of those wacky, purposefully over-the-top characters, often wearing little more than their underpants.

I’m puzzled that I never liked Machamp as a kid. I tried (in vain) to watch as many Power Rangers episodes as I could, so this campy Pokémon should have been right up my alley. Alas, I instead ignored it for being “too ugly” or something.

I know I’ve been bashing my childhood in these articles as of late, but come on, past me! Look at what you’ve been missing!

What’s really sold me with Machamp is its appearance in Pokkén Tournament. I’ve yet to play it myself, but I’ve seen its wonderful animations through Youtube videos.

This is everything I was hoping for when I made the previous WWE connections. The way Machamp struts its musclebound prowess, gleefully poses like a superhero, and throws temper tantrums when things go awry are absolutely perfect for its character. Best of all, Machamp incorporates all these comical human behaviors while keeping that “mutant animal” aesthetic just like its other fellow Pokémon.

Funnily enough, I originally didn’t expect this Character Critiques to be so glowing. Machop’s family - and especially Machamp - were Pokémon I’ve never given much thought over. But now, I’ve realized how much Machamp embodies the appeal of the cheesy-but-awesome media I’ve always loved.

#article #character critiques #pokemon #machop #machoke #machamp #pocket monsters #game freak #nintendo

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breeeliss · 8 years ago

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[Femslash February]: Valentine’s Day

*posts the valentine’s day prompt two weeks after valentine’s day*

this is the last prompt for alyanette though! tomorrow is a new week of prompts with a new femslash pairing. wonder which one it’ll be....? (i actually do not have the answer to this question pretend i’m being clever and secretive)

Day 14: Valentine’s Day (Alyanette)

Words: 1949

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

[Previous: Theme Park] [Next: Baking]

Somewhere in the back of Marinette’s head, she knew she should’ve heard her phone alarm by now. She was supposed to have set it for half an hour so that she’d have enough time to get ready for school and actually make it on time. It certainly felt like half an hour had already passed. Probably time to start getting dressed.

Or. She could....not do that.

Yeah. That sounded better.

Alya laughed. “I think you left your phone on Do Not Disturb again. It’s definitely been over half an hour.”

Marinette quieted her with another kiss, smiling when Alya groaned into her mouth at the feel of Marinette’s nails dragging along Alya’s back, pushing her tank top up inch by inch and revealing more warm skin for her fingers to knead into. “Alarm didn’t go off, doesn’t mean we have to get ready,” she muttered against her lips.

“That....is a very poor argument,” Alya countered.

“I can give you a better one.” She leaned up and trapped Alya’s bottom lip in between her own, gently biting down until Alya sighed out, growled a curse that Marinette didn’t quite hear, and kissed her back harder. Marinette smiled as she licked along Alya’s lips and moaned when Alya’s tongue slid gently against hers, making her toes curl into the sheets of her bed and grip the backs of Alya’s thighs. She could feel Alya tangling her fingers in her hair and only briefly bemoaned the hard time she was going to have combing out the tangles later. She was about to tell Alya to calm down with it, but then she started shifting and moving her hips against Marinette’s, and all coherent thought had zipped out of her head. She finished kicking her sheets and comforters to the foot of her bed to give them more room while she marveled out how her body was shivering and burning all at the same time.

Marinette was barely aware of Alya’s cell phone ringing next to the pillows piled around them. Alya scrambled around for it blindly, answered the call, and put the call on speaker phone. Marinette took advantage of Alya’s distraction and started kissing, licking, and nipping down the side of Alya’s neck. She snickered when Alya accidentally let out a moan and shifted away from the slap Alya left on her shoulder. “This better be good.”

“You were the one who told me to call you twenty minutes before school started,” Adrien defended over the phone. “I have done that.”

“Ugh, school is starting to sound increasingly more unappealing the more the morning goes on.” Alya bit her lip and sighed out her nose when Marinette started leaving small love bites on her collarbone. “Make sure I can cover those up later,” she whispered.

“No promises,” Marinette smirked.

“Oh my God, are you guys making out?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Alya defended. “You didn’t see me -- ahh -- complaining about the kissing photo you and Nino posted on Instagram this morning. S-Super corny caption, by the way -- mmhm~ -- low-key judging.”

“Stop groaning into the phone, I’m in school. Nino can hear you and he’s sitting next to me.”

Nino leaned in closer to Adrien’s phone. “Stay safe ladies!”

“Stop encouraging them,” Adrien scolded. “Look, you guys have like fifteen minutes to get ready. Marinette’s running on ten lates this month. I doubt she needs another one.”

Marinette whined loudly. “But school is boring and Alya isn’t.”

“You guys will have two hours during lunch pause to run back home and keep making out. Nino and I won’t even be offended. We promise.”

“If anything we’re probably going to run back to Adrien’s place and -- ”

“Do nothing! Nothing that is anyone’s business but ours!” Adrien squeaked out. “Look just, hurry up, alright?”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, we’re coming.” She hung up the phone and threw it over her shoulder and back onto Marinette’s mattress. She gently pushed on Marinette’s chest until Marinette flopped back against her pillows, pouting marvelously.

“I don’t support this.”

“Babe, if you’re late again, your parents are going to get another note home, and you’re going to get grounded again.”

“Good. You can climb into my window and stay in bed with me all day while we cuddle and make out and eat all the Valentine’s chocolates we bought yesterday.”

Alya paused for a moment. “....don’t make me consider that! We’re going to school. That’s final.”

Alya started climbing down the steps from Marinette’s loft while Marinette kept complaining. “But Moooooooommmmm!!!!”

“Stop throwing a temper tantrum and get dressed,” Alya laughed. “We’re going to be so late.”

Marinette sucked her teeth loudly and stomped down the stairs from her bed, grabbing up the brush on her vanity and roughly pulling it through her hair. “Valentine’s Day should be a holiday. We should get the day off.”

“You only say that because you aren’t single. This time last year you were saying we should ban it because it’s a capitalist and consumerist holiday.”

“Alright,” Marinette shrugged. “We ban it, still get the day off, that way single people can do their thing, and we don’t have to leave our bed.”

Alya sorted through Marinette’s closet and grabbed a tank top and hoodie that she’d left here the last time she stayed over. “That doesn’t make sense and you know it.” She stared in the mirror hanging on the door of Marinette’s wardrobe and prodded her neck. “Thanks for the bruises, by the way, you little trouble maker.”

Marinette grinned back at her sweetly. “They were placed there with love.”

“Fine, I guess it’s just a hoodie and jeans today.”

“You look good in hoodies and jeans, I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“It’s because I have to wear hoodies literally all the time because of you. Exhibit A.”

“You sounded pretty happy about it a minute ago.”

“Ignoring you!”

Marinette giggled and started packing her backpack while Alya shuffled through all of her homework sheets and bemoaned the fact that she’d completely forgotten to do her geography homework. They were definitely going to be a little worse for wear today -- Marinette’s hair was a lost cause and Alya wasn’t going to have time to do her makeup -- but Marinette was too hopped up on giddiness to even bother caring about what smart-aleck comment Chloe was going to throw at them today. It was a silly day to get excited over, and by itself it didn’t really mean anything, but their Valentine’s Days never felt like this.

Before it always consisted of Marinette buying three cheap boxes of chocolates that were exactly the same -- one for Adrien, one for Nino, one for Alya -- and writing an especially long and heartfelt note on Alya’s to let her know that she was especially important to her. At some point, there would be bitter complaining about being single, spiteful rom-com marathons, and eating spoonfuls of leftover chocolate frosting from the bakery. It felt comfortably normal -- the sort of thing you always got up to with your best friend when the two of you had no one else to lean on except each other on those dark and romance-infested holidays.

But it was a funny little coincidence when you and your best friend ritualize making fun of Valentine’s Day so much over the years that you eventually fall in love along the way and end up in the amusing position of wanting to recreate all of those gross, sappy, overly-affectionate gestures with each other. In reality, that was the only person that Marinette felt was even worth all of the scrambling around for presents and dates and long sleepovers for.

She quietly opened up her desk drawer and pulled out the small chain she’d spent half her allowance engraving with Alya’s initials. She’d showed it to Nino and Adrien before deciding to give it to her, afraid to do something that felt so sentimental and meaningful without getting approval for it first, worried that gifts like this only four months in were simply too much. Both boys had stayed quiet for a moment, turning the charm over in their hands and holding the chain up to the light, before eventually letting their eyes soften in time with their growing smiles, telling her without any words at all that it was perfect.

Being with Alya felt a lot like that sometimes -- like their affection and love grew and spread so quickly, quicker than it did for most people, but that it just made sense for them. There was no need to question how they became friends so suddenly, or how their friendship turned into a deep love without either of them even realizing it. Plus, that sort of unexpectedness was refreshing, sort of like opening up a new box every day and not knowing what beautiful thing you were going to end up with next. If she wanted her love life to be anything, it was an adventure.

“Hey, Alya?”

“Yeah, babe?” She was picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “You ready? We have like ten minutes to run over.”

“Yeah, no I’m ready. But, uh. Can we wait a sec? I wanted to give you something.”

Alya fiddled around with the strap to her bag. “Give me what?”

Marinette smiled softly and pulled the chain out of the pocket of her jacket. She saw Alya’s eyes widened and interrupted her before she could speak. “Don’t freak out, it’s honestly nothing. I had the money to spend on it and I guess I wanted to commemorate our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. And I know that’s cheesy and sentimental, but I’m happy, so leave me alone.”

Alya blinked at the the silver chain hanging from Marinette’s fingers and laughed in disbelief. “Wait, stop it, all I got you was a stupid phone case with our picture on it.”

“Don’t call that stupid, I love it!” Marinette insisted. She walked behind Alya and tapped her shoulder to get her to lift her hair away from her neck. “And I didn’t do this expecting something crazy in return. I just had a good feeling about it, and decided to go for it. Fitting, when you consider our track record.”

“How much did you pay for this?” Alya asked, holding the charm while Marinette fasted the clasp.

“A bit, admittedly, but seriously. I was happy to do it.” She moved back in front of Alya and kissed the tip of her nose. “All I ask is that you actually wear it and not stuff in the back of your jewelry box like you do with all the other chains you own.”

“You know damn well this is the only chain I’m going to be wearing every day, right?”

“I was hoping that was going to be the reaction.”

Alya rolled her eyes and kissed Marinette again, softer, gentler, and with her fingers tracing circles on the apples of Marinette’s cheeks. “Thank you. And I don’t care what you say, I will think of a way to one up you next year.”

Marinette snorted. “You do that. I’ll go ask Ladybug if she’d be willing to do a Valentine’s Day exclusive next year.”

“See you can’t do that, that’s cheating! What the hell do I do to beat that?”

“You have a year to figure it out,” Marinette assured, looping her arm around Alya’s. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

Alya fingered the chain around her neck and nodded. “I’ll do my best. Now come on. Let’s try and keep you from getting a late slip for the billionth time.”

#miraculous ladybug #alyanette #alya cesaire #marinette dupain-cheng #alyanette fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my writing #femslash february 2017 #femslash february alyanette edition #valentines day

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khavvah · 8 years ago

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To Consider...

After reading the end chapter 17 of “Beasts and Beauties”:

Chapter 2: Scratch My Back

Example 1:

"What? Nah, it's good." He bunched up the coat around his shoulders, warding her off as if she were a thief. He obviously wasn't comfortable with a stranger handling his personal belongings.

Example 2:

"While he brought his troubles on himself, I do appreciate your attention toward him."

Those words, in that particular order, triggered a strange impulse in Guzma's brain; he twisted the heavy ring on his finger and blurted stupidly, "It's nothing weird."

She sipped at her tea, then gave him a querying look over the ceramic cup.

"Uh, y'know, it's not something weird, if that's what… You were wondering."

"I'm not certain what you mean," she said, a little cross that she didn't, "because there's nothing strange about helping a person in need."

"Y-yeah. That's what I meant."

Chapter 5

Example 1:

But he couldn't drop his meandering thoughts: his intense memory of the Nihilego's touch, Lusamine's faraway look when he spoke to her, the moans that roused him from his nightmare-fueled sleep-- Mohn, where are you, Mohn, can you hear me? All of this wrapped up into a tight, throbbing lump in his throat--all the pity that drove him to help her in the first place. She was sick, that was all. She was lonely and hurt, and he felt that he was the only person in the universe who truly understood that.

Example 2:

Guzma had never been one to lurk around Nanu's place. That was more Plumeria's gig--she liked to wander over here, hang out, exchange barbs with the old man. Guzma guessed, though he wasn't certain, that she did it to fulfill some longing for adult company. Guzma preferred to stay clear of the place, and when Nanu had the stones to wander into his turf in Po Town, he always made his disapproval clear. He let the old man stick around--they needed the money--but he distrusted the man's motives. What kind of geezer is willing to live in an abandoned police station? What kind of guy lives around little kids like that, tries to talk to them and give them sweets? A weirdo, Guzma thinks. Maybe some kinda perv.

[...]

"Ugh, what, did you watch me sleep, or something, you weirdo?"

Chapter 9

Example 1:

"Only because you're so quick to criticize him!" she implored. From across the table, she reached to take his hands, folding them into her own. "My dear, he requires a certain… Gentle touch. If only you took the time to encourage him, to praise him, to show him the slightest bit of care--" She took his two hands, then placed them together, guiding his fingers to weave into one another and clasp tightly. "I promise you, he will become putty in your hands."

Example 2:

Guzma, who stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room, stuffed his hands into his jacket and waited it out. He had known that some "fashionista" that Lusamine knew personally was coming here--the appointment had been long-standing--but he didn't expect to witness this much affection between the two. It confused and embarrassed him.

Example 3:

"What are you--!" Guzma lurched and knocked her hands away. "Woah! Hey! Hands off! My clothes are staying on, lady!"

"What is an artist without blank canvas?" she scolded. "Come now, there's is no need to be shy."

She tried again, and again he knocked her hands away. "Quit touchin' me!"

[...]

"She asked you to remove your clothes, is that right? It's perfectly standard--whatever's the matter?" She looked at him--studied him, as if trying to figure out the source of this resistance. "Do you not like your body?"

"What? Nah! It's not--" He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I don't care about that."

"Then what is it?"

"I dunno--I just don't want to."

Lusamine didn't look particularly moved by this logic, so he blurted out some more, tugging at the ends of his hair as he struggled to express his thinking.

"It's just weird. Like--it's not normal, to--you know--"

Example 4:

"Ah. I see." Was that all he came for? Faba felt a headache coming on. He motioned for Guzma to face him. "...Yes, let me help."

But when he stepped forward, reaching for it, Guzma immediately had an adverse reaction; he backed away, gave him a nasty look.

Faba jumped back, like he expected to be bitten. "Or--! Er, here, hand it to me. I'll show you."

Guzma seemed to find this more tolerable. He eased, pulled the tie from his neck and gave it to him.

Example 5:

This boy. This boy. Faba was no developmental psychologist, but everything about him smacked of arrested development, like something had caught Guzma by the throat when he was ten years old and hadn't let go since. Faba suddenly remembered that this was ostensibly a man, in his early twenties, the age at which Faba himself had graduated from university and had been already accepted into a prestigious doctoral program in Kalos. The scientist had his immaturities at that age, to be sure, but he wasn't throwing temper tantrums or slinking about begging for scraps of approval from his elders.

[...]

Child, what trauma did this to you?

Lusamine must have understood this from the beginning. After all, she was right: one tiny physical interaction, one half-hearted piece of advice, and the boy's defenses collapsed, making him clingy and needy, like a stray animal that had just received a tasty morsel from a stranger. In that moment, he could have told the boy to do cartwheels about the suite, and he might have done it, just to be praised.

It made… Faba more uncomfortable than anything. One thought floated in particular, unnerving him: a predator's dream. A person of fewer scruples than he would have a field day, taking advantage of this trapped adolescent who thumped his tail sadly and whimpered for validation.

Chapter 13

Example 1:

"But does he strike you as…" She searched for the correct word. "Disordered?"

[...]

"Early on, I made note of what I thought might be signs of repressed homosexual tendencies. But as I said. That theory died on the vine."

[...]

"He's not attracted to men, Faba, but he still has an enormous complex concerning them. He sees them as threats. But you―you're not a threat, you see."

[...]

"Don't get excited. I'm not suggesting he's raped anyone," she went on, ignoring his discomfort. She rolled her bracelet on her wrist, allowing its glimmer to guide her thinking aloud. "To the contrary―I think he has yet to live out his urges. It's strange. One would surmise that in all those years unsupervised with other adolescents, he'd find the means and opportunity. Yet he's so passive. Perhaps he's afraid of his impulses; it would probably take―well, if he were angry enough, I suppose―"

Example 2:

Lusamine suffered for being tangible, he decided―for coming out of his abstract brain. A part of him thrilled at the flesh and bone of her, that he could touch her, and do more, too―but another part, the child in him that he never successfully suppressed, began to loathe it: its heat, its sweat, its corruption, its biology. Bodies are for breaking, for being broken; for hurting, and being hurt. And nowhere in his life, outside of restless dreams or passing fantasies, has that ever been different for him.

He knows marriage is, in its ultimate way, a carnal and corporeal thing, but it had religion to it, too. Talk of spirit and sacrament. Promises. Promises, which he knows from experience always come with secrets, and secrets―

Chapter 14

Example 1:

Guzma didn't like Aster.

It wasn't that he was… A bad person, or anything. No, Aster was nice, kind, and patient with everyone, including him. He took Faba's verbal abuse with a whimsical smile, and he always wanted to know if there was anything, anything at all, that he could do to help. That alone set Guzma on edge. Aster was too nice, and spoke too sweetly. Whenever they interacted, Aster would hum with interest and affection, asking him questions, saying things that Guzma didn't understand until the man laughed and teased him. (Aster called him a "bumpkin" once, and though Guzma didn't know what it meant at the time, his face burned at the humiliation of it). Plus, he was a lot more touchy; he would grab Guzma by the shoulder or arm, and be quick to take his hands to guide him on something, or clap him on the back. It was all very… Disconcerting.

Example 2:

"Look at 'em. They're shakin'." (He said this, even though he was shaking himself, shaking from the strain of his world falling apart around him: the humiliation of defeat, the final flight from home, the depraved betrayal from a friend that still lingered, the vomit still burning his throat―).

Example 3:

"You aren't playing with your friends?"

Guzma looked out over the beach, seeing a group of boys splashing each other in the waves. He shook his head. "They aren't my friends."

"Oh." The officer took a second to glance around. "So are your friends around here somewhere?"

Guzma hesitated and didn't verbally answer, instead shrugging.

[...]

"Is that right? Well, my name's Daturo. Nice to meet you." The officer might have offered a handshake, but Guzma didn't accept it. The man didn't seem deterred by this. "Say, Guzma. Could you help me?"

Guzma looked up uncertainly.

"See, I'm new here. I just got transferred from Sinnoh―so I don't know the island very well yet. You live here, right? You think you could show me around?"

Guzma, perplexed, shrugged his shoulders again. "I dunno."

"Not right now," Daturo backed down. "If you're busy. Some other time, if you want. Huh―what do kids eat around here...? What are those donut things, that I've seen―?"

"Malasadas."

"Yeah, those. Tell ya what. Sometime, you can show me around, and there'll be a malasada in it for you. How's that sound, Guzma?"

[...]

But by then, Guzma didn't hear it. He probably wouldn't have stopped, even if he had. There were oppressive thoughts buzzing like angry hornets about his head―thoughts that didn't come from youth or play, but dragged him out in a riptide, pulling him farther and farther out, out to an alien place barren of life. It wasn't as if he meant to find happiness―he wasn't happy here, and he didn't expect any happiness where he was going. But if it meant… hope, or kindness, or the slightest taste of something good in life... For that… Wouldn't he give anything?

Chapter 15

Example 1:

Before anyone understood what had happened, Guzma roared for everyone to leave the room, except the one. Upon being left alone, he immediately grabbed the kid by the throat.

"You tryin' to say I like little boys?"

[...]

Guzma bellowed over the noise. "Try sayin' it again―and I'll cut your ear off! I'll cut it off and feed it to you!"

Example 2:

Gladion made an impromptu decision. "Never mind it. We'll go back to the motel."

"W-what?" Guzma glanced over his shoulder anxiously. "Uh, what's wrong with here?"

"We'll need the privacy."

"You don't think that's a little, uh―"

But Gladion ignored his floundering and got up, starting for the cafe door. When he sensed Guzma's hesitation, he turned around and prodded, "What's the matter?" He saw Guzma still glancing about worriedly. "Did someone follow you?"

"Nah! Just―" At last, Guzma pushed up from his chair and trotted behind him, trying to stay close and tugging his hood. He hissed nervously, "People are lookin' at us funny."

Reflecting on the closing scene in chapter 16:

For a long moment, Daturo sank into frantic thought. A loose plan formed in his brain, enough to make him say, "Guzma. This is what we'll do. You're gonna get in the car―"

"No―"

"You're gonna get in the car, and I'm going to get you someplace safe."

A moment of desperation cracked through Guzma's sobs. He started to stumble away, in an attempt to make a break for it.

But Daturo grabbed him by the arm again, making him fumble to his knees; he pulled him up, forcing him to stand facing him. "Hey! Stop! Listen to me! Have I ever hurt you?"

'Hurt.' Guzma thinks about fists that beat and clobber―palms that bruise―feet that kick. "No," he admitted.

"Haven't I always done what I promised?"

When Guzma hesitated, Daturo reached out and squeezed his shoulders, almost painfully. The touch made Guzma lean back―then forward―then back again, teetering on an edge of something. His sobbing started again, harsh and debilitating, causing him to convulse with gasps. Guzma gripped his aching head, crushing it between his arms it until it felt like it was about to burst open.

"Haven't I always looked out for you? Been a friend to you? That's why you called me, isn't it?"

When Daturo received no answer, he sighed and wrapped his arms about Guzma's seizing body. One arm folded across Guzma's back, just below his tense shoulder blades, pressing down firmly to suppress his shaking; with his other arm, he clutched a hand at the back of Guzma's bobbing head, pressing and nestling it just below his chin.

"Shh. Hey. Goose. Buddy. It'll be okay."

Guzma felt sick all over again―nauseated―the arms about him squeezed the spasms, swayed him gently. Cold passed over him, causing shudders, and in his diminishing strength, he lifted his hands and clawed his fingers into Daturo's uniform to keep upright. His tears moistened Daturo's shirt. The tips of his sneakers rubbed and dug into the dirt. Over the windless air, a distant siren let out a wail.

And the name origin for “Daturo:”

...Who first appears in the chapter “Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”:

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